An intimate, experimental documentary in which co-director Wesley Pereira turns the camera on himself to explore his daily life, desires, and inner turmoil. Set in his home in Sergipe, Brazil, the film blends mundane routines with candid reflections on sexuality, erotic desire, cinephilia, and mental anguish. Openly gay, Wesley examines his own vulnerability, shame, and longing, creating a raw portrait of queer existence and self-exposure. Fragmented and non-linear, the film stretches time and emotion, embodying its title: one minute can feel like an eternity when suffering. It is a bold, introspective meditation on identity, isolation, and the challenges of living authentically.
In the film adaptation, director Jon M. Chu turns each musical number into a massive show stopper, with grand set pieces and a wealth of diverse dancers. Yet, in this attempt to show reverence for the people of the Washington Heights barrio, Chu, or maybe more specifically those in charge of casting, left out a crucial part of the community, Afro-Latinos.
Here are some of our picks for inclusive Black love stories in film and media. We hope you enjoy these tender love stories and beautiful depictions.
Facing the world with our fair share of uncertainties and/or apprehensions, many of which, sadly, may be well-founded, is nothing to sneeze at. Influenced and buffeted by the constant barrage of social media, fake news, and general upheaval present in our contemporary reality, what IS real and what's not becomes a blur.
The human experience is described through the eyes of a marginalized outsider, neither judgmental nor invested, just an observant donkey.
"WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO SACRIFICE?!!!!" "EVERYTHING!!!!!" This is but one of a multitude of highly emphatic questions, and subsequent answers, being asked in the newest feature film from one of the current masters of horror, Jordan Peele ("Get Out", "Us" and "Nope"). I must give Peele credit in that he continues to push the boundaries of specific genres and their associated tropes in order to provide what ends up amounting to subtly then jarringly intense, yet still character and story-driven, cinema that speaks more to indie stylings than mainstream.
Slumber Party Massacre is a gory film with just enough commentary on sexist excuses, the validity of women's voices, and the inherent feminism of the slasher.
