'Venom: Let There Be Carnage' Is a Gay Love Story and I'm Here for It
Yeah, sure, the movie’s about Carnage. But it’s really about love. A love that defies all odds: the love between a man and his man-eating alien symbiote.

With a brother dedicated to punk rock stardom at any cost and a drunken father who chases skirt between robotic dancing lessons from the TV, young Senka stands as much chance of nurture as the hero of Truffaut's 400 Blows. The amazing thing about Ogorodnikov's film is that it was made in Russia. Clearly, plenty of Soviet teenies share the nihilistic feelings of their Western counterparts, and the extensive footage of safety-pin chic at concerts perhaps points to a sound export instinct on the director's part. Senka's brother Kostya is under pressure from Howmuch, a very heavy rocker, to steal a synthesiser from the Community Centre, so to protect him Senka steals it himself. The story occupies little more space than the music, but the performances are splendid enough to lodge Senka's predicament in the heart.
Yeah, sure, the movie’s about Carnage. But it’s really about love. A love that defies all odds: the love between a man and his man-eating alien symbiote.
Cursed is based on Frank Miller’s graphic novel, and is a retelling of the Arthurian legend with a twist. Instead of King Arthur gaining Excalibur, a teenage sorceress named Nimue (Katherine Langford) does. Her people — the Fey — are being hunted down, and so Nimue will do whatever it takes to save them.
People are so much deeper and far more extraordinary than what gender they were assigned at birth.
Films about casinos have long been a favorite of Hollywood. This is unsurprising, as they're often tied to magnetic characters whose lives revolve around luxury, spectacle, and even danger.
In Saudi Arabia, a little girl (Wadjda) is told she can't have a bike because she's a girl. Wadjda struggles to obtain a bicycle to race her friend, Abdullah, due to the gender inequality and cultural norms of Saudi Arabia.
The quiet ache of guilt sitting at the dinner table, the silence after a truth is buried, and the way pain is passed down like a name.