The major advances in the fight for LGBTQ equality can make it easy to forget how much of a death sentence being gay used to be in a so-called polite society. Prior to 1967, male homosexuality was punishable in the United Kingdom by prison sentences with hard labor, a lifetime of shame, and ostracization to follow. As history has demonstrated time and time again, punishing people for being gay does not in fact stop anyone from being gay. The gay cannot be whipped, beaten, or prayed out of the individual, a reality that much of the world is still, unfortunately, grappling with.

The 1987 film Maurice adapts the E.M. Forster novel of the same name, published posthumously after the author’s death undoubtedly to shield his own homosexuality. Set at the tail end of the Edwardian era, Maurice (James Wilby) is a lazy affluent student at Cambridge, not very adept at concealing his own sexuality. A fellow gay classmate Risley (Mark Tandy) catches on, playing matchmaker between Maurice and Clive (Hugh Grant), the two possessing instant chemistry, the kind of effortless passion that fuels countless romance narratives.

Of course, gay people are not supposed to fall in love, especially not in pre-World War I England. The breezy lifestyle of the leisure class serves as an exceptional incubator for Maurice and Clive’s romance, picnics in the grass, and nothing to worry about except one’s attire for the evening. That, plus England’s egregiously regressive punishments for homosexual conduct.

Like the early 1900s, 1987 was not a particularly easy time to be gay either. With the AIDS epidemic sweeping the globe, Reagan-era puritanism looked to the virus as a way of punishing homosexuals for our perceived vile way of life, the exertion of God’s will upon the wicked. Decades before HIV’s discovery, Maurice’s generation had a similarly dismal prognosis on life.

Director James Ivory understands the political implications of his film better than anyone. Maurice rises above its predictable narrative through its resounding commitment to the idea that happiness will always triumph over a life in the closet, no matter the cost. Maurice isn’t a particularly interesting character. Wilby’s wide-eyed optimism bails out the messier aspects of his performance, particularly his clunky intimate scenes with Grant.

Gay happiness remains a radical idea, over a century removed from the events of the narrative, and fifty years after Forster’s death. Ivory does right by the source material, making great use of his locations to highlight the contrast between the freedom that all the space a country house allows, and the reality of the unsustainable cost of retaining who you are as part of that society. The punishments for homosexuality were severe, but repression is itself a death sentence.

Laws banning homosexuality attempted to craft an easy outcome for gay people. You’re not supposed to want to sacrifice everything, but that’s also a fundamental point that anti-LGBTQ legislators fail to understand time and time again. You can threaten someone with the worst consequences imaginable. You can take everything from them and strip away every fiber of their dignity, but no amount of homophobia can squash that basic human desire to be fulfilled.

Countless countries have committed egregious atrocities against their LGBTQ citizens. Maurice is a needed reminder of how irrelevant the stink of hate can feel to a mind at ease with itself. Love cannot be conquered by society’s efforts to legislate it out of existence.

Countless films have examined the futility of capitalism to deliver its promise of a meaningful existence onto the proletariat. The exertion of labor may keep a roof over one’s head, but the use-value of being a cog in the machine rarely provides that elusive sensation called happiness. Life has got to be more.

The 1966 film Daisies (original Czech title: Sedmikràsky), examines the lives of two women, both named Marie (Jitka Cerhová and Ivana Karbanová), who are seemingly unmoored from the mechanics of society. Living lives of decadence and idle play, the Maries frolic through their village, rolling down hills and convincing old men to buy them extravagant dinners. Life is what the Maries make of it, assuming there’s an easy mark around to foot the bill.

Director Věra Chytilová makes great use of the full sensory arsenal at her disposal as a filmmaker. Daises includes numerous sequences that rely solely on color and sound play, the idea of a narrative barely entering the equation. There is no real plot or single concrete idea anchoring the film, but Chytilová works with such a careful sense of deliberation that she manages to keep the audience thoroughly engaged through the brisk 76-minute runtime.

The two Maries exist both as individual characters and two sides of the same coin. Much of Daisies’ charm stems from Cerhová and Karbanová’s impeccable chemistry, often moving in complete synchronicity with one another while their characters remain fundamentally unaligned with each other. The Maries’ brand of self-centered living leaves little room for each other, but the desire for companionship is a natural human phenomenon. The two actresses do a remarkable job exploring their unusual dynamic against the backdrop of a film that is never particularly concerned with telling a story.

Chytilová pulls off the impressive feat of deconstructing capitalism without succumbing to the natural urge to offer a replacement. The system is not designed to crumble at the hands of a single arthouse film, even one designed solely to poke the eyes of the kinds of conservative governments that spent decades trying to censor such material. The wheels of capitalism will keep churning long after the credits roll.

The Maries do not live particularly meaningful lives, occasionally unwittingly playing a part in capitalism’s unending game. Anarchy, almost by definition, has no better alternative. Daisies is an amusing romp through a myopic fairytale. The Maries only pay lip service to the idea that they should be worried about tomorrow. Their antics, while amusing, do not plant any grandiose ideas in the audience’s head about alternatives to the endless cycle. The best lesson that Daisies leaves behind lies in the value of deviating from the norm, if only for a little while. We cannot exist independently from society, but we can challenge the status quo at every turn.

Video game superfans should generally temper their expectations toward big-screen adaptations of beloved works. Sonic the Hedgehog was a bit of an anomaly in this regard, a generic plot constantly uplifted by Jim Carrey’s nostalgia-heavy performance as Dr. Robotnik. Audiences generally don’t see a film play simultaneously to the generic kids movie crowd alongside older viewers who grew up with the source material.

Sonic the Hedgehog 2 remains acutely aware that many of the kids who grew up blowing into their Sega Genesis cartridges now have children of their own. The script for the sequel is laden with popular culture references that no one under the age of ten would understand. The efforts toward recreating iconic Sonic boss levels often sharply contrast with the otherwise abundant laziness toward just about every other aspect of the film.

The sequel mostly picks up where the first film left off. Sonic (Ben Schwartz) has the Wachowski residence to himself while Tom (James Marsden) and Maddie (Tika Sumpter) attend the Hawaii wedding for Rachel (Natasha Rothwell) and Randall (Shemar Moore), the latter serving as the film’s sole primary newcomer among the live-action cast. Longtime sidekick Tails (Colleen O’Shaughnessey) joins Sonic to take on Robotnik and fan-favorite Knuckles (Idris Elba), who seek to harness the power of the Master Emerald.

The plot is about as silly and generic as the first film. The script does little in terms of world-building regarding the Emerald’s power or Knuckles’ beef with Sonic, but it also doesn’t really need to. The chemistry between the pairs of Sonic & Tails, and Knuckles & Robotnik supplies most of the narrative’s best moments.

Director Jeff Fowler has no idea what to do with his live-action performers outside of Carrey. The middle of the film dedicates far too much time to Rachel and Randall’s wedding. The actors work hard to endear themselves to the audience with limited screentime, but that doesn’t really change the fact that the film is pretty boring whenever there isn’t a CGI character on screen.

The script is once again laughably bad, projecting a bland hero’s journey onto Sonic, who’s still quite the loner. You get the sense that someone is trying to say something about the power of self-confidence, but the narrative doesn’t have the attention span to stay on any one strand for very long. Elba’s top-notch voice work is undercut by the silly lines he’s expected to deliver with a straight face, lacking Carrey’s innate ability to work magic with amateur-level screenwriting.

Sonic the Hedgehog 2 is way messier than it should have been, full of cheap filler like a lazy dance-off in addition to the pop culture references that already feel dated. Fowler does nail the interactions between his principal players. Sonic benefits immensely from the presence of Tails and Knuckles, inching the character closer toward his rightful place as the epitome of cool.

The film fares better at serving its dual audiences of children and adults than most of its contemporaries, but that reality doesn’t change the fact that Sonic 2 is quite content with mediocrity for most of its bloated 122-minute runtime. Fowler delivered a stark improvement over the original film, but he did not craft a particularly impressive feature, once again leaving Carrey with far too much cleanup duty. Sonic diehards will find much to enjoy, but everyone’s favorite blue hedgehog deserves better than this half-hearted attempt at filmmaking.