In today’s day and age, taking a seat in a movie theater to see a major studio-backed romantic comedy practically never happens. So, You, Me & Tuscany is kind of a beautiful anomaly, and I miss that kind of experience from yesteryear. But after seeing this, be warned that we’re talking about a movie that harkens closer to the hit-or-miss 2010s rather than the golden age of the 1990s and 2000s with Halle Bailey and Regé-Jean Page’s corny, yet cute trip to Italy.

You, Me & Tuscany comes from producer Will Packer, who has made some really fun Black-led comedies like Think Like A Man, Ride Along and Girls Trip, and this film feels like the filmmaker’s valiant effort to lean into a more romantic (but PG-13) effort with two great stars. The movie has enough to be amused by, but if you’re expecting anything more than a just-decent theatrical return to the genre, you may find yourself feeling like you’re eating grapes picked a bit too soon from the vine.

You, Me & Tuscany shares a lot of story DNA with the classic Sandra Bullock 1995 romantic comedy While You Were Sleeping. After meeting a man once, a woman gets into a situation where she gets mistaken for his fiancée and ends up running with the lie thanks to his family's overwhelming kindness (and his hot brother). Except this time, we’re in Tuscany, Italy, and it feels like a very Hollywood depiction of what the Italian version of the story would be like.

You, Me & Tuscany is a fine-enough romantic comedy to get swept into… if your expectations aren’t high.

In the case of this movie, we meet Anna (Bailey), a professional house sitter, who’s known to get swept away in her customers’ lavish lifestyles every once in a while since quitting culinary school after dealing with a tragic loss. One evening, she finds herself making the acquaintance of an Italian real estate agent named Matteo (Lorenzo de Moor) who lets her know that he has a villa in Tuscany just sitting there. Oh, and Anna somehow already has a plane ticket to Italy booked from before her loss. After some drunken encouragement from Matteo, off she goes.

Anna doesn't initially have the intention of using Matteo's place, but when her last minute trip doesn't go as planned, she decides to crash there and gets caught. In an effort to not go to prison, she goes along with their assumption that she's the fiancée of Matteo, since their meeting happened just moments after she finds a beautiful engagement ring and slips it on.

I can't help but feel like there's something disingenuous about the plotline since Anna doesn't have anywhere else to go and had already dreamt of being a chef in Italy. It makes the whole movie feel a bit too convenient and manipulative to the audience rather than having a magic to it I look for from a really good rom-com.

A lot of the movie was filmed in location in Tuscany, Italy, making for a transporting film for a little while. And yet, at the same time, there’s not enough landmarks on the itinerary to feel like you hit all the stops. Oh, and disappointingly so, the soundtrack is full of chart-topping hits and a rather unromantic Italian score.

Halle Bailey’s sweetness carries the film, and makes you root for the formulaic journey.

Funny enough, for a movie that I thought would be a launching pad for Halle Bailey outside of her The Little Mermaid role, there’s something very Disney-esque about the whole movie, give or take a few sexual innuendos. Bailey does use this to her advantage, considering her sweet, likable charm makes the ride more fun to go on. A lot of big laughs come from her best friend Claire (Aziza Scott), who she talks to throughout the trip, and her taxi driver Lorenzo (Marco Calvani) while she grounds it with lightness and heart.

Anna is a character who is basically conning an entire family for a practically free vacation and to get out of prison time, so it would be a lot harder to get on board if Anna wasn’t easy to root for. The movie’s biggest strength is in the found-family message, which is deliciously communicated through the cooking subplot of the film Anna gets pulled into by her fake family-to-be.

Regé-Jean Page is a solid romantic co-lead with Anna, who adds the kind of yearning and sexual tension we’re looking for in You, Me & Tuscany. However, the movie also decides to start with a more enemies-to-lovers vibe between them that feels a bit out of place and weak. Much like every character in the film, there’s not a lot of depth to gather from these two aside from them both having very similar life experiences to pull from a couple of conversations. Page is playing the “dream guy”, and that’s about it.

It ultimately feels like a fairytale-esque story that isn’t rooted in reality.

Throughout You, Me & Tuscany, you’ll find yourself noticing all the neat puzzle pieces of the storyline that work for Anna throughout to the point that you’ll settle for giving up and just letting the things come together in this weird alternate reality where everything is serendipitous and works in this girl’s favor despite her frequent carelessness. There’s also quite a few beats that one could easily guess shortly before it happens. Though, I will give the movie a few extra points for breaking what I expected out of the characters on a few occasions.

Don’t get me wrong: Kat Coiro’s movie is absolutely watchable, and adequately balances funny moments with the whole will-they-won’t-they of it all. But there’s nothing incredibly swoon-worthy here to write home about. If you like yourself a rom-com, you’ll get your helping of all the ingredients that will fill you up by the time you leave, but it lacks the pizzazz that can turn a movie from the genre into a gem or all-time favorite. And hey, that’s OK! It’s just that there’s been so many middling romantic comedies of this caliber as of late.

Relationships are complex. Facing an unsettling revelation about a partner’s history can present one of the most complex issues in any relationship. That kind of revelation is at the heart of The Drama, the latest film from A24 and writer/director Kristoffer Borgli (Dream Scenario). Zendaya and Robert Pattinson play Emma and Charlie, an engaged couple who must suddenly grapple with Emma’s past as they hurdle towards their wedding date.

Like the spoiler-y revelation, the movie is unsettling, but it’s darkly funny at times, and ultimately a satisfying way to explore both societal issues and personal issues at the same time. The Drama finds a new spin on an old idea that makes it completely different than anything else in the romantic comedy genre. Rom coms are meant to be fantasies, not nightmares. Even the tropes it incorporates are twisted from what we all expect.

There is a lot to say, but it’s tricky to talk about.

The Drama is hard to talk about for a couple of reasons. The subject matter is dark, for sure, but it’s also a movie that you want to encourage people to go into blind. The marketing of the movie has been very coy about revealing too much about what causes the titular drama in the relationship, and it's a better movie for it. That has also caused some controversy, but don’t let that stop you from seeing it. Yes, it’s easy to see why so many people are upset about the subject matter, but without the surprise of Emma’s confession, the film doesn’t have the same kind of impact.

The complexity Emma and Charlie face is extreme, to be sure, but everyone can relate on some smaller level (and hopefully nothing like the one in the movie). Everyone understands dealing with something in their partner’s past that upsets them, and by presenting in an extreme way, Borgli can straddle the personal issue and compound it with a societal one. He does so brilliantly. It’s a film that will stick with you; it's a film that you’ll think about for weeks.

It’s not an easy movie to watch, but the subject matter is helped by the breezy pace and the occasionally hilarious, though very dark, moments. Laughing at this anti-rom-com might make one feel guilty after you do, but it allows you to catch your breath after the heavier parts of the story. This isn’t a laugh riot, so the comedy is as impactful as Emma’s confession. Borgli really pulls a rabbit out of a hat here, and it could easily have been derailed by a much more trite script.

Zendaya and Pattinson’s star power shines through.

Like the magic trick of a script, the weighty nature of the story is lightened by the performances from Zendaya and Pattinson. The two stars at the center of a great romantic comedy are usually described as having great chemistry, but that isn’t the correct description here. Yes, they are working really well together, but the audience doesn’t fall in love with their relationship. That’s not the point. We are as uncomfortable with the situation as they are.

Still, both stars put in wonderful performances that allow us to have contempt for each character but also compassion for both of them. Charlie’s struggles are on the surface as we are allowed to empathize with him, while Emma’s are smoldering, just as they have been her whole life. We see it, and we feel it, and both actors are at the top of their game. Seeing them at the Oscars just a few weeks ago, looking as glamorous as any movie stars ever have, is a stark contrast to what we see on the screen in The Drama. There is nothing glamorous here, and the pain for both characters is felt.

The rest of the cast, especially Mamoudou Athie (Kinds of Kindness) as Mike and Alana Haim (Licorice Pizza) as Rachel – Charlie and Emma’s best friends – are equally great, going through many of the same emotions we feel as the audience after Emma’s dark history is revealed. Zoë Winters’ (Materialists) role as the wedding photographer is also brilliant, again bringing some much-needed levity to the film. Hailey Gates (Challengers), who plays Charlie’s co-worker and confidant, is also wonderful, playing off the emotional mess that Charlie becomes.

The controversy surrounding the film doesn’t diminish the impact.

You may have read about the controversy surrounding the twist in The Drama that ultimately turns the rom-com genre on its head. Without spoiling anything, I’ll say that I understand why it has upset people, but without it, this film simply doesn’t have the same impact. The confession is meant to be shocking, and it is. It really is. Emma starts out being blasé about it, and that has angered some, but again, that’s the point. If the twist is meant to make us confront the simpler problems we all face in our relationships, it succeeds in a major way.

This isn’t a simple rom-com. It starts with a meet-cute and sets up to be one, but, as I said, it flips the genre on its head. Borgli uses horror movie techniques to make us feel even more unsettled as the movie progresses and has us questioning what we would do if faced with the same dilemma Charlie is faced with. His friends are horrified. HE is horrified. But he loves Emma, and he knows and loves Emma (or he thinks he does), so there is no simple solution.

Emma herself must again confront her terrible past, something she has obviously tried to put behind her, but cannot. Not when she also loves Charlie as much as he loves her. Grappling with a partner in full, the good, the bad, and the very ugly, is universal, and The Drama presents that in a way that no movie I’ve ever seen does.

As beloved and wide-ranging as the Super Mario franchise is, I understand that story has never been one of the hailed hallmarks. The world knows Mario and Luigi are plumbers in a world full of mushrooms and turtles, and they avoid obstacles and defeat Bowser so that they can rescue Princess Peach. Complex character arcs (nor even complex personalities) have never been a priority, with the focus being more on iconography, be it with weird new bad guys or buddies for the protagonists.

In the making of 2023's The Super Mario Bros. Movie, directors Aaron Horvath and Michael Jelenic and screenwriter Matthew Fogel did what they could to make something from nothing – and while my review of the work noted that it was more a checklist of references than a film, I will give it credit for that work in retrospect: the blockbuster crafted an origin story for the titular characters and take them on a journey from their home in Brooklyn to the Mushroom Kingdom.

That's far more than I can say for the filmmakers' follow-up, The Super Mario Galaxy Movie. It can be said that the sequel has a plot and it introduces a few new characters, but that's where the creative energy halts. The film has virtually nothing else going on beyond what's going on in the overarching narrative, which results in the protagonists simply moving from place to place so that easter eggs and references to the games can be inserted. With the (only minimal) exceptions of Jack Black's Bowser, Anya Taylor-Joy's Peach, and Benny Safdie's Bowser Jr., there are no real wants or motivations or evolved relationship dynamics. It's mindless.

Set in the aftermath of the first movie, trouble begins when the aforementioned Bowser Jr. arrives on the scene with two goals: to kidnap a princess – specifically Princess Rosalina (Brie Larson) – and rescue his father, who has been shrunk and kept imprisoned. Princess Peach (Anya Taylor-Joy) and Toad (Keegan-Michael Key) go after the diminutive villain when they learn about the former; and Mario (Chris Pratt), Luigi (Charlie Day), and the newly discovered Yoshi (Donald Glover) get pulled in because of the latter.

As Peach and Toad travel across the universe hoping to find answers to the royal's mysterious origins, the plumber brothers, their dinosaur pal, and Bowser follow a few steps back – with the The Super Mario Bros. Movie villain claiming to be wholly rehabilitated and wanting the chance to reconnect with his estranged son.

It's wild how little effort was put into trying to develop these characters.

Some of you may be reading this take and thinking, "What do you want? It's just a kids movie" – but that's a rather insulting sentiment considering that we are only weeks/months removed from the critically acclaimed releases of both Pixar's Hoppers and Walt Disney Animation's Zootopia 2. And while I have no expectations that the Super Mario sequel will explore themes of stolen land, oligarchical power and gentrification like the aforementioned 2025 title, I do expect at least some effort from the storytellers to engage more than just the simplest members of the audience.

A perfect example of how lazy the movie is can be seen with the introduction of Yoshi (side note: huge congratulations to Donald Glover for probably being paid millions of dollars to squeak "Yoshi" into a microphone a dozen or so times). Mario and Luigi find him in a warp pipe, there is a brief montage showcasing how he came to be in the warp pipe, and then he's just… there. He's along for the adventure and he does his thing – by which I mean eating things with his frog-like tongue and laying eggs – and there is exactly nothing more to it. There easily could be a sub-plot exploring what he is and where he came from, but why bother when his appearance is purely based on familiar character utilization and toy/game sales?

All that being said, not providing Yoshi any depth can be given a full pass in light of the film's biggest sin: the absolutely staleness of Mario and Luigi. Beyond going after Peach and figuring out what Bowser Jr. is up to, The Super Mario Galaxy Movie has no idea what to do with its main characters. Mario is distrustful of Bowser's rehabilitation, and Luigi eggs his brother on a couple times to ask the princess on a date, but that's the end of the list when it comes to emotional conflict for protagonists, and neither of them actually end up getting a satisfying conclusion. Nothing matters beyond the adventure.

Fox McCloud is easily the MVP of the film, but without much competition.

The Super Mario Galaxy Movie is a movie mostly a chain of sequences that feel designed to someday be paused so that fans can count how many recognizable characters they can find, and it's mostly shallow fan service. The lone exception to this, however, is the introduction of Fox McCloud, voiced by Glen Powell. Without giving away too much, he is a scene-stealer thanks to his cool attitude and awesome space ship – plus his presence (specifically a montage with his backstory) allows the animators to briefly break up the monotony of the film's aesthetic to try something new. The big downside is that you very much end up wishing you were watching a Star Fox movie instead of a Super Mario sequel.

Beyond Fox McCloud's role, there are some other fun action moments, including a Peach-centric battle royale in a casino with multidirectional gravity – and discussing the second best sequence in the would be veering too far into spoiler territory, but it can be said that it's a neat homage to the classic games of the 1980s. But these highlights come few and far between with everything else about the movie that drags.

It's not very often that a bad movie makes a $1 billion at the worldwide box office and then makes serious efforts to improve quality in the sequel, so I can't say that I'm ultimately surprised at the film that The Super Mario Galaxy Movie is. At the same time, though, I can lament that nearly everything about it is lowest common denominator and that most won't think twice about how contemptible it is of its audience.

After six seasons, Peaky Blinders has returned in the form of The Immortal Man to give Cillian Murphy's Tommy Shelby one hell of a conclusion. As a fan of the original series, I was a bit apprehensive about it returning as a movie years after Tommy rode away on that white horse. However, writer Steven Knight, director Tom Harper and stars Murphy and Barry Keoghan give us a movie that serves as a methodical yet high-octane and worthy conclusion to this tale.

The story takes place in 1940. Tommy Shelby has exiled himself and is living like a recluse in his home. Meanwhile, his estranged son Duke (Barry Keoghan) has taken over the Peaky Blinders and is causing chaos in Birmingham. Then, in the midst of World War II, the former leader of the fierce gang is drawn back to his hometown.

So, as Tommy deals with his son, he’s also forced to reckon with the ghosts of his past. It’s all around a destructive yet beautiful tale about what could very well be Tommy Shelby’s final stand. And if it is indeed the last time we see the Peaky Blinders, it serves as a meaningful and well-earned farewell thanks to showstopping performances from Murphy and Keoghan that shine in this rich world that was developed on television.

Cillian Murphy and Barry Keoghan beautifully (and violently) juxtapose each other in the Peaky Blinders capstone.

For this chapter of Peaky Blinders, Cillian Murphy returns as an older version of his iconic lead, while Barry Keoghan joins the cast as Duke. Initially, I was concerned about the lack of original cast members in this film, but the sheer power of Murphy and Keoghan as a duo put that issue to bed very fast. These two have magnetic energy, they juxtapose one another brilliantly, and they play out this story of a father returning to see his kid in a very powerful way.

While Murphy brings the cool and scarily calm energy he maintained throughout the entire show, Keoghan bursts onto the screen like a firecracker. It works perfectly, too, because Duke is simultaneously Tommy’s son and his antithesis.

It’s those two notions that mix together brilliantly in this film. Throughout, Tommy and Duke face off, and it’s never quite clear where allegiances lie, especially when it comes to Keoghan’s character. Then, when the two finally meet, it’s in an explosive way that sets the tone for a rip-roaring and action-packed conclusion.

When I think about what makes Murphy a great actor, it's his stoic and methodical nature and ability to let his emotions out at just the right moment. Meanwhile, Keoghan’s unpredictability and passion radiate off a lot of his work. These guys bring both those energies to The Immortal Man, and the ways in which they clash and work together are what make it such a memorable movie.

The Immortal Man is a brilliant introduction to a new era, and a breathtaking conclusion to another.

By and large, Peaky Blinders: The Immortal Man is a send-off. It’s a farewell to a generation of Shelbys, and it’s a beautiful one at that. Through moments of solitary introspection and forced, uncomfortable confrontation, Tommy has to reckon with his past and his loss in a visceral way. And in doing that, some semblance of closure is found.

Meanwhile, we’re also introduced to the new generation of Peaky Blinders. While Duke was in the show, Keoghan took over the part for the movie, and he fleshes him out fully. This man is haunted by his past and is trying to find his voice as the new leader of this infamous gang.

It’s a fresh take on the impact the Peaky Blinders have on Birmingham, and through the absolutely stellar action set pieces full of explosives and shootouts, we’re able to get a well-constructed full-circle ending with two key successes: it harkens back to Tommy’s days in World War I while also introducing to a new form of life and violence as his son steps into his power.

Overall, Peaky Blinders: The Immortal Man is an intergenerational story that should thrill fans of the series. However, it also stands proudly on its own thanks to the new people involved, making for an epic conclusion that’s worthy of the beloved show that came before it.

In the paperback fiction world, Colleen Hoover has consistently put out big hits in the romance genre. And in the past few years, Hollywood has been trying to replicate that viral success with a series of adaptations of her bestselling works. However, that endeavor quickly went a bit sideways with the controversial media frenzy surrounding It Ends With Us, followed by last year’s Regretting You not making much of an impact to overshadow it. However, the latest Hoover adaptation, Reminders Of You, shows that sometimes the third time’s a charm.

Based on the 2022 novel of the same name, Reminders Of Him, follows Kenna (Maika Monroe) as she returns to her former home of Paradise, Wyoming after seven years in prison for charges related to the death of her boyfriend Scotty (Rudy Pankow). She has to start from scratch with a barebones studio apartment and knock on doors for literally any job that will take someone with a record. Just as the audience starts to ask why she’d return to a place that seems to be rejecting her, we learn that she’s there in hopes of meeting the young daughter that was taken away from her before she could even lay her eyes on her.

Maika Monroe and Tyriq Withers’ chemistry delivers on a level deeper than typical Hollywood romances.

Monroe, who is best known by horror fans for her roles in Longlegs and It Follows, gives a well-rounded and believable performance that’s devoid of the kind of melodrama a movie like this could easily become led by another actress. She gives an introverted performance helped by the letters her character writes and narrates the movie with to her former love in composition notebooks that she carries everywhere with her. Kenna’s quietly captivating presence is noticed by a local bartender Ledger (Tyriq Withers) when she stumbles into his establishment hoping for a late-night cup of coffee.

Withers, who has also made a name for himself recently in scary movies like I Know What You Did Last Summer and Him, also gets to show a different side of his range with his sweet, vulnerable performance as Ledger, who happened to be Scotty’s best friend and like a pseudo father to Kenna’s daughter since his old buddy passed. While the attraction between Kenna and Ledger is immediate, there’s an innocence to it, and it’s something that feels natural to the storyline as they get to know each other. It’s a nice change of pace from a lot of Hollywood romances lately that have felt more like producers smashed together two bankable stars in hopes sparks will fly for the heck and cash of it all.

As the movie goes on, Kenna and Scotty bond over a shared love for the same little girl, and their shared loss of Scotty. In a world where love stories can often be dramatized as being toxic or impossible, there’s a wholesome and serendipity about the story of these two that feels grounded – while also having a smidge of the kind of fantasy-like, passionate love affair one would hope from a big-screen romance. But, perhaps the biggest surprise of the movie is how it’s more of an endearing family drama before being a romance at all. Those movies are certainly few and far between on a major studio’s slate, and it’s nice to experience again.

Vanessa Caswill’s direction gracefully balances the story's light and darkness.

One thing that sets Reminders Of Him apart from the other Colleen Hoover adaptations is it's the first script the writer worked on herself. She penned the screenplay alongside movie producer Lauren Levine (on top of earning her own typical producer credit).

Another major strength of the movie director Vanessa Caswill, whose last film Love At First Sight, was also a very strong book adaptation of a modern romance novel. Caswill has an affinity for capturing the delicate human moments that can make the genre so good and cry-worthy in a way that quietly boils within you as you watch. She uses everything from the wistful score, breathtaking shots of the setting and some gorgeous framing of shots to make us feel the movie's emotions even more.

The movie is also filled with a lot more funny moments (that work) in between. One highlight is the use of Monika Myers, who made history for being Canada’s first runway model with Down syndrome. The actress brings a sweet round of laughs throughout the film as Kenna’s neighbor and co-worker as Kenna struggles to be granted the ability to see her daughter.

Then, there’s the young actress who plays Kenna’s daughter Diem, Zoe Kosovic, who’s completely adorable, and presence in the film really helps anchor everything else going on. The only shortcoming among the cast perhaps is how Reminders Of Him beautifully casted Lauren Graham and Bradley Whitford as Diem’s grandparents (and Scotty’s parents) but doesn’t really fully know what to do with them or weave them effectively into the storyline. Throughout the movie, there’s a coldness to them that doesn’t match the rest of the story, and one has to wonder if some of their scenes were cut for time.

Reminders Of Him has a meaningful message about parenthood, too.

Now, the third act's explanation of things aren't exactly well-constructed, but as the movie’s buttery premise chugs along, and if you're in on the emotional stakes, it won't bother you too much. The movie ends up having quite a bit to say, from the story of a mother’s bond with her child despite never meeting her to shedding light on what it’s like for someone to start anew after serving time in prison. It feels like a worthy story to tell (albeit a more simplified exploration of the tale).

As Reminders Of Him goes on, there’s a longing from the audience that sets in over our hopes for Kenna and Diem to get to meet each other, and for forgiveness and healing to happen within the family. As you watch, there’s a warmth that bubbles up around each of the characters despite each of the chips on their shoulders that life has handed them. All in all, what we get from Reminders of Him is a lovely, life-affirming movie about how the complications of the world can drive families apart, and why they might need each other anyways.

Adapting books as movies has been in practice for pretty much as long as the latter have existed, but the reality is that the two mediums have very different and independent storytelling capacities. There’s the matter of perspective: prose can take a reader into the minds of characters in ways in which films aren’t capable (without violently abusing voice over narration at least). And then there’s the matter of scope: there is no real limit for the length of a novel, but a feature is expected to be three hours at maximum (and the average is about an hour shorter). A perfectly faithful adaptation is an impossibility.

I have been reminding myself of all those facts for the last two years – which is the amount of time I spent between finishing Project Hail Mary by author Andy Weir and awaiting the adaptation from directors Phil Lord and Chris Miller. I adore the novel and always recognized a movie version would be difficult. In addition to its length and plot complexity, it sports a non-linear narrative built on the protagonist’s recovered memories. I’ve always had complete confidence in the work of the talented Lord and Miller (not to mention screenwriter Drew Goddard)... but I’ve also known that my experience watching the film would be a study of alterations, cuts, and general comparisons.

My conclusion: I hate to be the “book is better” guy, but a few dings to an otherwise phenomenal story still makes for a really great film.

There are some key excised elements that are missed, a lesser degree of competency porn than expected, and what feel like some missed opportunities, but what’s retained is a fascinating and compelling hard sci-fi trip across the universe that keeps a special extraterrestrial friendship as its heartbeat.

Ryan Gosling stars as Ryland Grace – a middle school teacher who wakes from a coma to find himself alone in an interstellar spacecraft called the Hail Mary that is orbiting the distant star known as Tau Ceti. At first confused and panicked with no memory of how he got there, he soon begins to recall why he is in such extreme circumstances. A mysterious microscopic lifeform dubbed Astrophage is discovered to be consuming energy from the Sun, and should their activity go unimpeded, the consequence would be the Earth cooling and experiencing an extinction event. Tau Ceti is the only studied star seemingly not dimming because of Astrophage, so Grace is sent as part of a team to understand why.

His two crewmates (Ken Leung, Milana Vayntrub) die during the journey, but the amateur astronaut doesn’t end up being isolated for long. The Hail Mary’s radar picks up the presence of another, much more massive ship in the area, and after an initial fear reaction, the protagonist ends up becoming best friends with a five-legged, dog-sized, rock spider-esque alien he names Rocky (James Ortiz).

The relationship between Grace and Rocky is just as wonderful as it is in the book.

Regardless of anything else, I knew that I would appreciate Project Hail Mary so long as it properly brought to life the phenomenal dynamic between Grace and Rocky, and the adaptation doesn’t disappoint. Say what you will about the credulity of a guy who looks like Ryan Gosling being an introverted scientist, the actor’s proven and effortless charm is perfectly utilized, and all of the emotions that he wears on his sleeve reflect the audience’s as we witness Grace’s relationship with Rocky develop – he is first terrified to discover a sentient alien being, then captivated by his new friend’s intelligence, biology and sociology, and then deeply invested in his survival and the survival of his world.

Gosling has the significant challenge of his primary scene partner being a puppet (one that doesn’t have a face, no less), but solely praising the Barbie star would be a disservice to the phenomenal work of James Ortiz, who is both the voice of Rocky and was the lead puppeteer on set. Just as in the book, the character is a brilliant goofball, but Goddard’s script does a fun job of also amping his blunt bossiness to successful comedic effect.

Project Hail Mary is every ounce the spectacle that it should be thanks to practical sets and effects.

Thanks to beautifully expressive puppeteering, there is never a single moment with Rocky on screen when you think that he is anything other than a living, breathing alien, which also adds greater verity to Gosling’s performance – but I feel like it’s also important to laud the production’s dedication to practical effects. It is far, far too common nowadays to watch sci-fi movies and television shows with shots that clearly just have performers working on chroma key sets, which are distracting and look cheap, but Project Hail Mary has an extra authenticity lent to it because everything seems tactile.

This isn’t a knock on the movie’s visual effects either, because there is plenty of brilliance in that realm as well. Lord and Miller and the artists working under them include a number of interstellar shots that are not simply jaw-dropping in their beauty but reflect the stunning immensity of the cosmos. The deep love for the mystery and expanse of the universe that is featured in the book is well-reflected in the blockbuster’s cinematography.

Effort is appreciated, but I can’t help but miss the parts of the book that didn’t make the cut for the movie.

The film looks like what I saw in my mind reading the book, and while Sandra Hüller’s Eva Stratt doesn’t quite have the coarseness of her literary counterpart, the various characters’ journeys are exactly what they need to be for the big screen experience. I’m very happy with it as a presentation of Andy Weir’s novel… but I also can’t help but miss a variety of things that Drew Goddard had to take out.

A lot of on-ship issues that Grace and Rocky face in the novel end up being skipped, and while all of the big plot points are still included and the cuts are effective in keeping the story moving, it means that Project Hail Mary isn’t nearly as satisfying as The Martian (the previous Goddard-scripted Weir adaptation) when it comes to “using science to solve problems.” There are also significantly fewer flashbacks, meaning a major reduction in the colorful characters we meet as humanity tries to stop the Astrophage-driven apocalypse, and the film is also much less effective in presenting the flashbacks as recovered memories. Nothing that is absolutely needed is missing, but I would blissfully watch a four-hour cut with all of it put back in.

I’ll admit that my opinions here may change with time. If I rewatch Project Hail Mary in a year, I may be able to better view it independently from the book and appreciate it more for what it includes instead of dinging it for what it lacks. But for right now, my deep appreciation for the book heavily colors the way in which I take in the movie, and I expect others who feel the same way are going to have a matching reaction.

Filmmaker Patrick Hughes went from the independently financed neo-western thriller Red Hill to the gargantuan action sequel The Expendables 3, and he’s enjoyed a string of moderately budgeted blockbusters ever since. (The Hitman’s Bodyguard, its sequel, and 2022’s romp The Man from Toronto.) The sci-fi-leaning War Machine marks his first return to screenwriting and producing since his debut, and it shows, for better and for worse.

Hughes isn't the Netflix release's biggest draw, though. That distinction belongs to Alan Ritchson, whose Reacher series has cemented his appeal as a hulking action star with charm and brains to spare. War Machine feels crafted specifically to match the actor’s physical talents, but unfortunately fails to highlight his charisma or feature an iota of humor.

Of course, this isn’t the kind of movie one turns on expecting wit-soaked comedy on par with Mel Brooks or Billy Wilder. No, the target audience here includes those who want everything on the screen (actors included) to have at least an 80% chance of exploding at any given moment. Those who share that stance will definitely have more fun here than anyone hoping for more than genre expectations.

If You're Looking For A "Reacher Vs. Giant Robot" Movie: 4 Stars

Alan Ritchson's character — nearly everyone is referred to by assigned numbers rather than names, so he's Staff Sergeant 81 here — joins the Army Rangers in tribute to his brother (Jai Courtney), who's killed by insurgents as the siblings are stationed in Afghanistan. Some time later, 81 is plagued by both grief and guilt over not being able to carry his bro to safety, and that lack of self-worth does go a long way in making a character willing to face off against seemingly indestructible technology.

Despite not bonding with other new recruits (and sporting a general lack of personality), 81 is assigned group leader for what should be a routine training mission to locate and destroy a fallen aircraft. The clever move here is that the soldiers have no guns, so when what they believe to be their target becomes an heavily armed extraterrestrial nightmare worthy of Transformers comparisons, a high body count is inevitable, and all without bullet hell tropes.

To be expected, 81 is the most skilled at just about everything attempted (except for maybe keeping his squad alive), and a lot of the movie does indeed pay off on the "Reacher vs. Robot" promise. The size difference make it so that we don't see Ritchson actually punching the thing in its face (a feature it doesn't even seem to have), but the "man vs. machine" theming gets paid off in full.

If You Want An Action Movie That Prioritizes Real Stunts And Locations Over CGI: 4 Stars

So many action and sci-fi movies tend to share similar aesthetics these days, thanks to The Volume-esque productions that trade out real-world backgrounds and locations for digital add-ins. In a similar vein, many modern productions opt for digital explosions and destruction instead of anything tangible. Thankfully, Patrick Hughes' proven talents with practical stunts and effects were utilized throughout War Machine, and it's felt. We're talking multiple helicopter shots, people.

When 81's unit is either approaching the mysterious attacker-bot or retreating from it, they are very clearly running through a real location with trees and rocky formations as far as the eye can see. As well, scenes incorporate the surroundings in exciting ways, with several harrowing sequences involving a rushing river that seems impossible to cross safely.

As well, when the soldiers are brutally taken down by the giant tech's scary weaponry, there's real viscera and body parts flying around, with more than enough wide shots for audiences to appreciate all the gooey work on display. It's everything one loves about the action movies glut of the '80s and early '90s, just with mostly superior directing and editing techniques.

If You Need Hard Sci-Fi With Deep Themes And Highly Memorable Characters: 1 Star

For all the awesome action sequences and stuntwork on display, War Machine's story and characters are entirely lacking, and the dearth of repeatable one-liners is downright tragic. The entire movie hinges on a mid-feature "twist" (that was more or less spoiled by marketing and early reviews) that doesn't get a worthwhile enough explanation to properly make the final moments as shocking as they should be.

Perhaps that would have risked the mechanical antagonist being more dimensional than Ritchson's forever-brooding 81, who has no character traits beyond his backstory-gleaned gloom. With all due respect to the talented cast, none of their characters' origins would fill the back of a trading card. I'm glad the movie isn't full of rote military banter, but this movie desperately needs some kind of personality-based humor. Stephan James' Staff Sergeant 7 is arguably the most rounded of anyone, and his arc hits a point of ridiculousness that I wouldn't have appreciated with any of the others. So that's something.

If Hughes ever recuts War Machine to replace 5-10 minutes of moody conversations with jovial cameraderie, organic jokes, and a smattering of over-the-top and stress-induced reactions to the titular machine, it'd get at least another star. Until then...

Alongside such literary icons as Sherlock Holmes, Hamlet, and James Bond, one of the most oft-adapted characters for live-action (and otherwise) is the anatomical monstrosity simply known as Frankenstein’s monster. Mary Shelley’s 1818 novel has proven to be a seemingly unstoppable inspiration over the last 116 years, starting in the silent era with J. Searle Dawley’s Frankenstein, with James Whale’s 1931 adaptation and its 1935 sequel Bride of Frankenstein viewed as the true classic iterations. But only because 1930s audiences didn’t get to meet Maggie Gyllenhaal’s The Bride.

If they had, they likely wouldn’t have known how to handle themselves around the whirlwind of Jessie Buckley’s constantly in-motion character, who adopts several different personas throughout the movie. She’s a gangster moll, a supernatural totem to feminism, and an extension of our current understanding of Mary Shelley’s radical (for the time) philosophies and motivations. She’s never only any one of these things, but rather an all-encompassing force to be reckoned with by those who adore her, fear her and wish her dead.

No one feels more strongly about the Bride than Christian Bale’s creature, who has lived a covered-up existence on the fringes of society, with the pangs of loneliness becoming increasingly louder with time. To seek his ultimate mate, he visits Annette Bening’s Dr. Euphronious, a more empathetic and level-headed “mad” scientist in place of Ernest Thesiger’s more clearly antagonistic Dr. Pretorius from The Bride of Frankenstein. Everyone gets far more than they bargained for (audiences included) when this resurrected coupling tears loose.

Maggie Gyllenhaal had more to bring to the screen than just a monster movie remake, and it’s impossible to nail down exactly what the finished product is. “A darkly hilarious true crime monster movie” comes close, but isn’t quite enough. Maybe it’s best to just say The Bride! is a motherf--king masterpiece.

The Bride! pays loving tribute to a wide array of Frankenstein-centric fiction.

While not a direct take on the Boris Karloff and Elsa Lanchester-starring The Bride of Frankenstein, The Bride! does draw from certain story beats and themes, including the initial conceit of Mary Shelley herself being the character who kicks the narrative off (also played by Buckley). Instead of narrating objectively from the background, Shelley instead injects her raging spirit into the body of the somewhat able, and mostly non-willing host Ida. She goes so far as to use the term "possession," and it's an apt one.

The Bride! is not beholden to its two most obvious pieces of source material , however, and it almost surreally incorporates an inspired assortment of nods to the Monster's pop culture impact as a whole. Without being so exhaustive as a spoof movie in that respect, Gyllenhaal still weaves a surprising number of on-the-busted-nose references into some of this film’s most vital scenes, and such moments left me downright giddy. It’s like when modern Batman stories make sure the infamous Shark Repellant used by Adam West’s Caped Crusade is featured in the background somewhere.

From more obvious projects like Mel Brooks’ Young Frankenstein to more cult-level films like Frankenhooker, this movie celebrates them all. Was I disappointed to not see anyone eating Frankenberry cereal at a breakfast table? Certainly – though I’m willing to concede that it happened when I wasn’t looking. The love for this universe’s lore carries on right into the credits’ familiar ditty.

Christian Bale is a surprisingly charming and sympathetic monster, but this is Jessie Buckley’s movie from the first minute to the last.

As both Patrick Bateman and Batman — him again? — Christian Bale exuded the same amount of ego through two very different prisms, and his performance in The Bride! comes from the opposite end of that self-confidence spectrum, albeit with similar inclinations to use violence as a means to an end. He is the Monster, after all, so all he's ever been seen as is a freakish outsider when he's not fleeing torch-wielding mobs.

All he's really looking for is a friend to share his interests, the biggest of which is a long-gestating obsession with the singing-and-dancing Hollywood megastar Ronnie Reed, as portrayed by a most debonaire Jake Gyllenhaal. Reed's movies are the buoy that stops Frank from hitting rock bottom, both emotionally and physically, and there's a natural desire to see him get what he wants, even knowing that it will result in a wave of murderous mayhem. Despite so many past iterations out there, Bale's Frank is a beast all his own, inspiring laughter, longing and horror in equal doses.

But let's not beat around the bush(y hair) here. Jessie Buckley could have been acting opposite babies and tennis balls on strings, or opposite the greatest actors of the past 116 years, and The Bride! would still be her movie through and through. As Mary Shelley, the actress is cynical, patronizing and proud, strengthened in those scenes by Maggie Gyllenhaal's black-and-white camerawork, which utilizes shadowy filmmaking tricks from horror cinema's earliest days.

As Ida, both before and after her death and resurrection, Buckley bounces from charismatic to vulnerable with an almost childlike temperament. It's in part due to her loss of memory, which Frank is happy to replace with his manufactured version of their relationship details. I'll let you guess how well that goes in the long run.

The best of all worlds comes when Mary's vindictive spirit takes over Ida's broken brain, causing her to sporadically rattle off at the mouth with rhyming streams of consciousness as one accent morphs into another from across the pond. All the awards buzz that Buckley has earned for Hamnet will not fade away once The Bride! has been awakened.

Ida’s kinetic journey veers down a trail of brutal and influential justice across the country, Bonnie Parker-style.

Not that this movie solely hinges on just those two characters' multi-leveled performances. Once The Bride! brings Frank and Ida together (with Mary), the story shifts in part from creature feature to crime spree thriller. Ida's unlawful connections to Chicago mobster Lupino, which lead to her corporeal conclusion, return to haunt her after Dr. Euphronious brings her back, resulting in a shocking act of violence that cements their fate as fugitives and sets up a dangerous precedent for the rest of the movie.

Enter Detective Jake Wiles (Peter Sarsgaard), whose partner Myrna Mallow (Penélope Cruz) is more adept in every way, despite not being given the proper consideration for earning the badge. The amount of times she has to defensively stand up for herself amidst seas of male cops would be comical if it wasn't 100% drawn from reality. In that way, Myrna's journey works in conjunction with Ida's, as she and Wiles both have reasons to not pursue the pair of monstrous murderers making national headlines.

Frank and Ida easily share space with Natural Born Killers' Mickey and Mallory as sensational cults of personality whose anti-establishment views are embraced by others regardless of their more malicious actions. Perhaps the more pointed comparison would involve the aforementioned film's own inspiration, real-life criminals Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow, though The Bride! very pointedly makes sure to ground the public influence in Ida's "I am woman, hear me roar" vibes as opposed to glorifying murders.

Really, everything about this movie works for me. Buckley's hair and black-stained makeup are instantly iconic. The choreography and dance numbers are energetic and never out of place. The way Frank's love of the movies becomes a visual storytelling element is bizarre and magical. Cruz and Sarsgaard are magnetic enough to lead their own two-hander spinoff. (Possibly chasing an invisible man...?)

From the first second to the last, however, the biggest share of the accolades have to go to Maggie Gyllenhaal. From bringing the Riot Grrrl energy to showcasing the unflinching violence to spinning a remotely plausible love story with these two misbegotten souls, the filmmaker pulls off a tour de force with her second feature that won't easily be replicated.

Through all my praise, I know The Bride! isn't for everyone. And to those who speak the loudest against it: watch out for splinters while holding those torches and pitchforks all day long.

Being the huge music fan that I am, I’m always seeking out music documentaries so that I can learn more about the greats of our time and yesteryear. I’ve seen quite a few Beatles documentaries and movies over the years, which never fail to interest me – particularly Peter Jackson’s Get Back doc from 2021. So, when I heard about Morgan Neville’s Man On The Run, I was immediately ready to hit play. While the account tracks perhaps the least noisy, rock ‘n’ roll moment in the musical career of Paul McCartney, I think it’s absolutely worth a watch for any one with the curiosity to do so.

Man On The Run comes the accomplished Morgan Neville, who has previously made portraits of the the lives of Brian Wilson, Johnny Cash, Mister Rogers, Anthony Bourdain and Mickey Mouse through his chosen medium. He’s also the guy who made the LEGO biopic about Pharrell Williams called Piece By Piece as his last project before this. As you watch his latest, narrated by its subject, there’s a confidence about how it all unfolds. But what struck me the most while watching the feature was the Beatle delving into the somber yet liberating years after the Fab Four broke up.

Man On The Run expressively explores the question of how one moves forward after being in the Beatles.

The new documentary starts with the end of the Beatles, which, according to McCartney, quietly happened in the fall of 1969 when John Lennon told the other members he was leaving the group. McCartney retreated to a rundown farm in rural Scotland with his family and quickly got back to writing music again. As archival footage showcases his much simpler life away from Beatlemania, McCartney’s narration gets honest about how his depression gave way to experimentation with music that led to his solo albums of the early 1970s – which he recorded practically by his lonesome at first.

While his records were panned at the time, I found myself (someone who’s loved the Beatles and McCartney my whole life, yet hasn’t delved into every inch of the Fab Four’s catalogue) excited by this exploration of a different era for the songwriter. While the period is surely not as explosive or catchy as his Beatles discography, getting to watch how the iconic artist pushed forward with his talents despite isolation and lack of fanfare is a treat. I was quite amazed at the suggestion that McCartney practically began indie rock through his DIY approach to music-making at this time.

It’s a rather soft and mild documentary, but there’s a refreshing earnestness about it.

Man on the Run has some talk about the brotherly relationship between Paul and John Lennon, which led to some budding heads and public discrepancies. The doc illustrates the criticism he faced from the public as he started anew, but as far as music docs go, it’s pretty much free of any drama or glamorization of things.

Sure, that may make the documentary somewhat of a sleepy entry into the genre, but this approach makes it also feel as honest as Paul was living his life at the time. There’s a lot to cover from the decade, and it doesn’t spoon feed every detail about things to viewers or hang too long on one moment, but the compilation of footage, journals, interview clips and such make for an engaging, yet wistful scrapbook into what McCartney was up to in the 1970s.

While I would have also been interested in learning more what the other Beatles were doing at the time as well post-1969 and the doc including more perspectives, there’s something special about the fact that Man On The Run keeps things as a simple, yet detailed account of Paul McCartney’s post-Beatles era.

And of course, a big part of that is the formation of his band Wings in 1971 – the documentary looking back on McCartney getting to tour venues of 3,000 people with his new mates and his wife Linda McCartney before Wings had its own hits in their own right. There’s certainly something to be said about his decision to start from scratch rather than riding on the coattails of the Beatles being the biggest band of all time, and I'm happy this retelling of it (with the artist's involvement) exists.

As someone who wasn’t around during this era of McCartney’s life, I find Man on the Run to be an elegant treasure of the “Silly Love Songs” going down memory lane over what it was like for him to redefine himself and grow up after a whirlwind near-decade with the Beatles.

When director Wes Craven and screenwriter Kevin Williamson first launched the Scream franchise back in the mid-1990s, the horror genre was in a bad place. While some good movies were still being made, the 1980s was a decade that was partially defined cinematically by its glut of slasher franchises that long outlived their welcome, and Scream came together as a post-modern commentary on how rote and formulaic the storytelling had become.

It was perhaps a touch hypocritical when sequels started to get quickly produced, but what set the movies apart was a continued meta awareness to go along with all of Ghostface’s nasty business. Some of the titles are stronger in this respect than others, but that element has long been viewed as a staple element as the franchise and survived two long production gaps: the 11 years between Scream 3 and Scream 4, and the 11 years between Scream 4 and 2022’s Scream. Through six films, the series dynamically set itself apart as fun and gory satire. But that era is now over.

With Scream 7, the franchise has become exactly what the original set out to parody – and the fact that the movie has Kevin Williamson at the helm comes across as a cruel irony.

The film had a controversial and complicated path through production, with the firing of Melissa Barrera causing uproar from fans, and co-star Jenna Ortega and hired director Christopher Landon departing the project in the aftermath. In retrospect, it would have been much better had Scream 7 simply be shelved instead of plowing forward. It boasts a number of returning stars from the original movie – most notably Neve Campbell, back as Sidney Prescott after being absent from Scream 6 – but it does nothing but poison a remarkable big screen legacy with its terrible and obvious plotting, contributing nothing as a fresh franchise entry beyond continuing to torture its principal scream queen.

(Out of respect for the movie-going experience, I won’t provide any spoilers in this review, but I feel compelled to say that any curiosity I may inspire in the film is involuntary, as I can’t recommend strongly enough staying away and just imagining that the horror series concluded with the previous installment.)

In Scream 7, the aforementioned Sidney Prescott is actually now Sidney Prescott-Evans, living in the small town of Pine Grove, Indiana, married the local chief of police (Joel McHale), running a coffee shop, and parenting a teenager named Tatum (Isabel May). (She has younger kids as well, but the movie awkwardly shuttles them away via expository video chat in Act I). While going about her daily business, she gets a call from somebody using the Ghostface voice changer (Roger L. Jackson), and while she initially thinks it's nothing more than a typical hoax, things take a turn for the strange when the conversation switches to video and she sees the face of an older and scarred Stu Macher (Matthew Lillard) – who is supposed to be long dead.

A new rash of local Ghostface killings follow with Sidney and her daughter at the epicenter of the chaos, and when Gale Weathers (Courteney Cox) arrives in town with Mindy Meeks-Martin (Jasmin Savoy Brown) and Chad Meeks-Martin (Mason Gooding) in tow, an investigation begins into whether or not Stu could possibly still be alive.

The writing and construction of Scream 7 swings between obvious and baffling.

While keeping possibility that one of the original Ghostface killers has been resurrected in doubt, the movie goes through the motions establishing a collection of potential alternate suspects (mostly consisting of Tatum’s teenage friends/boyfriend); creates mother/daughter tension because of the former opting to stay mum in discussions about her past; and it broaches the subject of artificial intelligence/deepfakes as a threat. And it all feels tired and uninspired. Despite the presence of talented actors, there are zero interesting personalities within the ensemble of suspects; the “closed off parent” angle feels like the least creative way to yet again explore Sidney’s trauma; and the inclusion of A.I. in the plot is essentially just the next step after the use of ridiculous magic voice changer in Scream 3 that could imitate anyone in the world.

The only thing even vaguely resembling a meta reference is an off-handed line from Mindy about “nostalgia,” and it isn’t explored in any way beyond a bunch of purely fan service cameos that fans already know are coming because of leaks during production.

It also needs to be bluntly said: while the Scream movies haven’t always featured the most intricate mysteries in cinema, Scream 7 is the first title in the franchise that had me solving half of the plot in the second act – and the only reason I didn’t put the pieces together for the second half of the mystery is because it is complete nonsense.

The upped gore factor is one of the few things enjoyable about Scream 7.

The one credit that I’m willing to give Scream 7 is its functionality when it comes to scares – but even this is praise that comes with reservations. Without saying too much, there is one sequence that I would consider an all-timer Ghostface kill, and I’ll even go as far as to give Williamson credit for willing to incorporate some legitimate splatter. And there are a couple of clever misdirects, including one in the opening scene with a classic “What’s your favorite scary movie?” phone call.

But those are fleeting bits surrounded by bad choices and questions ultimately left unanswered, like “Why do Sidney and Tatum at one point flee into a panic room only to immediately leave it two seconds later?” and “Why doesn’t the opening kill have any correlation with anything else going on in the plot?” This is the kind of bad writing and sequencing that one expects from a typical late-in-a-series slasher sequel, but not in Scream.

And that’s apparently where we are now. After decades of standing apart within the pool of horror franchises, Scream 7 sees the series become what the original was designed to parody. It’s not the first bad movie in the canon, as that credit goes to Scream 3, but it is the first to betray its purpose and play as little more than a cash grab taking advantage of beloved a intellectual property.

When I heard the title Good Luck, Have Fun, Don’t Die for the first time, I assumed the movie would be a blast and a half, and I figured it’d be pretty silly, too. That is all true. However, this film also terrifies me to no end, and that was a surprise. Now, I’ve had time to think about all of this, and overall, I’m thrilled that this outlandish sci-fi adventure that scares me got made.

In Gore Verbinski’s Good Luck, Have Fun, Don’t Die, a man from the future (Sam Rockwell) comes to a time that’s slightly more advanced than the present we live in to assemble a team of people to save the world from artificial intelligence. However, that team has to be made up of the seemingly random set of folks who are eating at a diner the future man enters. So, with his rag-tag group made up of a couple of teachers (Michael Peña and Zazie Beetz), a woman dressed as a princess (Haley Lu Richardson), a mom (Juno Temple), and a few other diner patrons, he sets out to save the world.

That concept alone proves just how silly this movie is, and the humor laced into it hammers the point home. However, along with this being a goofy story, it also has points to make about our society that genuinely freak me out.

Good Luck, Have Fun, Don’t Die is a big silly swing of a movie.

Good Luck, Have Fun, Don’t Die starts with Sam Rockwell’s character doing a big monologue about the future and his mission to a diner of confused people while wearing a bizarre plastic outfit that makes him look both more technologically advanced than us and homeless. And from his first second on screen, I knew I was in for a good time. Truly, from start to finish, his grisly and slightly unhinged future man is a hoot, and it feels like the Oscar-winner had a wonderful time playing him.

The fun he seems to be having is infectious, and when that mixes with the outlandish plot involving AI that is trying to take over the world, you get a very odd, big swing of a story.

It works for the most part, too, and it is a ride. However, this concept also sets that stage for some serious (and scary) discussions about the world we’re living in.

The social commentary in Good Luck, Have Fun, Don’t Die is what legitimately scares me.

I’ve always been a bit squeamish when it comes to movies about the end times; they spook me. However, they really scare me when the cause of said end times is something we’re currently dealing with in the present. It's the sprinkle of social commentary that always leaves me in a spiral, and that’s why Good Luck, Have Fun, Don’t Die horrifies me.

In the case of this movie, that evil is AI. I’m not gonna lie: AI scares the living daylights out of me. So, the fact that artificial intelligence was the problem here immediately made me tense.

But that’s not what really gets me. What truly gets under my skin are two of the issues the various diner patrons deal with. The teachers have to handle students who are so brainwashed by their phones that they cannot function. Meanwhile, after a school shooting, a mom has to grapple with the death of her son and the technology available to help her get him back (in a way). In both cases, most of the people involved are hypnotized by technology and desensitized to the trauma around them.

I worry about how technology is hindering us as a society, and I have concerns about how desensitized we can become to truly awful things. So, to see both fears viscerally portrayed in this movie sent me spiraling a bit, even with the comedic sensibilities paired with them.

However, I think that's a good thing. I love that Good Luck, Have Fun, Don’t Die is a silly sci-fi quest that also has some dark social commentary in its DNA. It makes for a movie that you’ll have a good time watching, but will also think about afterward. I know it has certainly stuck with me, and that’s 100% because I did have fun, but also left terrified.

To the great credit of director Tyree Dillihay’s GOAT, the film opens with a dynamic that I’ve never seen portrayed before in any film. Set a decade before the main narrative, the prologue sees its protagonist as a young kid – pun most definitely intended – brought to an arena where his idol is getting set to play: the female star Jett Fillmore (voiced by Gabrielle Union). In our world, professional sports are bifurcated based on gender, and cinema traditionally maintains that split in reflecting fanhood, but that depicted segregation doesn’t really match reality, and the fact that the new animated movie shows that upfront is unique and instantly refreshing.

What’s unfortunate is that energy proves to be extremely temporary. GOAT begins by upending gender norms and introducing a world where animals compete in a wild sport called roarball… but that sport ends up basically being basketball played on wild terrains, and the story doesn’t really aspire to much more than being a classic underdog tale (though I suppose I should note that there aren’t any dogs). The animation is splashy in both style and design, and there’s enough humor and action to satisfy audiences of all ages, but it’s a film that’s hard to really love because so much of it is too familiar.

It’s a narrative every fan of sports movies has seen; the details are different, but the core elements are all there. Will Harris (Caleb McLaughlin) is a young goat who is a skilled athlete dreams of playing professional roarball, but his dreams are always dismissed because he is one of society’s “small” animals and can’t compete with the larger species. His aspirations also don’t pay his rent, and things go from bad to worse when he loses all of his money he has betting on himself in a one-on-one street game with visiting roarball superstar Mane Attraction (Aaron Pierre).

Will loses, but he does manage to score a couple points, and when video of his performance goes viral, it gets the attention of Florence "Flo" Everson (Jenifer Lewis), the owner of the local Vineland Thorns. Flo, looking to sell the team, is regularly criticized by Jett Fillmore, considered to be the best player in the league, for not giving her enough support on the court, and Will is signed as a publicity stunt in response. While Jett battles her own ego while still trying to lead her team to a championship, Will does what he can to earn the respect of his idol and prove that he belongs.

As a sports movie, GOAT is way too familiar.

If that reads like an amalgamation of a dozen sports movies you’ve seen over the last 40-plus years with a splash of Zootopia energy, you understand pretty much everything that GOAT has to offer without even seeing a single frame – and you can probably make several accurate guesses about the various narrative developments in the second and third acts. Obviously younger audiences, a.k.a. the biggest targeted demographic with the movie, won’t recognize all of the cinematic echoes that the film is harnessing for its story, but parents, guardians, and the plenty of adult fans of animation won’t find much to latch on to or appreciate beyond aesthetics.

There are open doors to try something new, but opportunities whizz by. The most obvious of these is the creation of roarball: I get that the movie specifically wants to attract basketball fans (Steph Curry is part of the cast and a producer, and there are a number of voice cameos from other NBA stars), but it’s a bummer that the filmmakers didn’t consider going the extra mile creatively in creating the original game beyond the aforementioned wild terrains. The supporting cast is another arena that could offer something new, but the movie is weirdly firm in doling out only one character trait each for everyone – with Will’s teammates on the Thorns including stressed rhino dad Archie (David Harbour), the confidence-lacking ostrich Olivia (Nicola Coughlan), a rap-loving giraffe Lenny (Curry) and the wild and weird Komodo dragon Modo (Nick Kroll).

GOAT does have something positive to say, albeit entirely explored via cliches.

To the film’s credit, these characters are used effectively in sharing what is a collection of positive messages. GOAT stresses the value of teamwork, the wonderful award of pursuing your passions, and the power of not letting others define your limitations. These morals are clear and well-established throughout the story… but the sheer number of tropes that carry them through do have an impact on the emotion in the delivery: you respect the movie for what it has to say without ever really feeling swept away by it, and it keeps it locked in “good, not great” territory.

The animation style provides the energy that the story lacks.

Cliches slow the movie down, but Tyree Dillihay, making his feature directorial debut after spending most of his career in television, keeps the work amped up with energy via bold style. The world isn’t as rich in detail as what audiences find in the Zootopia films (it can be noted that the release date proximity to Zootopia 2 doesn’t do GOAT a ton of favors), but there is a fun exploration of a society with animals that come in all shapes and sizes. And while roarball is far from a unique sport, game sequences are bold and exciting, from the ankle-breaking action of one-on-one streetball to characters getting posterized in the pro league.

In a modern pop culture landscape that offers a lot of animated films with impressive complexity and deep emotion, GOAT is best approached with mild expectations: it’s not a movie that does anything badly, but it’s also not a movie that strives to do anything particularly exceptional. The acronym/pun that is the title is ironic in that sense, as it’s not a work that seems to strive to really be “the greatest of all time,” but it’s a satisfying enough diversion that should get plenty of love from its young, core audience.

Oh, 2026’s Wuthering Heights. I don’t love you, I don’t hate you; I just wish I felt more passion for you – especially as a movie so strongly reliant on emulating that singular, wondrous emotion and, with two of Hollywood’s hottest film stars right now, Margot Robbie and Jacob Elordi, no less.

As someone who hasn’t read Emily Brontë’s classic novel, I cannot weigh in on whether it’s a faithful adaptation. From my own fresh eyes, I can say I’m fastened tightly in the middle over Emerald Fennell’s third feature film directing effort.

This Wuthering Heights movie sure is an overtly horny one that seeks to make runny eggs on bed sheets, skin-ridden walls and horse stables seductive over the eerie setting of the English Moors. Oftentimes it feels like the foggy image of if Tim Burton’s Alice In Wonderland and Bridgerton were star-crossed lovers. It’s hot, it’s heavy, but it has a style over substance issue that stops it from becoming the complete grandiose Hollywood moment it certainly desires to be.

It’s less of a romance, but rather a portrait of stubborn codependency.

Wuthering Heights gets a more innocent start (sans an attempt to make a hanging sexy in its opening scene) when a young Catherine Earnshaw first meets the man that will wrap around her heart. Her father (Martin Clunes) takes in a boy from the streets to be her “pet” when she's a child. Cathy calls him Heathcliff herself and they become inseparable. As the years pass and they grow into adults, a sensual, palatable yearning forms between them in their home on the isolated countryside.

But Catherine doesn’t allow herself to melt into his arms as her father’s gambling addiction leaves the Earnshaw household in shambles. Instead, she makes it her mission to earn the affections of their new and very wealthy neighbor Edgar Linton (Shazad Latif) as Cathy and Heathcliff exchange longing glances at the other as roommates. Cathy's trade of romance for monetary stability is only temperamental, as she soon changes her mind. However, a brooding Heathcliff has already disappeared from Wuthering Heights in anguish before she can confess her love, thus starting the movie’s tall glass of lusty antics. Ah yes, another classic romance torn apart by miscommunication!

The movie’s storyline has all the ingredients you’d think to sweep one off their feet, but somehow I was left swollen at the ankles: from electrifying line deliveries, to gorgeous costumes, a will-they, won’t-they question and simmering love triangle to take sides on. But at its core, Wuthering Heights isn’t really about love or romance, it’s about obsession. It’s about two people who’ve used the other as a crutch and object of happiness despite their misery that they don’t know how to function outside of one another. A worthy topic for sure to tackle, but don’t mistake the movie’s Valentine’s Day weekend release for a cute date flick, because it’s much more tortured and toxic than that.

The tone wanders as sometimes it feels like a dark comedy and other times a gothic horror flick.

Fennell must want her Wuthering Heights to be surprising and shocking, given the content. On top of the gothic eroticism the world of the film is pungent with, there’s an unexpected humor and non-romantic intensity about it. Some scenes seem to play like a dark comedy out of a Yorgos Lanthimos movie, while others make you feel like the romance flick has been washed in a horror-themed filter that doesn’t quite go with everything else. Catherine and Heathcliff seem to suffer the mood swings of teenagers, going from sweet and sullen to biting and violent throughout the film without a lot of indication as to why... except the effect they apparently have on each other.

It's too bad their character development is so weak, because I know these actors could have more to give if the script had let them be more human. Robbie and Elordi showcase their talents with two great performances that only suffer from the lack of depth their characters are given. Hong Chau’s role of the housekeeper Nelly very much gives a highlight performance as the most grounded character in the film who seeks to mature Cathy against all odds. Alison Oliver (who was also in Saltburn with Fennell and Elordi) steals many of her scenes as the creepy yet hilarious younger sister to Edgar.

Emerald Fennell’s eye for visual imagery is Wuthering Heights’ indisputable highlight.

I think I’m most caught between my lack of excitement over the delivery of the story with the complete and obvious richness of Wuthering Heights’ production, which definitely gives audience a gorgeous feast for the eyes. It feels as if you muted the whole movie you’d still be able to find yourself enchanted for the entire runtime on imagery alone. Of course you wouldn’t want to because the soundtrack by Charli XCX is a big plus too, helping tie together the movie’s old-timey feel with its modern appeal throughout.

Despite the more puzzling matters of Wuthering Heights, it’s clear as day to me how incredible of a visual storyteller Emerald Fennell is and the movie dazzles the most through the composition of every image. There’s a lot of really memorable scenes, particularly in how Robbie and Elordi are composed next to one another. Also, you have to give major props to cinematographer Linus Sandgren, who’s also done La La Land, Babylon and the upcoming Dune: Part Three. The production designer and costume designer are also absolutely firing on all cylinders here.

You simply cannot help but be captivated by distinct choices like Heathcliff looking like the cover of a pulp romance novel or Cathy eating an exaggeratedly gigantic strawberry. If only the quality of the aesthetics were as rich as the script. I found myself more excited by the eye candy that is Wuthering Heights than the tragic romance itself, and feeling unremarkable over a movie that hungers to be a generational epic.

Defying astronomy, Dave Bautista and Jason Momoa are two stars that have been orbiting one another for years. Over a decade ago, the former took the role of Drax The Destroyer in Guardians of The Galaxy after the latter turned down the chance to audition. Both are featured in Denis Villeneuve’s Dune adaptation, but they never get the opportunity to share a scene. The movie gods seemingly wanted their paths to cross, but I suppose the timing up until now wasn’t right.

Beyond the fact that both men are muscle-bound, well-respected and talented entertainers, they make a natural pair thanks to their respective energies. Bautista is the serious one (with a knack for being so serious that it turns around and becomes comedic), and Momoa offers chaos and dark unpredictability with a wide smile and an outstretched hand making devil horns. They make a perfect contrasting pair – which was has a potency so obvious that the GOTG star himself pitched the idea of a “Lethal Weapon type buddy cop movie” on social media back in 2021.

The end result of that ambition-driven post is Ángel Manuel Soto’s The Wrecking Crew, which is a true mixed back as far as the final product is concerned. Its success is driven by exactly what was predicted at the outset of the project, which is to say that the two stars mesh incredibly well on screen, and the story sets them up with a dynamic into which they viciously sink their teeth. The downside is that screenwriter Jonathan Tropper’s script is nothing more than a collection of dull-as-dirt cliches, resulting in a “mystery” that is a total snore, and the direction is sprinkled with head-scratching details and an immature sense of humor that was far more tolerable in Soto’s PG-13 blockbuster Blue Beetle than in this R-rated adventure.

Bautista and Momoa star as James and Jonny Hale: two estranged half-brothers who reunite in Hawaii following the news that their father Walter (Brian L. Keaulana) has been killed. The death is said to be the result of a hit and run, but Jonny, a tribal police officer in Oklahoma on suspension, is compelled to investigate after a crew of gangsters try to assassinate him in his home, and James, a US Navy Seal, stirs up trouble investigating the van that killed his dad. Their searches collide in Walter’s private investigator office where they meet Pika (Jacob Batalon), his tech-savvy assistant.

From there, the movie unfolds as a checklist of buddy movie tropes in both the search for answers and the hurdles encountered along the way – including a shady land development deal, off-shore bank accounts, an egotistical millionaire (Claes Bang), a no-nonsense Detective Sergeant (Stephen Root), kidnappings of loved ones, and more. There isn’t a single drop of originality to be found in the far-too-long 124 minute runtime.

Dave Bautista and Jason Momoa both do what they do best, but you wish they had better material work with.

Both stars have proven that they are capable of much better performances in much better movies, but they skate by in this one while wholly relying on the base level charms that each has used to become a household name. For example, there is latitude for the movie to get more into James’ military work and experience, with the film actually teasing his special skills in his introduction as he drills soldiers in underwater exercises, but him being a US Navy Seal is really just a means of A) seeing him look sharp in uniform, B) giving him an air of authority, and C) setting up that he knows his way around a gun/how to kick ass. Bautista has a history of really pushing himself as a performer, but here, the gig is coasting on a stern attitude that occasionally bubbles over into rage, and he gets the job done.

As the wild card to Bautista’s straight man, Momoa has the easier gig in The Wrecking Crew, as his job is to be as rambunctious and funny as possible. It’s not quite the Joker-eque show that the star puts on as the big bad in Fast X, but it’s consistently fun to see him arrive at moments of peril and mortal danger with a wicked grin, and he’s clearly having a blast being a wiseass who takes every opportunity to rebel against anyone and everyone.

Major script issues and questionably directorial questions don’t do any favors for the lame plotting.

The film needs its star power, as it needs to do a lot of heavy lifting for a lackluster script and underwhelming direction. For example, Momoa’s Jonny makes for a fun on-screen hang, but the character would be leagues better if he were equipped with legitimate wit and sass; the film’s idea of sharp dialogue is the Oklahoma cop making fat jokes and expressing concerns about “gaslighting” and “being triggered.” It strives to be Shane Black-esque, but it falls well short of that goal.

It’s hard to even deploy the standard “at least the action scenes were cool,” as sequences frequently have strange issues that are so blatant that they take you totally out of the moment: I have never seen a movie render semi-automatic gunfire to be so pitiful, as their on-screen effect can be described as "occasional spark generators.” One sequence with Dave Bautista in the third act is nothing more than a shameless ripoff of the iconic hallway sequence in Park Chan-wook’s Oldboy, and there is a highway chase that is so badly greenscreened that it practically looks set in doors. It earns some points back for its moments of brutality (the horror fan in me loves a kitchen battle that sees Jonny run a cheese grater down a guy’s arm), but problems tend to outshine highlights.

It would be a lie to say that I had great expectations for The Wrecking Crew going in, but I did at least hope that it would be a dumb action movie elevated by the smart sensibilities of its stars, who have shown integrity in the past with their project choices. In the wake of the end credits, I’m left with a feeling of mild disappointment, but I have maintained appreciation for what Dave Bautista and Jason Momoa can do. Unfortunately, that makes the new movie hard to recommend, as you can get that feeling from a lot of other better films and television shows the two actors have made.

I won’t lie to you and say that Ugo Bienvenu's Arco is unlike any film you've ever seen. From E.T. The Extra Terrestrial, to The Iron Giant, to How To Train Your Dragon, the basic plot of the new animated movie is one with which audiences are all familiar: a lonely child discovers a strange, borderline magical friend and seeks to protect and help them.

But here’s the thing: all three of those movies are from different decades and all are deeply beloved. A classic story can become new and potent over and over if it’s brought to life with a fresh and imaginative vision, and that’s what makes Arco (with pun totally intended) soar.

The movie has a familiar core, but it has a few surprises that turn expectations on their head, many of its big picture swings are fascinating, and it has the dexterity to be both laugh-out-loud funny and utterly devastating. It’s a beautiful work not just emotionally but also stylistically, the hand-drawn animation reminiscent of the best of Studio Ghibli and featuring some shots so stunning that you want the movie to pause so that you can examine every line in the gorgeous detail.

The screenplay by Ugo Bienvenu and Félix de Givry begins in the distant future of 2932 and introduces the titular Arco (Juliano Krue Valdi) as the child of time travelers who deem him too young for trips back to the ancient past. Determined to see dinosaurs, he ignores the orders of his parents (Roeg Sutherland, America Ferrera) and uses his sister’s rainbow cloak to fly into history, but because he doesn’t really know what he is doing, he crash lands in the year 2075.

He’s discovered by a young girl named Iris (Romy Fay), who has a father (Mark Ruffalo) and mother (Natalie Portman) who are always away on business and leave her and her baby brother in the care of an all-purpose robot named Mikki (a clever blend of Ruffalo and Portman’s voices). Iris becomes determined to help Arco get home, though they try and do so while evading a trio of bumbling nerds (Will Ferrell, Andy Samberg, Flea) who are trying to prove that time travelers are real.

Arco has familiar coming-of-age DNA but a soul all its own.

Right off the bat, I love that the film doesn’t make the most easy move possible and send Arco back to present day, as it’s far cooler to see him go from the distant future to the not-so-distant future, allowing Bienvenu and the animators to explore two very different worlds that are very different than our own. It stops the movie from directly commenting on the state of the present, but it compensates with universal themes about family and friendship and still has something to say about the role of technology in parenting.

As we often find with the best versions of this kind of story, the true magic in Arco is the relationship between the eponymous adolescent and his new friend, as there is a great depth that Bienvenu and de Givry mine with the characters (and the performances by Juliano Krue Valdi and Roma Fay are wonderful). Arco is a spunky and mysterious kid who tries to hide the shameful truth about how he ended up in the past, and Iris’ loneliness is utterly heartbreaking and so is the quickness with which she makes a bond with the future boy to fill a gaping void in her life.

The artistic beauty in Arco is staggering.

Paired with these special characters is a extraordinary style that makes Arco a cinematic treasure alone. The film lets you know that it’s going big from the very first sequence – as we are presented with a life on Earth that sees people living on giant tree-like structures with homes on large platforms, and time travelers leave rainbow trails as they fly through the air – and it never ceases to impress from that point forward. The adventure is full of remarkable sights and set pieces, including robot chases and wildfires, but even just a shot of a clearing in a forest will drop your jaw.

As far as legacy is concerned, Arco is looking down the barrel of being remembered as an “also ran” in the Best Animated Feature category at the 2026 Academy Awards, as much bigger and publicized titles are looking at much better odds to take the Oscar, but dismissing the movie for that reason would be extremely foolish. It doesn’t have the recognition of KPop Demon Hunters or Zootopia 2, but it‘s better than both.

One of the things that I respect most about Sam Raimi as a director is the impressive genre variety that can be found in his filmography. He got his start by making one of the most legendary horror titles of all time in 1981’s The Evil Dead, but he has refused to be pigeonholed, and be it a thriller, a western, a baseball drama or superhero blockbuster, “a Raimi movie” cannot be specifically defined (beyond elements of his signature style, of course).

That being said… there is also what could perhaps be described as a more selfish side of me that doesn’t particularly care about him exploring the range of his creative expression and wishes that he just dedicated his entire career to making scary movies. Simply put, he is really goddamn good at it, and he makes them all too rarely. Send Help, his first big screen contribution to the genre since 2009’s Drag Me To Hell, only reinforces this fact, as it properly delivers as a dark, gross delight.

While Rachel McAdams isn’t specifically recalled as one of the more memorable presences in Raimi’s Doctor Strange In The Multiverse Of Madness, she is brilliant in a film that takes the basic premise of Lina Wertmüller’s Swept Away, but strips out all of the romance and substitutes it with some Misery vibes. It’s a mean little movie with impish sensibilities that offers dark fantasy in an analysis of gender and class dynamics, and it offers a tense ride with its main characters while inspiring plenty of sinister giggles.

McAdams plays the appropriately named Linda Liddle – a smart, resourceful lonely woman with a nerdy energy that puts off her colleagues at work. Despite her lack of popularity, she has all of her hopes pinned on a big promotion that she hopes will help improve her life, but all of that goes to hell when her boss dies and leaves the company in the hands of his entitled and sexist son Bradley (Dylan O’Brien), who proceeds to give the open job to a golfing buddy.

As a consolation prize, Bradley invites her to come along to an important business meeting in Bangkok, and while he plans to fire her at the end of the trip, he never gets the chance because their plane crashes midflight. The two of them end up being the only survivors and stranded on island, he with a badly injured leg, and it’s a circumstance that flips their relationship: while he is desperate and skill-less, Linda is a devoted Survivor fan who knows exactly what to do to survive and he is thusly at her mercy.

Send Help is a different kind of revenge movie built on a great dynamic between its two main characters.

As seen in the aforementioned Swept Away or, to a lesser extent, Ivan Reitman’s Six Days, Seven Nights, the premise could easily veer into romantic comedy/drama territory, with the feuding characters able to see past their mutual distaste and develop feelings for one another, but that kind of fantasy has no real place in the vision of Sam Raimi and screenwriters Damian Shannon and Mark Swift. While it’s a symphony of many different notes, it’s a revenge movie at heart that offers some delicious catharsis that hits strongly as we exist here in the early weeks of 2026.

There is some key needle-threading going down, as it’s not totally satisfied with just being black and white story: there are layers to Bradley that are uncovered that reveal him as a bit more than just an arrogant nepo baby; and Linda is hardly a saint, and the movie makes no efforts to excuse her worst behavior. At the same time, however, it never loses track of who its protagonist and antagonist are, and minus a narrative lull in the second act, it’s consistently satisfying to see our heroine outplay her foe as he refuses to properly grow as a person.

Rachel McAdams is a true joy to watch while Dylan O'Brien effectively makes you hate his guts.

A great deal of credit is owed to both Rachel McAdams and Dylan O’Brien, as a great weight is put on the pair as the only characters for the vast majority of the runtime, but they both offer the ideal charisma that Linda and Bradley require as characters.

Initially, there is a bit of suspension of disbelief required as you are meant to believe that a woman who looks like Rachel McAdams would be the biggest loser at her job (even with the layer of “bird mom” energy that is applied via production stylists) – but it’s nonetheless super fun to see her transform into the best version of herself while she is stranded, and the actor’s pep is perfect as the character fully embraces the wholly new lifestyle that has been thrust upon her.

O’Brien has what might be considered the more thankless job, as one of the key aspects of his turn is being so detestable as to inspire the sadistic side of the audiences’ imaginations, but to his credit, he does it impressively well without ever being cartoonish. The Maze Runner star properly imbues the character with the all-too-familiar energy of a man who believes that the world owes him everything despite contributing nothing, and he nails the blend of anger, fear and panic that evolves from him losing all of his unearned power.

Send Help features the exact silly nastiness that is a staple of Sam Raimi horror movies.

Linda and Bradley go through quite a lot together, and those who know about Sam Raimi’s proclivities as a director know that he likes to be the guy who is personally spraying his actors with blood and all manners of goop in the more intense sequences of his movies. Watching, Send Help, one can tell that he had an absolute ball during production, as the film offers wonderful nastiness aplenty – captured with the unique flare in cinematography and editing that never lets you forget who is at the helm of this picture.

The tone is first set in this department with the spectacular plane crash sequence (an appetizer of cinematic schadenfreude to whet the palate for what’s to come), and it serves course after course of icky at every opportunity with amazing special effects, from Linda hunting a wild boar to a final confrontation that I will only lightly tease in this spoiler-free space.

While recognizing that Sam Raimi is not nearly as prolific now as he was back in the 1990s, it’s a lightly upsetting thing that we had to wait nearly two decades for his newest proper contribution to the horror cinema canon – but now that we have Send Help, we can at least say that it was totally worth the wait. Forty-five years after the premiere of The Evil Dead, the man still has a genius knack for making audiences squirm, and it only further cements his important place in genre filmmaking history.

When Walt Disney first conceived of Disneyland, pretty much everybody thought he was crazy. The idea of an amusement venture that would be bigger, better, and cleaner than the traveling carnival or the local carousel was something nobody had ever tried before. A great deal has been said, written, and filmed about just how Disneyland came to be, but the new documentary film from Leslie Iwerks, Disneyland Handcrafted, available on Disney+, delves into the story in a way that’s literally never been seen before.

Disneyland Handcrafted isn’t about how Walt Disney came up with his idea or the way he had to go into debt up to his eyeballs to pay for it all. It’s focused on a specific period: the 10 months that transpired between Disneyland breaking ground in Anaheim, CA, and opening day in July 1955, and specifically on the physical construction of the park. The story is told almost exclusively through video that was shot while construction was happening but that has been buried in the Walt Disney Archives for 70 years – much of which hasn’t been seen since then, if ever.

Walt Disney once said, “Disneyland is the star, everything else is in the supporting role.” Disneyland Handcrafted takes that ethos to heart in its production. The seven-decade-old footage is all the new film ever shows us. There is no narrator, there are no visual cutaways to modern or even archival interviews.

The only audio we get is the occasional voiceover from the different people involved in Disneyland’s development. Walt himself is there, of course, though not as much as you might expect. You’re more likely to hear from Art Director Dick Irvine or Admiral Joe Fowler. The voices help focus whatever you’re seeing on screen, but they never take control of the narrative. That's the video’s job.

Disneyland Handcrafted lets Disneyland be the star.

The real focus of Disneyland Handcrafted is the work. It’s the discussion and the display of the artisans, the fabricators, the landscape architect, and the landscapers. What you see in the new documentary are all the steps that come between the idea and the idea being realized. Disneyland may have happened because of Walt Disney, but he didn’t build it with his bare hands. Here, you get to see a lot of the work being done. It’s not glamorous, but it’s no less important.

Disneyland Handcrafted is the fourth time director Leslie Iwerks has focused her attention on Disney. Her first film, The Hand Behind the Mouse, told the story of her own grandfather, Ub Iwerks, co-creator of Mickey Mouse. Since then, she’s given us The Pixar Story and, most recently, The Imagineering Story, the definitive look at the creative talents that make Disney parks happen.

In that way, Handcrafted works as almost a companion piece to her other Disney+ project, showing the “boots on the ground” that set the stage for the popular attractions. The attractions themselves aren’t even a major focus here, beyond the physical construction of tracks and the painting of ride vehicles.

Director Leslie Iwerks again shows that there is nobody better at Disney history.

Iwerks has Disney in her blood, and maybe that’s why she has shown herself so capable at telling the story of Disney. Each of her documentary projects is unique in its own way, but each also celebrates a new piece of this massive, century-old organization – with Disneyland Handcrafted being the latest to do so.

Disneyland is a place capable of transporting us to new places, or those that never existed, and making us feel like we’re part of a story. Disneyland Handcrafted certainly does that, taking us back to a point in the past and making us feel like we’re there, watching history be built right in front of us. Serious Disney fans will love to get this new perspective on such a well-known place. Everybody else will still appreciate watching the incredible undertaking that was Disneyland come together.

Having incidentally rewatched Steven Spielberg’s Minority Report within the last month, I can write with refreshed enthusiasm that it’s a tremendous science-fiction vision and a title that stands among the best in the director’s storied filmography. An adaptation of a work by one of history’s greatest genre visionaries, it is smart, thrilling and dramatic in its exploration of its premise, which sees an evolution in the American legal system begin thanks to visions from a trio of mutants with the ability to see the future.

In the 2002 film, the plot makes sense: the discovery of the so-called precogs changes how humanity comprehends fate, and society attempts to evolve with the development of a precrime police division that stops and arrests murderers before they kill. It’s assumed to be a flawless program… until it’s proven to be both flawed and manipulable, imperiling the life of the story’s principal character.

I make a point of describing this 23-year-old blockbuster because it’s so clearly what director Timur Bekmambetov’s Mercy wants to be. Based on an original screenplay by Marco van Belle, the new film attempts to draw a straight line between the precogs and modern artificial intelligence by imagining a world with a new legal procedure that has the ballyhooed technology at its core, and it centers on a protagonist who is a proponent of the system up until he becomes a victim of it. The problem? The idea doesn’t make a lick of goddamn sense, and because it’s everything that the movie hinges on, it renders the entire cinematic experience a baffling disaster.

The film tries to comment on the dangers of A.I. while unfolding in real time and executing a new take on screenlife storytelling – which is an admirable effort from a creative standpoint – but its foundation is a train wreck, and it makes it impossible for the movie to actually be something interesting, insightful or even fun. It gets some points for being flashy and bold, but it’s also most certainly suited for its January release date and seems destined to become an early 2026 punchline.

Chris Pratt stars as Chris Raven (yup, that’s his actual name), a Los Angeles police officer who wakes up to discover that he has been locked into a chair and is sitting before a digital adjudicator named Judge Maddox (Rebecca Ferguson). He has been selected as the nineteenth individual to stand accused in the Mercy Court – which is particularly significant given that he is famous for arresting the first person who went before the A.I. bench a couple years prior.

Deemed guilty until proven innocent within the new system, Chris is told that there is a calculated 97.5 percent chance that he stabbed and killed his wife (Annabelle Wallis) during a domestic dispute earlier in the day, and the onus is on him to reduce that surety level to at least 92 percent within 90 minutes – at which time he will be executed for the crime. To help him in his defense, the protagonist is given access to every phone, computer and camera in the city to hunt for any new information or suspects that could ultimately exonerate him.

Simply put, this movie makes no sense.

Mercy fancies itself as a kind of cautionary tale given the extreme investment that our world has been put into artificial intelligence (the movie is boldly set in the near future of 2029), but any point it tries to make about the potential danger of trusting A.I. in the legal system is undermined by the nonsense that is the execution. Having the accused sitting in front of a digital judge assessing likelihood of guilt is an interesting idea, but the actual case needs a depth that simply isn’t present, and that flaw eats away at the setup with each new plot development.

Chris is deemed preemptively guilty because he was caught on a doorbell camera fighting with his wife just prior to her time of death and was found in the aftermath black-out drunk at a bar. This is deemed more than enough evidence to see the man delivered the death penalty… until Chris is able to deploy his secret weapon: totally basic police work in the near-immediate aftermath of a crime! The protagonist’s progress toward exoneration sees him searching for others via digital footprint with the magic combo of motive and opportunity, and while I won’t spoil the various developments that unfold as he searches for the truth, the revelations are so textbook that one is left constantly more baffled by the computer’s extreme confidence.

On the one hand, the film does illustrate that computers could do a really bad job judging crimes, but it does so with elementary school-level concepts, and without the complexity in plotting that would be necessary to make its point, Mercy feels like it just gets dumber and dumber as it goes.

Mercy tries new things with screenlife filmmaking, but they don’t quite work as they should.

As far as style is concerned, I consider myself genuinely curious about the screenlife aesthetic (with notable titles including Open Windows, the Unfriended movies and the Missing and Searching duology). Mercy, however, can be described as a kind of hybrid, and it’s unable to quite click into what makes the movie in the format work – which is reflecting the way that people navigate the digital world in a familiar way. On the one hand, it’s interesting to see Chris bounce around modern communication methods to search for the truth behind what happened to his wife, but the science-fiction circumstances don’t allow the same kind of familiarity that makes the medium fun and special. Additionally, it has its own way of undermining the plot: if all of the evidence needed to exonerate Chris or at least generate acceptable reasonable doubt is discoverable via data, how is it that the artificial intelligence deems him guilty?

Ultimately, Mercy is a gimmick movie – the gimmicks being the new angle on screenlife filmmaking and the real-time storytelling – and I have no inherent problem with that, as there are plenty of solid features in cinematic history that hinge on unique approaches. The problem here is that those gimmicks are put on top of a rotten foundation, and that means that the work gets more and more broken as it continues to build. Save for you being abducted, locked into a chair and forced to watch it, it’s most definitely a film to skip.

The post-apocalypse that Danny Boyle and Alex Garland created for 28 Days Later helped shatter genre expectations, with the Rage virus helping breathing erratic new life into the threat of a zombified population. With 28 Years Later, the same duo transcended traditional horror sequels with the introductions of Spike, Dr. Ian Kelson, and the Jimmy cult. Now, with The Bone Temple, Candyman and Hedda helmer Nia DaCosta has taken this already unpredictable franchise into entirely unexpected territories, and I was entranced every single minute watching it.

Unlike its predecessor, which kicks off in an entirely new-to-viewers environment, 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple quickly forces audiences right back into facing harrowing plot finding Alfie Williams’ Spike being taken in by Jack O’Connell’s Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal. It’s almost too easy to put oneself in Spike’s metaphorical shoes as he’s thrown into one potentially deadly situation after another, given how frighteningly barmy and unyielding the group’s leader can be as he continues a reign of terror. Or "charity," as he puts it.

Gone are the majority of the main characters that filled out the bulk of 28 Years Later, from Jodie Comer’s Isla (obviously) and Aaron Taylor-Johnson’s Jamie to everyone else in the island haven’s group. Returning, however, are Ralph Fiennes’ iodine-covered Dr. Kelson and Chi Lewis-Parry’s hulking infected alpha Samson. Not to mention Samson’s dangly bits, and those of several other clothing-lite members of the infected. (Spoilers: another non-infected character is also treated with a full-frontal shot this time around.)

As indicated in the previous film’s ending, though, this world has gone to the Jimmys, and no one is guaranteed a safe journey to tomorrow. Thankfully, theater-goers don’t have the same problems, even if the Jimmys’ actions are so palpably harrowing that I’m going to instinctively shift into a defensive stance the next time I see someone donning a tracksuit and a swath of gold chains.

Nia DaCosta and Alex Garland know we're familiar with this world's horrors, and they successfully shift the focus accordingly.

The number of horror sequels that essentially copy/paste formulas and storylines from franchise flagships is astoundingly high, and that approach almost never makes for a better (or even equally enjoyable) experience. Still, I'd have been totally understanding if DaCosta and Garland had stuck with the familiar for The Bone Temple given how much worldbuilding went into 28 Years Later itself. Instead, they deliver a wholly new chapter where even the most familiar characters and elements are sent in new directions.

Remember how awesome it was to see the infected tearing ass across London for the first time, or seeing Samson tear off and rip an enemy's spine out of its body? Those visceral elements still have a minimal presence but more as connective tissue for the next big thing and to draw a starker distinction between "then" and "now."

The Spike that won audiences over with his bravery and keen instincts in the first film is a defeated shadow now, cowering beneath the blonde wig he's forced to wear. Perhaps drawing inspiration from The Empire Strikes Back, we're seeing the protagonist at his lowest point yet, barely able to defend himself against the older cult members. Though not necessarily fun to watch, it's still a vital means to evolve the narrative and hero's journey, and the same holds true for Dr. Kelson. But before we dig into his arc, Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal demands some attention.

I love hating the Jimmy cult, and Jack O'Connell's Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal is now an all-time horror villain.

Between on-screen appearances as the charismatically chaotic cult leader obsessed with DJ and notorious sexual abuser Jimmy Saville, Jack O'Connell was found stealing scenes last summer as the chilling bloodsucker Remmick in Ryan Coogler's Sinners. Impressively, none of that character's quiet menace is present in Sir Lord Jimmy, a malicious and narcissistic conman whose outspoken extroversion belies his ignorance. Each time Jimmy speaks, it’s as if he’s envisioning himself in his own true crime dramatization, and it’s a guilt-free blast to funnel hate at this obnoxious fuck throughout the movie.

From the earliest scenes where he viciously tests Spike’s willingness to join the group, to later machinations that remind us how human this cult of personality is, Sir Lord Jimmy is an all-timer of a movie villain, regardless of genre. He’s highly quotable, complete with group call-and-response that’s utilized throughout, and just when you think his limit of ruthlessness has been met, Jimmy pushes those goalposts back, most often with disembodied limbs. To say the upside-down cross comes into play is to say the sun is warm.

It helps that the irredeemable leader manifestly stands out from his tribe of misfit youths hardened by trauma and suppression. Forming an early bond with Spike, Jimmy Ink (Erin Kellyman) is arguably the brainiest, though with scars and ideas that speak to how low the intelligence bar is. Emma Laird’s Jimmima is perhaps the most wounded, which in turn makes her the most performative, particularly with Teletubbies-inspired dances.

Because discovering reasons to hate everyone is part of the fun, suffice to say that Jimmy Fox (Sam Locke), Jimmy Snake (Ghazi Al Ruffai) and Jimmy Jones (Maura Bird) each fall across different spots on the feral villain spectrum, and there’s little empathy shed when certain bodies drop. That empathy is saved for characters who unfortunately find themself in Sir Lord Jimmy’s crosshairs.

Ralph Fiennes Dr. Kelson takes the story into hallucinatory and unexpected directions that make future sequels all the more welcome.

If Spike's story equates to a trafficking thriller, and Sir Lord Jimmy culminates the nihilistic anarchy of The Purge, then Dr. Kelson's arc is kinda-maybe most like Oliver Stone's The Doors through the prism of Wayne's World 2's Doors-spoofing scenes. Or, to bring it back to Danny Boyle, it's as if Nia DaCosta brought Ralph Fiennes' bone-collecting medicine man through the gauzy haze of Trainspotting, but with a grander purpose than just getting high with the boys.

Kelson continues his mission to manufacture some kind of measurable bond with the predatory Samson in order to suss out remnants of humanity, all while being largely unable to reflect upon his own pre-virus years. Despite his implausible goals, Kelson finds reason to continue (beyond just staying alive long enough to do so), and therein lie several intriguing threads for the franchise's future.

Fiennes is incredible from start to finish, brandishing the same eerie and enigmatic behavior that made his character such a high point in last year's film, and this time with more of a near-childlike enthusiasm for interacting with others. (Even those who do not wish Kelson well.) I've already earmarked one third-act sequence that shall not be spoiled for best-of-the-year consideration. If that sequence alone doesn't earn Fiennes some kind of award nomination, my innate lower-case rage will know no bounds.

Had all 108 minutes of 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple been set just around Kelson's giant skull pile, my rating might not have even changed. Thankfully, though, Nia DaCosta wasn't inclined to be so limited, and instead delivers a tense, emotional and darkly hilarious movie that also happens to feature a swinging bloody dong and people being skinned alive. I'd stand up and cheer if I wasn't scared to draw out any nearby infected.

P.S. Cillian Murphy. That's the post-script.

I marvel at visual effects. As a millennial cinephile, I have spent my entire life watching the evolution of digital technology on the big screen, and I have had my mind successfully blown many times over from their advancement. The tools have permitted and opened up doors to brilliant creativity and the artists who make it all happen all deserve greater credit from both the film industry at large and audiences alike.

All that being said: I don’t think there are any advanced computer graphics that can top my love of seeing good old-fashioned practical effects being put to proper use in 21st century cinema – and that fact is single-handedly responsible for this review of Johannes Roberts’ Primate being a three-and-a-half star assessment versus a three star take. I freely marvel at what has been accomplished with, for example, the modern Planet Of The Apes movies, but there is something oh so special about seeing the main cast of characters in the film viciously terrorized by an actor in a chimpanzee suit.

As far as modern cinema goes, Primate is the dictionary definition of a B-movie that is perfectly suited with a January release date. It doesn’t have much in the way of artistic aspiration, as it executes a bloody high concept plot without offering much of anything in the way of theme or messaging. It’s built more as a good time at the theater than as a title designed to stick with you long after the credits roll – and if you accept those terms while also having a healthy appreciation for the magic of special effects, you’ll have a fun and diverting 89 minutes.

Primate stars Johnny Sequoyah, Victoria Wyant, and Jessica Alexander star as Lucy, Kate and Hannah – three college-aged friends who begin the story flying to Hawaii going to Lucy’s house after she has spent years away. With Lucy’s successful author father (Troy Kotsur) set to be away for a few days promoting his new book, the young women have the place to themselves, and they plan hours of fun with drinking, smoking weed, and hanging out with boys. The pals are a bit surprised when they discover that Lucy’s family has a pet chimpanzee named Ben (Miguel Torres Umba), but they don’t think too much of it when they recognize the ape as harmless.

What they don’t know, however, is that Ben has recently been bitten by a mongoose infected with rabies and is no longer his friendly, happy self. Before too long, the girls, Lucy’s friend/crush Nick (Benjamin Cheng), and Lucy’s sister Erin (Gia Hunter) find themselves desperately fighting for their lives as the diseased animal starts a violent rampage that sees it try to rip apart anybody who it can reach.

Primate knows what the audience wants, and it delivers just that.

The easiest comparison one can make with Primate would be Cujo, as both stories find its main characters in peril when they are trapped in a single location by a rabid animal – though it must be said that the 2026 film is certainly far dumber. Unlike the Stephen King story and the adaptation from director Lewis Teague, minimal legwork is put in as far as relationships, meaning that there isn’t much in the way of emotional attachment to heighten the peril or audience investment. All of the bonds between characters can all be summed up in fewer than 10 words, and with the exception of Lucy's sororal connection with Erin, none of them have any specific impact on the way that the plot unfolds.

This is the kind of horror movie where most of the humans are set up as simple potential victims, with the most drama it conjures coming from the fact that it’s totally up in the air who will be the next to die… but it still knows how to go about delivering a satisfying experience for its target audience of gorehounds.

It’s made very clear that a significant part of the creative process for co-screenwriters Johannes Roberts and Ernest Riera was, “What are the most gruesome ways a chimpanzee can kill a person?” and then the special effects department had an absolute blast making their disgusting conclusions a reality. Primate sports a really terrible flash-forward prologue that feels like it was included because of a lack of faith in the audience’s attention span, but it does successfully preview what the coming cinematic experience is going to be like with an unflinching shot of a man getting his face peeled off of his skull. It’s an effective tablesetter for what then flows in the next 80 minutes – and what’s even more satisfying is that it’s not ultimately the film’s peak gore moment (I won’t spoil what is in this spoiler-free venue).

The practical effects make an otherwise forgettable movie surprisingly memorable.

In all of Primate’s ape-centric terror, are there any moments when you actually feel as though you are looking at a real chimpanzee? No… but I also can’t say that’s the case with the aforementioned modern Planet of the Apes movies that strive for realism, and I’d say that the entertainment level that I get out of both approaches is about equal. Though I can’t shake the knowledge that I’m looking at a man in an extremely detailed costume, I deeply appreciate the craftsmanship that went into its making, and it manages to feel special in an entertainment environment where practically every genre film and television show features at least one scene where characters stand in a CGI expanse with nothing even remotely tactile around them.

While I can’t sit here in the first half of January 2026 and swear that Primate will be a key title that I will have front of mind in December when it comes to reflecting on the totality of the year’s cinematic adventures, I can definitely say that it will stick in my mind far longer than most early-in-the-year horror released do, and that’s purely a tribute to its nature as a kind of throwback. A lot of it is beyond simple and super cliche, but with a peak awareness of what it is and messy, practical sensibilities, it will succeed in being memorable.

One of the principal reasons why I am a lifelong fan of cinema can be summed up in a single word: immersion. Images rapidly flash and take us into lives far-flung from our own, and in the span of two hours, they can inspire deep emotion and passion – and that takes many different forms. As the stakes for the characters grow, we bond with them through determination, joy, heartbreak, fear, love, and anxiety.

That last one is very much a specialty for filmmaker Josh Safdie, who, until recently, has teamed with his brother Benny Safdie on movies most recently including Good Time and Uncut Gems. His “heroes” aren’t the sort who seek calm, manageable lives and instead test the barrier between grasp and reach. In 2019, heart attacks were induced watching Adam Sandler’s gambling-addicted Howard Ratner stack bets on top of bets and stay one step ahead of lone sharks and thugs in hopes of hitting a massive score. In 2025, Safdie is back with more cardiac arrest-inducing cinema, but this time, it’s a protagonist seeking to be recognized as the greatest table tennis champion on Earth.

Having just written that, I think it’s fair to say that the intensity and stress at the heart of the plot of Marty Supreme don’t immediately make themselves apparent on paper… but that brings me back to the movie magic of immersion. You as an individual reading this review may not care about becoming the premiere ping pong player on the planet, but Timothée Chalamet’s Marty Mauser most certainly fucking does, and his drive and confidence leak through the screen to create one of the most spectacular, engrossing, and wild cinematic experiences of the year.

In early in 1950s New York, we first Marty as he prepares to make his first trip overseas for a tournament, having scrapped and saved to make the journey, but he is confident that every effort will be worth it: he not only expects to become the first American champion in the sport, but he knows that his victory will mean making him and the game a new sensation in his home country. His showmanship and sharp-tongue help get the red carpet rolled out for him, but everything falls apart when he learns that the Japanese travel ban has been lifted and he’s introduced to Koto Endo (Koto Kawaguchi), a competitor with a unique grip and a new kind of paddle that befuddles opponents.

Returning home means putting his tail between his legs, but Marty is far from defeated, as he makes plans for redemption and fulfilling his championship aspirations. This means once again pulling off a bit of fundraising with a string of efforts including a bit of ping pong hustling with a pal (Tyler Okonma), having an affair with an aging actress (Gwyneth Paltrow) married to a wealthy pen magnate (Kevin O’Leary), and trying to cash in on the reward for a lost dog belonging to a dangerous gangster (Abel Ferrara). At the same time, he has to evade his hypochondriac mother (Fran Drescher) and a vengeful uncle (Larry "Ratso" Sloman), plus figure out what to do when he discovers that his married childhood friend (Odessa A’zion) is pregnant with his child.

Marty Supreme is a stunning, thrilling execution of organized chaos.

Once again taking the “on paper” perspective, that sounds like an insane amount of material for a single film, even one with a 150 minute runtime, but the structure of the storytelling and the balance of all the conflicts in Marty Supreme makes it a marvel (and consequently sees that sizable runtime absolutely fly by). The script by Josh Safdie and Ronald Bronstein is a dazzling juggling act, constantly throwing new balls, bowling pins, puppies and revving chainsaws up in the air while never neglecting a single one before finally catching them all with flourish.

Every aspect of the adventure is made all the more colorful by the brilliant ensemble cast playing diverse and rich characters who fall into Marty’s orbit. On a more macro level, for example, the stark contrast between Odessa A'zion’s Rachel Mizler and Gwyneth Paltrow’s Kay Stone as his lovers means they demand different relationships with the protagonist, which exposes a mix of fascinating and ugly sides of him. But even the minor players – from a friend who is trying to help Marty launch a line of orange ping pong balls (Luke Manley) to a trigger-happy farmer (Penn Jillette) – make an impression.

These personalities inhabit an old world that Josh Safdie and his collaborators seamlessly recreate with immense love, honoring both the great glitz and grime of mid-20th century New York, from the tight spaces of tenements, to slum hotels, to opulent midtown apartments. Production designer Jack Fisk’s transportive work is stunningly captured by cinematographer Darius Khondji (with a gorgeous grit that only film can provide), whose thrilling camera work not only successfully amps up the eponymous character’s hustle but makes the table tennis fist pump-worthy exciting.

Even with a high bar set, this is Timothée Chalamet’s greatest work to date.

Marty Supreme also notably sees its star at the height of his powers, which is a pretty damn special thing given that he has only just turned 30 and has set an immense bar to clear. Timothée Chalamet has been a star on the rise since his breakout year in 2017 with both Greta Gerwig’s Lady Bird and Luca Guadagnino’s Call Me By Your Name, and he seems to only be getting better with more experience.

What’s so fascinating here is that Marty is a character you really want to hate. He exhibits cockiness, selfishness and entitlement at every opportunity to do so, and while he has his soft spots, he is willing to run over anybody to achieve his goals. What’s also undeniable, however, is the charisma inherent in his drive and persistence, and his confidence also imbues him with a special kind of integrity that won’t let him sell himself short. Not every actor could walk the fine line that is necessary for the part, but it speaks to Chalamet’s immense gift as a performer.

This isn’t a movie that you just see: you feel it. It’s 150 minutes of cheering, laughing, and gasping all while it feels like your heart may just beat its way out of your chest. Marty Supreme is a magical movie and a must-see.

I am generally a total sucker for a meta narrative. When executed properly, I enjoy the inherent cleverness of the approach, with the work itself being used to comment on the work, and it can be a wonderful way for artists to explore and examine the creative process. From books about writing books to movies about making movies, I’m easily delighted by both the insight that can be brought to light and the parody that pokes fun at the various roadblocks involved.

That in mind, director Tom Gormican’s Anaconda should be a perfect fit for my sensibilities. The world truly doesn’t need a new sequel to the 1997 horror flick starring Jennifer Lopez, Ice Cube, Owen Wilson and Jon Voigt, but if it’s going to happen, why not make the movie about how silly it is to make a new Anaconda movie? Having the film headlined by a pair of comedic heavyweights in Paul Rudd and Jack Black theoretically should have led to the spinning of gold. The sad truth, however, is that it’s a work that never manages to come close to living up to its potential, as it’s instead a muddled mess that is neither a successful commentary nor able to properly juggle the comedy and snake-driven horror to make it entertaining.

The movie aims to be a kind of IP-driven blend of Ben Stiller’s Tropic Thunder and Frank Oz’s Bowfinger, but it comes up empty in regards to having anything real to say about moviemaking and both the fun and drama are undercut by an inability to create any kind of substantial stakes.

Written by Tom Gormican and Kevin Etten, who previously brought us the “Nic Cage playing Nic Cage” comedy The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent, Anaconda’s protagonists are Griff (Paul Rudd) and Doug (Jack Black): two childhood friends who have become grown despondent in their middle-aged lives, with the former struggling to find work as an actor living in Los Angeles, and the latter finding his creative desires unsatisfied by his work as a wedding videographer in Buffalo, New York. The two men are professionally stuck, but they discover a path toward becoming unstuck when Griff delivers the news that he has managed to acquire the rights to Anaconda – a favorite film of theirs from growing up – and they decide to make a sequel.

With their friends Claire (Thandiwe Newton) and Kenny (Steve Zahn) coming along for the ride as Griff’s co-star and the cinematographer respectively, the pals fly down to the Amazon to make their movie on a shoestring budget. Things go swimmingly initially, but issues begin to stack – first when there is a violent incident that leaves the production without a snake to film, then when they become accidentally embroiled in a local illegal gold mine operation, and then when they find themselves terrorized by a monster serpent hunting them in the jungle.

Anaconda simply tries to do too much, and it doesn’t do anything particularly well.

I am a cinephile who is will always give a film its entire runtime to try and deliver something entertaining or thought provoking, but Anaconda offers wafts of trouble from its very first scene – which is set in the Amazon and introduces Ana (Daniela Melchoir), a woman in some sort of vague trouble who is is pursued by men with guns, and then said men get attacked by the titular reptile. As the tablesetter for a comedy, it doesn’t feature any jokes or laughs; it’s so cryptic as to be more confusing than intriguing; and all of the action with the snake is so fast, dark and clearly CGI that it fails to be at all scary. It’s unclear from the jump what the movie is trying to do… and that never really goes away.

There is a high concept plot buried in Anaconda about two old friends trying to reconnect and resurrect their dreams by making a movie together, but the film gets so lost in stacking up problems for the characters that nothing is able to build up to something comedically or dramatically satisfying. It has the overall cadence of a movie that was constructed on the fly, and it’s therefore way more frustrating than humorous when there is a bit where Doug explains how no modern Hollywood production starts shooting with a completed script.

The PG-13 rating hampers Anaconda in multiple ways

While the scattershot construction is the movie’s greatest flaw, one also leaves it with the feeling that it at least would have had greater potential if it had been equipped with a R-rating instead of PG-13 (which this decision was made because of the 1997 original’s rating or the kid-friendly appeal of Jack Black is unclear, but it’s a negative either way). Horror comedy works best when it gets to play in extremes, but everything here is made to feel beyond tame. It’s rather stunning that there is not a single ounce of excitement, either fear or funny-based, conjured in any of the film’s snake action – though that is also in large part because the visual effects are, to be blunt, awful.

One senses a lot of fun was had making Anaconda, but that fun doesn’t translate to the screen.

Watching the movie, it can be said that it looks like the stars had a blast making it, as you can occasionally catch Paul Rudd and Jack Black with an on-the-verge-of-breaking smirk in response to what was clearly an improvised line from their scene partner… and a weird, small piece of you feels jealous as they have more fun in the experience than the audience. Anaconda is built on a strong premise but it does absolutely nothing with it, never committing to any of its (sometimes fun) ideas and instead opting to zag off in new directions. It’s a strange thing to be disappointed by a work that never really garnered much in the way of big expectations, but that’s what it does nonetheless.

James Cameron is a truly legendary filmmaker, and one of the most prolific visionaries we have with us today. His movies are pretty synonymous with using cutting-edge technology, and nowhere is that more obvious than in the Avatar franchise. The sci-fi property burst into theaters back in 2009, although we had to wait over a decade for its sequel The Way of Water to arrive. Luckily he shot the second and third movies at the same time, which is why moviegoing audiences are being treated to the threequel Fire and Ash this holiday season.

Fire and Ash picks up almost immediately after the events of the second film. But instead of being narrated by Sam Worthington's Jake Sully, instead we're in the POV of his second-born son Lo'ak, played by Britain Dalton. In many ways, this third movie feels like more of a sequel to The Way of Water than a brand new, third chapter of this saga. For casual fans, any necessary exposition is delivered early on to remind them of the events of the first sequel.

The full cast is back for Fire and Ash, chief among them being Worthington and Zoe Saldaña. We also follow Jake and Neytiri's kids, Stephen Lang's Quaritch is in his Na'vi body, and the Water People we were introduced to in the last chapter. The world of Pandora expands in the third movie with the Mangkwan clan a.k.a. the Fire People. This is the first time we've the Na'vi have been in conflict with each other, and newcomer Oona Chaplin gives an instantly iconic performance as the villainous Varang.

Of course, there is also the looming conflict with the RDA, which is unrelenting in its quest to drain Pandora of its natural resources. That storyline brings in various human characters, including Edie Falco's General Ardmore and Giovanni Ribisi's Parker Selfridge. Quaritch pivots between the RDA and the Mangkwan, allowing for a strange alliance to be formed between these two factions.

What results is another epic movie in scope, one that is full of huge character revelations, surprisingly emotional moments, and (of course) beautiful visuals that offer a sense of escapism.

Fire And Ash is a meditation on grief.

Avatar: The Way of Water's ending was a devastating one due to the death of Neteyam. This loss is very much at the heart of he story for the third movie, especially since it picks up to shortly after that death. When the movie opens, Lo'ak describes how grief has affected the Sully family as a whole, in particular Saldaña's Neytiri.

Rather than being the emotional center of the story as she was in the previous two movies, Neytiri is in the throws of grief and is angry at all of humankind for the loss of her son. That includes their adopted son Spider, with the tension in their relationship reaching a boiling point during Fire and Ash.

Despite being in a fantastic world full of giant blue creatures, this very human story allows the third Avatar film to be relatable for those of us on planet Earth. This an emotional entryway for moviegoers to feel invested in the Sullys throughout their wild third adventure on Pandora.

The third Avatar movie has less whimsy and more story.

The Avatar franchise is known for its stunning visuals, which are made all the more palpable when watching the movies in 3D on the big screen. That's certainly still the case in Fire and Ash, but there are far fewer new aspects of Pandora offered this time around. And as a whole, the threequel feels more focused on its larger, character-driven story than the wonder and awe that came with the first two installments.

The 2009 original was introducing us to Pandora, and every creature and bioluminescent setting was new and exciting. When The Way of Water finally brought us back to that fictional planet, the Metkayina clan brought new creatures and the underwater world of the planet to the big screen. But aside from the brief Windtraders sequence, the third movie don't introduce us to new side of the Na'vi. The Fire People ride Ikran just like the Sullys, even if they're painted new colors.

If something was missing for me in Fire and Ash, it's probably this lack of wonder. Instead, I'm in a world that I know and understand, allowing James Cameron's characters to take center stage. I wouldn't fault this pivot for a shorter movie, but the Avatar franchise isn't exactly known for its brevity.

The runtime is long, but the ending offers a number of payoffs.

Speaking of which, Avatar: Fire and Ash has a runtime of a whopping 197 minutes. And while there is plenty to enjoy in the threequel, the longest in the franchise thus far, those extra minutes can be felt. Certain sequences could be cut down to trim the fat, and ensure that audiences aren't exhausted by the time the movie's third act arrives.

That being said, it's a pretty excellent ending. Each character gets their moment to shine, and there are a number of sequences that I found quite moving thanks to how much time we've spent with the Sully family. So, even though at times I was looking at my watch to see what time it was during lulls in the movie, I was certainly giving it my full attention during its most important beats.

And while Fire and Ash is the third installment in a previously announced five-movie plan, the stakes don't make it seem like simply the middle point in a larger franchise. James Cameron kills off a number of major characters throughout the threequel, and makes major character developments for those who survive. And by the end, I was ready to see where things go next.

Overall, Avatar: Fire and Ash is an impactful and visually striking film. While it might be a bit too long for some modern audiences, James Cameron sticks the landing with a moving, character-driven story.

To put it plainly, director Emma Tammi’s Five Nights At Freddy’s is a bad movie, and experience has led me to have an instinctual wariness when it comes to sequels to bad movies that also happen to be extremely popular. I generally like to think of follow-up films as exciting opportunities for creatives, as all the groundwork is laid for potentially blue sky storytelling with the established world and characters… but the rub when it comes to bad movies is about expectation: if audiences were happy to tolerate the flaws of the predecessor, one can’t expect those problems to be rectified/addressed in the aim of the filmmakers to give movie-goers more of what they apparently want.

Five Nights At Freddy’s 2 has been flying red flags ever since it was first announced, and it crawls under the low bar that has been set for it. In broad strokes, it is wildly dull, with its only energy provided by its parade of telegraphed and repetitive jump scares. More significant, though, is just how incompetent it manages to be in its storytelling – in terms of both narrative flow and its character development.

Steamrolling through any limitations introduced in the previous movie’s third act twists, Five Nights At Freddy’s 2 begins with revelations that victims of serial killer William Afton (Matthew Lillard) weren’t limited to those we previously met. In an opening flashback set in 1982, we learn of another girl who was killed at the original Freddy Fazbear's Pizza named Charlotte (Audrey Lynn Marie) who had a particular attachment to a wirelessly controlled animatronic character known as the Marionette and was a childhood friend of Ashton’s daughter Vanessa (Elizabeth Lail). It’s as simple a path to the introduction of a new villain that the sequel could take, and it blithely skips down it.

Fast-forwarding 20 years, the movie then catches up with siblings Mike (Josh Hutcherson) and Abby (Piper Rubio) in the aftermath of their supernatural experience at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Beyond painting his living room and deciding whether or not he is dating Vanessa, Mike isn’t shown to be doing anything at all, and while Abby has found popularity and potential friends at school, she shirks them in favor of pining for her lost, homicidal haunted animatronic pals. They’re characters who remain terrifically hard to root for in their respective dullness and whininess, and yet the film forces you to do so as a trio of paranormal investigators (Mckenna Grace, Teo Briones, David Andrew Calvillo) wake Charlotte’s spirit in the Marionette in the original Freddy Fazbear's and she gets an unwitting Abbey to help unleash her rage.

For a film from a major studio film, it’s shocking how sloppy Five Nights At Freddy’s 2 is.

I don’t use the word “sloppy” a lot when it comes to movies from major studios, as there are typically enough professionals in the room ensuring that features at least modestly functional, but it’s the adjective that springs to mind most boldly in collecting my thoughts about Five Nights At Freddy’s 2. Intelligent filmmaking would give Mike literally any direction, help us emotionally understand Abby’s desire to reunite with the animatronics, and not make preposterous decisions like having a character deliver the exact same pun in back-to-back scenes… and those are just a few examples from this cinematic train wreck.

Without getting into spoilers, plot threads are introduced and disposed at whim; scenes and settings are weirdly jumbled (it took me way too long to realize that there are two Freddy Fazbear's Pizza locations in play); introductions of new characters are haphazard at best (I hoped for far more and far better for genre veterans Mckenna Grace and Teo Briones), and its big “reveal” in the third act is perhaps the most unearned twist I’ve seen a film try to execute during my professional career as a critic. It is a mind-boggling mess.

An overdose of jump scares isn’t enough to break up the tedium of the Five Nights At Freddy’s 2 experience.

I can’t even say that it’s a “fun” mind-boggling mess, as all entertainment value is overshadowed by confusion, frustration, and most significantly, boredom. With the story being so chaotic and the characters so one dimensional/repellant, there is nothing for the audience to invest their attention in. What’s left is just clinging to the weak narrative threads and looking for the corner around which the next rote jump scare will be. And that gets tired very quickly.

With its PG-13 rating and knowing the core demographic of the source material, I recognize that Five Nights At Freddy’s 2 is aimed at movie-goers younger than myself. And I will even say that I don’t have a universal hatred of the jump scare: used responsibly, they can be delightfully effective. But Emma Tammi and screenwriter Scott Cawthon seem to think that they are the only genre tools available to them beyond just-off-screen violence, and the shocks are empty. The design of the animatronics (while the puppeteering remains impressive) has lost any scare value following the first movie, and while there is potential in the slinky, creepy presentation of the Marionette, all it ever does is leap at the camera.

I’ll fully admit that the process of writing this review has felt akin to the experience of scolding a cinder block, as Five Nights At Freddy’s 2 is most definitely what is colloquially known as “critic-proof.” But if you are an individual with anything resembling discerning taste reading this while on the fence about whether or not you should purchase a ticket, my recommendation would certainly be that you shouldn’t. It’s not worth the zeitgeist exploration nor the experience as a hate-watch, and after the remarkable year that horror has had on the big screen, genre fans should definitely avoid it as a final note for 2025.

In honor of Daniel Craig's third feature outing as master investigator Benoit Blanc, I'd love to add a Southern twahy-ang to the entirety of this Wake Up Dead Man review — really give it some pahythos and chah-rick-tahr. But no matter how much I really want to dip my tootsies in those wahtuhs, I won't. For one, that schtick would just distract from the real point, which is something that Rian Johnson's Knives Out villains are known for, and I'm no villain. Second, it would take too long.

Third, and most important for our current purposes, doing so would readily be considered a silly and flighty exercise worthy of Glass Onion's gaggle of affluent knobs. And, my friends, Wake Up Dead Man does not invest any of its time in trying to be frivolous. This is church, not Silly...ville....Station. Which is all to say that though I definitely think Johnson and Craig's third teaming is brilliant, chilling, and the best yet from this murder mystery franchise, it also loses some of the winking charms and situational levity of the first two films. Necessary or not, I wanted to laugh more.

How obvious is it that I'm wearing these molasses-covered tap shoes just so I can slowly dance around the cardinal sin of spoilers? Alas, the church bells are ringing, so let us pray. In the name of the director...

Rian Johnson puts the magnifying glass on religion, faith and community.

Lest anyone think Benoit Blanc's life story is being put under the microscope here, Wake Up Dead Man is about the quirky and interconnected congregation keeping Our Lady of Perpetual Fortitude up and running through hell or high falutin' reverands who dare challenge the almighty word of Monsignor Jefferson Wicks – brought to life by Josh Brolin. Brolin brings all the vim, vigor, piss, vinegar and vitriol to Wicks' psychologically sadistic sermons, and one of the biggest (mostly answered) questions viewers will have will no doubt be "Why would anyone put themselves through this?"

The yin to Wicks' da-a-ang is Josh O'Connor's Reverend Jud Duplenticy, who is initially optimistic when Jeffrey Wright's Bishop Langstrom assigns him to a small-town church whose clergy is tight with parishioners. (If you need instant gravitas with limited time on the set, few choices exist that are better than Wright.) Before long, Jud finds his eagerness stunted by Wicks and his subtly tyrannical rule over everyone in his church's pews. Yes, it is HIS church with a captital GTFO if you forget it.

Wake Up Dead Man applies a surprisingly measured approach to its religious subject matter. O'Connor convincingly personifies Jesus' New Testament teachings as a former boxer whose particularly notable crisis of conscience led him to God's graces – which obviously makes Wicks the hard-nosed Old Testament warlord. Benoit Blanc later arrives as the "proud heretic" who only aims to see things through the spectrum of logic and finds that there are indeed values in preaching more than just atheism.

Even beyond all of the moral-centric ways that religion can spice up a murder-mystery, it also sets an interesting stage for Wake Up Dead Man's central murder — remember somebody dies in this? — in a way that allows for certain expectations that aren't necessarily the norm for a murder investigation. Instead of What Would Jesus Do, this is more "What would Benoit Blanc do if faced with the combo of a seemingly impossible murder and a miracle?"

Another all-star Knives Out cast successfully keeps audiences guessing.

Daniel Craig is as dapper and charming as ever as the unstoppable Blanc, and he's once again surrounded by brilliant thespians working all the mystery's machinations. Beyond the aforementioned excellence of O'Connor and Brolin, we have a tabernacle of talent also filling out the list of potential suspects (and victims).

Glenn Close brings single-sighted zealotry to the role of Wicks' second-banana Meredith Delecroix, whose wandering eye is locked on Thomas Haden Church's Cubs-loving groundskeeper Samson Holt. The congregation consists of the secretly boozy town doctor Nat Sharp (Jeremy Renner); the successful and self-minded sci-fi author Lee Ross (Andrew Scott); the disabled and cure-seeking former concert cellist Simone Vivane (Cailee Spaeny); the stressed and put-upon lawyer Vera Draven (Kerry Washington); and the hopeful politician Sy Draven (Daryl McCormack).

Part of the fun of Knives Out films has become seeing the prim and proper Blanc sharing space and ideas with groups of characters he'd likely never mix it up with just for pleasure, and the same holds true with Wake Up Dead Man, even if he most closely works with Jud and the local authorities. Just watching him observe everyone else adds texture to the mystery.

Speak of the local PD, Blanc is brought to the town of Chimney Rock by police chief Geraldine Scott, played by Mila Kunis in what's arguably the least inspired casting choice. Don't get me wrong: I like Kunis and she's fine here, but the role isn't playing to either her comedic or dramatic strengths, and I can imagine others bringing something more memorable to the performance.

I appreciate Johnson stepping back from Glass Onion’s excess, but I do miss some of the silliness.

The murder and the surrounding investigation are rather miticulously laid out, with enough clues sprinkled throughout to keep audiences from falling too far behind the on-screen characters. But even when one does get a piece of the puzzle correct, there's almost always another piece waiting to be discovered that you didn't even realize was missing. In that way, Wake Up Dead Man is as fun as anything else involving church, at least to me.

However, the core concepts and themes of hellfire, damnation, judgment, shame, regret and analogous topics make it less of a joyride than Blanc's earlier cases. Which is perfectly fine, as the standalone nature of this franchise doesn't necessitate tonal similarities or a comedic balance at all. As well, the existence of Rian Johnson and Natasha Lyonne's Poker Face more than scratches the "serious + hilarious mystery" itch enough that it's not required here.

That's being objective, though, which is for the likes of logical blasphemer Benoit Blanc. Subjectively speaking, I personally wanted more laughs and merriment. But I still cannot deny that Wake Up Dead Man is a highbrow whodunnit that sets a new bar for the Knives Out franchise, as well as any other locked-room thrillers on the way, hand to God.

I’ve seen nearly 80 movies already this year. There are a few that have really stuck out in a positive way, like that time Warfare had me glued to my seat during the entire runtime or that time I saw How to Train Your Dragon on a giant screen in Caesar’s Palace. My favorite movie of the year (so far) snuck up on me unexpectedly at a recent screening, and I’m surprised a slew of critics aren’t on the same wavelength.

The movie? It’s Eternity, a quirky rom-com starring Elizabeth Olsen, Miles Teller and Callum Turner that's part of A24's release schedule this year. The flick is about a woman who dies and is taken to a sort of waiting area for the afterlife, where she must choose to remain with her deceased partner of many decades or her young love who died at war before they had a chance to blossom. I saw the film a couple of weeks ago, and while some critics have found things to nitpick over, I’m still thinking about the sweet story and what it has to say about love over the long haul.

It’s also simply one of the best rom-coms I’ve seen in years. The last time I think I was jonesing to rewatch a romance movie this much was probably 2013’s About Time. Yes, some great rom-coms have come out since then, but this one really just struck a chord with me in an immense way, and I hope audiences find it as darling, funny, and sometimes bittersweet as I did.

However, some critics don’t seem to be wholly on the same page. A few called the movie “lacking in profundity” (In Review Online) or called the love triangle “patronizing” (Mark Reviews Movies). Literally in the middle of writing this piece, a new review dropped, knocking Eternity from 80% down to 79%. I’d expect the score to change a bit as more and more people have the opportunity to see the movie. I'm hoping that's more for the positive!

Of course, 79% still means the majority of people who reviewed the flick liked it. Still, the negative reviews are the opposite of my experience watching the movie, and I'm a little bit baffled. It's rare we get such an odd story that hits on so many sentimental notes, and I just loved the tone, cast, story, and even the world building hints we got.

I could totally see not feeling the movie is perfect. Spectrum Culture’s Alan Zilberman mentioned the movie was “overstaying its welcome,” and that’s a comment I can understand as the film did go on a bit longer than I’d initially thought it was going to. Regardless, and without getting into spoilers, the final few minutes were so satisfying, that little blip didn’t bother me much.

Eternity hit the 2025 movie release schedule on November 14th, but is opening wide in time for Thanksgiving weekend. Hopefully, a slew of people will see it and fall in love with it the way Callum Turner fell in love with Dua Lipa.

Wicked: For Good had a tough act to follow, as it comes on the heels of the widely well-received Wicked. The bar is high, and the stakes are set for the epic conclusion of the Broadway musical adaptation, and in a lot of ways, it meets them. However, since I have always been a bigger fan of Act 1 than Act 2, I was left with complex feelings about the highly anticipated sequel.

In Wicked: For Good, quite a bit of time has passed since the events of Wicked. Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo) is widely seen as a true wicked witch, Glinda (Ariana Grande) works with Madame Morrible (Michelle Yeoh) and the Wizard (Jeff Goldblum) now, and the political climate in Oz has gotten scary, as laws against animals have been put in place.

Erivo’s witch is determined to save her home from this terrible mess, though things get complicated when it comes to her friendship with Glinda. From there, For Good asks audiences to ride with these women as they come to terms with what they want their world to look like and what they can do to save it.

Overall, much like Wicked, this film directed by Jon M. Chu feels like a technical masterclass that is full of stunning visuals, remarkable performances and beautiful music. For me personally, however, it didn’t change me for good like the first part did.

Ariana Grande absolutely steals the show with her nuanced portrayal of Glinda.

Ariana Grande has a tight rope to walk in Wicked: For Good. As we see during the final moments of the first movie, Glinda is torn between her best friend and a world she’s always dreamed of – where she is the beloved witch. That struggle continues in the sequel, and the actress playing the “good” character portrays it beautifully.

When she sings “Thank Goodness,” her vocals are not just gorgeous, they’re also layered as Glinda tries to put on a mask for Oz that makes it seem like she believes something she’s not 100% sure about. And that mask proves to be a vital part of her arc.

Meanwhile, she is also the source of some of the movie's biggest laughs. There’s a fight between Glinda and Elphaba that, while serious, is very funny because of physical comedy chops demonstrated by the actress.

While Elphaba’s motivations are pure and clear, Glinda’s journey is grey (despite all the pink). Grande plays it with an impressive amount of nuance that makes it so her character is never really a villain; she’s simply struggling to understand her place in this situation and is trying to figure out the right thing to do.

The cast brings depth and darkness to this story in a way that helps distinguish it from Part 1.

Wicked: For Good takes a notably dark turn, and the cast brings their A-game when it comes to the drama.

Cynthia Erivo is particularly impressive in this capacity, as she plays out Elphaba’s struggle to save Oz in a powerful and angry way that also features a light and hope that is admirable. Her commanding performance of “No Good Deed” comes to mind here. The witch’s breaking point blew me away, as it emotionally communicates her struggle to do the right thing while the whole world thinks she’s trying to destroy it.

Meanwhile, Marissa Bode, Jonathan Bailey and Ethan Slater all bring darker sides to Nessarose, Fiyero and Boq, respectively, that shine a bright light on how their characters are impacted by the events of the first film.

With Bailey's return as Fiyero specifically, there’s an angst that is reminiscent of his work as Anthony Bridgerton on Bridgerton – which I love. In For Good, the happy-go-lucky prince gets angry, comes to terms with the darkness around him, and works hard to set things right. It’s a beautiful and revealing journey, and it helps Fiyero grow as a character exponentially.

Bode and Slater's performances also come with surprising anger that flooded me. Both Nessa and Boq have their own reasons for being filled with fury, and the actors bring that to life in a visceral way, which, in turn, helps viewers understand just how far things have fallen in Oz.

Paul Tazewell’s costumes shine brightly in this dark tale.

When the credits rolled at my screening, and costume designer Paul Tazewell’s name appeared, the woman in front of me applauded, and that was the correct reaction.

He designed the costumes for both movies by Jon M. Chu, and somehow, I think Tazewell tops himself with For Good. That’s saying a lot, too, because he rightfully won an Oscar for his work on Wicked, and I feel like it could easily happen again here.

When Glinda appears on screen in her blue and pink dress, my jaw dropped. The way it sparkles in the darkness of this film is magnificent, and it helps highlight Grande’s beautiful performance.

Likewise, the texture on Elphaba’s dresses is also beyond impressive. The layers and patterns Tazewell uses on her looks help them be so much more than just your typical black witch’s costume. Therefore, her clothes help highlight and emphasize the complex story of the Wicked Witch of the West.

The costume designer's work in general also helps immerse us in Oz. From the Munchkins' outfits to the gem tones of the Emerald City, these costumes bring distinct life and bright color to this world, and it makes the movie all the more immersive. It also helps signify how the characters have changed from the first story to the second, and I simply couldn’t be happier about it.

I have always preferred Act 1 to Act 2 of this musical, and that did impact my enjoyment of Wicked: For Good.

Here's the deal: I’m not a big ballad person, I love a big splashy dance number, and the songs from Act 1 – like “Popular,” “Dancing Through Life” and “Defying Gravity” – have been my favorites from Wicked for decades. So, I knew I probably wouldn’t like For Good as much as I liked Wicked – and I was right.

I remember watching the first of Jon M. Chu’s films and being moved to tears numerous times, and that just didn’t happen during For Good. It’s hard to explain why that’s the case; however, I think it has a lot to do with the fact that I’ve always been more emotionally invested in and attached to Act 1. For Good isn't the spectacle Wicked is, which I believe is intentional due to its darker story. But I didn't love that that was the case. I also think “Defying Gravity” is one of the most moving and profound endings I’ve seen, and while I appreciate the end of this second act, it doesn't sucker punch me in the heart like the first movie did.

I find this story about Elphaba and her battle with the Wizard a tad hit-or-miss, with some subplots and characters left underdeveloped and me less invested in the narrative. Combine that with my already big feelings about Act 1, and you get a recipe for mixed emotions. That being said, Wicked: For Good is still absolutely wonderful. The story is touching, it’s beautifully made, and it provides a fulfilling conclusion to this Ozian epic.

If it weren’t for the existence of Brett Leonard’s The Lawnmower Man, Paul Michael Glaser’s The Running Man would easily earn the title of “loosest movie adaptation of a Stephen King story.” (King actually sued to have his name legally removed from the former). Elements of the author’s story remain – including the dystopian setting, deadly government-sponsored game shows, and a few character names – but the 1987 film is first and foremost an “Arnold Schwarzenegger Action Flick.” As a Schwarzenegger fan and recognizing the production for being very much of-its-day, I take no real issue with it for being that (and I particularly appreciate its endless deluge of puntastic one-liners)... but I’ve also wanted to see a proper faithful take on the source material ever since I first read The Running Man years ago.

Thankfully, I’ve never been alone in this want, and writer/director Edgar Wright has taken it upon himself (in collaboration with co-writer Michael Bacall) to make that desire a reality. Since the film’s inception, the stated raison d'être has been to properly bring King’s novel to the big screen, and that is very much what he’s done… up to a point. Faithful as most of the movie is, aspects that are changed in the third act end up having a detrimental effect to the story. It leaves a bad taste in one’s mouth even after enjoying the vast majority of the runtime.

Glen Powell stars as Ben Richards, a destitute man who is blackballed from work, but needs money so that he can care for his wife (Jayme Lawson) and sick infant daughter. Bereft of options, he volunteers himself for one of the dangerous state-sponsored game shows – hoping to win money while risking his health – but he catches the eye of smarmy, sadistic producer Dan Killian (Josh Brolin), and he winds up being recruited for the most popular and dangerous program of them all: The Running Man.

Hosted by the charismatic Bobby T (Colman Domingo), the show sees contestants sent into society and challenged to survive for 30 days as a fugitive. A team of Hunters, led by the notorious Evan McCone (Lee Pace), tracks Richards from city to city armed to the teeth and ready to execute, but the rebellious protagonist must also be wary of anyone and everyone, as cash rewards are given to those who provide tips to his whereabouts.

The Running Man very much is the story from Stephen King’s book – in sometimes great and unexpected ways.

First published in 1982, The Running Man is one of the select novels that Stephen King opted to publish under his pseudonym Richard Bachman, and while the reasons for him making that call are too complicated to fully explain in this space, the standout legacy of the Bachman books is a bear-hug embrace of darkness and cynicism. This was on proper display just a couple months ago with the release of Francis Lawrence’s staggering adaptation of The Long Walk, and for the most part, Wright honors it as well while also splicing in a welcomed level of fun. The movie has mostly been sold with bombastic action and rebellious protagonist, but the actual feature sports plenty of dystopian drama.

Charisma is a must for the character of Ben Richards, as his energy must be powerful enough to sway the opinions of the Running Man’s massive audience. Glen Powell is a great fit for the part in that respect – but the actor also impresses by maintaining the hero’s ever-simmering rage, which is what truly fuels him to survive. It’s effective because it’s an earned rage directed toward a world with only slightly more advanced issues than our own, including outrageous class disparities, limitless corruption, ceaseless propaganda, unaffordable healthcare and more.

Over the course of his journey, meeting allies and revolutionaries of various ilks along the way, Richards attains an ever-deeper understanding of everything that is wrong about his society, and it has the fire in him constantly growing. This is the most vital aspect of King’s book, and it’s actually surprising at points just how much makes it from the page to the screen.

As faithful as much of The Running Man is, it ends up lacking the vitally important bite of the book.

The tragedy of Edgar Wright’s The Running Man is that its faithfulness to its source material isn’t sustained through to the closing credits and creative choices that are made in the final 15 minutes prove to be disastrous. To be totally fair, I knew going into my screening that the ending was going to be changed, as Wright has been open about pivoting from the book’s conclusion as a way of skirting controversy, but I had faith based on his stellar track record that a satisfying alternative would be developed. It turns out that I should have been far more worried.

This isn’t a venue for spoilers (I’ll be writing a more in-depth piece about the ending later this week), but it can be said that the end of the movie is a let down in every single way. As dark and incisive as most of the film is, the way it wraps things up is preposterously safe and a betrayal of everything that comes before it. Not only is it deeply unsatisfying on a purely entertainment level, but the choices don’t even make sense in the context of the story, and that makes it worse and worse the more you think about it.

The Running Man looks great and has a lot of flair but also feels like the least “Edgar Wright-y” Edgar Wright movie

Being a massive fan of Edgar Wright’s since the days of Spaced and Shaun Of The Dead, I find myself legitimately shocked by how bad The Running Man’s final scenes are – but I’ll add that a another feeling I had throughout my screening was that the movie doesn’t feature the same kind of special flair that has long made the writer/director’s work stand out. There are a number of exciting and explosive action sequences, Wright making regular and enjoyable use of the eponymous show being filmed with drone cameras, but many of his trademarks are either absent or not as prominently represented.

His latest collaboration with editor Paul Machliss noticeably lacks the snap of their work on Scott Pilgrim vs. The World and Baby Driver, the clever foreshadowing the director likes to employ is minimal, and there are far fewer needle-drops than one expects. This can’t really be described as a detriment, as the movie has a great number of standout sequences and delivers high-energy cinema, but it does lack the bonus of being a definitive Edgar Wright film.

I never would have believed at the start of 2025 that I would end up calling The Running Man my least favorite Stephen King movie of the year, but following in the wake of Osgood Perkins’ The Monkey, Mike Flanagan’s The Life Of Chuck and Francis Lawrence’s The Long Walk, I can’t help but feel disappointed – and the ending is entirely to blame. It’s a “B+” adaptation that gets demoted to a “C” purely because of its awful final scenes, and it’s ultimately a unique species of bummer.

Since the first Yautja landed on big screens back in 1987 for the Arnold Schwarzenegger-led sci-fi action film, the titular Predators have been recognized as an impressive, cool alien species obsessed with the hunt – and unmistakably the enemy to the hero. Now, not unlike many franchises before that have made turns to humanize villains (like Darth Vader, Joker and so forth), Predator: Badlands shifts the perspective and makes the extraterrestrial adversary the protagonist.

It isn’t necessarily changing the way we’ll look at the green blood splatters of Yautjas in its cinematic past; it’s simply offering a fresh story into the series. And while it’s one that may be more family-friendly, it's also just as fun in the same way that the grungy movie series has always found strength in.

The new movie from 20th Century Studios is the third Predator movie to come out in three years thanks to the wealth of ideas from director Dan Trachtenberg – who also helmed Prey and this year’s animated film, Predator: Killer of Killers. Within the trio, it has the largest scale, but there’s also a continued throughline of attention to character and storytelling within its world that doesn’t feel like the franchise hasn’t gotten too big for its britches… or its trophy room, perhaps to be more colloquially correct.

Predator: Badlands successfully makes a Yautja the hero of his own story.

Badlands starts on Yautja Prime where a young Yautja named Dek (Dimitrius Schuster-Koloamatangi) is training to hunt for his first trophy off of his home planet and earn his cloak. We quickly learn, however, that his father doesn’t think he’s even fit to try since he’s the runt in the clan, and he calls for his son's execution. Dek manages to escape death by jetting off to a dangerous wasteland of a planet that’s home to a creature that’s thought of as “unkillable” among even the most formidable Yautja.

Fueled by rage and naive arrogance, Dek makes it his mission to bring home his trophy, but it’s not long before the harsh elements of the planet of Genna start to outwit him. Lucky for Dek, he comes across a helpful Weyland-Yutani (yes, from the Alien franchise) synthetic named Thia (Elle Fanning), who is eager to help him along on his mission.

Now, Dek isn’t a “good” Yautja, but he is unlike what we’ve seen from the species before. Because he’s been deprived of the main honor that defines this alien race’s identity, this flips the script on a Predator movie in a biting way. We get to be part of the hunt, but we also can understand the protagonist's desire to prove one’s self and be seen as worthy. The setup gives fans (and newcomers to the franchise) an exciting way in, because this Predator is both somehow relatable, yet always speaking in his alien language – and very much ready to pull someone’s spine out when given the chance.

Predator: Badlands carves out its own identity, from its memorable score by Prey composer Sarah Schachner alongside Killer of Killers’ Benjamin Wallfisch, and a real attention to detail as a whole. It’s never been more thrilling to see what weapons a Yautja will employ, especially when the focus is completely on him… or when all his classic weapons have been taken away from him, and he must improvise with the deadly flora and fauna of Genna.

The inclusion of Elle Fanning’s synthetic is disjointed but very much welcome.

When Thia first comes into the picture, there’s some tonal whiplash to get used to. It feels like Dek is in an epic science fiction movie, and the synthetic is way too excited to be in the wilderness of an alien planet – if not especially because she has been severed in half and separated from her legs. There are some early issues fusing the main characters into a congruent dynamic, but it’s nonetheless entertaining from the get-go to see the opposites interact. It’s not long before Dek realizes he’ll actually need Thia if he wants to slay his trophy, and ends up strapping what’s left of her body to his back to make use of her as a “tool”.

From there, we learn there’s a deeper storyline attached to Thia being stranded on Genna, and she needs him just as much as he needs her. Thia’s addition to the storyline only strengthens the Yautja’s hero’s journey – in plot and emotion. While Dek will do anything for violence, Thia is programmed with emotions that give her empathy for all the creatures she has been sent to study.

As you can imagine, as Dek and Thia trudge through the wilds of Genna, their conflicting outlooks rub up against each other more than the rope of twigs that keep them strapped together. What comes of that brings out a rather expected dialogue between them, that can sort of come off as too cutesy for a movie like this. At the same time, there’s something sweet and to appreciate in the message about letting go of one’s toxic masculinity and asking for help rather than going at it alone (especially coming from such a historically macho franchise).

The third act picks up the pace and swings for the fences with all kinds of lively action set pieces that makes use of its characters and environment, and winks to the best of Predator (and Alien) without it feeling like it is dolling out deja vú for the audience.

Few franchise films make the best of a small-scale CGI fest like this one.

When it comes down to it, Predator: Badlands is asking us to make a complete escape from our world into a completely new planet that has unwelcoming things like razor blades of grass. We venture with an alien usually known to be the villain of Predator movies, a synthetic android and (eventually) an adorable creature dubbed Bub that steals every scene. That’s a lot of visual effects, which aren’t always flawless, but the film is nonetheless full of imaginative science fiction environments that are fun enough to explore. But yes, it can feel like you’re in the middle of a video game for much of it.

Ultimately, there’s an impressive simplicity to Predator: Badlands as a whole, as it operates with a straight-forward narratively in a runtime that is 13 minutes shy of two hours. We don’t see enough films in large scale franchise like this. While Trachtenberg’s feature may be predictable at times, and rather soft-hearted for a Predator movie, it’s myriad of strengths in the face of so many franchise curve balls proves once again that the canon is in a solid place with him as a guiding voice. I think it still might be more fun to root for the Yautja when they're the enemy, but as this movie shows, it can worthwhile to see them revel in victory for a little while, and there could be more story to tell from where this movie leaves off as well.

The rise of Emma Stone has been a remarkable thing to witness over the last 20 years. It’s not easy for an actress to stand out as a romantic interest in a boy-centric party comedy, but that’s exactly what she managed to do starring opposite Jonah Hill and Michael Cera in 2007’s Superbad, and her cinematic journey since then has been special to follow. 2010’s Easy A proved that she had true star potential, and while she has had some duds on her resume since then (find me an actor who doesn’t have at least a few), 2016’s La La Land affirmed her as a true A-lister – but her collaboration with Yorgos Lanthimos has sent her into a new stratosphere.

The run of The Favourite, Poor Things, and Kinds Of Kindness is unequivocally one of the greatest filmmaker/actor collaborations in modern Hollywood, with the Greek writer/director able to consistently push the range of his star. And while they will be henceforth immensely challenged to outdo their 2023 dark comedy riff on Frankenstein that is Poor Things, their streak of outstanding joint work has continued to expand in 2025 with Bugonia. It’s not their best movie together, but that’s more reflective of a high quality bar than anything else: it’s a story with some organic flaws, but it’s an intimate and tremendous actor showcase that very much has its finger on the pulse of our current world despite being based on another film that is over 20 years old.

A remake of the 2003 South Korean film Save The Green Planet! from filmmaker Jang Joon-hwan, Bugonia also reunites Lanthimos with Kinds of Kindness’ Jesse Plemons – who stars as conspiracy theorist Teddy Gatz. Being terminally online and having suffered a number of personal tragedies, Teddy is convinced that the world is being secretly manipulated by an alien species called Andromedans, who live alongside us disguised as humans, and he has a plan to fix everything. Fully committed to the cause, he successfully enlists his autistic cousin Don (Aidan Delbis) on a key mission: he wants to kidnap pharmaceutical CEO Michelle Fuller (Emma Stone), whom he is convinced is an extraterrestrial who can set up a meeting between him and the Andromedan emperor.

The abduction is a success, as Teddy and Don capture their target without being seen, bring her to their shared home, and lock her up in her basement. With Michelle’s head shaved – her hair supposedly usable for communication with her species – and her body covered in ointment that is supposed to limit her alien abilities, she tries to convince her captors that she is a normal human being, but between Teddy’s extreme obsession and Don’s quiet acceptance of the plan, it’s an uphill battle with extremely high stakes.

Jesse Plemons and Aidan Delbis make a tremendous on screen pair with a fascinating dynamic.

To really dig into Emma Stone’s brilliant work, one must first discuss and respect the tremendous performances from Jesse Plemons and Aidan Delbis (the latter making his big screen debut with the feature). Teddy is our protagonist in this tale, bringing Don along as the audience surrogate into his tangled web of conspiracies and cosmic puppeteering, and it’s a fascinating dynamic that is handled with both authority and elegance by the actors. If Teddy lived down the street from you, you’d most definitely register him as an oddball to keep at a distance, but his confidence in his research is also charismatic and magnetic… much to the detriment of Don, who registers the moral implications of what they are doing and questions the legitimacy of the reasoning, but also needs the companionship and approval of the only other person in his life.

It’s sad (especially because of how accurately it serves as a metaphor for so many lives in the current stage of the internet age), but it’s also darkly hilarious – which is principally a credit to the male stars. Plemons consistently keeps a blend of grief and anger behind Teddy’s eyes, but the way in which he presents his outrageous convictions with such conviction is incredibly funny at times (This is a man who believes that he has successfully rendered a full 3D model of the Andromedan ship). Delbis, meanwhile, is a wonderful foil, offering remarkable reactions drenched in incredulity as Teddy spews nonsense, but also projecting a wonderful innocence and supportiveness that says everything about the character.

Emma Stone is nothing less than unbridled excellence.

A film needs a real ass-kicker to go up against the energy on the nutball side of the story – but I suppose that just means that cinephiles everywhere should once again be grateful that Emma Stone has clicked so well with Yorgos Lanthimos. It wasn’t really that long ago that she was on screen making tiramisu in home ec and throwing a house party with her parents out of town, but now she has the capacity to be a full-on wrecking ball. Simple stills from Bugonia showcase her commitment to the unglamorous performance – her head shaved, her skin slathered with white cream, and most of her scenes set in a dank basement – but Teddy and Don’s efforts to suppress Michelle’s ability can’t subdue the awesome of Stone.

I noted Teddy as the film’s protagonist earlier, which is the reality in the classic sense of the word, but Stone has Michelle effectively wrestle Plemons’ character for that title with her turn. She is clearly to be reckoned with from the start, as a badass montage in the first act sees her executing a diligent exercise and health routine before turning everyone’s heads as she makes her way in for a normal day of work, and her power only becomes more apparent once she has been taken. Following her capture, she delivers a monologue methodically laying out the serious trouble in which the men have found themselves with the abduction – offering the tenor of a dead serious board meeting – and when Teddy admits in reaction that the speech put him on his heels, the audience can wholly empathize.

Michelle is very smart (much smarter than both Teddy and Don), and watching Stone calculate her circumstances, execute a stratagem, deal with the consequences, and repeat is a constant delight – shifting from stoking fear, to placating, to bargaining, and on. They have her at a disadvantage physically, but the actress is effortlessly compelling in her efforts to outthink her captors.

Bugonia has a great deal going for it, but the plot is also naturally flawed.

The escalating tensions between the three principal characters and the performances from the stars are what make Bugonia worth seeking out on the big screen, with Lanthimos’ unique sensibilities ever accentuating the bizarre – with intense close-ups, stark black-and-white flashbacks that push the pedal down on the fantastical, and interludes depicting a flat Earth counting down the days to the next lunar eclipse (when the Andromedan ship will be within range for contact). There is, however, also an inherent flaw in the storytelling that the movie can’t quite transcend, and it has the effect of both limiting the director’s ability to go full-bore weird and preventing it from effectively get across what is a mostly great commentary about our internet-fried world. I can’t say much more about it in this spoiler-free space, but it can be said that there ends up being a bit of a letdown in the third act, and you can see it coming right from the very start of the film.

Bugonia is an off-beat comedy that is fittingly arriving in late October (it will make for a fine cinematic experience on Halloween, when it goes into wide release), and while it’s not Emma Stone and Yorgos Lanthimos at the top of their game, it is nonetheless a fine reminder of their excellence and how well they match as collaborators. Both are presently amongst the greatest talents in their respective fields, and their latest only furthers the case for that argument.

The horror genre has a wonderful history of elevating its female stars. In taking on evil in all different forms, heroines make the transformation from terrorized victim to indomitable survivor, and even after seeing it play out thousands of times on the big screen, it never gets old. Mary Elizabeth Winstead and Maika Monroe are two actors who have earned great acclaim and followings from this terrific cinematic tradition, and while that puts a certain amount of extra pressure on Michelle Garza Cervera’s The Hand That Rocks The Cradle as a film that sees them join forces (on beyond the pressure of being a remake), the movie proves worthy of their talents and gets a lot out of them as clashing forces.

The story’s foundation is the understandable fear of a parent putting the health and safety of their children in the hands of a caregiver, but it builds on top of that an exciting thriller that doesn’t underestimate the audience and is able to successfully unleash a number of surprises. And with its two genre veterans in the principal roles, it’s also able to complete two character arcs with notable complexity that allows one to ultimately see from both perspectives with equal weight.

Scripted by Micah Bloomberg, the film has Mary Elizabeth Winstead playing Caitlyn Morales, a lawyer and mother who we meet as she is about to give birth to her second daughter. She first meets Polly Murphy (Maika Monroe) at a work event, offering legal assistance for a conflict the latter is having with her landlord, and they reconnect a few months later after the new baby is born. Polly is a nanny who is jobless after the previous family she worked for moved away, and between being overwhelmed with the new child and feeling a connection with her, Caitlyn consults with her husband Miguel (Raúl Castillo) and makes the call to hire her.

Eventually, the job goes from part-time to full-time, as Polly moves into the guest house, and things seem fine… but, of course, they are not. Genial and responsible as she may seem, the nanny has a secret, and she is using her employment as a means of executing some long sought for revenge.

With its familiar story foundation, The Hand That Rocks The Cradle avoids a number of clichés in favor of compelling twists.

Going into watching the new film without having seen the Curtis Hanson-directed original, my worst fear was that the movie would foolishly try and keep the antagonist’s sinister intentions a secret for as long as possible – but that’s a trap that The Hand That Rocks The Cradle nimbly avoids. Polly dons an effective mask as she integrates herself into the Morales household, particularly well-liked by Emma (Mileiah Vega), Caitlyn and Miguel’s older daughter, but she pokes and prods at the domesticity and Caitlyn’s sanity with escalating impact. The initiates manipulation psychologically, earning Emma’s preference and playing on the protagonist’s history with same sex relationships, but that leads to bigger swings including poisoning, drugging, and eventually intense violence.

While Polly’s malicious goals aren’t kept hidden from the audience, the root of her hunger for vengeance and her past connection with Caitlyn are, and that ends up being the movie’s secret weapon. It can’t be said that it’s a mystery that builds, as Polly doesn’t go about leaving a number of obscure clues we can follow like breadcrumbs; it simply unleashes its big secrets across two scenes in the third act. But that being said (and I’m going to be very careful about not giving too much away), the answers to the questions are effectively shocking and add dimension in unexpected ways.

The turns by Mary Elizabeth Winstead and Maika Monroe make The Hand That Rocks The Cradle a special delight for genre fans.

For genre fans, having Mary Elizabeth Winstead and Maika Monroe go toe-to-toe is the big draw of The Hand That Rocks The Cradle, and both get meaty material to work with. Winstead has the more familiar territory to work in, but it makes her performance no less impressive. Caitlyn presents herself as being a put-together professional (the star’s charisma softening some of her Type A edges), but the character also has a history of mental instability that Polly ends up preying on, and it offers the actor an excellent opportunity for a downward spiral fueled by gaslighting, swapped medications, and rising fear for her family. Obviously, it ends up being a turn full of heightened emotions, and Winstead meets every moment.

With a filmography including standout titles such as The Guest, It Follows, Watcher and Longlegs, Monroe is the one who is really expanding her range with the film – and it would seem that she has learned a great deal starring opposite actors like Dan Stevens, Burn Gorman and Nicolas Cage. Sweetness and seduction from the actor let the character dig her claws into the Morales home – but what is really awesome to watch are the moments when her aforementioned mask slips. She doesn’t appear as a physical threat, but the boiling rage that bubbles behind her eyes offers an intense menace, and it’s paired with a serious tenacity that lets Polly pop.

There is a certain bluntness to the storytelling, specifically because the movie is so hyper-focused on the dynamic between Caitlyn and Polly, but it ends up earning that focus thanks to the strength of the characters and the performances that bring them to life. It’s a shame that it’s not getting a theatrical release, as its arrival in the fall could have made it a real big screen treat in a spooky season that feels a bit lacking in them (even while 2025 has been amazing for horror). As it stands, however, The Hand That Rocks The Cradle is definitely a title to add to your watch list as you prepare to marathon horror movies in celebration of the Halloween holiday.

Black Phone 2 is a rare breed from top to bottom. For one, it’s the only time director Scott Derrickson’s crafted a follow-up to one of his own films, and while the first was an expansion of a short story from horror maven Joe Hill, the second is only based on an idea that Hill had in mind. Ninety-nine times out of 100, that would start a recipe for disaster, but The Grabber’s return is haunting, hypnotic, and surpasses all my expectations.

In fact, Black Phone 2 is Derrickson’s most mature film to date and sits among the few horror sequels that outperforms its predecessor in just about every way. The cast, headed up once again by Mason Thames and Madeleine McGraw, takes it to the next level in the same way that the story does, convincingly giving Finney and Gwen the chance to prove themselves as genuine heroes on top of being survivors. And of course, Ethan Hawke commands attention every time he’s on screen donning tweaked versions of The Grabber’s already iconic mask.

Defying all the usual horror sequel tropes and avoiding nearly all of the expected trip-ups, Black Phone 2 is a breath of fresh and snowy air that has more heart, more humor, and more humanity than a lot of non-genre films hitting theaters this year. But let me now admit something that I’m kind of ashamed to say in hindsight: I didn’t actually feel quite this positive immediately after watching, and this review would have been a vastly different beast had I not had the time to let all those thoughts simmer.

Black Phone 2 is so different from The Black Phone that I initially questioned its very existence.

I had the privilege of watching Black Phone 2 among other highly invested horror fans for the world premiere at Fantastic Fest 2025, and the energy for the movie was palpable – not only in my screening room, but across the entire theater. For good reason, too, since it’s precisely the kind of movie that festival is known for, down to the throwback Universal logo that kicks things all off. What it isn’t, though, is a lazily crafted shadow of its predecessor.

Four years have passed since Finney walked out of The Grabber’s twisted hovel as the serial killer’s only known survivor, and he’s clearly dealing with that trauma in certain ways that reflect the events that came before. (Namely, beating the stuffing out of whoever deserves it.) However, the high schooler isn’t the only one being paranormally targeted this time around, as his sister Gwen’s psychic abilities also put her in the path of The Grabber’s beyond-the-grave wrath.

Rather than once again limiting the core events to a single location, Derrickson and his go-to co-writer C. Robert Cargill expand the scope of the story through Gwen’s visions. She sees the spectres of various children who’d suffered violent deaths and are being kept from moving on to the great beyond. An investigation leads them to the winter ski camp Alpine Lodge, with noteworthy elements including its supervisor Armando, portrayed by Demián Bichir, and a phone booth that hasn’t worked (properly) in over a decade.

So much of the film from this point on heavily incorporates Gwen’s visions and dreams, visually indicated by the switch from traditional film to the extremely grainy and slightly ethereal look of Super 8, which Derrickson utilizes in both bold and subtle ways – particularly when Gwen is being hunted and taunted by Ethan Hawke’s exceedingly toxic wraith. Even at its spookiest, the aesthetic maintains a warmth (perhaps ironically) where the first film often made me feel left out in the cold.

With so many differences to point out between 2021 movie and its sequel, my earliest opinions were blobby mixtures of enjoying what I was watching and questioning why this story wasn’t being told using completely a completely different ghoulish monster, an unfamiliar pair of antagonists and some new-fangled communication device. Not until well after the credits rolled did the real question truly sink in: why was I viewing this sequel’s pointedly intentional originality as if it was a problem instead of a solution?

Some of my favorite horror sequels also went in completely different directions from the originals.

Following the film's Fantastic Fest premiere, Scott Derrickson talked about his reticence to return to previously established worlds, as he never wants to deliver anything resembling a copy of what came before it, which myriad other franchises have zero issues with. One of the biggest reasons Black Phone 2 took years to come together is because Derrickson wanted his young co-leads to realistically grow into the next phase of Finney and Gwen's lives for an evolved coming-of-(r)age tale.

The easiest comparison to make, given The Grabber's transition from real-world monster to supernatural threat, is with the Nightmare on Elm Street films, most of which built up unique dream-tethered storylines atop a basic foundation of "Freddy killing him some teenagers." Dream Warriors and Wes Craven's New Nightmare are among my favorite genre films of all time, and both are vastly different from each other, as well as from the flagship slasher.

From Ti West's Pearl-centric X trilogy to Aliens to Army of Darkness to Bride of Chucky, there are thankfully quite a few examples of game-changing horror sequels out there, while a movie like Ouija: Origin of Evil achieving greatness despite having a truly terrible predecessor. With that perspective grasped, appreciating Black Phone 2 specifically for its differences became effortless.

I'm thankful that the way I experienced Black Phone 2 specifically helped me appreciate it more.

Had I watched Black Phone 2 on my tablet without a clue as to what any of it was about, I could probably still appreciate the cinematography in the dream sequences, the characters and The Grabber's look on a surface level, though I might be that much more critical of the storyline and some of the performances. However, this is one of those movies where my ever-increasing gratification and understanding stemmed entirely from how it was enjoyed, similar to a movie watched on a first date or another special occasion.

Not that I think others would need to follow in my footsteps to reach the same levels of enjoyment, given my initial qualms also came from a very specific place. The far-plainer version of this review could have easily read as: "Black Phone 2 is bigger, darker, and better," because that will no doubt be the takeaway that a lot of other viewers will have. But that kind of approach just wouldn't...grab...anyone's attention.

At this point, I'm willing to say that I'd watch Finney and Gwen go on cross-country adventures to bring justice to tortured spirits, always staying a step ahead of that dastardly Grabber. (And if the next movie is presented through the lens of a Scooby-Doo episode, that's all the better, I think.) Time will tell how well Black Phone 2 stacks up against 100 years of previous horror sequels, but I bet you can only count on one hand the number of horror movies with psycho killers on ice skates.

When After The Hunt starts, two philosophy professors and one of their students walk out of a party. The punchline? It comes, but not until after the story slowly descends into a very long, dark pit before sign of it reaching its destination flatly echoes. There’s an intriguing intention in Luca Guadagnino’s latest feature film to discuss power dynamics in many of its forms in the academic setting of Yale University. It thrives on not giving you easy answers, but more significantly, it leaves you with little to no intellectual questions to raise.

After The Hunt comes from a debut feature script by Nora Garrett, who previously had credits as an actress, personal assistant to stars like Rosamund Pike and Natasha Lyonne, and as a data analyst. The story catching the eye of director Luca Guadagnino is a compliment in of itself, considering the Italian filmmaker has made some of the most head-turning movies of the past decade – including Oscar darling Call Me By Your Name, the stylish Suspiria remake, the devastatingly haunting Bones And All, last year’s electric love triangle epic Challengers, and the Daniel Craig-led vulnerability of Queer.

The filmmaker has left audiences with a high bar of expectations when it comes to thrilling character work that’s always weighed well with his pristine eye. Once again, Guadagnino finds some eye-opening ways to make a movie feel like each frame is a piece of art, but there’s too much to be desired from the messaging in the story to make it an enjoyable 138-minute affair.

There’s a lot to be desired from the central commentary in After The Hunt.

Let’s go back to the set up. Julia Roberts and Andrew Garfield play Yale philosophy professors Alma Olsson and Hank Gibson, who know they are both up for tenure. After one of Alma’s parties, we learn from Ayo Edebiri’s Maggie, one of Alma's students, that Hank offered to walk her home, and according to the allegations she later brings to Alma’s attention, he apparently sexually harassed her. This incident puts Alma in an uncomfortable position between her star pupil and Hank, who has been a close friend for years.

The narrative is told mainly from Alma’s perspective, making it just as difficult for the audience to surmise who she should trust and advocate for and who she shouldn’t. All the while, there’s a peculiarity to Maggie and her motivations... but in a sticky, untenable way. She’s a queer woman who is seen often trying to mirror Alma’s sense of style, right down to her signature black nail polish. She’s also seen digging deeply into her personal life early on, starting with the lowest shelves in her teacher’s bathroom.

Roberts, Garfield and Edebiri rise to the occasion, each of them playing a bit against type from roles with which we usually associate them. But “the hunt” the title draws you into is pretty much nonexistent. It’s thrilling to a point, until you realize the corners the story is running you into are uninteresting ones that not only don't feel properly fleshed out but come up largely pointless. It lacks a true perspective on the issue of power dynamics or cancel culture, and then it lands on a middle ground by handing it over to the audience to decide whether it’s fooled you into thinking that it’s more heady than it is with whatever conclusions you may draw. It’s troubling in a time when those are solid topics to have popular media address and instigate further discussion.

Luca Guadagnino delivers on another well-directed film, but it’s one of his weaker movies in recent years.

Despite this, there is a centerpiece to After The Hunt, and it’s the characterization of Julia Roberts’ Alma. She’s a woman who seems to have lived her life steeped in ambition but is haunted by perpetual misery anyway. She’s been long married to her psychiatrist husband, Frederik (Michael Stuhlbarg), who’s become someone she takes for granted, as she ignores his invitations for nice dinners in, to have drinks with her colleagues near the campus. By her side, Stuhlbarg is a secret weapon of the movie, as he beautifully crafts their complicated marriage in a few standout scenes and tired glances.

Alma is a woman who has an enigmatic element to her that is barely solved later in the film. No matter: Roberts is absolutely incredible in the role and holds together some of the missing pieces of the storyline by doing what she does best – being so likable and grounded as a performer.

The saving grace of After The Hunt is the complex arc of Julia Roberts’ character.

Despite the disappointment of the movie as a whole, the director pours you right into Alma’s world of opulence and prestige academia, with first-time collaboration with cinematographer Malik Hassan Sayeed being an added highlight. They are match made so well, it’s no wonder they're working together again on his next film, Artificial. There’s an bougieness to the setting and characters at the center that feels like a daydream away from what’s the typical college experience. Composers Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, who chose a rave-soaked soundtrack for Challengers, once again bring a beating heart to one of Guadagnino’s movies with a more classical score that sometimes drones into the sound to blaring tick-tocks on a clock.

Guadagnino’s style as a filmmaker is undeniable at this point, but since the substance is wanting, it’s just not as effective as his other work. There’s a hold on gorgeously thrilling framing and aesthetic intensity, but without there being room for the audience to feel the important catharsis we want to complete the stress cycle of a film like this, After The Hunt feels like a stomach-ache that comes and then goes without answers or consequence. And doesn't leave a lot with you outside of stylish visuals and frustration.

Speaking as a Tron fan, I can honestly say that I never expected to ever see another Tron movie. In the ramp-up to the release of Tron: Legacy back in 2010, I can distinctly remember getting the impression that Walt Disney Studios felt some light embarrassment about the 1982 original, with distinct hope that the franchise would earn some cool points with a shiny, modern sequel. However, then said sequel ended up leaving theaters with the reputation of being somewhat of a boondoggle, with solid earnings at the worldwide box office colored by the film’s major budget and heaps of criticism about the attempt to digitally de-age star Jeff Bridges.

My expectations for more big screen action from the Tron franchise was graded “pessimistic” for nearly a decade and a half – but being someone who has long been charmed by the original and impressed by the eye-popping style and action of Legacy, that isn’t how I would describe my ultimate anticipation for director Joachim Rønning’s Tron: Ares. As long as public information about the project has existed, I have hoped that it would be another exciting adventure taking characters in and out of the wild, biodigital jazz-filled world of The Grid. (And its certainly the case that technology has only become a more significant part of all our lives in the last 15 years, creating plenty of opportunity for commentary about the modern world.)

I never expected Tron 3, so I was happy when news came out that it was happening. Now what I’m left with is the irksome feeling of simple mild disappointment. Audiences are once again treated to a big screen spectacle, with stellar effects, a collection of cool action beats, sleek designs and a phenomenal score by Nine Inch Nails. But shiny aesthetics are muddied by a weak, McGuffin-driven story that is populated by rote characters, and Jared Leto stands out as being terrifically miscast in the movie’s subtitular role.

Deciding to not really bother with any of the consequences from the plot of Tron: Legacy, Tron: Ares reintroduces us to the canon as a significant race plays out between two of the world’s major forces in tech. Eve Kim (Greta Lee), the CEO of ENCOM, and Julian Dillinger (Evan Peters), the head of Dillinger Systems, have both seen the development of technologies that allow coded creations from The Grid to be brought into real life, but there is a strict limitation: creations only last for 29 minutes before disintegration.

Eve wants to use the technology for advances in health and food production, while Julian is laser focused on military applications – but both require the magical Permanence Code in order to make their dreams a reality. Eve is the first to find it, discovering it buried by the long-missing Kevin Flynn (Jeff Bridges), but when Julian gets wind of the discovery, he activates his advanced security program Ares (Jared Leto) to locate and steal it.

Fitting the traditions of the franchise, Tron: Ares is a visual stunner with a score that ends up being the best thing about the movie.

If you’re on the hunt for detailed and smart worldbuilding paired with compelling and insightful storytelling, Tron: Ares is a cinematic experience that is very much going to leave you wanting. But if what you’re seeking is more akin to a choreographed laser light show at a planetarium, you will be effectively dazzled.

Between motor/lightcycles, tanks, jets, drones, boats and more, not to mention hand-to-hand combat, Joachim Rønning makes what feels like a concentrated effort to check all of the action boxes, and there is rarely a long lull between set pieces. Tight, dynamic cinematography with plenty of actor close-ups keeps us rooted in the perspective of the character, making chases and fights feel all the more intense and emotional. Exceptional visual effects blend the digital and practical better than any previous film in this franchise.

Of course, a laser light show isn’t complete without a proper soundtrack that you can feel deep in your guts, and that’s where the genius of Nine Inch Nails comes in. Even with the extreme, Oscar-winning pedigree of Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, there were big shoes to fill in the music department with Tron: Ares, as I say with zero hesitation that Daft Punk’s scoring of Tron: Legacy constitutes the best aspect of the 2010 blockbuster. But those are shoes brilliantly filled and NIN’s work, which earns the same superlative in the context of the 2025 film. The deep-drilling beats and intense synth sounds successfully makes everything more compelling in the moment, and the power of it remains even as you digest the underwhelming story.

The story Tron: Ares chooses to tell is insultingly basic.

Given all of the tension in our world regarding the extreme impact that tech and tech companies have, I had anticipated that Tron: Ares would be a movie that, at the very least, recognized the zeitgeist and have something even modestly interesting to say. That proved to be a foolish thought, as this is a film with no stance to take or comment to make. There is exactly zero nuance in the plotting, which you likely sussed out from my description of the protagonist and antagonist motives. (I’ll mention that Gillian Anderson plays Julian’s mother, who exists in the story to scold her son about his amoral behavior going after Eve, but her impact amounts to simply reminding the audience that what Julian is doing is wrong.)

Between the one-dimensional storytelling and rote use of a basic plot device on which everything hinges, Jesse Wigutow’s screenplay is never able to properly establish any stakes or interesting dynamics. Even with comedic talents in the cast like Arturo Castro (playing Eve’s friend/colleague) and Hasan Minhaj (as ENCOM’s CTO), the whole film is additionally humorless, and little progress is made in creating emotional relationships between the characters.

Jared Leto puts in a clunker of a performance playing a very vital role.

This is particularly damaging to the film where Ares’ arc is concerned. The character is designed by Julian Dillinger and introduced as the ultimate expendable soldier… but he goes against his programming as soon as he registers a single person that doesn’t see him as disposable, and he begins to seek being something more than code in the real world.

Putting aside that Jared Leto’s look, with long hair and a beard, is wholly ill-fitting for the part, the actor simply doesn’t deliver what Ares needs to express in any given scene – be it repressed awe at seeing real rain for the first time, or later his inability to put into words what he feels when listening to the music of Depeche Mode. The emotional journey the plot demands is not offered in Leto’s performance, and it’s a major problem that bigly holds the movie back.

With the history of Tron including groundbreaking visual effects and standout franchise development (there is a strong argument to be made that Tron: Legacy kickstarted the modern age of legacyquels), Tron: Ares is a movie that feels like it could have been much “more” but settles for being less. Its disinterest in making any kind of statement or expressing any kind of opinion makes it feel like its cultural impact won’t go beyond the spectacle that it presents on the big screen – though I suppose I certainly can be thankful that we got a new Nine Inch Nails album out of it.

This is perhaps a little overzealous to say, but I never believe it when an artist says that they are retiring. If a true talent exists, I don’t think that the artistic impulse can simply be flicked off like a switch; real passion cannot be killed, and the urge to create cannot be permanently ignored. Case in point: I was never convinced that Daniel Day-Lewis’ final performance was going to be in Paul Thomas Anderson’s 2017 film Phantom Thread, and with the creation and arrival of Anemone, I am thrilled to be proven correct, as the legendary actor has not lost an ounce of his dramatic skill and gravitas in the last eight years, and his turn in the film is simply phenomenal.

A story about fathers and sons fittingly co-written by the three-time Oscar winner and his son, first-time director Ronan Day-Lewis, the film is an onion: it presents as being very simple, but the progression of the story peels back layers and unveils something potent below. You can count all of the characters on one hand, and it volleys back and forth between just two principal locations, but it’s lean, raw, and powerful, and the script demands exceptional the performances that it gets from not just Day-Lewis but also Sean Bean, Samuel Bottomley, and Samantha Morton.

Anemone’s subject is the Stoker family – a fractured clan with a complicated history. Jem Stoker (Sean Bean) is married to Nessa (Samantha Morton) and together they have raised their teenage son Brian (Samuel Bottomley), but Brian is the biological child of Jem’s brother Ray (Daniel Day-Lewis), who abandoned Nessa when she was pregnant to live a life of solitude in the wilderness. There is no communication between Ray and the family for years, but circumstances change when Brian is involved in an altercation that sees him nearly beat another boy to death and is on the verge of being declared AWOL from the military.

While the teen stays at home at grapples with what he has done, Jem decides that it is finally time to reunite with his brother, and he travels out to Ray’s home in the wild to see if he can’t get him to meet his son. Disturbed from a lifetime full of experienced horrors and irrepressibly obstinate, Ray furiously rejects the opportunity, but over the course of days spent together, Jem gets him to open up about the terrible secret that drove him away from the world after his time in service during The Troubles.

Anemone works with a very simple structure that ends up having great emotional weight.

On one side of Anemone, there is the simple-yet-immensely-complicated question of “Why did Ray abandon his family?” and it deals blow after emotional blow as it paints a portrait of an extremely complicated and broken man, with Jem growing to understand who his sibling has become. Ray is a bona fide sonofabitch, with a temper foul enough that you expect him to eventually start spitting acid – but he is captivating, and his brother’s persistence reminds that there is a human in there made of more than just trauma and rage.

The other half of the film is the examination of the power of a father in a son’s world – whether he is actually a part of it or not. We only get a snapshot of Brian’s life, but we understand him as a young man who not only is plagued by the mystery of not knowing his father, but also clearly has inherited some of his traits (the standout being his anger).

It’s an immensely heavy cinematic experience to be sure, but part of what’s fascinating about the work is how it manages to not drown you in misery. This is in part a tribute to the tonal complexity of the film’s script – a perfect example of this being a disgusting tale of scatological revenge that Ray tells… about getting back at an elderly priest who sexually abused him as a child. (You truly do not know whether to laugh or cry.) Another part of this is the film’s remarkable beauty, as Jem and Ray spend their days ensconced in stunning forests and running along expansive beaches. And then there is the tremendous cast doing tremendous work.

Daniel Day-Lewis alone is worth the price of admission, but the entire cast is spectacular.

The intimacy of the work demands actors who melt into their roles, and the stars prove up to the challenging task. It will surprise nobody to learn that Daniel Day-Lewis is the showstopper, in the grand scheme injecting his character with pathos as powerful as his spite, but Sean Bean is a powerful pilot for the emotional journey, not only drawing out Ray’s truth emotionally but confronting him physically.

Samuel Bottomley and Samantha Morton are brilliant in their own right on the other side of the plot. The former effuses a lifetime of confusion and pain in his eyes and hung shoulders, long tortured by both his father’s absence and left behind reputation, while the latter offers a potent blend of love and fear, wanting what is best for her son but having many questions of her own about why Ray left.

Anemone is worth seeing for the return of Daniel Day-Lewis alone, as he is a singular artists and one of the most gifted men to ever perform in front of a camera. But the bonus is that he and his son also happen to make tremendous collaborators and have together made a movie that is deep, challenging, beautiful, dark and ultimately optimistic.

Having an animal nearby in our households and/or in those of our family and friends is a constant throughout many of our lives. And having a dog in particular often feels like this symbiotic relationship where us humans get unconditional love, protection and a fuzzy friend that will follow us anywhere in exchange for giving them a safe and fulfilling life by your side. Ben Leonberg’s Good Boy explores this idea thoughtfully in the framing of a horror movie with man’s best friend serving as the protagonist – somehow for the first time in cinema history, and it’s a first-well executed.

Seeing a horror movie fully from the POV of a dog seems like a movie that had to have happened before, and it seems as though it would be too ambitious to get right in the first go. But Good Boy succeeds in its execution and is actually better for being a DIY-vibed independent movie that operates in a pure way addressing the question, “What would a film look like if a dog saw the ghosts in a haunted house instead of the human characters?” What’s revealed from this often melancholy cinematic experiment is an unnerving, yet tender exploration of the relationship between a dog and its owner.

Good Boy centers on a truly impressive performance by the director’s dog.

To reiterate: Good Boy is very much an independent movie. Writer/director Ben Leonberg wore a lot of hats as the movie’s cinematographer and producer as well, and he cast his own dog, an absolutely adorable Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever named Indy. With his wife, he lived on the movie’s set across a three-year period to get the most honest performance out of his non-Hollywood trained animal. The results pay off. Indy gives a rare performance that’s often lost with canine actors.

Good Boy starts when Indy (the dog's name in the movie as well) and his owner Todd (Shane Jensen) arrive at a creepy family home where Todd plans to isolate himself as he continues to deal with some serious health issues. The house is pretty much in the middle of nowhere, and the story takes place almost entirely inside as Indy begins to notice supernatural occurrences. It’s a unique take on the genre because Indy cannot ask for help here. The powerlessness of the animal protagonist looms over the entire film as he continues to experience the darkness of the new place.

Indy has a big job of having to carry the film emotionally, even though, again, he is a dog – and not one of those talking and/or CGI kinds. You really do feel those emotions with extremely limited dialogue in the movie.

Good Boy almost feels like the perfect assignment for filmmakers or a film studies class to watch and discuss among them when talking about the importance of the technical side of movies, as even with the production's limited resources, cinematography, sound, and editing all contribute to heightening the experience. If you’re all about a lot of lore/interconnected plotlines more than experimentation in those departments, this will probably fall flat for you. It’s all about playing out the concept here.

The horror movie keeps the perspective on Indy the whole time, and with that comes some inherent narrative limits.

Good Boy is filmed from the perspective of Indy, with a lot of low shots that make Todd’s face and expressions obscured for most of the movie. It makes for a unique viewing experience where like a dog, you don’t have the full scope of the human world, and have only a limited perception of what’s happening. There are some inherent narrative limitations with this approach – but that's also why the film has a runtime of just 73 minutes: it needs to retain a certain sense of simplicity and bite (pun intended) in order to commit to its approach.

When there is dialogue, mostly in Todd and his sister Vera’s conversations over the phone, there’s a lack of polish to be registered. Sometimes it feels like the technicality of getting the perspective right was weighed more heavily than the more traditional storytelling details, and that leads to some gaps in the middle of the tense ride. But the third act helps even out some of the squeaks in the floorboards in the script.

The terrors in Good Boy may not be completely fleshed out, but the emotion behind the movie makes up for this.

There’s a nostalgia to the visual style in the movie that may reminded me of Poltergeist, especially since the house itself doesn’t seem like it’s been touched for decades. A lot of smart aesthetic choices are made, with Ben Leonberg manipulating the lighting throughout Indy’s timid odyssey through the haunted house and upping the eerie. As the movie progresses, audiences slowly get a better sense of what Indy and Todd are up against... but remember: indie movie equals indie VFX. Good Boy's story is telling is fresh and rich with symbolism, its loose narrative allowing audiences to project their own experiences on to it, and those who have had their own meaningful pets will find pay off in the emotional third act.

Good Boy is a scrappy indie movie. If you’re looking for wall-to-wall scares and a lot of plot, it won’t be for you. But if you’re a modern horror fan who’s interested in eerie, atmospheric experimentation in the genre with purpose, this is a memorable and thought-provoking watch that makes one want to hold the sweet animals in our lives closer (and with more reverence).

One of the most widely understood fixtures of horror fandom is that the more sequels a franchise has, the greater the chances are for diminishing returns with each film. Amityville Horror and Texas Chain Saw Massacre fans are all too aware of it, though rare exceptions can and do exist. (See: Wes Craven’s New Nightmare, Saw X, the Scream requels.) As such, it’s not even a candid confession to say I had minimal confidence the V/H/S anthology could still possibly deliver a “series-best” entry at this point in the run.

It turns out my expectations are worthy of being toilet-papered and pelted with rotten eggs, because V/H/S/Halloween is not only the best V/H/S film yet, but it’s also one of the most fun horror anthologies of the modern era. Rather than focusing on a specific year, similar to several past entries, producers Josh Goldblum and Brad Miska instead organically leaned into the most apropos holiday possible for found-footage, and the result is all treats, zero tricks.

Diet Phantasma - Directed By Bryan M. Ferguson

The wraparound segment for this year's entry, Diet Phantasma is essentially a series of recorded consumer feedback interviews revolving around a newly introduced formula for the soft drink Diet Phantasma. To say the potable has a bite would be putting it mildly, and these segments serve as quick and exceedingly gnarly pops between the longer segments.

Coochie Coochie Coo - Directed By Anna Zlokovic

Director Anna Zlokovic previously adapted her Bite-Sized Horror episode "Appendage" into a full-length 2023 feature, but I can only hope that "Coochie Coochie Coo" is a sign of how her career is evolving: this viscerally disturbing segment could easily serve as textbook "how-to" guidance for future V/H/S filmmakers and beyond. Here, a group of teens find themselves trapped in a truly haunted house with an child-snatching entity dubbed "The Mommy," and seemingly every kind of worthwhile scare tactic is thrown into the mix for a cacophonous assault on the senses. Anyone seeking out Halloween candy munchies will likely have their appetite thwarted by what transpires within The Mommy's abode.

Ut Supra Sic Infra - Directed By Paco Plaza

Paco Plaza co-wrote and co-directed one of cinema's most effective found-footage movies to date, 2007's [REC], which anchored the aesthetic to a TV reporter and her cameraman. His segment in V/H/S/Halloween skews more to zeitgest-y obsessions with true crime content, and centers on the sole survivor of a eye-poppingly brutal massacre. In an attempt to figure out a timeline of events from the night before, the survivor takes police on a doomed journey that embraces the phrase "as above, so below" both literally and figuratively. My favorite found-footage moments involve audiences witnessing things that would truly be unbelievable, and that idea gets spun around quite nicely in "Ut Supra Sic Infra."

Fun Size - Directed By Casper Kelly

The creator of Adult Swim's seminal "Too Many Cooks" short (as well as co-creator of Stroker & Hoop, Your Pretty Face Is Going To Hell and more), Casper Kelly unsurprisingly delivers the most hilariously bonkers entry in the anthology, which sets up no fewer than three distinct moments that will 100% cause viewers to holler out in amused disgust. It's a cautionary tale about teens who don't follow a candy bowl's "one per person" rule, as well as a warning that the urban legends of razorblades in apples isn't the most disturbing takeaway one can get while trick-or-treating.

Kidprint - Directed By Alex Ross Perry

Though not the most seasoned in horror fare, filmmaker Alex Ross Perry (Her Smell, Listen Up Philip) helms arguably the most directly bothersome segment in V/H/S/Halloween, and one that naturally involves his lifelong love of video stores. "Kidprint" centers on just such a business that supplies the titular child-centric videos that are ideally meant to be used by police in cases where children go missing. But once connections are made between the service and the disappearances, how much of it is coincidence and how much is pure evil?

Home Haunt - Directed By Micheline Pitt-Norman & R.H. Norman

"Home Haunt" is essentially a contained and wildly more adult take on Marlon Wayans' spooky family comedy The Curse of Bridge Hollow, and I dare say, it's more worthy of viewers' time. The segment centers on a home haunt whose freaky props and attractions come to live due to a cursed LP. It's the latest from married co-directors Micheline Pitt-Norman and R.H. Norman, who helmed the acclaimed 2021 short Grummy with teen scream queen Violet McGraw.

Despite still boasting plenty of the usual nitpicks that one can make about V/H/S movies (and horror anthologies in general) (an overlong runtime, largely forgettable characters, simplistic storytelling, nausea-inducing camerawork),V/H/S/Halloween is somehow greater than the sum of its parts. And there are lots of parts strewn about – believe me. It may not be the most cohesive horror movie you'll see in 2025, but it's absolutely worth the price of a month of Shudder.

Not being one to celebrate Christmas in its typical context, I have an annual tradition of celebrating Shane Black Christmas. Since breaking out in Hollywood in the mid-1980s selling his script for Lethal Weapon, Black has made a habit of setting his action movies during the holiday season – understanding that the specific setting has its own kind of heightened atmosphere – and it’s been a special spice used in the majority of his work. He added it to screenplays through the 1990s (including The Last Boy Scout and The Long Kiss Goodnight), and he kept it going when he moved into the director’s chair to make Kiss Kiss Bang Bang and Iron Man 3 (I’ll add that I include The Nice Guys in the marathon too given its final scene set in late December).

It should probably go without saying at this point that this is an incredibly specific genre that I am always happy to see get expanded – and this year, proverbial Christmas has come early with Play Dirty: Shane Black’s stab at bringing Donald E. Westlake’s a.k.a. Richard Stark’s legendary thief Parker back to the screen. And while it’s not the equivalent of getting everything on my holiday wish list thanks to overcooked plotting, it successfully satisfies thanks to Black’s signature attitude and snappy dialogue paired with a talented ensemble cast that is very game for the sharp-edged adventure.

Dropping us into a lived-in world that expands on the conflicted dynamic between the independent rogue Parker (Mark Wahlberg) and the dangerous, New York crime syndicate known as The Outfit, the film begins as the protagonist successfully pulls off a successful, big payday job only to be betrayed by a member of the crew (I won’t say who here in order to maintain the surprise). Barely surviving the treachery and promising revenge to the widow of a fallen friend, he goes after the traitor only to get roped into a far bigger operation with far greater riches up for grabs.

After a South American dictator lays claim to a sunken treasure thought lost for centuries, a conspiracy is orchestrated that will see him line his own pockets and leave his people with nothing, but revolutionaries hatch a plan to take the treasure before it can be “stolen” and privately sold. Parker has both the skills and the crew (LaKeith Stanfield, Keegan-Michael Key, Clair Loverling, Chai Hansen) to help pull off the job – but being a part of the operation means breaking a deal with Lozini (Tony Shalhoub), the head of The Outfit, to stay out of his city.

Play Dirty's script struggles to workaround movie-goers' familiarity with the heist genre, and it tries to do too much.

Shane Black loves a twisty mystery, from the false flag operation in The Long Kiss Goodnight to the Hollywood murder plot in Kiss Kiss Bang Bang to the auto industry corruption in The Nice Guys, but what’s he has cooked up in Play Dirty with co-writers Charles Mondry and Anthony Bagarozzi bites off more than it can properly chew and feels overdone as a result. One senses the filmmakers’ efforts to subvert audience expectations formed from decades and decades of heist movies – but instead of zagging in the places where you think it’s going to zig, the strategy instead is more about piling extra twists on top of one another, and it makes an unsteady stack.

Adding insult to injury, it’s still not terribly hard to see some of its bigger surprises coming.

There is a great mix of massive action set pieces and fun, dark bits.

Play Dirty doesn’t quite subvert the genre as much as you’d want from a filmmaker as talented as Shane Black, but what he has definitely not lost his knack for are exciting and fun set pieces that frequently toss in elements of the weird and unexpected to keep things fresh. The movie hits you with this special flavor right from the start – with a robbery interrupted by an opportunist that devolves into a car chase that interrupts a horse race – and those fun ideas keep flowing and hitting even as the plotting teeters. There is an entertaining flow of clever that keeps the film afloat throughout in both big and small ways, from a plan to purposefully crash a train full of garbage to a gag where a man on fire tries to douse himself in a pool of what turns out to be electrified water.

Shane Black's ear for dialogue is as sharp as ever.

Of course, another classic Shane Black-ism is the amazing buddy dynamic that is his bread-and-butter. Being an ensemble-driven narrative and Parker being the independent soul that he is, the movie doesn’t make any overt efforts to carve out that kind of relationship in the cast, but there is plenty of sparking energy created in standout scenes and some wonderful personalities – each of whom work magic with the script's crackling back-and-forths and bon mots.

Mark Wahlberg and Rosa Salazar have a great combative dynamism, the latter playing a freedom fighter who enlists Parker’s help but, despite her best efforts, can’t earn his trust. LaKeith Stanfield is a standout as Grofield, a thespian who operates as a criminal to fund his anti-audience theater efforts, and while Chai Hansen’s Stan is so incredibly dumb and incompetent that he makes a questionable addition to the heist team, his behavior yields some of the film’s funniest moments.

Within the Shane Black Christmas canon, Play Dirty doesn’t represent the filmmaker at the height of his powers, but it is him working square within his wheelhouse (Black and Westlake/Stark is a perfect match) and generating entertaining results. It’s a movie that would have benefited from a little bit more creative energy put towards upending the familiar of heist movies, but it settles for being a solid entry for the genre.

All of Paul Thomas Anderson’s movies share in common a particular cinematic flair, and there is no denying his affection for the 1970s and/or Los Angeles as a backdrop, but he is a filmmaker who is nonetheless impossible to fit into a single box as a storyteller. His eclecticism has seen him bounce from tales of aspiring porn stars, to Adam Sandler-led romance, to oil prospector drama, to hippie-driven mystery. Each of his films feels like the writer/director taking on a big and new challenge to his craft. In that sense, One Battle After Another is both one of his grandest swings and one of his most spectacular successes.

The movie has the novel Vineland by Thomas Pynchon as its base (Anderson’s second time working from the author’s source material after 2014’s Inherent Vice), but with that book being unadaptable as a big screen story, the filmmaker carves out certain details and elements, alters major protagonists, antagonists and events, and forges an epic that is equally funny, dramatic and thrilling – an all-around blissful big screen experience. And on top of everything else, it delivers a revolutionary spirit that couldn’t possibly be more apt for our current political moment in the United States.

We meet our protagonist “Ghetto” Pat Calhoun (Leonardo DiCaprio) as he joins in with a far-left organization called the French 75 – which carries out missions liberating detained immigrants, attacking political offices, and sabotaging the power grid. Pat falls in love with the extreme and unpredictable Perfidia Beverly Hills (Teyana Taylor), and the group has a successful run, but it all comes apart due to Perfidia’s relationship with the fascistic Steven J. Lockjaw (Sean Penn), whom she meets as a commanding officer at a detention center.

An affair between Perfidia and Lockjaw results in her becoming pregnant, but things go from bad to worse when she is captured after a botched bank job. She agrees to flip on all the members of the French 75, and while she opts for escape to Mexico over witness protection, she forces all of her colleagues to go into hiding – including Pat and her young daughter, Charlene.

Sixteen years later, Pat and Charlene have transformed into Bob and Willa Ferguson (Chase Infiniti), the former having become a stoner burnout who parents through paranoia but has raised a smart and capable daughter. They live a normal life in the community of Baktan Cross, but everything goes to hell with the return of Steven Lockjaw – who is in consideration to join the exclusive white supremacist group known as the Christmas Adventurers Club and needs to silence any discussion that he has a biracial love child.

One Battle After Another has a powerful statement to make amid some wonderful goofiness.

If you picked up on the contrasting tones of “liberating detained immigrants” and the existence of an organization that calls itself the Christmas Adventures Club, congratulations, because you have picked up on a sample of what makes One Battle After Another such a wonderful and unique work. In less capable hands, a movie juggling these kinds of elements would suffer an identity crisis, undercutting its own messaging and leaving the audience unclear what they are watching, but Paul Thomas Anderson has made a film that is able to be both super goofy and insightful.

When Steven Lockjaw sets his sights on Baktan Cross, a dual narrative is born, made to diverge before eventually colliding. Willa, who is at a school dance when shit starts to hit the fan, is whisked away to safety by Deandra (Regina Hall), a French 75 member who has gotten wind of new moves against the group, and through their journey of escape, the young girl grows to understand the meaning of the fight and some devastating truths about her parentage.

Meanwhile, Bob, who has spent years successfully waging war on his own brain cells, has to gather together what shreds of competency he retains to try and find Willa and protect her – though he fortunately has an ally in the mysterious Sensei Sergio St. Carlos (Benicio del Toro), who helps support the local immigrant community and shepherds the revolutionary on his mission. You can probably guess which side of the story has more of the laughs, but they are equally engaging and propulsive.

Everything is motivated by the character’s emotions and passion, from the fight against tyranny to the love between a father and daughter (providing all of the stakes that the film needs), and it’s executed with a satirical bent that allows it to be as funny as it is fascinating in its examination of modern America. It’s too fun to ever be heavy-handed or border on anything near preachy, and still powerful and smart.

Leonardo DiCaprio is the shining star of One Battle After Another, but Teyana Taylor is a powerful scene-stealer.

The film is a second crack at 21^st century satire for Leonardo DiCaprio following the swing-and-miss that is Adam McKay’s Don’t Look Up, but One Battle After Another is his opportunity to find his version of The Dude, and it’s a wild success. Pat is a key cog in the machine as the explosives expert of the French 75, but pot does some impressive damage to his focus and faculties and it’s a trip seeing DiCaprio belly crawl on mats beneath the large windows of a dojo, bicker on the phone with a comrade because he can’t recall all of his code phrases, and (unsuccessfully) leap across rooftops.

There are no weak links in the chain across the ensemble cast, but it has its standouts. Benicio del Toro offers a perfect contrasting energy to what DiCaprio is doing, with Sensei St. Carlos ever-offering an air of calm capability, and Sean Penn effectively turns Lockjaw into a horrible-yet-unstoppable force. But if there’s any complaint to be offered, it’s that the story ultimately gives us so little of Teyana Taylor's Perfidia Beverly Hills, as the actress is utterly electric on screen and the character is a force from which you can’t turn away.

Without question, Paul Thomas Anderson has made one of the best movies of 2025.

To go along with the mix of drama and comedy is a hefty dose of action unlike anything we’ve seen before from Paul Thomas Anderson, and the filmmaker’s 1970s sensibilities mesh spectacularly with the thrills – from the opening sequence with the French 75 in action, to the raid that sees Bob quickly forced to evacuate his home, to a heart-racing car chase that climaxes with explosive cleverness. Anderson’s propensity to lead the audience with an unblinking eye envelopes you in the movie’s dense and authentic world, and sequences (like Bob’s hectic journey behind the scenes of Sensei Sergio St. Carlos’ operation) are simply jaw-dropping.

This is a passion project that Paul Thomas Anderson has been wanting to make for a while, and it’s incredible passion well-applied. The scope and tone is to be marveled at, and it’s both fun and emotionally fulfilling. One will be hard pressed to find a richer time at the movies than One Battle After Another in 2025, and it’s unquestionably one of the best films of the year.

Dakota Fanning has long proven herself capable of excelling within all genres, and as a horror fanatic, I’m always enthused when she exerts her talents on spookier projects. It’s a genre blessing indeed that Vicious, her big-screen successor to 2024’s The Watchers, is another limited-location chiller that ramps up the scares, gore, and emotional dread. If only her character’s story were on the same level…

Vicious, which made its world premiere during Fantastic Fest’s 20th anniversary, is the latest from writer/director Bryan Bertino, best known for creepily invading our homes with 2009’s The Strangers. With that and later projects, Bertino cemented his talents behind the camera, and I’ve always found his directing talents to be a step or two above his storytelling. That personal critique remains consistent throughout Vicious. That said, he employs such a fun and expansive bag of horror magic tricks that it’s easy to sit back and enjoy the ride.

Cursed Box With Mysteriously Specific Rules? Check

Dakota Fanning's tattoo-covered Polly is going through both past and present-day struggles, and her niece seems to be the only source of light in that darkness. So the last thing Polly needs in her life is a weird and confused old woman showing up on her doorstep with a bandaged hand and a nondescript wooden box of doom.

The movie's dread-laced set up is laid out clearly: Polly will die if she doesn't appease the box's requirements for the owner to offer up something they love, something they hate, and something they need, all before an included ornate hourglass runs out. (And let me tell you, this box is a right fickle bitch about its own rules .) Before Polly realizes it, the curse has been bestowed upon her, and it's the kind of curse that preys on personal demons and skeleton-filled closets.

Reality-Bending Chaos With Nerve-Rattling Sound Design? Check

The film's soundscape is perhaps its most impressive element, especially once the box starts destroying Polly's sense of reality with one incident after another. It's as if every action in Vicious was captured by a 360-degree array of microphones, from doors unlocking, to Polly taking drags of a cigarette to the skin being pierced. Not so unnerving when each is heard in solitary, but when the cacophonous bombardment of ringing phones, nursery rhymes, screaming children and slamming doors sets in, it's hard not to start squirming in discomfort.

Having watched Vicious in a packed theater with booming speakers, I retroactively found it astounding that Paramount Pictures has nixed the film's theatrical release in place of a Paramount+ debut. Bertino, sound designer Chuck Michael and the rest of the team put a ton of dedicated effort into making the movie as much of an aural horror as a visual one, and it's a shame that the majority of home audience members won't get that same pulse-pounding experience.

Dakota Fanning Excellence And Tons Of Horror Tricks? Check

If anyone questioned this before, let's make it official now: Dakota Fanning is a Scream Queen. Her performance in Vicious is excellent, as she adds an emotional layer to the character that does a lot of work filling out Polly's intentionally vague backstory involving her various family members – who each end up making appearances in one way or another. With another actor in the role, I might just be watching to see what wacky shit happens next, but Fanning makes it easy to empathize with the protagonist during her plights.

What an array of plights and frights it is, too. Bryan Bertino throws a ton of beloved horror stunts and gags at the metaphorical wall in Vicious, and most of them stick. I'm a sucker for evil mirror reflections and when slow camera pans are used to reveal pure insanity, and those are just two of literally dozens of fun and freaky elements that I couldn't get enough of in Vicious.

Fully Fleshed-Out Story And Consistently Logical Character Behavior? Not So Much

For all the hints and breadcrumbs spread throughout the film, and for all that Dakota Fanning's performance helps, Polly's story leaves audiences with perhaps too many unanswered questions for her story to feel fully cohesive. I'm perfectly fine with not having a feature-length origin tale about the box itself, and I do like when things are open to interpretation, but I'm less fond of feeling like I missed out on important info.

As well, Polly's behavior throughout the film veers from naturally understandable to totally anti-intuitive, with too much time spent watching the hourglass' sand drip down while questioning why it's all happening. There's a scene beyond the midpoint where Polly gripes about not knowing what the box wants, despite having a pretty good idea. It's a movie moment for sure, but maybe not something a real person would do.

There's not all that much to chew on after it's all over with, and I do wish the story would have utilized the snowy setting a bit more. All in all, though, Vicious is a greatest hits of horror scares and jolts that will have viewers screaming, gasping and giggling with malicious glee.

It’s perhaps a bit odd to note, but I feel as though I’ve been on a real hot streak in 2025 when it comes to my most anticipated new horror movies – which is to say that I have consistently found my expectations either met or exceeded by the scary films to which I’ve been most looking forward. It started very early in the year with Drew Hancock’s Companion offering up great surprises and some wicked tonal gymnastics, and I’ve been shocked and/or overjoyed by many incredible cinematic experiences since then, with the standout titles including The Monkey, Sinners, The Rule Of Jenny Pen, Final Destination: Bloodlines, Bring Her Back, 28 Years Later, Together, Weapons, and The Long Walk.

As all sports fans know, however, all hot streaks must come to an end at some point – and I suppose that makes it oddly appropriate that it’s director Justin Tipping’s HIM that has put an end to mine. I’ve been well-intrigued by the football-centric horror for the majority of 2025, with Jordan Peele’s attachment as a producer being an eyebrow-raiser even before I got to see the freaky first-look footage that was unleashed at CinemaCon in April. The subject matter is a great and underutilized arena for the genre, and previews for the film suggested a hellish psychedelic vision. After seeing the movie, I maintain that the former is still true, and it does live up to the promise of the latter – but it also fails to create a narrative that is substantial enough for all of the style to hang on.

It’s a classic case of a collection of dazzling ingredients not quite amounting to a satisfying whole. In addition to the bold nightmare aesthetics, the movie gets the most out of stars Tyriq Withers and Marlon Wayans, and it has a lot to say about modern professional athletics. But the blend of the “What’s actually real?” vibe and a plot that has trouble escalating means that it fails to substantially build and doesn’t properly earn its legitimately bonkers finale.

Withers stars as Cameron Cade, a young star quarterback who has been primed his entire life to become known as the greatest player of all time. But in advance of the scouting combine where he is meant to show off his incredible skills to big league teams, capping off his successful college career, he suffers a terrible tragedy. While out on a field practicing alone at night, he is attacked and receives a devastating blow to the head.

The seriousness of the brain injury he incurs is enough to throw his future into jeopardy, but he is thrown an incredible lifeline: Isaiah White (Marlon Wayans), the player whom Cameron has long idolized, offers him the chance to train at his personal compound, and if all goes well, he will be selected to be the legendary player’s successor as the quarterback of the San Antonio Saviors (one can assume the NFL was a hard pass on being associated with this film, if there even ever was any outreach for licensing permissions). It’s an opportunity to which the protagonist can’t say no, but he discovers over the course of a week that Isiah has unconventional methods that go well beyond his expectations and take him to some extremely scary places.

Justin Tipping makes use of dozens of tools to try and freak us out.

To be perfectly clear: HIM is one of the most visually audacious releases from a major studio this year, as Justin Tipping and his filmmaking collaborators unleash a bevy of filmmaking tools and techniques to screw with the audience, go heavy on symbolism, and freak out movie-goers. Cinematographer Kira Kelly’s work keeps us in Cameron’s perspective – both figuratively and literally, as first person point of view is one of the aforementioned tools – and with the character’s brain trauma, there is license to go to extremes. Reality and fantasy blend in such a way as to be indiscernible (beginning with surgery staples in the main character’s skull that evoke the laces on a football), and there is a dense atmosphere in which you are ensconced.

This turns out to be both for good and for ill. In the first column, it’s bold and unflinching, and it’s awesome to see Tipping keep audiences in that place. In the second column, if you’ll excuse me using a swimming metaphor in discussion of a football movie, it can be described as all deep end: once you dive into the insanity, it doesn’t function to escalate.

While HIM is full of horrors, it doesn't quite find a way to properly pace them out.

HIM is written with a strict structure that sees each day that Cameron spends at Isaiah’s compound tied to a specific part of becoming the Greatest Of All Time, with themes including “Poise,” “Leadership,” “Resilience,” “Vision,” and “Sacrifice.” The young man gets lost in a spiral of drills, exercise, therapies, and medications… and one could argue that movie-goers do as well. It’s during just the second day of the campaign that the protagonist has to properly execute quick throws lest he want a volunteer on the sidelines to have a high-speed throwing machine launch a ball into his face from just a few feet away – and as you might predict, the end result is the man’s features are eventually turned to mush.

It hits that high note early and rides the energy through to the end, but even with all of the horror that it steadily unleashes, it still feels like it stagnates up until its grand and bloody finale (which is decadently over-the-top, but also has to unleash a whole lot of exposition to wrap things up).

HIM does get the most out of its clearly up-for-anything stars.

Certainly only helping the cause are the turns from Tyriq Withers and Marlon Wayans, who prove game for every bit of wildness that the work has to throw at them. For Wayans, there is a strong argument to be made that it’s his most impressive performance in 25 years, dating back to his soul-shattering turn in Darren Aronofsky’s Requiem For A Dream, but it’s a talent showcase for the young Withers. Playing Cameron, he demonstrates the ability to project both a charming innocence and a quiet strength, with each having a key role in his mysterious and sinister journey.

Demented imagery and an abundance of style ensures that anyone who sees HIM won’t forget it, and there is every chance we see the talent involved go on to even more interesting work… but that will come after accepting the movie as a work that has a reach that exceeds its grasp. It would be a step too far to call it an underwhelming entry in Halloween Season 2025, but it is disappointing.

When considering my own viewing habits, I recognize that tracking things logically is a big part of how I take in a movie. Whether it’s a serious historical drama or an audacious cosmic adventure, there is great satisfaction in recognizing how the different pieces of a story fit together and how filmmakers open up new ideas with fresh perspectives and conflicts. My sensibilities are wide open for any and all kinds of wild swings… but I do generally ask that some kind of effort be made at rationality that at least functions internally.

That being said, a healthy dose of magical realism can provide a pleasant vacation from this personal tendency. The right tone has to be struck, like a specific key for a specific lock, but a proper mix of quirk and strange can obliterate my expectations for logic and take me away on a unique adventure. Kogonada’s A Big Bold Beautiful Journey isn’t a movie that I would say thoroughly and consistently hits that sweet spot, but it strikes it with enough regularity and charm to provide a sweet dose of escapist romance. It has enough funny and kooky to be entertaining while the star power and charisma of Colin Farrell and Margot Robbie do the heavy lifting to make the characters pop and their drama feel substantial.

Written by Seth Reiss, the film begins as David (Colin Farrell) heads off on a road trip to a friend’s wedding, but he is impeded right at the start of his trip when he discovers that his car has been clamped with a boot. Noticing a conveniently placed flyer for a business simply called The Car Rental Agency, he makes a reservation for a vehicle, and he is met with a series of oddities when he arrives to pick it up: the employees (Phoebe Waller-Bridge, Kevin Kline) are a peculiar pair who have set up shop in the middle of a sound stage, treat the interaction with David like an audition, and give him the keys to a 1990s Saturn sedan – insisting that he opt in for the GPS system.

At the wedding, David meets Sarah (Margot Robbie), a fellow guest with whom he shares a moment, but things don’t really spark… until the next day. On the road home, David is prompted by his GPS and asked if he wants to go on a “big, bold, beautiful journey,” to which he agrees. The directions that follow see him reunite with Sarah – who also just so happens to be driving a rented 1990s Saturn with a strange GPS system – and they go on a trip together visiting a series of doors that allow them to visit the moments from the past that have shaped them as people and the ways they view relationships.

Magical realism is used to wonderful effect in A Big Bold Beautiful Journey.

A Big Bold Beautiful Journey is at its best when it’s committed to being unconventional and strange. Beyond the scene-stealing turns by Phoebe Waller-Bridge and Kevin Kline as the mysterious car rental agents, both David and Sarah understand that what they are experiencing isn’t normal (it’s not as though this is a sci-fi/fantasy world with recognized altered physics or advanced technology), and there is a delight in the way in which they simply choose to accept the magic and go where it takes them without substantial confusion or surprise. There is no heavy lifting with explanation or exposition; the audience is simply invited to embrace the wonder alongside the characters, and it’s successfully refreshing and engaging.

There are some gaps in the narrative that aren’t handled as well (like all of the time the protagonists spend in the car together driving from destination to destination), but the story is principally filled with both fun and dramatically complex trips through time that effectively challenge and expose David and Sarah – like the former re-experiencing heartbreak on the night of a high school performance of How To Succeed In Business Without Really Trying and both being forced to confront past romantic relationships that ended horribly because of their personal shortcomings.

A Big Bold Beautiful Journey is a movie that needs a bit more pop in its drama.

The movie admirably tries to make these heightened circumstances co-exist with high emotional stakes for the characters, but it’s also where it falters. Both David and Sarah have realistic personal issues that hold them back from committing to relationships, and the journeys are designed to make them confront what is holding each of them back, but there is a soft playing of conflict that prevent the film from properly popping. Where A Big Bold Beautiful Journey should have major revelations that upend the way that we look at the protagonists and their potential future together, it instead keeps things on an even keel, and it stifles the cinematic experience.

The special talents and gravitas of Colin Farrell and Margot Robbie help to somewhat mitigate this, as the actors and their energy alone make the roles exciting to follow, but it doesn’t totally fill the gap.

Similarly, with the way in which the movie challenges the conventions of reality, one would expect that it would have greater visual flair to match, but the style is surprisingly subdued. Beautiful locations are found in nature for where the protagonists come upon the various doors that let them travel into their own pasts, and Kogonada takes moments to dazzle as David and Sarah walk through these portals – but beyond a sequence that sees the couple visit a museum and become a part of one of the works, there is a larger aesthetic simplicity to the movie and ultimately translates as a missed opportunity.

The premise and star power (not to mention the promise of the title) ultimately make it feel as though A Big Bold Beautiful Journey doesn’t fully live up to its potential, but I’d qualify it as a success of sensibilities. It doesn’t leave a powerful and lasting impression, but it’s a movie that is easy to give oneself over to for an entertaining, magic-infused trip.

In Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale, writer and creator Julian Fellowes pulls off an impressive trick. We rejoin the Crawley family and their servants in 1930, an auspicious year in world history – right after the New York Stock Exchange crashed in 1929 and the Great Depression began. Things could get very bad for the Earl of Grantham and his family, yet Fellowes manages to make things realistic, yet light and cheerful, as he’s done for 16 years with Downton Abbey.

Though it feels like we’ve said goodbye to Lord and Lady Grantham (Hugh Bonneville and Elizabeth McGovern, respectfully) and the the other characters who live and work at Downton Abbey four times now, Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale does feel like a proper sendoff. A new generation of Crawleys is ready to take the reins and navigate the upcoming troubles that the United Kingdom and its aristocracy will face in the coming decades of the 20th Century.

Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale is first and foremost a goodbye.

Each of the previous three goodbyes in the Downton Abbey story – once in the TV series that wrapped up in 2015, and again in each of the previous movies, Downton Abbey in 2019, and Downton Abbey: A New Era in 2022 – have been satisfying, but this one really does feel like the end. These are characters whom we’ve come to know intimately over the years, and bidding them farewell was always going to be bittersweet. Fellowes and director Simon Curtis tell a new story, while managing to give us satisfying conclusions to almost every character. It’s another trick the creators have deftly pulled off.

As has become so common in the franchise, sweeping crane shots of Downton Abbey accompanied by composer John Lunn’s iconic theme music bring us all back to a place we know and love, and in this final installment, the music is especially poignant. It complements the bittersweet sentiment of the film perfectly.

The world is changing, and Downton must change with it to keep pace.

In Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale, the United Kingdom is evolving at a rapid pace, as are things for the family, and we are thrust into the world of England in the 1930s. The Victorian Era has been over for over a quarter of a century. People have been through World War I, and a new Labour coalition in Parliament sweep in changes that will eventually spell doom for the British gentry. The Crawleys, especially Lady Mary (Michelle Dockery), understand these changes, and it's up to her and the younger generation to navigate the future.

The movie opens with the neon lights and hustle and bustle of London’s West End. It’s a stark contrast from the beginning of the Downton Abbey story, which started in 1912 – before the Crawleys’ grand house even had electricity or a telephone. Lady Mary is on the verge of divorce, another somewhat modern convention that, as we see through the movie, isn’t yet socially acceptable. Remember, this is just a handful of years before King Edward VIII was forced to abdicate the throne for his relationship with a divorced woman. The transition between the old world and the new is at a nexus.

This struggle between Lord Grantham coming to terms with the future (and his proud family’s past) and the urgency to modernize is at the heart of Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale. Is it possible to keep the traditions alive as the coming changes fight so hard against them? That’s where the film’s conflict is most pronounced. The cost to keep Downton running, not to mention the family’s London digs, is becoming impossible to maintain. The fear of letting down generations of Crawleys is ever-present, too, with the judgmental gaze of the late Violet Crawley (Dame Maggie Smith’s character, whose death in Downton Abbey: A New Era was our last goodbye before now) looking down on everything from her portrait in the entry hall of Downton.

Downton Abbey: A New Era Is Exactly What We’ve Come To Expect From The Franchise.

When it all comes together, Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale is what fans want and expect from the franchise. It’s predictably pleasant and has a wonderful ability to draw you in from the moment it starts. The movie isn’t going to challenge audiences, but that’s not the goal. There is enough tension to move things forward, but not so much that you ever feel uncomfortable. The settings are, as always, resplendent, giving movie-goers the eye candy we expect, and letting us in, once again, on lifestyles, both upstairs and downstairs, that most of us are completely unfamiliar with.

The cast is fantastic, with Paul Giamatti returning as Lady Crawley’s ne'er-do-well brother, Harold Levinson, in his first return to the franchise since Season 4 of the television show. Other returning cast members from past installments, including Dominic West as the actor Guy Dexter, are joined for the first time by Simon Russell Beale as Sir Hector Moreland, a snobby aristocrat who finds himself pitted against Isobel Grey (Penelope Wilton), which is never a good place to be for a character in the franchise.

It is sad to see some characters not returning, most notably Lady Maud, played by Imelda Staunton in the previous two movies, and her daughter Lucy Smith (Tuppence Middleton), who is mentioned by her husband, Tom Branson (Allen Leech), but is not seen in the movie. However, all the other important characters, like Carson (Jim Carter), Lady Edith (Laura Carmichael), Anna (Joanne Froggatt), and the rest, all get a proper sendoff in the end.

It’s goodbye to a franchise, and goodbye to our Edwardian-era friends, but there is hope for the future of the family and all the people they love and employ.

There have been many different horror franchises developed in the last decade-and-a-half, but I would categorize The Conjuring Universe as a special title within that timeframe. It doesn’t have a perfect track record, but scope and quality don’t always easily go hand in hand, and the good far outweighs the bad in what has developed as a multi-branched canon. The Annabelle and Nun series each developed their own spooky chaos – the former movies executing some effective timeline leaping in exploring the doll’s history, the latter developing a capable hero in Taissa Farmiga’s Sister Irene – and along with plenty of frights, anchoring everything from the beginning has been the performances by Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga as Ed and Lorraine Warren in the Conjuring films.

After 12 years of demons, possessions, hauntings and more, The Conjuring: Last Rites is the movie that has been designed to bring closure to the full breadth of the franchise. In that effort, the filmmakers take a well-intentioned route that yields some mixed results. Principally, there is a clear and correct understanding that audiences want to see Wilson and Farmiga’s characters tested by the forces of evil and battle against it with fortitude forged by their mutual love. The finale delivers that while also fitting in a familiar drama with the Warrens’ now-adult daughter Judy (Mia Tomlinson) introducing her parents to Tony (Ben Hardy), the man she hopes to someday marry and has to learn about the family’s unique baggage.

What’s unfortunate is that this focus is paired with a case from the Warren files that very much feels like an afterthought in the grand scheme. After the murder-centric events of The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It, the sequel returns to the haunted house narrative akin to the first two Conjuring movies, but it invites unfriendly comparisons in doing so. While the James Wan-directed entries of the franchise effectively balance the lives of the Warrens with the supernatural terror experienced by the Perron and Hodgson families, Last Rites isn’t quite able to pull off that particular trick, and it detracts from the overall experience.

Set in 1986, about five years after the previous dark adventure, the film finds demonologists Ed and Lorraine ready to retire. Ed has high blood pressure and a history of heart attacks that makes the stress of the job fighting evil perilous to his health, and the work has long taken a cumulative psychic toll on Lorraine. They have intentions to start living more peaceful lives and dealing with more normal, everyday problems – like determining whether or not Tony is good enough for their daughter.

But, of course, just because Ed and Lorraine are ready to be done confronting demonic entities doesn’t mean that the demonic entities are done with them. In the small town of West Pittston, Pennsylvania, the eight-person Smurl household begins to experience unexplainable and violent occurrences that leave them feeling terrified and helpless. These events start when the Smurls take possession of a mirror to which an evil has attached itself – and it just so happens not only that the Warrens previously encountered this sinister looking glass, but that the encounter happened the night that Judy was born.

Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga as Ed and Lorraine Warren take a wonderful final bow in The Conjuring: Last Rites

Strong character development is the foundation of great horror, as the more you care about the protagonists, the more you empathize with their peril. With Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga as Ed and Lorraine Warren, that has been true from the start of the Conjuring movies, and that’s where Last Rites sticks the landing. A dozen years ago, I would have been very confused if you told me that one of my favorite sequences in the finale of the franchise would be a Warren backyard barbecue where Ed silently judges whether or not Judy’s boyfriend is good enough to become his future son-in-law, but it speaks to the charms of the perfectly cast leads that it feels totally right for the canon.

It’s worth noting that the film also benefits from increased stakes just by the nature of being a series conclusion. The “based on actual events” aspect of these movies has long been a mere starting place, and there is a concern felt throughout The Conjuring: Last Rites that it could take a big swing and put a definitive period at the end of the characters’ story, as no chapter of Ed and Lorraine’s journeys have seen them so vulnerable. I won’t spoil the choices that are ultimately made in this spoiler-free review, but I will say that fans will be satisfied.

A return to a haunted house case yields mixed results.

With extended focus put not only on Ed and Lorraine but also Judy (who has both inherited some of her mother’s psychic gifts and has a supernatural connection to the mirror at the center of the plot) the Smurl family ends up getting backburner-ed to an unfortunate degree and is mostly used as a means of injecting scares into the mix. Michael Chaves and the filmmakers craft a nice collection of smart and freaky experiences – examples including a long phone cord being mysteriously tugged into a dark pantry, and a towering ghost that emerges from the shadows with a smile and a swinging axe blade – but the effectiveness is diminished because of lacking personalities in the home.

The plotting finds better footing when Judy eventually convinces her parents to help the Smurls as their last case, which develops into a big, scary and bold climax that has visions of pouring blood, a perilous effort to get rid of the mirror, and a final confrontation between Judy and Annabelle (who is back and literally bigger than ever). It’s freaky stuff, but it’s also missing a creative spark that would allow it to serve as a better and special capstone story.

The vast majority of horror franchises in Hollywood history don’t really get a proper opportunity to offer closure, as the more common path is for them to peter out when ticket sales slow down, but The Conjuring Universe is ending on its own terms, and the ending can be deemed successful enough. It can’t be said that things go out on a high note, as this canon really peaked in 2016/2017 with James Wan’s The Conjuring 2 and David F. Sandberg’s Annabelle: Creation, but it is a loving goodbye to a pair of characters who solidify their place as genre icons.

Per Frank Darabont’s commentary track for The Mist, Stephen King had instant appreciation for the now-infamous ending of the 2007 film – which is notably way more extreme than what is featured in the King novella on which it’s based. In an email, the legendary author wrote to Darabont, “Every generation needs a movie like Night of the Living Dead where nothing turns out well for anybody at the end.” Happy conclusions are a dime a dozen on the big screen, hence the coinage of the phrase “Hollywood ending.” But whether we like it or not, bleakness is a part of life, and there is a certain responsibility for art to reflect that hard reality.

Eighteen years after the theatrical release of The Mist, another Stephen King movie has been crafted to further that tradition – though Francis Lawrence’s The Long Walk is also a very different animal. Unlike the Darabont film, there is no shock from the unfurling tragedy, as the adaptation in this case not only stays faithful to the source material, but more importantly commits to the promise that’s made in the opening scenes. Whether you’re familiar with the book or not, there is no excuse not to be emotionally prepared for the experience that is unleashed in the story as the young protagonists participate in a death march that can only have one winner/survivor. And yet, there is no amount of preparation actually possible that can get you ready for the blow that this exceptional and powerful new movie delivers.

The Long Walk is a work that I view through a kind of masochistic lens. The Stephen King book (the first novel he ever completed, which was originally published under his Richard Bachman pseudonym) is one of my favorites in the author’s canon, and I’ve spent years fascinated and hopeful that it could someday shirk its reputation as “unfilmable” and be brought to the big screen in all of its bleak glory. In the wake of watching Lawrence’s adaptation, a knot tied firmly in my guts, I wondered why I was so excited to feel so miserable. And yet, I’m in absolute awe of the film’s audacity and execution. It’s modern cinema at its most hardcore.

Set in a not-too-distant future that has seen America struggling in the wake of a high-toll war, the film begins as 50 teenagers are selected from around the country (one from each state) to take part in the title competition. Each contestant must maintain a speed of three miles per hour, and if they slow down, they receive a warning. While walking for one hour straight can clear one warning, collecting three warnings means losing, and losing means being executed by one of the soldiers constantly monitoring the action.

We follow the horrific journey with Ray Garraty (Cooper Hoffman), who is the “lucky” contestant to be competing in his home state. Along the way, he develops complicated relationships with his fellow walkers, creating a friend group dubbed the “Musketeers” with Peter McVries (David Jonsson), Arthur Baker (Tut Nyuot), and Hank Solson (Ben Wang). With the game’s organizer, the fascistic The Major (Mark Hamill), occasionally driving by with amplified rants about patriotism and sacrifice, the boys bond by talking about the world, their lives and their dreams of what they’ll do with the grand prize: great riches and the granting of a single wish. But there can only be one winner, and as days pass and number of contestants dwindles, the stakes never stop escalating.

Brilliant character development is key to The Long Walk's ultimately simple story.

There are two principal reasons why The Long Walk developed a reputation as “unfilmable,” and the first concerns the story’s unflappable commitment to a single action, which is the characters walking. The novel is written with a third person perspective, but it never strays from Ray Garraty’s side, and there are no side-plots or breaks from the eponymous competition. JT Mollner’s screenplay doesn’t commit in the same way, as there is a fractured dream sequence that precedes a flashback, but those moments are the exceptions, and it’s spectacular how one can be spellbound by the simplicity.

A foundation of Stephen King’s storytelling is that any narrative can be compelling if the reader cares about the characters, and that’s The Long Walk’s secret weapon. Some of the teens opt for silence and to focus on the competition (like Garrett Wareing’s mysterious Stebbens), and others opt to play the heel card (like Charlie Plummer’s antagonistic Barkovitch), but the movie is mostly about a group of young people who just try and get along and share their personal stories as they march. They joke together and they struggle together moving toward what is an almost inevitable death. And while the rules of the game never change, the stakes are ever-escalating as the audience can’t help but get invested and not want to see fate met.

There are no weak links in the Long Walk cast, but David Jonsson is a remarkable scene-stealer.

We care about the protagonists because the movie finds ways for us to connect with them and for us to understand their humanity – but charm and charisma play a role as well, and the full ensemble cast of The Long Walk is impeccable. Cooper Hoffman instantly demonstrated himself as a terrific talent a few years ago with his outstanding big screen debut as affable go-getter Gary Valentine in Paul Thomas Anderson’s Licorice Pizza, and he solidifies his young reputation with gripping work as Ray Garraty, who hides a traumatized soul behind his efforts to connect with the other walkers and help those who suddenly find themselves stacking up warnings.

Hoffman’s work is powerful, and I could highlight outstanding aspects of all the film’s performances (special shout out to Judy Greer, who, in limited screen time as Ray’s mom, brought me to tears), but I can guarantee that the turn that everyone is going to be talking about coming out of the movie is David Jonsson as Peter McVries. I’ve been well aware of the English actor’s talents since his lead turn in Raine Allen-Miller’s tremendous 2023 romantic drama Rye Lane, and we are now just a little over a year removed from his scene-stealing work in Fede Álvarez’s Alien: Romulus, but he has never been better than what he’s doing here.

As the walk continues, Peter is revealed as the soul of the film – a good kid who comes from nothing and makes an honest go at perpetual optimism in a life of cruelty – and Jonsson’s emotional journey is perfection.

The Long Walk is a film where being shocking is part of the point, and Francis Lawrence delivers in all areas.

Of course, reflecting the cruelties of fascistic power and systemic abuses of younger generations is a vital point of The Long Walk, and in its depiction, Francis Lawrence’s direction is fearless. The second principal reason why King’s story was long believed unfit for the big screen was because of the belief that no studio would support the creation of such a punishing film for wide release, but there are zero punches pulled it. It would be a betrayal of the themes of the story for the adaptation to flinch when it comes to its depictions of violence, and Lawrence lets audiences know the score early on when a walker pulls up lame with a charley horse and collects three warnings. There is no cutaway as a soldier’s bullet fires down through the side of the boy’s head and out of his cheek, the force of the projectile causing his neck to jerk.

The bold presentation of the executions is one key choice, but the visceral nature of The Long Walk isn’t limited to the shocking eliminations. The fatal consequence of losing is horrific, but not to be ignored is that the entire competition is a variation of torture, and the presentation of the toll it takes on the characters is affecting (a fascinating aspect of telling this story is that there is no way of getting around having performers walk for miles and miles and miles throughout production, and it’s very much reflected in the physicality).

Everything from walkers getting bloody injuries to letting out exasperated cries of anguish to even defecating is part of the hard-to-stomach ordeal, and even movie-goers with the weakest tolerance of such extremes will be able to appreciate the fortitude in the filmmaking.

I imagine that the experience of The Long Walk for audiences ignorant of the source material will be similar to how I felt while having my own bleak cinema baptism with Stanley Kubrick’s Paths Of Glory. I will never forget watching that classic movie and my brain protecting me with the thought, Kirk Douglas is surely going to make some kind of heroic last minute move and this travesty of justice will not reach its darkest conclusion. And then the soldiers were lined up and executed by firing squad. It left me agog with a powerful reminder of the very real darkness of our world. We need those reminders in our art or everything is just diversion.

The new King adaptation isn’t on the same level as Kubrick’ iconic film and (not to mention the story is a few steps removed from reality as dystopian fiction vs. a cinematic recounting of the Souain corporals affair), but it inspires the same species of intestinal turmoil. It confronts you about the way in which our society has a propensity for exploiting youth while ignoring the consequences, and that’s as true today as it was during the Vietnam War when the novel was initially written. It’s a statement that Francis Lawrence previously made with his Hunger Games movies, but he full-throatedly screams it with The Long Walk, and it’s unforgettable.

There’s been meet-cutes turned love affairs aplenty in Hollywood movies, but very few romances are about couples who have spent years upon years looking in each other’s eyes. And then there’s The Roses – which follows the immensely talented Benedict Cumberbatch and Olivia Colman as Theo and Ivy Rose... but don’t expect any butterflies in your stomach about these two.

When we meet them in the film, they’ve been together for a decade and are balancing having two kids with each of their passion-driven careers. It’s refreshing to see a middle-aged pairing, but The Roses has the opposite effect of a romantic comedy, as you'll be more likely to be rooting for the demise of their marriage as the story continues to progress. It tackles some very real complications that can plague modern couples, but The Roses is played as a classic comedy where goofiness and laughs are the main objective rather than developing an emotional narrative like Marriage Story.

It’s actually a ball to watch Cumberbatch and Colman take turns roasting each other and taking their marriage to even more damaged places, especially considering both of the Roses aren’t exactly saints as people. But when all is said and done, it makes for a quite bleak film about relationships and the sheer insanity they can inspire when not properly maintained.

It’s hilarious to watch Benedict Cumberbatch and Olivia Colman play a wealthy couple on opposite career trajectories.

The Roses is a remake of the 1989 movie starring Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner (that I admittedly haven’t seen myself) based on the 1980s novel The War Of The Roses by Warren Adler. It marks director Jay Roach’s first straight comedy in years – he being the filmmaker behind the Austin Powers films, Meet The Parents and Dinner For Schmucks – and his comfort in the genre is clear as day here as he steadies the funny bits with genuine moments.

It all starts when Theo’s star architectural project crashes and burns in a very public way, and he’s kicked to the curb by his firm while Ivy has a seafood restaurant that starts going viral on the very same night. So, it’s decided: Ivy will become the breadwinner while Theo raises the kids. What ensues is a slow burn un-romancing as the couple replaces affections for each other with bitterness and loathing. It’s juicy to watch Cumberbatch and Colman become increasingly vain, as they always have a kind of cartoony delight (and R-rated edge) to them.

Cumberbatch plays an egotistical go-getter who is a perfectionist with a hyperactive mind. Colman’s Ivy is a quirky, creative-type stay-at-home mom turned restauranteur who wears fun clothes and delights in serving up her kids treats at midnight. The set up for this pair’s romance heating up isn’t given much of a baseline, aside from their first meeting going from zero to one hundred. But perhaps the lack of connection we have with the couple helps us watch things fall apart with spring still in our step. Cumberbatch and Colman are a bitingly funny pair who use their wits to entertain us from start to finish.

Then there’s its impressive supporting cast of comedians Andy Samberg, Kate McKinnon, Zoë Chao, Jamie Demetriou, Ncuti Gatwa, Sunita Mani and Allison Janney helping to defuse the Roses’ melodrama... or sometimes help fuel the flames. Samberg and McKinnon are having a blast at playing with tropes about how being a middle-aged couple might mean wanting to “open the relationship” or casually display their depression symptoms at social gatherings. Chao and Demetriou add to the laughs as architect colleagues of Theo's who are always in comparison mode with the Roses, while Mani and Gatwa play loyal servers riding on the coattails of Ivy’s sudden success.

Tony McNamara’s flair for biting dialogue makes for another juicy script after his other critically acclaimed work (like Poor Things).

Perhaps what works the best about The Roses is the mind behind the words. It’s from a script by Tony McNamara, who most recently wrote Poor Things but also did The Favourite, The Great and Cruella. McNamara once again proves to be one of the most talented script writers right now as he saturates each moment with wordy cleverness. It’s absolutely half the fun to see Cumberbatch and Colman take ownership of what he’s written on the page. Much of the time, his words here are rooted in sharp ridicules between the Roses that feel meant to erupt the viewer in gasps and impressed giggles. It's often crass but always delicious.

And you know what sweetens the deal? The movie is set in gorgeous along the coast of Northern California where Theo's work baby is coastal buildings, and Ivy's is a charming fish shop called "We've Got Crabs."

The Roses acts as a guide about what not to do in marriage, and in doing so, it absolutely goes more in a ridiculous direction rather than taking a grounded approach to a movie about relationships.

The Roses is a movie that really moves and finds the ability to take its time with its story building and also not take a beat a bridge too far – but it also waits until too late to treat its main characters with empathy instead of being more like an episode of Tom & Jerry. It’s too caught up in how fun it is to watch these two to be mean to one another, and it loses some believability in order to let these two completely loose with anger.

For anyone who has dealt with problems in a long-standing relationship, chances are they’ll say this exaggerates things much too much, while also finding their own pockets to relate to too. The Roses is ridiculous, ridiculously funny, and a rather harsh dark comedy starring two of the most talented actors we have.

My relationship with the works of Darren Aronofsky is much different than the relationships I have with all of my other favorite modern directors. I celebrate those latter filmmakers by buying all of their movies in various physical media formats and making a habit of rewatching them, but I’ve never been able to do that with Aronofsky. I’ve been fascinated by his talents ever since I saw Pi when I was in high school, and I’ve been wowed by his entire filmography… but it’s rare that I can bear more than one viewing. I know I will never own a copy of Requiem For A Dream because there is a zero percent chance of me ever watching it again.

This is the nice bonus of Caught Stealing. After spending the better part of three decades becoming a master of bleak cinema, Aronofsky’s adaptation of Charlie Huston’s novel of the same name is a refreshing change of pace tonally, and it showcases a new dimension of his tremendous skills. There’s no question that it still has its dark moments, from which it’s able to develop its character arcs and intense stakes, but the filmmaker allows himself to be a bit slick and cool while unfurling his comedic neo-noir thriller full of colorful personalities.

Only further solidifying Austin Butler as leading man material, the Elvis star plays Hank Thompson: a former talented baseball prospect whose destiny was changed to serving drinks at a New York dive bar after a car accident shattered his dreams. Albeit a functional alcoholic, he lives a relatively happy life and has a blossoming romance with an EMT named Yvonne (Zoë Kravitz) – but everything in his world becomes chaos after he acquiesces to an innocuous cat-sitting request from his punker neighbor Russ (Matt Smith), who is dealing with a family emergency.

Hank, who describes himself as more of a dog person, isn’t particularly fond of the feline, but cat bites and fur on his bed becomes the least of his problems when a pair of Russian mobsters (Yuri Kolokolnikov, Nikita Kukushkin) visits his building and end up savagely beating him because of his association with Russ. Following a brief stay in the hospital, he reaches out to a detective (Regina King) who leaves her card with his doctors, and he discovers that he has been accidentally roped into a cartel conflict between the Russians, a criminally connected Brighton Beach club owner (Benito A Martínez Ocasio), and a pair of Hasidic gangsters (Liev Schreiber, Vincent D’Onofrio).

Not all of the story ingredients are super fresh, but Caught Stealing delivers a mystery that blends thrills and fun.

With an extra boost from 1998 setting, Caught Stealing is narratively reminiscent of movies you’d see in the filmographies of Shane Black, Guy Ritchie, or Joel and Ethan Coen, and while it wouldn’t be viewed as the sharpest, best, or most original work coming from those creative minds, it has some engaging and fun tricks up its sleeve. The various trailers for the movie unfortunately give away the answer to one of the bigger questions pushing the story forward (namely why it is that Russ has a target on his back), but Charlie Huston consistently keeps other irons in the fire that keep things interesting – setting up other mysteries that radiate from some shocking twists and keeping the audience questioning who in the ensemble of characters can be trusted.

Not every swing is successful, as the movie ends up using more than a couple well-used tropes in propelling Hank’s dark adventure through the crime world of New York in the late 1990s. It teeters on being too derivative, but it’s ultimately able to coast thanks to the film’s style and the talent involved.

The whole cast is having a lot of fun, but it’s Austin Butler’s turn that anchors the film.

Having directed multiple actors to Oscar-nominated/winning performances, Darren Aronofsky stuffing Caught Stealing with on-screen talent is far from a surprise (on top of having the expansive cast, there are a number of fun cameos as well) – and while not everyone has the opportunity to play with a wide array of dimensions, they have vivid personalities to bridge the gap. Scene-stealers include Matt Smith, who brings the mohawk-sporting Russ to life with a shocking and entertaining range of emotions, and Nikita Kukushkin, as the off-the-charts weird Russian enforcer Microbe, but at the end of the day, this is principally an extension of Austin Butler’s on-going spotlight moment.

From his work as a Manson-influenced killer to the King Of Rock and Roll to a sadistic intergalactic fascist, Butler has spent recent years impressing with his range, and Caught Stealing continues that trend as he is able to bring his impressive charisma to what is a much more down-to-earth part. As a character, Hank is smart, capable, likable, and flawed, all of which make him compelling as he tries to escape his deadly predicament, and Butler perfectly plays all of the highs and lows of emotion that strike along the way.

While still working with some grisly material, Darren Aronofsky shows a flair for action and period storytelling – demonstrating smart comedic timing as well.

Having Butler as his lead allows Darren Aronofsky to properly explore the darker sides of his sensibilities, as Hank is haunted by the traumatic accident that devastated his career in addition to dealing with the nightmare of happenstance that has abducted his life, but there is also a clear intention in the work for the director to do something new. Between Hank leading a bar sing-a-long to Meredith Brooks’ “Bitch,” nimble chases through the streets of New York, and Russ’ adorable cat playing a key supporting role in the whole ordeal, there is a pursuit of fun that doesn’t interrupt the drama. Aronofsky makes skilled use of the story’s time and place (in addition to its soundtrack full of 1990s hits, I, as a New York Mets fan, particularly love a sequence that sees characters racing through crowds at the now-gone Shea Stadium), and collaboration with cinematographer Matthew Libatique and editor Andrew Weisblum yields a thrilling collection of dynamic action beats.

Within the full spectrum of Darren Aronofsky’s directorial canon, Caught Stealing is a title that rates toward the middle of the pack – but that more than anything speaks to the exceptional quality of his other works, and it’s nonetheless refreshing to see him take on something so different. It doesn’t dig down to extreme emotional depths like Requiem For A Dream, The Wrestler, Black Swan or The Whale, but that’s counterbalanced by it being a cool, occasionally sexy, fun diversion.

I don’t know about you, but the world our society has concocted can get seriously exhausting to live in day-to-day. Don’t get me wrong: I absolutely love being human and getting to live exactly where I am in our world – but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’ve daydreamed before about a life “off the grid.” I imagine myself really connecting with myself in nature, gardening and homesteading becoming more than just a hobby I have on a Nintendo Switch game, and leaving bills at the door. But then I watched Ron Howard’s Eden, and I was met with a very real truth I’m often ignorant of during these fantasies, which is that we cannot escape from human nature no matter where we go.

Eden reminds me why we all find ourselves part of a society that has a lot of baggage. While it may not feel like it to us all the time, we are more comfortable and better off than we have ever been. (For example, as we often forget, sewers used to run down the streets?!!) Director Ron Howard’s latest biographical passion project follows the story of a few groups of people who decided to leave society between WWI and WWII to live on the isle of Floreana in the Galapagos. Through a tense two-hour ride, the true story exposes natural flaws of human nature... and it was impactful enough that I definitely won't be pulling the trigger on off-the-grid living anytime soon.

Eden serves up a solid tale (based on a true story) to examine human nature at its darkest.

The movie starts with a German family consisting of Margret and Heinz Wittmer (played by Sydney Sweeney and Daniel Brühl) and Heinz’s son Harry (Jonathan Tittel). The clan lands on Floreana in 1929 after growing tired of their life in society where they’ve had to choose between feeding themselves and paying rent, as Margret suggests. Once they get there, they are quickly eager to introduce themselves to the only other settlers they know to be there: Dr. Friedrich Ritter (Jude Law) and his wife Dora Strauch (Vanessa Kirby). They made the newspapers for fleeing Germany and inspired the Wittmers to do the same thing.

Friedrich and Dora are immediately peeved that their life of isolation on Floreana has been disrupted by three more settlers sharing the island with them. Dr. Ritter is hellbent on spending his days sitting at his typewriter writing the next great philosophical novel about what it means to be human, and he doesn’t like distractions. But the Wittmers prove to give them their space much of the time as they settle on the other side of the isle. However, an even more annoying problem soon sails on the horizon when Ana de Armas’ Baroness Eloise Bosquet de Wagner Wehrhorn and her colleagues also land ashore with plans to build her own luxury hotel on the coast, but very little survival and settler skills to show for it.

Early in the movie, Ritter suggests that human nature’s cycle can be described by "democracy, fascism then war", and it's actually fascinating to see how having three groups of settlers on Floreana slowly escalates into running this cycle through, even though each party had every intention of living outside of society. Howard and screenplay writer Noah Pink’s adaptation of this story serves as a movie with a staunch ability to examine how humans get in our own way, and have a tendency to cause conflict, even in a self-proclaimed “Eden”.

Ron Howard’s direction is thrilling, tense and places a large focus on its ruthless, often unlikeable characters.

The legendary director, who has been especially well known over the years for helming movies based true stories, sets the scene for Floreana by putting us in the shoes of the Wittmers as they adjust to life in the Galapagos. From finding a water source to capturing their own food, Howard immerses the audience into the woes of settling away from society. Even more tension is naturally added to the situation once we find out that Sweeney’s Margret is expecting her first child.

The birthing scene that comes out of Eden is one of the most stressful scenes I’ve seen this year. It's so increasingly intense that you’d think you were watching a horror movie. It most certainly helps that the great Hans Zimmer composed the score, and it's shot inviting palpable elements of nature, the film having been made on location in Australia. While the storyline isn’t working particularly hard to get you to root for any of the other characters besides the Wittmers (that will certainly put off some people), and the murky paths they can go on can weigh on the audience, it also serves the greater good of the work to expose a perspective on human nature – perhaps in an effort to start our own conversations about who we think we inherently are.

The all-star cast deliver here, even if their accents aren’t always on point.

Along with Ron Howard’s dark direction of Eden, its talented cast helps build up the growing tensions with their character work that successfully (for the most part) gets each of the actors outside of their movie star personas we know them for. Jude Law and Vanessa Kirby are particularly interesting as a couple that feels lived-in, and a slow-burning contempt for one another brews after they've spent every waking moment with the other on the island. Law’s inherent charm helps ground this hermit-like ego-centric take on Dr. Ritter while Kirby’s harsh spiral is understated but absolutely a highlight of Eden. (Between this and Fantastic Four, Kirby is having an excellent 2025 of being a scene-stealer.)

Ana de Armas takes on sort of a villain role in Eden, but I don't want to give away to what extent. Similarly to Law, her likability helps round out her arc, and makes one sit up rather than instantly write her off, but once she does show her cards, the Baroness does come off as more one-dimensional than I would have liked. Sweeney ends up needing to anchor the movie a lot more than I expected, and this gives her the space to do so with the talented Brühl by her side. But some of the cast issues with the German accent, and their star power does remove some of the illusion this film is trying to immerse us in.

All in all, we've seen a better character study of this ilk with the latest season of The White Lotus, but even still, Eden does something I am always looking for when I watch movies. It challenges my own beliefs about the off-the-grid fantasy, and it introduced me to a true story that I had never known prior to watching it. While it's full of unlikable characters and runs a bit long, entertaining storytelling is always in the center of its filmmaking. It's a worthwhile watch as a study of human nature, and another strong and character-driven work from Ron Howard.

I can say that I’ve been a fan of Bob Odenkirk’s going back literal decades. In the 1990s, my introduction to him came via the hilarious and brilliant sketches on Mr. Show with Bob and David (along with one-off appearances on some of my favorite sitcoms), and like just about anyone else you might talk to, I was stunned by his turn to the dramatic playing the slippery Jimmy McGill a.k.a. Saul Goodman on Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul. He’s repeatedly proven himself a smart and talented performer with tremendous range, and he has a unique charisma that lets him succeed as both a lead and in supporting roles.

For this reason, the Nobody movies frustrate me to a great degree. I was disappointed when I saw the original back in early 2021; like any fan, I expected to take delight in the actor’s first turn as an action star but instead found myself underwhelmed by poor writing and shocked by its bad messaging. Things only get worse in Nobody 2, as the script this time around is somehow even more rote, and it reveals Odenkirk’s Hutch Mansell as a hero that is pretty damn impossible to root for, even with the actor’s special charms.

Like its predecessor, the prequel entirely hangs on the audience’s desire to see a talent like Bob Odenkirk take part in some brutal cinematic violence – but the simple novelty of the basic idea is gone now, and there is no effort to compensate with anything else. What results is watching an unlikable protagonist get locked into a plot that offers no stakes and what amounts to an unpleasant and unfulfilling cinematic experience.

After spending Nobody conquering his boring suburban life by reengaging his love of violence, Hutch is reintroduced in Nobody 2 stuck in another rut: he is forced to perform wetwork jobs in order to pay off a debt incurred when he set fire to the Russian cash stash in the first movie, and a consequence is that he becomes distanced from his wife (Connie Nielsen) and two children (Gage Munroe, Paisley Cadorath). He is in need of a break, and with bizarrely little pushback from his handler (Colin Salmon), he makes plans for a family vacation.

Leaning into the nostalgia of the one trip he took with his father (Christopher Lloyd) and brother (RZA) when he was a child, Hutch takes the Mansell clan to Plummerville – a tourist trap with a water park and various other activities. What the exhausted assassin doesn’t know is that the place is a secret hub of criminal activity orchestrated by a boss named Lendina (Sharon Stone), and when he gets on the bad side of the local sheriff (Colin Hanks) and son of the town’s founder (John Ortiz), he finds himself as a target and his family in danger.

Bob Odenkirk's Hutch Mansell is a lousy main character who only gets worse in the sequel.

The key issue that haunts Nobody 2 is the fact that the protagonist generates all of his own problems, and he doesn’t have the likability to make us appreciate his efforts to dig himself out of the hole. The world of the film doesn’t actually impose any problems on him: when Hutch wants a vacation from his debt-clearing assassin work, it’s granted without any protest or consequence, and despite all of his selfish and violent behavior, there is seemingly no line that he can cross to earn what would be deserved ire from his family (Connie Nielsen’s Becca does draft a “We need to talk” text in the first act when he becomes an absence in her life, but that’s quickly deleted and substituted for an “Okay love u,” and a proper confrontation never happens).

He repeatedly claims that his big motivation is to have a fun vacation with his family full of happy memories… but that comes while ignoring that he could easily do that by just going anywhere other than Plummerville and take his loved ones to a place where their lives aren’t in danger. To be fair, there are moments where he makes strong moral choices (like the decision to rescue a kidnapped teenager he discovers during a confrontation in a crime den), but the movie puts a much greater emphasis on his applications of rage in personal and petty moments, and it renders him consistently challenging to root for.

Director Timo Tjahjanto's action skills are apparent in Nobody 2, but don't enthrall as they do in his other movies.

This bad storytelling can’t help but have a negative impact on what drives Nobody 2, which is the action. Director Timo Tjahjanto is an exceptional talent when it comes to crafting chaotic and brutal fight scenes (2018’s The Night Comes for Us is so jaw-dropping that it should be pre-empted with a “might cause TMJ” warning), and there is some fantastic choreography executed – but it’s all empty calories when the main character’s journey is so pointless and the danger never feels substantial. I can appreciate the fun that the filmmakers had coming up with ideas for how to turn a waterpark into a slaughterhouse with various weapons, riggings, and explosives, but that translates to just moments of fleeting fun on the big screen.

It’s made exceptionally clear throughout the brisk 89 minute runtime that Nobody 2 is not a film meant to be taken too seriously (best exemplified in the ludicrous scenery-chewing done by Sharon Stone in her weirdly truncated, one-note performance as the main baddie). But just because a movie is silly doesn’t automatically make it fun, and I definitely didn’t have any fun. It does a lot of what its predecessor did, only worse, and without even being able to activate the well-established charms of Bob Odenkirk, it’s a bad time at the movies.

Is it the summer of comedy legacyquels? Between Happy Gilmore 2, The Naked Gun reboot and now, Freakier Friday, it certainly seems like it. And I don’t know about you, but I’ve been laughing a lot more lately due to this trend.

In regards to the latest of them, I’ve been anticipating Freakier Friday with trepidation ever since it was announced. The 2003 original Disney comedy is a staple of my childhood, and when I reflect on the original, I think it’s honestly one of the funniest family comedies of my generation. Now that I’ve seen the sequel, I’m so happy it actually lives up to it.

Freakier Friday reunites Jamie Lee Curtis and Lindsay Lohan at a time when both actors are having their own big (but very different) moments compared to when they first swapped bodies. Curtis became an Oscar winner just a couple of years ago at the age of 64, and the 39-year-old Lohan has been enjoying a comeback into Hollywood after almost a decade away from the industry. But it’s incredibly comforting to see these two come together and not miss a beat as they return to their roles as Tess and Anna Coleman: a mother and daughter who, like most mother/daughter duos, will always have issues to work through. It’s a blast to see them at it again for a more rambunctious, yet totally seasoned comedy dynamic that I can also see a whole new generation of young girls falling for.

If you’re a fan of the original Freaky Friday, Freakier Friday is absolutely for you.

One can’t help but do a double-take when it comes to the premise, as Lohan’s Anna is now a mother of her own teen, Julia Butters’ Harper, and she is getting ready to tie the knot to her own Mr. Perfect a.k.a. Eric (played by The Good Place’s Manny Jacinto) after Freaky Friday was about Curtis’ Tess getting married to Mark Harmon’s Ryan. This time around, there’s an added layer because Anna's fiancé has a teen daughter too in Sophia Hammons’ Lily – and the sisters-to-be really do not get along.

After grandma Tess, Anna, Harper and Lily all get their fortune read at Anna’s bachelorette party, Tess gets stuck in Lily’s body, Anna in her daughter’s, Harper in her mom’s and Lily in Tess’. Callbacks are a-plenty between a new mirror scene to rival the “I’m like the crypt-keeper” line and just about every cast member from the original making an appearance one way or the other. (Yes, even Anna’s all-grownup little brother!) Butters and Hammons are not featured in the movie as much as Lohan and Curtis are, but seeing all four of them together is actually a super welcome addition to the plot, and they have some really funny and heartfelt moments of their own.

Freakier Friday finds some quite hilarious reasons to take fans back down memory lane while providing a new story that feels worthwhile. Sure, if you weren’t impressed with the original Freaky Friday, I'm going to guess the new one probably won’t reel you in either. This sequel is for fans like me who laughed out loud time after time watching the original, appreciate the details, and now get to do so again in a completely new phase of life with this continuation.

I love seeing what Tess is like as a grandma and how Anna has become a lot more like her mom in adulthood than she probably would have guessed. (But becoming our parents comes for us all, doesn't it?) The way the plot lines are advanced are rather clever.

The sequel isn’t quite as punk rock as the original (especially due to the more complicated premise), but the movie’s heart is too big for that to be an issue.

The Freakier Friday script isn’t necessarily graceful when it comes to setting up the stakes for the sequel, but once things get freaky one fair Friday and Tess, Anna, Harper and Lily deal with another body-swap curse, the movie gets right on track. While it’s all about belly laughs in the first half, what really helps land the body-swap sequel is the movie's genuine soul. I was just about wiping away my tears during not one but multiple emotional scenes after getting into a laughing fit just 30 minutes earlier, and that’s exactly the kind of feeling I wanted from this movie.

One of Freakier Friday's secret weapons is Manny Jacinto’s Eric – who may be known for dishing out jokes in The Good Place, but in this movie as Anna’s new man, he brings a down-to-earth quality to the film (alongside his quite heartthrobb-y charms) that Harmon held down in the original. In many ways, Freakier Friday can feel like a romantic comedy flipped on its head, and it does so with a beaming confidence.

Another very welcome return in Freakier Friday is Chad Michael Murray’s Jake, who had a hilarious body-swap love triangle of sorts going on with Tess and Anna in the first movie. The sequel plays swiftly with that element in a hilariously believable and lovelably silly way that breathes extra life into the film. And then there’s Vanessa Bayer’s fortune teller character, who brings her SNL wiles to the cast, and makes every scene she is in funnier than the last.

Director Nisha Ganatra successfully helps bring the spirit of the original back with other great comedy experience under her belt, from helming 2019’s Late Night to doing episodes of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, Fresh Off The Boat and The Mindy Project. But, there’s something that is a little bit rough around the edges about the Mark Waters-directed original that is somewhat missing here. For example, Anna’s punk rock phase is over, as she now helps manage a pop star (played by Maitreyi Ramakrishnan), and the soundtrack has a more pop girly framework to it, playing the likes of Chappell Roan and Suki Waterhouse. Still, there are also some fun song choices from women-fronted rock bands, including The Linda Lindas and The Beaches.

There’s also a new Lindsay Lohan song “Baby,” which falls into the pop ballad territory. It makes sense given we’re at a time when female-fronted acts are a lot more hip then they were in 2003, but the new song isn't going to hit the levels "Ultimate" and "Take Me Away" had on my childhood. Perhaps the movie knows this, and thankfully it gives one of the songs an encore in the sequel. I was cheering at the sight of seeing Lohan back in Pink Slip, and yes, she still does that awesome guitar solo like it was yesterday.

Freakier Friday wins as a theatrical comedy for the whole family at a time when they just don’t exist anymore.

Overall, there’s certainly some generic filmmaking choices here that could have used a bit more umph. But we’re also talking about one of the few theatrical family comedies we’ve seen in movie theaters in some time. With that factored in, I’m really impressed it’s packed with a ton of soul as it is. This isn’t high-brow territory, but Jamie Lee Curtis running around Los Angeles in ridiculous teenage-geared outfits with Lindsay Lohan trying to tell her to flirt is one of my highlight moments going to the movies this year, and I know I won't be the only one.

When it comes to the original Freaky Friday, I always found that Jamie Lee Curtis getting to embody a teenager had all the fun, whilst a young Lohan impressively played the straight-laced Tess in a teen body. This time around, both actresses get to play teenagers together, as Anna’s daughter and Eric’s daughter get stuck in their bodies and decide to try to break up their parent’s upcoming marriage, and it’s simply a ball to see these two get into funny scenarios that also remain well-fitted for its PG, family-friendly rating.

Curtis is once again the real scene-stealer here, playing an even more unhinged role as a prim and proper British teen stuck in a grandmother’s body, while Lohan gets to both evolve for the present day and provide the nostalgia of embodying a teen again. With this new dynamic, Freakier Friday is also kind of a buddy comedy in a lot of ways, and that was absolutely the right move for fans like me who want to see more of the Freaky Friday magic.

At a time when other Disney sequels for Hocus Pocus, Disenchanted went straight to streaming and the studio has been stuck in live-action retreads after retreads the past few years, this is a rare legacyquel I’m not rolling my eyes at. It has the kind of fan service I'm looking for, and I'm already looking forward to a second viewing.