Occasionally, a horror movie sneaks up on you. You think you know where it's going from its simple premise, but then it morphs into something horrific. Obsession by Curry Barker is that type of film. Though it first feels like a typical supernatural story about a wish gone wrong, it slowly becomes clear you are watching something far more perverse: a disturbing psychological look at loneliness, privilege, and blurring the lines between wanting and loving.

For much of her existence, Supergirl has lived in Superman's giant shadow. Introduced as his cousin first, she has always struggled to stand apart from her famous male counterpart. Released in 1984, Supergirl starred Helen Slater, who embraced her role and gave an earnest performance that deserved better. Even with a strong supporting cast including Faye Dunaway, Peter O'Toole, Brenda Vaccaro, and Mia Farrow, the film couldn't overcome a schizophrenic screenplay, inconsistent visual effects, and an identity crisis. Over forty years later, DC Studios is finally giving Kara Zor-El another shot. With Supergirl (2026), they've replaced wide-eyed naivety with a battle-hardened heroine who hasn't faced obstacles without getting her uniform dirty or heartbroken. The result is an action-packed and often thrilling superhero blockbuster that gives the character her own identity separate from Superman, even if it doesn't always manage to fly.

Leviticus isn’t the first horror film I’ve reviewed for The Hollywoodland Revue. Horror and thrillers have always been some of my favorite genres. Over the years, I’ve watched and enjoyed many films that have scared, unsettled, or surprised me. What attracted me to Leviticus wasn’t just the promise of scares. While there are definitely moments that will make audiences jump, the film aims for something much deeper. It uses horror to tackle real issues like religious trauma, homophobia, repression, and the lasting emotional scars caused by conversion therapy. This shows that the best horror films aren’t just about scary monsters, but about the real ones we create ourselves.

Twenty-six years after the original Scary Movie gleefully skewered horror films and popular culture, the franchise returns with Scary Movie 6—or simply Scary Movie as the studio prefers—and its biggest selling point is also its greatest strength: the return of the Wayans family. Marlon Wayans, Shawn Wayans, Anna Faris, and Regina Hall are back, joined by familiar faces including Chris Elliott, Cheri Oteri, Lochlyn Munro, and members of the extended Wayans clan. Michael Tiddes takes over directing duties. The film largely ignores the later sequels and acts as a direct continuation of the first two movies, restoring the franchise to its original custodians.

There are filmmakers who make movies, and then there is Steven Spielberg, who manages to turn even the biggest spectacles into deeply human stories. With Disclosure Day, his long-awaited return to extraterrestrial mysteries, Spielberg delivers the kind of intelligent, emotionally satisfying blockbuster Hollywood rarely produces anymore. At two hours and twenty-five minutes, the film never drags. Not once did I check my watch or feel the story lose momentum. From its opening scenes to its breathtaking finale, Disclosure Day kept me completely engaged.

After years of delays, abandoned trilogies, streaming spin-offs, and endless speculation about the future of the franchise, The Mandalorian and Grogu finally arrived as the first theatrical Star Wars feature in years. Directed by Jon Favreau and continuing the storyline launched in Disney+’s enormously successful The Mandalorian series, the film reunites audiences with Din Djarin, played once again by Pedro Pascal, and his tiny green companion Grogu, still affectionately known to much of the world as “Baby Yoda.” The supporting cast includes Sigourney Weaver, Jeremy Allen White, Brendan Wayne, and Lateef Crowder, while longtime franchise collaborator Dave Filoni co-wrote the screenplay with Favreau.

I almost skipped The Sheep Detectives entirely. The poster wasn't inviting. Neither was the premise. Animated CGI sheep that talk solve a murder mystery. Sounds like the type of movie that studios unleash upon theaters, complete with ear-shattering trailers, cheap laughs and a screenplay your patience tests while your kids bounce in their seats. The stellar cast didn't even sway me at first. We've all come to learn over the years that a great cast doesn't guarantee quality entertainment. Then something happened that caught my interest.

When so many movies are defined by explosions, sneers, and resurrecting decades-old franchises, Remarkably Bright Creatures dares to be something we see far too rarely these days: a heartfelt film unafraid to embrace feeling, compassion, and gentle human interaction. Directed by Olivia Newman and based on Shelby Van Pelt’s bestselling novel of the same name, Remarkably Bright Creatures had all the ingredients to easily turn maudlin or gimmicky. Particularly because its main storyline centers around the unlikely friendship between a curmudgeonly widow and a giant Pacific octopus. Instead, Remarkably Bright Creatures manages to become one of the most emotionally rewarding films of the year, buoyed by a transcendent performance by Sally Field and a truly compassionate ensemble that fully understands what’s at stake with this material’s balance of sadness, comedy, and optimism.

Vladislav Kozlov’s Silent Life: The Rudolph Valentino Centennial Final Cut is not your typical Valentino biopic, nor does it aim to be one. Although it does purport to tell the real story of Rudolph Valentino, the film is much more personal than that. Dubbed hypnotic by some viewers, Silent Life plays less like a straightforward account of Valentino’s life than a fever dream recalling the legacy of cinema’s first movie sex symbol. With no real interest in historical timelines, the film drifts through the spiritual remnants of a star whose hold on our collective imagination has proven somewhat timeless. Making its rounds through the festival circuit, and appearing at the Cannes Marché du Film, during May 12-20, 2026, Silent Life stakes its claim as part-history lesson, part-meditation.

Two decades after changing how fashion looked on film forever, The Devil Wears Prada 2 (2026), arrives not simply as a sequel to the wildly popular film, but as a reflection on time—time that has passed, time that was lost and time that won't stop for even the greats. Written again by Aline Brosh McKenna and directed by David Frankel, the cast from the original returns featuring Meryl Streep, Anne Hathaway, Emily Blunt and Stanley Tucci along with a host of new talent. The story acknowledges from its opening frames, that the world of glossy magazines—and the power structures behind them—has fundamentally changed.

There is a certain expectation that comes with a documentary centered on a First Lady—particularly one as enigmatic and carefully managed as Melania Trump. One expects revelation, context, perhaps even contradiction. Instead, Melania (2026), directed by Brett Ratner, arrives as something far more elusive and, ultimately, far less satisfying: a glossy, expensive exercise in image control that reveals almost nothing about the woman at its center.

Antoine Fuqua’s Michael arrives less as a conventional biography than as a massive, estate-approved act of cinematic resurrection: polished, expensive, musically electrifying, and deeply controlled. The film, written by John Logan and produced by Graham King with Jackson estate figures John Branca and John McClain, follows Michael Jackson from his Jackson 5 childhood through his solo superstardom and the Bad era, stopping before the later allegations and scandals that would permanently complicate his public legacy. Jaafar Jackson, Michael’s nephew and the son of Jermaine Jackson, makes his film debut in the title role, with Juliano Krue Valdi playing the young Michael, Colman Domingo as Joe Jackson, Nia Long as Katherine Jackson, Miles Teller as attorney John Branca, and Laura Harrier as Suzanne de Passe.