
A year after one of their ranks commits suicide, the remaining members of a Midwest bridge club — along with substitute Ellen — continue to hold their weekly game. The film uses a high-stakes card game as a metaphor for the complexities of human connection. As players navigate the intricacies of strategy and chance, their moves reveal deeper themes of trust, vulnerability, and the unpredictable nature of relationships. The narrative weaves humor with tension, inviting viewers to reflect on how every decision—both in the game and in life—carries emotional weight and potential for unexpected outcomes, resonating with the modern queer experience.
The “gay best friend”, an age-old trope, has been done in countless films and television series. Ranging from one-note (Sex and the City's Stanford and Mario) to nuanced (Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt's Tituss), the gay best friend exists to support and advise the main protagonist, with their conflicts swept to the side.
After years of silence, trauma, and backlash, Rose McGowan tells her own story in this miniseries.
Intergenerational friendships and community can be so powerful, and this was a great example.
Nick Rowland’s She Rides Shotgun is a blistering, blood-soaked road thriller that doubles as a bruised love story between a haunted ex-con (a career-best Taron Egerton) and the daughter he barely knows (astonishing newcomer Ana Sophia Heger). Fueled by white-knuckle chases, razor-tense shootouts, and quiet moments of aching tenderness, the film captures both the terror and fragile beauty of survival. It’s gritty, heartbreaking, and unforgettable—a father-daughter odyssey destined to leave audiences shaken.
A young girl named Hailey Mays sings a country song that is named after the film's title.