whatisdanwatching
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You know, sometimes when I'm driving through the Rust Belt, I ask myself, "Could Pittsburgh possibly get any more gritty?" Right then, some Hollywood exec decides to set up camp in Tinseltown to shoot a story about a Pittsburgh hospital, and-boom-along comes The Pitt. And ironically, not a single steel beam was harmed in the making of this show (most of the filming took place in Los Angeles, folks). But hey, that's the magic of television: illusions on illusions. They trick us into thinking anything's possible, like doctors who do everything from open-heart surgery to searching for a patient's lost slippers in the supply closet. But I digress. Let's talk about The Pitt-a spiritual sequel to ER if you will, or in my mind, what ER would've remained if it hadn't gone full daytime soap.
Setting the Scene
Remember that classic sequence in ER-the one that ended up with Dr. Carter diving into more personal tragedies than an entire Shakespeare anthology? You half expected that poor guy to see Macbeth's ghost in the locker room. Well, apparently, Noah Wyle had a vision to resurrect Dr. Carter in a new show. Only problem? He and John Wells forgot to bribe Michael Crichton's estate with enough stethoscopes. So they pivoted-did the old "change-a-roo." Now we have a hospital series set in Pittsburgh, except they filmed it in Los Angeles. It's a bit like eating vegan cheesesteak- you're not quite sure it's authentic, but you're willing to go along for the ride, hoping you at least get some sizzling drama to fill the sandwich of your entertainment needs.
In walks Noah Wyle-the man, the myth, the doc who carried ER like Atlas carried the world on his shoulders. He's now carrying The Pitt like it's a delicate tray of hospital Jell-O. And by "carrying," I mean if you took him out, this show might just roll into a standard-fare TV drama about angels in white coats who spit out medical jargon. Don't get me wrong-there are other talented folks in the cast (I see you, Tracy Ifeachor and Patrick Ball), but Wyle's the stethoscope that keeps the heartbeat pumping so far. Let's hope those diamonds in the rough get polished fast, because this is a cast that, with the right script, might sparkle like the Allegheny at sunrise. Otherwise, we might be left with yet another quick fix medical drama that's more forgettable than that weekly check-up.
Why The Pitt Works (So Far)
You know the first five seasons of ER, back in the day when they'd show raw, real trauma and the overhead speaker never seemed to shut up about GSWs, incoming traumas, or Dr. Greene's personal meltdown? That era of medical drama actually made you squirm in your seat. The Pitt does its best to replicate that tension. There's a grit here that says, "Hey, we're not just a bunch of model-perfect doctors sipping lattes between surgeries. We're dealing with the underbelly of real hospital life." I'm talking about legitimate medical cases, blood spurts, the beep of machinery that sets your nerves on edge, and that feeling that at any second, something can and will go horribly wrong.
While ER eventually paraded around with plot lines that might have fit better on Days of Our Lives, The Pitt sets up shop with the promise of, "We're going to show you the real stuff-the heartbreak, the panic, the drama that you can practically smell." It's like they combined the old ER tenacity with a dash of House cynicism (minus the cane-wielding hero), and threw in some of that docudrama camera style, where the lens shakes so much you're certain the cameraman just got off a roller coaster.
And that's the rub-there's an authentic vibe, a kind of handheld urgency. I appreciate it to a point. I love me some adrenaline in my TV shows. The tension keeps me from burying myself in a phone game of Candy Crush while the plot unfolds. Here's a show that demands your attention. It's telling you: "Blood, scrubs, heartbreak. Keep your eyes on the prize." And for the most part, it succeeds.
Where's the Nurses?
But for a show about an emergency department, you ever notice how in real life, nurses are basically the unsung heroes who hold the entire operation together? I come from a family of nurses. True story: I can't go to a family gathering without hearing about the nurse who had to MacGyver a cure for a patient whose IV stand decided to spontaneously implode, while the doctor was busy signing forms in the corner. The Pitt would have you believe that doctors do most everything-hanging IV bags, checking vital signs, even mopping up the floor if a patient yaks all over the hallway. Realistically, that's like telling me Tom Brady personally sets up the Gatorade cups on the sideline. Sorry, doc, that's not your gig.
Yes, doctors are important. But nurses? They are the blood pumping through the hospital's veins. I watch The Pitt and I'm like, "Where's the nurse who would be screaming at Dr. Overworked to get out of the way while they secure an airway?" Or the nurse who's telling the med student that "No, honey, you can't just jab a vein with a 16-gauge needle. Let me show you how a pro does it." The show's got great drama, but it needs a few more nurse characters stepping up to the plate-or in this case, stepping into the oncoming chaos of a level one trauma.
Cameras on Shaky Ground
If you love the docudrama style, you'll be about as happy as a camera operator hopped up on three espressos. Personally, I get the narrative style. The unsteady camera mirrors the uncertainty of emergency medicine. But after fifteen minutes, I'm checking my living room for hidden tectonic plates. "Is that an earthquake? Or is someone applying a shaky cam filter?"
It's not like we can't handle a good handheld shot. I'm all for realism, especially in these urgent medical crises. But eventually the novelty wears off, and you think, "Alright, Steven Soderbergh, let's keep the ground stable, please." The actors are good enough to convey the tension without giving me motion sickness. Let them do their job. It's the same reasoning behind not over-seasoning a steak-sometimes less is more.
Characters in Their Infancy
Another reason to hold tight: these characters are basically newborns in the big ol' crib of primetime. Right now, they're still sorting out personalities, backgrounds, and what kind of coffee order defines them as unique individuals. We see glimpses: Noah Wyle as the jaded but kindhearted doc (surprise, surprise-some things never change). Tracy Ifeachor portrays a surgeon who exudes that stoic determination, and Patrick Ball is the new resident who's so wide-eyed you'd think he just stepped into Oz for the first time.
I'm not here to slam them for not being fully formed in episode one. This is how television works- pilot episodes and early arcs are basically lumps of clay, just waiting for the sculptor's deft hand. The question: will the writers be Michelangelos, shaping these lumps into a masterpiece? Or will they end up with something that belongs in a yard sale next to those old porcelain clowns nobody wants? Only time will tell, folks.
But if they don't hurry up and give us a real reason to fall in love, or at least in mild intrigue, with these doctors and nurses (if they add nurses, that is), we might all change the channel faster than you can say "stat." Because grit and adrenaline are a nice garnish, but you gotta have substance under the hustle.
A Whiff of Nostalgia
Let's talk for a minute about the ghost of Dr. John Carter that hovers over this show like Marley in A Christmas Carol. The Pitt was almost an actual ER revival. I can practically hear the old theme music, the frantic pace, the overhead P. A. system, the wail of ambulances. If you squint, you can imagine The Pitt is just ER in Pittsburgh, with a cameo or two from old cast members (Noah Wyle, obviously, and Shawn Hatosy who once guested as a guy with multiple personalities). So if you're an ER fan, you'll catch whiffs of that old magic. The set design, the tension, the battered staff lounge-it all reminds you of that 90s glory.
But as with any spiritual sequel, you have to gauge it on its own merits. Sure, the idea was to pick up where ER left off, but a decade or so has passed. New tech, new diseases, new crises. The Pitt is forging its own path. The question is: will it keep forging, or will it devolve into a knock-off, a mere clone that tries too hard to recapture the Carter glory? Let's hope for the forging. My heart can't handle another disappointment.
Pittsburgh or Bust
The funniest part of The Pitt is that, while it's set in Pittsburgh, it was basically shot in L. A. on sound stages. Now, that's not necessarily a bad thing. Seinfeld was set in New York City, but shot in Los Angeles. Friends? Same story. It's part of the TV business. But ironically, The Pitt tries to incorporate a "Pittsburgh feel" that looks suspiciously like downtown Glendale if you tilt your head just so. But hey, they did apparently shoot a few days in Pittsburgh last September, so at least they gave the city a cameo. I guess that's better than the dreaded "fake establishing shot" of the skyline.
I'm not a cynic about the production value-if anything, it shows how well the set designers can transform a corner of Los Angeles into a small chunk of the Steel City. The real challenge is making it authentic enough that I can taste the Iron City Beer in the cafeteria. Maybe if they keep filming a few exteriors in Pittsburgh, we'll get some legitimate references. Next time, let's see an actual shot of the Duquesne Incline with a doc on a coffee break, or maybe the giant neon Heinz Ketchup sign cameo. A man can dream.
The Cast: Old Favorites, New Surprises
Noah Wyle: The centerpiece, the gold standard, the stethoscope that doctors all envy. He's bringing that classic "I've been in this chaos before" vibe. You can almost see the subtle nods to Dr. Carter, though it's obviously a new character. Wyle's still got the comedic timing and dramatic chops. It's like he's te.
Setting the Scene
Remember that classic sequence in ER-the one that ended up with Dr. Carter diving into more personal tragedies than an entire Shakespeare anthology? You half expected that poor guy to see Macbeth's ghost in the locker room. Well, apparently, Noah Wyle had a vision to resurrect Dr. Carter in a new show. Only problem? He and John Wells forgot to bribe Michael Crichton's estate with enough stethoscopes. So they pivoted-did the old "change-a-roo." Now we have a hospital series set in Pittsburgh, except they filmed it in Los Angeles. It's a bit like eating vegan cheesesteak- you're not quite sure it's authentic, but you're willing to go along for the ride, hoping you at least get some sizzling drama to fill the sandwich of your entertainment needs.
In walks Noah Wyle-the man, the myth, the doc who carried ER like Atlas carried the world on his shoulders. He's now carrying The Pitt like it's a delicate tray of hospital Jell-O. And by "carrying," I mean if you took him out, this show might just roll into a standard-fare TV drama about angels in white coats who spit out medical jargon. Don't get me wrong-there are other talented folks in the cast (I see you, Tracy Ifeachor and Patrick Ball), but Wyle's the stethoscope that keeps the heartbeat pumping so far. Let's hope those diamonds in the rough get polished fast, because this is a cast that, with the right script, might sparkle like the Allegheny at sunrise. Otherwise, we might be left with yet another quick fix medical drama that's more forgettable than that weekly check-up.
Why The Pitt Works (So Far)
You know the first five seasons of ER, back in the day when they'd show raw, real trauma and the overhead speaker never seemed to shut up about GSWs, incoming traumas, or Dr. Greene's personal meltdown? That era of medical drama actually made you squirm in your seat. The Pitt does its best to replicate that tension. There's a grit here that says, "Hey, we're not just a bunch of model-perfect doctors sipping lattes between surgeries. We're dealing with the underbelly of real hospital life." I'm talking about legitimate medical cases, blood spurts, the beep of machinery that sets your nerves on edge, and that feeling that at any second, something can and will go horribly wrong.
While ER eventually paraded around with plot lines that might have fit better on Days of Our Lives, The Pitt sets up shop with the promise of, "We're going to show you the real stuff-the heartbreak, the panic, the drama that you can practically smell." It's like they combined the old ER tenacity with a dash of House cynicism (minus the cane-wielding hero), and threw in some of that docudrama camera style, where the lens shakes so much you're certain the cameraman just got off a roller coaster.
And that's the rub-there's an authentic vibe, a kind of handheld urgency. I appreciate it to a point. I love me some adrenaline in my TV shows. The tension keeps me from burying myself in a phone game of Candy Crush while the plot unfolds. Here's a show that demands your attention. It's telling you: "Blood, scrubs, heartbreak. Keep your eyes on the prize." And for the most part, it succeeds.
Where's the Nurses?
But for a show about an emergency department, you ever notice how in real life, nurses are basically the unsung heroes who hold the entire operation together? I come from a family of nurses. True story: I can't go to a family gathering without hearing about the nurse who had to MacGyver a cure for a patient whose IV stand decided to spontaneously implode, while the doctor was busy signing forms in the corner. The Pitt would have you believe that doctors do most everything-hanging IV bags, checking vital signs, even mopping up the floor if a patient yaks all over the hallway. Realistically, that's like telling me Tom Brady personally sets up the Gatorade cups on the sideline. Sorry, doc, that's not your gig.
Yes, doctors are important. But nurses? They are the blood pumping through the hospital's veins. I watch The Pitt and I'm like, "Where's the nurse who would be screaming at Dr. Overworked to get out of the way while they secure an airway?" Or the nurse who's telling the med student that "No, honey, you can't just jab a vein with a 16-gauge needle. Let me show you how a pro does it." The show's got great drama, but it needs a few more nurse characters stepping up to the plate-or in this case, stepping into the oncoming chaos of a level one trauma.
Cameras on Shaky Ground
If you love the docudrama style, you'll be about as happy as a camera operator hopped up on three espressos. Personally, I get the narrative style. The unsteady camera mirrors the uncertainty of emergency medicine. But after fifteen minutes, I'm checking my living room for hidden tectonic plates. "Is that an earthquake? Or is someone applying a shaky cam filter?"
It's not like we can't handle a good handheld shot. I'm all for realism, especially in these urgent medical crises. But eventually the novelty wears off, and you think, "Alright, Steven Soderbergh, let's keep the ground stable, please." The actors are good enough to convey the tension without giving me motion sickness. Let them do their job. It's the same reasoning behind not over-seasoning a steak-sometimes less is more.
Characters in Their Infancy
Another reason to hold tight: these characters are basically newborns in the big ol' crib of primetime. Right now, they're still sorting out personalities, backgrounds, and what kind of coffee order defines them as unique individuals. We see glimpses: Noah Wyle as the jaded but kindhearted doc (surprise, surprise-some things never change). Tracy Ifeachor portrays a surgeon who exudes that stoic determination, and Patrick Ball is the new resident who's so wide-eyed you'd think he just stepped into Oz for the first time.
I'm not here to slam them for not being fully formed in episode one. This is how television works- pilot episodes and early arcs are basically lumps of clay, just waiting for the sculptor's deft hand. The question: will the writers be Michelangelos, shaping these lumps into a masterpiece? Or will they end up with something that belongs in a yard sale next to those old porcelain clowns nobody wants? Only time will tell, folks.
But if they don't hurry up and give us a real reason to fall in love, or at least in mild intrigue, with these doctors and nurses (if they add nurses, that is), we might all change the channel faster than you can say "stat." Because grit and adrenaline are a nice garnish, but you gotta have substance under the hustle.
A Whiff of Nostalgia
Let's talk for a minute about the ghost of Dr. John Carter that hovers over this show like Marley in A Christmas Carol. The Pitt was almost an actual ER revival. I can practically hear the old theme music, the frantic pace, the overhead P. A. system, the wail of ambulances. If you squint, you can imagine The Pitt is just ER in Pittsburgh, with a cameo or two from old cast members (Noah Wyle, obviously, and Shawn Hatosy who once guested as a guy with multiple personalities). So if you're an ER fan, you'll catch whiffs of that old magic. The set design, the tension, the battered staff lounge-it all reminds you of that 90s glory.
But as with any spiritual sequel, you have to gauge it on its own merits. Sure, the idea was to pick up where ER left off, but a decade or so has passed. New tech, new diseases, new crises. The Pitt is forging its own path. The question is: will it keep forging, or will it devolve into a knock-off, a mere clone that tries too hard to recapture the Carter glory? Let's hope for the forging. My heart can't handle another disappointment.
Pittsburgh or Bust
The funniest part of The Pitt is that, while it's set in Pittsburgh, it was basically shot in L. A. on sound stages. Now, that's not necessarily a bad thing. Seinfeld was set in New York City, but shot in Los Angeles. Friends? Same story. It's part of the TV business. But ironically, The Pitt tries to incorporate a "Pittsburgh feel" that looks suspiciously like downtown Glendale if you tilt your head just so. But hey, they did apparently shoot a few days in Pittsburgh last September, so at least they gave the city a cameo. I guess that's better than the dreaded "fake establishing shot" of the skyline.
I'm not a cynic about the production value-if anything, it shows how well the set designers can transform a corner of Los Angeles into a small chunk of the Steel City. The real challenge is making it authentic enough that I can taste the Iron City Beer in the cafeteria. Maybe if they keep filming a few exteriors in Pittsburgh, we'll get some legitimate references. Next time, let's see an actual shot of the Duquesne Incline with a doc on a coffee break, or maybe the giant neon Heinz Ketchup sign cameo. A man can dream.
The Cast: Old Favorites, New Surprises
Noah Wyle: The centerpiece, the gold standard, the stethoscope that doctors all envy. He's bringing that classic "I've been in this chaos before" vibe. You can almost see the subtle nods to Dr. Carter, though it's obviously a new character. Wyle's still got the comedic timing and dramatic chops. It's like he's te.
The World's End, Silence Included: A Review of Year 10
Ah, post-apocalyptic movies-where humanity's worst instincts play out under a blood-orange sky, and the phrase "survival of the fittest" seems like an unreasonably optimistic mantra. Year 10, directed by someone who clearly thinks dialogue is overrated, throws us headfirst into a bleak, no-holds-barred landscape where civilization has crumbled, cannibals roam the countryside, and even a whisper can ruin your day. Think Mad Max meets A Quiet Place, but with fewer explosions and more uncomfortable silences.
Let's talk stars: Alexander Anderson, Emma Cole, and Joseph Coleman. Three names you've probably never heard of unless you're their parents or overly enthusiastic IMDb users. But hey, fresh faces are a welcome change from the usual Hollywood line-up. I mean, how many more times can we watch Chris Pratt save the world while smirking? These newcomers bring a raw, unpolished energy that fits the film's gritty vibe, even if they occasionally look like they're figuring out their motivations mid-scene.
The Plot: A Mute Tale of Woe
The plot? Oh, it's a doozy. Anderson's character (we'll call him "Broody Hero" since names are apparently as scarce as dialogue in this film) embarks on a mission to retrieve stolen medicine from a gang of cannibals who murdered his dad. By the way, the medicine is the only thing keeping his girlfriend alive. No pressure. It's a classic hero's journey, except instead of wise mentors and epic training montages, he's got silent stares and bad decisions.
Here's the kicker: Year 10 doesn't just dabble in the art of silence-it commits. There is zero dialogue for the film's entire runtime. That's right, not a single word. Just grunts, meaningful looks, and the occasional scream. It's a bold choice, sure, but also one that made me feel like I accidentally sat through a 90-minute mime performance. While it amps up the tension, it also made me want to shout, "Somebody, for the love of all things apocalyptic, say something!" What I Loved
Post-Apocalyptic Vibes: I don't know what it says about me, but I can't get enough of dystopian wastelands. There's something endlessly fascinating about watching society crumble under its own weight-or, in this case, a vaguely defined catastrophic event. The film nails the aesthetic: barren landscapes, crumbling infrastructure, and enough dust to make you cough just watching it.
Tense Scenes: There are moments in Year 10 that had me gripping my seat like it owed me money. One particular sequence, where Broody Hero sneaks into the cannibals' lair, is so nerve-wracking you'll find yourself holding your breath. Bonus points for making silence work as a weapon; every creak and footstep feels like a gunshot in the void.
Unknown Cast: This isn't your standard blockbuster fare with A-list actors chewing scenery. Anderson, Cole, and Coleman bring a fresh, grounded quality to their performances. You believe they're survivors, not just actors pretending to be miserable in designer rags.
What Made Me Roll My Eyes
Silent Treatment: Look, I appreciate the artistic ambition of ditching dialogue, but after a while, it felt like the film was playing a game of "how much can we frustrate the audience?" Spoiler alert: it wins. It's eerie, sure, but it also creates an emotional disconnect. There's only so much I can glean from furrowed brows and prolonged eye contact.
Silly Choices: Broody Hero's strategy-or lack thereof-left me screaming internally. Who ventures into enemy territory alone without a solid plan? Did we learn nothing from literally every heist movie ever? It's like the guy watched The Walking Dead but skipped all the survival tips.
The Ending: Without giving too much away, let's just say the conclusion is less "satisfying resolution" and more "frustrated groan." It's ambiguous in that artsy way that filmmakers love and audiences often don't. After investing so much tension and silence, I wanted a payoff, not a shrug.
Final Thoughts
Year 10 is an ambitious, moody film that's equal parts thrilling and maddening. It takes risks-some of which pay off, others that feel like artsy overreach. If you're a fan of post-apocalyptic stories and enjoy yelling "Why would you do that?!" at the screen, this one's worth a watch. Just don't expect it to hold your hand or give you closure.
Rating: 6.5/10.
It's a solid effort with moments of brilliance, but the silence and questionable character choices keep it from being a must-watch.
Ah, post-apocalyptic movies-where humanity's worst instincts play out under a blood-orange sky, and the phrase "survival of the fittest" seems like an unreasonably optimistic mantra. Year 10, directed by someone who clearly thinks dialogue is overrated, throws us headfirst into a bleak, no-holds-barred landscape where civilization has crumbled, cannibals roam the countryside, and even a whisper can ruin your day. Think Mad Max meets A Quiet Place, but with fewer explosions and more uncomfortable silences.
Let's talk stars: Alexander Anderson, Emma Cole, and Joseph Coleman. Three names you've probably never heard of unless you're their parents or overly enthusiastic IMDb users. But hey, fresh faces are a welcome change from the usual Hollywood line-up. I mean, how many more times can we watch Chris Pratt save the world while smirking? These newcomers bring a raw, unpolished energy that fits the film's gritty vibe, even if they occasionally look like they're figuring out their motivations mid-scene.
The Plot: A Mute Tale of Woe
The plot? Oh, it's a doozy. Anderson's character (we'll call him "Broody Hero" since names are apparently as scarce as dialogue in this film) embarks on a mission to retrieve stolen medicine from a gang of cannibals who murdered his dad. By the way, the medicine is the only thing keeping his girlfriend alive. No pressure. It's a classic hero's journey, except instead of wise mentors and epic training montages, he's got silent stares and bad decisions.
Here's the kicker: Year 10 doesn't just dabble in the art of silence-it commits. There is zero dialogue for the film's entire runtime. That's right, not a single word. Just grunts, meaningful looks, and the occasional scream. It's a bold choice, sure, but also one that made me feel like I accidentally sat through a 90-minute mime performance. While it amps up the tension, it also made me want to shout, "Somebody, for the love of all things apocalyptic, say something!" What I Loved
Post-Apocalyptic Vibes: I don't know what it says about me, but I can't get enough of dystopian wastelands. There's something endlessly fascinating about watching society crumble under its own weight-or, in this case, a vaguely defined catastrophic event. The film nails the aesthetic: barren landscapes, crumbling infrastructure, and enough dust to make you cough just watching it.
Tense Scenes: There are moments in Year 10 that had me gripping my seat like it owed me money. One particular sequence, where Broody Hero sneaks into the cannibals' lair, is so nerve-wracking you'll find yourself holding your breath. Bonus points for making silence work as a weapon; every creak and footstep feels like a gunshot in the void.
Unknown Cast: This isn't your standard blockbuster fare with A-list actors chewing scenery. Anderson, Cole, and Coleman bring a fresh, grounded quality to their performances. You believe they're survivors, not just actors pretending to be miserable in designer rags.
What Made Me Roll My Eyes
Silent Treatment: Look, I appreciate the artistic ambition of ditching dialogue, but after a while, it felt like the film was playing a game of "how much can we frustrate the audience?" Spoiler alert: it wins. It's eerie, sure, but it also creates an emotional disconnect. There's only so much I can glean from furrowed brows and prolonged eye contact.
Silly Choices: Broody Hero's strategy-or lack thereof-left me screaming internally. Who ventures into enemy territory alone without a solid plan? Did we learn nothing from literally every heist movie ever? It's like the guy watched The Walking Dead but skipped all the survival tips.
The Ending: Without giving too much away, let's just say the conclusion is less "satisfying resolution" and more "frustrated groan." It's ambiguous in that artsy way that filmmakers love and audiences often don't. After investing so much tension and silence, I wanted a payoff, not a shrug.
Final Thoughts
Year 10 is an ambitious, moody film that's equal parts thrilling and maddening. It takes risks-some of which pay off, others that feel like artsy overreach. If you're a fan of post-apocalyptic stories and enjoy yelling "Why would you do that?!" at the screen, this one's worth a watch. Just don't expect it to hold your hand or give you closure.
Rating: 6.5/10.
It's a solid effort with moments of brilliance, but the silence and questionable character choices keep it from being a must-watch.
Ladies and gentlemen, grab your trench coats, holster your sarcastic quips, and prepare for a spelunking expedition into the grimy depths of demon-infested Appalachia with Hellboy: The Crooked Man. And let me tell you, this one's a doozy-not a big, flashy, comic-book doozy, but more like finding out your neighbor's garden gnome collection is cursed. Intriguing? Sure. Delightful? Eh, let's unpack that.
Let's Talk Stars
First up, our main Hellboy, Jack Kesy. I'll say this: the guy's got the chops. His performance straddles the fine line between brooding anti-hero and sarcastic demon-basher like a Cirque du Soleil tightrope walker who's had one too many Red Bulls. He's no Ron Perlman, but then again, who is? Jefferson White, as the rookie B. P. R. D. agent, delivers a solid performance-kind of like a nervous intern sent to retrieve coffee and instead stumbling into an occult apocalypse. Adeline Rudolph is there too, though her screen time and impact feel like someone decided halfway through that she was more decorative than functional. Spoiler: she deserved better.
The Plot Thickens... Slowly
The story kicks off in the 1950s, setting a vintage, eerie tone that's all about witchcraft and demons. Hellboy and his rookie sidekick are dispatched to the Appalachians, where they find a remote community that looks like it fell out of a rejected Stephen King novel. The town is lorded over by the Crooked Man, a demon whose hobbies include speaking in cryptic riddles and looking like he escaped from Tim Burton's sketchbook.
The vibe? Think Evil Dead-all misty woods, ramshackle houses, and enough ominous chanting to make your local coven's Spotify playlist jealous. What it lacks in superhero pizzazz, it makes up for in atmospheric dread. The downside? It's more horror than heroics, and not in a good Blade kind of way. The pacing is slower than molasses on a January morning, and the constant focus on witchcraft and evilness is enough to make even the most devoted occult enthusiast want to pack it in.
What's to Love
Here's the good news: this isn't your typical Hellboy movie. It's got a fresh, distinctly creepy vibe that stands out from the usual "punch-punch, quip-quip" superhero fare. For fans of Evil Dead and old-school horror, the aesthetic might hit the right notes. The setting is deliciously unsettling, and Jack Kesy brings a gruff charm to Hellboy that's worth the price of admission.
What's to Loathe
Now for the bad news: the script feels like it was cobbled together by someone who had just finished binging The Twilight Zone and thought, "Hey, let's make everything a riddle!" The dialogue is so cryptic it makes Dumbledore's ramblings seem straightforward. The supporting cast-bless their hearts-does their best, but they're saddled with roles as thin as rice paper. Every character outside of Hellboy feels like they wandered in from a low-budget haunted house attraction.
And let's not even get started on the horror tropes. Oh wait, we have to, because the movie doesn't let you forget them. Zombies, ominous chanting, witches doing witchy things... it's all here, strung together with about as much coherence as a fever dream. If you're looking for originality, you might want to take a left at the next fork in the road.
The Verdict
In the end, Hellboy: The Crooked Man is like ordering a gourmet meal and getting served a TV dinner. It's not outright bad, but it's not the feast you were hoping for. The film's commitment to a horror aesthetic is commendable, but it sacrifices too much of what makes Hellboy fun in the process. The plot is a poorly strung-together sequence of clichés, and the slow pacing makes it feel more like a chore than an adventure.
So, where does this leave us? If you're a die-hard Hellboy fan or someone who gets a kick out of witches and riddles, you might find something to enjoy. For everyone else, this might be one to skip .
Rating: 5.5/10
And there you have it, folks. If you're still curious, grab some popcorn, but don't expect to be on the edge of your seat. Or, you know, just rewatch Evil Dead and call it a night.
Let's Talk Stars
First up, our main Hellboy, Jack Kesy. I'll say this: the guy's got the chops. His performance straddles the fine line between brooding anti-hero and sarcastic demon-basher like a Cirque du Soleil tightrope walker who's had one too many Red Bulls. He's no Ron Perlman, but then again, who is? Jefferson White, as the rookie B. P. R. D. agent, delivers a solid performance-kind of like a nervous intern sent to retrieve coffee and instead stumbling into an occult apocalypse. Adeline Rudolph is there too, though her screen time and impact feel like someone decided halfway through that she was more decorative than functional. Spoiler: she deserved better.
The Plot Thickens... Slowly
The story kicks off in the 1950s, setting a vintage, eerie tone that's all about witchcraft and demons. Hellboy and his rookie sidekick are dispatched to the Appalachians, where they find a remote community that looks like it fell out of a rejected Stephen King novel. The town is lorded over by the Crooked Man, a demon whose hobbies include speaking in cryptic riddles and looking like he escaped from Tim Burton's sketchbook.
The vibe? Think Evil Dead-all misty woods, ramshackle houses, and enough ominous chanting to make your local coven's Spotify playlist jealous. What it lacks in superhero pizzazz, it makes up for in atmospheric dread. The downside? It's more horror than heroics, and not in a good Blade kind of way. The pacing is slower than molasses on a January morning, and the constant focus on witchcraft and evilness is enough to make even the most devoted occult enthusiast want to pack it in.
What's to Love
Here's the good news: this isn't your typical Hellboy movie. It's got a fresh, distinctly creepy vibe that stands out from the usual "punch-punch, quip-quip" superhero fare. For fans of Evil Dead and old-school horror, the aesthetic might hit the right notes. The setting is deliciously unsettling, and Jack Kesy brings a gruff charm to Hellboy that's worth the price of admission.
What's to Loathe
Now for the bad news: the script feels like it was cobbled together by someone who had just finished binging The Twilight Zone and thought, "Hey, let's make everything a riddle!" The dialogue is so cryptic it makes Dumbledore's ramblings seem straightforward. The supporting cast-bless their hearts-does their best, but they're saddled with roles as thin as rice paper. Every character outside of Hellboy feels like they wandered in from a low-budget haunted house attraction.
And let's not even get started on the horror tropes. Oh wait, we have to, because the movie doesn't let you forget them. Zombies, ominous chanting, witches doing witchy things... it's all here, strung together with about as much coherence as a fever dream. If you're looking for originality, you might want to take a left at the next fork in the road.
The Verdict
In the end, Hellboy: The Crooked Man is like ordering a gourmet meal and getting served a TV dinner. It's not outright bad, but it's not the feast you were hoping for. The film's commitment to a horror aesthetic is commendable, but it sacrifices too much of what makes Hellboy fun in the process. The plot is a poorly strung-together sequence of clichés, and the slow pacing makes it feel more like a chore than an adventure.
So, where does this leave us? If you're a die-hard Hellboy fan or someone who gets a kick out of witches and riddles, you might find something to enjoy. For everyone else, this might be one to skip .
Rating: 5.5/10
And there you have it, folks. If you're still curious, grab some popcorn, but don't expect to be on the edge of your seat. Or, you know, just rewatch Evil Dead and call it a night.