Straw

Straw is a Netflix produced psychological drama featuring a powerful cast led by Taraji P. Henson and Sherri Shepherd, the film dives deep into the quiet, everyday struggles of Black women who are often overlooked, unheard, and pushed to their limits.

The story follows a single mother navigating a cascade of misfortunes that gradually pull her into a situation she never could have imagined. One where she finds herself under suspicion, trapped in a society that is indifferent to her pain. What Perry captured so effectively here was the emotional weight of “Nobody cares, nobody sees us”, a theme that speaks to the systemic erasure of Black women’s voices and experiences.

Henson and Shepherd were absolutely electric together, playing off each other with natural chemistry and raw emotional depth. Henson’s portrayal of quiet desperation turning into something far more dangerous was one of her strongest performances in recent years, while Shepherd surprised with a nuanced, grounded turn that added levity and heartbreak in equal measure.

At its core, Straw was a cautionary tale about how lack of empathy and societal neglect can push anyone to the edge. It’s not just a personal story, it’s a reflection of what happens when people are systematically ignored. Perry’s unique storytelling approach here gave new life to familiar themes, and he was not afraid to let the narrative simmer in tension rather than rely on his more typical melodramatic beats.

This film was well made and marked a bold and refreshing step for Tyler Perry, This psychological crime drama was as intense as it was thought-provoking. The film built beautifully toward a brilliant twist ending that re-contextualizes much of what came before without feeling cheap or forced. It was the kind of twist that felt earned and left you sitting with the weight of what you’ve just witnessed.

Jennifer’s Body

 

Jennifer's Body, directed by Karyn Kusama and written by Diablo Cody, hit theaters in 2009. The film tells the story of Jennifer Check, played by Megan Fox, a high school student who becomes demonically possessed. To sustain herself, she begins murdering her male classmates.

While this role is often considered Fox's signature and one of her favorites, as it allowed her to break free from her "sex symbol" image, Amanda Seyfried's performance as Needy was the true standout. Seyfried brought incredible nuance, vulnerability, and strength to the role, anchoring the story's emotional core. The dynamic between Needy and Jennifer, layered with intimate friendship, jealousy, and queer undertones, gives the film its lasting emotional resonance.

The film's creative plot, sharp dialogue, and unapologetically feminine perspective still feel fresh today. Jennifer's Body remarkably flipped the expected horror script. Instead of portraying women as victims, it showed Jennifer seizing control, even if her power was monstrous. Beneath the gore and black comedy, the film offered a biting critique of patriarchal violence, objectification, and the sexual commodification of women. It was a horror movie that dared to center girlhood, female rage, female friendship, female agency, trauma, and survival which was a rarity for the genre at the time.

Sixteen years later, Jennifer's Body stands as a feminist cult classic. It was a film well ahead of its time in its bold subversion of horror and teen movie tropes.

Risky Business

Risky Business is a teen comedy, crime drama directed by Paul Brickman and starring Tom Cruise alongside Rebecca De Mornay. The film follows high school senior Joel Goodsen as he navigates a wild, risk-filled week home alone that spirals into unexpected territory after meeting Lana, a call girl.

The film is laced with coming-of-age themes including sexual awakening. Like The Graduate before it, and The Girl Next Door after it, Risky Business tapped into that same formula: the sheltered young man lured into an adult world he’s unprepared for.

There’s no denying that the movie captured the vibe of the '80s perfectly. The soundtrack was signature for its era, echoing the synth-heavy scores that defined so many teen films of the time. In its day, it must have felt edgy, cool, and even provocative—but by today’s standards, the script came off a little corny and unrealistic. Additionally, some of the tension and humor don’t quite land the way they probably did for audiences in 1983.

That said, the acting held up decently. Cruise brought an awkward charm to Joel, and Rebecca De Mornay’s Lana was smart and effortlessly cool, with a slightly detached air that made her all the more intriguing. Their chemistry was solid, but the performances weren’t enough to fully modernize the movie’s dated sensibilities.

Overall, Risky Business is a classic snapshot of '80s teen rebellion and fantasy, but it's more of a nostalgic relic now than a film that resonates on the same level today. Often hailed as Tom Cruise’s breakout role, and while the film certainly helped cement his place in Hollywood, watching it today reveals a movie that hasn’t aged as gracefully as some of its peers. If you’re a fan of the era or curious about Cruise’s early work, it’s worth a watch but keep your expectations low.

The Last Showgirl

 

The Last Showgirl, directed by Gia Coppola and starring Pamela Anderson, Dave Bautista, Jamie Lee Curtis, Billie Lourd, Brenda Song, and Kiernan Shipka, is a raw, intimate drama that peels back the glittering surface of Las Vegas to explore the emotional cost of aging in an industry that worships youth and novelty.

The plot unfolded as a unique slow burn, and directed with a gritty indie sensibility. Coppola did a great job capturing a looming sense of sadness and desperation, offering a thoughtful meditation on what happens when the spotlight fades.

I appreciated that the cast was female led with a wide variety of ages and ethnicities. The supporting cast, including Jamie Lee Curtis, Billie Lourd, Brenda Song, and Kiernan Shipka, all contributed to the layered depiction of a fading era and the people caught in its wake. The relationships in the film felt lived-in, complicated, and often unresolved, which added to the story’s emotional weight. At the heart of the story was Pamela Anderson’s incredible performance as Shelly Gardner, a seasoned showgirl whose entire identity is tethered to a revue that’s about to close after three decades. Anderson fully inhabited the role of a woman who is stuck in her ways, clinging to the world she knows as everything around her changes. Shelly’s stubbornness and judgment of modern life created emotional distance from those who she cared about her most, and it’s this fractured humanity that made the character so compelling. Anderson’s Golden Globe nomination felt absolutely earned. The portrayal of this character was some of her most vulnerable, career-defining work to date. Dave Bautista also shined as Eddie, the kind-hearted producer who brought surprising nuance to a role that could have easily been one-note. His quiet compassion balanced the more jagged edges of Shelly’s world, grounding the film in emotional honesty.

What really stood out was the film’s thoughtful exploration of aging in the entertainment industry, a topic rarely given this level of sensitivity. Much like The Wrestler (2008), The Last Showgirl understood the deep ache of a performer who no longer knows who they are when the curtain falls.

This isn’t a glitzy, feel-good Vegas movie. It’s raw, unflinching, and doesn’t rush to redemption, nor does it glamorize its setting. It shows the cost of staying in a role too long and the courage it takes to figure out who you are beyond the stage.

Rustin

 

Netflix’s docudrama Rustin focuses on Bayard Rustin, a key yet often overlooked leader of the American Civil Rights Movement. With standout performances from Colman Domingo, Chris Rock, and Glynn Turman, the film tells the story of Rustin’s steadfast fight for racial equality, human rights, and democracy. Despite his critical role, Rustin’s identity as an openly gay Black man led to his near erasure from the movement he helped shape.

 

I truly appreciated seeing Rustin’s story told so powerfully. This film did a great job giving him the spotlight he deserved. It was well-made and easy to follow, allowing the emotional and inspiring narrative to shine. A deeply moving film, especially in today’s political climate.

 

The film did an excellent job developing Rustin’s character, though I would have liked to see more development for the supporting cast. With that being said, Colman Domingo gave a fantastic performance, bringing Rustin to life with depth and authenticity. I was especially moved by how Rustin lived authentically, even when facing tremendous challenges and a lack of support from his own community. His perseverance and achievements left a lasting impact on history.

 

Rustin is a powerful film that feels especially meaningful during Pride Month. It serves as an essential reminder of resistance and resilience, offering valuable insights for everyone.

Blue Crush

Released in 2002, John Stockwell's Blue Crush dove into the world of professional surfing in Oahu, Hawaii, following three friends, Anne Marie, Eden, and Lena, who worked at a hotel resort and chased waves in their free time. Based on Susan Orlean's "Life's Swell," the film attempted to capture the thrill of the sport and the lives of those dedicated to it. The film stars Kate Bosworth, Michelle Rodriguez and Sanoe Lake, respectively.

The plot was genuinely engaging, offering an interesting narrative that kept me engaged throughout. However, the acting was often painful to watch. I feel like this is a common risk when filmmakers cast athletes to act, and unfortunately, it showed here. While Kate Bosworth's Anne Marie saw decent character development, the rest of the cast's characters felt underdeveloped, leaving me wanting more depth from their stories.

Visually, the film aged in some areas. The CGI, likely impressive for 2002, appeared somewhat dated on high-resolution televisions, revealing where improvements could be made. Another visual drawback was the cinematography choices. The film repeatedly cut to the same scene, as an attempt to emphasize a character's recurring thoughts. While the intent was clear, it became quite annoying and repetitive as there could have been more creative ways to convey internal struggles.

Despite being over two decades old, Blue Crush held up surprisingly well from a theme and messaging perspective. The film also featured a decent amount of diversity. However, one notable misstep was the portrayal of native Hawaiians as problematic or antagonistic figures, which was a disappointing and unnecessary creative choice.

Ultimately, Blue Crush offered a unique story with a strong central performance from Kate Bosworth. While it stumbled with some of its acting, aging CGI, and repetitive visual motifs, it still provided a fun, if flawed, look into the world of surfing, maintaining its cult classic relevance.

Sinners

 

Set in the 1930s American South, Ryan Coogler's Sinners is a gothic horror that follows twin brothers, played in dual roles by Michael B. Jordan, who return to their hometown seeking peace but instead uncover a sinister evil. 

The film unfolded methodically, prioritizing character development before its haunting plot fully emerged. Coogler masterfully employed symbolism, using blues music and the Southern gothic backdrop as potent metaphors for resistance. The score was intentionally evocative, underscoring the pain, beauty, and resilience of Black communities facing historical oppression. 

Filmed for IMAX, the vastness and depth of the land that sharecroppers toiled under during Jim Crow was strikingly apparent, adding another layer to the film's historical context. Deeply woven themes of racism, assimilation, cultural erasure through colonization, and spiritual resistance permeated the narrative, prompting viewers to confront the real-world horrors underlying the supernatural elements. Ultimately, the film's most profound terrors stemmed from the lived experiences of marginalized communities.

What truly elevated Sinners was Coogler’s continued commitment to representing the diversity of the Black experience. Black women were portrayed as complex, smart, strong, and sensual. There was also a deeply thoughtful depiction of cross-racial solidarity with Chinese characters, underscoring the shared resistance against white supremacy and systemic violence. It was a quiet but powerful narrative thread that added richness and relevance to the film's historical setting.

The casting was strong with a mixture of iconic veteran actors like Delroy Lindo and some newer to the scene actors. Jordan delivered one of his most nuanced performances to date. He was able to portray two distinctly different brothers who were the anchor to the film’s emotional core. His chemistry with Wunmi Mosaku added warmth to an otherwise ominous atmosphere, while newcomer Miles Caton stood out both as an actor and musician. His performance was soulful, adding a musical heartbeat to the film that tied beautifully into storytelling.

That said, I wasn’t a huge fan of how the villains were portrayed visually. Given the film’s heavy themes and emotional weight, I was hoping for a more frightening depiction of evil. While the concept behind them was strong, the execution lacked compared to what I’ve seen in other supernatural villain portrayals like Interview with the Vampire (TV series) or the Underworld film franchise. Those comparisons show just how terrifying and visually arresting supernatural antagonists can be when fully realized.

In the end, Sinners was a visually rich, emotionally powerful period horror with layered themes and standout performances. While the villains fell short of their potential visually, the film remained a unique and compelling entry in the genre.