Hello dear Reader,

As the title suggests, I’m in the throes of Midwinter’s icy grasp, wondering why I am not in the middle of a lush forest or strolling along a sunny beach right now. Oh, I did celebrate the holly-days, visiting with Krampus and enjoying homemade mint hot chocolate, great friends and family, volunteering, and snuggling up with wonderful books, movies, documentaries, and games. It has been cold and rumors persist this winter is not only long, but the coldest and snowiest in the past ten years. Despite this, the season hasn’t conquered me yet, because this year I planned well for what will forever be known as “That Winter of 2026” in these parts. I set up my desk next to my meager succulent garden and the plant lights do help. Electric blanket? Check. Knitting projects? Check. Freshly-baked bread and breakfast bars? Check. Fancy bean bag chair? Check. And, perhaps most importantly, journals, my laptop, scheduled Zoom chats, and fantastic support from loved ones.

Despite being safe, warm, and well-fed, I am keeping an eye out for career opportunities and, to be blunt, trying not to get depressed about [insert a laundry list of things to be depressed about here]. In December, I spent some time prepping for the new year by revisiting my projects, what I want “to say” in my work, and ensuring that I can move forward despite not being able to plan. Ergo, shopping around my dystopian novella about water abuse and dreaming about sunshine.

This is a strange and quiet time for me, because I am not able to plan like I used to. I’ve scheduled a few work-related trips, but nothing solid. Ergo: less announcements than I typically make and a bit more random. Unfortunately, there are more factors outside of a creator’s control than there were five, ten years ago. Still? I’m taking a deep breath, remaining open, and sticking to: “Here’s what I want to do. Let’s do it. Works out? Great. Doesn’t? Okay. Next.”  Making art isn’t the goal, for me. It’s as vital as breathing.

Helping Minnesota

Before we get to the heart of today’s newsletter, discussing a pair of 2025 horror movie releases, Bugonia and Sinners, I want to touch on ways to help the people of Minnesota. (Individual links posted with permission.) You can visit stand with Minnesota for a number of options, but there are also a number of affected creators and business in the genre community. Katriel Page is job-seeking and asking for help. The pre-schools in Minneapolis are also impacted and need donations. Minnesota-based small press publisher Queen of Swords Press is always open to finding new readers, as well as the historic genre bookstore Dream Haven Books and Comics. If you’re not aware, the store’s owner was gassed during the protests and is currently resting and recovering.

Discussing Bugonia and Sinners

As I mentioned last year, I’m jumping off the near-constant self-promotion train to focus on sharing interesting-to-me bits with you instead. So today? I want to talk about movies, because I miss it. I wrote a few film-related pieces back in the day for the now-defunct Sony’s Crackle and that experience was an awakening in a lot of ways. I love the deep analysis of films because, to me, there is something magical about the 1,000s of decisions and collaboration required to make any film or TV show. So, if you’ll indulge me, I want to talk about Bugonia and Sinners, two horror movies released in 2025 that have been nominated for many awards. Just note: I can’t write this part if I’m worrying about spoilers, so just assume there are some.

I find that cinematic horror is both interesting and challenging as a genre to watch or critique, because what any modern audience fears is variable. Cultural context matters and absolutely affects reviews and reception. With horror, similar to war movies, desensitization of violent acts can affect the experience. Or, in other words, the more movies you watch in a particular genre, the more critical you’re likely to be. Add adaptations and cultural nuances into the mix, and suddenly what the audience thinks is shaped by more details than the average viewer realizes.

As an example, I’m reminded of the differences between the Swedish vampire film Let the Right One In (2008) and its American remake Let Me In (2010); intentional changes that the latter’s director, Matt Reeves, made to make the original film more accessible. In that particular case, fans of the original film were vocal that “accessible” meant “dumbing down” the Swedish story. Here, though, Reeves shifted the focus of the adapted story by underlying shattered family dynamics rather than delving into mindless explanations or jump scares. Both movies were received well by American audiences and, in my mind, are cult classics within the overall vampire genre—because Reeves’ adaptation took into account the source materials (both the novel and the original film)—and offered the perspective of a bullied kid of divorced parents in the 1980s which was something a lot of Americans can identify with.

Bugonia (2025) is also an adaptation—of director Jang Jun-Hwan’s critically-acclaimed Korean film titled Save the Green Planet! (2003) inspired by Stephen King’s Misery (1990) and an internet rumor. The American remake hits the same notes as the original Korean movie but has marked differences. The details driving Bugonia are mired in conflicts between the poor, white American Katz family and a corporation led by the uber-wealthy CEO, Fuller, played by Emma Stone. The character of Teddy Gatz, played by Jessie Plemens, is portrayed as a complex and violent mix of a devoted cousin, son, victim, and an unhinged conspiracy theorist who, instead of rescuing the proverbial cat, saves bees.

Instead of giving him a romantic partner, per the original film, Katz has no one other than his autistic cousin Don, played by Aidan Delbis, to carry out his mission to “save the planet from aliens.” Gatz’s character decline into mental illness was driven by the “big bad corporation” that promised hope but delivered suffering—to his now-bedridden mother, played by Alica Silverstone. As the movie progresses, it’s clear that Katz has crossed a line he can never return from, and the twist did not justify any of his violent acts for me.

Similar to Weapons (2025), Bugonia should be watched as an immersive experience. Lush colors, well-timed narrative beats, and expertly selected musical cues underline the emotional beats. The tension in this movie is holistic rather than compartmentalized, as well, because the movie doesn’t hinge on one person’s role or line of dialogue, either on screen or off. That said, I do feel this is a movie that can only be viewed once, because the climax and denouement of this experience hinges on “the” twist. It is a movie that demands a viewer’s attention—just put down your phone and enjoy the ride.

Now, I said that Bugonia is uniquely white American, because this is a cultural experience underpins the tension in this adaptation. Katz and his cousin, Don, represent the tiny nucleus of a poor family that works and lives in a small town. And yet, they have no community. No friends, no neighbors. There is literally no one else in that town to intervene, support, help. Why? Well, the sheriff, Casey Boyd, played by Stavros Halkias, drops a hint that guilt kept him away. It’s not a stretch to imagine that others felt the same, but it’s a distinction that doesn’t apply to other communities.

If Bugonia is a shocking adaptation of what happens when an isolated, desperate man finds a kernel of truth, Sinners (2025) is an original story written by Ryan Coogler about what happens when an entire community encounters a lie—vampires—hiding in plain sight.

Inspired by a mix of movies and his personal experiences, Coogler created a music-centric story that’s both an immersive experience and a layered, cultural masterpiece. The culture, here, is a beautifully-rendered intersection between Irish, Choctaw, and African-American influences relayed not just through the characters and the New Orleans-based setting, but through the music pulsing in every scene. This movie, like Bugonia, is an experience, too, but one that’s centered on how a community deals with fantastical and real horrors rather than an isolated individual. At its heart, Sinners is a story about all of the horrors, both supernatural and not, a predominantly Black community faces in the 1930s. How the characters react, the choices they make—all incredibly relatable, tragic, and iconic.

I am, quite frankly, in awe of Coogler’s skill and his ability to collaborate and bring out the best in others. Though all movies are the work of a community in my mind, Sinners is an example of how well cultural details can be translated through music and respectful research. By collaborating with composer Ludwig Göransson, Coogler highlighted the deep history of southern Black and Irish cultures for an audience that may not be familiar with either.

I don’t know how the box office impacts the critics, but I was happy to see Sinners exceeded box office expectations. It’s my impression that sometimes films with unique or specific cultural experiences are billed as “inaccessible to a wider audience” and don’t get as big of a marketing push—which begs the question: “What makes a movie accessible?” For Sinners? This film dramatically exceeded box office expectations because viewers like myself said: “You must see this movie.” If word-of-mouth isn’t irrefutable proof the Mississippi-based Sinners not only resonated with audiences, but was accessible? I really don’t know what is. (Edited to make a correction about the location. So sorry about that!)

As a follow-up recommendation, if music history is your jam, you may be interested in watching the ReMastered series on Netflix. If you’re not already aware of the intersection between urban legends and the blues, the “Devil at the Crossroads” 2019 episode about bluesman Robert Johnson will help fill in some context.

Do you have thoughts on Bugonia or Sinners? Let me know in the comments! Would also love to hear from you and how you’re faring, Keep on, keepin’ on.

Warmly,

-M

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