A group of French friends go on vacation in the south. The charming owner cannot resist the charm of Tim Loux, who arrived first to hand over the keys. In the holiday villa, all the occupants have torrid sex plans and don't hesitate to cum in the face.
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.
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.
Netflix takes some liberties in its portrayal of Madame CJ Walker, a trailblazing Black entrepreneur.
Suppressed intergenerational family trauma and healing, warm welcome to the Marvel Cinematic Universe team, and Awkwafina's humor really make this film the real MVP.
Falling in love with 'Rocketman" all over again.
An action film led by two queens, fighting for what they believe in through power and pain.
