FOLLOWING FILMS - Podcast, Movies, Music, and More

The 1971 international co-production Red Sun (released in Europe as Soleil rouge ) remains one of the most fascinating anomalies in global cinema. Directed by Terence Young, the British filmmaker who essentially built the cinematic blueprint for James Bond in Dr. No and From Russia with Love , the movie is an ambitious, genre-blurring hybrid. It marries the cynical, sun-baked landscape of the Spaghetti Western with the rigid, honor-bound traditions of the Japanese chambara, or samurai film. Shot in the rugged deserts of Almería, Spain, the production brought together an almost unbelievable international quartet of stars: American tough guy Charles Bronson, Japanese screen icon Toshirō Mifune, French hearthrob Alain Delon, and Swiss starlet Ursula Andress. On paper, this cross-cultural melting pot sounds like a blatant studio gimmick cooked up to appease multiple global box offices at once. In execution, however, it delivers a remarkably cohesive, tonally unique action-adventure that ...

It took sixteen years for director Francesco Lucente to finally get Starbright out of development hell and onto the screen in early 2026. The result? A massive, 148-minute fantasy experiment that is already dividing anyone brave enough to sit through it. Written by Joseph Bitonti and Olimpia Lucente, the film tries to be a little bit of everything: a cosmic fairytale, a small-town family drama, a sweeping romance, and, bizarrely, a gritty crime thriller. If you are looking for a gentle, nostalgic escape that pushes a pure message of hope, you might actually find some comfort here. But for the rest of us, Starbright quickly turns into an exhausting, incoherent mess. It constantly trips over its own feet, crushed by mismatched tones, way too many subplots, and pacing that makes two and a half hours feel like four. The core story starts out simply enough. We meet Aisling (Alexandra Dowling), an orphaned young Irish woman stuck on a lonely, weathered farm at the edge of a dying American to...

The cinematic landscape of Tromaville, New Jersey, has always functioned as a toxic, sludge-covered mirror to our own society. Ever since the legendary Toxic Avenger picked up his first mop back in 1984, Troma Entertainment has proudly flown the flag of uncompromising, low-budget, independent filmmaking. Over the decades, we have seen atomic disasters, mutant high schools, and avian zombies terrorize this fictional town, yet it remains an unyielding beacon of underground creativity. While early internet fans will fondly remember dialing up the old Troma website to see the weekly spotlight on edgy, counter-culture Tromettes, these female figures were often relegated to sidekick status or damsels in distress. With Rise of the Super Tromettes, directed, written, and produced by Mercedes the Muse, the iconic women of this cinematic universe finally seize total control of the spotlight. The film delivers a hyper-vibrant, deeply chaotic, and aggressively low-budget addition to the Troma myth...

When director Renny Harlin burst onto the Hollywood scene in the late 1980s and early 1990s, he quickly established himself as a master of high-octane, unapologetically maximalist action cinema. Films like Die Hard 2, Cliffhanger, and his 1999 aquatic horror masterpiece Deep Blue Sea proved that he knew exactly how to construct nail-biting suspense out of the most preposterous premises. In his 2026 survival thriller Deep Water, Harlin returns to the literal and figurative waters that defined the peak of his career. Merging the tense, multi-character melodrama of a classic 1970s airplane disaster film with the brutal, visceral terror of a modern creature feature, Deep Water emerges as a deeply satisfying, albeit highly formulaic, piece of popcorn entertainment. It is a film that fully understands its own pulp pedigree, refusing to wink condescendingly at the audience while delivering an unrelenting ride that successfully maximizes the simple dread of what might be swimming just beneath ...

Joel Schumacher’s Falling Down (1993) is as much a Rorschach test as it is a smog-choked thriller. Released at a point of intense cultural volatility in American history, specifically on the heels of the 1992 Los Angeles riots that exploded after the acquittal of 4 LAPD officers who beat Rodney King on videotape, and during an economic recession that left white-collar workers feeling increasingly precarious, the film captured a precise, ugly, and resonant cultural nerve. Viewed today, it feels less like a relic of the nineties and more like an uncanny, predictive text for the modern landscape of alienation, political polarization, and online radicalization. It is a film about the fracturing of the American Dream, told through the perspective of a man who believed the marketing copy, only to find himself bankrupt in a world that no longer recognizes him. The narrative architecture of the film is deceptively simple, adopting a classic Odyssean structure transposed onto the gridlocked asp...

Steven Soderbergh has spent the better part of the last few decades operating less like a traditional Hollywood auteur and more like a restless cinematic mechanic. He is the kind of director who will follow up a massive, star-studded studio hit with a micro-budget experiment shot entirely on a mobile phone, seemingly just to see if he can pull it off. This unpredictable streak makes his filmography incredibly erratic, but it also means that when he hits the sweet spot, the results are wildly entertaining. With his feature, The Christophers, working from a razor-sharp script by Ed Solomon, Soderbergh manages a particularly tricky tonal pivot. On paper, the project looks like a standard, slick art-world heist movie. In execution, however, it transforms into an intimate, blackly comedic chamber piece that cares far less about the mechanics of the crime than it does about family trauma, artistic ego, and the transactional nature of modern relationships. The narrative introduces us to Julia...

Six decades ago, Gene Roddenberry introduced the world to Captain James T. Kirk, Mr. Spock, and a visionary five-year mission that would fundamentally change pop culture. To celebrate sixty years of boldly going where no one has gone before, Paramount Home Entertainment has unveiled a massive 60th Anniversary celebration for Star Trek: The Original Series, complete with premium physical media releases and a brand-new digital storefront for collectors. Dropping on Star Trek Day (September 8), the definitive television milestone is getting a major upgrade. Fans can now pre-order Star Trek: The Original Series - The Complete Series on both Blu-ray and DVD. The national release collects all 3 seasons and 79 episodes—featuring previously enhanced visual effects—all housed in sleek, commemorative 60th-anniversary packaging. The Ultimate Fan Prize: Amazon's Exclusive Gift Set Die-hard Trekkies (or is Trekers? Y'all can figure this out on your own) looking for something extra special c...

When the BBC and BritBox first announced a new spin on Agatha Christie’s Murder is Easy , it sounded like a genuinely exciting gamble. Screenwriter Siân Ejiwunmi-Le Berre and director Meenu Gaur decided to drag the 1939 story forward to 1954, swapping out the book's standard lead for Luke Obiako Fitzwilliam, played by David Jonsson, a sharp Nigerian diplomat heading to a new post at Whitehall. It is a fantastic concept on paper. Injecting mid-century Britain’s rigid class structure and post-colonial anxieties into a cozy village whodunit should have given a dusty story a razor-sharp edge. But now that the adaptation has landed on physical media, it is clear that these big thematic swings get totally tripped up by bizarre visual choices and a script that cannot decide if it wants to be a political drama or a proper detective story. The setup works perfectly at first, grabbing the audience with the same hook Christie used. On a train ride to London, Luke crosses paths with Miss Lavin...

The history of independent cinema is cluttered with odd, forgotten mutations that exist at the exact crossroads of high art and low trash. One of the most fascinating artifacts from this twilight zone is Sugar Cookies, a 1973 psychosexual thriller that eventually found a unexpected home in the Troma Entertainment library. Long before Troma became synonymous with toxic mutants, exploding vehicles, and hyper-kinetic slapstick gore, the company’s co-founder, Lloyd Kaufman, was cutting his teeth on a completely different style of counterculture filmmaking. Co-written by Kaufman and director Theodore Gershuny, Sugar Cookies is a sleek, seedy, and surprisingly layered exploration of grief, exploitation, and identity. Originally slapped with an X rating before being re-edited, it stands out as a unique cinematic anomaly: an erotic B-movie that behaves like an art-house homage to Alfred Hitchcock. At the center of this sordid tale is Max Pavell, played with a greasy, manipulative charm by Geor...