Category Archives: Reviews

‘Alien: Romulus’ Returns to Form


Alien began in 1979 with one of the best taglines in cinema history: “In space, no one can hear you scream.”

Since then, the Ridley Scott Alien franchise has grossed over $1.6 billion worldwide, though not always through chills. Alien: Romulus is a step back towards fear.

Fede Álvarez’s film attempts to bridge the chasm between the terror of the original Alien and the more action-packed sequels. While it doesn’t quite reach the heights of its legendary predecessors, it succeeds in reinvigorating the franchise with a claustrophobic horror that had been missing in recent entries.

Romulus is thick with dread, and the xenomorphs are once again the stuff of nightmares. But where Romulus truly shines is in its restraint, focusing on the primal fear of the unknown rather than bombarding the audience with relentless action. It’s a throwback to the films of the 70’s, and the internet has been harsh on the decision.

The cast delivers solid performances, particularly Cailee Spaeny, who brings a raw vulnerability to her role, reminiscent of Sigourney Weaver’s iconic portrayal of Ripley. The dialogue, while occasionally stilted, serves its purpose in a film that thrives on silence and tension rather than words.

It does stagger in its pacing, with scenes that feel stretched thin and some narrative threads dropped. A subplot involving a mysterious signal from a distant planet is introduced with great intrigue but is ultimately left unexplored. But the missteps aren’t felonious.

The Alien franchise has had its share of missteps, none more glaring than Alien: Covenant. While Covenant tried to recapture the horror of the original, it ended up as a disjointed mess, leaning too heavily on philosophical musings at the expense of the visceral fear that made the series iconic. Romulus wisely avoids those pitfalls, grounding itself in the terror that lurks in the shadows.

Maybe no one can hear you scream in space, but you can almost make out a franchise getting back on its feet.

’Burn The Boats’ And The Laughs


“Burn the Boats” is an apt title for Joe Rogan’s latest Netflix special, as I found myself desperately searching for a vessel to escape this comedic shipwreck.

Rogan, once a vibrant voice in stand-up, now comes across as a caveman who’s just discovered fire – except the fire went out years ago, and he’s still rubbing sticks together.

This special is less a comedy routine and more a claustrophobic therapy session where we, the unwitting audience, are forced to endure Rogan’s dated grievances and half-baked conspiracy theories. His material on COVID-19 feels as fresh as last week’s sushi, while his LGBTQ “jokes” have all the subtlety and charm of a sledgehammer to the funny bone.

In one particularly cringe-worthy moment, Rogan compares transgender individuals to characters from “The Silence of the Lambs.” The joke didn’t kill, but the awkward, sporadic laughter nearly did.

Rogan, now the paragon of alt-right standup, seems to have mistaken volume for humor, as if by yelling loud enough, he might drown out the deafening silence of a joke falling flat.

In the end, “Burn the Boats” is on the money, as Rogan has torched any remaining goodwill I had for his comedy. There’s a reason you won’t see any jokes in the trailer; he’s no longer funny.

The only boat I wish he’d burned was the one carrying this special.

Layne Staley: Fever Dreams, Cold Sweats


Layne Staley sings two of my five favorite songs. 

I have no idea what the other three songs are; the list changes so. But Layne has two spots locked up with ‘I Stay Away’ by Alice in Chains and ‘River of Deceit’ from his side project, Mad Season.

It’s not that he has a classically limber voice; mom would liken his growl to a cat being pissed off in an alley. It’s nasally, hollow, sad.

But I find it haunting. And not just because the songs are apocalyptically prophetic.

There’s something about Staley’s voice that burrows under your skin, sets up camp in your bones. It’s not pretty, not in the conventional sense. But Staley never seemed interested in sugar-coating that particular pill.

‘I Stay Away’ hits you like a fever dream. The way Staley’s voice weaves through those lush, unsettling strings – it’s like watching a man navigate a minefield while high on ether. You’re transfixed, waiting for the inevitable explosion, but it never comes. Instead, you’re left with this lingering sense of unease, a reminder that sometimes the anticipation of pain can be worse than the pain itself.

Then there’s ‘River of Deceit.’ If ‘I Stay Away’ is a fever dream, this is the cold sweat that follows. Staley’s voice here is quieter, more introspective, but no less potent. When he croons “My pain is self-chosen,” it’s not just a lyric – it’s a confession, a realization, a surrender. It’s the sound of a man staring into the abyss and finding it uncomfortably familiar. 

That abyss, which swallowed my sister, would claim him in April 2002, when he was found dead in his Seattle apartment after years of battling heroin addiction. His body, withered to just 86 pounds, wasn’t discovered until two weeks after his death – on April 5th, ironically the same date Kurt Cobain had died eight years earlier.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Mom might hear an angry alley cat, but I hear a prophet of doom, singing hymns for the damned. There’s a raw honesty in Staley’s delivery that makes even his most despairing lyrics feel weirdly comforting. 

And maybe that’s why these songs have such a death grip on my top five. In a world that often feels like it’s spinning off its axis, there’s something reassuring about Staley’s unflinching gaze into the void. 

His voice isn’t classically beautiful. But neither is a storm, and we still find ourselves staring in awe at lightning-torn skies.

In the end, isn’t that what great art does? It makes us find beauty in the unconventional, comfort in the uncomfortable, and meaning in the chaos.

And if that sounds like the yowling of a pissed-off alley cat, well… meow.