Reviews
‘Onslaught’ Review: Wingard Returns with Schlocky Goodness
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.
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.
