A Sexy Blog

There’s something irresistible about the clamor a movie like Us creates, like a distant siren, it lures you not just to watch, but to theorize, to fret, to explain yourself (or explain away the film’s shortcomings with a gesture at its “genius”). Jordan Peele’s sophomore feature has become one of those post-screening litmus tests: Did you see the twist coming? Did you catch all the “clues”? Congratulations, you’re either too clever or, more likely, you’re scrambling in the dark just as Peele wanted. Us is that rare horror film which, above all, wants to be iconic, and while it achieves a kind of feverish originality, it also proves that cleverness can be both a blessing and a curse.

There’s a peculiarly modern grandeur in the way The Two Popes pivots between the corridors of the Vatican and the haunted lamplight of Argentine history, but it’s not the stateliness of ancient marble: it’s the flicker of digital immediacy, the hum of a restless present intruding on institutional ritual. Director Fernando Meirelles takes a story marbled with centuries of doctrinal posturing and, with sly confidence, drapes it in the colors of both a Netflix true-crime doc and an old-master fresco. The contrast is invigorating, sometimes jarring—but rarely less than beautifully framed.

The Gangster, the Cop, the Devil offers a gripping exploration of the murky waters between good and evil through a riveting crime thriller narrative. Under the directorial guidance of Lee Won-tae, this 2019 South Korean film captivates with its action-packed sequences and thought-provoking themes. Based on a true story, it deftly weaves a web of intrigue and moral ambiguity that leaves viewers pondering who truly embodies the roles of the gangster, the cop, and the devil. This captivating ambiguity is the heart of the film, challenging the audience to navigate the morally gray areas inhabited by its characters.

As a professional assassin's retirement goes south thanks to an injured young woman, I walked into this film with trepidation, hoping to see a riveting tale unfold. What I received instead felt like a poorly executed school project, showcasing huge gaps in the storyline and timelines so inconsistent they rival the plot twists in a daytime soap opera.

I stumbled upon "The Gentlemen" somewhat accidentally, and it turned out to be a wonderfully pleasant surprise that had flown under my radar. Directed by Guy Ritchie, this film is a masterclass in storytelling, diving deep into the underworld.

For a decade and a half, Scott Adkins action movies have felt like the amuse-bouches of the genre: you don’t go for the movie itself, you go for that single, exquisite fight—brutal, fast, clean, then back to whatever sorry goulash the plot is serving up. But with Avengement, someone, glory of glories, has seen sense and decided to cook the entire meal out of pure, red-blooded Adkins. It’s as if The Raid was adopted by Guy Ritchie’s least photogenic cousins and stranded in the back room of a decrepit British pub. The miracle? It works, start to finish—genuine, knuckle-bruising working-class catharsis.