Reviews
‘Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me’ Is a Masterpiece
David Lynch’s sixth film, Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me, is so wonderfully inflexible. Though current fans certainly have a better appreciation for what it’s aiming to do, at the time of its release it was maligned in a way no other Lynch project had been. It effectively made Lynch the heel of Festival de Cannes 1992, receiving a lengthy, legendary 10-minute booing ovation.
It’s a borderline prohibitively dense film. If you watched it without having seen the show, you’ll probably hate it for how nonsensically esoteric it is. And if you watched it having seen the show, there’s still a good chance you will hate it for not delivering what you want out of a Twin Peaks film, whatever that’s “supposed” to look like. Or maybe, you just dislike it for being “too abrasive” in its composition and editing.
And that, that high accuracy, high caliber dislike it manages to generate in so many people that watch it, is wonderful. It is the great beauty of Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me. Because the film is meant to offend, and it is meant to tell at least a segment of its audience that they are outright wrong.
David Lynch, Creative Control, and The Voice of the Audience
I’m not so presumptuous as to speak on the intentions of our dearly departed with absolute authority. Especially when said dearly departed is one of the greatest and hardest to grasp filmmakers in American cinema history; his repertoire is so mysterious and surreal that it required a whole new eponym to describe them.
(And they don’t just hand eponyms out, so you know it’s serious.)
But Lynch was nothing if not a confrontational director in what he wanted to show the audience, and was particularly protective of his artistic vision. Twin Peaks was notoriously one of those projects that he had lost some grip on due to the immense popularity it enjoyed and the network interference it suffered from as a result. Famously, audiences and television network ABC pushed David Lynch and co-creator Mark Frost to reveal the identity of Laura Palmer’s killer: her father, Leland Palmer, who was under the influence of the dark spirit BOB.
This is generally agreed to be the undoing of the show’s second season. Mark Frost has gone on record saying that he and David had batted around the idea of never revealing the killer at all and later posed the idea of postponing the reveal until after the second season. But with the show’s funding in peril as ABC threatened to cut all support, best-laid schemes went awry.
If You Hate Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me, That’s Probably on Purpose
People rapidly soured on Twin Peaks after getting what they wanted. The reveal and the shift the show took towards its secondary plot lines and replacement villains made it a hard watch for those who just wanted to crack the case. The back half of the season lost momentum and felt oddly out of place for many viewers. They weren’t there for Jean Renault and Windom Earle and James Hurley’s motorcycle nomad saga. They were there for the mystery at large. Ratings dipped hard, and the season ultimately closed on a bleak cliffhanger that would take more than 25 years to resolve with Twin Peaks: The Return.
And in this context, the movie is in an aggressive dialogue with that audience. The film itself opens on a television being destroyed, and the horrific sounds of Teresa Banks’ death. It’s, for all intents and purposes, a bright flashing warning that this is not the show you followed lovingly. It transitions not to Twin Peaks itself, but to the town of Deer Meadow where her murder took place. It’s a grim setting, swollen with poverty and corruption and deeply haunted people. It’s a place that is sick to its core. There is no friendly, optimistic Dale Cooper to follow; instead, it’s David Lynch as Gordon Cole, sending two new agents out to investigate.
Fire Walk With Me telegraphs in every way it can that if you went into this expecting a do-over, a “better” ending to season 2, to wrap up every loose end nice and neat, you are sorely mistaken. That was never what Twin Peaks was about. And Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me wasn’t afraid to tell its audience that they really did not know what they were asking for.
Why “Who Killed Laura Palmer?” Was Always The Wrong Question
Fire Walk With Me examines, for the majority of its runtime after that first act, the last seven days of Laura Palmer’s life. She is in free fall. It is a slow, protracted death that consumes her every waking and dreaming moment. And it really does feel like a punishment to watch. Not because of Sheryl Lee, her acting is phenomenal and truly heartbreaking stuff, the best of the franchise. It’s punishing because it is an unforgiving, unrelenting walk through Laura’s living hell.
After all, it’s what the people had begged for, and Lynch was there to deliver.
There was such an obsession with the sordid truth of Laura Palmer’s death that it was easy to overlook how horrific her life really was. The show explored this safely, while the film is aggressively head-on in depicting a young woman going through the throes of true crisis. Haunted by severe addiction and the physical and sexual abuse she was suffering at the hands of her father, Laura’s tale is painted in pitch black brushstrokes that make it a deeply stressful watch.
How Lynch Makes You Feel The Pain of Laura Palmer
The film depicts her suffering so graphically, it almost feels like Lynch staring down the truth seekers. Didn’t you want to see this? You wanted to know every last bit of the murder of Laura Palmer. And now you’re going to watch her psyche fracture as you see it.
The life and death of Laura Palmer as David Lynch presents it was never meant to be The Murders in the Rue Morgue. It was not an Agatha Christie novel. It was a marathon of agony that reverberated in the lives of all her loved ones, and the film twists the knife in making you feel that pain. Even when you get a brief reprieve with the more fantastic imagery of the Red Room and the Black Lodge’s spirits, Fire Walk With Me melds the show’s metaphysical iconography and dreamlike visuals with a very real feeling of human suffering.
Moreover, Lynch demands you feel it. He forces you to feed on it like garmonbozia. He doesn’t just let the audience play passive witness and sit in that discomfort; he pushes their faces right up against it and reprimands them for asking for it in a more digestible form. It’s an evocative and emotionally draining movie, presented by a galvanized Lynch at the top of his game.
Before There Was Twin Peaks: The Return, There Was Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me
There are echoes of this same confrontation between story and audience in the final two episodes of Twin Peaks: The Return. One can largely read them as complementary finales: the penultimate episode, “Part 16”, representing the desire for closure and justice by the viewer; while “Part 17” represents the disquieting permanence of what has happened.
Despite Agent Cooper’s best efforts, he can’t undo what happened to Laura. All attempts to do so, across all timelines and all worlds, are doomed. There is no changing the story of Laura Palmer once it has escaped into the minds and memories of the masses. There is no doing things a second time. There is only the reality of what happened, and the ceaseless struggle against that painful reality. That struggle is what makes the series so worthwhile and so powerful. It might have taken over two decades to be realized, but it was always at the heart of the story David Lynch and Mark Frost were telling.
Before Twin Peaks: The Return punctuated the end of a 26-year saga with that sobering and hard to swallow truth, Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me did it first. And whether you love it or hate it, it did it in a truly unforgettable and emotionally resonant way.
It’s very interesting when critics cover Part # of a franchise without having seen the previous entries. I’ve personally seen critics who flat-out say that Part 2 or 3 doesn’t make sense without having seen the previous film. And therein lies the problem: film critics who refuse to admit they haven’t seen EVERYTHING. But does the hard work rely solely on the film critic (or the general viewer)? Should a sequel (or third in a trilogy) drop in heavy context clues for someone who is just now tuning in? I think the answer falls somewhere between those points. Of the many reasons, that is one of the main reasons I was able to enjoy The Barn Part III so much. Let’s dig into it.
Some time ago, Pastor Josh Harper (Courtney Gains) assumed he had rid the world of evil. He was dead wrong. Well, hopefully just wrong. His nephew Kyle (Tristan Olsen) and friend Megan (Amanda Byrne) accidentally re-unleash the evil; Josh must attempt to vanquish it. Again. There’s just one big problem…the Fall Festival is going on, and damn near the entire town will be in attendance. What can go wrong?
Can You Review PT. 3 Without Seeing PTS. 1&2?
Before we really get into it, I think we should jump back to the point I was making in the intro. I have seen tons of posts, screenshots, and scenes from The Barn franchise over the years. For some reason, I’ve never gotten around to seeing the films. So there was a sort of internal struggle when deciding whether or not to cover The Barn Part III. Would I watch it just for fun? What if I didn’t like it? Sure, I could review the film on its own merits, disregarding moments that don’t make sense to a first-time viewer. But that felt disingenuous. After writing a weighty pros and cons list, I figured, what the hell. Let’s give it a watch! It turns out that was the right decision.
Co-writers Justin M. Seamen and Zane Hershberger do an excellent job of balancing fan service and, surprisingly, first-time viewers. There are definitely moments where I felt a bit lost, though I was able to put the pieces together based on context clues after sitting with the film for a few hours. By the time the credits rolled, I felt like I saw enough (as a first time viewing of the franchise) to understand how we got to this point in the franchise. Moreover, it made me more motivated than ever to go back and watch the first two films. If The Barn Part III is this gory, then I can only assume there’s a similar level of gore to the first two.
Strong Script, Stronger Kills
Hershberger and Seamen tell a tale that’s not overwhelmingly original; evil is raised and must be stopped by the good people. It’s a race against the clock, fast-paced creature feature/slasher. It’s hard to really reinvent the wheel there. And somehow, Herhshberger and Seamen manage to make you feel like you haven’t really seen anything like it before. Even during moments of slightly cheesy dialogue, the script’s tone stays beyond consistent that it just all feels right. To me, that feels very rare in this subgenre of film. Rather than being nothing but conduits for buckets of blood, the characters in The Barn Part III exist within their story purpose while still feeling fully fleshed out.
Much of The Barn Part III’s enjoyment comes from the delightful performances of the film’s lead cast. Courtney Gains takes the reins from Will Stout as Josh Harper, and Gains is wonderfully charming. Much of his screen time is shared with Night of the Comet’s Kelli Maroney, who is still an absolute blast to watch on the screen. But it’s one of The Barn Part III’s co-leads, Amanda Byrne, who steals the show. It’s hard to believe this film is Byrne’s debut feature acting role. She really gives it her all, and you can feel it through the screen.
The Barn Part III Is a Practical Effect Gorefest
Enough edging. Let’s get into the actual meat and potatoes of The Barn Part III: the kills. Simply put, Justin M. Seamen and Zane Hershberger struck gold. I’ve seen way too many slasher films/creature features, so this isn’t hyperbolic…The Barn Part III has some of the most insane, captivating, and bloody kills I’ve seen. Especially for an indie film. Whatever the budget was, the film looks like it was more expensive than that.
I have a feeling that there is a heavy crossover between fans of this franchise and Joe Bob Briggs, so let me put it to you this way. The Barn Part III has it all: bisections, dissections, full-body degloving, mini killer pumpkins, pitchfork-fu, shotgun-fu, vine-fu…and that’s just scratching the surface. Besides transporting me to a time and place that I hold dear to my heart, the late 90s and early aughts, this film just checked every single box for me. I can only hope the first two do the same.
The Barn Part III is a violent, practical effects-filled rollercoaster that doesn’t let off the brakes from the jump. To me, this feels like the proper send-off to a franchise I’m new to, and it’s giving me severe FOMO. Full of insane kills and a charming main cast, The Barn Part III is neck and neck for best of the fest for me. Do yourself a favor, gas up your tractor and get to The Barn as soon as possible.
Among the straight up schlock horror movies of 2026, Onslaught tactical breaches in and holds the perimeter as the top dog. Despite being hailed by fans and cast alike as a spiritual successor to Wingard’s 2014 cult classic The Guest, the similarities are skin deep. This low-budget action horror film feels much sleazier, goofier, and more melodramatic than anything that feature had to offer. But if you like to drink the B-movie bottom shelf liquors of the cinema world, Onslaught has that taste you’re going to love getting genre drunk on.
What Is Onslaught (2026) About?
Out in the New Mexico desert, an abandoned military base now houses even darker secrets. Inside a government contractor black site, the sinister Nazi mad scientist Dr. Hans Kammler (Dan Stevens) works to perfect a trio of heartless, mindless, and soulless soldiers. They feel no pain and take no prisoners, and that’s how Kammler likes them.
When the project inevitably breaches containment, as all mad science experiments are wont to do, a small trailer park called the Windy Oasis ends up on their southbound warpath. The on-site manager for the park, a traumatized veteran named Celeste (Adria Arjona), is soon forced to defend her young daughter and surviving neighbors from the ruthless revenants.
If You’re Expecting Something Serious, Expect Less
Dan Stevens’ returning collaboration with Wingard and writer Simon Barrett is basically the full extent of what this movie shares with The Guest. Outside of the deranged super-soldier premise, of course. His first appearance on screen immediately proves that; Stevens comes in hot wearing some of the messiest fake old man hair and makeup of all time, before crawling on all fours like a dog to indulge in his heel fetish with his domineering wife (played in a small supporting role by Rebecca Hall).
It’s a flashing neon sign from the outset that the film is taking itself only somewhat seriously. And if you approach it with the utmost seriousness, you’re probably going to have a bad time.
Onslaught’s Nihilistic & Stylistic Composition Doesn’t Have Time for Contemplation
Despite its premise being about literally conscienceless jackbooted thugs killing the civilian population of the country they’re supposed to be defending, not much thematically comes of it. Onslaught is oddly flat, bordering on one dimensional, in trying to make any sort of thoughtful dialogue or commentary about our current or even past state of affairs as a nation.
The film is frontloaded with as much as you’re going to get out of it: an opening credit sequence that is the anti-government, anti-military equivalent of those overstimulating “Little Dark Age” edits that loser right-wing groypers love. It speedruns the American government’s brutality throughout the past 75 years and juxtaposes it with the Third Reich over the course of a roughly 3-minute song. Sadly, we need the rest of the runtime for gratuitous action involving bullets, boobs, and chainsaw blades. It just can’t be helped.
The movie doesn’t particularly have time for good dialogue, strong character development, or flashy sets either. Onslaught is simple and honest in its approach; it’s the kind of nasty, mean-spirited, action grime that even Cannon Films would have seen as a bit much to produce back in the day. It takes place in a handful of locations, with as few extras as possible, and a lot of explosive squibs and gory kills to make up for its flawed performances. It’s got time to bleed, sure, but no time to bleed deeper meaning or substance.
Wingard’s Toy Box Is Chock Full of Carpenter Inspiration and Retro Vibes
One must imagine Wingard happy playing in this realm. The film is certainly a success on his part in terms of bringing those retro vibes and simplistic storytelling beats to the present day. It really does feel like a bloody, small budget video store pick that snuck its way onto the shelf of a Blockbuster sometime in the ‘90s, even if its modern photography betrays that big clamshell case energy.
Surgically implanted into the film are visuals and musical stylings whose bloodlines trace plainly to Carpenter’s filmography; Assault on Precinct 13, Vampires, and The Fog are the loudest, though certainly not the only parties present. How well those strains of genuine brilliance mesh with the cheaper sensibilities of the film is certainly in question. At its best, it has shots and scenes genuinely evocative of the greatest films of the era Wingard and Barrett are conjuring. At its worst, it’s basically screaming “we shot too much footage of these soldiers mogging and aura farming to not put it in the film”, leaving things clunky to transition and sometimes looking silly.
Onslaught Is a Messy Little Midnight Movie in the Making
Then again, silly is the best thing this could be. Maybe I just give it too much grace for the fun I had with it. Onslaught might be guilty of a few cinema war crimes, not the least of which is a truly grating performance from its comedic support character. But it’s never boring, and it certainly doesn’t overstay its welcome. Beloved midnight movie with mass appeal in the making? Perhaps a bit unpolished and messy for that status. But an instant classic among those who love seedy action movies? Much more likely.
