Weekly visions - week 21, 2026

Saw III, directed by Darren Lynn Bousman, written by Leigh Whannell and James Wan, US, 2006 - ⭐⭐½ (down from ⭐⭐⭐)

The last of the Saw films to see the creative involvement of the original authors, and - if you ask me - the last one worth watching, before the series fully embraces its new torture soap opera genre (of course, that won’t stop me from rewatching the other ones).
Original screenwriter and man-in-the-bathtub Whannell too embraces the genre: the traps are quite nasty and harder to witness than I remembered, and Amanda Young, whom I remembered as the true hero of the saga, comes out as a needy, insufferable person. She does have an arc throughout this first trilogy, and while - let’s be honest - it makes no sense, I liked her take on Jigsaw’s philosophy: it’s like Whannell and co-writer James Wan openly admit that all the ‘morality’ side of the plot is, indeed, just rubbish, and that we just enjoy watching people suffer. Except for me, I’m here for the twists.
The original screenwriters also seem to want to nicely close the story so they can move on to doing some other, more insidious stuff, but still a lot of seeds for future instalments are scattered here and there.
From the technical side, there are some fun scene transitions that, apparently, use practical shots rather than editing.

Passenger, directed by André Øvredal, written by T. W. Burgess and Zachary Donohue, US, 2026 - ⭐⭐⭐

The trailer, which promised a hyper-generic, second-rate, horror, made me initially dismiss this film, but then the reviews came out rather positive. The director of The Autopsy of Jane Doe has prepared for us two great setpieces, and a couple that genuinely care for each other. But it’s ultimately a reactionary tale, where the good old values win, and those who pursue an alternative way of life are depicted as a selfish group - they may be not as bad as the True Knot, but still this is not a great advertisement for the nomad lifestyle.
Even though it’s almost completely set outdoors, it manages to squeeze in the worst horror trope of all, the ankle drag.
For long stretches of the film I wasn’t engaged enough, so I mentally took note of how my interest grew and then waned, resulting in this chart (timing is approximate):

House of Wax, directed by Jaume Collet-Serra, written by Carey Hayes and Chad Hayes, based on Charles S. Belden’s play The Wax Works, US, 2005 - ⭐⭐½

Also known as the movie where Paris Hilton dies, so much so that I guess even the poster is supposed to be depicting the socialite melting away. Let’s say her acting skills don’t exactly shine as she spends most of her screen time snogging her on-screen boyfriend. But frankly, every character in this film is annoying and rude, with the exception of Elisha Cuthbert’s Carly.
The film, written by future Conjuring creators, strings together hicksploitation, a little bit of Friday the 13th, Brian De Palma’s Sisters and even Phantom of the Opera, a hint of Saw contraptions, plus, I guess, the 1953 version of the same story, because there is always a reason a character is named Vincent.
It’s glossy, and clearly put together carefully - today we would say algorithmically - to appeal to the teen public of the time. But I was expecting something better when I read ‘produced by Robert Zemeckis’.
This is also the first film by director Collet-Serra, and he mostly spends it on close-ups, which I guess are supposed to evoke claustrophobia, but always annoy me immensely.
On the plus side, I enjoyed the creepy atmosphere of the town, and the climax is quite effective. It is followed by the most pointless revelation, but ok, at that point I was glad it was over.

10x10, directed by Suzi Ewing, written by Noel Clarke, United Kingdom/US, 2018 - ⭐⭐½

All through this film I was distracted by the strong cognitive dissonance between knowing the actors (Kelly Reilly and Luke Evans) are British, the writer (Doctor Who’s Mickey, Noel Clarke, appearing in a cameo) is British, the director (I looked her up, because this is her only feature film) is British, but still the story is set, as far as I can tell, in the US.
As the plot unfolds, I perhaps understood why: to try and avoid some potential backlash back home.
Ah, the plot: the man, clearly not a professional criminal, kidnaps the woman from a parking lot, in full sight, then locks her in a not-so-small (check the title) secret room in his isolated house.
Clearly he thinks the woman has done something wrong that’s connected to his past: for half an hour all he does is keep asking her to tell him his name, and being unhappy with her answer.
The backstory is slowly revealed in a goofy attempt at show-don’t-tell, where the man goes through his favourite video playlist, getting angry at old news reports (that are actually all tell and no show), and very emotional at old home videos, like a low-tech Tom Cruise in Minority Report.
Because I guess he must be a good guy, after all.
I think we are supposed to feel our support slowly switch from one character to another, but as things started getting (slightly) crazy, I was always on the woman’s side.
Again, I was uninterested enough to keep track of my engagement level throughout the 86 minutes: