The Last Matinee (2020) -

The setup is beautifully simple: on a torrential rainy night in 1993 Montevideo, a small group of strangers gathers in a grand, fading cinema. Little do they know, a silent killer is stalking the aisles, picking off patrons one by one while a cheesy horror movie plays on the big screen.

Be warned: when the violence hits, it hits hard. This is a giallo, after all. The kills are creative, practical, and unflinchingly gruesome. There’s a specific focus on the eyes—a recurring trope in Italian horror—that will have even seasoned horror fans squinting through their fingers. Why You Should Watch It

It’s a brief, bloody, and beautiful 88-minute ride. If you miss the days of "video nasties" and midnight screenings, turn off the lights, grab some popcorn, and settle in for this one. Just... maybe don't look behind you. The Last Matinee (2020)

The Last Matinee is more than just a body count movie. It’s a nostalgic, somewhat tragic look at the death of the theatrical experience. As the killer dismantles the audience, there’s a subtext about the vanishing magic of cinema-going.

While many modern slashers lean into irony, The Last Matinee plays it straight with a heavy dose of style. The cinematography is drenched in primary colors—mostly deep, blood-reds and cold blues—reminiscent of Dario Argento’s Suspiria . The setup is beautifully simple: on a torrential

If you’re the kind of person who finds comfort in the smell of stale popcorn and the flicker of a 35mm projector, (2020)—originally titled Al Morir la Matinée —is a movie made specifically for you. Directed by Uruguayan filmmaker Maxi Contenti, this neo-giallo slasher doesn’t just pay homage to the genre; it marinates in it. A Rainy Night at the Movies

The film is light on dialogue but heavy on atmosphere. You can almost feel the stickiness of the floors and the hum of the projector. It’s a slow-burn experience that prioritizes mood and "the vibe" over complex plotting, making it a feast for the eyes. The Gore Factor This is a giallo, after all

Red Velvet and Cold Steel: Why The Last Matinee is a Love Letter to Cinema