samxxxul

Initial impressions of "Bokshi" might leave one with mixed feelings, yet this film is undoubtedly worth the watch. Ordinarily, "teens-in-the-woods" garbage is dismissed-the Ouija board drivel, the "A24" or "NEON" knock-offs trying to ape "The Wicker Man." But "Bokshi" seizes every cliché-witches, boarding schools, cursed treks-and cracks them open like a skull on sacrificial stone. After "Bramayugam" (a true genre gut-punch-do check out my review), this is another Indian horror that doesn't just unsettle-it flays. This film is history hissing in the ear, it's horror as hex, tribal whispers in the dark in this coming-of-age where adulthood means facing the monsters patriarchy calls "witches"-only to find one's own reflection staring back.

Director Bhargav Saikia doesn't just subvert expectations-he skins them. Every predictable setup-the haunted girl, the sinister school, the ill-fated expedition-becomes a razor, slicing through complacency to reveal something far darker. This is a film about reclamation. The Nepali term "Bokshi"-a word used to brand, to burn, to break women for centuries-is twisted into a war cry. Saikia's vision thrums with schoolyard cruelties, racial tensions, and tribal secrets, all simmering beneath an atmosphere so thick you could choke on it.

A girl's bed wet with terror, a grandmother's cruel whispers, a boarding school's cold walls-in "Bokshi" Anahita (Prasanna Bisht) bears her mother's curse like a second shadow. But here, curses aren't what they seem. This terror stems from her mother's brutal vanishing, whispered by her rigid grandmother to be the work of a witch. That stern matriarch sees not grief, but the enduring mark of a "witch" in Anahita's bloodline, promptly dumping her in a rigid boarding school. Yet, within those walls, something ancient stirs. A violent act of bullying shatters her, opening a new path. A strange current draws Anahita to Shalini (Mansi Multani), her history teacher. Shalini, with an unsettling pull and an ancient glint in her eye, invites Anahita into a secret circle, hinting at the supernatural and a journey into North Sikkim's primordial forests, to a mysterious prehistoric site. This was no mere excursion; it was fate. Then the forest takes its due, becoming a waking terror where the very rocks hold memory. Anahita, compelled to a prehistoric site from her dreams, witnesses the veneer of civilization peel away. Folk horror meets feminist fury, a middle finger to patriarchy written in shamanic chants and sacrificial smoke. Here, women, like her and Shalini, ignite with untamed power-they're the nightmare even shadows fear.

"Bokshi" isn't for every palate, especially if one is chasing cheap scares or a rapid pace. Some might even quibble with its visual effects. Yet, what it lacks in conventional thrills, it fiercely claims in its thematic depth and visual artistry, pushing the very limits of Indian horror. This film is a relentless, thought-provoking journey. Its power lies in its daring risks and unwavering drive. As ancient ritual and primal symbolism consume the final act, "Bokshi" doesn't merely unfold; it detonates. It confronts the grotesque without a blink, earning its artistic soul. This is raw, unsettling dread-a haunting presence steeped in North-Eastern folklore and a visceral feminism that will seize your thoughts. If a horror film that truly takes hold of the mind is what you crave, "Bokshi" calls to you.

They say "holding hands is more important than crashing," and in Cooper Raiff's messy, saccharine, beautiful, and self-aware series, "Hal & Harper"-less a show and more a feeling-you'll get a raw, bittersweet taste of just how true that is, delivered by characters stripped of their halos and laid bare.

Before you dive in, abandon all pathetic, cynical quips. Unless your spirit is forged of an emotionally fortified brick wall, utterly incapable of unleashing even a whimper of raw feeling, then maybe hit that 'off' button. Otherwise, prepare to be gently, almost imperceptibly, lured into this maelstrom, as Cooper Raiff's brand of bittersweetness CHA-CHA SMOOTHS right over ya.

Character Dives 1. Hal's Heart: Cooper Raiff, as Hal, injects a refreshing dose of himself-and maybe a bit of us-into the familiar indie film archetype. He's the ever-present brother, the one sneaking in windows late at night, a constant, comforting, and yes, sometimes annoying, force. It's a sweet subversion of the usual sister-for-brother dynamic. He'll grill Harper about her phone calls, a move some might call "overprotective" or "butthurt snob." But honestly, who gives a damn in this cynical world?

2. Ruffalo's Raw Grief: Mark Ruffalo is laid utterly bare as the single, grief-stricken, and adrift dad. Words offer no solace; he's clinging to Nietzsche's abyss. While some find shower time a happy, weird moment of solitude, for Ruffalo's character, it's mostly a pissed-off grief, anxious contemplation, and memories. Sure, he even has sex in the shower-"SAFE" sex with a hooker-but it's still undeniably sad. You'll feel a pang of pity, but mostly, you'll just want to give the guy a hug, especially after Episode 6, where his grief is a visceral echo, a second skin.

3. Harper's Heartbreak: Lili Reinhart's as Harper is a perennial misfit, a "slimeball" at times, yet with a fragile heart buried deep. Her dad and brother's names rightly top her "FAVORITES" contacts. She's constantly trying to re-thread herself back into the family fabric, lost, even seeking connection on Facebook. Like any normal human, she finds her own bathroom solitude, doing her "usual thing" (haha, masturbating). With sapphic relationships brewing, she also carries immense grief, often feeling lost. There are exquisitely beautiful, fragmented moments, like her imagining her baby brother in the bathtub-subtle, dreamlike cuts to a past that reveal memory as a fluid, unpredictable beast.

Not A Spoiler: Luckily, Hal (Cooper Raiff) is spared any bathroom-based existential ponderings. My theory? He'd be too busy, like normal guys do, either "self-caring with his pecker," frantically brainstorming his next big idea, doomscrolling for a troll fight, or verbally sparring with a pretentious arthouse snob. LOL.

And, it was genuinely funny when Hal, bruised from seeing his Asian chick with another guy, picks a fight and gets beaten. Oh, and I absolutely loved the "Elephant Man" reference. Of course, RIP David Lynch-I hope he's enjoying cherry pie and damn fine coffee wherever he is.

Another favorite cinematic nod is Cooper's desperate attempt at a "Mission Impossible" movie night with family, only to have Ruffalo and Betty Gilpin doze off and Lili Reinhart look utterly bored. Cooper's raw, unadulterated reaction is precisely mine; seriously, even my recent F1 marathon had me feeling the exact same way.

And now, the literary nods: from Gabriel García Márquez's "One Hundred Years of Solitude" (seriously, read it if you love books, or check out the Netflix adaptation) to a sharp Sylvia Plath name-drop between Hal and Harper. Nothing says sibling intimacy like shared existential dread and a dash of literary flair.

Another kudos: the episodes just start. No time for picturesque setups; it throws you straight into the thick of it, just immediate, unvarnished momentum. The sound design is expertly amplified too, a keen choice by Raiff.

Now, about the "School stuff": While the unconventional casting of Raiff and Lili Reinhart cosplaying and living as kids, instead of opting for a traditional age-appropriate approach, might be "cringe" for some, Raiff somehow makes it cool. He avoids typical Hollywood kid clichés and even finds magic in some school conversations with other kids. He ditches flashy timelines and big budgets for raw honesty, avoiding to MILK the "I WAS THERE, I FEEL SEEN" pandering.

The Downside: Some folks will get that "OMG FEELING" of a tidy full circle in the last two episodes. I felt they wasted too much time, particularly the detour at the Indian friend's house, and the music was a bit of overkill. The non-linear storytelling is its strength and its slight downfall, sometimes strangling itself with its own cleverness. I personally enjoyed the approach and the editing, but a bittersweet ending would have been preferable to the Hollywood "TADA, Baby!" and the other overly convenient "fate" coincidences.

Nevertheless, this series might not be for everyone, but it's largely impressive as is. Even by indie standards, I highly recommend giving it a watch! There's genuinely something for everyone to love, including some great gags. I particularly enjoyed the writing at Hal's friend's granny's funeral-though I was definitely hoping for more gallows humor! I'm really excited to see what Cooper Raiff does next.

Cult of the Cobra (1955) honestly doesn't even deserve its B-movie status; it's a tar pit of tedium that'll make you hiss in utter boredom.

The story kicks off with our clueless American GIs. These fellows, bless their misguided hearts, paying some heavy cash, go crashing a cobra ceremony. They act like total boors, with one of them even trying to act like a marvel and wanting to click photographs, the way he hides it! LOL. And what do we get for this grand show? A woman in some sad, cheap-looking snake tights! Pathetic! But wait, half a star, yes, I'm giving just for the snake dance choreography during that ceremony. It was... worthwhile. Barely.

My other half star, is reserved for Faith Domergue as Lisa Moya. She's supposed to be this "exotic" Indian priestess. LOL, I felt she was like a wannabe Simone Simon from Cat People (1942), trying to be all serpentine and sultry but mostly just looking confused.

And the movie tries to evoke the legendary Lamia - you know, the goddess whose children were destroyed by Hera! Fun Lamia trivia: She was also, according to some legends, one of the world's first vampires! Imagine the terrifying folklore potential here! But nope, we get this. Such a waste!

And the funniest part is the pathetic sock-puppet cobra! Man, I used to cringe at these monster in B-movies, even the Legendary Bela Lugosi's bats in The Devil Bat (1940), but after seeing this snake, I have a newfound respect for them!

And, Leonard Strong, who I assume has a whole filmography of playing "ethnic" characters (and was actually better in Bengal Brigade (1954), which I saw recently!), probably had to act extra hard just to look checked out.

Anyway, this film is wasted potential with what seemed like a great set (pity it was filled with this drama). They had a compelling mythological figure, a decent-looking cast, and absolutely nothing interesting for them to do.

You'll find yourself making your own Faith Domergue shock reaction gif just from the sheer mediocrity of it all! My advice? You can watch it, especially when the snake attacks happen; those shaky camera moments are such an overkill! It's the perfect time to have a good nap in between. Otherwise, slither away! Don't even bother!