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It’s not every day a zombie movie sets its sights on fan culture and manages to both celebrate and roast it at the same time. ZOMBIECON VOL. 1 lands somewhere between chaos and commentary, blending camp, carnage, and cosplay in a world that feels absurdly heightened and yet oddly timely. While it doesn’t always stick the landing, this genre-mashing indie horror comedy charges forward with confidence, buoyed by a cast that’s enjoying themselves and a concept bold enough to stand out in an overcrowded undead landscape.

There’s a unique bravery in silence, particularly in a time when shouting seems to dominate every corner of modern discourse. DIVIA, directed by Dmytro Hreshko, doesn’t whisper so much as it allows the earth itself to breathe. It offers no commentary, no narration, no voice guiding you through its 79-minute meditation. Instead, it trusts the viewer to witness, absorb, and feel the unspoken weight of what war leaves behind—and what may slowly grow in its aftermath.

What does it mean to love across barriers—barriers of religion, orientation, ability, or communication? That question pulses through the heart of A QUIET LOVE, a quietly profound documentary that gives voice—visually, emotionally, and metaphorically—to three Deaf couples whose stories are as personal as they are universally moving. Directed by Garry Keane, the film is not simply a collection of narratives; it's a rich and immersive experience that transforms the screen into a space of shared empathy, offering viewers a perspective rarely depicted with such authenticity and care.

MARLEE MATLIN: NOT ALONE ANYMORE is more than a tribute—it’s a reclamation. Directed by Shoshannah Stern, the film gives Matlin the space and the language to tell her story on her terms, finally. For a woman whose life has often been filtered through interpreters, interviews, and assumptions, this documentary presents something long overdue: full autonomy. This is her story, as she tells it.

In a landscape where extremism and ideology often get boiled down to caricature, SOVEREIGN emerges as the exception—one that refuses to offer easy answers. What initially appeared to be a standard direct-to-streaming thriller, complete with clipped-out characters pointing in different directions for the poster art, and a vague title, instead delivers a harrowing meditation on radicalization, family loyalty, and the tragic consequences of distorted freedom. Anchored by a career-defining performance from Nick Offerman, SOVEREIGN is one of the most emotionally jarring and socially urgent films of the year.

Beata Parkanová’s TINY LIGHTS is a quiet triumph in restrained storytelling, bringing deep emotional resonance without ever raising its voice. Centering the entire film around six-year-old Amálka’s perspective, Parkanová doesn't just direct a narrative—she reconstructs a memory, crafting an experience that feels suspended in time. It's a thoughtful meditation on the moment when innocence begins to fade, not from cruelty, but from the subtle complications of adulthood glimpsed before a child is ready.

A new home. A new beginning. A fresh chance. However, in PUSH, that promise quickly turns into a high-stress scenario built on limitations, psychological dread, and an incredibly vulnerable main character. The concept is strong. The tension is built in. Unfortunately, the film only delivers on part of its premise, serving up a lean, effective horror thriller that never quite realizes its full potential.

ZOMBIES 4: DAWN OF THE VAMPIRES marks a clear shift for the Disney franchise that began as a peppy tale of zombie–human coexistence and Romeo & Juliet style forbidden love. Four films in, and the message of empathy remains intact—but the approach feels different. Not worse, just… older. And maybe that’s the point. After following Zed (Milo Manheim) and Addison (Meg Donnelly) through high school, werewolf turf wars, and alien arrivals, this fourth entry doesn’t quite reboot the series. Still, it certainly caters to a slightly more mature crowd.

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.