In 2022, Warner Bros. DC Studios announced it would be hiring James Gunn (Director of Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 1-3, The Suicide Squad) and Peter Safran as the co-CEOs of DC Studios. This move excited a lot of fans of the superhero or comic book movie genre, because Gunn had risen to prominence after his first foray into the Marvel Cinematic Universe with Guardians of the Galaxy in 2014. It wasn’t until 2025 with Superman that the newly formed DCU finally launched into the theaters. Superman was a critical success, a phenomenal film, and didn’t do terribly at the box office for an IP that had seen diminishing returns in recent decades.

Unfortunately for DC Studios, their next foray into the superhero genre, Supergirl (2026) turned out to be a colossal box office bomb and lost the studio over a hundred million dollars. The DCU followed up Supergirl this summer with a resounding success in HBO Max’s Lanterns series, which was one of the top 5 most streamed TV shows in the platform’s long history.

It is against this backdrop that Clayface (2026) hit theaters this past weekend. When James Gunn infamously made his “phase 1 slate” announcement for DC Studios in 2023, he specifically stated what DC Studios wanted to do was unique and distinct from other comic book movie studios (Marvel). They wanted to create an inter-connected universe with a variety of genres and themes. Hence, you would have more traditional superhero flicks like Superman (2025) alongside a True Detective style TV show like Lanterns (2026). The biggest selling point Gunn had at the time for this distinctive element of the DCU was the announcement of a “Clayface” movie—bringing the Batman villain’s origin story to the silver screen for the first time in a body horror, rated-R feature length film.

Gunn was ambitious when he decided to make his new universe’s third feature film centered around a B-list villain from Batman’s Rogues Gallery. However, the promise was there. If they could pull it off, this would be a definitive win for DC Studios and potentially be an in-road to draw more accomplished, creative directors to the studio knowing they would have the ability to tell their stories, and not have creative restraints on their projects.

If you looked online at the early reactions, Clayface is receiving positive reactions. It is currently at 76% critic score on Rotten Tomatoes, a 7.6/10 on IMDb, and has a 94% audience score with an A- cinema score. Unfortunately, when I went and saw the film last night, I quickly realized I must have seen a different movie.

I am actually quite shocked at how well Clayface is doing. It has a string-cheese plot, an identity crisis, abysmal CGI, and as Chris Ryan on the “Big Pic Pod” said in his assessment of the film “feels like the showrunners of (Amazon’s) Reacher series tried to direct The Fly”. There is little to recommend about this project. It refused to choose a theme, a key idea, or serve as a meditation on anything. Was it a commentary on the folly of looksmaxxing culture? Not really. Was it a meditation on the vanity of celebrity and influencer culture? No. Did it have anything profound to say about how trauma can turn us into either a hero or a monster? No. Did it have anything to say about the cosmetic industry and the folly of science as religion? No. Even though it added AI as a fundamental part of its plot, did it attempt to tackle that subject with any nuance? No.

As straight up entertainment, it fails as well. I am not a “horror” guy, but I know the best “horror” movies make your skin crawl and give you heart-attack inducing jump scares. This did neither.

In sincerity, if you are a “body-horror” fanatic, then maybe you should go see this in theaters. If you are a superhero completionist, maybe you should go see this in theaters. If neither applies to you, there are so many other options for you to spend your money on: Wildwood, You Can See Everything, and more. I’d skip out on this one.

The mark of a movie being labeled “poor” for me is: How often do I cringe or verbally say, “are we really doing this?” at the decisions a movie makes? This movie had (at a minimum) ten of those moments, and since it is a movie with AI driving a central plot point, I am giving “ChatGPT-face” a 4/10.

(Spoilers for both the movie and the novel. TL;DR: stay home and read the book)

Klara and the Sun is a futuristic (dystopian?) film based on the 2021 novel of the same name by Kazuo Ishiguro and directed by Taika Waititi. It follows Klara, an Artificial Friend, as she accompanies her teenage owner, Josie, and navigates relationships with those around her. It’s a topic which is extremely relevant to a new generation growing up with AI, and Ishiguro was ahead of his time in thinking about the subject back in 2021 - ChatGPT would not launch until the following year. Ishiguro is one of the few truly great novelists still working today, perhaps most recognizable for works such as The Remains of the Day (1989) and Never Let Me Go (2005), both of which have received their own film adaptations, and consequently I was both excited and apprehensive about yet another of his novels receiving a movie treatment. To cut to the chase, I need not have been either. The film is neither great nor terrible, managing to ‘play it safe’ while also missing the most prescient elements of Ishiguro’s truly insightful observations.

To start out with the positive elements, this film is visually pleasant, even beautiful at times. The novel, told as a first-person narration by Klara herself, is at times extremely sparse in its physical descriptions – including of the AIs themselves – and thus the filmmakers have to create the visual world of the film almost from scratch. Despite, or perhaps because of, this blank canvas, the visuals are pleasing or even compelling -- with a couple exceptions -- and the occasional first person shots from Klara’s perspective manage to capture the very odd way in which Klara reports seeing things in “boxes” or “shapes” in the novel. If I had to list other positive aspects of the film, I would say that Jenna Ortega and Amy Adams were each compelling in their respective roles as innocent android and prickly Karen, and Michael Giacchino delivered as usual with a score that was both pleasant and even memorable.

On the other hand, the movie has definite flaws, even from a cinematic perspective. The dialogue is uneven and at times stilted, and worst of all, the film suffers from an effort to make itself interesting. The novel is not the most exciting or action-packed story, and the movie, being a visual medium, has an obligation to its audience to show rather than tell. Unfortunately, the director decided to solve this problem by making things “happen” at regular intervals in an entertaining or exciting manner.. Thus, predictably every fifteen or twenty minutes the story would be interrupted by some loud incident or jump-scare – Klara would knock something over, or a machine would make a sudden, loud appearance, or a car would crash. These things fit into the story, but once one realizes the pattern, they become distracting and annoying. To be sure, it can be difficult to adapt any novel comprised mainly of talking, let alone inner dialogue, without boring the audience, and yet the novel has plenty of visually striking images and set pieces which could have satisfied an audience without needing to wake them up every quarter of an hour – and based on the completely empty showing I attended, the filmmakers needn’t have worried about keeping a more general audience entertained and should have focused instead on creating a more insightful film, regardless of how slow-moving the results might have been.

The biggest problem by far with the film, however, concerns the way in which the central message of the novel is turned on its head. (Here, by the way, come the real spoilers, so if you plan on reading or watching, be warned.) To be sure, there were numerous changes which I thought impoverished the story, and occasionally didn’t even make sense. For example, the relationship between Josie and her mother is so fractious in the movie that the mother is outright opposed to getting an AF, which makes little sense, since it turns out that she had been planning for some time to replace Josie with a droid. A broader complaint I have is that the movie makes blindingly explicit themes and assumptions that are implicit in the novel. For example, the novel tells us that some children are genetically “lifted,” but never explains what this means or what difference it makes for these children - indeed as far as the events of the story are concerned there seems to be no difference; even Josie’s sickness is not explicitly linked to her genetic alteration. The film however, chooses to turn this plot element into a matter of wealth inequality, a theme implicitly present in the novel, but not developed, leading to a truly ridiculous scene, a marxist cartoon almost, involving a bunch of grotesquely hapsburgian horrors dressed like they were attending the met gala – the one true visual failure of the film. Again, these changes may simply boil down to the difference between the two mediums, but even so it was frustrating to watch the delicately woven suggestions of the novel bludgeoned to death by heavy-handed story-telling.

The most problematic change, however, lies in the character of Klara herself.

One of the central questions of the book is, what is a person? Does it rely on consciousness? Could AI be conscious? While the novel challenges the reader on these points, one also learns as the novel goes on that Klara herself, while very intelligent and far more understanding than most other AFs, nonetheless looks at the world differently than a human. The movie Klara, on the other hand, is far more like a newborn, innocent child who understands little of the world, but is essentially human in her emotions and reactions. This difference between human and AF nature becomes most apparent when Klara discovers that Josie’s mother is planning on replacing her, and that Klara herself will provide the brains and consciousness of the new Josie. Klara will essentially be used as an AI therapy tool, or even as a part of an extended roleplay -- the parallel to contemporary AI uses need not be stated.. Book Klara accepts this task with frighteningly little compunction, seeing it as her duty to perpetuate Josie after her death, where movie Klara more understandably (from a human perspective) refuses.

To take another example, Klara, who has implicit faith that the sun will heal Josie, believes that she must destroy a smog-producing machine in order to please the sun. Book Klara, while refusing to divulge her reasoning, manages to convince Josie’s estranged father (a character missing in the film) to help her in her vandalism on the grounds that it will help Josie, despite providing no evidence for this wild claim. Movie Klara, on the other hand, has no human help, and is repeatedly told that she is wrong in her fantasies about the sun. In the first of these examples, we see that Ishiguro is aware, in a way his character Klara is not, of the dangers of an AI system which lacks a moral compass and exists merely to please its human companion. In the second, we see the opposing danger: that AI could, because of its supposed advanced understanding, convince its human companion to do something completely irrational. It’s a stark warning from a book which is largely sympathetic to its AI protagonist, and five years later, we can see all too clearly both dangers being realized in some form or other in our own world. The film, however, misses these opportunities to present both the light and dark sides of AI, and chooses instead to tell a bland story focused on the (platonic) love story of a droid and her human. It’s a missed opportunity to say something really relevant about the new technological environment in which we live and in which our children will grow up.

As I said at the beginning, my advice to you is to stay home and read the book.

2026 has been a year of era-defining cinema between The Odyssey, Backrooms, You Can See Everything, and now Wildwood.

All films are a product of their respective cultures and, in that, say something about what produced it. Yet, it is a certain type of film that feels like a significant inflection point. Whether intentional or (likely) not, these films have captured a moral and spiritual transformation at the heart of society. Just as The Odyssey identified the moral failure of Western civilization post-World War II especially as it related to hospitality and masculinity, Wildwood is an allegory about the dissolution and distortion of the family as the crux of American decline. Admittedly, I am not sure this was the intention, but it is in the text nonetheless. Laika’s sixth feature film, an adaptation of The Decemberists frontman Colin Meloy and illustrator Carson Ellis’ book series of the same name, may be the finest technical achievement, too, in animation history.

Prue (Peyton Elizabeth Lee) is tasked with watching her brother Mac (Arthur Knight) while her parents (Jake Johnson and Maya Erskine) are out and about in Portland, Oregon. While at a playground, a murder of crows snatch Mac and take him to the fantastical land of the Impassable Wilderness just outside the city. This world is divided into various warring factions: the grieving mother Alexandra (Cary Mulligan) who controls a coyote army and wields the dark powers of the technology, Alexandra’s buffoonish bureaucrat cousin Lars (Marc Evan Jackson) who controls the urban part of the wilderness and wars with the coyotes, and the rebel bandit army who seek to reclaim their ancestral land from the machinations of both Alexandra and Lars are just a few at play here. There are a lot of moving parts that are generally well-handled considering the constraints of a feature-length runtime. I do wish we could have learned more about some characters, like the Avian Principality leader Owl Rex (Richard E. Grant). The closest analogue in terms of how the film feels both narratively and pacing-wise is the Lord of the Rings trilogy.

This is an epic.

An important disclaimer is that Wildwood is absolutely not for children. In addition to the setting’s immersion in Pacific Northwest progressivism, the film is unsparingly violent with cursing and other adult themes as well. One has to have a solid moral and theological grounding in their own right to appreciate this narrative. The story critiques at least some of what it seemed to initially present uncritically. Show the kids The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe instead.

Wildwood, in particular, tracks the bifurcation of modernity into nihilistic, posthuman technoapocalypticism and literally nature worshipping paganism. The 2010s American culture that fostered the New Atheism, Hank Green-esque scientistic superiority, and initial adulation of the Silicon Valley technological revolution has given way to a new paradigm. The romanticization of tech has been hurt by doomerism, mass layoffs, and the impact of AI expansion on consumer prices, and, if they are not religious or spiritual, being unaffiliated seems to be the more dominant position for youth than professed atheism (fedoras are at least partly to blame). “Facts and logic” seems to hold less cache now. Hank Green himself was involved in a scandal this year after being caught using an AI script for a video. Put briefly, the veneer of rationalism has been chipped away at and replaced by an experiential emotionalism.

In my own field of psychology, the two leading trends exactly encapsulate this moment. On the one hand, AI companies have infiltrated the highest levels of the field’s institutions. OpenAI was a top-tier sponsor for the American Psychological Association’s convention and the APA opened the completely unfrighteningly named Center for Behavioral Science and AI this year as two major examples. On the other side, the other recent trend is “indigenous psychology”, or “the psychology from within the matrix of the native culture, based on their history, language, arts and common Experience.” This subfield calls for cultural humility and the integration of traditional medicines and worldviews. Nature-based therapies especially have attracted a new wave of interest.

The core conflict culturally and in the film is between nature and technology. As Catholics, we know that neither is the complete solution. Without getting into exact spoilers, the genius of Wildwood is how the film reveals the folly and some merits of those who worship both.

What motivates and is caught in the midst of the conflict is the family. The characters sell out control of their reproductivity and family to dark technological and magical (perhaps even “satanic” as one character says) powers. This perversion of the family is the instigation for the destruction of natural order. All of the themes, including a commentary on colonialism, are still wrapped up in this primary disruption.

In addition to the narrative and thematic side of the film, the stop-motion animation is easily the best ever done. A climactic battle sequence, in particular, is a breathtaking achievement. Director Travis Knight has said this film took sixteen years to make and it shows. The voice cast is also solid. Awkwafina makes an obligatory appearance here, but Peyton Elizabeth Lee, Cary Mulligan, and Jake Johnson are particularly good.

Laika continues their streak of animation mastery and complex, emotional stories in Wildwood. Unfortunately, it seems doomed to be underappreciated yet again, too. I do recommend it to adults interested in a fantasy epic that is smarter and more nuanced than its initial appearance.

Wildwood is now playing in theaters.

If you like stop-motion animation, maybe check out this movie as well from our List!

The “video game movie curse” has rung especially true when adapting fighting games.

While their striking visuals might be tailor-made for a big screen, they often lack story and become difficult to adapt as a result. Case in point: the 1994 Street Fighter movie, a very loose adaptation of Capcom’s game that was really made just to show off how cool Jean-Claude van Damme is.

Since fighting games usually revolve around tournaments or story-less multiplayer, they are often left very open to screenwriters, especially those who aren’t gamers. But as soon as I heard Kitao Sakurai (The Eric André Show) was working on a new adaptation of Street Fighter, I was excited. Being a fan of the games, I knew he could craft a fun take on the universe. The result was a film that’s very aware of its zaniness, and uses it to give space for some genuine character growth that may be setting up a solid film series.

Street Fighter opens with a beautiful animated sequence from Titmouse (The Venture Bros, Critical Role). We are immediately introduced to Ryu (Andrew Koji) and Ken (Noah Centineo), lifelong friends competing in fighting tournaments under the mentorship of Sensei Gouken (Don Lee). After Ryu wins the 1986 World Warrior Championship, a clever nod to the game’s original Japanese title and release date, he goes into hiding after threats from the demon Akuma (Roman Reigns). Ken chooses to stay in Japan and becomes a washed-up celebrity managed by his lecherous buddy Dan (Andrew Schulz). In a flash-forward to 1993, M. Bison (David Dastmalchian), the psychic dictator of the faraway land of Metrolao, announces a new World Warrior tournament. After an invite from Interpol agent Chun Li (Callina Liang), neither Ryu nor Ken can resist an opportunity to compete. But what they don’t know is that it’s all a trap for Bison to absorb all the fighters’ power and become more powerful himself, in a close adaptation of the little story in Street Fighter II.

A major high point of the film is that the cast is terrific. Koji and Centineo sell the main characters’ brotherhood incredibly well, and Liang’s Chun Li makes for a perfect voice of reason to round out the overly serious Ryu and goofier Ken. Cody Rhodes’ performance as veteran fighter Guile is miles better than van Damme’s flat performance in the 1994 adaptation. David Dastmalchian is the only one who had big shoes to fill, as Raúl Julia’s intense, downright creepy take on Bison is the best part of the older film, but Dastmalchian’s interpretation feels more like a cartoony video game final boss, complete with mid-battle banter. It’s exactly how fans would expect Bison: a loud, campy, power-hungry dictator. I was genuinely surprised by Bison’s masked assistant Vega, played by country musician Orville Peck. In a cinematic landscape where most henchmen are brutes or idiots, Peck’s menacing take on Vega helped make Metrolao more of a genuine threat, and proved my point that we need more convincing villains in video game movies. He often reminded me of Brad Dourif’s Wormtongue in the Lord of the Rings movies, yet it worked perfectly for the nature of Street Fighter’s villains.

There’s not many fight scenes, but they are, expectedly, the best part. What really stands out beyond their breathtaking choreography is how natural the characters’ signature moves are. We see several attacks from the games come to life, often supplemented with their classic music and sound effects, and none of them feel out of place in the reality Sakurai is selling. Fans will be expecting a Hadouken or Shoryuken, the classic “Shoto” moves of Ryu and Ken, and the way they’re integrated as a narrative device is interesting. The Hadou, these moves’ power source, is earned after facing adversity in a fight, and leads to some very satisfying moments when the heroes are under pressure. It was rewarding to see Ryu’s perfectly timed Hadouken when taking down “beast-man” Blanka (Jason Momoa, in a cameo that was way too short), after 15 minutes or so of him just doing standard karate moves.

What makes this film stand out from other video game adaptations is the strong focus on brotherhood and healthy male friendship, which is very rare in contemporary cinema. Ryu’s secretiveness and Ken’s rashness are viewed as obvious flaws in their character, but reconnecting after some time apart helps them become more self-actualized, taking on a common enemy and looking uber-cool while doing so. It’s like Lethal Weapon but with karate and fireballs. Ken’s journey stands out because he rarely gets any spotlight in Street Fighter media – he’s just the “Player 2” character, the Luigi to Ryu’s Mario. Exploring his deep-seated insecurities and desire for personal excellence was a clever storytelling choice, and the stakes of the tournament and his friendships help sell it. Noah Centineo really nails the necessary vulnerability and creates a very positive male role model with his believable growth not unlike John McClane or Martin Riggs. Hopefully this leads to more action movies following suit and returning to the tradition of a more virtuous male lead.

Sakurai’s Street Fighter is exactly as loud and silly as you’d expect a Street Fighter movie to be. Sakurai’s deep understanding of the classic fighting game and the camp medium help him create an imaginative adaptation far from a direct 1-to-1 match to the games. Complete with a neon-retro aesthetic and sincere emotional weight, the film delivers more than what it would seem and is an entertaining yet genuine watch. If there’s a second round, I’ll definitely be seated for it again.

At the request of the filmmakers, I will try to make the spoiler section as roped off as possible. I highly recommend you go into this without reading too much about it, as the filmmakers very clearly stated they wish for the audience to partake in the same journey they did. I wholeheartedly recommend you see this film in a theater.

What truly goes on in a sociopath’s mind?

True crime documentaries have become a pop culture staple. Every streaming service in existence has its own true crime documentaries/ docuseries that all seem to follow the same formulaic genre. Hardly ever do they break the mold like the fantastic Morris documentary The Thin Blue Line, or redefine the medium like Joseph Oppenheimer’s haunting, magnificent The Act of Killing. In 2026, however, in a perfect storm of misfortune, circumstance, and intuitive filmmaking, Lance Oppenheim and the fantastic Nathan Fielder created You Can See Everything, the greatest film of the 2020s, and it will change the world of cinema forever.

You Can See Everything follows the infamous fraudster and felon, Elizabeth Holmes, through the 34 days before her 12-year incarceration. Nathan Fielder was granted unprecedented access into her personal life (at her request to A24), and what transpires is a surreal, complex, and haunting story that I have thought of nonstop in the 3 days following my initial viewing.

Begin Spoilers

You Can See Everything truly adheres to its title and then some. It is fundamentally a meta-documentary that not only analyzes the craft of understanding a project for a documentary, but forces us to analyze ourselves. Oppenheim and Fielder expertly crafted a cinematic Rorschach test that blurs the line between reality and truth without being subversive to it. Following a similar vein to Orson Welles’ F For Fake, the final product begs for truth and authenticity. It wants nothing more than to tell the total, unbiased truth. This is all it wants at its core, and what Nathan and Lance try their absolute hardest to find, even partially switching formats to find it. The central conflict and resistance is supplied by none other than the film’s subject matter: The Holmes family. In an excellent interview given by the New York Film Festival, Lance Oppenheim stated, “It felt like we were in the Zone from Stalker, every day… no one could agree on what was real. Every day everyone would debate what happened or what they thought, and no one could ever agree.” Their goal was to capture this feeling and deliver it to audiences, and they more than achieved.

The Holmes family is one that seems too insane to be real, but too nuanced and detailed to be fake. They are, by every definition, an enigma. The only surefire conclusion that can be gathered with You Can See Everything is that they are without a doubt batshit crazy. So much so that this took much time to discern and figure out. Never has there been such a group of manipulative and compulsive liars ever captured on film, who go to such extents that I am not sure what is truth and what is fake, even now. Just when you think you have this group figured out, something else unexpected is discovered or occurs that throws off the scent from any real or logical conclusion. Who has true agency? Who is the manipulator? Who is using who? Is everything cryptic, or straightforward? Are they dumb, or do they refuse accountability? Are they genuine or insincere? Why did Holmes learn how to be a human from the same lizard people presentation that Zuckerberg used? All of these questions and more are asked constantly, and never quite answered. Chiefly, the question of “What is going on in this person’s head RIGHT NOW?” is the core and daunting question that can never truly be answered.

The human brain is equally fascinating and terrifying. We, the general 95% of the IQ bell curve, find it fascinating to examine the extremes of the bell curve, those with exceptionalities. In particular, we love the outliers and try to find something in them to learn about ourselves as a whole. This pursuit of the outliers applies not only to, say, raw intelligence, but to things such as morality and ethics. We venerate saints and honor them, while at the same time finding deep intrigue in individuals such as Ted Bundy or Adolf Hitler. There’s something about seeing the highest of the high and the lowest of the low that compels us to examine ourselves through them. While the Holmes family wouldn’t particularly place extremely high on a moral bell curve, so to speak, You Can See Everything clearly shows that ALL PEOPLE are deeply flawed. In reality, most people are complex enough that you could never truly understand them. The Holmeses may seem like an extreme caricature of dishonesty and manipulation, but we all can be susceptible to imperfections. Everyone has lied at some point in their life and will freely admit it. When Fielder asks this simple question to Elizabeth Holmes, however, she cannot even answer it in a straightforward manner.

The theological statement of “The only unforgivable sin is the one we don’t repent of” is so real in You Can See Everything that you can practically touch it. Never have I seen individuals refuse so earnestly and frequently that they have never done wrong when the contrary exists for the world to see. Elizabeth simply does not see any fault in what was done, and Billy Evans nurtures this in his own bizarre manner. Liz’s refusal to answer practically any question in a straightforward manner only continues to work against her in the eyes of the public, and her continued fixation on semantics is stereotypical behavior for pathological liars. Unsettling eye contact throughout the extensive interview session only adds to the feeling that “I am being lied to”.

Being submerged in this web of dishonesty was enough to have me questioning everything, and the film isn’t even 3 hours long. I’m honestly shocked Nathan Fielder was able to maintain any sort of sanity while the events depicted were transpiring. Due to the Holmes family continuously asking Nathan questions, the production team decided it would be easier to go against Fielder’s initial request to not be featured. This move to make him an actual character in the film adds so much, allowing him to be just as vulnerable as Liz or Billy. His honesty and ability to look into situations is the lifeblood of the film, and will most likely be replicated in the future. Bringing in Amanda Seyfried to reenact real exchanges (as was done originally in The Thin Blue Line) was a stroke of brilliance that brought a whole new aspect to the conversation: The role of entertainment in public events. Seyfried seems to mean well and less performative than you would expect bringing in an actress would seem, but she adds valuable insights to the situation. Even her deflection of responsibility for contributing to the vilifying of Holmes to the masses was fascinating. Never has the quote “It’s TV” sounded so complex.

This film is OUTSTANDING in its craftsmanship. I full heartedly expect You Can See Everything to win quite a few Academy Awards, primarily being in cinematography. The film quality shots that were gathered within an only slightly controlled setting are going to be studied in film school and are a breakthrough for the indie film industry. Continuous face shots draw undeniable parallels to Bergman films, but serve to truly capture raw reactions and moments that add to this complex puzzle. Single light sources were used for most of the shots, and natural lighting filled the rest. David Bolen already had a solid outing with Primetime, but this is nothing short of a technical marvel, with some shooting locations and equipment having to be transported and set up in under 30 seconds.

Fielder acts as a fantastic pointman and directs well, with Lance Oppenheim really bringing the whole twisted portrait together in a way that feels distinctly him. I pray that these two will collaborate on future projects in such a manner, because the end result this time around was flawless. It’s difficult to say if acting Oscars will be won, as most of the film is reality, but I could be proven wrong. Ari Balouzian delivers a simple yet haunting score that complements the film, similar to how Philip Glass’s did for Koyaanisqatsi. Oppenheim and Fielder should absolutely win the Directing Oscar, as their creative chemistry is the best I’ve seen since the Coen Brothers.

Ultimately, if You Can See Everything becomes the first documentary in history to win Best Picture, it will be a well-deserved win. It is the best film of the 2020s (so far) that will change the art form for the better. Innovative and fresh storytelling combined with the surreal and dishonest world of the Holmeses creates a truly unique cinematic experience that needs to be seen by all in a packed theater. I am already planning my next viewing and plotting when I can get this total masterpiece on physical media.

I have been a huge fan of the films that 20th Century Studios has been putting out under president Steve Asbell since Disney’s acquisition of the studio: Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes was probably my favorite movie of 2024 and both Alien: Romulus and the Avatar sequels have been solid action blockbusters that deliver on their respective genres.

So I was pretty intrigued when CinemaCon rolled around this year and reports started coming in of a wild trailer for a movie called Whalefall, based on the 2023 book by Daniel Kraus (who has a screenplay credit on the film). Turns out Ron Howard’s production company (the guy really seems to like whales and diving) scooped up the rights and got the film made at Disney/20th Century.

The director of the film, Brian Duffield, had previously worked with the studio on a film for Hulu called No One Will Save You, a survival thriller following one character throughout an alien invasion (I am definitely going to be watching it ASAP after this movie), so it’s no surprise that he was Asbell’s top choice to direct a movie that’s mostly a dude trying to not get digested by a whale (Duffield has since been tapped to rewrite the Alien: Romulus sequel).

Starring in this film is none other than Austin Abrams, who recently did another very different survival movie with Resident Evil. Abrams does some impressive heavy lifting in both that movie and this one, and really sells you on both the reality of the respective fantastic situations and the wild mix of emotions of someone who thinks that they might meet their final end being digested by a whale.

Co-starring in the movie is Abrams’ Weapons co-star Josh Brolin, who once again is playing a tough dad who has trouble connecting with his son (mainly seen through flashbacks). Some of the elements surrounding how the memories of his dad interact with his son from inside the whale can be a bit corny but emotionally it worked for me.

The third star of this movie, however, is the team at Weta Workshop: since Avatar: The Way of Water, they are the go-to effects house for anything water related. I will be genuinely shocked if this does not get a Best Visual Effects Oscar nomination. One scene in particular where a pod of orcas attacks the whale that Abrams is inside is one of the coolest VFX scenes I’ve ever seen.

While the film is PG-13, it may still be a tough watch at some points as Abrams struggles to survive: you may not want to see the inner bowel movements of a whale even though a lot of it is obscured by the darkness. Unfortunately this may be part of the reason the film is struggling at the box office, although this probably also was the fault of the marketing deparment.

Ultimately, Whalefall worked for me: a high-concept survival thriller that’s ocean scenes are just as engaging as it’s scenes on land with Abrams and his father. I will say, I did shed a tear during a climactic scene involving a memory of father and son. I’ve seen videos of people watching this in 4DX which seems terrifying and yet also so much fun, but regardless see this one in a movie theater!

Unless you are afraid of whales. I don’t think this will do you any favors in that regard if that’s the case.

Book adaptations are having a bit of a moment in 2026. Starting with People We Meet on Vacation in early January, this year has quickly become the year of book adaptations in both film and television. There have been many fresh jumps from page-to-screen such as the aforementioned Netflix picture, Andy Weihr’s Project Hail Mary (likely to receive several Oscar nominations including Best Picture), and we will cap off the year in November and December with the first-ever adaptations of Suzanne Collins’ Hunger Games: Sunrise on the Reaping and Frank Herbert’s Dune: Messiah (under the title Dune: Part Three). Alongside these fresh adaptations, there have been many more readaptations or fresh-takes on previously adapted material.

Wuthering Heights began the year with what might be the worst page-to-screen adaptation in the history of film (hyperbolic, but it was definitively a low point for the industry). Following that, we had what is arguably the biggest book adaptation in a century with Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey (Gone with the Wind still holds the crown in adjusted-for-inflation box office revenue). The Odyssey will likely win the Oscar for Best Picture next Spring, and has catapulted itself to the 11th highest grossing film of all time with $1.7 billion at the global box office, smashing the previous record for an R-rated film (Deadpool & Wolverine at $1.3 Billion). Film is, however, not the only place we have received adaptations this year. A few weeks back, Netflix released a 7-episode miniseries of East of Eden (a faithful, but not family friendly adaptation of John Steinbeck’s iconic novel). In December, Netflix will release another Pride and Prejudice mini-series, adding to the long list of adaptations of Jane Austen’s most famous work.

With this surrounding context, it was with great surprise earlier this year when I saw a trailer for another film adaptation of Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility. Her first novel, “Sense and Sensibility”, explores the relationships and longings of two sisters with diametrically opposed temperaments, Elinor (the calm and composed elder sister, representing sensibility) and Marianne (the fiery, passionate and deeply affective younger sister, representing sense). Oft misinterpreted, Austen does not argue for one disposition as superior or less inclined to folly, but rather invites the reader into a deeply meditative exploration of the two sisters’ path to virtue within their respective personalities. What unfolds over the course of Austen’s premier novel is a beautiful story of sisterhood, desire, and the sufferings and rewards of profound integrity. This newest adaptation of the source material stands in a long line of attempts (many a success) to bring this story to life on the silver screen, including the universally loved and critically acclaimed 1995 adaptation starring Emma Thompson, Kate Winslet, and Alan Rickman.

The early glimpses we saw into this newest take on Sense and Sensibility promised a darker (lighting, not tonally), earthy take on the material with Daisy Edgar Jones (Normal People, Twisters) starring as Elinor Dashwood alongside Esme Creed-Miles as Marianne Dashwood, George MacKay as Edward Ferrars and Herbert Nordrum as Colonel Brandon. In the press runs leading up to the film and its social media footprint, it was clear the marketing strategy centered around making this film about a central concept in our cultural consciousness: the phenomenon of yearning. Every post, every interview, every advertisement pitches the film as a meditation on yearning. So, was this film successful at producing its intended result?

Yes, but only if you do not drum up the hyperbolic claims by some online outlets (some of which have said there are “biblical levels of yearning”... whatever that means). I found George Oakley’s adaptation of Sense and Sensibility to deliver on this central premise. The movie does so through its earthy tone, lush score, and patient, if sometimes exceedingly awkward, dialogue. The latter of which I think carries the most weight in its attempts to convey the phenomenon of yearning. In particular, Oakley seems to contrast the morality of yearning with the immorality of grasping in the awkwardness, or unawkwardness, of the dialogue between characters.

Of the men in the film, Willoughby, who is infamously rash and a “love bomber”, has the least restraint in his words. He is remarkably charming, quick-witted and well-spoken. This makes him the subject of Marianne’s desire. He appears externally “passionate” and holds nothing back. Willoughby is able to be as smooth, charming and perfectly unawkward because he has chosen not to train his desire at all. This charm and winsome character is contrasted sharply with the awkwardness of dialogue from the two most virtuous men in the film, Edward Ferrars and Colonel Brandon. Their line delivery is remarkably restrained, particularly in their interactions with their respective love interests, Elinor and Marianne. In every scene centered around Edward and Elinor or Colonel Brandon and Marianne, the body language of the men portrays a deep sense of desire which their prudence is restraining their tongue from expressing because it is not yet the adequate time. Every close up of the two men feels like there is unrequited desire on the edge of their lips, but their desire is unrequited precisely because it is desire and not utility. Their hearts are spacious enough to desire Elinor and Marianne without turning them into an object for consumption or pleasant feelings (which is precisely what Willoughby does). The genius of the film is thus in presenting the audience with a case study for understanding the true nature of yearning: Edward and Colonel versus Willoughby. Inside of each of us, there is an Edward and a Willoughby; someone who has the capacity to behold and someone who seeks to consume. Only when we choose to train desire so it can properly find its resting place are we able to yearn. Yet yearning is a dreadful and awkward thing, because it necessitates the recognition of mystery, which is by definition uncertain and dramatic.

While there is much to admire about this new adaptation of Austen’s iconic novel, it is this deeply phenomenological exploration of yearning that justifies it as a worthy addition to the long line of dramatizations of Sense and Sensibility. It is refreshing to see a film tackle the subject of yearning in such a violently restrained manner because the agony of yearning has disappeared in Western culture due to the positivization of love. As the great contemporary Korean Catholic phenomenologist Byung Chul-Han puts it in his work, The Agony of Eros, yearning or desire (and therefore love) is being “positivized into a formula for enjoyment. Above all, love is supposed to generate pleasant feelings. It no longer represents plot, narration, or drama—only inconsequential emotion and arousal. It is free from the negativity of injury, assault, or crashing. To fall (in love) would already be too negative. Yet it is precisely such negativity that constitutes love: ‘Love is not a possibility, is not due to our initiative, is without reason; it invades and wounds us.’”

If you have an empty calendar this weekend, do yourself a favor and schedule a trip to your local theater to see this on the big screen, it is well worth it. Sense and Sensibility (2026) is a 9/10 and my second favorite movie of the year behind Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey.

The Social Reckoning is Aaron Sorkin’s newest dissection of Mark Zuckerberg and Facebook. While this film still follows Facebook and features Zuckerberg, it is not a true sequel to Sorkin’s 2010 film, The Social Network (dir. David Fincher). It doesn’t follow up on the events where The Social Network ends, or seemingly want to connect itself to The Social Network despite the two films having the same writer, topic, and character. Instead, Reckoning is concerned with telling an entirely different story by focusing on the Facebook Files - a series of articles published in The Wall Street Journal discussing Facebook’s internal documents which showcased the platform’s negative impacts on society. Thus, instead of building on The Social Network, Reckoning solely focuses on how the Facebook Files came to be.

As Reckoning progresses, it develops an overarching thesis: should free speech on social media be absolute, or, should posts be regulated and should platforms establish rules to regulate what individuals can and cannot post. The film follows these issues through two different groups: Mark Zuckerberg (Jeremy Strong) who advocates for the absolutist position and Jeff Horwitz (Jeremy Allen White) and Francis Haugan (Mikey Madison) who want to expose Facebook in order to have the company enforce greater relegation over its platform. Horwitz and Haugan argue that unchecked algorithms can film influence and “radicalize” individuals; hence, the need for regulation. In contrast, Zuckerberg argues that he is a free speech advocate and refuses to place any restrictions on what can be posted to Facebook. Reckoning is extremely thought-provoking as each side debates its case over the course of its runtime.

Unfortunately, this is the only good aspect of the film.

While I enjoy this movie debating its theme of regulation, I really dislike that the film triumphs one case over the other. Sadly, Reckoning is not open ended nor does it respect the audience to formulate their own conclusion. Without spoiling the film, it openly mocks the audience and forces its belief on the issue of regulation. It doubles down on its position to the point where it illogically arrives at a conclusion that is completely out of context, unnecessary, and utterly absurd. Instead of the ending being a battlefield where both sides, pro-absolutist vs. pro-regulation, meet in an exhilarating crescendo, the ending was merely an upset writer (Sorkin) screaming into the void while simultaneously patting himself on the back.

One question that I wish Reckoning focused on is should someone have complete control over who is able to post on social media platforms or should there be a governing body that promulgates what can be posted. The film focuses on algorithms and how algorithms can influence and “radicalize” individuals, but doesn’t focus on the absolute power that an individual like Mark Zuckerberg has. Should he be the person who regulates everything on his platform? Should world governments have the ability to deny or approve what can and cannot be posted on these sites? Should these decisions be left up to the corporations themselves? Unfortunately, the film completely removes this question, and, once again, tells the audience how it should think and provides the answer for it.

To pile on, the editing is absolutely abhorrent in Reckoning. Shots lingered too long and sequences didn’t line up as the plot transitioned from following Horwitz and Haugan to following Zuckerberg. There are shots within scenes that didn’t make sense. For instance, one scene where characters sat around a table opened with a shot of all of them, then transitioned to focus on a person talking which switched to someone who wasn’t talking and had no visible reaction to what was being discussed. Then, it cut back to a wide view of everyone in the meeting room and you couldn’t tell who was carrying the conversation. It was jarring and pointless. Needless to say, I have seen shorts that have better editing than this sequence.

I would have liked to see Jesse Eisenberg reprise his role as Mark Zuckerberg. He really carries The Social Network and I think he would have added to this film. Unfortunately, Jeremy Strong delivers the worst performance of his career and acts like a plank of wood for every appearance on-screen. Additionally, having continuity with The Social Network would have strengthened this film and Eisenberg would have had a stronger on-screen presence.

If you are someone who is interested in these types of social questions and debates, I believe you should go see this film. While I do not agree with Reckoning’s conclusion, I do not think that my opinion should dissuade one from seeing it.

“Knowing when and where to use it, that’s the whole ball game” is a fitting thesis for the new DCU/HBO Lanterns show.

It is a refreshingly earnest, comic book western detective story with what cosmic elements of wider DC lore can fit into its hyperfocused narrative. While still essentially a “walk to new location and talk” show, Lanterns delivers a story that feels bigger than any spectacle that appears on screen. In an IP historically cursed with middling to offensive low budget TV series, Lanterns is a huge win for both HBO and their interest in James Gunn’s burgeoning DC cinematic universe.

Like most adaptations these days, the first few trailers for Lanterns were met with extreme pessimism. This pessimism colored the first viewing even for myself, who was not very familiar with the Green Lantern mythology prior to picking up the show. Whatever low expectations myself and the public had were quickly washed away by the end of the first episode. Lanterns is an engaging, well thought out narrative that focuses almost entirely on a theme of responsibility. Now, superhero media as a whole is very focused on responsibility and great power.

Lanterns differentiates itself by really meditating on the aspect of authority that comes with the power of a superhero. And to my delight, their criticism of authority is not at all cliche or derivative. The show presents several characters who are used to wielding power and through them shows the audience that true authority requires compassion, charity, and intimate knowledge of those in your charge. The modern tendency to conflate power with authority is precisely what makes the show’s treatment of the subject so interesting. Authority is not merely the ability to command; it requires knowing and loving the people entrusted to you. In a culture that increasingly refuses to recognize any authority higher than the individual, Lanterns‘ insistence that power must be ordered toward the good of others feels surprisingly countercultural. It would be easy to hand-wave some of the show’s critiques of authority as generic anti-authoritarian slop, but I found the criticisms in Lanterns to be remarkably specific without becoming preachy or sanctimonious.

I did not know much about Green Lantern comic mythology prior to watching this show, and went into it as an outsider fully prepared to point and laugh. There are some contrivances and plot conveniences that keep Lanterns from reaching over the 8/10 mark, but the end product is coherent enough that they rarely become distracting. What few holes I could poke are more than made up for in the character writing and main cast of actors. This show will disappoint many by essentially being a ‘walk to new location and talk’ show, and it would not work as well as it does without all star performances from Kyle Chandler and Aaron Pierre. Kelly Macdonald is extremely well suited here as well, and I found myself pleasantly surprised by Jason Ritter. With one exception, the episodes are paced extremely well, and what little spectacle there is gets used effectively. Lanterns is clearly trying to establish a Green Lantern mythology for the DCU untainted by the Ryan Reynolds foray into the character. This is a bad thing insofar as it means the show is almost too afraid to embrace the wacky side of the mythology, but ultimately its restraint is justified by a very satisfying ending.

Lanterns succeeds in that it understands that great characters are at the heart of every comic book, and the mythology will flesh out around those characters. I do hope future Green Lantern shows will have more green and lanterns, but for a reintroduction, Lanterns makes a solid first impression.

This film is extremely difficult to discuss without spoilers, and if I didn’t discuss them here, it would be a disservice. The spoiler talk is clearly marked and italicized if you want to see the film unspoiled (which is encouraged).

Satire is supposed to be funny.

Dr. Strangelove, Tropic Thunder, Network, and The Death of Stalin are all funny. It ironically takes a lot of skill to pull off a successful and hilarious satire that is able to convey an impactful message. Despite Alejandro Gonzalez Iñárritu undoubtedly being one of the higher-quality directors of his generation, he clearly demonstrates that he may not be cut out for the satire-comedy sphere.

Digger is primarily about an eccentric oil tycoon who, through negligence and greed, brings an impending disaster upon the world. Digger Rockwell (as depicted in every ad) attempts to right the ship with a delusional president (John Goodman) and a stereotypical inept team of about the most cliché individuals imaginable. That is as far as I can go without major spoilers for the plot.

Digger was written by 4 people, and IT SHOWS. There are so many conflicting visions within this story that it gets muddled to its own hindrance. Digger sometimes throws shade at itself, but never enough to balance out its not-so-subtle, relevant social commentary. It falls in vain less with Doctor Strangelove, and more with Bong Joon Ho’s Mickey 17 (a film I was also not fond of). For some strange reason, highly respectable international filmmakers seem to be hell-bent on getting their two bits into the American political system. Digger, however, isn’t quite a stereotypical “orange man bad” film but rather decides to pick its fight with two main culprits: Big Oil and American Evangelicalism.

Now, the former I am not surprised at and was more copy-paste of the same exact talking points that have been done since the 1970s. It maintains this moral righteousness that oil is bad, but gives absolutely no solutions. Iñárritu takes plenty of time to critique fossil fuels, but only grazes over any and all counterpoints with convenient swiftness. What was shocking was the latter. Digger does not target anyone who believes in a higher power, but rather the extreme patriotic American evangelicalism that is unfortunately present in some aspects of the government. Specifically, some of the hokey theology that comes from individuals such as Paula White-Cain or the Christian Zionist movement. While it most likely is an expansion of the “orange man bad” culture of Hollywood, it at least is a somewhat more specific criticism.

Digger is not funny. I probably laughed about 3 times total, and I believe 2 of those weren’t at things that were supposed to be funny. Yet despite its shortcomings in the comedy department, it takes the time to TELL and EXPLAIN to the audience why it’s so funny. This is perhaps the cardinal sin of comedy. It tries so hard to be funny, and keeps trying to explain to you how it’s funny, to the point that it reminded me of the unfunny DJ from Good Morning, Vietnam who takes over for Robin Williams. If you ever have to stop in the middle of trying to be funny to explain to someone how funny you are, you simply aren’t funny. Yes, Digger has exaggerated and flamboyant performances in it (with a couple of scenes that should absolutely become memes), but there are no good belly laughs or any clever comedy bits present in the film.

(Begin spoiler portion)

Digger has a rug pull 20 minutes in where it is revealed that we are watching a play being rehearsed. This revelation adds a bizarre plot/subplot that I still can’t decide if it saved the film or helped exacerbate the disjointedness. Later, it is revealed that the play is inspired by true events that occurred within the real world where this play is being performed, but as a satire to help everyone “cope” with what happened. While this helped add a fresh layer to the film that sets it ahead of Mickey 17, its conclusion is arguably more disturbing. Audiences are shown cheering as Digger Rockwell takes his own life at the end of this play, as if this will help heal anything.

The play is being funded and sponsored by Rockwell’s nephew (amazingly played by Jesse Plemons), which seems to insinuate that the rich need to publicly pay to humiliate their legacies and fortunes in order to atone for their sins to the public. Meanwhile, the world is still hell and ruined, with no real source of hope or redemption provided. Religion seems to be gone, and everyone is bleak, damaged, and embittered, with only uncomfortable, unfunny satire to provide them comfort. The political bias can even be seen in the background in details such as a not-so-subtly placed To Be or Not To Be poster, which clearly indicates this theater troupe’s self-righteous vision of themselves as “antifascists”. The side drama of Tom Cruise’s personal issues and critiques of the whole situation were probably the only truly emotionally engaging aspect of the film, and one of the core reasons this doesn’t fall to the same levels as Megalopolis in the flop category.

(End Spoilers)

Another massive hindrance to the film is that Iñárritu does not let scenes fully ferment to their full capacity. He was spectacular with this in films such as The Revenant and Birdman, but he seems to have lost his way in Digger. There is a scene where Digger Rockwell and Riz Ahmed’s character (who perhaps is the best character and performance in the whole movie) have a heart-to-heart that actually starts to go somewhere interesting before it’s abruptly cut off for what I assume was seen as “comedic purposes”. Another scene with Jesse Plemons’s character was being used to potentially say something actually interesting and unique, and then just stops. This was a frequent issue that permeated throughout, and I am not sure if it is to blame on the writers or the director.

Despite all these negatives, Digger does have the technical prowess that Iñárritu has become well known for. The acting is, to no one’s shock, quality. Tom Cruise has a fantastically layered performance that will most likely get him at least a nomination, and he is able to sell himself on all fronts. His character is fun to watch and engaging, alongside John Goodman, who is able to be entertaining. Michael Stuhlbarg and Jesse Plemons are underutilized and fantastic, as well as Ahmed. The cinematography was very engaging and creative, and the score was good as well.

While Digger certainly takes some ambitious swings, it ultimately falls flat at both having something interesting to say and being a funny satire (despite its own insistence). It stands as a reminder that even well-acted and technically capable films are not always the recipe for success that one may think. It makes me question as to how Warner thought this was going to make a profit, but something like Coyote v Acme wouldn’t. At the end of the day, Digger is another Oil Man bad film that offers no solutions to its perceived problems, serving as a pessimistic and well-crafted mess that fails at the most basic aspects of satire.

100 Movies Every Family Should See

‘Coyote vs. Acme’: Looney Tunes, Back in Action

Age Recommendation: Whatever age you would think it appropriate to show your child a Looney Tunes cartoon…

Read more

2 months ago · 8 likes · 2 comments · Charles Scott

I am a child of the Internet.

I grew up with dial-up, but I did play online games. I was also harassed by strangers online when I was underage. It makes complete sense that I would resonate with Chris Hansen. I was too young when To Catch a Predator aired, but I was around for its YouTube revival, with people uploading clips and Hansen creating his own channel. I would watch clips and reference them with friends. As the Internet moved on, so did I. Now, Chris is back in the zeitgeist with Lance Oppenheim’s new film Primetime.

Oppenheim’s film arrives at a time when we are questioning famous people of the past, including Chris. Did Chris actually help catch predators, or was it just entertainment? Primetime doesn’t fully answer this question, but it does show us more of the darker side of the production. We often forget how media is crafted behind the scenes; it’s more about ratings, money, and clicks than anything else.

The plot follows Chris Hansen (Robert Pattinson) as he vies to make his hit show go “primetime”. Once it does, his team is forced to put out all the stops to find bigger and bigger catches. The pressure begins to mount on Hansen between his work and personal life. We also follow a young actor who joins the team as a decoy. Everything rides on one big catch.

The performances here are incredible. Pattinson completely disappears in the role. He nails the voice and mannerisms of Hansen. If he isn’t nominated for an Oscar this year for one of his many roles, I would be very surprised. Skyler Gisondo plays young actor Dan Plumb. He plays his character so well and even does a great impression of Hansen in one scene. The other cast members I have to shout out are Phoebe Bridgers, Merritt Wever, and Matthew Maher.

The directing of this movie is crazy to me. Oppenheim makes it feel like you’re watching a documentary, but he also includes sequences that are almost dreamlike. I was surprised by his direction, given that this is his first non-documentary feature. He tells this story masterfully, and you can tell he really cares about his craft. There’s also a needle drop in the first 10 minutes that I will think about for a while.

Should you see Primetime? It really depends. There is strong language and a little nudity. It is a very interesting look at Chris Hansen and the whole To Catch a Predator series. I still don’t know how to feel about the movie. It’s a very well-done film, but it does leave you kind of sad. Will predators ever be brought to justice? As Catholics, we know God is the ultimate judge. This movie and current events don’t give much hope for this lifetime.

I’ve never played a Resident Evil game.

Ok, ok. Not entirely true. I’ve played 30 MINUTES of a Resident Evil game. For context: horror games are not my thing. I’m a notoriously jumpy, reactive person when it comes to horror (I was the guy people invited to watch horror movies in college, not necessarily because I really liked horror movies, but because they wanted a guaranteed screamer in the audience). So when two of my friends made me play 30 minutes of a Resident Evil game a few months back, they knew exactly what they were doing. What proceeded was me jumping, reacting in disbelief, screaming, straight up stopping the game at points to accost my friends for making me do this, and….perhaps an accidental bad word or two.

The brilliance of 2026’s Resident Evil is that the movie is the exact same experience. Rather than making a straight adaptation of the video game series, the movie instead makes of an adaptation of what’s it’s LIKE to play Resident Evil. The result is a lean, mean, propulsive, and often very funny movie, and one where I’m not sure I’ve ever related more to a protagonist. When Austin Abrams’ Bryan screams hysterically as he runs away from the most horrific night of his — or anyone’s — life, well, that’s me. In fact, I think it’s you, too. Which is just one of the reasons why it works so well.

Resident Evil is director Zach Cregger’s third feature, following his surprise hits Barbarian and Weapons. If you’ve seen either or both of those movies, you know Cregger brings a very distinctive voice to the horror movie scene, one shaped by years as an actor and a comedian. The man understands not just great comedic timing but strong plot and character timing in general, resulting in movies that feel distinctly his own while simultaneously surprising and delighting the audiences that follow him. Resident Evil may be his first true foray into the studio blockbuster space, but it still feels so singular in its voice, in the protagonist it chooses to focus on, in the story it chooses to tell, in the way it chooses to execute it.

And all in just 87 minutes.

Speaking of the protagonist, I have to spend a moment on Austin Abrams. I’ve seen him one other time, in a scene stealing role in Weapons, but this is breakout star moment. He’s so relatable here, so funny, but also such a strong physical presence. The movie puts his character, Bryan, through the absolute wringer, but he crucially chooses to react to everything in a way that is unexpected, elevating the whole movie as a result. When he needs to be scared, he’s horrified. When he needs to be confused, he reacts in utter disbelief. And when he needs to be unexpectedly emotional, he nails that too. Truly one of my favorite performances of the year.

I’m purposefully skirting around the plot of the movie because, if you choose to embark upon it, it’s best to experience it with all the surprises intact. On its surface, it’s a simple “man goes on a mission and ends up undergoing the worst night of his life” plot. But the way it executes that premise, the way it wrings horror, absurdity, tragedy, and humor from all of it, is, simply, very, very smart. As an adaptation, it’s such an unmistakable love letter to video games and our experience of them — especially of this one franchise. Details, like searching for bullets, encountering locked doors, even desperately trying to escape a monster by running in a circle (guilty), are ripped straight from what it’s like to actually play a game.

As much as it’s a love letter to games, it’s just as much one to horror movies as well, with its sequences referencing many of the genre’s scariest tropes: the dark, lonely road in the woods; the abandoned farmhouse; the sewer. Cregger is asking audiences to bring their normal fears of these locations with them, and then twists them with his own voice.

While I’m obviously quite high on it, not everything here works. The first half is stronger than the second. There’s some shoddy CGI effects that jump out amidst the otherwise outstanding cinematography. The humor, at times, undercuts the tension (this has happened with other Cregger joints as well). As an adaptation of a popular franchise, I can’t speak for how faithful it is or isn’t. The internet is, predictably, up in arms about choices it makes. If you’re a fan of the franchise, perhaps it will make you upset. But for those of us on the outside looking in, Cregger has made his most accessible movie, and it’s all the better for it.

Horror is the film genre of the moment, attracting countless filmmakers, and all the while creating new voices as well (such as Curry Barker and Kane Parsons). Sometimes, it’s of the prestige kind, using horror to tell a sophisticated story, often about trauma. Other times, it’s just a thrill ride, designed to terrify audiences (and maybe provide a message or two along the way). Cregger’s film is of the latter variety, designed explicitly as a rock ‘em, sock ‘em theatrical experience. It’s scary, funny, exceptionally gross. But it also has a message or two, particularly around how important it is to embrace change, grow up, and embrace a new life. About the need to put down the controller and experience the real world. Cregger doesn’t disparage those who have had video games as part of their lives, certainly not — his protagonist only survives because of his past video game usage, in an amusing nod. But he’s also expressing a need to accept that there is more to life.

With Resident Evil, Cregger has now gone three for three with his features. What comes next? A Spielberg produced sci-fi horror (give it to me NOW). But let’s enjoy this moment in the meantime, as another auteur is given the reins to do something interesting in the studio space.

Cregger has been given the opportunity to make a love letter to video games and to horror here. The result is, undoubtedly, the best video game movie ever made.

And no, I will not be playing more Resident Evil.

A few months back, I was scrolling through the “Upcoming” tab on the AMC app when I saw this movie listed for September. Intrigued by the title and poster, I decided to do some more research and watched the trailer for the film. I was instantly bought into the premise: an Oregonian man (Samuel Murphy, played by Ethan Hawke) amidst the backdrop of the Great Depression finds himself in prison and needs his sentence commuted or else his daughter will be awarded to the State and put up for adoption. The warden of the prison (Warden Clancy, played by Russell Crowe) takes a liking to Murphy and observes him to be a highly competent man, one of great willpower and integrity.

Seeing such a trustworthy man in a vulnerable state, Clancy devises a scheme to manipulate Murphy’s predicament for his own devices: FDR is set to seize all gold in the U.S., and a friend of Clancy’s who owns a mine needs to steal this gold before the government or his workers get their hands on it. Clancy enlists Murphy to head the job in exchange for the commutation of his sentence. If Murphy can successfully steal the gold and lead a team of convicts on a seven-day journey across the Oregonian wilderness, he will secure his reunion with his daughter.

Thus, the film gets its title “The Weight.” The gravity of his mission is both literally weighty (he and his men are carrying hundreds of pounds of pure gold) and figuratively weighty (the potentiality of resuming his fatherly vocation). As Murphy treks across the Oregonian wilderness, he faces impediments from every direction: his companions, rogue miners, and the treacherous terrain of the woods, but this supposedly “Nearly Biblical Tale of Good and Evil” (as labeled by Screen Daily’s early review) ultimately fails to transcend its classic “Western” genre in any meaningful sense. There is nothing new in the film. It doesn’t push boundaries or offer a fresh take on the genre. Thus, it fails to enter into the upper echelon of films that came out this year.

Despite its inability to offer a tale of good and evil that is “nearly Biblical,” The Weight is quite enjoyable and thoroughly watchable. It features a man of great integrity (a true hero who you can root for), beautiful cinematography amplified by the real-world immersion offered by the Bavarian woods the film was shot in, and a series of gripping and tense action sequences. The film was elevated by an insistence of real, practical effects and a refusal to use any computer-generated imagery outside of the bare minimum required for basically any action movie.

I would be remiss if I neglected to mention that my screening of The Weight featured a live Q&A from Ethan Hawke. It was really cool to hear Hawke discuss the production of the Weight. The number one takeaway I had from the film was that there was a commitment to artistic integrity amongst the crew both shooting and acting on the project. Ethan Hawke and Russell Crowe both drove in actual 1930s Fords on dirt roads going nearly 50 miles an hour. There was a scene in the film where Russell Crowe was filmed driving his Ford onto the labor camp site, and Hawke remarked that there was a moment when Crowe was going so fast and refused to slow down that he thought, “I’m about to get hit by Russell Crowe.” There were also several scenes filmed crossing a freezing cold river in Bavaria while massive logs were barreling towards the crew in what ended up being one of the more intense scenes in the project.

My favorite anecdote from Hawke’s Q&A was one about the end of production. As they were wrapping, the film crew realized there weren’t enough shots of the crew hiking through the woods. They had run out of budget and could not pay for the extra shots. The entire cast and crew decided to front the bill, paying for makeup, transportation, and other expenses for the extra day of shooting. It was refreshing to hear this commitment to the art in an industry dominated by bottom lines, massive budgets, and egocentric corporations, directors, and actors.

Overall, I would rate Hawke’s “The Weight” a solid 6.7/10 and recommend a visit to the theatres to see it on the silver screen.

Na Hong-Jin’s fourth feature directorial effort and first in ten years may be the most perplexing film of the year.

As the credits rolled, I turned to my friend and remarked “I am not sure if that was good bad or bad good” only to find out that is Reactor Mag’s review title. Both 1/10 and 10/10 scores are understandable for Hope. It is the first and possibly the last film to play in competition at the Cannes Film Festival that sits at the exact nexus of Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen, Zack Snyder’s DC films, and Prometheus (complete with another freaky Michael Fassbender). And in today’s era of post-ironic, clinging facetiousness, it is almost impossible to determine where the joke begins and ends.

Saying almost anything about the plot of Hope would spoil all of it. Like my earlier comparison of Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen, Hope is largely noise.

Monsters are attacking the small South Korean village of Hope Harbor and the townsfolk have to mount a desperate effort to save what’s left. About two-thirds of the film’s gargantuan yet surprisingly weightless 156-minute runtime is dedicated to just two action setpieces. Characters are only really texture to the soundwaves, but if there is one thing this movie has, it is texture. For a film with absolutely no character arcs, there are a lot of memorable characters: grannies who appear to reactivate like sleeper agents from the 6-25 Upheaval (Korean War), a weirdo who might secretly be a serial killer, and yep an unrecognizable Michael Fassbender to name just a few. As a sidenote on the film’s top-billed Western cast members, I am not entirely sure some of them have a single line of dialogue.

The two aforementioned action setpieces are thrilling and make the runtime seem far shorter. There are multiple chases – in or on foot, bicycle, horse, and car. Squid Game breakout Hoyeon plays a small-town cop with proficiency in machine gun grenade launcher attachments– of course during a car chase. If you enjoyed the opening scenes of Batman v Superman or A Quiet Place: Part Two, there is over an hour of that kind of human dwarfing, hi-fi Cloverfield destruction. About thirty or forty minutes in, though, we get the reveal of the monster, whose CGI looks so bad that it might be a gag. We are talking slightly above the level of that Chinese animated movie made by a mother and son for $200. The idea that everything is all one elaborate joke is slightly more believable in the same movie where an extended monologue about explosive diarrhea is the best scene.

What the director is trying to convey is equally vexing. In a slightly spoiler-y quote (skip this paragraph and the next if you want to avoid) Na Hong-Jin said to the Korea Times that “I wanted to depict human affairs from the perspective of a god. But putting an actual god in the film seemed awkward, so I turned the figure into an alien”. However, Hope ends exactly when we start to understand the monsters’ purpose and what the film might be trying to say. Allegedly, this is supposed to be the first in a trilogy, but this film is intended to stand on its own. Yet there is something here about the relative insignificance of human drama and society in the face of divine or cosmic drama. The DNA of Prometheus (2011) and Man of Steel (2013) are palpable here.

The first act is peppered with references to North Korean spy paranoia and immigration which made me think we were going to get more commentary around those topics: the Korean divide, refugees, xenophobia, and so on. Again, there may be something said there, but the film never gets to any sort of resolution. The monsters might be misunderstood refugees that instantly receive aggression without any questions asked. At the same time, characters like Hoyeon’s express a rage at the brutal indifference and injustice of the monsters’ attack. Or the monsters are essentially deities whose struggle makes the humans insignificant because they were never remotely on the same playing field and the human response is representative of struggle in the face of natural/economic/transcendent disaster. What are we supposed to take away here? But unlike Batman v Superman or Alien: Covenant, this is all only hinted at. There is not enough to be provocative positively or negatively.

Hope might be a serious attempt at a franchise starter or a cheeky anti-blockbuster that purposely builds you up just to let you down. It is probably both and either way, you are the joke. Almost two decades of self-injuriously self-aware, big budget filmmaking probably culminating in Deadpool & Wolverine has made the difference between the two unclear. 2026 feels like a year, though, where we might be finally moving on from the 2010s model with sincere pictures like Backrooms and The Odyssey making more money than the latest cynical, actually bad pretending to be performatively bad takes on Star Wars, the DC universe, and Masters of the Universe.

As harsh as the preceding paragraph sounds, it might be surprising that I would recommend it to some audiences. The action, even with the terrible digital effects, is great, mainly because everything besides the monsters is joyously tactile and practical. Suspension of disbelief is stretched thin, especially when it comes to the durability of a jean jacket, but even that becomes an entertaining gag in its own right. Stay for a mid-credit scene on that one. The quirky cast of characters are funny and give you just enough attachment to favor them over the monsters. Perhaps the film being non-Western makes the formula cut further from the bone or that my reaction to it was thrillingly puzzled exasperation rather than the usual numbing indifference, but I enjoyed Na Hong-jin’s messy epic far more often than I did not.

Hope is now playing in theaters.

Running over 200 miles is never a small feat. Today, we are proud to highlight a recent documentary produced by Jacob Schmiedicke focusing on one man, who has made it his goal to choose the path less traveled, and in doing so, inspire a generation of young men behind to discover their God-given purpose.

Run So As To Win is not just an entertaining short film but a riveting journey. It’s the raw story of Jonathan Kuplack, a recent upstart in ultramarathons (we’re talking 50+ mile races) and a passionate advocate for young men living up to their God-given potential. In 2025, Jonathan ran “the MAMMOTH,” one of the largest and highest-altitude 200-mile trail races of its kind in the world, through the mountains of northern California.

$20,000 in prize money is awarded at the Mammoth. But Jonathan wasn’t running for cash or glory. As the camera tracks Jonathan and his crew (his wife and a Catholic priest) over the three-day race, you get to feel his motivation up close: radical trust in God. It’s a foreign concept to most audiences, pushing oneself physically to grow spiritually, but this documentary may challenge your concept of body-soul unity.

The film feels dramatic at points but never over-the-top. The storytelling is genuine and will keep even your children on the edge of their seats. But viewer, be warned: you may find yourself lacing up those old running shoes the next day.

There is a scene in Mel Brook’s History of the World Part I when the Roman emperor (hilariously portrayed by Dom DeLuise) is being showered by gifts from all over the empire. One of the gifts turns out to be a bathing basin to which the emperor remarks in an unimpressed manner, “Nice. Not thrilling, but nice.”

I cannot think of a more apt description for The Dog Stars. The film is nice.

Not thrilling, but nice.

Like an empty bathing basin, The Dog Stars in itself is a perfectly fine film, but, sadly, it has no substance. It is an empty, hollow shell of a film that says nothing new about the post-apocalyptic genre. The film does its best to make the viewer feel like you are watching a post apocalyptic film by combining different aspects of the genre and tosses them altogether in an unappetizing way. The Dog Stars merely takes the ingredients of the genre and shuffles those ingredients like a pack of cards and then deals them out in a random order. The hand that is dealt is unsatisfying and underwhelming.

The Dog Stars follows Hig (Jacob Elordi) as he navigates living in a world decimated by a global pandemic. A former mechanic turned pilot, he follows a routine of scouting around his airfield, flying into Denver looking for supplies, visiting his old home, debating his gruff survival partner Bangley (Josh Brolin), and hanging out with his dog, Jasper. When his routine abruptly changes, the film then plays the hand that it dealt for the audience.

The film plays its hand without saying anything new. It displays the cliché of old versus young survival perspectives. The older characters are focused on survival against all odds and distrusting everyone while the younger generation wants to believe that everyone should come together and re-form society. The seemingly hopeful and idealistic community that the main characters are trying to reach turns out to actually be hell. The peaceful community living right in front of them is where they should’ve just gone the entire time.

Nice. Not thrilling, but nice.

The film has absolutely nothing new to say about surviving after a fallen society, survivors guilt, or anything about grief and trying to find meaning in a meaningless world. Male and female characters are essentially the same and they fall in love purely because of common circumstances and shared trauma. There is no actual love that is present. Each character is essentially the same. Bangley and Pops (Guy Pearce) represent the older survival at all costs perspective while Hig and Cima (Margaret Qualley) represent the younger survivalist perspective. Both pairs of these characters are exactly the same outside of having slightly different living circumstances which makes for a boring and uninspired story.

The writing is awful and the script is abrasive as is the dialogue. Characters would randomly start talking without any context which made no sense within the context of the scene. Character motivations were either not overly explained or not explained at all. I think this film is made for fans of the book, not the casual moviegoer. If you read the book and you enjoyed the book you would then enjoy the movie. Reading the novel would provide essential context and continuity that clarify certain character choices and motivations. However, good film adaptations provide context for all viewers whether or not you read the original material.

There are some positives to the film: the cinematography was really good. The shots of Hig’s plane flying through the Rockies and various wide shots of characters walking through nature were really beautiful. The quiet “show not tell” moments paired with Harry Gregson-Williams’ score (Shrek, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, The Martian) combine for a pleasant viewing experience. Unfortunately, these moments are few and are not enough to carry the film through its two hour run time.

I do not understand why Ridley Scott made this movie. I do not know if he was a big fan of the book or if he was tired of making bad historical epics. I think that he must have found something profound in the story which justified its adaptation. Sadly, he does not convey his motivation through the actual film. The Dog Stars is further proof that he is no longer able to make good films that have any impact on cinema. If you are an average moviegoer, this is a perfectly acceptable film to skip.

The YouTube channel What’s Going On With Shipping? posts almost daily news and discussion about the shipping industry. Surprisingly for such a topic, the team has managed to amass over 700,000 subscribers. It has made maritime trade into the Internet’s second favorite type of shipping. While I am not entirely sure why there is so much interest beyond general geopolitical tension, I can say with relative certainty that real news involving container ships is much more worth your time than the latest Jason Statham action film set on one.

Statham plays Cole Reed, the most nondescript variant of the actor’s usual “man you really do not want to mess with” schtick. He is ex-police, ex-Navy, ex-peaceful harmony and now the beloved bodyguard of shipping magnate Tibu Campallo (Ramon Tikaram). On the eve of the company being sold off, Tibu is murdered with Cole framed for it. To clear his name and uncover why the hit was ordered, Reed must fight his way through a container ship of goons. The cast is rounded out with Annabelle Wallis as the ship’s third mate and only non-goon, Tony Award nominee Adrian Lester as a Navy captain, and the gruff Nordic heavy played by Roland Moller.

Just about every element of the promotional campaign for Mutiny would seem to indicate that it would be at best mildly enjoyable, but, believe it or not, there was reason to be optimistic. Director Jean-Francois Richet’s last effort Plane (2023) was one of that year’s biggest surprises. The Gerard Butler-Mike Colter action film was full of propulsive action and decent drama. A sequel succinctly titled Ship was swiftly put into development only to be cancelled right before filming began when Butler abruptly departed. Even more shockingly, Mutiny is not a rework of that film. But either way, perhaps lightning could strike again.

Mutiny is the worst kind of bad film, the type that you forget immediately rather than hate forever. At least some passion of the heart is involved in the latter. Statham has over two decades of action B-movie material, most of which is at least more entertaining than this. There is the really fun Transporter movie (and its okay sequels), Crank, Hobbs and Shaw, his Guy Ritchie collaborations, and so on. And of course, the crown jewel of them all Meg 2: The Trench where Statham walks on the bottom of the ocean, fights dinosaurs, and 1v1s a megalodon while riding a jet ski.

A couple scenes in Mutiny have within them a few brief moments that are enjoyable. It was fun when Reed fought a dude with a fire axe and a harpoon gun. The problem is less to do with explicit incompetence and more with a lack of care or flavor. Richet films the action fine enough. The cast read their lines without the stilted awkwardness that can sometimes appear in cheap genre pics. One exception is Wallis, who is so dull here that you might be tempted to think the failure of Tom Cruise’s The Mummy (2017) and so the Dark Universe was singlehandedly her fault. The saving grace of the film is the runtime, which is mercifully, if abruptly short.

Two scenarios exist where Mutiny is worth watching. First, you are on an airplane. You have already watched Top Gun: Maverick and The Sheep Detectives. It is time for you to drift off to sleep, but it is hard to do with the guy next to you snoring so loudly. Put this on. Second, you are at a family member’s house where there is television service but no wi-fi or cell service. Their cable package does not include Turner Classic Movies, but this is playing on TNT. Sure, why not.

Mutiny is now playing in theaters.

There’s a scene around the middle mark of Jurassic World (2015) where one of the two main kids, Gray (Ty Simpkins) randomly says to his brother:

GRAY: “If Mom and Dad get divorced, will one of us be with Mom and the other with Dad?”

The older brother, Zach (Nick Robinson) is skeptical, stating that his younger brother “hasn’t been around long enough” until Gray replies: “They get mail from two different lawyers”.

ZACH: “That doesn’t mean anything”

GRAY: “I Googled them. They’re divorce lawyers.”

This is never addressed in the film again.

(One comment on Reddit stated the reason the scene was included was so “all the kids in the audience with divorced parents are reminded that they could get double the movie merchandise.”)

But seriously, why include this scene?

Because, dear reader, adding a random divorce subplot is thought by many Hollywood writers to be the key to making a movie SPIELBERGIAN.

And boy, does The End of Oak Street want to be SPIELBERGIAN.

(Mild spoilers from here on out)

I will grant this movie that it at least has the courage to follow through on its commitment to a shoed-in divorce subplot.

The End of Oak Street follows Ewan McGregor and Anne Hathaway as hapless parents in the suburbs who are struggling to make ends meet for their two kids. One is a frustrated writer who secretly wishes for the career they never got to have and the other is a slightly stupid but loving parent and spouse who just wants to keep the family together.

It’s really funny because if this had come out in the 1980s when this takes place, Ewan would be playing the frustrated writer and Hathaway the lovable, hapless mother.

But because this movie thinks we are still in “Woke 1”, of course it is the opposite. Hathaway is the one who shoots dinosaurs with a shotgun, and McGregor is forced, Walter White style, to run around humiliated in his tightie-whities.

Because, as Paul McCartney said in his all-too prescient “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da”:

Happy ever after in the marketplace
Molly lets the children lend a hand
Desmond stays at home and does his pretty face
And in the evening she's a singer with the band, yeah

I do need to backtrack a bit here: there are dinosaurs in this movie. I won’t exactly reveal how, because that is part of the fun, Twilight Zone nature of this film which I do appreciate. And not an ultra-serious, “save the poor dinosaurs” tone of the recent Jurassic movies, but a bona-fide Flintstones vibe complete with a smoking volcano looming in the background.

Ironically, in an age where movies tend to stick the first and third act more than they do the slogging second, the second act is where this movie shines, particularly due to the fact that it features a healthy amount of really well-done dinosaur action to balance out whatever writer/director David Robert Mitchell (It Follows) is trying to do with these characters.

And I should note, there is a touching personal element Mitchell brings to this that I won’t spoil that’s revealed at the end of the film, which makes the whole thing semi-autobiographical. But it ends up feeling half-baked, and ends up coming off as really poor feminist messaging even if that was not the director’s intention. (I should also note there’s probably one of the most forced “this character is actually gay” scenes I’ve ever seen in a movie. And I’ve seen The Rise of Skywalker!).

Jurassic Park expertly weaves its family drama subtly, with Dr. Grant going on an arc of learning what it means to be a father. It’s all portrayed in subtext, imagery, and clever dialogue (“Life finds a way”). You get so wrapped up in the plot (introducing the world and mechanics of Jurassic Park which set up the later action sequences) that you don’t even notice the story. That’s masterful storytelling.

I will say, this film does have one of the boldest, wack-o endings I’ve seen in a recent film so I will have to give it props. And the longer you think about it, the darker it gets.

But the whole thing just loses any credibility when it tries to make you care about the family. If this film had been directed by someone like Tim Burton1 or Sam Raimi in the late 80s/early 90s, the family would be hilariously, satirically unlikeable to begin with and the camp would be dialed to 11. It would’ve starred Bruce Campbell and Susan Sarandon as the parents and Winona Ryder and Johnny Depp as the kids, and the neighbor would have been Danny DeVito with wild hair and fifteen cats. The whole town would have memorable characters, some of whom you probably aren’t too sad to see get eaten.

But because we as a society have decidedly become allergic to camp, even silly movies like this one need “an emotional core”.

You made a movie about dinosaurs magically appearing in the suburbs! Have fun with it!

And if you think it’s cooler to emulate Spielberg by adding divorce subplots, remember that you’re trying to emulate the guy who remembered not to take himself too seriously with his dinosaur movies.2

(It’s insane how good this scene looks for 1997!)

I’ve been on a huge Matt Johnson kick this summer. For those who don’t know, Matt is the co-creator and co-star of the show Nirvanna The Band The Show which recently had a revival with the aptly named Nirvanna The Band The Show The Movie earlier this year.

Johnson first came to my attention with his 2023 movie Blackberry about the rise and fall of the phone of the same name. This year I finally got around to seeing his prior film, Project Avalanche, a conspiracy thriller about NASA in the 1960s.

Johnson’s films- like the man himself- are characterized by originality, chaotic humor, and, most importantly, an unwillingness to shy away from the real. Now that the show is streaming on Hulu I’ve started watching episodes from the original show and it’s insane the lengths they go through to enact the schemes to play a show at the Rivoli. Every Matt Johnson project has felt like something they got away with; almost like they pranked the studio funding it to make it.

So I was pretty excited for this summer’s release of Tony, about the equally uncompromising, boundary-pushing chef-turned-TV-star Anthony Bourdain. However, when the trailer dropped something felt amiss. Why did this movie from an original director about a very original subject feel so…unoriginal?

I wasn’t sure what to expect, then I ended up working on a movie set (long story) in July with a guy who worked on the film, and although he said he had a great time he couldn’t shake the feeling that Matt was in over his head on this movie.

Tony follows Bourdain (Holdovers breakout Dominic Sessa) in his formative years in the summer of 1975 (timestamped by a screening of Jaws the characters stumble through) as he chases a girl to the town of Provincetown in Cape Cod and winds up working in a kitchen there under the supervision of a no-nonsense cook (Antonio Banderas). Bourdain has desires of becoming a writer, with the hope to write a bildungsroman (which he mispronounces), or a coming-of-age story, much like this film itself. It’s during this fateful summer that he not only finds his love for cooking but finds himself, learning that lying won’t get you very far and that blunt, brutal honesty, especially with one’s self, is the best guide in life.

There’s actually a nice undercurrent about Divine Providence (one of the characters mispronounces the name of the town of Provincetown as Providence) as this chance trip to Cape Cod to follow a girl ends up changing his entire life, and the Providence mispronunciation becomes a recurring joke until Bourdain finally learns its meaning at the end. Also, Banderas’ character takes Bourdain to Church with him despite the latter’s objections (“You don’t believe in God? That is like saying you don’t believe in the air you breathe”) ad there’s a great recurring bit where Banderas has zero tolerance for Bourdain’s frequent blasphemy.

However, despite solid ingredients the film just ends up being a nice, paint-by-numbers biopic of a very complicated man. There are allusions to his later drug use and even a conversation about suicide, but it’s brief and almost feels forced as necessary foreshadowing of Bourdain’s future demise. The film’s cinematography from Michael Bauman, fresh off an Oscar nomination for One Battle After Another, feels very different from DP Jared Raab and Johnson’s usual chaotic, zoom-heavy style and it’s a jarring clash. You would never know that Matt Johnson directed this except maybe for the frequent needle-drops.

Reports on the production give an idea of the extent of this “clash”, with Johnson citing a collision between the American studio style and his own freewheeling productions in Canada, which is relatively low on “red tape”:

Johnson had spent years developing an intentionally loose and improvisational filmmaking style on his early DIY films, “Nirvanna the Band the Show,” and eventually “BlackBerry.” “Tony,” however, was a much larger American production, and much of his regular Canadian crew couldn’t join him because of visa red tape and costs. Without that familiar team, Johnson struggled to recreate the spontaneous, experimental approach he had built his career around.

He recalled a perfect Atlantic sunset and wanting to let Leo Woodall and Sessa exist in the moment while the cameras rolled, only to run into the realities of time and money. “It’s not like there was a single person saying, ‘No, you can’t do that,’” Johnson explained. “I mean, sometimes there was. But the kid in me was not invited to set, to use a metaphor.”

The frustration eventually turned into what Johnson described as “complete and total dread.” Near the end of the shoot, an exhausted Johnson was talking through a scene with Stavros Halkias when the comedian pointed out just how palpable his misery had become: “Oh, man, even you can’t make it seem like this is a good situation anymore.”1

However, as the article points out, Johnson was finally reunited with some of his Nirvanna crew— particularly his editors Curt Lobb and Robert Upchurch and buddy Jay McCarrol for the film’s excellent score— but at this point it must have really just been a salvage job.

At the end of the day, A24 is run by the same kind of executives that any other Hollywood studio has: and they are not going to put out a potential prestige-movie that looks any different from the other prestige-fare out there. There’s just so little room in the American studio system for the kind of wonderful, outside-the-box filmmaking that Johnson is accustomed to.

That’s not to say that the actors don’t give it their all— Antonio Banderas in particular is excellent as Bourdain’s mentor— but they just don’t have much to work with. It’s a fine film, but when you watch Blackberry you will understand what a biopic can and should be. As my friend Dan put it as we escalated down from our Union Square Regal showing in lower Manhattan (one of the few places where the film is currently showing), “I was expecting this to be more punk-rock”.

I would still recommend this as a decent biopic, but don’t expect anything more. Maybe watch Blackberry instead. Or an episode of Parts Unknown.

Tony is currently only playing in NYC and L.A. It will be hitting theaters nationwide on August 21

Death. Taxes. Spider-Man.

A tale as old as time (or Gen Z). Since Sam Raimi’s first Spider-Man film brought the character to the big screen, there have been 11 solo projects centered around our “friendly neighbors” from Queens and Brooklyn. The IP has proven time and again to be a major cash cow for Sony, generating $9 billion at the box office over the last 24 years. Audiences have consistently flooded theatres to see the latest project featuring Peter Parker or Miles Morales.

This latest installment, Brand New Day, comes on the back of the most successful solo IP film of all time, Spider-Man: No Way Home, which featured a heartfelt crossover between Tom and the other two live-action Spider-Men, Andrew Garfield and Toby Maguire. That movie, which closed the arc for the high-school version of Peter Parker in the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU), tied a nice bow around the Jon Watts trilogy (Homecoming, Far From Home and No Way Home) and set up Tom Holland’s character for a sort of “soft reboot” in the next set of films.

Despite the critical, financial, and cultural success of the first three solo Holland films, this was a welcome opportunity for change. While Spider-Man was back on the big screen and incorporated into the larger universe of Marvel, it felt like something had been lost in the emotional resonance of Spider-Man’s earlier films, particularly the Raimi trilogy. Jon Watts, for all the good he did, seemed to fundamentally misunderstand the character of Spider-Man. His life was too simple, too neat. Whereas past iterations of Spider-Man, including the maligned Amazing Spider-Man run with Andrew Garfield, leaned into the complexity, emotional weight, and impossibility of navigating a life as a teenager with a secret identity who is constantly wrestling with the potential of putting his loved ones in danger, Holland’s Spidey’s low point before halfway through Spider-Man: No Way Home was the death of his mentor Tony Stark in a movie that wasn’t even his own, Avengers: Endgame. Watts’ movies featured little drama.

It also never felt like any of Watts’ movies took seriously that Spider-Man is a “friendly neighborhood” hero who is a quintessential New Yorker. Even to the point where an entire movie was set in Europe, which, while it was a great movie, was also definitively the worst Spider-Man film. The most egregious transgression, however, was the lack of imagination in the action sequences. Despite the new technology available to Watts, the web-slinging and fights of his Spider-Man films were below average at best when compared to what the previous Spider-Man films were able to pull off (with far more limited technology).

In the aftermath of Spider-Man: No Way Home’s ending, audiences were given the possibility of seeing a more emotionally mature and evocative Spider-Man film in Brand New Day where Holland’s Peter Parker would wrestle with the consequences of his decision to erase his memory from existence to save those he loved.

That possibility has become a reality. Spider-Man: Brand New Day painstakingly delivers on everything that was missing from Watts’ trilogy, and is thus the greatest entry in the Holland era of Spider-Man (I cannot emphasize this enough; it is in an entirely different stratosphere).

Brand New Day is a grounded, back-to-basics adaptation of the Webhead from Sunnyside, Queens. The multiversal disarray is traded for a heartfelt, weighty, and emotional character-driven drama. It is, as my friend LJ said in his Letterboxd review, “A love letter to NYC and a reminder why Spider-Man IS the face of Marvel.” It is everything good about the previous installments baptized into a refreshing layer of maturity. Brand New Day is enthralling, frenzied, earnest, captivating, and filled with love for the ethos of Stan Lee’s most iconic creation.

There is so much to love about this project, but the following points are some of the stand-outs.

The Positives:

This Spider-Man is Different

I am seeing a lot of instant reactions that compare Brand New Day directly to Spider-Man 2 (2004). While I understand the sentiment, I think it is a disservice to both films and particularly to Brand New Day. As I watched Brand New Day, I saw many similar themes to the early Raimi movies, but the delivery and execution are different. Brand New Day doesn’t just feel like a new type of Spider-Man movie. In many ways, it feels like a new type of superhero movie. I need to see it again to put my finger on specifically what I mean by this, but Brand New Day felt different. The pacing was frenetic and well executed. The chemistry of the ensemble cast was impeccable. New York comes alive and is a character of its own. I think Destin Daniel Cretton deserves an immense amount of credit for just how distinct this movie is from other comic-book movies.

Tom Holland Shines

I have loved Tom Holland as Spider-Man since he first appeared in Captain America: Civil War back in 2016. He is the best Peter Parker ever. He nailed the awkward high school nerd vibe of a young Spidey in the first three movies. As Spider-Man matures in this newest installment, so does Holland’s acting. While I loved The Odyssey, Spider-Man: Brand New Day confirms to me that Nolan’s biggest whiff outside of Charlize Theron’s Calypso was his utilization of Holland as Telemachus in the film. The beauty, the sincerity, the earnestness and relatability of Peter Parker is elevated by Holland’s line delivery and presence. Only Holland could make a scene where he’s building legos the most moving scene of the entire film (shoutout to male friendship).

Zendaya’s Best Performance

Zendaya is beautiful. We all know this. Zendaya is an actress in high demand. We also know this. But did we know she could do this? You probably did, but I didn’t. That is probably my fault, as I have had limited interaction with her filmography. I have only seen her in Spider-Man films and the Dune franchise. She has been serviceable up until now in Spider-Man, and she was good in Dune: Part Two. This was the first time I have seen Zendaya on the big screen and left the theatre thinking she was potentially the best performance of the film. In this movie, she is at worst a standout. Every time she is on screen, her charm and range are on full display. Her and Jon Bernthal’s interactions are the most entertaining of the project, and her scenes with Peter drive the emotional core of the film. 9.4/10.

Sadie Sink, future face of the MCU?

Sink’s role has been highly speculated in the film for months, but was (officially) kept secret until the film’s launch. I will not reveal who she is, but my friend Sam characterized her performance as “the best character introduction in the MCU since Spider-Man debuted 10 years ago.” I agree. She and Zendaya combined for the best characterizations of the project.

Jon Bernthal

The MCU for years has been plagued by soul-sucking comedy. Since Endgame (and even before that), Marvel has ruined countless scenes with poorly-timed comedy. It seemed like their writers had forgotten how to let a scene breathe on its own, and how to integrate comedy into the film organically through the particulars of characters. Perhaps the best part of Brand New Day, and a sign of its maturity, is that the comedy only serves to advance the plot and development of its characters and their relationships. Nowhere is this more present than the Punisher (Jon Bernthal) and Spider-Man’s partnership. Any time they are on screen together it feels like a buddy comedy I would pay copious amounts of money to experience. In every moment of comedic relief, there is a depth of character revealed. Bernthal is not an arbitrary add-on, but an integral part of the emotional pay-offs of the film’s central theme. More Punisher, please.

Web-Slinging and Fight Choreography

As alluded to earlier, Jon Watts Spider-Man trilogy was severely lacking in on-screen exploration of how new technology in film and editing could truly bring to life Spider-Man’s powers and abilities. Several sequences in here are jaw-dropping. Tip of the cap to Cretton, Holland, and everyone who brought it to life.

These are the biggest successes of Holland’s film, and they far outweigh the negative, but there are two minor problems I had with the film.

The Negatives

MCU Bloating - Too Many Cooks in the Kitchen

The additional characters and entities (Hulk, Punisher, Department of Damage Control) add a lot to the film, and the writers did a phenomenal job eliminating any “pre-work” necessary to follow the film. Simultaneously, there is a lot that could have been cut out and everything that could be cut out actively takes away from the more resonant beats of the project’s themes. The Hulk appearance alone was a mess. They could have kept the scenes with Professor Banner as a small cameo, and removed the Hulk. The integration would have kept its purpose and removed the fluff.

Tramell Tillman

I am profoundly disappointed in the script for Trammell Tillman’s character. I had high expectations for his inclusion after his mesmerizing performance as Milchick in Apple TV’s Severance, but he was not given space to shine at all. I hope he is written better in future projects.

While it will most likely not surpass the love most have for Spider-Man 2, my initial reaction tells me Spider-Man: Brand New Day will become my favorite live-action Spider-Man film. It does not change my skepticism about the quality and future of the superhero genre, but it is certainly an exception to the general lack of creativity that plagues recent comic book movies and is worth a trip (or two) to your local theater.

It is more than a welcome addition to the Spider-Man franchise, and scores an 8.4/10.