Cregger, who previously directed Barbarian and Weapons, clearly had his own ideas about what a Resident Evil movie should be. He has also openly acknowledged that he was “naive” to think fans would automatically be excited about a new story rather than the Leon-focused movie some had been hoping for. Cregger said he underestimated how strongly some fans wanted to see the stories and characters from the games brought directly to the big screen. That reaction isn’t particularly difficult to understand, especially with a franchise this beloved, although I do think some of the early outrage was premature. People were criticizing the movie before they had actually seen it. Having now watched it, I think there is plenty here to demonstrate that Cregger understands Resident Evil and, more importantly, understands what makes playing these games so much fun.

I’ve played every Resident Evil game, so there were plenty of details and familiar ideas throughout the movie that I could appreciate. Cregger isn’t simply copying a game storyline, but he clearly understands the experience of moving through a hostile environment, discovering something horrible around the next corner, dealing with increasingly bizarre creatures, and wondering what is going to happen next. The movie even has a structure that feels somewhat like progressing through a series of game scenarios or missions. That distinction is important because this isn’t trying to be Resident Evil 2 on the big screen. Instead, it is attempting to capture the feeling of playing Resident Evil while telling a completely new story.

Austin Abrams is a major reason the approach works. His performance as Bryan brings a level of physicality and awkwardness to the character that gives the movie a very different personality from the previous Resident Evil films. Abrams also leans heavily into the comedy, and that surprised me in a good way. There is a fairly substantial comedic element running through the movie, but it doesn’t completely undermine the horror. Instead, the humor creates an unusual tone that I haven’t really experienced with the Resident Evil film franchise before. Zach Cherry, Kali Reis, and Paul Walter Hauser round out the principal cast, with Hauser particularly standing out in his supporting role.

That balance between horror and comedy is one of my favorite things about the movie. Resident Evil can be genuinely creepy, bloody, and occasionally pretty gruesome, but it also knows when to have fun with itself. The special effects are a lot of fun, the scares generally land, and the movie doesn’t seem afraid to embrace some of the stranger aspects of the franchise. Cregger has said that early test audiences actually thought the movie was too funny, which resulted in some of the humor being toned down before the final version. Even with those changes, the comedic side of the movie remains an important part of its identity.

The visual presentation is another strong point. Cinematographer Dariusz Wolski gives the movie some impressive imagery, from dark and unsettling environments to beautifully framed exterior shots. The photography does a particularly good job of creating a sense of isolation and anticipation, while the lighting and composition help build the feeling that something could be waiting just outside the frame. The movie looks considerably more polished than some of the previous live-action Resident Evil efforts, and Cregger’s direction gives the horror, action, comedy, and surprises room to work together.

I also really enjoyed the synth-driven soundtrack. I’m a big fan of that style of music, and it fits the movie extremely well. There is something about electronic and synth-based music paired with horror that immediately creates the right atmosphere, and here it helps reinforce the film’s darker moments without making everything feel overly serious. Combined with the cinematography and sound design, it gives Resident Evil a distinct personality of its own.

One of the more interesting things about this movie is that it demonstrates why simply recreating a video game’s plot isn’t necessarily the only way to make a successful video game movie. We’ve seen plenty of adaptations attempt to reproduce characters and events from their source material, with wildly different results. I still have a soft spot for the original Silent Hill because I thought it found a particularly effective way to translate the atmosphere and visual identity of the game to film. Resident Evil takes a different approach. It borrows from the world, ideas, atmosphere, creatures, and gameplay experience while giving Cregger room to tell his own story.

That doesn’t mean everyone who wanted a more faithful adaptation is going to change their mind. If you went into Resident Evil specifically wanting to watch Leon Kennedy’s story recreated from the games, this obviously isn’t that movie. But I think it’s worth separating disappointment over what the movie isn’t from what the movie actually is. Cregger made a deliberate creative choice, and after watching the finished product, I think the movie makes a much stronger case for that choice than the trailers ever could.

I walked out of the theater with a smile on my face because, more than anything else, I had a genuinely fun time watching Resident Evil. It is entertaining, funny, creepy, occasionally disturbing, visually impressive, and packed with enough familiar elements for longtime players to recognize the love that went into it. It also works as a horror movie for someone who doesn’t know the games, which is an important quality for any adaptation hoping to reach beyond its existing fanbase.

For longtime Resident Evil players, I would strongly suggest giving this one a chance before deciding that the different story means it isn’t worth watching. The movie may not follow the path some fans expected, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t understand where Resident Evil came from. For everyone else, particularly horror fans looking for something a little different, there is plenty here to enjoy. Resident Evil isn’t the movie I expected, but it ended up being one of the most entertaining Resident Evil movies I’ve seen in a long time.

The premise immediately caught my attention because it reminded me of the kind of high-concept horror found in movies such as The Eye and Body Parts. Both films take something relatively straightforward and introduce an unsettling supernatural or body-horror element that makes the central concept increasingly disturbing. Saccharine operates in a similar space, using Hana’s situation to explore just how far someone might go to change themselves when they become convinced that their current body isn’t good enough.

One of the strongest aspects of Saccharine is its cinematography. The movie looks fantastic, with some genuinely impressive shots and framing throughout. There is a deliberate visual style to the film that makes even relatively ordinary locations feel uncomfortable, and the camera frequently finds interesting ways to frame Hana and her surroundings. The visual presentation does a lot of the heavy lifting when it comes to establishing the film’s unsettling atmosphere.

The score also deserves a lot of credit. It has an appropriately unsettling quality without constantly screaming at the audience that something scary is happening. The music and sound design work together to create a sense of unease that can linger even when nothing particularly horrific is happening on screen. It is the kind of score that quietly gets under your skin rather than relying entirely on loud musical stings.

Midori Francis is another major reason the movie works as well as it does. Her performance as Hana gives the character enough depth that I actually became invested in what happened to her. I found myself rooting for her, and that is something a lot of modern horror movies don’t accomplish particularly well. Horror can often treat its protagonists as little more than vehicles for getting from one gruesome scene to the next. Saccharine gives Hana enough of an emotional journey that her struggles actually matter.

That connection to the protagonist makes the horror more effective because I cared about the consequences of what was happening to her. Francis brings an emotional vulnerability to Hana that keeps the character from becoming simply a collection of horror-movie decisions. There are moments where you may question her choices, but you can understand why she is making them.

Unfortunately, the dialogue doesn’t always match the strength of the performances or the filmmaking. There are several moments where conversations feel clunky or forced, and those scenes occasionally pulled me out of the experience. Some of the dialogue feels like it is there to communicate an idea to the audience rather than something these characters would naturally say to one another. It’s not enough to derail the movie, but it does stand out because so many other aspects of the production are handled with considerably more confidence.

The practical and visual effects are also mostly convincing. Saccharine isn’t afraid to get uncomfortable, and some of its imagery can be genuinely difficult to watch. Thankfully, the effects generally feel like they belong within the world of the movie rather than looking like obvious digital creations. The film knows when to let an image sit there long enough for the audience to process just how disturbing it is.

Where I think Saccharine could have benefited from some additional tightening is the pacing. At 113 minutes, the movie isn’t excessively long, but there are stretches where the story feels like it is taking longer than necessary to get to the next significant development. A little trimming could have made the progression feel more consistent and given the film a sharper sense of momentum.

That said, the conclusion caught me by surprise. I’m deliberately not going to get into the details because I think the ending is something audiences should experience for themselves. Even if the journey getting there occasionally feels uneven, the movie manages to pull off a conclusion that I wasn’t expecting.

Overall, Saccharine is an interesting addition to the horror genre that doesn’t rely solely on conventional scares. Its premise is unusual, its cinematography is excellent, the score creates a consistently unsettling atmosphere, and Midori Francis gives the film an emotional center that makes Hana someone worth caring about. The dialogue and pacing hold it back somewhat, but there is enough here to make Saccharine worth seeking out, particularly for horror fans who enjoy movies that mix supernatural horror with body horror and psychological themes.

Saccharine isn’t a perfect horror movie, but it is a memorable one. More importantly, it has an idea at its center that sticks with you—and for a horror movie, that’s not a bad aftertaste to leave behind.

I liked it enough and would rate it a 6.5/10.

Directed by Sébastien Vaniček, Evil Dead Burn serves as the latest standalone chapter in the long-running Evil Deadseries. The film follows a grieving widow who seeks comfort with her late husband’s family, only to find herself caught in another brutal Deadite nightmare.

I’ve enjoyed different entries in the franchise for different reasons. I am a huge fan of the original Sam Raimi films. The 2013 Evil Dead remake struck a strong balance between relentless horror and characters worth rooting for. While Evil Dead Rise was still entertaining, it felt like a step down in overall quality. Unfortunately, Evil Dead Burn continues that downward trend.

The movie opens with one of horror’s oldest and most overused tropes. Rather than establishing meaningful stakes or providing a satisfying catalyst for the story, the sequence feels disconnected from everything that follows. It comes across as little more than an excuse to throw an early kill onto the screen before the real plot begins.

One of the film’s biggest shortcomings is its cast of characters. Effective horror works because audiences can imagine themselves—or someone they know—in the situation. That emotional connection is what makes terrifying scenarios feel personal. Here, however, the characters never feel relatable. They’re simply people moving from one gruesome set piece to the next, making it difficult to become emotionally invested in their survival.

The film also struggles with its environments. Several locations feel oddly constructed, existing primarily to accommodate future horror sequences rather than functioning as believable places. This creates a series of clunky setups where events seem dictated by the needs of the next scare instead of natural story progression.

Like many horror films trying to stretch their runtime, the Deadite threat fluctuates wildly depending on what a particular scene requires. At times the antagonist appears nearly unstoppable, while moments later its effectiveness drops dramatically for the sake of pacing or convenience. That inconsistency weakens the tension because the rules never feel clearly established.

To the movie’s credit, there are flashes of creativity throughout. Some of the practical gore effects are impressively realized, and not every gruesome moment feels excessive simply for shock value. During the final half hour, the pace improves and the film becomes noticeably more engaging as it leans into its larger set pieces.

Even so, the overall experience feels like a collection of horror imagery stitched together rather than a cohesive story. It’s as if every unsettling visual concept was thrown into the same movie without enough attention given to character development or narrative cohesion.

If you’re a dedicated gore enthusiast, Evil Dead Burn offers an endless buffet of blood, dismemberment, and practical effects. For viewers looking for memorable characters, mounting suspense, or the emotional investment that made earlier entries so effective, this installment is likely to disappoint.

Rating: 2/5

Playing the game today feels like uncovering a forgotten relic from a very different period in gaming history. Originally released during the golden age of multimedia PC titles, Edgar Allan Poe’s Interactive Horror focuses on atmosphere, storytelling, and exploration rather than action or traditional gameplay mechanics. It embraces a slower pace that may not appeal to everyone, especially players accustomed to modern horror games that rely on constant tension, jump scares, and fast-moving objectives.

That said, the game’s deliberate pacing is part of its charm. Fans of retro PC gaming and interactive storytelling may find themselves appreciating the way the experience unfolds. Rather than rushing players from one event to the next, it allows its eerie atmosphere to slowly build, creating a sense of unease that lingers throughout the adventure.

The most striking aspect of the game is undoubtedly its visual presentation. Instead of relying solely on computer-generated imagery, the developers utilized real photographic models, puppets, and practical creations that give the game a unique and often unsettling appearance. In many scenes, the characters almost resemble stop-motion animation, creating a dreamlike quality that feels unlike anything produced by modern horror games.

It’s easy to imagine the tremendous amount of work that went into bringing these visuals to life. Designing the physical models, posing them, photographing them from multiple angles, and integrating them into the game’s environments must have required countless hours of effort. Even today, the handcrafted nature of the presentation remains impressive and gives the game a distinctive identity.

The audio design further enhances the experience, complementing the dark visuals with haunting narration and atmospheric soundscapes. Together, the visuals and sound create something that feels less like a traditional game and more like an interactive gothic horror exhibit inspired by the works of Edgar Allan Poe.

Modern players should be aware that this is very much a product of its time. The interface, controls, and overall design philosophy reflect the mid-1990s PC gaming landscape. Those looking for streamlined mechanics and modern conveniences may struggle with some of its aging elements. However, players who enjoy gaming history, experimental storytelling, or classic multimedia adventures may discover a fascinating experience that remains memorable despite its age.

Edgar Allan Poe’s Interactive Horror: 1995 Edition is not a game for everyone, but it serves as an intriguing reminder of a period when developers were willing to experiment with new technology and unconventional artistic ideas. While undeniably dated, its unique visual style, atmospheric storytelling, and handcrafted presentation make it a worthwhile curiosity for horror fans and retro gaming enthusiasts alike.

Instead, the fear comes from atmosphere, paranoia, and the growing realization that something feels deeply wrong long before the movie ever says it out loud.

That’s exactly why Obsession worked so well for me.

I caught the film over Memorial Day weekend, and it immediately brought to mind horror movies like Smile, It Follows, and Final Destination — movies where the dread itself becomes the monster. Obsession taps into that same uncomfortable energy by focusing less on traditional horror icons and more on tension, emotional instability, and the terrifying consequences of something that spirals completely out of control.

Directed by Curry Barker, the film follows a hopeless romantic whose desperate wish for love unleashes increasingly disturbing consequences. That premise could have easily become over-the-top or gimmicky, but the movie keeps things grounded enough that the escalation feels genuinely uncomfortable instead of ridiculous.

One of the most impressive things about Obsession is just how much it accomplishes with so little. The movie was reportedly shot for under $1 million and completed in only 20 days, which honestly feels unbelievable after seeing the final product.

That low-budget approach actually becomes one of the film’s biggest strengths. Everything feels intimate, raw, and strangely personal in a way that bigger studio horror movies sometimes lose. There’s a constant sense that the filmmakers had to maximize every location, every shot, and every moment of tension, and that creative restraint gives the movie its identity.

Even more impressive is the fact that the project reportedly sparked a major bidding war before Focus Features picked it up for distribution, with companies like A24 and NEON also interested in acquiring it.   That makes complete sense after watching it because Obsession has the exact kind of unsettling psychological horror energy that horror fans tend to obsess over once word-of-mouth starts spreading.

The performances are another huge reason the movie works. Michael Johnston and Inde Navarrette keep everything grounded emotionally, which is important because the movie asks the audience to buy into increasingly disturbing situations without ever fully leaning into camp. The chemistry between the leads helps sell the emotional side of the story while the tension slowly keeps tightening in the background.

Visually, the movie does a lot with limited resources. Some shots feel intentionally dark and uncomfortable, almost like the movie wants viewers to sit in uncertainty rather than clearly see every detail. The sound design also deserves a lot of credit because so much of the tension comes from anticipation rather than cheap jump scares. Interestingly, one of the music store scenes was filmed in the same store used in Wayne’s World, which is one of those fun horror trivia details that makes indie filmmaking stories even better.

What I appreciated most is that Obsession trusts the audience. It doesn’t constantly explain itself or force unnecessary exposition into every scene. The movie understands that fear is often strongest when viewers are left sitting with uncertainty and discomfort.

That approach won’t work for everyone. Some viewers may want bigger reveals, more traditional scares, or clearer answers. But for horror fans who love slow-burn tension and psychological dread, this movie absolutely delivers.

It’s also fascinating seeing how quickly the film has exploded in popularity. For a movie made this cheaply and this quickly, its growing success almost feels like a modern reminder of what made indie horror so exciting in the first place.

Obsession proves you don’t need giant budgets, elaborate monsters, or endless CGI to create effective horror. Sometimes all you really need is a strong concept, committed performances, and the confidence to let tension do the heavy lifting.

Careful what you wish for.

While the game carries a retro pixel-art presentation, the systems underneath it feel anything but simple. Between faction choices, exploration, combat progression, and a story rooted in myth and survival, Drova offers the kind of experience that rewards patience and curiosity.

A Grim World Inspired by Myth and Mystery

Drova’s setting draws inspiration from Celtic mythology, placing players in a world where ancient spirits tied to nature have been captured and exploited by human factions seeking power. The remnants of a lost empire have left behind dangerous magic, fractured societies, and plenty of unanswered questions about what truly happened in the past.

Rather than pushing players down a strict narrative path, the game lets you carve out your own place in this harsh world. You begin with little more than basic gear and a lot of uncertainty, slowly learning how the world operates through exploration, dialogue, and trial-and-error. Eventually, you’ll align yourself with one of two major factions, and that decision shapes how the story unfolds from there.

This approach gives the game a strong sense of discovery. Instead of constantly pointing you toward the next objective, Drova encourages players to pay attention to conversations, environments, and clues scattered across the world.

Combat That Rewards Patience

Drova’s combat sits somewhere between traditional action RPG mechanics and the more deliberate pacing of “souls-like” encounters. Timing and positioning matter, and enemies can quickly punish reckless attacks.

Different weapons and abilities open up new approaches to fights, but the game still expects you to learn enemy patterns and pick your moments carefully. It’s not the kind of system where you can simply button-mash your way through encounters.

Progression also happens in interesting ways. Instead of automatically learning new skills through leveling alone, you’ll often need to seek out trainers in the world who can teach you abilities. That design choice makes character growth feel tied to exploration and relationships within the world.

A Surprisingly Massive Mobile Experience

What stands out most about Drova on mobile is just how much game is here. This isn’t a stripped-down spin-off or simplified port. It’s essentially the same sprawling RPG experience found on other platforms, now playable on a phone or tablet. For a mobile title, that’s impressive.

The controls are responsive and easy to learn, making it simple to jump in and play for short bursts. Despite its depth, the core gameplay loop—explore, fight, gather resources, and improve your character—is easy to pick up quickly.

The sound design deserves special mention as well. The ambient audio and voice work help bring the world to life, adding atmosphere to an already immersive setting.

Mobile Performance and Screen Considerations

I spent time playing the game on both an iPhone 17 Pro and an iPad Pro, and each device offered a slightly different experience.

On iPhone, the entire game displays properly within the screen’s aspect ratio. However, the downside is that text can become quite small. It’s still readable, but long play sessions may leave you wishing for larger font options.

The iPad version is where things get a bit tricky. The larger display makes dialogue and menus much easier to read, which is great for an RPG with a lot of text. Unfortunately, the game doesn’t fully adapt to the tablet’s aspect ratio. Portions of the screen near the sides end up cut off, which slightly limits the visible play area.

When I attempted to stream the game, I ran into an unexpected issue with capturing the mobile gameplay. Using Apple’s standard Lightning/USB-C video adapter—which normally outputs both video and audio to a capture setup—the image from the iPhone and iPad didn’t display correctly in OBS. The framing and scaling simply didn’t translate properly to the broadcast window, which made it difficult to present the game the way it should be seen. It’s possible that a different capture solution or adapter might resolve the issue, but in this case it meant viewers weren’t able to get the full visual experience during the stream.

If the developers can adjust the iPad scaling in a future update, the tablet version could easily become the best way to experience the mobile port.

Pixel Art With Real Character

Visually, Drova uses detailed pixel art to build its world. Forests, ruins, and settlements all feel carefully handcrafted, and the darker tone of the setting is reflected in the environments.

The art style might appear simple at first glance, but the attention to detail becomes clear as you explore more of the world. Characters, enemies, and environmental elements all help reinforce the bleak atmosphere of the setting.

Combined with the game’s lighting and environmental effects, the presentation manages to feel both nostalgic and modern.

Final Thoughts

Drova: Forsaken Kin is the kind of RPG that respects the player’s intelligence. It doesn’t hold your hand, and it doesn’t rush you through its systems. Instead, it invites you to explore, experiment, and gradually uncover the secrets of its world.

The mobile version manages to deliver an impressively large RPG experience in a portable format. While the iPhone version suffers from small text and the iPad version could use better aspect-ratio support, the core game remains engaging and surprisingly easy to pick up and play.

With strong sound design, rewarding exploration, and meaningful player choices, Drova proves that classic RPG design still has plenty of life left in it.

If the developers continue refining the mobile experience—especially on tablets—this could easily become one of the better RPG time-killers available on iOS.

For fans of old-school RPGs or anyone looking for a deep adventure they can take on the go, Drova: Forsaken Kin is well worth exploring.

Before watching it, my understanding of the film was pretty minimal. The trailer mostly suggested that Zazie Beetz’s character was in serious trouble inside a mysterious building, and that was about it. That vague setup actually worked in the film’s favor. Going in with few expectations made the chaos that followed feel even more surprising.

One of the most satisfying parts of the experience is seeing Beetz step fully into a leading role. She has always been a compelling presence in supporting parts, but here she gets to carry the movie, and she does it with confidence. Her character, Asia Reaves, infiltrates a mysterious New York high-rise while searching for her missing sister, only to discover the building is home to a secretive and violent cult. 

From that point on, the film wastes very little time throwing its protagonist into a relentless gauntlet of survival.

What might surprise some viewers is just how much gore the movie delivers. This isn’t subtle horror. It’s loud, splattery, and frequently outrageous. Limbs fly, blood sprays, and the violence often borders on cartoonish excess. That style is very intentional, and if you’re familiar with the work of director Kirill Sokolov, it becomes clear why the film feels the way it does. His previous work leaned heavily into extreme horror and kinetic action, and They Will Kill You follows that same philosophy. 

In fact, it becomes obvious pretty quickly that this doesn’t feel like a traditionally American-directed movie. The pacing, the editing, and even the action choreography all have a different rhythm. The movie pulls from a wide mix of influences, from martial arts cinema to stylized action films and even anime-inspired visuals. Critics have even described parts of the film as feeling like “live-action anime,” thanks to its exaggerated action and hyper-stylized combat sequences. 

All of that gives the movie a very specific tone. It’s undeniably campy, but it’s the kind of camp that leans into the absurdity rather than apologizing for it. The film often feels like it’s daring the audience to go along for the ride, and if you do, it can be a lot of fun.

Calling They Will Kill You a guilty pleasure almost undersells it. Yes, it’s messy. Yes, it’s wildly over-the-top. But the movie is also clearly aware of what it is and who it’s for. The blend of horror, gore, dark humor, and stylized action isn’t going to work for everyone, and it probably won’t appeal to mainstream audiences looking for a traditional horror film. But for viewers who appreciate chaotic genre mashups and unapologetic violence, there’s a certain charm in how fully the film commits to its madness.

In the end, They Will Kill You isn’t trying to be subtle, refined, or even particularly serious. It’s a blood-soaked, campy horror spectacle that thrives on its excess. If you’re willing to embrace its strange mix of influences and its unapologetic style, you might find yourself having a surprisingly good time along the way.

A Case Built on Deduction, Not Guesswork

At its core, Confidential Killings is a detective adventure that asks players to think like an investigator. You’re dropped into a grim, stylized Hollywood setting and tasked with unraveling a series of murders that are far more interconnected than they first appear. There are no cheap solutions here; progress comes from carefully examining crime scenes, questioning suspects, and cross-referencing testimony and evidence.

One of the game’s standout mechanics is its evidence-connection system, where players visually link clues, motives, and characters. What initially feels like a straightforward mystery quickly grows into a dense web of relationships, contradictions, and hidden truths. That escalation—from “this seems simple” to “wait, how does everything connect?”—is one of the game’s biggest strengths.

A Style That Fits the Story

The art direction immediately sets the tone. Confidential Killings embraces a retro, noir-inspired visual style that feels pulled from the pages of a graphic novel. It’s moody without being oppressive, stylized without being distracting, and it complements the investigative gameplay beautifully.

The audio design deserves just as much praise. Subtle background sounds, a restrained but effective score, and atmospheric sound effects all work together to reinforce the tension. The music never overwhelms the experience, instead quietly underscoring the sense that you’re peeling back layers you maybe weren’t meant to see.

Not for Everyone—But Exactly Right for Some

This is not a game that rushes you along or explains every step. Players who enjoy fast-paced action or constant guidance may bounce off it. But for fans of mystery games, logic puzzles, and narrative-driven investigations, Confidential Killings feels tailor-made.

Personally, this type of game is right in my wheelhouse. I actually streamed it live on my Twitch channel. I love puzzle and mystery titles, and Confidential Killings delivers exactly what it promises: a methodical, thoughtful experience that rewards attention and patience. The satisfaction comes not from flashy moments, but from finally connecting the dots and realizing just how deep the rabbit hole goes.

Final Thoughts

Confidential Killings may look deceptively simple at first, but give it time and it reveals itself as a surprisingly complex and engaging detective experience. Between its strong art direction, immersive sound design, and layered puzzle mechanics, it offers something refreshingly different in a space often dominated by more conventional storytelling.

Final Verdict:
If you enjoy mysteries, puzzles, and games that trust you to figure things out on your own, Confidential Killings is well worth your time. It won’t be for everyone—but for the right audience, it’s a compelling noir case that’s hard to put down. – 8/10

Primate sets out to deliver a pulpy creature-feature with gore, chaos, and shock value, but the final result feels confused, poorly executed, and surprisingly dull. While the premise has the bones of something fun—or at least memorably bad—the film never commits to a tone or concept strong enough to carry it.
The biggest hurdle is the ape itself. The suit and makeup are hard to ignore and never feel convincing. Rather than selling the illusion of a dangerous animal, the film constantly reminds you that you’re watching someone in a costume. That disconnect makes every attack less frightening and undercuts the entire premise. There’s also no meaningful setup to establish the ape as anything more than a plot device, so when it turns rabid, there’s no emotional hook, no sympathy, and no tragedy—just noise and chaos.

Character writing doesn’t help matters. The movie leans heavily on tired horror tropes, including the painfully familiar “party dudes” introduced on the plane. Their attempt at comic relief falls flat, feeling forced and outdated rather than fun or self-aware. The humor never lands, and instead slows the film down while adding nothing of value.

One of the film’s more interesting ideas—the father being deaf—feels especially underdeveloped. Several scenes linger too long on conversations without using the concept in a meaningful or suspenseful way. There were clear opportunities to use sound, silence, and perspective creatively, but the film never capitalizes on them, making the inclusion feel awkward rather than purposeful.

While Primate doesn’t shy away from gore, even that element is inconsistent. The ape’s behavior and attack patterns change from scene to scene with little logic, making the violence feel random instead of threatening. Adding to the confusion, the film ignores basic real-world facts—such as the absence of rabies in Hawaii and the illegality of owning a chimpanzee there—further weakening the already flimsy setup.

The score is another mismatch, often clashing with the tone of the scenes instead of enhancing tension or atmosphere. Rather than elevating the horror, the music frequently pulls you out of the moment.

In the end, Primate is a creature feature that fails on nearly every level. The effects don’t convince, the story doesn’t engage, and the ideas that could have worked are left half-baked. What remains is a film that makes little sense, wastes its own concepts, and never becomes entertaining enough to justify the ride.

Final Verdict: 4/10
A misfired ape horror that feels more silly than scary, with too many missed opportunities to recommend.

I played the game on Xbox Series X, but it is available on PlayStation 5, Microsoft Windows, and Series S.

Read the @polygon article about Odd Meter: https://www.polygon.com/23921305/odd-…

You can catch me live on Twitch every week: twitch.tv/yogomi  

Patreon: patreon.com/FrankMcCright

Instagram + Threads: @yogomi