Tom van der Linden cuts through the noise of 2026's film landscape not by reviewing every release, but by exposing the specific friction between cinematic ambition and the algorithmic demands of streaming giants. His assessment of The Rip and The Bone Temple offers a rare, granular look at how platform economics actively reshape narrative structure, turning potential masterpieces into products designed for distracted viewing. This is essential listening for anyone trying to understand why modern thrillers feel both gripping and strangely hollow.
The Netflix Machine and the Loss of Grit
Van der Linden's critique of The Rip, a film starring Matt Damon and Ben Affleck, hinges on a compelling contradiction: the movie possesses genuine tension but is suffocated by the very platform that distributes it. He identifies a specific aesthetic failure, noting that "it definitely is one of those movies where you can feel like there's a lot of Netflix sort of gloss where there should be more like grease, if that makes sense." This observation is crucial because it moves beyond generic complaints about budget to pinpoint a stylistic sanitization that undermines the story's gritty premise of corrupt cops stealing drug money.
The author argues that the script suffers from repetitive exposition, a technique he attributes to the assumption that viewers are multitasking. "A lot of facts about the story, a lot of exposition or information about the story is repeated multiple times for the sake of an audience that's sitting on the couch," van der Linden writes. This approach, while practical for a streaming environment, actively erodes the immersion required for a thriller. The result is a film that feels "run through the Netflix machine," where the urgency of the plot is diluted by the need to constantly re-explain the stakes to a potentially distracted viewer.
"Most transgressively, however, for me is the movie's ending... it just so clearly feels like they demanded more action or like a bigger setpiece finale at the end of it even though it just it it just can can be cut out almost completely without losing all that much."
Van der Linden's frustration peaks at the film's conclusion, where a satisfying narrative climax is followed by an unnecessary twenty-five minutes of action. He describes this as a moment where "the bad guys... make a dash for it, like a very unrealistic moment of escape," which prompts a finale that "completely overstays its welcome." This is a sharp critique of the streaming model's demand for high engagement metrics, often at the expense of narrative integrity. Critics might argue that action-heavy finales are simply a genre expectation, but van der Linden's point is that the narrative had already resolved, making the added runtime feel like a corporate mandate rather than an artistic choice.
Hell, Demons, and the Human Condition
Shifting to The Bone Temple, the sequel to 28 Years Later, van der Linden finds a film that successfully navigates the difficult task of expanding a franchise without losing its soul. He praises the director's decision to move away from the stock footage and rapid editing of the original, opting instead for a more "grounded and almost meditative" approach. This shift allows for a deeper exploration of the film's themes, which he identifies as a reflection on "hell and about demons and false prophets."
The author is particularly impressed by the film's ability to generate horror through human psychology rather than just monster effects. He notes that "true horror is about... the way you can capture the the the just the sheer presence of evil," citing a barn sequence as one of the most terrifying moments he has seen in years. This focus on the "human horror" of a psychotic antagonist, played by Jack O'Donnell, elevates the film beyond a standard zombie sequel. Van der Linden argues that this approach is "a lot more scary than anything that just jumps out of the bushes somewhere," effectively using the genre to explore the chaos of the human condition.
"It's just kind of a reflection on a part of the the human condition in the face of a world that is very chaotic and uncertain. Um and and where and where people are searching for like meaning or some just something to hold on to and which can lead them astray into what is basically this kind of hellish uh behavior or this hellish environment."
While van der Linden misses the specific stylistic flair of Danny Boyle's original direction, he acknowledges that the new director's focus on intimacy and unspoken interactions creates a different, yet equally powerful, kind of dread. The parallel storylines—one involving a doctor and a zombie, the other a young man trapped in a cult—converge to create a "dichotomy" that feels fresh. A counterargument worth considering is that the shift away from the original's kinetic energy might alienate fans who loved the first film for its frenetic pace, but van der Linden suggests this meditative quality is a necessary evolution for the story to work as a sequel.
The Perils of Going In Blind
In his final segment on The Housemate, van der Linden illustrates the double-edged sword of going into a film completely blind. He describes the movie as a "7 out of 10 psychological thriller" that is unfortunately "interspersed with moments of just pure two out of 10 50 Shades uh slob." This stark contrast highlights the inconsistency that often plagues modern thrillers, where genuine tension is undercut by tonal missteps. He notes that the film starts with a strong premise—an ex-convict lying her way into a wealthy household—but quickly devolves into "the worst needle drops in recent memory" and a "bonkers ending."
The author's analysis here serves as a cautionary tale about the unpredictability of streaming releases. While the setup involving Sydney Sweeney and Amanda Seyfried offers promise, the execution falters when the film tries to balance psychological tension with gratuitous melodrama. Van der Linden's assessment suggests that while the film has moments of "solid tension," the lack of tonal discipline prevents it from achieving true greatness. This reinforces his broader argument: that without a clear, consistent vision, even a strong cast and an interesting premise cannot overcome the structural weaknesses of a film designed to fill a slot in a content queue.
"It's just kind of a reflection on a part of the the human condition in the face of a world that is very chaotic and uncertain. Um and and where and where people are searching for like meaning or some just something to hold on to and which can lead them astray into what is basically this kind of hellish uh behavior or this hellish environment."
Bottom Line
Tom van der Linden's commentary succeeds by pinpointing the specific mechanical failures of modern streaming cinema: the repetitive exposition designed for distracted viewers and the bloated finales demanded by engagement algorithms. His strongest insight is that the most terrifying horror comes not from monsters, but from the sheer presence of human evil, a theme he finds brilliantly realized in The Bone Temple. However, his critique of The Rip reveals a vulnerability in the current model where artistic integrity is frequently sacrificed for platform optimization, leaving audiences with films that are engaging but ultimately unsatisfying.