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THE ALMOND AND THE SEAHORSE--Rebel Wilson, best known for the "Pitch Perfect" comedies, has her first dramatic role in this well-intentioned, but disappointingly prosaic medical soap opera adapted from Kate O'Reilly's stage play. Wilson plays Sarah, an archeologist whose husband (Celyn Jones who co-directed with Tom Stern) suffers from amnesia after a traumatic brain injury. While visiting him in the hospital, she winds up striking romantic sparks with Charlotte Gainsbourg's Toni, another wife whose spouse (Trine Dyholm) has a similar diagnosis. The fleeting romance that develops between formerly heterosexual Sarah and the openly gay Toni is unpersuasive at best, and the film works best as a kind of therapeutic aid for family members of TBI patients. (C.)
AVATAR: THE WAY OF WATER--The first of James Cameron's promised "Avatar" sequels (three more are currently in production) has finally arrived, a mere 13 years after the original. To be perfectly honest, I hardly remember the first "Avatar" all that well despite having put it on my 2009 10-best list. (It was #7; I looked it up.) So this $350-million follow-up felt less like a continuation of an ongoing story than a standalone movie with cutting-edge CGI that will surely become the industry standard for decades to come. Paralyzed former Marine Jake (Sam Worthington) remains the series' leading character, now a full-fledged Na'vi himself thanks to having married Neytiri (Zoe Saldana) with whom he's started a family. (They have four kids.) Their antagonists are the "Sky People," led by the dastardly Colonel Quaritch (Stephen Lang, another holdover from the earlier film) whose mission is to colonize Edenic Pandora with displaced earthlings, thereby upsetting the ecological balance of the universe. To help ward off this imminent threat, Jake and his fellow Na'vis form an alliance with the Metkayina clan who are pretty much identical to the Na'vis except for their Maori-like tribal tattoos. But like most Cameron movies, plot--and dialogue which remains his Achilles Heel--takes a back seat to sheer, knock-your-socks-off spectacle. And on that count, "The Way of Water" truly delivers. The underwater sequences are particularly mind-blowing: so uncannily tactile and immersive they're like a Virtual Reality theme park ride minus the dorky headsets. Cameron's assiduous attention to world-building dwarfs every other fantasy franchise/tentpole you've ever seen, and pretty much rewrites the book on what an "event movie" is supposed to be. It's safe to say that we ain't seen nuthin' yet. (A.)
BLACK ADAM--Dwayne Johnson plays D.C. Comics B-list (anti)-hero Teth "Black" Adam who's awakened after 5,000 years of hibernation to battle the Intergang rotters who violently overthrew the government of peaceful Middle Eastern kingdom Kahndaq. Hoping to keep a check on Adam's anger management issues--the big guy's first instinct is to kill anyone who annoys him--are Doctor Fate (former 007 Pierce Brosnan having a larf) and the Justice Society (whose best known member is Netflix heartthrob Noah Centineo). Director Jaume Collet-Sera's brightly colored, fast-moving $200-million comic book throwaway will probably suffice for diehard comics fans. Everyone else should probably just stay home and save their money since it'll be on HBO MAX before Christmas Day. (C PLUS.)
BLACK PANTHER: WAKANDA FOREVER--How do you make a 161-minute Black Panther movie without the Black Panther/King T'Challa (the late Chadwick Boseman)? Very, very carefully. Ryan Coogler's sequel to his 2018 Marvel blockbuster treads a fine line between Afrocentric boosterism and comic book mayhem, and it's not really a comfortable fit. Accordingly, the Wakanda scenes are infinitely more interesting--and certainly more colorful thanks to some truly spectacular costume and production design--than the fairly rote action setpieces. This sophomore entry in Marvel's billion dollar franchise feels like a placeholder until they finally get around to recasting the lead role. (C.)
BONES AND ALL--Luca Guadagnino reunites with his "Call Me by Your Name" star Timothee Chalamet for something completely different: a young cannibal-lovers on the run artflick. Chalamet's James Dean-ish Lee hooks up with comely teen runaway Maren (Taylor Russell), a fellow eater, and the two travel the backroads of an eerily depopulated American Midwest satisfying their mutual appetites. Guadagnino plays the material--based on Camille DeAngelis' Alex Award-winning 2016 YA novel--as a sort of uber-stylized cross between Terrence Malick's "Badlands" and Kathryn Bigelow's Southwestern vampire noir "Near Dark." But since it's Guadagnino, one of the most unapologetically sensual filmmakers working today, it's also stunningly, even rapturously beautiful at times. The uber-photogenic leads are both terrific, and Oscar winner Mark Rylance steals his share of scenes as Maren's loquacious, flesh-eating mentor. (Rylance's Sully is like a Mark Twain character if Twain had written about teen cannibals instead of tween hooligans like Tom and Huck.) Besides hunger, the principle engine fueling the plot is Maren's search for her missing mom (a haunting Chloe Sevigny) whose flesh-eating gene she inherited. And while this clearly isn't a film for everyone, it definitely has "Future Cult Movie" written all over it. I loved it. (A.)
DEVOTION--Jesse Brown (Jonathan Majors), the first Black aviator in naval history, is the subject of director J.D. ("Sleight") Dillard's disappointingly conventional social justice drama. And the decision to tell Brown's story through the eyes of a white fellow member of his Flight Squadron 32 ("Top Gun: Maverick" costar Glen Powell's Tom Hudner) feels stunningly retrograde. Brown, who's been described as the aerial Jackie Robinson, deserved a better and less cliched biopic than this. While it's not inept like 2012's Tuskegee Airmen movie "Red Tails"--the flight sequences are truly state of the art--it's nearly as cookie-cutter dull. Nice performances by Majors, Powell and Christina Jackson as Brown's devoted wife, but they're playing 1950's movie stereotypes, not their real-life, flesh-and-blood counterparts (C.)
THE FABELMANS--Steven Spielberg's quasi-autobiographical film about growing up as a movie nerd in the 1960's is both a love letter to his parents (warmly played by Paul Dano and Michelle Williams) as well as the entire filmmaking process itself. Spielberg surrogate Sammy Fabelman (appealing newcomer Gabriel LaBelle) navigates the usual teen angst as his family relocates from Arizona to Northern California--where he experiences some virulent anti-Semitism from preppie classmates--while beginning to forge his identity as a fledgling auteur. Although this two-and-a-half hour film takes awhile to kick into gear (the first half is, admittedly, a tad sluggish), the ultimate effect is deeply moving and, for Spielberg and probably a good chunk of the audience, emotionally cathartic. Wonderful support from, among others, Seth Rogen, Jeannie Berlin, Judd Hirsch and, in a delightful cameo, David Lynch as legendary Hollywood director John Ford. (A.)
A FISH IN THE BATHTUB--While the last theatrical feature directed by Joan Micklin Silver isn't remotely in the same league as the indie stalwart's finest work ("Hester Street," "Chilly Scenes of Winter" and "Crossing Delancey"), it's modestly appealing and splendidly acted by a first-rate cast. Real-life couple Jerry Stiller and Anne Meara play Sam and Molly whose 40-year marriage hits the skids after Sam puts a live carp in their bathtub (don't ask). Molly moves in with their son Joel (Mark Ruffalo in an early screen role) and his wife (Missy Yeager), eventually dipping her toe back into the dating pool. An obstinate Sam stubbornly refuses help from daughter Ruthie (Jane Adams), and mostly just hangs out with his neighborhood buddies whose patience is sorely tested by his increasing eccentricities. (That carp is the least of it.) If the film ultimately has the feel of a big-screen "Seinfeld" spin-off revolving around George's parents--Stiller played Jason Alexander's dad on the long-running NBC sitcom--that's okay. And casting so many beloved TV faces (Phyllis Newman, Doris Roberts, Paul Benedict and Louis Zorich) gives the whole thing a cozy, down home vibe that's pretty irresistible. The Cohen Film Collection Blu-Ray includes an onstage Q&A with Micklin Silver, as well as the 1998 theatrical trailer and 20th anniversary re-release trailer. (B.)
GIRL ON A MOTORCYCLE--One of the first movies to receive the MPAA's scarlet "X" rating when it opened in late 1968, Jack ("Sons and Lovers") Cardiff's steamy erotic melodrama has all the intellectual heft of a Vogue Magazine photo spread. It's also a bonafide guilty pleasure. A year before playing Ophelia opposite Nicol Williamson in Tony Richardson's "Hamlet," Marianne ("As Tears Go By") Faithful had her first leading screen role as frustrated housewife Rebecca who impulsively decides to ride her bike from Alsace to Heidelberg to reunite with lover Daniel (European screen icon Alain Delon). En route, Rebecca flashes back to some of her steamier bedroom escapades with Daniel, as well as trippy, Peter Max-inspired hallucinations. It's all very groovy, unapologetically sexy and mildly demented. The film is stunningly lensed by Cardiff who began his career as a cinematographer, shooting all-time classics like Michael Powell's "Black Narcissus" and "The Red Shoes" before segueing into directing. Remarkably, it was also Cardiff's second '68 movie as both director and cinematographer ("Dark of the Sun," an equally cult-y, ultra-violent Rod Taylor/Jim Brown Congo actioner, preceded it by a mere five months). "Motorcycle"--retitled "Naked Under Leather" once it hit flyover states--has been beautifully restored by Kino Lorber on their newly issued Studio Classics Blu-Ray, and the disc includes two audio commentary tracks (one by Cardiff, the other with film historian Alexandra Heller-Nicholas) as well as the original theatrical trailer. (B PLUS.)
LYLE, LYLE, CROCODILE--Co-directors Will Speck and Josh Gordon--better known for adult-leaning comedies like "Office Christmas Party" and "Blades of Glory"--go the family movie route with a big-screen adaptation of Bernard Waber's beloved 1960's kid-lit series. Teen idol Shawn Mendes voices the bath-loving croc crooner who moves into the Manhattan attic of the Primm family (Scoot McNairy, Constance Wu and Winslow Fegley) with his eccentric handler, Hector Valenti (Oscar-winner Javier Bardem in a scene-stealing performance). Naturally there's a spoilsport neighbor (Brett Gelman's aptly monikered Mr. Grumps) who wants to have Lyle evicted, but Lyle's charm and innate decency eventually win the day. While it's clearly geared for a (very young) demographic, adults who dug the "Stuart Little" movies and "Clifford the Big Red Dog" won't hate themselves for accompanying their wee bairns for a matinee. (C PLUS.)
THE MENU--The sociopathic chef-owner (Ralph Fiennes) of a chi-chi restaurant located on a private island that charges $1,250 per person unleashes his inner Jigsaw on well-heeled patrons in director Mark Mylod's biliously amusing foodie/horror flick. Mylod, who cut his teeth on HBO's "Succession," definitely knows how to flambé the 1%, and watching the rich, entitled and pompous squirm is both exhilarating and weirdly cathartic. As the only diner brave enough to stand up to Chef's murderous impulses, Anya Taylor-Joy of "Queen's Gambit" fame is fantastic as the movie's de facto audience surrogate. Good support from, among others, Nicholas Hoult (Taylor-Joy's preening yuppie date), Janet McTeer (an imperious restaurant critic), and John Leguizamo (a deluded fading movie star anxious to impress his soon-to-be-ex agent). You'll probably want to eat before seeing the movie, however. (B PLUS.)
ON THE YARD/A WALK ON THE MOON--The only two films directed by "Hester Street"/"Crossing Delancey" auteur Joan Micklin Silver's producer/screenwriter husband Raphael D. Silver have been thoughtfully released as a two-fer Blu-Ray by Cohen Film Collection, and it's revelatory. "Yard," which I frankly didn't care for when I first saw it in early 1979, now looks like a minor masterpiece. Adapted by Malcolm Braly from his own book (Kurt Vonnegut Jr. described it as "the great American prison novel"), it's unlike just about any prison movie you've ever seen. For starters, it's much quieter and more contemplative than the norm. While most prison flicks traffik in exploitative violence and leering homoeroticism, Silver's film has a naturalistic, even humanistic quality. Plus, it's beautifully acted by a cast of then-newcomers (including the amazing Thomas G. Waites, John Heard and James Remar) and character actor MVPs (Mike Kellin, Richard Bright, Lane Smith, Joe Grifasi). I have no idea why Waites--as big man on the cell block Chilly--didn't become a star. Didn't any Hollywood casting directors see this movie when it opened? Waites should have been well on his way to becoming the next Al Pacino (the former Michael Corleone actually served as a mentor of sorts in Waites' more successful New York stage career). Instead, he essentially vanished by the mid-'80s after a few smallish roles in films like Walter Hill's "The Warriors" and John Carpenter's "The Thing." Waites is now a widely respected acting teacher, but it's depressing to consider the screen carer he might (and should) have had.Silver's even more obscure "A Walk on the Moon," not to be confused with Tony Goldwyn's same-named 1998 film starring Viggo Mortensen and Diane Lane, was never even released theatrically in the U.S. Steppenwolf Theatre repertory members Kevin Anderson, Terry Kinney and Laila Robins, all very good, play a motley trio of Peace Corps workers toiling in 1969 Colombia. The movie's weakest element is William H. Mai's screenplay which only gives the actors one note apiece: Anderson is idealistic/naive; Kinney, cynical; and Robins, pragmatic. But the performances are so compelling--and cinematographer Adam ("The Terminator," "Near Dark") Greenberg does such a remarkable job of establishing the setting as a living, breathing presence, even if it was actually shot in Mexico rather than South America--that the script deficiencies hardly matter. No extras. "Yard" (A MINUS); "Walk" (B).
PREY FOR THE DEVIL--A young nun with mommy issues is recruited for exorcism duties in this pro-forma horror flick by German director Daniel Stamm whose "The Last Exorcism" from 2010 was a considerably more original take on a genre that's been on life support since the mid-'70s. Sister Ann (a wan Jacqueline Byers) assists a priest (Christian Navarro) in the exorcising of the same demonic spirit who possessed her mother years earlier. Is it a coincidence, or something more sinister? Good veteran actors like Virginia Madsen and Ben Cross are wasted on nothing roles, and the whole thing has a rote, been-there-exorcised-that vibe. Your time would be much better spent rewatching 1973's "The Exorcist" on HBO MAX. (C MINUS.)
SMILE--After a patient (Caitlin Stasey) kills herself during their therapy session, trauma psychologist Rose (Sosie Bacon) begins seeing the same kind of terrifying apparitions that drove her former patient to suicide. First-time feature director Parker Finn's horror flick overdoes the jump scares--and borrows a bit too promiscuously from both the "Grudge" and "Ring" playbooks--but Bacon's supremely grounded, deeply empathetic performance helps maintain viewer interest despite an overly generous 115-minute run time. (C PLUS.)
SPOILER ALERT--When Smurf-loving TV journalist Michael (Jim Parsons) meets fledgling photographer and professional cynic Kit (Ben Aldridge) in a Manhattan gay bar, neither expects it will lead to a 13-year relationship. But their opposites-attract coupledom proved to be the real deal, a true-life love story chronicled in Michael ("The Big Sick," "The Eyes of Tammy Faye") Showalter's affecting screen adaptation of Michael Ausiello's best-selling 2017 memoir. The fact that Kit eventually dies of cancer--that's where the "spoiler alert" comes in--gives the film a gay "Love Story" vibe, but it's the humor and palpable affection between the characters that you'll remember. Parsons and Aldridge are terrific, but the film is stolen by Sally Field (who starred in Showalter's "My Name is Doris") and Bill Irwin as Kit's not-that-square Ohio parents. (B.)
STRANGE WORLD--One of the ugliest looking 'toons in the history of Walt Disney Animation Studios, this lackluster collaboration between the director (Don Hall) and writer (Qui Nguyen) of last year's infinitely better "Raya and the Last Dragon" should have probably gone straight to Disney+. There's certainly nothing about this Jules Verne-y knockoff--not the drab visuals, hackneyed storyline or charmless characters--that merits a multiplex outing. Jake Gyllenhaal and Dennis Quaidplay Searcher and Jaeger Clade, father and son explorers whose latest adventure involves the hunt for "Pando," a precious green energy source that's in dangerously short supply. Along for the journey to the center of the earth are Searcher's wife Meridian (Gabrielle Union) and their annoying teenage scion Ethan (Jaboukie Young-White). There's also a three-legged pet dog and blue blob "Splat" vying for screen time and--it's cash-conscious Disney, after all--lucrative merchandising possibilities. The film's labored progressive agenda (the Clades are a loving biracial family, Ethan is gay and there's even a heavy-handed environmental message) is sure to antagonize MAGA households. Quaid and Gyllenhaal previously played dad and son in Roland Emmerich's 2004 disaster flick, "The Day After Tomorrow." This time it's the movie that's the real disaster. (D.)
TICKET TO PARADISE--Julia Roberts and George Clooney play an acrimoniously divorced couple who reluctantly join forces to help squelch daughter Kaitlyn Dever's Bali wedding to a man she barely knows in Ole ("The Exotic Marigold Hotel" movies) Parker's modern spin on the "comedies of remarriage" ("The Awful Truth," "The Philadelphia Story," et al).that were a staple of Golden Age Hollywood. Clooney and Roberts have always had great screen chemistry; they could have been the Millennial Tracy and Hepburn if anyone was still making Tracy and Hepburn movies. And watching them trade affection-laced barbs for two hours feels a bit like nirvana in an increasingly grown-up movie-starved theatrical climate. While nobody will ever confuse this with a classic rom-com, it's still one of the season's most purely pleasurable indulgences. (B PLUS.)
THE VELVET UNDERGROUND--Unlike most music documentaries that unimaginatively mix-and-match talking heads interviews with archival performance footage, Todd ("I'm Not There," "Velvet Goldmine") Haynes' film about the experimental and wildly influential New York rock band is itself a kind of cinematic performance art. Taking its stylistic cues from the underground movies of the 1960's--the Velvet Underground began their career as a sort of house band for Andy Warhol's Factory--Haynes' doc has as much sensory overload as a V/A live show. (Haynes uses split screen more effectively than any director since vintage Brian DePalma.) One of the most amusing revelations is that it was Warhol who insisted Nordic chanteuse Nico become a member of the Underground; he likened her presence to "a blonde iceberg in the middle of the stage." The film is as much a retrospective, and deeply nostalgic, look at '60s NYC, as it is a memorial to Lou Reed, et al. The Criterion Collection Blu-Ray includes an audio commentary with Haynes and editors Adam Kurnitz and Alfonso Goncalves; outtakes of interviews with onscreen contributors Jonathan Richman, Mary Woronov and Jonas Mekas; Haynes in a 2021 conversation with surviving V/A bandmates John Cale and Maureen Tucker; complete versions of three of the avant garde films excerpted in the movie (two by Mekas); and rock critic Greil Marcus' steely-eyed essay, originally published in the New York Review of Books. (A.)
VIOLENT NIGHT--If Bruce Willis' "Die Hard" character John McClane had been Santa Claus instead of an NYPD cop, he would've been David ("Stranger Things") Harbour's Kris Kringle in director Tommy ("Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters") Winkola's wink-wink, nudge-nudge Yuletide actioner. While delivering presents at the Greenwich, Connecticut mansion of a wealthy industrialist--what? they couldn't afford to buy their own presents?--Santa encounters a posse of burglars hoping to steal $300-million. It evolves into a slightly more grown-up version of "Home Alone" with Mr. Claus booby-trapping the house to take down the bad guys. It's all very silly and absurdly hyper-violent (the title alone serves as a warning), but passably entertaining as long as you don't take any of it seriously. (C PLUS.)
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AMSTERDAM--"Silver Linings Playbook"/"American Hustle" auteur David O. Russell's first film since 2015's "Joy" is an all-star, wildly ambitious, multi-tiered murder mystery with real-life historical bona fides. (An opening title card informs us that "A lot of this really happened.") It's also a helluva lot of fun. Christian Bale, Margot Robbie and John David Washington play two American soldiers and a volunteer nurse who meet during WW I--yes, Amsterdam the city plays a major role in the plot--and become lifelong pals. The main bulk of the action takes place in 1933 New York City, however, where the reunited trio become amateur sleuths who, with the help of Robert DeNiro's retired general, help solve a murder AND uncover a fascist conspiracy to overthrow the U.S. government. Any movie that finds room for juicy supporting turns by (among others) Chris Rock, Anya Taylor-Joy, Rami Malek, Michael Shannon, Taylor Swift and Mike Myers is clearly playing in the big leagues, and Russell's movie is an embarrassment of riches. Yes, the frenetic, frequently confounding narrative with its groaning board of characters you sometimes need a scorecard to keep track of would have probably been more ideally suited to the leisurely rhythms of a limited HBO or Netflix series. But I haven't seen a more raucously entertaining, beautifully acted, stunningly lensed (courtesy of Emmanuel Lubezki, Terrence Malick's DP of choice) or downright exhilarating studio film this year. That said, I'm not sure what multiplex audiences accustomed to the cheap sugar highs of franchise gruel will make of it. With luck, it should develop a cult following that will only grow exponentially over the years/decades. I can definitely picture it becoming a TCM programming staple in 2066. (A.)
ARMAGEDDON TIME--It feels like the end of the world to sixth grader Paul Graff (impressive newcomer Banks Repta) when he's taken out of his Queens public school and enrolled in the elite Forest Hills Academy. Not only is he leaving behind his only friend, African-American Johnny (Jaylin Webb), but he feels like a social pariah at Donald Trump's alma mater whose students are all considerably more well-off and, pointedly, a lot less Jewish. Distracted by financial hardships, Paul's well-meaning parents--schoolteacher Esther (Anne Hathaway) and plumber Irving (Jeremy Strong from HBO's "Succession")--are seemingly oblivious to their son's roiling angst. As a result, he turns to his maternal grandfather, Aaron (Anthony Hopkins), for emotional succor. As a Holocaust survivor, Aaron knows a thing or two about anti-Semitism. Director James ("Ad Astra," "The Lost City of Z") Gray's semi-autobiographical chronicle of his own Queens boyhood in the early 1980's is one of the year's loveliest, most heartfelt and deeply touching films. The conspicuous lack of sentimentality that has been a hallmark of Gray's work serves him well here. This isn't one of those maudlin, rose-colored memory pieces: it's as iron-willed and devoid of self-pity as Paul and his granddad, and all the stronger for that. Which means that when you eventually shed a tear (and you will), they're both well-earned and profoundly cathartic. (A.)
THE BANSHEES OF INISHERIN--When lifelong friend Colm (Brendan Gleeson) announces seemingly out of the blue, "I just don't like you no more," Padraic (Colin Farrell) is so devastated he makes it his mission to change Colm's mind. Enlisting the support of his sister (Kerry Condon) and a local lad (Barry Keoghan), Padraic soon discovers that their entire island community on the west coast of Ireland has a stake in the outcome. Set in 1923, writer/director Martin ("Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri) McDonagh's fantastic new movie has the whimsy and inadvertent gravity of a fable passed down through generations. McDonagh's dual career as one of the leading playwrights of his generation is evidenced in his wonderfully idiosyncratic dialogue--profane and poetic at the same time--which his stellar cast delivers in typically bravura fashion. Farrell and Gleeson, who memorably played a pair of hapless hitmen in McDonagh's 2008 filmmaking debut (2008's "In Bruges"), give career performances that are sure to be remembered at awards time. You'll never see the ending coming, but it's guaranteed to knock the wind out of your sails. I was shaken and stirred. (A.)
BARBARIAN--When she checks into the Detroit Airbnb she rented online, Tess (Georgina Campbell) is annoyed to discover that the owner double-booked and there's already a man ("It" killer clown Bill Skarsgard) staying there. Her decision to stay the night--it's late, and she's in Detroit after all--turns out to be, er, unwise. Zach Cregger's full-throttle, balls-to-the-wall horror flick is one of the most audacious, fully-realized and, yes, flat-out terrifying chiller in many a moon. And considering the fact that Cregger's sole previous directorial credit was co-helming the dreadful 2009 frat-boy comedy "Miss March," it also seems a bit like a miracle. Fans will be rehashing (and re-watching) this film for decades to come. It might even turn out to be a game-changer for the entire horror genre. (A MINUS.)
BLOW OUT--When Brian DePalma's "Blow Out" opened in 1981, critics--even critics who normally turned up their nose at DePalma's Hitchcockian riffing--took notice. Unfortunately, audiences mostly stayed away. Released at the end of a summer in which Steven Spielberg's "Raiders of the Lost Ark" ruled the box office, this downbeat, cynical paranoid thriller seemed curiously out of step with audience taste. Reuniting with his "Carrie" director, John Travolta gave one of his finest screen performances as Philadelphia-based sound-effects ace Jack who accidentally records a political assassination while scouting ambient nighttime sounds for a new movie. Assisting him in his sleuthing is not-so-happy hooker Sally (Nancy Allen in her second call girl in a row role for then-husband DePalma after the previous year's "Dressed to Kill:" discuss), and their increasingly daring exploits put both in mortal danger. In one of his early screen roles, John Lithgow plays the wonderfully creepy villain. (Lithgow also played the heavy in DePalma's "Obsession" five years earlier.) DePalma wasn't shy at acknowledging both Antonioni's "Blow Up" and Coppola's "The Conversation" as major influences, and together they form a sort of unofficial trilogy. While Antonioni copped a detached--dare I say "alienated"?--attitude towards his "Big Reveal" and Coppola's film ended with Gene Hackman's Harry Caul descending into madness, "Blow Out" concludes in an almost nihilistic fashion as Jack ostensibly surrenders to The Man. The system is fixed; he's in over his head; why bother? See what I meant about "cynical" and "downbeat"? No wonder audiences stayed away in droves. But like many DePalma films that either flopped or did only so-so business in their initial release (e.g., 1974's "Phantom of the Paradise" and 1989's "Casualties of War"), "Blow Out" has had an enviable second life, now widely regarded as a masterpiece and one of the key American films of its decade. The Criterion Collection's new 2-disc set has a treasure trove of extras, including both a 4K UHD disc presented in Dolby Vision HDR and a gorgeous Blu-Ray transfer; interviews with DePalma (conducted by "Marriage Story" director/ DePalma fanboy Noah Baumbach), Allen and cameraman Garrett Brown who discusses his use of a Steadicam in the movie; on-set photographs by Louis Goldman; DePalma's groovy, notoriously difficult to see 1967 feature debut, "Murder a la Mod;" Michael Sragow's essay "American Scream;" and Pauline Kael's wildly effusive original New Yorker review. (A PLUS.)
BROS--The first big studio gay rom-com since 2018's "Love, Simon," Nicholas ("Forgetting Sarah Marshall," the "Neighbors" movies) Stoller's fitfully amusing new film stars Billy ("Difficult People") Eichner as Bobby, a deeply cynical, romantically challenged podcaster who's also the director of an LGBTQ+ cultural museum. Billy's luck seems to change when he meets guppie Ken Doll Aaron (Luke Macfarland). But being the incurable pessimist he is, Billy does pretty much everything he can to sabotage their burgeoning relationship. Alternately frothy and raunchy, this is pretty much what you'd expect from producer Judd Apatow who has a knack for casting established comic performers like Amy Schumer ("Tranwreck") and Peter Davidson ("The King of Staten Island") in quasi autobiographical roles. While Eichner isn't in Schumer or even Davidson's league thesping-wise--he pretty much hits the same note whatever emotion Billy is expressing--he's a great quipster, and the movie is good, shallow fun. (B MINUS.)
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.)
DON'T WORRY, DARLING--The eagerly awaited reunion between the director (Olivia Wilde) and screenwriter (Katie Silberman) of 2019's "Booksmart" turns out to be something of a flatliner. As anyone who's seen the trailer--which was positively ubiquitous in theaters this summer--could tell you, it's basically "Stepford Wives 2.0." Or "Stepford Wives 2.0" if a Jordan Peele wannabe was calling the creative shots. The great Florence ("Midsommer," "Little Women") Pugh plays Alice, wife of yuppie hotshot Jack (former teen idol Harry Styles who's unaccountably bland and evinces zero chemistry with Pugh). The couple has recently moved into a retro SoCal subdivision that looks like something out of a 1950's fever dream where "Leave it to Beaver" wives stay home to cook and clean while their hubbies work 9 to 5 on a hush-hush project overseen by the vaguely sinister Frank (Chris Pine oozing Rat Pack sleaze). It's Alice who belatedly susses out that something's not quite right in "Victory Town." Of course, it takes the suicide of fellow housewife/BFF Margaret (KiKi Layne), one half of the only African-American couple in their cosseted enclave, to finally wake her up. Wilde's movie is all build-up, and once the pieces finally fall into place it's hard not to stifle a "saw-it-coming" yawn. Pugh and Pine are both very good, and the art direction wittily replicates the synthetic, seductive feel of '50s Americana. I just wish the film itself was worthy of their labors. (C.)
HALLOWEEN ENDS--Wanna bet? The conclusion of director David Gordon Green's rebooted "Halloween" trilogy climaxes with the long-teased final-final showdown between Jamie Lee Curtis' Laurie Strode and masked madman Michael Myers. If you really believe this is the end of a billion dollar slasher movie franchise, you probably think the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny vacation together every summer in Cabo. (C PLUS.)
LOST HIGHWAY--By 1997, most people seemed to have grown impatient with David Lynch. Hence the chilly reception this movie received from both critics and audiences at the time of its release. Maybe it was the lack of closure to Lynch's "Twin Peaks" TV series. Or perhaps the generally perceived "self-indulgence" of his most recent big-screen films ("Wild at Heart" and "Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me") cooled them on the visionary "Eraserhead"/"Blue Velvet" auteur. But as someone who loved "Lost Highway" at first sight--I saw it on opening day at an Orlando, Florida multiplex where half the audience walked out before the movie ended--living to see the Criterion Collection release this legendary film maudit feels an awful lot like poetic justice. In a 180-degree switch from his role the previous summer as the alien-busting president in Roland Emmerich's "Independence Day," Bill Pullman plays Fred Madison, an L.A. jazz musician who's accused of murdering his wife Renee (Patricia Arquette). The fact that Fred somehow morphs into Pete (Balthazar Getty), a considerably younger auto mechanic, while cooling his heels in a jail cell is the least of the movie's bewildering dualisms. How about Renee somehow being transformed into "Alice," the mistress of an abusive hoodlum (a properly terrifying Robert Loggia)? And I haven't even mentioned the "far out, man" supporting cast which includes everyone from Richard Pryor in one of his last screen roles, Gary Busey, musician Henry Rollins, Lynch repertory player Jack Nance and Robert Blake (gulp) as "The Mystery Man" whose hauntingly cryptic words to Fred at a party ("We met at your house; as a matter of fact, I'm there right now") may--or may not--hold the secret to the myriad, shape-shifting mysteries that are afoot. As much film noir as science fiction/horror, "Highway" marked the second and final collaboration between Lynch and author Barry Gifford (who penned the book "Wild at Heart" was based on), and it's a doozy. Extras on the newly released Blu-Ray include Toby Keeler's indispensable feature-length 1997 documentary, "Pretty as a Picture: The Art of David Lynch," featuring Lynch, Gifford and frequent creative associates Angelo Badalamenti and Mary Sweeney; archival interviews with Lynch, Pullman, Arquette and Loggia; a suitably otherworldly reading by Lynch and critic Kristine McKenna of excerpts from their 2018 book, "Room to Dream;" and selections from an interview with Lynch taken from Chris Rodley's scholarly tome, "Lynch on Lynch." (A.)
MALCOLM X--A great American movie by one of America's finest living filmmakers, Spike Lee's 1992 cradle-to-the-grave biopic of the titular civil rights leader finally receives the Criterion Collection treatment--and was well worth the wait. Anchored by Denzel Washington's towering performance as the divisive Muslim figurehead who was assassinated in 1965, it's one of the few movies in modern screen history to feel truly "epic." At three hours and 21 minutes, it has the breadth, depth and scope/vision of the type of 1960's roadshow movies that, ironically, would have never deemed Malcolm an "appropriate," or even deserving subject for biographical treatment. Born to a minister father, Malcolm Little eventually rebelled from his strict religious upbringing and served jail time for burglary. It was in prison that the future Malcolm X was introduced to the Nation of Islam, becoming one of its most devout and dedicated followers. A later pilgrimage to Mecca helped Malcolm change his "whites are the devils" mantra, ultimately preaching that all races needed to coexist and work together. Superb supporting turns from Angela Bassett (Malcolm's wife, Betty), Al Freeman Jr. (Elijah Muhammad) and Delroy Lindo (West Indian Archie). The late film critic Roger Ebert once called Lee's films exercises in empathy. Besides "Do the Right Thing," I can't think of another Lee joint more worthy of that description than this masterpiece. The Criterion Blu-Ray has a cornucopia of extras, including a 2005 audio commentary with Lee, cinematographer Ernest Dickerson, editor Barry Alexander Brown and costume designer Ruth E. Carter; contemporaneous chats with Lee, Brown, Lindo and composer Terrence Blanchard; a making of featurette with, among others, Lee, Washington, Dickerson, Brown, Blanchard, Carter, Ossie Davis, Martin Scorsese and Ilyasah Shabazz (Malcolm X's daughter); co-screenwriter Arnold Perl's feature-length 1972 documentary, "Malcolm X;" deleted scenes introduced by Lee; an essay by journalist/ screenwriter Barry Michael Cooper; Lee and Washington excerpts from the 1992 book, "By Any Means Necessary: The Trials of Tribulations of the Making of 'Malcolm X;'" and Davis' stirring 1965 funeral eulogy for Malcolm X. (A PLUS.)
PEARL--The prequel teased in the closing credits of spring's "X" has finally arrived, and it's an even richer experience than the movie that preceded it. Set in 1918--versus the 1979 of "X"--Ti West's companion piece wittily contextualizes the character of Maxine, the bloodthirsty old lady who wreaked havoc on the amateur porn gang from the earlier film. Played by the same preternaturally gifted Mia Goth who was the ambitious starlet and "Last Girl Standing" in "X," Maxine is a young bride who's going progressively batty sequestered on her parents' Texas farm while her husband is off fighting in WW I. Maxine sets all of her showbiz dreams on a dance audition which she hopes will draw the attention of Hollywood talent scouts. But when that doesn't happen, she begins to act out in the most appalling (and gruesome) fashion possible. Shot in voluptuous widescreen color by director of photography Eliot Rockett, the movie feels a bit like the 1950's horror flick Douglas ("Imitation of Life," "Written on the Wind") Sirk never directed. It's like nothing you've ever seen before, and that's a very good thing. Like "X," cult immortality awaits the latest one-of-a-kind A24 corker. (A MINUS.)
SEE HOW THEY RUN--A delectably old-fashioned murder mystery set against the glittery backdrop of London's West End in 1953. Sam Rockwell plays Scotland Yard Inspector Stoppard tasked with finding out who murdered Hollywood director Leo Kopernick (Adrien Brody, narrating the movie from beyond the grave) at a party commemorating the 100th performance of Agatha Christie's "The Mousetrap." (Kopernick had recently been hired to helm the movie version.) Assisting Stoppard is eager beaver Police Constable Stalker (a delightful Saoirse Ronan), and the range of suspects are so vast Christie herself would have had an aneurism keeping tracking of them. Could it be the persnickety screenwriter (David Oyelow) whose script Kopernick dissed? Or maybe the "Mousetrap" star (Harris Dickinson) who thought Kopernick had romantic designs on his wife? Perhaps it's the play's suspicious producer (Ruth Wilson of Showtime's "The Affair")? Director Tom George shoots much of the film in split screen, and instead of being distracting it actually enhances both the suspense and (considerable) humor. Except for some virtue-signaling multicultural casting that dampens the otherwise spot-on period verisimilitude, fans of "Knives Out," "A Fish Called Wanda" and 1950's Ealing Studios comedies should find this a rollicking good time. (A MINUS.)
SHE SAID--In 2016, intrepid New York Times reporters Megan Twohey (Carey Mulligan) and Jodi Kantor (Zoe Kazan) turned their sights to somewhat easier prey (uber producer Harvey Weinstein) after realizing they wouldn't be able to continue pursuing the myriad sexual assault allegations against newly elected president Donald Trump. Because seemingly everyone had an axe to grind about Weinstein, it was like shooting fish in a barrel. German director Maria ("I'm Your Man") Schrader's flat-footed docudrama about the NYT's campaign to take down one of the most powerful men in Hollywood is so relentless in its #MeToo virtue-signaling that it has the curious effect of (almost) making you feel sympathy for Weinstein. (I do miss his movies.) Schrader seems to think she's making another "All the President's Men" or "Spotlight," but her film is simply craven, woke Oscar bait destined to be forgotten well before nominating ballots go out in February. (D PLUS.)
TAR--In a career-best performance, Cate Blanchett plays Lydia Tar, the morally and ethically compromised conductor of the Berlin Philharmonic who's on the verge of her very own #MeToo moment. It couldn't happen at a more inopportune time. Lydia is preparing to record Mahler's notoriously difficult Symphony #5, and her marriage to Sharon (Nina Hoss) is already on thin ice. (The couple are parents of an adopted Syrian daughter who's having difficulties of her own at school.) Writer/director Todd Field's first film since 2006's "Little Children" is the movie event of the year (so far anyway): a galvanizing character study as well as an enthralling, deep-dish immersion into its protagonist's rarefied world. I can't recommend it highly enough. (A.)
TILL--The shocking murder of 14-year-old African-American Emmett Till (Jalyn Hall) in 1955 Mississippi is the subject of director Chinonye ("Clemency") Chukwu's compelling slice of modern American racial history. As Mamie Till-Mobley, Emmett's grieving mother who inadvertently became a civil rights activist, the extraordinary Danielle Deadwyler brings such palpable, throbbing humanity to her real-life protagonist that she'll shatter your heart into a million pieces--and possibly win an Oscar nomination for her bravura performance. Mamie's decision to leave her son's casket open for his funeral ("I want them to see") went a long way towards alerting white Easterners to the mortal perils facing Black citizens in the Jim Crow South. The fact that Chukwu's mournful, harrowing period film still feels so relevant in the #BlackLivesMatter era is inordinately depressing. (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.)
THE WOMAN KING--Oscar winner Viola Davis is fierceness personified as General Nanisca, the early 19th century leader of an all-female cadre of elite warriors in director Gina Prince-Blythewood's nobly-intentioned, but somewhat prosaic and slackly paced historical drama. Set in the African kingdom of Dahomay, the film pits Nanisca and her Amazonian freedom fighters against both Portuguese colonizers (personified by Hero Fiennes Tiffin's Snidely Whiplash-like slave trader, Santo) and the Oyo general (Jimmy Odukoya) she has a personal beef with. (It's a long--very long--story.) Despite using spears and blades versus their enemy's guns, there's little doubt that Nanisca & Co. will ultimately prevail. And it's that predictability, as well as a bloated 135-minute run time, that makes the film more of a slog than the rip-snorter it should have been. Nice turns by newcomer Thuso Mbedu as Nanisca's newest recruit and, although it's a glorified cameo at best, "Star Wars" alum John Boyega as Dahomay's progressive-minded, albeit polygamous (!) King Ghezo. Prince-Blythewood proved her action mettle with Netflix's kick-ass "The Old Guard," and her new movie works best during the frequent (but regrettably "PG-13") battle sequences which favorably recall Mel Gibson's "Braveheart" and "Apocalypto." A weird distraction is the decision to have the Dahomay characters speak English with thick African accents while everyone else's dialogue--German, Portuguese, et al--is subtitled. (C PLUS.)
---Milan Paurich