Top Gun: Maverick is the Perfect Adrenaline-Fueled Sequel to the Original
If Top Gun needed to say it, Top Gun: Maverick makes you feel the need... the need for speed.

"“Behind the Footlights,” directed by noted fashion editor, artist, and costume designer Vyvyan Donner, reveals the constant work and rehearsals necessary to keep chorus lines synchronized and snappy. Narrator Paul Douglas tells us how “the bright lights of Broadway kindle the flame of ambition.” We first see such burning drive backstage at the Carnival Night Club in New York City as the dancers rehearse; we then watch from front of house as they perform. Next up is the Shipstads & Johnson Ice Follies, where chorus girls perform similar dance routines, only on ice skates. Seen today, “Behind the Footlights” is hardly an inducement to join the performing arts. Kicking third from the left in a line of ladies dressed in ruffles, bananas, and pineapples, all the while hoping the star breaks her ankle, is the stuff that dreams are made of, and which brings a paycheck at the end of the week." — Caroline Yeager
If Top Gun needed to say it, Top Gun: Maverick makes you feel the need... the need for speed.
The Vietnamese perspective is not only completely ignored in 'The Greatest Beer Run Ever', but it is blatantly whitewashed and disrespected.
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.
The Delgado family becomes trapped in their house by an unknown force and it takes them years to realize what has happened.
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.
Word of mouth has been incredible, but the film's faults cannot be ignored.