All posts by Gregory J. Smalley (366weirdmovies)

Gregory J. Smalley founded 366 Weird Movies in 2008 and has served as editor-in-chief since that time. He is a member of the Online Film Critics Society, and his film writing has appeared online in Pop Matters and The Spool.
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CAPSULE: ARCO (2025)

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DIRECTED BY: Ugo Bienvenu

FEATURING: Oscar Tresanini, Margot Ringard Oldra, Vincent Macaigne, Louis Garrel, William Lebghil (French); Juliano Krue Valdi, Romy Fay, , , Flea (English dub)

PLOT: A boy from the distant future accidentally time-travels to the “past” (2075), where a girl helps him find his way back to his own time.

Still from Arco (2025)

COMMENTS: Arco boasts two future visions for the price of one. In the title character’s utopian era, humans practice agrarian lives in verdant homesteads above the clouds, time traveling back to the Late Cretaceous period to pick up some exotic plants for supper. Time travel is achieved by activating a diamond while gliding through the sky at terminal velocity in a rainbow suit. The other future, set a mere 50 or so years from now, is more accessible: a world where people communicate via hologram, and robots do all the grunt work (including child-rearing) for busy humans, who somehow manage to remain workaholics despite outsourcing most jobs to automatons.

Worldbuilding—on a level that is recognizable to adults while still being comprehensible and engaging to kids—is Arco‘s superpower. The dual realities make for a refreshing twist on the “stranger in a strange land” plot. Arco has pleasant characters kids can relate to, achored by the touching friendship between Arco and Iris. The feature is well-paced, setting up the central characters and their relationship before notching up the tension in the second half, which features a series of thrilling seat-of-the-pants escapes. Once stuck in 2075, Arco finds himself tailed by three comic-relief buffoons with sharp rainbow shades, bowl haircuts, and uncertain intentions. A misplaced MacGuffin, imminent forest fire, and nurturing but inconsistently functioning nannybot Mikki fill out the plot. It plays out like E.T., minus the Christological baggage, but ending with an unexpected emotional gut-punch whose guiltier implications will hopefully sail over younger viewers’ heads. (It’s good for kids to realize actions have unintended consequences, sure, but this is a heavy trip to lay on a pre-teen).

The 2D animation is not particularly fluid most of the time (save for a bravura pseudo-psychedelic rainbow-flying sequence or two), but the Ghibli-inspired landscapes are impressively detailed. Children should respond well to the character designs, especially Arco’s coat of many colors (which one Letterboxd reviewer wittily described as “an LGBTQ+ allyship hijab.”)

was instrumental in bringing Ugo Bienvenu’s debut film to  a global audience. She served as a producer and took a small speaking role in the English dub, encouraging other Hollywood talents like and America Ferrara to make similar cameos (along with the more substantial roles for Ferrel and Samberg). Due to their neighborly release dates, Arco is paired in the critical consciousness with the recent French-Belgian animation Little Amélie or the Character of Rain. Both are unique and superior animations offering something more substantial than the usual Hollywood cartoon fare.  Arco is the more appealing of the pair for kids, while Amélie the more philosophical, artistically rendered, and adult-pleasing feature—and also, with its surreal renderings of childhood imagination, the slightly weirder one.

Proposed drinking game: every time a character says “Arco” you say “Polo.” If you’re not in first, take a drink.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…will entrance kids and pre-teen viewers with its just-crude-enough animation style, providing the film with a taste of scrappy ’70s psychedelia and distinctly French character illustration.”–Coleman Spilde, Salon 

(This movie was nominated for review by “Anonymous.” Suggest a weird movie of your own here.)

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CAPSULE: DANIELA FOREVER (2024)

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DIRECTED BY:

FEATURING: Henry Golding, Beatrice Grannò, , Nathalie Poza

PLOT: A man enters a secret trial for a drug that exponentially enhances lucid dreaming, but instead of following instructions, he brings his dead girlfriend to life in a dream world.

Still from DANIELA FOREVER (2024)

COMMENTS: Modern mystic Alan Watts once delivered a lecture (which became the basis for an indie movie reviewed here) that suggested that if we could achieve our every desire through lucid dreaming, we would eventually become bored with omnipotence and return to the exact waking reality we once fled. Daniela Forever‘s Nicolás is determined to test that theory. After his girlfriend dies in a freak accident (for which he irrationally blames himself), all he wants is to live a simple life with Daniela alive and back in his apartment, forever. A lucid dreaming clinical trial gives him the opportunity to create that fantasy in a simulated world where he has almost total control over every aspect of reality, from the position of the sun to Daniela’s every mood, along with the ability to pause, rewind, and restart the flow of time. As he gains more and more facility with the process, he finds himself able to expand his dream-world from his cozy apartment to encompass most of Madrid (although he can’t create areas he’s never seen in waking reality, which show up in the dream as undulating grey walls). But he becomes surprised when Daniela suddenly appears to be developing free will and having thoughts of her own he didn’t place there. Meanwhile, the story moves forward in the waking world, where Nicolás deceives his clinical overseers about his real intentions, creating fake reports about assignments he is ignoring. How long can he keep it up?

While the dream-world is vibrant widescreen, Nicolás‘ everyday reality is shot in dingy, washed-out color (filmed in Betamax, to wit), and presented in a cramped, perfectly square aspect ratio. Distinguishing dreams from reality is thus not an issue for the viewer, at least not in the movie’s first two acts. While the film features some visual experimentation—mostly glitches like improper lighting schemes and stuttering, which are explicitly pointed out by the characters—there is no dream logic to the story. It all plays out instead with speculative realism. There is an interesting motif that shows up in Daniela’s artwork, however, where shadows skew in impossible directions: perhaps a nod to Last Year at Marienbad, that dreamlike smudge of a story in which a man and a woman’s memories of their relationship never match up. That suggestion may point towards the film’s weirder aspirations, and in the third act, Nicolás finds a way to boostrap the dream world, leading to unpredictable results, dreams bleeding into reality, and flirtation with meatier psychological thriller territory.

The creative scenario is rife with intellectual implications. Ethical questions proliferate in both the real and dream worlds. Nicolás‘ godlike abilities create one set of conflicts; his romantic fixation creates another. His dreambuilding also mirrors the evolution of a relationship, beginning in an infatuation stage where the lovers seem mystically simpatico in their mutual desires, but gradually revealing a frustrating separateness that undermines the utopian illusion.

What’s good about Daniela Forever is its thought-provoking premise. The execution, however, does not always match the conception. The pacing is a bit off; although it gets to the point quickly, it may spend a bit too much time locked in that apartment in repetitive scenarios of self-indulgent domestic bliss. I was surprised to read critical praise for Henry Golding’s performance; I found him almost unbearably bland and difficult to sympathize with—or to figure out what Daniela saw in him in the first place. The ending also feels emotionally forced, for reasons that unfortunately can’t be disclosed without spoilers. Of course, none of these small complaints kill Daniela Forever; they just hold it back from rising to the heights of such forebears as Open Your Eyes and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, which would be lofty company indeed.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“Vigalondo never really taps into the full potential for whimsy or surrealism that the lucid dream scenario offers, while also keeping the film’s principal characters frustratingly one-dimensional.”–Josh Goller, Spectrum Culture (contemporaneous)

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CAPSULE: V/H/S HALLOWEEN (2025)

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V/H/S Halloween is currently available for purchase or rental on video-on-demand.

DIRECTED BY: , Anna Zlokovic, Paco Plaza, , , R.H. Norman

FEATURING: David Haydn, Samantha Cochran, Natalia Montgomery Fernandez, Teo Planell, Lawson Greyson, Stephen Gurewitz, Carl William Garrison, Jeff Harms

PLOT: Six VHS found-footage style shorts themed around Halloween night.

Still from V/H/S Halloween (2025)

COMMENTS: Caspar Kelly throws down a metaphorical gauntlet statement for horror anthologies when he has a costumed pirate proclaim, “All candy is lame. Corporations have taken all the creativity out. We’ve had the same main candy bars for decades. The variety pack has no variety.” Will this variety pack have genuine variety? Kelly certainly does his bit (we’ll circle back around to it), but despite an interesting mix of new and established directors, at the risk of further mixing a metaphor about mixes, it’s a mixed bag.

This anthology opens with Bryan Ferguson’s contribution, supposed internal footage of a corporation focus-grouping its newest product, “Diet Phantasma,” across a field of very unlucky test subjects. This story (which is a stretch as a Halloween entry; it could have fit into any of V/H/S‘ previous 7 outings) is cut up and stretched across the length of the film. Although lead David Haydn’s arrogant disdain for the fates of his subjects lends the story some humor, the decision to chop it up was wise, since it gets repetitive: different gore effects are the only thing distinguishing the central episodes. The ending isn’t the big score you might have hoped for, either, but it’s passable. Paco Plaza, who co-directed the 2007 Spanish found footage zombie movie [REC], is a natural choice for this series, and his ofrenda en español is one of the stronger entries. It’s built around an ultimately predictable seance premise, but with some unexpected effects (including eyeball vomiting).  Debuting director R.H. Norman offers a well-characterized but well-worn tale of an amateur neighborhood haunted house that turns into a real haunted house after the purchase of a cursed prop. Perhaps the biggest surprise is Alex Ross Perry, the indie director best-known for his literate dramas and comedies (and, around here, for his experimental debut.) His “Kidprint” may not make much too much sense (what really is the market for this film-your-kid-for-identification business?), but the ending is unexpectedly brutal—more so, considering that we don’t think of Perry as a horror director. For better or worse—and to be clear, I didn’t find it one of the better entries—Perry is the one who dares to “go there.” (Kelly, whom we’re getting to, does offer some transgressive comedy, but his grossout gag isn’t on the level of “Kidprint”).

Anna Zlokovic’s “Coochie Coochie Coo” is from another new director, and the first full-length short after the soda pop introduction. Although it has naturalistic acting from the two leads and an unusual maternal theme for its boogeywoman, it plays like an instant cliché. Two high school senior girls want one last night of trick or treating before seguing into adulthood. They end up trapped in a mysterious haunted house full of eerie characters, jump scares, and the camera reliably glitching at tense moments. It’s a competent, but ultimately safe way to begin the series.

But Zlokovich’s short brings us, in a roundabout way, to Kelly’s “Fun Size,” the anthology’s weirdest and most divisive segment (we declare it the Peanut M&Ms of the grab bag, although some more traditional minded horror viewers complain it’s candy corn). This comic relief horror, placed in the dead center of the anthology, almost seems to start as a direct parody of “Coochie Coochie Coo” (which says more about how obvious the opener is than about any deliberate plan on Kelly’s part.) Both feature overage protagonists, almost identical  “Aren’t you a bit old for trick ‘r treating?” lines, and a bit about a candy bowl left in the open with a sign “one per person.” Of course, Kelly takes the premise in a crazy direction with the discovery that the unattended bowl contains candies no one has every heard of: “Snipp%rs,” “Larry Find,” and some unpronounceable varieties.  It turns out this candy is not only weirdly named, but also, um, weirdly shaped. When the 20-somethings try to take extra candy, they’re sucked through the bowl and down into a factory where they learn the secrets of how these confections are truly made. “Fun Size” includes about as many layers as a film this short will allow: parody, satire, horror, and a subtextual theme about fear of commitment. In a full-length Kelly movie, this segment would merely be an introduction that spun off into weirder and weirder meta-commentary.  It’s entertaining, especially by the standards of this format, but if anything, “Fun Size” leaves the audience wanting more. Kelly needs to make a feature-length Halloween movie to complement his two Christmas horror films. (Then a Thanksgiving movie, then a Valentine’s Day one…)

Though far from “elevated horror,” if you’re looking for a common theme to V/H/S/ Halloween, it’s a general anti-corporate sentiment, whether the commodity being foisted on us is ethically questionable soda pop or ethically questionable candy. Of course, pretty much every independent movie ever made has a general anti-corporate sentiment, so that’s not a lot to hang your hat on. Instead, I’d recommend the latest V/H/S solely based the clever goof of “Fun Size,” with the supporting features ranging from acceptable to mildly interesting. If nothing else, at least they’re a varied bunch—even if some of the variation comes in expected flavors.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“It’s a mixed bag, sure, with a handful of duds, a few near-masterpieces, and a lot of inspired weirdness in between… sometimes, the real treat is just watching ambitious horror filmmakers cut loose and make something wild, no matter how messy it gets.”–Nicolas Delgadillo, Knotfest (contemporaneous)