Girls, Girls, Girls, Girls, He-Man and 3 Musical Dudes

SUPERGIRL| Warner Bros | Director Craig Gillespie |Writer Ana Nogueira

I always want female-led superhero movies to soar. We need more of them, not fewer. So I was rooting for SUPERGIRL from the moment the lights went down. In the end, though, it’s just entertaining enough.

Walking out of the theater, my immediate thought—which I’m sure I’m not alone in having—was: this is basically a female John Wick dropped into a Star Wars movie. It’s a galaxy-spanning revenge quest, with colorful alien worlds, bounty hunters, bar fights, oversized weapons, and enough interplanetary mayhem to make you think it’s going well, but mid-point I found myself saying this is missing something.

It’s not the fault of Milly Alcock, although she’s not quite as funny as her cameo in the end credits of SUPERMAN (2025) she’s still incredibly watchable. I love Kara’s perpetually disheveled look and her rough-around-the-edges, almost dude-ish demeanor. She’s not polished or eager to be anyone’s symbol of hope, and that’s an interesting contrast to Superman. I was disappointed to discover Alcock is Australian. I used to think it was charming whenever I learned an actor from Britain or Australia had nailed an American accent, but now I’m ready to ask: can we hire a few more American actors? Especially for something as quintessentially American as a superhero movie.

Where “Supergirl” stumbles is in its relationships. The film depends on Kara forming meaningful bonds with Ruthye Marye Knoll (Eve Ridley), while Lobo (Jason Momoa) injects some lovable chaos into the mix. Unfortunately, I never really felt that chemistry or sense of found family. Compare that with Superman (2025), where Clark’s relationships with Mister Terrific, Lois Lane, Green Lantern, Jimmy Olsen—even the delightfully unruly Krypto—created an infectious team dynamic. Here, Krypto mostly feels like a convenient plot device rather than the hilarious scene-stealer he was before.

Craig Gillespie gives the film a gritty, lived-in cosmic aesthetic that looks terrific on the big screen (I saw it in IMAX). The production design, visual effects, creature work, and alien environments create a believable universe that’s both grimy and grand, while the action sequences are kinetic enough to keep the revenge story moving. And yet, we’ll have forgotten this movie happened by August.

Rating: 3.5 Outta 5

GIRLS LIKE GIRLS| Focus Features | Director Hayley Kiyoko |
Based upon her Music Video

TEENAGE SEX AND DEATH AT CAMP MIASMA| Mubi|
Writer/Director Jane Schoenbrun

I’d somehow convinced myself that Writer/Director Jane Schoenbrun wasn’t for me. I skipped “I Saw the TV Glow” because it looked far creepier than my horror tolerance allows. But “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” felt more like an off-kilter slasher than outright horror, so I figured I could handle it. Turns out, it’s about as scary as a Boy Scout leader spinning ghost stories around a campfire. That’s not to say it’s tame – far from it.

The setup is deliciously meta. Camp Miasma is a long-running slasher franchise that’s churned out sequel after sequel over the last 25 years, but the brand has finally run out of steam. Think “Scream” after too many installments. The studio hires filmmaker Kris (a wonderfully dry Hannah Einbinder) to write and direct a gritty reboot. Kris has one condition: she wants the franchise’s original scream queen, Billy Presley (an absolutely fascinating Gillian Anderson), not just for a cameo but as her creative partner.

Billy, however, has become a full-blown Norma Desmond figure, hiding away in a cabin on the abandoned Camp Miasma filming location, speaking with an unexpected Dolly Parton drawl and treating the legacy of her one iconic role like sacred scripture. Watching Anderson chew through every eccentric line reading is reason enough to see the movie.

This film is layered with metaphor. I know there are currents about inhabiting the wrong body before transitioning that I probably didn’t fully grasp, and I’m sure repeat viewings would reveal even more. I did catch that the air vent headed killer’s name, “Little Death,” references the French phrase “la petite mort” – the poetic expression for orgasm – which tells you exactly the kind of symbolic playground Schoenbrun is inviting us into. The movie is overflowing with metaphor, innuendo, and subconscious longing.

Oddly enough, I enjoyed it most by not trying to decode every symbol. I met the story exactly where it wanted to meet me, on its own strange wavelength. There’s a point when Kris falls asleep in a motel, not far from the camp, the night before meeting Billy in person, and from then on the film drifts into such an uncanny dream state that I was never quite sure whether anything afterward was literally happening. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. Schoenbrun seems far less interested in answers than in emotional truths.

Visually, it’s wildly inventive, funny in unexpected places, and I can never resist a movie about making a movie. It’s a loving satire of franchise filmmaking wrapped inside an existential fever dream, equal parts slasher spoof, industry commentary, and psychosexual fairy tale.

Still, by the time the credits rolled, my only coherent thought was: All that… for an orgasm?

IS GOD IS| Amazon MGM Studios|
Writer/Director Aleshea Harris

Part revenge western, part dark fairytale, part psychological horror — Writer/Director Aleshea Harris‘ adaptation of her incendiary stage play simmers with generational rage and trauma. From the opening moments, the story radiates danger. Not just violence, but emotional danger. That constant unease becomes one of the film’s greatest strengths.

Twin sisters Racine and Anaia, scarred physically and emotionally from a childhood fire allegedly caused by their father, are sent on a mission of vengeance by their dying mother (Vivica A. Fox). But this isn’t a straightforward revenge tale. Harris layers the narrative with surreal flourishes and stylized storytelling choices that elevate the material beyond genre conventions. Characters drift into the film like cautionary folklore figures. No one can bring a cameo to life like Erika Alexander. While the use of graphics to signal the twins’ telepathic communication gives the movie an off-kilter, hypnotic rhythm. Even the decision not to fully reveal the father’s (Sterling K. Brown) face, turns him into something more monstrous than human — a looming embodiment of inherited pain and terror.

What fascinated me most was the inversion of physicality and temperament between the siblings. Kara Young, whom I previously only associated with her acclaimed Broadway work and Tony wins, delivers a ferocious performance as the smaller, sharper-edged Racine. She’s all coiled fury and survival instinct. Meanwhile, the physically larger Anaia, played beautifully by Mallori Johnson, emerges as the gentler, more emotionally vulnerable spirit. Harris cleverly mirrors this dynamic again with the half-brothers they encounter, creating an ongoing meditation on masculinity, femininity, strength, and perception.

One of the film’s most haunting details is that as adults, years after the fire, the twins still feel the burn of their charred flesh, cooling one another nightly with ice cubes. It’s such a visceral metaphor for unresolved trauma — pain that never fully heals, only temporarily soothed. Harris never lets the audience forget that revenge is rooted in suffering that remains physically alive inside them.

The film reminded me somewhat of “The Silent Twins” (2022) in its stylization and exploration of sibling psychology, but “Is God Is” feels far more daring and cohesive in its writing. Harris has a sharper command of tone, balancing brutality, absurdity, humor, and poetry without losing narrative momentum.

This storytelling keeps the audience emotionally unsteady and completely locked in, lingering like a scar — strange, painful, and impossible to stop touching.

MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE| Amazon MGM Studios|
Director Travis Knight
Writers Chris Butler, Aaron Nee, David Callaham

POWER BALLAD| Lionsgate| Co-Writer/Director John Carney
Co-Writer Peter McDonald

John Carney has spent most of his career making movies about the magic of music (Once, Sing Street, Begin Again, Flora and Son) and now “Power Ballad” might be his most crowd-pleasing entry yet. The film hinges on a genuinely maddening situation that makes you want to scream on behalf of Rick Power (Paul Rudd) the lead singer of an Irish Wedding Band called The Bride and Groove. He shares a song he’s been writing for years, which gets pilfered and rises to the top of the charts, giving him no credit whatsoever.

Carney does such a good job of putting the audience in Rick’s shoes that every dismissal, every accusation, and every moment of doubt from his inner circle and from the music industry, feels personal. I gotta admit I was so mad when his own wife and daughter didn’t have his back – that when they got a little banged up in a car accident, I said aloud in the theater “That’s what you get”.

Rudd, as usual, is adorable – bringing both frustration and vulnerability to a character who can’t quite believe the world is this cut throat.

Then there’s Sandy (Peter McDonald), Rick’s ride-or-die bandmate and best friend, who absolutely steals every scene he’s in. The man is a hoot. Give him a spinoff. Give him a prequel. Give him a mockumentary. I would watch all of it.

Nick Jonas is equally strong as Danny Wilson, a former boy band member who had brief success as a solo artist, but now needs a hit to maintain his lifestyle. Some of this journey mirrors enough of Jonas’ own career that his performance never feels manufactured. His scenes have an authenticity that only comes from someone who understands both the highs and the hidden costs of fame.

And speaking of authenticity, “How to Write a Song (Without You)” is an absolute earworm. It’s the kind of soaring, emotional ballad that follows you out of the theater. I wouldn’t be surprised if it experienced a trajectory similar to Lady Gaga’s “Shallow” from A Star Is Born and took on a life of its own beyond the movie.

What surprised me most, though, is how well “Power Ballad” expresses its theme – beneath the laughs and catchy songs is a thoughtful meditation on stardom – both the exhausting fight to get there and the relentless pressure to stay there once you’ve arrived. It’s also about sacrifice: what you’re willing to give up to pursue your dream, and whether changing that dream might be just as meaningful.

John Carney still knows exactly how to make audiences fall in love with music—and the people chasing it.

Rating: 4 outta 5

MICHAEL| Lionsgate| Director Antoine Fuqua | Writer John Logan

There’s a difference between a tribute and a portrait, and Michael, directed by Antoine Fuqua, never quite decides which one it wants to be. Having previously defended the stage-bound euphoria of “MJ the Musical”, a production that wisely leaned into spectacle and celebrated the catalog, I came into this film expecting something deeper—less concert, more excavation. Instead, Michael often feels like a beautifully staged Wikipedia entry, hitting the familiar beats of Michael Jackson’s life without interrogating them. For those of us who lived through the phenomenon, there’s not much new here; for younger audiences, who watch his videos on YouTube, but don’t know the bio beats, it serves in that capacity.

The absence of key family figures – Janet and Rebbie Jackson is distracting and never addressed, leaving the Jackson family dynamic feeling oddly incomplete. Even among the brothers, Jermaine, Jackie, Tito, Marlon, Randy, they are basically indistinguishable background actors. There’s a lack of texture—no real exploration of rivalry, resentment, or even camaraderie. A standout poolside scene, where Michael quips about “channeling” songs before the Universe might send them to Prince, cheekily nods to the two pop-stars legendary rivalry, but it’s also one of the few moments that hints at a richer, more complicated inner life. Or a life of celebrity among celebrities.

Performance-wise, the film finds firmer footing. Nia Long brings a gentle authenticity to the Matriarch “Mother” Katherine Jackson, Long perfecting a high-toned, soft-spoken vocal pattern. While Colman Domingo is nearly unrecognizable as Joseph Jackson—he plays him less crazy angry then I’ve seen Joe Jackson portrayed other times. This Joseph is very calculating, he talks a good game about the importance of family, but it’s control that feeds him.

Meanwhile, Laura Harrier’s Suzanne de Passe is frustratingly underwritten, reduced to little more than a background presence despite her real-life significance to the Jackson 5’s rise.

The film also shortchanges one of the most crucial creative partnerships in pop history. Quincy Jones, the architect behind Thriller’s sonic brilliance, is given surprisingly little space. While Michael’s genius is never in question, the absence of a deeper dive into their collaboration feels like a missed opportunity to demystify the making of something truly everlasting.

One of the film’s more questionable liberties is the introduction of a composite bodyguard character (played by KeiLyn Durrel Jones), seemingly inspired by head of security figures like Bill Bray (1971-1996) and Bill Whitfield (2006-2009). While dramatically functional—giving Michael someone to confide in—it carries a faint whiff of invention that doesn’t fully sit right with me.

Still, when Michael locks into performance mode, it soars! The recreations of iconic videos, stage moments, and wardrobe are meticulously crafted, delivering the kind of visceral thrill fans crave. Jaafar Jackson, stepping into the impossible role of his uncle, does admirable work. He captures the physicality and essence without slipping into caricature. No one can replicate Michael’s singular charisma, but Jaafar offers something close enough to feel like a loving echo rather than a hollow impersonation.

Ultimately, Michael operates best as a celebration of music, of legacy, of myth. Like its Broadway counterpart, it invites audiences to bask in the glow rather than question the source. But for those of us who lived through the mania, it feels like a story that’s still waiting to be fully told.  Rating: 3.5 Outta 5