The Menu serves up a chilling, satirical feast that skewers elitist culture with masterful precision—where haute cuisine meets horror, and the joke’s on anyone who thought they’d survive dessert.

Barbie is a candy-coated rollercoaster that blends satire, feminist introspection, and plenty of glitter, serving up a surprisingly deep take on modern womanhood—but maybe with one existential crisis too many.

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice is a nostalgia-packed romp with classic Burton chaos and Keaton’s iconic ghostly antics, but it’s more a playful haunt than a groundbreaking return, delivering laughs with a side of déjà vu.

Oblivion is a visually stunning sci-fi spectacle that teases deep themes but ends up more style than substance—a sleek, post-apocalyptic journey that’s as pretty as it is hollow.

Wild Tales delivers a deliciously chaotic mix of revenge and absurdity, capturing the cathartic pleasure of watching people snap under life’s relentless pressures.

Enter the Void plunges you into a kaleidoscopic, unsettling afterlife that’s as relentless as it is visually mesmerizing.

American Beauty exposes the surreal darkness of suburban life, where beauty and decay intertwine in one man’s quest to reclaim himself.

La Haine is a raw, unflinching journey through society’s cracks, where the stark black-and-white visuals amplify the explosive tension and gritty reality faced by three young men on the outskirts of Paris—delivering a brutal message on violence, alienation, and the inevitability of a crash landing we’re all complicit in.

Longlegs promises horror but delivers a sluggish nightmare of missed potential, with Nicolas Cage’s wild antics and Maika Monroe’s blank stares failing to inject life into this plodding supernatural thriller that’s more cringe than creepy.

Quo Vadis is a gloriously over-the-top Hollywood epic where Nero burns Rome for fun, Christianity battles decadence, and Peter Ustinov steals the show as the maddest, most flamboyant emperor ever put to screen.

Disney’s Haunted Mansion (2023) has all the charm of a well-decorated Halloween bash—but with jokes that land flat and a tone that’s as wobbly as a ghost in need of a guiding light, it’s more forgettable than frightening.

Mia Goth shines as a gritty dreamer in MaXXXine, a wild, neon-drenched conclusion to Ti West’s horror trilogy that slices through Hollywood’s 1980s underbelly with a grim sense of humor—even if it sometimes gets lost in its own glitzy chaos.