One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, the iconic 1975 film directed by Milos Forman and featuring Jack Nicholson in an unforgettable Academy Award-winning role, is set to make a grand re-entry into our lives—this time digitally in 4K ULTRA HD and on 4K UHD Blu-ray Disc, hitting shelves on November 11th, just in time for the 50th anniversary of its initial release on November 19, 1975. This restoration was lovingly crafted by the Academy Film Archive, with a little help from Teatro Della Pace Film and the ever-passionate producer Paul Zaentz. Picture this: a brand-new 4K scan taken straight from the original 35mm camera negative, complete with a dusting of magic for the opening shot and titles. It’s not a full-fledged reconstruction, but boy, does it deliver a stunning upgrade from the standard Blu-ray editions that had us longing for just a tad more clarity. And let me tell you, it’s presented in the film’s original 1.85:1 aspect ratio, which feels just right.

Based on Ken Kesey's gripping 1962 novel of the same name, this film isn’t just a story about a misfit—it's about the fight for autonomy in the face of a stifling system. Our protagonist, Randle McMurphy (played with manic brilliance by Jack Nicholson), feigns mental illness to find himself inside a mental hospital, where a motley crew of patients becomes his unlikely family. But lo and behold, there’s Nurse Mildred Ratched (Louise Fletcher), a force of nature who embodies the very definition of control and conformity, making even the most hardened inmate seem like a puppy in her presence.

The film swept the Academy Awards, claiming all five of the premier Oscars: Best Picture, Best Actor for Nicholson, Best Actress for Fletcher, Best Director for Forman, and Best Screenplay for Hauben and Goldman. Its colorful history doesn't end there; it began life as a stage play in 1963, with Kirk Douglas portraying McMurphy—a journey that he kick-started by securing the rights to bring Kesey’s world to the stage and screen. And in 1993, the United States Library of Congress deemed this film "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant," ensuring its place in the National Film Registry for all time.

The Sunday Post, Issue #285

The Sunday Post is a weekly event hosted by Caffeinated Reviewer.

The Editorial

Ah, my fellow readers, if you’ve been paying any attention at all—or perhaps if you merely wondered where my weekly musings disappeared to—you might have noticed that my Sunday Post has been on a rather prolonged hiatus. This absence stems from a multitude of reasons, though I’m not one for airing out all my dirty laundry. Let’s just say that cranking out 62 horror-related posts in a single month has left me feeling like a ghost whose candle has burned dim. Burnout, thy name is writer. Moral of the story: never again will I enter such a marathon.

So yes, the lack of posts last week was largely due to me needing a breather. I’m aiming to muster the energy to pre-schedule a few reviews, the Friday 56, and the Book Blogger Hop over the next 24 hours or so. My mother is facing surgery this Wednesday. We need to be at the hospital before the crack of dawn, with the docs wanting to run tests and draw blood before she has the procedure. I’m still in the dark about when the actual surgery will start or how long it might stretch out. I’ve heard whispers that it could be anything from an hour to four, depending on how the surgical gods decide to favor us. Will she come home that same day? Only time will tell; it all hinges on how the operation unfolds.

In preparation for this hospital expedition, I found myself on a quest: searching for a proper book bag. Yes, a book bag—those student-style slings that were once my constant companion. It’s been over twenty-five years since I last donned one! Finding the right bag in my neck of the woods was no small feat, and of course, it didn’t come cheap. Why the sudden need for a bag, you ask? Well, it’s all about practicality. My mom needs a few essentials, and I’ll be the one to cart them around. I’m packing my Kindle Fire—loaded with a few flicks, such as Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, Blazing Saddles, and Holiday Inn—along with a couple of paperbacks and my trusty earbuds. Snacks? Nah, I’ll place my faith in the hospital’s vending machine or, if I’m lucky, their coffee machine. Heaven forbid I get lost on the way to a cafeteria—I'm not prepared to navigate a labyrinth when I should be channeling my inner calm.

Through Gunsmoke & Grit, I'm excited to share my musings on fictional Wild West tales. However, I occasionally wander into the realm of nonfiction, like with Brothers of the Gun: Wyatt Earp, Doc Holliday, and a Reckoning in Tombstone by Mark Lee Gardner—set to gallop its way into bookstores on November 11, 2025, courtesy of Dutton. I was fortunate enough to snag a digital ARC from NetGalley many moons ago, and I deliberately refrained from reviewing it until just the right moment, when the publication date was close enough for a proper showdown.

Given the title, you can probably guess that this book is about the lives of Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday—those legendary gunfighters whose names have been etched into the annals of history thanks to a thirty-second shootout at a little spot known as the O.K. Corral. But their storied friendship didn't kick off in that fateful moment in 1881; oh no! It all began back in the raucous cattle town of Dodge City three years earlier. Picture this: Wyatt, an assistant city marshal, is outnumbered by a pack of rowdy, armed cowboys. Meanwhile, Doc is comfortably perched at a monte table in the Long Branch saloon, a man of leisure—until he spots Wyatt's trouble. In true heroic fashion, Doc bursts out, two revolvers drawn, shouting, “Throw up your hands!” Startled, the cowboys comply, and off they are led to jail. Wyatt credited Doc with saving his skin that day, igniting a friendship as volatile as gunpowder.

Happy November, my fellow book bloggers, avid bibliophiles, and casual page-flippers! After a few weeks of radio silence on the Friday 56 front—a little break that I convinced myself would lighten the load of weekly posts—I’m back from a brief hiatus. This past week, I took some much-needed time off to recuperate from a relentless flu bug and a shoulder and back injury that made me feel like I’d gone a few rounds with a particularly cranky poltergeist. Reading has been a struggle lately, and let’s face it, my literary journey has been more tortoise than hare. But fear not, I’m determined to rise like a phoenix from the ashes of my reading rut.

For those unfamiliar, 'The Friday 56' is an awesome meme hosted by My Head is Full of Books, where we gather snippets from our current reads to share with our fellow bookworms. This week, I’m featuring The Land of Sweet Forever by none other than Harper Lee, whose latest posthumous book combines eight newly unearthed short stories with eight essays and pieces that previously graced the pages of magazines. I had to hunt down a copy because my local bookstores seem to moonlight as YA fantasy museums, where dusty tomes sit neglected on the shelves like sad little orphans.

So here I am, eager to indulge in Lee's words, but I’m taking my sweet time—no speed-reading for this book! I want to savor every sentence. I’ve only made it through the introduction by Casey Cep, but I can already sense I’m in for a treat.

Welcome to the Book Blogger Hop!

This Week's Prompt:

How many "book" bags do you have? Do you use all of them?

My Answer:

I might be the odd duck in this literary flock, but when it comes to "book" bags, my collection is modest—just two humble totes from Half Price Books. These aren't your run-of-the-mill accessories; each bag is a worn testament to my sporadic pilgrimages to the hallowed aisles of a bookstore that feels like a cozy haven rather than a retail space. I venture there only once or twice a year, armed with a thirst for stories and a penchant for buried treasure among the dusty shelves. Those bags sit in my closet, biding their time for my next bookish adventure.

〜B.J. Burgess

Writing is often romanticized as a constant flow of ideas, sitting at the desk, fingers flying across the keyboard. But in reality, inspiration doesn’t strike continually, and even the most prolific writers find creativity fades when they push too hard. For writers to stay inspired, they need downtime. They need deliberate pauses in the routine where ideas can recharge, perspectives can shift, and the mind can wander.

The Case for Rest

When we work without pause, our creative reserves run low. Some recent commentary notes that downtime is an essential part of the writer’s toolkit. Writers who schedule rest, hobbies, walks, or even idle time report coming back to the page with fresh energy and sharper insight. Research shows that when the brain is allowed to drop out of active focus and enter its “default mode network,” it processes ideas quietly in the background. This is often where breakthroughs happen.

How Downtime Fuels Creativity

• Space for incubation: You may think writing is about effort alone, but often ideas don’t fully mature in the moment of writing. Giving yourself a break allows your mind to connect dots unconsciously and let ideas germinate.

• Avoiding burnout: Constant work dulls sensitivity. Once you’re tired, words lose their nuance and the rhythm of writing falters. Downtime protects the quality of the work by preserving your energy.

• Different modes of thinking: Active writing taps into focused thinking; downtime invites diffuse thinking. Both are necessary. The focused mode gets the work done; the downtime mode inspires the work.

• Perspective shift: Whether in nature, doing something completely unrelated, or just uncluttering your day, being away from the desk allows you to return and see your writing with fresh eyes. You may spot themes or connections you couldn’t while immersed.

If anyone's curious, let me set the record straight: I’m not parting with the Gunsmoke & Grit posts anytime soon. Life threw a couple of curveballs my way last month—too many reviews of non-Western books and a persistent flu bug that refused to take a hike. But fear not, those days are behind me. My goal is to serve up a fresh Western fiction review every Saturday for the foreseeable future. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, it’s time to talk about today’s review: These Men Chose Hell, penned by William W. Johnstone and J.A. Johnstone. Or, let’s be honest, likely a ghostwriter or a cabal of ghostwriters who conjured this tale from the ether. It’s a sequel to Fort Misery, and I must say, it reads as if it were penned by a different hand altogether. As I traverse the shadows of my mind, the prose felt just a touch off, like an old photograph that’s been left too long in the sun. Maybe it’s just me.

Fort Misery—the name alone evokes an image of grim determination. Here, the lowliest dregs of the U.S. Army stand guard against a hellscape of lawless desert, facing off against the most sadistic scourges of the Wild West. It’s a brutal truth: sometimes, it takes a bad man with a gun to confront another. These aren’t your classic “good guys.” Instead, they’re a ragtag band of deserters, thieves, mutineers, and the like, none of whom are exactly examples of virtue. Condemned soldiers in an overstretched army, their choices are grim: death by hanging or serving their time in this hell on earth. They chose hell. Nestled at the far reaches of the Yuma Desert, Fort Grierson attracts trouble like a moth to a flame. Daily skirmishes with marauding Apaches and gunslinging outlaws are the norm, and the men fortifying the place are barely better. Hence, the notorious nickname: Fort Misery. When a gaggle of professors arrives at the fort, all hell breaks loose. The men of Fort Misery must uncover the lurking menace before they all end up meeting a grisly fate...

Welcome to the Book Blogger Hop!

This Week's Prompt:

Have you ever been haunted by a book's plot or character?

My Answer:

No, I can't say I've ever been literally haunted by a book. However, there have certainly been books that have stolen my sleep. Some of them fall into the horror genre, though not because they sent shivers down my spine—rather, they ensnared my mind with their tales, refusing to let go. 

When that happens, I find myself tiptoeing out of bed, the comforter still tangled around my legs, as I sneak back to the comforting glow of my reading nook. The pages beckon me, whispering secrets and cliffhangers, daring me to find out what comes next. Like a moth drawn to the flickering light, I continue reading, caught in the gripping grip of a story that won’t let me rest until dawn. In the end, perhaps I’ve been haunted after all—by the thrill of gripping stories that still echo long after the last page is turned.

〜B.J. Burgess

Where to begin... where to begin? It seems like everyone, from your next-door neighbor to your grandmother, has at least heard of The Amityville Horror. And let's be honest, most people know deep down that it’s mostly a fabricated tale. Still, you have those die-hard believers who swear by wild conspiracies insisting that George and Kathleen Lutz’s paranormal claims are as real as the morning coffee. Sorry to rain on the ghost parade, but the sad truth for these enthusiasts is that the haunting was about as genuine as a three-dollar bill! The infamous duo, Ed and Lorraine Warren, swooped in and helped spin a yarn that convinced the world a house at 112 Ocean Avenue was swimming in malevolent spirits!

Despite all the nonsense, my fascination with the Amityville legend began at a tender age. It started with a spine-chilling watch of the 1979 film The Amityville Horror, which was enough to send me into a quest for the truth. I scavenged my local library for Jay Anson's book and checked it out more than a couple of times, like some eager little ghostbuster. Fast-forward thirty-odd years later, I found myself buying the 2019 paperback reprint. 

The Amityville Horror story goes as this: In 1974, a horrific incident occurred at 112 Ocean Avenue in Amityville, New York, where a young man named Ronald DeFeo Jr. murdered his parents and four siblings in their home. A year later, the Lutz family moved into the same house, unaware of its grim history. Shortly after moving in, they began to experience a series of unusual and disturbing phenomena, including strange noises, cold spots, and a pervasive sense of dread.

♰ Welcome to The Midnight Horror! ♰

I thought I had saved the best for last in my Midnight Horror marathon: The Houses October Built 2. It's a DVD I've clung to for far too long without actually watching. I should note that I've never seen the first film, although I've certainly heard a fair share of both praise and scorn surrounding it. After admiring the hauntingly cool cover art, I figured the sequel would make for a fitting Halloween treat. Little did I know, I was dead wrong.

Co-written and directed by Bobby Roe, the premise is as follows: recovering from the traumas of being kidnapped the previous Halloween by the ominous Blue Skeleton—a group that takes "extreme haunt" to absurd new depths—five friends decide to confront their fears head-on. They hit the road once again to explore haunted house attractions, but as they set off, the signs of the Blue Skeleton's return loom ominously overhead, and a fresh terror begins to unfold...

And yet, here we are: this movie is a catastrophic flop! Though I might lack the context of the first installment, I am well aware of basic plot. For some unfathomable reason, the filmmakers chose to toss the original lore out the window and serve us a bland, uninspired sequel that swaps fright for hokey “extreme haunts” where the only thing scary is how fake the scares feel. No hauntings, no killings—just a sad riff on what could have been a haunting ride, with the filmmakers trying to cash in on the modest success of the first film.

I do my utmost to resist the siren song of hyped-up books, especially those shoved into the limelight by pampered social media influencers and the infamous BookTokkers. If someone pipes up with, "They're not being paid," I just roll my eyes. Let's be real: in one way or another, many of these "recommendations" come with a paycheck—it's hard to believe that most of these influencers have actually read the very tomes they peddle. Now, I’m not here to dis on reviewers or book bloggers—at least, in my experience, we're not cashing in directly. Of course, we might manage to snag an ARC or two along the way, enticing little previews that dangle like forbidden fruit. But let’s be clear – my opinions aren’t for sale, not now, not ever. If I'm not enamored with a book, I won't bite my tongue or sugarcoat the truth. I’ll be as blunt as an axe in a horror flick, ready to carve out the honesty you crave. After all, a shoe might fit a prince, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to feel good on everyone’s foot!

So, let’s get down to brass tacks, shall we? Today’s entry into the 31 Reads of Terror is Immortal Dark by Tigest Girma, a book that flaunts a cover so breathtakingly gorgeous it might just lure you in with its beauty alone. There was a deluge of buzz surrounding this book upon its release last year, which ultimately led me to shell out my hard-earned cash for a copy. Like a treasure lost in an unkempt attic, it joined a pile of other unread tomes until, in a fit of guilt, I wiped off the dust and forced myself to read it for today's post.

The plot? Well, imagine a mash-up of The Cruel Prince and Ninth House woven into a dangerously romantic dark academia fantasy. Here’s the hook: a lost heiress must infiltrate a shadowy society while cozying up to the very vampire she suspects of murdering her family and abducting her sister. Intrigued? Don’t be too quick to jump in.

♰ Welcome to The Midnight Horror! ♰

I’m still reeling from the hot mess that is Killers Within. Picture this: an Irish horror film that’s less horror and more crime drama for a good hour before it decides to throw in some snake vampires that feel like a bad homage to From Dusk Till Dawn. Honestly, I’m left asking myself—why on Earth did I actually buy this DVD? The cover art is an eyesore, and the back description is a dazzling display of nothingness. But, in a moment of self-inflicted pain, I needed something to fill my midnight horror slot and thought, “Why not torture myself a little more?”

Written and directed by the duo of Paul Bushe and Brian O’Neill, the film stars a cast of actors likely basking in the glow of fame back in Ireland, but I can’t be bothered to remember their names. The plot kicks off with police officer Amanda Doyle, whose son is being held hostage by a ruthless gang. In a desperate attempt to save her child, she teams up with her ex-husband and a few allies to kidnap a wealthy banker and his unsuspecting family for ransom. But this isn't just any ordinary family—no, as the tale unfolds, it twists intriguingly enough to show that the tables have turned: the hunters have become the hunted. It’s a harrowing fight for survival in which it truly becomes kill or be killed.

There are countless gimmicky books out there, and many of them delve into the realm of vampires, such as A People's History of the Vampire Uprising by Raymond A. Villareal. I stumbled upon this title at a Dollar Tree three years ago—never heard of the author or the book before that fateful encounter. I couldn't resist the cover, so I took a chance on it—don’t judge me; it's a little quirk of mine. So, there it sat on my shelf like a crypt collecting dust, until I finally pried it from its resting place, read the darn thing, and now here I am, crafting this review. Spoiler alert: this book is destined to be packed away and donated, most likely to haunt someone else's bookshelf.

The plot kicks off with a little mystery. It starts when the body of a young woman is discovered in an Arizona border town, presumed to be an illegal immigrant. In a twist that would leave even the most seasoned detective scratching their head, the corpse walks right out of the morgue. Enter our young CDC investigator, called in to help the bewildered local police. For her, this bizarre incident isn’t just a puzzling enigma; it’s a challenge that shatters her understanding of medicine.

As more bodies roll into the morgue—each one meeting a gruesome end due to a strange disease that solidifies their blood—they too disappear without a trace. It becomes a frantic race against the clock as the CDC, the FBI, and the US government scramble to confront what seems impossible: an epidemic of vampirism set to sweep across not just the United States, but the world!