Emilia Pérez

Director: Jacques Audiard
Starring: Zoe Saldaña, Karla Sofia Gascón, Selena Gomez, Adriana Paz, Edgar Ramírez, Mark Ivanir
Running Time: 132 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

Say what you will about Jacques Audiard's Emilia Pérez, but it's definitely in a category all by itself, at points straddling the lines between drama, musical, comedy, and action thriller. And while it isn't exactly common to see an elaborately choreographed musical number about a drug lord's gender reassignment surgery, Audiard's out of the box approach is easy to embrace, shattering any preconceptions viewers may have going in. 

Adapting his own opera into a unconventional feature, Audiard's technique becomes more about the "how" than "what," pushing the plot in a direction that at times seems impossible to predict. He walks the thinnest of tightropes by mixing disparate genres in a blender to earn a payoff that hits surprisingly hard, thanks largely to the pair of brilliant performances that anchor this ambitious spectacle.

Rita Mora Castro (Zoe Saldaña) is an overworked, undervalued defense attorney in Mexico assisting in a prominent murder case when she gets an anonymous phone call requesting her presence for a mysterious meeting. After being offered a life-altering sum of money for her services, she discovers the prospective client is notorious drug cartel kingpin Juan "Manitas" Del Monte (Karla Sofia Gascón). Informing Rita of his desire to get out of the business and start a new life as a woman, he tasks her with finding a surgeon to perform the surgery and relocate his wife Jessi (Selena Gomez) and two children to Switzerland for their safety. 

Upon faking his own death, Juan becomes "Emilia Pérez" and Rita gets paid, assuming her work is done. And it is until she encounters a now unrecognizable Emilia four years later, who has one more important assignment for the lawyer. But it's a big one that could potentially destroy Emilia's cover, putting those she cares most about at risk. As Rita and Emilia professionally joining forces to run a Mexican nonprofit, the former will soon discover the true danger of her client attempting to exert the same level of control in this life as she did in her criminal one.

There's a reversal of expectations since Audiard could have taken the easy road of former enemies uncovering Emilia's identity and returning to extract revenge. What occurs instead is far more complex, as Juan's transformation into Emilia initially goes off without a hitch, extricating her from a violent past to experience this new life as a woman. But once Emilia retains Rita's services again, we suspect  trouble lurks on the horizon. Unfortunately, the danger ends up being Emilia herself, who proves that old habits die hard. 

Jessi and the kids believing Juan is gone won't deter Emilia from reconnecting with her family, even if they have no idea who she really is. Nor will Jessi's volatile relationship with boyfriend Gustavo (Edgar Ramírez), a problem she'll poorly try to handle using her old tactics. Rita knows Emilia's involvement is a terrible idea, but as the two friends start changing lives in the community, we see a charitable, remorseful side of Emilia that suggests she's desperate to make amends for a life of crime. But even as she's immersed in a solid relationship with girlfriend Epifanía (Adriana Paz), the walls around her are crumbling down.

Even with Emilia raising her public profile enough to become a folk hero of sorts, it's still credible that no one in law enforcement or the criminal underworld would recognize her since we have to do a triple take ourselves in identifying her as Juan. And if there's been some debate surrounding who the film's lead actually is, what Gascón pulls off is miraculous either way, charting Emilia's journey from drug boss to flawed saint with a wide range of motivation and regret. 

Gascón excels as both the silently suffering Juan and more extroverted, self-assured Emilia, who's struggling to reconnect with her family. From scene-to-scene the actress manages to swing between charismatic caregiver and domineering monster, making viewers wonder who will win in the end. And yet the film's first half belongs entirely to Saldaña, who earns a showcase for unexplored facets of her talent previously hidden by giant franchise roles. 

The tirelessly loyal Rita is simultaneously inspired and frustrated by Emilia, who's new beginning marks an entirely different start for her as well. And Saldaña puts her trained dance background to good use by impressively carrying the musical numbers, many of which are not only catchy, but advance the story's plot with humorously clever lyrics sprung from spoken conversations. While the Spanish film's subtitled, it's a credit to Saldaña that the translation rarely feels necessary because she sells so much of the story through her voice, mannerisms and body language. Gomez's performance peaks later, but she emerges as a formidable presence as Jessi flies further off the rails when escalating events reach their climax.

Like its title character, the picture itself undergoes a transition when the script abruptly changes course, going down an alternate road that ends up being even more explosive. Throughout, Audiard remains fully committed to the notion that someone can physically change who they are, but trying to erase everything else is much harder. The story doesn't really begin until the title character gets what she wants, realizing the reward of living an authentic life can still come at an extremely high cost.                

The Substance

Director: Coralie Fargeat
Starring: Demi Moore, Margaret Qualley, Dennis Quaid, Edward Hamilton Clark, Gore Abrams, Oscar Lesage, Christian Erickson, Robin Greer, Hugo Diego Garcia
Running Time: 141 min.
Rating: R

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)  

Gripping, disgusting and hilarious, French filmmaker Coralie Fargeat's wicked horror satire The Substance is a cautionary tale the great Rod Serling probably would have appreciated. And that's obvious from the very first scene, which shows a star on Hollywood's Walk of Fame gradually deteriorating over the decades. If receiving one can be a source of pride and validation in an industry where respect is scarce, it's also fleeting. Especially for entertainers encouraged to measure their self-worth with superficial accolades.

Recognition may be nice, but what happens when you're kicked to the curb for a younger model? That's the question the film's aging actress faces and her male colleagues rarely need to consider, at least to this extent. While plastic surgery, collagen injections and various pills provide viable options for women to turn back the clock and enhance their appearance, it's tougher finding a sufficient explanation as to why that's now a prerequisite. 

In providing users an unusual black market drug, this mysterious company at the film's center seems to have it all down to a science. Our protagonist takes the bait because she's desperate, but the underlying implication is that many others already gave in and will continue to. And like most medical breakthroughs, there are few safe guards against misuse or addiction, a detail that serves as a compelling launch pad for the craziness that'll unfold.

When fading movie star Elisabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore) turns 50, she's fired from her Jane Fonda inspired TV aerobics show by the network's greedy, boisterous producer Harvey (Dennis Quaid), who's looking for a younger replacement. But when Elisabeth's admitted to the hospital after a car accident, she's given a flash drive by a nurse that advertises a cell-replicating serum called "The Substance," which promises a "younger, more beautiful, more perfect" version of herself. After picking up the supply, Elisabeth injects the "single-use activator," causing her body to generate Sue (Margaret Qualley), who emerges from a slit in her back. 

Every seven days the two must switch consciousness, with the inactive, unconscious body being fed intravenously. But when the wild, hard partying Sue becomes an overnight sensation as Elisabeth's replacement on the show, the latter falls into deep despair, unable to face the world as an older woman. Breaking protocol to extend her time and permanently bench Elisabeth, Sue's selfishness causes catastrophic side effects as the two consciousnesses head for a collision course, ignoring the fact they'll need each other to survive. 

Fountain of youth concepts aren't new to film, but the originality behind this particular process and its ramifications definitely are. Early on, the plot recalls elements of 1966's Seconds, in which a middle-aged banker utilizes the services of a clandestine agency to surgically transforms himself into a younger man played by Rock Hudson. Here, Fargeat takes that general idea to a different place by focusing on an actress whose age and appearance has always been her calling card. 

To say Elisabeth's insecurities apply strictly to this profession ignores how this premise casts a much wider net, independent of social status or wealth. Because she's an Oscar winner and fitness guru who isn't financially hurting, it's a credit to the script and Moore's performance that we don't roll our eyes at her unhappiness or dismiss the plot as a rich woman's Hollywood problem. The handwriting's on the wall as she's cruelly and casually cast aside, making it easy to see how she'd be drawn to "The Substance," which promises to rescue this increasingly invisible woman from certain obscurity. 

Retrieving her starter package from this sterile white medical storage facility in a dilapidated warehouse, it's amazing just how idiot proof the kit is. With clearly marked bags notating the steps so plainly you'd believe someone could perform this procedure without detailed instructions, despite how grossly absurd it looks. But none of that accounts for how Elisabeth psychologically handles taking a backseat to her younger, more desirable counterpart as she lies unconscious on the bathroom floor for a week.

Since Elisabeth and Sue share a consciousness, it stands to reason what one does should benefit the other, curtailing any potential pitfalls. Instead, Elisabeth wakes from her slumber even more depressed and invisible, binge eating all day and night. It's Sue who basks in the adulation that comes with being the hot, young ingenue, soon growing disgusted by the mere thought of her older version even existing. So it isn't long before she violates protocol to extend her time, resulting in crippling side effects for Elisabeth. Sue doesn't get off so easily either, having to inject herself with a "stabilizer fluid" to avoid a similar physical deterioration. 

This battle for supremacy is contested entirely inside Elisabeth's mind, as strange as that seems for a story so firmly situated in the body horror genre. She's the one person who can stop this, if only the pressure to remain young and desired wasn't so great. Hating Sue out of jealousy while still desperately needing her counterpart to maintain any semblance of self esteem, she becomes trapped in a prison of her own making.

With a willingness to spoof her public image while inhabiting the headspace of a character defined as old and washed up, a never more vulnerable Moore is literally and emotionally naked for much of this meta role. She also endures an absurd amount of prosthetics and physicality in an insane third act, conveying the complicated trauma of a woman who will do anything to retain her youth, not realizing the true cost of that deal. But her most pointed scene comes when she can't leave her apartment for a date, constantly altering her appearance in the mirror before collapsing in a pile of tears, shaking and unable to function.

As Sue, Qualley's job is tougher than it first appears, playing the vainest, most selfish version of a woman unwilling to squander her second chance at any cost. The character initially comes across as a cipher who smiles and looks pretty enough to please the ratings hungry Harvey, until all the attention goes to her head. Viewing Elisabeth as a loathsome burden that needs disposing of, the only thing more jarring than Sue's self absorbedness is how good Qualley is at portraying it, her iciness setting the stage for a showdown where neither can possibly walk away the winner.

Dennis Quaid's scenery devouring turn as this slimy producer isn't intended to be multi-dimensional, but he entertains every minute he's on screen as you eagerly anticipating his next appearance. Diabolically sleazy with his sinister smile and passive aggressive misogyny, Fargeat films him in these uncomfortably extreme close-ups that make the character look like the grossest person on Earth, especially when he's sloppily inhaling a plate of seafood. Comically repulsive, Quaid knows what movie he's in, even if his showy work will unfairly fly under the radar amidst justifiable praise for Moore and Qualley.

In addition to cinematographer Benjamin Kračun eye-popping, immersive visuals, production designer Pierre Olivier-Persin creates this unforgettable look for a bizarre time vacuum that looks and feels like the 1980's, but isn't quite. It also contains a windfall of cleverly coded cinematic references that range from The Shining to 2001: A Space Odyssey, The Elephant Man, Basket Case and Carrie. 

Elisabeth and Sue do eventually find a way to coexist in a blood soaked New Year's climax, though not at all how either expected, as both hold their funhouse mirror up to the ugly society that's rejected them. Filmed in a hyper realistic style that comes right out of Cronenberg's playbook, there's a deliberate build to the chaos that makes its gruesome payoff even more satisfying and thematically relevant. Lacking all pretense of restraint, Fargeat gleefully beats us into submission with sickening thrills and a fearless Demi Moore, who gives a performance unlike anything else in her career.

Joker: Folie à Deux

Director: Todd Phillips
Starring: Joaquin Phoenix, Lady Gaga, Brendan Gleeson, Catherine Keener, Zazie Beetz, Steve Coogan, Harry Lawtey, Leigh Gill, Ken Leung, Jacob Lofland, Bill Smitrovich
Running Time: 138 min.
Rating: R

★★½ (out of ★★★★)  

It seems fitting how all these post-mortems are being done on the critical and commercial failure of Todd Phillips' Joker: Folie à Deux since the film itself can almost be viewed as an autopsy of its brilliant predecessor.That this sequel feels made by someone who dislikes the idea of sequels isn't necessarily a negative, but Phillips creates a sprawling, audaciously ambitious mess that manages to tests viewers' patience as much as it subverts expectations. It's a huge, frustrating swing for the fences, revolving entirely around 2019's Joker while simultaneously having very little to do with it. 

Relitigating the previous film's events in painstaking detail, it focuses on the motivations behind Arthur Fleck's crimes and his own fractured state of mind as he faces trial. By this point, the character's mental illness and violent tendencies aren't exactly well guarded secrets, leaving the question as to whether a deeper psychological dive justifies another entry. And now with his perplexing follow-up, Phillips takes extremely bold measures to ensure it does. Some of those work, but others don't.  

Now in custody at Arkham State Hospital, party clown and failed stand-up comedian Arthur Fleck (Joaquin Phoenix) awaits trial for the murders he committed two years earlier, including his live on-air killing of TV host Murray Franklin (Robert De Niro). As Arthur's lawyer Maryanne Stewart (Catherine Keener) builds an insanity defense arguing the Joker persona is responsible, Arkham guard Jackie (an excellent Brendan Gleeson) gets him into a music therapy class. It's here where Arthur meets and falls for Harleen "Lee" Quinzel (Lady Gaga), an obsessive Joker superfan who was committed for allegedly burning down her parents' apartment. 

After Lee's plan for them to escape and start a new life together is thwarted, an increasingly unhinged Arthur must prepare for court while his legions of Joker fans root him on. With Gotham's Assistant D.A. Harvey Dent (Harry Lawtey) hellbent on a death penalty conviction, witnesses like former neighbor Sophie Drummond (Zazie Beetz) and co-worker Gary Puddles (Leigh Gill) take the stand to testify. Continuing to lean on Lee for support, Arthur's grip on reality slips as Joker reemerges, transforming the trial into a circus sideshow.

Given the heavy influence of Scorsese's Taxi Driver and The King of Comedy on the first film, it wasn't the worst idea for Phillips to pair Joker up with Harley Quinn for a jukebox musical in the vein of New York, New York. But after a promising start, the dark, twisted love story loses its way when scattershot execution and repetitive scenes fail to move the story forward. Clocking in at two hours and eighteen minutes, it feels longer, accompanied by a trial of the century you worry may never end. What nearly saves it are two phenomenal performances and the impressive visuals, both of which are occasionally lost amidst a package that just doesn't come together like it should.   

A cleverly conceived animated opening where Joker is impersonated by his shadow prior to a live TV performance provides a more revealing glimpse into the film's themes than you'd suspect, as the Looney Tunes-style short conveys that ongoing tug of war between Arthur's two identities. And many of the musical sequences do succeed as a manifestation of his insanity, particularly an Arkham rooftop dance and a Sonny and Cher inspired variety show spoof. But even with the presence of old school songbook standards like "That's Entertainment," "When You're Smiling" and "I've Got the World on a String," these excursions become increasingly uneven, resulting in diminishing returns the more Phillips tries to squeeze in.

Of all the picture's issues, Phoenix and Gaga aren't among them, with the former giving another complex, compelling performance that alternates between dark humor and unimaginable despair as Arthur's vulnerability is put on full display for everyone to see. And despite skepticism surrounding her casting, Gaga's work is one of the best things in this, and not just because of her singing during the musical interludes. In capturing the dangerously compulsive infatuation Lee has with Joker, her true motivations remain constantly in question. Their bond not only reflects his narcissistic need for love and affection, but ties into themes of media obsession prevalent in the first film. 

Midway through, the narrative becomes disjointed when scenes drag and action awkwardly shifts between the hospital and courtroom. Musical sequences are either piled on or disappear before returning to relay the same idea in a different song or setting. But while Arthur's trial is entirely too long, it's still entertaining to watch Joker represent himself with a Grisham inspired Southern drawl as the supposedly no-nonsense judge (Life Goes On's Bill Smitrovich!) indulges his craziest whims. By the time returning characters take the stand, what unfolds feels like a bizarre cross between the Seinfeld finale and Colin Ferguson's 1993 shooting trial. Harvey Dent's inclusion makes sense, even if the character leaves so little an impression you'll have to remind yourself he's there, until a late development jolts us into recalling why.

While there's understandable disdain for what Phillips attempts, this approaches the material from an entirely different angle than the first film, far more invested in exploring whether Arthur and Joker really are one in the same. A potentially intriguing thesis on it comes toward the end, but even that's marred by some confusing, if well shot theatrics. Its final minutes feel more deflating than tragic, likely to leave viewers shaking their heads at the infuriating denouement, as if the joke's on them. And in a way, it is. But despite its many problems, this still could be worth revisiting down the road, if only to further examine how a Joker sequel turned out like this.       

The Apprentice

Director: Ali Abbasi 
Starring: Sebastian Stan, Jeremy Stron, Maria Bakalova, Martin Donovan, Catherine McNally, Charlie Carrick, Ben Sullivan, Jason Blicker, Mark Rendell, Bruce Beaton, Ian D. Clark, Tom Barnett, Stuart Hughes
Running Time: 123 min.
Rating: R

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Depending on your perspective, Ali Abbasi's Donald Trump origin story The Apprentice can be viewed as either a grotesque hit job or an accurate biographical examination of one of the most fascinating and controversial figures in American history. Or maybe, it's just a little of both. In most biopics, lines between fact and fiction blur to a point where the truth rarely matters, which is a wicked irony its subject would likely appreciate, if the movie were about anyone but him.

It revolves around a young, aspiring real estate mogul out to prove his father wrong, hustling to make a mark long before becoming a TV star or being twice elected President of the United States. With studios unwilling to take the legal risk of releasing this and everyone getting their fill of the real thing 24/7, Abbasi gives us the only Trump movie we'll probably ever need. Its title refers not to his wildly popular reality show of the 00's, but a stint decades earlier under the learning tree of cutthroat attorney Roy Cohn, who takes the eager, inexperienced businessman under his wing. A decision he'll later regret.

It's 1973 and a young Donald Trump (Sebastian Stan) is trying to get the federal government off the back of his real estate tycoon father Fred (Martin Donovan) who's being investigated for discrimination against African-American tenants. Trump meets with combative New York lawyer Cohn (Jeremy Strong), who agrees to help, in the process showing his new protégé how to make media connections and dress for the part. He also assists Trump in his quest to turn the dilapidated midtown Commodore Hotel into a Hyatt, blackmailing government officials to obtain a tax abatement.

Gaining fame and notoriety, Trump marries Czech model Ivana (Maria Bakalova) while his troubled airline pilot brother Fred Jr. (Charlie Carrick) sinks deeper into alcoholism. As his ego inflates by the day, he stops listening to Cohn and invests in rash, money losing ventures like the Trump Taj Mahal in Atlantic City. Pushing everyone away, the marriage to Ivana implodes, as does his friendship with Cohn, whom he betrays during the crooked prosecutor's time of dire need.

It's pretty wild to finally see on screen what we've only read or heard about Trump's formative years in New York prior to him becoming as a household name. And while Abbasi lays that groundwork magnificently, the switch isn't flipped by a single event or even two. This evolution was brewing from the start, informed by both his strict upbringing and professional association with Cohn. There's an inevitability to it while still suggesting this could have gone another way for Trump if just a few things fell differently. But it didn't and Cohn lights a fuse he'll get to see explode before his 1986 death.

The film fittingly opens with the nation's jaded skepticism surrounding Watergate's immediate aftermath before seguing into the Reagan years, when Trump experiences his greatest success as the living embodiment of Gordon Gekko's "greed is good" philosophy. But it's Cohn who gives his pupil the three rules all winners live by: "attack, attack, attack," never admit wrongdoing and always claim victory, even in defeat. 

Trump will later claim those eerily prophetic rules as his in the bestselling "The Art of the Deal," but when he first encounters Cohn he's impressionable and clueless, struggling to escape the grip of his controlling dad. And what's most surreal about watching this interpretation of Trump in the late 70's is that he sort of comes across as likable and ambitious enough for us to see the same untapped potential Cohn does.

Cohn is depicted as a monster not above using blackmail, threats and intimidation against his adversaries. He's also a closeted gay Jew prone to hurling homophobic, antisemitic and misogynistic slurs when he feels it'll give him an edge, perceived or actual. Only at his lowest point do we get a small glimpse into why, though the script is careful not to frame that as some kind of mea culpa. He is who he is, with Abbasi and writer Gabriel Sherman wisely opting not to sugarcoat it.

With his piercing gaze and a robotically rapid fire delivery, an unrecognizable Jeremy Strong pulls off the ultimate disappearing act as Cohn. Conveying complete control at all times, the most powerful part of his performance comes when the teacher realizes he's done too good a job training Trump, as the prized student absorbs all of Cohn's heartless lessons, only to eventually use them against his mentor. But even when the crooked prosecutor's braggadocious bluster is stripped away by AIDS, Strong keeps us guessing as to whether he actually changes or was just overtaken by someone more ruthless.

That an ailing Cohn continues telling lies on his deathbed out of self preservation seems on brand for him, as if concealing his illness and homosexuality would somehow rescue an already shattered reputation. Strong doesn't play this for empathy or press the issue, instead subtly hinting that maybe the tiniest shred of humanity seeps through at the end.

Trump's uncomfortably disgusted reaction to Cohn's health nearly mirrors his feelings about Fred Jr.'s alcoholism. While he's initially supports his big brother and famously still doesn't drink because of this, their father looms large, insultingly calling his TWA pilot son a "bus driver with wings." And although Fred complains about how much of screw up Donald is also, it won't be long before the latter replicates his father's attitude, writing Fred Jr. off as a loser before his death shakes him in a way we don't quite expect. 

Well played with condescending cruelty by Martin Donovan, family patriarch Fred Trump is often pointed to as the central motivator for Donald's obsession with power and success. This portrayal doesn't refute that, but more noteworthy is how their relationship changes once Fred's grip slips and he's surpassed by his son, who seeks a validation he'll never get. 

Fred's not just incapable of telling Donald he's proud of him, even his backhanded compliments seem cloaked in jealousy and disappointment. If Trump Tower's opening is the closest a clearly declining Fred comes to congratulating him, it's a pathetically half-hearted endorsement that comes too late to matter. By now, young Trump's already off to the races and isn't looking back.

Once Trump ascends, he stops listening and hates being told "no," whether it's from Cohn, Mayor Ed Koch (Ian D. Clark), his own mother Mary Anne (Catherine McNally), or in a particularly disturbing scene, Ivana. Amidst these futile attempts to push back is a strangely memorable moment where a doctor tries to convey the benefits of exercise to the appearance obsessed, amphetamine popping Trump. This leads to a surprisingly graphic but powerful montage involving liposuction and scalp removal surgery.

In a role no one thought could be believably filled, Sebastian Stan is a revelation, finding just the right balance in preventing the portrayal from sliding into parody or caricature. Less an attempt at mimicry than the effort to capture Trump from the inside out, he projects the steadiest of transformations. It isn't obvious right away, but as events accumulate and the tide shifts, Stan resembles him more and more, both physically and in his mannerisms. By the time we get to the third act that resemblance is downright scary, making good on the film's promise of being an "American Horror Story."

Despite immersing us in the grit and glitz of 80's New York with offbeat soundtrack choices and stripped down cinematography from Kasper Nuxen that's indistinguishable from period footage, there are key moments of foreshadowing. Whether it comes in a revealing TV interview where Trump's asked about a possible Presidential run, Cohn's legal machinations or an exchange with confidante Roger Stone that reveals the possible genesis for MAGA, the film masterfully hints how seeds may have been planted far earlier than anyone thought.

This could have gone wrong in so many different ways or come across as a feature length SNL skit, but Abassi instead delivers a compelling account that will now fall on time and distance to judge. As the pre-credit disclaimer reminds us, issues of accuracy and exaggeration will follow any biopic, but what's more noticeable here is how every minute succeeds in capturing the perception of Trump's bombastic public persona. And by zeroing in on this very specific era, we get further into the headspace of a man we've lately struggled to picture in an incarnation other than his current one.  

Terrifier 3

Director: Damien Leone
Starring: David Howard Thornton, Lauren LaVera, Elliott Fullam, Samantha Scaffidi, Margaret Anne Florence, Bryce Johnson, Antonella Rose, Chris Jericho, Daniel Roebuck, Tom Savini, Jason Patric, Krsy Fox, Alexa Blair Robertson, Mason Mecartea, Clint Howard
Running Time: 125 min.
Rating: Unrated

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

For many, the biggest surprise about the Terrifier series is its overnight rise from the humblest of beginnings into this widely popular franchise that has fans eagerly anticipating each new installment. The extremely low budgeted first film came and went but writer/director Damien Leone knew he had a potentially iconic villain in Art the Clown. Then came the 2022 sequel, which featured a more cohesive story, better acting and a noticeable production upgrade. But what really captured everyone's attention was graphic gore on a level rarely seen in mainstream horror.

With reports of moviegoers passing out and vomiting in theaters, being able to make it through one of these from start to finish sort of became a badge of honor. Now we've passed that point, as every entry comes with an advertised promise to go further than the last. And Leone holds up his end of the deal with Terrifier 3, continuing what's proven to be a very effective formula.

It's been five years since Sienna Shaw (Lauren LaVera) decapitated and presumably killed sadistic serial killer Art the Clown (David Howard Thornton), but as Christmas arrives, she's released from a mental health facility to stay with her aunt Jess (Margaret Anne Florence), Jess's husband Greg (Bryce Johnson) and their young daughter Gabbie (Antonella Rose). But as Sienna struggles with PTSD while experiencing nightmares and hallucinations of Art, her younger brother Jonathan (Elliott Fullam) is now in college, attempting to move on in his own way.

It turns out Sienna's visions are frighteningly real, as Art isn't only alive, but has recruited previous survivor Victoria Heyes (Samantha Scaffidi) to join him in his latest killing spree. Possessed by the spirit of the "Little Pale Girl" after giving birth to Art's new head, they set their sights on an emotionally fragile Sienna, who must prepare for another traumatic encounter with the demonic clown. Only this time, the lives of her remaining family members also hang in the balance.

Revealing a five-year time jump right out of the gate, one of the big differences here is that action revolves around a holiday other than Halloween, with Leone really leaning into the yuletide theme. As a result, we get an abundance of Christmas related sequences that take full advantage of Thornton's physical and comedic timing. Or more accurately, it's just a great excuse to get Art in a Santa costume, creating a disturbingly stark contrast between his jovial demeanor and gruesome brutality.

While nothing here tops the incredible "Clown Cafe" musical sequence from the last film, there are some nods to that as a scarred Sienna attempts to control the justifiable anxiety plaguing her. Aunt Jess is patient, Greg is skeptical and young Gabbie idolizes her older cousin, but realizes something's very wrong. We also get a deeper dive into Sienna's past with flashbacks involving her late father (Jason Patric) and the origin of the infamous sword. 

Jonathan fares only slightly better than his sister by burying his pain and trauma at school, until roommate Cole's (Mason Mecartea) Miles County Massacre obsessed girlfriend Mia (Alexa Blair Robertson) starts badgering him about appearing on her true crime podcast. All this buildup is more than sufficient, but as always, the spotlight's on Art, with the multi-year break doing little to suppress his bloodthirsty urges and sadistic sense of humor. 

Even by Terrifier standards, the opening home invasion is disturbingly over-the-top as Art masquerades as jolly St. Nick to slaughter an unsuspecting family. We also get this hilarious bar encounter with a Santa impersonator (Daniel Roebuck) and a particularly gory shower scene that ups the ante, highlighting Thornton's mime work and facial mugging from beneath the makeup. And despite Art seemingly getting annoyed by new accomplice Victoria early on, Samantha Scaffidi skillfully fills the "Little Pale Girl" void, delivering on the prior sequel's closing tease.

LaVera again proves to be the not so secret weapon of the series, portraying a Sienna who now fights to convince her family of Art's reemergence. Instead, her legitimate fears are chalked up to mental issues by everyone except Gabbie. Well played by Antonella Rose, the bond her character shares with Sienna adds a surprising amount of tension to an admittedly gross but thrilling final act that easily competes with the previous entry. And this time there's no attempt to even hide the fact we're getting a follow-up, as Leone leaves a dangling thread just begging to be tied up.

We fear not just for Sienna, but Gabbie, since the threat of Art is made more palpable by the film controversially establishing he won't hesitate in targeting children. And if anything seems destined to leave audiences with a bad taste in their mouths, it's that. Assuming there's still such a thing as going "too far," this definitely pushes the envelope, breaking one of the last unwritten rules in the genre. But by now viewers know exactly what they're getting into.    

Thanks to Thornton's continued brilliance as Art and some jaw dropping practical effect sequences, the series still manages to enthrall in its third outing. Moving forward, the real challenge will be in finding creative ways to keep it going once the shock value wears off. While hardly an improvement over the last, there's still a feeling Leone has places left to go with this concept. And considering how the Saw franchise recently produced its best sequel twenty years in, anything's possible.