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When you’re a lifelong Blink-182 fan, anything with Tom DeLonge’s name attached carries a little extra weight. That might be why MONSTERS OF CALIFORNIA instantly shot to the top of my must-watch list for me. DeLonge has been vocal for years about his belief in UFOs, government cover-ups, and the importance of looking beyond what we’re told. So when he steps behind the camera for his directorial debut, it’s not surprising that the result is part sci-fi thriller, part punk-fueled rally cry, and part teen mischief movie. What is surprising is how sincere and charming it ultimately proves to be, despite having rough edges.

There’s something unexpectedly moving about watching a band that once ruled alternative radio airwaves pull back the curtain after thirty years. GIVE ME A WORD: THE COLLECTIVE SOUL STORY may be modest in ambition, but its honesty and genuine affection for the music—and the men behind it—elevate it far above the standard rock documentary fare. In director Joseph Rubinstein’s hands, the story of Ed and Dean Roland and their bandmates is presented with care, compassion, and just enough raw honesty to make it stick.

Sometimes a documentary doesn’t need to break dive into spectacle to make an impact—it just needs to be honest and fearless. That’s exactly where BANNED TOGETHER goes, and then it takes one step further. With a confidence that never veers into melodrama, it puts a spotlight on a growing crisis in public education. It lets the camera roll while teenagers try to clean up the mess left behind by adults who are either too afraid or too complicit to act. The result is a story that’s as current as it's personal, and one that never forgets how important it is to speak up when others are trying to rewrite the rules in silence.

Just when you thought dessert couldn’t be deadly, THE STUFF oozed into your nightmares—and your fridge. Larry Cohen’s bonkers consumerism satire disguised as a mutant dessert thriller is exactly the cult insanity that thrives under 4K restoration. Equal parts horror, comedy, conspiracy thriller, and low-calorie fever dream, this 1985 oddity serves up more goopy weirdness than anyone asked for, and that’s kind of the point.

MIA opens with a missing person and unspoken grief, but it quickly signals that what’s missing might go far beyond just one girl. Luis Ferrer’s psychological thriller walks a tightrope between trust and paranoia, grounding its tension in a family teetering on collapse. Rather than succumbing to genre spectacle or cheap thrills, the film turns inward, lingering in dark rooms, whispered conversations, and silent glances that speak louder than any chase scene ever could. Normally, I dislike movies shot with minimal lighting, but it works to the film's benefit in nearly every way.

DETONATION! VIOLENT RIDERS is a film that thrives on swagger more than structure. Released in 1975 and now making its way to Blu-ray thanks to 88 Films, this Japanese biker drama offers an energetic snapshot of subcultural rebellion, dressed in leather and powered by attitude. It features high-speed rides, volatile romance, and clashes between freedom and control.

Sometimes a movie forces you to question everything you thought you knew about sharks, hot springs, and the fragile human psyche. That movie is HOTSPRING SHARKATTACK (ONSEN SHÂKU). This gloriously unhinged Japanese monster flick answers the question nobody asked: what if a prehistoric killing machine terrorized a sleepy bathhouse town like it owed the water a personal vendetta?

ALL ALONE TOGETHER is the kind of film that makes you take a second look at the credits—not just because of the narrative or the performances, but because you won’t believe college students pulled it off on a budget that could barely cover catering on a studio project. It's an unrefined gem: not flawless, undeniably compelling, and rich with risk.

Some films follow the rules. Others rewrite them. AMERICAN TRASH, written, directed, and led by Robert LaSardo, falls into the latter category—an unapologetically personal, emotionally charged meditation that blends abstract storytelling with real-world scars. It’s not here to entertain in a conventional sense. It’s here to speak—quietly, painfully, and often beautifully—to the people willing to listen.

Even in a decade fueled by macho swagger and explosive vengeance, COBRA stood out like a clenched fist in a leather glove. Helmed by director George P. Cosmatos and fronted by a no-nonsense Sylvester Stallone, the film encapsulates the 1980s action spectacle where bullets fly, bad guys growl, and the hero says more with his sunglasses than his dialogue. It’s ridiculous, excessive, grimy, and at times self-parodic—but in the way that could only be born from an era that celebrated brute force as cinematic gospel.

SPLINTER offers a grounded, emotionally complex drama wrapped in the façade of a psychological mystery. Though it may flirt with being a thriller at times, its power lies not in suspense or spectacle, but in emotional confrontation—and the ways unresolved trauma seeps into the cracks of adulthood. As Rio Contrada’s directorial debut, this is a film with ambition, sincerity, and more than a few surprising turns, making it a rewarding experience for audiences who are willing to sit with its discomfort.

An artifact of early 1970s martial arts cinema, THE TATTOOED DRAGON has been brushed off and polished up for a new audience, thanks to Eureka’s restoration. And while the Blu-ray looks great and offers a healthy serving of extras for kung fu collectors, the film is a curious mix of nostalgic charm and inconsistency. It’s easy to appreciate what this movie represents—a bridge between eras, between studios, and between martial arts legends—but a little harder to overlook its shifts between goofy comedy and bloody justice.

Jonathan Berman’s COMMUNE isn’t here to romanticize the 1960s dream. It’s a grounded, occasionally chaotic, often funny, and ultimately reflective look at what happens when idealism meets real-life logistics—and how the people involved in that collision try to make sense of it all. Returning in a 20th anniversary restoration, the film offers a compelling, if uneven, meditation on the intersection of politics, personal freedom, and communal responsibility, framed through Black Bear Ranch's experiment.

In EEPHUS, director Carson Lund doesn’t just recreate a time and place—he lets us linger in it. Set in a 90s Massachusetts that’s seen better days but still has stories to tell, this feature thrives in its patience, awkward silences, and the timeless ritual of community gathering under the guise of sport. It’s a film that doesn’t push you toward emotion; instead, it lobs it like a slow, curving pitch—seemingly easy to read, but surprisingly hard to forget once it lands.

VIDEOHEAVEN doesn’t just honor the video rental era, it resurrects it. Alex Ross Perry’s ambitious documentary does not follow the typical nostalgia-doc blueprint. There are no teary-eyed talking heads or fuzzy recreations of childhood memories. Instead, this is a cinematic thesis—structured, argued, and illustrated with methodical intensity, yet pulsing with deeply felt personal conviction. Ironically, the film feels like one of those educational documentaries you would have watched in school, but in the absolute best way possible.

Alicia Silverstone has never been one to back down from a defining role, and in PRETTY THING, she reclaims center stage with all the force and sharpness of a woman who knows exactly what she’s doing. What starts as an intoxicating affair between a powerful executive and her younger lover spirals into something far darker—a game neither can control. Director Justin Kelly channels the erotic thrillers of the '80s and '90s but updates the formula with a more self-aware, power-conscious lens.

STOMACH IT certainly doesn’t lack conviction. In just 13 minutes, writer-director Peter Klausner attempts to unpack grief, trauma, and emotional detachment through the lens of psychological and body horror. While the shorts’ atmosphere and concept are commendable, the result doesn’t always hit with the force or clarity it aims for. That said, there’s enough style and sincerity behind the camera to keep it engaging, even when it doesn’t quite land (for me).

If your home could talk, what would it say? In NEUROVENGE, director Mina Soliman's debut feature, the house does more than talk—it listens, manipulates, and eventually…. This sci-fi thriller imagines an AI-powered home system not as a convenience but as a calculated and increasingly sinister presence in the life of a grieving teenager and her fractured family. If you’ve seen 2022’s TRADER and enjoyed it, you’ll likely enjoy the ride here. The film was co-written by the writer/director of that film, and though entirely different, you can feel a similarity there!

There’s nothing shy about VANILLA. It doesn’t ease into its premise or whisper sweet nothings to the audience. This short comedy is loud, crass, proudly inappropriate, and knows exactly what it’s doing. It's the kind of film that looks you straight in the eye while getting undressed and dares you to look away. Self-awareness isn’t a side effect here—it’s baked into the entire experience. VANILLA thrives on confronting the audience with its blend of uncomfortable humor, kink-friendly roleplay, and relentless genre subversion. It’s not just a sex comedy—it’s a meta-kink carnival where the punchline is how far it's willing to go.

Set during the covert operations of the CIA’s secret air transport wing in 1969 Laos, AIR AMERICA blends high-octane action with comedy and more subversive commentary than it’s often credited with. Directed by Roger Spottiswoode, the film juggles war satire, buddy comedy antics, and government critique—sometimes with grace, with turbulence—but always anchored by the effortless chemistry between Mel Gibson and Robert Downey Jr.

MADE IN NEW JERSEY: FILMS FROM FORT LEE isn’t just a collection—it’s a resurrection of sorts. Across two Blu-ray discs, Milestone Films/Kino Lorber curates 14 early short films and two documentaries that collectively remind viewers that the story of American cinema didn’t start in Hollywood—it began in the backlots of Fort Lee, New Jersey. Spanning over a century of history, the set provides a fascinating archival deep dive and a wildly entertaining survey of the earliest moving pictures.

THE PRESIDENT’S WIFE takes real events, real people, and a lot of satirical seasoning and whips up a political comedy that never pretends to be definitive. Directed by Léa Domenach in her feature debut, the film positions itself between affectionate character study and pointed send-up. Catherine Deneuve (one of my all-time favorite actors) anchors the experience as the titular Madame Chirac. The result is stylish and sharp, but it often feels more interested in one-liners than in unpacking the deeper ironies of power, gender, and public life.

In HANDSOME HARRY, a man’s life is interrupted by an unexpected request, and from that moment, the truth—long buried and conveniently distorted—begins to unravel. Directed by Bette Gordon, this deeply personal drama follows a Vietnam veteran reckoning with his past, not in pursuit of forgiveness, but to understand the cost of denying who you are and what you’ve done.

Sometimes the most terrifying threats aren’t lurking in the shadows—they’re waiting in plain sight, hidden in the wind, tremors in rock, and the psychological tension of a place no human was meant to be. That’s the gamble this horror thriller takes, placing the viewer high above the earth on a deadly climb and asking: what happens when the unknown joins you on the ascent?

A stillness to WOLF AND DOG speaks louder than most films with three times the dialogue. With its dreamlike textures and grounded sense of place, Cláudia Varejão’s narrative debut crafts an atmosphere where emotions boil beneath the surface until they shift the entire landscape. Set on the isolated island of São Miguel in the Azores, this queer coming-of-age drama is both tender and raw, full of contradictions that mirror the very forces shaping its characters’ lives.