50 Best Movies That Amazon Prime Has but Netflix Doesn’t

Filmmaking is a difficult thing. And there are countless filmmakers—the directors of this film included—who have strong ideas and just need the right time and support to have their vision realized. But there’s no other way around it: Colonials was not ready to leave the pre-production phase, much less ready to be released on streaming. Non-existent production values, embarrassing visuals, unfinished sound design that leaves most of the actors muffled and unintelligible, incoherent world building, dumb action, and terrible performances—there really isn’t anything worth checking out here. That the film has the gall to tease a potential sequel feels cruel.

Even before its characters get to Europe, Bawaal sets itself up as a truly ludicrous romantic comedy, completely unmoored from any common sense or internal logic, and with the most cartoonishly awful protagonist at its center. There isn’t a single convincing story idea here, from the way Ajay’s students learn from and idolize him despite his complete lack of teaching ability, to the way he treats his wife Nisha like dirt after learning she has epilepsy. Movies about scoundrels aren’t unwelcome, but it feels as if there hasn’t been any thought put into how Ajay views other people and the self-image he so desperately wants to protect—and even less thought seems to have been put into the hilariously shallow ways Ajay “earns” redemption by the end.

But then the characters get to Europe, and Bawaal inexplicably becomes a history lesson about the atrocities of World War II, which are briefly recreated in corny and at times tastelessly done fantasy sequences. The idea that these grown adults who have access to knowledge and pop culture are only now finding out that genocide is bad is nothing short of mind-numbing. Even worse is how Bawaal ignores every difficult and painful truth we’ve learned and continue to learn from World War II, and reduces so much suffering into a contrived moral lesson about how we should accept each other’s flaws and learn to forgive. No matter the efforts of its lead actors or the quality of the production values on display, the film just can’t overcome the bad taste it leaves in the mouth.

If you’re reading this, I can only assume you’re looking to hate-watch something laughably terrible with your friends. If that’s the case, then you’re in luck: this is the film. Like Mea Culpa before it, Tyler Perry’s Divorce in the Black is filled with caricatures, cliches, and just generally awful filmmaking. In one scene, to show the passage of time, Perry literally keeps the camera on the clock and fades it into the next hour. But also like Mea Culpa, Divorce in the Black features an otherwise great performance from its leading woman—in this case, it’s Meagan Good. Good lends her abused character more complexity than the film deserves. Like plenty of victims, she’s both afraid of and in love with her despicable husband, though the film, unfortunately, refuses to dive into that nuance and instead chalks everything up to bad and good, Christian and un-Christian. Neither domestic abuse nor general filmmaking is taken seriously here, so there’s no reason to give this film the time of day too.

Shockingly little happens throughout A Young Time Ago’s nearly two-hour runtime, and the little that does happen is all so poorly thought-out. As we’re introduced to protagonist Tayo at a bar, a woman whom he doesn’t know insists on hearing his love story—which turns out to be a story about how supernatural forces seem to have orchestrated the rape of the woman he once loved in school, and how a singer who was last seen with her tries to wash his hands of any suspicion (even if he thinks that he actually might’ve raped her anyway). It’s an already tasteless and nonsensical plot that leads nowhere. Characters talk vaguely about who’s to blame and how they can evade the fallout of the crime, while the survivor never really gets a voice or an opportunity to reclaim her control over what’s happened to her.

The performances are awkward at best and totally inauthentic at worst, often leading to unintentionally hilarious line readings. And the overall technical package, while not necessarily bad, is just so flat and lifeless that it becomes impossible to track the film’s emotional trajectory. And while we should consider ourselves fortunate to be able to see films from countries like Nigeria, which don’t normally get a boost from mainstream streamers, we should always remember that a film this ill-conceived shouldn’t represent the local industry it comes from.

I appreciate what Famous, the movie, tries to do with its small budget. To portray the wealthy and luxurious life Famous, the character, supposedly leads, the movie opts for clean minimalist designs and tasteful close-ups that don’t betray the scruffy studio it’s actually set in. And the music, produced by Friyie, provides a nice ambiance to Famous and Wayne’s fraught relationship. But those are the only good things you could say about this film; everything else is a flat-out mess. The story feels limp, the acting forced, the dialogue loaded with exposition, and the overall execution clunky. Also, tell me why doesn’t Famous rap even once in a movie centered around him? We’re constantly told that Famous is a celebrated rapper, but not once are we made privy to his skills. What was the reason? This choice, like pretty much everything about the movie, is just baffling.

There’s a unique boarding school charm in Melodate, as the philosophical Melody is able to turn the dorm around through the sheer force of her personality. It’s the type of charisma plenty of school girls would want, the kind that creates Queen Bees that can change the entire status quo, for better (by changing clearly dated rules) or for worse (by bringing her whole dorm to a bar). Therefore, her clear antagonist is dorm administrator Mrs. Rasti, who happens to be Melody’s boyfriend’s mom. To its credit, the film doesn’t demonize either Melody or Mrs. Rasti, and there’s an interesting exploration on how much freedom should these children have, and how much control parents and authorities should have over their kids, but the way these topics are handled are illogical, inorganic, and convoluted, especially when they add in Nadia’s storyline.

Ricky Stanicky has all the ingredients of a zany romp: an insane premise, a cast of well-oiled comedians, and most notably, a veteran of the game, Peter Farrelly (Dumb and Dumber, There’s Something About Mary), at the helm of it all. And yet Ricky Stanicky falls unbelievably flat. For starters, there is zero chemistry between the trio who we’re supposed to believe are lifelong friends. And despite his Rolodex of disguises, John Cena is a one-trick pony here who can’t carry this film on his own. The joke is that he’s big and scary but can act pretty soft, but it gets tiring eventually. If I were you, I’d save myself some time and watch this SNL skit where Emma Stone plays a serious actress hoping to make her big break in a porn video instead. It captures the essence of what Ricky Stanicky wants to be, but the difference is, it’s actually funny.

Like posters and stills of Space Cadet suggest, the film is cute and, occasionally, fun. Emma Roberts is bubbly and funny enough to carry the feature-length movie on her back, and the visuals, which are shock of Lisa Frank glittery pink, elevate an otherwise bland landscape. But the film doesn’t reach far enough into the sky to be the truly weird and out-there film it could be. Instead, it relies on implausible plot lines and go-girl messages to become yet another flatly inspiring film about how anyone can be anything if they just believed in themselves. Space Cadet proves that Legally Blone meets Apollo 11 has potential, but it’s not the film meant to land the idea home.

When a plot is centered around women learning about self-respect, it’s usually a cliche, but it can be a fun and harmless story that we can enjoy, if it has enough heart. Still Fabulous has this general plotline, with a raunchy twist in the form of a porn star guardian angel, but the way the film plays out just misses the mark. There are fun moments, but Maddalena doesn’t do the work to find the things about herself that she actually likes about herself, possibly because the film isn’t as interested in her as it is with Valentina Nappi. Instead, even when the message is to love and appreciate one’s body, they have a body double for the stunning Diana del Bufalo, and even when it’s pointed out to her how she depends on external validation, the film ends with a relationship to validate Maddalena. Pensati Sexy sabotages itself the same way Maddalena does.

You should know from the get-go that Cocoa is a wild farce that doesn’t take itself too seriously, and neither should you. The mafia, a wild scientist, and a giant clumsy dog somehow weave themselves into what initially seems to be just a story of two sisters selling pastries and bonding along the way. It goes in for multiple twists and turns, which on paper, sounds like a fun ride, but shoddy production value can only get you so far. After a few chuckles, the poor direction, elementary acting, and stilted editing all catch up on you, and Cocoa soon becomes the kind of movie you have to sit through and endure rather than breeze through. It’s great to put on if you have undiscerning kids around, but otherwise, this TV movie just doesn’t cut it. 

There’s a novel idea at the center of World’s First Christmas, but the film’s unfortunately takes it through the least interesting route available. There’s a rich opportunity here to unpack what the holiday season really means to people, or to poke fun at how this occasion for togetherness and celebration has been co-opted by corporations trying to make a buck. But the film never gets there, running through a series of occasionally funny scenarios only to end up becoming an unconvincing advertisement for Christmas as a consumer holiday. The main gag here is that everyone has been left miserable by the absence of Christmas, which is an idea that falls apart immediately once you start asking even the simplest questions about it.

There is a version of Moon Students that solely focuses on the students of color themselves, victims of racial profiling and injustice, instead of their white teacher and his overbearing white guilt. That would’ve been a slightly better movie to watch, but even then, Moon Students seems broken beyond repair. The film is riddled with technical blunders. The timeframe is confusing, the pacing is off, and the dialogue is unrealistic (and unintentionally funny, because what young person actually says, with full sincerity, “You know what time is it? Party time!”). The actors deserve credit for breathing a bit of life into a limp script, and the cinematography can be nice at times—fuzzy and hazy like an LA dream. But the film’s misguided sense of justice ultimately brings it down.

Five Blind Dates is a squeaky clean, hopelessly boring film pretending to be a raunchy romcom. Despite Lia (Shuang Hu) going on five (or four, really) dates, she doesn’t find real chemistry with any one of them. There’s no heat, no passion, no inane fun to be had, or reckless experimentation. It’s clear that what she’s after isn’t really love but a partner who accepts her traditional whims, which I guess counts as a happy ending if this were airing on Hallmark or any other wholesome TV channel. But it isn’t, and instead of embracing its true form—that is, family drama—it instead postures as a modern and exciting romcom, even though it contains zero spice.

To be fair, the film has its funny moments, and I do think the first date’s premise, while played for laughs, has the potential to spark an interesting discussion about our generation’s willingness to sacrifice intimacy for financial security. But the film doesn’t really go there, nor anywhere, and remains as stale and safe as can be.

Stories of forbidden love are captivating, because in the face of a lover, in the face of one’s opposite, one cannot help but be challenged, hopefully for the better. This is not what happened here. Out in the Dark is a film debut that takes this idea in the Middle East, with two gay lovers coming from Palestine and Israel. It’s an intriguing idea, and had it been more nuanced, Israeli director Michael Mayer would have created a daring first feature, but the film clearly comes from a limited Israeli perspective, with no Palestinians casted or working behind the scenes. While the film may be sympathetic to hypothetical LGBTQ+ people in Palestine, Out in the Dark doesn’t have the guts to question why they’ve been persecuted in the first place.

In TV and cinema, meeting your partner’s parents is a tried-and-tested formula that’s bound to generate relatable laughs. Meet the Parents, The Proposal, and Happiest Season are some modern classics that come to mind. Yet, French Girl fumbles this opportunity by peddling cliche after cliche with zero charm. Braff’s character is supposed to possess at least an inkling of likeability for us to root for him, but he can’t even manage that. His rival Ruby (Vanessa Hudgens) is so much more inviting that the film has to create a whole new evil arc for her in the third act to convince us to turn on her. This is all too bad because, beneath the rubble that is the film’s characters and plot lines, there is something true and endearing in the form of Sophie’s family. I wish we had more of those scenes because their interactions feel real and intimate. Unrestricted by formula and pressures to be funny, they soar.

There’s something genuine at the core of Jackpot that unfortunately gets lost in the movie’s violence, spectacle, and “humor,” which is that life has become so unlivable in America that resorting to a Purge-like scenario now seems more likely than receiving actual care and rights from the state. You can see it whenever Katie (Akwafina), a struggling actor, is given room to express her frustration and desperation. These moments, small as they are, feel real and relatable, and they recall Akwafina’s superior performance in the 2018 drama The Farewell, which I believe she should do more of, instead of films like this. And by films like this, I mean Jackpot, which feels like a streaming filler meant to be consumed and forgotten the moment it ends (assuming you don’t pause and look for something else midway). If you want mindless action, then this film could be for you. John Cena is reliably cool, and Machine Gun Kelly makes a surprisingly hilarious cameo. But if you’re looking for something meaningful, you’ll have to buy a ticket elsewhere.

Murder mysteries don’t have to be full of twists to be worthwhile, but if you’re going the predictable route, you might as well make it an exciting one. Killer Heat, despite its name, feels cold and dragging. Gordon-Levitt’s Bali shoots for mysterious and debonair, like the detectives of noir past, but instead, he feels more like a parody of those characters. He never seems to ground Bali into something real, no matter how many flashbacks we get of his tragic family life. Madden similarly feels more like a trope than anything, and it’s beyond frustrating to watch him waste the opportunity to play identical twins. Where other actors seemed to have a blast at this (see: Jeremy Irons in Dead Ringers or even Lindsay Lohan in Parent Trap), Madden is just plain indistinguishable. Woodley is the film’s sole believable character, but her affecting performance isn’t enough to save the film.

It isn’t even just because it’s a sequel, but every bit of Your Christmas or Mine 2 seems like it was sourced from other films with more personality, resulting in a stew of holiday tropes driven entirely by contrivances and conflicts that should be more easily resolved. And yet there’s something that keeps the film far more tolerable than insufferable, as both Asa Butterfield and Cora Kirk compensate for the artificiality of the drama with authentic emotion. There are funny moments throughout and a decent supporting cast (who are given precious little to do), but all this adds up to a film that still feels like it was meant to be played in the background.

At least you can’t accuse this holiday film of being generic. Combining the incredibly incompatible elements of drug busts and figure skating (and still failing to justify this crazy idea, though not for a lack of trying), Dealing with Christmas eventually begins to feel more like a series of comedy sketches making up the rules as it goes along. This definitely leads to moments of both excitement and effective humor, but its lack of consistency ultimately makes the awkward outweigh the good. Still, the audacity on display is something to be admired, and the film is just well-made enough to keep its constant experiments worth the curiosity.

You can tell that Blaze director Del Kathryn Barton is an award-winning visual artist first and foremost. The images that she puts together in this film are frequently stunning—making use of the camera in fascinating, freeing ways, and with lots of practical and computer-generated/animated effects that paint her young protagonist Blaze’s world in glitter and feathers and lush colors. The imaginary dragon, which acts as a shorthand to symbolize Blaze’s complex psychological response to her trauma, is a wonderfully tactile life-size puppet that lead actress Julia Savage responds to in an entirely convincing way.

But you can also tell that this is Barton’s debut feature. Ultimately her visuals don’t do enough to shake off or give meaning to the graphic scene of rape and murder that occurs at the beginning of the film. And the way she structures the movie threatens to make it feel like a series of music videos or video art pieces. Despite its originality and the level of commitment displayed by both Savage and Simon Baker, Blaze has difficulty communicating a coherent message about trauma—the film strung together by heavy-handed scenes that spell out various ideas and lead to the most obvious conclusions.

First shown in 2021 Madrid International Film Festival, Support Group Olympus made its US debut early 2023 through Prime Video. Given the wacky premise, it was easy to assume that the film would be humorous, and there are moments when its dry humor shines. However, the film takes a more contemplative approach, as the unchanging gods refuse to change, though they crave the status and power they used to have. This slow-paced approach feels appropriate, and had the film’s internal logic worked, the film could have contemplated the changes that happened not just to the gods, but to human livelihood as well. It’s definitely a unique story that needed more work on its execution.

Sayen is the kind of film that ultimately feels like it was written by a focus group: ample representation for a worthy cause funneled into the sort of escapism that should theoretically hit the widest demographic possible. But even with its solid production values and a determined performance by Rallen Montenegro, the film lacks the emotional bite that a less corporate-driven project likely would’ve had. It’s not that Sayen comes off insincere about the plight of Indigenous peoples in Chile; it’s that its desire to appear sincere stops most of its good ideas halfway. The action isn’t particularly thrilling, the story doesn’t develop so much as it stretches itself thin, and its supposed representation begins and ends with some terribly obvious—borderline tokenistic—scenes and character types.

With a premise that just seems inherently emotionally manipulative, it should take an especially sensitive touch to make a story like this work on screen. Unfortunately, See Hear Love—itself based on a South Korean webcomic—is both overdramatic and not nearly stylized enough in any meaningful way to help its subject matter evolve beyond melodrama. It remains a well-shot and decently acted film that, at the very least, treats its characters as adults and not as caricatures with disabilities. But the movie makes little effort to place these characters in believable situations that should shed a light on what it’s like to live with blindness or as a Deaf person. See Hear Love takes the easiest (and slowest) way out, bringing its two lovers together under somewhat creepy circumstances, and having them endure cartoonishly exploitative “antagonists”—all for the sake of portraying the romance as grand and artificially tragic.

If Pippa makes one crucial mistake that derails its drama, it’s not that the film opens with a violent but necessary scene of Bangladeshi people being massacred by Pakistani troops. It’s that the film never actually returns to any Bangladeshi characters, instead becoming an overly familiar story about more privileged soldiers and their sacrifices as they get to act as heroes to the camera. It’s executed fairly well, with a good bit of suspense as the larger objective focuses up into a specific rescue mission. But even the flashiest production design and the most unique tank-based action can’t get rid of the nagging feeling that we’re being told a much less important story. In the end, this is still about the glory of military service for a greater good, which just isn’t the most interesting direction for this film to take.

To The Hottest Summer’s credit, it doesn’t shy away from its title; as an erotic romcom, it gives us more sexual content than you’d expect, while still keeping away from anything too explicit. There’s an undeniably exciting quality to how much the film is willing to show in its forbidden romance, and lead actors Nicole Damiani and Gianmarco Saurino have chemistry to spare. But while the film can be refreshing in how undaunted it is by the supposed taboo at the center of its story, its desire for simple, carnal thrills means the characters are much flatter than they probably deserve to be. Deacon Nicola’s complicated relationship to his faith is never quite explored until it’s too late, and Lucia’s friendship with Valentina (played by Alice Angelica) seems to be of little consequence, even as the story tries to create drama between their competing affections for the young priest-to-be.

Whether you’re already deeply familiar with Jason Kelce, his family, and the podcast he runs with younger brother and fellow player Travis Kelce—or if you only have cursory knowledge about American football—this documentary doesn’t provide many meaningful insights beyond the obvious. Eagles devotees should still enjoy spending time with their equally passionate and vulnerable hometown hero, but there’s still a missed opportunity here to create a stronger and more thought-provoking story concerned with bigger ideas beyond the titular player. It’s okay for a documentary like this to be on its main character’s side, but when the film tries too hard to frame Kelce as an underdog, it just begins to look like generic PR—which Kelce neither needs nor deserves.

In a time where the Metaverse feels more and more a looming presence, hoping to crown our complex realities with its utopian promise, it’s only natural to expect a film set precisely there. Director L.E. Staiman took a chance with Love Virtually, but his attempt to make a zany, absurdist rom-com (riffing off the title of your aunt’s annual Christmas rewatch) simply fails. The premise sees a few couples on the brink of breaking up reconnect with the help of VR headsets, challenging each other’s commitment, or cheating with each other (without knowing it of course). A rather funny gambit gets sucked into a vortex of dullness when the characters speak, their dialogues irksome to the point of second-hand embarrassment. Instead of exploring the possibilities of VR relations through an ironic lens, the film seems to not even care enough to look for the genuine comedic potential of the Metaverse as a concept-turned-space. Even the three separate references to Timothée Chalamet don’t make a difference to how surprisingly retrograde and somehow banal all of this feels.

It’s surreal to watch Congrats My Ex, because the Thai production feels inspired by Indian romance films, with its musical numbers, elaborate dance sequences, and maximalist sets and costumes. With both India and Thailand culturally linked for centuries, it’s interesting to see how this film celebrates their commonalities. That being said, this film isn’t too focused on this, on the difficulties of having an intercultural, long distance relationship– it knows that it wants to be an over-the-top wedding rom com. It does overly rely on the standard rom-com tropes, with a dash of slapstick shenanigans, over-the-top wedding dramatics, and one too many reckless driving accidents. It’s still a fun watch for fans of Bella and Bright though, but it’s nothing new.

There have been plenty of excellent films that tackle plenty of themes all at once, but Saindhav feels like a bunch of unrelated ideas strung together as an excuse for cool action set pieces. We’re first presented with the idea that violent video games are being used to recruit children for terrorist groups, but in response to this is a pretty violent protagonist that does over-the-top killings complete with explosions. His justification is that he’s doing it for money for his sick daughter, whose treatment is exorbitantly expensive. Both of these ideas should be discussed, and the cast tries to make the best of it, but Saindhav just combines these ideas to justify the glorified violence they’re supposedly critiquing.

It is one of those movies in which you cannot separate fun from sincerity and poetry from pain. 100 Girls is a good teen movie, and those are becoming very rare. The beauty and diversity of the other students is presented through the eyes of a romantic young man, with their own particularities, contradictions, hopes, secrets and desires. While the main character is trying to find who he think is the love of his life, we discover with him, and thanks to his comments (with a delicious sense of humor), we also catch the complexity of each character. The film has the amazing skill to see the beauty in each one of the characters, both girls and boys. Hope you will enjoy!

Editor Note: This movie has low ratings, A Good Movie to Watch exceptionally adds low-rated movies when reviewers show passion about the suggestion. Our rationale is that if they firmly consider it a good movie, others are likely to share the same opinion. 

To be fair to this visibly low-budget adaptation of H. G. Wells’ seminal science-fiction novel, it doesn’t always settle for the cheap way out. Though it still leaves much to be desired in its visual effects, awkward action scenes, and generally unimaginative direction, Fear the Invisible Man makes a valiant effort to deepen its story by placing a strong, unlikely protagonist at its center (played in all seriousness and with admirable resolve by Mhairi Calvey). Since the titular villain isn’t actually the star of the show—nor is he made out to be an ever-present threat, like in the modern 2020 adaptation—this version of The Invisible Man is able to circle relatively newer ideas about a woman’s “invisible” place in the world, and how she’s tempted to go down a path of pride and violence. If only the rest of the film could keep up with the script’s ambition.

Though it borrows from some of the oldest genre tropes—stoic but kind-hearted hero finding a heart in a community that needs his help—Jigen Daisuke still manages to carve out a visual identity that has one foot rooted in its Lupin III manga origins, and another in noir fiction. The world of the film is beautifully lit and feels bustling with activity, as are the frenetic action scenes that turn gleefully silly with the sheer amount of gunfire being sprayed everywhere. That said, the movie can’t handle the number of plates it tries to spin, as side characters fail to develop more meaningfully and its more exciting parts are diluted by long stretches of drama that aren’t as engaging as the film thinks they are. This feels like a sampler for the kinds of stories the title character could be involved in in the future, but little else.

As one would expect from what’s essentially a feature-length sports highlight reel, Bye Bye Barry compiles some stunning archival footage of Barry Sanders’ best runs, given exactly the star treatment it deserves through a grand score and endless praise from the film’s talking heads. But those who might want anything deeper—perhaps about Detroit’s football culture, or the factors that may have led to Sanders’ early retirement—get very little to chew on here. It’s a film that still seems unsure of what it really wants to be, respecting Sanders’ humility and private nature but filling the documentary with famous figures who end up forcing us to view the player as more legend than human.

Surrounded has the bones of a revenge-style Western. It turns the table on the white cowboy hero and gives us (on paper, at least) complex leads in Mo and Tommy. Mo is a young Black woman whose experience as a Buffalo Solider lends her not only the skills of an expert gunslinger but also the anger and motivation to push through any obstacle, while Tommy is the enigmatic thief who Mo reluctantly relies on in her quest for freedom. With all this pent-up tension, the film should work, and it does occasionally thanks to Wright and Bell’s deft performances (Bell is especially exceptional), the stunning mountainous terrains, and the worthy attempts at race and class commentary. But for the most part, the film’s ambitions fall flat. The monologues are overlong and too evocative of modern speech to be historically believable. The action scenes, while exciting, only sputter here and there and never gain the momentum the film needs to genuinely thrill. And the thin backstories of Mo and Tommy raise more questions than answers. More often than not, Surrounded looks like a couple of good scenes strewn together on a lousy string; the foundations are off but there’s some enjoyment to be found.

A fascinating kernel of certainty is padded out with giddy speculation in this documentary about a pair of unlikely art thieves. The facts are as such: 32 years after a $160 million painting by abstract artist Willem de Kooning was crudely cut from its frame in an Arizona gallery, a trio of small-town antique dealers discovered it in Jerry and Rita Alter’s estate sale. The Thief Collector is less interested in the painting itself  — in fact, it’s openly dismissive about its artistic value — and more curious about how it fell into the hands of the mysterious couple, who frequently took exotic trips around the world despite their modest teacher incomes.

There are certainly intriguing questions raised by the Alters’ possession of the painting and compelling evidence that places them as the thieves, but this documentary can’t offer any convincing original theses of its own. It does try, by suggesting that the short stories Jerry wrote — about more thefts and gorier crimes — were thinly disguised autobiographical recollections, but it finds nothing to back these theories up except for a few loosely relevant anecdotes from relatives. With too many what-ifs to go on, it all makes for an intriguing but ultimately unsatisfying deep dive.

Strictly for football movie completionists and fans of the title athlete, That Peter Crouch Film is about as basic a sports documentary as they come, with a straightforward mix of talking heads interviews and archival footage. There’s not much to be learned about the sport and its inner workings here, even for a football newbie, and one could argue that Crouch’s story doesn’t necessarily have the drama needed for a film of his own. Still, it’s refreshing to have somebody as unassuming as Crouch at the center; even he doesn’t seem convinced that his story is special, but his humility and sense of humor make it easy to root for him. It’d be hard to blame any footballer for taking an opportunity like this to become sentimental about their own career, but Crouch treats his success simply as a product of hard work and a bit of luck.

Centered on a unique marriage, Satyaprem Ki Katha could have reinvented the romance genre with its depiction of women’s trauma. The film does care about the issue, as it sides with the victim in this regard, and there’s a certain sweetness in the relationship being portrayed. Kiara Advani’s performance feels believable and she clearly makes the best of her existing scenes. However, the film is too afraid to be critical of the men in this film, especially as it’s too concerned with Sattu as a savior. On top of this, it relies too much on the standard Indian song-and-dance, which, while spectacular, takes away too much time from the issue at hand. Because of this, Satyaprem Ki Katha feels like a missed opportunity.

Sweetwater has a precious story in its hands, along with a sparkling cast of tried-and-true actors and a generous budget that allows them to go all in with the movie’s 1950s setting. But the parts are far greater than the sum here, because all together, Sweetwater is a mess. It promises to be a biopic about Clifton but fractures into many other things. During its duller parts, it’s a white savior story about basketball owners, and during its more vibrant parts, it’s a snapshot of the Harlem Globetrotters during their humble beginnings. The basketball matches themselves are playful and exciting to watch, but for every game, there is an overdramatic scene that cranks up the notch on sappy music and predictable dialogues. Often, it also feels like director Martin Guigui went to the Green Book School of Anti-prejudice, given his extremely elementary portrayal of racism and his preference for the white characters over the Black characters. Sweetwater isn’t watchable, but it’s a shame that the star of the film had to share the spotlight with less interesting personalities. 

Horror doesn’t have the best track record with homosexuality, as anything considered as the other are often alluded to in making its monsters, but in Ganymede, the script is flipped– Lee’s love for Kyle is portrayed in the most peaceful and calming of ways, while the harshly spat homophobic beliefs Lee’s dad beats into his family manifests into grotesque demons. It’s a novel idea, one that smartly suggests that forcing yourself in the closet forms a hell of one’s own making, but the way the film is executed gives Ganymede an uneven tone, especially since co-directors Colby Holt and Sam Probst don’t seem to know what to do with the film’s horror elements.

Proof that even the most tired tropes (which the holiday genre is arguably entirely made up of at this point) can still be warm and enjoyable with above-average craft and a fun cast, Candy Cane Lane avoids the monotony that tends to plague other Christmas movies. Which isn’t to say that the film is a new classic—it still concludes too easily and doesn’t give its more emotional side the space to breathe. But with an entertaining fantasy premise (specifically, a sort of scavenger hunt based on The Twelve Days of Christmas) bolstered by strong visual effects and supporting actors who have been given free rein to improvise, the movie stays dynamic and lightly humorous, if a little lacking in substance.

A Million Miles Away sticks so closely to the Hollywood biopic template that it threatens to be less about José Hernández as a person with his own complexities and more about the idea of him as a one-size-fits-all inspirational figure. This isn’t to say the film isn’t effective when it really counts; Hernández is worth admiring not necessarily because of his ultimate success, but because how much he failed and got back up again. Director Alejandra Márquez Abella keeps the film’s tone light and bouncy, flattening some of its more serious moments, but also helping make Hernández’s long, hard road to space more of a process of discovery. It’s easy, inspiring viewing that quietly tiptoes past harder questions about poverty and NASA’s potentially discriminatory practices.

Fairly atmospheric, visually creepy, and with a unique premise, A Thousand Days had the potential to be a downright terrifying Indonesian horror film. There’s something here about how rich families are willing to sacrifice impoverished young women in order to save one of their own, especially with the way the Atmojo family hasn’t given the full job details to the three girls in this film. There’s something here as well about how various Indonesian ethnic groups treat each other. However, the way the film arranged its scenes, as well as the film’s casting, fails to match the terror of the original Twitter thread that inspired the film. These choices take away some of the scariness that would have made Sewu Dino totally terrifying.

As the first original Filipino film on Prime Video, Ten Little Mistresses can often feel stuck as an entertaining pitch for a film rather than a fully fleshed out story. Like many mystery-comedies, this is a movie that relies on its star power and its big twists over any convincing narrative or thematic ideas. But oddly enough, the sooner you accept this, the easier the film goes down. As a loud and proud example of camp comedy, even its most ridiculous and incongruous elements feel like an authentic expression of Filipino humor; it never tries to pander to a Western audience that might be expecting something more familiar to their sensibilities. And with a cast this dedicated to out-chewing the scenery from each other, it’s hard not to get swept up in the insanity of it all.

In Marlowe, Liam Neeson joins the lofty lineup of actors who have stepped into the shoes of Raymond Chandler’s titular detective, famously played by Humphrey Bogart, Robert Mitchum, and Elliott Gould. These are big boots to fill — and, if you’ve been paying attention to Neeson’s career over the last decade or so, you’ll be aware that he hasn’t exactly been stretching himself, dramatically speaking.

But Marlowe is something of a happy anomaly in Neeson’s filmography, because it has more than just adrenaline-pumping ambitions. Written by director Neil Jordan (of Michael Collins fame) and William Monahan (the screenwriter behind The Departed), the 1930s Hollywood-set plot is steeped in noir’s characteristic cynicism, giving it the seductive pull of that well-loved genre. It’s true that a not insignificant portion of the dialogue is so hard-boiled you can see the cracks — a clunkiness that’s repeated in a couple of the phoned-in supporting performances and the movie’s awkward action sequences. However, with a couple of bright spots in the starry cast, handsome production values, and a labyrinthine plot that just about passes muster as homage and not muddle, there are enough noir trappings here to keep the movie slinking along well enough, even if it ultimately isn’t nearly as memorable as Marlowe’s previous screen incarnations.

While most people were aware about the devastating atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, less people knew about the continued nuclear testing during the Cold War that occurred on American soil. Downwind shines a light on this in the usual documentary fashion, but it’s an important discussion to have, as the state government deemed nuclear testing in a cheaper place more urgent than the lives of the native Americans living near the plantation, and as the death of one of Hollywood’s leading men unable to even change this. While it was interesting to hear from Hollywood stars, Downwind works best in discussion with the Shoshone Nation, who bore the brunt of the consequences of nuclear fallout.

The first My Spy film was a fun caper that let kids imagine what life could be like if they trained and fought alongside the country’s top agents. This second film, set in Italy and following a now-tween Sophie, tries to be more grown up than the last but instead falls flat in every aspect. The script is bland, the plot is cliched, and even the performances aren’t as exciting this time around. To be sure, there are still laughs to be had, especially when Bobbi (Kristen Schaal) is onscreen, but for the most part, the stacked cast’s talents are wasted. Bautista and Ken Jeong, who plays the boss, are perennial worrywarts, while Anna Faris (in a secret role) is stuck playing a caricature. What a waste of comedic potential! If you’re planning to see this with your kids, it’s harmless good fun, but don’t expect to pick up anything new or worthwhile watching this.

When it comes to superheroes, there are ideal ones to emulate, and there are those who stumble into the position. They Call Me Jeeg is the latter. Before he gets dunked into radioactive waste, Enzo starts out as a thief with dubious character, so sure, we’re not expecting moral perfection. However, at the very least, we hope to see Enzo grow into a hero, acknowledge his past faults, and maybe, just maybe, use his powers for good. While the film does bring him there, sadly, his wrongdoings, especially towards Alessia, is never truly acknowledged, and never needed to be included in the first place. They Call Me Jeeg takes on a gritty, violent vibe that many action fans will enjoy. It’s just that there’s too many scenes made just to be edgy.

An intelligent and very funny comedy film which isn’t formulaic, doesn’t rely on tired old cliches and situations. I watched this film with no preconceptions and was frankly blown away by how good it was. It features sympathetic and believable characters and you yearn to know about them. Proof also that you don’t necessarily need big name stars to make a great movie. Enjoy it, it’s a gem.

“There is no ethical consumption under capitalism,” a famous socialist belief goes, but like many activists, Jo is trying to curb that. She marries her two conflicting passions, coffee and the environment, by establishing a vegan cafe that only serves plant-based drinks. If a customer so much as mentions dairy, they’re humiliated before being kicked out of the place. It’s both impressively assertive and gratingly obnoxious, which is something you could also say about the tone the entire film strikes. It’s well-meaning in its attempt to shed light on the ongoing climate crisis, but rather tone-deaf in trying to place the blame on everyday consumers rather than large-scale corporations. The editing choices, while meant to be cheeky, also go overboard with the cuts and colors, making it more annoying than anything else. Which is a shame, because apart from a noble cause, Coffee Wars also has a funny script and engaging performances going for it. It also gives us an insightful look into the highly competitive coffee tournaments being staged around the world. If only Coffee Wars let things brew for longer, maybe removed some elements and expanded others—specifically, dwell more on the contradiction of wanting to change a system while participating in it—then it would’ve been even more enjoyable and educational than it is. 

As a story, Knuckle Girl settles for the simplest beats, at times strung together by odd, obligatory choices (for example, a training montage that comes out of nowhere, or the film’s abrupt ending). It’s not particularly sophisticated as far as thriller narratives go. But taken as a showcase for boxing-centered action, the film really sets itself apart from many countless action movies on streaming. The fist-fights here are brutal and kinetic, shot through lots of dynamic footage and crunchy sound design—making every punch that’s thrown feel desperate. And in the lead role, Ayaka Miyoshi makes for a convincing, everyman action star who always seems in over her head but perseveres all the same.