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ABBOTT AND COSTELLO MEET THE MUMMY arrives as the final entry in the duo’s long and storied relationship with Universal’s iconic monsters, and you can feel that sense of winding down in its tone. Where earlier films blended horror and comedy with surprising precision, this one leans far more into the gags, misunderstandings, and adventure-tinged silliness. It’s not aiming for atmospheric tension or Gothic moodiness; instead, it embraces the familiarity of its formula and relies on the duo’s chemistry to carry a story that, while thinner than their earlier outings, offers an easygoing, family-friendly charm.

ABBOTT AND COSTELLO MEET THE INVISIBLE MAN is the sort of hybrid that surprises you with how well it holds up. On paper, merging hard-boiled noir with comedy and a classic Universal Monster could’ve easily collapsed into chaos. Instead, the film plays like a confident fusion, one where the mystery grounds the slapstick, and the slapstick injects life into the mystery. It’s not as iconic as the duo’s showdown with Frankenstein’s monster, but it stands out as one of their most consistently entertaining team-ups.

There’s a reason ABBOTT AND COSTELLO MEET FRANKENSTEIN remains one of the most beloved films in both Universal Monsters history and classic comedy cinema: it takes its premise seriously enough to let the horror icons shine while never losing sight of what makes Abbott and Costello such an effective duo. This film walks a razor-thin line between tones that should clash but somehow mix into a unified, endlessly rewatchable experience. It’s the rare crossover where everyone involved gives their all, and decades later, that commitment still radiates from every frame.

There’s a charm to ABBOTT AND COSTELLO MEET DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE that comes from watching two comedic titans wander into a story that was never designed for their style of humor. It’s a strange collision of tones: the fog-drenched streets of a classic horror tale smashed into a vaudeville-rooted comedy act that refuses to take anything seriously. That tension doesn’t always play out as we hope. Yet, there’s an undeniable fascination in seeing the story unfold, especially when Boris Karloff steps into frame with the kind of gravitas that reminds you how powerful the Jekyll/Hyde legend has always been.

TRIPLE THREAT delivers a unique and specific career portrait. What makes this set stand apart isn’t just that it brings together three distinct films from different periods of Sammo Hung’s rise; it’s that each film captures him at a crossroads. You’re not just watching Hung’s growth as a performer — you’re seeing him feel out new territory, sharpen his instincts, and redefine what Hong Kong action cinema could look like at the moment it needed reinvention. Packing THE MANCHU BOXER, PAPER MARRIAGE, and SHANGHAI, SHANGHAI into one release isn’t just a gesture in archiving a legend. It’s a reminder of why Hung became one of the most adaptable and influential artists in the industry.

Horror doesn’t always rely on chaos to pull you under, and in this case, it waits patiently and makes you feel the dread creeping in from the edges. THE WAILING embraces that philosophy from its first frame. It’s a film designed around the slow press of fear rather than loud punctuation. By the time its three timelines begin to fold into one another, Director and co-writer Pedro Martín-Calero has built something genuinely unsettling. Not because it tries to scare you every few minutes, but because it treats horror as a symptom of deeper wounds that refuse to close.

This isn’t a spy thriller interested in the usual games of covert operations or gadget-ready theatrics. Instead, Co-Directors/Writers Hélène Cattet and Bruno Forzani approach the genre in a way we haven’t seen before. The film follows a 70-year-old ex-spy living in a luxury hotel on the Côte d’Azur whose routine shatters when the woman in the adjoining room disappears. Yet the disappearance is only the first card to fold. What follows is a spiral through fractured memories, illusions, and the ghosts of a past shaped by espionage, desire, and fantasy.

Some documentaries try to shape hardship into something refined and inspirational. WITHOUT WARNING chooses a different path. It presents survival as it actually unfolds: frightening, unpredictable, and shaped as much by instinct and vulnerability as by bravery. Bridgett Watkins’ story has every element of a dramatic adventure, yet filmmaker Steve Scearcy keeps the focus on the human being at the center, not the myth. That approach grounds the film, giving it weight beyond the headlines. It isn’t a tale framed as triumph for its own sake; it’s a chronicle of a woman facing the kind of danger most people will never encounter and pushing forward anyway, even when fear and obligation collide in uncomfortable ways.

SAY YES! TO OWN YOUR SUCCESS enters the crowded personal-development world with a surprisingly grounded tone. Ron Stein isn’t writing from the mountaintop, preaching at readers through recycled motivational catchphrases. Instead, he builds his guidance out of lived experience—decades of real jobs, real mistakes, sudden pivots, and the kind of unexpected successes that only show up after you’ve stopped waiting for permission. What makes the book stand out is its blend of memoir and framework, creating something more substantial than the usual “new year, new you” fluff. Stein provides structure, energy, and just enough storytelling to keep the lessons anchored in real-world stakes.

A documentary built over nearly two decades asks the filmmaker to commit not just to a subject but also to the gradual shifts that come with age, loss, reinvention, and the unpredictable changes life throws at someone living unapologetically. PEACHES GOES BANANAS embraces that view and uses it as a core strength, capturing Merrill Nisker — better known as Peaches — at various points where confidence, exhaustion, humor, ambition, and tenderness collide. Director Marie Losier isn’t interested in shaping Peaches into a conventional documentary figure. Instead, she lets the footage accumulate naturally, turning the film into an extended conversation between two artists as they attempt to understand one another across changing landscapes, careers, and personal histories.

There’s a particular comfort in a series that knows exactly where it wants to stand from the moment it starts. ART DETECTIVES positions itself in that space where charm meets well-built cases, letting its mysteries feel grounded without being bleak. Instead of leaning on shock or cynicism, it trades in curiosity — the pull of art history, the tension of hidden motives, and the strange ways priceless objects can warp otherwise reasonable lives. With that foundation, the series lands securely in the cozy-crime sphere, but with just enough edge to keep its stories from fading into formula.

Season 3 of THE WALKING DEAD: DARYL DIXON wastes no time reminding you why these characters earned such longevity in the first place. There’s a confidence to this chapter, the kind that only emerges when a series knows its identity and trusts its cast to carry emotion without forcing spectacle. The return of Carol makes this even clearer; she doesn’t simply rejoin the story — she reorients it. The season carries the energy of a long-delayed conversation finally happening, the kind that personalizes every step Daryl and Carol take across a Europe that feels both expansive and claustrophobic. There’s real comfort in their reunion, but also an earned tension in how differently they’re approaching the idea of “home,” turning what could have been straightforward fan service into something richer.

Some sports documentaries feel like they’re just there to inform, and others feel like coming home again. THE SHUFFLE easily falls into the second category, wrapping itself in Chicago pride and decades-old memories of a team that didn’t just win — they dominated, they entertained, and they embraced a swagger the NFL had never seen before (or since.) For anyone who grew up with the 1985 Bears as mythology or who still references “The Super Bowl Shuffle” as if it were a sacred text, this short documentary plays like a time capsule cracked open at exactly the right moment. And with the Bears finally having a good, if not great season again (not on the level of the ‘85 Bears, but beating the Super Bowl champs from last year ain’t nothing), watching this film feels like a celebration more than a history lesson.

Some films work best when they make you feel like you’ve wandered somewhere you shouldn’t be, and THE HOUSE WITH LAUGHING WINDOWS thrives in that space. It’s a film that doesn’t need cheap shocks or exaggerated theatrics to keep you unsettled. Instead, it grounds its horror in isolation, suspicion, and the sinking realization that some communities hide rot beneath a perfectly still surface. Watching it today, restored in 4K and given the level of care Arrow Video reserves for films with genuine artistic vision, it becomes clear why this title quietly earned its reputation as one of the most disturbing entries in Italian horror — not because of what it shows, but because of what it makes your mind fill in.