When one hears the title Honey, I Blew Up the Kid, the mind naturally wanders to a more macabre and grotesque image than what the film actually offers.
Honey, I Blew Up the Kid (1992)
When one hears the title Honey, I Blew Up the Kid, the mind naturally wanders to a more macabre and grotesque image than what the film actually offers.
Honey, I Shrunk the Kids is maybe the most VHS-core movie of all time, an early ‘90s family movie night staple.
Them! begins as a ghost story in the desert: a mute little girl ambles down the dusty road in shock, haunted by some frightening sight she can’t even speak of.
Is it the end of the world, or just a weeknight?
Out of all the films I’ve reviewed for The Goods, I’m not sure there’s a single one where my watching was more compromised than Barbarian.
SXSW has, over the last decade, attracted a very specific kind of film
2025 has been the year of tonal whiplash, and I’m not even talking about the news cycle.
Here’s my rule of thumb: don’t trust a critically acclaimed horror debut.
I will indulge the metaphor that repeatedly clanked around my head as I watched F1
Happy Feet Two suffers from a similar ailment to The Witches of Eastwick