Hokum follows a Sanderson-esque fantasy author, Ohm Bauman (Adam Scott), on a trip to spread his parents' ashes near Ireland's Bilberry Woods Hotel--their favorite vacation spot, according to Bauman. Prior to the trip, Bauman is seen struggling with writing the epilogue of his critically acclaimed Conquistador trilogy. The initial idea he has for its ending is bleak, seemingly reflecting his own mental state--and perhaps reinforcing his need to leave his home and do literally anything else.
Our daughter, Frankie, she's 17 years old. She just somehow - and I don't remember when and how - convinced [my wife] Naomi and I to bring she and four of her friends to Coachella. She never asked us. It just became a thing we were doing.
The answer to all of these questions is, of course, that the movie's way is creepier, even as its setup sometimes strains credulity. Undertone, Tuason's feature debut, is a low-budget Canadian affair that does a lot with a little. It takes place entirely within the confines of Evy's childhood home, which is played by Tuason's family's house in Toronto, and doesn't venture outside on the rare occasions that its main character does.
I feel so grateful to have her in my life. And it's the best way to wake up in the morning. It's the best way to go to bed at night. It puts everything into perspective. You know it kind of grounds you, and I'm very lucky to do what I love as a woman, and I'm very lucky to love as a mother, and that's just an absolute gift to get to recognise myself in both of those things beside each other in this moment.
Vera Farmiga and Patrick Wilson reunite to play renowned, real-life paranormal investigators Ed and Lorraine Warren, facing an "evil unlike anything they've ever encountered." That evil? It lives in the Pennsylvania suburbs of 1986, of course. The evil thing this time is a full-length wooden-framed mirror with carvings of three children. It's given as a gift to a girl's confirmation - a mirror, really?
As I emerged from a showing of Weapons at my local multiplex on Saturday night, I saw a teenager running around the lobby, his arms extended downward and outward to the great amusement of his friends. "You're going to see a lot of kids running like that on Halloween," I heard someone say, and I think he was right. Weapons has been in theatres for just two weeks, and it's already given us an unshakably memorable image:
