Category Archives: 2025

2025

The Real Housewitches of Oz Eek Out Inferior Sequel “Wicked: For Good”

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Director Jon M. Chu’s hat trick seemed to be nimbly splitting a Broadway musical’s two acts into a double whammy of film spectaculars. Trouble is, the first film was packed with confectionary creativity and a veritable bandstand of bops, so stretching this half adaptation into a sprawling opus simply enhanced the delight. The second installment is as empty as the antagonist wizard’s promises, padding a paltry batch of dirges and a virtually choreography-free display with most of the characters distant, deceitful and depressed. So it may bill itself as Wicked: For Good (C+), but it’s definitely not nearly as good. Much of the sequel replaces its signature girl power with Dynasty-style lady slaps, shoulder pads, back-biting, in-fighting and wedding cliffhangers. The witches and lovers who were once dancing through life and defying gravity seem generally bored this time around. Even the CGI animals are pretty much over the bull-shiz. Both Ariana Grande’s Glinda and Cynthia Erivo’s Elphaba get new Stephen Schwartz songs which are showstoppers only in the way they stop the film dead in its tracks (Erivo doesn’t even get to finish her subpar number). Much time has passed since the origin story for this origin story, and a bunch of characters seem to now be behaving badly to help fill in the nightmarish narrative between the witches’ time at school and Dorothy’s house dropping into the scene. The formerly spry Jonathan Bailey gets little to do this time around; and Michelle Yeoh and Jeff Goldblum are dreadful double-threats in both the acting and singing departments as a pair of insipid villains. The Fiyero/Elpheba pop anthem “As Long as You’re Mine” and the Glinda/Elphaba ballad “For Good” are the only good musical numbers in the mix. Those who haven’t seen the stage show may enjoy some of the surprising backstories to the yellow brick roadies, but most of the magic goes up in smoke. Grande makes the most of her character in what is otherwise a much more grim fairy tale this time around. 

My one-minute FilmThirst TikTok reaction:

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP8UeKJqs

2025

Bard to Tears: “Hamnet” a Showcase for Jessie Buckley and Paul Mescal

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Take one iambic pentameter for your sadness, and call me in the morning. Set in the Elizabethan era, Chloe Zhao’s Hamnet (C) depicts two parents grieving the loss of a child in very different ways. Jessie Buckley offers a raw and harrowing reaction; and Paul Mescal, who plays William Shakespeare, addresses his sadness more obliquely through the presentation of a tragic stage play far away from the domestic despair. Despite Zhao’s penchant for painterly and geometric imagery, there’s not a whole lot going here: sequences of courtship, pregnancy, illness, loss and reaction play out in slow dollops. It’s a far better showcase for Buckley, doing very fine work here, than Mescal, who just doesn’t seem as ensconced in the devastation. The strained chemistry between the central pair doesn’t help; thus the final act, moving for many, rang like artificial Oscar bait. It’s a bitter quill with few breakaways or takeaways.

2025

“Wake Up Dead Man” a Mid Mystery in “Knives Out” Franchise

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With a game all-star cast ranging from Glenn Close to Andrew Scott to Daniel Craig as the series’ intrepid detective, Rian Johnson’s Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery (B-) fixes its grimacing gaze on a peculiar place of worship where Josh O’Connor and Josh Brolin as warring priests have a spiritual score to settle. The set-up is protracted and so is the finale, but there are delights dotting the way as a droll tale of the undead unravels. Johnson imbues his story with equal parts lore and lark as viewers discover the connections between characters within the creation of his unsettling congregation. Characterizations could have been more compelling and the central premise more intriguing, but it’s still a nifty entry in a sturdy franchise. As the most fascinating denizens in the cast and the cloth, O’Connor and Brolin shine brightest in crafty confessions and sparring matches; they both have great fun with their roles. The film contains requisite twists and turns and a handful of surprises, and there may even be some looming lessons bubbling in the subtext. Prepare to get to the core of this stained glass onion this fall on Netflix.

2025

Career-Best Ethan Hawke Presides Over Bittersweet, Lyrical, Valedictory Valentine “Blue Moon” 

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Nobody loves wordplay more than the duo of director Richard Linklater and his male muse Ethan Hawke, except perhaps the guy they’re lionizing in their new film, stage lyricist Lorenz Hart, evoked by sharp screenwriter Robert Kaplow, whose rapier wit, poison pen and pathos echo through insular hallways inhabited by this underrated legend of internal rhymes. All nestled in the confines of a 1943 Broadway tavern, Blue Moon (B+) is both a jewel box of wistful nostalgia and a tragic murder ballad inflicted by a lonely man on himself. While lifelong friend and collaborator composer Richard Rodgers (Andrew Scott) toasts the triumph of his “Oklahoma!” opening night with collaborator Oscar Hammerstein II (Simon Delaney), Rodgers’ former lyricist Hart (Ethan Hawke) is hosting a pity party, holding court, stargazing and navel gazing through a descent into drunken self-reflection. Hart’s tumbler is both half full and half empty as he chews the Sardi’s scenery with equal parts relish and rage. Hawke’s transformation into Hart is no less than the performance of the year; the cocksure Reality Bites dude bites back at the world as a wisp of an older man, withered, weathered and worn by both a career abridged by alcoholism and the recognition he is unloved. This is a sensational showpiece with many layers including sustained nuance and transformational prosthetics. The film is a glorified stage play with a proscenium like a requiem and multiple dialogue duets, affecting and humorous soliloquies and blocking wizardry to mildly open up the story. As marvelous as Hawke is, he gets a wonderful ensemble with whom to spar: Scott is strong as a serious straight-shooter still in awe of his declining collaborator; Bobby Cannavale is a fun foil as the bartender; and Margaret Qualley is luminous as an art student stand-in for the promise of youth. Following Nouvelle Vague, Linklater has crafted another tribute to artistic life, and Hawke as Hart is a beguiling tour guide to this double-edged underworld of roleplaying. Like Hart’s popular songs, the title tune plus “Funny Valentine,” “Isn’t It Romantic?” and “Falling in Love with Love,” the film is blissfully out of step with its era and evokes bittersweet feelings more timeless than immediately recognized in one’s lifetime. Linklater and Hawke rescue and revive Hart in this sungular work which is as “Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered” as can be.

2025

Found Footage Film “The Perfect Neighbor” Applies Inventive Approach to Topical Issue 

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The contemporary archetype of “The Karen” is the chilling centerpiece of Geeta Gandbhir’s documentary The Perfect Neighbor (B), tracing the killing of Ajike Owens in Florida and exposes the perils of the “Stand Your Ground” policies allowing the use of force when faced with perceived imminent danger. The film is told almost primarily through police bodycam footage in a cross section of a neighborhood, exploring the series of disputes that led to the murder. The antagonist is the most fascinating character, unhinged and selective in her subversive statements, and the narrative is intriguing as the heated situation between this character and those around her boils to tragedy and then to a quest by the collective neighbors for justice. The repetitive format doesn’t leave lots of room for variety in terms of the look and feel of the shots, but Gandbhir sure knows when to punctuate the proceedings with bursts of revealing dialogue or even a hot pursuit. The real kids in the film are also compelling to witness as they react to very good and very bad adults from their playful vantage points. The form is nearly as fascinating as the story itself and succeeds overall as a cautionary tale.

2025

Absurdist Conspiracy Curiosity “Bugonia” Features Standout Plemmons, Stone

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Folks on polar opposites of debates these days find themselves talking over and past one another with such gusto and conviction, that one individual could perceive an enemy is actually an alien invader. Few forces of nature can burst these righteous, respective belief bubbles. The Yorgos Lanthimos-directed Bugonia (C+) centers on two conspiracy-obsessed men (Jesse Plemons and newcomer Aidan Delbis) who kidnap the smooth-talking CEO of a major pharma company (Emma Stone) after they become convinced her corporation’s products have hurt their family and that she’s also, naturally, an extraterrestrial intent on destroying Earth. This odd allegory continually blends an amusing talkiness with fantastical elements, which makes for a confounding and sometimes curious tone. The script largely fail to rise to the level of the filmmaker’s ambitions, but the performances are phenomenally unhinged. Plemons blithely inhabits his bonkers persona, utterly committed to his provocative role as shaggy myth-monger. Stone is on a tricky high-wire act trying to convince her captor to compromise; in her knowing nuances, she showcases why she is one of the most fascinating and nuanced actresses working today. The film has many intriguing passages and a rousing score by Jerskin Fendrix, but it’s ultimately a triumph of acting over cogent storytelling. 

2025, Rent It Tonight

Kathryn Bigelow Lets Nobody Off the Hook in Powerful Nuclear Cautionary Tale “A House of Dynamite”

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A discomforting topic in an obtuse format unfocused on any single character for long, punctuated with ambiguous outcomes, seems a formula for frustration; and yet Kathryn Bigelow imprints her signature hyperrealism with panache onto a fictional but not far-fetched situation, and the result – A House of Dynamite (B+) – is an intense, often riveting political think piece. Instead of a straight-up doomsday clock thriller, it is divided into three acts depicting the same critical moments of escalating activity as an unattributed nuclear missile careens toward the American homeland. The only edge-of-your-seat part is the first act from the White House situation room POV featuring an effective Rebecca Ferguson, who pulls viewers directly into the propulsive real-time plot. The remaining acts center on less interesting characters, a gruff general and an early-term commander-in-chief, embodied well by Tracy Letts and Idris Elba, respectively. These second and third parts pull back the microscope and introduce different degrees of decision making into the narrative, allowing viewers multiple portals for determining how they would react if faced with a similar scenario. These acts of subsequent diminishing intensity admittedly  let some air out of the story momentum but not out of the argument against mutually-assured annihilation. Bigelow peppers in matter-of-fact moments of daily life to heighten the realism and emotion, which is helpful except in at least one location laden with heavy-handed symbolism. Viewers can’t help but confront the nuclear issue and how one would respond after viewing many competent and well-trained characters struggle under the spotlight of real impending terror. Noah Oppenheim’s script offers no easy answers. Volker Bertelmann’s stirring score is a standout feature. In total it’s a flawed but vital conversation-starter movie.

2025

Linklater’s “Nouvelle Vague” Celebrates Artistry in Purest Form

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Indie auteur Richard Linklater sets the table for a French New Wave banquet complete with dishy performances, select servings of asides, a main course with temporal tastings, napkin scrawls as spontaneous cues and signature jump-cutlery in a tasty treat for cinephiles, Nouvelle Vague (A-). Expect to sleuth diligently on the Netflix menu come November for this obscure bonbon, a subtitled 4:3 aspect ratio black and white tribute to the rebel filmmaker Jean-Luc Godard as chronicled through the ragtag production of his unconventional and groundbreaking first feature film, 1960’s Breathless. Guillaume Marbeck is wonderful as the obstinate, improvisational iconoclast Godard, pioneering an on-the-fly guerrilla style; and Zoey Deutch is a sublime standout as his film’s glamorous leading lady Jean Seberg, often aghast at her helmer’s terse techniques. Among a delightful largely unknown supporting cast of real people behind a turning point in world cinema, Matthieu Penchinat is a hoot as accommodating and towering cinematographer Raoul Coutard whom, at one point on the shoot, hides in a tiny wagon to capture Parisian street crowds of accidental extras. This dramedy deftly covers the landmark high-flying act of Godard’s 20-day film shoot, complete with frustrated crews and producers and ample helpings of wit and wisdom. Linklater’s approach is that of admiration rather than mimicry or experimentation, although only a modern director this creative would conceive the go-for-broke concept and film it so elegantly in the French language. It’s madcap and maddening at times but a fun ride for those who care to hop onboard. The pace isn’t exactly breathless. The director overuses famous quotes as convenient stand-ins for more original dialogue. And some characters could have used more development. But the placemaking and insights are first-rate, with find crafts all around carrying on a grand tradition. It’s a film about the tempestuousness of artistry and the effect of timing in invention; and like Ed Wood and The Disaster Artist before it, serves up its own distinctive and layered souflee.

2025

Cerebral “Springsteen” Film a Fascinating Anti-Crowdpleaser

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Hollywood of late is so dead-set against presenting a typical “Behind the Music” style biopic treatment of its legends that it often feels like tough medicine is being administered instead of rousing entertainment, and this modern elixir of choice leveraged to tackle the subject of Bruce Springsteen is fittingly far from formulaic. Writer/director Scott Cooper’s Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere (B) is a provocative glimpse at a time period of deep introspection for the Americana pop music purveyor; and while this epoch for reflection and stripped-down creation makes for a stimulating intellectual exercise, it doesn’t always pop off the screen with accompanying bombast. Jeremy Allen White is a sly, snug choice for the title role, as his brooding character endeavors to exorcise the demons of an abusive childhood and finds himself a bit paralyzed by the notion of superstardom while transitioning from bar shows to arena tours. The plot centers around Bruce’s relentless self-recording of demos for the album Nebraska, comprised of personal fever dream confessions, folksy remembrances and intimate rock fable tone poems a far cry from the pop crossover juggernauts of his most popular “Born in the USA” era. Cooper’s film is fully committed to the artist’s evocation of his most raw and direct personal statements and tracing his singular obsession with placing the artifacts of his youth in their proper place. The movie deals with mental health struggles, which White handles deftly. And there are mere moments of fan service with only a few tunes covered in their entirety. The talented Odessa Young is wonderfully endearing as love interest Faye, although her lively contributions are somewhat dismissed, a more rotation around an Atlantic City boardwalk carousel, amidst the songwriter’s overall cycle of moodiness. Jeremy Strong and Paul Walter Hauser are effective in small parts as the manager/producer and recording engineer, respectively, who help the Boss be his best. The film is best in its moments of heightened emotion. It needed more music, though, as White channels the gravel-throated crooner with stirring authenticity. The film is overall a unique glimpse into the man and musician and gives a rather full picture of his emotional landscape even as it may leave many fans wanting more.

2025

Hey Ya, Frankonia/Outcast: “Frankenstein” Format Presents Identity Issues

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Frankenstein Film Netflix

One of culture’s most enduring pop duos occupies an often fascinating double bill in Guillermo del Toro’s idiosyncratic retelling of classic gothic horror fantasy, marked by exploration of self-loathing and shared identity. The august director’s expansive Netflix adaptation of Frankenstein (B), is divided in half, focused at first on narcissistic Dr. Victor Frankenstein, played by Oscar Isaac, displaying epic rage, and then following the sapient creature’s perspective, embodied by Jacob Elordi, often more pensive and philosophical as he grapples with the dysphoria and isolation imbued in his cobbled together reanimated body. The presentation in two chapters, each from a different man’s POV, is almost too on the nose about the identity of the real monster. Call it ego then emo. The first half about ambition and scientific ethics is very much alive, with a very committed Isaac energized by experimentation, with grand production design and some grisly effects, plus some spry scene work opposite Christoph Waltz, a hoot as a curious benefactor. Horror staple Mia Goth is intriguing in her arrival but underused in this section, sidelined as the father figure tale takes full center stage. Chapter two largely tackles societal rejection through Elordi at the center and not fitting in very well; but this part of the tale is a letdown, downplaying action for more interior case study that just doesn’t pulse the same way as the preceding passages. The creature is a sympathetic character, born this way and yearning for answers, but the aesthetics and plot don’t do him any favors in emoting and connecting through the pancaked prosthetics to the audience. The towering Elordi looks the part, for sure, but his character just doesn’t land with intended gravitas. The directorial choice of how all this is framed drains life out of the film rather than amplify the intrigue. The film’s crafts are roundly impressive, ranging from Kate Hawley’s distinctive costumes to Alexandre Desplat’s lyrical score. There’s lots of good creative work here; it’s just put together in ways that don’t always elevate the familiar into the fantastic. For the two-chapter Netflix mentality, it’s one part binge, one part cringe and most parts a thing of beauty.

2025

“Re-Election” is a Hanging Chad of a Comedy

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Re-election film 2025

We’ve all had the dream of going back to school, armed with what we know now, imagining the power of what we’d do differently; but a new film squanders the conceit. In his unsuccessful comedy Re-Election (D), director Adam Saunders plays an aimless middle-aged sad sack who re-enrolls in high school to run for class president again after an epic fail, desperate to capture the mojo he lost as a teenager. The goofball character at the center of the film is the first of its problems. The script does a disservice to everyone involved as the comic parts aren’t particularly distinctive, and the dramatic parts feel like an afterschool special. And for a film about a political campaign, there’s not really an insightful takeaway there either, as one can’t help but think of “Tracy Flick” and all the pioneers of wry modern electioneering allegory. The serious presence of Bex Taylor-Klaus as an earnest character schooling the protagonist about issues of non-binary identity and of Tony Danza as a father figure of sorts prattling on about something or other do little to overcome the notion thst everyone acting in this film seems to be in a different universe, and few of those universes feel like a real modern high school. There also seems to be a fire sale on the song “Here Comes the Hotstepper,” which serves as an inexplicable nostalgia stand-in a time or two. Like the Howard Dean scream that doomed a campaign some two decades ago, this film seems ready to roar and then sort of prattles off the dais. 

2025

As “Roofman,” Channing Tatum is Prancing on the Ceiling with Endearing Performance

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Equal parts chewing the scenery and emoting with grace, a modern matinee idol has matured into an ideal role for his talents. – a true step-up, if you will. Derek Cianfrance’s true crime comedy Roofman (B+), so named because of its antihero’s penchant for entering his retail robbery targets from above, is a tour de force for Channing Tatum in the title performance. It’s a wild real-life story of a down-on-his-luck U.S. Army veteran who uses his skills at observing patterns to commit a crime spree to provide for his Charlotte family, and Tatum clearly relishes both the comic and tender side of the role and the fancy footwork of action in the exciting escapades. The better part of the film takes place in a secret bunker hideout the character creates inside a Toys “R” Us superstore, and many of the film’s joys are akin to those of Castaway, in which playing off physical objects becomes a central acting challenge. Along with the strong title character, Kirsten Dunst is the film’s other major standout as a toy store associate and single mom whom Roofman encounters via surveillance and at a local church; the “meet cute” has darker undertones as it’s fairly clear things may careen into danger for the unconventional couple. Tatum and Dunst bring their finest energies to their respective roles; and although there isn’t a hugely consequential theme to the proceedings, the featherweight story is consistently witty, touching and engrossing. In his screenplay collaboration and direction, Cianfrance also proves a deft observer of human intimacy and draws consistent excellence from his ensemble. This movie is a shaggy, entertaining romp with hearts worn on even the sleeves with guns.