In post-Korean War Seoul, a young man from the countryside discovers that his older brother has become romantically involved in a prostitute and has no intentions of returning home.
For anyone who is not a cis white woman, a justice-fueled murderous rampage is not framed as liberation. Instead, they contribute to harsh stereotypes that vilify minority women with dangerous consequences.
Every movement becomes a question of identity. To become who we are meant to be. In order to reach that we often have to shed who we once were, and that shedding can sometimes be so brutal it’s ungraceful.
Ultimately the problem with The Bubble is that it plays everything for laughs to get around the audience’s defenses. But it comes off like a privileged white male thinking that ridiculing everyone else equally is the road to equality. And it’s not. And it's definitely not funny to pretend that it is.
I hadn’t heard of it either until recently—and yet, it’s one of the highest grossing movies of all time.
Remember Caroline from Vampire Diaries? Well, now she’s The Suitcase Killer, allegedly.
Netflix’s new rom-com, Voicemails for Isabelle (dir. Leah McKendrick), isn’t just heartwarming, funny, and an achievement in female directing - it’s also an instant classic. Following 20-something aspiring baker Jill (Zoey Deutch), Voicemails for Isabelle tells a story of grief, self-discovery, and fateful connections. Ever since her beloved sister Izzy’s (Ciara Bravo) death, Jill has been leaving her hilarious, extremely TMI voicemails about her chaotic love life and miserable day job as a prep cook. Little does she know that a handsome and unsatisfied real estate agent in her hometown has inherited the number and practically fallen in love with her by listening to her stories.
