“Backrooms” follows failing furniture store owner Clark (Chiwetel Ejiofor) for the majority of its runtime. Clark is led into the basement of his store due to power fluctuations while staying overnight, where he finds an oddly lit section of wall. This wall turns out to be a doorway leading into the Backrooms, which Clark briefly explores. Clark later recruits his store’s assistant manager, Kat (Lukita Maxwell), and her boyfriend Bobby (Finn Bennett) to explore and record video evidence of the Backrooms. The trio are attacked by an unknown entity and separated.

Weeks later, Mary (Renate Reinsve) — Clark’s therapist — receives an answering machine message from Clark, leading her to search for him and enter the Backrooms. Clark, having gone entirely insane, subdues and kidnaps Mary. The pair briefly converses before Clark frees Mary, however they are cornered by the entity, now revealed to be a horrifying copy of Clark, dressed as his store’s mascot. 

Clark is devoured by it as Mary escapes. Mary is then chased through a variety of esoteric spaces, eventually being trapped in a replica of Clark’s furniture store, where she fights off the monster with a piece of concrete and an accidentally activated Async corporation gas trap. 

Mary is finally taken into Async custody for questioning. The movie ends with progressively more surreal Backroom’s recreations of Mary’s childhood home, ending with a shot of a malformed copy of her. 

The plot of “Backrooms” works very well for the film. The characters and their respective stories fit the setting and themes of the movie exactly as they should, and the dialogue is never clunky or unnatural, making the characters and their experiences feel all the more real. 

“Backrooms” is not a horror film in the traditional sense. There are no jumpscares, very little gore and only a few moments which really scare. 

Rather than seeking to disturb through horrifying creatures or over the top gore, “Backrooms” is more a showcase of Parson’s penchant for highly surreal imagery. Objects are frequently interconnected in ways which they should not be, including chairs which sprout from one another and steering wheels from 16th century sailing ships clipping through walls and other objects. Entire neighborhoods are contained within the Backrooms, a space inspired by an empty office building. The walls can be a floor and rooms are filled with random objects in placements and quantities that just don’t make sense. 

The standout set piece of “Backrooms” comes near the end of the film, in the form of an endless pit lined with entirely random rooms, the only entrance being a door leading onto a small ledge overhanging the void and the only exit a thin staircase leading to a single door in the ceiling. There’s simply no way to wrap your head around it. It cannot be fully understood because there is no method to the madness, nothing to be understood in pure randomness. 

On top of imagery, “Backrooms” also manages to nail its pacing. There is no one scene or act of the film that seems to stretch on, nor any that feels as if it was cut off prematurely. The movie has a perfect runtime of 105 minutes and devotes every subject therein the exact amount of time it needs. 

One problem with “Backrooms” is that watching the original online series, or the innumerable breakdowns of said series, is almost required to understand the nuances of the movie’s plot. For example, to one who had no prior knowledge of “Backrooms,” who Async is and how they found the Backrooms would be entirely unknown, with only a subpar explanation given in the last few minutes of the film. The only reason “Backrooms” can mostly get away with this is because of the general vagueness that accompanies the movie.

The film leaves many of the questions it or the viewer poses unanswered. Yet this vagueness is not the product of amateur writing so much as the fact that there can be no answers. Not only do the characters lack answers themselves, but there is no explanation of what the Backrooms is that will be nearly as interesting as the mystery. In cases like this, understanding will always be disappointing, so the best choice for the director and writer of the film is simply to withhold it. This is not to say that the necessity for speculation hurts the film. In fact, it brews greater engagement with the piece, which is easily a positive. The online theory mill surrounding Parson’s works has only further accelerated since the transition of the series from the internet to the silver screen.  

However, the elephant in the room must be addressed: the ending. While the tension throughout the film and setup are immaculate, the ending didn’t live up to its potential. Rather than carrying on the surrealist nightmare that is the majority of “Backrooms,” the final ten or so minutes of the film revert into a traditional horror flick, where the protagonist faces off against a horrific monster, which the final girl defeats, overcoming her terrifying and seemingly hopeless circumstances.

One of the greatest strengths of “Backrooms” was its subversion of traditional horror ideas, instead providing a more unnerving and thought-provoking take on the genre, and the fact that this approach is abandoned for the finale is saddening. However, the ending’s saving grace is that it does manage to satisfyingly tie up the film’s narrative, and the final shot of Mary’s childhood home being copied repeatedly by the Backrooms brings the film’s unique approach back to the forefront. 

“Backrooms” is a cleanly-executed surreal horror film which makes the oddities of the Backrooms accessible to the widest audience yet, maintaining enough mystery to stir intrigue and giving just enough to satisfy while remaining a relatively airtight plot. The ending may have dropped the ball, but despite this, “Backrooms” still earns an eight out of ten.

The post “Backrooms” Adaptation Releases to Box Office Success appeared first on Obsidian News | Oregon Youth Voices.

It is frankly a bit boring and not what I expected from Ke Hu Quan. But it makes sense considering that the main character is a real estate agent. It does set up Quan’s motivations well, along with conflict later in the movie.

After the Valentine’s Day party, the plot finally starts. It does do quite a bit of information dumping at the beginning through monologue and if it wasn’t Quan, I wouldn’t have cared for the information dump. Most of the movie was otherwise great. The plot is a little clunky and not very unique, but most action movie viewers aren’t there for the most plot intensive film. 

Its combat scenes were amazing and well-choreographed. It was creative and honestly made me feel like a kid watching Jackie Chan movies. At one point, this movie was creative with using giant utensils as weapons in one of the real estate properties that Quan’s character was selling. You could tell that the choreographers and actors put their heart and soul into the combat.

Speaking of the actors, the casting was excellent. I could tell that they had fun with the movie but still worked hard. Their type cast was done wonderfully. The character costuming was also very well done. The outfits highlighted the character archetypes well and the outfits still made sense for their environment. 

However, the CGI was off. It was unnerving and not implemented well. There was a scene in particular where the main characters had someone in the trunk of a car, and the car was clearly too small for the actor and it just looked uncanny. 

The humor was good for the most part, some jokes didn’t land but humor is subjective. For example, some of the suspense that builds up in Quan’s storyline is that there are mustaches drawn on all of his real estate ads. There was plenty of comedy centered around one of the antagonist’s love life problems which I enjoyed. I also enjoyed some of the comedy that came from the violence. Additionally, I think that it was quite funny how the main antagonist loved boba to a ridiculous degree throughout the movie.

Overall, the ending was solid and decently sentimental for a comedy/action movie. I think it was a nice refresh for Hollywood since most of Hollywood is frankly stale releases. It was a pleasure seeing well known, established actors do well while bringing in new talent and new ideas.

The post Love Hurts, but This Movie Doesn’t appeared first on Obsidian News | Oregon Youth Voices.

In 2025, theaters are being flooded with remakes, reboots and “live-action” versions of beloved animated classics, such as Disney’s “Lilo and Stich” and Dreamwork’s “How to Train Your Dragon.” While such projects can evoke nostalgia and attract wide audiences, the sheer volume of these films—and the simultaneous decline in support of original stories—signals a troubling trend: Hollywood increasingly sidelines creativity in favor of safe, marketable content. This limits the potential for innovative storytelling and mirrors a broader issue across entertainment industries, such as Netflix’s tendency to cancel promising shows before they can find an audience.

One of the primary drivers of the remake boom is the predictability of profit. Established intellectual properties (IPs) come with built-in audiences and proven narratives, making them less risky investments for studios. Even if “A Minecraft Movie” is receiving nothing but hate, it will undoubtedly get attention. A live-action reimagining of a beloved classic guarantees headlines, nostalgic interest, and merchandising opportunities (even if the “live-action” film just jacks up the CGI). This approach reflects Hollywood’s growing reluctance to support original screenplays and films, especially in an era where blockbuster franchises dominate box offices. Financially, it makes sense: people flock to familiar brands. Creatively, however, it signals a stagnation that could weaken the industry long-term.

Original films, particularly those without an obvious IP attachment, struggle not because they lack quality but because audiences have been conditioned to view them as gambles, due to high ticket prices and the inevitability of streaming. When these films get greenlit, they often lack marketing support or are buried under the avalanche of high-budget franchise films. This creates a vicious cycle where originality is viewed as unprofitable, leaving fewer opportunities for unique stories to captivate audiences. Without risk-taking and innovation, we lose the potential for game-changing movies that expand cinematic boundaries.

This trend is paralleled in the streaming industry, particularly on platforms like Netflix. In recent years, Netflix has developed a reputation for canceling shows after only one season. The refreshing “Teenage Bounty Hunters,” a comedy about fraternal twin “bail-skipping baddies” and the ridiculous “Kaos,” 2024’s star-studded contemporary take on Greek mythology, were both canceled after one season—with massive cliffhangers. ARGH! 

Both “Kaos” and “Teenage Bounty Hunters”  were only given a month (Kaos) or two (Bounty Hunters) before being cut off. Yet they saw little to no advertising, which Netflix heavily relied on for record-breakers like “Squid Game” and “Stranger Things.”

Why? Because success in streaming is measured by immediate engagement, not the gradual building of an audience. If a show isn’t a breakout hit within weeks of release, it’s deemed unworthy of further investment, including advertising. Instant hits like “Squid Game” and “Stranger Things” are rare, and are influenced, in a large part, by the effort Netflix chooses to put into them, and some well-timed TikToks. 

In fact, many of the shows we consider classics didn’t see success until well after their first season—“The Office,” “Seinfeld” and “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia,” to name a few. Much like the remake boom, this prioritization of instant gratification over long-term cultural impact undermines the growth of original, meaningful storytelling.

At their core, films and shows are meant to tell stories, to surprise and challenge audiences with new ideas. When studios prioritize familiarity over creativity, they punish filmmakers for the diversity that makes cinema so magical. Likewise, when streaming platforms cancel shows prematurely, they alienate loyal fans and discourage creators from taking risks.

If studios and platforms continue this path of risk aversion and short-term thinking, we will face an era of artistic conformity, where only the safest ideas survive. We don’t need another shot-by-shot recreation of a classic story, especially not of a perfect animated film, like “How To Train Your Dragon.” We need stories that take chances, challenge us and encourage us to see the world in a whole new way. That’s the magic of cinema—and it’s worth fighting for.

The post Once Upon a Reboot appeared first on Obsidian News | Oregon Youth Voices.