The Lion King (2019)

Score: 2.5 / 5

There are, to my mind, two reasons to remake a Disney classic. The first is simply to retell the story using improved cinematic techniques and use live action (I'll always prefer live action to animation, so sue me); this method also should involve some small alteration to the story, making it timely or less problematic or more revealing. Think Beauty and the Beast and The Jungle Book. The second is to take the bones of the original and totally re-dress it for more or less "new" purposes; think Dumbo and Pete's Dragon.

The Lion King does neither, and takes a different path (let's hope this new venture dead-ends quickly). The newest in a laundry list of Disney flicks is very nearly a shot-for-shot remake of the original animated film. While I've never felt as passionately about the groundbreaking original as many do, I was excited for this film because of the live-action aspect of it (actually, I don't think this counts as live-action; perhaps lifelike-action?). And this is indeed gorgeous to behold. The realized animals are nothing short of dazzling on the big screen.

In fact, this film is so incredibly lifelike that more than once I felt I was watching a DisneyNature documentary set to Hans Zimmer's iconic music. It's an amazing work of art, especially in some of the hyper-realistic storytelling techniques director Jon Favreau is pioneering lately. For example, "I Just Can't Wait to Be King" features the little cubs and their animal friends singing and causing chaos at the water hole; unlike the cartoon's circus fantasy version of this song, this film depicts a more or less realistic version of baby animals playing around. It's no less entertaining, and really fascinating from an artistic perspective.

Other than a few such moments of realistic beauty -- and the general gorgeous aesthetic of the film -- nothing else whatsoever provides a reason for this version to exist. There is no buttressing of the story with new episodes, no new songs (or additional ones from, for example, the stage musical), no thematic or character shifts. We do get some extra time with Sarabi (Alfre Woodard, thank heaven), and hints at feminist energy. Early on, when Zazu (John Oliver) warns Mufasa (James Earl Jones) that hyenas are in the land and the lionnesses are fighting them, Mufasa goes to "help", rather than save or some other hooey. In one critical moment, much later as Scar (Chiwetel Ejiofor) attempts to induce Sarabi to mate with him, he says that Mufasa is only king because Sarabi chose him, suggesting Sarabi is actually the royalty of the Pridelands. Interesting, if empty.

Worse yet, the voice actors are almost entirely phoned-in, at least to my ears. Beyonce (as Nala) and Woodard are lovely as always, but don't get to do much in the way of acting. Donald Glover (playing Simba) and Ejiofor are downright uninspired, sounding bored at best, and James Earl Jones sounds as though he's been doing Mufasa in his sleep for decades (he probably has). Oliver's Zazu is fine and Billy Eichner and Seth Rogen are absolutely hilarious as Timon and Pumbaa, but it's hard to swallow that in such a talented cast, only the white guys get to have fun and steal the show.

And speaking of fun, I had lots of fun in the first half of this movie. The hyenas are, unfortunately, not so funny but rather dangerous. Which is fine, if disappointing. Similarly, Scar is too deadpan and bitter to be an exciting villain; he's chilling, to be sure, but never memorable. Perhaps that's why they cut his song: "Be Prepared" is the film's biggest disappointment, as the second half of the song is entirely cut and the first half consists of Ejiofor growling and shouting. Why? The man can sing, so let him sing!

By the second half, the disappointments came more steadily. Rafiki is barely a character and totally forgettable. When Simba looks into the sky to see his father, all we see are swirling clouds. In the climactic fight atop Pride Rock, the editing jerks us between unidentifiable shapes with little or no logic or clarity of vision. I got downright angry when Beyonce's glorious new song "Spirit" is cut to about a chorus and a bridge, and only played as background music as Nala and Simba race across the desert.

It's all beautiful and disappointing, even for someone like me who doesn't much care about the original. Give me the stage musical any day.

Crawl (2019)

Score: 3 / 5

This is exactly the type of scary, thrilling fun I want every summer: a creature feature with a few nasty shocks that reminds you nature doesn't play it safe.

Crawl begins (after a lengthy intro) with a hurricane approaching Florida. Haley (a physically impressive Kaya Scodelario) treks through it to find her father Dave (Barry Pepper), who is not answering his phone. He's not at his apartment, so she continues through the storm to her old family home, now for sale, and finds Dave's car. As water begins to flood the street, Haley discovers her father in the crawlspace beneath the house, wounded and unconscious. While attempting to pull him to safety, she is chased by a large alligator. Of course we already knew what had attacked Dave, and it seems a bit difficult to believe Haley didn't recognize (or at least suspect) the row of tooth marks in his shoulder and chest. But once Dave awakens, he reveals his theory that the gator slithered in through a drainage pipe.

Speaking of things that are difficult to believe, this movie demands a lot -- a lot -- of disbelief suspension on our part, and I personally wasn't always able to acquiesce. Things escalate quickly after the more or less tense opening scenes, as the crawlspace begins to fill with water and another gator appears. A pair of strangers outside come to help; later a couple officers show up. I think you know how they end up on the flooded street swimming with gators. Before long, the levees break and a tidal wave come gushing in. It's all worst-case scenario, made worse yet by the bloodthirsty gators themselves. These are not your nature documentary breed; these CGI monstrosities are fast and always moving, and seem happy to kill for sport.

Unfortunately, the gators to my eye were not always realistically rendered by CGI. Some shots are pure horror gold, while others felt like they belonged on a Syfy special. Similarly, some plot elements and attack scenes are genius; then you have the laughable "rules" that predatory gators abide by that are capitalized in one ridiculous scene. In the floodwaters on the street, Haley swims out of the drain pipe and attempts to hide from a gator floating overhead; a single bubble escapes her and floats up, up, up to the reptile's belly, which the beast feels before turning violently upon her. Seriously? You're in a bloody hurricane, in an environment you've never had, the floodwaters are surging, and you feel a single bubble on your belly?

But it's still wildly entertaining. Despite some of the more ridiculous -- and silly -- twists of the movie, Crawl manages to be a delightful way to spend a hot summer evening. If you're like me, you love a nature-gone-wrong monster movie, and this certainly fits the bill. And it's surprisingly brutal. Of course, there are plot elements I wish had been expounded (the gator baby nest) and design or execution techniques I'd have employed (why are Florida floodwaters so clear?). Mostly, I felt the film's editing and pacing were a bit off, and I'd have preferred a more Don't Breathe kind of approach to the story: more streamlined, and as close to real time as possible. That would be some slick stuff.

Spider-Man: Far From Home (2019)

Score: 4 / 5

It's a lot of the same, but I liked this Spider-Man much better than Homecoming. Why? We get out of Queens and get to tour Europe. We get Nick Fury and Maria Hill and Happy Hogan. And, by far most importantly, we get Mysterio in all his glory.

Still haunted by Tony Stark's death, Peter Parker returns to school for a rebooted semester after the Snap (actually after the Blip, when Hulk snapped again so that the dusted folks returned). He's caught with developing feelings for MJ, wanting to distract himself from tragedy, and avoid being a superhero, and so he embarks with his classmates on a science trip to Europe (where they never actually do scientific things). Cheap plot vehicle aside, Peter finds himself in Venice when the city is attacked by a giant water monster. Nick Fury collects Peter and introduces him to Mysterio.

Mysterio, he says, is from another planet Earth, and convinces Fury and Peter that a multiverse exists. If you knew anything about Mysterio going in, you know he is lying. It's a delicious character presented to us by Jake Gyllenhaal, and he chews the lines and his costume (!!!) like they're his gateway to our minds. His team of Tony Stark ex-employees, now emboldened to pirate Stark tech, have used advanced drones to project holographic images and amazing special effects to create four new monsters to threaten the planet. Mysterio seeks to create an Avengers-level threat, as he calls it, so that he can become Earth's mightiest hero and replace the void left by the narcissistic playboy. It's hard not to see him, directing his illusions with a maniacal glint in his eye, playing the character as a sly jibe at the Marvel directors themselves, filled with grandiose schemes and doing whatever it takes to realize them.

Oops, is that a spoiler? It shouldn't be. The actual superhero parts of this movie are pretty straightforward and utterly entertaining. Mysterio's tricks are magnificent to behold, especially in a turning point when he assaults Peter's senses in a trippy visual maze not unlike something you might see in Doctor Strange. Plus, though we don't get any hint of Donald Glover's Prowler, Miles Morales, or the Scorpion (all hinted at in Homecoming), we do get some nice surprises. The Elementals (as Mysterio calls them) seem to be based on several Spidey villains from the comics: namely, Hydro-Man, Sandman, Molten Man, and Cyclone.

Further, the post-credit scene introduces J.K. Simmons as J. Jonah Jameson (reprising the character in this franchise, thank heaven) revealing Spider-Man's true identity. We can only hope this paves the way for the third installment, which I pray means that Peter will go on the lam and we will finally get to see Kraven the Hunter chase him down. Too, as Jameson is the driving force behind the villain Scorpion, we can hope that the MCU is slowly building its case for a Sinister Six movie. What a thrill!

My geeky excitement aside, Far From Home is far from a perfect movie, and joins its predecessor as a fun, second-rate entry in the franchise. Because the genre of this Spider-Man's movies is foremost a coming-of-age comedy and only secondly superhero action, the film balances its truly excellent superhero stuff with wacky comedy clearly aimed at a younger audience. Like the first, it's uplifting and gleeful to a fault, making its niche in the franchise but grating against those of us who crave meatier servings. The one-liners come fast and hard, but I found myself snorting more than laughing aloud. And while Tom Holland presents a wonderful interpretation of the character, several of his classmates got on my last nerves while I watched this movie. Give me Peter and the adults, and leave the rest out. I'd have been happier for it.

Hotel Mumbai (2019)

Score: 4.5 / 5

The year is 2008. Four days of hell in Mumbai saw Pakistani terrorists murder over 170 people and wound more than 300 more with bombs and guns in twelve locations across the city.

As is often the case with historical art -- that is, art that depicts history -- Hotel Mumbai dramatizes these events but selects a single location as its primary story. Here, the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel becomes a sort of microcosm of the terrorist event, depicting the horrific violence, paranoid fear, and tragic outcome of the events that occurred a decade ago. It's not all a tragedy, though, as the film carefully works to show that cruelty and hatred cannot truly win the day, cultivating our sympathies for the victims and survivors and demonstrating the amazing affinity for life of the Indians caught in this act of senseless evil.

The luxurious hotel itself is brought gloriously to life on screen, and as waiter Arjun (Dev Patel) comes in to work, he is reminded by his boss that "Guest is God." The first third of the film contains lots of buildup, and we're introduced to a few other characters, both staff and guests at the hotel, including an heiress (Nazanin Boniadi), her American husband (Armie Hammer), and their baby. We see snapshots of the other attacks, and we begin to feel the encroaching threat of the terrorists, who we also follow as they obey the voice of their fanatical leader, the Bull, whom we never see. By the time the killers actually enter the hotel, the tension is so thick you could choke on it.

For some reason, the local police force is unprepared and unequipped to handle the threat, and so the denizens of the Taj must protect themselves until soldiers arrive from New Delhi. As you might imagine, a lot of people die. The film's middle section is akin to a horror movie, in which the terrorists shoot indiscriminately and plow their way through the halls and stairs. Then, when guests and staff have taken shelter in rooms, closets, and relatively hidden spots, the terrorists use captured staff to make calls to rooms, urging people to come out and that the danger is past. It's a sick, insidious twist of the knife to watch the scared people emerge only to be shot dead. You begin to wonder how anyone survived the attack at all.

It's all terrifically thrilling and emotionally wracking, as the best dramatizations of real-life tragedies are. More than once I was reminded of United 93 because of this film's structure and thematic concerns. People attempt to be heroes and are cut down mercilessly; people accuse each other and though they might be bigoted assholes, we understand their suspicions. The film refuses to lionize its characters, showing us the vulnerable, complex folks we all are, despite what the superhero movies tell us. It hurts to watch, and it takes time to process afterward.

The Dead Don't Die (2019)

Score: 2 / 5

I'm not a big Jim Jarmusch fan, and this film is exactly why. I really liked it but I also just don't care about any of it. The only other Jarmusch flick I'd say I really enjoyed is Only Lovers Left Alive, and that I probably would watch with this as a double feature.

In a plodding, intentionally banal answer to the aimless but kinetic frenzy of other zombie flicks, The Dead Don't Die manages to get a few things right. The beginning of the film feels not unlike something akin to Fargo, as small town Centerville personalities interact with seemingly little point or excitement. If there are protagonists, they're a trio of cops (the only cops in town), whose deadpan delivery foreshadows the undead citizens unearthing themselves. The characters have names, but we'll refer to them as the actors because that's what matters in the movie. Adam Driver flatly intones that the proceedings won't end well, though he has no rationale behind this prediction. Bill Murray, annoyed with him but clearly tired of being a cop and doing anything more than calming disputes about missing chickens, drives them around town and us through the film. Chloe Sevigny, trying to fit into the boys' club, is completely wasted as the feminist she is and relegated to staying behind and being all but shamed by the guys the entire time.

The first half of the film is entirely zombie-less; at least of the undead kind. Rather, we're introduced to the wacky Centerville townsfolk, most of whom are either too mindless and stupid for their own good -- Steve Buscemi sports a "Make America White Again" hat in a diner while talking with Danny Glover -- or too smart but inert for their own good -- Caleb Landry Jones knows exactly what's up but cannot save himself -- and we know they will all die. Then again, I certainly had some hopes that the funny but languid first half would fertilize the juicy stuff later. This hope was mobilized by the presence of Tilda Swinton, a Scottish immigrant and mortician whose abilities with a katana and skill for postmortem drag makeup make her the coolest figure we see on screen.

My hopes were dashed. Once the undead arrive, the film redirects itself from entertainment to doldrums. A zombie film is -- almost by nature at this point -- a commentary on society, and with the presence of a few Trumpisms in this Centerville that has probably not changed for several decades, we are poised and ready for some interesting Night of the Living Dead political cannibalism. We don't get much, and what we get is pretty silly. The zombies seem single-mindedly intent on the material goods they loved in life. Carol Kane wants her "chardonnay", one woman wants Xanax, Iggy Pop wants coffee; they speak their desires in groans and whispers meant to be funny but at most hit sadly close to home. In an age of smart phones and stupid presidents, we are too attached to comforting materialism and ignorant of the real perils of our world. Case in point: the mindless chatter about "polar fracking" that seems to have altered the world's axis and spin and reanimated the dead. We hear it several times but nobody seems to care much, or even to know anything about it beyond using the phrase vaguely.

It's a bloodless film, and then some. Not only is its plot limp, its humor stilted and dry, and its actors mostly wasted, but even the rare action is rendered into black CGI dust instead of gore. And all this is to say nothing of Tilda Swinton who, right before the end, gets sucked up into a UFO and flown away with no ado whatsoever. It's just a weird movie. Worth a watch, but only once. Clearly Jarmusch and his team are having a grand ol' joke, but I suspected more than once the joke was on us.

Toy Story 4 (2019)

Score: 3.5 / 5

Well, we thought it was over and I still kind of wish it was. But Toy Story 4 manages to still be a lot of fun, and would have worked better for me if it weren't the end to the franchise. If it is the end.

Living happily with their new kid Bonnie, the toys have readjusted to their new positions well. Except, that is, for Woody, whose status as favorite toy and head of the play room is rapidly slipping from his grasp. To reclaim his favor with Bonnie -- or perhaps simply because he feels so passionately that it's right -- he goes with her to kindergarten orientation day. Her fear and isolation hits Woody hard, so he assembles some craft supplies from the garbage and presents them to her. She creates a new toy, Forky, who inevitably is her new favorite. Surprised and perhaps hurt, Woody makes it his duty to see that nothing bad happens to Forky.

Unfortunately for Woody, Forky is suicidal (in the most G way imaginable). Easily the funniest scenes in the franchise come from his attempts to return to his destiny of non-life in the trash. "You-Are-A-Toy," Woody intones as only Tom Hanks can, while Tony Hale's Forky remains convinced of his identity: "T-toh...toy...trash!" When he can't find a trash can, he condemns himself to being litter aside the road, and so the adventure begins when Woody abandons the vehicle to rescue Forky. Forky, in this way, centers the film as a meditation on much larger themes than most non-Disney animated features, namely that of the mystery of our purpose in life.

Then enter the complications, which include the nefarious Gabby Gabby (Christina Hendricks), whose dominion over an antique shop has begun to addle her priorities. She's determined to perfect herself so that her favorite child will adopt her, and to that end she manipulates and harasses and abducts Woody to steal his voicebox. Her dummies may be the stuff of nightmares, and while her plot takes up most of the story, by the end Woody goes through perhaps the largest character development in the series. He willingly gives her his voicebox and helps her find her own purpose. It's touching, to be sure, and far less comical and blunt as the respective ends of previous villains.

A major reason for this change of heart in Woody is the reappearance of Bo Peep (Annie Potts), whose absence from the third film is here explained. Gone is her mild and meek flirtation; Bo is now an assertive badass and leads an exciting life on the edge. She challenges Woody's perception of the world and of his purpose in it, while proving that a toy might have a life beyond the walls of a child's sandbox or crib. Similarly, others join the fun to rescue Forky: Bunny and Ducky (Jordan Peele and Keegan-Michael Key) enter the picture as plush prizes in a carnival game, while Duke Caboom (Keanu Reeves) and Giggle McDimples (Ally Maki) had already teamed up with Bo before.

With all these new characters, though, our favorites take a back seat and are absent from most of the film. Buzz and Jessie get slightly more screen time, but Rex and Slinky and the others are almost entirely relegated to a few brief shots and exclamations. Moreover, the ending of the film is one that made me angry at first, then sad, and finally I just decided to let myself forget it. It's a weird ending that too-aggressively tries to stake its claim as being significant. But I just don't believe it any more. The third film had a perfect ending that was sincerely emotional and didn't sacrifice characters or logic to achieve its effect. This one felt cheap, contrived, and utterly hollow. Will Disney continue to milk this franchise? I wouldn't be surprised, and I won't trust my feelings during any more Toy Story adventures to come.

Unless the feelings have to do with a suicidal spork.

Annabelle Comes Home (2019)

Score: 4.5 / 5

Annabelle took it home when she came home, sending the spin-off series into a fabulous conclusion while paving a highway toward the future of the Conjuring franchise.

The film begins with a scene from the first Annabelle (which just gets better with each sequel, oddly enough), as the Warrens interview the three teenagers whose apartment had been haunted by the titular doll. They take her to their home, where they invite a priest to help contain its evil. The doll, they make sure to explain to us multiple times, is not possessed; it is a conduit, a tool for a demon to use. Of course we've seen this before, but this time there's an added twist: the demon's activities seem to incite other spirits to approach and act out. Thankfully, the priest locks Annabelle away behind some "chapel glass" and leaves her in her iconic pose.

Enter the high school girls, who invade the spooky old home to look after young Judy Warren. Madison Iseman plays Mary Ellen, the actual babysitter and maybe the best babysitter ever (after Jamie Lee Curtis, of course), while Katie Sarife bursts onto the silver screen as Daniela, the naughty girl who is only there to cause trouble -- or so it seems. Turns out there's a lot of emotion to the latter girl's presence, and her desire to reconnect with her deceased father incites her to sneak into the Warren's forbidden room that contains a collection of occult objects. Naturally, this room is where Annabelle has set up her little kingdom.

In a remarkably fitting follow-up to Creation, which featured several children being haunted in a remote foster home, this movie brings everything back to basics, reuniting us with the Warrens and allowing us to spend more quality time in their home. I've wanted back into this spooky place since the demonic nun lurched out of a painting in The Conjuring 2. The film becomes a sort of panic room for the girls (and newcomer Michael Cimino's character Bob, who quickly steals everyone's hearts), as the malevolent spirits begin manifesting in increasingly violent ways. Domestic life is changed into a fun house of wild lights, fog machines, and some of the scariest suburban imagery I've ever seen in a haunted house movie.

The vividly imagined spirits are manifold, and each is given enough screen time to be satisfying while tempting you to want still more spin-off movies. You thought The Nun was all we'd get? I'd still like to see a Crooked Man flick and maybe a Scarecrow one, but this movie suggests at least half a dozen more spooky possibilities. On our roster we can now add the Bride, a wedding gown that provokes stabby violence; the Ferryman, who collects coins from the dead and dying; a hell-hound that seems suspiciously werewolf-like (and as such is a well-known real-life case of the Warrens, which James Wan has hinted will play a major part in the third Conjuring entry); and a Feely Meely game that doesn't actually do much but inspires great fear because of its potential for horror.

Even if you think the madcap horror is a bit excessive, the film maintains a lucid grip on its emotional core and carefully plots everything so that it's also logical. Moreover, the atmosphere of this film is intoxicatingly vivid and its images vibrant and terrifying. For an exercise in scary, smart, and extravagant horror that is also hilarious and heartwarming, Annabelle Comes Home is a magnificent way to close out the series and invite us to continue with the franchise. Here's hoping for more lycanthropy, and more Bob (because "Bob's got balls")!

Midsommar (2019)

Score: 5 / 5

Sophomore slumps are not a thing in 2019. Jordan Peele's Us and now Ari Aster's Midsommar are two of the best horror films in the last decade. Not always scary, but intensely uncomfortable and deeply disturbing, these two pictures complicate and renew existential horror as a sub-genre. They are also fascinating steps forward for our two newest horror auteurs. If Jordan Peele's first outing was a streamlined, economical dissection of modern race relations, his second was a scream of bloody fury against our racist country. If Ari Aster's first outing was a calculated, precise portrait of family disintegration and trauma, his second is a chorus of screams for newfound family (and still lots of trauma). Both second films pile on so many layers of significance they become consummate works of art, constantly offering new readings.

We begin Midsommar in the dead of winter. We don't know it yet, but the opening images are of a murder-suicide. We get the news later as we center our focus on Dani (Florence Pugh), whose sister committed the crimes. Suddenly an orphan, Dani despairs, hoping the arms of her boyfriend will comfort her. The aptly named Christian (Jack Reynor) does precious little to comfort her, as he doesn't much want to be in this relationship. In fact, for most of the first hour of this 140-minute movie, the film primarily works as a black comedy, showing the emotional violence we enact on the people we love and the people we don't. It's a skin-prickling hour of awkward silences, passive-aggressive conversation, and lots of male-driven micro-aggressions.

This might feel like an unnecessarily long intro, but really this is the meat of the matter. It's the horror of our daily lives, and how our relationships with people we love disintegrate. Existential horror, here rooted in the ties that bind us, often begins with sudden loss and continues with efforts by the protagonist to find a place in a community we don't fully understand. Dani and Christian are clearly not a good match, and both are to blame; because we are often restricted to Dani's perspective and given more of her story, she becomes our default protagonist and who we tend to sympathize with. After all, it's Christian who wants out of the relationship but stays, who schemes and manipulates her behind her back, who is unfaithful in mind if not anywhere else. Yet.

But his friends are heading to Sweden for a month-long getaway, visiting a peer's home: a commune nestled in the idyllic plains of Halsingland. One of them (William Jackson Harper) is working on his thesis; Christian hijacks that too, eventually. One of them (Will Poulter) is a lustful clown looking for as much Scandinavian action as he can get (note: he doesn't actually get any that we see). While there, they will be the guests of the Harga, a community of nature-worshippers living out of time and place. Dressed in white robes -- "hermaphroditic" one calls their androgynous garb -- they decorate themselves with ancient runes and wildflowers, dance in the fields, and consume hallucinogenic roots and fruits around their valley.

It sounds a lot like paradise, and for most of the film, it is. This part of the story gets far more difficult to discuss unless you are familiar with The Wicker Man, from which Aster clearly takes his inspiration. In that 1973 classic, a detective investigates a missing woman in a cult, only to find himself the unwitting sacrifice for a pagan ritual. In Midsommar, we know exactly what will happen the whole time -- very nearly the same thing, but importantly different, as we will see -- and the horror comes from a plodding pace from which we cannot escape. It's an organized nightmare; no, daymare, really, as everything is doused in brilliant white light the entire time. Think Insomnia but less Al Pacino and more grass. Here, the students visit hoping to learn more, but find themselves part of the ritual; Dani, however, becomes the May Queen, and thus finds a new family as she takes a perverse revenge against her boyfriend.

It's all rather difficult to discuss, and I know I'm not doing it any justice. It's an experience you have to, well, experience to understand. And even through experiencing it, you don't understand. Nothing is explained, and very little makes concrete sense. You go through the film feeling everything, from the incredible score (half of which is diegetic) to the whirling, acrobatic camera. The extreme closeups on Florence Pugh's face force you to feel her virtuoso performance, and the bright sunlight bleaches everything so much that you're not always sure if what you see is a special effect or not.

With pacing akin to that of an opera, Midsommar stands apart from its ilk in its acute attention to internal emotion, its alarming color scheme and lightscape, and its amazing array of thematic concerns. This is a cornerstone of the genre, a magnificent achievement that is, sure, less entertaining than Hereditary, but infinitely more detailed and disturbing.