To Cordoba 

The 2020 remake of 'The Invisible Man' explores the hidden nature of domestic violence with a classic sci-fi character.

The plot could’ve really been interesting if the elements of lycanthropy was integrated with perhaps the struggle of identity of being LGBTQ+. It's an experience for so many that as they’re starting to realizing their true selves, they feel like a monster, especially if they come from unsupportive homes or communities. Instead, the horror and transformation elements seem thrown in without contemplation of how this could deepen the narrative.

It's sexy, regardless of what else is going on.

Two Summers ago, on May 27th, 2022, the theatrical cinematic realms were re-awakened from their post-COVID dormant state of being by a little film titled "Top Gun: Maverick". It re-introduced us to the absolute elation of seeing not only a highly anticipated (and, granted, 36 years in the making!) sequel, but the return of the quintessential Summer blockbuster to witness on the BIG screen again.

It’s 2021 and what few LGBTQ+ films that are produced by major film studios continue to star cisgender heterosexual actors, rather than actual LGBTQ+ people.

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.