Monstrum (Huh Jong-ho, 2018). Set in the dynastic kingdom of Korea right in the early part of the sixteenth century, Monstrum adheres to the longstanding, deeply honorable tradition of Asian horror films where the marauding monster is really the fault of mankind being terrible. Local legend holds that there’s a giant, carnivorous creature devouring poor souls who wander a little too deeply into the woods, and the nefarious rulers of the realm are happy to use the threat to keep the general populace petrified and obedient. Director Huh Jong-ho holds back on the reveal of the creature for as long as he can, but when the seal is broken, the film brings as impressive assault of gory mayhem. The political commentary about cruelly manipulative power structures is sharp and smart, even when stretches of the film veer a little too close to bounding silliness. Lee Hye-ri has a charismatic turn as a young woman who is pleased that the dangerous adventure allows her to journey from her isolated, provincial home and show of her ace archery skills.

Love Lies Bleeding (Rose Glass, 2024). Director Rose Glass’s riveting neo-noir boasts levels of creativity and commitment that are reminiscent of the Coen brothers’ great debut, Blood Simple. Lou (Kristen Stewart) is working a dispiriting job at a seedy gym when she meets Jackie (Katy O’Brian), a bodybuilder who’s tethered her dreams of a better future to a competition occurring in Las Vegas a few weeks later. The two quickly become a hot-and-heavy couple, and their intertwining grows knottier as they are compelled to respond to the actions of the more morally dubious members of Lou’s family. Working from a script she co-wrote with Weronika Tofilska, Glass makes the film move with a seething energy. Not every turn of the plot bears up to logic-based scrutiny, but that’s simply the flaw in the diamond that Love Lies Bleeding shares with many of its film noir predecessors. There are strong performances across the cast, which also includes Dave Franco and a memorably coiffed Ed Harris in supporting roles. O’Brian particularly pops, bringing bright charisma to Jackie, which makes it all the more compelling when things start going sideways for her.

Madame Web (S. J. Clarkson, 2024). It’s weirdly endearing to watch Columbia Pictures cling to their rights to the ancillary figures in the Spider-Man mythos by repeatedly bringing the least engaging of them to the screen and hoping for some MCU magic to settle like stardust upon their efforts. Their like a limping puppy dragging a ratty security blanket from room to room. Madame Web follows Cassandra Webb, a New York City paramedic who was born in a Peruvian rainforest because her mother (Kerry Bishé) was researching spiders there while deep in her last trimester, a quest that led directly to her death. After nearly dying during one of her emergency calls, Cassandra starts having visions that she eventually determines to be possible futures that she should prevent, particularly those involving three teenage girls (Isabela Merced, Celeste O’Connor, and Sydney Sweeney) being murdered by a barefoot glowerer (Tahar Rahim, speaking in a voice that sounds like Billy Crystal’s Yul Brynner impression fed through a Daft Punk voice synthesizer). Director S. J. Clarkson at least tries to make Cassandra’s precognitive ability visually interesting onscreen, but the result is an incomprehensible hash of eyesore editing. The story is such a dopey mess that it’s hard to imagine anyone being excited at the prospect of the future adventures promised by the film’s conclusion. The most impressive superpower onscreen is Johnson’s ability to somehow deliver lines with contempt and indifference at the same time.