When firefighter Dani Reed rescues a family just before Christmas, she reignites her late mother's "Holiday Heroes" fundraiser to help the community. With her ambitious sister Jackie, charming photographer Sasha, and supportive dad by her side, Dani finds love, purpose, and the courage to step into true leadership.
All in all, “Event Horizon” is a cinematic misfire, begging to be perfected in the future. While it possesses an array of admirable visuals, the film leaves much to be desired. If only we could see Anderson’s preferred cut, which featured more character development and tortuous imagery. In the meantime, I have a catchphrase for this film: In space no one can hear you snore.
Outer Banks (2020-) knows its audience: young adults in a country that can’t stop romanticizing good ole’ treasure hunts. Add a little of Riverdale’s (2017-) sex appeal, and no one can look away. Forty years after The Goonies (1985) America’s consciousness hasn’t strayed from the same tropes: treasure hunts, a vulnerable white male lead, and the whitewashing of a racially segregated setting.
Him is visually stunning—all concrete cathedrals and bone-rattling impact shots that look like a nightmare highlight reel. Marlon Wayans is magnetic as this legendary quarterback who's basically selling salvation with a smile that never quite reaches his eyes. But the story keeps running in circles: more tests, more cryptic pep talks, more ritualistic drills. The sports-as-religion metaphor beats you over the head when subtlety would've been more effective. The middle drags, and that finale chooses spectacle over substance. It's undeniably stylish, but left me cold. Also worth noting: despite the Monkeypaw connection, this isn't actually a Jordan Peele film—he didn't write or direct.
In The Women and the Murderer, directors Mona Achache and Patricia Tourancheau center women—the very demographic true crime is designed to appeal to.
The makings of a great midseason filler episode that would connect in many different directions. This is a police drama filler with a guest director.
Adrian Chiarella’s Leviticus is a beautiful, poignant, enraging, gut-wrenching, and heartbreaking film about the trauma and harm conversion therapy inflicts on young queer people. Even though its classification as horror holds, the emotional bond between the two main characters, Naim and Ryan, elevates the story into a realistic romantic drama on par with Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
