Blacklight certainly delivers on entertaining the audience and gives us the Liam Neeson action thriller flick that we have loved since Taken in 2008. However, nearly fourteen years have passed since then and the Liam Neeson over protective father/special ops/Rambo type guy is beginning to wane just a little. 

Love You Like That begins in the coastal town of Seafront Sands, the kind of small Australian town where everyone knows each other’s business, and any change in routine, such as the news of a mysterious woman washing up on Mim Beach naked, can send the entire town into a whirlwind.

Brewing over the course of the late 1930s to early 1940s, Nightmare Alley exposes the selfish pursuit of profits created by the ego of those which prey upon the needy, and the desperation of those who have nothing to lose.

Earwig is like any insect, leaving your skin crawling more at the thought of it than what is actually physically present, though what is present proves undeniably sickening in its own right.

Take Chronicle, mix it with Village of the Damned, add a splash of Stranger Things, ground it with an almost social realist tone, and what do you get? The Innocents (Der uskyldige).

What starts off as a fairly cold and staid experience slowly but surely takes shape, each subtle curve of the narrative shaving what could be a much more generic film in the hands of a lesser filmmaker into something beautiful.

Benedetta balances its sexuality and violence with explorations of what those who seek power will do to get it, and what those in power will do to keep the peace, all set against the backdrop of the black plague.

Award-winning playwright Flick’s debut full-length play SLUTNIK™ explores a group of lesbian space cannibals, and if that three-word description doesn’t sell this play, I don’t know what will.

The Scary of Sixty-First, the feature directorial debut of Belarusian-American actress, filmmaker, and podcast host, Dasha Nekrasova, presents itself as two movies. It’s at once an earnest, self-important, mumblecore horror film about passive twenty-somethings being angry at the injustices of the world, or it’s a tongue-in-cheek parody of said pretentious low-budget horror films.

Belfast takes us on a walk down director Kenneth Branagh’s memory lane, telling the tale of an extraordinarily difficult and violent time in the history of Ireland through the innocent eyes of a child.

Lucy and Joshua are competitors more than they are colleagues, vying for the same promotion despite their respective personalities and brands of ambition. Despite their professional gripes, the mounting sexual tension between Lucy and Joshua eventuates in a full-fledged romance in and outside of the office.

Brother’s Keeper explores the tender relationship between Yusuf and Memo in a school environment as harsh and unforgiving as the snow-filled mountains they are stuck in.

Almodóvar effortlessly manages to create a complex narrative with two central characters that is still easy to follow, but does not offer to hold the audience’s hand, encouraging watchers to put the pieces together themselves, and possibly come to their own conclusions long before even the characters do.

No longer will we see silly Shaggy from Scooby Doo stabbing his friend before getting stabbed himself… No, no, no. Scream will make you squirm as the knife twists in each subsequent teen.

The story is of a group of scientists (lead by characters played by Leonardo DiCaprio & Jennifer Lawrence) who discover a large “planet-killer” comet is going to strike the earth in half a year, and the bureaucratic nightmare of trying to get the people in charge of the United States, and the world, to do something about it.

Although I’ll never get those 82 minutes back, I have no regrets at all, I’d even be willing to spend another 82 on a rewatch.

In short, Mikey, a washed-up porn star, abruptly turns up to his estranged wife’s house in his hometown of Texas, battered and bruised and with no baggage in tow.

When lasers fly from the Ghost Gun as the Ecto-1 shreds the shaking streets of Summerville, that’s when Afterlife shines brightest, with stunning practical effects instilling the same love of the original Ghostbusters appreciated immensely throughout Afterlife.

Licorice Pizza is a relatively plotless assortment of scenes, where around every corner lurks an inspired filmmaking flourish, often in what feels like a throwaway moment… whether it’s a perfect (and I mean perfect) soundtrack choice, or a genius series of cuts: all of a sudden you realise you’re seeing something magical.

Coen’s first directorial effort without brother Ethan couldn’t feel further from prior works like The Big Lebowski and Burn After Reading, but a tale told by an idiot this is not.