A Hero's Tears 

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.

Make no mistake about it, Gilligan has created a continuation that earns its place in the annals of Breaking Bad lore. El Camino isn't a forced entry in an otherwise brilliant world of fiction. This is a satisfying take, which manages to give closure to an iconic character of fiction.

It only seems to prove that when the company had their backs against the wall and needed an all pleasing, generic movie that had to make up for The Last Jedi, they chose to sacrifice almost everything that made their main protagonist interesting and that made her stand out as the strong female character that a generation of young movie goers was supposed to look up to. Instead, we were left with a Rey that was so much less than she could have been. And I guess that’s the real story of Rey and The Rise of Skywalker; they could have been so much more, but they were just more of the same.

Birds of Prey has some of the best stunt work and choreography of 2020, and was the most fun I’d had in an action film since John Wick 3.

The venn diagram of pop feminism and white-centered feminism is a circle. Acknowledging that is not a crime nor a diminishing of 'Barbie', Director Gerwig, or feminism in general.