Coleman Spilde

Photo Illustration by Thomas Levinson/The Daily Beast/A24MaXXXine, the final film in Ti West’s bloody-brilliant X trilogy, has a lot riding on it. X was not only a smash success that made its $1 million budget back 15 times over, but it also drew a cult following of devoted fans, eager to watch the trilogy’s shining star Mia Goth slash, smash, and gnash her way through the franchise. Its prequel, Pearl—shot immediately after X in New Zealand during COVID-19 lockdowns, and kept secret until the first film’s release—made an even bigger splash. A smaller cast and more focused story made Goth that film’s undeniable star, and made Pearl the rare horror villain who was as iconic as she was sympathetic.The success of the X trilogy’s first two installments has increased the weight of expectation on MaXXXine (which opens in theaters July 5), particularly since third films in a series don’t always land well. Happily, any foreboding inspired by the likes of Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines or Spider-Man 3 quickly dissipates once West and Goth settle back into their director-muse relationship.A scuzzy tribute to grainy ’70s porno and slashers, X introduced us to Goth’s Maxine Minx, an aspiring superstar trying to use the burgeoning adult home video industry to launch her career, only to have her dreams destroyed by a murderous granny. With Pearl, West thrust audiences back into the Technicolor films of the 1930s to show us Grandma Pearl’s harrowing origins. And in MaXXXine, West finishes his story by catching up with Maxine six years after the events of X, which ended with its final girl peeling out from a farmhouse full of dead bodies straight toward Hollywood’s glowing limelight.Read more at The Daily Beast.

TIFFVampires have problems too. Sure, they’re ruthless, fiendish, bloodsucking creatures of the night. But just because they’re immortal doesn’t mean that vampires are born without hearts—just that those hearts don’t “beat” in the traditional sense! Reconciling fangs with friendliness is the problem young vamp Sasha (Sara Montpetit) faces in director Ariane Louis-Seize’s feature-length debut, Humanist Vampire Seeking Consenting Suicidal Person, a highly original take on the vampire subgenre in theaters June 21.If you’re intimidated by a title that reads more like a song by The 1975 than a film, worry not: Humanist Vampire is anything but long-winded. Louis-Seize’s film is an inviting coming-of-age tale about how a vampire gets by when she’s not inclined to kill. Sasha’s pacifist ways go against those of her undead clan—a kooky bunch of relatives that feels like a modern, very French version of the Addams Family—much to the disappointment of her mother, Georgette. (Sophie Cadieux). As if teenage girls didn’t have complicated relationships with their mothers as it is, Georgette gives Sasha a very uncool ultimatum: Start killing or move out.Louis-Seize, who also co-wrote the film alongside Christine Doyon, approaches all of this with a delightfully dry humor, reminiscent of Wes Anderson’s best works. Her direction is unassuming and aloof, giving the movie an air of coolness that other filmmakers bog themselves down trying too hard to conjure. Montpetit’s performance as Sasha is a big credit to that seemingly effortless confidence. With her blunt black bangs and cozy costuming, Montpetit looks poised to take over mood boards and TikTok feeds the second a chill hits the air. (Only a decade ago, this movie would have been a Tumblr staple.) An eye for style and a mind for wit keep Humanist Vampire Seeking Consenting Suicidal Person from falling prey to the tropes of tawdry vampire movies of late. It may be the chic, new twist this subgenre has needed to wake it from the dead.Read more at The Daily Beast.

Photo Illustration by Erin O’Flynn/The Daily Beast/Xenon PicturesDo you know what you’re doing for Jackie Washington Day next month? You know, July 15, Jackie Washington Day! It’s the annual holiday that celebrates legendary music superstar Jackie Washington, singer of such unforgettable hits as “Wednesday Night Fever,” “Love Goddess,” and “Take Your Jeri Curl and Go.”On second thought: Maybe it’s better if you don’t have any plans. After all, people are known to randomly drop dead on Jackie Washington Day.At least that’s the popular consensus among the procession of talking heads in Jackie’s Back, the brilliant yet under-the-radar 1999 mockumentary starring Jennifer Lewis as the titular diva, Jackie Washington. Directed by the great Robert Townsend, Jackie’s Back was originally released as a TV movie on Lifetime in June of 1999. That means that the film is celebrating its 25th anniversary this year, and given that the film is now also streaming entirely for free (with a few ads) on Tubi, there has never been a better time to heap praise on this little-seen gem.Read more at The Daily Beast.

Tribeca Film FestivalAfter the sun-drenched disappointment of Colin Farrell’s Sugar, it’s nice to see a Los Angeles-set neo-noir that manages not to squander its simple premise. When a genre offering can buck convention, all the better; but there’s pleasure in giving in to the formulaic familiarity of a little low-stakes crime carried out by shady characters. In veteran television director Jeffrey Reiner’s film Lake George, which premiered at the 2024 Tribeca Film Festival, Reiner uses the audience’s intimacy with L.A. noir to his advantage. The writer-director beefs up his characters beyond the archetypical thugs and cons to create a film that rests firmly on its actors’ backs—occasionally to its detriment.Reiner is quite good at framing his antihero, Don (Shea Whigham), in a bath of natural California light, and letting Whigham take it from there. Don’s just out of a decade-long stint in prison, and when his ex-wife doesn’t answer the phone, his only choice is to call up his old buddy Armen (Glenn Fleshler) and hope that he’ll be willing to make good on some debts to Don. In prickly situations like these, nothing’s ever as easy as it should be. Armen agrees to pay his debts to Don if Don does him a favor first by killing his girlfriend, Phyllis (Carrie Coon). It’s less of a suggestion than a demand, and Don is quickly pulled back into Armen’s world of low-level crime schemes—the kind that set you up in a Glendale McMansion instead of a sweet Beverly Hills pad.What follows is a conventional yet perfectly fun neo-noir that doubles as a road trip movie across southern California after Don kidnaps Phyllis and gets more than he bargained for. Reiner gets to the meat of the story without any fuss, and though some might find his style of writing predictable, it benefits Lake George’s modest premise. He finds a reliable star in Whigham, whose pliant character acting once again fits the mold perfectly. But it’s Coon who runs away with the film. As Phyllis, she’s caustic and just unpredictable enough to keep Reiner’s material consistently engaging, elevating Lake George from a substandard neo-noir to a darkly funny and fresh take on the genre.Read more at The Daily Beast.

Courtesy of Tribeca Film FestivalAre you really an adult if you haven’t couch-surfed for at least a brief period of your life? The vagabond in me, who once slept on his friend’s pull-out sofa for a month between apartments, would say no. Bed-hopping from place to place builds character, instills grit, and makes you tenacious! But the real truth is that no one enjoys taking advantage of someone else’s generosity, especially when it’s out of necessity.That is, unless you’re the boys of Rent Free, a delightfully caustic new indie comedy premiering at the 2024 Tribeca Film Festival. The film is all about trying to ride out a year of your twenties without paying for any of it. It’s a fantasy that sounds easy enough to make into a reality with a little perseverance, but one that’s much more difficult to bear than you realize once you’re actually in it. Besides debasing yourself to beg friends for a place to crash, it’s also emotionally and spiritually exhausting to not have a place to call your own.That’s the feeling that Ben (Jacob Roberts) and Jordan (David Treviño), the two best friends at the film’s core, eventually find themselves entrenched in, after their initial excitement about their plan begins to sour. Jordan and Ben have been close for 15 years, and it’s that closeness that makes the both of them think they can successfully go an entire calendar year without paying rent. If they can avoid a proper lease, and pick up enough odd jobs, they might even be able to save up for a big move from Austin to New York. Such a laborious plan causes an inevitable strain on their relationship, one that could easily grow trite in the wrong hands. But writer-director Fernando Andrés graceful touch makes Ben and Jordan’s bond feel special. That distinct perspective and Andrés’ stylistic filmmaking turn Rent Free into an enjoyable—and bleakly relatable—journey through the unease of young adulthood.Read more at The Daily Beast.

Courtesy of Tribeca Film FestivalNew Yorkers know that living in the city comes with a certain amount of unavoidable noise. The construction, shouting, car horns, and bumping bass are obnoxious but relatively small concessions we make to live in the greatest city in the world. But it’s when that noise starts to creep into the home that things become an issue.When clamor and commotion leak into our living spaces, New Yorkers become even more acutely aware of how much money we’re doling out for rent each month—and don’t even get me started on the fact that you have to take out a small loan just to afford to eat a bowl of cereal. We remember all the subway delays, price hikes, and droplets of sweat that have fallen down our bodies just to get from one place to the next. Our modest apartments have to be the one place where we can forget about all of New York’s worst parts, and that’s a near-impossible task when someone else’s noise makes it impossible to relax.That dreadful anxiety is drolly recreated in writer-director Rachel Wolther’s debut feature The French Italian, which had its world premiere at this year’s Tribeca Film Festival. When Upper West Side yuppie couple Valerie (Cat Cohen) and Doug (Aristotle Athari) find their peace and quiet disturbed by their downstairs neighbor’s new girlfriend, Mary (Chloe Cherry), they’re curious about the situation. They’ve barely even seen Mary’s boyfriend, let alone heard him. But once Mary moves in, glass bongs go flying, backyard arguments echo through the windows, and all-day karaoke becomes the new norm. If all of this weren’t obnoxious enough already, the 200-year-old brownstone that everyone lives in has zero insulation, making every last off-key high note feel like it’s coming from inside Val and Doug’s bedroom.Read more at The Daily Beast.

Roadside AttractionsEach summer, I am left chasing a high that is increasingly difficult to reach, and that high would be a little thing called “seeing matinees at 3 p.m. and walking outside afterward to feel the warmth of the sun on your skin.”You might be thinking: “That’s easy enough: Just buy a ticket to an afternoon movie.” But that’s where you’re wrong. For this sweet summer sensation to reach maximum bliss, you must see a movie that is neither bad nor particularly good. If the film has little to no emotional impact on you at all, even better! To amplify the effect of the sun’s rays after spending two hours in a dark movie theater, one has to select a movie that is so completely inconsequential that emerging from it makes existence all the more pleasurable. Recent examples include Minions: The Rise of Gru, Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris, Where’d You Go, Bernadette—you get the idea.This summer, we’re kicking the chase off early with Summer Camp, Castille Landon’s entry into the ever-developing GCU (Granny Cinematic Universe). The film stars Diane Keaton, Alfre Woodard, and Kathy Bates as three former childhood best friends, who forged a close friendship at a sleepaway camp over many seasons, only to slowly lose touch as the decades passed. As luck would have it, their beloved home away from home is having a member reunion, and it’s the perfect chance to get the band back together.Read more at The Daily Beast.

Darko Sikman/HuluThere are many things about Under the Bridge, Hulu’s devastating limited series that chronicles the period surrounding the brutal 1997 murder of Canadian teenager Reena Virk (played in the show by Vritika Gupta), that have stayed with me during its airing. Its depiction of adolescence as a long, tumultuous road that eventually reaches an obscured fork is riveting. Then there are the kids involved in the crime, barely old enough to have a learner’s permit, who make microscopic, rash decisions that will alter their entire lives just to take someone else’s from this world. These teenagers, played by a cast of gifted newcomers, entwine a sense of suffocating dread throughout the show. It’s hard to watch, but that’s the point: If it’s difficult just to observe this semi-fictionalized retelling, it was horror to endure it.But amidst all that repugnance, what I really can’t seem to shake is one awful term: “Bic girls.” The phrase is a nickname for the young, troubled girls of Victoria, British Columbia, coined by members of the local police force like Cam (Lily Gladstone) and repeatedly used by area residents. “Bic girls” references Bic lighters, the cheap drugstore brand, known for being as easy to get your hands on as they are disposable. While it doesn’t excuse their actions, it’s clear to see how the young girls involved in Reena’s murder could feel unloved, their isolation colliding with adolescent hormones to turn into a violent rage. To say it’s dark would be putting it mildly.Despite all the murkiness that fills its first seven episodes, there is light at the end of Under the Bridge. In its eighth and final episode, the series comes to a stunning close, unwilling to relent on its unsettling atmosphere, but giving some grace to the beleaguered hearts at its center. While it’s interesting to watch Cam reconcile with the disconnect between her Indigenous identity and her occupation—and how she closes the chapter with her old friend, writer Rebecca Godfrey (Riley Keough)—it’s Archie Panjabi as Reena’s mother, Suman, who steals the show. Struggling to wade through her despondency after the death of her daughter, Suman finds a path forward through radical forgiveness, and Panjabi’s quietly affecting performance leads Under the Bridge to an ending more haunting than anything in its first seven episodes.Read more at The Daily Beast.

NetflixThere are roughly 47,000—oh, wait, a new Netflix Original just dropped; make that 47,001—TV shows and movies coming out each week. At Obsessed, we consider it our social duty to help you see the best and skip the rest.We’ve already got a variety of in-depth, exclusive coverage on all of your streaming favorites and new releases, but sometimes what you’re looking for is a simple Do or Don’t. That’s why we created See/Skip, to tell you exactly what our writers think you should See and what you can Skip from the past week’s crowded entertainment landscape.Skip: AtlasRead more at The Daily Beast.

SonyLasagna is not healthy. You can hear the sound of hundreds of meat tenderizers slapping the palms of some angry Italian hands right now, but it’s true. Even a cat like Garfield, who adores lasagna, is acutely aware of this. But much like pulling the blanket back over his head after his Monday morning alarm goes off, chowing down on lasagna is one thing that the plump orange tabby is reluctant to give up. I’m not a veterinarian (too sad), but all that saturated fat can’t be good for him!Perhaps that’s why, in The Garfield Movie, Garfield is trying to cut back on his cholesterol and fats. Yet, it’s hammered over the viewers’ heads from the opening scene that this stout little guy still loves his baked pasta, so much so that he can’t stop maxing out his owner Jon Arbuckle’s credit card to place delivery orders. That’s why, when Garfield saddles up next to a big bag of cheddar-flavored Popchips—a “healthier choice” snack that, here, is computer-animated with truly disturbing photorealism—everything we know and love about Garfield is thrown out of whack.This glaring example of brand sponsorship is just one of many in The Garfield Movie, plunked into one of this lazy feline’s most generic outings yet. It’s almost as if the producers and Sony Pictures, the distributor behind the film, hoped these disappointing cash grabs might somehow ground the movie’s story more firmly in our reality. In a way, that’s true: Our existence is more inundated with advertisements and branding than at any other point in history thanks to our phones being a direct portal to capitalist hell. But seeing this much product placement in a kid’s movie (and an animated one, no less) has the opposite effect. The Garfield Movie’s in-universe brand sponsorships sully what could have been a much more delightful film without them, and point to a grim future where art may not be able to reach the masses without commercial interruption.Read more at The Daily Beast.