About this Space

Pull up a chair and settle in. This is where we dig deeper, question harder, and explore what makes stories tick—and sometimes, what makes them disturb us in the best possible ways. This isn't a space for hot takes or surface-level reviews. This is where we roll up our sleeves and get into the meat of storytelling, examining the bones and sinew of narrative, the blood and breath of character, the heart of what makes cinema move us.

What You'll Find Here

This space is dedicated to **critical analysis** that goes beyond surface-level reactions. I'm here to dissect, examine, and explore the films and series that captivate us, unsettle us, and make us think long after the credits roll. Every piece of media is a puzzle worth solving, a text worth reading closely, a conversation worth having.

Current Critiques

I've been exploring films that push boundaries and challenge conventions, works that refuse to play it safe or pander to easy answers.

Midsommar gets the deep dive it deserves—this isn't just a folk horror film, it's a meditation on grief, toxic relationships, and the seductive nature of belonging. I examine how Ari Aster uses blinding daylight to create dread, how the film weaponizes beauty and ritual, and what it means when horror happens in full view with flowers in your hair. This is a film about breakups and breakdowns, about finding family in the strangest places, and about the terror of being truly seen.

M3GAN 2.0 offers rich territory for analysis about our relationship with artificial intelligence and the uncanny valley of emotion. I explore how we project humanity onto machines, how the film interrogates motherhood and nurturing, and what it says about our fears of technology replacing genuine human connection. M3GAN isn't just a killer doll—she's a mirror reflecting our anxieties about obsolescence, control, and what we're willing to sacrifice for convenience.

Monster: The Ed Gein's Story demands careful consideration of how we retell the stories of real-world horror. What responsibility do filmmakers have when dramatizing actual atrocities? What gets lost in translation from reality to cinema? What do these retellings reveal about our cultural fascination with serial killers and the mythology we build around them? I dig into the ethics of true crime entertainment and the thin line between honoring victims and exploiting tragedy.

Haunted Hotel provides fascinating ground for exploring how location becomes character, how architecture holds memory, and how haunted house narratives tap into our primal fears of spaces that should be safe but aren't. I analyze the symbolism of hotels as liminal spaces—neither home nor destination—and what it means when the walls themselves remember.

The Divergent series might seem like straightforward YA dystopia, but there's plenty to unpack about faction systems, the myth of personality categorization, and what these stories say about conformity, choice, and the lies societies tell themselves. I examine how the series uses its premise to explore identity formation in adolescence and the violence inherent in systems that demand you choose who you are and stick to it forever.

Each critique asks not just "was this good?" but "what is this saying?" and "why does it matter?" I'm interested in the subtext, the patterns, the choices that reveal something about the creators and the culture that produced the work.

Coming Soon: October Bleeds On

As October bleeds on, I'll be diving into more films that embrace the darker side of cinema. Horror, thriller, psychological drama—the months when the veil grows thin deserve analysis that matches the season's intensity.

I'll be exploring films that understand fear is more than jump scares, works that know the most unsettling stories are often the ones that hold up a mirror to society's ugliest corners. Expect deep dives into movies that use genre conventions to say something meaningful about violence, fear, desire, and the monstrous nature of humanity itself.

October is when we collectively agree to stare into the dark and see what stares back. I'll be your guide through that darkness, illuminating what lurks in the shadows and asking why we're drawn to it in the first place. Horror reveals truths that other genres can't touch, and I'm here to excavate those truths.

Beyond Film: Original Writing

But this space isn't just about analyzing others' work. I'm also crafting my own narratives, and I believe in practicing what I analyze.

The Metamorphosis of Bird explores transformation in its most literal and metaphorical senses. What does it mean to change into something unrecognizable? What do we lose in the process of becoming? This work examines identity as something fluid and frightening, the violence of change, and the question of whether the person who emerges from metamorphosis is the same person who entered it.

The Hunger Cap delves into consumption—both literal and symbolic. What consumes us? What do we consume? And when does appetite become something darker, more desperate, more destructive? This piece grapples with desire, scarcity, and the monstrous lengths we'll go to when truly hungry for something we can't have.

You'll find updates, excerpts, and reflections on the creative process as these works develop. I believe understanding analysis from both sides—as critic and creator—makes for richer, more empathetic examination of art.

My Analytical Approach

I come to critical analysis with curiosity rather than judgment. I'm not here to tell you what to like or dislike, but to explore *why* something works the way it does, what it's attempting, and what it reveals in the attempt.

My approach combines close reading of visual language, attention to narrative structure, consideration of cultural context, and genuine engagement with the emotional experience of watching. I believe in taking genre seriously—horror, sci-fi, thriller, these aren't "lesser" categories but rather lenses that allow us to examine difficult truths through the safety of metaphor.

I look for patterns, symbols, recurring imagery. I ask what's being said in the silences, in the negative space, in what the film chooses not to show. I consider how cinematography, sound design, editing, and performance all work together to create meaning.

Why Critical Analysis Matters

Critical analysis isn't about tearing things apart for the sake of it. It's about understanding the architecture of storytelling, recognizing the choices creators make, and examining the cultural conversations these works participate in. It's about asking questions: What does this film fear? What does it desire? What does it assume about its audience? And what can we learn about ourselves by watching how we react to it?

Every film is a text, every series a conversation. Stories don't exist in a vacuum—they're shaped by the moment of their creation, the anxieties of their era, the voices that get included and excluded. I'm here to read between the lines, to notice the details that linger in the margins, and to explore why certain stories haunt us while others fade.

Analysis deepens appreciation. When we understand *how* something achieves its effects, when we recognize the craft involved, when we see the layers of meaning woven through narrative—we experience art more fully. We become better readers of visual language, more sophisticated in our understanding of how stories work on us, and more aware of the power cinema holds.

Moreover, critical analysis is an act of respect. It says: this work matters enough to think about carefully. These stories deserve more than passive consumption. The creators put thought into this, and I'm meeting that thought with my own.

Join the Conversation

Whether you're a fellow analyst, a casual film fan, or someone who just wants to understand *why* that movie got under your skin, you're welcome here. This is a space for thoughtful examination, for disagreement and discussion, for taking stories seriously because they deserve to be taken seriously.

I don't claim to have all the answers. Analysis is subjective, interpretive, and enriched by multiple perspectives. Your readings are valid too. Maybe you saw something I missed. Maybe you interpreted a scene differently. Maybe you have context I lack. That's what makes this worthwhile—the conversation, the collective attempt to understand what we're watching and why it moves us.

So welcome. Bookmark this space. Come back often. Disagree with me in the comments. Share your own interpretations. Tell me what I missed. Let's build a community of people who believe that cinema is worth thinking about, that stories matter, and that the act of analysis is itself a creative endeavor.

Let's talk about what we're watching, what it means, and why it matters.

Let's analyze together.