Reviews
‘Disclosure Day’ Review: Gorgeous Visuals Battle Over-Stuffed Script
Steven Spielberg’s Disclosure Day is a film so close to greatness, but one leashed by itself from attaining it. The first science fiction film from Spielberg in eight years has base elements which are truly fantastic. The mystery is compelling, and the performances can be emotionally resonant. And despite how simple and familiar the set pieces and genre tropes it revels in are, Disclosure Day has some of the most thrilling moments audiences will see in a film this year.
But what should be a knockout summer blockbuster becomes bloated. It’s a film that could easily be a perfect score but suffers from its approach. Considerable pacing and scripting issues dial back the appeal of its ten out of ten visuals and leave you thinking about what could have been one of the best Spielberg films of all time.
What Is Disclosure Day About?
As international tensions rise, the world reaches a tipping point. Nations prepare to go to war, and the conflict of nuclear powers threatens to send humanity back into the Stone Age. But an insurgent group hopes to avoid destruction by unlocking a secret chapter of human history and sharing it with the world: the story of humans and their first contact with aliens.
Up against the shadowy government contractor Wardex, a rogue group races to unveil the truth. Caught in the web of intrigue are a hacker named Daniel (Josh O’Connor) and a weather reporter named Margaret (Emily Blunt), whose proximity to the struggle and its origins becomes impossible to ignore. Hunted by Wardex director Scanlon (Colin Firth), the fate of the world hangs in the balance as the duo attempts to give the entire human race full disclosure.
A Balancing Act Between Tension and Wonderment
For the most part, Disclosure Day has Spielberg in rare form. The immediate mental leap that fires off is to try and drive home comparisons to Close Encounters, though that instinct detracts from the unique balancing act on display. The film is able to juggle between evoking a sense of wonderment and a sense of pure dread with just how it’s shot. Crossing the spectacle of psychic phenomena with the tension of a Cold War spy-thriller is something we haven’t seen from him in any one project. It’s a hybrid, and a fascinating blending of genres at that.
This balancing act is primarily driven by an absolutely packed and powerful ensemble cast. Emily Blunt plays Margaret with effortless odd and endearing charm as she gets thrown headfirst into the deep end. The quirks of her character evolve into a fully fleshed out persona that reminds you why Blunt has top billing. Josh O’Connor plays his part as the yin to Margaret’s yang beautifully as well; his sober terror as he finds himself on the run is a fun contrast that, when placed opposite of Blunt, renders great chemistry between the two as they’re magnetically drawn to each other in search of the truth.
Disclosure Day Gives Us One of the Best Sci Fi Villains
Colin Firth’s absolutely nefarious Noah Scanlon is one of the best villains in a science fiction film in a long time, especially during the movie’s most memorable confrontation against Daniel’s girlfriend Jane. His performance is about as finely tuned as it is frightening. And as far as Colman Domingo’s rebel leader Hugo goes, it’s clear why his pivotal dialog was the core of all the marketing material. There’s a steady calmness that could only come from an actor as seasoned as Domingo slipping into his role like a glove. He and Firth are highlights, even if they are delegated mostly to supporting roles. Together, the entire cast moves like clockwork.
Lack of Confidence, Thy Name Is Dialogue
But while the cast feels perfect for the roles they’re given, and they do great with what they can, the nature of so much dialog in Disclosure Day is repetitive and obvious. There’s a wild number of moments that would be truly golden if they weren’t shot down by characters stating not only their emotions but also the obvious things that are happening in front of them.
Some moments should fundamentally feel like characters are having a massive breakthrough or emotional catharsis, but more often than not, it feels more like the audience is having these emotional arcs explained to them. Thematically, the movie is supposed to be about this search for fundamental truths. Truths not just about our place in the universe and in the eyes of God, but about our place with each other. It’s that thematic richness it seeks that makes the bad lines feel like so much salt in the wound. There are moments where these intrinsic questions could be asked with dimension and depth, but instead they’re flattened out by how the characters speak to each other bluntly.
This is the aforementioned proximity to greatness; there’s a hypothetical cut of this film that has so much of this verbal bubble wrap sliced away which would be perfection. But just like on our Earth and the Earth of Disclosure Day, this is not a perfect world. It can only really be chalked up to a diffidence that plagues the writing: a lack of confidence in being able to communicate something subtly, and a simultaneous lack of confidence in the audience to receive that information.
Small Tears in a Sentimental Tapestry
As the film continues with this pattern, the small tears in this emotion driven tapestry become more noticeable. The CGI can be wonky at times. The score can feel leading rather than complementary. The blocking is far from inspired, especially given how many scenes there are of our characters surrounded by a crowd with bated breath; with this many bodies in motion, the way he places his actors and moves through them feels less thought out.
And most noticeable of all, the film’s hefty runtime is paced poorly, especially in its third act. Make no mistake: it’s a final reel that is visually and sonically gorgeous in where it goes. If cinematographer Janusz Kamiński was ever in a flow state, it is here and now with this film. It feels like there was an abundance of footage and no haste to actually edit out any of it. It feels like a director’s cut that just goes on too long, like many scenes in the film. This is especially apparent in a finale that should be awe-inspiring for how incredible it looks, but ultimately lingers too long and overstays its welcome.
It’s understandable that when working with the most influential voice in cinema history, one might be reticent to cut anything. But Disclosure Day’s lack of restraint with how it unfolds exacerbates many small issues that will leave some viewers with regret. Not because it’s irredeemable, or even a movie you won’t enjoy watching, but because it has so much to give and is so captivating in its cinematic vision. And because sadly, that vision is weighed down by the desire to be easily digestible and show all of its emotional tricks. It’s a desire that turns a borderline perfect film into simply another aesthetically pleasing one.
Luz: The Flower of Evil is a movie simultaneously charged with and mired in ambition. It’s genuinely comical how overly ambitious of a first-time film it is for writer-director Juan Diego Escobar Alzate: a microbudget, shot on location in the mountains of Colombia, character driven psychological horror film meant to explore the very nature of good and evil while also tackling cults and misogyny.
So, it’s shocking how much of it works. Not all of it works, not at all, but it is cohesive enough to serve as a surprising experience with the colorful aesthetic it employs and incredibly dark places it goes to.
What Is Luz: Flower of Evil About?
After the death of their mother Luz, three sisters in a rural cult community find their faith waning. The three are the centerpiece of an elaborate theology crafted by their cult leader father, a man who is becoming more difficult to deal with by the day. So, when he brings a mute boy into town, chaining him up and claiming he’s the people’s messiah, an already tense situation devolves into outright madness. What ensues is the slow dissolution of the cult, and the torturous end of an already fractured family.
Let this usual synopsis section also serve as a content warning: the film does depict sexual violence very early on, about 25 minutes into the film. It’s not Irreversible levels of horrifically long, but it’s also not particularly brief and still graphic content by its nature. It can be difficult to stomach, so I’m mentioning it now for those who would rather avoid that sort of thing.
A Ponderous Arthouse Folk Horror About Good and Evil
The film has shocking moments, but it’s not very interested in shock value. This is first and foremost a slow burn, a piece of arthouse folk horror that is more about bleeding out than it is about a violent demise. The most obvious comparisons are to The VVitch and Midsommar, but even that feels like an inappropriate mix, even when it leans towards Aster’s commercial darling or Egger’s colonial nightmare.
Fundamentally, Luz is a study about people who mythologize suffering and cruelty and excuse it as being driven by outside spiritual forces rather than their own decisions. It’s about deconstructing harmful religious and cult mentalities, and it wears its philosophy on its sleeve (aggressively so). Alzate creates a visually and textually fascinating meltdown of his characters and the community they find themselves within.
I would say it’s a “descent into madness” if it didn’t feel clear that the characters were already in a tailspin right at the film’s outset. The script, especially through its second act, starts to feel repetitive and a little simplistic, with a somewhat anticlimactic ending and dialog that starts to feel less naturalistic and more tedious. But it’s an interesting dissection of a family, even if it’s rough around the edges.
Hyperreal Sense of Color, But Shaky Directing and Writing
The film’s most obvious and striking feature is its hyperrealist palette, bearing a rich Technicolor aspect that permeates throughout the entire runtime. Colorist Felipe Martinez U paints the mountainous countryside with such vibrancy, a simple but very effective contrast to the dying days of a cult the story centers on; bleak, muddy times, punctuated by vibrant nature all around. Aesthetically, it’s pretty clearly visually inspired by the early works of Pedro Almodóvar and the visual warmth of Robin Hardy’s The Wicker Man.
Even the naturalistic tendencies of Terrence Malick make an appearance here, though how much of that is just in the gorgeous location scouting and how much is actually emulated by Alzate is up for debate. All around, the film lacks polish. The camerawork is amateurish in some ways, slightly cramped and occasionally uninspired in its framing. Sometimes the oversaturated look of the film can feel a little saccharine and heavy, but the pop of color here feels purposeful enough that I can forgive it as being highly stylized rather than trying to mask the weak points of a first-time director.
Is Luz: The Flower of Evil Worth the Watch?
In the search for great Latin American horror, Luz was an odd duck to stumble upon to be certain. But I’m a champion of strange birds with a lot of character, so you do the math.
Luz: The Flower of Evil is a struggle of a film, hard to watch at points despite how visually appealing it can be. It’s a brutal, bleak piece of psychological folk horror that certainly has a thin audience and will test the patience of even those the premise appeals to. But it does have as much substance as it does style, even when it treads into murky waters, and for that I think it’s worth the watch.
If you’re not watching Indonesian horror, you’re missing out. The region is producing some of the craziest genre movies around right now, thanks in no small part to the efforts of writer-director Joko Anwar. His latest, Ghost in the Cell, which celebrated its North American premiere at Fantastic Fest 2026, combines everything we love about the filmmaker’s work—supernatural scares, inventive kills, and gnarly gore—along with a strong vein of comedy and political satire.
What is Ghost in the Cell About?
Ghost in the Cell centers around Dimas (Endy Arfian), a journalist whose life falls apart after he tries to run a story on corporate corruption and mysterious worker deaths. Wrongfully convicted of the horrific murder of his boss, Dimas finds himself with a one-way ticket to Cell Block C, where he quickly meets a colorful cast of prisoners—the good, the bad, and the seriously nasty. Among the good guys, there’s Anggoro (Abimana Aryasatya), who is constantly getting into trouble for defending fellow inmates, and Six (Yoga Pratama), who claims he can see people’s auras.
As if Dimas’ situation couldn’t get any worse, his arrival seems to trigger a series of brutal killings in the prison. Bodies are showing up mangled beyond recognition and displayed in positions that wouldn’t look out of place in Hannibal. It soon becomes clear that Dimas isn’t behind the murders, which begs the question: what did he bring in with him?
Anwar Embraces Horror-Comedy Whole-Heartedly
Prison is a scary place, and Anwar makes great use of the setting, with the action moving from the dingy showers where predators lurk to the bleak cellblock where inmates are at the mercy of their captors and the cafeteria where rival gangs eye each other up with ill intent.
But for all the human misery contained within the film, Ghost in the Cell is ultimately a horror-comedy, one that isn’t afraid to lean into broad slapstick and quippy dialogue when it wants to raise a chuckle. The tonal shifts can take a little while to adjust to, especially if your previous experience with Anwar comes from his more serious horror outings like Impetigore. This might be a problem if the film wasn’t actually funny, but Ghost in the Cell has enough laugh-out-loud moments to make you forget about any whiplash.
Ghost in the Cell Is a Genre-Bender to the Max
Comedy isn’t the only new flavor that Anwar has tossed into the mix. In Ghost in the Cell, dance sequences and martial-arts fight choreo sit side-by-side with some of the most extreme gore scenes seen outside a Terrifier movie in recent years. Then there’s the eerie way the spirit presents before it kills (trypophobia sufferers, beware) and the extensive critique of political corruption, power, and inequality. It’s an everything-and-the-kitchen-sink approach that shouldn’t work on paper, but under Anwar’s assured hand, it does.
It helps that for all the slapstick, the film lands a surprisingly earnest message, amplified by its vast ensemble cast. Dimas and Anggoro at times feel like main characters, but everyone in Ghost in the Cell has a big part to play, and that’s the point: in seemingly impossible circumstances, there’s strength in unity.
Ghost in the Cell Is an Endlessly Entertaining Blend of Goofiness, Heart, and Gore
If you’re looking for nonstop scares, you won’t find them in Ghost in the Cell. What you will find is a delightful blend of horror, comedy, and action that is apt to leave you grinning from ear to ear.
The film doesn’t skimp on the gore, throwing flesh and fluids at every surface. But it’s also charmingly goofy, with a cast that doesn’t take itself too seriously and a script that’s all too happy to devolve into a comedic dance scene when it feels like the spirit might strike. In every sense, Anwar is doing the most, and the end result is a film where there’s nary a dull moment in sight.
