It can be hard to separate movies from the hype machine. Take Morbius , for instance: the film was originally slated for release almost two years ago, before a global pandemic caused not one, not two, but SIX release delays. Now, many months after those first teaser trailers and who knows how many rewrites and reshoots, the full movie has opened in theaters to lackluster critical reviews and poor word of mouth. But you know what? I like Morbius, and here's why. Jared Leto stars as Michael Morbius, a reclusive doctor with a disease that has left him nearly crippled, but a mind that is sharp and eager to help the helpless. As a last ditch effort to find a cure for his illness, he resorts to an experimental and dangerous procedure involving the DNA of vampire bats. Because this is a comic book movie, he's granted bat-like powers that include sonar, gliding ability, and super strength. But gifts come with a price, and for Morbius, the cost is an insatiable thirst for human blood.
Every generation gets a Batman. The Caped Crusader is incredibly flexible, able to morph into whatever the times need him to be. Sometimes that's a noir-stained avenger, other times a colorful camp icon. In the 1990s, his films became synonymous with blockbuster bloat. Under the creative hand of Christopher Nolan, he became a soldier in the war against terror and a hero for the post-9/11 era. Now, a decade after Nolan's landmark trilogy and its unprecedented realism, The Dark Knight returns once again in Matt Reeves' The Batman, the most political film in the lifespan of this character. What is The Batman about? Pain and anger. That's what drives this Batman (Robert Pattinson). That's also what drives The Riddler (Paul Dano), as well as Selina Kyle (Zoe Kravitz), who has lost someone dear to her. Batman is so consumed with it that the black costume that he garbs himself in is not to strike fear into the hearts of criminals, but rather serves as a manifestation of
Is The Warriors an under-appreciated gem? This 1979 genre-bender from Walter Hill came along at the same time as Mad Max and outright predates the post-apocalyptic cycle of the 1980s. And yet it doesn't seem to enjoy the same cultural cache as some of its spiritual brethren. Sure, every movie geek worth his salt has uttered those immortal lines "Warriors...come out to play-ee-aay!" But the movie still feels more like a cult favorite than a widely-regarded classic. Maybe that's why we love it so much. For those that have not yet discovered this magical mystery tour of Inner City New York by way of a nightmare near-future: Manhattan is overrun by a myriad of street gangs, each one more colorful than the last. You've got The Turnbull AC's, The Baseball Furies, The Orphans, The Lizzies, The Punks, The Electric Eliminators, The Gramercy Riffs, The Rogues, and of course, The Warriors, among many others. Each gang has their own territory that they can't ventu