The Iron Claw - Review: Holding Tight and Never Letting Go

 

For almost as long as cinema has existed, two kinds of films have existed: the “based on a true story” biopic of a person’s life and the inspirational sports movie. And if there’s a type of story that audiences love more than an inspirational sports movie, it's a tragedy. Enter the Von Erich family, a gaggle of professional wrestlers known as one of the pioneers of familial wrestling teams and for the tragedy of their deaths in this tale of “The Iron Claw”. 

The film follows the Von Erichs family, focusing on brothers Kevin, Kerry, David, and Mike, played by Zac Efron (“High School Musical,” “The Greatest Showman”), Jeremy Allen White (“Shameless,” “The Bear”), Harris Dickinson (“Trust,” “The King’s Man”), and Stanley Simons, respectively. Under the tumultuous leadership of their father Jack, played by Holt McCallany (“Lights Out,” “Mindhunter”), they rise through the ranks of professional wrestling, as unfortunate tragedy strikes the family, claiming the lives of multiple members of the family. 

While this is very much an ensemble piece, Efron is the clear lead and star of the show and is better than he has ever been in his career before. He’s magnetic, showcasing the same charisma he’s had since his smile lit up the Disney Channel, but there’s a deeper ability on display. A clear sense of knowing showmanship filters through Kevin, and the pain that Efron is able to mix with moments of pure charm is nothing short of fantastic. His performance is almost too good, as it does end up overshining some of the other excellent actors within the film. 

White and McCallany are truly incredible as well, fiery spouts of rage and temper that play against each other and Efron’s slightly cooler headed personality. Simons is a cold and sad tragedy of a man, and as good as Dickinson is, his lesser runtime makes it harder for him to make as much of an impact as the other brothers. Also, worth highlight are Lily James (“Baby Driver,” “Pam & Tommy”) as Pam, Kevin’s girlfriend and eventual wife and constant source of humor and charm opposite Efron, and Maura Tierney (“The Affair,” “ER”) as Doris Von Erich, the family matriarch and source of constant, quiet emotion and wisdom in the face of the rest of the Von Erich’s emotional storms. 

Writer/director Sean Durkin sets his sports tragedy against a backdrop of hazy 80s honey-glow colors shot by cinematographer Mátyás Erdély (“The Nest,” “The Woman Who Brushed Off Her Tears”), with a rollicking rock soundtrack underneath it all and a musical score by Arcade Fire member Richard Reed Parry. Showcasing the excess of the period and of the family at their height of success helps for the later moments to hit much harder as we watch everything collapse around them. While the elements outside the ring are shot routinely, it's the moments inside that are a real highlight. Everything looks like how a child might imagine being in the wrestling ring and it helps to build up the film’s central theme of showcasing Jack’s desire for perfection and excess and the tole it takes on the family. 

Durkin’s biggest accomplishment with the film is somehow making it both a condemnation of Jack’s actions towards the brothers, while also successfully celebrating their achievements in the ring and the general showmanship of the pre-WWE era of televised, commercialized wrestling. His love of wrestling and this era shines through, and it's a prime example of the concept of “criticize what you love”. It feels so true and authentic, while also making the Von Erichs’ achievements even more monumental against the backdrop of 80s excess and pain. 

“The Iron Claw” latches on to the audience and doesn’t let go. While Efron does steal the show from the rest of the cast almost too much, the film itself is such a powerful example of poisoning fame and excess, set against a display of pure brotherly love. The golden haze set over this 80s sports tragedy is palpable and intense, bringing everything together in a tight grasp of emotion and drama, leaving viewers with tears in their eyes and their fists in the air. 4.5/5

All Of Us Strangers - Review: A Twilight Zone-Tinted Romance

 

The world of film can allow for such insane and wild scenarios to play out on massive, grand scales. You’ll believe a man could fly, as they say. The world of independent film likewise can also achieve some wild and varied feats, just on a smaller scale with smaller budgets. That’s where something like “All of Us Strangers” comes in, a film that is both a quiet, pensive, dialogue heavy, atmospheric, gay indie drama and also a movie involving ghosts and supernatural elements that wouldn’t be out of place in a “Twilight Zone” episode. 

Based on the novel “Strangers” by Taichi Yamada, the film follows Adam, played by Andrew Scott (“Fleabag,” “Pride (2014)”), a screenwriter living in solitude in London, who meets his neighbor Harry, played by Paul Mescal (“Normal People,” “Aftersun”), and the two eventually begin a romance. All the while, Adam begins to visit his childhood home where he begins to see and interact with his deceased mother and father, played by Claire Foy (“The Crown,” “Women Talking”) and Jamie Bell (“Rocketman (2019),” “The Adventures of Tintin”) respectively. 

It’s not fair to call it a weird plot, as most of the film’s weirdness is disguised within its somber tone and subtle performances. Scott and Mescal are great together, and there’s an air of mystery and unease to Foy and Bell’s performances that make them extremely captivating. Writer/director Andrew Haigh (“Lean on Pete,” “Looking”) crafts an extremely fascinating and infectious vibe to the entire film that certainly makes it more interesting than one might expect from other movies like this that might get broadly labeled “indie” movies. 

Yet as fascinating as it can be, the film is also painfully slow throughout. It is clearly part of the point and vibe of the events, and the craft clearly shows that Haigh wanted to make a very deliberately paced movie. But it doesn’t take away from the fact that it is, indeed, simply extremely slow. The music from composer Emilie Levienaise-Farrouch (“Censor,” “Living (2022)”) doesn’t help this, as it can sometimes invite sleepier tendencies, as if the movie is a celluloid lullaby, paired with gorgeous visuals from cinematographer Jamie D. Ramsay (“Living (2022),” “See How They Run”). 

It can just feel like a very placid film, where weird things happen in mundane ways to supplement the story, rather than to enhance or be an integral part of it. For example, we’re shown very early on that Adam’s visits with his parents aren’t in his head. They’re legitimately seeing him from beyond the grave. Why is this? Why not just use memories? Why go for this more supernatural tone? It can feel unfair to judge the film for these choices or to even question them, but by the movie’s end, they don’t feel like they were necessary choices to tell this story. They just happened to be the ones used to tell it. 

If that all sounds too negative, don’t fear because the film itself is still a remarkably atmospheric experience led by its phenomenal cast, visuals, and music. It’s just a bit frustrating from a conceptual standpoint. But if you turn your mind away to those thoughts, and simply exist in the vibe and sense of it all, you’re left with a remarkably compelling and gorgeous little indie drama that certainly takes a unique approach to its subject matter and story. 3.5/5

Migration - Review: Birds of a Feather Are Entertaining Together

 

In the world of animation, Illumination can come across as a bit of a red-headed stepchild. Where other studios go big or go for broke, Illumination’s films can sometimes seem like lesser products with lower budgets and far more broad appeal goals. Yet, every so often, one of them breaks through and really shines, as is the case with “Migration,” an animated waterfowl fable from director Benjamin Renner (“Ernest & Celestine,” “The Big Bad Fox and Other Tales...”) and writer Mike White (“School of Rock,” “The White Lotus”). 

The film follows a family of mallards; father Mack, voiced by Kumail Nanjiani (“Silicon Valley,” “Eternals”), mother Pam, voiced by Elizabeth Banks (“The Hunger Games,” “The LEGO Movie”), preteen son Dax, voiced by Caspar Jennings, daughter Gwen, voiced by Tresi Gazal, and curmudgeonly elderly uncle Dan, voiced by Danny DeVito (“It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia,” “Matilda”), who decide to leave their safe, anxious lifestyle in a New England pond to travel south for the winter for the first time. On their way to Jamaica, they end up finding themselves in New York and a variety of other odd detours. 

Renner’s experience with hand drawn animation comes through in spades here with some of the most expressive animation and stylings of any Illumination movie thus far. The squashing and stretching of everything gives it all a sense of earnestness and life that can feel sorely missing in a lot of other Hollywood blockbuster animated films. It's also, like many of Illumination’s films, a gorgeous movie to behold, full of sweeping naturalistic shots, collages of fall colors, and city sightlines that are just beautiful. It helps greatly that the score from John Powell (“How To Train Your Dragon,” “Kung Fu Panda”) is the absolute definition of playful, leading to some moments taking on the sensibilities of a classic Merry Melodies cartoon. 

It’s vocal cast also commits to the comedic nature of it all to great effect. Banks proves to be a great calm foil to Nanjiani’s more manic mallard mannerisms, and the kids are fantastic as well, really selling the sibling bickering and the overall familial bond. Devito plays the grumpy uncle well, and the rest of the voice cast is a who’s who of comedic talents that all play their roles well, from a Jamaican parrot voiced by Kegan Michael Key (“Wendell and Wild,” “Wonka”) to a terrifying elderly heron voiced by Carole Kane (“The Princess Bride,” “Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt”) and a streetwise pigeon voice by Awkwafina (“Ocean’s 8,” “The Farewell”) in one of the best uses of her gravely vocal touches in years. 

What this adventure consists of, though, isn’t really anything unique. It’s a road movie with a bunch of birds, going from place to place and meeting colorful new characters as they go. Renner and White don’t try to reinvent the wheel with this one, but the script is kept lively and bright, leaning heavily on silly familial banter and antics. It’s in that seeming simplicity and routine story that White mines for some emotional resonance, and while he doesn’t exactly craft a wholly unique tale, what’s here is undeniably entertaining and fun. 

“Migration” is a movie for the whole flock, uncomplicated and entertaining. It’s just a silly little fun movie, one that doesn’t try to be wholly silly for the kids or overly smart for the adults. It’s a fun little piece of animated road movie folly. A great voice cast, a great score, gorgeous visuals, and a dearth of fart jokes. What more could you ask for with a modern Hollywood animated film? 4/5

Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom - Review: An Overstuffed Sequel That Quickly Takes On Water

In the turbulent swirl that has been the DC Extended Universe, Aquaman has been a weird highlight for a good chunk of it. The first film was overlong but embracingly silly, keeping the mythology DC is known for while also shirking some of the darker elements of the previous films. It also helped greatly that Aquaman himself, aka Jason Momoa (“See,” “Dune (2021)”), was clearly such a charismatic force. 

Now, five years later, the only DC film to crack a billion dollars worldwide has a sequel, the much delayed “Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom.” The film follows Aquaman, played again by Momoa, as he must team up with his villainous half-brother Orm, played by Patrick Wilson (“Insidious,” “The Conjuring”), to stop Black Manta, played by Yahya Abdul-Mateen II (“The Trial of the Chicago 7,” “The Matrix Resurrections”), from killing his family and overheating the world using the mythical Black Trident, a remnant of the lost seventh kingdom of the sea. 

If that doesn’t seem like too complicated of a plot, just you wait. Because returning director/co-writer James Wan (“Insidious,” “Malignant”) and writers David Leslie Johnson-McGoldrick (“Orphan,” “Wrath of the Titans (2012)”), Thomas Pa’a Sibbett (“Braven,” “The Last Manhunt”), and Momoa himself do as much as possible to bloat the film’s plot with various other subplots and just complicated the main narrative in general. It manages to deal with the missing seventh kingdom, the brainwashing Black Trident, climate change, Aquaman having a family and potentially retiring, brotherly strife with Orm, and reuniting the surface world with the undersea world. 

It’s a lot to be sure, and while most of it can be fun in a cheesy, B-movie kind of way, eventually it all just starts to collapse in on itself. Momoa tries to keep the vibes up with his big grin and silly, machismo charms, and he does succeed, especially when opposite Wilson. The pair have a really great buddy cop angle going, mixing their antagonistic brotherly tendencies and when the film is just focusing on them, it is a good bit of fun. When you have an actor taking himself as seriously as Wilson is against someone doing the exact opposite like Momoa is, it makes for a great odd couple combination. 

Even the visuals manage to keep up with the B-movie vibes. This is a movie with giant octopuses that fight in superhero battles and control mechs the size of small buildings. It all goes back to the sense of seriousness; when we see a character controlling a mech with giant levers with red balls on the end that look like they’re from a Thunderbirds episode in a literal secret evil Volcano lair, it can work. But it's the other moments, where the film takes itself far too seriously, where it all comes crashing down. 

There’s a big sense of combining in the overall structure and plot. It feels like Wan and his writers had ideas for two or three other movies and decided to just squish them all into one. It feels bloated and overlong, despite barely being over two hours. There’s just so much smashed in here for seemingly no other reason than to pad out the runtime. Even the ending can’t seem to figure out whether it should go for a cool final moment or one that feels supremely, winkingly dumb. 

“Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom” is a bizarre film. One that seems to ready and willing to not take itself seriously in the slightest, and yet cheapens out at the last minute to try and become a grand superhero royalty lineage drama. Momoa isn’t taking any of it seriously, opposite Wilson who absolutely is, both trying to hammer their way through a script that feels like the love-child of a 50s science fiction TV show and a serious Snyder superhero movie. It’s so incredibly weird, and maybe that’s reason enough to see it. But it doesn’t make it good. 2/5 

American Fiction - Review: Take a Look, It's in a Book

 

If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. This adage has existed for as long as humanity has, as the more success one person gets, the more people will crop up jealous or bitter in some way over that success. This concept has been utilized numerous times in fiction in countless ways, and we now have writer/director Cord Jefferson’s directorial debut taking on this idea in the most classic and American way possible with the aptly titled “American Fiction.”

Based on the novel “Erasure,” the film follows Thelonious "Monk" Ellison, played by Jeffrey Wright (“The French Dispatch,” “Westworld (2016)”), a professor and writer struggling with personal loss and writer’s block. After a death in his family and spurred by his reckless brother Cliff, played by Sterling K. Brown (“This Is Us,” “Honk for Jesus, Save Your Soul”), he decides to write a purposefully bad book aping what he sees as the derogatory way black authors write about their communities. When his book becomes an unexpected hit, he finds himself struggling to reconcile success with his perceptions about his own life, skills, and the literary world.

Jefferson’s script is exceptionally sharp and impressive, especially for a debut feature, getting directly into the meat of the material and leaving no punches pulled. It helps that he has such a game lead actor, as Wright turns in a career best performance here. He's unafraid to make the audience unsure of their feelings on Monk, and the film constantly pushes and pulls him in various directions because of the success of his book. As things continue to trickle down to him, his heart is laid bare, and it evolves into a truly fantastic lead performance.

Brown is also exceptionally good, almost surprisingly so. The rest of the supporting cast, consisting of Leslie Uggams (“Deadpool,” “Empire”), Erika Alexander (“Living Single,” “Wu-Tang: An American Saga”), John Ortiz (“Jack Goes Boating,” “American Gangster”), Issa Rae (“Insecure,” “The Hate U Give”), and Tracee Ellis Ross (“black-ish,” “Girlfriends”) all fight to steal each of their respective scenes, and they play off each other and Wright flawlessly. Jefferson’s script and their performances all move effortlessly between the film’s most serious and dramatic moments and its comedic ones with seemingly zero effort. It's the kind of cast and film that makes everything you’re seeing seem effortless and easy.

Outside of the script and performances, the look and technical elements of the film are rather plain. It’s nothing necessarily bad, as they serve the film just fine, but there isn’t really any style to these elements. It’s shot in a fairly plain way, and the musical score by Laura Karpman (“Set It Up,” “The Marvels”) is good with some fun piano elements but isn’t a particular standout.

Rather the film’s ending is a big standout moment, and without getting into spoilers, it will certainly be the most divisive element of the film by far. The last ten minutes or so of the film delve the deepest into its satirical elements and start to delve into something even more eviscerating than anything else in the film prior. However, for as fun as it is, it feels as though Jefferson is trying to have his cake and eat it too. It doesn’t not work, but it feels incredibly jarring since nothing else in the film prior resembles this moment. It’s certainly not a bad ending, but it’ll likely be the most talked about element of the film and its most divisive by a long shot.

“American Fiction” manages to effortlessly blend its two halves into a cohesive dramady that mines the strength of its script and cast for pointed laughs and drama. Wright leads with a fantastic performance that is equally matched by the rest of the supporting cast, especially Brown. It’ll certainly be one of the year’s most talked about films, thanks to its performances, script, and ending, which all help to pad out its more rudimentary technical and directorial stylings. It’s one hell of a directorial debut and a movie with something to say and the mouth to say it. 4/5

Wonka (2023) - Review: Sugary Sweet Down to the Core

It's amusing that “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory” has become such a beloved piece of family entertainment given the original film’s origins as a snark, satirical, somewhat cynical book. With two films based on the original novel, countless pieces of merchandise, theme park attractions, and other experiences, the next logical place to go is an origin story for the titular chocolatier himself, of course! 

The film follows a younger Willy, played by Timothée Chalamet (“Dune (2021),” “Little Women (2019)”), years before establishing his famous factory, attempting to make a name for himself in the Galéries Gourmet. Shortly after arriving, he’s confronted by the Chocolate Cartel, a group of rival chocolatiers run by Arthur Slugworth, played by Paterson Joseph (“Peep Show,” “The Leftovers”), Gerald Prodnose, played by Matt Lucas (“Come Fly With Me,” “Little Britain”), and Felix Fickelgruber, played by Mathew Baynton (“Horrible Histories,” “Bill”). He’s threatened by them and the Chief of Police, played by Kegan Michael-Key (“Keanu,” “Schmigadoon!”), and eventually enlists in the help of a young girl named Noodle, played by Calah Lane (“The Day Shall Come”), to help him make and sell his candy under the Cartel’s nose. 

While his casting was mocked a bit upon initial announcement, CHalamet himself ends up being the movie’s secret weapon. He walks a delicate line between being overly earnest and overly cheesy, and somehow ends up delivering a performance with a childlike whimsy that can be best compared to co-writer/director Paul King’s (“Paddington 2,” “Bunny and the Bull”) previous film “Paddington.” Lane keeps the same kind of energy, but plays the straight man to Chalamet’s whimsical nature, and the pair have a fantastic back and forth. 

As with the best musicals, the rest of the ensemble all make a mark on the viewer without upstaging each other or the main cast. With minor players full of the likes of Olivia Colman (“The Favourite,” “Hot Fuzz”), Jim Carter (“Downton Abbey,” “Cranford”), Rowan Atkinson (“Mr. Bean,” “Johnny English”), Natasha Rothwell (“Insecure,” “The White Lotus”), Hugh Grant (“Four Weddings and a Funeral,” “Paddington 2”), Tom Davis (“King Gary,” “The Curse”), and more, each scene is a delight, purely based off of how entertaining it is to see them all interact with Chalamet and the chocolatey, whimsical world King and co-writer Simon Farnaby (“Paddington 2,” “The Phantom of the Open”) have crafted. 

Musically, the film is a remarkable success, with original songs from Neil Hannon (“The Divine Comedy”) and a score by Joby Talbot (“The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (2005),” “Son of Rambow”). While not every song is a showstopper, even the worst among them are still extremely enjoyable. There are a handful of songs from the original Gene Wilder film as well that are woven smartly, without over relying on nostalgia, instead being deployed at specific moments for maximum efficiency. The music is paired with some excellent choreography, both of the traditional dancing variety and the more “staged parkour to music” type. It’s all staged against some genuinely gorgeous and inventive production design that blends the modern CGI aspects with built sets to great effect. The combination of musical and practical elements really makes the film come alive, like a playground of song chords and candy. 

What seems most remarkable of all is the genuine sincerity at the center of it all. It’s not just Chalamet’s performance, but the aura of the film as w hole. For a blockbuster Hollywood musical based on a beloved IP, it's a remarkably honest movie about the burning passion of creativity and how mixing it with commerce can become poisonous. Not just that, it wears its heart on its sleeve and is shockingly emotional at a variety of surprising points. King’s expert use of Sally Hawkins (“Blue Jasmine,” “Paddington 2”) as Wonka’s mother helps to bolster the comparison, but it really does feel like an extension of his “Paddington” sensibilities; the ability to make a film so achingly sincere and without malice, without falling into the sweet or sappy trappings of a more cloying or annoying film is no small feat. 

It’s hard to describe “Wonka” as anything more than a wonder. It’s genuinely amusing and fun, coupled with a fantastic sense of style and production design. Its central cast is electric, led by an impressively open and endearing performance from Chalamet. What’s even more impressive, it seems to avoid Hollywood’s most annoying cliche, avoiding any sense of sincerity, and instead embraces the sweetness. It’s a delight of a film, plain and simple, and one of the biggest and best surprises to come out of the American cinema candy factory in a long, long time. 4.5/5 

Chicken Run: Dawn of the Nugget - Review: Looks Delicious, Tastes Reheated

 

No team of filmmakers working today is immune to the pull of sequels or nostalgia, even those working in the clay or plasticine medium like Aardman, which is why we have “Chicken Run: Dawn of the Nugget,” a sequel to the 2000 original with a new cast, new characters, and a new focus: the fast food industry. 

Following the events of the first film, Ginger, voiced by Thandiwe Newton (“Westworld (2017),” “Crash”), and Rocky, voiced by Zachary Levi (“Chuck,” “Shazam!”), have managed to establish a small community of free-range chickens hidden from the humans of the outside world. However, their rebellious daughter Molly, voiced by Bella Ramsey (“The Last of Us,” “Catherine Called Birdy”), wants to explore the world. She escapes their commune with the help of new friend Frizzle, voiced by Josie Sedgwick-Davies, and the pair are quickly captured and taken to a high security farm where they must be rescued by Ginger, Rocky, and the rest of the gang before being turned into nuggets by returning villain Mrs. Tweedy, voiced by Miranda Richardson (“Tom & Viv,” “Empire of the Sun”). 

Like any other Aardman picture, there’s a high level of play on display here, both in the script and the animation. Director Sam Fell (“ParaNorman,” “Flushed Away”) and writers Karey Kirkpatrick (“Over the Hedge,” “Smallfoot”), John O'Farrell (“Early Man”), and Rachel Tunnard (“Military Wives,” “Adult Life Skills”) fill the world with tons of gags and over-the-top sequences of spy movie parody. Thanks to Aardman’s high quality animations and sense of timing, they all work wonders, adding a thick layer of humor to the already funny script. It works both on paper and visually on multiple levels, without missing any of the studio’s trademark bizarre black humor either. 

The voice cast is up to the task as well, with most returning from the first film. Newton and Levi do an admirably job filling the large chicken feet of their previous voices. Levi feels a bit too jokey at times and Newton feels like she lacks the internal seriousness, but they’re far from poor. Rather, it’s Ramsey that really steals the show. The childhood rebellion that they’re able to inject into the vocal performance is remarkable, and they’re constantly a highlight of the film at large, whether on their own or sharing the screen with others. 

At large, the film manages to be a really fun, light heartedly silly time, but it's hard not to feel like something is missing deep in the center. There’s a very certain kind of soul absent from this picture that has been plaguing the studio’s recent output. The music, from returning composer Harry Gregson-Williams (“Shrek,” “House of Gucci”), is still breezy and intense. The sets are still impressive in scope and scale. But the adventure at large is lacking. The self-seriousness of the original film, the idea that despite being chickens, Ginger, Rocky, and the rest of the coop took their adventure deathly seriously, is missing here. 

Rather, the harrowing moments lack a real sense of seriousness. Is this a nitpick for a film about talking stop motion chickens? Possibly, but when the first film had these elements in droves, they’re definitely noticed when absent. It just results in a film that feels overall more disposable than what came before. It doesn’t mean the film is bad by any means, but it lacks a distinct impact. If the first was a four-course chicken dinner, this one is a really good chicken sandwich. It’s still really good, but it lacks a lot of finer ingredients that the first had. 

There’s something to be said for the craftsmanship on display here though, because even when the film is at its weakest, the craft on display is still staggering. To see a film where truly every single aspect is handmade, down to the tiniest detail of clothing, is still some kind of magic. It really puts it all into perspective when you see a character giving a dramatic monologue and you realize that it probably took a week just to animate them saying one word. Even decades after the first piece of Aardman stop-motion wizardry, it's still an impressive feat. 

Despite its seemingly lower intensity and stakes, “Chicken Run: Dawn of the Nugget” is still a very fun film and will still put a smile on your face throughout its runtime. But those expecting something as immediately iconic as the first film will be disappointed. It’s an example of a lot of great elements adding up to be less than the sum of their parts, although that sum is still pretty good. 4/5

Poor Things - Review: A Tale of Bodily Autonomy

 

Even in the realm of “weird filmmakers”, Yorgos Lanthimos (“The Favourite,” “Killing of a Sacred Deer”) is a weird filmmaker. After a career of making movies that have odd stories played straight, with actors playing up their performances and really taking on roles that challenge and confuse, he seems to have finally made his magnum opus. “Poor Things” not only has the weirdness of story that Lanthimos normally maintains, but also develops a visually rich world to tell a story unlike anything else you’ll see this year, or almost any other. 

The film follows Bella Baxter, played by Emma Stone (“The Favourite,” “La La Land”), a woman reanimated from the dead with the brain of a newborn by mad scientist Dr. Godwin Baxter, played by Willem Dafoe (“Spider-Man,” “Antichrist”). During her new life, as she begins to gain knowledge of the world around her, she ends up running away from home and goes on a series of sexually liberating misadventures including various people she meets along the way, such as Duncan Wedderburn, played by Mark Ruffalo (“13 Going on 30,” “Zodiac”), Max McCandles, played by Ramy Youssef (“Ramy,” “Mo”), Harry Astley, played by Jerrod Carmichael (“On the Count of Three,” “The Carmichael Show”), Toinette, played by Suzy Bemba (“Kandisha,” “Homecoming”), and Alfie Blessington, played by Christopher Abbott (“The Crowded Room,” “James White”). 

First things first, “Poor Things” is an exceptionally dense film from a conceptual and script perspective. Adapted by Tony McNamara (“The Favourite,” “The Great”) from the novel of the same name, the movie dives deep into explorations of humanity, sexuality, free will, and self-examinations. Bella serves mostly as a blank slate, allowing her to question numerous aspects of humanity through a sense of childlike whimsy and point out the absurd flaws in much of our thinking. Stone is exceptional in this role, taking things head-on and transforming into a fascinating portrayal of a free-willed woman. She not only nails the intellectual and emotional arcs of the film, but she manages to excel with the comedic aspects. She throws herself into the various elements of physical comedy throughout, and expertly delivers numerous amounts of wordplay throughout. 

The rest of the cast are all fabulous as well, each not only nailing the film’s sense of humor, but also representing different aspects of humanity in increasingly interesting ways. Ruffalo is a particular standout, throwing himself into a role the likes of which we’ve never really seen him do before. Carmichael meanwhile is calculatedly distributed for a cool and collected jolt to the film, and Bemba is a lovable and wonderfully understated companion for Stone, so good you simply wish she was in more of the film. 

If you’ve seen any of the film’s posters or marketing, then you’ll likely already be somewhat familiar with the striking production design and cinematography. Shot by Robbie Ryan (“The Favourite,” “Marriage Story”) and with production design lead by Shona Heath and James Price (“The Ipcress File,” “The Nest”), it's a staggeringly beautiful film in all aspects. From the minute details to the large sweeping landscapes, there’s odd beauty to be found in every angle. It feels not only like an otherworldly place you’re allowed to be brought into, but given Bella’s perspective leading the film, it also feels like it all could simply be the way she views the world. Given the material itself, it's not a stretch to say that one could hypothesize that it's an average-looking world, simply seen through the new eyes of Bella’s odd perspective. Backing up all of this is a bizarre and wonderous musical score from Jerskin Fendrix which serves as the icing on this preposterous looking cake. 

The film’s subject matter certainly won’t be for everyone, but even beneath the copious amounts of nudity, surgery, and odd modes of transportation, there’s a universal tale of self-discovery at the core of it all. Because of Stone’s performance and Lanthimos’ careful direction, it manages to be a film that certainly is bizarre and pulls much of its enjoyment from that bizarreness, but also manages to have such an honest heart about the nature of humanity and discovery that anyone could find something to enjoy in it, even if the outlandish visuals turn them away at first. 

“Poor Things” is simply a film unlike any other, with a lead performance that, even among a sea of other exceptional ones, is truly something else. Stone is a lightning bolt in a film filled with numerous other aspects that are also exceptional. It’s a film so fantastic that even if you think you’d be turned off (pun entirely intended) by the extravagant style, it’s still worth giving a shot regardless. 5/5

The Boy and the Heron - Review: A Work Of Art That Truly Soars

 

Note: this review was based on a viewing of the Japanese language version

There’s an argument to be made that animation is a medium for those whose minds and hearts overflow. They simply cannot express their feelings or emotions through traditional, real world means, and therefore must lose themselves in the worlds of paint and ink, moving at twenty-four-frames-per-second to craft some kind of magical land unlike our own. And sometimes those other magical lands are the best ways to communicate some of life’s harshest lessons or emotions. No one knows that better than Hayao Miyazaki (“Spirited Away,” “Howl’s Moving Castle”) and nowhere does he prove it more so than with his latest, “The Boy and the Heron.”

In the spirit of the film’s release in Japan, this review will be detailing zero information on the plot itself. It’s a perfect way to discuss the film actually, as the plot exists merely as a vehicle to communicate the atmosphere and themes that Miyazaki is interested in touching upon. There are a handful of mainstays from his past films, such as a child in need of a coming-of-age journey, familial strife, and fantastic creatures sanding down their rough edges. But there’s a profound air of melancholy to everything as well that makes it all feel rather refreshing.

The vocal cast excels. Soma Santoki (“Cube (2021)”) voices Mahito, the titular “boy” and his rapport with Masaki Suda (“Wilderness,” “My Little Monster”), who voices the titular Heron, is nothing short of fantastic. The pair have an energy and flow that develops throughout the film into a truly special odd couple-esque pairing. Aimyon, voicing Lady Himi, adds a delightfully childish bit of mischief to the film that still manages to hit the deeply emotional moments, and Yoshino Kimura (“Shitsurakuen,” “Orochi: Blood”), voicing Natsuko, is arguably the standout of the entire film, with a gruff and lovable persona that’s hard not to find endearing.

There’s no lack of whimsy and artistry on display, and all of the typical Ghibli touches are on full display. Each frame practically bursts with energy and wonder that no other animation studio around the globe has managed to match. The tiniest of details are blown out to staggering degrees, whether it’s the subtle shiftings of a character’s appearance or the wonderful globs of tears or water that flow in any number of scenes.

And yet, there is a profound sense of longing at the center of it all. Mahito is on a journey of discovery in more ways than one, and at numerous points he’s confronted with the staggering beauty and loneliness of this world. Characters meet and then split apart at barely a moments notice, and it becomes a fascinatingly melancholy film as it continues. Moments of gorgeous handmade art are juxtaposed by a true sense of aching sadness. It creates a palpable sense of emotion that feels utterly unique and devastating.

It’s the kind of movie not burdened by the constraints of plot, and while there is an overarching goal and momentum from the story, often times it feels as though Miyazaki is less concerned with how A connects with B and moreso with the energy of the world he’s crafting. This does mean that, like with most Ghibli films, the first act drags for just a bit as all of the gorgeous dominos are being set up. But when things take off, led by Joe Hisaishi’s (“Spirited Away,” “Princess Mononoke”) genuinely breathtaking musical score, you easily become lost in this world.

As things begin to end, it’s not hard to see Miyazaki trying to tell us all something about the world we live in, especially the children. Mahito is just fifteen years old, and a large part of the film is the journey of a young boy trying to find his place in a world full of war and malice. Compared to his previous film, “The Wind Rises”, this is a far simpler tale that harkens back to Miyazaki’s adventure roots in films like “My Neighbor Totoro” or “Spirited Away”, where the film wasn’t about recounting events or telling a grand plot, but rather a young person going on a fantastical adventure. It’s not subtle in its depictions of childhood innocence and thought versus an adult perspective on the world. Miyazaki has always been one who believes in the youth and here is his most nakedly honest version of that belief.

Call it hyperbole, but when a film can move you to tears numerous times based on just the beauty on display, there’s something otherworldly and impossible to define about it. Miyazaki has retired before, and we don’t know when or if his next film will come. But if this possibly stands as his last, then it’s a magnum opus, a textbook example of his artistic choices and favorite themes. It’s a visual feast and fever dream and work of pure artistry and deeply moving and a melancholic delight and the kind of film you feel special getting to witness for the very first time. 5/5

Godzilla Minus One - Review: A Monstrous Drama

 

It might seem impossible to say given the thirty-seven films released over the past seventy years in the original Japanese “Godzilla” franchise, but somehow, writer/director Takashi Yamazaki (“The Great War of Archimedes,” “Lupin III: The First”) has delivered a Godzilla film unlike any that have come before it in numerous ways.

Set just after World War 2, Kōichi Shikishima, a former kamikaze pilot played by Ryunosuke Kamiki (“Howl’s Moving Castle,” “Your Name”), finds himself in Tokyo as the city attempts to rebuild after the war. After meeting Noriko Ōishi, a grifter played by Minami Hamabe (“Let Me Eat Your Pancreas,” “Shin Kamen Rider”), and a baby she’d rescued, he takes a job out at sea with a motley trio; Yōji Akitsu, the captain of the ship played by Kuranosuke Sasaki (“Samurai Hustle,” “Hanchō”), Shirō Mizushima, a young trainee played by Yuki Yamada (“Strobe Edge,” “Tokyo Revengers”), and Kenji Noda, a former military weapons engineer played by Hidetaka Yoshioka (“Always: Sunset on Third Street,” “Rhapsody in August”). However, this peace is disturbed as he discovers that Godzilla, a creature he once witnessed massacre an entire island during the war, has returned larger and more horrifying than before.

Yamazaki’s directorial style fits well within the constraints of the monster movie genre, because it doesn’t treat the film as one. This isn’t so much a Godzilla film where the appeal is seeing wanton destruction. Rather, by driving home the personal lives of its main cast, Yamazaki makes the destruction much more palpable by letting the audience connect with the characters. Kamiki is fantastic, perfectly playing the guilt laden Shikishima with care but without pity. Hamabe is effortlessly charming and wonderful, making it easy to love Ōishi and root for her and Shikishima’s relationship.

The visual effects, like the destruction, are used sparingly throughout, instead allowing for maximum impact instead of eye candy. What’s here is absolutely incredible looking, both in raw detail and realism as well in how gorgeously shot the film is. On a budget of just 15 million USD, this is a film that proves once again that talent and time will trump budget every single time.

Given the nuclear allegory that already exists within the concept of Godzilla, setting the film shortly after World War 2 is a genius move that only strengthens the themes at play. Bringing a healthy amount of realism to something like a Godzilla film might seem like a recipe for disaster, but it works because the realism isn’t the focus. Rather than trying to drag Godzilla into something “realistic”, Yamazaki has instead make sure his characters are “real people”. It works because it isn’t trying to be realistic, but grounded in characters that are easy to care for.

There are much heavier themes at play than one might initially expect, and they’re woven into the story beautifully. It feels natural, despite the giant lizard stomping around, to touch on these ideas in this kind of setting. The musical score from Naoki Satō (“The Eternal Zero,” “Stand By Me Doraemon”) also helps in both reinterpreting some classic Godzilla themes for the film, but also in blending the emotions throughout.

“Godzilla Minus One” is a daring film in quite a few ways. While operating within the skeleton of the kaiju film, Takashi Yamazaki crafts a far more touching and personal film than one might expect. But it also makes complete sense; for the big emotions that he’s going for, lead by a note perfect cast, a film of this scale, displaying catastrophes this outrageous is the only way to communicate this kind of emotion effectively. Sometimes the only way to communicate such specific emotions is to just go big. 4.5/5

Wish (2023) - Review: Plenty of Other Stars in the Sky

 

Love them or hate them, there are few things more influential on the culture of the world than Disney. Even if you don’t watch movies or couldn’t tell Sleeping Beauty from Snow White, chances are you know who Mickey Mouse is, even if you don’t know he’s Mickey Mouse. Those three circles have founded a company as big as God, and now with its 100th anniversary this year, the house of mouse has crafted an animated film meant to embody all of its biggest and most iconic aspects, for better or for worse. 

The film, aptly titled “Wish,” takes its central concept from the wishing star featured in so many of Disney’s classic films. It follows Asha, voiced by Ariana Debose (“West Side Story (2022),” “Schmigadoon!”), a young girl who dreams of having her wish granted by King Magnifico, voiced by Chris Pine (“Star Trek (2009),” “Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves”), a magician king of the city of Rosas with the power to grant the wishes of his kingdom. However, after an anthropomorphic wishing star falls from the sky, she begins to question Magnifico’s power and magical hold over the people of her city. 

It’s a genuinely interesting concept, and the idea of crafting a film based around the concept of wishing and the wishing star is a far more compelling approach to an anniversary film than just doing a big Mickey Mouse animated film or a compilation movie. However, in trying to craft a film that feels so quintessentially Disney, directors and co-writers Chris Buck (“Tarzan (1999),” “Frozen”) and Fawn Veerasunthorn (“Raya and the Last Dragon”) and co-writers Jennifer Lee (“Frozen,” “Wreck-It Ralph”) and Allison Moore have instead tried to create a film made of magic first and foremost, instead of that Disney magic being the end product. 

What is here is a clear attempt to reverse engineer the kind of final product Disney magic that seems to so often be a near perfect accident. By approaching it like that, it ends up delivering a film where half of the time it feels like a sanded down product, devoid of any sense of identity other than “Disney fantasy film.” 

Luckily, the voice cast is doing surprisingly good work with the material they’ve been given. Debose manages to be a bright and energetic Disney heroine, leaping and laughing through the adventure. Her talking animal sidekick, Valentino the goat, is voiced by the always charming and excellent Alan Tudyk (“Firefly,” “Tucker and Dale vs. Evil”) to great effect, and while not as great as the main cast, the supporting group of Asha’s friends and family are charming, if not particularly memorable. Meanwhile, Pine is an absolute scene stealer. He’s clearly having a blast playing the bad guy, and every scene he’s in drips with overblown villainy and delight. 

The movie’s visual style is clearly an attempt at breaking up the more mundane, smooth, safe aesthetics of the past few Disney films, while also maintaining a link to Disney’s hand-painted past. However, it always hits a major stumbling block, because while it is a nice visual choice, when compared to other CGI animated films that experiment with their aesthetics, it feels woefully underwhelming. Simply put, it's an admirable goal but it feels like a complete afterthought alongside movies like “Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse,” “Puss in Boots: The Last Wish,” “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem” and “Nimona.” 

As with most of Disney’s big animated films, this one is a musical, and unlike most of Disney’s big animated films, the music in “Wish” is largely mundane. “Welcome to Rosas,” “This Wish,” and Pine’s villain song “This is the Thanks I Get?” are all standouts, but the other tracks vary wildly. “At All Costs” sounds weirdly and overtly romantic for its place in the film and “I’m A Star” is the epitome of generic musical songwriting. Then you have tracks like “Knowing What I Know Now” which aren’t just bad but simply feel as though they don’t belong in the film. 

It seems easy to call the film a disappointment, but it is at least a credit to the basic levels of storytelling competence at the House of Mouse that “Wish” still manages to deliver a basic amount of enjoyment even with the film as a whole disappointing. It’s nothing incredible, but it’s serviceable, and those who are already hardcore Disney fans or who know the difference between Sleeping Beauty and Snow White will likely find something to enjoy. 

But for the centennial anniversary film for a studio with a history as illustrious as Disney’s, “Wish” is undoubtedly a disappointment. Its serviceable in many aspects and carried by its central voice cast, but the music is mostly forgettable or disappointing, the animation’s stylistic choices don’t go far enough, and it feels as though its checking boxes in the Disney aesthetic instead of creating those aspects organically. Maybe things will go better come the 200th anniversary. 2.5/5 

Maestro - Review: A Few Notes Short of a Symphony

 

As the world turns, so does another drama film about the life of a famous artist release right around the Oscars season. This time, we have “Maestro,” chronicling the life of Leonard Bernstein directed by, produced by, co-written by, and starring Bradley Cooper (“A Star is Born (2018),” “The Hangover”). 

The film follows, on a broad scale, Bernstein’s life and marriage to Felicia Montealegre, played by Carey Mulligan (“An Education,” “Promising Young Woman”), with Bernstein played by Cooper. Throughout the picture, we see the various states of their marriage, with Bernstein’s infidelities along with his alcohol and substance abuses putting a strain on their marriage, along with Felicia’s breast cancer, all bookended with an interview with an elderly Bernstein. 

As his second film as a director, one would expect Cooper would want to expand his talents and abilities further. Go big or go home, so to speak. However, with “Maestro” something quite interesting is going on. As the film progresses, it gets more interesting in its depictions of Bernstein (although even as its most interesting, it's still lacking a bit). But as the film gets more interesting, the complexity and styling of its technical aspects becomes more plain. 

The cinematography from Matthew Libatique (“Requiem For A Dream,” “Birds of Prey”) is excellent for about the first third of the film before it eventually turns into a far more traditional and flat technique of shooting a drama. The decision to use only Bernstein’s music throughout the film instead of any kind of a traditional score is a good one but does grow plain by the film’s end as well.  

Cooper does a fine job, but some of the best moments are simply him overacting, creating a weird tonal balance that sometimes has great nuance and sometimes has all the subtlety of an SNL impersonation. The makeup is also a double-edged sword, as sometimes it really works and brings an authenticity to his performance and the rest of the time it just looks like a big rubber nose hanging off of Cooper’s face. The good news is that Mulligan is absolutely exceptional. Her performance so eclipses Cooper’s that it almost feels like maybe the film was crafted to showcase her talents rather than his. She’s simply exceptional. 

It’s a fantastic looking film, not just from a cinematography standpoint. The costumes and set designs are fantastic, lending a great sense of authenticity and mood to the piece. Throughout Cooper also flips between various aspect ratios and color schemes to further enhance that period mood, and it's very effective. It’s a very moody, atmospheric, pretty film that unfortunately is betrayed by its slow crawl towards plainness and Cooper’s uneven performance. 

The script also doesn’t help either. Co-written by Cooper and Josh Singer (“First Man,” “Spotlight”), it boils a lot of Bernstein’s life down its barest building blocks, almost to a soap opera level of melodrama. While Cooper and Mulligan do the best they can, it does end up boiling a lot of Bernstein’s life down to a “gay man cheats on his wife but boy does he still love her” kind of cliche. Its best moments are ones that lean far more into the purely visual aspects, making use of Libatique’s cinematography, production design, and actor’s expressions more than the dialogue. 

In a genre as overstuffed as the music biopic, it is refreshing to see one as complicated as this. “Maestro” does manage to establish itself as a gorgeous film on multiple levels, led by two performances that captivate, even if one doesn’t hold up as well. There’s also something weirdly interesting to see a film like this focus on a composer instead of a rock star or more traditionally forward-facing musician. For all those interesting elements, it's a shame the film’s script and general “Oscar bait” vibe betray those otherwise interesting elements, leaving the film feeling weaker and limper than Cooper clearly desires. 3.5/5

Napoleon (2023) - Review: An Uneven Biopic That Leaves You Feeling Conquered

 

Never let it be said that Ridley Scott (“Alien,” “The Last Duel”) doesn’t want to go big. Most of his films have featured massive battles of some kind or adventures on a grand scale. While he has aimed for a few smaller tales, most of the time the larger the scope or the life of the character, the better. And there have been few figures in history with impacts and egos as big as that of Scott’s latest subject, “Napoleon.”

Expectedly, the film follows the life of Napoleon Bonaparte, played by Joaquin Pheonix (“Joker,” “Walk the Line”), from the beheading of Marie Antoinette through his military career and reign as king until his exile on the island of Saint Helena, heavily featuring his marriage, divorce, and extenuating relationship with his wife Joséphine, played by Vanessa Kirby (The Crown,” “Pieces of a Woman”).

Phoenix and Kirby definitely each bring their own approach to their characters for the film, to varying degrees of effectiveness. While they both fit the sense of what Scott has envisioned, they feel completely at odds with the tone of each other's portrayals. Phoenix plays Napoleon like a self-entitled incel, a manchild who feels entitled to everything around him in spite of his actual abilities. Meanwhile, Kirby plays Joséphine with grace and poise, slowly eroding into frustration and borderline madness due to Napoleon’s treatment of her.

That dichotomy is a great example of what is wrong with Scott’s historical epic at its core. The script from David Scarpa (“The Day the Earth Stood Still (2008),” “All the Money in the World”), and the film as a whole, feels like it has two different approaches to its story with varying degrees of effectiveness and substance. On the one hand, there’s an interesting idea in portraying one of history’s greatest commanders as a complaining manchild. Yet on the other hand, it also tries to still make him seem like a badass beloved by all and neither approach works with the other.

While the battle sequences are epic to behold, and the production design is routinely excellent, a lot of it falls flat due to the poor execution of the story on display. It just feels like a pretty way of putting on a boring story. The cinematography from Dariusz Wolski (“Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl,” “The Martian”) does help in dressing up the film, as does the music from composer Martin Phipps (“The Aftermath,” “The Flying Scotsman”), but it often times just feels like a well put on farce given the portrayals of Napoleon and his achievements. For example, one moment when Napoleon returns to France after being exiled feels particularly silly as he encounters a barrage of French troops at gunpoint, who then break down after confessing that they miss him and then all run up to hug him. It’s fascinating but also feels wildly off from the tone the film is aiming for.

Scott is clearly trying to create a grand historical epic while also infusing it with plenty of coolness, but it's in that historical nature where the film really falters. Yes, most biopics of this kind, especially of subjects this old, do play fast and loose with the truth. However, it feels particularly egregious here given the subject. The film feels remarkably one sided, aligning with the British portrayal of Napoleon in displaying him as a brutish idiot. Yet, even besides that, there are moments that seem purely bizarre, such as watching Napoleon fire cannons on the Pyramids of Giza, structures he’s famously held in high esteem. It once again feels like Scott is simply prioritizing a cool visual moment for one that works to either strengthen the film’s historical accuracy or its depiction of Napoleon.

What you’re left with is a truly bizarre kind of bad film. It’s gorgeous but also weirdly shallow in its attempt to deliver a twisted and somewhat falsified portrayal of this man. Its two lead performances make for a wild balancing act against its fantastic production design, and it leads to a film that’s just plain messy. It’s certainly never boring to watch, but it feels like a beast of a film from a man confused about what exactly he wants to say. 2.5/5

Leo (2023) - Review: An Old Lizard Can Teach New Tricks

Given how many of his films are silly, over the top, gross out, juvenile comedies, it’s surprising that Adam Sandler’s (“Uncut Gems,” “Happy Gilmore”) production company has only ever made one animated film before. Yes, he’s been a voice in plenty of others, but in terms of one he’s been directly involved in the making of, it’s either the abysmal “Eight Crazy Nights” or the surprisingly sincere, sweet, and still silly musical comedy “Leo (2023).” 

The film stars Sandler as Leo, a classroom lizard facing an end-of-life crisis after he realizes that his death might be just around the corner. He then finds a new purpose in life after he begins talking to and giving life advice to the elementary students in his classroom, much to the chagrin of the suspicious, strict substitute teacher Ms. Malkin, voiced by Cecily Strong (“The Awesomes,” “Schmigadoon!”), and his fellow classroom pet Squirtle, voiced by Bill Burr (“F is For Family,” “The King of Staten Island”). 

Even for the ilk that Sandler’s brood have typically turned out, “Leo” can get exceptionally weird as it goes on. And yet, it gets weird in an endearing and extremely fun way. Sadler is laying on a very thick and very silly voice, but it works because it's never played as a joke. This is just how Leo is, and Sandler commits to giving him a legitimately emotional and sincere performance when needed. The rest of the voice cast is acceptable, but still fun. No one else is really giving it their all like Sandler is, but they’re still doing a good job, with Burr and Strong coming the closest to Sandler’s efforts. 

Given that this is animated by Animal Logic, the studio behind the likes of “The LEGO Movie” franchise, “Storks,” and “Happy Feet”, the expectations are high for the quality of said visuals and animation. This is one of the aspects where the film falters, as despite the pedigree of the studio, the animation leaves something to be desired. Some of the scenes and shots are absolutely gorgeous, while others feel unfinished or just uncanny. While this can be attributed to the movie’s more lumpy and slightly ugly aesthetic, not all of it can. 

Musically, it's the same circumstance as the visuals. Quite a few of the songs are excellently written and make for toe-tapping good times, but there are also a few that feel more like some of Sandler’s SNL songs but played completely straight. Co-director/co-writer/songwriter Robert Smigel (“Hotel Transylvania,” “You Don’t Mess with the Zohan”) crafts plenty of witty lines, but they only sometimes acquiesce into actually decent musical tunes. The songs, regardless of quality, do at least fit in the film, and co-directors/writers Robert Marianetti (“Stroker and Hoop”), David Wachtenheim (“Stroker and Hoop”), and Smigel and co-writers Paul Sado (“The Cobbler,” “Sandy Wexler”) and Sandler do manage to craft a world where it all does feel believable, as believable as a world this weird can. 

Speaking of, there is a prevailing sense of weirdness throughout the entire film that truly extends into the uncanny and bizarre. While there is the normal level of animated movie silliness, there are talking animals after all, there’s also some purely bonkers elements, such as a bunch of singing, dancing clocks that are not people in suits, but actual anthropomorphic clocks that go completely unexplained. Talking animals are weird in this world, but apparently singing and dancing clocks are on the payroll for a musical number. There are also shots that look as if they’re meant to be silly or weird for a moment or two that leap far into the uncanny valley and become something almost offputtingly ugly. 

The film spends most of its runtime coasting along on its charms and weirdness, but there is a sense of genuine sincerity that makes the film far better than expected. It does still reek of a corporate/old man “is this what the kids like” attitude, but that sincerity really goes a long was to endear you to the characters and film as a whole, almost in spite of everything else. 

“Leo” is silly, lighthearted, and weird, and it certainly isn’t perfect, but there’s enough genuine heart and oddness going on to be a distracting little adventure for young and old. Sandler is legitimately putting some great effort into his vocal performance and the songs have enough kick and rhythm to keep this adventure of an ageing little lizard afloat for a sleepover or evening with the kids. 3.5/5 

Saltburn - Review: We're All About to Go Insane

 

After her debut film in 2020, writer/director Emerald Fennell (“Promising Young Woman”) is back with another feature that seems tailor made to create absolute havoc in its subject matter and stylistic choices. “Saltburn” is an acid-soaked modern rendition of “The Talented Mr. Ripley” in a way only a madwoman like Fennell could give us. 

Set in 2006, the film follows Oliver Quick, played by Barry Keogan (“Eternals,” “The Banshees of Inisherin”), an awkward Oxford student who befriends popular preppy boy Felix Catton, played by Jacob Elordi (“euphoria,” “The Kissing Booth”), who invites him to spend the holiday at his family’s estate, the titular Saltburn manor. While there, Oliver quickly falls into favor with Felix’s family consisting of his mother Lady Elspeth, played by Rosamund Pike (“Gone Girl,” “Pride and Prejudice (2005)”), his father Sir James, played by Richard E. Grant (“Withnail and I,” “Can You Ever Forgive Me?”), his sister Venetia, played by Alison Oliver (“Conversations with Friends,” “Best Interests”), his cousin Farleigh, played by Archie Madekwe (“See,” “Gran Turismo”), and family friend “poor Dear” Pamela, played by Carey Mulligan (“Promising Young Woman,” “The Great Gatsby (2013)”), all observed by loyal stoic butler Duncan, played by Paul Rhys (“Chaplin,” “A Discovery of Witches). Slowly through the stay though, Oliver begins to set each member against one another, causing them all to slowly start losing their minds. 

First things first, this is a truly insane film on multiple levels. Fennell has crafted an unhinged piece of psychological cinema that will have you on the edge of your seat and jaw on the floor for a good two-thirds of the runtime. She crafts moments that not only escalate in logically illogical ways, but that still track with Oliver’s decisions and the maddening heat of the summer holiday. It’s an impeccably crafted script, fleshed out to its fullest potential thanks to its fully game cast and sense of insane direction. 

Keogan and Elordi have a fantastic balance, a back and forth that leaves you constantly questioning the extent of their friendship and feelings for each other. Keogan rides the line between pathetic coward and sinister plotter to excellent results, and Elordi perfectly plays the popularity king role. Felix’ family are also great, set up as comical symbols of excess before being slowly torn down and tossed in front of the viewer as limp shells of their former selves. Pike in particular plays the role of self-serious rich mother so insanely well, you’d think the character was just herself and only happened to be filmed. 

Shot in full screen “academy ratio”, Fennell and cinematographer Linus Sandgren (“La La Land,” “No Time to Die”) frames each moment with a claustrophobic sense of excess. Saltburn manor is cluttered but also so massive it gives one the sense of being smothered in a sense of emptiness. It's a great display of the production design as well, which is choked full of beautiful excess smothered with dirty laundry and modern conveniences. There’s a shot early on in the film of the family watching “Superbad” on a medium sized plasma TV in the midst of a giant ornate room that perfectly summarizes the visual identity of the entire film. 

With a jukebox of early 2000s hits playing alongside a great score from Anthony Willis (“Promising Young Woman,” “M3GAN”), the time period ends up having a huge influence on the vibes and energy of the film as a whole. More than most other movies set in recent years, the chaos of the early 2000s fits Oliver’s vibe and mission to an expert level. There’s just something about the idea that Fennell has set this insane tale in 2006, the same year that Google bought YouTube and “Hannah Montana” premiered on TV, that adds to the madness and haze of it all. 

“Saltburn” is not for everyone and will likely be hugely derided by most. But for those who can get on its wavelength, this is a hugely enjoyable, wildly sexy, debaucherous tale. Fennell fills this world of excess and claustrophobic emptiness with precision and a haze of early 2000s nostalgia and needle drops, danced through by her cast of completely game entertainers. It’s a wild tale of a house full of bad people slowly losing their minds. 5/5

May December - Review: A Tightrope of Happy Lives and Happy Wives

 

It takes a delicate and bold hand to delve into a circumstance as tricky as a student-teacher relationship and given that the last major Hollywood film made that touched on that idea was “That’s My Boy,” it’s not exactly one most want to try their hand at. Todd Haynes (“Velvet Goldmine,” “Carol”) is not your average director, and as one who’s delved into plenty of melodrama and camp elements, he and writers Sam Burch and Alex Mechanik dive headfirst into this sticky situation that pokes at multiple aspects of the story, past and present. 

The film follows actress Elizabeth, played by Natalie Portman (“Léon: The Professional,” “Black Swan”), who travels to Savannah, Georgia to shadow Gracie, played by Julianne Moore (“Nine Months,” “Magnolia”), after being cast to play her in a film. based around Gracie sleeping with her at the time thirteen-year-old student Joe, played as an adult by Charles Melton (“The Sun is Also a Star,” “Heart of Champions”), whom she then married and has been living happily with for the past twenty-three years. Elizabeth’s arrival throws their relationship and lives into chaos and has them and herself reevaluating many elements of their lives. 

As with most of Haynes’ previous films, there’s a heavy focus on domestic life and melodrama in the events of the film. It doesn’t feel overblown, but just slightly exaggerated in the way that real life often is. Portman and Moore ride this line beautifully, straddling the differences between the two women. It is fascinating to watch a person studying another so they can be that person, and the dynamic this adds to their interactions is expertly displayed. 

But Melton is the runaway star here. His interplay between Moore and Portman, alone with them and with others, is nothing short of phenomenal, and the pain he manages to convey in numerous different situations is increasingly fascinating. The film is at its core really a character study of him and how his life is still controlled and centered around this moment from his childhood, and to watch Melton shape an entire performance around that idea is nothing short of astonishing. 

The dynamic between the film’s quaint and quiet town and its bombastic score by Marcelo Zarvos (“Hollywoodland,” “Dark Water”) and voyeuristic cinematography from Christopher Blauvelt (“mid90s,” “Showing Up”) work to set the two worlds apart. Elizabeth’s world of details and closely examined nitpicking is contrasted using these elements to not only show the difference between them, but also in how despite those differences, they’re still all examining Joe to the same extent. 

It’s a fascinating film on how it works to examine the ay we process stories and information like this, but it does take somewhat of a disappointing easy way out by the end of things. There is something to be said for tying in the film’s own perspective and results with the somewhat “easy way out” ending itself, but that doesn’t take away from its somewhat disappointing end result. 

“May December” is a great showcase for its two main leads, an even greater showcase for Charles Melton, and has a lot to say about its subject material with both its production and text of the film itself. Given the examinations it makes, it does mean that the end result leaves a bit to be desired, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t a fun, melodramatic, well-acted trip to get there. 4/5