
In the streets of Matongé in Brussels, residents participate in the collective poetry of living together. Guided by Maéva, the neighborhood unfolds between everyday life and colonial memory. Individual experiences interact with history, blending reality and fantasy. Gestures, voices, and rhythms bring to life the masks that parade in the footsteps of colonization. Images, sounds, and percussion animate a call for the decolonization of public spaces.
A brief look at two Barry Jenkins films that have established him as one of the greatest filmmakers of our time.
At least we got the original cast back, right? Not even that saves it. None of them could bring a sliver of hope to this special. Rather, they bring dread as we witness the light leaving from their eyes.
"Hustlers" returns power to groups that are traditionally deprived of it: women, the working class, and sex workers.
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.
There’s no two ways about it — Bridgerton is horny. Shondaland’s newest venture- released on Netflix on Christmas- is certainly a spectacle to behold, just as the premise; essentially an Austenian, Regency-Era Gossip Girl, helmed by Shonda Rhimes, the reigning queen of steamy romance television. It would not be inaccurate to describe it as Jane Austen porn.