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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.

Maturing into adulthood can be difficult enough in itself without the impact of extraneous deleterious circumstances. But, when such conditions are added to the mix, it can make the process mind-boggling for those who lack the wisdom, experience and insights to know how to cope with them on top of everything else they’re already going through. That’s the essential premise underlying the narrative in this latest offering from writer-director Neo Sora. The film presents a coming of age tale set in a version of Tokyo of the near future in which the imminent threat of a mega-earthquake has the population constantly on edge. This scenario is made increasingly volatile by an authoritarian conservative government imposing invasive surveillance and policing measures said be in the interest of public safety but that, coincidentally, are principally targeted at the city’s youth, minorities and protesting activists. The story is told from the perspective of five outspoken, rambunctious high school students approaching graduation (Hayato Kurihara, Yukito Hidaka, Yȗta Hiyashi, Shina Peng, Arazi) as they attempt to make sense of their ever-changing lives, as well as the chaotic environment in which they’re currently living, one that’s precariously on the precipice of sliding into a dystopian future, despite whatever precautions officials are implementing. From this description, it would seem that this foundation should provide the basis for an intriguing picture. However, this intriguing setup aside, “Happyend” frequently comes across as meandering and unfocused. Perhaps the intent behind this approach is to create a storyline innately reflective of the characters’ confused mindsets and baffled outlooks, but it only works for a while before eventually turning tedious and directionless. As a consequence, that leaves viewers wondering what they’re supposed to make of all this. In the film’s defense, this release could be seen as a cautionary tale in light of recent events in our own world, especially where matters of compliance, fear mongering and intolerance toward certain designated segments of society are concerned, an attribute in its favor that should provide us all with ample food for thought. But is that enough to make this project work? I’d contend not, despite whatever sincere intentions may have been in the filmmaker’s mind. We’d be wise to pay attention to the urgency behind the message here, though it likely would have had greater impact if the production had been more sharply focused, especially since the time available to take meaningful steps to prevent the kinds of looming catastrophes depicted here could be running out more quickly than we’d like to believe.

When death waits in the wings, many of us would like to hope that we can say our goodbyes on our terms, even if timing doesn’t necessarily suit us. But what happens when the circumstances don’t align with our wishes, either? Is it possible to arrange things so that we can say “the good goodbyes” – sentiments profoundly expressed in the song that plays over the closing credits – that we so dearly crave? That’s the challenge put to a middle class London family in the directorial debut from actress Kate Winslet. When family matriarch June Cheshire (Helen Mirren) suffers a setback in her bout with cancer shortly before Christmas (her favorite time of year), she undergoes emergency surgery to save her life. However, even though she survives the procedure, her prognosis is bleak, leaving her with little time to settle her affairs and enjoy whatever lies ahead. But, as someone who’s accustomed to dictating her own fate, June’s in no position to do so this time, leaving matters to her family to handle. And, despite wanting the best for June, for various reasons, they’re also not in the best frame of mind to take on such a difficult task. Such conditions thus call for everyone to work together for the best possible outcome. Their efforts are thus a cross between a devoted labor of love and a painfully daunting challenge, a scenario that puts tremendous pressure on June’s husband, Bernie (Timothy Spall), and her four children, Julia (Winslet), Molly (Andrea Riseborough), Helen (Toni Collette) and Connor (Johnny Flynn). Fortunately, they have help available to them through their partners and children, as well as an attentive and empathetic oncology nurse, Angel (Fisayo Akinade), who not only tends to the needs of his patient, but also to those of all her family members. Together, this finely assembled ensemble works the story with grace, undeniable authenticity and heartfelt emotion (keep those hankies handy), despite a thinly drawn and at times clichéd narrative. The filmmaker toils mightily to make this material look better than it actually is and, truthfully, she succeeds quite capably in a number of segments. However, an underdeveloped back story, incomplete character development, occasionally trite story threads and unsuccessful attempts at comic relief that work only about half of the time keep this picture from fully living up to its potential. It’s encouraging to see that Winslet indeed possesses genuine talent behind the camera, and it’s a good bet she’s got more to show on this front. But, to truly succeed, she needs better material to work with to let those abilities shine. Let’s hope she gets that opportunity again sometime in a better vehicle to show off what she can do.

Profiles of powerful, determined, dynamic women faced with long odds courageously staring down formidable opposition provide some of the most engaging and inspirational viewing one can witness on the big screen. And one of the latest additions to that roster is writer-director Rachel Feldman’s fact-based biography of unlikely but dedicated activist Lilly Ledbetter (Patricia Clarkson). The film chronicles the patient but relentless fight of the title character, a former manager at a Goodyear plant in Gadsden, AL, to secure equal pay for women earning far less than their male counterparts. After 19 years on the job and a stellar performance record, Ledbetter was demoted and then removed from her job, essentially for being a “troublemaker” who filed too many reports of unfair treatment against women and dared complain when she learned that she was being paid far less than the men at her plant. She took her claim to court, where she initially won her case but was later turned down on appeal as a result of a legal loophole in the law that was supposedly designed to guarantee equal pay. This controversial 5-4 Supreme Court ruling against the plaintiff nevertheless prompted the indignation of Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, author of the dissenting opinion, which garnered ample public attention and led to a legislative initiative to amend the law to eliminate the loophole, an effort in which Ledbetter and Ginsburg played crucial roles and captured the support of 2008 Democratic presidential contenders Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton. While the narrative here is admittedly somewhat formulaic, its message is nonetheless a clear and simple one – that fair is fair, no matter what one’s gender might be and regardless of the rights involved. It calls to mind the moving stories of valiant women fighting for justice found in such predecessor works as “Norma Rae” (1979), “Hidden Figures” (2016) and “On the Basis of Sex” (2018). In conveying the spirit behind these notions, the film is undeniably impassioned in its intent but successfully avoids the trap of becoming unduly dogmatic, excessively preachy, punishingly self-righteous or blatantly partisan. The picture makes its point without resorting to male bashing, political party bullying or shrill corporate condemnation, again, staying steadily on point with its core fairness message. The filmmaker also does a fine job of explaining the circumstances of this case without being simplistic or condescending, skillfully relying on archival footage featuring interview clips of Ginsburg as she outlines Ledbetter’s story, a de facto running commentary that effectively helps to keep viewers informed about what’s transpiring in each of the picture’s segments, There are also touching elements to the film, depicting what Lilly went through personally during the course of her odyssey, especially coping with the health challenges of her ever-supportive husband (John Benjamin Hickey) and seeking to rectify a protracted estrangement from her son (Will Pullen). In addition, as Lilly’s story unfolds, viewers witness the many committed partnerships she developed with colleagues, including her primary attorney (Thomas Sadoski), one of the amended bill’s sponsors, Rep. George Miller (Ray Bengston), and members of the Washington-based National Women’s Law Center (Deirdre Lovejoy, Rhoda Griffis). “Lilly” is, without a doubt, one of 2025’s most underrated cinematic offerings, one deserving of wider recognition and a commensurate audience, but, thankfully, it is now available for streaming online. We can only hope that one day the need for movies like this will no longer be necessary, but, until then, fortunately we have pictures like this to help keep reminding us of the work that remains to be done – and to help keep moving the needle forward.

Intergenerational stories told through books and film – especially those involving touching interactions between grandparents and grandchildren – are longtime family favorites beloved for their inspiration, endearment and exploration of significant life lessons. One popular offering in this vein is The Summer Book, a 1972 novel by Swedish-Finnish author Tove Jansson, the foundation for this latest cinematic project from director Charlie McDowell. This fictional tale, based on members of Jansson’s own family, tells the story of a recently widowed father (Anders Danielsen Lie) who spends the summer at a family vacation home on a remote island in the Gulf of Finland with his young daughter, Sophia (Emily Matthews), and her wise old grandmother (Glenn Close, who’s inexplicably and uncannily made up to look like the second coming of Mrs. Doubtfire). The narrative largely consists of a series of conversations between Sophia and her granny about an array of life’s big questions (many related to growing up and growing old), most of which take place on various nature outings and in late night talks in the intimate surroundings of the family home. There are also several grownup dialogues between Grandma and her son, who’s having noticeable difficulty working through the grief of losing his wife and, consequently, finds himself less able to communicate with his daughter. By all rights, this would seem to provide the makings for a picture filled with a series of successive special moments (even though, in all honesty, Sophia, as she’s portrayed here, seems to be a little too old for asking some of the patently juvenile questions she raises, inquiries much more realistically suited to someone her junior). Unfortunately, those hoped-for results rarely surface in this offering, given that the script is painfully thin, smotheringly earnest, and riddled with far too many hypothetical open-ended questions that lead nowhere and frequently lack pertinence. What’s more, the film is highly episodic in nature with a strung-together mélange of meandering, unfocused events that lack meaningful underpinnings or relevant connection to one another. This release thus often plays like a poorly written young adult/tweener novel consisting of random occurrences that are supposed to seem like they add up to something profound but never do. The film’s overdramatic score, with its grand, swirling passages that lead one to believe that something important is about to happen (but, once again, doesn’t) continually leaves viewers deflated and unimpressed (perfect fodder for a Mystery Science Theater 3000 bit). And then there are some just plain odd sequences thrown in without explanation or apparent relevance, such as when Grandma goes for a swim and then puzzlingly exits the water and goes for a walk, naked, in the woods. (Huh?) While I must confess that I have not read the source material for this release, I have perused a number of reviews that have suggested the novel on which this film is based probably wasn’t a suitable choice from which to make a picture, given that it’s tone is more subtle, nuanced and meditative than what a filmmaker could probably capture and effectively depict in a movie. And, based on the finished product, that assessment would seem to be squarely on target. “The Summer Book” comes across like a production that struggles to translate its story from page to screen, and, while it might have some appeal to those who have read (and love) the book, it mostly leaves unfamiliar viewers unsatisfied, mystified and suffocated by its overwrought sincerity, cryptic happenings and melodramatic accentuations. Indeed, it’s one summer that many of us probably can’t wait to end.

In one of the many memorable lines from “Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan” (1982), Dr. David Marcus (Merritt Butrick) echoes a quote once uttered by his father, Adm. James T. Kirk (William Shatner), that “how we face death is at least as important as how we face life.” A despondent Kirk, who was in the throes of grief over the loss of his best friend at the time, dismissively responds by chalking up the sentiment to “just words.” But, despite Kirk’s indifferent reply, his insightful observation speaks volumes, especially for those who are staring down the prospect of their own demise. And that’s particularly relevant in the minds of individuals who are facing the possibility of an untimely transition while still in the prime of life. Ironically, though, that’s precisely the central theme of the latest documentary feature from filmmaker Ryan White, a chronicle of the final year of the life of spoken word poet Andrea Gibson (1975-2025), who developed a following on par with that of a rock star, often performing to sold-out audiences in the 1990s and 2000s. Gibson, who would later go on to become Poet Laureate of the State of Colorado, was diagnosed with ovarian cancer in 2021, the beginning of a four-year odyssey characterized by alternating occurrences of disease onset and remission. However, as this recurring pattern continued, Gibson began to see the trajectory of where circumstances were headed and started looking at how to prepare for what appeared to be an inescapable eventuality. As the film unfolds, with the loving and unwavering support of fiercely devoted partner and fellow poet/writer Megan Falley, Gibson thoughtfully examines matters of life – and impending death – from an array of perspectives, attempting to come to terms with a disease that has been slowly but steadily worsening. In the course of the picture’s time frame, Gibson looks back on a life as an artist and gender identity activist, as well as the challenges of hard-won self-acceptance. The film also shares Gibson’s observations on matters of love, commitment and justice, as well as the resolve to carry on and complete cherished tasks with what time is left. The result is a heartfelt and at times surprisingly humorous portrait ****, reflective individual courageously approaching the end of life with grace and a generous spirit of being grateful for what was and for what remains in whatever time is left. For its efforts, the picture was named one of 2025’s Top 5 Documentaries from the National Board of Review and earned an Independent Spirit Award nomination for best documentary feature. And, even though the picture has a tendency to become somewhat repetitive as it plays out, it nevertheless eloquently embodies the existential intent expressed at the outset of this evaluation, reminding us all to prepare for what’s to come – as well as whatever might come next.

Filming a dark comedy about an inherently controversial subject is an exceedingly risky moviemaking proposition. If it works, the payoff can be huge. But, if it falls flat, the project not only fails financially and artistically, but it can devastate a filmmaker’s reputation, leaving a bad taste in the mouths of viewers, critics and possible prospective backers of future productions. And that fate could very well befall the creative team behind this questionable attempt at making an edgy farce about a topic that, frankly, is unlikely to be seen as intrinsically funny. Writer-director Leonid Prudovsky’s second feature offering – a 2022 production just now getting a general release – tells the story of Holocaust survivor Marek Polsky (David Hayman), who relocates from Europe to rural Colombia after losing his entire family during World War II. He lives a quiet, reclusive existence, but that changes in 1960, when a mysterious new neighbor, Hermann Herzog (Udo Kier), moves into an adjacent property. No sooner does Mr. Herzog arrive when Marek begins having serious suspicions about him, namely, that he may, in fact, be former German Chancellor Adolf ****, who, despite his supposed 1945 suicide, successfully managed to clandestinely escape to Latin America and go into hiding. Based on a boatload of circumstantial evidence, Marek shares his observations with Israeli intelligence officials, but the chief investigator (Kineret Peled) is convinced his contentions are false, claims driven by the recent capture of former **** Adolf Eichmann in Argentina. Undeterred, however, Polsky continues his impromptu inquiry, a scenario couched in a narrative that follows the tired comedic tropes found in any number of feuding neighbor stories (particularly, given the age of the cantankerous protagonists, “Grumpy Old Men” (1993) and its 1995 sequel), with a few buddy movie elements thrown in for allegedly good measure. But, considering the premise of this picture, what’s funny about any of it? That’s exacerbated by the film’s uneven tone, slapstickish humor, puzzling subplots and subpar writing, not to mention its lack of back stories about the two leads. Hayman and recently deceased German character actor Kier do their level best to make this material look better than it actually is, but, to be honest, they’re fighting a losing battle here. And, even though the picture tries to redeem itself with some surprisingly touching moments in the final act, this is still a bona fide case of too little too late to make up for all of the shortcomings that preceded them. However, the fundamental problem with “My Neighbor Adolf” rests with the basis underlying the project. A comedy whose roots are tied to the Third Reich is dubious to begin with, and it would take the skills of a masterful writing and directing crew to make it work, neither of which is present here. Indeed, if that were really assumed to be the case, then why did it take almost four years for the picture to be released? Certain story proposals clearly need to be left on the shelf, and this, undoubtedly, is one that should have been left to continue collecting dust.

The challenges of balancing home life and work life can be tremendous for those in committed relationships. Those conditions can be made even more difficult for partners who work together, essentially forcing them together 24/7 and never giving them a chance to get away from their circumstances (or one another). And, if they become parents, add to that already-full plate the responsibilities of child rearing, a scenario that can be just as hard on the kids as it is on those attempting to raise them. It’s certainly a gamble whether those spouses and their families can cope and survive, let alone thrive, but, for some, they manage to make it work successfully. So it was for the legendary comedy/acting duo of Jerry Stiller and Anne Meara, partners in life and work, as well as the proud parents of two successful children who followed in their folks’ professional footsteps. But juggling all that wasn’t easy for Anne and Jerry, as seen in this new documentary memoir, an affectionate but frank tribute from their son, writer-actor-director Ben Stiller. In many regards, this offering is almost as much a release about the filmmaker and his older sister, Amy, and what it was like to grow up in the household of their famous parents. Stiller and Meara, who became a household name in entertainment circles thanks in large part to their frequent appearances on The Ed Sullivan Show and successful stints on the nightclub circuit in the 1960s, were a couple that was very much in love but who struggled to manage the demands of their relationship, their household and their careers. For all their devotion to one another and their commitment to their family and their work, their sometimes-rocky road together also included more than its fair share of conflict, counseling sessions, frustrated professional ambitions and ample alcohol consumption, among other challenges. These influences, in turn, rubbed off on the kids during their upbringing, qualities that subsequently and unwittingly carried over into their adult lives when they, too, became spouses and parents. In that sense, then, one could say that this project was as much a therapy session for the filmmaker as it was a candid but endearing homage to a couple that never gave up on making a good life for themselves and their children, no matter how much everyone may have been tested along the way. This truly heartfelt production thus provides an insightful look into their colorful and eclectic world and how it evolved over time and several generations. “Stiller & Meara” is a work characterized by uncensored, authentic feelings, fond familial recollections, an intimate look at the couple’s eccentric pack rat tendencies (hence the picture’s subtitle), and a wealth of memorable, wide-ranging archive footage from the prolific careers of this gifted group of entertainers. Fans of the title characters are sure to admire this endearing but honest tribute, not just for the retrospective of the couple’s repertoire, but also for how they lived their lives as consummate human beings and accomplished professionals. It took work to make all that happen, but, in the end, Jerry and Anne had a lot to show for their efforts, accomplishments from which we have all ultimately benefitted.

Some movies entertain. Some movies enlighten. And some movies haunt you to the core in ways that are difficult to put into words. That description is most aptly applied to the latest offering from writer-director Kaouther Ben Hania, a fact-based dramatization that skillfully, sensitively yet effectively straddles the line between documentary and narrative features in a chillingly realistic story that can’t help but move viewers and leave an indelible impression on one’s soul. In January 2024, volunteer members of the Palestinian Red Crescent Society stationed in Ramallah in the Occupied Territories’ West Bank receive a harrowing phone call from a terrified six-year-old girl, Hind Rajab, who is trapped in a car with five deceased relatives killed in an ambush by Israeli Defense Forces as the family sought to flee the Gaza Strip while under siege from IDF troops. The emergency response workers, Omar (Motaz Malhees), Rana (Saja Kilani), Nisreen (Clara Khoury) and Mahdi (Amer Hlehel), desperately struggle to get an ambulance to the frightened child to evacuate her from an embattled location riddled with ubiquitous gunfire and menacing tanks, circumstances that deeply scare her and that she’s understandably unable to comprehend. Unfortunately, the Red Crescent staff’s hands are tied; they’re located 52 miles from Gaza yet have been assigned to process rescue efforts from a distance given the closure of the organization’s operations in the battle-torn region. And, if their remote location weren’t challenging enough, they’re frustrated by an elaborate “coordination” protocol that they must follow to safeguard rescue vehicles entering the combat zone, forcing them to wait for a “green light” to proceed, all the while listening to Hind’s panicked cries for help that doesn’t come. But what makes this film so particularly unsettling is that Hind’s pleas during the ordeal are the actual tapes of her voice that were recorded by Red Crescent as the incident unfolded. Knowing that makes this an especially anguishing cinematic experience for viewers, particularly since the audio of Hind’s voice is the only tie that audience members and the rescue workers have to her as these unspeakable atrocities are inflicted upon her, leaving both characters and viewers with an unfathomable sense of utter helplessness. It should thus go without saying that this is a truly difficult watch, one that may be more stressful than what many moviegoers (particularly sensitive viewers) can realistically bear. At the same time, though, this is also an exceedingly poignant vehicle for driving home the depth of the ineffable inhumanity taking place during this barbaric scenario. It naturally begs the question, how could anyone (or any military or political body) possibly be so inherently and uncaringly cruel? As a consequence, one can’t help but be powerfully affected by this release, both in terms of invoking the seemingly incongruent combination of profound compassion and suitably justified outrage. It’s the kind of film that we all must see to get an accurate appreciation of the callous brutality that’s thoughtlessly transpiring around us (and, as recent events have shown, not just in Gaza, either). For a picture like this, it’s difficult to talk about it in terms of accolades and honors, but, in its own way, “The Voice of Hind Rajab” has deservedly garnered considerable recognition at film festivals, in awards competitions and from film critics organizations, including a well-earned Golden Globe Award nomination for best foreign language film. It’s regrettable that it takes material like this to make us aware us of the pain and horror that’s going on unchecked in our world today. But that knowledge is ultimately far more valuable to us than willfully turning a blind eye and looking the other way. We stand to lose a lot more by following that course, and, in this day and age, that’s simply unacceptable

At a time when many of us may feel like we’re being systematically shafted by big business and powerful financial institutions, it’s natural that some of us might feel justified in seeking retribution against them for their deceitful actions. Such was also the case in February 1977, when an aggrieved borrower sought potentially deadly vengeance against the president of an Indianapolis mortgage company, as seen in this fact-based comedy-drama-thriller from director Gus Van Sant. When Tony Kiritsis (Bill Skarsgård), a mentally challenged borrower, felt financially betrayed by a lender he implicitly trusted, he decided to take action to get back at the loan company’s owner, M.L. Hall (Al Pacino). However, on the day he was scheduled to meet with Mr. Hall, Kiritsis learned that he was on a last-minute midwinter “business trip” to Florida, thereby thwarting his plans for revenge. So, with his principal intention thus foiled, the angry customer resorted to his fallback plan, taking the owner’s son, Richard (Dacre Montgomery), as hostage. And, to show the world he meant business, the perpetrator fitted his captive with a taut wire around his neck that was connected to a shotgun set to fire with the slightest unplanned motion. However, despite his seemingly efficient planning, the determined but somewhat bumbling culprit ended up launching what would turn out to be a cross between a heinous criminal event and a comical media circus that mesmerized the city for days. Law enforcement officials, like Kiritsis’s acquaintance, Det. Michael Grable (Cary Elwes), were frustrated by developments at nearly every turn, while many in the public at large sympathized with the captor’s seemingly justifiable motives. And, in the process, the event exploded to draw in a variety of ancillary storylines, such as the determined campaign of a neophyte television reporter (Myha’la) aggressively seeking to lock down coverage of her first breakthrough story and the improvised negotiation efforts of a popular local radio host (Colman Domingo) who was trusted by the event’s ringmaster who was unwittingly drawn into the fray. The result is an accurate re-enactment of a potentially dangerous event that ultimately plays out like a classic example of pure Americana kitsch, a film that calls to mind elements found in such releases as “Dog Day Afternoon” (1975) and “Breaking” (2022). However, despite the picture’s commendable efforts at re-creating a scenario that has largely slipped from public memory over the years, this release feels as though it tries a little too hard at times, as if it’s wearing its penchant for period piece authenticity on its sleeve. In addition, portions of the narrative drag somewhat in the middle, coming across like padding to fill out the easily trimmed 100 runtime. Those criticisms aside, however, “Dead Man’s Wire” nevertheless features an excellent production design, along with fine performances by Domingo, Pacino, and, especially, Skarsgård. This modestly entertaining offering generally holds viewer interest reasonably well, providing a modicum of gripping drama and more than a few well-earned chuckles along the way. If nothing else, however, the story should serve as a warning to those who would try to pull one over on an increasingly unsettled, unpredictable, trigger-happy public, one whose imbedded lesson strongly cautions that cost of calculated financial scheming could easily overshadow whatever profits might come from such artful material deception.

How far would you go to protect the welfare and well-being of a loved one? Are there any bounds in this, or is it something driven by the care and concern we hold for the individual we’re looking to support, something that knows no limitation, even if it involves violating legal, social and ethical standards? On top of all that, when circumstances reach a critical level, can we bring ourselves to follow through on our intentions? Those are among the hard questions raised in this fact-based drama about a terminally ill single mother, Irene (Lucy Liu), struggling to attend to the needs of her 17-year-old schizophrenic son, Joe (Lawrence Shou), a kind-hearted young man whose condition, unfortunately, is steadily worsening, causing him to become increasingly unpredictable and a genuine danger to himself (and possibly others). The situation is compounded by Irene’s own deteriorating health, an aggressive form of cancer that has spread and is not responding to treatment. What’s more, in addition to Irene’s rapidly dwindling life expectancy, she faces another impending deadline – the approach of Joe’s 18th birthday, a time when her ability to have much of a say over his care and treatment will largely lapse, essentially leaving him without a safety net. And, as the only child of Taiwanese immigrant parents – one of whom is already deceased and another who doesn’t have long to live – Joe faces an uncertain future, particularly since he’s largely unaware of what he’s up against and fundamentally incapable of effectively caring for himself. Faced with circumstances like this, what are mother and son to do? Writer-director Eric Lin has chosen an exceedingly heady subject to address in his debut feature, one that often makes for a difficult, heart-wrenching watch, one made all the more gripping by the superb performances of Liu (who delivers some of her best on-screen work here) and newcomer Shou in his debut feature performance. While the film has a slight tendency to drag in the closing act, it nevertheless manages to sustain the tense, stressful conditions with which the protagonists are struggling. Because of that, some viewers might find this release somewhat overpoweringly intense at times, especially once Irene’s “solution” to her dilemma becomes clear. But it’s important to remember that she’s contemplating actions sincerely borne out of love, no matter how unconventional they might seem to many of us. “Rosemead: might not always come across as a perfect offering, but it does represent a fine first effort, one that certainly bodes well for the filmmaker’s future.

Grand, sweeping epics with stories spanning many years (if not decades) have long been a staple of the movie industry, typically capturing numerous awards and big box office tallies, even though their popularity has slowly been waning somewhat in recent years. However, the third feature outing from actress-writer-director Cherien Dabis represents a return to that tradition, and in impressive fashion. Set in Palestine and told in four acts from 1948 to 2022, the film follows the experiences of three generations of the Hammad family from the time of Israel’s establishment to the recent past. The picture chronicles the struggles these individuals face in the wake of the confiscation of their and their peers’ lands and properties in Jaffa (now Haifa), their relocation to remote refugee camps, and the ongoing oppression imposed on them in their daily lives by Israeli authorities. It also poignantly depicts the anguishing decisions associated with questions of compliance vs. reprisal, the high costs of fighting back, and the pain of loss in the face of those harsh conditions. But, if all that weren’t enough, the film also examines the hard choices that flow from such dire circumstances, tough decisions involving ethics, deeply held spiritual considerations and secular practicality, particularly in the areas of compassion and, potentially, the lives and deaths of loved ones and innocent though hated enemies. While the story’s pacing could use some modest accelerating in a few stretches, this otherwise-masterfully constructed offering generally moves along smoothly, maintaining a steady flow across nine decades and doing so with heartfelt emotion and gripping drama, especially in its tearful third act. Through it all, the narrative continually yet sensitively raises the question, “Can any good come out of such devastating heartache?” and, if so, “What form will it ultimately take, and is the cost truly worth it?” The filmmaker addresses these issues through a sharply penned screenplay and smartly conceived narrative, fleshed out through the excellent performances of its superbly assembled ensemble, particularly Dabis, Muhammad Abed Elrahman, Maria Zreik, and Saleh, Mohammad and Adam Bakri. It’s virtually inconceivable that anyone could walk away from this release without being profoundly affected, particularly since it accomplishes this goal rather unobtrusively, never becoming overhearing or resorting to heavy-handed manipulation. For its efforts, the picture has earned a well-deserved Independent Spirit Award nomination for best international film, along with wins and nominations at numerous film festivals. “All That’s Left of You” is one of those releases bound to leave a deep and lasting impression on viewers – and deservedly so. No matter where one stands on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, this is a film more about humanity than politics and the inherent need to dutifully honor and respect it – regardless of one’s nationality or ethnicity.

In this world, there are people who are rescuers and those who need rescuing, and rarely do they stray from either of these natural inclinations. But, in an unexpectedly intriguing twist on this idea, first-time writer-director Kate Beecroft has served up a debut feature that showcases a colorful cast of characters who ultimately explore both sides of this question, and they do so in a setting that few of us ever get to see up close. This quasi-biographical tale tells the story of a passel of South Dakota cowgirls who struggle to learn the ropes of getting by in this fundamentally hard way of life, many of whom are portrayed here by cast members who have firsthand real-world experience at home on the range. Leading the way is rebel rancher Tabatha Zimiga, playing a fictionalized version of herself as a rescuer and reseller of wild horses, primarily to rodeo circuit clients. And, to help her tame these mavericks, she draws upon the breaking skills of another pool of ragtag rescues – local at-risk teens in need of developing a skill to help keep them out of trouble and broken homes. She seems to get considerable fulfillment from these undertakings, a real sense of purpose and profound satisfaction. But life on the edge of the Badlands is hard, a way of living that doesn’t pay off nearly as well as she would like considering the effort she puts into it. On top of that, Tabatha also wrestles with the unresolved grief of losing her husband, the challenges of raising a developmentally disabled young son (Stetson Neumann) and strained relations with a rebellious teen (played by Tabatha’s real-life daughter, Porshia). Given what she’s up against, it sounds like Tabatha could use some rescuing of her own, and that just might come to pass when a well-off prospective business partner from Texas, Roy Waters (Scoot McNairy), unexpectedly enters her life. Recognizing Tabatha’s talents with horses, Roy is eager to join forces with her, a venture that he sees as mutually beneficial, one that he believes could potentially change both of their destinies for the better. But at what cost? And is teaming up with this mystery man something this fiercely independent woman is willing to do? Fortunately, Tabatha has an array of confidantes to call upon, such as her no-nonsense, moonshine-swilling mother, Tracey (Jennifer Ehle), who freely shares her sage advice whether or not her daughter wants it, especially when it comes to making it plain that the one who’s in the best position to rescue Tabatha is herself. Through this release, the filmmaker takes viewers into a world they’re not likely to know much about, and she tells them an authentic story grounded in genuine emotion and heartfelt compassion, cleanly presented up in a tidy, economic fashion. However, despite these noteworthy attributes, the narrative could use some greater depth, substance and development at times, qualities that would go a long way toward enhancing an already-solid premise. Still, “East of Wall” has nevertheless made a mark for itself, earning two Independent Spirit Award nominations for best first feature and best breakthrough performance, notable accomplishments for a labor of love made on a shoestring budget, traits at the heart of independent cinema – and what tends to make it so satisfying.

For seemingly as long as mankind has been around, our species has earnestly sought to escape the world’s ills, searching for paradise in ambitious attempts to start anew. These quests to reinvent the human condition have been found in an array of source materials, too, from Thomas More’s Utopia to the plots of James Bond movies to the Biosphere II experiment. Nearly all of these grand plans, however, have remained virtual, stayed locked in literature, or, despite good intentions, failed. One such initiative with these notions in mind was launched by a pair of German emigres who fled their homeland in 1931 for a hoped-for simpler way of life on the island of Floreana in the Galapagos Archipelago, a place where they could live out their idealistic virtues undisturbed. And their fact-based story provides the basis for this latest offering from writer-director Ron Howard. The film chronicles the saga of Dr. Friedrich Ritter (Jude Law), a former physician who sought refuge on the island to write a manifesto about the values needed to set humanity on a new course in an era of out-of-control influences and the rise of fascism, and his partner, Dore Strauch (Vanessa Kirby), who was looking for a natural, meditative way to cure her worsening multiple sclerosis. However, as word of their courageous venture began to spread far and wide, their experiment captured the attention of the curious, particularly those looking to follow their lead, such as a trio of adventurous homesteaders, disillusioned German functionary Heinz Wittmer (Daniel Bruehl), his kindly, soft-spoken wife, Margret (Sydney Sweeney), and their tuberculosis-afflicted son, Harry (Jonathan ****). Then there were the unabashed opportunists, such as self-described Baroness Eloise Bosquet de Wagner Wehrhorn (Ana de Armas), a hedonistic, less-than-veiled con artist seeking to build an exclusive luxury hotel on the island with a posse of suitors in tow. The peace that Ritter and Strauch sought quickly evaporates with the appearance of the new arrivals, especially when relations become strained and tensions rise among them, prompting the original colonists’ agendas to be compromised or abandoned. And, before long, paradise found turns into survival of the fittest, an ironic twist given the venue in question. In bringing this dark tale to life, the filmmaker presents viewers with a decidedly raw story, one that represents a marked departure from his typical fare, an edge-of-your-seat release with a hefty (though not gratuitous) helping of violent and erotic imagery. At the same time, the narrative is beautifully counterbalanced by its gorgeous cinematography featuring positively beautiful shots of sweeping landscapes and diverse wildlife, all backed by another suitably atmospheric score from composer Hans Zimmer. The picture also boasts a strong and engaging story said to be quite on the mark for its authenticity. However, for all of these strengths, “Eden” definitely would have benefitted from a better screenplay, one that’s less melodramatic and avoids the temptation to play like a 1980s Prime Time soap set in an exotic locale. In addition, the script is at times obviously overwritten, going out of its way to deliberately drive home its points when a little more nuance and subtlety would have been more effective. Thankfully, the performances generally make the dialogue look better than it actually is, particularly in the portrayals by Kirby, Sweeney and Bruehl, though de Armas and Law would have been wise to tone things down a few notches to keep things from coming across as a tad too campy. As it stands now, this is certainly a commendable production that has much going for it, one that could have been significantly improved upon with a few of the aforementioned tweaks. It’s an intriguing, little-known tale that takes place in a distinctive setting and time frame with colorful characters, qualities that genuinely help to set it apart, while simultaneously presenting a familiar cautionary tale that we as a species just never seem to grasp. Try as we might to make a better life for ourselves, unfortunately, we invariably appear to keep falling prey to the curse of losing paradise. Until that changes, it seems we can use all the reminders we can get.