nERDbOX_Dave

Let's face it: we've seen more than enough nostalgia-bait reboots limp their way onto the big screen only to crash and burn under the weight of their own legacy. So it's understandable if you rolled your eyes when you heard that The Naked Gun was making a comeback with Liam Neeson, of all people, in the lead. But here's the plot twist worthy of a Police Squad file: it works and it works hilariously well.

Directed by Akiva Schaffer (Chip 'n Dale: Rescue Rangers), this fourth installment in The Naked Gun franchise manages the near impossible task of reviving a beloved brand of slapstick absurdity for a modern audience without losing what made the original so endearing. The film follows the son of the legendary Lt. Frank Drebin (played by the late Leslie Nielsen) as he tries to live up to his father's legacy and stop the bumbling Police Squad from being shut down for good.

Liam Neeson might have seemed like an odd casting choice after years of grim-faced revenge thrillers, it was fair to assume he'd been typecast permanently into "guy with a certain set of skills." But that's exactly what makes his performance here so brilliant. He plays the deadpan absurdity with absolute commitment, never winking at the camera, and that sincerity makes the gags land even harder.

The supporting cast adds plenty of flavor to the mix. Pamela Anderson shines in a self-aware, scene-stealing role that plays with her public persona in the best ways. Paul Walter Hauser delivers consistent laughs and for once was outshined on screen, which is a tough task in itself.

You don't need to know the original trilogy to enjoy this; the film wisely introduces its premise with enough clarity and enough throwaway jokes that it stands on its own. That said, longtime fans will catch the loving callbacks, meta nods, and one or two deep cuts that land like inside jokes between old friends.

Admittedly, the middle act drags just a bit. Some of the momentum built in the first 30 minutes dips as the plot slows down and it feels like it might be running out of steam, the film pivots hard in the third act with a climactic sequence that is pure, full-on Naked Gun chaos. I was crying with laughter-a rare thing these days and it reminded me exactly why this franchise mattered in the first place.

The Naked Gun (2025) is a wild, ridiculous, and surprisingly successful revival that hits the mark more often than not. It honors the spirit of Leslie Nielsen without trying to replace him and lets Liam Neeson carve out a space that feels both fresh and familiar. It's a reminder that comedy doesn't have to be mean or edgy to be funny it just has to be cleverly stupid, and this movie nails it.

In a year flooded with high-budget remakes and safe studio offerings, The Death of Snow White emerges like a blood-soaked dagger in a field of plastic swords. Written, directed, and produced by Jason Brooks, known to horror fans as the terrifyingly physical Jason Voorhees in Friday the 13th: Bloodlines. This $1.2 million indie horror reimagining of the classic fairy tale isn't just bold... it's brutal. And more importantly, it's good.

Unlike Disney's own lifeless live-action attempt, Brooks doesn't hold back. The Death of Snow White takes the bones of the original tale and reanimates them with twisted intent. We follow Snow White (played with grit and vulnerability by Sanae Loutsis) not through a magical woodland filled with animals and dwarfs whistling while they work-but into a nightmare realm of gnarled trees, blood magic, and a pack of deranged, vengeful dwarves who make the seven from your childhood look like Teletubbies in comparison.

And while I'm not typically a fan of fantasy (ask me about The Lord of the Rings and I'll tell you once was enough), this film doesn't feel like a fantasy in the traditional sense. It's horror first, dark fantasy second... an eerie, dirt under the nails kind of experience where the forest feels alive and the danger is always one breath away.

The standout here, though, is Chelsea Edmundson as the Evil Queen. Obsession with beauty has always been the core of the character, but this version takes it to a chilling extreme. Edmundson sinks her teeth into the role, creating a villain who is captivating, terrifying, and disturbingly real. Her scenes pulse with menace, and her descent into madness and vanity fueled cruelty is the film's black heart. This might just be the best version of the Evil Queen we've ever seen on screen.

What's most impressive, though, is how much Brooks pulls off with so little. For a mere $1.2 million budget, this film delivers on atmosphere, gore, and world-building in a way that makes Disney's $240 million effort look like a bloated costume party. It's proof that vision and tone matter more than pixels and polish.

The Death of Snow White is a dark fairy tale done right, bold, bloody, and refreshingly unafraid to push boundaries. Even if you don't typically enjoy fantasy, the horror elements, strong performances, and razor-sharp direction make this one worth your time. Jason Brooks has crafted something twisted and special, and Chelsea Edmundson's Evil Queen is one for the horror hall of fame.

If you're the kind of genre fan who can't get enough of Cooties, Night of the Creeps, or Jack Brooks: Monster Slayer, then Joseph Kahn's ICK is your next late-night obsession. Equal parts slime soaked satire, throwback creature feature, and goofball gorefest, ICK is a B-movie with A-level confidence, a film that knows exactly what it is and owns it every gloriously gooey step of the way.

Brandon Routh delivers another enjoyable performances as Hank Wallace, a washed-up high school football star turned reluctant science teacher with a personal grudge against mediocrity, and now, apparently, aliens (I think). When a parasitic lifeform begins infecting his sleepy hometown, he's forced to team up with sharp witted student Grace (Malina Weissman, absolutely owning every line) to save the world or at least their zip code.

The script balances absurdity and affection with surprising finesse. While the satire could have easily veered into "try-hard" territory, it never does. Instead, it feels right, organic, self-aware, and just grounded enough to work. Think They Live, but with alien goo and gym class trauma.

Let's talk about that goo. The CGI? Well... it's fine. Serviceable. Some of the larger-scale creature shots look like they were rendered on a monster energy drink budget, but honestly, it just adds to the film's low-fi charm. Would practical effects have elevated it? Absolutely. But in fairness, some of the creature sequences are too bonkers to pull off practically without quadrupling the budget. Thankfully, the film leans into its own ridiculousness, never pretending to be more polished than it is.

Where ICK really surprises is in its heart. Beneath the eye-rolling puns, exploding heads, and sarcastic monologues, there's a genuine emotional throughline. Hank's journey from burnout to unlikely hero has weight.

ICK is exactly what the horror-comedy genre needs more of bold, messy fun with a sharp bite. It's not trying to win awards. It's trying to make you laugh, scream, cheer, and say, "What the hell did I just watch?" and in that, it completely succeeds.