Reviews
‘Ice Cream Man (2026)’ Review: Bad, Melty, and Super Curdled
Eli Roth’s Ice Cream Man is the curled finger on the monkey’s paw that someone wished for “more original horror” with. It isn’t a reboot of the 1995 Clint Howard classic (Thankfully!). Neither is it an adaptation of W. Maxwell Prince’s incredibly surreal horror comic of the same name (Double thankfully!). No, this is, in fact, an “original” Eli Roth creation, though it offers little originality. And if you’re like me, it’s what you were unfortunately served for dessert with the AMC Scream Unseen yesterday. I was hoping for Buddy or Camp Miasma, or a deep cut I had never heard of. I got Ice Cream Man.
To quote the ever-relevant food YouTuber Reviewbrah, “My disappointment is immeasurable, and my day is ruined.”
Straight out of the Terrifier school of marketing, Ice Cream Man sells itself as little more than a sideshow for bad taste kills engineered to “getcha.” An assortment of scenes that holler: “Ope! Hand in the garbage disposal! Dental tool in the ear! Hot brain sundae! Did I getcha? Did you squirm?” Which makes it especially shocking that none, not a single one of these protracted atrocities, does. No faces pulled, no jaws dropped. It’s a badly made snow cone, where the cheap syrup hasn’t gotten through the ice: a flat, one dimensional, and mostly flavorless affair.
What Is Ice Cream Man About? Not Much
The premise is dead simple. The children of a small middle America town rally around one of the most welcome sights of summer: an ice cream truck that has rolled into town, ready to serve. But something is wrong with our Ice Cream Man (Ari Millen). And something is very, very wrong with the ice cream he’s giving out.
Poisoned by supernatural confections that urge them to kill, the children will use anything and everything on hand to eliminate their elders and convert their classmates into slaves of the Ice Cream Man. The onslaught leaves only young Jared (Charlie Zeltzer), his sister Lizzie (Sarah Abbott), and his few unlikely friends left to try and survive the madness.
Ice Cream Man Doesn’t Have Its Heart in The Game
It’s Children of the Corn with extra steps, and somehow less complexity. Which isn’t a put-down on Children’s part. I like the Children of the Corn films, despite some of them being truly bottom of the barrel dreck. But they highlight the fundamental fault at the core of Ice Cream Man: it has no soul, no heart. Even the worst of the Children of the Corn movies feel like they were made with a genuine desire, a drive to them. The same cannot be said for Ice Cream Man. Everything, from the way it’s shot, to the way it’s edited, to its actors, to its effects that are supposed to be center stage, feels limp and directionless.
Maybe a more “topical” comparison is in order: Roth namedropped the Terrifier films in the lead up to Ice Cream Man’s release, praising them for their ultra-violent, unrated box office success. And say what you will about Terrifier as a series with its hit or miss narrative, but there is an undeniable voice in Damien Leone. Its heavy metal, it’s shock jock, it’s violently evident in every aspect of the Terrifier trilogy. But Roth’s creative voice has fallen into the void with this one.
How Did You Make Killer Kids Boring?
It’s not enough to just gesture towards the splatter films Roth has made before and say this fits in with them, because it just doesn’t. Cabin Fever and Hostel were nauseating, affecting, full of bleak and problematic personalities. Thanksgiving was a fun, meanspirited cut of that classic slasher pie. They might be very flawed films, but they prodded at something in the audience; they had a vibe and a feeling that grinded up against the viewer’s sensibilities. But Ice Cream Man is formulaic, repetitive, and dry as sand. There is no friction, it handles itself with kid’s gloves.
We run from kill to kill, at a pace that feels as if we the audience are being hurried along to make space for the next screening. Despite the variety of “wacky” implements at our killer kid’s disposal, all the deaths begin to blend together by the halfway point into so much red corn syrup slop. What results is trite, going down a check list of terrible things happening to people, trying to get a reaction that never comes.
Missing Camp and Personality by A Country Mile
This is accompanied by an astounding number of botched attempts at humor, which boil down to ridiculous victim reaction shots and precocious kids swearing or bantering. In the abstract, good fun, but in practice so beyond phoned in. It wants to be campy but lacks the sincerity and effort it takes to be camp. It wants to be shocking but doesn’t present any of the material with a mise-en-scène that is shocking. It wants to be funny but doesn’t seem to understand the tools in its hands. It pulls every one of its punches. I can respect a film with Tubi levels of bad production quality or bad writing, but I can’t respect a film with no impact in how it sticks and jabs.
I keep trying to pinpoint a finite list of major flaws with the film to see where the foundation has cracked the worst. But let’s put aside the prodigious use of AI for the vast majority of the animations in this film; it looks awful and betrays the art of filmmaking, but really, let’s put it aside. Let’s also put aside the really bad performances all around, let down by a director not pushing the cast to try at all. Let us put aside the uninspired soundtrack, and any number of flaws it has in its cinematography writ large (trust me, it has plenty).
At the end of the day, the film is let down by a pervasive weakness that runs through every cell of its makeup: Ice Cream Man simply lacks a personality. Theres an almost tragic inability to imbue an earnest, genuine personality. A life to it, with anything to say or any emotion to effect other than the irritation of a flick to the ear.
And that prevents it from being enjoyable in any way that matters.
I truly believe that no piece of media depicts the abject horror of cosmicism more than Peter Weir’s 1975 film Picnic at Hanging Rock. Cosmicism is a very specific kind of belief in how the universe functions, and one that sits at the center of the cosmic horror genre. H.P. Lovecraft is generally considered the author who codified its ideals throughout his body of work, though I’m always glad to say it seems the concept outgrew his confines of small-mindedness like many of the narratives that pay tribute to him.
What Is Cosmicism (And Why Does It Matter Here)?
A space-age not-quite-nihilist philosophy, it asserts that while humans have a place in the universe, they have a place the same way dust mites or harmless bacteria do. They are an infinitesimally small force, with no capacity to affect change on entities far, far, far larger than them. Not only are you not the center of the universe, but any attempts to try and center yourself are futile.
You aren’t simply on a rock floating through space, you’re falling in all directions through a sea of nothingness, being pushed around by the moving wake of some supermassive being that regards you as little more than an odd speck. And any attempts to understand that force that pushes you around, let alone affect it, isn’t just futile, it’s dangerous.
Picnic at Hanging Rock: Beyond Logic and Physics
If you haven’t seen the film, you might still be wondering what Picnic at Hanging Rock has to do with all this. It’s not exactly similar to the Cthulu mythos. After all, there are no weird fish people. There is no evil serial killer wizard living in the walls of your house. There are definitely no elder things or shoggoths lurking outside the camera’s lens. But what is there is somehow much more unnerving.
The film instead centers on the inexplicable disappearance of three schoolgirls, Miranda, Marion, and Irma, and their professor, Miss McCraw. Though at first glance it seems simple, their visit to Hanging Rock becomes a mystery that defies all logic. The trio of young girls hike the treacherous mountain, walking up into nothingness, and Miss McCraw follows them into oblivion.
What began as a nice outing on St. Valentine’s Day turns into a strange puzzle that tests all the people linked to the girls, emotionally and psychologically. An Australian Gothic horror that transcends the threats of the human body, of its bondage to logic and physics and biology, Picnic at Hanging Rock becomes a tale of the metaphysical, of forces more vast and much more concerning.
When the Setting Itself Is the Monster
And what is that force exactly? It’s never outright answered, of course, but it does have a face. And that very literal rock face is Hanging Rock itself. It’s a well-known geological formation in Australia, an imposing monument of sedimentary vastness that represents the ancient history of the continent. And Hanging Rock is one of my favorite rarities in a horror movie: a case of when the setting itself is the monster.
The way the nature around Hanging Rock erupts into this almost alien symphony of noise when Miranda unlatches the gate, and opens the girls’ paths to annihilation, is an unforgettable moment. The film is full of them thanks to the dreamlike nature of its writing, and it’s even more hypnotizing soundtrack by Gheorghe Zamfir and Bruce Smeaton.
The early monologue from Mrs. McCraw, portrayed by actress Vivean Grey, is probably the best example of how unknowable and alien the locale is. It’s one of the most subtly intimidating pieces of writing I’ve had the pleasure of hearing. She states so matter-of-factly how massive and odd and downright antediluvian the mount is; a 500-foot-tall, incredibly old structure, given an ominous amount of consciousness. She declares it’s been waiting a million years, just for them, as if they were drawn to the rock to be consumed.
Her brief time on screen is also just one of the many compelling performances on display here, headed most impressively by Anne-Louise Lambert as Miranda, Karen Robson as Irma, and an incredibly young John Jarratt as Albert. Yes, that horror legend John Jarratt, Wolf Creek’s very own Mick Taylor.
Picnic at Hanging Rock Is a Horror Movie Rich in Meaning
On a metatextual level, Picnic at Hanging Rock touches on a number of different themes, with the rigors of coming of age and the onset of womanhood being at the forefront. It’s not hard to read it as a story about young girls being forced to fall in line with societal expectations, forced to grow up too fast, and suffering gravely for it. Taking place at a boarding school in the countryside, and involving the presumed deaths of a group of girls, the conversation around the tragedy quickly turns sour. The film becomes as much about the elements of high society holding the investigation as it does the investigation itself.
There’s also a wonderful post-colonialist reading to be had of the film given the original significance of Hanging Rock for Australia’s Aboriginal peoples. The specter of predatory colonialism and the way it changed the landscape throughout the century adds a shade of darkness over an already dark mystery, and the script even touches on it. The reduction of a place of worship for the Aboriginals into a fleeting place of entertainment being the inciting incident adds another layer to the film’s mystery that is so fascinating to dive into. Doubly so when you take into account the film’s utilization of dream symbolism and its intersection with the Aboriginal religious mythology of the Dreaming.
Why Picnic at Hanging Rock Is a Must-Watch Cosmic Horror Film
The film is so highly rewatchable just for this, that you can get through it quite a few times and still enjoy it continuously unfolding into something new. If you could take or leave the low points of cosmic horror that is often beholden to a very dark fantasy mythos, but you still love the idea of human minds being rended into meaty confetti by being exposed to the unthinkable, then you will love Picnic at Hanging Rock. That is, if you like long haul, slow burn, atmospheric mysteries with a cerebral and haunting plot.
The act of cutting and stitching can grant new life to a long dead prospect, or it can unleash a monster. Dr. Frankenstein understood the stakes, as does any filmmaker aiming to salvage the unsalvageable. The X-Files creator Chris Carter hopes for a celebratory resurrection – or at least the chance to right some cinematic wrongs – with a recut of his 2008 movie, The X-Files: I Want to Believe. Hulu dropped this new version on August 14 under the appropriately cobbled-together title, The X-Files: I Want to Believe – Vrach Frankenshteyn. Carter insists it’s the edgy cut he’d always envisioned, untainted by notes from studio executives who wanted a sanitized PG-13 summer blockbuster.
The X-Files: I Want to Believe Gets a New Cut
If you’re not a die-hard X-phile, you could be excused for not even remembering the 2008 version of I Want to Believe. The box office bomb was released six years after the original show’s divisive series ending, in which Mulder and Scully depart from their X-Files post and become fugitives hunted by the FBI. Despite the open-ended nature of the TV finale, I Want to Believe was touted before its initial release as a Mulder-Scully reunion that would serve as a one-off case: the film would contain no references to the show’s ongoing mythology, which involved a convoluted alien conspiracy. This approach was welcomed by many fans who admired the scope and style of the first X-Files feature film, 1998’s Fight the Future, but longed to see a cinematic version of the show’s scary standalone tales like “Beyond the Sea” or “Home.”
Why the Original I Want to Believe Failed
Alas, the 2008 film is a plodding mess. Co-written (with Frank Spotnitz) and directed by Carter, the movie sees Mulder (David Duchovny, in all his deadpan glory) and Scully (Gillian Anderson, with all her understated power) co-habitating and keeping a low profile. Despite their fugitive status, the FBI enlists their help to find a missing agent. “All is forgiven,” the characters note, before it’s back to monster-chasing business as usual. Their only lead: Father Joe (Billy Connolly), a convicted pedophile priest who claims to have psychic visions. Scully’s outrage at his involvement leads her to a crisis of faith, while Mulder (and eventually the movie itself) has the stone-faced gall to encourage patience and sympathy for the sex offender. His visions eventually lead the duo to a Russian organ transporter running medical experiments to stitch together a new body for his ailing husband.
I Want to Believe Struggled as a Horror Movie
Even if I Want to Believe were a pristine thriller in the vein of Seven or Insomnia, its dour subject matter would still have sullied its chances against the competition: in the summer of 2008, the box office was dominated by crowd-pleasing juggernauts like Iron Man and The Dark Knight. But the movie is far from pristine. Its leaden pace makes it a chore for fans and newbies to withstand. Horror-wise, it lacks any monster-movie iconography or moments of unbearable dread. We’re a far cry from anything approaching the icky reveal of the sewer-dwelling Flukeman or the shiver-inducing antics of Satanic substitute teacher Miss Paddock.
I Want to Believe is devoid of the storytelling prowess, philosophical grit, stylistic innovation, and mordant humor that the show exuded at its peak. To top it all off, Carter populates the movie with bizarre directorial choices, including a moment in which Mulder gazes upon a framed photo of George W. Bush as the X-Files theme plays in the background, apropos of nothing. With its tonal muddle and meandering script, the movie was enough to make even the most dedicated fans question their belief in the franchise.
Chris Carter Returns to The X-Files
From 2016 to 2018, Carter revived the show for two seasons, which further served to frustrate longtime fans and newcomers with clunky creative choices. Since then, The X-Files has shown few promising signs of life, but it’s been awakened from the grave with recent news that Ryan Coogler, director of Sinners, is developing a reboot series. It appears that Carter has leveraged the newfound interest in the franchise to make this R-rated director’s cut a reality. But despite the writer-director’s claims that it’s gorier than the theatrical version, bloodthirsty horror fans are likely to shrug. The most notable additions of “gore” include a few new shots of dismembered body parts and headless corpses. These images feel more narratively functional than anything, dramatizing the “modern day Frankenstein” plot instead of just alluding to it in reams of expository dialogue.
How Vrach Frankenshteyn Improves the 2008 Movie
Crucially, though, the film feels tighter. It’s 7 minutes shorter than the original cut, and scenes are now edited at a more staccato, thriller-like pace. Much of what’s missing involves tender character moments between Mulder and Scully. Two of their smooches have been nixed, along with half of a scene that involves late-night cuddling between the paranormal-fixated paramours. References to the characters’ backstory have also gotten the chop, including nods to Mulder’s long-lost sister and Scully’s son she gave up for adoption. Mercifully, this new edit streamlines a tedious subplot involving a young boy whose dire illness Scully goes to great lengths to treat.
Mulder and Scully Remain the Film’s Greatest Strength
The slashing of these character-centric moments might sound ill-advised or even sacrilege to fans who believed Mulder and Scully’s potent onscreen chemistry was the only redeemable element from the theatrical cut. Surprisingly, it all works. Duchovny and Anderson do commendable work in conveying the pathos of all the heartache the duo has endured – their shared glances do more heavy-lifting than any of Carter and Spotnitz’s ham-fisted dialogue.
The X-Files Recut Still Has Major Problems
Still, all the recutting in the world can’t save the film from its inherent design flaws. Mulder and Scully are apart for far too long. Scully’s subplot with her young patient is a snooze, since it keeps her away from the X-File at hand. And that X-File is generic at best, homophobic at worst. The so-called “modern Frankenstein” wants to build a new body for his husband, whose connection to Father Joe plays into eyeroll-y stereotypes around trauma victims and queer people. In both 2008 and 2026, it all feels like something that would land on the reject pile in the Law & Order: Special Victims Unit writers’ room.
Is Vrach Frankenshteyn Worth Watching?
While the original I Want to Believe is all but unwatchable, Vrach Frankenshteyn feels more like perfectly serviceable streaming fare. With Coogler’s much-anticipated reboot, many curious genre fans are checking out the show for the first time, working their way through all eleven seasons. If these newcomers wish to include I Want to Believe and the revival seasons in their binge-a-thon for sheer completists’ sake, they’d be well-advised to watch Vrach Frankenshteyn instead of the original: it’s a re-animated cinematic corpse that isn’t quite as beautiful as the Bride of Frankenstein, but it’s not quite dead-on-arrival either. If nothing else, at least it leaves that inexplicable George-W.-Bush-photo moment on the cutting room floor.
The X-Files: I Want to Believe – Vrach Frankenshteyn is streaming on Hulu and Disney+.
