PrittyM-8

Little Hearts aims to be a light, nostalgic romantic comedy, but its biggest weakness lies in playing it far too safe. While the film tries to capture the innocence of youth and first love, it rarely rises above clichés that have been overused in Telugu cinema for years.

The storyline is predictable almost from the opening act. The coaching-center backdrop, exam pressure, rejected proposal, and slow emotional turnaround follow a familiar template, offering very few surprises. As a result, the narrative lacks tension -- viewers can foresee most developments long before they unfold on screen.

Character writing is another weak point. The protagonists are pleasant but thinly sketched, defined more by situational behavior than emotional depth. Their motivations feel surface-level, making it hard to fully invest in their internal conflicts. Supporting characters, especially parents and classmates, are reduced to stereotypes, often existing only to push the plot forward.

The humor, though occasionally effective, is inconsistent. Several jokes rely on repetitive classroom banter and exaggerated reactions, which begin to feel tiresome as the film progresses. Some scenes stretch longer than necessary, leading to pacing issues, particularly in the second half where the story begins to drag.

Romance, which should have been the film's emotional anchor, feels underdeveloped. The chemistry between the leads is mild, and key emotional moments lack impact due to rushed transitions or underwritten dialogue. Instead of lingering in meaningful moments, the film often moves on too quickly, missing opportunities for emotional resonance.

Ultimately, Little Hearts feels like a film content with mediocrity. Its reluctance to take creative risks or dig deeper into its emotional core results in an experience that feels hollow and forgettable. For viewers seeking freshness, depth, or even genuine nostalgia, the film offers little reward. From my perspective, watching Little Hearts turns out to be a complete time waste -- pleasant on the surface, but empty at heart....

Watching Wake Up Dead Man without any familiarity with the earlier Knives Out films, it feels less like a franchise entry and more like a standalone, character-driven murder mystery. The film doesn't assume prior knowledge, which works in its favor, allowing the story to unfold naturally and with quiet confidence.

The tone is notably serious and subdued. Set within a close-knit religious community, the narrative leans into themes of faith, guilt, and moral compromise rather than flashy twists. The murder becomes a lens through which hidden hypocrisies and long-suppressed truths emerge. This approach gives the film a thoughtful, almost somber mood that lingers well beyond the mystery itself.

Daniel Craig's detective is compelling even without context. He isn't overly dramatic or showy; instead, he observes patiently, letting others unravel themselves. As a newcomer to the character, his calm intelligence and subtle authority make him intriguing rather than eccentric. The supporting cast delivers restrained performances, often relying on silence and implication, though some characters feel more symbolic than deeply explored.

The pacing is slow but intentional. The film values atmosphere and moral tension over constant surprises, which may feel understated for viewers expecting a conventional whodunnit. Still, the resolution feels earned, focusing more on emotional and ethical clarity than shock value.

As a standalone experience, Wake Up Dead Man is a moody, reflective mystery that prioritizes themes and character over spectacle. It may not dazzle with twists, but it leaves a strong impression as a thoughtful exploration of truth, belief, and the cost of staying silent.

Together is a daring, queasy little film that turns relationship anxiety into literal body horror-and commits to the metaphor with unnerving confidence. Director Michael Shanks' debut doesn't just ask what it means to be close to someone; it forces that closeness until it becomes grotesque.

Dave Franco and Alison Brie play a long-term couple whose attempt at a fresh start mutates into something nightmarish. The film's central conceit-two people becoming physically bound-could have been a one-note shock gimmick. Instead, Shanks uses it as an elastic metaphor for codependency, emotional inertia, and the fear of separating when love has already begun to rot.

What works best is the restraint. The horror arrives in pulses, not jump scares, letting discomfort seep in through sound design, tactile effects, and the actors' performances. Franco leans into quiet panic; Brie brings a brittle resolve that slowly fractures. Their real-life chemistry adds credibility, making the film's ugliness feel intimate rather than exploitative.

Visually, Together favors claustrophobic framing and practical effects that recall classic body-horror traditions without feeling nostalgic for nostalgia's sake. When the film is disturbing, it earns it. When it's tender, it's unsettling in a different way-because tenderness here is inseparable from entrapment.

The film isn't flawless. Its symbolism can feel a bit too on-the-nose, and the pacing sags slightly in the middle stretch, as if the narrative is circling its thesis instead of advancing it. Still, the final act lands with bleak conviction, refusing easy catharsis.

Together is not a comfortable watch, nor does it try to be. It's a smart, metaphor-driven horror film that understands intimacy as something that can suffocate as easily as it can save. For viewers who appreciate horror with psychological teeth, this one lingers-unpleasantly, and effectively.