1000 items found for your search. If no results were found please broaden your search.
Thirteen cold–pressed juices a day, every hour, on the hour. Five coffee enemas. Everything green, everything clean. No need for chemotherapy, surgery, or long, terrified stays in hospital rooms. If you’re just diligent enough, your cancer will go away.
Since President Donald Trump’s inauguration into office, several executive orders have been passed that either directly or indirectly target the transgender community. Tensions have begun to grow, as these orders have affected different corporations, companies, and other industries. Tertiary educational institutions have taken an especially large hit, as a more recent executive order has called for the dismantlement of LGBTQ+ policies. Trans lives are once again strongly endangered. Hate crime charges arespiking, and the current political landscape is becoming very similar to past movements of other historically marginalized people. But times and circumstances like these tend to produce impactful media centered around perseverance and connection within these affected communities. So far, 2025 has not disappointed.
There’s a problem with modern movies. Well, there are a lot of problems—terrible CGI, a general lack of trust in the audience, an unwillingness to take bold chances. There’s a lot that Hollywood needs to improve. There is, however, one problem that stands out above them all. One problem that makes older movies tower above the modern sensibility: Today’s directors have a fear of earnestness.
We pick up this week where we last left off, with Mark Scout and Reghabi in Mark’s garage directly after a reintegration flash. Mark is telling Reghabi about what he saw, and she tells him that she doesn’t know what exactly is going on, but clearly Gemma is “essential” to Lumon, and perhaps Mark should consider letting her speed up the reintegration process.
I watched Babygirl the way God (A24) intended—through some grainy, shaky, likely–illegal cam coverage. The latest entry in A24’s unhinged female protagonist cinematic universe, Babygirl isn’t a girlboss redemption arc or a carefully crafted feminist statement. It’s about a woman in free fall, clinging to whatever scraps of control and validation she can find. If the 2010s gave us the “cool girl” (Gone Girl) and 2020 gave us “girlboss” (Promising Young Woman), we are now deep into feral goblin woman cinema, where the messiness is not just emotional but physical, visceral, and deeply uncomfortable.
As of a few days ago, Down with Love, 2003’s overlooked masterpiece of a rom–com, has become my most rewatched movie. This recent addition to the Criterion Channel is a perfect picture, and that’s no exaggeration. Or, well, maybe it might be, just a little. It would have been even better were it a musical, and it’s shocking that it isn’t, considering it stars Renée Zellweger straight off the heels of Chicago, and Ewan McGregor fresh from Moulin Rouge!.
'Trojan Horse' begins with some ominous whistling. A man is taking a cart to the export hall, and The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald is setting the tone for the rest of the episode.
The episode kicks off with that dolly zoom that we’ve all come to know and love, flipping a switch on Irving Bailiff and turning him into Irving B.
I’m only being a little dramatic when I say that Severance should get an Emmy for best editing for the last two minutes of season two, episode three alone.
The second episode answers some of my questions, and asks a lot more. It kicks off right where the first season ended, with Mark interrupting a book party his sister, Devon (Jen Tullock), and his brother–in–law, Ricken, were hosting, shouting that Gemma is alive.
A little while back, I got the chance to write 8,000 words worth of a recap of a television show that tackled corporate greed, the liminality of living in a cold, small town, and the most complicated love square known to man, all while being gorgeously lit and creatively shot. But now that Riverdale has gone on to the great Chock’lit Shoppe in the sky, I need to get my fix of those things somewhere else.
Awards shows care about being cared about.
The first month of 2025 brought with it several powerhouse releases for rap. In the mainstream, there was the hauntingly brilliant Mac Miller album Balloonerism, and in abstract and conscious rap, a few big(ish) names showed up with some of their best projects to date. Notably, MIKE’s psychedelically resonant Showbiz!, Ghais Guevara’s densely conceptual Goyard Ibn Said, and Pink Siifu’s industrial odyssey Black'!Antique (a wildly invigorating record that has me thinking society’s progressed way past the need for JPEGMAFIA) were releases to celebrate.
The bright hues emanating from your laptop light up your dark living room, casting highlights across your face. After ten minutes of browsing Netflix, you finally choose a new show to binge–watch over the weekend. As you cozy into the couch, your phone vibrates. A Snapchat notification pops up and as you start to reply to your friends, a two–minute distraction slowly transforms into four episodes’ worth of scrolling, replying, and messaging. But the catch? You haven’t missed anything that is happening on the show.
If seasons one and two of The Sex Lives of College Girls were a long term relationship, Season Three is a series of meaningless hookups after a life changing breakup. The show follows four roommates—Bela, Leighton, Kimberly, and Whitney—as they navigate their first few years at a fictional Ivy League–esque college. It was announced in July 2023 that singer and actress Renée Rapp, who plays Leighton in the show, would be limitedly featured in season three with an eventual departure from the show. This prompted significant outrage from fans, who see her as the most compelling storyline and are sad to lose the queer representation.
Although it is still early in the year, I can hardly wait for summer. The frigid winds are traded in for cooling breezes, long days spent in classrooms turn into beach days that extend from sunrise to sunset, and the television series that stream year–round are replaced by seasonally topical content. One of the most anticipated releases this summer happens to be Season Three of the guilty–pleasure romantic comedy show The Summer I Turned Pretty: a show about friendship, coming of age, and a teenage love triangle that leaves audience members on the edges of their seats.
In a small mall in Brazil, a movie theater buzzes with life as a long line snakes past the popcorn stand, the ticket office, and all the way out to the theater's exit. Among the crowd, teenagers stand side by side with their grandparents—groups rarely drawn together by modern films. But the 2024 Oscar–nominated drama I'm Still Here has become a unifying force in Brazilian cinema, a phenomenon the country hasn't seen in years.
Abel Tesfaye has spent the last five years making highly thematic albums, revealing to us the inner workings of his hedonistic, dark The Weeknd persona. His last two projects—After Hours and Dawn FM—contained highly visual, conceptual imagery, and leaned into this focus, featuring cinema–inspired narratives that slowly depicted The Weeknd's inevitable descent into madness. Regarding After Hours, The Weeknd’s costume designer Patrick Henry, more popularly known as “Fresh,” told Billboard, “When he did this, it wasn’t just Abel anymore. He created a persona and took this guy through a whole experience.” Dawn FM picked up where After Hours left off—inserting The Weeknd into a state of purgatory, followed by a journey towards escape. Hurry Up Tomorrow is the light at the end of this tunnel, offering the same immersive experience. Announcing this album as his last as The Weeknd, Tesfaye lets this infamous persona take his last breaths in Hurry Up Tomorrow. But one question remains: Just how great of a finale is this?
My Street friends know that I am an Emilia Pérez apologist. Well. Maybe just a non–hater. Despite the mediocre soundtrack and colossal insanity of Jacques Audiard’s vision, the concept and performances and chaos just work for me. That being said, I don’t think it deserves anything close to a repeat of its run at the Golden Globes; I’d happily give it Best Editing, maybe Cinematography. Best Actress? Let Demi Moore have her Globe, but Sean Baker didn’t write the character of Anora with Mikey Madison in mind for nothing, so please lock in for me, Oscars judges. I will most likely want Best Director for Baker too, while we’re at it. Jeremy Strong was snubbed Best Supporting at the Globes, so I hope he gets it this time for his masterful and almost—but not quite—sympathetic portrayal of Roy Cohn. The Apprentice being snubbed so hard in general was surprising to me; it’s a great film and obviously topical for the year it was released. And it seems like watching The Brutalist, A Real Pain, and Conclave has become my homework before March, so for now, jury’s still out on Best Picture. My little Anora heart might still pull for it, though.
It’s never been easy to put Steven Soderbergh neatly into a box. From his extremely varied filmography to his incredible yearly culture diaries that document all the media he consumes year–by–year, Soderbergh has always been one of the most unique figures in Hollywood. With the release of Presence, his 35th(!) feature film, Soderbergh proves he’s still as vital an auteur as ever.
Solutions by The State News