Desire 2026 * * Stars

ARDOR FREE

A slightly noir-like film that feels like an artsy version of a recent Lifetime endeavor. Yeah I'm talking about 2026's Desire or in Spanish terms, Deseo. Desire, well it's a product of Netflix, with some poor dubbing, some attractive leads, and a couple pseudo, steamy love scenes. So, do swim coaches really go from being Olympians in training to mentoring teenage girls at some random pool? And what exactly does Lucero's character's husband do for a living besides checking surveillance cameras at said pool? And uh, what's up with Lucero's geeky son, looking like an extra from 2014's Not Cool and blaring Linkin Park-style music through his headphones all day? Yikes.

Anyway Desire is helmed by rookie Teresa Simone, a filmmaker who projects Desire like a glossy love letter to good old Mexico City. She uses fill lighting, not much novelty, and some interesting camera angles to secure her vision even if her vision is modern-day softcore porn straight from the annals of say, 1979. "You wanna tell me anything." I thought I just did chief. I thought I just did.  

Late 70s Caligula, CDMX tributes, and dark hues aside, Desire is well shot by Simone and the flick has a numbing, mysteriousness to it. I mean I could almost see a poor man's Oliver Martinez and a poor man's Diane Lane getting their total, Unfaithful on. The problem however is how Desire is edited (or not fully edited), making the viewer scratch his or her head over twists and turns that seem like convoluted, plot dead ends rather than effective plot threads. A Mexico-produced vehicle about a woman who cheats on her hubby with fallen pool boy only to dump said pool boy and then plan on offing the poor schlub. If Desire played it as a straight thriller like I just described, it probably would've held a little more water (pun intended). Burned out "desire."  

Written by Jesse Burleson

The Murder of Rachel Nickell 2026 * * Stars

EXECUTION NOT WARRANTED 

"Dadda, can you help me draw mummy on this piece of paper?" So says a two-year-old witness in The Murder of Rachel Nickell, a documentary that seems to want to dredge up something that happened almost 34 years ago. Um, let the victim's family be at peace will ya. And yeah, let's not now bother the dude that was falsely accused of Nickell's horrific passing via good old '92. Yeesh.

So OK, "Rachel Nickell" was directed by feature rookie Lucy Bowden, a woman who might have been swayed by Netflix's final, abrupt cutting. I mean why is the actual killer of Rachel revealed in the last five minutes on a whim? And why does little Alex Hanscombe now an adult (see first paragraph), suddenly show up in the last twenty minutes or so only to give very little insight into how his mum got stabbed 49 times a la broad daylight? And um, why was father Andre Hanscombe (Nickell's partner) so camcorder crazy that everything his fam did had to be so cataloged. Oh wait, it was the 90s. My bad. 

Bowden, well she gives The Murder of Rachel Nickell a sterile, streamlined look, interspersed with what seems like prepped interviews, grainy archives, and slight reenactments. The editing is yardstick, the musical score by Andrew Skeet is mildly stirring, and "Rachel Nickell" has gained enough reverence to the point where it has also been made into an actual TV series (with real actors). "I saw it... Yeah I saw it all." Not so fast boss. Not so fast. 

In closure, The Murder of Rachel Nickell fails however to be novel, or fresh, or anything other than humdrum existing. I mean it's like watching a combination of Dateline or 20/20 or even paranormal drama A Haunting, where instead of the camera readily peeking in we get something that's a little pat and/or smarmy. "Murder unincorporated."

Written by Jesse Burleson

Faces of Death 2026 * * * Stars

DEATH PROVED

It was 1978 and no one had seen the likes of something like Faces of Death. Um, just like no one had seen the likes of The Exorcist and/or Pink Flamingos (yikes). Despite a critic's ribbing and decent box office receipts, "Death" still gained cult status, showing footage of different ways humans could bite that proverbial dust. 48 years later we have a revamping of Faces of Death titled well, Faces of Death (naturally). People are still getting executed, the flick is still pseudo mondo, the budget is still nil, and the antagonist is still "killing for no apparent reason." "Flag it, and move on." As if we could boss. As if we could. 

Reflecting on various horror pics of the past and near present, Faces of Death (starring Barbie Ferreira and Dacre Montgomery) won't set the world on fire but it's perfectly passable as screenlife, snuff fodder. Beheading-s and shootings and home invasions and electrocutions oh my! "Death's" runtime is 105 minutes, the soundtrack reeks of John Harrison (that's a good thing), and unseasoned director Daniel Goldhaber thinks in cuts with his hyper-cutting giving Faces of Death a rather nimble pace. "Give the people what they want." Fo sho. Fo...sho.

So OK, don't go into "Death" thinking it's a documentary like '78's original version, with unknown actors and ultimately mealy footage. No Faces of Death is modern-day, only reverting back to the super-sounded 70s as a veritable springboard. I mean I've only seen the trailer of the first Faces of Death and there's no graininess here, just a sort of triple hybrid of Silence of the Lambs, Saw, and some Sam Raimi vestige on the low. Fairly well done, not as gory as I thought, saddled with building tension, and made for the millennial-s who like their Internet fabric spoon-fed to them. Flushed "faces."  

Written by Jesse Burleson

Maternal Instinct 2026 * * Stars

GUTTED FEELING 

A queasy documentary that shows what happens when you combine Dateline and Cold Case Files with a little Jerry Springer (yikes). Yeah I'm talking about 2026's Maternal Instinct, not to be confused with '92's Basic Instinct, that Dutch vehicle from a few years back, or that badly-panned thriller starring Sir Anthony Hopkins. "Maternal", well it's another yardstick Netflix nuance, exploiting those social media outlets like Facebook and Instagram and I guess Pinterest (hey I'm just spitballing here). 

So OK, was "Maternal's" subject Taylor Parker really pregnant despite having a hysterectomy? And did Tay Tay really claim that she accidently killed her best bud to retrieve her unborn tyke? And uh, what's up with the unusual change in appearance via the trial Taylor? I mean I hardly recognized ya.

Anyway Maternal Instinct is shot in the normal video on-demand style, not groundbreaking or completely stirring but not too low-resolution either. Directed by ten-year vet Jessica Dimmock (TV's Home, The Pearl), "Maternal" gives you recent archives and bodycam footage and non-filtered interviews, fashioning the Texas families and friends involved as guests on a trashy talk show (see first paragraph). "Coming from a small town you can trust easy." Can you boss? Can you for reals?

America's favorite streaming service and potty-mouthed accounts aside, Maternal Instinct is well-shot by Dimmock and well-edited by one Carter Gunn (he of 30 for 30 fame). The problem with "Maternal" however, is who it's sensationalizing which is current death row inmate Taylor Parker. I mean this girl should remain anonymous, like those randoms who commit school shootings on the low. Parker is a walking spam alert, the ultimate catfish-er, the ultimate house pourer, the ultimate death of acceptable social networking (no pun intended). Giving her any kind of forum (vocal or non-vocal) or even her own flick for that matter is just plain awry. Last "instinct". 

Written by Jesse Burleson

Backrooms 2026 * * 1/2 Stars

ROOM WITH NO VIEW

A one-word title for a movie, more creepy than scary, numbing with some serious wide shots, almost Kubrickian. Yeah I'm talking about 2026's Backrooms, a flick so destitute and grainy you need special lenses just to view it. So OK, is Backroom's main character Clark cray cray or just having a real bad dream? And how does someone fail at architecture only to become a furniture store owner? And uh, what's up with the deformed dude with nine eyes? "What did you find?" Oh wouldn't you like to know. 

So yeah, there must have been a boatload of vast set designs on Backrooms. I mean the vehicle is called Backrooms for a reason so there you go. And rookie director Kane Parsons obviously saw his share of Blair Witch/Paranormal Activity flicks, what with all the low budgets and found footage stuff and you know, claustrophobia. Somewhere Oren Peli is calling and guess what, he says he wants his control of independent features back. Natch. 

Heather Donahue personas and Katie Featherston mantras aside, you want a pseudo horror pic about getting lost in interconnected, physical enclosures that's way too complex for its own good? Well you'll probably get that with Backrooms. And do you want to see something where the images will creep you out but at the same time you'll be scratching your proverbial head, wishing everything could just be played out as a straight thriller? Prego, it's in there with Backrooms. And finally, do you want to see star Chiwetel Ejiofor (as Clark mentioned earlier) doing local TV, pirate commercials at his empty outlet? Uh, neither do I. 

All in all, Backrooms in terms of its panache is a helmer's triumph, a mosaic of harrowing, three-dimensional imagery and labyrinthine camera setups. As a mode of storytelling however, the film has a lot to be desired. I mean Backrooms might require repeated viewings but that doesn't mean it's a horror/art masterpiece of atmospheric drama and dread. "Imagine describing a dog to someone who's never seen one before and then asking them to draw it." You said it shrink Kline not me. 

Written by Jesse Burleson