A tale of bees, billionaires, and breakdowns — just another Tuesday in the corporate hive mind. Bugonia is what happens when you let Yorgos Lanthimos drink cold brew and watch The X-Files while reading Fast Company. It’s a sci-fi dark comedy in the same way that swallowing a beehive is a “spa treatment.” In this film, Jesse Plemons plays a man named Teddy who is either:a) a beekeeperb) a conspiracy theoristc) a philosophy professor on sabbaticalor d) all of the above, with untreated seasonal allergies.

From what I can gather, Americana is about a magic shirt. Not Harry Potter magic—more like “if your uncle’s old rodeo jacket had ghosts and bad intentions.” This so-called “ghost shirt” gets stolen, and suddenly a dusty small town is knee-deep in crime, blood, and country music dreams. Sydney Sweeney plays Penny Jo, a waitress with a stutter and big aspirations. She’s apparently the emotional anchor of the whole thing, which is ironic because just a few months ago the internet was roasting her denim ad for looking like a campaign commercial filmed in a Bass Pro parking lot.

Some movies ease you in gently. Weapons kicks down the door at 2:17 a.m., kidnaps 17 third-graders, and leaves one kid behind to stew in a boiling pot of trauma. The setting is small-town America, which of course means a handful of people will take it upon themselves to solve the crime instead of letting, say, the FBI handle it. The plot unfolds in six overlapping perspectives: a guilt-wracked teacher, a hollowed-out father, a detective with questionable coping skills, a child who’s probably going to need five therapists, and a couple of other locals whose main contribution is walking ominously through bad lighting.

So apparently aliens have upgraded from tripods to… Microsoft Teams? In this one, Ice Cube is a Homeland Security analyst fighting an alien invasion entirely from his laptop. Which means instead of laser beams and mass panic, we get screen shares, awkward buffering, and the occasional “You’re on mute” while humanity burns. Critics have been savage. At one point Rotten Tomatoes slapped it with a perfect 0%, which feels less like a score and more like a dare. Some people say it’s actually fun in a “drinking with friends and watching a dumpster fire” sort of way, but that might just be Stockholm syndrome from all the product placement.

The internet tells me Happy Gilmore is back, older, creakier, and probably icing his back between drives. People are calling it a nostalgia parade with golf balls. Reports of Travis Kelce covered in honey while a bear lurks nearby have turned the movie into a conspiracy theory magnet. Some fans swear the bear is secretly Taylor Swift. Netflix is saying nothing, which makes it funnier. The sequel leans hard on memories of the original. Expect ghostly nods to Chubbs, lots of hockey jerseys, and cameos that feel like Sandler just texted every contact in his phone.

This is Marvel’s 87th attempt to make the Fantastic Four work on screen, which is impressive if you consider that most people give up on a Rubik’s Cube after six minutes and one thrown coffee mug. But this time, it’s going to be different, allegedly because Marvel gave the project to a director who has both a “vision” and the ability to hold actors at gunpoint until they stop smirking during green screen takes. The Fantastic Four, in case you’re unfamiliar, are a group of scientists and one hothead who went to space and came back with the kind of mutations you normally only get from expired gas station sushi.

Boots first, justice later. I have not seen the new Superman movie, but based on the trailer, leaked set photos, and the collective Reddit meltdown over whether the cape is too red or not red enough, I feel fully qualified to review it. James Gunn directs this one, which is a bold choice for a character whose emotional range usually runs from "concerned squint" to "stoic hovering." But Gunn, who once made us weep over a tree with a three-word vocabulary, seems determined to give Superman his feelings back—whether we like it or not.

Teen genius builds flying death suit between midterms. Also, there’s a demon. Look, Riri Williams is a 19-year-old engineering prodigy from Chicago who builds an Iron Man suit out of spare parts and emotional trauma, and Marvel said, “Yes, let’s add magic to that.” Enter The Hood, a villain who appears to have raided both a thrift store and a cursed monastery.

The Naked Gun (the reboot, not the 1988 classic that had a higher body count of banana peels than bullets) So there’s a new Naked Gun movie, which I have not seen but feel fully qualified to review because I once watched Airplane! while under the influence of NyQuil and a Costco-sized box of Cheez-Its. This reboot stars Liam Neeson, who is mostly famous for playing characters who threaten to do horrible things to people over the phone.

The only thing tougher than marriage is surviving the bachelorette party. This summer, Jennifer Lawrence stars in Bride Hard, a romantic action comedy that dares to ask: What if your maid of honor was also John Wick in heels? According to the trailer (which I’ve watched the way you watch a raccoon try to open a trash can — horrified but curious), Lawrence plays a badass bridesmaid who must fight off international terrorists at a destination wedding.

Shootouts, Gold, and Samuel L. Jackson Doing Something Weird in a Saloon The Unholy Trinity is a modern western where jealousy, buried gold, and the film rights to every shoot-’em-up cliché collide in dusty Montana. Pierce Brosnan plays Gabriel Dove, a sheriff with decent facial hair and unresolved Civil War flashbacks. Samuel L. Jackson shows up as St. Christopher, a charismatic outlaw who may or may not be improvising half his lines just to keep things interesting.

The Pandemic Western That Asked: What If TikTok Was Armed? Eddington is like bingeing a pandemic conspiracy forum while eating cowboy-shaped cookies dipped in existential dread. Ari Aster has somehow convinced Joaquin Phoenix to trade in his usual silent brooding for gun-barrel sermons about “reclaiming our sovereignty,” which is either about COVID or his neighbor stealing his recycling bin. Pedro Pascal struts through town hall like a man who once read the Constitution on a bar napkin and now won’t take off his bolo tie.

One Man. One Telescope. One Extremely Confusing Chalkboard. In Eddington, famed theoretical physicist Arthur Eddington sets out to prove Einstein’s general theory of relativity, but mostly ends up proving that British men in waistcoats will absolutely ruin your dinner party by talking about spacetime for three hours. From the trailer and the three Twitter threads I skimmed (while pretending to understand gravity), this movie appears to be a cinematic love letter to solar eclipses, dense equations, and nervous pacing in tweed.

Secrets, Sequins, and the Most Casual Federal Crimes You’ll Ever See at Brunch Another Simple Favor is the sequel nobody saw coming and yet somehow completely expected. Once again, Anna Kendrick and Blake Lively return to play America’s most emotionally unstable PTA friendship — where every coffee date turns into a federal investigation. I haven’t seen it. But I’ve watched the trailer, read the headlines, and skimmed enough online think pieces titled “Is Suburban Murder Chic Now?” to confidently pretend I have.

A Kid, Some Aliens, and Pixar’s Ongoing Mission to Emotionally Break Parents Elio is Pixar’s latest entry in their “What If Feelings Had Feelings?” cinematic universe. This time, instead of toys or emotions or the concept of death, they’ve decided to traumatize us through the lens of intergalactic diplomacy. Because nothing says “family entertainment” like a shy middle schooler accidentally becoming Earth’s ambassador to a council of extremely judgmental aliens.

More Zombies, More Trauma, and Definitely No One’s Just “Taking a Quick Look Around” 28 Years Later is the long-awaited sequel to 28 Days Later and 28 Weeks Later, which makes this the third installment in a franchise where the only thing more contagious than the Rage virus is generational trauma. Danny Boyle is back directing, which means whatever happens will be beautifully filmed, emotionally devastating, and probably involve someone getting tackled through a pane of glass.

It’s Like the Animated One, But With Real Humans and a Dragon You Can Almost Pet (If You’re Brave) DreamWorks has decided it’s time to remake one of the most beloved animated films of all time—because apparently we live in a timeline where every great movie eventually becomes a live-action reboot with more lens flare and emotionally intense teenage side-eyes. Enter the live-action…

Time-Traveling Death Alien vs. Every Warrior Hollywood Could License In Predator: Killer of Killers, the Predator franchise finally answers the question absolutely no one asked: “What if we dropped a dreadlocked space hunter into a historical re-enactment buffet?” This animated anthology film reportedly features the Predator facing off against warriors from multiple eras—Vikings, samurai, Roman soldiers, maybe a caveman with a rock and a grudge.

Love, Luxury, and the Crushing Weight of Your Emotional Net Worth Materialists is a romantic comedy directed by Celine Song, which means it’s got feelings, longing, and at least one person crying in a beautifully lit room while staring at furniture they can’t afford. It stars Pedro Pascal, Dakota Johnson, and Chris Evans, which is basically Hollywood’s way of saying, “This is hot people therapy disguised as a film.”

Grace. Vengeance. And More Neck Snaps Than Opening Night at the Met. This movie is part of the John Wick universe, which means everyone is either a highly trained assassin, a hotel manager, or dead. Possibly all three. Ballerina stars Ana de Armas as a professionally pirouetting vengeance machine who was raised in a secret ballet school that is somehow also a murder academy.

A Three-Act Existential Breakdown Featuring Tap Dancing, Ghosts, and Mortgage Payments This is a movie based on a story by Stephen King, which means it probably includes at least one of the following: A haunted object A child who sees things Someone slowly losing their mind in a Denny’s But this one’s… different. It’s called The Life of Chuck, and from what I haven’t seen, it’s about a guy named Chuck who either dies at the beginning, middle, or end—or possibly all three—and the movie decides to tell his story backwards, because why not mess with the audience’s emotional chronology and their sense of linear time?

Espionage, Eccentricity, and a Monologue Delivered Entirely Through Eyebrow Raises The Phoenician Scheme is the latest Wes Anderson film, which means it’s already been declared both “a masterpiece of visual symmetry” and “a crime against traditional narrative structure” depending on which corner of the internet you frequent. I haven’t seen it. But I have seen the trailer, read three think pieces, and accidentally wandered into a Reddit thread titled “Was the lemon truly a metaphor?” So I’m basically an expert.

Two Legends. One Kid. And More Wisdom Than a Panda Express Fortune Cookie So apparently this is the movie where Jackie Chan and Ralph Macchio team up—not to stop a global threat, but to co-manage the emotional stability of one incredibly stressed-out teenager. It’s a Karate Kid crossover event, and by “event,” I mean you’ll leave the theater unsure whether you need a black belt or a therapist.

Pop Ballads, Period Costumes, and the Most Emotionally Intense Key Change Since Les Mis Juliet & Romeo is what happens when Shakespeare meets Spotify. It’s a bold reimagining of the classic tragedy—except with pop music, elaborate choreography, and Rebel Wilson showing up just to make sure nobody forgets this is, in fact, a musical. This version flips the title and the ending.