In the late 2000s, there was a surge of YA fantasy adaptations; films and TV shows broke into the mainstream, gaining enough traction to land a heavy presence in pop culture. After the revolutionary impact of the 2000 film Ginger Snaps, female lycanthropy has been reconsidered as a contemporary 'symbol of empowerment rather than monstrosity.' (Short 2006:188), inspiring an increase in representation in mainstream and horror cinema. Dark retellings of fairy tales and popular YA fantasy adaptations like The Vampire Diaries (2009), The Mortal Instruments (2013) and True Blood (2008) have been influenced in the aftermath. However, by championing the revision of the female teenage werewolf, it also invited a mainstream re-coding of femininity and monstrosity. Understanding Sue Shorts' analysis of feminine morality, fairy-tale narratives, and patriarchal revision, this work aims to understand the link between autonomy, isolation, and revision in the teen orientated media of the early 2010s.

This film really starts off our summer blockbuster run with confidence. Loud, colourful, and high octane, F1 really shines in it’s own immersivity. With the Netflix show F1: Drive to Survive giving the sport a huge new audience that has been steadily growing since 2018. F1 racing is hotter than ever. And this, if anything, is a love letter to casual fans of the sport. (It feels that way anyway, but this is coming from someone who knows nothing about racing other than the fact these drivers are high performance athletes).

Despite horror being dubbed a ‘boys club’ for so long, it’s actually one of the most diverse genres when it comes to gender representation, and the best place to look for societal and cultural reflection. With 2025 already bringing British Netflix drama Adolescence into our lives, and sparking conversations about young men and the dangers of ‘red pill’ masculinity; having this second British production following a young northern boy navigating coming of age with similar discussion points, feels really topically relevant.

In the past five years British horror cinema has had a surge of female directed features. From Alice Lowe’s Prevenge (2018) to Amulet (2020), the genre has been redefined in terms of spectatorship and auteurism. Stella Hockenhull argues that female directors create empowering films, and, using genre film to explore this, I wonder on a question asked by Molly Haskell; is there such thing as a distinctly feminine approach to film making? (1975:73)

Lilith has become a modern feminist icon among many Wiccans and occultists, far removed from her murky origins and monstrous, claw-footed imagery.

Her influence over religious texts and even in pop culture is immense; the 1940s Fruit of Knowledge by C. L. Moore introduces her as a jaded woman, envious of Adam and Eve. Art, poetry, and folklore have been pieced together in order to understand her enigmatic past, purpose and origin. Yet one thing all these have in common is the surety of Lilith’s lethality. She is not just a scorned woman but a demon, a bird hybrid, and a witch.

Pentagrams have been around forever—seriously, they go way back. We're talking ancient Greece and Babylon. Over time, they found their way into Wiccan tradition, kind of like their version of the Christian cross. Magic, mysticism, and general spooky vibes have followed the pentagram for about as long as it’s been on the cultural radar.