David Wain has built an entire career on asking audiences to accept one deeply ridiculous premise and then refusing to acknowledge that anything unusual is happening. His best comedies don't escalate because the characters become aware of the insanity around them; they escalate because everyone treats the absurd as perfectly ordinary. Gail Daughtry and the Celebrity Sex Pass follows that same philosophy, mining an inherently juvenile idea for every ounce of comic potential un

Olivia Wilde's The Invite has the sort of premise that often inspires eye rolls before the opening credits finish rolling. Two unhappily married neighbors. One impossibly attractive, impossibly enlightened couple upstairs. A dinner party. Plenty of wine. The suggestion of ethical non-monogamy. On paper, it sounds like the kind of self-satisfied relationship satire that mistakes provocation for insight, eager to make sweeping declarations about modern love while congratulating

There is something inherently haunting about a person becoming a mystery. Not just dying, but disappearing into paperwork. Reduced to a case file, a photograph, an evidence bag. A life condensed into administrative language. Haifaa Al-Mansour’s Unidentified understands that horror better than most crime thrillers, and while the film occasionally struggles to generate momentum as a mystery, it finds something far more interesting in the process: a meditation on grief, empathy,

Kenji Tanigaki’s The Furious doesn’t so much tell a story as it hurls one at your head. It arrives swinging, kicking, crashing through tables, and rarely pauses long enough to catch its breath. Child traffickers kidnap the daughter of a mute laborer. A journalist disappears while investigating the same criminal network. Two men collide, exchange punches, discover they want the same thing, and spend the next ninety minutes reducing an army of villains to broken bones and blood

Steven Spielberg has spent nearly fifty years looking to the stars. From the awe-struck obsession of Close Encounters of the Third Kind to the childlike wonder of E.T. and the terror of War of the Worlds, extraterrestrials have long served as a vessel for the filmmaker’s deepest anxieties, hopes, and questions about humanity. With Disclosure Day, Spielberg returns to that well once again, this time asking a provocative question: If humanity learned we weren’t alone, would we

Aleshea Harris’ Is God Is opens like a revenge movie and slowly reveals itself to be something thornier, sadder, stranger, and ultimately far more profound. On paper, the film sounds almost gleefully pulp: twin sisters set out across America to murder the father who burned their family alive years earlier. But Harris’ astonishing debut feature is not interested in the clean catharsis of revenge cinema so much as the rot that necessitates it in the first place. What begins as