Reviews

Believe me, it will scare you

good!

People spend most of their life looking for their better half. In the new body horror comedy, Tim (Dave Franco) and Millie (Alison Brie) find out that sometimes, there is such a thing as being too codependent. After years together, their relationship is at a crossroads, seemingly stuck. Tim is a struggling musician. They both migrate from the city to a very small town next to a forest so Millie can teach at the school. After coming back from a perilous hike in the forest, weird things start happening. This movie takes a bit to get going, but I love the gradual building of tension. As an actual married couple, Franco and Brie obviously have really great chemistry and were comfortable doing the wackier stuff. They also brought a lot of lived-in authenticity. You already know this is a very fun body horror, so I don’t think I’ll delve deeper into that aspect. There’s a memorable bathroom scene that might make the guys in the audience squirm in their seat a little. For a relatively low-budget movie, the practical visual effects and sound design are amazing. The tone has a perfect balance between funny, scary and downright disgusting. This is the feature-length debut for writer/director Michael Shanks, who clearly had as much fun putting this together as the couple did. I would’ve liked it a little more if the movie didn’t bother explaining things. Some things are better just being a thing. I had such a fun time with this one. In any relationship, you must remember where you end and where your other half begins. A healthy dose of codependency is healthy, to a degree. There are a couple jump-scares, but the movie doesn't rely on them. The codependency allegory is top-notch. Overall, TOGETHER might make you squirm, but you’ll have fun doing it in this very entertaining and satisfying movie. And you thought your significant other was clingy.

The film raises some morally complex questions. The fugitive pair easily earn audience sympathy, for even the tyrant appears human. After the regime collapses, the desire for revenge brews in public sentiment, and the chaos of military reprisals adds weight to the film’s condemnation of violence.

The film doesn’t rely on dramatic twists, but its quiet dissection of human nature holds my attention. The unresolved, simmering tension between the leads reflects both nostalgia for what was and their resistance to what life has become. There’s quiet power in that restraint.

It's a staggering story that's based on real events—one where a mother must take on an entire country just to get justice for her murdered daughter. She’s up against a broken legal system, an indifferent police force, and a society that routinely fails to protect women. All she wants is accountability. Instead, she’s silenced. Marisela should not have died. The nation that failed her is what’s truly culpable.

Many of us are dissatisfied with our lives, yet reluctant to confront that reality. The film’s two former lovers share a fleeting reconnection, only to return quickly to their unresolved truths. What emerges is a rare portrait of midlife disillusionment—gentle, perceptive, and achingly familiar.

Gene Kelly’s directorial debut, adapted from Leonard Bernstein’s musical, marked a groundbreaking moment for the genre by filming musical numbers on location in New York, even though many scenes still looked more suitable for the stage. It’s refreshing to see three female characters portrayed with such independence and vitality—something rare in that era.

Where "From Hell" succeeds is in its immersive world-building. The film paints a compelling portrait of Victorian London, vividly illustrating class divides, social unrest, and the daily realities of its inhabitants. The transitions between scenes are fluid, and the compositions are strikingly well-framed.

When the male lead finally confesses his cowardice and shortcomings to the woman, it changed my perception of him. At first, he seemed like just another shallow man chasing excitement outside marriage, but that vulnerability added unexpected depth.

The opening is a bit choppy, and the editing lacks cohesion, but once Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez appears on screen, her charisma takes over. I watched through to the end without pause. The final voiceover strikes a quiet, resonant chord. As a documentary, its greatest strength lies in its subject—that even amid a broken political system, individuals and grassroots movements can still strive for change. That alone suggests the system may still be capable of reform.

Close-ups are used sparingly, with the film favoring static compositions, pans, and tracking shots. When close-ups do appear, they highlight key moments of moral tension, such as the bokeh shots of the male lead’s face, which are handled with striking subtlety.

The editing cleverly weaves together amateur and professional archival footage, still photography, and new interviews with the original Z-Boys. Notably, the modern-day interviews are shot in black and white, which gives the old color footage a renewed vitality and disrupts traditional hierarchies between past and present, amateur and expert.

While the narrative itself is far from sophisticated, the film channels its low-budget alien invasion premise into a surprisingly pointed commentary on youth crime in the UK. Through metaphor and subtext, director Joe Cornish critiques social neglect, culminating in a final image of salvation tied to the British flag—an implicit reminder of a nation’s duty to its youth.

The film captures the adolescent psyche with remarkable accuracy. In moments of rebellion and confusion, what teenagers truly need is not lectures or suppression, but guidance from someone who can help them navigate their path. It’s through facing betrayal and darkness—and holding firm to one’s beliefs—that character is forged. Beneath its simple plot, the film reveals an American understanding of education and the meaning of personal growth.

With its tense atmosphere and socially grounded narrative, "Lucky Baskhar" captures the desperation of those trying to rewrite their fate. The main character represents countless individuals pushed to the edge by circumstances, tempted into dangerous paths in pursuit of a better life. His story becomes a cautionary tale that urges viewers to remain clear-eyed and resist easy temptations, or risk spiraling into irreversible consequences.

Visually, "The Pelican Brief" is a well-crafted film. The cinematography by Owen Roizman captures the gloomy and suspenseful mood of the story, and the use of Washington D.C.'s architecture and urban landscapes adds a sense of realism to the narrative. The film's score, composed by James Newton Howard, complements the tense atmosphere and adds to the overall impact of the movie.

The film’s brilliance lies in its dual perspective—it not only details the Jackal’s methodical assassination plot, but also follows the dogged efforts of the French police to stop him. It’s an intellectual duel between predator and prey, with both sides displaying formidable cunning. Every step is executed with chilling precision, keeping the audience gripped in a state of tension.

Sofia embodies strength and hope on the volleyball court, yet off it she’s constantly hindered by societal expectations and religious dogma. Each decision she makes is an act of rebellion against a system designed to suppress her, and the film’s tension stems from this very struggle for autonomy.

The director’s control over the film’s rising tension is masterful. The final half hour is executed with precision and intensity, and it’s one of the key reasons this film earns a perfect score. That last image lingers in your mind—it’s thoughtful, unsettling, and deeply affecting.