‘Compulsion’ (2024)
Neil Marshall, a normally deft orchestrator of the gritty macabre with such cult hits as “The Descent” (2005), “Dog Soldiers” (2002) and “Doomsday” (2008), has drifted from those roots and into the realm of erotic soft-core noir in his recent collaborations with muse, co-writer, lead actor and paramour Charlette Kirk (“The Lair” and “The Reckoning,” to name two). Here, in the exotic, rolling seaside hills of Malta, Kirk plays Diana, a gamer and attuned opportunist. Her tragically hip beau, Reese (Zack McGowan), is a former app entrepreneur with grand tastes who’s in deep to local heavies. The film, however, revolves around the demure newcomer next door, Evie (Anna-Maria Sieklucka), taking personal time at her stepfather’s palatial villa after breaking up with her girlfriend. In play are a series of recent grisly murders done by an assailant in an S&M getup wielding a straight edge with Ginsu precision. The detective on the case (Giulia Gorietti) is popping by constantly to ask questions, because one of the victims was Evie’s Uber driver, even as Diana and Reese scheme to clean out the stepfather’s secret safe. Since Evie doesn’t like boys, it’s up to the statuesque and most always half-naked Dianna (the budget’s line item for thongs must have been high) to bait the hook. The love triangle aspect has the psychosexual trappings of “Bound” (1996) or “Basic Instinct” (1992) if Brian De Palma had directed either through the lens of his “Rear Window” homage, “Body Double” (1984), or “Dressed to Kill” (1980) – but “Compulsion” isn’t worthy of comparison to any of those films. The dialogue is largely stilted, and many of the plot elements feel crammed in or tacked on. It’s a light erotic tease that doesn’t compel.
‘Him’ (2025)
Religious allegories abound in this “sports horror” psychological thriller about the evils of breaking bread in the church of pro sports and its inherent expectation of sacrifice. At the center is Cameron Cade (a hyper generic Tyriq Withers), the crowned next Goat of a fictional NFL league in which there is no Tom Brady, but there is Isaiah White (Marion Wayans) of the San Antonio Saviors. Like Brady (as perceived by Belichick), White is aging out, and is asked to train Cade (his Jimmy Garoppolo?) in the offseason at a grand subterranean football complex in the vast nowhere of the desert, surrounded by rabid White fans camped out tailgate style. Cade, having suffered a significant brain injury after a strange (supernatural?) and random assault, has dropped in draft stock, but gets a call from the Saviors for a seven-day evaluation period. Besides the number of days that it took to create Earth and humans, there a whole thing about juicing the oxygenated blood of saviors, legends of the past and a press conference that looks like a Last Supper postcard. What actually happens in White’s football bunker is a gory acid trip of jock hazing and the blurring of the lines between reality and delusion. As directed by Justin Tipping, the film falters despite its energy and style – which Tipping is clearly pulling from “Apocalypse Now” (1979) and “Jacob’s Ladder” (1990). “Him” feels like an apt pronoun partner to the television anthology “Them” and Jordan Peele’s “Us” (2019), at least in concept – Peele is even one of the film’s producers – but just what Tripping is getting at with race and ownership is both flat and muddled. The big win here is Wayans’ all-in performance: If this was a more grounded film that didn’t scuttle off into the realm of “Caligula” nonsense, I could see Wayans on the red carpet come Oscar time. As is, the film is likely to be soon forgotten.
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