'Alice' Doesn't Live Here Anymore
'Alice' is a genre trifecta: one part revenge drama, one part historical account, one part throwback to Blaxploitation—kinda 'Django' meets 'Roots' meets 'Foxy Brown.'

Accidentally finding themselves in a half-abandoned hotel, the apparently happy newlyweds get acquainted not only with its strange owner, but also with each other's unsolved secrets. Will the lovers be able to maintain a relationship after what they have heard? Earn forgiveness? And if the truth is really capable of liberating, then which of them?
'Alice' is a genre trifecta: one part revenge drama, one part historical account, one part throwback to Blaxploitation—kinda 'Django' meets 'Roots' meets 'Foxy Brown.'
Initially feeling like a passionate group having a bit of harmless fun with filmmaking, it leads to something sinister enough to leave a mark.
Remakes. Reboots. Reinventions. Redundancy. It's the common practice in Hollywood of late, sometimes offering us victorious reimagining of what can be considered cinematic classics while also, more often, falling flat on their UN-imaginative faces in utter defeat and lackluster results. Admittedly, with this in mind, I went into the newest incarnation of "The War of the Roses" with typical trepidation and cautious optimism.
I’m disappointed in The Woman in Cabin 10, but that’s at least in part because of my love of Ruth Ware’s novel.
There’s enough evidence to insinuate that What We Do in the Shadows is intentionally queer-coded.
Rare in the days of franchise sequels and indie horror films that dominate the screen in 2026, Netflix’s latest original release, Remarkably Bright Creatures, is a feel-good family movie that leaves nothing to be desired except tissues. Starring Sally Field and Lewis Pullman as two cleaners at a small-town aquarium, Remarkably Bright Creatures reminds viewers that humans are social animals whose strength comes not from our intelligence or our opposable thumbs, but from each other.