Margaret Perry: Filmmaker 

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 an all-black community in Louisiana, a young girl learns her father has committed infidelity and turns to hoodoo to seek justice.

The idea of Rosemary's baby but with lesbian partners drew me in, and I was anticipating what the film had in store with its reimagining. Unfortunately, it all felt a little too vague to leave an impact.

What makes The Matrix saga fascinating is the symbolism of caves and trans allegories