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LOVELINES is the kind of 1980s teen comedy that seems less like it was written than pieced together from everything the era assumed young audiences wanted thrown at them at once. Rival high schools, pranks, horny side characters, fist fights, a Battle of the Bands, a forbidden romance, a protective brother built like a human wall, and Michael Winslow running a mysterious phone service all compete for control of the same 93 minutes. The movie rarely finds a strong enough reason for all of this to exist together, but there is still something weirdly watchable about how much it crams into the frame. It’s more like a half-busted jukebox that keeps skipping to the strangest possible track, and sometimes that’s enough to make it harder to dismiss than it probably deserves.

DI’ANNO: IRON MAIDEN’S LOST SINGER doesn’t examine Paul Di’Anno like a trivia answer in Iron Maiden history. It treats him as a man whose voice helped define a movement, whose life was scarred by bad decisions and bad luck, and whose final years deserved more than a footnote beneath the shadow of a much larger band. That distinction matters because this documentary could easily have become another fan-service extension of metal mythology, built around famous names, archival clips, and a familiar rise-and-fall. Director Wes Orshoski aims for something more intimate, following Di’Anno through a late-life stretch marked by failing health, financial desperation, humor, anger, gratitude, and a return to the stage that feels both triumphant and painful to watch.

AUDITION is one of those horror films whose reputation can almost work against it. The shockwave of it has traveled farther than the movie itself, turning certain images, sounds, and twists into the kind of cultural shorthand that makes new viewers feel as if they already know what they’re walking into. That familiarity doesn’t lessen the impact, though. If anything, it makes Takashi Miike’s patience feel even crueler. AUDITION doesn’t survive and thrive because of one infamous stretch. It survives because the entire film is built like a lie someone tells themselves until reality finally pushes back.

MARLOWE has the appeal of a movie caught between inheritance and reinvention. It carries the name of one of detective fiction’s great private eyes, borrows its bones from Raymond Chandler’s THE LITTLE SISTER, dresses itself in late-sixties Los Angeles, and then hands the role to James Garner, an actor whose natural portrayal works both for and against the material. The result isn’t one of the essential Philip Marlowe films, and it never quite shakes the feeling that it’s living in the shadow of stronger noir predecessors and more adventurous revisionist detective stories that would arrive soon after. There’s enough charm and curiosity here to make MARLOWE an enjoyable, if uneven, piece of transitional noir.

KOKUM & DOT knows something many modern children’s shows seem to forget, younger viewers don’t need to be overwhelmed to be moved. They need clarity, warmth, purposeful repetition, and a world that makes them feel like they’re part of it, rather than being forced on them. This live-action/animated children’s series, centered on Kokum Dorothy and her inquisitive puppet friend Dot, works because it treats learning as a shared experience. It’s gentle, but not empty. It’s simple, but not without impact. Most importantly, it places the Cree language, knowledge, memory, imagination, and emotional expression at the center of a children’s format without making any of those elements feel secondary to commercial expectations.