After the untimely death of Kathy's (Kirsten Price) husband Sean (Eric Masterson), strange things begin to happen. Kathy is repeatedly haunted by unexplained sounds, lights flicker without reason and photographs crash to the floor. When the apparitions appear in her bedroom, she's had enough. Determined to get her life back, Kathy seeks the help of experts to remove the evil spirits. But just who are they? And why are they there? Before he died Sean told Kathy he'd love and protect her forever. Sometimes it takes the power of love to fight the supernatural. But will love be enough?
There were too many irrelevant parts that could have been shortened, and too many characters that didn't advance the plot. Either way, some things didn't add up. This was just another played out plot with little, if any, originality in it. By the end of the film, I wasn't happy that she finally got her freedom, I was happy that it was finally over.
The Super Mario Galaxy Movie comes on the heels of its billion-dollar grossing predecessor, and seeks to do absolutely nothing other than repeat its success. In this, the film is eminently effective. If you have seen the previous film, you can expect something extremely similar in this package. That is, a barrage of references to Nintendo intellectual property wrapped in a plot that provides the thinnest layer of emotional payoff for the characters.
The initial reaction and review of Netflix's newly released romantic comedy featuring Haley Lu Richardson and Ben Hardy. Spoilers included!
A strong representation of African Americans in this film features evil spirits and horror-themed elements.
This HBO mini-series asks why a young white man turned to violence and finds no easy answers. But why do we only ask questions about certain kinds of killers?
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.
