Theory & Criticism

In recent years, viewers have increasingly tuned into the vapid online interfaces of TikTok and Instagram, while turning away from similar images rendered on the cinema screen. In her essay, Asha Ahn examines why contemporary film has struggled to capture modern internet culture while keeping its audience engaged, and how filmmakers are grappling with shifting perceptions of our digital lives.

Jean Rollin’s films blur the line between dream and death, portraying women as extravagantly spectral figures who resist definition. Through repetition, eroticism, and through decay of what is expected from female characters, his cinema mirrors writer Hélène Cixous’s écriture féminine—feminine writing. Fluid, nonlinear, drawing strength in its bark as its roots soak up all emotionality. Rollin’s female characters speak in symbols, not logic; their sensuality becomes power, no

Denis Villeneuve’s Dune and Dune: Part Two have divided critics over whether their environmental themes are too subtle to be effective, with some arguing that the films’ grand spectacle overshadows their ecological intent. Kallen Zborovsky-Fenster challenges this notion, contending that Villeneuve’s visual storytelling and immersive world-building make the threat of climate collapse more emotionally tangible. Through symbolic imagery rather than overt messaging, Villeneuve re

In Sam Witt’s piece, she argues that horror films critically examine the reflections of fears present in society, allowing us to share connection over our anxieties.

In a small, quiet Pennsylvania neighborhood, Archer (Josh Brolin), armed only with a phone light and a relentless drive to recover his lost son, enters the dark basement of a house that's become an epicenter of strange happenings in this sleepy town. As we’re dragged alongside Archer, searching through a pitch-black sea of deadpan, motionless children, we’re treated to one of the most striking jump scares in the film as a creature emerges from the shadows and lunges towards o

What could possibly be more terrifying than the reality Americans wake up to every day? Certainly not the typical horror films filled with witches, vampires or zombies, which may carry some allegorical weight but rarely land with the force they intend to. No, the real horror is watching our leaders lie on national television, appoint officials who echo the language and behavior of fascists, and watching our basic human rights erode in real time while the country collectively

Alejandro Amenábar’s debut Thesis fuses horror and thriller to probe our fascination with violence. This essay explores its metafilmic nature, tracing how voyeurism and desire emerge through plot, form, and setting—offering a prophetic reflection on today’s audience.

We’ve all watched a movie with that pretentious person who insists that every single narrative element is a metaphor for something. You might hear them say “the curtains were blue to symbolize death,” or “the speed limit sign was 55 to symbolize drug abuse,” and other far-reaching, nonsensical comparisons. More often than not, these people's favorite movies are the ones where nothing that is happening is actually happening. Take American Psycho , where every scene can be unde