A Sexy Blog

The first jolt of The Founder isn’t the sizzle of a burger hitting the griddle; it’s the smack of Michael Keaton walking into the frame like capitalism’s answer to a grinning shark. Keaton, who’s been on a late-career tear ever since Birdman, doesn’t merely play Ray Kroc; he seems to inhale him, then exhale an all-American fog of hustle, charm, and predation. If Daniel Day-Lewis gave us petroleum-slick ambition in There Will Be Blood and Jesse Eisenberg did the hoodie-clad math in The Social Network, Keaton supplies the ketchup-red swagger: a salesman’s smile that curdles, scene by scene, into something closer to manifest destiny with a milkshake machine.

It’s not often that a movie about numbers—balance sheets, bonds, the recondite alphabet soup of the financial world—feels like it could blow the roof off a theater. But with The Big Short, director Adam McKay, nimbly adapting Michael Lewis, tries to do precisely that. The film announces its bravura intentions from the opening moments: this isn’t just a disaster movie about the 2008 financial collapse, it’s a corrosive, postmodern vaudeville—with the housing market falling apart, and the fourth wall shattering right alongside it.

After the garish, exhaust-spewing spectacle of most “political” thrillers, Steven Spielberg’s Munich arrives like a shock to the moral system—a slow-burning fever of a film, where triumph is measured not by body counts but by the corrosion of souls. Released in the long winter shadow of Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo, Munich isn’t content with the easy uplift of righteous action. No, Spielberg has something far more unsettling in mind: he gives us the nightmare of retaliation—personal, national, and ultimately, existential—and then refuses to wake us up.

September 5 arrives on the screen as an urgent, bracing slab of historical drama—a kind of fevered docudrama pitched somewhere between the fretful hum of a 1970s control room and the icy dread pressing in from the world outside. Tim Fehlbaum’s direction plunges us into the back corridors of catastrophe: the Munich massacre at the '72 Olympics is no longer simply a horror recalled, but a media spectacle in real-time, filtered through the sweating brows and moral agonies of ABC Sports. Not since Lumet thrust us behind the cameras in Network have we felt the pulse of crisis with such claustrophobic vitality—and with almost as much queasy self-examination.

In the realm of war films, few titles resonate with the visceral authenticity and emotional weight of Platoon. Released in 1986 and directed by Oliver Stone, the film stands as a powerful indictment of the Vietnam War, drawing not just on ideas of heroism and sacrifice but onto the deeper and darker questions of morality and human nature. Stone, a Vietnam veteran himself, infuses his narrative with personal experience, creating a poignant exploration of the psychological and emotional toll exacted upon soldiers. As audiences dive into the harrowing tales of Chris Taylor, portrayed by Charlie Sheen, and his fellow soldiers, they are compelled to confront the profoundly unsettling realities of warfare.

The cinematic experience that is Battle Over Britain—where expectations plummet so low that they might just reach the sub-basement of filmmaking standards. Released on Prime, this ambitious attempt to capture the relentless spirit of World War II aerial combat unfolds like a labor of love that’s had one too many boiling pots of water splashed on it. As it unveils its narrative of a fresh-faced young pilot eager to defend his homeland, audiences are left wondering if the filmmakers were equally determined to defend our senses from any semblance of quality.

How we love a good biopic, especially one centered around a character as illustrious as Vladimir Putin. Enter the cinematic catastrophe known as Putin, directed by Patryk Vega, a name that will surely join the ranks of legendary filmmakers—right next to Uwe Boll. Released on January 10, 2025, this film promised an exhilarating journey through the life of the iron-fisted ruler of Russia. Instead, it delivers a jumbled mess that is about as coherent as Putin's own policies. Bravo, Vega, for turning a once gripping narrative into a nonsensical exercise in confusion and disappointment. If you were looking for a mind-bending experience, you certainly got one—though I imagine insomnia will yield more fulfilling results.

“Killers of the Flower Moon” is a cinematic triumph that showcases the unparalleled talents of Martin Scorsese, who co-wrote and directed this ambitious film released in 2023. Based on David Grann’s riveting book, this epic anti-Western crime drama brings to light a dark chapter in American history, focusing on the chilling murders within the Osage Nation following the discovery of oil on their land in the 1920s.

Uberto Pasolini’s The Return brings a sumptuous and contemplative interpretation of the final chapters of Homer’s Odyssey. Starred by the incredible Ralph Fiennes as Odysseus and the mesmerizing Juliette Binoche as Penelope, this film walks the line between myth and human emotion, delivering a story that resonates deeply. As I settled down to watch this retelling, my anticipation was palpable, especially given the accomplished cast and the rich thematic foundation. What unfolds is a journey that, while artistically rich, carries both tremendous highs and noticeable pitfalls.

As I settled in to watch Small Things Like These, I was ready to be enveloped in a poignant narrative set against the backdrop of 1980s Ireland. The film’s premise, delving into the deeply troubling history of the Magdalene Laundries, along with a stellar cast led by the immensely talented Cillian Murphy, had me eager for an emotionally resonant experience.