Papsura: Peak of Evil (2024)

It’s been awhile since I’ve seen a film that is jarring within the first five minutes. Being at the edge of my seat from the very beginning made me feel both excited and frightened for what was to come, and it did not disappoint. Led strongly by Jennifer Lawrence as Grace, a woman trapped in the “American dream”, this film shows that society tells us what should make us happy. Many critics describe Die My Love as being about post-partem depression, but it is so much more. After moving to a secluded home with her husband Jackson, Grace finds herself in the throes of motherhood. Feeling isolated in her physical environment and her romantic relationship, Grace suffers psychologically. Lawrence brings a sense of rawness and humor to the screen that is often uncomfortable. Robert Pattinson adds to the discomfort as her loving, yet lost husband Jackson, who cares about his wife but does not know how to help her. Lynne Ramsay has presented a film that forces us to look at the realness of life, and what happens when the promise of what should make you whole fails.

Those perfect Summer or Fall days. The sun is shining, the temperature is JUST right, and you've got nothing else to do. Therefore, isn't it time to get outside and take a nice stroll through the park, or along the shoreline (should you be that fortunate), or even just around the neighborhood? Sure. BUT.....if one lives in the America found in the newest film adaptation of the work from horror author/cultural icon Stephen King.....doing this SHOULD be the LAST thing you hope to find yourself engaged with.

Mr. Malcolm's List is a pleasant promenade through a fantasy Regency-era England filled with people of color. For fans of Bridgerton, this is the PG version of the show, but with completely colorblind casting and a much lighter tone.

I am an Armenian who has a mild form of epilepsy. I rarely see Armenian culture and epilepsy properly portrayed in film or TV. I delve into the how and why.

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.

This romance movie has strong representation of Taiwanese people.