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Director Steven Spielberg’s filmography is legendary, to say the least. Movies like “Jaws” (1975), “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” (1977), “Raiders of the Lost Ark” (1981), “E.T.: The Extraterrestrial” (1982), “Schindler’s List” (1993) and “Jurassic Park” (1993) have gone down as classics in the annals of filmmaking. And, even though some of his works in more recent years haven’t quite lived up to the quality of past efforts, it’s comforting to know that he’s still got what it takes when he gets behind the camera. This is where his latest release, “Disclosure Day,” comes into play, easily his best picture in years. This sci-fi/conspiracy theory/personal discovery thriller sports a multifaceted narrative that’s probably too complex to detail here, but that’s likely to be beneficial to viewers who walk into the theater knowing little, if anything about it in advance. In fact, I’d actually recommend approaching this offering from that standpoint to allow it to wash over you organically, to experience and wrap yourself up in the sense of awe and wonder it evokes without the hindrance of too many preconceptions. The one thing I will say about it is that it’s more than just another picture about UFOs and space aliens. While it’s true that formal disclosure about the coverup of an extraterrestrial presence on Earth over the past 80 years is at the core of the storyline, there’s much more going on here, imbuing the title with multiple meanings involving other subjects, including those of a personal and spiritual nature, adding depth to what might have otherwise been merely a more conventional science fiction movie. This becomes apparent through the film’s myriad story threads, which start out seeming disparate and unrelated, much like what happened at the beginning of “Close Encounters.” But, as this picture unfolds, connections develop showing how they all ultimately coalesce, just like in its predecessor. Some have called this kind of storytelling improbable and unrealistic, but many of us have undoubtedly seen this happen in our own lives, and, when that occurs, it doesn’t seem nearly so farfetched (so why should it be any different in a work of cinematic fiction?). Of course, grasping the connections, nuances and meanings in this requires devoting sufficient attention when watching the movie, so, if you’re unable or unwilling to do so for a film with a 200 runtime, you might want to skip this one. That would be regrettable, though, given that Spielberg is back at the top of his game here, telling a story with the same skills he has brought to so many other releases over the years in terms of depicting a compelling plot, building suspense, executing gripping action sequences and providing appropriately timed comic relief. He also provides a comprehensive palette of ufology-related topics, some of which are well known and others of which are more obscure (references that fans of Coast to Coast AM radio and The X-Files TV series will surely appreciate), but all of which are sufficiently explained without requiring ample viewer foreknowledge. And Spielberg has a lot of help bringing all this into being thanks to the insightful screenplay of David Koepp, the original score of composer John Williams (arguably his most mature work ever), and the superb performances of an ensemble cast featuring Emily Blunt, Josh O’Connor, Colin Firth, Colman Domingo, Eve Hewson, Wyatt Russell and Elizabeth Marvel. I’d heartily recommend watching this on as large a screen as possible (e.g., IMAX), and please pay no heed to the trolls voicing their uninformed opinions in trying to inexplicably tear this one down. “Disclosure Day” is about as nearly a perfect piece of filmmaking as one can envision. In fact, if I had to register a complaint of any kind here, it might be that the final act could be seen as being a little stretched out, but that’s such a minor criticism that it’s hardly worth mentioning. Savor all of the various forms of disclosure being served up in this release, as you may end up drawing upon them to discover aspects about yourself that you never knew before – and enabling you to walk out of the theater at the end a different person than who you were when you went in and into a different world than what you knew before.

Romances involving partners in love engaged in crime sprees aren’t especially new or original. In fact, sagas of outlaws on the run have been film industry staples for decades, perhaps best exemplified by the legendary “Bonnie and Clyde” (1967). So, considering the prevalence of these films, it takes a lot to make new offerings in this genre stand out and distinguish themselves. That’s where the latest feature from director Adam Carter Rehmeier comes into play. While this release very much follows the typical formula of these pictures, it manages to separate itself from its peers in a number of ways. At the same time, though, it also tips its hat to the aforementioned “Bonnie and Clyde,” as well as to such other crime/outlaw thrillers as “Thelma & Louise” (1991), “The Sugarland Express” (1974) and “The Grifters” (1990). The film follows the transformation of Caroline Daniels (Samara Weaving), who’s stuck in a dead-end filling station job in small town Texas. Her life changes drastically, however, when con artist Oliver Anderson (Kyle Gallner) storms into town and sweeps Caroline off her feet. They launch into a torrid romance while Oliver teaches her the ways of grifting from both practical and psychological standpoints. And, before long, they leave Texas, embarking on a road trip across the Southeast during which she adeptly learns the art of the con from her mentor/lover. Given their success as a duo, they quickly up the ante of the jobs, from pickpocketing and simple obfuscation routines to include identity theft and bank robbery. They use their newly acquired ample funds to adopt a more lavish lifestyle as they make their way (at Caroline’s request) to Charleston, South Carolina, where she hopes to look up her long-estranged mother, Deborah (Kyra Sedgwick). But, when Caroline is left disillusioned by the disastrous meeting between her and her crusty, self-absorbed mom, she rashly decides that she wants to amass enough money as quickly as possible to leave the US permanently, a decision that carries devastatingly serious consequences. Much of this is admittedly rather predictable, but it’s nonetheless stylish in its execution, featuring fine performances (especially Weaving and Sedgwick), clever film editing, a revealing inside look into the ways of scammers, a hefty dose of unadulterated Americana and a decidedly pronounced 1970s vibe, qualities that give the film character all its own. However, with that said, it’s also important to note that there some notable anachronisms here that take the 1970s vibe a little too far (who knew there were still that many pay phones left), along with an opening half hour whose pacing could decidedly stand to be stepped up. In addition, while the script openly and specifically addresses hypothetical questions related to our own innate senses of good and evil, how they come to pass, and how such attitudes might shift, Caroline’s metamorphosis here seems a bit extreme and overly quick given who she appears to be at the story’s outset, a character development issue that comes across as exaggeratedly accelerated. However, in the overall context of the picture, these shortcomings are easy to overlook, particularly when the intensity of the narrative amps up in the second half. “Carolina Caroline” may not be especially innovative or groundbreaking as movies of this stripe go, but it is nevertheless entertaining and engaging, and there’s definitely no crime in that.

Relationship dynamics can entail a lot of work – sometimes more than we’d like to deal with. As a consequence, they might make us feel trapped, despite whatever apparent comfort they otherwise might provide. And that, in turn, may prompt us to desperately search for an escape, one that offers little resistance but is riddled with impulsiveness, an abrogation of responsibility and unquestionable indifference toward the hurt it may cause. Indeed, it might be all too easy to disregard such fallout and proceed with an all-too-messy exit, no matter how devastating it can be. That’s a prevalent theme in the latest feature from writer-director Pete Ohs, the story of a cold, distant, anxious British tourist, Bethany (Charli XCX), on a supposedly romantic getaway to Warsaw, Poland with her boyfriend, Rob (Will Madden). Rob had originally wanted a storybook amorous adventure in Paris, but he willingly changed plans when Bethany suggested – surprisingly – that they experience the romance of Warsaw instead. (Warsaw?). The recommendation admittedly puzzled Rob, but he agreed as long as it would still fulfill his secret plan for making a marriage proposal. However, not long after they arrive in Poland, it becomes apparent why Bethany made her suggestion: it provides her with the means to meet up with an old flame, Nel (Lena Góra), whom she first met when they were teenagers and have had occasional flings together over the years. And, after only a few days, Bethany essentially abandons Rob to spend all her time with Nel, circumstances that she freely pursues and that leave Rob understandably puzzled. Bethany tries to justify her behavior by citing a timely eruption of Mt. Etna, an uncanny synchronicity typical of what happens whenever she and Nel get together. It seems that their reunions are always characterized by the impactful eruption of a volcano (usually somewhere nearby). Bethany and Nel unapologetically draw upon these decidedly less-than-subtle symbols of unleashed eroticism to rationalize throwing caution to the wind, no matter what comes from it (as if that’s somehow OK). It also symbolizes the release of chaos that leaves all personally susceptible apple carts sufficiently toppled. Not only is Rob left out in the cold, but so is Nel’s girlfriend, Ula (Agata Trzebuchowska). In essence, the “boring” nature of Bethany’s and Nel’s partners provides a dubiously convenient basis for their respective abandonments. But, while their contentions may be valid, are they truly burdensome enough to callously justify such actions? That’s the message here, and it’s depicted bluntly, without sugarcoating. And, as tactless and questionable as these situations might be, this torrid, sordid comedy-drama is nevertheless unabashed in candidly capturing them, scenarios that happen more often in everyday life than many of us would like to think (or openly acknowledge). As Pride Month/LGBTQ+ cinema offerings go, this release may not be typical nor as fully fleshed out as it could have been (especially in the somewhat meandering opening act), but its economic narrative and brisk 100 runtime are well suited to the nature of what the filmmaker has ultimately created. In many regards, the film also echoes the overall approach and many of the elemental details found in Woody Allen’s “Vicky Cristina Barcelona” (2008) but with a gay twist. “Erupcja” is thus one of those pictures that may make some viewers feel like they need to bathe after watching it, but one can’t deny its brusque frankness, and that can prove a valuable insight if we’re ever faced with comparable circumstances in our own lives.

Try as I might, there are some filmmakers whose work I often find difficult to appreciate. Their movies just seem to be … lacking something. But, every so often, these auteurs surprise me, coming up with pictures that I find enjoyable, engaging or even enlightening. And that’s how I would characterize the latest work from writer-director Jim Jarmusch. Little occurs in many of his offerings, arguably making them the epitome of minimalist cinema, and a number of his efforts, frankly, have left me cold and uninvolved, no matter how much of a chance I give them. However, there are also times when Jarmusch somehow successfully manages to make something out of virtually nothing, as he quite capably does in this release. This gentle comedy-drama essentially consists of three unrelated but complementary vignettes about the dysfunctional but puzzlingly endearing relationships between adult children and their emotionally and/or corporeally distant parents. In the first segment, titled “Father,” the long-estranged adult children (Adam Driver, Mayim Bialik) of a crusty, easily confused, aging dad (Tom Waits) pay an uneasy visit to his idyllic rural New Jersey home. Their polite but strained reunion at his cluttered, disheveled house cause them considerable concern. However, little do they know that appearances can be deceiving, especially when a quietly crafty senior is involved. This is followed by “Mother,” which depicts the annual visit of sisters (Cate Blanchett, Vicky Krieps) to the home of their quietly judgmental widowed mother (Charlotte Rampling), a well-off best-selling author, for high tea. Although all three of them live in Dublin, for some reason, they only see each other once a year for this awkward annual event. And rounding out this triptych is “Brother Sister,” which follows twin siblings (Indya Moore, Luka Sabbat) on a visit to the vacated Paris apartment of their deceased parents, both of whom were killed in a private plane crash in the Azores. While the now-orphaned kids seem to have been on good terms with mom and dad, it’s also apparent that there’s much they didn’t know about them when alive. It’s not until they sort through some revealing and highly personal belongings that surprising secrets surface, perhaps the most distanced relationship of the three presented in the film. True to the director’s form, not a lot happens in this picture, yet, given the nature of the narratives featured here, there’s an uncanny sense of intimacy on display – quite an ironic feat for a picture in which viewers don’t really get to know any of the characters particularly well. In part that’s due to a number of overlapping elements (some of which are very specific in nature) that run through all three sequences, effectively illustrating the commonality (or perhaps universality) that’s intrinsic to relationships like these, something to which many of us can probably personally relate. Meticulous attention is also paid to the details of such attributes as set design, recurring prop use, camera work, thematic vectors, and even the use of common, everyday colloquialisms. It’s a demonstrably thoughtful practice that serves to compellingly draw viewers into the story, as if they were themselves present when these events are actually unfolding. Indeed, there’s an intangible quality to all of this that’s unmistakenly captivating, something unexpected from a film in which so inherently little is going on but that nevertheless feels so undeniably full and familiar. In many ways, “Father Mother Sister Brother” is the filmmaker’s best work in over a decade, on par with such releases as “Paterson” (2016) and “Only Lovers Left Alive” (2013) (and a far cry from some of the cinematic experiments that didn’t fly). Moviegoers who have little patience for what they watch, admittedly, could find this work tedious and insubstantial. But those who like movies that feel like a good book will probably enjoy this one immensely. And, to sum up, as many of the characters in this offering would likely say, “And Bob’s your uncle!”

At a time when certain new releases are having praise undeservingly heaped upon them, it’s truly unfortunate when a picture that genuinely merits such attention isn’t receiving the degree of credit it’s due. Such is the case with the latest offering from writer-director Daniel Roher, a romantic crime thriller that’s handily one of the best new releases of 2026. The future of onetime piano virtuoso Niki White (Leo Woodall) gets derailed in childhood when the aspiring prodigy develops a crippling hearing impairment that leaves him audibly impaled by loud sounds, effectively ending his performance future as he sees it. However, despite this condition, he’s able to tolerate soft sounds, a capability that makes him an ideal candidate to be a piano tuner (his sense of perfect pitch helps, too). He thus works as an apprentice to a seasoned piano tuner/repairman, Harry Horowitz (Dustin Hoffman), who serves as a mentor and close friend. As it turns out, though, Niki unwittingly discovers that his skills also make him an ideal candidate for becoming a highly adept safecracker. His ability to discern nearly silent combination lock clicks enables him to open virtually any repository that would otherwise be impossible to access. And, when he unexpectedly meets a crooked security systems installer, Uri (Lior Raz), who clandestinely removes valuables from the safes of his wealthy clients, Niki is recruited to join the team. Although initially reluctant to embrace this new side hustle, Niki’s apprehension disappears when he discovers the kind of big money he can earn using his skills in this less-than-ethical manner. That’s especially true when he needs to come up with ample cash to cover the costs of an expensive emergency and winning the affections of his new girlfriend, Ruthie (Havana Rose Liu), a conservatory student who dreams of becoming an aspiring composer. But the good life into which he stumbles comes at a high cost, one that Niki desperately must find a way to cover when circumstances head south. This gradually simmering scenario brings together all of the foregoing story threads into a potentially explosive situation, one with ramifications on multiple fronts. So how will this all play out? That’s the narrative tapestry the filmmaker skillfully weaves in this release, one that’s tautly constructed, superbly written and effectively fuses material from several cinematic genres. The excellent ensemble cast (particularly this breakthrough performance for Woodall and a return to form for Hoffman) is well assembled, and the performers make the most of the fine screenplay they’ve been given to work with, especially in the areas of comic relief and surprisingly on-target philosophical observations. And, of course, there’s the music, which eloquently combines both original material and a collection of old favorites from multiple motifs. I seriously hope this offering is not forgotten come awards season, as it deserves the accolades it receives in many regards. “Tuner” should definitely be on the watch list of anyone who appreciates good cinema. And, if you see it, please spread the word to help the picture get the recognition it genuinely deserves.

Anointing a young, first-time big screen director as the new filmmaking messiah of his or her particular genre is a risky undertaking, to be sure. Does the fledgling auteur have what it takes to live up to that auspicious title? Is this an ordination that’s truly warranted? It’s serious business, both for box office tallies and artistically speaking. But does the heir apparent truly possess the skills, talent and vision to achieve success on both fronts? That’s something worth considering in light of the debut feature from writer-director Kane Parsons, the force behind this aspiring smart horror release, which is quickly being praised to the hilt and drawing huge numbers in ticket sales. However, I believe that the coronation of this new voice in the genre is far from deserved and entirely premature. While it’s true that Parsons has a keen eye for the aesthetic, that’s only half the challenge when making a movie in virtually any genre. The other part – being an effective storyteller – needs work (and a lot of it). Based on a YouTube adaptation of his immensely popular internet TV series The Backrooms, the film follows a troubled (and largely unsuccessful) seller of cheap furniture, Clark (Chiwetel Ejiofor), who’s experiencing difficulties in his personal life and professional calling. His failed marriage and inability to make use of his training as an architect have led him to seek counseling from a high-profile therapist, Dr. Mary Kline (Renate Reinsve). His progress takes a drastic turn, though, when he finds a maze of what appears to be a collection of office suites adjacent to his store’s basement – a discovery he makes by somehow walking through one of its walls. The spaces are seemingly devoid of people but haphazardly strewn with various items from his life, including his past. Has he stepped into a corporeal manifestation of his psyche? An alternate reality? Or something else entirely? That’s what he hopes to learn with the unexpected help of his skeptical shrink. And what will that be? The film’s opening half capably sets the scene, creating a legitimately sinister sense of creepiness. However, about midway into the picture, it becomes repetitive and directionless, as if it’s searching for what to do next. That’s where this offering goes off the rails, turning inexplicable, underdeveloped and outright goofy at times. The alleged scariness of this would-be psychological thriller vanishes, turning tedious, silly and more laughable than frightening. And a last-ditch effort to take the narrative in a redemptive direction involving a mysterious scientific research organization only muddies the waters further, doing little to salvage what has already fallen apart. Many have likened this release to a video game with a protagonist trying to solve the puzzle of the story. Others have said that it’s full of nuanced references to the YouTube series, although that would require an intimate knowledge of the source material to fully appreciate it. And others still have postulated a host of other interpretations given the inherently vague nature of the finished product. For my money, even though it starts out well, it turns into an incoherent cinematic mess that fails to hold attention and left me sighing a big “So what?” What became most apparent to me while sitting through this is just how difficult it is to create an engaging smart horror film, a genre I enjoy immensely but has been plagued by more failures than successes, with this one being yet another entry on that list of disappointments. Indeed, don’t be too quick to reach for that crown just yet. If the filmmaker hopes to assume that title, he’s still got his work cut out for him, beginning with an urgent need to get out of his own “Backrooms.”

Weather is something that affects us all, though it’s also something to which most of us pay little attention unless there are potential or actual consequences at stake; then they often take on paramount importance. The impact can be somewhat ameliorated with an accurate forecast, but that’s often problematic, even with today’s advanced technology. So it can be hard to fathom what it might have been like to predict the weather without it, as was the case in the 1940s, when meteorology was just beginning to come into its own as an accepted science. Such was the case in June 1944, when Allied Forces in Europe were planning the D-Day invasion of France’s Normandy coast, the largest contingent of air, ground and water forces ever assembled, and the subject of the latest offering from writer-director Andrew Maras. Given the complexity of the operation, the lead organizer of the attack, Gen. Dwight “Ike” Eisenhower (Brendan Fraser), wanted an accurate weather forecast – one that provided “certainty” – for the time frame of its implementation (weather in Europe in late spring could be highly unpredictable, with a mix of both pleasant and exceedingly stormy patterns). If contending with that weren’t enough, Allied Forces also had to deal with the intricate logistics of the campaign and keeping it under wraps from German forces that might be more than ready for its launch. The pressure for success was great, too, in the wake of a disastrous dress rehearsal that took place several months earlier. So, to get the result he wanted, Ike recruited soft-spoken British meteorologist Capt. James Stagg (Andrew Scott), regarded as the best in the business. However, Stagg’s cautionary approach to forecasting did not sit well with Eisenhower, especially since it ran counter to the work of resident, long-trusted weatherman Irving Krick (Chris Messina), whose views often clashed with his more conservative British counterpart. Thus began the battle for whose forecast would ultimately prevail, with both the Supreme Commander and his British colleague, Gen. Bernard “Monty” Montgomery (Damian Lewis), breathing down their necks. Who would prove correct (and how)? More importantly, though, would D-Day take place on its scheduled date of June 5, or would it have to wait until the next projected favorable window of opportunity, June 18? Much was thus riding on this go/no go decision, and it all appeared to come down to what was regarded as a seemingly inconsequential consideration. To be sure, this aspect of the D-Day story was undoubtedly important and not particularly well known until recently, yet its role was positively undeniable, given its turning point nature to the outcome of World War II. And that’s made abundantly clear through this war film with a twist. The film presents a clear chronicle of the scenario, with fine period piece production values, well-staged battle sequences, and capable performances across the board, including those already noted, along with Kerry Condon as Eisenhower’s chief aide. However, the picture tends to become repetitive in explaining how events unfolded. What’s more, it has an aura of somewhat inflated self-importance about its story, attempting to lead viewers to believe that its narrative is more epic than it actually is (no disrespect intended). I essentially see this as a well-made TV movie that doesn’t quite have the degree of impact that a theatrical release should have. Admittedly, this offering is probably best seen on the big screen, though don’t be disappointed if it doesn’t quite live up to grander expectations. In light of that, then, unless one has a sense of urgency to see “Pressure,” waiting for it to come to streaming may ultimately be the best option.

The power of film to make statements and to effect meaningful change is truly quite impressive. But it’s also possible for the impact of that influence to be diminished when a picture overstates its case, a problem that seriously hampers the latest feature from writer-director Boots Riley. This second offering from the filmmaker in many ways echoes themes introduced in his debut release, the deliciously satirical “Sorry To Bother You” (2018), with its poignant but deftly balanced messages related to social and economic fairness, personal ethics, and the business and political climate. However, in this case, the volume on these notions has been turned up considerably, to the point where it fundamentally screeches at the audience, no matter how much viewers may personally agree with the points the director is attempting to make. The film essentially follows the exploits **** of “boosters” – designer clothing thieves – in the greater Oakland, CA area, led by aspiring designer Corvette (Keke Palmer) and her associates (Naomi Ackie, Taylour Paige). They target the retail outlets of iconic clothing creator Christie Smith (Demi Moore), a notoriously self-absorbed, self-important designer of overpriced clothing that she sincerely though euphemistically looks upon as “body art,” an element that she believes is integral to the evolution and advancement of society. Smith has made a fortune through her efforts (many of which are less than honorable), but she quietly seeks more than money: she lusts for power and control over her loyal and easily bamboozled customers and overworked employees, many of whom toil under deplorable conditions in manufacturing sweatshops in China. As revelations surface regarding Smith’s methods, things turn both personal and focused on bigger social and economic causes, especially when supported by idealistic aims at reframing injustices in all of these areas. This sets up factional; battlegrounds on multiple fronts to address these issues. Regardless of one’s personal opinions, the premise here would appear to be a somewhat noble one. However, it becomes mind-bogglingly overwhelming and tedious through a narrative that loses its way by becoming overstuffed with images, superfluous story threads, and initiatives that are difficult to track and differentiate from one another. Consequently, it’s easy to lose interest, particularly when storylines turn silly and the basic distinctions between reality and fantasy become irretrievably blurred (surrealism is one thing, but this is wholly over the top). The need for ruthless editing (not to mention major script revision) can’t be emphasized enough, no matter how laudable the underlying inherent notions might be. To its credit, when the picture works, it often succeeds brilliantly, especially in some of its biting one-liners, inspired sight gags, and performances by the likes of Moore, Chinese employee advocate Poppy Liu, and retail store manager Will Poulter, who uncharacteristically plays against type in his usual bad ass persona. The film also sports a stunningly colorful production design that’s a vibrant feast for the eyes. But there’s a lot lost here as well, primarily the result of a cloying story that quickly becomes more annoying than enlightening, some surprisingly cheesy special effects, and the generally poor use of cast members LaKeith Stanfield, Don Cheadle and the trio of boosters. While it’s readily apparent that director Riley is genuinely gifted when it comes to the range of his vision, passion and imagination, it’s also equally apparent that he needs to be seriously reined in rather than let loose without restraint (there’s that notion of knowing “when to kill one’s darlings” again). Looking back at the virtues of his vastly superior debut effort would make for a good starting point, an exercise that might help the filmmaker get his artistic and storytelling sensibilities back on track. I’m convinced Riley ultimately has much to say of great importance, but he needs to find more effective ways to say it, and “I Love Boosters” is definitely not the vehicle for that.

Picture the noir-esque world of “Blade Runner” (1982) reimagined by a mischievous youngster with a macabre streak, augmented with the lavish stylings of assorted filmmaking auteurs and fused with the menacingly beastly trappings of “Gremlins” (1984), and you’ve got a good idea what to expect out of this debut feature from writer-director Bryan Fuller. Ten-year-old Aurora (newcomer Sophie Sloan) is terrified of the nefarious monster that lives under her bed, despite assurances from her well-meaning foster parents that no such creature exists. But the young New Yorker has good reason to trust her apprehensions, especially when she discovers that the voracious dust bunny has eaten both of her caregivers – just as it had with previous pairs of foster parents. Consequently, Aurora knows something must be done to vanquish the beast, so she opts to contract for the services of her mysterious neighbor (Mads Mikkelsen), a ninja-like hitman, to kill it. She’s aware of the intrepid warrior’s skills, having clandestinely witnessed him take down an army of “monsters” in a Chinatown back alley late one night (those so-called monsters were actually adversaries charged with eliminating him, but, given that they were cloaked in the costume of a Chinese dragon, it’s easy to see how a 10-year-old’s perception and imagination might run away with her). Needless to say, the hitman is skeptical about taking a contract bankrolled by a child (with money she matter-of-factly stole from a church collection plate), but he reluctantly relents, especially since they’re each now simultaneously pursuing (and being pursued) by monsters of their own (and, ironically, of their own making, too), even if their pursuers assume fundamentally different physical forms. Together, this unlikely duo embarks on a quest to slay their respective demons, a journey marked by colorful scenarios and eccentric supporting characters, including the hitman’s mysterious “handler” (Sigourney Weaver), one of the contract killer’s “inconspicuously conspicuous” rivals (David Dastmalchian) and an enigmatic child custody services case worker who isn’t everything she claims to be (Sheila Atim). And it all takes place in that whimsical, shadowy, deceptively sinister version of the Big Apple described above, an exquisitely designed backdrop fittingly distinguished by its positively stunning production design and framed by its absolutely gorgeous cinematography, elements not unlike those found in the works of Tim Burton, Bill Condon, Baz Luhrmann and the Coen Brothers. However, for all of the film’s meticulous attention to style, it doesn’t live up to the same standard when it comes to the narrative and screenwriting. While this would-be campy horror romp strives to merge aspects of fairytale sweetness (as seen, for example, in the emerging quasi-parental relationship between Aurora and her new friend) with the edginess of the works of the Brothers Grimm (but on steroids), it never quite gets the mix right, occasionally becoming circular and largely remaining underdeveloped or unresolved. In addition, for all its visual strength, there are times when the sound quality could use some shoring up. And it should also be noted that, despite this offering’s young protagonist, it’s not really an option for viewers in that age group (unless, of course, they’re clearly wise beyond their years and are capable of handling and appreciating material suitable for such maturity). To its credit, “Dust Bunny” makes some modestly insightful observations about the monsters who chase us and how we might address that challenge (especially when we consider the nature and sources of those demons), and good arguments could be made in favor of its impressive performances by Sloan, Weaver and Mikkelsen, as well as its two Independent Spirit Award nominations for best first feature and (particularly) best cinematography. It’s just unfortunate that the substance of its meat doesn’t match the flavor of its gravy, but, as this was the filmmaker’s first big screen effort, perhaps it made for good practice at preparing a delicious meal overall the next time around. In the meantime, proceed with caution the next time you go looking under your bed.

When movie rating aggregation sites give a film high marks, one should expect that the picture delivers the goods (after all, those grades don’t spontaneously materialize out of thin air). But there are times when a vastly overrated release inexplicably (and undeservedly) gets good grades that leave one perplexed. Such is the case with the debut feature from writer-director Aleshea Harris in this adaptation of her award-winning play of the same name (2018). This unfocused, often-highly repulsive revenge thriller/road trip title with a modern-day Western vibe and Afro punk styling starts out reasonably well but degenerates about midway into the film and never recovers (I couldn’t wait to leave the theater). The film tells the story of twin sisters Racine, the rough one (Kara Young), and Anaia, the quiet one (Mallori Johnson), who are severely burned in a childhood incident when their coldly malevolent father (Sterling K. Brown) viciously attempts to kill their mother, Ruby (Vivica A. Fox). The girls, who have been parted from their mother for years (believing her to be dead), call her “God” since she, like their divine progenitor, created them. But, much to their surprise, Racine receives a letter indicating that she is still alive, a notice that prompts an in-person visit during which Ruby explains what happened and instructing them to kill him. Anaia is opposed to the idea, but Racine is all out for “justice” (i.e., vengeance). Thus begins the twins’ search to find the man who nearly killed their mother and scarred them for life, an outcome that exposed them (especially Anaia) to repeated ridicule and Racine’s highly protective measures to spare her sister’s agony. At first glance, one might see this as a plausible premise for a big screen thriller, an idea made all the more fun by its quirky attributes that, in the picture’s opening half (and in its highly misleading trailer), make the film come across like an eccentric, campy Coen Brothers production. To be sure, the road trip starts out moderately amusing, with encounters involving colorful scenarios and characters expertly played by the likes of Erika Alexander, Mykelti Williamson and Josiah Cross. However, as noted above, the film takes a hard left halfway through and turns into little more than a troubling, pointless, highly stylized slasher film with cruel, graphic, uninhibited violence that makes one wonder what the filmmaker is going for (do we really need to see such appalling imagery?). Yes, yes, as the film’s title implies, there are alleged religious/spiritual undertones here symbolically dealing with concepts of good vs. evil (or god vs. devil) and the so-called “obligation” to do whatever our “faith” dictates, no matter how bizarre or reprehensible (it’s indeed difficult to fathom how “God” would want his/her/its/their name associated with such a vile project). These contextual “nuances,” however, are a lot more obvious and predictable than this release likes to think they are. And, to make matters worse, there are plenty of story threads that come out of left field and are intrinsically underdeveloped or unresolved; wasted talent, as evidenced, for example, by the positively dreadful supporting performance of Janelle Monáe (she went from her stellar work in “Moonlight” (2016) and “Hidden Figures” (2016) to this?); the incorporation of inherently enigmatic but largely unexplained character attributes as a pale substitute for meaningful character development; and a storyline open to more wildly diverse speculation and interpretation than Heinz has varieties. To its credit (an observation I make reluctantly), the picture features an array of highly intense performances (particularly by Young, Johnson and Brown), and perhaps they accurately reflect painful, troubling real world conditions, but they’re hardly enough to salvage the project (and, again, make me ask, do we really need to see this?). Sadly, “Is God Is” represents a prime example of what’s innately wrong with the domestic film industry these days and marks the need for a drastic change in the thinking of Amazon Studios, the latest woeful entry in a string of woeful entries from this creator-distributor. In short, to quote from the title of one of film critic Roger Ebert’s books, the best way to characterize this disappointing, excessive, unwarranted offering is simple: “Your Movie S*cks.” Next, please…

Films about celluloid icons during interesting or unusual periods in their personal and professional lives can make for great viewing. Of course, much depends on the quality, nature and depth of the source material for their stories. But, unfortunately, that’s where the latest offering from writer-director Bill Fishman – a comedic memoir about a legendary actor – comes up short. In the second half of the 20th Century, Marlon Brando (Billy Zane) captivated audiences with his performances in such films as “A Streetcar Named Desire” (1951) and “On the Waterfront” (1954), and, by the 1970s, he had become a household name. However, the actor, known for his excesses and eccentricities, tired of the limelight and left Hollywood for life in Tahiti, where he was less conspicuous and had an opportunity to get back to nature, one of his lesser-known passions. He purchased a private though largely inaccessible atoll where he wanted to build an ecologically friendly retreat center. And, to design and construct the facility, Brando hired an idealistic, somewhat nerdy Los Angeles architect, Bernard Judge (Jon Heder), who was encouraged by friends and family to take the assignment as a means to come out of his shell and establish himself. What follows, then, is the wild and wacky story of how the project unfolded, a tale filled with a host of unconventional characters and circumstances. Regrettably, though, the picture suffers from a variety of execution problems. For instance, the storytelling approach is all over the map (not entirely unexpected for a director best known for making music videos), an issue clearly reflected in the scattered screenplay and narrative. Told primarily from Judge’s perspective – that of a character who is not particularly interesting to begin with – the production focuses more on him than the actor whose name appears in the movie’s title. Because the architect’s story is inherently rather thin, it feels disjointed, underdeveloped, padded and even goofy at times, incorporating irrelevant material, especially from Judge’s personal life. Brando, for his part, is relegated to an almost-secondary role, popping up occasionally to make enigmatic observations and engage in over-the-top acts of debauchery. In between, the picture presents somewhat cheesy re-creations of famous scenes from several of the movies the actor made to bankroll the project, including his Oscar-winning portrayal in “The Godfather” (1972) and his Oscar-nominated performance in “Last Tango on Paris” (1973), material that seems shamelessly self-indulgent in light of the subject matter. These scenes aside, however, Zane admittedly does his level best to make the most out of the material he has to work with here (which isn’t saying much), and his physical makeover for the role is truly noteworthy, to be sure. It’s also heartening to see Brando credited for his environmentalism efforts, something for which he has rarely received the accolades he deserved. But “Waltzing with Brando” offers so little else otherwise that it’s not worth the time. Watch one of his films, a Tahitian travelogue or an ecological documentary instead.

Political leaders often don’t rise to that level of power without the strategic scripting concocted for them by the little-known kingmakers behind them. And that’s what this fact-based, though satirically fictional, political thriller about the rise of Russian president Vladimir Putin (Jude Law) seeks to chronicle. The film tells the story of professional political fixer Vadim Baranov (Paul Dano), who rises from art school student to television producer to “the Czar’s” righthand man, doing whatever it takes to promote and ensure the power of his boss after the resignation of President Boris Yeltsin (George Sogis) in 1999. Baranov is portrayed here as a soft-spoken schemer who doesn’t hesitate to play both sides of the fence to add to the unbridled clout of the Russian strongman, even if that means pitting social and political opponents against one another if that tactic results in increased backing for Putin’s policies and practices. What’s more, Baranov is so seduced by the prospect of amassing power and influence for himself that he even agrees to support causes that he himself disagrees with. For example, if need be, he’ll willingly back right-wing extremist positions regardless of whether those views clash with the “radical” democratic ideologies he once so whole-heartedly championed during the early days of the New Russia in the early 1990s after the collapse of the Soviet Union. But that brand of shameless cynicism carries a high price when it comes to aiding a political figure – a former KGB operative – to help him restore the allegedly respectable “integrity” of the Russian Empire. Baranov’s questionable odyssey is largely revealed through voiceovers by the protagonist and an American journalist (Jeffrey Wright) conducting background research about the 30-year era in question. His dubious exploits come to life through his various unsavory dealings with political leaders, oligarchs and social movements within Russia and surrounding areas like Ukraine and the would-be breakaway republic of Chechnya, most of which, unfortunately, are given short shrift and little more than Cleft Notes treatment. That may allow the pacing to move along surprisingly briskly, but it provides inconsequential depth and opportunities for little more than smarmy quotes by the protagonist in dialogues with clueless cohorts. There’s also a largely needless romantic story thread involving Baranov’s significant other (Alicia Vikander) that could have easily been cut, a move that would have allowed more time to be devoted to the re-creations of the watershed historical events depicted here. And, despite the strength of Law’s fine but underdeveloped performance, the remainder of the cast leaves much to be desired. Writer-director Olivier Assayas’s latest is arguably one of his most commercial works, but, like so many of his other films, it’s another disappointment, even if it’s easier to follow than many of his prior overly cryptic productions. However, that kind of accessibility still doesn’t make for a great picture, especially one whose subject matter deserves better treatment than it receives here.

Sometimes there are no easy answers in life. Such circumstances can be maddening, leaving us frustrated, perplexed and wanting for a lack of adequate explanation. Yet, as on point as that description may be, it doesn’t suffice. Nor does it necessarily translate into good storytelling or filmmaking, as is the case in this debut feature from director Sophy Romvari. When a family of Hungarian descent relocates to British Columbia’s Vancouver Island in the 1990s, they hope that the new environment will prove beneficial for their troubled teenage son, Jeremy (Edik Beddoes), who routinely engages in unexplained antisocial and sometimes-dangerous behavior, despite his apparent capacity for kindness and compassion. Jeremy is quite a handful for his stability-searching parents (Iringó Réti, Ádám Tompa), who have tried everything – to no avail – to understand him and to get him the help he needs. He’s also something of an enigma to his three younger siblings, his two brothers (Liam Serg, Preston Drabble) and, most notably, to his sister, Sasha (Eylul Guven), a sweet, sensitive girl who’s especially curious about her eldest brother’s erratic behavior. So what’s up with the unsettled young man? That’s where the elusive easy answers come into play. And it’s an issue that haunts Sasha from her youth and on into adulthood, where her elder self (Amy Zimmer) has become a filmmaker. When all grown up, she meets with a group of mental health professionals and social service workers for insight on a documentary she’s making about a “case” she’s chronicling, seeking advice on how to best handle the story of a patient whose profile is a virtually identical match to that of her brother. It’s at this point, however, when the film begins losing its way, blending the art of the elder Sasha with the memories of her younger self in an almost surrealistic (and, at times, incoherent) fashion. One can presume from this that Sasha’s adult self is likely a stand-in for filmmaker Romvari herself, adding another level of muddying ambiguity to the storytelling mix, making for an offering that becomes trying to fathom. It may provide a fitting parallel to the conditions faced by Jeremy’s parents themselves, but is this good filmmaking? Some might see this as a masterful work of cinema, an interplay of reality, biography and artistic interpretation, but I honestly found it somewhat confusing, despite an earnest, ambitious attempt at fusing the various aforementioned elements. In that sense, “Blue Heron” feels somewhat contrived and unclear about its intent, with a choppy, sometimes-distracting flow to its narrative. To its credit, this is a gorgeously filmed release gloriously depicting the landscape of western Canada, along with meticulous attention to its detailed production design, backed by a diverse and often-perfectly suited soundtrack. But the essential substance of this release could use some much-needed refinement and clarity, with a little more shoring up, a little less ethereal treatment and smoother transitions between sequences. It’s indeed true that this work effectively brings the lack of easy answers front and center for viewers, but that doesn’t mean we should be swallowed up by them in the process.

They say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, because you just might be surprised by what’s inside. The same, of course, can be said for people, and that’s especially true when it comes to individuals with the rare and unusual condition known as Tourette Syndrome. And that’s precisely the point driven home by this excellent new fact-based comedy-drama from writer-director Kirk Jones. For those unfamiliar with Tourette, it’s a condition in which those affected exhibit potentially offensive and/or violent behavior unexpectedly in the midst of what seems like otherwise-“normal” activity. Quite literally, someone might appear to be carrying on a normal conversation one moment only to spontaneously and uncontrollably break into highly vocal outbursts of antisocial, misogynist and/or racially prejudicial language. Such incidents are also sometimes accompanied by physical tics that can lead to punching, slapping and other wild gyrations. And the odd part about all this is that those who experience these manifestations are aware that they’re happening but can’t stop them, no matter how much they try or would like to. In many cases, these individuals are fundamentally friendly and kind-hearted souls who, try as they might, are simply incapable of controlling these impulses, a source of tremendous personal frustration for them. However, onlookers frequently don’t understand the condition and often react with outrage, offense and indignation at these occurrences. And, for those affected, this usually leads to alienation socially, vocationally and even in relations with family members, despite a strong desire to fit in with regular aspects of everyday life. What’s worse, Tourette is difficult to treat, largely because the cause is unknown (in fact, for a long time, some mental health professionals even doubted whether it was a “real” condition). Such has been the experience of Scotsman John Davidson (Robert Aramayo), a middle-aged community center manager who has fought to have his situation understood ever since he first began experiencing symptoms as an adolescent (Scott Ellis Watson). However, with the aid of a compassionate former mental health care nurse (Maxine Peake) and a supportive employer (Peter Mullan) willing to take a chance on hiring him, John earnestly sought treatment (including experimental techniques) and became a staunch advocate for promoting understanding and acceptance for those similarly situated. His efforts even led to John being honored by Queen Elizabeth II (Christina Ashford) for his committed activism in helping to diminish the stigmas often unfairly thrust upon those with this mysterious syndrome, the kind of ostracism, indifference and misplaced malice that John experienced at the hands of teachers, police officers and even his own parents (Steven Cree, Shirley Henderson). Davidson’s story has been masterfully brought to life in this truly superb offering, one that’s highly instructive without becoming preachy thanks in large part to its BAFTA Award-nominated screenplay. The picture meticulously balances its heartfelt and dramatic tale with perfectly coordinated comic relief, perhaps best illustrated through the protagonist’s outbursts, which effectively depict the condition while simultaneously evoking ample, well-earned, outrageously colorful laughs, very much in the same vein as those seen in the raucous historic comedy, “Wicked Little Letters” (2023). But perhaps the film’s greatest strength is its performances, portrayals that earned the picture the BAFTA Award for best casting (successfully besting such heavy-hitter nominees as “One Battle After Another”, “Sinners” and “Sentimental Value” (“Affeksjonsverdi”)), including those turned in by Peake, BAFTA nominee Mullan and BAFTA winner Aramayo, who positively nails the part (and who, hopefully, deservedly qualifies for 2027 Oscar consideration). As a BAFTA Award nominee for best British Film of 2025, this release merits every bit of praise it has earned, both as an informational outlet and as an engaging entertainment vehicle, even though those who are easily troubled by coarse language (the film’s title truly is appropriately fitting) and occasional troubling acts of violence may want to give serious thought to whether they wish to see this release. But, for those for whom these issues are not a problem, please put this one on your watch list. You’re likely to relish what you see between the covers of this captivating book.

When a filmmaker’s reach exceeds his grasp, that’s when you end up with movies like this work of pretentious existential nonsense from writer-director Francesco Sossai. For roughly the first 45 minutes of this aimlessly meandering road trip/buddy flick, barflies Carlobianchi (Sergio Romano) and Doriano (Pierpaolo Capovilla) go in search of the evening’s “one last drink” at various roadside watering holes across northeastern Italy. They eventually set their sights on Venice, where they’re scheduled to meet their old friend and work colleague, Genio (Andrea Pennacchi), who’s flying in the following morning, returning to Italy after an extended self-imposed exile in Argentina. Along the way, the duo engages in a series of unfocused, largely pointless drinking-related encounters with assorted strangers, most notably a sheepish young architecture student, Giulio (Filippo Scotti), whom they take under their wing and adopt as a sort of reluctant hearty partying initiate. The trio thus continues on their inebriated merry way during which they seek out more wayward adventures, and, in the process, the ring leaders of this alcohol-soaked binge gradually share Genio’s story with their new pal, even though the details they provide remain somewhat sketchy, especially in terms of how they relate to the overall story. In essence, most of the rest of the narrative depicts Giulio’s emergence from his self-constructed shell in becoming “a man.” However, considering the questionable character of his decidedly disreputable role models, are they truly stand-up examples of something to which Guilio should aspire? Now, I have nothing against looking for a good time, but is their brand of drunken, unbridled hedonism something to emulate? By the time the end of this release finally rolls around, it’s easy to see how one might be ready to swear off drinking. Clearly, this offering doesn’t know what it’s trying to say, where it wants to go and how it’s seeking to get there. Much of the fault here rests squarely with the story and screenplay, both of which are ineptly constructed, partly because they desperately try to incorporate too much material and partly because they send dubious messages. What’s more, just when things start getting interesting – when the particulars of Genio’s story start to surface, after a seemingly endless 45 opening minutes – the faucet of details dries up all too quickly and is never really revisited in any substantive way. This 2025 Cannes Film Festival Un Certain Regard nominee also makes occasional seemingly valiant attempts at incorporating a measure of allegedly philosophical observations, mostly served up from the bottom of a shot glass, that largely collapse under the weight of their own vacuous insights. Indeed, “The Last One for the Road” might like to believe that it’s a source of profound wisdom when, in fact, it’s little more than a protracted exercise in calling for additional rounds of revelations that never surface.

When 20 years pass between a movie and its sequel, a lot of disappointment can result when the follow-up is at last released. Derivative, underdeveloped story threads and an overreliance on nostalgic strolls down memory lane often abound, leaving viewers suitably underwhelmed, especially loyal fans of the source material. However, every so often, audiences are the lucky beneficiaries of pleasant surprises, movies that live up to their billing and come close to matching the magic of their predecessors. Such is the case with director David Frankel’s long-awaited answer to the iconic 2006 comedy “The Devil Wears Prada,” a delightful blend of the elements that made the original such a success, skillfully mixed with enough new material to create a work all its own. This latest offering follows what happens when the iconic Runway fashion magazine, led by longtime editor/diva in residence Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep), finds itself in hot water for unwittingly publishing an offensive article in praise of a clothing manufacturer that’s essentially an exploitative sweat shop, placing the publication’s and editor’s future in jeopardy. To effect damage control, Runway quickly hires award-winning journalist Andy Sachs (Anne Hathaway) to come on board as the magazine’s new features editor. Andy’s hiring proves propitious for her, having just been unexpectedly laid off from her job (despite her recent accolades), and for Runway, given her familiarity with the magazine, having once worked there, ironically, as Miranda’s often-put-upon assistant. Having now been thrown together under these trying circumstances, the confrontational duo struggles to make things work out, an ordeal that eventually culminates in a battle in which multiple parties vie for ownership of the publication. Joining the fray in this rollercoaster scenario are Miranda’s trusty righthand man, Nigel Kipling (Stanley Tucci), Andy’s onetime condescending rival, Emily Charlton (Emily Blunt), and an array of Runway assistants, staffers and interns, along with a host of friends, foes, competitors and celebrity cameos including appearances by the likes of Lady Gaga, Lucy Liu and Kenneth Branagh. The narrative generally flows smoothly, if a bit episodic and compartmentalized at times, with more than its fair share of laughs, vibrant fashion montages, gorgeously shot location settings in New York and Milan, and a frank, bitingly honest appraisal of how the publishing business has “changed” (i.e., declined) in the two decades since the original film. “The Devil Wears Prada 2” likely won’t go down in the annals of filmmaking as an enduring piece of cinema, but it certainly makes the grade as a capable, entertaining sequel that isn’t the kind of letdown that so many of its celluloid peers often are. Indeed, as Miranda would likely sum it up, “That’s all.…”

In an age where discovering the truth about what’s unfolding in the world has practically become a full-time job, finding sources of reliable, credible information is a challenging undertaking, to say the least. Given the increase in media ownership consolidation, the growth in reporting driven by corporate, government and political agendas, and deliberate, willful efforts aimed at ignoring controversial and disconcerting stories, mainstream news outlets have become little more than mouthpieces for promoting official party lines. And, as a result, the kinds of reporting that the public should be getting has become steadily and systematically marginalized. That’s why it’s so crucial that we still have journalists out there who are committed to exposing the truth, as perhaps best evidenced by the work of investigative reporter Amy Goodman, host of the independent news broadcast Democracy Now! Inspired by the legendary audacious programming of talk show host Phil Donahue, the dogged, determined host of this hour-long daily independent broadcast aired on television, radio and the internet is fearless when it comes to asking the tough questions (a tactic that, regrettably, often gets journalists sidelined) and pursuing the stories that virtually no one else is covering. In that vein, Goodman is one who never backs down, even if it means venturing into volatile hotspots, facing the prospect of arrest (or worse), or being routinely ridiculed or ignored for the relentless earnestness of her efforts. Through the years, though, she has courageously stormed the castle in reporting on such stories as the heinous 1991 East Timor massacre by US-trained Indonesian troops; a 1998 organized campaign of violence and intimidation by foreign oil companies against Nigerian locals in the takeover of their native land; the suspect official reporting on the environmental toxicity from the 9/11 attacks in New York; the fabricated justification for the US War on Iraq; the suppression, arrests and beatings of reporters at the 2008 Republican National Convention in St. Paul, MN; and the ongoing obfuscation of the truth on multiple fronts by the two Trump Administrations. Many of these stories have been ignored or significantly downplayed by the mainstream media, though those outlets are often quick to pick up footage and reporting by the Democracy Now! team when it suits their needs, a practice that Goodman actually encourages as a means to get the word out, even going so far as to adopt the official catchphrase for her broadcast that also serves as the title of this film. It’s also noteworthy how all this has been accomplished without any government or commercial funding, its financial footing sustained entirely by individual contributors and foundation donations. In addition to detailing Goodman’s storied career, this documentary from directors Carl Deal and Tia Lessin also offers a profile of the protagonist’s off-camera life, including her upbringing in a Long Island Jewish household firmly committed to the principles of justice, advocacy and the truth, illustrating the roots from which her noble calling arose. The film further documents Goodman’s efforts at developing and mentoring a dedicated team of colleagues, including show co-hosts Juan González and Nermeen Shaikh and reporters Jeremy Scahill and Sharif Abdel Koudduous. All of this is skillfully told through an impressive collection of archive footage and recent interviews, taking viewers inside the broadcast and the incidents that became an integral part of her work. In doing so, “Steal This Story, Please!” shows how Goodman is one journalist who still manages to walk her talk at a time when that practice has virtually vanished in the mass media. Indeed, that’s perhaps the point of this film that I admire most – it’s willingness to unflinchingly outline how mainstream news outlets have declined and why the efforts of journalists like Goodman have become so vital. As a trained and onetime-practicing journalist myself, I have been saddened to see what has happened to the vocation that I chose for what I thought would end up being my life’s work. And it’s because of that that I have chosen today, May 1 – May Day – as the publication date for this critique, all in the hope that the timely calendar reference will help to reinforce the urgency of the message behind this film, the work of its protagonist and what it means for us as a society.

What makes something funny? That’s debatable, especially since it’s such a subjective topic to begin with. But one thing is certain – being successful at it takes a formula that works and does so consistently, something that may be more difficult to realize than what one might think. However, those who achieve this goal are also likely to attain legendary status, an accomplishment widely accorded to Lorne Michaels, longtime producer of the late night sketch comedy TV show Saturday Night Live. For 45 of the past 50 years, Michaels has worked his magic in creating big laughs with a singular blend of humor that has reshaped the artform and become an undeniably integral part of contemporary American culture. He has also helped launch the careers of countless performers who have gone on to fame, fortune and artistic notoriety. But how has he done it? As an enigmatic, comparatively reclusive figure in the entertainment industry, he has rarely given up many of the secrets of his success, such as determining exactly what’s funny, how to find and cultivate the talent of an array of virtual unknowns, and how to outlast the inflated opinions of many network executives who thought they knew how to do things better (but didn’t). Those are among the revelations brought to light in this eye-opening new documentary from filmmaker Morgan Neville, the accomplished director of such releases as “20 Feet from ****” (2013) and “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?” (2018). This offering examines a typical week in the production cycle of the show (one that often feels very much like a “seat of one’s pants” undertaking), intercut with archive footage from Michaels’ career (including stints as a writer for Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In (1969) and writer-producer of the Emmy Award-winning Lily Tomlin Special (1975)), clips from SNL through the years, and interviews with those who have worked with him as writers, producers and performers through the years. There’s also footage from some of his side projects, such as the TV series The Kids in the Hall (1988-1995) and 30 Rock (2006-2013), along with movie projects like “Three Amigos!” (1986) and SNL spinoff films like “Wayne’s World” (1992) and “Coneheads” (1993). In addition, the picture spotlights the outrageous and frequently silly humor and bold casting choices that have characterized much of the protagonist’s work, qualities that have come to distinguish it (and him) in the field of comedy for its brashness, unpredictability and willingness to push envelopes that some might find offensive, especially in the area of political satire. But one noteworthy quality that sets this documentary apart from the director’s other projects is the mischievous way it plays with the audience in telling its subject’s story: Given that Michaels is famously known as someone who roguishly likes to toy with others’ minds with his perfectly deadpan delivery, Neville does the same in presenting “the facts” of Michaels’ biography, often with hilarious, cleverly animated sequences, a delightful touch that keeps viewers guessing and is seldom employed in the often-deadly serious art of documentary filmmaking. Admittedly, there are times (especially early in the film) when this release feels a little “too inside” for its own good, as if it’s relying too heavily on material that only those closest to Michaels would fully be able to appreciate and understand. But, once the film gets past this, it provides audiences with a fun, nostalgic stroll down memory lane, providing insights into the mind of a comedic genius who is in a field by himself – and deservedly so.

It’s frightening how quickly, easily and seemingly innocuously circumstances in society can change (and in a wide range of areas, too). One day you’re leading a tranquil, happy life and the next you’re a pariah under the scrutiny of a totalitarian, cult-like sociopolitical movement (conditions to which many of us can probably relate these days). Such is the experience of Ellen and Paul Taylor (Diane Lane, Kyle Chandler), a college professor and restaurateur, respectively, who are celebrating their 25th wedding anniversary with family and friends. But this festive occasion is undercut by the appearance of an unexpected guest, Liz Nettles (Phoebe Dynevor), the new girlfriend of the couple’s son, Josh (Dylan O’Brien), an unsuccessful novelist. Her presence is a source of quiet but undeniable disruption, given that she was once one of Ellen’s students at Georgetown University. Liz was perceived by Ellen and her peers as a dangerously radical student who advocated for a strictly dogmatic one-party government, a so-called symbol of “a united population,” backed by the considerable resources of a corporate conglomerate imbued with sweeping powers. And now, as the author of a best-selling manifesto supporting her ultra-conservative ideology, she has become the poster child for a broad-based sociopolitical movement known as “The Change,” one not unlike that seen in director Frank Capra’s “Meet John Doe” (1941) but condescendingly fueled by control and manipulation rather than kindness and compassion. Over the course of the next five years, as the movement and the clout wielded by Liz and Josh grow, they begin exerting significant influence over Ellen, Paul and their three daughters (Madeline Brewer, Zoey Deutch, Mckenna Grace), efforts that tear the family apart. This horrific experience carries a huge cost, one that’s often maddening, heartbreaking and difficult to watch but one that, as a potent cautionary tale, also shouldn’t be ignored. Writer-director Jan Komasa’s gripping morality play strongly advises us to remain vigilant under circumstances like these lest we fall prey to them ourselves, examples of which we have already seen in contemporary American society. In that regard, there’s a decidedly edge-of-your-seat quality that pervades the narrative, steadily building as the story unfolds and often coming across as shocking but, sadly, not as inconceivable. This is made possible by the film’s fine, credible writing and the excellent performances of the ensemble, most notably Lane, who turns in yet another superb portrayal. While the characters at times appear monodimensional, that’s not entirely unexpected in a tale like this where they essentially double as archetypal figures in a philosophical milieu. Viewers should also note that the film may leave a disheartening impression on them, a quality that may have contributed to its extremely short theatrical run in late October 2025. Nevertheless, neither of those attributes diminishes the excellence of this below-the-radar offering. “Anniversary” is one of those pictures that tactfully but unabashedly shouts at audience members to pay attention to what it has to say given the stakes involved both for us as individuals but also collectively as a society with a questionably viable future.

As we approach the finish lines of our lives, we often take time to reflect back on how we’ve spent the years of our existence. It’s a process that allows us to take stock of who we are and how we’ve lived, and it frequently provides a means to help us make decisions about any remaining unfinished business we may have. However, such soul-searching may also leave us with more questions than answers at a time when we need such clarity most, the alternative being pervasive indecisiveness that can be crippling. Such are the quandaries faced by aging Italian Presidente Mariano De Santis (Tony Servillo), a popular leader who’s nearing the end of his term. However, despite the ample respect and admiration he has earned as an accomplished jurist and head of state, he’s facing his last days in office with a palpable sense of dread and ennui both politically and personally. As a widower who has been on his own for eight years and the father of two children he barely knows, he’s essentially lonely and not particularly looking forward to the assumed freedom that will come with retirement. In the meantime, these circumstances have left him largely disinterested in his official duties, unengaged in matters of state and all too willing to delegate many of his duties to his daughter and primary aide, Dorotea (Anna Ferzetti). Instead, he spends much of his time brooding, reflecting on his past, most notably memories of his wife, Aurora (Giorgia Liguori), the love of his life who betrayed him when her younger self (Elisa Perolini) had an affair, an incident that broke his heart even though it did not lead to divorce. But, despite the anguish that this and other episodes have caused him, he’s somehow managed to always land on his feet. It’s an asset that has served him well and could potentially prove valuable as he faces some crucial decisions once out of office and in his final days at the helm, such as those involving a pair of controversial pardons and the signing of a publicly divisive euthanasia law. It’s as if he’s living in a state of la grazia (grace), but is he capable of truly appreciating it and putting it to use? That’s the dilemma he must resolve as he seeks to overcome a bout of paralyzing indecision, both for what he’s facing currently and what he’s likely to face down the road as he enters the next phase of his life. As in many of his other films, writer-director Paolo Sorrentino has again knocked it out of the park, much as he did in pictures like “The Great Beauty” (“La grande bellazza”) (2013), “Youth” (2015) and “The Hand of God” (“È stata la mano di Dio”) (2021). In fact, a good case could be made for designating “La Grazia” as his best work, an eloquent meditation on the nature of its namesake and a beautiful, nuanced, multilayered character study about a complex, vulnerable protagonist who shows that, no matter how intelligent and insightful one might seem, it’s still wholly probable to find oneself lost and searching. This is all made possible here by Servillo’s stellar performance, an astutely written screenplay, gorgeous cinematography and an emotive original score. In fact, this offering has so much going for it that I find it hard to believe how it was inexplicably overlooked for consideration in the recently completed movie awards season, a release on par with and very much in the same vein as the Oscar-winning “Sentimental Value” (“Affeksjonsverdi”). Admittedly, the picture is a little stretched out in the final act, but, otherwise, it ably fires on all cylinders, bringing to life a story based in part on the lives of several recent Italian presidents. While this thoughtful release didn’t attract much attention in its brief theatrical run, it has nevertheless found a home online and is well worth a look, especially for anyone facing the challenges that come with aging, indecision and ambivalence and the search for divine grace that can help us find our way through these ordeals.

It seems like, no matter where anyone goes in the world these days, there are bound to be long-simmering disagreements of different kinds that stubbornly defy resolution. The causes vary, too, from disproportionate economics to ethnic prejudice to social inequality to political squabbling to religious feuds, recurring dust-ups that transpire either alone or in combination with one another. And these conditions, in turn, generally evoke an array of responses, with some fueled by violence and spiteful name calling, others characterized by despondency and despair, and others still driven by well-meaning compassion that, regrettably, often faces an uphill battle to gain traction. But is this incessant discord any way to live? And is the routine neurotic handwringing it causes something to be tolerated? Those are among the questions posed in this latest offering from writer-director Radu Jude, a quirky but introspective look at life in Cluj, Romania, the country’s second largest city, located in the heart of the legendary province of Transylvania. This long-disputed territory sits in an area where the nation’s ethnic Hungarian and Romanian populations overlap, constituencies that have historically clashed with one another, with many everyday residents woefully caught in the crossfire as they try to figure out why life plays out as it does, a condition that many of us can no doubt relate to no matter where we may live. This conundrum plays out here through the experiences of Orsolya (Eszter Tompa), a former law professor-turned-court bailiff responsible for serving legal orders, such as eviction notices to squatters living in the city’s many older buildings, most of which are being rapidly snapped by developers looking to construct new housing and luxury hotels like the Kontinental. Orsolya struggles earnestly to be helpful and understanding to those down on their luck. But, when legally sanctioned leniency runs out, she’s compelled to enforce the law, as happens in the case of Ion (Gabriel Spahiu), an aging former athlete who’s fallen prey to the ravages of alcoholism, gambling addiction and homelessness. However, when hopelessness prompts Ion to commit suicide, Orsolya is wracked with guilt. She feels responsible for his death, even though she was simply abiding by the law. The event launches her into a fit of soul-searching, sending her on a quest for absolution and meaning that leads to a series of conversations with anyone who will listen, including a friend (Oana Mardare), an Orthodox priest (Serban Pavlu), a former student from her teaching days (Adonia Tanta) and her curmudgeonly prejudiced mother (Annámaria Biluska), among others. Admittedly, the narrative can become rather circular at times as she repeatedly recounts the story of Ion’s demise, but the wide-ranging insights that emerge during the dialogues with her confidantes present different and unique spins on her circumstances and life at large in contemporary Romania, often punctuated with humor that’s dark, plainspoken and “earthy.” While “Kontinental” is arguably the filmmaker’s most “conventional” entry in his cinematic repertoire, the picture nevertheless skillfully incorporates its share of his signature off-the-wall situational humor, too – crazy cinematic segments that make one wonder how in blazes he came up with these ideas in the first place. Not everything in this release works, of course, but there are certainly more than a few moments of utterly inspired brilliance that successfully keep viewers curiously captivated, sequences reminiscent of scenes from some of the director’s other earlier absurdist offerings like “Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn” (2021) and “Do Not Expect Too Much From the End of the World” (2023). Jude’s films are definitely an acquired taste, to say the least, but they’re rarely dull, and, this time out, he serves up a lot to think about on the side as well.

Most of us are no doubt familiar with the expression “You think you know somebody,” an often-highly disillusioned reaction that arises when we become aware of some kind of previously unknown deception involving someone that runs contrary to our beliefs about that person’s nature. The impact can be severe, too, particularly when it relates to someone close and centers on an especially shocking revelation. So imagine what it must be like when one learns something appalling about one’s fiancée only a few days before the wedding. What effect will such news have on the ceremony, not to mention the prospect of spending the rest of one’s life with that individual? That’s the question raised in this new dark comedy-drama from writer-director Kristoffer Borgli. As Charlie (Robert Pattinson) and Emma (Zendaya) finalize the details of their wedding day over drinks with their matron of honor, Rachel (Alana Haim), and best man, Michael (Mamoudou Athie), an impromptu conversation inadvertently leads to a lurid disclosure by the bride-to-be while in an inebriated state. To say more here would reveal too much, suffice it to say, however, that Emma’s unplanned admission upsets the entire apple cart – the ceremony, the continued participation of the wedding party members and even the future viability of the couple’s relationship. As the fallout unfolds and intensifies, viewers learn through flashbacks with the bride’s younger self (Jordyn Curet) how this scenario came into being, disclosures that raise even more questions and lead to an array of disruptive complications on multiple fronts. And, in the process, the narrative raises a host of hypothetical questions related to judgmentalism, atonement and forgiveness as examined from a variety of contradictory and complementary perspectives. It also places a very revealing mirror in front of each of the principals, exposing much about the character of these characters. Examinations of one’s own past thus come front and center, raising speculation about who among us has a legitimate right to be the one to cast the first stone. Therein lies “the drama” of “The Drama,” but this element is handled in a manner that’s far from being entirely dark. Indeed, much of the story falls back on wry wit and inspired satire with a hefty helping of in-your-face, no-holds-barred candor, the kind that might readily make some audience members squirm uncomfortably in their seats. As a consequence, this is a film that might well rub many viewers the wrong way, primarily because its content might hit a little too close to home. But, then, that’s not to be unexpected from a filmmaker known for readily drawing upon such sensibilities, as was seen in his most recent work, the masterfully crafted “Dream Scenario” (2023). Filmmaker Borgli has, arguably, topped that effort here in a film that’s superbly performed by its excellent ensemble cast (especially its two leads), an effort backed by its razor-sharp writing, deliciously devious plot twists and skillful film editing. Its many edgy sequences are punctuated with themes reminiscent of Woody Allen’s “Crimes and Misdemeanors” (1989) and segments staged not unlike those found in Bernhard Wenger’s “Peacock” (“Pfau – bin ich echt?”) (2024), qualities that place this offering in decidedly fine company. I’ll be the first to admit that “The Drama” won’t appeal to everyone, but those who appreciate its many risky virtues are sure to be riveted by this insightful production, one chock full of pathos, soul-searching and guilty chuckles, the kind of film that one won’t soon forget – and that just might leave us all a little more contrite in the end.

They say that “imitation is the highest form of flattery,” but, when that sincere admiration begins teetering on the brink of becoming derivative, much of the magic and charm is lost. And that, for what it’s worth, is the downfall of this much-anticipated romantic comedy from director Kat Coiro, a filmmaker best known for her short subjects, music videos and TV work. Anna (Halle Bailey) is a twenty-something wannabe chef who’s been treading water as a New York City house sitter ever since the untimely death of her culinary inspiration, her mother. Grief aside, she nevertheless seriously needs to get her life back on track, specifically by living the life that she truly wants for herself. However, as someone who’s loath to take responsibility for herself, she wallows in an ever-deepening pool of financial trouble, bad decisions and lack of direction. But a chance meeting in a hotel bar with a handsome, wealthy, globe-trotting Italian real estate mogul, Matteo (Lorenzo de Moor), launches her into an impromptu adventure with romantic potential, prompting her to spontaneously visit his elegant though unoccupied Tuscan villa (albeit uninvited, too – another of those potential bad decisions). Anna sees the trip as a catalyst for changing her life, but she soon gets more than what she bargained for when she’s forced to come up with a cover story for why she has suddenly taken over Matteo’s home, a question for his skeptical family members who care for the villa in his absence. Her explanation? She’s Matteo’s fiancée, an announcement that gets her welcomed with open arms (all unbeknownst to her alleged beau). In the meantime, however, Anna meets and begins falling for Matteo’s adopted brother, Micheal (Regé-Jean Page), a hunky, well-to-do Tuscan vineyard owner, an attraction that proves mutual. But how does she explain herself now as the sparks begin to fly between her and her fiancé’s sibling? Such is the premise for what follows, all set against the lush Tuscan landscape, a lively small town summer festival and life with the brothers’ comically colorful relatives (arguably the film’s strongest attribute). The fundamental problem here, though, is that the narrative isn’t especially original, drawing from storylines previously explored in other Italian romcoms like “Moonstruck” (1987) and “Under the Tuscan Sun” (2003), both of which told their tales much more effectively, making this offering appear pale by comparison. What’s more, “You, Me & Tuscany” isn’t terribly funny, either, a key component that shouldn’t be lacking in a romantic comedy. In fact, rarely does hilarity ensue. Ultimately, this release comes across more like something one would find on Lifetime, We TV or The Hallmark Channel – passable but essentially lightweight fare that’s not particularly fresh, innovative or overly engaging. In some ways, I suppose I shouldn’t have expected more than this, but it also seems like the creators of this project could have made more of an effort to come up with something a little less predictable, formulaic, sappy, and, at times, fundamentally implausible. Some have called this an ideal date night movie, but, to me, its inability to draw viewers into the story more successfully strikes me as being more like something to watch when one is at home on a Friday night stretched out on the couch in a pair of sweats with a box of bonbons with nothing better to do, the perfect background noise movie, a romcom about which there’s not a whole lot to love.

Fewer cinematic experiences are more frustrating than movies that fail to live up to expectations. And, regrettably, such is the case with this latest documentary from writer-director Gianfranco Rosi. While the title and billing for this release lead one to believe that it’s a film about the ancient Roman city of Pompeii and the volcanic catastrophe that destroyed it, there’s surprisingly little in this title addressing those subjects squarely on point. Rather, it’s more of a minimalist cinematic essay that would be more aptly titled “A Day in the Life of Naples” (the metropolis neighboring the destroyed city), with end times underpinnings whose elements frequently go underexplained. Admittedly, “Below the Clouds” makes an effort (albeit somewhat underwhelmingly) to address the looming threat posed by Mt. Vesuvius, the monster volcano that obliterated Pompeii and that carries the potential to do the same to its vulnerable neighbor again today, but this is largely done in passing, almost as if the picture is downplaying the significant danger lurking not far away. Similarly, the film’s handling of what happened to Pompeii is somewhat underplayed, told largely through the eyes of investigators looking into the theft of antiquities stolen from buried volcanic tombs and the work of a team of Japanese archaeologists seeking to uncover hidden gems from the lost city’s past. Instead, greater emphasis is placed on comparatively irrelevant footage about everyday contemporary Neapolitan life, including stories of a Syrian freighter crew delivering Ukrainian grain to Naples, an antique store owner who runs an after-school study hall for grade school students and the emergency dispatchers manning the call center of the fire rescue service. However, the relevance of these narrative threads often seems tangential at best, trying to somehow tie them (and not especially successfully) to the aforementioned end times scenario. This ill-considered aim is furthered by various overwrought cinematic elements, such as clearly gorgeous but questionably chosen black-and-white cinematography and dialogue that sounds more “written” than spoken, devices that come across, frankly, as somewhat pretentious and off the mark in light of the subject matter. To its credit, “Below the Clouds” does a fine job in exploring how Naples has throughout history been a cross-roads locale richly influenced by an array of diverse cultures, much of which was lost in Pompeii’s destruction and the recent thievery of antiquities, a narrative thread that adds to the undercurrent of progressive decline that runs through the picture’s overall character. But that’s small comfort in the face of this offering’s other more prevalent shortcomings. While I’m certainly all in favor of pushing the envelope artistically, the attempt here to produce something cinematically poetic seems decidedly overdone, resulting in a tedious mélange of disjointed, unfocused themes and imagery that ultimately do more to bewilder viewers than to clarify the film’s designated intent.

Hungarian Countess Elizabeth Báthory (1560-1614) was a macabre, eccentric noblewoman believed to have been the inspiration for Bram Stoker’s novel, Dracula (1897), an allegedly vampiric being said to have been the most prolific serial killer in history. But did she really die in 1614 as believed, or did she secretly live on in perpetuity, continuing to practice her notorious **** ways throughout the centuries? That’s the question raised in writer-director Adam Sherman’s latest feature outing, an all-out, no-holds-barred campy horror romp that epitomizes the over-the-top nature of grindhouse gore offerings. Set in present-day Savannah, Georgia, the film follows the nefarious vampiric practices of the immortal Elizabeth (Mena Suvari) and her coven of disciples, working out of a back alley absinthe bar where their unsuspecting victims are lured through internet dating websites. There the **** undead wreak havoc on their gullible, hormone-driven targets – both male and female – some of whom travel across the country for trysts with the seductive temptresses. These exploits are told through a highly stylish, uber-sexy, eminently hedonistic narrative accentuated by a vibrant, lavish production design, colorful special effects, a bouncy dance music soundtrack, witty banter, and lots and lots of spattering blood – buckets of it, in fact, wildly shooting through the air in all directions like uncontrolled projectiles on a mission (um, sensitive and squeamish viewers should probably take note). All of these excesses, however, are obviously intended for maximum shock (or is it schlock?) effect, milking the humor value of these relentlessly grotesque images for all they’re worth, especially when it comes to generating hearty groans and hefty laughs. The ante gets further upped here when the story introduces a brooding, cynical vampire hunter (Dichen Lachman) intent on clandestinely tracking down her prey, as well as a trio of clueless middle-aged party boys (Tyrese Gibson, Stephen Dorff, Lochlyn Munro) out for a good time who end up getting more than they bargained for. For all of these innate strengths, however, the script could use some much-needed reining in and significant tightening up in spots as the screenplay regrettably falls victim to meandering, too many unrelated and underdeveloped story threads, and, as the story wears on, oversaturation of some of its purposely gory sight gags. These shortcomings, however, are more than made up for the superb bad girl performances of Suvari and her coterie of tawdry accomplices. The film also sends a less-than-flattering message about the potentially inherent pitfalls associated with internet dating platforms (and what they could lead to), a caution delivered through an offhand but insightful observation made by one of Elizabeth’s cohorts and the use of computer screen montages at the beginning and end of the picture, serving as symbolic cinematic bookends of sorts. In all, though, it’s a shame that the foundation underlying this release’s story doesn’t quite live up to the other fine accent elements present in the film. Had it managed to spin a yarn as effectively as it made it look, this certainly would have made for one helluva deliciously delightful guilty pleasure.

For what it’s worth, some movies are just plain forgettable. That’s especially true when a picture’s narrative is driven by a slew of ambiguities, leaving viewers wondering what the film is actually about. And that approach, for whatever purpose it supposedly serves, characterizes many of the works of writer-director Christian Petzold, who employs it once again in his latest offering. Laura (Paula Beer), a listless, ostensibly withdrawn music student at a Berlin university, embarks on a weekend getaway to the German countryside with her partner, Jakob (Philip Froissant), and two friends (Hendrik Heutmann, Victoire Laly). But, while on a stop in their journey, Laura says she’s not feeling well and would like to return home, a source of noticeable irritation for her boyfriend. He brusquely agrees to drive her to a nearby train station, but, while on the way there, the couple is involved in a horrific car accident in which Jakob is killed. Laura, fortunately, only suffers minor injuries, a revelation that surfaces when she’s found by a mysterious middle-aged woman, Betty (Barbara Auer), who lives in a nearby rundown country home. Laura turns down an offer to go to a hospital for further care but asks, inexplicably, if she can stay with Betty while she recovers, a request that strikes her rescuer as unusual but to which she agrees. Laura thus begins convalescing at the stranger’s home, a relationship that surprisingly benefits both parties. But many questions arise that remain sufficiently unanswered, especially when Betty’s estranged husband, Richard (Matthias Brandt), and son, Max (Enno Trebs), enter the picture after what appears to be a lengthy absence. To say more at this point would reveal too much, but suffice it to say that the story ambles along somewhat aimlessly while strategically dropping hints about what may be going on behind the scenes. In actuality, the big (though questionably anticipated) reveal that eventually emerges isn’t particularly difficult to figure out beforehand. But, despite its long-awaited disclosure, a plethora of ancillary unexplained matters remains that are never adequately addressed (e.g., what’s behind Laura’s initially despondent attitude, why does she want to stay with Betty when she was originally so anxious to return home to Berlin, how and why did Betty become estranged from Richard and Max, to name just a few). And those oversights are especially strange given the picture’s comparatively short 100 runtime. In a nutshell, this all speaks to an inherently thin, underdeveloped plot that could have easily been elaborated upon for greater clarity without turning into an unduly long release. Why that didn’t happen truly escapes me, though it’s also not surprising in light of Petzold’s repertoire. That, however, is also what ultimately makes “Miroirs No. 3” such an eminently forgettable film, one that will likely disappear from the cinematic radar not long after its current release. Truthfully, though, there’s not much to recommend here, so this is one that can readily be skipped without missing much.

When times are tough and world-weary souls have looked for an avenue of escapism to retreat from their woes, worries and weltschmerz, they’ve often flocked to the movies to relieve that pent-up pressure. And, at a time when it feels like the world is going to you-know-where in a you-know-what (like now), that’s true more than ever. So it’s with that in mind that this much-anticipated sci-fi space adventure from directors Phil Lord and Christopher Miller enters the picture, a release promulgated with the hope of providing that much-needed and much-hoped-for entertainment remedy. Unfortunately, it comes up seriously short of the mark. When once-famous but now-discredited scientist Ryland Grace (Ryan Gosling) redeems himself by discovering the cause of a space-based catastrophe lying in wait with the potential to devastate the Earth, he’s “recruited” by an international panel of investigators (led by a regrettably miscast Sandra Hüller) to participate in a mission to resolve the issue. He’s reluctant to go, given personal misgivings and his lack of experience as an astronaut, apprehensions that are unsurprisingly confirmed when he wakes up from hibernation to find he’s the only member of his crew to survive. He’s thus left to teach himself how to pilot his spacecraft on his own and to look for a solution to the impending calamity, one that has apparently affected all of our neighboring solar systems but one. And, upon his arrival at that sole surviving locale, he encounters a stone-faced alien whom he names “Rocky” (voiced by James Ortiz) who has been dispatched from his home world to this same location for the same purpose. Perhaps working together will yield an answer for this unlikely duo, but first these two very different beings must learn how to communicate if they’re to collaborate successfully, a challenge almost as big as their scientific dilemma. While this may sound like a plausible premise for an escapist fantasy offering, problems arise not so much in the nature of the story but in its error-filled execution. For starters, at a runtime of 200, it’s too long to maintain viewer interest with what it has to work with. That’s because the treatment never takes itself seriously enough to make audience members want to care about the characters or the outcome. Instead of creating a thrilling and engaging space adventure, the film becomes more of a lightweight buddy movie (and a very silly, almost juvenile, one at that). Comic relief is one thing, but this production carries this idea way too far, and this ends up becoming a chief source of the picture’s desperate need for editing. On top of this, the narrative isn’t especially original, combining tropes found in releases like “Interstellar” (2014), “The Martian” (2015), and, even as unlikely as it may sound, “Cast Away” (2000), with visual elements that look like they were plucked from “2001: A Space Odyssey” (1968) and “2010: The Year We Make Contact” (1984). And, speaking of visuals, the special effects are a decidedly mixed bag of images, with some stunningly beautiful and others that unbelievably look like they’re 40 years out of date (talk about continuity issues). Then there’s the lead performance by Gosling, who carries much of the picture by himself, again portraying (or attempting to portray) his signature supposedly soft-spoken everyman, but who, in this instance, routinely steps out of character and goes over the top with displays that are unmitigatedly hammy and cloying (much like his extraterrestrial co-star). Consequently, when all is said and done, “Project Hail Mary” comes up an unexpected disappointment, failing to deliver the goods that its marketing team so fervently promised. I realize that I probably sound cantankerous and curmudgeonly in my assessment and that this will likely end up being an unpopular opinion that goes against what most critics and viewers say about it, but I truthfully came away from this one feeling unsatisfied. Nevertheless, if you’re still compelled to see this one any way, at least do yourself the favor of watching it on an IMAX screen for best effect. But, if I were you, I’d wait for it to come to streaming instead.

New York is one of those locales that people become so enamored with that it invariably inspires its share of cinematic love letters, odes to a metropolis known for its people, places, culture and way of life. Of course, to make those movies work, they require solid narratives and characters to drive them, with impassioned, gifted filmmakers at the helm, as seen in such works as Woody Allen’s “Manhattan” (1979) and Spike Lee’s “She’s Gotta Have It” (1986) and “Crooklyn” (1994). Without those elements, however, the love of the setting becomes lost (and, sadly, all too often, the stories associated with them as well). And, unfortunately, that’s very much the case with this debut feature from director Rachael Holder. This would-be ode to Brooklyn – one of Gotham’s most classically beautiful boroughs with a long, rich and distinctive culture of its own – seeks to symbolically explore how it has changed – drastically – in recent years, as told through the lives of three residents approaching middle age. Roger (André Holland) is a writer struggling in earnest to write his own personal love letter to Brooklyn in light of the changes that have taken place. However, he never quite seems to get on track, mainly because he’s preoccupied with sorting out his feelings about two romantic interests, his former girlfriend, Casey (Nicole Beharie), and his new prospect, Nicole (DeWanda Wise), a widowed single mother of a young daughter, Ally (Cadence Reese). These distractions essentially prompt him to place his life on hold as he steps back to assess them and what they might mean for the future. The changes in Roger’s life personally thus parallel those of the borough where he lives, and he’s torn about what once was and what now is, not to mention what might be. Regrettably, though, these story threads are woefully underdeveloped, becoming locked in a repetitive series of indecisiveness and, frankly, annoying bouts of whining and handwringing (and for all concerned, too). It’s like watching a modern-day version of "thirtysomething" playing out on screen, and the circular nature of these segments begins to feel as if the narrative has been padded to fill out its comparatively short 100 runtime. In the process, the aforementioned ode to Brooklyn itself never fully materializes, taking on an abridged tourist’s view of its locale. Instead, the picture tends to immerse itself in the shallow, self-absorbed sensibilities of the characters (none of whom are ultimately particularly pleasant, either). It’s a shame that the finished product here turns out as it does, especially since it shortchanges the considerable talents of its three principals, all of whom deserve better material to work with than what they’ve been given here. Granted, this is the filmmaker’s first feature effort, so there’s definitely a learning curve involved here, but, when it comes to choosing her next project, a good starting point is to pick a better script, as this is where much of the fault lies for this production’s shortcomings. Indeed, a love letter truly needs to feel like that’s what it genuinely aspires to be, something that will grab viewers and draw them in, keeping them engaged throughout the film in terms of the story, characters and setting. Sadly, though, “Love, Brooklyn” fails to do that, instead leaving audiences anxious for the closing credits to roll.

When it comes to questions of crime and punishment, opinions vary widely, depending on one’s sensibilities and personal point of view, and we’re all entitled to our respective opinions. And most would probably agree that wrongdoers should indeed pay the price for their transgressions. But does that give authorities charged with the responsibility of meting out justice the right to essentially do whatever they want in handling the treatment of these perpetrators? What’s worse, is it at all acceptable to approach the management of inmates as a de facto form of often-lifelong, legally sanctioned enslavement, one characterized by inhumane treatment, deplorable living conditions, endless personal indignities, and mechanisms for producing lucrative windfalls for the state and/or a privileged few? And what about the promises of rehabilitation – do they have any realistic chance of being acted upon, or are they mere lip service? Those are among the disturbing questions raised in this alarming, revelatory HBO documentary about life in the 14 statewide facilities operated by the Alabama Department of Corrections, an agency whose name falls far short of living up to its allegedly stated intent. This superb but troubling offering from writer-directors Andrew Jarecki and Charlotte Kaufman tells the stories of a number of Alabama prisoners (zealously backed by their families) who courageously undertook a project to record the appalling way of life inside their facilities using contraband cell phones (devices that, in most cases, were, ironically, clandestinely smuggled into these institutions and sold to inmates by prison guards seeking to line their own pockets). The findings of these intrepid videographers reveal an ongoing program of unspeakable beatings by overworked, rage-filled, out-of-control staff members, often relentlessly conducted under filthy, hellish circumstances and prompted by assorted personal vendettas or the fulfillment of official policy aims. This is particularly true for squelching the disclosure of the foregoing atrocities and engaging in reprehensible, unsupervised acts of retaliation, nearly all of which have gone (and continue to go) unaddressed and/or unpunished by prison authorities. Inmates who participated in this undertaking bravely placed their well-being – and even their lives – at risk by doing so, all in hopes that they could get the word out to an uninformed public, given that journalists are prohibited from visiting these facilities. They also hoped to compile evidence of the ongoing barbarity as a means to encourage the US Department of Justice to investigate and possibly take over the management of the ADOC. But, despite attempts by the federal government to get involved, the state stubbornly and arrogantly pushed back, insisting that this was an Alabama problem that called for an “Alabama solution.” But this inflexible, unproductive posture, in turn, led to a remarkably well-coordinated effort by inmates across the state to fight back, an initiative that employed creative methods of protest never before seen in prisons in Alabama or elsewhere. “The Alabama Solution” is thus one of those watershed films that unflinchingly illustrates how low humanity can sink in inflicting horrific treatment on others, even those who have a debt to pay to society and, consequently, have been imprisoned for their self-acknowledged transgressions. But coping with such unacceptable conditions has placed unbearable strains on the incarcerated, prompting Alabama to lead the nation in prison deaths, suicides and overdoses, as well as one of the country’s lowest parole approval rates. And, sadly, this release also makes it abundantly clear that Alabama is not the only state where such conditions are present, a revelation that has come to light in part through the efforts of Alabama prisoners who have been networking with fellow inmates elsewhere. Admittedly, this Oscar nominee for best documentary feature can be a difficult watch at times (sensitive viewers take note). Indeed, just when one thinks that things can’t possibly get any worse, there are invariably new disclosures that maddeningly surpass what preceded them. However, this offering makes readily apparent what everyone who lives in a purported civilized society should know – and not be willing to tolerate.

Coming to terms with one’s own dubious past can be challenging, difficult and even embarrassing. That’s true not only for individuals but potentially entire communities. And one such case can be found in the Mississippi River community of Natchez, MS. As the oldest settlement on the Mississippi River, this city of 14,000 today struggles to define its identity as one that celebrates yet accepts its history as a place of both grand elegance and unrepentant human exploitation. Writer-director Suzannah Herbert’s incisive documentary succeeds in presenting a balanced assessment of a community that’s proud of the lavish architecture and beautiful gardens that have come to characterize it as an icon of the Old South (and made it a popular tourist destination) but that has also had to wrestle with the unsavory reputation of how that way of life came into being, one built on the backs of Black slaves who toiled in the fields of the region’s cotton plantations. Many contemporary residents like to believe in the notion that Natchez has become a symbol of the New South, one that accepts racial tolerance and equality (a blue enclave in an otherwise-red state as one resident observes). But then there are those who zealously cling to the genteel ways of antebellum culture who are reluctant to acknowledge (let alone discuss) how it came to pass, not to mention how it almost vanished in the wake of the Civil War and during Reconstruction. Owning up to that checkered history has thus placed Natchez in a position of having to reconcile these issues as it seeks to move forward in shaping its future. Indeed, in an age where cancel culture has gained considerable ground in recent years, is it still acceptable for manor house docents to conduct tours wearing hoop skirts and show off their structures’ unbridled ostentation, or are these elements of the past best forgotten? Or do these practices serve as valuable reminders of a past that we dare not forget lest we run the risk of losing sight of the atrocities and inequities associated with them? Or is there some kind of workable middle ground to be had here, one that can help everyone heal from those ordeals gone by? Those are the thorny questions this film attempts to answer, and it does so with an admirably skillful hand, one that shows both the beauty and the ugliness that have made Natchez what it is, as well as the present-day initiatives that are being undertaken to steer the city in a new direction for the future. The picture’s gorgeously colorful cinematography is a sight to behold, especially in its dreamlike cinematic allusions to films like “Gone with the Wind” (1939), all backed by an equally beautiful original score. Its candid interviews with its colorful residents provide a mosaic of viewpoints reflective of the various perspectives that Natchez residents hold. And it’s all presented with an even hand, one aimed at fairly but honestly depicting the outlooks at play here. For its efforts, “Natchez” was deservedly named one of the Top 5 Documentaries of 2025 by the National Board of Review, and it will be receiving a national broadcast audience on PBS once it completes its theatrical run. It takes courage to face up to one’s past, and, even though there’s still work to be done in this community at a cross-roads it appears to be making progress in that regard, doing so with grace, growing candor and a sense of acknowledging (but not forgetting) its own legacy.

When you know something is “right” for you, it’s difficult to deny it, even when faced with societal pressures to the contrary. It’s a circumstance that same-sex couples in particular have been well acquainted with for a long time. And, even though prevailing conditions have significantly improved in many quarters in recent years, there are still some notably conservative locales where freely living one’s truth can be exceedingly challenging. Which is why it’s truly groundbreaking when a film from one of those conventionally minded enclaves comes along to shake up the status quo and leave a lasting impact. Such is the case for the debut feature from writer-director Rohan Kanawade, a truly pioneering work of LGBTQ+ cinema from India, a culture not particularly known for its open-mindedness when it comes to alternative lifestyle matters. When thirty-something Anand (Bhushaan Manoj) learns that his father (Nitin Bansode) has died, he must accompany his mother (Jayshri Jagtap) to the rural Indian village where he and they grew up for the deceased’s traditional funeral rituals. As a gay man who relocated from there to Mumbai so that he could more freely live openly, he’s apprehensive about returning to the oppressive environment he so eagerly sought to escape. In part it’s because he grew tired of the constant barrage of questions asked by the locals about when he was going to get married, inquiries that he always managed to deflect but that he knew he would have difficulty addressing this time given his age and still being a bachelor. What’s more, the funeral rites are scheduled to span 10 days, a longer duration than he wants to stay in the village, despite his earnest desire to pay proper respects to his late father. Fortunately for Anand, he had already come out to both of his parents, and they were warmly accepting of his lifestyle, so he knows that his immediate family will not pose any hardships for him in making this journey. But that loving support still will not make matters any easier in performing some of the funerary rituals, given that they are only supposed to be conducted by married children of the deceased, and his continuing single status would undoubtedly raise some eyebrows. Much to Anand’s surprise, however, upon his arrival in the village, he receives some added support – and unexpectedly open affection – from a childhood acquaintance, Balya (Suraaj Suman), a closeted but not hidden gay man who doesn’t hesitate to make his amorous feelings known for his old friend. Their situation quickly becomes one of those cases where both parties know that what they have together is “right” for them. But what’s to come of this budding romance given the many differences in their everyday lives and backgrounds? Can they make it work? In fact, are they sure they want to make the effort to make it work? And, of course, there’s the ever-present question of “What would people think?” (as if that should matter, even though it’s a consideration that can’t be readily avoided). Those well acquainted with LGBTQ+ cinema will undoubtedly find the story here “familiar,” if not even a tad clichéd. However, considering the venue in which this story is set, one can’t help but acknowledge the radical nature of the subject matter of this release, something that shouldn’t be summarily downplayed or overlooked. Moreover, viewers would be hard-pressed to ignore the heartfelt emotions and genuine tenderness depicted in this couple’s saga, reminiscent of what’s found in films like the Academy Award-winning “Moonlight” (2016). Admittedly, there are some pacing issues at times, primarily due to the inclusion of some extraneous material that could have been easily edited. Nevertheless, “Cactus Pears” is one of the finer works of LGBTQ+ cinema to have come along in some time, even if the narrative isn’t especially original by the genre’s standards. It’s heartening to watch an involving romance like the one on display in this offering, something that we can always use more of on the big screen.

Life after divorce can indeed be awkward, perplexing and frustrating for the newly single. However, despite the challenges that come with such adjustments, there’s no reason to think that most otherwise-well-adjusted adults won’t be able to adapt, that they won’t be routinely subjected to exasperating humiliations and ongoing faux pas. Unfortunately, that’s precisely the problem that plagues the debut feature from actress-writer-director Amy Landecker, an underdeveloped, tonally inconsistent romantic comedy that becomes as exasperating for viewers as it does to its beleaguered protagonist. When Lauren (Landecker) divorces her husband (Paul Adelstein), she looks forward to a clean slate to start over, despite having not been on her own for some time. However, once she finds herself in those circumstances, she becomes perpetually befuddled about how to behave and react on numerous fronts, such as when it comes to getting back into the dating scene, maintaining a solid relationship with her young daughter (Chloe Cleary) and availing herself of new opportunities for a fresh start in her life, such as participating in an acting class for which she recently signed up. She essentially becomes the walking embodiment of being all thumbs, something that appears not to have been in place while she was married but that has clearly come to characterize herself as a new divorcee. It’s hard to believe that she would suddenly and foolishly fall prey to a series of ludicrous life events (some of them clichéd, others utterly preposterous, and most of which try too hard and aren’t the least bit funny), all stitched together in a meandering patchwork episodic narrative. These incidents eventually culminate in Lauren’s attendance at a same-sex destination wedding with one of her acting class peers, Sean (Nico Hiraga), a handsome young potential romantic prospect who has strong but ambivalent feelings toward her. As expected, though, the reception turns out to be an unmitigated disaster despite Lauren’s encounter with a fellow divorcee, Dave (Bradley Whitford), a cranky midlifer whose bark proves to be worse than his bite, a story thread that helps to turn the film in a more promising direction. But that plot device doesn’t show up until an hour into this 90-minute offering, and, by that point, the filmmaker has essentially lost control of the room. That’s a shame, given that Landecker shows directorial and storytelling aptitude in this part of the picture, but this release needs so much work in what precedes it that this accomplishment is vastly overshadowed. The film’s many shortcomings are also unfortunate for the members of the fine cast assembled here, especially in the supporting performances of Missi Pyle, Gaby Hoffmann, Simon Helberg and Spencer Stevenson, all of whom are essentially relegated to glorified walk-ons or characters thanklessly charged with trying to shore up a seriously sagging story. Sadly, Landecker’s filmmaking debut is a disappointing effort, but, as someone who clearly possesses tremendous talents as an actress (as seen here and in other works, such as “A Serious Man” (2009)), we can only hope that she rises to the occasion as a writer and director on future efforts where she can show us what she’s truly capable of.

Filmmaking under fire can’t be easy. In many respects, it’s akin to the task undertaken by war correspondents when reporting from combat zones. But, for all the difficulties associated with efforts like this, coverage of these stories certainly serves a valuable purpose in letting the world know what’s transpiring in such heated conflicts. That’s obviously the intent underlying this release from writer-director Sepideh Farsi, an account of the relentlessly protracted battle zone horrors that have been playing out in Gaza against the Palestinian people by Israeli Defense Forces. The filmmaker had originally hoped to cover the story from inside Gaza, but border closures and prohibitions against outsiders being allowed into the occupied territory kept her from entering Palestine. An alternate approach was thus needed. So, after evaluating her options, the director devised an inventive solution, telling her story through a series of cell phone conversations between her and 24-year-old Fatma Hassona, an aspiring journalist/photographer struggling to survive under the harsh conditions of her homeland’s onslaught. The dialogues between Farsi and Hassona cover a wide array of topics, ranging from coping with the logistical challenges of everyday life to the emotional toll of living under the constant threat of military annihilation to the ironically unexpected (albeit undeniably frustrated) sense of hope that pervades Fatma’s outlook for the future. A rollercoaster of emotions ensues as displays of heartbreak and hopefulness emerge, faithfully presented as they occurred – phone connection glitches, sound quality issues and all. However, as much as there is to be said for this documentary’s sincere commitment to authenticity, it could stand to have been cleaned up in the final cut. The flow of some of the content becomes rambling and repetitious, and there’s plenty of extraneous material unrelated to the cell phone conversations that easily could have been eliminated. While the effort involved in amassing the footage that was collected is indeed commendable in light of the inherent difficulties involved, the filmmaker’s failure to make the material more coherent, less redundant and better focused only serves to undermine the clarity and importance of the message that the picture is seeking to convey. As someone who lived through the tyranny inflicted against her in her Iranian homeland, Farsi is herself no stranger to the kinds of ordeals that her subject faces, and the filmmaker valiantly attempts to bring those circumstances to light, an effort that earned this offering a Cannes Film Festival nomination and the National Board of Review’s Freedom of Expression Award. Nevertheless, as laudable as this work strives to be, it could have been more effective if it had told its story with more of an eye toward informing than with simply presenting the unfiltered raw material for its own sake. Fatma and the people of Palestine deserve better.

It’s been said that crime doesn’t pay, but, as this notion is often portrayed in the movies, that’s only true if one gets caught. Perpetrators skilled in covering their tracks frequently manage to find a way around the law, provided, of course, that they’re truly adept at managing to stay ahead of authorities. That theory gets seriously put to the test in this third feature outing from writer-director Bart Layton, the story of a slick, enigmatic, unassuming Los Angeles jewel thief (Chris Hemsworth) who’s an expert at what he does, successfully pulling off his lucrative exploits without getting caught and without anyone getting hurt. But, in his latest job, wrinkles emerge that prompt him to reassess his circumstances (not to mention his future). These conditions uncharacteristically force him to improvise to stay ahead of those pursuing him, namely, an unconventional but insightful detective (Mark Ruffalo), an incisive insurance agent who specializes in managing the assets of wealthy clients (Halle Berry) and an undisciplined rival thief (Barry Keoghan) tapped by his partner in come (Nick Nolte) when the master criminal appears to be losing his nerve. Everyone here has a stake in how matters play out, both personally and professionally, but knowing how to proceed and who to trust become ever more complicated. In some respects, as this film’s title implies, the narrative underlying this story could arguably be seen as somewhat generic as far as heist movies are concerned. However, there are elements in play here that help to elevate this release above many others in this genre. For instance, the degree of character development is greater than what one typically finds in pictures like this, as virtually all the players here are imbued with more depth and nuance than usual. Then there are the film’s impressive production values, decidedly superior to many comparable offerings in such areas as cinematography, film editing (especially in the riveting car chases) and atmospheric background score. And, of course, the performances of the fine ensemble featured here do much to help set this release apart from its cinematic peers. Admittedly, several aspects of this production could use some shoring up, particularly in the areas of pacing (especially in the middle) and the development of a few of the picture’s less important story threads. On balance, though, “Crime 101” is a cut above what viewers might generally expect out of an offering like this, making for an enjoyable time at the movies, even if it’s not overly original or particularly innovative. But this is one release that successfully finds ways to get away with it – and there’s no crime in that.

It’s becoming increasingly rare these days that movies present stories with insightful, contemplative narratives, despite the fact that we probably need pictures like this now more than ever. However, viewers looking for films that provide them with profound food for thought should seriously consider screening this latest offering from director Polly Findlay. Based on the acclaimed 2017 novel of the same name by author Bernard MacLaverty, the film tells the story of Stella (Lesley Manville) and Gerry (Ciarán Hinds), a long-married couple who fled “the Troubles” in Belfast, Northern Ireland for the safety and security of a new life in Glasgow, Scotland, where they’ve now lived for many years. However, over time, their marriage has slowly and quietly eroded into a stale relationship. While they appear to still love one another, there’s not much else sustaining their increasingly tenuous connection. It’s a source of considerable concern for Stella, who wants greater fulfillment out of life, particularly on a spiritual level, a subject in which Gerry shows essentially no interest. But Stella isn’t ready to give up just yet; so, to try and restore the viability of their bond, she surprises Gerry with a Christmas gift in the form of a trip to Amsterdam, a journey that she sees as a chance for “an adventure” to help rejuvenate their marriage. But, as soon becomes apparent, Stella has another reason for making the trip, one aimed at satisfying her own personal curiosity and personal well-being but that also potentially places the future of the couple’s already-shaky relationship in jeopardy. The journey thus gives husband and wife pause to evaluate what may lie ahead for them, prompting deep questions about the nature and quality of their partnership, reconciling feelings about ghosts from their past, examining personal lifestyle choices, and taking stock of “big picture” perspectives on life and their respective places in the Universe. In turn, this inadvertent soul-searching exercise unearths some surprising revelations, especially when it comes to bursting long-held bubbles in their individual belief systems. Who would have thought that a simple getaway could raise so many issues with such pervasively profound implications? Nevertheless, such are the unexpected circumstances that Stella and Gerry find themselves in, leaving them to wonder whether they’ll be able to withstand their challenges and stay together or find themselves irrevocably changed. “Midwinter Break” employs a deftly constructed storytelling approach in addressing these questions, one that’s layered, nuanced and eminently thoughtful on many levels. It’s also the kind of picture that requires close, careful, engaged viewing; without that, audience members – like the protagonists themselves – might easily miss the forest for the trees, one of the chief objectives this picture seeks to help us overcome. This emerges through the carefully crafted writing and the superb performances of the two leads, both of whom are clearly at the top of their game here. It’s also a gorgeous cinematic showcase for the picturesque city that serves as the story’s backdrop but without turning into a veiled travelogue. Admittedly, there are some pacing issues early on and some occasionally awkward, overly “mechanical” sequences (again at the outset) as the film seeks to find a firm footing for itself. But one could argue that these shortcomings are reflective of the puzzling and unanticipated introspective process in which the principals are about to enter. Still, those looking to be fed by this release’s ample, meaningful subject matter will likely find themselves nicely satisfied by film’s end. This offering makes for perfect midwinter viewing, a picture that has come along at just the right time to provide us with our own restorative midwinter breaks, regardless of whether we’re talking in literal or metaphorical terms. And who knows what we might take away from the experience? It could prove life-changing – or not – depending on what we each need and what we get out of it ‒ much like life itself.

Paying tribute to a talented, beloved entertainer is undoubtedly a noble gesture, especially for someone widely regarded as a kind, gentle soul in an industry all too often known for its self-absorbed personalities and who, sadly, passed on while still in the prime of life. Such is the sincere intent behind this third documentary feature from director Colin Hanks, a warm, respectful homage to the late John Candy (1950-1994). The Canadian-born actor-comedian made quite a name for himself in the ʼ70s, ʼ80s and ʼ90s, first as a member of Toronto’s Second City comedy troupe, then as a regular on the edgy sketch comedy TV show SCTV and then as a colorful character actor in more than 30 films. But, as this release shows, Candy was more than just a well-known funnyman. He was also a writer, director, producer and businessman, as well as a devoted husband and father. This reputation made him widely regarded as one of the nicest people in show business, a man with a big heart who made it a practice to take care of others, no matter what their needs might be. These are the qualities that come through loud and clear in the film in the many interviews with those who knew and worked with him, including television colleagues Eugene Levy, Catherine O’Hara, Andrea Martin, Dave Thomas, Martin Short and Robin Duke, as well as his comedy and big screen peers Steve Martin, Bill Murray, Dan Aykroyd, Macaulay Culkin, Tom Hanks, Mel Brooks, Don Lake and Chris Columbus, among others. They’re also apparent in the ample archive footage featuring conversations with Candy, backed by insights from his wife Rose, his children Chris and Jennifer, and an array of childhood friends and industry colleagues. And the picture’s numerous clips from his TV and movie work serve as welcome reminders of just how gifted he was as a performer, a thoroughly enjoyable trip down Memory Lane. However, in telling his story, the film has a tendency to become somewhat repetitive, depicting its subject with so much boundless reverence that it almost seems timid in telling a deeper and more complete story. In its defense, “I Like Me” doesn’t portray its protagonist with a whitewashed Pollyanna narrative, as evidenced by references to issues with his weight, ghosts from his past and unexpressed fears of not measuring up no matter how hard he tried, attributes that contributed to turning him into something of a people pleaser who had trouble turning down others while not always taking care of himself. But the overarching kid gloves approach employed here can be likened to the filmmaker walking on eggshells at times. Certain aspects of Candy’s story receive noticeable short shrift, such as his impressive dramatic turn in a cameo appearance in director Oliver Stone’s “JFK” (1991), a role that may well have provided moviegoers with an all-too-brief glimpse of greater acting abilities that never had a chance to further develop (a few clips from this release are included in the documentary but never really discussed). That kind of depth, regrettably, is lacking here and would have made for a better, fuller profile instead of repeatedly being told the same things over and over again. It’s a shame that this gentle giant of a man and gifted entertainer left us as young as he did, and it’s a safe bet that many of us probably would have liked to have known him and his range of capabilities better. However, when it comes to this biography, it often feels like we’re only getting part of the story, leaving us wanting for more that, unfortunately, we’ll never have the chance to savor and enjoy.

If one were a tyrannical despot who recklessly launched his country into a questionable “special military operation” (i.e., unprovoked invasion) in a neighboring nation and needed to win over the unquestioning support of a skeptical populace, what would you do? That’s the question Russian head of state Vladimir Putin had to address when his country’s forces invaded Ukraine in a mercilessly brutal offensive in February 2022. To gain the backing of his people, Putin launched an extensive Soviet-style propaganda campaign that required coercive compliance with its stated objectives, regimented practices and unwavering belief in a pack of state-sponsored lies. And nowhere was this more apparent (and notoriously insidious) than in the nation’s schools, where young, impressionable students were forced into military-style drills, flawless recitations of political songs and poems, and indoctrination into daily brainwashing sessions. Seems like a foolproof plan, right? Well, one thing Mr. Putin didn’t count on was the masterfully implemented subversive scheming of Pasha Talankin, a mild-mannered primary school event planner and videographer from Karabash, a small industrial community in the Ural Mountains. Talankin was deeply troubled by the imposition of Putin’s plan and how it was being crammed down the throats of his kids, especially since he was required to document his school’s participation in the program in accordance with strict government requirements. However, in his capacity as official school videographer, he decided to draw upon that role to compile a record of what was transpiring for distribution to a wider audience – the world outside of Putin’s Russia. While essentially hiding in plain sight, he shot footage of the foregoing activities, many of which have been augmented here with whimsical graphics and tongue-in-cheek audio voiceovers showing how utterly preposterous they were. To those in the West, these incidents probably appear patently laughable and utterly ridiculous, even though they’re ultimately anything but funny. And, in making these potentially seditious recordings, Talankin put himself at ever-increasing risk of treason, a crime that would carry stiff penalties if he were to be tried and convicted. But, given his low-key, easygoing demeanor, as well as his ability to make it look as though he was simply going about his prescribed duties, he courageously managed to fly below the radar in compiling the footage for this brilliantly skewering first-person documentary, a film that has successfully (and deservedly) captured BAFTA and Oscar nominations. As effective as this release is in making Putin look foolish, though, there’s also a troubling underlying message here for those outside of Russia, a cautionary tale about the fine line between proud patriotism and dangerously dogmatic nationalism. Viewers should thus bear this in mind in between the laughs, encouraging us all to remain vigilant to avoid falling into that trap. Taking pride in one’s country is one thing, but freely embracing carefully calculated partisan falsehoods is something else entirely, and the journey from one to the other is a lot shorter than most of us would probably like to believe. This is truly a film to watch, listen to, and, above all, learn from.

Poking fun at the supposedly sacred can sometimes be a source of perverse glee, particularly when targeted against works of art and literature that many might consider off limits and untouchable. Undertakings like that, however, were made for writer-director Emerald Fennell. As a filmmaker with a reputation for unapologetically telling stories with outrageous narratives, she was the perfect choice for the assignment of skewering Emily Bronté’s classic 1847 novel Wuthering Heights. Long considered one of the best works of English literature, this Gothic romance with a tawdry underbelly has long passed itself off as a respectable piece of writing thanks in large part to the carefully managed protection afforded by literary purists. However, in this latest cinematic adaptation of this time-honored tale, the filmmaker holds nothing back in bringing its kinkier aspects to light, all presented with a deliciously wicked sinister grin. While the film admittedly takes considerable license with the original narrative, its core characters and much of its basic storyline have been spared, albeit with a twisted approach in doing so. The film basically follows the exploits of ambitious social climber Cathy Earnshaw (Margot Robbie) who comes from a once-moneyed family now experiencing diminishing financial means. Cathy’s smitten with an orphan boy whom her father (Martin Clunes) rescues from the streets whom she has named Heathcliff (Jacob Elordi) in honor of her deceased brother. Cathy and Heathcliff grow up together, almost like siblings, but there’s an undeniable attraction between them. But, for Cathy, giving in to her romantic impulses would be imprudent in light of her ambitions to become socially respectable. And, as a consequence, she abandons her love for Heathcliff in favor of Edgar Linton (Shazad Latif), the landed owner of a neighboring manor, a move that breaks Heathcliff’s heart, who subsequently flees in despair. But, when Heathcliff returns several years later as a wealthy man, Cathy’s hormones stir to life once again, especially since her love for him now has money to back up the considerable pheromones he exudes. Thus begins a tale of erotic intrigue involving this romantic triangle, a deliciously campy romp brought to life and further seasoned by the maneuverings of Cathy’s longtime (and supposedly trusted) servant, Nelly (Hong Chau), who has a vested interest in how affairs ultimately unfold. The filmmaker thus spins a pulpy web on par with the best plots found in classic 1980s prime time soaps, suitably peppered with witty one-liners and hilarious sight gags. These antics are sufficiently facilitated by the superb performances of Robbie, Elordi and Alison Oliver as Edgar’s naïve sister Isabella (who’s not nearly as innocent as she seems, especially when she takes a shine to Heathcliff upon his triumphant return, adding more spice to the stew). While some viewers may not take to the deviations from the novel’s original story, and despite some tonal inconsistencies on the part of the filmmaker. “Wuthering Heights” is nevertheless a delightfully juicy guilty pleasure. It’s not meant to be taken as seriously as previous cinematic versions of this work, but there’s nothing wrong with that, as it’s intentionally following a different approach from those earlier offerings. And, in this case, Fennell’s version isn’t afraid to brazenly expose the hitherto-cloaked dirty little secrets of those iterations. I can’t imagine any other filmmaker capable of taking on the task of telling this story in this particular way. The outrageousness that the director unabashedly brought to the screen in previous works like “Promising Young Woman” (2020) and “Saltburn” (2023) is again present here (though handled far more skillfully this time), deftly combined with top-shelf production values in areas like cinematography, costuming, art direction and set design, not to mention the aforementioned spot-on performances. This release definitely won’t appeal to everyone, especially among those who prefer their adaptations of classic literature unadulterated. But viewers who have a pronounced mischievous streak in their movie preferences will no doubt revel in this release’s refreshingly bawdy frankness and clever tongue-in-cheek humor. This is truly a cup of tea with a hefty shot of a potent potable added to it, so, if that’s your taste, by all means drink up and enjoy.

There’s a big difference between celebrating an alternative lifestyle and giving license to an abusive relationship, but, sadly, the debut feature from writer-director Harry Lighton doesn’t seem to know the difference. This sexually explicit “romance” (a term I use with measured reservation) follows the experience of Colin (Harry Melling), a shy gay adult who still lives with his parents and has trouble getting dates, after he meets Ray (Alexander Skarsgård), an enigmatic, uber-masculine biker/leatherman with a chiseled physique who looks like he’s just stepped out of the hottest gay porno imaginable. But their relationship comes with many strings: specifically, Ray is a “dom” who rigidly dictates every aspect of the life of his new “sub.” Now, there’s nothing inherently wrong with dynamics like this in a gay male relationship (or any other type of relationship, for that matter), as we all have our own particular proclivities. However, when relations between partners cross certain lines, matters can become decidedly and disturbingly questionable. Ray treats Colin like his slave (again, not an unheard-of dynamic in relationships like this), but, as circumstances turn emotionally and then physically abusive, that’s when this partnership takes a troubling turn in the wrong direction. And what’s most distressing about this film is that it tacitly conveys the impression that such behavior is perfectly acceptable in dominant/submissive relationships, that it simply (and unapologetically) comes with the territory. However, as a member of the LGBTQ+ community myself, this stance takes things a step too far for me, even if Colin is willing to go along with such potentially damaging and humiliating treatment. Such behavior would never be condoned in other relationships, so why should it be considered acceptable here (especially since the film seems to regard it as “normal,” even celebrated)? This sends the wrong message in my opinion, especially since so many individuals in the LGBTQ+ community already have issues with low self-esteem stemming from repeated ridicule and demeaning abuse from others (often just by virtue of being gay), let alone at the hands of someone from our own “family.” The attitude taken here is thus tantamount to pouring gasoline onto an already-raging fire, and I find that wholly inappropriate, not to mention self-defeating in a community where bolstering our self-worth should be a priority. The effect of this, regrettably, is the reinforcement and perpetuation of negative gay stereotypes coming at a time when the community is already under heightened scrutiny and undue criticism, an outcome that’s being fostered here by those who can least afford to see such treatment championed (even if allegedly unwittingly). While there is admittedly some merit to the story’s message about the value of self-acceptance (i.e., Colin’s willingness to be himself in recognizing and accepting his avowed preference for being a submissive), there’s a difference between that and encouraging someone to embrace anything that might go along with it, including allowing oneself to be freely and willingly subjected to acts of abuse. Despite these glaring faults, the film has somehow managed to secure its fair share of advocates, as evidenced, for example, by its three BAFTA Award nominations and five Cannes Film Festival nods (including two wins). Nevertheless, “Pillion,” in my view, carries these notions to an extreme and sends the wrong message, particularly toward those who might be too naïve, inexperienced or impressionable to realize what they could be getting themselves into until it’s too late. To me, that’s just plain wrong, and it’s prompted my extreme dislike of this release, despite what some of my LGBTQ+ community peers might believe. Indeed, harmless role playing and free-wheeling kinkiness are one thing, but hurtful, damaging, psychologically manipulative abuse is something else entirely. And, unfortunately, this film doesn’t make enough of a distinction between the two.

I can’t begin to count how many times I’ve seen movie reviews use high-minded words like “understated” and “nuanced” as euphemisms to describe pictures that are more aptly characterized as “unfocused” and “meandering.” But those words, unflattering though they may be, would certainly make better choices when it comes to capturing the nature of this debut feature from writer-director Constance Tsang, a tedious, glacially paced slog that aspires to be something that’s quite apparently beyond its grasp. When Didi (Haipeng Xu), a Taiwanese immigrant who works in a massage parlor in the Chinese community of New York’s Flushing Queens neighborhood, falls victim to a tragedy during the Lunar New Year, two of her closest kindreds (and fellow immigrants) subsequently form an impromptu bond as they attempt to work through their grief. Amy (Ke-Xi Wu), Didi’s friend and co-worker, and Cheung (Kang-sheng Lee), Didi’s budding romantic interest, are devastated by their loss but end up seeking comfort in one another’s company. But what does their extemporaneous connection mean, and where is it ultimately headed? Are they sympathetic touchstones for one another, or are they destined to become potential romantic partners? This situation is further complicated by the fact that Cheung is trapped in an unhappy marriage to a shrewish, demanding wife back in Taiwan, one of the reasons that prompted his immigration to the US (and lack of desire to return home). In addition to overcoming their loss, Amy and Cheung also search for meaning in their lives as they grapple with the loneliness that comes from being strangers in a strange land, feelings that drew them to Didi and their association with her in the first place. On the surface, this scenario probably sounds like the foundation of an engaging character study, but, unfortunately, this “understated” and “nuanced” offering more fittingly embodies the “unfocused” and “meandering” labels noted above. The problem here is a fundamentally thin narrative whose screenplay is unable to effectively bring the story to life. The picture limps along from unrelated incident to unrelated incident, yielding a seriously disjointed tale packed with an abundance of uninteresting filler, overlong sequences desperately in need of editing and a wealth of pregnant pauses that add nothing. And, because of this, I’m genuinely at a loss to understand how this release captured three Cannes Film Festival nods (including one win), along with four Independent Spirit Award nominations, none of which, in my view, were deserving. Hypothetically, with a better story and script, “Blue Sun Palace” probably could have been a moving, heartfelt drama and insightful essay on loss. But, as it stands now, this is a film futilely in search of something to say and an intriguing way of saying it.

One of the most inspiring messages I’ve run across in my life maintains that “The greatest joy is in creation,” a message that, ironically, came my way via a Chinese fortune cookie just as I had begun work on my first book. The timing couldn’t have been better, as this sentiment fed directly into my writing. It proved to me at the time – and ever since – that creativity is essential to help keep us feeling young, fulfilled and vital. And that lesson has also been crucial in the lives and well-being of the residents of Casa Verdi, a retirement facility in Milan, Italy for aging musicians established by famed operatic composer Giuseppe Verdi. At the time it was built at the turn of the 20th Century, Verdi wanted to provide help to retired musicians who needed financial and housing assistance in their later years. But his vision for the facility was much more than that – it was also set up as a haven for these artists where they could remain immersed in their music, a place where they could continue to perform for their peers and the public, as well as serve as mentors for aspiring young musicians. Casa Verdi thus gave its residents both a home, as well as a venue where they could feel useful, inspired, and, above all, youthful, their age notwithstanding. (Its essence, then, is very much like the musicians’ retirement community depicted in the narrative feature “Quartet” (2012).) In this captivating documentary, writer-director Yvonne Russo takes viewers inside this artistic sanctuary, providing an intimate look at how it has enabled its residents to feel a sense of renewal at a time many of their elderly peers might otherwise be winding down and withdrawing from life. The facility thus validates the sentiment noted at the outset above, giving those approaching the end of their lives purpose and joy for the time they have left. That’s a laudable mission, to be sure, one that provides benefits for helping to sustain and even help heal the body and the soul at a time when such nurturing is often needed most. Because of Casa Verdi’s success in that endeavor, this chronicle of that effort makes “Viva Verdi!” one of the most uplifting pictures that I have seen in some time. In fact, if I had any complaint at all, it would be that I wish it had been longer than its 100 runtime. The residents’ stories and performances (both archival and in the film itself) are rich, colorful and fulfilling, brimming with a sense of genuine pride and pleasure, rewarding experiences that have given them (and, by extension, us) tremendous satisfaction, enjoyment and fulfillment. The picture has even earned an Oscar nomination for best original song, “Sweet Dreams of Joy,” which can be heard playing over the closing credits. Fans of opera and fine arts truly owe much to the creatives featured in this film. But they and we also need to thank Verdi for his generosity in founding the institution that bears his name, helping to make their final years among the best of their lives. We can only hope that all of us end up being just as fortunate.

Considering that many of us are convinced that the system is rigged against us these days, there are probably quite a few folks out there who would like to find a way to “game the system” in their favor, especially given how widely they’ve come to believe that the system is gaming them. But succeeding at that task is likely to prove an uphill battle – or is it? As this fact-based comedy-drama from writer-director Samir Oliveros shows, it’s possible (or at least was at one time) to find a way to legally break the bank. And how ironic it is that this venture at gaming the system came at the hands **** show contestant. In May 1984, the CBS daytime game show Press Your Luck was a huge network hit that held out the promise of contestants potentially winning “big bucks” (sums that may be paltry by today’s standards but that were rather lucrative for the time). However, invariably, contestants often came away disappointed given how the deck was seemingly stacked against them. Nevertheless, when unemployed ice cream truck driver Michael Larson (Paul Walter Hauser) appeared on the show, he had figured out a legitimate way to beat the system. His enterprising method for winning those big bucks raised a lot of eyebrows – and suspicions – of how he did it, an undertaking that enabled him to become, at the time, the record holder for total prize winnings in a single-day game show appearance. Larson’s astonishing “luck” stunned show host Peter Tomarken (Walter Goggins), his fellow contestants (Brian Geraghty, Patti Harrison), show director/co-creator Bill Carruthers (David Stathairn), and a perplexed production staff and audience. How did he do it? That’s what this offering attempts to explain. Regrettably, as entertaining as this release may be, it takes a lot of license with what actually happened, a quality that I, as a trained journalist, find quite questionable. This tactic may add much in terms of dramatic and comedic effect, but, ultimately, how credible is it? It also probably accounts for the film’s undeniable lack of a back story, given that much had been altered to accommodate the foregoing considerations. Viewers who are willing to look the other way on this point will undoubtedly come away from this picture amused and uplifted, given that it’s a prime example of an underdog coming out on top, an everyman who’s able to vanquish “a big bad corporation” and make slicksters in the entertainment business look patently foolish. It also features another fine performance by Hauser, who continues his string of successes as one of today’s finest character actors. However, those interested in the truth of what really happened would be better served by watching the Game Show Network documentary “Big Bucks: The Press Your Luck Scandal” (2003), which goes into detail on how Mr. Larson pulled off this ingenious coup – and truly became, at least for a time, the luckiest man in America for real.

It’s frustrating to watch a film that many viewers are raving about and that has definite potential for artistic success but that nevertheless falls flat, mainly because it can’t get out of its own way. Such is the case with this latest offering from writer-director Jay Duplass of the Duplass Brothers producing duo. The problem here is that the picture has many of the elements needed to make the production work, but it has noticeable trouble deciding what it wants to do with them. In essence, it’s a quirky, occasionally dark romantic comedy about a former improv/sketch comedy artist, Cliff (Michael Strassner), a recovering alcoholic who’s also trying to bounce back from a failed suicide attempt by adopting a more conventional lifestyle with his well-meaning but micromanaging fiancée, Brittany (Olivia Luccardi). But that reform effort undergoes a massive shake-up one fateful Christmas Eve, when Cliff cracks a tooth and desperately goes in search of an available dentist. Fortunately, Cliff’s oral health hero miraculously materializes in the person of Didi (Liz Larsen), an older, attractive divorcee who attends to his dental needs but then ends up unwittingly becoming involved with her patient in a series of misadventures around Baltimore, all of which subsequently lead to the surfacing of unexpected (and not especially convincing) romantic overtones. The picture thus becomes an offbeat hybrid tale that combines elements from a host of genres, including romcoms, buddy movies and screwball comedies, many of them characterized by off-the-wall characters, improbable situations and colorful locales. But, as noted above, that’s precisely the problem here – the film is unable to pick and commit to a coherent, recognizable formula. Much of the first half, for example, plays like an overly silly Adam Sandler or Ben Stiller comedy, while the back end is reminiscent of some of Woody Allen’s relationship-oriented outings. And, through it all, the narrative is consistently and clumsily episodic, meanderingly moving from one segment (or bit) to another, trying (frequently too hard) to find a sustainable, workable groove. It’s an ever-elusive goal that, unfortunately, grows progressively tiresome. It’s as if the picture hopes to slip by on its treasure trove of unconventional elements and eccentricities, with dashes of serious material thrown in to try and give it a more mature, sophisticated vibe. Consequently, it mostly just keeps ambling along, prompting viewers to wonder when, if ever, it’s finally going to reach some kind of destination, particularly since there are a number of perfectly suitable end points along the way that fail to result in any kind of resolution. And, because of that, “The Baltimorons” winds up playing like a protracted exercise in foreplay (albeit fully clothed and largely social in nature) without (ahem) a satisfying climax. I’m at a loss to understand the hype surrounding this effort, especially the accolades it has received from the likes of the National Board of Review and the Independent Spirit Awards. So, if you’re looking for a movie that combines comedy, romance and relationship elements, check out the recently released offering “Is This Thing On?” instead, an offering that much more effectively reaches its potential in all of these areas. Indeed, potential is a highly coveted, promise-filled commodity in filmmaking – but not when it’s squandered.

They say that “no good deed goes unpunished.” If you doubt that, just ask Oscar Restrepo (Ubeimar Rios). The middle-aged, modestly talented poet struggles to get by on multiple fronts, but, to be honest, he’s often his own worst enemy, frequently getting in his own way, digging in his heels and refusing to make any compromises that might make his life easier and more palatable. He’s broke financially, living with his aging mother (Margarita Soto), and relations with his largely estranged college-age daughter (Alisson Correa) are severely strained, particularly since she pities him as a pathetic loser. He also pleads with the publishers of his two long-ago released poetry books (Guillermo Cardona, Humberto Restrepo) to provide more marketing support for these titles in the hope that it will attract more readers to his work, something he firmly and sincerely believes is vital to the betterment and survival of society, not to mention his artistic visibility and personal well-being. And, if all this weren’t challenging enough, he’s got something of a drinking problem. But, try as he might to rectify these matters, this “sad poet” (or, more aptly described, “sad sack”) sees little improvement in any of these areas. So, with his back against the wall, he at least finally relents on the financial front and takes a job as a teacher, a position he looks upon with disdain, as if he’s compromising his artistic sensibilities. However, while in this new job, he discovers a student who appears to have genuine talent as a poet, Yurlady (Rebeca Andrade), a 15-year-old minority from an economically challenged background. Oscar wants to help her develop her art, helping her become enrolled in the poetry school run by his publishers, an opportunity that would allow her to participate in its poetry festival, creating greater exposure for her work and possibly enabling her to win a cash prize. It also gives him a chance to vicariously experience her success, something that hasn’t come to pass in its own right in his own life. Indeed, Oscar’s plan to help Yurlady all sounds so eminently reasonable. But, as the opening line of this summary maintains, whatever can go wrong seems to find a way to fulfillment, especially for someone who’s convinced he’s irretrievably cursed, a “sad poet” in the truest sense of the term. However, as Oscar’s pathos plays out, it’s thoroughly tinged with droll humor, ironically but hilariously confirming his worst fears about himself and how others see him. His becomes a story of bad luck personified, not only in endeavors where he shoots himself in the foot, but also in undertakings where he earnestly attempts to do something good and noble. He’s truly a hard luck case for whom it’s easy to feel sorry, but his is more the tale of a sad clown than a genuinely tragic figure, one about whom it’s easy to laugh at, but more out of loving support than harsh ridicule. Even in the height of his anguish, he’s someone that viewers can’t help but pull for, hoping that he will somehow find a way to make things work and at last achieve a semblance of happiness in his life and calling. Writer-director Simón Mesa Soto has come up with a genuinely inspired piece of filmmaking in his second feature effort, one that has garnered more than its share of awards and nominations from film festivals and awards competitions, including as the winner of the 2025 Cannes Film Festival Un Certain Regard Jury Prize and as an Independent Spirit Award nominee for best international film. But, despite these accolades, “A Poet” is clearly one of those delicious little indie gems that has flown well under the radar thus far, even though its gentle, witty humor, fine performances, and atmospheric soundtrack are all elements well worth the watch. And, while poetry may not necessarily be everyone’s cup of tea, the filmmaker has successfully found a way to make it a warm and thoroughly enjoyable experience. Do **** deed and give this one a look; I promise you won’t be punished for it.

How refreshing it is when a movie turns out to be better than expected. And such is very much the case in this third installment in the “Knives Out” murder mystery franchise, arguably the best offering in the series. In the interest of full disclosure, I was not particularly looking forward to watching this release. While the first two films were modestly entertaining, they had occasional tendencies toward silliness and incredulity that detracted from their core focus and overall quality. However, this latest effort is a pleasant surprise, primarily due to a noteworthy maturation of the material, with better writing, better storytelling, deeper and more believable character development, and solid performances across the board. In addition, the narrative has made a deliberate attempt to incorporate more substantive, more thoughtful content in the story and script, a notable improvement over the two previous pictures. Also, in an attempt to add a sense of relevance, the screenplay includes references to contemporary events and trends, elements noticeably lacking in the franchise’s two prior works. While the story here is too complicated to address in considerable detail, it essentially marks the return of unconventional private detective Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig) in an investigation of the murder of a dubious monsignor, Jefferson Wicks (Josh Brolin), a killing that’s believed to have been committed by his parish’s junior priest, Fr. Jud Duplenticy (Josh O’Connor). Given Duplenticy’s checkered past as a boxer and his combative relationship with the monsignor, he’s seen as the prime suspect, but did he do it? And can Blanc prove his innocence? That’s a legitimate question in light of the possible motives of a handful of allegedly loyal parishioners, all of whom carry secrets that could prove devastating if revealed – and that the shady monsignor could readily do if he wanted to, his vows of confidentiality notwithstanding. The result is a complex tale full of twists and turns on its way to the revelation of the truth, one with ties to the parish’s colorful past. Admittedly, some of those misdirections and other plot devices seem a little forced to carry the narrative forward. In addition, the pacing tends to sag a bit in the middle, which some viewers may find a little tedious. But these modest shortcomings are easily overlooked given the picture’s many other strengths, most notably its genuinely funny humor, the fine portrayals of the three principals, and the excellent performances of supporting players Glenn Close, Andrew Scott, Jeffrey Wright and Daryl McCormack. Writer-director Rian Johnson has turned in a better-than-expected outing with “Wake Up Dead Man,” qualities that one can only hope will be apparent again in any future installments of this franchise.

In a time when it has become increasingly more prevalent to mistrust what those in officialdom have to say, it’s understandable how hardened resistance would arise in response, especially in light of recent events. But does this give individuals the right to willfully disregard widely accepted, reasonable social and legal standards in favor of their own questionable interpretations of these matters in the name of personal freedom? It’s a divisive issue, to be sure, one where opposing forms of extremism come into heated conflict with one another, often with disastrous consequences. That’s the issue raised in writer-director Christian Swegel’s powerful, fact-based debut feature. This gripping true crime psychological thriller chronicles the 2010 shootings of two police officers in West Memphis, Arkansas, during a traffic stop involving Jerry Kane (Nick Offerman), a vocal member of the Sovereign Citizens belief system, and his teenage son, Joe (Jacob Tremblay). As an ardent critic of the government, the former roofer who became an activist to protest what he saw as questionable official policies and practices attempted to fight the system and recruit followers with legal theories that aggressively and egregiously pushed the boundaries of credible interpretation in an effort to justify his own beliefs and actions. However, given his record of prior infractions and growing sense of personal frustration, his circumstances turned volatile, impacting not only himself, but also his perplexed, impressionable son, who struggled mightily to understand his father’s philosophy, one based on a blend of contrived resistance, zealous gun ownership advocacy and skewed interpretations of Christian thought. This riveting, largely overlooked offering from 2025 is an undeniably difficult watch (especially now), but it raises poignant questions about how far is too far on both sides of a very loaded coin. It also features two of the year’s strongest but overshadowed performances by Offerman and Independent Spirit Award nominee Tremblay, along with capable portrayals by a fine ensemble including the likes of Dennis Quaid, Martha Plimpton and Nancy Travis, all backed by a mesmerizing, unnerving award-nominated screenplay.. Some may find the protagonist’s convoluted and cryptic legal and philosophical ramblings a bit hard to follow at times, but that shows the depth of his radical, single-minded convictions, regardless of how unconventional they may seem to most of us. It’s sad that this release is perhaps best characterized as one of those pictures that truly is a movie for our times, a troubling commentary on the current state of affairs in this country. But, if conditions are ever to change in meaningful ways, we must first confront ourselves and the beliefs and actions that drive us lest we slip into anarchy and chaos from which there may be no return.

They say sex sells, and that’s certainly true for this film noir erotic thriller from Brazil in which passionate stirrings pervade virtually every aspect of the narrative. In this latest offering from writer-director Karim Aïnouz, the filmmaker tells a story largely cut from the same cloth as “The Postman Always Rings Twice” (1946, 1981) but with supercharged volumes of high-octane sexuality splashed all over it. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that other than the fact that this is about all the picture has to offer. Indeed, the primary storyline here is otherwise so thin that it’s practically incidental to the rest of the production, a vehicle for limply carrying the underdeveloped plot forward (arguably the only thing limp about it). Essentially, this release follows the misadventures of Heraldo (Iago Xavier), a 21-year-old mechanic with dreams of owning his own garage one day. But the troubled life that he and his older brother, Jorge (Renan Capivara), have lived has caused them to fall in with the wrong crowd. Heraldo and Jorge work as muscle heavies/hitmen for Bambina (Fabiola Liper), an artist-turned-mobster/drug dealer in a Brazilian beach resort town where the demand for recreational substances is high among visiting vacationers. However, when Heraldo misses an early morning assignment that ends up going south because he oversleeps after a late night hookup at the Motel Destino – a cheap, sleazy no-tell motel (in Brazil, the word “motel” is specifically reserved for “lodging venues” that serve exclusively as places for passing intimate dalliances) – he gets himself in trouble with both his mobster boss and local authorities, prompting him to hastily scurry into hiding. He returns to the Destino, where, in exchange for a place to lay low, he arranges to work as a handyman for the facility’s colorful owners, the erotically charged couple of receptionist/maid/resident pole dancer Dayana (Nataly Rocha) and her short-fused, oversexed husband, Elias (Fabío Assunção), both of whom take a liking to their new employee. But, before long, that “liking” takes a perilous and randy turn of its own as Heraldo and Dayana embark on a torrid clandestine affair. Despite the risk in this, all proceeds reasonably well at first, but matters turn dangerous once Elias catches wind of what’s happening, unleashing a maelstrom of violence mixed with volatile eroticism, a foundation for crimes of passion to coalesce and surface. It’s not too difficult what emerges thereafter, which is enough to show that there really isn’t much about this title that’s especially fresh or original. Still, despite these shortcomings, “Motel Destino” was something of a racy sensation at the 2024 Cannes Film Festival, where it captured two high-profile nominations, including a nod for the Palme d’Or, the event’s highest honor, an accolade that helped earn it a general theatrical release in 2025. (See what I mean about sex selling?) To its credit, the film’s degree of eroticism is indeed sufficiently charged, and its dazzlingly colorful production design is quite a visual feast in itself. The film also boasts its share of tongue-in-cheek campy humor, keeping the material from becoming excessively overdramatized despite its intrinsic noir-esque ambiance. But are these attributes enough to make it all work? Some would probably say no, but then there’s that ubiquitous titillation factor to contend with, which, say what you will, is hard for many hormonally driven viewers to easily overlook. In that regard, then, I guess much depends on one’s libidinal inclinations at the time of screening. And, whatever they might be, I nevertheless hope that everyone gets the happy ending they’re looking for out of this one.

Many of us have probably heard of the notion of “the ghost in the machine.” And now director Ratchapoom Boonbunchachoke’s debut feature brings entirely new meaning to that concept – literally ‒ in this impressive, offbeat comedy-drama-fantasy. The film tells the unusual story of March (Wisarut Himmarat), the widowed young son of Suman (Apasiri Nitibhon), the cold, stone-faced, inflexible owner of a vacuum cleaner factory and an embittered widow herself. One might think that their mutual circumstances give them something in common, but such is not the case. Suman never cared much for her late daughter-in-law, Nat (Davika Hoorne), and doesn’t exactly miss her now that she’s gone. But those feelings become exacerbated when Nat’s ghost reincarnates, coming back to life by inhabiting the machinery of one of her factory’s vacuum cleaners, a development that Suman finds wholly unnatural and unacceptable but that March welcomes when he’s reunited with his departed beloved. Nat’s reason for returning is to care for her husband, who appears to be suffering symptoms of the same respiratory illness that killed her, one attributable to excess exposure to dust, a growing problem affecting the public in general, including the workers at Suman’s plant. In fact, this burgeoning environmental and public health issue has already killed one employee and soon leads to the factory’s shutdown by government officials, a development for which Suman blames Nat’s reincarnated spirit by drawing attention to the condition. And, in turn, much to March’s chagrin, Suman and her family do everything they can to get rid of the pesky ghost so they can reopen the plant and restore their severely diminished income stream. But can Nat be eliminated that easily? What’s more, this incident turns out to be just the beginning of an all-out war on ghosts by a public frustrated by their return (both in mechanical and human form) and the ****, unwanted consequences that, for various reasons, generally accompany their unforeseen reincarnation. The question thus becomes, who will triumph in such an interdimensional war of wills, especially when it becomes apparent that ghosts can actually prove to be useful and not universally menacing? If the foregoing sounds like a highly unusual premise for a movie, you’d be right, but the filmmaker skillfully pulls off this quirky project in truly fine fashion, one replete with hilarious deadpan humor, heartfelt moments of touching revelation, creative special effects, and an array of symbolic references that metaphorically cover topics ranging from public health matters to alternate lifestyle acceptance to incidents of karma and forgiveness, among others. To be sure, this release packs a lot of material into its 200 runtime, and, admittedly, the narrative occasionally verges on getting out of control with too many ideas and recurring material whose impact can run a little thin at times. In general, though, most everything the director strives to say manages to come through, providing viewers with much to ponder in the picture’s wake. Because of that, this is the sort of offering that probably requires several screenings to appreciate its full impact, but that’s fine considering how much there is to like here. If nothing else, “A Useful Ghost” is certainly a memorable cinematic experience, an impression very much in line with one of the picture’s primary themes – the role that remembrance plays in sustaining the existence of departed loved ones in our hearts, minds and reality. Indeed, as has often been contended, those who have left us truly do live on as long as we remember them – whether in the shell of a vacuum cleaner or otherwise.

Sometimes even the most ardent cinephiles need to take a break from serious movie watching with a big, dopey action-adventure thriller that has about as much meaningful substance as a supersized bucket of over-buttered popcorn has in nutritional value. And that hankering is nicely satisfied here by the latest release from director Timur Bekmambetov, a guilty pleasure offering that plays like an AI-driven knock-off of “Minority Report” (2002) set in a crime-ridden version of Los Angeles of the near future. To counter a spike in acts of violence, the City of Angels has established a new judicial system known as the Mercy Court, a legal forum in which artificial intelligence jurists conduct proceedings based on the principle of swift justice, playing the often-maligned (but, here, warmly welcomed) combined roles of judge, jury and executioner. Defendants have 90 minutes to overcome the de facto presumption of their guilt (a reversal of the time-honored precept of innocent until proven guilty), a failure at which can readily result in the immediate administration of a death sentence. During their trials, defendants have unfettered access to a wealth of computer-based legal resources and wide-ranging surveillance records to prove their innocence, but judges take a hard-line “just the facts” approach to their analyses and rulings, leaving little room for legal latitude. And, with the clock ticking, any attempts at making one’s case must, of necessity, proceed quickly. In this story, the veracity of the system gets put to the test in a big way when Det. Chris Raven (Chris Pratt), a strong proponent who pushed for the adoption of the Mercy Court, is tried for the grisly murder of his wife, Nicole (Annabelle Wallis), a crime that he insists he didn’t commit but that he also can’t remember. The presiding jurist in his case, Judge Maddox (Rebecca Ferguson), perfunctorily carries out her duties in line with the rigid limitations of her programming, an approach that leaves the often-frustrated officer grasping at straws to prove his innocence as his time quickly runs out. The result is the unfolding of a complicated scenario peppered with blind alleys, misdirections and surprise revelations, some of which admittedly may seem wholly implausible and suitably over the top. But, then, this is also the kind of thriller that inherently calls on viewers to suspend logic as the wild and woolly plot plays out, one that features its share of rapid-fire action and some of the best vehicular chase scenes since “Speed” (1994). Granted, “Mercy” is far from groundbreaking cinema, and one shouldn’t expect that upon entering the theater. Nevertheless, it’s a fun, mindless midwinter thrill ride that throws in another cautionary tale about the perils of questionable technology and an out-of-control police state to provide a dash of contemporary relevance. In any event, when it comes to this one, set your sights low and don’t take it too seriously, but, by all means, have a good time and enjoy the ride.

The stresses of combat are virtually impossible to fathom. It’s any wonder how anyone could somehow survive such trying conditions. That’s especially true for those assigned to special forces units, the soldiers who take on the particularly tough missions, such as the members of the Navy SEALs. Considering what they go through, given their high-risk operations and multiple war zone deployments, it’s no surprise that they suffer the debilitating effects of conditions like PTSD and wrestle with issues like uncontrollable rage, memory loss and suicidal thoughts. And, to make matters worse, many of the treatments they have been given upon returning home are often ineffective (sometimes even making things worse). However, as this revealing documentary from directors Bonni Cohen and Jon Shenk shows, there’s much hope for these veterans from a new – and unexpected – therapy: psychedelic drug treatment. The film follows the experience of three SEAL team members (Marcus Capone, DJ Shipley, Matty Roberts) who came back from multiple tours of duty in Afghanistan and Iraq seriously in need of help. With nothing left to lose, they decided to give this radical new treatment a shot. The program employs the administration of two substances: ibogaine, a bark derivative from the African iboga plant, and 5-MeO-DMT, a secretion from the exterior of the Sonoran Desert toad. Both hallucinogens are illegal in the US, so patients need to travel to Mexico to partake of the treatment. Much to the skeptical soldiers’ astonishment, however, they experienced miraculous relief from these remedies, which, though psychedelic in nature, are rooted in the folk medicine of indigenous peoples. The after-effects of their combat duty virtually disappeared after their initial drug treatments, in large part because the substances opened up their consciousness and revealed aspects of their inner selves that drove the development of their symptoms, conditions that had long been hidden and actually arose from personal experiences that occurred prior to their military service. While their wartime ordeals undeniably had an impact on them, they effectively masked the root cause; it was actually the underlying trauma that occurred previously that was responsible for their challenges, insights that might not have been revealed were it not for the therapy with psychedelics. In that sense, then, this treatment represents not only a potential breakthrough for distressed soldiers returning from war, but also possibly for anyone seeking to recover from other kinds of long-buried trauma as well. This is a truly remarkable story with the potential to provide much-needed relief for many. However, it’s somewhat disappointing that the film doesn’t always do the best job of imparting this information. For example, the picture comes up a little short on connecting the various dots involved in this narrative. In addition, it could use more background on the particulars of how the substances function and on the work of the researchers who developed, tested and administered the treatment in the first place. What’s more, with all due respect to the patients and their service, their wartime recollections could use some paring back in favor of other aspects of the story that could use more attention. To its credit, though, “In Waves and War” is a truly cathartic, heartfelt journey, made all the more authentic by its raw emotion, revelatory insights and joyful experience of recovery, all expressed through uncensored interviews and coupled with treatment depictions illustrated through inventive animation. It’s heartbreaking but also heartwarming to witness what these heroes endured, but who also managed to find a way to come back from this turmoil, both on the battlefield and off.