A self-taped single camera exploration into the life of Mr. Wonderful; a drug fueled gay convicted felon that believes he is an inspiration to others.
Seriously, and this is coming from someone who was extremely skeptical before giving it a watch. I assumed the show would be painfully boring, but one of the show's strongest qualities is you needn't know anything about the lore to get invested in it.
Netflix’s new rom-com, Voicemails for Isabelle (dir. Leah McKendrick), isn’t just heartwarming, funny, and an achievement in female directing - it’s also an instant classic. Following 20-something aspiring baker Jill (Zoey Deutch), Voicemails for Isabelle tells a story of grief, self-discovery, and fateful connections. Ever since her beloved sister Izzy’s (Ciara Bravo) death, Jill has been leaving her hilarious, extremely TMI voicemails about her chaotic love life and miserable day job as a prep cook. Little does she know that a handsome and unsatisfied real estate agent in her hometown has inherited the number and practically fallen in love with her by listening to her stories.
Steven Spielberg's West Side Story (2021) improves on the original's terrible representation, poorly written romance, and more. --> check out reviews & film summary
'Tuca and Bertie' (2019) is an animated series centering around best friends of the same name as they traverse the challenges of their thirties.
The Roses is a wickedly sharp marital warfare comedy that transforms domestic dysfunction into high art. Olivia Colman and Benedict Cumberbatch deliver powerhouse performances as a couple whose fairy-tale romance implodes when his architectural career collapses just as her culinary empire takes off. What makes Jay Roach's remake so devastatingly effective is its refusal to pick sides—both spouses are equally sympathetic and monstrous, wielding Tony McNamara's razor-sharp dialogue like weapons forged from shared intimacies. It's a film that dares you to laugh at relationship wreckage while forcing you to confront the uncomfortable truth that the line between passionate love and mutual destruction is terrifyingly thin.
Complex relationships between mothers and daughters are far from a new concept, whether the strain comes from abandonment, beliefs, or trauma. In My Only Wish, an Incluvie Film Festival submission, Brenda Gutierrez’s take on her character’s maternal divide comes in the form of abandonment.
