
The men in the village are dying one by one. The disease is spreading, and so is the paranoia. It must be darker forces at play, and the villagers on the island have only one suspect - a beautiful but mysterious girl living in harmony with nature. But is the persecuted young woman also in pact with the devil, or is she innocent? She hides with her mother, Anna, who must now decide if she wants to protect her daughter, and would risk being ostracized, or believe in the accusations and sentence her own child to death.
Despite the film’s efforts to reframe its heroine with modern complexity, a certain emotional distance lingers.
Lucifer is a show with both comedy and drama, but most importantly, has charm. Well aware it’s following a silly premise, the show does so in a way that’s entertaining. Sure, sometimes it can be cheesy, but fun cheese.
The Roses is a wickedly sharp marital warfare comedy that transforms domestic dysfunction into high art. Olivia Colman and Benedict Cumberbatch deliver powerhouse performances as a couple whose fairy-tale romance implodes when his architectural career collapses just as her culinary empire takes off. What makes Jay Roach's remake so devastatingly effective is its refusal to pick sides—both spouses are equally sympathetic and monstrous, wielding Tony McNamara's razor-sharp dialogue like weapons forged from shared intimacies. It's a film that dares you to laugh at relationship wreckage while forcing you to confront the uncomfortable truth that the line between passionate love and mutual destruction is terrifyingly thin.
Mai yells what every parent dreads hearing from their child: “tao ghét mày” (“I hate you”) and runs from the scene, where Hai discovers that Mai was telling the truth about the wallet.