I’m finishing out January with one more Shudder-based movie review, then I’m going to knock out the growing list of film review requests. Audre’s been patiently waiting for a review of Bicentennial Man (1999), which is over two hours long (probably why I keep putting it off—ha!); my Aunt Marilyn has requested The Electrical Life of Louis Wain (2021), which stars Benedict Cumberbatch; and my neighbor Bernard Fife has recommended White Lightning (1973), which he hopes will be part of a “Hick Flick” series of reviews.
I promise to get to all of these films, and as February is the month of love, it seems like as good a time as any to show my readers some love. If you’ve got any recommendations to make, get them in now, while I’m awash in this generous mood. Fortunately for you, dear readers, I also experience a crushing, crippling sense of obligation, so chances are if you ask nicely, I’ll review it. Just leave a comment or e-mail me.
But it’s still January for one more day, so I get to pick the movie. This weekend, I stumbled upon the 2020 Spanish-language film The Last Matinee (or Al morir la matinée). The film is a joint production of Uruguay and Argentina, and takes place in Montevideo in 1993.
That alone made it unique, as most Spanish-language horror films seem to take place in Mexico or Spain (Spain, like Italy, apparently has a thriving horror film industry). What further drew me to the film is that it takes place in a failing movie theater in the heart of the city, and the events unfold during a screening of a cheesy slasher film.