There are movies that catch you off guard—not because of a shocking twist or groundbreaking visuals, but because they deliver an experience you didn’t know you needed. K-Pop Demon Hunters is exactly that kind of film. Going in, I wasn’t a K-pop fan. In fact, I’ve never listened to a full K-pop track (save for BTS’ Dynamite) in my life. But within minutes, I was caught in the dazzling neon vortex of this movie, and by the end, I realized it had done something remarkable: it made me care deeply about three global pop stars who moonlight as defenders of humanity.

In the end, The Pickup feels like a decent weeknight watch rather than a must-see event. It’s carried more by the actors than the script or direction, with KeKe Palmer once again proving that even in a role written without much nuance, she can bring authenticity and heart. While not a disaster by any stretch, it’s a film that leaves you wishing its creative risks matched the talent of its cast. 

From the opening scene—where Neeson inexplicably dons a schoolgirl disguise to thwart a bank robbery—the film sets its frenetic, absurd tone. The jokes land with gleeful abandon: pratfalls, visual gags, meta-references that wink at fans, and a shameless dose of slapstick. The action sequences blur into comedic chaos—electric cars gone haywire, nightclub brawls, and a climactic emergency at a mixed martial arts match coincide with the unveiling of the film’s high-stakes tech villainy. It’s silly, absurd, full of momentum—and it works.

Under the direction of James Gunn and a screenplay he co-wrote, Superman delivers what feels like a new dawn for the DC Universe. David Corenswet plays Clark Kent/Superman with an earnest optimism and boy-scout charm that he infuses with real emotional depth. Rachel Brosnahan brings Lois Lane to life as sharp, driven, and thoroughly modern—and the chemistry between them crackles with real heat. Seriously, these two look and feel like they belong together, making this not just a good superhero movie, but a damn good movie overall—possibly the best of the year so far.

Ballerina maintains a thematic layer in the John Wick franchise—one where violence is not only physical but artistic. It explores how tradition, discipline, and tragedy shape a warrior. Ana de Armas delivers a performance brimming with precision and heart. The film stakes are smaller than a global super-villain showdown, but they feel intimate, lived-in, and compelling.

The film smartly doesn’t try to replicate the cartoon’s zany energy beat-for-beat. This is a more contemplative, grounded take. Some viewers may find the pacing slower, but that slowness gives space for quieter, more meaningful character beats. You feel Nani’s exhaustion. You feel Lilo’s isolation. You feel the weight of trying to hold a family together with duct tape and desperation.

Could it suffer from franchise familiarity? Sure. It borrows structural beats from team‑up films of the past. But this time, the Marvel machine feels intentional, not rote. There’s murder, betrayal, redemption, and even a psychological twist hinting at upcoming Avengers split arcs.

Slick, smart, and fueled by a powerhouse performance, G20 is exactly what you’d want from a modern political action thriller. It’s fast, fun, and anchored by one of the greatest living actors proving once again that there’s no role too large, no challenge too intense, and no genre she can’t conquer. Viola Davis isn’t just the President in G20—she’s the whole damn movie.

Quaid brings his full range to the role, flexing both his comic timing and increasingly impressive dramatic chops. Between Novocaine and his equally strong turn in Companion, he has somehow managed to dominate the first half of 2025 with two wildly different but equally captivating performances. In this film, he gets to be charming, goofy, vulnerable, and convincingly heroic, all without losing the character’s everyman appeal.

Set in a retro‑futuristic alternate‑1990s, The Electric State begins with a lonely orphaned teen driving across a desolate landscape alongside a mysterious robot in search of her long‑lost younger brother, with the help of a smuggler and his goofy mechanical sidekick. All the pieces are in place for an emotionally rich, odd‑couple road epic. Instead, what plays out is a visually polished, high‑budget spectacle that fails to ignite.

Netflix’s new miniseries Zero Day is a gripping and thought-provoking thriller that raises pressing questions about truth, control, and the very fabric of reality in an era dominated by conspiracy and uncertainty. At its core, the series forces viewers to examine whether the crises tearing the world apart are the work of external forces beyond our grasp, or whether we ourselves are complicit in their creation. It’s a timely, relevant, and unsettling watch that refuses to provide easy answers, making it one of the most compelling shows of the year.

What’s most frustrating is how Brave New World fails to justify its own existence. It doesn’t push the MCU forward. It doesn’t deepen the character of Sam Wilson in any significant way. And it certainly doesn’t offer anything we haven’t seen, multiple times, in earlier films. At this point, even the structure of these movies feels templated—there’s no spontaneity, no surprises, and no pulse.

Love Hurts—and so does sitting through it.

With two Oscar winners at its center, Ke Huy Quan and Ariana DeBose, this slick, high-concept action-romcom had every reason to work. On paper, it sounds like a pulpy thrill ride: a former criminal-turned-realtor gets pulled back into the life he thought he left behind when his old partner resurfaces with a cryptic warning, and his estranged, crime-lord brother shows up looking for blood. Throw in a romantic subplot, a ticking clock, and a few neon-lit fight scenes, and you’d expect something along the lines of Bullet Train or Nobody—punchy, playful, and packed with energy. Instead, Love Hurts is a flat, muddled mess that fails to deliver on any of its genre promises.

Companion is a sleek, unnerving sci-fi thriller that wears its themes on its sleeve while keeping its audience off balance from start to finish. With an ensemble cast led by Yellowjackets breakout Sophie Thatcher and Oscar winner Jack Quaid, the film unfolds like a high-tech morality play dressed as a cabin-in-the-woods mystery.

With stars like Reese Witherspoon and Will Ferrell leading the charge, You’re Cordially Invited sets the stage for what should be a crowd-pleasing, laugh-out-loud romantic comedy. Unfortunately, despite its high-profile cast and a fun premise, the film ends up being a forgettable and surprisingly flat experience that never lives up to its potential.

In its sophomore season, The Recruit finally seems to find its footing, delivering a sharper, more confident narrative that capitalizes on its strengths. After a promising but uneven debut season, the show has refined its tone, balancing action, humor, and suspense in a way that feels more natural. Season 2 is more unpredictable, more polished, and ultimately more engaging, making it a significant step up from its predecessor.

Directed by Lawrence Lamont and written by Syreeta Singleton, One of Them Days is a tightly paced, effortlessly funny buddy comedy that takes a familiar premise—a race against time to come up with rent money—and elevates it with sharp writing, electric performances, and genuine heart.

Seth Gordon’s Back In Action marks the return of Cameron Diaz to the big screen after a decade-long hiatus, alongside the ever-charismatic Jamie Foxx. The premise of the film is intriguing enough: Emily and Matt, former CIA spies who left the covert life behind to start a family, are thrust back into the dangerous world of espionage when their cover is blown. On paper, it has all the elements of a compelling action-comedy—high-stakes action, an emotionally resonant family angle, and two seasoned leads with undeniable chemistry. Unfortunately, the final product falls far short of its potential.

In Conclave, director Edward Berger crafts a masterful political thriller that unfolds within the Vatican's hallowed walls, blending the grandeur of faith with the suspense of power plays and secrets. Following the death of the Pope, Cardinal Lawrence (Ralph Fiennes) is thrust into the center of a high-stakes election to determine the next leader of the Catholic Church. However, as the conclave begins, Lawrence stumbles upon hidden truths about the deceased Pope that could not only derail the election but shake the very foundations of the Church itself.

Gia Coppola’s The Last Showgirl is an intriguing, intimate character study that captures the melancholy and resilience of reinvention. The film, centered on a seasoned showgirl grappling with the abrupt closure of her show’s 30-year run, is more than just a narrative about the end of a career. It’s a reflection on identity, purpose, and the inevitability of change. While the movie occasionally suffers from an unfocused narrative and a meandering pace, these aspects seem almost intentional, mirroring the disorientation of its central character.