Escaping Doppelgangers: "Coraline" Serves Up Adventure in a Parallel World
This delightfully odd horror movie presents a whimsically strange alternate reality to younger audiences.

In the attic of my family home, I found the autobiography of my legal-law Waclaw. Waclaw described a secret underground organization that he founded in Lódz during WWII. No one in the family knows about his mysterious life, his memories conflict with his image emerging from the pages of the book. So I am preparing a monodrama to introduce the unbelievable past of Waclaw's to the family. Unfortunately, everything is complicated by my poor memory and chronic diarrhea.
This delightfully odd horror movie presents a whimsically strange alternate reality to younger audiences.
Jennifer Lopez leads the story as Zoe, a determined woman who opts for artificial insemination after a string of failed relationships. Lopez's portrayal adds depth and warmth to Zoe
My review’s title is a nod to Shakespeare and is entirely deliberate. The original movie portrayed the high-end fashion world as a brutal arena of plotting, backstabbing, and betrayal, and most Shakespeare’s plays depend on these plot devices. The Devil Wears Prada 2 uses the same formula, and is, plot-wise, almost identical. Once again, we plunge into the cutthroat world of Runway, where to get and stay at the top, you must let go of your principles and moral sense. The only thing different is that due to the digital era, Runway is not a print magazine anymore, but one that is running online.
I was able to sit down and talk with the director of the short film Dog Lover Anne-Sophie Bine as she discussed and how she came to be in film.
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.
As Sexual Assault Awareness Month comes to an end, I’d like to urge viewers and filmmakers to take a long and hard look at how rape is portrayed on screen.