Venom: Let There Be Carnage Review: Down With The Sickness

Has a movie ever implanted a vision in your mind so outlandish, so off-the-wall, that you wonder whether you really saw it or perhaps it was some sort of dream? As I sit down to type out a review for the “Venom” sequel, all I can picture is the enormous, rasping black and white symbiote onstage at what appears to be some sort of Pride-adjacent rave, with the body language and actions of an intoxicated person spiraling from rejected love, wearing a half-dozen glow necklaces and declaring before a crowd of newfound fans that he’s “out of the Eddie Brock closet.”

Then I remember that “Venom: Let There Be Carnage” is a PG-13 blockbuster, made to thrill audiences, sell popcorn, and (perhaps) further the MCU. At some point comes the realization that it is all real, that director Andy Serkis has subverted tentpole tropes at nearly every turn, and the result is another beautiful, bizarre monster deserving of the “Venom” name.

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