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BEAST--Idris Elba battles a ginormous rogue lion in director Baltasar ("2 Guns," "Contraband") Kormakur's South African-set action flick. The set-up is blissfully, stupidly elemental. Widowed dad Nate (Elba) brings his teenage daughters (Leah Jeffries and Iyana Halley) on safari and, after running afoul of the afore-mentioned jungle cat, spend the rest of the movie literally running for their lives. Kormakur knows how to expertly ratchet up the suspense, and its fat-free 93-minute run time feels just right. Ridiculous, yes, but also kind of fun if you're willing to check your brain at the door. (B MINUS.)
THE BLACK PHONE--Ethan Hawke is effectively creepy as a child killer whose latest prey, 13-year-old Finney (impressive newcomer Mason Thames), is somehow able to make contact with his abductor's previous victims via the titular rotary phone in the basement where he's being held captive. Will they help him escape, or is he doomed to join them in the afterlife? In adapting Joe Hill's short story, director Scott ("Doctor Sleep") Derrickson is possibly too enamored with a "Stranger Things" nostalgic/period vibe--it's set in 1978 Colorado with all of the era's cultural talismans dutifully checked off a master list--but he skillfully ratchets up the suspense, particularly in an extremely tense third act. Anyone expecting a "Silence of the Lambs"-style serial killer procedural is bound to be disappointed, though. It's actually closer to "Room" with Brie Larson substituted with the ghosts of dead kids. (B MINUS.)
BODIES BODIES BODIES--A Gen Z hurricane party is the setting for Halina Reijn's meta horror flick that instantly renders the entire "Scream" franchise hopelessly passe. The "party," hosted by David (Pete Davidson) at his family's remote country estate, is actually more of a bacchanal thanks to the copious quantities of drugs, alcohol and polymorphous sexual activity involved. The title refers to a game in which the participants wind up being murdered (in the gnarliest fashion possible, natch). Costarring "Borat Subsequent Moviefilm" breakout Maria Bakalova and Amanda Stenberg of "The Hate U Give," it's snarky, smirky and immensely pleased with itself. No doubt some people--probably moviegoers under the age of 30 who haven't seen a lot of, y'know, movies--will think it's a total hoot. But I found the whole thing off-puttingly smug and borderline-obnoxious. (C MINUS.)
BULLET TRAIN--Brad Pitt plays conflicted assassin "Ladybug" whose most recent assignment finds him on a Tokyo to Kyoto super bullet train where he's forced to square off against rival assassins (including Aaron Taylor-Johnson and Brian Tyree Henry's "twin" hitmen brothers). That's pretty much it for the plot of David ("Atomic Blonde," "Deadpool 2") Leitch's breathlessly paced, brazenly ridiculous action flick. To complain that it's all "too much" is missing the point--if there even is one. This kind of borderline-nihilistic, "we're all just having a larf" action movie has become as commonplace in 21st century Hollywood as, well, Marvel super hero flicks. You're either with them or against them, and in this case (mostly due to Pitt and a superb supporting cast which includes Zazie Beetz, Michael Shannon and Sandra Bullock as Pitt's handler) I'm all aboard. You probably won't remember it by the time you hit the parking lot, but it's goofy fun while it lasts. (B.)
BURIAL--While transporting Hitler's corpse back to Mother Russia at the end of WW II--apparently Stalin wants it for his trophy case--Soviet soldiers are ambushed by a pack of "werewolves." No, not the Lon Chaney Jr. kind, but Nazi Furries still faithful to their beloved Fuhrer. Director Ben Parker's movie might have worked better if the werewolves had been literal. Imagine the fun in watching a pack of man-wolves reactivate Hitler's corpse! The furry fun could have elevated this into guilty pleasure terrain. Instead, it's more of a plodding "nice try." The cast is good, however, even though everyone speaks with a British accent which makes it hard to distinguish the Russians from the Germans. Charlotte Vega impresses as the female Soviet intelligence officer tasked with the ghoulish hush-hush mission. And Harriet Walter is even better as an older version of Vega's character in the film's 1991 bookending scenes set in England. I just wish the whole thing wasn't such a muddled slog. (C.)
D.C. LEAGUE OF SUPER-PETS--When Superman (John Krasinski) and his fellow Justice Leaguers are kidnapped by Lex Luthor's evil guinea pig cohort (Kate McKinnon), Supe's super-pooch Krypto (Dwayne Johnson) rounds up animal shelter rejects Ace (Kevin Hart), PB (Vanessa Bayer), Chip (Diego Luna) and Morton (Natasha Lyonne) to brainstorm a rescue mission. (The critters have all been endowed with super-powers thanks to a dose of orange Kryptonite, making them as invincible as Krypto himself.) Director Jared Stern's surprisingly amiable CGI 'toon coasts on the distinctive charms of its amusingly eclectic vocal cast, and it's fun to see the normally too-cool-for-school D.C. multiverse relax a tad, evincing a most welcome sense of humor. Plus, any movie that has the wit to cast Keanu Reeves as Batman--even if it's only his voice--has its tongue firmly in cheek. (B.)
EASTER SUNDAY--Essentially a Filipino-American Tyler Perry movie, Broken Lizards' mainstay Jay Chandrasekhar's big-screen sitcom casts stand-up comic Jo Koy as average dude Joe whose hopes of celebrating Easter with his large, rambunctious family are consistently foiled by one mishap (and misunderstanding) after another. Funny people (including Jimmy O. Yang and Tiffany Haddish) gamely mix it up with actors who aren't necessarily known for their comedic chops (like Lou Diamond Phillips and Tia Carrera), and the result is amiably middling. All that's really missing is a cameo by Perry alter ego Madea. (C.)
ELVIS--"Moulin Rouge" visionary Baz Luhrmann's long-delayed cradle-to-the-grave Elvis Presley biopic is an eye-popping lollapalooza that's so giddily, unrepentantly over the top that it feels just about right. Since the iconic rock-and-roll demigod was never someone who believed in moderation while living his oversized life, why should a movie about him be a model of restraint? Austin Butler, last seen playing Tex Watson in "Once Upon a Time...in Hollywood," acquiits himself nicely in the title role. I might even call it a "star is born" type of performance if the true headliner of any Baz Luhrmann flick wasn't Luhrmann himself. Along with Wes Anderson and Terrence Malick, he has such a recognizable, trademark-worthy visual signature that you'd have to be wearing a paper bag over your head not to be able to ID it as quintessential Baz. Colonel Tom Parker (Tom Hanks sporting lots of prosthetics and a flowery Dutch accent), Elvis' infamous Svengali-like puppet master, narrates the movie from his deathbed, and the whole thing has a "cautionary tale" quality as Luhrmann dutifully--albeit impressionistically--checks off all the key chapters of Presley's life: overnight stardom; a two-year stint in the Army; Priscilla (the lovely Olivia DeJunge); lots of silly bubblegum movies; weight gain/prescription drug abuse; the 1968 TV "comeback" special; ad nauseam. It's a lot of biographical material to cover, and Luhrmann squeezes as much as he can into the film's 159 minutes. (There's apparently a four-hour cut that will no doubt wind up on HBO MAX before year's end). If you're as much of a Baz-o-phile as an Elvis-o-mane, you'll probably think you died and went to heaven. Anyone else should probably just stay home. (A MINUS.)
FALL--Considering the popularity of recent mountain-climbing documentaries like the Oscar-winning "Free Solo" and 2021's "The Alpinist," it's not surprising that someone would choose to wrap a thriller template around the extreme sport pastime. To say that director Scott Mann's film literally made me sick to my stomach--confession: I suffer from extreme vertigo--is a roundabout way of saying that he succeeded. In an attempt to break childhood friend Becky (the appealing Grace Caroline Currey) from a self-destructive spiral, Hunter (Virginia Gardner) invites the still-grieving widow on a hiking expedition. Their target--an abandoned 2,000 foot radio tower in the middle of nowhere--turns out to be a huge mistake when the dilapidated wooden ladder they use to climb it begins to crumble. Stranded at the top with no way down (and no cellphone reception, natch), the two women are forced to devise ingenious, Macgyver-like methods to secure their escape. At the halfway mark of this 107-minute film, I wondered how Mann could possibly maintain suspense or even interest in the second half. But he manages to pull it off, and the nerve-rattling ending left me shaken and stirred. (B PLUS.)
GIGI & NATE--After a freak diving accident leaves 18-year-old Nate (Charlie Rowe) a quadriplegic, his parents (Marcia Gay Harden and Jim Belushi) do everything they can to make his life bearable. But it's not until Gigi, a Capuchin monkey service animal, moves in with them that Nate's spirits finally perk up. Everything is hunky-dory until a fire and brimstone animal rights advocate petitions the state to outlaw service animals. Director Nick Hamm's movie is moderately touching and nicely acted by everyone, including the great Diane Ladd as Nate's grandmother, but it sends an odd message. Because Nate's family is so affluent (we never learn what his workaholic father does for a living, but it must pay really, really well), they're able to pack up and move from Tennessee to North Carolina when Gigi is forcibly removed from their home. (Apparently service animal monkeys are allowed in the Carolinas. Who knew?) What would have happened if Nate and Gigi couldn't afford to relocate to a more simian-friendly state? We never learn the answer. Going in, I thought this might be "based on a true story," but it's not. Which makes the lily-gilding, fairy tale aspects of the story feel a tad disingenuous. (C PLUS.)
HONK FOR JESUS: SAVE YOUR SOUL--Tone-deaf mockumentary about the efforts of Southern Baptist minister Lee Curtis (Sterling K. Brown) and "First Lady" Trinite (Regina Hall) to re-open their Georgia megachurch after a sex scandal (teenage boys were involved) shut them down. Brown and Hall are both immensely gifted performers, but they're let down by first-time screenwriter/director Addamo Ebo who lacks the chops to even finesse the faux doc aspects of her movie. More than half the film seems to exist in a limbo land: neither convincingly "documentary" or plausibly, coherently "fictional." With their gilded thrones, Prada wardrobes and multiple sports cars, the Curtis' are rich satirical targets. Unfortunately, the humor is almost entirely drained out of the movie by frankly amateurish execution. Scenes drag on well past their expiration date, and performances are pitched at a near-hysterical level--culminating with Trinite in whiteface desperately trying to flag down new parishioners on the side of a busy highway. The genesis for the film was Ebo's 15-minute 2018 short. Whoever encouraged her to expand it to feature length was clearly deluded into thinking it could withstand all the conspicuous bloating. (D PLUS.)
THE INVITATION--Newly orphaned Evie (Nathalie Emmanuel) takes a DNA test and discovers that she has family she's never met, or even heard of. When Benedict Cumberbatch lookalike cousin Walter (Thomas Doherty) flies to New York to meet her, she's immediately swept up in the fantasy of inheriting new kinfolk. Without thinking it through, Evie impulsively agrees to accompany him back to Old Blighty for what promises to be a lavish family wedding. Uh-oh. If "Get Out" and "Ready or Not" had been written by "Dracula" creator Bram Stoker, they might have resembled director Jessica M. Thompson's late summer Screen Gems throwaway. It's not terrible, just silly, derivative and eminently disposable. (C MINUS.)
JURASSIC WORLD DOMINION--Clocking in at a derriere-numbing and bladder-busting 146 minutes, this is the longest "Jurassic" iteration to date. Ionically, but perhaps inevitably it's also the most creatively bankrupt. More dinosaurs, even more realistic-looking dinosaurs, can't compensate for a hackneyed storyline and actors who are clearly going through the motions. In director Colin Trevorrow's third "World" outing, the dinos have abandoned their enclosure and are now living amongst humans in the "real" world. And because they apparently have nothing better to do, Owen (the increasingly irritating Chris Pratt) and Claire (a terminally annoying Dallas Bryce Howard) enlist to help wrangle those pesky prehistoric critters. The onscreen reunion of 1993 "Jurassic Park" stars Laura Dern, Jeff Goldblum and Sam Neill seems less like a sentimental tip of the hat than a cynical marketing decision. After six "Jurassic" movies--none of which have remotely approximated the wonder, awe and sheer enjoyment of the Spielberg original--it's time to retire these beasties once and for all. (D PLUS.)
LIGHTYEAR--A prequel of sorts to Pixar's beloved "Toy Story" franchise that serves up Buzz Lightyear's origin story before he became an action figure in Andy's childhood bedroom. (Chris Evans replaces Tim Allen as the voice of the preening young Space Ranger.) The overly busy plot involves Buzz's typically vainglorious attempt to save a colony of settlers on a distant planet from an impending robot apocalypse (James Brolin is the megalomaniacal robot emperor). Although not lacking in Pixar's patented visual razzle dazzle, it isn't likely to go down as one of their finest hours either. For the record, this is the Mouse House subsidiary's 27th feature to date. (B MINUS.)
MACK & RITA--Poor Diane Keaton. She keeps getting trapped in one cringey dud after another. And debut helmer Katie Aselton's terminally twee body-swapping comedy is another career miscalculation. During a Palm Springs bachelorette party, struggling writer and wannabe social influencer Mack (Elizabeth Lail) morphs into "Aunt Rita" (Keaton) thanks to a past life regression chamber. (Don't ask.) The fact that flailing Millennial Mack is more successful, evolved and comfortable in her own skin as AARP diva "Rita" is apparently the movie's point. But it's lost amid a barrage of sub-"Golden Girls" jokes that make it feel cheap and hopelessly dated. A national treasure like Keaton deserves better than this warmed-over sitcom. Much better. (D.)
MATA HARI--The kind of delectably kitschy Europudding they don't make anymore, this campy 1985 Golan/Globus Cannon Films production was clearly designed as a showcase for sex goddess Sylvia Kristel who catapulted to international stardom a decade earlier in Just Jaeckin's "X"-rated sensation "Emmanuelle." The fact that this Curtis Harrington-directed movie was barely released in the U.S., only playing a handful of cities before shuttling off to VHS pastures, probably explains why Kristel's career was pretty much kaput by the end of the decade. But viewed today, this is Grade-A--well, maybe "A MINUS"-level--guilty pleasure-style fun. In Harrington's highly (and amusingly) fictionalized account of the infamous exotic dancer who was executed for espionage during WW I, Kristel vamps up a storm, seducing both German (Christopher Cazenove from "Dynasty") and French (hunky Oliver Tobias who also performed stud services to Joan Collins in "The Stud") military officers. Chockfull of nudity and soft-core sex scenes (which are its raison d'être after all), the movie is rather fuzzy on Mata Hari's double-agentry. The fact that Joel Ziskin's connect-the-dots script makes a half-hearted attempt to excuse her spying because all she really wanted was "to save lives" may be the funniest thing here. (And I haven't even mentioned the nude human statuary during a Barcelona orgy sequence.) Harrington developed something of a cult following in the '60s with genre flicks like "Night Tide," "Planet of Blood" and 1967's "Games" (starring Simone Signoret and up-and-comers Katharine Ross and James Caan, it's definitely ripe for a Blu-Ray restoration), but he was somewhat off his game by the time he helmed this (intentional?) farrago. Sadly, it would be the last movie Harrington directed. Extras on the Kino Lorber Studio Classics DVD include a smashing audio commentary track with historians Nathaniel Bell and David Del Valle in which they neatly contextualize "Mata Hari" within Cannon Film's '80s heyday. (B.)
MINIONS: THE RISE OF GRU--Ever wonder what "Despicable Me" arch-villain Gru was like as an 11-year-old when he was a super villain wannabe? Yeah, me neither. But the latest Illumination CGI 'toon--the fifth in the "DM" series, including 2015's standalone Minions origin story--serves up despicable Gru's backstory in a fitfully amusing, if somewhat protracted (even at 87 minutes it feels 30 minutes too long) throwaway. Along with the aid of his new Minion pals, Gru attempts to join the Vicious 6 criminal gang after the sacking of one of their members reduces their ranks to a Vicious 5. The animation is Illumination-generic, but the vocal cast is gratifyingly and amusingly diverse. Besides Steve Carell's dependably spot-on Gru, there's Taraji P. Henson, Julie Andrews, Jean Claude Van Damme, Alan Arkin and Danny Trejo. Although it won't be shortlisted for Oscar's Best Animated Feature, this is decent enough to be one of the season's top-grossing films. (B MINUS.)
NOPE--Jordan ("Get Out," "Us") Peele, the Gen-Z answer to M. Night Shyamalan, shoots for (Steven) Spielberg status with his latest, a far-out cross between Shyamalan's "Signs" and Spielberg's "Close Encounters of the Third Kind." Reuniting with his "Get Out" star Daniel Kaluuya, Peele aims big---outer space "big"--here, and almost hits his target. Because of Universal's "no spoilers, please" edict, it's hard to even synopsize the film without giving anything away. Suffice it to say that the excellent supporting cast includes Keke Palmer, "Minari" Oscar nominee Steven Yuen and promising newcomer Brandon Perea, and Peele fans won't dare miss it. I'm not sure whether it all adds up to a fully satisfying package (and it certainly didn't have to clock in at 135 overly generous minutes), but I can't wait to see it again. (B PLUS.)
OLGA--After an attempt on her muckraking journalist mother's life, teenage gymnast Olga (real-life Ukranian gymnast Anastasia Budyashkina in a spectacular acting debut) is forced to flee her Kyiv home and move in with her late father's family in Switzerland. (She has dual citizenship.) First time director Elle Grappe seamlessly blends gripping documentary footage from Ukraine's 2013 Maidan Revolution in which citizens took arms against Putin puppet Viktor Yanukovich's corrupt regime into a fictional story, and, to paraphrase Woodrow Wilson's famous pop-quote about D.W. Griffith's "The Birth of a Nation," it's like re-writing history with lightning. While Olga continues training to win an Olympic spot in the upcoming European Championships, her mom (Tanya Mikhina) and BFF Sasha (Sabrina Rubtsova) become increasingly embroiled in Ukraine's ongoing contretemps. But she can only willfully blind herself to what's happening in her native land for so long before finally having an emotional breakdown. Made before Russia's 2022 invasion of Ukraine, Grappe's movie seems even more timely and depressingly relevant than when it premiered at last year's Cannes Film Festival. The new Kino Lorber Blu Ray doesn't include any extras, alas, but "Olga" is eminently worth seeking out wherever (and whenever) you can find it. (B PLUS.)
ONE WAY--After ripping off his crime boss and suffering a serious gunshot wound, low-rent hoodlum Freddy (Colson Baker AKA rapper Machine Gun Kelly) hightails it out of town on a bus. Against his better judgment, he loans one of his burner phones to fellow passenger Rachel (Storm Reid), a teenage runaway planning to hook up with a mystery man she met on the internet. After sussing out that she's not really of legal age--and that the man she intends to meet is considerably older--his parental instincts kick in. The fact that he's bleeding profusely and desperately trying to set up a blood transfusion at the next rest stop with his emergency room nurse ex (Meagan Holder), makes things a tad, er, complicated. Plus, Freddy still has to coerce his estranged reprobate dad (Kevin Bacon) into donating his rare blood type for the procedure. Meanwhile, his ruthless employer (Drea de Matteo) and her goon squad of hit men are hot on his trail. And I haven't even mentioned the busy body social worker (Travis Fimmel) sniffing around Rachel who may not be the good samaritan he purports to be. The fact that almost the entire movie is set on a moving bus is a considerable technical challenge that director Andrew Baird largely pulls off is impressive enough. It's also a surprisingly effective thriller/morality play with spot-on performances (Baker, Reid and Fimmel are particularly good). For Baird, whose last movie was the lugubrious 2021 futuristic sci-fer "Zone 414," this is a major step forward. (B MINUS.)
PHANTOM OF THE OPEN--Oscar winner Mark Rylance stars as pink-slipped British factory worker Maurice Fitcroft who takes up golfing on a whim, then somehow manages to qualify for the British Open despite never having played a single game. The fact that Maurice is a legitimately terrible golfer doesn't stop him from becoming a working class hero, and his fame (or infamy) makes him a worldwide phenom rather than a mere laughingstock. Craig Roberts' Cockney-accented fairy tale is based on a true story--yes, there was a real Maurice Fitcroft--yet as portrayed here his story is more "Ripley's Believe it or Not" fantastical than kitchen-sink realism. Sally Hawkins and Rhys Ifans who starred in Roberts' 2019 film "Eternal Beauty" play, respectively, Maurice's saintly wife and his British Open antagonist, and they're dependably good company. But true story or not, I was never remotely convinced that Fitcroft's life demanded or even deserved a big-screen biopic treatment. Amateur golfers might feel otherwise. The new SPC DVD includes a bonus featurette, "Finding Fitcroft," for those who want to learn more about the film's aspirational protagonist. (C.)
SYMPHONY FOR A MASSACRE--Jacques ("La Piscine," "Borsalino") Deray's crafty, immensely entertaining 1963 French caper flick feels a bit like what "Rififi" might have looked like if it had been directed by Jean-Pierre Melville instead of Jules Dassin. Jean Rochefort, best known to American audiences for comic roles in films like "The Tall Blonde Man With One Black Shoe" and "Pardon Mon Affaire" (which was remade with Gene Wilder as "The Woman in Red"), is cast against type as a small-time gangster who two-times his partners in a drug deal. Forced to cover his tracks, Rochefort's Jabeke finds it surprisingly easy to kill off his criminal cohorts (including Claude Dauphin, Jose Giovanni and Charles Vanel) one by one. The character's sheer, unbridled amorality is as (initially) shocking as it's exhilarating to watch. For a richly textured, b&w homage to Hollywood film noirs of the late '40s/early '50s, Deray's movie feels oddly contemporary. Jabeke's charismatic rotter almost seems like a dry-run for the type of hate-to-love-them anti-heroes who proliferated on American cable television this century (think Tony Soprano, Walter White or Saul Goodman). Extras on the newly issued Cohen Film Collection Blu-Ray include the movie's haunting, jazz-inflected score and a 28-minute featurette in which noir historian Francis Guerif and Rochefort biographer Jena-Philippe Guerand discuss the film's significance within the context of '60s French arthouse cinema. (A.)
THOR: LOVE AND THUNDER--More like a zany MAD Magazine parody than a conventional super hero flick, the fourth Thor movie starring Chris Hemsworth in the title role isn't quite in the same league as 2017's "Ragnarok," but it's still head and shoulders above the cookie-cutter Marvel norm. Like "Ragnarok," "Love and Thunder" was directed by freewheeling New Zealand auteur Taika ("JoJo Rabbit," "What We Do in the Shadows") Waititi, and it's his waggish, impudent sensibility that makes the film so much fun. The big news this time is the return of Thor's ex, Jane Foster (Nathalie Portman), and her ability to wield the Mjolnir--that's a hammer to you and me--effectively makes Jane the new "Thor." Or something like that. it's not the easiest movie to follow on a plot-point by plot-point basis. Because it's Marvel, there has to be a Big Bad, and a somewhat underutilized Christian Bale has a ball as God Butcher Gorr whose overriding ambition to destroy every god in the universe renders him a major threat to Thor, Jane, Valkyrie (Tessa Thompson), Korg (Waititi) and even Zeus himself (Russell Crowe hamming it up as the mythological Greek deity). There's a lot of "stuff" here--probably too much for its relatively circumspect two-hour run time--and it doesn't all run smoothly. (A meta subplot involving a "Thor" movie-within-this-movie feels like something Charlie Kaufman would have abandoned after a weekend doing 'shrooms.) But it's so good-natured and laugh-out-loud funny that only spoilsports would deny Waititi his occasional curlicues. Plus, the Thor/Jane love story is genuinely sweet and even touching. (B.)
THREE THOUSAND YEARS OF LONGING--One of Mad Max auteur George Miller's rare now-genre films is a live-action "Aladdin" strictly for grown-ups. Chameleonic Oscar-winner Tilda Swinton plays divorced British academic Dr. Altihea Binnie who buys an antique lamp in an open-air market while attending a conference in Istanbul. Back in her hotel room, a Djinn (that's "genie" to you and me) pops out of the lamp and offers her three wishes in exchange for his freedom. The Djinn (Idris Elba) turns out to be a bit of a romantic, still pining over a lost love from centuries ago. Because Altihea is a narratologist--i.e., a scholar of stories--she naturally prompts the Djinn to share his past life experiences. Accordingly, much of the film is devoted to his and her competing flashbacks told in a whimsically--sometimes luxuriantly--stylized manner befitting a mise-en-scene ace like Miller. Adapted from A.S. Byatt's celebrated short story, the movie works as a poetic metaphor for the soul-crushing loneliness that binds Alithea and the Djinn. "What is your heart's desire?" The answer may surprise you. (B PLUS.)
TOP GUN: MAVERICK--Tom Cruise's Navy test pilot extraordinaire Pete "Maverick" Mitchell is back to train a cadre of recent Top Gun graduates for another hush-hush overseas mission in this 37-years-later sequel to Cruise and director Tony Scott's iconic Reagan-era blockbuster. The only question is: what took them so long? The directorial baton has been passed to Joseph ("Oblivion," "Tron Legacy") Kosinski, and I knew I was in good hands when Kenny Loggins' "Danger Zone" is reprised for the opening credits sequence. The principal conflict this time around is between Pete and Lt. Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw (Miles Teller), son of Maverick's late flying partner, Goose (memorably played by Anthony Edwards before donning surgical gear for "E.R."). What's most gratifying about this belated follow-up is that it actually seems to understand what made the original work and doesn't mess with their Old Coke formula. Accordingly, Rooster has a rivalry with fellow pilot Hangman (Glen Powell) that echoes Maverick's earlier friction with Iceman (Val Kilmer who turns up in a touching cameo); Maverick once again takes time to romance an independent-minded lady (Jennifer Connelly as saloon proprietress Penny); and an oceanside touch football game wittily nods to the original's volleyball sequence and is nearly as blatantly, comically homoerotic. Playing the Navy brass who predictably disapprove of Maverick's methods but can't quit him are the always welcome Ed Harris and Jon Hamm. The soundtrack isn't as layered with the ear worms ("Take My Breath Away," "Playing With the Boys," etc.) that made the first movie's soundtrack a chart-topper, but Lady Gaga's new ballad is pretty swell and deserves to be remembered at Oscar time. The state of the art flying sequences actually surpass the ones from its predecessor (it's 2022 CGI after all), and they're unlike anything you're likely to experience outside of an actual cockpit. If "Top Gun: Maverick" isn't a summertime box-office bonanza, there's really no hope for multiplexes in our post-Covid era. (A MINUS.)
WHERE THE CRAWDADS SING--Delia Owens' best-selling 2018 novel finally hits multiplex screens, bearing the imprimatur of Reese Witherspoon as producer. (A pre-"Legally Blonde" Witherspoon would have killed it as the film's backwoods heroine.) Borrowing the bifurcated structure of the book, Olivia Newman's movie jumps between 1952 and 1969 to tell the story of itinerant North Carolina "Marsh Girl" Kya (Daisy Edgar-Jones, very good) from impoverished childhood to her future infamy as a murder suspect. The two significant men in Kya's life (nasty rich kid Chase and salt of the earth Tate played, respectively, by Harris Dickinson and Taylor John Smith) make less of an impression than they probably should have, but Newman--and I'm assuming Witherspoon--clearly intended their film to be a female empowerment sudser, and men are more of a distraction than a necessity in this world. Like its literary source, the movie feels a bit like a shotgun marriage between John Grisham (the courtroom stuff) and Nicholas Sparks (the lovey-dovey stuff). But Edgar-Jones and a solid supporting cast, including the estimable David Strathairn and Garret Dillahunt, make it more substantive and enjoyable than expected. (B MINUS.)
WIRE ROOM--The second straight-to-video title in recent months starring Kevin Dillon as a tech-nerd-turned-action-hero who spends most of his time sitting behind video or computer screens in blandly anonymous Los Angeles office buildings isn't as much fun as July's "Hot Seat." For starters, the previous film's supporting actor MVP, Mel Gibson, has been replaced by Bruce Willis in another of his depressing "going-through-the-motions-and-cashing-a-paycheck" performances. Assigned by his Homeland Security boss (Willis) to monitor the activities of cartel arms smuggler Eddie Flynn (Oliver Trevem)--and, oh yeah, keep him alive--Dillon's hapless rookie agent unwisely gets personally involved in his surveillance duties. Soon he's fending off a full-frontal assault by a crooked sheriff (Texas Battle in the movie's best performance) and his team of "law enforcement" hit men. Director Matt Eskandari keeps things pacy enough, I suppose, but Dillon's miscasting and Willis' somnambulism sap whatever juice there is out of an amusing high-concept premise. (C MINUS.)
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THE BAD GUYS--Based on Aaron Blabey's best-selling graphic novel series, the latest DreamWorks animated film is one of their better outings in recent years. A crew of miscreants led by pickpocket Mr. Wolf (Sam Rockwell) decides it's better to go straight than do jail time after their latest job gets them busted. Agreeing to serve as mentor is British-accented guinea pig Professor Marmalade (Richard Ayoade) who discovers that Wolf and his criminal cohorts--safecracker Mr. Snake (Marc Maron); master of disguise Mr. Shark (Craig Robinson); hired muscle Mr. Piranha (Anthony Ramos); and hacker Ms. Tarantula (Awkwafina)--might actually make pretty decent good guys (and one good gal) after all. Or maybe the whole thing is just another elaborate scam concocted by Wolfy. The vocal casting is aces, and there's just enough invention and wit in the screenplay to keep any accompanying grown-ups from nodding off. Which is more than you can say about most kidflicks. (B.)
THE BOB'S BURGERS MOVIE--In the first big-screen spin-off of the long-running, Emmy-winning FOX animated series, Bob and Linda Belcher need an extension on their bank loan to keep the family's Jersey Shore burger joint afloat. Complicating matters is the sinkhole in front of their restaurant caused by a ruptured water main--with a skeleton inside! Could the corpse be Cotton Candy Dan who mysteriously disappeared years ago? To help solve the mystery, the Belcher kids become junior sleuths to (hopefully) crack the case. Lots of veteran guest stars (Kevin Kline, Zach Galifianakis, Paul Rudd, Sarah Silverman, etc.) turn up, and the whole thing has a cozy, affectionate vibe that's less aggressively hyper than other Sunday night FOX 'toons (e.g., "Family Guy"). I'm not sure whether this is intended more for kids or grown-ups, but it's a pleasant enough divertissement that should have no trouble satisfying longtime fans. And it could even make some new ones in the process. (B MINUS.)
BREAKING--John Boyega from the new generation of "Star Wars" movies comes down to earth for this fact-based story of Marine vet Brian Brown Easley whose 2017 hold-up of a Wells Fargo bank ended in a hail of bullets. The fact that Easley was only asking for the $892.34 withheld from his last disability check because of a bureaucratic screw-up makes the (inevitably) tragic arc of first-time director Abi Damaris Corbin's film all the more heartrending. Boyega is strong here, although he tends to swallow much of his dialogue (prepare to strain your eardrums), and there's good support from Nicole Beharie and Selanis Leyuva as the bank's managers, Connie Britton (a local TV news producer Brian hopes will broadcast his list of grievances) and especially the late Michael Kenneth Williams as a sympathetic hostage negotiator. It's no "Dog Day Afternoon" or even "Inside Man," but it's definitely good enough. (B MINUS.)
BRIAN AND CHARLES--Adapted from his 12-minute 2017 short, Jim Archer's assiduously quirky Welsh comedy-drama feels slightly overextended at feature length, and is too twee by half. But the central dynamic between crackpot inventor Brian (David Earl) and Charles, the cabbage-loving robot he fashions out of stray washing machine parts, still retains its original appeal. Much of the credit belongs to an invaluable Chris Hayward who voices Charles and makes him the most ingratiating 'bot since Wall-E. The introduction of several new characters--including a romantic interest (Louise Brealey) for Brian and an antagonist (Jamie Michie) to help drive the plot--seems extraneous and takes the focus off the titular duo's charming bromance. If this was still the early '70s, I could imagine it running for years as a "Harold and Maude"-style midnight movie. In 2022, however, its appeal will probably be limited to BritBox devotees. (B MINUS.)
CRIMES OF THE FUTURE--If the name "David Cronenberg" doesn't ring a bell, you're probably not the target audience for this movie. Aficionados of Cronenberg masterworks like "Videodrome," "The Fly," "Dead Ringers" and "Crash," however, will consider this outré freakout something akin to an early Christmas present. Viggo Mortensen--who starred in Cronenberg's "A History of Violence," "A Dangerous Method" and "Eastern Promises"--plays avant-garde performance artist Saul whose body synthetically produces new organs which he incorporates into his act with kindred kinkmeister Caprice (Lea Seydoux from "No Time to Die"). As an eager-beaver investigator from the National Organ Registry Bureau who becomes obsessed with Saul's, er, unique talent, Kristen Stewart is never funnier (or scarier) than when she blurts out, "Surgery is the new sex." Shockingly, this is Cronenberg's first horror flick since 1999's "eXistenZ," but it was well worth the wait. The feint of heart might consider sitting this one out, though. (A.)
DADDY LONGLEGS--Like Martin Scorsese and Spike Lee, brother directing team Josh and Benny Safdie clearly learned a thing or two from the loosely structured, semi-improvised films of American indie godfather John Cassavetes. In their 2009 sophomore outing, the Safdies hadn't yet begun experimenting with genre forms--that would have to wait until 2017's "Good Time" and 2019's "Uncut Gems"--which might explain why "Daddy Longlegs" feels a bit like a spin-off of Cassavetes' 1974 masterpiece, "A Woman Under the Influence." Instead of a mentally unstable housewife wreaking havoc on her suburban household, the Safdie's protagonist is a barely employed, divorced father of two young boys. Lenny ("Frownland" director Ronald Bronstein) is such a terminal screw-up that he even manages to botch the two weeks a year he's allotted to spend with his kids (real-life siblings Sage and Frey Ranaldo). So manic and undisciplined that you can have an anxiety attack just watching him navigate the mean streets of Manhattan, Lenny is nobody's idea of a "dad." Throughout the course of the film, you'll repeatedly want to reach inside the screen and forcibly remove the boys from Lenny's custody for fear they'll wind up either psychically scarred or even physically harmed. It's a real stress test of a movie. But thanks to the Safdie's incipient raw talent, and the so-real-it-hurts performances, it's also unforgettable. Bonus features on the Criterion Collection Blu-Ray include new interviews with the Ranaldo boys and their parents, Sonic Youth guitarist Lee Ranaldo and Leah Singer (who plays Lenny's ex-wife in the film); a 2017 documentary about the Safdie brothers; priceless footage of the Ranaldo boys' initial meeting with Bronstein; a making-of featurette; 2008's "There's Nothing You Can Do" a Safdie short with members of the "Longlegs" cast and crew; deleted scenes; a 2008 episode of interview series "Talk Show" with cast and crew members; a 2009 interview with the Safdies; and an essay by former Cahiers du Cinema editor Stephane Delorme who programmed the Cannes Film Festival's Directors Fortnight the year "Daddy Longlegs" had its world premiere. (A.)
DOCTOR STRANGE IN THE MULTIVERSE OF MADNESS--Thanks to Sam ("Spider-Man," "The Evil Dead") Raimi climbing aboard as this MCU sequel's director, "Multiverse of Madness" is a marked improvement over Scott Derrickson's somewhat lackluster 2016 franchise kickstarter. It's also more of a horror flick than a super hero movie. Strange (an amusingly plummy Benedict Cumberbatch) unleashes the Multiverse where he's confronted with multiple versions of himself (hence the titular "madness"), and not even loyal sidekick Wong (Benedict Wong)--newly graduated to Prime Sorcerer Wong--is much help in correcting the wonky space/time continuum. (Yes, things do get a tad convoluted and even borderline-incoherent at times.) Strange's chief antagonist this time is Wanda (Elizabeth Olsen) who unleashes her wicked Scarlet Witch alter ego to harness the powers of a runaway teenage girl (Yachitl Gomez's America). Reprising their roles from the first film, Rachel McAdams, Chiwetel Ejiofor and Michael Stuhlbarg are once again good company, and the whole thing wraps up at just under two hours which is a nice change from recent super-sized Marvel movies which seem to drag on forever. (B.)
DOG--Channing Tatum co-directed (with Reid Carolin) and stars in this road trip buddy comedy about former Army Ranger Briggs (Tatum) and his devoted Belgian Malinois pup Lulu. Their destination is the funeral of Briggs' fellow Ranger, and because the movie is pitched largely at young audiences, the scrapes and skirmishes they get into along the way are all pretty mild (albeit mildly amusing). It's nothing special, but pleasant enough, especially if you're a dog lover or a Tatum fan. (B MINUS.)
DOWNTON ABBEY: A NEW ERA--It's summer 1928 and practically the entire "Downton" clan has descended upon a villa in the South of France that Dowager Countess Violet (the sublime Maggie Smith) inherited from an old flame. Tres scandale! The fact that Downton is simultaneously being leased by Hollywood producer/director Jack Barber (Hugh Dancy) as the set for his latest movie insures a near endless supply of amusing Grantham family drama. Everyone--including beloved Violet frenemy Isabel (Penelope Wilton)--is itching to know more about the affair behind Violet's inheritance, and Lady Mary (Michelle Dockery) lets her hair down long enough to (almost!) entertain Barber's romantic overtures. As a longtime fan of the long-running tube series--and its equally yummy 2019 big-screen follow-up--I'm hardly the most objective viewer. But I savored every delicious minute of this Simon ("Woman in Gold," "Goodbye, Christopher Robin") Curtis-helmed sequel. And if you're a fellow "Downton Head," so will you. (A MINUS.)
DRIVE MY CAR--Ryusuke Hamaguchi's humanist masterpiece was nominated for four Academy Awards this year (including both Best International Feature and Best Picture; it deservedly won in the former category), but precious few have been able to see the film in its limited theatrical release. Kudos then to the Criterion Collection for acquiring home video rights so that cineastes who don't live near a big city arthouse can find out what the fuss is all about. A masterful Hidetoshi Nishijima plays Yusuke, a recently widowed middle-aged theater actor/director who takes a job helming a multi-lingual production of Chekhov's "Uncle Vanya" at a Hiroshima theater festival. During his residency, Yusuke forms an unlikely bond with the taciturn young woman (Toko Hiura) hired to be his personal driver. Although it runs a leisurely three hours, there's not a single desultory moment here. Grief, guilt, love, loss and (ultimately) acceptance are just some of the big themes Hamaguchi tackles in probing, sensitive fashion. It feels an awful lot like real life, and that's a quality conspicuously absent from most of the movies being made in Hollywood these days. No wonder Academy members flipped over it. The Criterion Blu-Ray includes a new interview with Hamaguchi; a featurette about the making of the film which includes behind-the-scenes footage and interviews with many of the actors; the movie's 2021 Cannes Film Festival press conference; and an essay by National Book Critics Circle finalist and New York Times Magazine columnist Bryan Washington. (A.)
EMILY THE CRIMINAL--Aubrey Plaza is sensational playing a disenfranchised L.A. twenty- something whose crushing student loan debt and inability to find a decent job makes her the ideal employee for Youcef (Theo Rossi) and Khali's (Jonathan Avigdori) credit card fraud start-up. As a parable of the 21st century's dog-eat-dog gig economy, first time writer/director John Patton Ford's terse neo-noir rattles the nerves with its willingness to go dark--really dark--at times. But Plaza's deeply empathetic performance and a welcome surfeit of gallows humor insure that it remains compelling (and even sociologically provocative) throughout. (B PLUS.)
EVERYTHING, EVERYWHERE, ALL AT ONCE--Michelle ("Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon," "Crazy Rich Asians") Yeoh plays Evelyn, a Simi Valley immigrant who discovers that the multiverse really exists. A visit to an unctuous IRS auditor (Jamie Lee Curtis) because her family's laundromat is behind on their taxes unleashes Evelyn's inner kung-fu mama. Soon she's battling the dastardly Jabu Tupaki (Stephanie Hsu who does double duty as Evelyn's rebellious lesbian daughter) in an alternative dimension. Directing duo Dan Kwan and Daniel Scheinert (2016's uncategorizable whatzit "Swiss Army Man") pay homage to everything from "The Matrix," "Being John Malkovich," "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" and even Pixar's "Ratatouille" in a very frenetic, vastly entertaining 138 minutes. Surprisingly most of it works, in large measure due to Yeoh who gives a career performance here. Even when it doesn't make complete narrative sense--which, truth be told, is most of the time--it has a built-in emotional logic that keeps you happily jazzed and ultimately, seemingly against all odds, moved. (A MINUS.)
FANTASTIC BEASTS: THE SECRETS OF DUMBLEDORE--The third of a threatened five adaptations of J.K. Rowling's kid-lit series is a slight improvement over the first two, but still largely impenetrable unless you're a super-fan. Like the previous installments, this was helmed by Rowling house director David Yates, and what he lacks in visual panache and wit he makes up for in sheer endurance. It can't be easy to show up for work on one of these lumbering tentpoles every morning for months/years on end. Magizoologist Newt (the perennially irritating Eddie Redmayne) is largely sidelined this time, thank heavens, as the focus shifts to a rivalry between good wizard Dumbeldore (Jude Law) and evil wizard Grindelwald (Mads Makkelsen subbing for Johnny Depp who's apparently still in movie jail). To help gain control of Wizard-World, Grindelwald steals a Qilin--those pure of heart beasties have the ability to see into the future--and it's up to Newt and a squad of witches, wizards and one Muggle (Dan Fogler, still among the franchise's few bright spots) to save the day. The most interesting aspect of the movie is its backdrop of rising Fascism in 1930's Europe, and the snazzy Art Deco production design insures there's always something fun to look at, even if--like me--you can't make heads or tails out of the plot. (C.)
FATHER STU--The first half of this inspirational drama is seemingly (and weirdly) pitched at broad comedy which makes the proselytizing second part even more baffling. Mark Wahlberg plays Stuart Long, a dissolute former boxer turned supermarket clerk who decides to become a Catholic priest after a near-fatal motorcycle accident. A Sunday School teacher --the appealing Teresa Ruiz--provides the spark for his surprising new vocation. Co-producer Wahlberg seems to take all this folderol seriously, and responds with a fiercely committed performance. (He even gained 30 pounds for the role.) Mel Gibson and Jackie Weaver also do nice work as Stuart's estranged parents who have a hard time accepting their formerly agnostic son's conversion. But despite being "inspired by a true story"--yes, there's a real Father Stu--I didn't believe a minute of it. The faithful might have a different response. (C MINUS.)
FIRESTARTER--A better than expected remake of the largely meh 1984 Stephen King adaptation stars Zac Efron as Andy, father of an 11-year-old daughter (Ryan Kiera Armstrong's Charlie) with the uncanny psychic ability to start fires, usually spurred by anger or emotional pain. Although he's been able to control her fiery tendencies until now, encroaching adolescence brings a scary new dimension to Charlie's "talent." When the government sics a top-secret agency to harness her skills for the purpose of manufacturing an unstoppable WOM, dad is forced to take his family (Sydney Lemmon plays Andy's wife/Charlie's mom) on the lam. The first "Firestarter" had a more pedigreed cast--including the post-"E.T." Drew Barrymore and Oscar winners Louise Fletcher and Art Carney--but director Keith (2020's Hasidic art-horror film "The Vigil") Thomas' iteration has more visceral impact--and much better FX. (C PLUS.)
THE FORGIVEN--Ralph Fiennes and Jessica Chastain play David and Jo, a not-so-happily married couple who travel to Morocco for a weekend bacchanal at the desert villa of their London friend (Matt Smith) and his simpering younger lover (Caleb Landry Jones). En route, their rental car hits and kills an Arab teenager. When the boy's father (Ismael Kanater) shows up demanding justice, David is coerced into accompanying him back to the family's rural village, ostensibly to attend the funeral as a sign of respect. Meanwhile, Jo parties heartily while David is away, even bedding another guest (Christopher Abbott). Writer/director John Michael McDonagh, best known for his wonderful Brendan Gleeson two-fer ("Calvary" and "The Guard"), has essentially made a Michel ("New Order," "Sundown") Franco film this time out, albeit one that's slightly less nihilistic and ultimately rather humanist in spirit. The performances are terrific, of course, and McDonagh's wily script keeps you giddily off-balance from start to finish. The ending, however, is as preordained as it is devastating. (B PLUS.)
THE GIRL CAN'T HELP IT--Frank Tashlin's rollicking 1957 showcase for the pulchritudinous charms of iconic pin-up model/actress Jayne Mansfield gets the Criterion Collection treatment, and it's a blast from start to finish. Tashlin, who began his career as an in-house animator at Warner Brothers directing Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies shorts, brought his cartoony visual sensibility--lots of elaborate sight gags, natch--to his live action films, and "The Girl" was one of the crown jewels of his oeuvre In her first starring role, Mansfield plays Jerri Jordan, va-va-voom girlfriend of infamous Long Island gangster "Fats" Murdock (Edmond O'Brien). Because Jerri's sugar daddy thinks she's got star potential, he hires Tom Miller (Tom Ewell), a down-on-his-luck talent agent to transform his future bride into an overnight singing sensation. (The fact that Jerri has no discernible talent is immaterial to Murdock's grand design.) Studded with 17 (count 'em) rock-and-roll numbers by such luminaries as Eddie Cochran, the Platters, Little Richard and Fats Domino, it's a lollapalooza of riches, both aural (that music!) and visual (Tashlin's DeLuxe Color Cinemascope lensing brought real snap, crackle and pop to the film's multi-hued, candy-colored production design). Tashlin and Mansfield would reteam a year later for the even better Madison Avenue spoof, "Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter?" Fingers crossed that Criterion get around to releasing that cult classic some day. The extras are as delightful as the film itself. Scholar Toby Miller does the audio commentary track, and critic David Cairns provides an effusive video essay. There are new interviews with director/Mansfield fanboy John ("Hairspray") Waters and Eve Golden, author of "Jayne Mansfield: The Girl Couldn't Help It;" a conversation between WFMU DJs Dave Abramson and Gaylord about the movie's sublime r&r performances; on-set footage; archival interviews with Mansfield and Little Richard; a Mansfield-focused episode of Karina Longworth's "You Must Remember This" podcast; "The Fame Game," an essay about the film by New Yorker staff writer Rachel Syme; and excerpts from Tashlin's 1952 book, "How to Create Cartooons," with a new introduction by Ethan de Seife, author of "Tashlinesque: The Hollywood Comedies of Frank Tashlin." (A.)
THE LAST WALTZ--When Martin Scorsese's magisterial concert documentary opened at New York's Ziegfield Theater in the spring of 1978, I went to see it every week during its lengthy run. Not only did I love the movie with every fiber of my body, but I also knew that I'd never be able to duplicate the experience of seeing the film on the Ziegfield's giant screen, or hearing it in their state of the art Dolby surround sound. Accordingly, it was with some trepidation that I approached the Criterion Collection's new Blu-Ray. Even though its digital restoration was personally supervised and approved by Scorsese, it seemed sadly inevitable that the film I worshipped during my halcyon college days would somehow feel "lesser" 40+ years later when viewed at home on a flatscreen TV. I shouldn't have worried. If anything, the images are even crisper and sharper than I remembered, and the preservation of the original 2.0 surround mix insure that it faithfully duplicates the "Ziegfield Sound" I fetishized in my youth. Envisioned by Scorsese as a recording of the Band's farewell performance at San Francisco's Winterland Ballroom on Thanksgiving weekend 1976, "Waltz" gradually evolved through both the pre and post-production stages into something approaching rock-and-roll--and cinematic--nirvana. Unlike most previous concert docs that simply preserved live shows to serve as a kind of visual/aural correlative, Scorsese painstakingly storyboarded the performances in advance. Assisted by seven camera operators, including masters of the cinematographic art like Vilmos Zsigmond and Laszlo Kovacs, he was able to give "Waltz" the epic flow and rich visual texture of an actual "Movie." And the musical performances--from, among others, Van Morrison, Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell and Neil Young--are expectedly sublime. While history is littered with great rock docs (including Jonathan Demme's "Stop Making Sense," Michael Wadleigh's "Woodstock" and D.A. Pennebaker's "Monterey Pop"), Scorsese's euphoric and elegiac commemoration of one of the seminal moments in rock-and-roll history truly has no equals. Extras include two audio commentaries with Scorsese, members of the Band, the production crew and several concert performers, including Mavis Staples, Dr. John and Ronnie Hawkins; David Fear's new interview with Scorsese; a 2002 making-of-the-film documentary; a 1978 interview with Robbie Robertson and Scorsese; and an appreciative essay by New Yorker staff writer Amanda Petrusich. (A PLUS.)
LEONARD COHEN: A JOURNEY, A SONG--I'm not really sure whether the world needed another documentary about Leonard Cohen. After all, there have already been two perfectly satisfactory non-fiction films about the iconic Montreal troubadour. But Daniel Geller and Dayna Goldfine's exhaustive, deep-dish immersion into the genesis and enduring legacy of Cohen's signature tune, "Hallelujah," has its incidental pleasures. Much attention is paid to John Cale and Jeff Buckley's renditions of the song which, for many years, were the only ones most people knew. Also discussed is Cohen's torturously elongated writing process ("Hallelujah" was a seven-year passion project with literally thousands of discarded lyrics along the way). Among the numerous talking heads attesting to Cohen's shaman-like genius are former mentor Judy Collins, Rolling Stones journalist Larry Sloman and Glen Hansard of "Once" fame. But if you're looking for a more conventionally structured Cohen bio-doc, either 2005's "I'm Your Man" or 2019's "Marianne and Leonard: Words of Love" are probably better bets. (B MINUS.)
THE LOST CITY--Sandra Bullock plays Loretta Sage, a widowed romance novelist who's kidnapped by an overzealous fan (Daniel Radcliffe, a long way from Hogwarts) during her latest book tour. Hot on Loretta's trail are her himbo cover model (Channing Tatum in full "21 Jump Street" klutzy-stud mode) and a reconstituted Navy SEAL (Brad Pitt, clearly having a ball in his glorified cameo). They're all good company, and Da'Vine Joy Randolph provides added sass and seasoning as the scribe's long-suffering publicist.This eagerly-awaited follow-up to brother filmmaking duo Adam and Aaron Nee's delightful 2015 "Band of Robbers" (a Wes Anderson-inflected modernization of Huckleberry Finn) is the kind of "Romancing the Stone"-y screwball-lite romp nobody makes anymore. If you forgot that movies were actually supposed to be, y'know, fun consider this a much-needed tonic. (B.)
A LOVE SONG--Dale Dickey and Wes Studi play high school sweethearts Faye and Lito, reunited after 40+ years in first-time writer/director Max Walker-Silverman's tender, touching, deeply humanistic new film. Faye's entire world is contained within her tiny Shasta trailer parked in a sleepy Colorado lakeside campground. (She's kith and kin to Frances McDormand's Fern from Chloe Zhao's Oscar-winning "Nomadland.") Each day is spent anticipating Lito's impending visit. Of course, Faye has no idea what may--or may not--transpire if/when he shows up. Her only distractions are two Audubon guide books and some quirky neighbors (including a delightful Marty Grace Dennis as the pint-sized spokesperson for bashful cowboys who need Faye's plot of land to re-bury their father). When Lito finally materializes, some major questions are addressed. To rekindle, or not rekindle, a lost love? And is being alone the same thing as loneliness? Thanks to Dickey and Studi's pitch-perfect performances, this is a film you'll be playing over in your head and ruminating on long after the end credits fade from the screen. (A MINUS.)
MEMORY--Liam Neeson plays yet another hired assassin in director Martin ("Casino Royale," Antonio Banderas' "Zorro" movies) Campbell's pro forma "Liam Neeson Action Flick." When Neeson's Alex Lewis develops a crisis of conscience and refuses to go through with his latest job, he's forced to hunt down and kill his employers before they--and a twitchy FBI agent played by a clearly bored Guy Pearce--catch up with him. The fact that Alex has begun to lose his memory (or maybe just his marbles; it's sometimes hard to tell) complicates things. A still-ravishing Monica ("Irreversible") Bellucci turns up briefly as a Eurotrash dragon lady to provide a much-needed shot of estrogen. Neeson's latest shoulda-been-straight-to-video programmer cobbles together elements of 2011's "Unknown" (e.g., the whole amnesia/memory loss gambit) and, well, pretty much any/every post-"Taken" Neeson actioner. A career slickster like Campbell insures that the whole thing is "watchable" enough, but he never remotely convinced me that his film was actually worth sitting through. At least not in a theater. (C MINUS.)
MEN--In the hopes of recovering from the trauma of her late husband's suicide, Harper ("The Lost Daughter" Oscar nominee Jesse Buckley) takes a two-week sabbatical in the English countryside where she encounters an endless procession of awful--and in some cases, downright sinister--men. The fact that they're all played by the same actor (Rory Kinnear in a bravura performance) insures that the audience remains as psychologically unhinged as Harper herself. Cult writer/director Alex ("Ex Machina," "Annihilation") Garland's terrifying and insanely provocative new film plays like a feminist response to David Cronenberg's legendary "body horror" movies (The Fly," "They Came from Within," et al), and the teasingly ambiguous ending will either blow your mind or make you want to throw something at the screen. As cinematic freak-outs go, it's very much in distributer A24's wheelhouse of cerebral chillers like "Hereditary," "Midsummar" and "The Witch." I dug it. (A MINUS.)
MR. KLEIN--In Vichy France, antique/art dealer Robert Klein (Alain Delon) makes a financial killing buying and selling artwork previously owned by Jews who are fleeing the country en masse. An opportunist with zero scruples and seemingly no moral compass, Klein's life of Aryan privilege is threatened when he's mistaken for another "Robert Klein," a Jew who's also a member of the French Resistance. The cat and mouse game that ensues as Klein stalks Klein in an attempt to clear his name is curiously removed from traditional movie "suspense." Instead, director Joseph ("The Go Between," "Accident") Losey chooses to play the Hitchcockian premise as an Antonioni-esque exercise in spatial dislocation and spiritual alienation. Interestingly enough, "Z"/"Missing" director Costa-Gavras was originally pegged to helm Franco ("The Battle of Algiers") Solinas' script. Losey, meanwhile, was otherwise engaged on a Marcel Proust adaptation that got stalled in pre-production hell. While I have no doubt that Gavras would have made a fine film directing his "State of Siege" scenarist's screenplay, Losey's more distanced, elliptical approach brings unexpected depth and layers of meaning to the cloak-and-dagger intrigue. Reuniting with Delon four years after 1972's "The Assassination of Trotsky" (another great Losey film crying out for a Blu-Ray release), Losey won the Best Director Cesar award--France's equivalent to the Oscars---and the film itself captured the Best Picture prize. Extras on the new Criterion Collection Blu-Ray include 1976 interviews with Losey and Delon; "Story of a Day," a 1986 documentary about the real-life rounding up and deportation of French Jews that figures prominently in the movie's climax; interviews with critic Michel Ciment and Henri Lanoe, one of the film's three editors; and an essay by British professor/critic Ginette Vincendeau that helps contextualize "Mr. Klein" within both Losey and Delon's oeuvres. (A.)
MR. MALCOLM'S LIST--Borrowing the multi-cultural casting that made Netflix's similar British period rom-com "Bridgerton" an international sensation, director Emma Holly Jones' charming adaptation of Suzanne Allain's best-selling, self-published 2009 novel is an unexpected treat. Sope Dirisu plays the titular role, London's most eligible bachelor and a bit of a prig who's compiled a list of requirements for any future mate. Any deviation results in immediate banishment. Spoiled heiress Julia (Zawe Ashten), the latest casualty, decides to get even for her humiliating rejection. She enlists the help of childhood friend Selina (Frieida Pinto of "Slumdog Millionaire" fame) to enact revenge. Julia instructs Selina on how to seduce Malcolm, then jilt him just when he's ready to pop the matrimonial question. Of course, true love always follows its own course, and there's both heartbreak and copious laughs along the way to a happily-ever-after conclusion. Allain modeled her tome on Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice," and Jones' film plays a lot like Austen Lite. While hardly original, it's pretty hard to resist for anyone willing to go along with the untraditional casting choices. (B.)
MRS. HARRIS GOES TO PARIS--Ada Harris (Lesley Manville), a widowed cleaning lady in mid-1950's England, saves up her hard-earned pounds for a trip to Paris so she can buy a dress from the House of Dior. That seemingly impulsive decision has a profound effect on her previously cosseted life. Mrs. Harris makes new friends (including Dior employees Lambert Wilson, Alba Baptiste and Lucas Bravo), single-handedly rallies on behalf of Dior seamstresses in danger of losing their jobs and makes a frenemy in Dior's haughty doyenne (a deliciously imperious Isabelle Huppert) who doesn't understand why a frumpy British matron would want, or even need, a Dior original. Director Anthony Fabian's Necco wafer-colored divertissement is a delicious throwback to the type of classy, but accessible film that used to be the bread, butter and foie gras of domestic arthouses. Whether mature audiences will turn out to make it the sleeper hit it deserves to be in 2022 remains to be seen. My one caveat is slavishly multicultural casting that weakens Fabian's otherwise painstaking verisimilitude. (Sorry, but the House of Dior would have never hired Black and Asian showroom models 60+ years ago.) Manville, no stranger to the world of haute couture thanks to her Oscar-nominated turn as Daniel Day Lewis' sister in Paul Thomas Anderson's "Phantom Thread," delivers a career performance that deserves to be remembered at Oscar time. (A MINUS.)
THE NORTHMAN--The word "visionary" is tossed around pretty loosely these days in marketing circles, but director Robert ("The Witch," "The Lighthouse") Eggers is one of the few who genuinely earns that lofty approbation. Eggers' latest--which also happens to be his most accessible film to date--is a 9th century Viking saga as proudly, stubbornly idiosyncratic as his previous work, but on a (much) grander scale. His distinct and distinctive worldview hasn't been diminished a whit by what I'm assuming was a vastly larger budget than he was previously accustomed to. Alexander Skarsgard plays the strapping Prince Amleth who has spent much of his life plotting bloody revenge against the uncle (Claes Bang) who slayed his father (Ethan Hawke) in a bid for his mother (Nicole Kidman, dependably strong). Yes, the Shakespearean allusions (hey there, Prince of Denmark) are all pretty much on the nose, down to Willem Dafoe's manic court jester who's an inspired mash-up of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. "Queens Gambit" breakout Anya Taylor-Joy is "Olga of the Birch Forest," Amleth's love interest and co-conspirator; turns out she's got vengeance on her mind, too. It's the kind of gleefully bonkers movie where Icelandic songbird Bjork shows up as a--what else?--blind seer. Although Eggers gilds the lily a bit with an overly generous 136-minute run time (the first half admittedly drags), this is precisely the kind of auteurist-filmmaking-on-an-epic-scale (think Francis Ford Coppola's "Apocalypse Now") that's mostly gone out of fashion in these days of cookie-cutter franchise tentpoles. I salute it. (A MINUS.)
PAWS OF FURY: THE LEGEND OF HANK--Samuel L. Jackson trains hapless pup Michael Cera on the ways of the samurai so he can save a village of dog-hating kitties from being decimated by dastardly rotter Ricky Gervais. If that brief plot synopsis sounds vaguely familiar, it's because this is a loose remake of Mel Brooks' "Blazing Saddles." Because it's a largely benign animated film aimed at a kiddie demographic, Brooks' edgy, non-p.c. humor is conspicuously (and predictably) absent. The CGI animation isn't appreciably better than anything you'd find on a Netflix 'toon series, but the screenplay--credited to seven, count 'em, writers--has enough scraps of "Saddles"-y wit to keep any accompanying grown-ups from bailing or falling asleep. (C PLUS.)
PINK FLAMINGOS--In the original Variety review, a critic described John Waters' career-launching provocation as "one of the most vile, stupid and repulsive films ever made." Establishment critical response never really improved over time either. While writing about "Pink Flamingos" at the time of its 25th anniversary, Grand Poobah Roger Ebert considered the movie so utterly loathsome that he didn't even bother awarding a star rating. Alrighty then. So I guess it's only fitting that the tony Criterion Collection would ultimately choose to release it on a splendiferous 50th (!?) anniversary collector's edition Blu-Ray. Not having seen "Flamingos" since January 1977--on a double bill with Waters' 1975 follow-up, "Female Trouble," at New York City's Cinema Village--I worried that it couldn't possibly live up to my initial "OMG, I can't believe what I'm watching!" and "This is so cool!" enthusiasm. Surely a half century of distance would render Waters' $12,000 mondo transgression, well, quaint. But like very few works from that era once deemed "shocking" or "taboo, "Flamingos" officially joins "The Devils," "Salo," "The Damned" and "Last Tango in Paris" as a rare cause celebre which remains every bit as nerve-rattling as it did back in the day. Future Waters drag queen superstar Divine (aka Glenn Milstead, Waters' high school buddy) had her signature role as Babs Jordan, the "Filthiest Person Alive." Living in a seedy Baltimore trailer park with her cretinous son (Danny Mills), an idolatrous floozy (Mary Vivien Pierce) and her clearly demented, gap-toothed mother (the incomparable Edith "Edie the Egg Lady" Massey), Babs is currently embroiled in a heated battle to defend her filthy crown from suburban weirdos Connie and Raymond Marble (Mink Stole and David Lochary). Although they ultimately foil the dastardly Marbles (revenge is a dish best served with tar, chicken feathers and a gun), Babs & Co. are ultimately forced to relocate to Boise, Idaho, culminating in one of the most notorious final scenes in underground cinema history. (Yes, dog poo is involved.) Included among the copious, Criterion-outdoes-themselves-once-again extras are "Divine Trash," Steve Yeagers' rollicking 1998 feature documentary about the making of the film ; two audio commentaries, both featuring Waters, taken from the 1997 Criterion laserdisc and a 2001 DVD; a chatty new conversation between Waters and fellow indie auteur Jim Jarmusch; Waters' guided tour of the movie's now-infamous Baltimore locations; deleted scenes/alternate takes; a collectible "Pink Phelgm-Ingo" barf bag; an essay by critic Howard Hampton which makes the case that "poor taste can be timeless" while referencing everyone from R.W. Fassbinder, Jean-Luc Godard, Douglas Sirk, Dusan Makavejev and the Marx Brothers; and a fond remembrance about the making of the film by Waters comrade in arms Cookie Mueller excerpted from Mueller's 1990 book, "Walking Through Clear Water on a Pool Painted Black." With such an embarrassment of goodies, how could I not give it anything but an (A PLUS)
SONIC THE HEDGEHOG 2--This sequel to the 2020 Sega videogame-derived kidflick whose theatrical release was cut short by Covid-19 theater closings basically repeats the formula that worked (sort of) the first time. Sonic (voiced again by Ben Schwartz) is happily ensconced in the Montana 'burbs with Tom (James Marsden) and Maddie (Tina Sumpter). But when they leave town to attend a family wedding in Hawaii, Sonic's old nemesis, Dr. Robotnik (Jim Carrey doing his best "Ace Ventura"-era Carrey), resurfaces, wreaking all sorts of cartoonish havoc. Aided by his echidna cohort Knuckles (Idris Elba; yes, Idris Elba), Robotnik seeks the Master Emerald that will allow him to--what else?--control the world. It's up to Sonic and fox pal Tails (Colleen O'Shaughnessey) to save humankind, but first they have to get into a lot of silly, rapid-fire comic shenanigans. Reprising his duties from "Sonic 1," director Jeff Fowler seems to have a lot more affection for the titular blue hedgehog than I do, hence the movie's overly generous two-hour-plus run time. But small kids, even those with no first-hand experience of the original game, are sure to love it. And probably a few of their vidgame-loving parents as well. (C PLUS.)
SPIN ME ROUND--Amber (Alison Brie), manager of a Bakersfield, California "Tuscan Grove" (think Olive Garden) franchise restaurant, is overjoyed when she's selected for an elite training workshop in Pisa, Italy. Her initial enthusiasm is quickly tempered when she gets the lay of the land. Instead of being housed in the luxury villa of chain founder/CEO Nick Martucci (Alessadro Nivola) as promised, Amber and her fellow wage earners are relegated to a blandly anonymous roadside motel. The clueless workshop "facilitator" (Ben Sinclair of HBO's "High Maintenance") can't go a minute without referring to his inane cue cards, and the other managers are all either weird (Zach Woods) or clingy-weird (Molly Shannon). Things improve exponentially once Amber is taken under the wing of Nick's personal assistant, Kat (a fantastic Aubrey Plaza). Amber's unexpected romantic getaway with Nick on a luxury yacht seems to be pointing the movie in the direction of a Millennial Harlequin Romance. But fans of director Jeff ("The Little Hours," "Joshy") Baena will instantly recognize his askew sense of humor, not to mention many of his favorite actors (besides returning players Plaza, Brie and Shannon, Fred Armisen turns up as an eccentric, very kinky artist). I wish the third act wasn't so deflating--once Plaza exits the film, the energy level dissipates precipitously--but the climactic kiss-off scene is both immensely gratifying and howlingly funny. (B.)
THE UNBEARABLE WEIGHT OF MASSIVE TALENT--Nicolas Cage plays himself in director Tom Gormican's waggishly amusing meta action-comedy that's maybe a little too clever for its own good, but still good fun. A cash-strapped Cage is coerced by his slickster Tinseltown agent (Neil Patrick Harris, predictably unctuous) into accepting a million dollar payday to attend a lavish birthday party in Mallorca hosted by superfan Javi Gutierrez (Pedro Pascal from Disney's "The Mandalorian"). Cage and Javi wind up bonding over their shared love for movies--not just Nic Cage movies either; even "Paddington 2" gets a shout-out--and quickly become BFFs. But when two CIA agents (Tiffany Haddish and Ike Barinholtz) show up and inform Nic that Javi is really the ruthless head of an international arms cartel, the "Leaving Las Vegas" Oscar winner is conflicted. Should he help bring down his new buddy, or save his butt instead? Loaded with goofy references to past Cage flicks ("The Rock" and "Con Air" are apparently sacrosanct in the Cage-Verse), the film is buoyed by Cage's "massive talent" and his off-the-charts chemistry with a wildly charismatic Pascal who's the most likable--dare I say, "lovable?--bad guy in recent memory. (B.)
VENGEANCE--Smarmy Brooklyn journalist Ben (B.J. Novak, who also wrote and directed) travels to a tiny West Texas oil town for the funeral of a former hook-up (Lio Tipton). Apparently the dead girl's family thought he was her soon-to-be-fiance, and since Ben has podcast ambitions he figures it'll be grist for a new online sensation. What he hadn't anticipated was how warm a welcome he'd receive from said family, or that everyone--especially big brother Ty (Boyd Holbrook)--is convinced she was murdered. (The official cause of death was an opioid overdose.) This twisty dark comedy would have probably benefited from a different leading man: sitcom veteran Novak strikes too callow a presence, and his performance carries precious little emotional heft. But the supporting cast (including a never-better Ashton Kutcher as a Yale-educated music producer who knows more about the girl's death than he initially lets on) is terrific, and the movie held me right up to its unexpectedly touching ending. (B.)
---Milan Paurich