Danny Boyle reclaims the director’s chair for the third entry of the dystopian future saga he originated with writer Alex Garland in which brave British citizens fend off hoards of “rage virus” infected humans (don’t call ‘em zombies!). Although still made with urgent, kinetic energy and exciting chases with graphic kills, 28 Years Later (B+) pulls a page out of A Quiet Place: Day One territory to culminate in a more internal and emotionally contemplative conclusion than possibly expected. This sequel centers on a very good child actor, Alfie Williams as Spike, whose stalwart loyalty to his parents played by Aaron Taylor-Johnson and Jodie Comer puts him in some precarious crosshairs. Boyle sets the action up on a British island with folksy townspeople who have successfully protected themselves from the encroaching undead. Several missions to a mainland connected by a narrow isthmus uncovered by the tide in brief spells reveal mysteries and open up Spike’s eyes to the ways of the world as he and his family face various forms of mortality. The movie is an enjoyably character-driven coming of age story with a dad intent on showing his son the power of the hunt and a mom grappling with a different set of demons. Both actors command attention and interact brilliantly with the young protagonist. Boyle blazes a sensational landscape for this journey and finds balm in the heart of darkness courtesy of a peculiar and too brief performance by Ralph Fiennes. Boyle certainly elevates the tropes of the genre in this outing, even as tone and energy mutate from time to time. His return to form in this series is welcome.
Writer/director Celine Song conjures career-best performances out of a trio of popular actors and serves up a sophomore triumph of a “rom dram” in the marvelous Materialists (A). The auteur with an eye and ear for the art of companionship delivers fresh takes on the nature of love and gives audiences many reasons to care while consistently questioning the conventions of coupling. It’s all more complicated than its seemingly routine log-line implies, as it’s ultimately an incredibly profound meditation on life and love. A young New York City matchmaker played by Dakota Johnson finds her business and personal life getting complicated as she finds herself torn between the perfect match, Pedro Pascal as a wealthy private equity exec, and her imperfect ex, Chris Evans as a struggling actor). The story takes its time to hit effective beats and positions its characters with precision to cast its spell. Johnson is wonderfully empathetic in the lead role, funny and vulnerable and so evocative of her famous mom Melanie Griffith in Working Girl. Lushly photographed by Shabier Kirchner who also lensed Song’s Past Lives, the heroine’s unexpectedly lonely travails in Manhattan are brilliantly juxtaposed against the bevy of brides and brides-to-be celebrating blissfully in various backgrounds. Her character is obsessed with brokering relationships leveraging the math of modern dating, and the film questions many of the equations with pluck and logic. Song superbly stages dialogue-heavy sequences with spark and has a delicate way of depicting characters making connections as if they are the only two people in the whole world, which is quite a wonder in the concrete jungle. Pascal and Evans are both incredibly charming, despite the suspension of belief needed by viewers to imagine Evans without confidence. They both provide lots to love. Prepare for a few trick endings and some surprisingly moving subplots. This is a great summer date film for adults. After becoming the prominent purveyor of the modern love triangle, it will be fascinating what she does next.
The auteur director behind Fruitvale Station deliriously detours from his Wakanda and Creed franchise universes for an original passion project: Sinners (A) is Ryan Coogler unleashed, a polished and imaginative production of a writer/director at the peak of his powers. There’s an extended sequence – and you’ll know what it is when you encounter it – of such accelerating atmosphere and transcendent beauty and surprise, you might feel like your mind just played tricks on you. Think “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” by way of Edgar Allan Poe. Coogler’s slow-burn place making of the American South in the 1930s lends both specificity and spellbinding other-worldliness to his mystery box of a genre-hopper. The filmmaker’s man-muse Michael B. Jordan is terrific in the dual role as twin brothers Smoke and Stack, former soldiers and Chicago gangland fixtures with something to prove as they return to their rural hometown origins to ostensibly stand up a juke joint and mentor their musically gifted cousin, a sharecropper and preacher’s son played by R&B prodigy Miles Caton, one of the film’s exquisite sonic discoveries. Incidentally Jordan’s two characters are two sides of an unlucky penny and splendidly rendered, high on the actor’s double star wattage. Some other ensemble members are blissfully reborn in their roles, namely Hailee Steinfeld and Wunmi Mosaku as feisty connectors between cultural worlds. Delroy Lindo is a welcome veteran portraying the town drunk trope with Shakespearean panache, and Jack O’Connor gives lulling lift to a character conjuring cinematic spirits in what feels like nothing short of a battle of the bands in its undercurrent. Coogler applies his eye for epic storytelling in a film marked by characters with preternatural abilities colliding with supernatural scope. Ludwig Göransson’s blues and bluegrass fusion music is intoxicating, as is the sound design underscoring each dramatic line of sinister and sometimes sexy dialogue. The film’s characters are wily magnets for fascinations of the flesh, with world building in pursuit of pulpy ambitions. Autumn Durand Arkapaw’s superb cinematography, shot on 65mm film using a combination of IMAX 15-perf 70mm and Ultra Panavision 70mm cameras, with alternating aspect ratios, provides the perfectly shape-shifting proscenium for a night out like no other. Suffice it to say this film is a no holds barred powder-keg of cinematic excellence with layers of sly subtext fit for decoding and an entertaining surface to simply be relished. Experience this communal discovery in as colossal a theatre as you can access.
It’s official: The romcom of the year is a gay Hindu love story hot off the film festival circuit. Roshan Sethi’s A Nice Indian Boy (A-) is an utter delight, with Karan Soni as a repressed doctor falling in love with a sentimental photographer played by Jonathan Groff. This sweet romance told in five sharp chapters disarms aspects of the central culture clash by making Groff’s character the adopted son of Indian parents, aligned in faith with an otherwise star-crossed lover. Soni’s droll, deadpan running meta commentary into his own courtship provides such an intensely cynical world view that he seemingly can only be conquered by Groff’s sunny demeanor. Two supporting women also steal the show including Sunita Mani as the protagonist’s lone sister and Zarna Garg as their mom. Garg in particular is hysterical in her attempts to understand her son’s orientation; she is wonderfully affecting in the role. The movie is full of lush colors with enjoyable music and Bollywood styled rituals. Its comedy is tinged with heartfelt and bittersweet lessons about how one can discover the love of a lifetime when least prepared. Even viewers with clinched hearts will find new capacity to love this movie and its lively characters.
Note: Thanks to Atlanta’s Out on Film and Tara Theatre for the early screening for an enthusiastic crowd!
Fair warning to moviegoers with short attention spans, audiences expecting a thriller with rollicking action or viewers opting to experience this film streaming rather than in theatres: this isn’t for you. Steven Soderbergh’s Black Bag (A-) is a brisk and efficient espionage caper that demands, nay, requires your attention to appreciate the art and slow-burn of its double crosses and droll wit. An impeccable British sextet of spies engage in enjoyable mind games resembling a whodunit in one of David Koepp’s most nuanced scripts. Michael Fassbender and Cate Blanchett give restrained but memorable performances as the central married couple who are also British intelligence operatives. This duo’s marital bond is eclipsed only by devotion to their fidelity to their nation. Marisa Abela and Tom Burke bring humor and Naomie Harris and Rege-Jean Page bring solemnity to the table as the London-based characters engage in a metaphorical chess match. Pierce Brosnan also has a small but pivotal part in the ensemble and gets some nice grace notes. Soderbergh clearly relishes his role as a veteran cinematic showman and purveyor of a terrific twisty story. The plot is contained to just a handful of days and a few nifty locations, but it contains multitudes in a streamlined package. The polygraph sequence alone overshadows the creativity of most movies’ gadget lairs. This is the kind of well-crafted drama for adults Hollywood rarely doles out these days. Soderbergh has made dozens of movies, but it plays like a brand new discovery. See it; it’s clutch.
Doused with deliberate doses of both sweet and sadistic sequences, co-directors Dan Berk and Robert Olsen’s action comedy Novocaine (B) offers constant injections of surface fun in a high-concept package. Durable actor Jack Quaid plays a bank executive with a rare condition: he is incapable of feeling physical pain. He’s also smitten with his co-worker and emerging girlfriend played beautifully by Amber Midthunder, but the burgeoning courtship is hastily interrupted by the actions of a criminal ring led by the very charismatic Ray Nicholson. Spidey saga sidekick Jacob Batalon is also effective as the film’s amusing wingman. Quaid fully commits to the peculiar physicality of the role, and the story keeps upping the ante in terms of its Everyman ensconced in epic urban action. Mostly the story is outrageous, but the joke of being immune to a constant cavalcade of tortures keeps delivering. Early sequences between Quaid and Midthunder portend a more romantic, possibly better film; but pain is so close to pleasure as silly adventure ensues. It’s a giddy, guilty pleasure experience.
Bruce David Klein’s latest documentary shows how a star was reborn into a stage and screen legend. Chronicling the complex period of Liza Minnelli’s life starting in the 1970s, just after the tragic death of her mother Judy Garland, Liza: A Truly Terrific Absolutely True Story (B+), is star-studded and often dazzling. Viewers will get to see the documentary subject confront a range of personal and professional challenges on the way to becoming a bona fide icon. Over the formative years covered in the film, Liza seeks out extraordinary mentors in the fields of music and dance (John Kander, Fred Ebb and Bob Fosse among them) and fashion via Halston. With insightful participation from a coterie of colleagues ranging from Ben Vereen to the late Chita Rivera, along with revelatory participation by the star herself, it’s an intriguing look at the star’s rise and resilience. It is most interesting when she is most vulnerable. The episodic format with chapter titles and quotes is a little tedious, but ultimately it’s a definitive portrait of the lady.
A genre defying film that’s part romance, part satire, part horror, part fantasy, part whodunit and parts unknown, Drew Hancock’s Companion (B+) confronts the dynamics of modern relationships in fierce and twisty ways. Set in a lavish weekend getaway mountain home, the gathered ensemble is game for the occasion: Sophie Thatcher as a troubled companion to everyman Jack Quaid; Lukas Gage and Harvey Guillen as blissful gay partners; and Megan Suri as unconventional gangster moll to a mysterious and married Rupert Friend. Some secrets and blood are spilled in a story that will keep people guessing. The narrative gleefully continues to reframe itself as more layers are revealed. Viewers also discover a technology component capable of shifting the characters’ destinies. Hancock has a good deal of creativity up his sleeve as gender and power dynamics unfurl in his wily wilderness. Thatcher is a natural as a character getting a strange feeling about her vacation mates, and Quaid gives off an effortless affable quality. The film is not so terribly bloody or scary as to keep away the casually curious. It does, however, lose a little steam toward the end. Overall this unassuming and brisk movie will reward those seeking a mainstream film with some thematic travels down some surprising paths.
Here’s some spoiler-free fan art I made with the Leonardo.AI app after contemplating the movie a while:
The ultimate musical about dorm room essentials and etiquette signals its inspirational intentions on a wondrous dry erase storyboard when an underground campus scandal threatens to silence outspoken professors, prompting two mismatched roomies to rally together for a common cause. It’s also the prequel to The Wizard of Oz about young witches at a crossroads of magic school Shiz University, the activist roommate going green while the other mindlessly revels in her pink bubblegum popularity. This tidy trapper keeper of Broadway-adapted bliss, John M. Chu’s Wicked: Part I (A) juggles the poppies, rainbows and yellow bricks of its spellbinding origin story while celebrating its vibrant cinematic connections to Victor Fleming’s 1939 classic with lavish set pieces, buoyant production numbers and, most of all, an iconic central duo metaphorically stepping into Dorothy’s shoes. The splendid odd couple at the heart of this tuneful tale represents no easy-bake coven; rather it’s a rarefied once-in-a-lifetime collision of talent. Cynthia Erivo as outcast Elphaba and Ariana Grande as populist Glinda slay their respective roles, their Stephen Schwartz songs such as “The Wizard and I” and “Defying Gravity” and the machinations of the mid-tempo melodrama. Splitting the film adaptation into two installments gives Chu a delicate opportunity to better excavate the characters’ relationships and showcase sequences faithfully fused from Gregory Maguire’s novel and L. Frank Baum’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. The adaptation experiment works brilliantly and brings the story full circle. It’s only half the story, and yet there is a complete movie arc in this single act with the young ladies discovering agency and friendship to a rousing conclusion and one-year intermission. The prequel to a prequel as it were shines equally in a near-silent moment of undeniable power and resilience as it does in its most elaborate song-and-dance sequences. There is also a stunning allegory afoot for those who seek a tonic elixir antidote to grim political poison in the air, with an undeniably prescient “rise up” drumbeat piercing the artifice. Jonathan Bailey is a charming supporting character as love interest Fiyero, bringing rizz to Shiz via a standout “Dancing Through Life” number with an inventive choreographed sequence within the university’s circular rotating library. The filmmakers have clearly thought through the best and most creative ways for each and every beat to come through, emotionally and sonically. The film’s crafts from the whimsical costume designs to the elaborate production environments and soaring underscore provide wall-to-wall wonder. Most of all, this musical fantasy is a genuine triumph of casting, with Grande acing her assignment as both comically oblivious but daffily lovable and Erivo offering a slow-burn reveal and belting to the emerald heavens. If I could pass Chu a note or two, it would be that some of the CGI could be less fussy and the choreography could be more Fosse. Nearly three quarters of a century after cinematic Oz world-building began, the Good Witch and the Wicked Witch conjure some rousing revisionist history and extend the franchise in one of the year’s most enchanting experiences.
A classic adage proclaims the art of writing about music is akin to dancing about architecture; conversely, critiquing a movie featuring a modernist minimalist designer upending conventions is a particularly apt parallel for unpacking Brady Corbet’s ambitious 215-minute period piece The Brutalist (A). Filmed especially for 7O millimeter VistaVision large-screen formats including narrative divided into two acts and a well-placed 15-minute intermission, this is a consummate cinematic banquet and in nearly all ways an absolute masterpiece. Like the iconic building style of its title, the film’s characters captured by Lol Crawley’s creative cinematography are angular and exposed, and the movie’s lens on the historic American immigrant experience bitingly bleak. Escaping postwar Europe, fictional visionary architect Laszlo Toth (Adrien Brody) emigrates to rebuild his life, his career and his marriage to Erzsebet (Felicity Jones) in the US of A. On his own in a strange new land (Pennsylvania), Laszlo encounters industrialist magnate Harrison Lee Van Buren (Guy Pearce) who recognizes his talent. There are twists and turns along the journey, which is consistently imagined in full. The film’s length and one-two punch structure adds to the epic nature of watching the main character’s vastness of experiences across decades. The production design by Judy Becker evokes authenticity in the story’s primary epoch of the 1940s through ’60s, and there are some stunning building and room configurations on display in the story, worthy of the titular architect. Daniel Blumberg’s urgent music adds to the intrigue and pageantry. The performances are roundly amazing with Brody in career-best mode as a complex man who is both optimistic and mercurial. This film is a grand experience, and even the loose ends from its labyrinthine plot will stimulate conversations. This will be a movie categorized with some of the great modern classics such as There Will Be Blood and The Power of the Dog.
The palace intrigue and visual effects both get mighty upgrades — albeit with fewer iconic declarations of dialogue — as Ridley Scott returns to the ring for a highly enjoyable Gladiator II (B+). While many of the story beats represent a retread of the Best Picture winning 2000 original film, Paul Mescal steps comfortably into the sandals of the protagonist role and draws viewers in as his character watches Roman emperors (Pedro Pascal among the leaders) conquer his homeland before he endeavors to return a legendary land to glory. As an empire-adjacent antagonist, Denzel Washington is also a highlight as a complex power broker with constant surprises around every turn. His scenery chewing rivals Joaquin Phoenix from the first film. The sequel’s action set pieces including a clash of warriors on ships within a coliseum are stunning. After one questionable sequence involving fake CGI monkeys early on, the film’s visual effects are roundly glorious. There’s a lingering feeling of wanting just a little more emotionally from this film, but it’s hard to argue with the brutal bacchanal of pulpy violence and vengeance on display here. Overall the film is a marvelous and rousing adventure.
The behind-closed-doors election of a new pope plays out like a whodunit in Edward Berger’s superb drama Conclave (A-). Cardinal Lawrence (Ralph Fiennes), tasked with facilitating this secretive and ancient event and surrounded by powerful religious leaders from around the world in the halls of the Vatican, uncovers a series of deep secrets that could threaten the very foundation of the Roman Catholic Church. Stanley Tucci plays one of the most progressive papal candidates and Sergio Castellitto one of his most conservative rivals in a well curated ensemble of wonderful actors. Fiennes carries much of the weight of the dramatic narrative on his shoulders and is quite impressive in the lead role. Berger stages the story in orderly and disciplined fashion, allowing twists to naturally reveal themselves. He explores the nuances of human judgment without resorting to sensationalism or sentiment; it’s an intriguing story well told. This film is likely to have significant continued resonance with motivations and messages sure to ring true any time new power structures are sorting themselves out.
