CAPSULE MOVIE REVIEWS: 6-12-26

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My Film Critic pants are quite fetching; they are on, pressed, and ironed. I'm ready to review four new movies in this week's capsule movie reviews for Friday, June 12th, 2026.

1) DISCLOSURE DAY

One of the first things that crossed my mind while watching Disclosure Day was that if you've ever wondered whether somebody was eventually going to make a movie out of all those stories involving UFO conspiracies, government cover-ups, Area 51 mythology, and even that legendary tale about Richard Nixon showing Jackie Gleason a secret alien body, well, Steven Spielberg has apparently decided to throw all of it into a blender and make a summer blockbuster out of it.

The result is a film that represents both the very best and the absolute worst of what Spielberg is capable of as a filmmaker (it contains far more examples of the latter unfortunately).

Let's get one thing out of the way immediately: on a purely technical level, Steven Spielberg remains one of the most gifted directors who has ever lived. More than fifty years into his career, he still knows how to stage action, build suspense, move a camera, and create spectacle better than almost anyone.

He understands how to combine special effects with human drama, how to use visual storytelling, and how to create sequences that keep an audience glued to the screen. Whether it's science fiction, adventure, drama, comedy, or historical filmmaking, Spielberg's command of the medium is undeniable.

The problem is that Spielberg also has another side. He has always had a tendency toward emotional manipulation, sentimentality, and a kind of corny, simplistic melodrama that can be overwhelming. Sometimes those instincts are kept under control and produce masterpieces. Other times they completely take over the movie.

Disclosure Day is one of those frustrating projects where both versions of Spielberg are constantly fighting for control. There are moments that are expertly directed and genuinely exciting, followed immediately by scenes so heavy-handed and emotionally forced that I found myself rolling my eyes.

The story follows Daniel Kellner (Josh O'Connor), a cybersecurity expert and whistleblower who has stolen decades' worth of classified information from a mysterious corporation called Wardex. The information allegedly proves that extraterrestrial life has been interacting with humanity for generations and that governments and corporations have spent decades covering it up.

At the same time, Kansas City television meteorologist Margaret Fairchild (Emily Blunt) begins experiencing strange psychic phenomena, speaking languages she doesn't know and developing an unexplained connection to Daniel.

Together they become embroiled in a race to expose the truth while being hunted by Wardex and its leader, Noah Scanlon (Colin Firth), who believes humanity cannot handle the revelation.

What Spielberg and screenwriter David Koepp are clearly attempting here is a modern companion piece to Close Encounters of the Third Kind. The problem is that Close Encounters already exists, and it remains one of Spielberg's greatest achievements.

That film was driven by mystery, awe, uncertainty, and a genuine sense of wonder. Disclosure Day borrows heavily from those ideas but rarely expands on them. In fact, it often feels like it diminishes the mystery that made Close Encounters so effective in the first place.

I will say that I admired the decision to throw the audience directly into the story. The movie begins in the middle of the action rather than spending half an hour setting things up. One of my favorite scenes in the entire film is the opening sequence, which takes place at an independent professional wrestling event.

Daniel is meeting contacts connected to Wardex while a wrestling match rages around them, and the very first images in the movie involve wrestlers pounding each other in the ring. As someone who loves professional wrestling, I was immediately on board.

Unfortunately, while Spielberg's instinct to hit the ground running is admirable, Koepp's screenplay struggles to provide the necessary context. Because we're dropped directly into the middle of the conspiracy, the film constantly stops to deliver exposition.

Flashbacks, explanations, and awkward dialogue dumps attempt to clarify who these people are and what exactly is happening, but much of it feels clumsy and unsatisfying. Instead of creating intrigue, it often creates confusion.

What's frustrating is that the action sequences themselves frequently work beautifully. Spielberg still knows how to construct a chase scene. There is a terrific sequence involving a car being trapped near an oncoming train that showcases his ability to build suspense.

Another standout sequence involves a raid on an isolated house that escalates into a pursuit across fields, fences, roads, and highways. The tracking shots are elegant, the editing is sharp, and the geography of the action remains clear throughout. These moments remind you that even when Spielberg stumbles as a storyteller, his filmmaking instincts remain extraordinary.

At the same time, some of the film's larger effects-driven sequences simply don't work. There is a late sequence involving an alien device that can render objects invisible, culminating in a shootout featuring invisible people and an invisible fire truck. Instead of being thrilling, the sequence becomes visually confusing and dramatically flat.

It perfectly illustrates the movie's inconsistency. One moment Spielberg is delivering master-class filmmaking; the next, he's staging scenes that feel sloppy and undercooked.

A major issue throughout the film is that virtually every character feels underdeveloped. Colin Firth's Noah Scanlon is essentially just "the bad guy." Wardex is one of the most generic evil corporations imaginable, possessing unlimited resources and vaguely defined powers simply because the plot requires them.

The mysterious alien device that several characters use can apparently communicate telepathically, create holograms, manipulate minds, and render objects invisible, but the film never bothers explaining its rules or limitations. It's simply a magical plot device that does whatever the screenplay needs it to do at any given moment.

The supporting characters fare no better. Colman Domingo plays Hugo Wakefield, the leader of a resistance movement opposing Wardex, but the character never develops beyond broad speeches and exposition.

Eve Hewson's character introduces themes involving Catholicism, faith, and spiritual belief that seem potentially interesting, but the screenplay never explores them with any depth.

Instead, the film tosses these ideas onto the pile alongside government conspiracies, alien communication, psychic powers, global unrest, media manipulation, and corporate corruption.

There are so many ideas competing for attention that none of them receive the development they deserve.

The emotional material is where Spielberg's worst instincts take over. Emily Blunt's character develops the ability to connect with people by appearing as lost loved ones or figures from their past. These scenes are designed to be moving, but they feel calculated and manipulative.

The same goes for sequences involving animals serving as vessels for alien communication. Rather than inspiring wonder, these moments come across as Spielberg leaning heavily on familiar emotional shortcuts that have become increasingly ineffective over the years.

Emily Blunt does everything she can with the material. On a technical level, it's a strong performance. She commits fully to the role and brings conviction to scenes that often don't deserve it. Josh O'Connor struggles because his character is so thinly written.

Eve Hewson is saddled with an underdeveloped subplot. Wyatt Russell, meanwhile, provides some genuinely amusing moments as Margaret's boyfriend, including a funny sequence involving the attempted destruction of a cellphone.

His chemistry with Blunt works largely because both performers are talented enough to elevate mediocre material.

The climax is where the film completely loses me. The story builds toward a massive effort to reveal decades of hidden information about alien contact to the entire world. What follows is a series of increasingly ridiculous scenes involving television broadcasts, social media, news networks, and worldwide communication systems. None of it feels remotely plausible. The logistics are absurd, the execution is laughable, and the emotional payoff is entirely unearned.

The footage being revealed ranges from mildly interesting to unintentionally hilarious. The alien imagery relies heavily on the familiar big-headed, large-eyed extraterrestrial designs we've seen thousands of times before in movies, television shows, and conspiracy documentaries.

Rather than feeling revelatory, much of it feels recycled. By the time the movie reaches its final emotional crescendo, complete with speeches about empathy, unity, and humanity's shared future, I found myself completely disconnected from what was happening on screen.

What's especially disappointing is that Spielberg is revisiting ideas he has explored throughout his entire career without bringing much that feels new to them. The film echoes Close Encounters, E.T., War of the Worlds, and several other Spielberg projects while adding very little of its own identity.

Instead, it amplifies many of the qualities that have always frustrated me about his work: the emotional manipulation, the sentimentality, the simplistic messaging, and the tendency to substitute earnestness for genuine complexity.

And yet, because Spielberg is Spielberg, the movie never feels boring. At two hours and twenty-five minutes, it's unquestionably too long, but it moves. The pacing remains surprisingly effective, which is a testament to Spielberg's technical skill.

Beautiful photography, strong editing, several excellent action sequences, and committed performances keep the film watchable even when the screenplay is actively working against them.

Ultimately, Disclosure Day is a fascinating contradiction. It contains flashes of the filmmaker who gave us some of the greatest blockbusters ever made, while simultaneously indulging the worst habits that have plagued his work for decades.

It is visually impressive, technically accomplished, occasionally thrilling, frequently frustrating, emotionally manipulative, narratively messy, and dramatically unfocused.

In the end, the only word I can really use to describe Disclosure Day is "mess." An ambitious mess. A beautifully crafted mess. A frustrating mess. For Spielberg devotees, none of this criticism will matter; they'll likely embrace the film's sentiment and spectacle.

For me, however, this was one of the biggest disappointments of the summer movie season. Beneath all of the visual polish and technical craftsmanship lies a collection of recycled ideas, forced emotions, underdeveloped characters, and heavy-handed messaging that never comes together into a satisfying whole.

Steven Spielberg remains one of cinema's great masters, and one of cinema's most frustrating filmmakers. Disclosure Day is just frustrating. - ⭐️⭐️

2) THE FURIOUS

Having been a huge fan and connoisseur of Hong Kong action cinema since the early 1980s, I always get excited when a movie comes along that embraces the traditions of that genre and actually understands what makes it work.

Hong Kong action films have always occupied a very specific place in cinema. They're built on extraordinary stunt work, incredible martial arts choreography, simple good-versus-evil storytelling, charismatic performers, and action sequences that often border on the impossible.

These are the movies that gave us Jackie Chan, Sammo Hung, Chow Yun-fat, and directors like John Woo, Ringo Lam, and Tsui Hark. They helped redefine action filmmaking not just in Asia, but around the world.

I fell in love with these movies more than forty years ago through the work of John Woo and Jackie Chan, and while the influence of Hong Kong action cinema can now be seen everywhere (from Hollywood blockbusters to superhero movies) it's still relatively rare for American audiences to get a chance to see one of these films on a large scale theatrical release.

That's one of the reasons The Furious is such a welcome surprise. It's a multinational production, partially in English, designed to reach a broader audience, and it serves as a terrific showcase for a style of action filmmaking that deserves much more exposure than it usually gets.

Now, let me be clear about something right away. A lot of younger viewers and American audiences are probably going to lose their minds when they see this movie. Some people will walk out claiming they've never seen anything like it before.

As someone who has spent more than four decades watching these kinds of films, I can tell you that while The Furious is exceptionally well made, it isn't reinventing the wheel. The plot is familiar. The story beats are familiar.

Many of the action concepts and fight choreography ideas have been explored before in countless martial arts films. What makes the movie work isn't originality. What makes it work is execution.

The story follows Wang Wei, played by the terrific Xie Miao, a mute tradesman whose young daughter is kidnapped by a human trafficking ring operating in a corrupt Southeast Asian city. After local authorities prove useless, Wang begins his own search for his daughter and eventually crosses paths with Navin, a journalist played by Joe Taslim, who is investigating the same criminal organization while searching for his missing wife.

Together they uncover a horrifying trafficking operation and launch a full-scale assault on the people responsible.

That's really all you need to know. The plot exists primarily as a delivery system for action sequences, and that's perfectly fine because that's exactly what these movies are supposed to be.

Nobody walks into a film like The Furious looking for a complex character study or intricate political commentary. You're here to watch highly trained martial artists beat the living hell out of one another in increasingly creative and outrageous ways.

Director Kenji Tanigaki knows exactly what he's doing. Before becoming a director, Tanigaki built an impressive reputation as a stunt coordinator, martial artist, and action choreographer. He worked on films like Blade II, Flash Point, Legend of the Fist, and numerous Asian productions.

His background is evident in every frame of this movie. He understands movement, impact, rhythm, and geography. One of the biggest problems with modern Hollywood action films is that directors often shoot action in a way that obscures what's happening.

Quick cuts, shaky cameras, and CGI overload frequently rob fight scenes of their power. Tanigaki does the exact opposite. His camera allows performers to perform. He wants you to see the choreography, appreciate the athleticism, and understand the physical stakes of every encounter.

And what encounters they are.

Early in the film there's an astonishing sequence involving a garbage truck carrying Wang's kidnapped daughter. What begins as a chase quickly evolves into an extended running battle as Wang fights his way through multiple attackers while the truck barrels through city streets.

The precision of the choreography is remarkable. Every movement feels deliberate. Every stunt lands with impact. The entire sequence is thrilling and sets the tone for everything that follows.

There are fight scenes in industrial warehouses, on city streets, inside clubs, and even inside a giant freezer where combatants crash through enormous blocks of ice. The movie constantly finds new environments and new weapons to keep things visually interesting.

Sledgehammers, machetes, saws, knives, arrows, wooden pallets, metal pipes. If it's lying around, somebody is probably going to use it to inflict bodily harm on someone else.

What makes these sequences particularly impressive is the caliber of the performers involved. Xie Miao isn't simply an actor pretending to be a fighter. He is a highly accomplished martial artist who began appearing in Jet Li films as a child, including My Father Is a Hero and The New Legend of Shaolin.

His physical abilities are extraordinary, but equally impressive is his ability to communicate emotion without dialogue. Since Wang is mute, Miao is forced to rely entirely on facial expressions, body language, and physical performance, and he carries the movie remarkably well.

Joe Taslim is equally terrific. Anyone familiar with The Raid, The Raid 2, The Night Comes for Us, or numerous other action films already knows what Taslim brings to the table. He combines legitimate martial arts credentials with genuine screen presence. His chemistry with Miao gives the film an emotional center that helps elevate it above many similar productions.

The supporting cast is stacked with legitimate fighters as well, including Yayan Ruhian, whose work in the Raid films helped redefine modern martial arts cinema. One of the smartest decisions Tanigaki makes is casting martial artists first and actors second.

Because of that choice, the film rarely relies on doubles or camera tricks. You're watching performers who can actually execute the choreography themselves, and the authenticity shows.

The movie isn't perfect. The plot is recycled from dozens of similar films. The writing is functional at best. Some of the acting outside of the principal cast is uneven. The decision to alternate between English dialogue, subtitled sequences, and occasionally awkward dubbing can be jarring.

If you stop and think too hard about the logistics of the story, the entire thing starts to fall apart. There are moments where characters absorb injuries that would kill a normal human being five times over and simply keep fighting.

But honestly, that's part of the fun.

These movies don't operate according to real-world physics. If somebody gets smashed in the head with a sledgehammer, stabbed repeatedly, thrown through walls, hit by vehicles, and still manages to continue fighting fifteen minutes later, you're just supposed to accept it.

That's the language of this genre. Complaining about realism in a movie like The Furious would be like complaining that Fred Astaire danced too much in a musical.

What did surprise me was how incredibly violent the movie becomes during its final act. The first hour is certainly brutal, but the last forty-five minutes escalate things dramatically.

Once the true villains emerge (including a particularly nasty assassin who enjoys firing arrows through various parts of the human anatomy) the film transforms into an all-out bloodbath. Limbs are severed. Fingers are bitten off. Blood sprays everywhere. The level of gore increases so dramatically that it's almost shocking, even for seasoned fans of the genre.

The centerpiece of the movie is an extended five-person showdown that occupies much of the final stretch. For roughly forty minutes, the film essentially becomes one giant action sequence.

Five extraordinary performers engage in a series of escalating battles using every weapon imaginable. The choreography is breathtaking. The pacing never lets up. The brutality is relentless. It's one of the most entertaining extended fight sequences I've seen in quite some time.

If you've seen films like The Night Comes for Us, Chocolate, Ong-Bak, The Raid, or The Blind Swordsman: Zatoichi, you'll recognize many of the influences at work here. The movie doesn't hide its inspirations. Instead, it embraces them and delivers exactly what fans of the genre want to see.

And that's ultimately why The Furious succeeds so completely. It understands its audience. It knows exactly what kind of movie it wants to be. It doesn't pretend to be profound. It doesn't get bogged down in unnecessary complexity. It delivers spectacular action, memorable fight choreography, outrageous violence, and crowd-pleasing entertainment.

The audience I saw it with was cheering, laughing, gasping, and reacting exactly the way audiences used to react to great action movies before everyone became obsessed with checking their phones every ten minutes. The energy in the room was infectious. People were having fun, and that's exactly what this movie is designed to do.

So no, The Furious isn't reinventing the genre. It isn't telling a story you've never heard before. It isn't offering groundbreaking themes or profound character development.

What it is offering is some of the most beautifully choreographed, skillfully executed, and wildly entertaining martial arts action you're likely to see this year.

The title couldn't be more appropriate. The Furious is fast, brutal, relentless, and unapologetically entertaining. If you're a fan of Hong Kong-style action cinema like I am, you're going to have a blast.

And even if you're new to this genre, this is about as good an introduction as you could ask for. I had a terrific time watching it, and I highly recommend it. - ⭐️⭐️⭐️1/2

3) STOP! THAT! TRAIN!

I’ve got to start with the most important piece of information about Stop! That! Train!: Charo is in it.

I repeat: Charo is in this movie.

Honestly, that fact alone might be enough to get some people through the door. Her character is literally credited as “Sexy Traffic Controller,” which tells you just about everything you need to know about the tone, ambition, and overall level of insanity that director Adam Shankman and his collaborators are aiming for here.

Now, this is the second week in a row that I've had to sit through a modern attempt to revive the kind of parody comedy that the Zucker Brothers perfected with movies like Airplane!, Top Secret!, Police Squad!, and The Naked Gun.

Last week it was Scary Movie 6, a film that mistook recognition for comedy and seemed to believe that merely recreating scenes from other movies counted as satire. It was a disaster. A collection of random references, vulgarity, and lazy callbacks masquerading as comedy.

Stop! That! Train! isn't nearly that bad. Unfortunately, that's not exactly high praise.

The movie is essentially a mash-up of Airplane!, The Big Bus, Supertrain, RuPaul's Drag Race, and about fifty celebrity cameo movies thrown into a blender and served with glitter on top. Written by Christina Friel and Connor Wright, it at least understands the mechanics of parody better than Scary Movie 6 did.

There are actual jokes here. They have setups and punchlines. There are visual gags, running jokes, absurdist non sequiturs, and deadpan deliveries. The problem is that while the movie understands how parody comedy is supposed to work, it rarely manages to be genuinely funny.

The plot is almost beside the point, which is exactly as it should be in a movie like this. Two underappreciated train attendants, Tess (Ginger Minj) and DeeDee (Jujubee), finally land their dream jobs aboard the luxurious Glamazonian Express, only to find themselves trapped on a runaway bullet train barreling toward a catastrophic superstorm called "Stormaganza."

Along the way, they battle snobby first-class attendants, celebrity passengers, mechanical failures, and a President of the United States played by RuPaul.

If that sounds ridiculous, that's because it is. The movie knows it's ridiculous. That's not the issue. The issue is that ridiculousness alone isn't enough.

What immediately struck me is how aggressively this movie borrows from Airplane!. And I don't mean inspiration. I mean outright borrowing. The structure, the rhythm, the deadpan delivery style, the disaster-movie setup, and even several specific jokes feel lifted directly from Airplane! and Airplane II: The Sequel.

There were multiple moments where I wasn't thinking about the movie I was watching. I was thinking about how much better those jokes worked in the movies that originally told them. That's a dangerous game.

If you're constantly reminding the audience of Airplane!, they're inevitably going to compare your movie to Airplane!. And that's a comparison almost no comedy survives.

Still, I will give the movie credit for having its own identity. What separates Stop! That! Train! from countless other failed parody movies is that it fully commits to its drag queen sensibility. This isn't simply a Zucker Brothers knockoff. It's a Zucker Brothers knockoff filtered through the world of RuPaul's Drag Race.

The humor, the musical numbers, the cameos, the attitude, and the overall sensibility are deeply rooted in drag culture and LGBTQ comedy. Whether that works for you will largely determine how much enjoyment you get out of the movie.

RuPaul, as President Judy Gagwell, is exactly as entertaining as you'd expect. The material isn't very good, but RuPaul has enough charisma to sell almost anything. There are moments when sheer force of personality elevates jokes that otherwise wouldn't land.

Ginger Minj and Jujubee make appealing leads, and the supporting cast is packed with recognizable faces who drift in and out of the movie delivering one-liners and participating in increasingly absurd situations.

The MVP of the film, however, might actually be Chris Parnell.

As the train's conductor and engineer, Parnell delivers the movie's funniest performance. His opening scenes, which involve bizarre stories about his collapsing personal life and increasingly ridiculous revelations about his divorce, generated some of the biggest laughs I had all night.

In fact, the first fifteen minutes of the movie are surprisingly strong. Joel McHale shows up for a very funny cameo. Charo appears early. Jerry O'Connell and Nicole Sullivan get some laughs. Natasha Leggero contributes a few memorable moments. Jesse Tyler Ferguson pops in. The energy is fast, chaotic, and promising.

For a little while, I thought maybe this thing might actually work.

Then the movie settles into a long middle stretch where the laughs become increasingly sporadic.

One of the biggest problems is repetition. A running gag involving Sarah Michelle Gellar essentially playing herself starts off amusing. The joke is that nobody recognizes her. The first time it works. The second time it works a little less. By the fifth time, the joke is completely dead. The movie has a habit of finding a gag that gets a mild chuckle and then running it into the ground.

There are two major musical numbers that serve as centerpieces, and while they're energetic and professionally staged, neither song is particularly memorable. They feel obligatory rather than inspired. The drag performers are clearly having fun, but enthusiasm alone can't compensate for weak material.

Rachel Bloom comes out of the movie particularly well. As dispatcher Donna Dusk (the woman desperately trying to save the runaway train from afar) she provides a grounded comic center amid all the chaos.

I've loved her ever since Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, one of the smartest and funniest musical television series of the last couple of decades, and she has exactly the right comic instincts for this material. Unfortunately, the script doesn't give her nearly enough to do.

As for Adam Shankman, he remains Adam Shankman.

He's a capable studio workhorse who occasionally stumbles into something enjoyable but has also directed a fair share of forgettable junk. This is, after all, the guy behind The Wedding Planner, The Pacifier, Cheaper by the Dozen 2, Rock of Ages, and the Hairspray remake.

He's comfortable with broad comedy, musical staging, and celebrity ensembles, and all of those skills are on display here. The movie moves quickly, the pacing rarely drags, and the production itself is polished enough. The problem isn't execution. It's the material. And that's ultimately where Stop! That! Train! runs off the rails.

There are laughs. I laughed more than I expected to. A flashback involving RuPaul and a train accident is genuinely hilarious. Chris Parnell is consistently funny. Several of the cameos work. Some of the visual gags land. The drag queens are charismatic and clearly having a good time.

But for every joke that works, there are five that don't.

For every inspired bit of absurdity, there's another tired reference or recycled gag that reminds you of a much funnier movie.

So while I can confidently say that Stop! That! Train! is roughly a hundred times better than Scary Movie 6, that's still not enough for me to recommend it. It's a mildly amusing, occasionally funny, relentlessly uneven parody that never comes close to achieving what its influences accomplished decades ago.

Still...

Charo is in it.

And honestly, that may be the strongest recommendation I can give. - ⭐️⭐️

4) KRAKEN

I don't know about you, but whenever I hear the word "Kraken," I immediately hear Liam Neeson yelling, "Release the Kraken!" from the 2010 version of Clash of the Titans. Then, almost instantly, I hear Sir Laurence Olivier doing exactly the same thing in the original 1981 version. That's just where my brain goes.

The Kraken, for most movie fans, is one of those legendary creatures that carries decades of cinematic baggage with it. You think of giant monsters, tentacles, mythology, Ray Harryhausen stop-motion animation, spectacular destruction, and over-the-top fantasy adventure.

Unfortunately, if those are the things you're looking for when you buy a ticket to a movie called Kraken, you might find yourself as disappointed as I was.

This Norwegian monster thriller, directed by Pål Øie, is technically well made and often impressively crafted, but it ultimately suffers from a fundamental identity crisis. It wants to be a giant-monster movie. It wants to be a suspense thriller. It wants to be an environmental cautionary tale. It wants to be a creature feature rooted in folklore.

And while there are moments when those elements work together, the movie never successfully figures out how to balance them. The result is a film that spends most of its running time teasing a giant mythical sea monster while being far more interested in delivering an ecological lecture.

Now, before I get into the problems, I should point out that Pål Øie is a talented filmmaker. He previously directed The Tunnel, a very effective 2019 disaster thriller about a tanker truck crash that traps people inside a massive Norwegian tunnel.

It was essentially a smarter and better version of Daylight, the 1996 Sylvester Stallone movie, and it demonstrated that Øie has a real gift for staging action, building tension, and creating a strong sense of physical danger. Those skills are definitely on display in Kraken.

The film follows marine biologist Johanne Berge, played by Sara Khorami, who is called to investigate a series of mysterious deaths near a remote fish farm located in one of Norway's deepest fjords. The fish farm has been using an experimental sonic technology designed to eliminate salmon lice, and Johanne soon discovers that the device may be causing far greater problems than anyone anticipated.

Strange animal behavior begins occurring throughout the region. Fish are fleeing. Crabs are disappearing. Marine life is abandoning the area entirely. Then people start dying.

What Johanne eventually uncovers is that the sonic frequencies have awakened something ancient beneath the fjord: a legendary Kraken, a mountain-sized creature that has remained hidden in the depths for centuries.

That setup is promising, and the movie gets off to a genuinely strong start. The opening sequence involving two teenagers riding a jet ski across the fjord is exceptionally well done. The scene establishes both the beauty and the danger of the environment while creating a terrific sense of unease.

When the teenagers are suddenly pulled underwater by an unseen force, the sequence becomes frightening. A massive whirlpool forms, the water churns violently, and the movie immediately suggests that something enormous is lurking below the surface. It's an effective beginning and, unfortunately, it also sets up expectations that the movie struggles to satisfy.

One of the film's biggest problems is that despite being called Kraken, it seems remarkably uninterested in actually showing the Kraken. Instead, the creature spends most of the movie hiding in shadows, creating disturbances underwater, or appearing in fragments.

There are tentacles. Lots and lots of tentacles. In fact, if there were an award for the most scenes featuring slimy tentacles slowly crawling through hallways, wrapping around equipment, squeezing through vents, or slithering across floors, this movie would win in a landslide.

To be fair, the film does build suspense effectively. Øie understands how to create atmosphere, and there are stretches of the movie that work quite well as slow-burn horror. The isolation of the fish farm is unsettling. The underwater photography is excellent. The fjord itself becomes an imposing and mysterious presence. There are moments where the film captures the terror of being surrounded by something unimaginably large that you cannot see.

But eventually you have to pay off that suspense. Eventually the audience wants to see the monster. And Kraken never quite delivers.

One of the more enjoyable sequences involves one of the oldest clichés in horror movie history: the local old-timer who knows the truth. This is a trope that dates back forever. You see it in Friday the 13th. You see it in countless monster movies and ghost stories. There is always a weathered old man sitting somewhere, warning everyone about the danger they're about to ignore.

In this case, it's an old fisherman sitting in a local tavern who tells the story of the creature lurking beneath the fjord. He describes it as a mountain-sized nightmare with countless arms resting in the darkness below. The scene is completely predictable, but it's also well executed. Sometimes clichés become clichés because they work, and this sequence is one of the film's highlights.

What ultimately hurts the movie, however, is its inability to decide what kind of story it wants to tell. The environmental themes dominate nearly every aspect of the narrative. The sonic technology disrupting the ecosystem serves as both the cause of the problem and the central metaphor.

The screenplay clearly wants to make a statement about humanity's interference with nature, the dangers of corporate negligence, and the unintended consequences of technological solutions.

Those are worthwhile themes. The problem is that they overwhelm the monster movie.

The film repeatedly seems more interested in discussing ecological responsibility than in giving audiences the giant sea-creature spectacle that the title promises. There's nothing wrong with incorporating environmental themes into a creature feature.

In fact, some of the greatest monster movies ever made have done exactly that. Godzilla began as a metaphor for nuclear destruction. Many of the best science-fiction films use monsters as vehicles for larger ideas.

But those movies also remember to be monster movies. Kraken frequently forgets.

By the time the creature finally emerges in a more substantial way during the climax, the payoff feels oddly anticlimactic. There are some effective moments as the beast attacks the floating facility and tentacles invade the structure, but the movie never embraces the kind of large-scale creature mayhem that its premise practically demands.

The destruction is limited. The monster remains frustratingly obscured. And just when it feels like the movie might finally cut loose and give us the spectacle we've been waiting for, it pulls back again.

The screenplay also stumbles when it comes to its environmental message. By the end of the movie, the solution to the Kraken problem involves using the very kind of sonic technology that caused the catastrophe in the first place.

I kept waiting for Kraken to become the movie its title promised. I wanted a giant mythical sea monster. I wanted spectacular destruction. I wanted the kind of creature-feature thrills that the very word "Kraken" immediately conjures up in the imagination. Instead, I got a film that was much more interested in environmental messaging, ecological warnings, and underwater suspense.

There's certainly an audience for that. Some viewers may appreciate the film's restraint and its more serious approach to the material. But for me, the balance never worked. The movie promises one thing and delivers something else entirely.

In the end, Kraken is a technically competent, occasionally engaging monster movie that never quite understands what audiences want from a movie called Kraken. I came hoping for a giant monster destroying things. What I got was a confused ecological thriller with a mixed message and an awful lot of tentacles.

That's not enough. And despite the talent involved, I can't really recommend it. - ⭐️⭐️

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