I've reviewed films for more than 35 years. Current movie reviews of new theatrical releases and streaming films are added weekly to the Silver Screen Capture movie news site. Many capsule critiques originally appeared in expanded form in my syndicated Lights Camera Reaction column.
A contemporary tale of political intrigue, a serial crime spree mystery and a noirish adaptation of comic book legend blend spectacularly in The Batman (A), assuredly directed by Matt Reeves. Similar in style and tone to Seven and L.A. Confidential, with twisty themes and commentary on urban decay and perverse forms of achieving justice, this superhero drama is dead serious to the core. This bacchanal of cinematic delights includes transfixing production design, purposeful action, wondrous gadgetry, stunning cinematography and a triumphant score to herald the latest movie series epoch with Robert Pattinson as a brave and brooding Batman/Bruce Wayne. A political assassination sets the dense narrative into motion, with Pattinson’s protagonist juggling several layers of intrigue to cut through corruption and discover unsettling truths. No mere retelling of the origin story, this installment charts unconventional courses into unexpected places. Pattinson proves to be a grim and winning hero with impeccable acting ability. Zoë Kravitz as an avenging spy Cat Woman, Paul Dano as a cunning crackpot Riddler and Colin Farrell (unrecognizable under makeup) as an old-school gangster Penguin all lend dynamic supporting turns, and Jeffrey Wright and John Turturro are also wonderful in less showy ensemble roles. Reeves creates a lived-in universe of pulpy nightclubs, sprawling cathedrals, sinister lairs and sky-high vistas for epic action sequences and showdowns and continuously raises the stakes of his widescreen canvas. Many topical themes are unusually prescient, yet the stirring central storyline never falters. The sheer notion at all points that anything could happen makes it continually watchable despite a considerable running time. This sets a new high watermark for the genre and is sure to thrill both hardcore fans and discerning general movie audiences who don’t have to know backstory to enjoy a propulsive path forward.
Welcome to the game of poems as Peter Dinklage spryly assumes the titular character of Joe Wright’s unusual romantic comedy musical adaptation of Cyrano (B-). To assess this Sicily-set film’s patchwork charms, one has to separate the generally high quality of the story and production values from the confounding and often distracting music and dance choices. Dinklage is quite charismatic and empathetic as the misfit linguist and warrior, and Haley Bennett is a luminous and appealing Roxane in a classic tale of seemingly unrequited love. Surprisingly for a film so steeped in words, the lyrics of the songs by members of the band the National are pretty consistently banal. Dinklage and co-stars Kelvin Harrison Jr. as dashing Christian and Ben Mendelsohn as diabolical De Guiche display a bit of a “gargling with razor blades” vocal quality. Thankfully Bennett is in lovely voice as the lone member of the ensemble who doesn’t sound like she’s singing in the shower. Like its lead character, the film has a sly and scrappy approach, and there are mercifully a total of three music sequences that work at least on some levels. Expect to be slackjawed at times and bowled over at others as the film struggles mightily with its sense of time and place and its curious sonic structure. It’s a scruffy, uneven mess with occasional madcap moments of blissful romance. The movie is recommended for viewers who would naturally find this kind of lavish, cerebral content alluring and not so much for others.
The W.C. Fields admonition to never work with children or animals gets a hard pass when those stars are one of the screen’s charming rejuveniles and a canine companion trained for war but imbued with empathetic instincts. Dog (B+), the feature film co-directing debut of Channing Tatum and Reid Carolin, is a rare breed of heady human/animal bond pictures with a dramatic undercurrent about the aftermath of war and just needing someone to talk to about it. The film stars Tatum as an Army Ranger who must escort the Belgian Malinois military working dog of his fallen commander down the Pacific coast to her handler’s funeral. It’s packed with funny and dramatic road trip elements, some slapstick sequences and some moments of profundity along the journey as both man and dog overcome emotions for which they were never trained. This is an ideal vehicle for Tatum’s wry, affable Everyman demeanor, plus the animal is ever a winning screen partner. There’s definitely some content in the film not appropriate for younger kids, but the portrayal of a duo facing PTSD as they attempt to move on in civilian life makes this an unexpectedly moving story.
A reverse romantic comedy in which a duo of jilted lovers collaborate on a ruse to regain the affections of their exes, Jason Orley’s I Want You Back (B+) is chock-full of fun and charm. Charlie Day and Jenny Slate are a hoot as the goofy twosome in cahoots, with Gina Rodriguez and Scott Eastwood effective as the seemingly winning lovers who abandoned them. Slate in particular is a delight in her role and lends a droll demeanor as an unconventional leading lady on a path to self-discovery. Many of the romcom genre’s formulaic conventions are front and center but in wry, warped form, and the writers play to the comic talents of the ensemble with confident effect. It’s full of fun detours including a jaunty infiltration of a middle school musical, karaoke and nightclub sequences of tremendous joy and a variety of pratfalls and showdowns worthy of the story’s idiosyncratic characters. Amidst the madcap events is a series of smart observations about compatibility and personal destiny. Swipe left or right on your streaming service to connect with this film.
Director Kat Coiro finds some glimmers of final act sparkle to doll up the dirge of Marry Me (D+), which for most of its duration is misbegotten and monotonous and features one of the decade’s most chemistry-free romantic couples. Jennifer Lopez no doubt has considerable allure, and it’s on display in her costume, choreography and compositions, but wow, is her romance with Luke Wilson’s character a big ole clunker! The preposterous premise that Lopez’s pop music star character proposes from the concert stage to an everyman in the crowd keeps getting worse before it gets better. About thirty minutes before the end, Coiro and company put the narrative out of its misery and compensate with at least two great pop anthems, charming celebrity cameos including Latin star Maluma and a treasure trove of fabulous fashions. Most of the film simply doesn’t work, not for a lack of J.Lo trying. Wilson’s understated performance is simply no match for her singular spectacle, and surface gloss cannot repair this fussy and unfunny high concept.
Director Steven Soderbergh puts the WTF in WFH in his minor key paranoid thriller Kimi (C). Stepping into the Rear Window/Blow Out role as the protagonist who unwittingly uncovers a crime, a winning Zoë Kravitz is a homebound but electric-blue hair sporting computer analyst who works in an overly appointed Seattle apartment correcting voice assistant command results for a pre-IPO tech startup and discovers a snippet with a twist. The film takes place in a somewhat modern day metropolis with pandemic and political undertones, but Kravitz’s character is also agoraphobic, so there are double the reasons for her character to not want to leave home despite an ultimate wild goose chase of requirements to solve the central conundrum. The plot gets increasingly lively but can’t mask its status as a running retread. Soderbergh appears to be saying something about the human disconnects of a technically tethered world, but mainly his creation here is an under-baked trifle with an appealing central performance and a few cool suspense sequences. Even lesser Soderbergh contains some winning shots and ideas, but this one simply sneaks into the slipstream of mediocrity.
A quarter century of death stab for cutie culminates in the sights and sounds of settling. Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett’s 2022 reboot of Scream (C+), which is essentially the fifth movie in continuity in the meta horror whodunit series, takes place 25 years after the streak of fatal stabbings from the original film as a new killer dons the Ghostface mask and targets a group of teenagers to resurrect secrets from the small California town’s deadly past. The traditional cold open – this time featuring Jenna Ortega as the ingenue who gets a threatening phone call while alone at her house – is promising with its insider discussion of what makes an “elevated modern horror movie,” but alas the film that follows doesn’t further deliver on the premise to forge a more creative path with artier intentions. Instead we follow an ensemble of newcomers ranging from Melissa Barrera to Mikey Madison to Mason Gooding who are all given scant dialogue with which to work and collectively evoke minimal chemistry or empathy. Only Jack Quaid gets some funny throwaway lines as the character who perpetually states the obvious about the horror tropes the group is experiencing within the “rules of the requel,” kind of a sequel many years later bringing back familiar stars to extend a franchise. The film’s third act finally hits high gear as those original movie stars get their hand at revenge and redemption, with Neve Campbell, Courteney Cox and David Arquette all effective in resurrecting their wise and weary characters. The final thirty minutes is a hoot and while still not “elevating” the horror to any new plane at least delivers what fans of the series have come to expect and love: twists and turns of the knife and events. So ultimately the slow-burn pays off for the new directors taking over for the late Wes Craven , but it’s regretful the intro and finale have more impact than the sometimes sluggish songbook in between.
If the DeLorean is known for time travel and the Aston Martin a harbinger of glamorous espionage, this film’s cherry red Saab is now known as a vessel of truth. Ponderous, profound and poetic, Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s drama Drive My Car (B) follows a stoic actor/director played by Hidetoshi Nishijima who grapples with grief in his personal life while directing an unconventional production of the play Uncle Vanya. He begins to surrender control when a young woman (Tōko Miura) is assigned to be his chauffeur, in one of those great Once-style relationships. This Japanese film achieves some additional gravitas due to the austere and revealing landscape of its Hiroshima setting, and its meta glimpse at emotional catharsis means the filmmaker can Chekhov all the boxes of the modern-day art house movie. It’s a delicate balance and a tad glum in parts and honestly sometimes a touch obvious in its musings about the nature of acting and the power of art to heal wounds. But it’s often a fascinating fugue on a variety of themes about loss, as characters alternately try to stick to the text and be moved by it. It’s also a gorgeously filmed travelogue into treacherous human territories with lots of slow-burn discoveries. In addition to the strong lead performances, Masai Okada is also entrancing as a troubled member of the troupe. Ultimately this is an emotionally rewarding road trip into the human condition likely to please cinephiles and completely confound others.
People go searching for wisdom in libraries and monasteries, at forums secretive and scholarly; but according to George Clooney’s coming of age melodrama The Tender Bar (C-), there’s no better smarts than those doled out by pub patrons on Long Island in the ‘70s and ‘80s. Who needs a TED Talk when you can get a good “Charlie talk” administered by your friendly neighborhood ‘tender, portrayed by Ben Affleck? Although sometimes jaunty and sentimental, this is mainly mellow filmmaking of some minor chord memoirs with a Wonder Years style voice-over and perfunctory period radio tunes. The unnecessary narration and unoriginal playlist blast over a trifle of a story about a kid with a single mom (Lily Rabe) and her bartender brother (Affleck) who acts as surrogate father to explain the “male sciences” of growing up, careers and courtship. In the protagonist role, Tye Sheridan doesn’t get much to do, and there are never any stakes elevated to matter much. The whole movie seems to exist as a showcase for Affleck’s wily lived-in performance, which is quite good and often affecting. It’s overall watchable but unremarkable with diminishing returns as the film meanders and progresses.
Full of sound and fury, black and white cinematography, German expressionist noir stylings and vampy costumes, Joel Coen’s The Tragedy of Macbeth (C) still manages to be frustratingly austere and beguiling in its lack of a central pulse. The ingredients are all there, including Denzel Washington in the title role and Frances McDormand as his partner in crime, but the film just sits there like a pretty portrait frame not sure what to do with the space within its confines. Consumed by ambition and spurred to action by his wife (McDormand), Washington’s Macbeth murders the king and takes the Scottish throne for himself but is then wracked with guilt and paranoia. I’m not sure this has ever been said about a Shakespeare adaptation, but it should have been longer; the lean “highlights reel” storytelling somehow shortchanges character arcs. Plus the intentionally cramped sets fail to feel like walls closing in but rather convey a limited expanse and low stakes, like everything was filmed on the tiniest artful sound stage. There were two times I almost believed it was actually taking place in Scotland; perhaps it was just supposed to be Coen’s fevered dreamscape. Both Washington and McDormand are done very few favors by their director; what could have been career-best work from master thespians is merely perfunctory. Washington plays the role very weary, although he eeks out enough effective line readings for an Oscar reel. McDormand doesn’t really register here. Truly “out, damned spot” is blink and you’ll miss it. Only Kathryn Hunter as the Witches, Corey Hawkins as Macduff and Alex Hassell as Ross get to shine in supporting parts; the less said about Harry Melling as Malcolm, the better. This adaptation, while it has some lovely and imaginative shots, simply reminds viewers to check out more engaging adaptations by Roman Polanski in 1971 and Justin Kurzel in 2015.
A wry walk on the wild side buoyed by a ripsaw of a central performance, an antidote to the confines of cancel culture and a gloriously observant excavation of black-market communities not often chronicled, Sean Baker’s Red Rocket (A-) is mondo movie mayhem from the opening shot to the last. Against the backdrop of gulf-side Texas with equal bursts of imposing industrial complexes, day-glo donut shops and pastel pink bungalows, Baker sets the stage for simultaneous drama, comedy and action as penniless adult entertainer and gifted scam artist Mikey Saber (former MTV personality Simon Rex) returns to the modest home of his estranged wife Lexi (a blissful Bree Elrod), and her feisty mother Lil (Brenda Deiss, also a delight). A promised short stay becomes an escalating series of shock and awe escapades incited by Rex’s despicable but sympathetic antihero with at-minimum balls-out abandon. Rex is a chaotic force of nature in the role, and viewers have permission to tag along to his Texploits free of moral obligation to agree with his actions. He resembles a Seussian Thing Three with his madcap mannerisms and grab bags of grift; it’s among the most memorable unhinged performances of the past few years. The reunited family at the film’s center is an absolute delight, backed up by a sterling supporting cast including Suzanna Son as a Lone Star Lolita named Strawberry, Ethan Darbone as “driver to the star” Lonnie and Brittney Rodriguez as illegal pharma liaison June. This is a challenging film with daring subject matter; it’s not for the faint of heart nor for family night at the movies. After his lauded and ambitious The Florida Project, Baker’s devil-may-care whirling dervish of a detour is certain to continue his upward trajectory among filmmakers.
