Hansen’s hunger for his White Whale jumpstarts the loss of himself. He goes on a Dantean journey into Hell, but it is unclear whether he came out the other side. In his desperation, Hansen’s world begins to fracture at its seams during his mad dash to capture the final predator, calling into question who the real predator is.

Through rotating podiums and rotting walls, the stage of fools is brilliantly pulled apart piece by piece as Cruise delivers a strikingly smarmy diegetic indictment of our complacency. Iñárritu doesn’t just bend the landscape of Digger Rockwell’s reality, he reaches through the screen and throttles you in the very theater you’re sitting in, punishing you for cackling at the very jokes he’s serving you.

In Resident Evil, Cregger and his co-writer Shay Hatten ask how far you would go to avoid an inevitable change. Would you run and hide? Stand, fight, and survive? Perhaps you won’t know until you’re backed into a corner and forced to make the decision, wasting ammo, energy, and precious time. 

Where Homer celebrates Odysseus as a hero returned, Nolan admonishes him as a harbinger of death. As heartbreaking as it is harrowing, the writer-director pulls on the thematic foundations of Tenet (2020) and Oppenheimer (2023) and once again asks the audience to reckon with one man’s destruction of the world.

Helped along by excellent performances from each of the four actors, the film weaves an elaborate game of push and pull through both poignant moments and hilarious banter that keeps you on the edge of your seat.

Minions & Monsters is not the first to point to Old Hollywood, but it’s particularly resonant as viewers find joy and amusement in the idea of these lovable little creatures so intentionally recreating scenes that are otherwise considered serious moments of cinematic history.

It’s riveting to see Kara on the big screen at full power. Her fight scenes are captivating and full of fun choreography, and Alcock’s perfect blend of rage and despair bubbling under the surface of Kara’s nonchalant exterior completely embodies the iconic hero.

But the most impressive part of Leviticus is that it doesn’t pretend the shame or fear start and end. There is not a full stop. There is no natural conclusion to hurtle toward. And there is no definitive expiration on the tension queer people feel all their lives.