28 Days Later (2002)

Danny Boyle’s 28 Days Later is one of those films that proves you don’t need a massive budget to create something unforgettable. From the very first shots of a deserted London, it hooks you with its eerie, almost surreal atmosphere. The stripped-down, indie vibe gives it a raw intensity—you feel like you’re right there, stumbling through an emptied city with danger lurking around every corner.

The film is terrifying not just because of the “infected,” but because of the way it’s shot. The use of digital video gives the movie a gritty, unsettling realism, amplifying every shadow and every movement. Boyle’s choice to lean into minimalism pays off—it’s scarier precisely because it feels so plausible.

The story itself is strong and tightly paced, blending survival horror with deeper questions about humanity, morality, and what people become under extreme pressure. The characters feel real and flawed, which makes the horror hit that much harder.

All told, 28 Days Later is a landmark horror film—scary, stylishly shot, and surprisingly thoughtful. Its indie energy and low-budget edge give it a unique personality that still stands out today.

Deadpool (2024) #1-5

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Deadpool begins the arc in rough shape, trying to reorient himself after recent traughts, and he soon builds an odd but effective mercenary team around himself: Taskmaster as muscle and tactical backup; Doug, a nerdy accountant/organizer who keeps the logistics running; and Princess, an alien-symbiote/Deadpool hybrid dog (who he treats like a daughter). From the start, the series leans into both the absurd and the emotional: Wade’s efforts to be better (or at least repair some relationships) run in parallel with high-octane combat and weirdness.

Their first major obstacle is the magical cult group known as The Touch, who wield strange and mystical powers. The series steadily escalates as Deadpool and company clash with these cultists, culminating in confrontations with the chief antagonist who wields the Miramasa blade — a weapon that grants him near-immortality or regenerative strength, forcing Deadpool to outthink more than out-blast him. Along the way, Wade reconnects with his daughter, Ellie, who reveals her own latent abilities (notably a magical healing factor) and plays a key role in overcoming the villains. In the penultimate conflicts, she helps tip the balance, but in the final battle Deadpool—and by extension his team—achieves victory at a cost: Wade loses (or is stripped of) his healing factor. The arc closes with a bittersweet payoff: they’ve won, but it’s unclear how much Wade is changed (or vulnerable) moving forward.

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Review & Impressions

From start to finish, the arc works precisely because it leans into what makes Deadpool fun and surprising. Writer Cody Ziglar (and the creative team) balance the snark, the gore, and the heartfelt moments. The comedy is present but never undercuts stakes — the jokes serve to puncture tension rather than derail it. Early reviews of issue #1 praised that balance: the action is “swift and bloody,” the fourth wall breaks remain smart and not overbearing, and the villain (Death Grip, in #1) already shows promise. Art is a consistent plus—emotion in quieter moments, kinetic layouts in fight scenes, and clear character designs (especially for Princess and the mystical elements). 

By issue #5, the stretch of the arc is showing its strengths. Critics point out that Taskmaster gets a moment to stretch his powers (even doing a kind of “fake magic trick” by mimicking spell gestures) in a fun bit of subversion. And though some commentary (e.g. Comicon’s review) calls #5 a “mixed bag” in parts, many agree the world-building, character chemistry, and stakes are solid. One review of #5 notes Taskmaster’s grousing over budgets (humor grounded in their in-team dynamic) alongside the dramas of protecting Ellie.  Across the arc, commentators point out that this run is “definitely the best Deadpool has been since at least 2020” in its blend of humor, action, and heart. 

If I had to nitpick: sometimes the magical / mystical rules feel underexplored (how much of Ellie’s healing power comes from what source? Why exactly the Miramasa blade works the way it does?). A few emotional beats are telegraphed in advance, and the loss of Deadpool’s healing factor — while a gutsy move — is one of those bold premises where future follow-through will be crucial. But as an arc it mostly delivers.

All told, this feels like a high point. It captures the weirdness of Deadpool, the familial stakes (especially with Ellie and Princess), and the sense that in this universe, daring gambits come with consequences. On your scale, I’d land it at 9/10 too. It’s lively, surprising, and clearly sets up interesting directions moving forward — I’m excited to see where Wade goes next (especially now that he’s vulnerable).

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Black Mirror S7 Ep 2: Bête Noire

Black Mirror S7 Ep 2: Bête Noire

“Bête Noire” stands out as one of the more striking installments of Black Mirror’s seventh season, partly because of how confidently it balances unease, spectacle, and catharsis. Directed with precision by Toby Haynes, the episode builds its tension through psychological disorientation rather than obvious horror. Subtle shifts in memory, perception, and circumstance keep both the protagonist and the viewer on edge, creating an atmosphere where nothing feels entirely trustworthy.

The performances deserve a lot of credit. Siena Kelly anchors the episode with a portrayal that’s equal parts vulnerable and defiant, while Rosy McEwen delivers a performance that is as chilling as it is nuanced. Together, they embody the clash of guilt, memory, and vengeance that drives the story. Their dynamic keeps the narrative from becoming pure sci-fi spectacle; even as reality bends, the human element remains central.

What sets “Bête Noire” apart is its ending. Without giving too much away, it’s more uplifting—or at least more empowering—than the bleak conclusions Black Mirror is known for. There’s a genuine sense of catharsis in the resolution, even if it comes wrapped in layers of ambiguity and exaggeration. For a series that often ends with despair, this tilt toward triumph feels refreshing.

That said, the final act may feel over-the-top for some, as the story moves from subtle psychological tension into high-concept, almost fantastical territory. But whether you find that shift jarring or exhilarating, it makes “Bête Noire” memorable. It’s bold, weird, and deeply Black Mirror—and it may well stand as one of the season’s highlights.