R.V.S. 

A family drama is woven with quiet yet powerful forces of words and nature.

Why did Māhū, a term once respected in Hawaiian culture, become so controversial?

Netflix's Afterlife of the Party might fall into the rom-com genre, but it's much more about grief, strong female friendships, and platonic love than it is about romance.

So with the recent (rightful) public apologies to Britney from comedians and media for trashing her image in the 2000s, perhaps some people should also give Crossroads the fair chance it deserves. It won't be everyone's cup of tea, and that is fine. Personally, I will take my girl Britney and her movie, over the next testosterone "Dude Flick" any day.

Two young girls meet in the same neighborhood unexpectedly as they embark on a new adventure using their imaginations as this movie brings strong representation among women.

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.