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This month, the ultimate cult movie, The Rocky Horror Picture Show, turns 50. But it’s not just fifty years old, it’s been running consecutively in theaters for all of five of those decades. Minus that blip of time we call the pandemic. But even then, hardcore fans found a way to show the movie. Even for an audience of one. This musical sci-fi horror parody that celebrates horniness in its many permutations continues to defy the odds. It recently got a 50th anniversary profile on CBS Sunday Morning featuring many of the original cast members and creators, which you can watch down below:

Rocky Horror began its life as a hit off-Broadway musical. The play lovingly parodied science fiction and horror movies of the ’50s, while celebrating early Rock ‘n Roll, sexual freedom, and open queerness. But what works as a musical show playing in big cities isn’t necessarily a surefire hit everywhere else. When Twentieth Century Fox released the film on September 26, 1975, they had no idea how to market it. In 1975, how do you sell a movie about a mad scientist named Dr. Frank N. Furter from the planet Transexual to middle America? The answer is they didn’t, and the movie flopped. But it quickly found new life as a midnight movie. It drew crowds of outcasts, goths, and party kids at midnight screenings worldwide.

In the clip from CBS Sunday Morning, we see original cast members like Susan Sarandon (you might have heard of her), Barry Bostwick, and Tim Curry reminisce about five decades of this iconic film. Curry, who suffers from partial paralysis, gave a rare interview about the impact his free-spirited character has had on several generations. These days, almost all nonconforming forms of sexual identities are under attack. So the escapism and fun of The Rocky Horror Picture Show is perhaps more relevant than ever. May we all keep doing the “Time Warp” for another fifty years.

The Rocky Horror Picture Show is still playing Saturday nights at midnight across the country. It arrives on 4K Ultra HD Blu-ray disc on October 7.

The post The ROCKY HORROR Cast Looks Back on 50 Years of Glitz ‘n Glam appeared first on Nerdist.

A woman says she faced an unsettling encounter at her local Hotworx sauna when a man allegedly barged into her private workout session and demanded that she leave before her reserved time was up. What he did not expect, however, was that she would film the incident, post it to TikTok, and receive over 16.1 million views in the process.

In the viral clip, TikTok user Eliza Carlson (@elizacarlsonn) described how a man interrupted her scheduled sauna session on Aug. 5, claiming she needed to vacate the space because his session was booked for 7:30 p.m. Carlson had the room reserved until 7:30 p.m., meaning she still had seven minutes left when he entered.

Clement Virgo has built a reputation as one of Canada’s most distinctive storytellers, adept at blending the intimate with the operatic. Following his acclaimed TIFF 2022 feature Brother,  which we featured here on BGN, his story was a lyrical exploration of family and grief. Virgo returns with Steal Away, a film that slides between fairy tale, gothic melodrama, and psychological horror. It’s a bold, shape-shifting work that resists easy categorization, sustained by commanding performances from Mallori Johnson and Angourie Rice.

Set largely within the confines of a stately mansion, Steal Away hinges on the unlikely relationship between two young women. Johnson (Kindred) stars as Cécile, a resourceful daughter seeking refuge along with her mother. The matriarch of the wealthy estate who takes them in is Florence (Lauren Lee Smith), a noted humanitarian with a history of sheltering immigrants. Their temporary sanctuary is the estate of Fanny (Rice), a privileged young woman whose sheltered upbringing has left her with little exposure to the outside world.

Virgo approaches their initial encounters with the heightened sensibility of a fable. The contrasts are clear: wealth and poverty, naiveté and experience, stability and displacement. Yet as the narrative unfolds, the film undermines its own binary oppositions. What first appears pristine, Fanny’s manicured home and her carefully maintained innocence: gradually reveals itself as fragile, unstable, and corrupt at its core. The mansion becomes less a sanctuary than a gilded trap, its elegance concealing rot beneath the surface.

Not everything is as it seems, as each of the players within this enigmatic ensemble piece have their own private agenda, and as the viewer, we eventually find out it gets progressively dark.

Johnson delivers a quietly riveting performance as Cécile, grounding the film with a sense of lived experience and emotional authenticity. Rice, meanwhile, brings an ambivalent complexity to Fanny, oscillating between disarming charm and an undercurrent of menace. Their chemistry lends the film its emotional stakes, their bond both a source of fragile comfort and a conduit for danger. 

During a pristine party held at the estate, Fanny, dressed like a baby doll, begins to menstruate. The blood has seeped through her Cinderella-like dress, and this moment serves as metaphor, in my opinion for what this film is about. The blood serves as something darker underneath that has broken the surface. Now exposed, Fanny has to cover the blood that has stained her dress. There are stains of the past that have been covered up by deep dark family secrets, and the film further explores how inevitably those secrets will bleed out.

While Steal Away is steeped in atmosphere, Virgo and his cinematographer Sophie Winqvist luxuriate in gorgeous contrasts, red and blue hues giving way to stark shadow. Its power lies not in jump scares or overt spectacle, but in the steady erosion of certainty. Identities shift, motives blur, and the story spirals into a disorienting psychological terrain that recalls the gothic tradition as much as contemporary elevated horror.

There’s also something to be said about Cécile’s look in the film. In contrast against the backdrop of Fanny and her family’s wealth, Cécile looks more polished. More regal. It’s as if she is the one with wealth and privilege. Fanny sees this and yearns for every bit of it. She wants to style her hair the same as  Cécile’s, she wants to wear the clothes she wears. But Fanny’s admiration for Cécile goes beyond appearance. As Cécile becomes romantically involved with a local boy named Rufus (Idrissa Sanogo), who works on the grounds of their estate (almost like a plantation) she wants him too. Yes, there are some heavy Antebellum-vibes happening at this white-owned estate maintained by Black groundskeepers. 

The film could be classified into many genres. Virgo’s choice to resist easy classification may frustrate some viewers, particularly those seeking the linear clarity of a traditional thriller. Yet for audiences attuned to ambiguity, the film’s refusal to settle into romance, horror, or domestic drama becomes its greatest strength. By the conclusion, Steal Away feels less like a straightforward narrative than an immersion into a feverish, unsettling dream.

With Steal Away, Virgo confirms his willingness to push beyond conventional boundaries, crafting a film that is as visually intoxicating as it is thematically slippery. It may polarize, but its ambition and artistry solidify Virgo’s place among contemporary filmmakers unafraid to traverse the shadowy border between beauty and dread.

Steal Away premiered at the 2025 Toronto International Film Festival.

The post TIFF 2025 Review: Clement Virgo Delivers a Genre-Bending Fable of Desire and Deception in ‘Steal Away’ appeared first on Black Girl Nerds.

Walter Mosley’s fiction has always carried a sting. His novels don’t just tell stories, they interrogate the world we live in. His 2004 book The Man in My Basement is no exception, and in Nadia Latif’s atmospheric adaptation, the sting has only sharpened. What emerges is less a conventional thriller and more a haunting psychological chamber piece anchored by two powerhouse performances: Willem Dafoe and Corey Hawkins.

Corey Hawkins plays Charles Blakely, a man caught in the quicksand of debt, grief, and disappointment. His mother has recently passed away, leaving him with both emotional wounds and the responsibility of maintaining the family home. Yet Charles, unemployed and drowning in bills, is on the brink of losing everything. Enter Anniston Bennet (Willem Dafoe), a stranger with a proposition: he’ll pay Charles an extraordinary sum of money in exchange for renting his basement.

At first glance, the deal seems like a lifeline. With Bennet’s money, Charles can save the house, buy himself time, and perhaps even find a path forward. But as Bennet settles into the basement, his eccentric requests and unnerving presence unsettle Charles. Soon, the arrangement begins to feel less like a rental agreement and more like a psychological trap.

Dafoe has built a career on walking the razor’s edge between charismatic and terrifying, and as Bennet, he’s at his most disquieting. His performance is deceptively quiet, there are no loud outbursts or violent rages here. Instead, he exerts power through silence, subtle shifts in tone, and that trademark stare that suggests he knows far more than he lets on. It’s a masterclass in controlled menace.

But while Dafoe provides the dread, Hawkins delivers the soul. His Charles is a portrait of quiet desperation, a man crushed not only by his circumstances but by the expectations and failures that shadow his life. Hawkins brings texture to the role—anger, shame, tenderness, and determination all flicker across his face. When Dafoe and Hawkins share the screen, it’s not just a meeting of characters; it’s a clash of worlds. Their dynamic carries the film, grounding its more abstract themes in something deeply human.

Latif, making her feature directorial debut, approaches Mosley’s text with both reverence and boldness. She’s not interested in conventional genre thrills. Instead, she crafts a slow burn that builds tension through atmosphere and implication. The Blakely home becomes both setting and symbol. Its walls echo with family history, while its basement transforms into a kind of moral underworld where hidden truths and buried fears can no longer be ignored.

The cinematography lingers on shadows and confined spaces, emphasizing the claustrophobia of Charles’s situation. Light often falls in stark, angular patterns, mirroring the film’s exploration of moral divides. The pacing may frustrate viewers expecting a traditional thriller, but Latif’s deliberate rhythm allows the tension to seep in gradually, almost imperceptibly, until it feels suffocating.

What sets The Man in My Basement apart is its willingness to wrestle with big, uncomfortable questions. At its heart, the film is about power — who has it, how it’s wielded, and the damage it inflicts. Bennet, with his wealth and privilege, can buy space in Charles’s home, but he cannot buy absolution for the sins he carries. Charles, meanwhile, is forced to confront not just Bennet’s intentions but his own agency, history, and the weight of systemic inequities that have shaped his life.

The story also speaks to the dangers of denial and forgetting. The basement isn’t just a literal space; it’s a metaphor for the things we bury. Trauma, injustice, shame and believing they’ll stay hidden. But as Latif makes clear, nothing buried stays gone forever. In that sense, the film resonates powerfully with contemporary conversations about race, history, and accountability.

The Man in My Basement is not a film that provides comfort. It doesn’t tie its narrative in neat bows or hand its characters easy resolutions. Instead, it leaves viewers unsettled, urging them to grapple with the questions it raises long after the credits roll. Some may find the pacing too meditative, the symbolism too heavy-handed. But for those willing to sit with its unease, the payoff is rewarding.

The film also serves as a reminder of the importance of representation behind the camera. Latif, a British-Sudanese director, brings a perspective that feels both personal and expansive, attuned to the nuances of race, power, and history in ways that enrich Mosley’s text rather than dilute it. Her collaboration with Hawkins and Dafoe results in a work that feels deeply contemporary, even as it wrestles with timeless themes.

At a time when Hollywood often prioritizes spectacle over substance, The Man in My Basement dares to slow down and dig deep. It asks difficult questions about morality, survival, and the weight of the past and it refuses to let us look away. Bolstered by extraordinary performances from Corey Hawkins and Willem Dafoe, and guided by Nadia Latif’s confident direction, the film stands as a bold and haunting adaptation.

For audiences who crave character-driven drama with teeth, this is not a film to watch casually it’s one to wrestle with. Because if The Man in My Basement teaches us anything, it’s that what we bury never truly stays gone.

The Man in My Basement premiered at the 2025 Toronto International Film Festival.

The post TIFF 2025 Review: Willem Dafoe and Corey Hawkins Face Off in ‘The Man in My Basement’ appeared first on Black Girl Nerds.