'An American Werewolf in London' possesses a possible queer reading in the way it envisions a heterosexual romance being undone by the presence of a creature who embodies self-contentment in the face of social alienation.

Udo Kier takes center spotlight in 'Swan Song' as Pat Pitsenbarger, a gay beautician who comes out of retirement for one last job and rediscovers himself along the way.

Ripley is a great character because she serves two distinct, but rewarding, purposes in the original film and the sequel.

'Legally Blonde' remains a standard of feminist filmmaking over two decades after its release, although its poor treatment of racial and sexual minorities make it a product of its time.

Sorry to Bother You ultimately speaks to the unfair advantages that the country’s power structures award to those with the resources to control others, as Lift’s easy access to the media allows his opinion to be the only one that matters in the eyes of the unsuspecting and easily impressed public. Moreover, it reveals the extent to which the American Dream has any true validity. It postulates how the promise of success and fulfillment as promoted by the American Dream more often than not leads to the undoing of the individual. Interestingly, in its revealing of the American Dream as merely a facade, Sorry to Bother You wisely questions whether or not anything can really be done to undo a system that has been accepted and in action for centuries.

When you don’t factor in the plethora of inferior sequels that have been produced, Luca is one of Pixar’s simplest and most unassuming films in years — and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. The film thrives on being a visual feast with a warm message for all ages, so much so that its unoriginal storyline doesn’t feel that big of a problem.

For the entirety of Raiders of the Lost Ark, Marion remains in full control of both her body and her personality, a rarity for female characters at the time of the film’s release. She’s granted depth with personal demons from her past and emotional vulnerability when the situation deems it appropriate for her to grow alongside Indy. She avidly rejects the notion of being anything other than a sassy, humane rebel, and Indy’s equal in every way. This she does while still maintaining her femininity.

It’s easy to dismiss Joel and Ethan Coen for writing from the world they build from outside the box of overarching Hollywood stereotypes, but their inability to compromise their collective vision is precisely what makes the simplistic nature of their world-building and characters so brilliant. It’s also what led Fargo to collect seven Oscar nominations and two wins for Best Original Screenplay and Best Actress for Frances McDormand’s brilliant portrayal of the sincere, motherly detective whose wholesome demeanor seizes the day over the selfishness, corruption and evil of the men who don’t comprehend that there’s more to life than a little money.

Even now, the well-established Snyder has yet to learn this as he continues to allow misguided decisions to convince him that his projects hold the same kind of intelligent and emotional weight. Army of the Dead is a tonal mess, one that never decides what it’s trying to be, and, for all we know, doesn’t want to decide.

These confines won’t really encourage you to read the film as a metaphor for the nerve-inducing experience we’ve all been through over the last year, however — and in the interest of maintaining your dignity, you probably shouldn’t. While the sociopolitical commentary may have worked for the similarly-themed Buried (2010), in which we find Ryan Reynolds on his own buried alive in the Middle East, but this futuristic take on the premise is best left as a piece of distracting entertainment. Nevertheless, the atmosphere is no less suffocating, literally and dramatically.

With The Father, writer-director Florian Zeller- who wrote and developed the play upon which the film is based- pulls no punches as he confidently makes every effort to put the audience in the mind of someone whose grip on reality has all but vanished. It’s a dazzling testament to Zeller’s abilities as a director as he makes his first transition from stage to film appear as if he’s been working behind a camera his entire career. The dialogue he fashions with co-writer Christopher Hampton, along with the work of production designers Peter Francis and Cathy Featherstone, collectively makes the downward spiral of dementia startlingly tangible, doing so in a way that can be comprehended by everyone except the person it directly affects.

Perhaps the most amazing and groundbreaking quality about The Birdcage is how removed it is from both illness and insensitivity. Whereas films preceding it were often somber stories about the tribulations of being gay in a conservatively straight world, Nichols and screenwriter Elaine May expose the fallacies of conservatism as traditional values are thrown into a more open-minded space. They don’t care how far the community has fallen so much as how high they can rebuild themselves.