Note: Thanks to Out On Film for an early screening as this buzzy Sundance acquisition gets a theatrical run in select markets starting this week.
Between seclusion from common COVID-era customs, confusion over gender roles, delusion over modern etiquette and illusions of relationships forged online or in video games, it’s no wonder IRL has mainly been WTF, and male friendships have become a contemporary casualty. Following a riff on similar themes in this summer’s Friendship, James Sweeney writes and directs Twinless (B+) in which he also co-stars as a gay man who meets a straight man in a support group for people whose twins have passed away, and the memories of lost siblings are stand-ins for the macro mystery of fallen fraternity and restoration of the bygone brotherly bond. Although Sweeney’s character’s “sus” motivations tend to derail the most realistic parts of the droll dramedy, his Dennis benefits from acting opposite Dylan O’Brien’s brilliant takes as the hot-tempered and sometimes air-headed Roman and his confident flamboyant flashback brother Rocky. He’s doubly an on-screen revelation. The film’s fog of grief and despair is soon punctuated by displays of public bonhomie: shooting whiskey, cutting up courtside and co-crooning with abandon behind the wheel. Aisling Franciosi is terrific as the workmate of Dennis and love interest of Roman caught slackjawed amidst the bromantic bliss and bluster. Greg Cotten’s cinematography smartly evokes two parts of a whole in so many ways, via reflective surfaces and split screens and even divided sandwiches, viewers will truly discover visually and viscerally how the other half lives. Add to all this a very memorable score by Jung Jae-il, and it’s a stunning original marked by offbeat humor and universal yearning. The filmmaker is willing to face some ugly truths as he holds a mirror up to the modern world and finds what may look like identical scenarios to some can actually harbor multitudes.
Talk about a two-hander! And every other limb, for that matter! Together (B), the body horror comedy movie directed by Michael Shanks and subsequently buzzed about at this year’s Sundance Film Festival, centers on real-life couple Alison Brie and Dave Franco as a fictional pair finding themselves scientifically and supernaturally fusing into one being. She’s a plucky teacher, and he’s a hapless guitarist, and moving from city life to countryside seclusion proves a prescient change of scenery for taking their relationship to the next level. In a form of magnetic attraction even Plato couldn’t have contemplated, the film depicts the sometimes scary and often funny misadventures when two become one. The movie’s production values are consistently high, even when the makeup effects and particular plot devices become the most far-fetched. The central actors are effective and endearing, and they represent a variety of dimensions about the stages of co-dependency in relationships. A few final act missteps can’t take away from the effectiveness of the generally wise and witty thesis, with an especially awkward post-coital sequence and refreshing takes on how couples drift from intimacy and intensity to sometimes blatant disregard. It’s not graphic or terrifying enough to scare off casual viewers but has enough twisty content to simultaneously appeal to hardcore horror fans. Strangely, it’s an appealing date movie with lots of personality for those willing to examine just how close they’re getting.
For his remake of the celebrated 1993 Taiwanese film of the same name, director Andrew Ahn brings something borrowed and something new to his 2025 The Wedding Banquet (B+), recently screened at Sundance and Out on Film festivals. Hoping to remain in the U.S., a gay heir to a family fortune played by a wily and winning Han Gi-chan proposes a green card marriage to his lesbian friend (Kelly Marie Tran, never better) in exchange for paying for her partner (a delightfully droll Lily Gladstone) to get in vitro fertilization treatment so the ladies can start a family. Complications arise when his grandmother (stern and wonderful Youn Yah-jung) surprises the friend circle (led by a sassy but remarkably restrained Bowen Yang) with plans for an extravagant Korean wedding ceremony. There are enough contemporary twists differing this new film from the original (including a hilarious Joan Chen as Tran’s uncommonly accepting mother) that the 2025 version plays more as revival and homage with similar high concept but a plot that feels organic to modern sensibilities. The ensemble is tremendous, with the film an apt showcase for actors who rarely get this kind of robust opportunity to fully embody richly drawn personas; and Ahn imbues the proceedings with a lithe and lived-in quality and some fun commentary further revealing character. It’s a fresh and funny take on sacrifices of all sizes in pursuit of particular forms of domestic bliss; and fresh on the heels of A Nice Indian Boy, it’s another enjoyable, emotional and elevated entry into the romcom form for modern households.
High school speech makers prove the power of the podium in Jennifer Tiexiera and Guy Mossman’s moving documentary Speak. (A). By telling the behind-the-scenes stories of a quintet of top-ranked students in the national speech and debate category called “original oratory” in which they deliver the teenage equivalent of TED Talks, viewers get an insider look at the purpose and passions of the next generation. Chronicling nearly a year of one of the world’s largest and most intense public speaking competitions also means a fascinating glimpse into the family dynamics, lives and loves and heartland hobbies driving these talented young people. Snippets of some of the subjects’ best original works prove very inspiring. The race to the championship may not match the pace or profit of high school sports, but the impact proves undeniable after watching these kids in action.
This film will be presented at the Atlanta Film Festival April 26 at 4:30 p.m. at The Tara. Tickets available here.
In the grand cinematic tradition of voyeurs becoming involved with their subjects, two unlikely men assume the archetypal roles in Carmen Emmi’s Plainclothes (B). Set in ‘90s New York, a working-class undercover officer (Tom Blyth) is tasked with entrapping and apprehending gay men, only to find himself drawn to one of his targets, portrayed by Russell Tovey. The acts of surveillance – especially footage in VHS and CCTV forms – add texture to Emmi’s creative and intimate camera work. Blyth is the fascinating find here; he’s absorbing to observe when both stoic and displaying utter yearning. There are lovely set pieces ranging from a matinee movie palace to a botanical garden greenhouse adding atmosphere to the furtive romance. Despite good performances, some plot elements feel routine, and the central leads’ familial stakes are largely given short shrift. Overall it’s a good watch.
