Mikey (1992)

Who doesn’t love a good old fashioned evil kid movie? From bona fide classics like The Bad Seed and The Omen to “trashier” fare like Bloody Birthday and the underrated Devil Times Five, there’s just something special about seeing prepubescent boys and girls slaughtering those around them.

Situated somewhere below the line of quality and good taste is Mikey, which bears the tagline “Remember, Jason and Freddie [sic] were kids once, too,” which lets you know exactly what kind of movie this is. Though it never gets quite as violent as the films in those franchises, the intent is clear: We’re here to see a psycho child off people in increasingly creative ways.

Mikey never really gets as creatively brutal as it could, giving audiences a movie that no doubt ran mostly uncut on basic cable back in the ’90s. Starring as the titular bad boy is Brian Bonsall, known primarily as the youngest Keaton child on Family Ties and from the Disney fever dream Blank Check. The audience is tipped off pretty quickly that Mikey is disturbed when he kills his entire foster family within the first 10 minutes.

He claims an intruder committed the crimes, and is hurriedly placed with another couple, played by John Diehl and Mimi Craven. The question then becomes: How soon will little Mikey kill again? We don’t have to wait terribly long, as the boy soon becomes obsessively infatuated with his friend’s older sister (Josie Bissett, All-American Murder), and plots to get rid of her boyfriend the only way he knows how. Ashley Laurence of Hellraiser fame plays the boy’s teacher, the only adult who knows something about Mikey just isn’t right.

If you’re looking for a frank exploration of child psychology and patterns of violence, don’t look here. Also, don’t look to Mikey if you prefer that good triumphs over evil in your entertainment, because you won’t find any of that here. Watch this movie only if you’re in the mood for some pure-grade schlock wrapped up in a nasty, 90-minute package. —Christopher Shultz

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Sleep (2023)

So I snore. Yes, I hog the covers. And I may have even accidentally slapped my wife while jolting awake from a fight-or-flight nightmare.

But at no time have I ever suddenly sat up in bed in the dead of night and ominously uttered, “Someone’s inside,” with no elaboration or explanation. That’s just mean.

That’s just the beginning of the Korean thriller Sleep. In the nights that follow, Hyun-su (Lee Sun-kyun, Parasite) debuts increasingly dangerous nocturnal habits, none of which he recalls once he wakes up. His suffering wife (Jung Yu-mi, Train to Busan), is perplexed. She’s also pregnant, so she needs the rest she’s not getting.

She certainly doesn’t need the stress and pressure brought by the situation, once their downstairs apartment neighbors complain of hearing screams of terror in the night.

Sleep marks the debut film as writer and director for Jason Yu, an assistant director for Bong Joon Hoo on Okja. That Yu’s former boss has endorsed this work as “the smartest debut” he’s seen in 10 years was all the convincing I needed to devote my time. While I wouldn’t necessarily second Bong’s superlative, Sleep is unmistakably sharp and cannily constructed, heralding Yu as a worthy protégé.

Twisty plotting notwithstanding, what makes Sleep work as well as it does is the easy rapport between Jung and Lee. (Sadly, Lee isn’t around to see his work, having committed suicide last year.) They feel real — completely believable as fresh spouses sharing a deep love and respect for one another. Without that caring bond to latch onto, the viewing public’s investment of concern into this more grounded Grudge would pale. —Rod Lott

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Amber Alert (2024)

No longer a high school cheerleader trying to save the world, Hayden Panettiere tries to save just one little girl in the economical thriller Amber Alert. Suspense is as mild as hospital-cafeteria salsa packets, but hey, it’s there!

Jaq (Panettiere, Scream VI) cruises along as a rideshare passenger when the titular notification buzzes her phone. A 5-year-old has been kidnapped … and by someone whose vehicle matches the description of the one right in front of the one Jaq’s in! Turning into a veritable Nancy Drew, Jaq convinces her reluctant driver (Tyler James Williams, TV’s Abbott Elementary) to tail it.

If that setup sounds familiar, you’re not crazy: Kerry Bellessa’s Amber Alert is a remake of Kerry Bellessa’s own 2012 movie of the same name. In ditching the original’s found-footage format, this new version feels more open, even if it follows the same story beats. Again working with co-scripter Joshua Oram, Bellessa appears to relish the glow-up, showing a behind-the-camera competence he didn’t get to demo the first time around. Now, the film is more than a great idea.

The upgrade’s greatest asset? No longer are we stuck in a car with three annoying young people, one of whom existed solely to hold the camera. Panettiere and Williams share an instant likability, which helps Amber Alert get through the plot’s jankier choices. One of those is halting the momentum to prescribe a “why” for the childless Jaq going to such extremes, which is motivation we don’t need.

Call Amber Alert junk, but it’s well-made junk, like a made-for-cable movie that really, really tries. Asleep at the wheel, it is not. —Rod Lott

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Tenants (2024)

Apartment life sounds like misery to me. After all, hell is other people. With “seven floors of terror,” Tenants takes this idea to heart. 

Its terrific credits sequence introduces us not only to the apartment building serving as the horror anthology’s setting, but a young woman (the appealing Mary O’Neil, 2023’s Malum) who emerges from a sac of goo in its parking garage. With no memory, she roams the halls, stairwells and other common areas in search of her sister; in doing so, encountering renters along the way, she threads the heptet of stories together. 

Most of them work, some even quite well. In the realm of body horror, a former child star (Christa Collins, Aileen Wuornos: American Boogeywoman) attempts to get a gnarly rash under control while prepping for the audition of her life. On the darkly comedic side, the warring roommates played by Fayna Sanchez (OJ: The Musical) and Clarke Wolfe (Deathcember) yield as much of a ball as they do blood. 

My favorite, from Jonathan Louis Lewis (Black Devil Doll), crawls into creature-feature territory. It depicts a post-miscarriage woman (Tara Erickson, American Satan) finding quite the scary surprise while doing laundry.

In the middle of all these strange occurrences, Blake Reigle offers a welcome respite by unofficially adapting Eddie Murphy’s classic “Too bad we can’t stay!” bit from Delirious. Finally, O’Neil’s amnesiac wraparound earns a wrap-up in her efforts to evade a smoke monster and reach the top floor — more difficult to do when the building’s architect may have been M.C. Escher. 

Despite coming from four directors (including Sean Mesler and Psycho Storm Chaser’s Buz Wallick, both of whom wrote the screenplay with O’Neil, aka Mrs. Wallick), Tenants excels in visual and tonal consistency. This holds true even in the pair of segments that don’t properly pay off. It’s a lesson more low-budget horror anthologies — which number (too) many these days — would be wise to follow. —Rod Lott

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Lost in the Shuffle (2024)

Now here’s a twist on the true crime genre: the solution to a 525-year-old murder mystery hidden in the art on a deck of cards. That’s what world-champ magician Shawn Farquhar believes, at least. In Lost in the Shuffle, documentarian Jon Ornoy follows Farquhar simultaneously investigating his theory and creating an elaborate card trick based on the crime. 

The cold case at hand (as it were) involves the suspicious death of France’s King Charles VIII, perhaps killed by his queen, Anne of Brittany. Farquhar’s quest takes him to Belgium, Britain and beyond, with the occasional and fully intentional tangent into magic theory. 

Ornoy and his globetrotting star almost magically transform deep-niche nerd shit into an engaging detective story, with wonderful animated segments subbing for reenactments. Although not as Da Vinci Code-y as initially set up, their symbol-conspiratorial Shuffle holds appeal to history geeks, homicide geeks, game geeks, travel geeks, sleight-of-hand geeks and even just process geeks.

To whichever group(s) among those you belong — and even if you find Farquhar’s ultimate assertion to be a mighty leap of assumption — you’ll probably fall into the movie’s net. —Rod Lott

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