Pretty Lethal 2026 * * * Stars

LETHAL WEAPONRY

A group of ballet dancers and their coach have their bus break down in the middle of nowhere. Where do they go after being stranded? Well they head to a traveling lodge, encountering a sadistic, former ballet prodigy who plans to make their life a living hell. That's the gist of 2026's Pretty Lethal, a horror thriller where you want the protagonists to triumph and the bad guys to veritably get theirs. Said evil ballet prodigy is played effectively by veteran actress Uma Thurman. "We need to get out of here." Uh, ya think?

So yeah, Pretty Lethal is extremely bloody and pulpy, a modus operandi that's so violent its violence nearly veers into camp. I mean when you watch "Lethal" you have to take your mind back to the early 2000s, where Eli Roth, Rob Zombie, and even the late Tobe Hooper kind of ruled the roost. The only things missing are Malcolm McDowell wearing a wig, some evil kid yelling "pancakes!", and various cannibals chilling in rural Texas. "Inside every ballerina's heart beats the blood of a warrior." Oh fo sho. Fo...sho! 

Exaggerated style and carnival-esque directors aside, Pretty Lethal has its villains with nearly nil motives, its sitting, target leads not the most likable females in the room, and its plot rather cut and dried, a sort of excuse to roll out the old grindhouse at the dead of night (pun intended). Oh well. With "Lethal" it's the action that truly counts here, sanguinary action with fight scenes that use artistic dancing as a form of nasty birds in flight. As the five pro hoofer personas try to escape the rather glorified hostel they're in (that would be Hungary's Teremok Inn), Pretty Lethal shows its audience the result of danseuses on pure adrenaline, getting their high-powered, Jet Li on. "Pretty" girl rock.  

Written by Jesse Burleson

The Rise of the Red Hot Chili Peppers: Our Brother, Hillel 2026 * * * 1/2 Stars

"PEOPLE, KEEP ON LEARNIN"

Members of the Red Hot Chili Peppers talk about the beginnings and origins of the band and their beloved guitar player who died tragically nearly 40 years ago, right before they made it really big. So basically we have a vehicle here that doesn't drown in total self-conceit. "We were a trio of best friends in high school." You don't say Flea. You don't say.

So OK, I think The Rise of the Red Hot Chili Peppers: Our Brother Hillel is one of the best documentaries I've seen in the last five years. I mean it doesn't bend to normal tropes, taking one portion of the Chili Peppers Behind the Music chunk and stretching it out to a never-dull 93 minutes. Rock on brothers! Yeah VH1 is fun to watch but the early 2000s were dated as all get-out. "Our Brother Hillel" is more modern-day in terms of its polish and cinematic professionalism. "It was red-hot." Uh, hint hint. 

Directed by Ben Feldman (a near rookie), projecting the usual archives and animation, distributed by Netflix (naturally), and showing raw concert footage that would give you some serious whiplash (yikes!), The Rise of the Red Hot Chili Peppers: Our Brother Hillel is an unflinching and fervent docu, not necessarily praising the Peppers boys but paying tribute to their fallen, influential axeman Hillel Slovak who perished from a heroin overdose circa 1988 (see first paragraph). 

Singer Anthony Kiedis, Hillel's bro (James Slovak), and bassist Flea (whose real name is Michael Balzary), well they wax on profusely about Slovak, spewing profanities, being vulnerable, and shedding non-crocodile tears. I mean "Our Brother Hillel" is massively without filter, and it's quite refreshing witnessing this on screen as opposed to a flick about rock heroes where everyone but them is being interviewed to um, anatomize. Give "rise" to.  

Written by Jesse Burleson