nERDbOX_Dave

I hadn't seen the original film. I was too young when it was released and, honestly, never felt much urgency to revisit it. This remake might change that. In fact, I might've skipped this version entirely if it weren't for the casting, because pairing Mary Elizabeth Winstead with Maika Monroe is the kind of genre bait that's impossible to ignore.

Winstead plays Caitlyn Morales, a pregnant attorney juggling an impossible workload, a newborn, a strained marriage, and a volatile older child. She brings a grounded exhaustion to the role that feels painfully real. Caitlyn isn't written as a helpless victim, she's capable, intelligent, and trying to do the right thing, but the film smartly shows how even strong people can be worn down by stress, guilt, and misplaced compassion.

Then there's Maika Monroe, who once again proves she's one of the most captivating presences in modern horror and thriller cinema. Following It Follows, Watcher, and Longlegs, Monroe delivers another hypnotic performance as Polly Murphy. Her portrayal is quiet, deliberate, and unnerving. She moves through the Morales household like a predator, like a snake slithering through tall grass, never rushing, always positioning herself just close enough to strike.

What makes Monroe's performance so effective is restraint. Polly isn't immediately threatening. She's helpful, warm, and disarmingly attentive. But there's always something off. The film lets that unease simmer, allowing the audience to sense danger long before the characters fully do. Watching Polly manipulate each situation around Caitlyn, twisting kindness into leverage is where the film truly shines.

There's also an interesting moral tension at play early on. The film complicates its central conflict just enough that you briefly question where your sympathies lie. Without spoiling anything, there's a moment where it becomes unsettlingly hard to know who you'd be rooting for if you were standing inside either woman's shoes and that ambiguity adds real depth to what could've been a straightforward villain story.

Raúl Castillo provides solid support as Miguel, Caitlyn's husband, embodying the well-meaning but emotionally distracted partner whose blind spots allow the danger to creep closer. The domestic setting becomes increasingly claustrophobic as boundaries blur and Polly's presence becomes inescapable.

Ultimately, The Hand That Rocks the Cradle is a confident, controlled thriller that thrives on atmosphere and performance rather than shock value. It doesn't reinvent the genre, but it executes its ideas with precision and purpose. Thanks largely to Maika Monroe's chilling screen command and Winstead's emotionally grounded performance, this remake earns its place and might even convince newcomers like me to finally go back and watch the original.

Gareth Evans, the filmmaker behind The Raid films, returns to brutal form with Havoc, a grimy, blood-soaked action thriller that thrives on chaos, corruption, and carnage. Set in a city rotting from the inside out, Havoc plays like a descent into urban hell... loud, violent, and relentlessly mean, though not without its flaws.

Tom Hardy stars as Patrick Walker, a morally compromised homicide detective estranged from his family and deep in the pocket of real estate tycoon and mayoral hopeful Lawrence Beaumont (Forest Whitaker). When Beaumont's son Charlie (Justin Cornwell) botches a robbery involving stolen washing machines packed with hidden cocaine, all hell breaks loose. What starts as a routine theft spirals into a bloody collision between corrupt cops, street gangs, and the local Triad, led by the fearsome Tsui and his imposing mother (Yeo Yann Yann).

Evans excels where you'd expect: the action. Havoc delivers solid chase sequences, claustrophobic brawls, and over-the-top shootouts staged with a cartoonish, hyper-violent edge. Bullets tear through walls, bodies crash through windows, and the violence escalates to near absurdity but that heightened brutality is clearly intentional. It's less realism and more operatic mayhem, a city devouring itself one gunfight at a time.

Hardy is effective as Walker, bringing his trademark physicality and weary intensity, though there's a lingering sense that the role feels familiar. Coming off years of Venom, his performance carries a slightly "worn" quality, still compelling, but less electric than it might've been earlier in his career.

Timothy Olyphant, as narcotics detective Vincent, is a standout. Cool, cruel, and sharply controlled, Olyphant chews through the film with effortless menace. Forest Whitaker brings gravitas to Beaumont, though his character, like many in Havoc feels more symbolic than fully explored.

Narratively, Havoc isn't interested in subtlety. Its themes of institutional corruption, moral rot, and systemic violence are blunt, sometimes to a fault. Characters exist largely to move the plot or be violently removed from it. While this approach keeps the pacing aggressive, it occasionally leaves the story feeling thin beneath all the gunfire.

A movie with Samara Weaving? Sold. That's usually a safe bet. Unfortunately, Eenie Meanie ends up being the rare exception, a film that looks good on paper, boasts a strong cast, and has all the right genre ingredients, yet never quite finds its footing.

Written and directed by Shawn Simmons in his feature debut, Eenie Meanie tells the story of Edie Meaney, a once-gifted teenage getaway driver shaped by trauma, crime, and survival. The opening act, set in 2007 Cleveland, is easily the film's strongest stretch. It's dark, tragic, and unsettling, establishing Edie's origin with real emotional weight. Elle Graham does solid work as young Edie, and the inciting tragedy is genuinely affecting.

Fourteen years later, we reconnect with Edie, now older, wiser, and trying to escape her past, played by Samara Weaving. And this is where the film begins to stumble. Despite her undeniable screen presence and clear effort to keep the story moving, Weaving feels oddly out of place here. It's not a failure of performance, she commits fully, but rather a mismatch between her energy and the film's tone. The character never quite settles, and neither does the movie around her.

That problem extends across the board. Karl Glusman's John, meant to be the emotionally conflicted former lover audiences root for, never earns the sympathy the film desperately wants us to feel. His attempts to win Edie back fall flat, lacking both chemistry and depth. The emotional stakes are told to us more than they're ever felt.

Even more disappointing is Andy Garcia as mob boss Nico. This should've been a menacing, scene-stealing role, but instead it feels oddly disengaged, borderline phoned in. Steve Zahn does what he can in limited screen time, but the supporting cast is largely underused.

For a film billed as a heist comedy thriller, Eenie Meanie lacks the grit, urgency, and sharp storytelling the genre demands. There's little of the tension you expect from a race-against-the-clock narrative, and the antagonists never feel truly threatening. While there are a handful of solid car chase sequences, none are particularly memorable or inventive enough to elevate the film.

By the time the credits roll, Eenie Meanie feels like a collection of decent ideas that never fully connect. It wants to be gritty, funny, emotional, and thrilling, but ends up being none of those consistently. The bones of a better movie are here, but they're buried under uneven pacing, underwritten characters, and a tonal identity crisis.