100 Best Movies on Spectrum on Demand

Many movies try to be nostalgic, but few have come as close as Between the Temples. Directed by Nathan Silver, it channels classics like The Graduate, Harold and Maude, and early Woody Allen dramedies without trying too hard. It has the grain, patina, and camera movements of 60s and 70s movies, and its central love story–though not quite shocking now–might’ve been subversive then. But more than just a pleasant trip to the past, Between the Temples is a reassuring film about the deep and healing bond two people can forge amidst grief and loneliness. It also tackles faith and tradition without being preachy or stifling. Many scenes can feel overwhelming, but the moments after feel cathartic, even if—as in religion and as in life—they rarely give you a sure answer.

For the longest time, women dedicated their lives to the family, so after a divorce, and after the kids grow up, it can be hard to imagine what happens after. Some people choose to remain single, but for many women, it can feel like the start of another life totally lived for one’s self. Gloria was then one of the few depictions of a woman at this time, but writer-director Sebastián Lelio depicts this slice of life as is– without over-sentimentality, but with honesty, without pretentiousness, but with a calm and even direction. The slow, naturalistic approach might not be to everyone’s taste, but Gloria is a charming character study, made much more real with Paulina García’s excellent performance.

Weird: The Al Yankovic Story is a parody of a parody, a multilayered confection of silliness that befits the musician it celebrates. It’s the origin story of Weird Al Yankovic (Daniel Radcliffe) but with the surreal and satirical levels cranked up to a hundred. It’s easy to get lost then, in the movie’s freewheeling giddiness, but Radcliffe has a way of grounding the ultra-heightened comedy with his conviction and charm. The movie also doubles as a who’s who in the 1980s music and comedy scene, and the unlikely pairings it brings together keep you entertained and nostalgic for a simpler, weirder time.

One wouldn’t expect to see Count Dracula’s youthful-looking helper at your local 12-step self-help group for people in codependent relationships, but Renfield holds more than one surprise up its sleeve. By translating the working relationship (or master-slave, since the latter doesn’t get any pay) into the vocabulary of common relationship counselling parlance, the film actually elevates its symbolic status. Even more, I’d dare call it a hoot. Not that many vampire films have managed to make a proper comedy out of the figure in question, and Renfield with its simplistic appeal puts to shame even the artsy Netflix production El Conde, which also came out earlier this year. With Awkwafina in the mix and iconic lines such as “I don’t want your murder cookies”, how can you resist?

Not a lot of people will like Stress Positions, a COVID-era film filled with characters whose ballooning egos make isolation all the more claustrophobic. Critics have used the word “unlikeable” and “obnoxious” to describe them, these mostly queer New Yorkers who populate the decrepit apartments where the film is set in, but if you have room for them, they’ll deliver some of the sharpest criticism of liberal and leftist hypocrisies in a while. The self-awareness of their jokes might get lost at times, but it’s there, and it can be enlightening if you let it in. Together, Terry (John Early) and his friends parse things like race and identity—specifically misogyny and transphobia among gay males, and the rampant exoticism of white people over dark-skinned immigrants. The latter is a subject explored poignantly and delicately through Terry’s nephew Bahlul (Qaher Harhash), a young model from Morocco who seems to be the only one smart enough to identify the follies of the people surrounding him. At its best, the film is a darkly funny exploration of even darker themes, as well as an impressively non-cringe throwback to the early days of the COVID lockdown. But it can also be quite difficult to watch, especially if you’ve had enough of New York solipsistic fare.

While the film attempts to depict teenage sexuality, Dear David misses the mark due to certain plot points. At the heart of the film, Dear David is all about expression – that teenagers actively seek for ways to explore their sexuality like fanfiction, photos, and clothing. In taking on this premise, the hope for these kids would be to be able to to express these feelings through safe and constructive spaces. But because the film only presents Laras’ work as porn without plot, her relationship with David doesn’t feel like it stems from genuine affection. David isn’t characterized as popular enough for everyone to have a good concept of him, to have a positive canon narrative about him, and so, as Laras’ work spreads, it’s only his objectified self people have in mind. Her creative work comes across as some form of sexual harassment, rather than innocent expression.