The great Japanese artist Hokusai (36 Views of Mount Fuji) had a daughter who was his apprentice and later his nurse. This recent film shows how she struggled to find her place as a daughter, artist, and woman in The Floating World of Ukiyo-e , 18th century Japan. The Japanese dialogue is wonderfully sparce but rich. Directed by Taku Katô—using lovely, saturated cinematography which gives context to the great acting in this film—Kurara illustrates how love, and art, and family do not go gentle into that good night.

Colorado, 1978. Young Finney is abducted by the “Galesburg Grabber,” a Gacy-esque masked villain. In captivity, the Grabber’s victims call out to Finney (literally) on a disconnected telephone, posthumously sharing their failed survival strategies with him. Make no mistake: this story isn’t about The Grabber. It’s about the importance of male survivors’ voices. Truly, the horror at the heart of The Black Phone is the statistic it circles without disclosing: 1 in 6 men are victims of childhood sexual assault. Beyond the basement, into the audience, some are still awaiting rescue: for them, the phone’s still ringing.

One of the only NYC movies that made me feel like I was heading to my unglamorous, low paying job in Times Square. Director Ramin Bahrani and cinematographer Michael Simmonds use their limited budget to capture the city with an honest, simple, naturalistic style. They depict our sisyphean hero's struggles with just as much honesty and care. Ahmad is a Pakistani ex-rockstar who scrapes by as a breakfast cart vendor. It’s refreshing to watch a movie about the working life that doesn’t romanticize, idealize, or pound our faces in with spoon-fed ideology. Looking for a cinematic hug? Look elsewhere.

A Christmasy Hammer crime movie. That sentence should be enough. Cash on Demand proves that if your story has a strong foundation, you don’t need any frills. You hardly need a budget. Beyond the thrill of the heist is the tale of a bank manager who keeps his emotions locked up in an impenetrable vault (like the money he’s responsible for), and a clever thief who has an earnest interest in his fellow human beings (despite his willingness to torment them for his own gains). A suspenseful little human drama that feels festive without bashing our heads in with it.

You should be the someone watching Lauren Hutton absolutely nail her role in Someone’s Watching Me! She’s endearing as hell in this made-for-TV horror/thriller about a somewhat lonely but upbeat woman named Leigh who is relentlessly harassed by an anonymous stalker. Ya know how sometimes characters feel hollow, like they’re just around to flaunt some writer’s agenda? Ain’t so here thanks to great performances and a balanced screenplay giving us people, not sounding boards. Watch this at night with some popcorn, the lights turned down, and the curtains open wide.

What could have been a humorous buddy flick focusing on the zany antics of two quirky criminals becomes a response to films that idealize just that. It’s a deeper look into the life and times of two low level thugs, one an erratic narcissist and the other a hypersensitive, vengeful, selfish man who is something of a heroic figure in his own mind. But May doesn’t make it easy for us, she humanizes (without romanticizing) them every chance she gets. Some of the best performances I’ve ever seen. It’s a gorgeously lived-in movie, like a quality pair of old jeans.

Five doctors go backpacking in the remote Canadian wilderness. All is (relatively) well until their boots vanish. But vulnerable feet are just the beginning—they’re being hunted. Relationships are strained, past traumas resurface, and tough decisions are made as the pals fight to survive. There's incredible chemistry between the group thanks to convincing performances and witty dialogue. Hal Holbrook shines as on-the-verge-of-burnout idealist, Harry. Despite an uneven finale, you’ll be gasping for breath as you watch these men struggle against things they are underprepared to deal with. Had me ready for my own little therapy session. Also, someone quotes Yeats.

A couple’s self-isolation to avoid modern-day contamination leads to the husband’s existential crisis after he exhausts his interest in music. His wife joins him in derelict Detroit from half a world away to reengage their marriage. They find minimal peace until her sister unexpectedly shows up, and very reluctantly drags them back into the world with deadly consequences. Despite their own social distancing the outing turns deadly. Oh, and they’re vampires. John Hurt portrays their friend, completing an excellent cast to Jim Jarmusch’s 2013 very odd, satisfying film where hard, pointy choices are made.

The Berlin Wall serves as a fitting backdrop for this frenzied psychological drama/horror about a fragmented marriage. Here you’ll find doppelgangers, improperly used electric knives, dead dogs (gods?), crises of faith, and a skeleton in the closet to end all skeletons in the closets. Demoniac performances imbue Possession with a mythic energy—Adjani justifiably gets most of the love, but Neill and Bennent more than hold their own. The whole ordeal is relentlessly fraught with anxiety and impending doom from its distressing opening to its apocalyptic final act. Set aside some recovery time.

Sidney Hayers gave us the best adaptation of Fritz Leiber’s Conjure Wife to date with Night of the Eagle. Written by legends Charles Beaumont and Richard Matheson (with contributions by George Baxt), this 1962 horror centers around a sociology professor who discovers his wife is a witch—and that ain’t all, she’s been protecting him against the evil magic of his jealous colleagues. Will his rigid skepticism destroy them both? Stark lighting and dramatic cinematography draw you into the action. There’s lots to dissect, from gender politics to perception vs reality, but I love this as a relationship story.

Kristin Garth’s novel, The Meadow (Alien Buddha Press), builds upon her autobiographical poetry collection of the same name. Make no mistake: The Meadow’s not salacious BDSM Twilight fan fic marketed toward mass audiences. What’s key to understanding this work is the humanity with which Garth imbues her young protagonist, Scarlet. As Scarlet explores her sexuality through lurid encounters with various characters, the reader cannot help but simultaneously sympathize and empathize with her as she attempts to reach catharsis. Furthermore, Garth paints this niche community with respect, while also fairly criticizing certain aspects of it. Readers wanting sole titillation look elsewhere.

Kim Vodicka’s (The Elvis Machine) latest poetry collection, Dear Ted, is a tsunami of words—simultaneously destroying with feminine rage and empowerment the male shitstorm women deal with every day while also honoring women survivors and those who deserve to be remembered. Mixing popular culture and open discussions of sexuality, Dear Ted eviscerates Ted Bundy and other serial killer/stalker/dater-esque men. Reading her poems becomes an act of complicity as each word or image slices male entitlement to ribbons. Even in the rare moments where the metaphorical knife briefly dulls, Vodicka’s poetic onslaught remains a continuous bloodletting experience.

If Under Your Skin is any indication of things, Matthew Standiford is a horror writer you’re going to want to keep an eye on. In his story of a young man whose bleak day-to-day life takes a surreal turn into the brutality that’s possible when you don’t have anything else to turn to. Without making his characters seem overly sympathetic, Standiford takes main character Brandon’s search for girls whose skin can be of use to his ailing, damaged girlfriend Jennifer, and tells a deeply effecting story. It’s a particularly twisted mediation on redemption and accountability, making Under Your Skin is a must-read for genre fans.

Dumb Dumb Dumb: My Mother’s Book Reviews is MST3K alumni and celebrated humorist/comedian Mary Jo Pehl at her very best. The book essentially functions as a memoir, looking back at Pehl’s relationship to her extraordinary mother. A fascinating woman and voracious, informed reader of more books than most human minds can conceive, Pehl creates a portrait of her mother as someone who you sincerely wish you could meet for yourself. Pehl’s writing here is as detailed as it is hilarious. She has always had the incredible talent for making us laugh amidst a vivid depiction of the everyday. That has never been more apparent than it is here.

Linnet Phoenix’s distinctive, deceptively soft works run an intriguing gamut of styles in Rusty Stars, available now from Between Shadows Press. Some of these poems are written as though each word needed to go deeper than the page and planet, with how pointedly they must have put to that page. Others are a hectic spill of metaphor and vital word choice. The manic tone of some of these pieces run next to the more reserved poems in a race that could honestly go on forever. No, maybe not forever; but this is still a collection I won’t forget anytime soon.

“61/49” and “Heart of the Heartland” are two brilliant examples of the storytelling Dan Wright has in mind for Love Letters from the Underground, available now from Spartan Press. Dan’s poetry is well-constructed, because there is clearly an understanding of form, combined with the ability to manipulate the form to give these stories further layers. However, it is in the remarkable care for his subjects, particularly in their relationship to the often-unhappy world around them, where Wright leaves us with poems and narratives that are truly born out of the frustration or even anguish of the forgotten.

One of the most appealing things about the richly illustrated, instantly likable An A to Z of Elvis, written with an attention to staying off the beaten path by Joe Shooman, is that you don’t have to really like Elvis Presley to enjoy this book. It would probably enhance your enjoyment of the book, which takes an alphabetical trip through Elvis basics, but also deviates frequently into the many cultural connections and threads with one relation to Elvis or another. However, I think anyone who simply appreciates the butterfly effect one human being can have on history can enjoy this.

“Retrowave pulp thriller” is in the Goodreads description of this phenomenal, visceral book about sex workers, queer love, family and the unfathomable cruelty and weirdness of 1980s Los Angeles. I think that’s accurate in the most appealing fashion possible. Combining the best noir qualities with the kind of revenge drama not seen since Ms. 45, Hooker is one of the most exciting stories to come from that pulp tradition in quite some time. Sylvia Lumen makes for an impressive hero, and M Lopes da Silva gets some pretty cool ideas from the serial killer trope. Don’t miss this one.

“Our author is versed in the intersection of text and dance” reads a line from the website created to celebrate the release of Rodney A. Brown’s wonderful new book Typescenes. The book is twenty-five prose poems that you can theoretically dance to. While I can’t dance myself, there is something very musical, very singular about the way Brown seeks out a unique point where music and the lyrical written word explores the difficult, painful smaller stories that make up the larger notion of what it is to be a Black male in America. Brown offers one of the most engaging approaches to telling such stories I have ever encountered.

Probably not by design, but the work, humor, and depth of wonder and wisdom inherent in the work of Kenning Jean-Paul Garcia sometimes has the capacity to make me feel small. I’ll read something like DAWN, a wonderous, beautifully-crafted chapbook. I will love every word, every page. In the specific case of DAWN, I will read and re-read a soft, delirious dialog between two characters (I think?). However, I will also wonder just what I’m missing out there in the world. Kenning Jean-Paul Garcia has a vision and mode of embracing ideas that is apparent in every single thing he writes.