🟢 She writes about everything and sees almost every new release: theatrical, series, blockbusters and debuts. She judges each film by what it does to the body and forgives nothing to cinema that is only marketing.
"Ugly is honest. Pretty is suspicious."
Jaume Balagueró transplants cosmic horror to the outskirts of Madrid in an exercise where ancestral monstrosity brushes shoulders with utter tackiness.
We dissect Maclain Nelson's Don't Move, where a prehistoric arachnid reduces creature-feature horror to an exercise in absolute static.
Dhruv Tripathi films a descent into the depths of journalism in Live, where identity dissolves like stolen sand.
Olivia Wilde remakes Cesc Gay's Sentimental with Seth Rogen, Penélope Cruz and a superb Edward Norton. Worth watching? Yes: 7.6/10.
A caustic critique that dismantles the illusion of 'Red Lights', revealing its structure as a shattered mirror of perception.
Ridley Scott adapts Peter Heller's post-apocalyptic elegy with formidable visual muscle, but systematically strips the narrative of any authentic human grief. 💀
Jesse V. Johnson promised a maritime thriller with Antonio Banderas. He delivered 95 minutes of paradisiacal photography and soap opera tension.
Gary Oldman turns Jackson Lamb into a corrosive force of nature in one of the best and most cynical revisions of the British espionage thriller.
Bustillo, Maury, and the unholy spirit of the era deliver the most blood-soaked, poetic, and merciless *home invasion* in cinema history.
John Carpenter reinvented the modern slasher on a shoestring budget, three piano notes, and a faceless killer embodying suburban terror—no backstory, no mercy, just a knife and the slow creep of dread.
A brutal autopsy of the new Resident Evil that reeks of office perfume and plastic blood.
A marathon of clichés and marketing sweat that leaves the audience feeling like they've run in circles. 💀
Jason Statham returns to the screen with a movie that reeks of sweat and cheap marketing. Acidic, unfiltered review.
A biting review that unravels the baroque horror of the 1968 film, amidst Karloff, shadows, and macabre sculptures.
Mel Gibson and a mysterious girl in a rural thriller that reeks of rancid testosterone and a script scribbled on a bar napkin. Raja Collins delivers a debut that doesn’t scare, but also doesn’t bore. Is it worth it? Almost.
Stuart Ortiz delivers a B-movie found footage flick with more ambition than budget. Is it worth it? Only if you enjoy horror that smells like a poorly ventilated garage.
Steve Lawson serves up a low-budget terror feast with more salt than scares. Folk horror for microwave fans: fast, cheap, and leaves the same aftertaste.
Claqueta Ácida’s scathing review of Roman Polanski’s *The Ghost Writer*—a political thriller that grinds patience into dust with the enthusiasm of a tax audit.
Żuławski turns a divorce into a flesh-and-psychosis black mass. Isabelle Adjani screams so hard the Berlin Wall shudders. Horror cinema for masochists with impeccable taste.
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 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.
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.
A scathing review of *Whistle: The Deathly Hiss*, the horror flick with a cursed whistle that’s about as fresh as a week-old corpse
A social allegory that moves like a broken elevator: powerful at first, then circling the same floors until you’re bored of your own despair.
Jan Komasa locks a violent young man in the basement of a family determined to “rehabilitate” him. Stephen Graham, Andrea Riseborough and Anson Boon carry a neo-gothic fable as unsettling as it is uneven.
Park Chan-wook distills Korean venom in this revenge masterpiece: 15 years of imprisonment, a hammer, and a live octopus. Art or nightmare? You decide.
George A. Romero raised the dead in 1968 with bargain-bin corpses, syrup blood, and a script that chewed the American Dream down to the bone. 🧟♀️🔥
Yorgos Lanthimos turns love into a bureaucratic nightmare. Colin Farrell and Rachel Weisz shine in this dystopian satire that stings, amuses, and suffocates in equal measure.
Paco Plaza delivers a Galician thriller with more bile than brilliance, where Luis Tosar shines amid a limp script and violence that leaves you wanting. Revenge or just routine?
Dina Silva gives everything as a Los Angeles singer-songwriter who snaps against the industry that humiliates her for her body. A furious indie slasher with more personality than development.
The sixth day of the **Valladolid International Fantasy and Horror Film Festival (PUFA)** offered a mix of premieres and screenings, including *Lenore*, *The Waiting Man*, and *Janur Ireng*, exploring psychological horror, black magic, and artificial intelligence.
Al Kalyk serves up an Australian boxing drama with more sweat than technique. Mavournee Hazel shines, but the script stays in the gym and never steps into the ring. Is the fight worth it?
A dark fable by Jang Joon-yeop that dances between the poetic and the pretentious. A choreography of shadows and silences, but it lacks the teeth to bite.
The second day of PUFA 2026, Valladolid’s genre film festival, brought together unsettling classics like *Who Can Kill a Child?* and exciting newcomers like *Went Up the Hill*—though "exciting" might be a stretch.
An Australian mystery with more holes than a Swiss cheese and less tension than a telenovela episode. Claqueta Ácida dissects this suspense fiasco with a scalpel and a side of sarcasm.
Lars Damoiseaux serves up a low-budget zombie feast with plastic surgeons more sinister than a 1970s operating room. Cheap blood, unintentional laughs, and a script that reeks of expired formaldehyde.
A scathing review of *The Flash*'s spectacular flop and the Hollywood storm it dragged in its wake.
Tom Hardy rises from the dead to inherit an empire of rotting ships and enemies with grinning masks. A gothic masterpiece or a soap opera in dirty suits? Claqueta Ácida dissects this feast of shadows.
Acidic analysis of the Amazon series and its meteoric collapse following the controversy on set.
Clint Eastwood bids farewell to cinema with an urban western that’s a hymn to loneliness and redemption—if by "hymn" you mean a raspy growl from a man who’d rather spit on your shoes than sing you a lullaby.
A high-end chef joins his family’s diner. Can the flames of culinary passion salvage the chaos—or will the kitchen burn them all alive?
Radio Silence signs a delightfully entertaining, bloody, and hyperbolic vampire slasher within a mansion where a twelve-year-old ballerina is the monster.
Alexandre Aja shocked global screens with a relentless rural bloodbath, redefined by breakneck pacing and a divisive twist that splits serious cinephiles right down the middle.
John Carpenter takes Stephen King’s eponymous novel and soups it up to deliver a staggering fable about teenage obsession, rock ‘n’ roll, and a 1958 Plymouth Fury with the jealous rage of a scorned lover.
Alexandre Aja delivers a flawless B-movie rollercoaster about a swimmer trapped in a flooded basement during a Category 5 hurricane—with Florida’s oversized gators as the cherry on top.
Yorgos Lanthimos bursts onto the global cinema scene with a psychological horror satire about a father who keeps his three children isolated from the world using made-up words.
Ben Wheatley shoots a pandemic-era trip—equal parts lysergic, hallucinatory, and horrifying—blending folk horror, sci-fi, and mutilation deep in the woods.
Yorgos Lanthimos takes Euripides' classic myth and injects it with an unrelenting clinical nightmare, where a surgeon’s guilt unleashes an unbearable physical curse.
Alexandre Aja takes Wes Craven’s classic and transforms it into a savage, blood-soaked, and unbearable nightmare of desert survival and mutant cannibalism.
Bustillo and Maury ditch the grimy brutality of *Inside* to birth a stunningly perverse Gothic fairy tale of vampirism and decay.
Alexandre Aja takes a break from his usual gore-fest to trap us in a psychological horror thriller where the only thing between you and the end of the world is a rope—and your sanity.
Yorgos Lanthimos delivers a dazzling, operatic, and hypersexualized steampunk fever dream about the wildest and most entertaining female emancipation in contemporary cinema.
John Carpenter fuses religious theology with particle physics in this claustrophobic, nightmarish gem about a cylinder of green liquid and the end of the world.
Ben Wheatley delivers a pitch-black, quintessentially British, and uproariously funny comedy about a pair of rural serial killers touring England in a retro caravan.
John Carpenter crafts a gorgeous homage to classic horror literature with a tale of nautical ghosts, coastal lighthouses, and bloodstained founding secrets.
Yorgos Lanthimos makes his English-language debut with a razor-sharp black comedy satire about a fascist hotel where singles must find a partner in 45 days—or be turned into animals.
John Carpenter delivers his artistic magnum opus in Antarctica, blending Cold War nihilistic distrust with the most unhinged practical effects in cinema history.
We dissect George Miller’s latest release. A visual feast that overstays its welcome like gum on hot asphalt.
Jordan Peele made his directorial debut with a razor-sharp social horror satire about hypnosis, liberal hypocrisy in the suburbs, and brain transplants—because nothing says "woke" like turning Black bodies into empty vessels for rich white folks.
Bong Joon-ho delivers a cinematic gem that effortlessly leaps across genres, morphing from pitch-black comedy about real estate scams into a bloody social tragedy.
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