Rigorous analysis with a heavy dose of sarcasm. Built for film lovers who don't swallow Hollywood's marketing talk.
No editorial review on Claqueta Ácida yet.
We interview filmmaker Paco Plaza without filters in Valladolid after he received the Honorary PUFA. We review his career, his ghosts, and the hidden history of his cinema.
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«Dante Sangre dissects V/H/S/Mixtape, an autopsy of the analog format as a cultural trench against contemporary tyrannical digital surveillance.»
Ben Affleck directs a claustrophobic thriller where money cannot buy freedom, only the absolute certainty of failure.
Odin Lagbert dissects Takashi Miike's Audition: a surgical treatise where horror doesn't reside in the needle, but in male complicity.
Jesse McKeown delivers a tale of geographic isolation disguised as a sea monster that barely manages to stay afloat in Under the Surface.
Diego Velasco delivers in The Whistler an exercise where resource scarcity lays bare the seams of the modern thriller.
Discover the release of Beware Boiúna in theaters and streaming.
Discover the release of Street Fighter in theaters and streaming.
A folk thriller drenched in intoxicating atmosphere and solid performances, yet it lingers awkwardly between the poetic and the predictable. Drew Hancock makes a stylish debut—just don’t expect a revolution.
A pop star’s rise to fame in *Vox Lux: The Price of Fame*. But at what cost?
A troupe of ballerinas trapped in a remote inn discovers the real horror isn’t the killers—it’s their own choreography. A critique laced with venom and glitter.
The Indonesian horror flick that’ll leave you gasping for air—or praying for a quick death
Universal Pictures gifts us an alien invasion thriller so predictable even the extraterrestrials are yawning. Ice Cube and Eva Longoria try to salvage something, but the script is flatter than a roadmap.
Claqueta Ácida dissects Alejandro Amenábar’s *Thesis*—the film that turned cinematic violence into a psychological autopsy of the human soul.
Christopher Nolan turned a comic book into Shakespeare with a blockbuster budget. Heath Ledger stole the Joker’s soul—and ours. Masterpiece or pretentious overkill? Here’s the autopsy.
Christopher Nolan dismantles memory like a Swiss watch in this twisted-structure masterpiece. Guy Pearce shines, but the script is the real monster here.
Parker Finn recycles the same old formula in this pointless sequel that mistakes psychological horror for a PowerPoint presentation of jump scares. Naomi Scott shines, but the script is a zombie wearing an Antonin Artaud mask.
Maggie Gyllenhaal drags Frankenstein into the 1930s: more makeup than meaning, a romance that burns neither hot nor cold, and an edit that feels like it was sliced with nail scissors. Passed with flying colors… if the colors were all the same shade.
Lee Cronin revives Sam Raimi’s demons with a bigger budget and zero soul. Sequel or scam? Claqueta Ácida dissects the corpse.
Johannes Roberts turns a rabid premise into a tropical nightmare dripping with more sweat than scares. Is it worth it? Yes—but not for the reasons you’d think.
The most scathing, unfiltered roast of *Spider-Man: Brand New Day*, the latest installment in the Wall-Crawler’s saga—now with 100% more existential dread and 0% less corporate cowardice.
Tim Burton resurrects his most iconic creature, but the script is a Frankenstein’s monster of stale jokes and half-digested nostalgia. Keaton still rules, but this reeks of easy money.
Silvia Mordaz’s scathing review of *Princess Mononoke*—Hayao Miyazaki’s epic that’s less a film and more a full-contact spiritual exorcism.
Jane Schoenbrun turns a summer camp into a dumpster fire of hormones and clichés. Art or autopsy of a dying subgenre?
Spike Lee tackles *Oldboy* and achieves the impossible: turning a Korean revenge masterpiece into a snoozefest. Josh Brolin suffers, but not as much as the audience. 🔪💔
✍️ Article For the freedom to drown in popcorn
