50 Best Movies On Netflix You Haven’t Yet Seen

Frankly, it’s a bad idea to rush into a marriage for a financial incentive, but there’s something sweet about A Soweto Love Story with the way the plot plays out. As the brothers race to win the family home, there’s the standard romcom shenanigans where secrets are revealed and sabotage happens, but the brothers never go too far, and the way they play out is just the right amount of playful and serious. And as they do so, it’s sweet to see the three relationships bloom without the problematic, not well-thought-out issues that plague these kinds of ensemble romance films. That being said, it would have been even better if they established a close, familial chemistry between the brothers, but the way it plays out isn’t too bad. A Soweto Love Story isn’t particularly unique or deep, but if you’re looking for a simple, lighthearted romcom to watch, this isn’t a terrible choice.

Unfrosted is the kind of bonkers treat filled with movie references, physical gags, and too-many-to-count stars that’s easy to sink your teeth into and enjoy for what it is—in the beginning, that is. It’s helped by snappy visuals and a colorfully accurate rendering of the ‘60s too. But then it wears you down with the same jokes and flimsy story, until eventually, you can’t help but ask: are you really dedicating an hour and a half of your life to watching *check notes* a Pop Tart get made? The filmmakers don’t make it any deeper than that sounds, sadly, even though there’s more drama and flavor involved in the real-life competition between Post and Kellogs. I’m not saying Unfrosted is a bad film—to be honest, I laughed out loud in many parts—just that you won’t be able to get over how overbudgeted and ultimately hollow it is.

In the same festival where she showcased her screenwriting chops, Rachel Sennott also showcased her dramatic side in I Used to Be Funny, a difficult drama that garnered less acclaim than Bottoms (2023). It’s understandable– while both films have a witty, gen-Z slant in its comedy, this drama is much harder to balance and heavy to watch, dealing with mental health and PTSD. The non-linear narrative occasionally does make the film feel a tad disjointed as well. However, there’s a care and a warmth from Ally Pankiw’s direction that makes this exploration of Sam’s complex trauma feel heartfelt, and Sennott holds each scene with compelling charisma.

Jailbreak: Love on the Run could be many things depending on where you stand. You could see it as the tragic story of how an inmate successfully seduced his jailer into letting him escape. Or you could see it as the romantic tale of a woman finding her soulmate after years of denying herself companionship and affection. The commendable thing about this Netflix documentary is that it allows space for both of those perspectives through lengthy interviews with the Whites’ close friends and colleagues. That said, the editing of this Netflix documentary could’ve been tighter. The interviews could’ve been cut short and some phone call excerpts, given their explicit content, could’ve been left out, especially given how this tale ends. Not only would the documentary have been more engaging, it would’ve also been more sensitive to Vicky’s situation. “It’s like a disgusting romance novel,” one co-worker says of Vicky and Casey’s admittedly unethical relationship, but while her comment seems justified at the moment, it turns sour the moment you learn about the couple’s fate.

Choose your seating position wisely because this angry thriller will keep you frozen until the credits roll. Supported by terrific acting, Hanna is also visually striking and filled with well developed action sequences.  It’s an action movie that takes fight choreography seriously and that’s something we wholeheartedly appreciate.

There are some actors you feel you see a lot of until a role comes by that makes you think they are actually underused. That’s Ellen Page’s role as Tallulah, a young girl with seemingly little regard for anyone but herself. Travelling the country while living in a van with her boyfriend; with no one to turn to or any idea how to manage such a situation, she comes across a toddler abandoned by her mother. Inevitably, she takes her in. Page, who is also the executive producer of the film, shines through the character oriented script and direction by first-timer Sian Heder. A beautiful movie.

Stories like Il Mare and Your Name/Kimi no Na Wa work because, unlike other romances, the conflict is understandably difficult. After all, how the heck can anyone fight against time and space? Love You Long Time takes a stab at the unique time-bending premise, with one main difference: the movie’s main lovers can talk to each other directly through an old pair of two-way radios. There’s no need for the two to depend on physical letters or texts. This difference is interesting – immediately, it allows Director JP Habac to play with cinematography, editing, and acting, to make us fall in love with the couple. Split between 2018 and 2022, the film makes meaningful points about the past and present, the years lost to the pandemic, and separation. However, without spoiling anything, the film’s third-act plot twists don’t land as well as they could have. Having them back to back made the plot nearly incomprehensible, and sadly, doesn’t resolve the conflict driving the film.

From the moment it begins, The Monkey King hardly pauses to take a breath. The characters are always frantically jumping into the next scene, the action is nonstop, and the jokes, though juvenile, arrive one after the other. This is okay if you’re looking for a brisk viewing experience, but not so if you’re prone to vertigo. It moves at a relentless pace, which doesn’t just make the film a dizzying watch; it also robs the animation’s beautiful details of the time it needs to be appreciated. The movie’s core message, too, is buried under all the film’s pizzaz, which is a shame considering its refreshing pragmatism. When all the other kids’ movies are promoting courage and confidence, The Monkey King actually warns against the dangers of an inflated ego. The Monkey King is passable entertainment for the family, but with a better pace, it could’ve been great. 

As a documentary, The Darkness Within doesn’t dig as deep as it probably could have. It doesn’t offer a particularly specific account of how La Luz del Mundo has achieved its popularity and what exactly keeps it in power today. However, due to the fact that many church members seem to remain loyal to its corrupt, criminal leaders, a straightforward testimony is also exactly what this film needs to be. In direct, uncompromising detail—but always edited with a solemn respect for the survivors, who get to make their statements without the camera in their face—it lays out the mountain of damning personal experiences that too many La Luz del Mundo have suffered, as the rest of the church has turned a blind eye towards them.

Depressingly, Scout’s Honor isn’t necessarily an exposé about the crimes of the Boy Scouts of America because—as the documentary reminds us—this institution has been caught red-handed many times over since its inception, and yet it evades real accountability. The film is more like a renewed call for justice, with its approach being one of blunt force. This means that the documentary can be sloppy, piling on one case after another without much synthesis, and taking out its anger on one current representative of the Boy Scouts, whom the filmmakers constantly interrupt and interrogate during his interview, That said, it’s also hard to object to this kind of approach, as the patterns of abuse become too damning to ignore. Maybe a different film will be able to unpack the systems that allow the Boy Scouts to get away with this, but for now this cry of rage is enough.

Hipgnosis’s body of work is so rich, brilliant, and recognizable, that it’s hard not to at least sit in awe as they flash by you in this documentary. The accompanying stories behind their creation, sometimes told by Thorgerson and Powell, other times by their musician clients like Jimmy Page and Paul McCartney, are also pleasant and informative enough to paint, in whole, an interesting picture. But apart from the covers themselves, Squaring the Circle doesn’t have much else going for it. The co-founders’ history is too brief and plain to render drama, and their upbringing too upper-class and male to be relatable. A more broad, ambitious goal would’ve been to parallel the history of these artworks with the history of rock music itself, but this niche documentary seems uninterested in explaining itself to outsiders and newcomers. That said, it still serves as a precious account for those familiar with Hipgnosis’ pieces. 

There’s no easy way to talk about racism – it’s a nebulous set of ideas that shift and change and manifests in numerous ways that many people can’t even identify as racism because of how prevalent it is. But Dr. Ibram X. Kendi has been able to write down a fairly comprehensive narrative that outlines key historical moments that shaped the world’s concept of race and Blackness, and this narrative is brought to the screen through vivid animations and strategic sequencing by director Roger Ross Williams in new Netflix release Stamped from the Beginning. It’s a provocative, passionate investigation, and it’s one that should be required viewing.

Danny (Callum Turner) is a young man struggling to make ends meet in New York. His brother, spending the night in jail, urges him to take his place in a small heist. His job is simple : He would meet Ellie (Grace Van Patten), she would drive him to take a briefcase, and then to a train station where he would exchange the briefcase with a woman holding a green purse. You’ve probably guessed what might go wrong in a plan like this: another woman with another green purse. Danny makes the trade quickly and, being the nervous guy that he is, storms off only to find later that he had taken the wrong briefcase. This is how Danny and Ellie’s little adventure begins as they track down the woman with the green purse throughout New York.
Tramps is a simple romantic comedy filled with genuine charm that will make you fall in love with the characters, and maybe even the two first-time actors that portray them – as they slowly grow closer to each other. The lively soundtrack and engaging writing are all the more reason to watch this lovely little film.

Based on the Stephen King book, this is a slow-burning horror thriller with a seemingly limited premise. Jesse and Gerald are in a house in the countryside and their attempt to spice up their relationship turns out catastrophic. Gerald suffers from a heart attack while Jesse finds herself handcuffed to a bed without the keys. The movie follows her, and at every turn blows your mind about what can be done in a movie where the main character is glued to a bed for most of the run-time. An original movie for true horror fans only, as it might seem a little too absurd and slow for anyone else.

An unsung hero of the civil rights movement gets the customary Oscar bait treatment in this biopic. Though he was instrumental in organizing the historic March on Washington — which helped force the US government to enshrine civil rights — gay Black activist Bayard Rustin isn’t the household name his peers are. In an inversion of that narrative, figures like Martin Luther King appear here as supporting characters to Colman Domingo’s Bayard.

Domingo’s energetic, commanding performance holds the center of the film, but he’s ill-served by the formulaic approach to storytelling that unfolds around him. More than a few scenes feel like they were written, directed, and performed with an eye to making awards ceremony clips, giving the film a disjointed, self-aware air. And yet, for all the limits of its by-the-numbers approach, Rustin does manage to pack in glints of insight. By virtue of who he was, Bayard will never not make for a compelling central figure — so even lackluster filmmaking can’t sap this inherently radical material of all its power. Though not without its flaws, then, the film is valuable for the light it sheds on the polarising effect Bayard’s identity as a gay Black man had within the movement and the intersectional depths he nevertheless brought to it. 

Directed by Indonesian filmmaker Mouly Surya (Marlina the Murderer in Four Acts), Trigger Warning is a technically impressive film that boasts beautiful cinematography and a handful of skillfully choreographed action sequences. Unfortunately, it’s let down by a mediocre and occasionally inconsistent script, as well as a less-than-stellar lead performance by Jessica Alba. Alba’s stunt double does well enough, but the actress herself is too lightweight to hold her own scenes. The CGI-ridden cold open doesn’t do it any favors too, sadly setting the tone of this promising but ultimately disappointing film.

Based on true events. One of the most controversial and talked-about films at the 2012 Sundance Film Festival. While the story unfolds you can’t help but question if real people could blindly follow instructions, and the sad answer is yes. The story of Sandra (Ann Dowd), an overworked manager at a fast food restaurant, who receives a call from a police officer accusing one of her employees, a teenage girl named Becky (Dreama Walker), of stealing from a customer. Taking the officer at his word, Sandra detains Becky, setting into motion a nightmarish scenario that quickly spirals out of control.

True crime stories set in the world of crypto are still relatively unexplored and therefore have a real contemporary edge to them; they feel more relatable because these criminals share the same online spaces we do. Bitconned taps into this with a more casual, carefree energy, but it also brings up the same concerns—namely: how helpful is it, really, to give this much attention to a con artist currently running free? The film spends most of its time explaining how its main characters built their scam then failed spectacularly at covering their tracks, but after a while even the entertainment of others’ mistakes needs to be supported by more thorough analysis, which this documentary doesn’t provide.

For the longest time, when a woman loses their husband, they lose everything, as the name, assets, and estate used to be held by and passed on by men exclusively. It was outstanding when Barbe-Nicole Clicquot Ponsardin was able to keep the estate due to the brilliance of her innovative champagne making techniques, and more so when the champagne house she built lasts past two centuries, so it was a bit of a letdown to see the Widow Clicquot falter in telling this incredible story. The costumes, sets, and score worked well to craft the emotional turbulence Clicquot goes through, and Madame herself is excellently portrayed by Haley Bennett, but her invention and the actual history is mostly brushed aside by the awkward, stilted romances Clicquot supposedly shares with her husband when alive, and her wine merchant when he died. Widow Clicquot deserves better.

Pain Hustlers is based on a 2018 New York Times article of the same name exposing a drug company that marketed a fentanyl-based drug. Zanna, the on-screen pharmaceutical start-up, is modelled after Insys: the actual company who pushed a fentanyl-based spray for pain management with the help of sales reps who particularly appeal to a certain male gaze. A DIY scheme of bribing doctors through “speaker programs”—or recurring, debaucherous parties—gets Zanna off the ground, catapulting stripper-turned-manager Liza Drake (Emily Blunt) to a much-yearned financial stability. Together with the coked-up COO (magnificently played by Chris Evans), Liza puts her street smart potential to work; she goes all in, until it all crashes and burns. It’s cynical how predictable the plot of such a film can be, mainly because the only character development we see is in Liza’s sudden moral spark at the sight of drug abuses and overdoses. Pain Hustlers tries really hard to build a hero, tear her down, and then rehabilitate her status, but to what end? The film ends up using the fentanyl crisis as a narrative drive, a highly dubious move when you’re supposed to be spreading awareness. 

With every new Aardman production, their stop motion animation technique becomes more and more seamless, looking practically indistinguishable from the work being put out by other animation studios that use CG. However, Chicken Run: Dawn of the Nugget also threatens to flatten into the same kind of entertainment churned out by other studios at a faster rate. There isn’t as much personality to either the story or the art direction—which gave the first Chicken Run film such a sense of urgency—and any ideas about how one’s radical beliefs are tested with age never really get off the ground. And yet, what Aardman is able to do with actual tactile models will never not be impressive, these rebellious chickens standing as a tribute to handcrafted storytelling that will never be replaced.

Third dates usually feel more casual than that depicted in Longest Third Date, but with 2020 shifting everyone’s plans, it’s not surprising it shifted romantic relationships too. The documentary doesn’t feel like a factual and organized documentary, cobbled up together from the couple’s vlog and filmed interviews once they got back to the States, but it’s definitely a unique story, one that’s only been saved because of Matt’s influencer aspirations. It’s certainly watchable, with a spry 75-minute runtime, and with understandable conflicts, like flight cancellations and tipped over cars. The film does feel like it glosses things over, and Khani seems to be the private type of person, uncomfortable with the camera, but Longest Third Date, even with all its reality TV style, also feels somewhat like a cultural artifact. It’s not deep, but it does feel like opening a time capsule.

Set at a time when humans can travel as far into space as Jupiter, Spaceman looks delightfully retro-futuristic. It’s as if the people and tech of the ‘60s were transported to a faraway future where things like long-haul space flights and nebulous pink clouds exist, and so visually, Spaceman is not tiring to look at. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said about most of the film’s other elements, including its dialogue and story. Jakub is sent to space to collect mysterious ancient dust, but since we never know why he should exactly, it never feels consequential if at all necessary. In fact, this is less about his mission than it is about coming to terms with existential truths like pain, loss, and love. And what better way to confront all that than with a wise primordial arachnid? Now, the idea of a therapy session between a spaceman and a spider sounds intriguing enough, and with strong enough writing, it could fly. But the dialogue is too sparse to be thought-provoking. The main message, that you should appreciate what you have while you have it, is also too simple to carry the weight of this expansive film, especially since we have very few details about the story and character to go on with. But Sandler, Carrey Mulligan (who plays his wife), and even Paul Dano (who voices the spider) do the best with what they can, and if anything, you leave the film stunned by the visuals and moved by their empathetic performances.

King of Clones tells the story of Hwang Woo-suk, a South Korean scientist once praised as a national hero for his pioneering work in cloning. However, Hwang’s reputation was shattered in 2006 when it was revealed that he had falsified data in his research. The documentary follows Hwang’s rise and fall, and it provides a fascinating glimpse into the world of scientific research and the ethical challenges that it raises. Through simplified explanations and testimonies from beneficiaries and journalists that exposed his fraudulent activities, the film remains accessible without losing its narrative. It also opens the conversation on the progress of cloning technology and the implications of not having ethics that can be agreed upon among the scientific community and the general public.

As much as the Alabama-bred stand-up comic doesn’t fit into the stereotype of someone with an online presence, Dusty Slay’s comedy special can’t help but feel like you’re scrolling through the Twitter feed of someone’s funny but incoherent (and most likely high) thoughts. There isn’t much connective tissue to be found in Workin’ Man, which doesn’t necessarily weaken his jokes—many of which are actually these amusing, absurd observations on everyday life—but definitely makes all the little silences feel much longer, and leaves you looking for some sort of primary theme to really bring the show home. Still, the fact that a self-proclaimed stoner is actually this normal and unassuming (as opposed to a few other comics who can get dark and aggressive with their drug-related content) is pretty refreshing, all things considered.

Historically, noble ladies get married to lords in order to strengthen existing alliances between their family’s domains. At best, they are able to broker peace, but at worst, they are hostages to the stronger family they married into. Damsel cleverly depicts a twisted version of this relationship through a reversed version of the fairytale, where instead of a wedding being the ultimate endgoal, it is the start of the princess’ misfortunes, placing Millie Bobby Brown into a fantastical survival stand-off against a dragon. It’s an intriguing idea, though the film mostly sticks to its PG-13 lane, leading to a fairly entertaining dark fantasy flick without delving deep into its horrors.

Unknown’s next documentary installment takes us to the stars following the construction and deployment of the James Webb Space Telescope. The documentary centers on the behind-the-scenes of launching the telescope, which eradicated all possible errors as it was the most expensive operation to enter space without human intervention. Explanations are palatable, and the highlights of their successes and failures are enough for casual viewers. Packed with emotion from NASA’s scientists and engineers (and global spectators during Covid), the investment in this project and journey carry the film even though the concepts are too large to condense. 

There’s little to like in Hidden Strike, a shoddy action thriller riddled with dodgy CGI, melodramatic performances, and ultra-predictable plotlines. You could even play a drinking game spotting all the action cliches present in the film (take a shot every time the patriotic hero dedicates a killing to his countrymen). Mostly, it’s laughable and complex for all the wrong reasons, but there are rare moments when Chan and Cena’s partnership works. They’re pockets of humor that feel like actual breathers, a respite in a film that’s ultimately tiresome to watch. 

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.

Just in time for Halloween, Netflix has shelled out for a new, high production value doc about demonic possession. It has all the right ingredients: a true story (that of Arne Cheyenne Johnson, also known as the “Devil Made Me Do It” case of 1981), some convincing re-enactments, the air of exclusivity (use of real archives), but it still feels like a let-down to the true horror buffs who’d tune in expecting something fresh. After all, Netflix has been in the game for a while and it’s not a good look to settle for something as mediocre. For The Devil on Trial, it seems like the execs have just upped the budget on a regular cable-TV-haunted-house after hours special and then patted themselves on the back. Even the interviews featured are full of cliches, which strips down the horrifying potential of authenticity.

Sukhee depicts the struggles specific to adult women – the way women are encouraged to sacrifice their identity for the people that they love and to meet certain expectations that feel impossible or contradictory. This isn’t a common topic in film, but it has been portrayed before, with the likes of English Vinglish and Eat, Pray, Love. Sukhee does some things differently, with a fun girl’s out Delhi trip reminiscing over her past and reconnecting with her former self. However, the film loses its way in the second half. With plot elements that feel haphazardly thrown in, including a randomly placed horse race, the film never fully resolves the main issue at the core of the film – the lack of respect towards the housewife role, as well as the way the family needs better stress management skills.

With a lack of films on female sexuality, Thank You for Coming feels refreshing. Kanika Kapoor seeks out sexual fulfillment as much as she seeks an emotional connection, due to the fairytale promises given to many women from girlhood. She hopes for both, knowing that if she doesn’t go through it the right way, she’ll be looked down upon the same way her single mother was. The sex comedy is reminiscent of Mamma Mia, but instead of a child figuring out who of her potential three dads is hers through ABBA songs, it’s Kanika figuring out who from her past and present lovers gave her an orgasm, with excellent, though slightly disconnected tracks. The playful approach is fun and exciting, but this approach stops halfway through, and certain plot aspects and the choice of a male director detracts from the feminist, sex-positive message it wants to portray.

Lighthearted, inspirational, and warm, True Spirit is the real life story of how the young Jessica Watson circumnavigated the world. Through YouTube-esque vlogs and scribbled out title cards, the film follows the real-life journey, alternating between the sailor with the situation back home, as her mentor and family keep track of her current progress. Inspired by the book, the film fairly sticks to the facts written in her travelogue, but True Spirit mostly plays out the same way a Disney Channel Original Movie would, with its young protagonist setting out for a whimsical adventure, just for the sake of it. It makes for a beautiful film with stunning views and heartwarming messages about perseverance, but it’s more an easy cruise than a daring adventure, as it plays out without any courage in its approach.

For the entirety of Where Was I, Trevor Noah is comfortably in his pocket—speaking to an audience that’s clearly familiar with his style and his views (if the respectful silences and occasional cheering are any indication) and branching off into sharing more serious facts between the jokes. And Noah’s style is clearly refined, as he speaks clearly and sticks to a coherent structure at all times. But at a certain point his level of comfort here also leads to punchlines that are too easy or unsurprising, with too much focus placed on the kinds of voices and accents he can put on rather than the content of what he’s saying. Noah remains a strong entertainer, but when you know how scathing he can get, this feels more like a warmup round.

In a world when women are sexualized and objectified, but also judged and excluded under the guise of religious righteousness, Adire seeks a middle ground. It dares to explore how women’s beauty can be a force for good, rather than a source of shame, even within the religion that traditionally excludes women from its leadership. That being said, Adire focuses on this to the detriment of all other ideas loosely stitched to the narrative, such as the cultural heritage in using the adire fabric for modern lingerie, sex and desire as an impetus for art, and the need for intimacy, not just sex, in relationships. Adire has the ideas, but not the execution, especially when it loses its way in the second half of the film.

Taylor Tomlinson clearly has more of a writer’s approach to stand-up than a performer’s, for better or worse. On the one hand, every word in this special feels considered (even those that she has to come up with on the spot during audience interactions), with a cadence meant to draw you towards the writing itself. On the other hand, this means that her comedy can come off too mannered—more knowingly clever than spontaneously funny. It certainly helps that Tomlinson has the energy to commit to her jokes even if they aren’t particularly interesting, though; she has a clear vision for how her routine should flow, and that’s worth respecting.

With the rise of fascism globally, and concerns about an upcoming world war, depictions of World War II have become popular, with the most notable being Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer. Einstein and the Bomb instead takes a look at the prominent scientist, whose theory of relativity made the atomic bomb possible, who had a personal stake in ensuring the Nazis were defeated, but who also had to reckon with the horrific consequences in pursuing the West’s promises of peace. It’s a needed perspective, and director Anthony Philipson pulls from Einstein’s very words, his own ideas about the society at the time eerily echoing the concerns about today’s society. However, there’s something off about the way these ideas are presented, as it feels like the film was less interested in Einstein as a man, and more interested in using him as a spokesperson, using his image to cry over today’s conflicts.

In the grand scheme of streamer romcoms, A Family Affair is not too bad. Like The Idea of You before it, the film explores what it means to find love as a woman late in life while proving that it can be just as exciting and steamy as any other affair. The film is even occasionally funny, with Efron’s vain character banging out punchlines like “It’s one of a kind! I only have two of these!” But there are too many lapses that are hard to ignore, such as the glaring lack of chemistry between Efron and Kidman, and the sheer unlikeability of King’s Zara. Yes, they acknowledge her narcissism multiple times, but it doesn’t change how exhausting she can be, and how rushed her growth was. In fact, none of them seem to really develop, except Brooke, who is the most realized character in the film. A Family Affair is at its best when it’s parodying the franchise-hungry film industry and when it’s discussing the passions and pleasures of late womanhood. Unfortunately, they often feel like two separate films, and the filler in between feels exactly like that: filler, with nothing new, important, or forgivably funny to say.

In most instances, Rez Ball isn’t all that different from traditional sports dramas. It features a down-on-their-luck high school basketball team–the Chuska Warriros– that gets better through sheer perseverance and teamwork. But as the title suggests, the Warriors play a slightly different kind of game. Rez Ball, according to the film, is faster and more points-focused. And the way the film lets the players (and us, the audience) learn about it by connecting the team with Navajo culture and practices is ingenious. As an intimate showcase of rez life, the film shines. But as a drama, it falters. The acting is rusty and uneven (though shoutout to Devin Sampson-Craig and first-timer Kauchani Bratt for getting it right), and the direction feels similarly wooden. The film is a promising entry, it just needs more time and polishing to be great.

In terms of the quality of the material delivered in Son I Never Had, this special is really just okay at best. Heather McMahan has charisma and personality, but she has a tendency to run directly into the set-ups for her jokes, without the kind of build-up between segments that would make the whole hour flow better. And the comedy here is pretty standard, lightly raunchy fare that’s often amusing but never really cuts deep into the various topics McMahan brings up. Where she’s really successful, instead, is in the way she uses humor to contrast the lingering but gentle grief she feels over her father’s passing. Son I Never Had, in its own roundabout way, becomes a sort of extended eulogy, emphasizing how our loved ones remain with us in our every memory.

I’m sure the novel Uglies is based on makes a lot more sense since it has a lot of space to world-build and explore themes like external beauty, class, and identity. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said about the movie Uglies, which is almost impressively out of date in look and tone. The CGI is 2000s-level wonky and the premise is unconvincing. You’re telling me these Hollywood kids are supposed to be ugly? So ugly that they’re nicknamed after their defects— “Nose,” “Skinny,” and “Squint”? What would they call normal-looking people like us? Slurs? And don’t get me started on their “pretty” versions. It’s literally just them with layers of makeup and a touch of Botox, which I suppose could be the point, but also…just wear makeup? It’s mind-numbingly confusing. The world of the Uglies doesn’t even seem that bad—they’re fed, roomed, allowed to explore their environment, and create friendships. A lot of people in the real world would kill for that level of comfort. If freethought is what’s being killed here, then they should have focused on that more. Ironically, the movie itself seems too preoccupied with looks to get that, so what we get instead is this half-baked mess.

The American Christian film industry hasn’t been terribly successful at crossing over to general audiences, and Journey to Bethlehem still succumbs to corny attempts at humor and performances that can still feel too self-conscious. But not unlike a musical such as Jesus Christ Superstar, this movie finds moderate success at balancing its faith-based elements with a focus on individual characters. Creative license has obviously been taken here to varying results: the songwriting is generally uninspired and lacks a unified style, but the songs add much-needed shades of humanity to a story that most people probably know as a Sunday school summary.

The new stand-up special from Pete Davidson won’t win over any skeptics, but there’s something to admire in how the comedian heads straight towards edgy material, tells us he’s going to go there, and still manages to surprise when he follows through. Which is to say Davidson’s audacity might be more impressive than any of his actual writing in this special, with a good number of his jokes highlighting the bizarre situations his fame leads him into, but little more than that. It’s stoner comedy for better or worse—observations about a strange world from a hazy point of view that may not always be coherent.

To Catch a Killer feels like a limited series shrunken down to fit a movie’s runtime: its many ideas, though potentially compelling on their own, are so underserved by the breezy treatment here that they lose all value. The film wants to hit every hot button — misogyny in the police force, demagoguery on TV news channels, high-level corruption, white supremacy, and the mental health crisis — but its frantic box-ticking makes it feel like a speed-run of topical issues rather than anything genuinely reflective. 

The characters feel similarly underdeveloped, not least star Shailene Woodley’s, a Clarice Starling wannabe who winds up delivering emotional counseling to the film’s bafflingly motivated serial killer in just one of many implausible scenes. Add to that the cringe-inducing dialogue, which is crammed to bursting point with clunky metaphors, and you can call off the manhunt —  the script is the real killer here.

Family Switch is a film clearly built to give its ensemble fun acting opportunities, with Jennifer Garner and Ed Helms being given excuses to loosen up more than expected, and Brady Noon and Emma Myers (arguably the movie’s MVP) moving beyond mere imitation into more full-bodied performances as adults seeing through their kids’ eyes. Unfortunately, the rest of the film saddles them with uninteresting situations that never take the body-switching aspect to more clever territory. Whatever mutual understanding that’s learned by the end feels contrived, with the Christmas setting feeling especially tacked on—leaving these otherwise talented actors little to anchor their performances on.

Less homage to Star Wars than it is a pastiche of that cultural juggernaut, a strong sense of déjà vu hangs over Zack Snyder’s Rebel Moon. Unfortunately, in plainly appealing to the memory of its vastly superior inspiration so many times, it inadvertently reminds viewers of how much better its muse is. There are far too many direct copycat scenes here for Rebel Moon to craft anything like an identity of its own, but its derivativeness might be forgivable were it not so self-consciously, humorlessly straining for epicness.

Rebel Moon rises with narration from Anthony Hopkins and an operatic score — a promise of grandness it never lives up to. At two-hours-plus, this dreadnought announces its lofty ambitions for future franchise status at every turn, but never once earns it: the dialogue is creakingly expository and the acting is spotty, ultimately making it feel like the film has lazily assumed it’s already secured all the interest it needs to justify a potential two further sequels and a galaxy of tie-in media. Though there are bright spots that suggest an actual movie lurks somewhere deep within its 134 minutes, Rebel Moon instead feels like a laborious couple of hours of scene-setting that arrogantly banks on you returning for more, despite doing little to deserve any more of your time.

While investigating a gold heist in Johannesburg, Chili (S’dumo Mtshali) is jaded after an undercover operation fails spectacularly. With one chance left, he must choose between following the law and protecting the wealth of higher-ups or going against it and helping a heist crew dole out the riches to those in need. Wealth redistribution is at the heart of the film, with greed on all sides thwarting any prospects of prosperity for the city. The action-crime-thriller examines economic inequality via the lead cops trying to effect change, all while leaning into a warm visual style that shifts cameras to mirror the tensions. It’s a nice touch to the average Robin Hood and “for the people” narrative, but the CGI choices and generic action scenes can get distracting at times.

Despite an engaging opening that promises to deepen the world already established in 2018’s Bird Box, this new installment slips back into the usual routine before long. That is: cheap thrills and an overall lack of scares, not necessarily because of the fact that the creatures terrorizing this world are invisible, but because the film doesn’t take advantage of the fear and paranoia that builds among the human characters. A stronger focus on religious belief (or simply blind fanaticism) should lead to more interesting character dynamics, but there isn’t a single person here who’s defined by anything beyond a few base traits. So despite the efforts of a game cast (including Babylon’s Diego Calva and especially Barbarian’s Georgina Campbell), the film just can’t overcome how boring it is to watch blindfolded people reacting to nothing.

Known for his comedy skits on Facebook, the comedian Kountry Wayne finally gets his own Netflix special to middling results. The character that he plays on the stand-up stage is meant to be highly irreverent, showing a callous disregard to everybody except himself. But while a more seasoned comic (which Wayne could become in good time) might find a way to build these predictable jokes into something truly novel or subversive, Wayne settles for shock value—often relying on exaggerated physical comedy to sell a flatly written punchline. But even this trick he relies on too often, which makes his already impressive stage presence seem cheaper than it should.

Better known as a podcast host, Stavros Halkias proves that he does have the writing ability and (the lack of shame and/or pride) to come up with effective jokes from his own perspective. But his momentum just doesn’t hold throughout this hour-long special; he starts strong and keeps a coherent train of thought throughout the whole routine, but the latter sections begin to rely on gross-out comedy and potshots at the audience more than anything. Halkias knows who his audience is and he’s very fortunate to be able to perform in front of people who seem to be very familiar with his style. But for a wider range of people watching through streaming, his more relaxed style of storytelling may come off as him simply droning on without particularly great timing.