Jayson Bissell

Watching About My Father felt like sitting down with my own family for a chaotic, hilarious, and unexpectedly touching weekend. Sebastian Maniscalco’s story; loosely based on his real-life relationship with his father—is a charming blend of culture clash comedy and genuine emotional beats. And with Robert De Niro playing Salvo, the old-school Italian dad, the film gains a layer of authenticity and warmth that’s hard to resist. The premise is simple: Sebastian wants to propose to his girlfriend, and his father insists on tagging along to meet her eccentric, wealthy family. What unfolds is a whirlwind of awkward moments, heartfelt revelations, and laugh-out-loud scenes that reminded me of the beautiful messiness of family. De Niro is a delight—gruff, proud, and surprisingly tender. His chemistry with Maniscalco is spot-on, and you can tell there’s real affection behind the banter. Leslie Bibb and Kim Cattrall round out the cast with performances that balance the absurdity with sincerity. Sure, it’s not reinventing the genre, and some jokes lean into familiar territory. But that’s part of its charm. It’s a movie that celebrates roots, quirks, and the unspoken love between generations. I was left with a smile and a renewed appreciation for my own family’s quirks. If you’ve ever cringed at your parents’ behavior in public—or secretly admired their unapologetic authenticity—this one’s for you.

I watched No Hard Feelings on Prime Video last night, and I genuinely wasn’t ready for how hard it was going to make me laugh. I figured I’d get a few chuckles, maybe a smirk or two—but nope. This movie came in swinging with the kind of chaotic energy that had me wheezing, rewinding, and texting people mid-movie like, “You have to watch this.” Jennifer Lawrence is an absolute menace in the best possible way. She throws herself into this role with such reckless abandon that you can’t help but be swept along for the ride. Her performance is a masterclass in comedic chaos—equal parts unfiltered, unhinged, and unexpectedly endearing. The film’s humor is gloriously inappropriate, but never mean-spirited. It’s the kind of comedy that dares you not to laugh—and then hits you with a punchline so perfectly timed, you’re gasping for air. There’s a rhythm to the madness, a kind of controlled demolition of social norms that somehow feels both outrageous and oddly relatable. What really caught me off guard was how much heart the movie sneaks in. Just when you think it’s all jokes and jaw-dropping antics, it hits you with a moment of real vulnerability. It’s like finding a love letter tucked inside a whoopee cushion—unexpected, but weirdly touching. The supporting cast is fantastic, the pacing never lets up, and the whole thing feels like a summer fever dream you never want to wake up from. It’s messy, loud, and gloriously over-the-top—and I loved every second of it. If you’re in the mood for something that’s equal parts hilarious and surprisingly heartfelt, No Hard Feelings delivers. It’s messy, it’s wild, and it’s exactly the kind of movie night chaos I didn’t know I needed.

From the very first episode, Blue Mountain State makes no apologies. It charges onto the screen with the subtlety of a linebacker blitz, embracing the insanity of college life through a whirlwind of booze, brawn and downright debauchery—but underneath all the foam parties and goat-related misadventures lies a surprisingly sharp satire of campus culture and toxic sports institutions; like Animal House for the protein shake generation. Alex Moran is the king of coasting—a quarterback who treats ambition like a contagious disease. But that's exactly what makes him oddly relatable. Watching him float through chaos with a beer in hand and a smirk on his face feels like a weird form of comfort. Like, maybe it's okay to not have it all figured out. The writing thrives on crossing every line it can find, but what makes BMS work isn't just the shock value. It’s the commitment to the absurdity. The show doesn’t wink! Blue Mountain State isn’t trying to be profound, but that’s the point. It’s a middle finger to the prestige TV era, a rallying cry for those who believe that laughter, raunchy, reckless and ridiculous still has a place. It won’t be everyone’s cup of beer, but for those who click with its wild rhythm, it’s a touchdown in the most twisted, testosterone-fueled way possible.

When I first hit “play” on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I expected campy vampire action, late-'90s quippiness, and maybe the occasional leather trench coat. What I didn’t expect was to find a series that so deftly weaves supernatural spectacle with raw emotional honesty—like The Breakfast Club crash-landing into a Hellmouth. At its surface, Buffy Summers is your classic unlikely hero: a California teen juggling high school with slaying the undead. But beneath that snarky, high-kicking exterior lies one of television’s most nuanced depictions of identity, grief, and growing up. The show’s strength lies not just in its smart writing and memorable monsters, but in its willingness to let its characters grow messy and vulnerable. Every season feels like a metaphor unspooling. High school as literal hell. College as a loss of self. Love that transforms—sometimes into obsession, sometimes into dust. And Buffy herself? She’s the kind of heroine who doesn't just save the world—she carries it, even when it breaks her. Sure, the fashion is a time capsule, and the CGI occasionally screams “Windows 95,” but there’s something timeless in its DNA. This isn’t just a vampire show—it’s a coming-of-age saga wrapped in shadows, wit, and heartbreak. It laughs at tropes even as it creates them, then stakes them through the heart with unflinching sincerity. If the reboot manages to bottle even a fraction of this emotional alchemy, we’re in for something unforgettable.

Watching Psych was like stumbling into a quirky detective novel that refuses to take itself too seriously—and I loved every minute of it. The show manages to balance razor-sharp wit with genuine emotional depth, a rare feat in a genre that often leans too hard into one or the other. Shawn Spencer is the unlikely hero you root for, not because he’s perfect, but because he’s real—flawed, brilliant, and endlessly entertaining. His chemistry with Gus is electric; their banter isn’t just funny, it’s iconic. Their friendship is the show’s heartbeat, built on loyalty, nicknames, and a shared love of snacks and 80s pop culture. What really hooked me, though, was the tone. Psych dances between light-hearted mystery and moments of surprising introspection. Just when you think it’s all pineapple smoothies and ridiculous disguises, it’ll land a scene that hits emotionally—with Henry’s tough love or Juliet’s quiet strength. And don’t even get me started on Lassiter—every gruff glare hides an unexpected layer of heart. Beyond the characters, the mysteries are clever without being convoluted, and the rewatch value is sky-high. I found myself catching references I missed the first time, whether it was a sly movie homage or a running gag I didn’t notice until episode 10. More than just a detective comedy, Psych is a warm, weird, wonderful celebration of friendship, identity, and not always growing up—but maybe growing into yourself. It’s a show that doesn’t just entertain, it reminds you to embrace your quirks, chase what brings you joy, and maybe, just maybe, keep an eye out for pineapples.

I didn’t expect Blue Beetle to hit me as hard as it did—not just with its action, but with its emotional depth and genuine humor. Jaime Reyes isn’t just another superhero; he’s a young man caught between his dreams and the reality of his family’s struggles. That makes his journey feel real and relatable, something a lot of superhero films miss. What stood out to me the most was the tight-knit family dynamic. Unlike other hero stories where loved ones are sidelined, Jaime’s family is front and center, shaping his choices and supporting him through the chaos. Their interactions felt natural, funny, and deeply authentic, making the emotional moments hit even harder. The action is, of course, awesome. The Blue Beetle suit is incredible, with sleek, alien-tech designs that feel futuristic but true to the comics. The fight scenes are fast, energetic, and creative, showing off just how powerful the Beetle can be. But beyond the spectacle, the film never loses sight of its heart. If you're looking for something fresh in the superhero genre, Blue Beetle delivers. It’s not just about powers and battles—it’s about family, responsibility, and finding strength in those who love you most.

This reboot attempts to stay true to the survival horror roots of the original Resident Evil games, ditching the over-the-top action of previous films for a darker, more atmospheric experience. The attention to detail in recreating iconic locations like the Spencer Mansion and Raccoon City Police Department is commendable, and fans of the games will appreciate the numerous Easter eggs scattered throughout. However, while the film nails the setting, it struggles with pacing and character development. The story moves quickly, not allowing enough time to flesh out its characters or build genuine tension. Some performances feel flat, and certain beloved characters—like Leon S. Kennedy—are portrayed in ways that might frustrate longtime fans. The rushed third act also prevents the film from delivering a truly satisfying climax. Overall, Resident Evil: Welcome to Raccoon City is a mixed bag. It’s a step in the right direction for game-faithful adaptations, but it doesn’t quite capture the dread and suspense that made the games so iconic. If you’re a die-hard Resident Evil fan, you might find enjoyment in its faithful recreations, but casual viewers may struggle to connect with its thinly developed characters and uneven storytelling.

I went into this movie with mixed expectations, given all the pre-release buzz and controversy. But honestly? It was a visually stunning experience, even if it didn’t fully capture the magic of the original. Rachel Zegler delivers a solid performance as Snow White, bringing a more modern, independent take on the character. Gal Gadot as the Evil Queen is undeniably captivating—she steals every scene she’s in. The cinematography and costume design are gorgeous, and the musical numbers, while different from the classic film, have their own charm. That said, the film does struggle in some areas. The CGI dwarfs don’t quite have the same personality as the original characters, and some of the story changes feel forced rather than organic. The attempt to modernize Snow White’s journey is admirable, but at times, it feels like it’s trying too hard to distance itself from the classic fairy tale. Overall, while Snow White (2025) has its moments—especially in its performances and visuals—it doesn’t quite reach the heights of Disney’s best live-action remakes. If you’re a fan of reimagined fairy tales, it’s worth a watch, but don’t expect it to fully recapture the magic of the original.

I went into Nightreign expecting a fresh take on Elden Ring, and while it delivers some thrilling moments, it’s definitely a different beast. The shift to a roguelite, co-op-focused experience is bold, and when everything clicks—when you have a solid squad, a good strategy, and the right upgrades—it can be incredibly rewarding.  The combat is still pure FromSoftware, with intense boss fights and satisfying mechanics, but the three-player squad system makes solo play brutally unforgiving. If you’re hoping to tackle this alone, be prepared for a steep challenge—some encounters feel outright imbalanced without teammates. The procedurally generated world keeps things fresh, but it lacks the depth and mystery of the original Lands Between. The Nightlord bosses are a highlight, offering some of the best fights FromSoftware has ever crafted, but getting to them can sometimes feel like a grind. There are technical issues, too—60fps cap, lack of duo support, and poor keyboard optimization—which have frustrated some players. Despite that, the core gameplay loop is addictive, and when you’re in sync with your team, it’s an exhilarating experience. Overall, Nightreign is a bold experiment that shines in co-op play but struggles in solo balance and technical execution. If you have a dedicated squad, it’s worth diving in, but if you’re a solo Soulslike fan, you might find it more frustrating than fun.

Lucifer is a unique blend of crime procedural, supernatural drama, and witty humor, making it one of the most engaging and binge-worthy TV series out there. The show follows Lucifer Morningstar, the Devil himself, who abandons Hell to run a nightclub in Los Angeles—only to end up assisting the LAPD in solving crimes. Whether you're drawn to mystery, romance, or witty banter, this show delivers a devilishly good time.