Actors don’t just light up the screen — they light up the feed. Social Spotlight takes a look at how today’s stars promote their movies through the platforms that matter.
This round we have an Instagram post from Spelljammer star Will Smith....
Friday, February 13, 2026
SOCIAL SPOTLIGHT
Actors don’t just light up the screen — they light up the feed. Social Spotlight takes a look at how today’s stars promote their movies through the platforms that matter.
This round we have an Instagram post from Spelljammer star Will Smith....
Now Showing: Spelljammer
Spelljammer
Genre: Action/Sci-Fi/Comedy
Director: Zack Snyder
Writer: Dawson Edwards
Based on the Dungeons & Dragons campaign setting
Cast: Will Smith, Tye Sheridan, Gal Gadot, Jason Isaacs, William H. Macy (voice), Gerard Butler (voice), Naomi Scott
Plot: Luth Aelindor shimmered in the endless silver void, its crystalline spires stretching impossibly high above the Astral Plane. The palace-city had stood for eons, untouched by time, ruled by a lineage that traced back to the dawn of the Astral Courts. Tonight was meant to be another ceremony, another display of stability, another night where tradition reigned supreme.
Then the Sovereign Star-King vanished in a pulse of arcane energy.
The explosion of white fire rattled the throne room, a shockwave pulsing outward, warping the very air as the ground trembled beneath it. The gathered nobility staggered back in horror, their ceremonial robes whipping in the wind that should not exist in this place. The golden banners of House Vaelor fluttered wildly, and at the center of it all, standing alone before the empty throne, was Sylwen Vaelor (Tye Sheridan).
A silence deeper than the void settled over the chamber. Then the whispers began.
“Assassin.”
“Betrayer.”
Sylwen stared at the empty throne, his heartbeat a war drum in his chest. This wasn’t possible. It wasn’t real. His father, the Star-King, had vanished before his very eyes.
The silence broke as the Astral Inquisitors stepped forward, their forms sleek and imposing, their armor glowing with cosmic energy. Blades of condensed starlight ignited in their hands.
The lead Inquisitor’s voice rang like a death sentence. “Prince Sylwen Vaelor. By decree of the Astral Courts, you are under arrest for the crime of regicide.”
Sylwen’s breath hitched. Then his body moved before his mind could catch up. Run.
The first spell exploded against the floor behind him, shattering the polished marble into dust. He darted past towering columns, twisting down the corridor as guards and Inquisitors pursued in perfect synchronization.
His feet barely touched the ground as he vaulted down a spiraling staircase of floating platforms, skipping entire landings, ignoring the burning in his legs. Spells whizzed past him, searing the air, tearing through ancient statues, warping reality itself.
The balcony was close. If he could reach it…
A golden spear of energy slammed into the wall beside him, the explosion throwing him forward. He landed hard, rolling across the floor, vision swimming as armored footsteps closed in.
He turned sharply, only to collide with an Inquisitor.
The knight grabbed him by the throat, lifting him effortlessly into the air. The mask was blank, expressionless, reflecting only the palace burning around them. Sylwen kicked, struggled, his vision darkening at the edges.
Instinct.
His fingers wrapped around the tiny dagger strapped to his belt, an ornament not a weapon, but all he had. He twisted and drove it into the Inquisitor’s wrist joint.
The grip loosened. He wrenched free, hitting the floor hard, coughing as air returned to his lungs. The knight recovered, stepping forward, raising his sword.
Sylwen ran.
The balcony doors burst open as he threw himself into the night.
The family skiff hovered just beyond the edge, its crystalline sails glowing in the astral wind. The guards that should have been protecting it were gone.
Spells ignited behind him. The floor cracked and shattered. Sylwen reached the railing, pushed off with everything he had, and jumped.
For a moment, there was nothing.
Then his fingers caught the rigging.
The impact jarred his entire body, pain lancing through his shoulder, but he held on, breath ragged as he scrambled onto the deck.
He collapsed into the pilot’s chair, hands shaking over the controls, his mind racing. The Inquisitors were still coming.
Magic sparked at his fingertips, wild, unpredictable. He needed to teleport, needed to get away now. “Dimension Door” he thought.
His spell misfired.
A pulse of chaotic energy exploded outward.
A unicorn appeared out of thin air.
Sylwen stared.
The unicorn stared back.
Then it screamed and kicked him in the chest.
His body slammed into the controls, and the skiff lurched violently, veering away from the palace in a jagged, unstable flight.
The last thing he saw before the mists swallowed everything was the throne tower of Luth Aelindor, burning against the starlight.
He had escaped. But he had no destination. No allies. No home. Only the vast unknown stretching before him.
The cantina was already in full-blown chaos.
Fists flew. Glass shattered. Bodies slammed against tables, against walls, against the floorboards that had been sticky long before this particular brawl broke out. The air was thick with the tang of smoke, spilled liquor, and the distant hum of off-world music barely audible over the grunts and curses of the men trying and failing to put Cass Drake (Will Smith) down.
Cass ducked, weaving between swings like he’d done it a thousand times before. A wide arc of a punch came for him. Too slow. He sidestepped it, letting the poor bastard behind him take the hit instead. The unfortunate soul collapsed against the bar, knocking over Metris’ (voiced by William H. Macy) drink. The Thri-Kreen monk didn’t react, just calmly picked up his glass before it could spill. “My missing monastery would never…”
Another goon lunged. Cass pivoted, snapped his fingers and a blade of pure psionic energy ignited in his hand. It wasn’t metal, wasn’t even real, just a thought sharpened to a razor’s edge. He let the guy see it for half a second before slamming the hilt into his stomach. The man folded like a cheap chair.
Two more came at him from opposite sides. Cass rolled over the bar, landing neatly next to Karis (Naomi Scott), a young human woman and Metris, who didn’t so much as glance at him.
Karis casually took a sip from her glass. "Running out of moves?"
Cass winked. "I got moves for days."
He kicked off the bar, flipping back into the fight, his blades materializing mid-motion. The crowd roared, the fight escalating into something spectacularly stupid.
Across the room, Garrak (voiced by Gerard Butler), the Giff, don’t call him a hippo, waded through the chaos like a moving fortress, using his sheer size to bulldoze through brawlers. A heavyset mercenary lunged at him with a broken bottle. Garrak headbutted him so hard it nearly cracked the floor, then swung his massive rifle into his hands and…Click-Clack. He censored the bartender’s potty mouth with the sound of his reloading.
Cass laughed as he vaulted over a table, turning in mid-air, hurling one of his soulknives at an attacker mid-lunge. The energy blade sliced through the air, embedding itself in the guy’s shoulder before blinking out of existence. The man spun from the impact and crashed into a pile of chairs.
The fight should have kept going but it didn’t.
Because the air in the center of the cantina suddenly twisted, folded inward then with a violent snap, a full-sized Spelljammer skiff just… appeared.
Right in the middle of the bar.
Tables and chairs were instantly obliterated under the ship’s sudden weight. Patrons were thrown off their feet. The floorboards groaned beneath the impossible presence of something that should not be here.
A hatch on the skiff hissed open, and out crawled an Astral Elf. Sylwen groaned, pulling himself up on shaking arms. His face was cut, bruised, his once-pristine robes burned and torn. He was clearly barely holding himself together.
“I need a ship,” he rasped.
Cass wiped his mouth, exhaling through his nose. "Do I look like I give a fu-"
Click-clack.
The sound of Garrak cocking his rifle cut him off.
Cass rolled his eyes. Then sighed.
“I’m a Prince.”
Bral stretched across the surface of the asteroid like a beast refusing to die, its glowing towers and twisting streets a testament to the kind of people who had built it, those too stubborn or too dangerous to thrive anywhere else. What had once been a pirate’s hideout had transformed into the beating heart of Wildspace trade, a crossroads for smugglers, nobles, dignitaries, and cutthroats alike.
The Horizon Breaker settled into a docking bay in the Low City, its engines coughing out a final sputter before shutting down. Around them, the docks pulsed with activity, merchants haggling, mechanics shouting over the sound of welding, travelers watching their backs. No one here asked questions. That was Rule Number One on the Rock.
Cass led the way into the market streets, hands in his pockets, weaving through the crowd like a man who had lived here just long enough to know exactly when to duck. The city climbed around them in chaotic layers. Towering businesses of the Middle City flashing neon signs above, while the rooftops of the Low City slumped under the weight of too many people trying to disappear.
Sylwen was staring.
Karis caught his expression and nudged him, a smirk curling at the edge of her mouth. “You look like a tourist.”
“This place is…” Sylwen hesitated, eyes drifting across the sheer variety of life moving through the streets, Hadozee traders laughing over barrels of rum, Goliath and Dwarven mercenaries bartering for new weapons, Humans and Elves wrapped in noble robes, side by side with pirates in patched-up armor.
“Beautiful?” Karis teased.
“I was going to say impossible.”
Karis shrugged, her fingers idly flicking, weaving a small illusion of a silver dragonfly between them. “So is sailing through the stars on a magic ship, but here we are.”
Sylwen watched the dragonfly flit between her hands before vanishing in a shimmer of light. “You’re good at that.”
Karis tilted her head, feigning modesty. “Oh, I dabble.”
Cass, who had been pretending not to hear them, rolled his eyes so hard he nearly sprained something. “Great, I love this. Really. But can we flirt on our own time? We’ve got a job to do.”
Sylwen straightened immediately, clearing his throat. Karis just gave Cass a knowing look before falling into step beside him again.
Cass muttered under his breath. Then, as if on cue, he turned a corner and shifted instantly into full charm mode.
Because there, at the center of a bustling, lavish casino, draped in shadow and elegance, was Saphira Nightwind (Gal Gadot).
She was leaning against the roulette table, lazily tapping her fingers along its edge, her Tiefling eyes glinting like cut obsidian.
Cass grinned, slipping into the seat across from her. “Saphira, darling. Long time no see.”
She didn’t even look up from her drink. “Still alive? Disappointing.”
Cass placed a hand over his heart, mock-offended. “You wound me.”
Her gaze flicked up to meet his, and for half a second, there was something sharp and amused behind her smirk. Then she sighed dramatically, swirling her drink.
“What do you want, Cass?”
Cass leaned in. “The Emerald vault. You know where it is.”
Saphira tilted her head, considering. “And if I did, why would I tell you?”
Cass grinned. “Because we both know you’re running a job here. Which means you want out before the Guild realizes you’re double-dipping.”
Saphira’s expression barely shifted.
Then, she exhaled. “North quadrant. Behind the trade houses. Security’s tight. Two minutes inside before the scanners tag your biometrics. After that? You’re dead.”
Cass nodded. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”
Saphira smirked. “Oh, I never said I was done.”
Cass barely had time to process before the room erupted into absolute chaos.
The heist should have been clean. It wasn’t.
Garrak had barely stepped foot inside the vault before Sylwen’s Wild Magic went berserk. He had meant to disarm the alarm system but instead, he had transformed all the security drones into aggressively territorial seagulls.
Karis’ illusions were working flawlessly, until one of Sylwen’s magic hiccups randomly duplicated the head of the casino’s security and put it on the wrong body.
Metris moved through the chaos like liquid, knocking out guards with precision—except for the one unfortunate moment when Sylwen accidentally made him twice his normal size mid-maneuver, sending him crashing through an entire row of vault boxes.
Cass, focused as ever, was mid-lockpick on the vault when the entire floor became sentient quicksand. It was, to put it mildly, a disaster. They got what they came for but just barely.
The Magistrate’s Watch descended onto the casino like a storm.
Cass and the crew barreled into the night, alarms blaring behind them. The streets of Bral turned against them, mercenaries closing in, bounty hunters sniffing out the disturbance.
Cass pulled Sylwen by the collar, dragging him into a side alley. “You don’t get to talk for five minutes.”
“I…”
“FIVE. MINUTES.”
They tore through the Middle City, ducking between hanging bridges and glowing market stalls, Garrak blasting through obstacles, Karis throwing up illusions to cover their escape, Metris vaulting over gaps like it was nothing.
Sylwen, panicking, tried to teleport them to safety.
Instead, half the crew disappeared for six seconds.
When they reappeared, Garrak looked deeply disturbed, Karis was visibly shaking, and Metris simply muttered, “We are never speaking of that.”
The docks were within sight. Behind them, a squad of heavily armed mercenaries rounded the corner. The fight was inevitable.
Garrak cocked his rifle. Metris took a silent breath, steadying himself.
Sylwen, sweating, raised his hands, ready to try anything to make up for this mess.
Then, from the rooftops, a sharp whistle rang out. They all turned.
Saphira sat casually on the edge of a rooftop, bow in hand, legs crossed.
Cass groaned. “Oh, come on.”
Saphira winked.
Sylwen, determined not to screw this up, channeled another spell. A spectacular surge of power built in his hands.
And then he turned himself into a potted plant.
Cass dodged an attack, saw Sylwen, and nearly lost his mind.
“YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!”
Garrak threw Sylwen-the-plant over his shoulder and kept running.
The Horizon Breaker was in sight, its engines already flaring to life.
They sprinted up the ramp, blaster bolts ricocheting off the hull.
Cass was the last one inside, panting as he slapped the controls. The ship lurched upward, tearing away from the docks just as an explosion rocked the city below them.
The crew collapsed onto the deck, breathing hard.
Sylwen, now fully back to normal, groaned. “What… just happened?”
Cass sat up, running a hand down his face.
“You happened.”
The Horizon Breaker cut into the void, racing toward their next destination.
The ruins drifted in the void, the last remnants of a world that no longer existed. No fire, no corpses, just absence. A kingdom erased in an instant, like it had never been.
Zael’Rith (Jason Isaacs) stood on a fractured slab of marble, hands clasped behind his back, unmoved by the silence. Behind him, his Inquisitors knelt, waiting.
The lone survivor trembled at his feet, her fine silks in tatters. She gasped, eyes darting to where her home had been.
"You. You destroyed everything," she rasped.
Zael’Rith tilted his head, mildly curious. "Destroyed? No. That would imply something remains."
She tried to move, to speak, but the space around her shuddered. The breath in her lungs vanished. Her fingers clutched at nothing.
"A flaw," Zael’Rith murmured, watching her unravel. "Corrected."
And then she was gone. Not dead. Just erased.
The Inquisitors remained silent.
One finally spoke. "The monastery?"
Zael’Rith’s gaze didn’t shift, but something in the void did. A ripple. A fracture.
"A necessary precedent."
Another pause. The comms crackled.
"My Lord, the Astral Courts are noticing the anomalies."
Zael’Rith exhaled, faintly amused. "Let them."
The Inquisitor hesitated. "And the prince?"
Zael’Rith’s eyes darkened.
"He was never meant to be."
A flicker of raw power pulsed through the void.
"And soon, he won’t be."
The Horizon Breaker drifted in the quiet expanse of Wildspace, its engines humming softly beneath the silence of the crew. Karis sat near the viewport, absently flicking a coin between her fingers, the silver glinting in the starlight.
Sylwen leaned against the opposite wall, watching her. "You do that when you're nervous," he said.
Karis smirked, not looking up. "You assume I'm ever nervous."
Cass, standing at the helm, arms crossed, glanced between them. "You're a terrible liar."
Karis hesitated. Just for a second. The coin slipped, landing flat on the table.
Sylwen straightened slightly, sensing something shift. "Karis?"
She exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. "It’s just... I used to have this idea of where I’d end up. What my life was supposed to be. And now I’m here, flying through the void with…" she gestured vaguely between them. "...a cursed rogue and a wild magic disaster. Not exactly what I planned."
Cass chuckled, leaning back. "Yeah, well, life’s full of…"
"But maybe it was never my choice," she cut in.
The air shifted.
Sylwen’s brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
Karis opened her mouth, then stopped. Whatever she was about to say, it was too much.
She forced a grin, flicked the coin back into her palm, and leaned back. "Nothing. Just talking nonsense."
Cass studied her for a moment.
Sylwen didn’t look convinced. But neither of them pressed. The moment passed.
The Horizon Breaker shuddered as it neared the dying star, the vessel struggling against the gravitational tides that rippled outward in waves of crimson and gold. The sky churned with violent flares, the corona stretching like molten fingers grasping at the void. And orbiting in its deadly embrace, Zael'Rith’s fortress, a colossal obsidian monolith, flickered like a mirage, phasing in and out of existence, as if reality itself was rejecting it.
The ship’s sensors screamed warnings.
Inside the cockpit, Karis and Sylwen sat side by side, the glow of the displays painting their faces in shifting hues.
"You ever been in a Spelljammer battle before?" Karis asked, fingers flying over the controls as she rerouted power through the ship’s battered systems.
Sylwen swallowed, trying to maintain some level of dignity. "Not… exactly."
Karis smirked. "So that’s a no."
Before Sylwen could protest, the comms crackled.
"Incoming," Garrak’s voice rumbled.
The enemy ships emerged from the distortion fields around the fortress. Sleek, black-hulled skiffs that moved with unnatural precision.
"Alright, princeling," Karis said, her hands dancing across the console, "time to impress me."
Sylwen focused, summoning his magic, preparing to create a shield spell around the ship.
Instead, he summoned a field of floating spectral ribbons.
Karis blinked. "Huh. Not bad, if we were decorating for a festival."
Sylwen groaned.
Garrak opened fire, the main cannon thundering as explosive shells ripped through the enemy formation. Metris, moving like a shadow, vaulted from the ship onto an enemy vessel, his limbs stretching and twisting in zero gravity. He landed silently, disabled the pilot with a single strike, and ripped the control panel apart with precise, methodical efficiency.
Onboard the Horizon Breaker, Karis activated illusion protocols, flickering the ship’s image across multiple locations, making it appear as if there were five of them. The enemy skiffs faltered, their targeting scrambled.
Cass stood near the pod bay, watching the battle unfold. His fingers twitched as he prepared to board.
"We’re going in," he muttered.
Sylwen turned to Karis, their eyes meeting.
"Try not to die," she said.
Sylwen hesitated just for a moment. "You too."
Cass grabbed him by the collar and shoved him into the boarding pod before he could get any more sentimental.
The pod launched, streaking toward the fortress like a burning comet. It slammed into the hull, cutting through the structure like a knife.
Inside, the fortress was wrong.
Corridors twisted in impossible angles, doors appeared and vanished, flickering between states of existence. The air hummed with the weight of something ancient and unfinished.
Cass and Sylwen moved quickly, pushing deeper into the labyrinth of shifting walls and pulsating energy. The core chamber loomed ahead, a vast, circular space where Zael'Rith hovered, his form barely a silhouette against the swirling maelstrom of collapsing space.
Zael'Rith turned, his voice smooth, almost amused. "I was wondering when you’d arrive."
The walls pulsed, reality buckling. Images flickered in and out of existence. Places that had been erased, histories rewritten, entire civilizations collapsed into nothingness.
"You," Zael'Rith said, his eyes locking onto Sylwen, "should not exist."
A thousand different versions of Sylwen flickered behind him, half-formed realities, paths never taken, erased futures.
Sylwen’s breath caught.
Zael'Rith’s voice was steady, deliberate. "The only reason you’re still standing, child, is because I did not account for your magic."
Dark energy exploded outward. The room shook violently, the spell tearing through space itself.
Sylwen tried to react, but the magic inside him rebelled, surging chaotically, flickering between strength and ruin. A burst of golden light erupted from his hands, but it warped midair, twisting into a storm of floating, bewildered seagulls.
Zael'Rith barely acknowledged them.
Sylwen gritted his teeth.
He had spent his entire life trying to control this. Trying to contain it. But magic wasn’t meant to be contained. For the first time, he let it in.
The chaotic tide of Wild Magic rushed through him, not as a curse, but as a storm waiting to be directed.
The walls warped and hallways became endless loops, staircases spiraled into themselves, the entire fortress bent to his will.
For a single, perfect moment, Sylwen didn’t fight the magic. He became it.
Fire crawled across his skin, shifting in color, in form. The very geometry of the room twisted under his command.
Zael'Rith faltered.
Sylwen lifted his hands, and the magic aligned. Raw energy coalescing into a massive FIREBALL.
He unleashed it.
It struck the core of Zael'Rith’s spell, the entire fortress screaming in protest as the unraveling stopped, the chaotic energy dissipating, reality stabilizing for the first time in what felt like eternity.
Zael'Rith staggered, his form flickering.
Cass, standing nearby, turned at the sound of footsteps.
Saphira.
She was moving toward an escape vessel, eyes locked on the exit. Cass intercepted her, blocking her path. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
"You could have walked away clean," Cass murmured.
Saphira exhaled, glancing past him toward the exit, then back at him. There was something like regret in her eyes, but it was buried deep. "Maybe I still will."
Cass didn’t move.
Neither did she.
Then the fortress groaned, the structure collapsing around them. Saphira stepped back.
Cass smirked. "You’re a (CLICK-CLACK) idiot."
She smirked. "Takes one to know one."
They ran.
Back in Wildspace, the Horizon Breaker’s battle raged on, each remaining crew member holding their ground. Karis redirected engine power, sending the ship into a spiral that dodged a barrage of incoming fire. Metris vaulted back onto the hull, flipping through zero gravity, moving with surgical precision as he disabled an enemy turret mid-air.
Garrak, standing at the main cannon, fired a final, deafening shot, obliterating the last of Zael'Rith’s forces.
The boarding pod barely made it back in time.
Cass, Sylwen, and Saphira tumbled out of the hatch, breathless, as the fortress behind them folded in on itself, a final burst of light consuming its remains.
The Horizon Breaker pulled away, the dying star still raging behind them, its flames licking at the void like something hungry, something endless.
On the bridge, the crew stood in silence, watching the expanse of Wildspace stretch before them.
Metris leaned against the railing, gazing up at the distant glow of passing Kindori, massive, celestial whale-like creatures drifting through the stars.
Garrak stood beside him, adjusting his rifle. "You ever gonna tell us what happened to your monastery?"
Metris was quiet for a long moment. Then, finally, he spoke.
"It was erased."
They watched the Kindori pass, their massive forms moving with slow, deliberate grace.
Behind them, Sylwen sat beside Karis, watching her fingers flicker with soft, illusionary light.
"So," she said, smiling. "Are you a rogue now?"
Sylwen let out a breath, shaking his head. "I think I’m just getting started."
Thursday, February 12, 2026
COMIC BOOK GUY (SEASON 9)
Welcome back to Comic Book Guy, where we wade through the crowded comic book movie multiverse so you don’t have to. This season, things are heating up with the debut of a conflicted war hero turned superhero in Captain Atom, a darker and chillier outing for the Dark Knight in Batman: Caped Crusader, and enough moral dilemmas, pseudo-science, and villain origin stories to make a psychiatrist retire early. We’ve got metallic men, bat-monsters, and freeze guns aplenty, so let’s see which of these films flies and which ones crash faster than a villain monologue interrupted by Batman’s fist.
CAPTAIN ATOM
Captain Atom introduces Jon Hamm as Nathaniel Adam, a soldier turned unwilling quantum-powered superhero in a story that’s equal parts Cold War paranoia and 1980s cheese. Matthew Vaughn’s stylish direction manages to make an airborne nuclear explosion look downright beautiful, but the movie drags during its relentless military conspiracies and overly wordy quantum physics explanations. David Morse’s villainous General Eiling chews through scenes with all the subtlety of a napalm strike, and Michael C. Hall’s Heinrich Megala is equal parts intriguing and underdeveloped. The real star here is Hamm, who carries the film with his charm and an impressive ability to look like he understands what “quantum realm” means. The final showdown with Plastique (Isla Fisher) feels more like an awkward family argument than an epic superhero battle, but at least we get a satisfying explosion or two. Add in a side of Reagan-era patriotism and you’ve got a film that’s… fine, but maybe more radioactive than revolutionary.
BATMAN: CAPED CRUSADER
Batman: Caped Crusader dives headfirst into the murky depths of Gotham’s underworld, delivering a darker, more cerebral Bat-adventure. Jake Gyllenhaal’s Batman is as broody and intense as ever, this time juggling jewel thieves, mad scientists, and a bat-like monster wreaking havoc across the city. Director Joseph Kosinski balances gothic atmosphere with cutting-edge visuals, though the film occasionally feels overcrowded with subplots. Ralph Fiennes’ Victor Fries adds a tragic chill to the proceedings, and Matt Smith’s Riddler manages to make brainteasers feel genuinely sinister. Meanwhile, Tatiana Maslany’s Catwoman straddles the line between anti-hero and femme fatale, stealing both scenes and necklaces with feline grace. The film’s moral dilemmas are weighty, the action sequences are slick, and the setup for future villains is tantalizing. But with so much going on, it’s hard not to feel like Gotham’s rogues gallery is stealing the show from the Caped Crusader himself. Still, it’s a thrilling ride, even if you’re left wanting a bit more Bat and a little less chaos.
In Development
Discovery: Director Damien Chazelle's latest film for LRF, the sci-fi film Discovery, has completed its casting with the additions of Scott McNairy (The Mars Room, Revelations), Renate Reinsve (Nick Fury and His Howling Commandos, Sentimental Value), and Colman Domingo (The Final Will, Luke Cage: Power Man). Jimmy Ellis and Chad Taylor penned the story.
Blood and Glory: The historical epic from director Tarsem Singh and writer Jack Brown, which details the war between Persia and Macedonia, has added Fares Fares (The Contractor, Rogue One) as Mazaeus, Richard Coyle (Excalibur, Heads of State) as Antigonus, Alexander Siddig (The Stranger, "Shantaram") as Artabazus, and fashion model Anok Yai as the Oracle of Amun.
Running from the Spotlight: Peter Krause (Saint Judy, "9-1-1"), Priah Ferguson (The Curse of Bridge Hollow, "Stranger Things"), and Orli Gottesman (Leave the World Behind, Adeline) have joined the teen drama Running from the Spotlight. Krause will play a burnt-out drama teacher, while Ferguson and Gottesman will play drama students. Michael Fimognari is directing, while Jacob Jones penned the script.
Unreasonable Doubt: Heidi Gardner (Hustle, "Saturday Night Live"), Aya Cash (Social Animals, We Broke Up), Paul Scheer (The Gutter, Family Switch), and Stephen Root (Mises, The Passenger) have been added to the cast of the crime rom-com Unreasonable Doubt, led by Cristin Milioti and Channing Tatum. Andrew Fleming is directing as his LRF debut. Walter McKnight wrote the story.
Vultures: Rob Zombie's latest grindhouse horror film, Vultures, has added Chloe Cherry (The Napa Boys, "Euphoria"), Naturi Naughton ("Queens", "Power"), Scout Taylor-Compton (Into the Deep, Bury the Bride), and Jeff Daniel Phillips (Bigfoot, Five Boroughs) to its cast. Clive Steinbeck penned the script.
The Friend Zone: Chris Pratt (Kill Zone, Knight Rider) and Anna Kendrick (Golden Girl, The Invincible Iron Man) are set to headline the fantasy-comedy The Friend Zone, about two people trapped in a world where there love interest will never love them back. Michel Gondry (War of the Currents, Hair) directs from a script by Joshua Collins (ThunderCats, Tethered).
Wednesday, February 11, 2026
The Roundup with Jeff Stockton (Season 35 Round 3)
Moving on through Round 3 now. Here's The Roundup....
3. Man of God
I enjoyed the slow-burn storytelling in Man of God. Josh Brolin, Michael Shannon, and Robert Aramayo were all especially great in their roles.
2. The Tick
What a fantastic adaptation for the whole family - it covers all its bases. Plenty of callbacks and references for longtime Tick fans, fast pace humor and action for the young crowd, and some pretty clever satire for the grown-ups.
1. Josh Brolin
Brolin is on an impressive run for the studio managing to give fantastic performances while also drawing in enough people for his last two starring roles to turn a profit even if the subject matter's a hard sell.
3. Big Budget Films
While I'm sure there are some bigger productions on the way, but this season has had an alarming lack of big budget films - which is where the studio makes a lot of its profits.
2. Dust Saint
Dust Saint was by no means a bad film, but I did have a hard time getting into it. I struggled to feel for any of the characters. I also feel like it was marketed under the wrong genre - never once did Dust Saint give me a thriller vibe.
1. Box Office
Still only slightly in the green, which is not a great sign 30% into the season.
Tuesday, February 10, 2026
Box Office Breakdown (Season 35 Round 3)
The Tick
Budget: $70,000,000
Total Box Office: $166,896,092
Total Profit: $27,550,750
Man of God
Budget: $30,000,000
Total Box Office: $63,494,668
Total Profit: $2,017,490
Dust Saint
Budget: $20,000,000
Total Box Office: $26,796,972
Total Profit: -$15,142,454
Box Office Facts
The Tick
Lon Charles has now written three animated films for the studio - The Big Top, The Flintstones (co-written with Joshua Collins), and now The Tick. The three films have combined to gross $827 million at the box office.
Man of God
Josh Brolin has quietly developed a strong track record at the box office. He's now appeared in eight films for the studio, six of which have earned profits for the studio.
Dust Saint
On the flipside, director Rose Glass has now helmed two films for the studio that have combined to lose just a tad under $50 million for the studio.
Genre Rankings
The Tick
Comedy: #31
Animation: #17
Superhero: #123
Man of God
Drama: #189
Thriller: #101
Dust Saint
Drama: #323
Thriller: #132
Season 35 Round 3
Total Box Office: $257,187,732
Total Profit: $14,425,786
Season 35 Totals
Total Box Office: $1,223,454,426
Total Profit: $137,148,744
Season 34 Summary
1. ThunderCats : $372,054,861
2. The Punisher: Purgatory : $231,004,586
3. Zorro : $215,997,717
4. The Tick : $166,896,092
5. Tara's Wrath : $73,090,751
6. Man of God : $63,494,668
7. The Writer and the Film Star : $39,529,721
8. Thus Dreamed Zarathustra : $34,589,058
9. Dust Saint : $26,796,972
Monday, February 9, 2026
LRF TRIVIA TIDBITS (Season 35 Round 3)
Welcome back for more LRF Trivia Tidbits! Round 3 of Season 35 swings wildly in tone and scale—an animated superhero satire finding its final voice, a prestige thriller anchored by heavyweight performances, and a slow-burn psychological drama steeped in religious unease. Each project reveals how close LRF came to taking very different creative paths.
The Tick
This animated take on Ben Edlund’s cult-favorite hero pulls equally from the original comic books and the beloved 1994 animated series, striking a balance between satire and accessibility. Early in development, however, the creative team explored a darker, PG-13 or even R-rated approach closer to the comics’ sharper edge - at one point considering characters like Chainsaw Vigilante - before ultimately committing to an all-ages tone that broadened the film’s reach.
Man of God
Michael Shannon’s role in Man of God is brief, limited largely to a death row appearance, but it proved irresistible to the actor. Drawn to the material and the opportunity to work opposite Josh Brolin, Shannon accepted a part far smaller than he typically would at this stage of his career, lending the film added gravitas in just a handful of scenes.
Dust Saint
Though only his second LRF screenplay, writer Holden Abbott has already carved out a thematic niche centered on morally suspect religious figures. Dust Saint casts Paul Dano as a traveling preacher drifting through a fractured desert landscape, echoing - but not repeating - last season’s Exodus, which featured Brad Pitt as a megachurch leader presiding over a collapsing empire.
Release: Dust Saint
Dust Saint
Genre: Drama/Thriller
Director: Rose Glass
Writer: Holden Abbott
Cast: Paul Dano, Jessie Buckley, Nell Fisher, John Hawkes
Budget: $20,000,000
Domestic Box Office: $14,100,200
Foreign Box Office: $12,696,772
Total Profit: -$15,142,454
Reaction: Writer Holden Abbott's LRF career is off to a strong critical start, but unfortunately not as strong of a stop at the box office with his first two films.
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Rated R for violence and thematic material
Sunday, February 8, 2026
Top 10 Female Directors
Sherman J. Pearson here for another Top 10. Following last season's historic female director accomplishments, I decided to take a look at the top female directors working in LRF today.
Top 10 Female Directors
10. Greta Gerwig - Highlights: Missoula, Love Is...
9. Sofia Coppola - Highlights: Black Dublin, E.P.
8. Karyn Kusama - Highlights: The Black Cat, The Black Cat Strikes Again!
7. Rose Glass - Highlights: Dust Saint, The Woman Upstairs
6. Ava DuVernay - Highlights: Lullabies for Little Criminals, Pudd'nhead Wilson
5. Patty Jenkins - Highlights: Mass Effect: The Shadow Broker, The Water Cure
4. Jennifer Kent - Highlights: Blood Countess, The Sandman: Season of Mists
3. Alma Har'el - Highlights: Material Girl, Gambit and Rogue
2. Lynne Ramsay - Highlights: Tara's Wrath, A Lost Sense of Heaven
1. Kathryn Bigelow - Highlights: Ruby Ridge, Wonder Woman
Now Showing: Dust Saint
Dust Saint
Genre: Drama/Thriller
Director: Rose Glass
Writer: Holden Abbott
Cast: Paul Dano, Jessie Buckley, Nell Fisher, John Hawkes
Plot: A stark desert. Bleached bones in the sand. A lone wagon creaks across the empty horizon, painted with the words: HOLY REMEDIES — FAITH, FIRE, AND FORMULA.
Behind the reins sits Elias Mercy (Paul Dano), wiry, sunburnt, and dressed like a traveling preacher whose clothes have seen better days. He hums a broken hymn to himself. His eyes, wide and fragile, flicker with a hint of madness.
Elias rolls into Calico Pass, a nearly abandoned mining town choking on dust. The well is dry. The church collapsed. A few gaunt souls watch him from shaded porches like ghosts. A sign nailed to a post reads: “IN GOD WE STILL TRUST — SOMEHOW.”
At the saloon, Elias is eyed warily. He performs his usual pitch — claims to have been “sent by the Lord to revive the soul of this place.” He hands out bottles of brown tonic, speaks with warmth and poetry. The barkeep spits on the floor. “We’ve seen your type.” But one woman, Clara Halloway (Jessie Buckley), quietly buys a bottle.
That night, Elias sets up a tent revival outside the burned-down church. He preaches into the dark, voice trembling but rising like fire. A few people drift in, drawn by something in his cadence — a sadness that feels holy.
Elias visits townsfolk one by one. He fixes a broken fence, blesses a dying mule, comforts a sick child with water and a touch. All sleight of hand — practiced tricks from years on the road — but the people want to believe.
A thunderstorm gathers far off in the desert. He calls a meeting that night: “I have been sent to bring rain.” People gather, desperate. He rants in tongues. People weep. And then — as if on cue — it rains.
Just a burst. But it’s enough. The crowd erupts.
Elias collapses behind his tent, panicked, gasping. He hadn’t expected it. “It’s coincidence,” he mutters. “Coincidence.”
But Clara comes to him, soaked and smiling, kneels. “I believe you were sent.”
He’s too shaken to speak.
Over the next weeks, Elias becomes the town’s reluctant shepherd. The sheriff, Malrick (John Hawkes), an old, limping man with failing lungs, warns him: “You get one miracle. Don’t press your luck.”
Elias organizes the rebuilding of the church. Sermons swell in size. Clara teaches hymns to the children. Donations pile up. He blesses livestock, heals stomachaches with sugar water. People whisper his name with reverence.
One night, Elias stands alone at the well. He hears something below — whispers, not wind. When he looks down, the water’s returned.
He doesn’t tell anyone.
Elias begins to dream of a figure made of ash and flame, standing on the hill, watching the town. It never speaks. Just stares. Its face is hollow — no eyes, just black flame.
He wakes trembling. Begins to drink his own tonic.
At a sermon, a man collapses from a seizure. Elias kneels, touches him, prays — it’s a spectacle. The man convulses, then stops. Moments later, he opens his eyes and begins to sing. The crowd roars.
Clara weeps with joy. Elias shakes with fear.
Later that night, Elias vomits behind the chapel. “I didn’t do anything,” he whispers to himself.
The next morning, a quiet, withdrawn orphan girl, age 12, begins to follow Elias. She doesn’t speak. Watches him with calm, unblinking eyes. She’s everywhere — outside his tent, behind the pulpit, in the hills.
Elias gives her a name — Hope. She never repeats it, but she doesn’t object.
One day, she hands him a small notebook. Inside: drawings of the burning man. Identical to Elias’s dream. On the last page: “He walks with you.” Elias burns the notebook.
The town buries Old Caleb Drury, a prospector who’d lost his legs in a cave-in a decade earlier and had taken to preaching apocalypse with a whiskey bottle in hand. Three days after his funeral, children whisper they saw him “walking the hills on new legs.”
Elias dismisses it at first, chalking it up to grief hallucinations or childish fancy. But more townspeople come forward, swearing they saw Caleb — clothed in white, standing in the ravine behind the chapel. Some say he looked joyful. Others say he wept blood.
Sheriff Malrick has the grave dug up. The coffin is open, the body gone. No signs of digging.
A fire breaks out in the saloon that night. No one is hurt, but people take it as a sign. Elias, now plagued by waking visions and insomniac tremors, gives a sermon in which he tries to redirect their faith: “Miracles may comfort, but they do not speak. And they do not save.”
But it’s no use. His words only deepen their belief. “He doubts himself — how humble he is,” Clara says with a reverent smile.
In the back of the crowd, the orphan girl Hope watches him silently, clutching a charred bible missing its cover.
Clara is a widow of three years. Her husband was a miner crushed in a collapse — the same collapse Elias claimed had been “foreseen” in a dream, though privately he admitted he never saw a thing.
Clara has latched onto Elias not as a romantic partner but as a holy purpose. She cooks for him, washes his clothes, arranges his sermons. She reads from scripture with quiet conviction and speaks often of her husband, who she believes is “watching through Elias’s eyes.”
One night, she invites Elias to dinner. The food is rich, almost ceremonial. As he eats, Clara stares at him with unsettling calm.
“You’re shaking,” she says.
“I haven’t slept,” he replies.
“Then rest. Let the Lord carry your burden.”
She kisses his forehead. Then his mouth. Elias begins to protest, but Clara shushes him gently. The moment turns intimate, but not sensual — it feels like ritual. As they lie together in candlelight, Clara whispers, “We’re remaking the world. You and me.”
Elias weeps quietly.
The next day, Hope is gone. No one saw her leave. No one seems terribly concerned.
Elias panics. He searches her usual haunts — the schoolhouse ruins, the prayer rocks behind the well, the burned oak tree. He finds instead a trail of sketches pinned to fence posts and tree bark, drawn in soot and chalk: images of the burning man.
He follows the trail into the hills. The drawings grow stranger — the burning man flanked by weeping animals, the church levitating, Elias depicted with flames bursting from his eyes. Finally, he sees her: Hope, standing on a ledge, looking out over Calico Pass.
“Hope!” he calls.
She turns. Smiles. Then walks behind a boulder and vanishes.
Elias chases after her — but finds only a makeshift shrine: bones, feathers, and her charred bible, now open to blank pages. A strange wind picks up. In the distance, on a ridge across the valley, the burning man appears. Still, silent. Watching.
Elias collapses. “What do you want?” he shouts. The wind howls. The figure doesn’t move.
He returns to town, hollow-eyed.
Elias stumbles into the church and finds Sheriff Malrick waiting, drunk and holding a shotgun.
“I should’ve run you out the day you arrived,” Malrick says. “You want to see God, I’ll put you close.”
Malrick confesses he’s dying — likely has weeks. He’s not afraid of death, but he’s afraid of what the town’s become. “They’re not people anymore, Elias. They’re moths, and you’re the fire.”
Elias breaks. He confesses everything: the fake tonics, the prison record, the staged healings, the money he skimmed from donations. He begs Malrick to kill him — to end the lie.
Malrick doesn’t shoot. He just spits. “You think death’s punishment? You ain’t even begun to suffer.”
He walks away.
Elias goes to the bell tower and rings the church bell wildly in the middle of the night. The town gathers. He screams the truth. “I’m a liar! A criminal! I don’t deserve your faith!”
They stare in silence. Clara steps forward. “Even Christ wept in the garden,” she says. “Your doubt makes you holy.”
They kneel. One by one.
Elias falls to his knees, sobbing.
Hope’s body is found nailed to a cross-shaped tree at the edge of the desert, arms outstretched. She is covered in strange markings, but her face is peaceful — as if asleep. No blood. No signs of struggle. Just ash where her feet touched the earth.
No one claims to have seen anything. Clara insists, “She was chosen.” The town agrees.
They carry her body to the church. Elias tries to stop them, but he is ignored. She is laid upon the altar.
That night, Elias stands over her, alone. He whispers a prayer, not to God, but to anyone listening.
At the next service, Elias stands barefoot in front of the crowd. His clothes are torn. He hasn’t eaten in days.
“I came here to lie,” he says. “I came here to survive. I sold you false hope because it was all I had. But this? This thing walking among us — it’s not hope. It’s not God. It’s hunger.”
He douses the pulpit in oil. Lights a match. Throws it.
The church bursts into flame. People scream — but do not run.
As the fire rises, the church begins to rebuild itself. Flames curl upward, shaping into wood. Beams reassemble midair. Smoke forms stained glass. It is impossible — and everyone sees it.
The altar glows. Hope’s body is gone.
Elias collapses in the aisle, eyes wide, mouth open. He whispers: “You were real.”
The congregation chants, “Mercy. Mercy. Mercy.”
Days pass. No one sees Elias. The town enters a near-trance state. No crime. No sickness. No speaking above a whisper.
Clara organizes a vigil. People come with candles, offerings, children dressed in white.
At dusk, Elias appears on the cliffside above the town, cloaked in a blood-red robe. He says nothing. Simply raises his arms.
Thunder rumbles.
He drops to his knees. He smiles. Not one of happiness. One of fear, anger. A tear drops down his cheek.
Saturday, February 7, 2026
In Development
The Letter Never Sent: Ben Feldman (Little Death, "Superstore") and Alyla Browne (Sonic the Hedgehog 3, Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga) will complete the casting of the Scarlett Johansson-led romantic drama The Letter Never Sent. Director John Crowley makes his LRF debut on the project from writer Andrew Doster.
Discovery: Cooper Hoffman (The Long Walk, Saturday Night) will make his LRF debut in Discovery from director Damien Chazelle. Josh O'Connor (Songbird, Challengers) and Riz Ahmed (Paki, Sherwood) are also joining the project which depicts the ethical drama between a group of neuroscientists who have discovered a mind-reading device. Jimmy Ellis and Chad Taylor penned the project.
Blood and Glory: Director Tarsem Singh's historical war epic Blood and Glory, which depicts the war between Darius III and Alexander the Great has added Said Taghmaoui (Tin Soldier, The Family Plan) as Bessus, Paz Vega (Deathstroke, Rambo: Last Blood) as Stateira, Aiysha Hart (Desert Warrior, "A Discovery of Witches") as Barsine, Milo Gibson (Falling on the Cross, Clawfoot) as Cleitus, and Laurie Davidson (The Hammer of Thor, "The Girlfriend") as Ptolemy. Jack Brown is the man behind the script for the film.
Running from the Spotlight: The latest teen drama film from writer Jacob Jones has continued filling out its cast with the additions of Sadie Munroe "The Hardy Boys", "Workin' Moms"), Michela Luci (Dino Dana: The Movie, "Endlings"), and Isaac Arellanes (A Million Miles Away, "My Life with the Walter Boys"). Michael Fimognari is directing the film.
Unreasonable Doubt: Cristin Milioti (Starlight, Patient Zero) and Channing Tatum (The Hammer of Thor, Roofman) are set for the lead roles in the R-rated romantic comedy Unreasonable Doubt. Milioti will play a woman summoned for jury duty who develops feelings for a man on trial for murder, played by Tatum. Raymond Lee (Jazzy, "Quantum Leap") and Kurtwood Smith (Firestarter, "That '90s Show") have also signed on to the film as a fellow juror and the judge, respectively. Andrew Fleming (Hamlet 2, Ideal Home) has been tapped to direct from a script by Walter McKnight (Anastasia, The Hunchback of Notre Dame).
Vultures: The creative duo behind Season 32's Bigfoot, writer Clive Steinbeck (Night Stalker, Texas Chainsaw Massacre: Flesh and Blood) and director Rob Zombie (ID, Bigfoot), are reuniting for the new horror film Vultures about a violent biker gang who hide out in a strip club and clash with the staff. Sheri Moon Zombie (Bigfoot, 3 from Hell), Bella Thorne (Eye of the Scarecrow, Bigfoot), Richard Brake (Twisted Metal, Texas Chainsaw Massacre: Flesh and Blood), and Danny Trejo (Twisted Metal, Cecil) are all set to star in the project.
From the Desk of Alfie Ellison, VP of International Development: The Line
Last Resort Films has set Jake Gyllenhaal (LRF's Batman, Torso, Control) to lead The Line, a psychological war thriller adapted from the 2011 video game Spec Ops: The Line. Academy Award–nominated filmmaker Edward Berger (All Quiet on the Western Front, Conclave) will direct, bringing his acclaimed mastery of wartime storytelling to the project.
Released in 2011, Spec Ops: The Line earned a reputation as one of the most daring narrative-driven video games of its era, deconstructing traditional military shooter tropes by forcing players to confront the moral and psychological costs of violence. The story follows Captain Martin Walker and his Delta Force team as they venture into a sandstorm-ravaged Dubai to investigate the disappearance of a rogue U.S. battalion - only to spiral into hallucinatory horror, shifting loyalties, and the collapse of Walker’s own moral compass.
Gyllenhaal will play Walker, a role that industry insiders describe as one of the most challenging of his career - an unflinching descent into the psychology of a soldier undone by the very ideals he swore to uphold.
“Edward Berger and Jake Gyllenhaal are a dream pairing for a project like this. Edward brings an unparalleled ability to portray war with both scale and intimacy, and Jake has consistently proven himself as one of the most fearless actors of his generation.”
Berger, who drew widespread acclaim for his visceral and humane take on All Quiet on the Western Front, sees The Line as a continuation of his exploration of war’s psychological toll, but through the prism of a modern, fractured landscape. “What struck me about the source material,” Berger said, “was its refusal to simplify. It’s a story that begins as a rescue mission and unravels into something much darker, accountability, delusion, and the stories we tell ourselves as soldiers and nations. That’s the kind of narrative I’m compelled to tell.”
For any inquiries please contact LRF Vice President of International Development Alfie Ellison
The Line
Project Details
Based on the 2011 Video Game Spec Ops - The Line
Attached Talent
Star Jake Gyllenhaal
Director Edward Berger
Friday, February 6, 2026
Release: Man of God
Man of God
Genre: Drama/Thriller
Director: James Mangold
Writers: Sammy-Jo Ellis & John Malone
Cast: Josh Brolin, Robert Aramayo, Michael Shannon, Melissa George, Jon Voight, Billy Howle, Emma Myers, Tim Blake Nelson
Budget: $30,000,000
Domestic Box Office: $47,494,656
Foreign Box Office: $16,000,012
Total Profit: $2,017,490
Reaction: This one just narrowly managed to break even, but given the film's subject matter and adult-oriented story we are happy with any profits.
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A Second Look: Nexus
Welcome back for another edition of A Second Look with Jeff Stockton! In this segment I will take a "second look" at a past LRF release with a fresh set of eyes.
When Nexus first hit in Season 10, I remember landing in a pretty specific middle ground: I didn’t dislike it across the board, but I couldn’t shake the sense that it was an ambitious original sci-fi trying to explain itself into greatness rather than earning it. The core setup is clear enough—Arda, year 2500, a once-prosperous society now crushed under the decades-long tyranny of Commander Only (Jeremy Irons). After Only discards his longtime general Scathal (Ben Kingsley) in the wake of his wife’s funeral, Scathal links up with rebel Milo (Joel Edgerton) and forms “Nexus,” gradually recruiting Kassidy (Natalie Dormer), Orion (Michael B. Jordan), Tyrin (Rob Gronkowski), and Sergio (Daniel Kaluuya) to chase Only across hostile regions (desert Ranel, the monarchy of Ilvania, the island Zadiv) before storming his ship, the Red Mark, for a final confrontation that ends in an escape-and-sequel-tease. Back then, my biggest positives were fairly specific: it was refreshing to see Kingsley in a big-budget genre piece as something other than the obvious villain, and some of del Toro’s world-building instincts do peek through the haze - enough that I could see the movie it wanted to be. But it also felt overly convoluted and sluggish out of the gate, with far too much runway devoted to narration and setup, and not nearly enough to making me care - even something as fundamental as the wife’s death is treated like a plot memo rather than a dramatic event.
Taking "A Second Look" my opinion is a bit harsher - and honestly, I think the film earned that harsher look. The exposition isn’t just heavy; it’s structural, as if the script is terrified we’ll miss a detail, so it keeps talking instead of dramatizing, and the “Nexus” team’s emotional dynamics (Milo vs. Scathal, Tyrin’s seduction, Orion’s rage) repeatedly get explained or announced rather than built through behavior and choices. The casting is the real anchor, though: it’s hard to buy this particular ensemble as a cohesive rebel unit, and the stunt casting is especially disruptive—Gronkowski and Kate Upton don’t just feel “miscast,” they feel like they’re from a different movie, which keeps puncturing whatever gravity the story is trying to conjure. Even the pieces that should be slam-dunks - Irons as a tyrant, del Toro’s supposed creature-meets-tech imagination, the promise of a propulsive trek across distinct landscapes - get swallowed by franchise-minded sprawl. The film keeps widening its scope (drones, royalty, multiple realms, “weakness transcripts,” sequel propulsion) instead of tightening into one great central narrative with a clear emotional engine. In hindsight, Nexus plays less like the first chapter of an epic and more like a pitch deck that accidentally got filmed.
Original Grade: C
New Grade: D+
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