Ibáñez 

April, a professional dancer, reluctantly trains a group of girls at a dance school for the dance competition.

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.

Thunder Force brings much-needed diversity to the superhero genre. Unfortunately, it's also an uninteresting and unfunny mess.

Not only does the system prevent upward mobility, but it makes it incredibly easy to slide from comfortably middle class to unhoused.

Omaha reminds us of what it can feel like to look at old family photographs.  You sit with the bittersweetness, allowing it to wash over you; not drowning in it, but certainly affected by it.