A murdered prostitute. A rash of neighborhood break-ins. A ransom call from a child’s kidnapper. A thwarted robbery and assault in the subway. That’s a lot of crime for one movie — unless that movie is an anthology. 

Meet Mania, a gem of a suspense omnibus from the Great White North. Its opening-credits sequence suggests something special and very, very ‘80s. You get both from all four of its unhosted, unconnected stories. 

With the majority directed by Prom Night’s Paul Lynch, each segment concludes with a twist. If the near four decades since have rendered those conclusions guessable, you still must acknowledge and admire the cleverness in their construction. They’re not gimmicky in the M. Night Shyamalan way where you’re so focused on parsing them out rather than enjoying the journey to get there. 

Mania might be accurately called Canada’s version of Alfred Hitchcock Presents; it’s certainly more narratively successful than NBC’s short-lived revival of that time. Most of all, the Maniaical pieces remind me of the ingenious shorts HBO used to play in its infancy as between-movies filler seemingly beamed in from nowhere.  —Rod Lott

Clearly, Don’t Look Now is a brilliant film in the annals of mind-bending suspense, but also one that is very bizarre and outré, something that sets it apart. Even more so, this giallo precursor was the type of film you could release in the ’70s and win all the awards while being a critical darling. The last movie Nicolas Roeg directed that was a tasteful piece of erotic art was Mimi Rogers’ Full Body Massage. While it doesn’t reach the highs of Don’t Look Now, it’s a classic in its own way.

The older I get, the more Don’t Look Now confounds me and astounds me, leaving me internally terrified that the dreamlike atmosphere and disjointed pieces are so broken, similarly distorted by the sheer realism and tragic finale. And, of course, that ending is a total shocker, even by today’s exacting standards, both graphically and creepily.

Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie play John and Laura, a married couple dealing with their daughter’s recent fatal accident. A few months pass, we find them in Venice, restoring an old church. Suddenly, strange occurrences take place, with troubling doppelgangers, blind mediums and, of course, the horrific killer.

An extension of the traumatic loss of the emotionally stunted characters, it plays with the conventions of the stages of grief and mourning, given a paranormal twist by Roeg. With the natural movements in an alien culture, Roeg gives you that xenophobic feeling walking along the canals.

Adapted from the short story by Daphne du Maurier, the movie finds both Sutherland and Christie remarkable in their roles, although Donald struts around like he’s going to an Italian Doctor Who convention. And with a more than shocking sex scene that feels highly animalistic, Roeg brings back my Mimi Rogers fantasies.

Don’t Look Now needs to be viewed multiple times, because I always find another piece of the puzzle—even if it not supposed to be there. —Louis Fowler

Get it at Amazon.

Squealer positions itself as based on real-life crimes without stating whose. If they’re not Robert Pickton’s, then actor Ronnie Gene Blevins can chalk his visual similarity up to pure coincidence and be proud of the paycheck. Then again, how many greasy pig farmers have moonlighted as serial killers? 

Maybe don’t answer that. 

As “Squealer” in Squealer, Blevins (2018’s Death Wish remake) plays a pig farmer and butcher who kills prostitutes. Oink, boink. He makes literal meat of the slain hookers, which causes the odd nipple ring to make its way into the ground round. 

The police investigate. One of the cops is Tyrese Gibson, needing to eat between Fast X installments. The main man on the case, however, is Jack (Wes Chatham, 2014’s The Town That Dreaded Sundown remake). Because his estranged wife (Danielle Burgio, House of the Dead 2) happens to be a social worker whose heart looks out for the ladies of the night, whether Jack succeeds is a matter of when, not if.

Burgio also co-produced and co-wrote the film with director Andy Armstrong (Moonshine Highway), a fellow stuntperson. Originality may not be among the pages, but they wrote her a great showcase. She shines in the part.

Meanwhile, Kate Moennig (2012’s Gone) and Theo Rossi (Emily the Criminal) steal the movie out from everyone, Batman villain-style, as Squealer’s “business associates.” She’s a tweaker; he’s a purple-suited, crossbow-wielding drug dealer. Together or individually, they bring levity every time they show up, in a movie that plays things bone-dry.

If it sounds like Squealer gets squeezed out of Squealer, that’s because he does — a victim of his own supposed story. Part procedural, part slasher, part domestic drama and part social justice advocate, the unfocused film doesn’t amount to much, outside a few amusing turns. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.