Send Help (Sam Raimi, 2026). In the twenty-five years preceding Send Help, Sam Raimi directed only one other film that didn’t slot into Hollywood’s IP-above-all ethos. I’m glad Raimi was able to pad his bank account by convincingly showing the masses a man who does whatever a spider can, but it’s hard not to be disappointed by the subsequent dearth of gnarly little genre romps in his filmography. He should have made another dozen movies like this thriller about feuding coworkers on a desert island. Linda Liddle (Rachel McAdams) is an office drone whose long-anticipated promotion is thwarted by her callous young boss, Bradley Preston (Dylan O’Brien). When they’re stranded together following a plane crash, their previous power dynamic flips because of Linda’s knowledge base developed through her aspiration to be a Survivor contestant. Raimi clearly relishes finding creative, dynamic ways to frame the story, which goes a long towards gliding over the weaker points of the script. McAdams is the true MVP of the film. She throws herself into the role with a gusto that still makes room for emotional intricacy.

When Harry Met Sally… (Rob Reiner, 1989). The knock against When Harry Met Sally… at the time of its release was that it too overtly copied the aesthetic of Woody Allen’s movies, particularly Annie Hall. That complaint doesn’t seem to come up very much these days, but the debt is still clear. Harry Burns (Billy Crystal) and Sally Albright (Meg Ryan) are strangers who road trip from Chicago to New York following college graduation, bickering the whole way. They part upon reaching their destination and reunite a few years later to develop a strong friendship while they’re both nursing the wounds of broken romances. Rob Reiner’s direction is fluid and engaging. At this point in his career, there might not have been another filmmaker better at making a joke land. Funny as he is the film, Crystal is miscast. He’s too old for the role (he’s got more than a decade on Ryan) and is never convincing as a sex machine who could make a woman meow. Ryan is wonderful, basically setting the template for all of the romcom heroines who would follow. Bruno Kirby and Carrie Fisher are also dandy in supporting roles. Nora Ephron’s script dispenses great gags with conveyer-belt dependability.

Northern Lights (John Hanson and Rob Nilsson, 1978). Northern Lights is an incredibly strong, ultra-independent film that examines a fleetingly successful attempt at uniting farmers in a political movement in the early twentieth century. Ray Sorensen (Robert Behling) is a North Dakota farmer who initially resists overtures to get involved with the Nonpartisan League, a fledgling political party meant to champion the working man. Soon enough, he’s one of their top advocates, genially explaining the virtues of the party’s platform to anyone who will spare an ear around the cookstove. Directors John Hanson and Rob Nilsson keep the storytelling deeply intimate and personal, adding resonance to the social statement of the piece. Using a style of social realism, the film feels more like a documentary — and a quietly observant documentary from the likes of Frederick Wiseman or the Maysles brothers at that — than a work of constructed fiction. There are tremendous performances throughout, most notably from Behling. He carries a whole history with him as he engages with prospective party members.