To the layman, Mario is but a simple plumber—unwittingly thrust into a strange world of sentient mushrooms and militant turtles, then suddenly expected to save a kingdom he’s never known because he was accidentally sucked down a pipe. And we never do find out whether the job he was originally contracted for paid restitution after subjecting him to an insanely unsafe workplace environment—let alone how he explained the seemingly impossible insurance claim upon returning to the

So, it’s officially spooky season. I don’t make the rules. This is just the way it goes, okay? We’ve got to go along with it, lest we incur the wrath of fully grown adult women who like to pretend they’re real-life witches just because they have a few crystals in their apartment. But yes, it is officially Halloween season. A season that I love. But mostly for completely gluttonous reasons. Those reasons? My yearly tradition of procuring a giant box of assorted, fun-sized choc

Hollywood has always been a town built on secrecy. Scripts are locked away in underground vaults. Actors are smuggled onto sets beneath tarps. Studio executives communicate exclusively through burner phones. Actresses pretend they didn’t have sex with Harvey Weinstein for five minutes of screen time in Jackie Brown. I digress. Marvel, in particular, guards its upcoming movies with the sort of security normally reserved for launch codes within the nuclear football, alien autop