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BELFAST--Kenneth Branagh's best film in decades is also his most personal: a heartfelt, autobiographical coming-of-age drama about growing up in late 1960's Belfast amidst Northern Ireland's "Troubles." Branagh surrogate Buddy (newcomer Jude Hill in a remarkable screen debut) is broken-hearted when his parents (Jamie Dornan and Catriana Balfer, both wonderful) decide to uproot their family and move to England. (Judi Dench and Ciaran Hinds deliver Oscar-worthy performances as 9-year-old Buddy's grandparents.) The b&w lensing is luminous, and the soundtrack (heavy on vintage Van Morrison) is well-nigh unimpeachable. If previous British coming-of-agers like Terrence Davies' "The Long Day Closes," John Boorman's "Hope and Glory" and Stephen Frears' "Liam" cut deeper and packed more of an emotional wallop, Branagh's "one from the heart" is still a joy to be treasured. The very definition of "audience movie," it's not surprising this has been widely considered a front-runner for the 2021 Best Picture Oscar since winning top prize at this year's Toronto Film Festival. (A MINUS.)
THE BRASS BOTTLE--A prototype for the sort of dismal Universal comedies that predominated in the 1960's, Harry Keller's lame 1964 comedy involves nebbishy architect Harold (Tony Randall) whose antique Arabian bottle contains a genie (Burl Ives, the same year he warbled "Holly, Jolly Christmas" in "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer") ready to grant his every wish. Allegedly hilarious slapstick shenanigans ensue, much to the horror of Harold's strait-laced fiancee (Barbara Eden, a year before "I Dream of Jeannie" turned her into a tube star). Thanks to its flat lighting, womp-womp-womp background music and cheap, artificial-looking sets, it's virtually interchangeable with that era's dreariest TV sitcoms. The Kino-Lorber Blu-Ray includes an audio commentary by film historian Lee Gambin who makes a valiant case for the film's minor cult status among Baby Boomers, and a retrospective interview with Eden. (D PLUS.)
CLIFFORD THE BIG RED DOG--While mom's away on a business trip, precocious Manhattan tween Emily Elizabeth (appealing Darby Camp) befriends the titular crimson puppy who magically grows to gargantuan dimensions over night. Slapsticky shenanigans ensue as an evil geneticist (Tony Hale) attempts to steal Clifford for nefarious purposes. Thanks to our quick-thinking heroine and her brainiac school chum (Isaac Wang), the kids--reluctantly aided by Emily Elizabeth's slacker uncle (Jack Whitehall)--manage to save the day, and even elude a dog-hating apartment super (David Allen Grier). Based on the popular 1960's Scholastic books and subsequent PBS series, this CGI/live-action hybrid is surprisingly tolerable, even for normally kidflick-averse grown ups like myself. Or maybe I was just predisposed to like it since I recently adopted a puppy myself. Available at no additional charge to Paramount+ subscribers. (C PLUS.)
ENCANTO--Disney's 60th animated feature is the Mouse House's latest culturally specific female empowerment fairy 'toon. ("Raya and the Last Dragon" precedes it by a mere eight months.) With a busy, if not particularly memorable song score by Lin-Manuel Miranda--currently vying for the title of "hardest working man in show business" after "In the Heights," "Vivo" and "Tick, Tock...Boom", all in 2021--the film is a feast for the eyes, but somewhat lacking in terms of story/character development. Adolescent protagonist Mirabel Madrigal (Stephanie Beatriz) is the only member of her Columbian mountain family not to be blessed with a "special" gift--one sister can make flowers bloom through sheer willpower; an uncle ("That '70s Show" alum Wilmer Valderamma) is a shape-shifter; et al. When the Madrigals start losing their collective mojo, Mirabel embarks upon a journey to help restore her clan's magical world. From John Leguizamo's toucan sidekick (yawn) to the boilerplate message about how everyone is "special" in their own way, the whole thing feels recycled and second-hand. Directors Byron Howard and Jarred Bush had more success with their last Disney collaboration, 2016's delightful "Zootopia." (C.)
ETERNALS--"Did it really have to be that long?" Except for the most rabid fanboys/girls, that'll probably be most people's reaction to this nearly three-hour Marvel origin story featuring a corps of below ballot superheroes. The fact that it's not only watchable, but frequently impressive stems from the authorial sensibility/vision of Oscar-winning director Chloe ("Nomadland," "The Rider") Zhao. While (literally) light years away from the semi-improvised neorealist dramas largely populated by non-professional actors she cut her teeth on, there's just enough of "The Zhao Touch" to make fans sit up and take notice. For starters, it's the most visually resplendent Marvel production to date, with a decided emphasis on the natural world (dig those painterly landscapes) and the humanity of its (in this case, mostly otherworldly) cast of characters. The titular Eternals have been around for thousands of years and reunite to battle their ultimate foe (the Deviants) to save earth from global destruction. For better or worse, every woke box is checked here. Among the Eternal phalanx--led by a Latinx woman (Selma Hayek), natch--are an African-American gay (Brian Tyree Henry); an Indian (Kumail Nanjiani) who moonlights as a Bollywood superstar; a deaf African-American female (Lauren Ridloff); Angelina Jolie; and two former "Game of Thrones" hunks (Kit Harrington and Richard Madden). I can't say that its 157 minutes exactly fly by--it could have definitely used a last-minute trim--but "Eternals" is one of the few Marvels to date that actually seems more like a "film" than merely a cynical Hasbro marketing tool. (B.)
GHOSTBUSTERS: AFTERLIFE--Carrie Coon plays the daughter of one of the original ghostbusters who, after inheriting her late dad's Oklahoma farm, moves there with her two kids ("Stranger Things" star Finn Wolfhard and McKenna Grace). Small town life proves even stranger than poltergeists for this NYC single-parent brood, and director Jason ("Juno," "Up in the Air") Reitman gets a lot of predictable comic mileage out of the story's fish out of water elements. He also handles the f/x elements like the chip off the old block that he is (Reitman's dad, Ivan, directed the original Reagan-era blockbusters). Thanks to its strong cast--the always welcome Paul Rudd pops up as a local science teacher/potential Coon romantic interest--and Easter eggs galore, this is unlikely to offend the purists who (somewhat unfairly) balked at Paul Feig's 2016 all-female reimagining. Whether its box-office appeal will extend beyond '80s nostalgists to create a new generation of Ectomobile fans remains to be seen, however. (B MINUS.)
THE HAND OF GOD--Paolo Sorrentino, the acclaimed Neapolitan director of 2013's Oscar-winning "The Great Beauty," returns to his childhood home of Naples, Italy for a deeply felt autobiographical coming-of-age drama set in the 1980's. Sorrentino surrogate Fabietto (Felippo Scott) lives with his family in relative comfort--Dad (Sorrentino muse Toni Servillo is a proud Communist who also happens to work in a bank--while nursing a not-so-secret crush on his unhappily married aunt Patrizia (Luisa Ranieri) and cheering on the local soccer club. When Argentine superstar Diego Marandona, blessed with the titular "hand of God," joins the team and makes a seemingly magical "handball" goal during the '86 World Cup, Fabietto's life seems charmed indeed. But an unforeseen tragedy is lurking around the corner which will put everything into perspective. This is sort of Sorrentino's "Amarcord," but I actually like it better than Fellini's which always seemed like "Theme Park Fellini" to me. (A.)
HOUSE OF GUCCI--Lady Gaga, Adam Driver and Jerod Leto topline Ridley ("Gladiator," "Thelma and Louise")) Scott's camp-tastic farrago about the Italian fashion dynasty which, if one is to believe the film, must be directly descended from the Borgias. As the working class usurper who marries into the family and ultimately launches an internecine campaign to take control, Gaga largely fulfills her "A Star is Born" promise. But Leto--seemingly channelling Max Schreck's Nosferatu--is so flamboyantly, spectacularly awful he seems to be an alien visiting from a distant planet. As Gaga's Gucci hubby, Driver underplays in his patented Method fashion while Al Pacino and Jeremy Irons (as Gucci co-heads Aldo and Rodolfo) deliver some of their wiggiest performances to date; for a seasoned hambone like Pacino, that's saying something. While Scott was clearly aiming for a "Godfather" set in the fashion industry, the end result plays more like '80s primetime soaps, But with more style, of course. (C.)
LUZZU--Neorealism lives in writer-director Alex Camilleri's Sundance-winning drama about Jesmark (non-pro Jesmark Scicluna in a remarkable screen debut), a Maltese fisherman who makes the difficult decision to decommission the fishing boat he inherited from his father for a payout from the EU. While his new job--stealthily working for a black-market outfit that's depleting both the local fish population as well as his friends' livelihoods--helps Jesmark support his wife and baby son, it comes with a spiritual price. Beautifully modulated and perfectly scaled, it bears favorable comparison with the work of Ramin ("Man Push Cart") Bahrani who co-produced the film. Extras on the new Kino-Lorber DVD include two documentary shorts, Scicluna's original screen test and an audio commentary with Camilleri and Scicluna. (A MINUS.)
NIGHTMARE ALLEY-- Oscar-winning director Guillermo del Toro's best, most fully realized English-language film to date is a loose remake of Edmund Goulding's 1947 film noir classic starring Tyrone Power. In his best performance since "Silver Linings Playbook," Bradley Cooper plays broken-down, Depression-era drifter Stanton Carlisle who finds his true calling as a carny in Willem Dafoe's traveling circus. After being mentored by husband-and-wife psychics Toni Collette and David Strathairn, an increasingly cynical Stanton--accompanied by virtuous girlfriend (Molly) Rooney Mara--takes his act on the road, headlining glitzy night clubs where he bamboozles the well-heeled clientele with his "mind-reading" abilities. It's not until Stanton partners with femme fatale shrink Cate Blanchett, whose knowledge of the inner secrets of her wealthy patients proves indispensable in swindling the high and mighty for increasingly bigger paydays, that his luck finally runs out. Despite running 150 minutes, del Toro keeps his audience in a vise grip throughout: the tension is so palpable at times you'll forget to breathe. Everything about the film fires on all cylinders: the period production/costume design, long-time del Toro collaborator Dan Lausten's lustrous cinematography, Nathan Johnson's insinuating score and a nonpareil cast (including Mary Steenburgen, Ron Perlman and a superbly menacing Richard Jenkins as Stanton's final mark). The Goulding original is terrific and has a deserved cult reputation, but del Toro's brilliant reboot is even better. (A.)
THE RED SHOES--It was screen legend Ellen Burstyn who first turned me on to Michael Powell's 1948 masterpiece. In an early '70s Esquire Magazine article, Burstyn picked "The Red Shoes" as the film she'd choose to run continuously if she ever owned/operated a movie theater. Of course, in the pre-DVD/TCM era, wanting to see an old movie and actually seeing it, particularly if you lived in a town without repertory theaters, were two different things. It would be several years before my first encounter with Michael Powell's classic, and when I did Burstyn's testimonial lingered in the recesses of my mind. "Yes," I remember thinking, "this is precisely the sort of sugarplum fantasy that should run forever in every extant movie theater." As a ballerina-in-training torn between love and art, Moira Shearer is perfection in her screen debut. And Jack Cardiff's cinematography is justly legendary. Next to his work the previous year in Powell's "Black Narcissus," it's probably a career-best. Even if you've never seen--or, like me, never much cared for--ballet, Powell's hallucinatory fever dream could very well turn you into a balletomane for life. In their newly issued Blu-Ray, the Criterion Collection has outdone themselves with a groaning board of scrumptious extras. There's a demonstration by Powell fanatic Martin Scorsese on the film's painstaking digital restoration; a 1994 audio commentary conducted by Ian Christie featuring interviews with Shearer, male lead Marius Goring, Cardiff, composer Brian Easdale and Scorsese; the 2000 making-of documentary, "A Profile of 'The Red Shoes'" that includes interviews with the production crew; a 2009 interview with Powell's widow, editor Thelma Schoonmaker, conducted at the Cannes Film Festival; audio recordings of Jeremy Irons reading passages from Powell and screenwriter Emeric Pressburger's novelization of the Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale that inspired the movie; publicity stills, behind-the-scenes photos and a gallery of memorabilia from Scorsese's private collection; the 1948 animated film ("'The Red Shoes' Sketches") in which Hein Heckroth's painted storyboards for the production come to magical life; an essay by critic David Ehrenstein; and notes on the painstaking restoration process by preservationist Robert Gitt. (A PLUS.)
RESIDENT EVIL: WELCOME TO RACCOON CITY--When Claire (Kayla Scodelario) returns to the titular dying midwestern town in search of her missing brother, she discovers an Umbrella Corporation conspiracy involving contaminated water that's turning its citizens into zombies. Both reboot and prequel to the six Paul W.S. Anderson/Milla Jovovich "Resident Evil" flicks, this iteration is mostly set in 1998 and explains how the plague came to be. (Think the first season of "Fear the Walking Dead.") Director Johannes Roberts, who helmed 2018's estimable "Strangers Prey by Night," keeps the storyline relatively coherent, but the film badly sags by mid-point and is at least 20 minutes too long. Also curious is the fact that the CGI actually seems less impressive--cheesy even--than they did in the first "Resident Evil' movie from 2002. (C MINUS.)
SPIDER-MAN: NO WAY HOME--Face it, Marvel-ites. There hasn't been a truly great "Spider-Man" movie since 2004's "Spider-Man 2," and the latest--and longest at two-and-a-half-hours--Spidey outing is no exception. But surprisingly, and I never thought I'd be saying this, it's actually pretty darn good. The third in director Jon Watts and star Tom Holland's unofficial "home" trilogy (2017's Homecoming" and 2019's "Far from Home" precede it), "No Way Home" picks up where the previous film left off when Spider-Man's identity was revealed Desperate to reclaim his previous anonymity, Spider-Man seeks out fellow Avenger Dr. Steven Strange (Benedict Cumberbatch) for supernatural assistance. But the reverberations--in which previous Spider-Man arch-enemies like Doc Ock (Alfred Molina), Electra (Jamie Foxx) and the Green Goblin (Willem Dafoe) are unleashed from the bowels of hell--prove catastrophic. It's always nice to reconnect with series favorites like Zendaya, Marisa Tomei and J.K. Simmons, and there are some surprise cameos sure to tickle Marvel fans. If this is truly the end of the line for Holland's web-slinger, I'm happy to report that his chapter in the franchise is going out with a bang. (B PLUS.)
VOYAGE OF TIME--Condensed version of the Terrence Malick nature documentary that played IMAX theaters in 2016, with Brad Pitt replacing Cate Blanchett as narrator. Like all Malick films, it's dependably gorgeous, heady stuff, although considering the amount of footage it recycles from 2011's "The Tree of Life," it also feels a bit like a cheat. But Malick enthusiasts won't care, and wouldn't dare miss it. I bet it would have a life-altering experience on an IMAX screen.
(A MINUS.) EXCLUSIVELY ON MUBI.
WEST SIDE STORY--Was there really a crying need for an "evolved" reboot of Robert Wise's Oscar-feted 1961 film based on Stephen Sondheim and Leonard Bernstein's landmark Broadway musical? No, not really. The politically correct touches added by adapter Tony Kushner--e.g, making the Jets tomboy mascot transgender and a gay-bashing victim!--feel like cynical concessions to Gen Z progressives. And the decision not to provide subtitles for the Spanish-language dialogue was a stupidly arrogant miscalculation that will probably wind up hurting it at the box-office. But whenever Rachel Zagler and Ansel Elgort's star-crossed lovers Maria and Tony share the frame, it's hard to take your eyes off them. Zagler in particular is a real find: she's like an angel descended from heaven. Janusz Kaminski's dynamic on-location lensing trumps the original (which was largely studio-lensed), even if Ariana Debose and David Alvarez's Anita and Bernardo can't hold a candle to Rita Moreno and George Chakiris' award-winning interpretations. Speaking of Moreno, Kushner has written a new, utterly gratuitous role for the 90-year-old showbiz veteran, and it's a testament to Moreno's still-formidable chops that it's not an embarrassment. In helming the first musical of his 50-year career, Steven Spielberg doesn't seem particularly engaged by the material (maybe he knew he couldn't replace the original in anyone's rose-colored memories). Unfortunately, that means Kushner is the true auteur here which is precisely where the problems lie. Rewriting Sondheim lyrics solely to pacify snowflake sensibilities? Yikes! Dude is so woke he probably hasn't slept since "Angels in America" opened on Broadway back in the early '90s. (B MINUS.)
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THE ADDAMS FAMILY 2--Lightly likable follow-up to the 2019 'toon spin-off of the beloved '60s tube series. In this iteration, the Addams clan--Gomez (Oscar Isaac); Morticia (Charlize Theron); Wednesday (Chloe Grace Moretz); Pugsley (Javon Walton); and Uncle Fester (Nick Kroll)--take a road trip family vacation while Grandma (Bette Midler) stays home to throw a rave for local millennials. The only fly in the ointment is crackpot scientist Cyrus Strange (Bill Hader) who, after convincing himself that he's Wednesday's biological father, sics his lawyer (Wallace Shawn) on them. The animation is decent enough, some of the jokes are actually pretty funny and anyone who's ever enjoyed the antics of this altogether "ooky" family should have a reasonably good time. (B MINUS.)
AGNES--The 30th movie in 13 years (!?!) by Oklahoma City filmmaker Mickey Reece is also the second half-baked exorcism flick in recent weeks, and like November's "The Last Rite" it merely dabbles in genre tropes. Only the first half is devoted to the exorcism of a demonic nun (Hayley McFarland's titular Agnes). The second half--the part Reece seems most interested in--involves Agnes' convent friend, Sister Mary (Molly C. Quinn), and her attempt to forge a life after losing her faith and leaving the Carmelite order. Neither storyline is particularly compelling, and the performances are as hit-and-miss as everything else here, including the threadbare tech values. (C MINUS.)
ANTLERS--Could the disembodied corpses found in an Oregon forest be connected to the eerie drawings of a middle schooler (Jeremy T. Thomas)? Director Scott ("Hostiles") Cooper and producer Guillermo del Toro's smashingly effective horror movie about a Native American boogey man (the fabled "Wendigo" of mythological lore) manages the uncanny feat of scaring the bejesus out of you while also touching your heart. As the kid's teacher, Keri Russell neatly balances genuine concern for her troubled student with a palpable--and perfectly reasonable under the circumstances--fear for her life. The always-welcome Jesse Plemons' brings much-needed gravitas to a film that might have simply been too Guignol-ish for its own good. His sheriff provides the moral fulcrum for a stylish and delectably spooky thriller that deserves to become a future cult favorite. (B PLUS.)
BERGMAN ISLAND--Mia Hansen-Love directed one of my favorite movies of the last decade (2014's "Eden"), and her latest is another triumph. Tim Roth and Vicky Krieps play married filmmakers--Tony's an internationally renowned director and Chris is a screenwriter with directing aspirations--who spend a summer on Sweden's Faro Island, best known as the home of the late Ingmar Bergman. During the course of the season, Chris gets bogged down on her latest script (she can't figure out the ending), and Tony, in pre-production on his next project, flits in and out. The final third of the movie is Chris' work-in-progress screenplay come to life, with Mia Wasikowska as a director (!) who comes to Faro for the destination wedding of an old friend. In the process, she rekindles a romance with an old boyfriend (Anders Daanielsen Lie). Hansen-Love juggles the art vs. reality theme as brilliantly as, well, Bergman himself, and her splendid quartet of actors all deliver pitch-perfect performances. (A.)
THE BETA TEST--Multi-hypenate Jim ("Thunder Road," "The Wolf of Sleepy Hollow") Cummings and co-writer/director PJ McCabe team for a bilious, wickedly entertaining dark comedy about Hollywood agent Jordan Hines (Cummings) who accepts a mysterious invitation to meet an unknown woman in a hotel room for no-strings sex. Because both are blindfolded, it's anonymous sex to the nth degree. Unable to shake the encounter, he embarks upon a potentially lethal quest to find out (a) who the mystery woman was; and (b) who was responsible for setting up the encounter. (McCabe plays an agency pal who assists with the sleuthing.) In the process, Jordan nearly sabotages his burgeoning career and engagement to his long-suffering fiancée Caroline (an appealing Virginia Newcomb). Part showbiz/Big Data satire, part neo-noir, Cummings and McCabe manage to cram a lot into their terse 90-minute run time. It's a true original, and you can't say that about many movies these days. (A MINUS.)
BLUE BAYOU--Justin Chon directed, wrote and stars as a Korean husband/father living in Louisiana who's faced with deportation despite having lived in the U.S. since he was three years old. As Chon's wife and daughter, Alicia Vikander and Sydney Kowalske (who look so much alike they really could be mother and daughter) are heartbreaking, as is the movie. While the flashback/dream sequences don't really work--they're initially confusing and ultimately extraneous--this is a deeply felt, beautifully acted/lensed film that deserves to find as large and appreciative audience as 2020 Best Picture nominee "Minari." (A MINUS.)
THE CARD COUNTER--Oscar Isaac plays William Tell, an ex-con Army vet whose poker skills enable him to live a peripatetic existence, traveling from one podunk casino to the next, pocketing modest paydays along the way. It isn't until meeting gambling agent Tiffany Haddish that he decides to up his game, aiming to make a "Big Score" then retire. When the son (Tye Sheridan) of a fellow soldier who committed suicide enters William's life, they begin hatching a plot to kill the sadistic military contractor (Willem Dafoe) who trained him to interrogate prisoners at Abu Ghraib. Paul Schrader's cold-as-ice film plays like a "Greatest Hits" clip reel. There's a soupçon of "Taxi Driver" anti-hero Travis Bickle (which Schrader wrote for Martin Scorsese); a generous helping of "American Gigolo" (written and directed by Schrader); et al. So dramatically inert and sluggishly paced that not even a shocking "twist" ending can rouse it from its self-induced stupor. (C.)
C'MON, C'MON--Mike ("20th Century Women," "Beginners") Mills' lovely, achingly tender new film concerns a New York radio producer (Joaquin Phoenix, in his first screen role since winning the Oscar for "Joker") who agrees to take care of L.A. sister Gaby Hoffmann's 9-year-old son (irrepressible charmer Woody Norman) while she cares for her bipolar husband. Shot in glistening black and white by virtuoso cinematographer Robbie ("Marriage Story," "The Favorite") Ryan, this is one of those rare movies that burrows so deeply into your heart that you don't want it to end. (A.)
COPSHOP--To elude Gerard Butler's contract killer, mob flunky con man Frank Grillo gets himself arrested and jailed in a podunk Nevada town. Things get dicey, however, when Butler pulls the same scam and winds up in an adjacent cell. And I haven't mentioned the psychotic rival assassin (Toby Huss) who wantsto cancel both their tickets. Director Joe ("Narc," "The Grey") Carnahan's flashy, trashy homage to John Carpenter's 1976 termite movie classic "Assault on Precinct 13" is over-extended by a good 15-20 minutes, but fitfully amusing grindhouse/drive-in fare for undiscriminating audiences. Probably not worth leaving the house for, though. (C PLUS.)
CRY MACHO--91-year-old Clint Eastwood not only directed, but stars in this agreeably mellow tale of an ex-rodeo rider (Eastwood) who agrees to escort his former boss' 13-year-old son (Eduardo Minnett) from Mexico City to Texas. In the process, the grizzled old sodbuster teaches the kid a few things, including what it truly means to be a man ("the macho thing is overrated"). The script is a little pat and not all of it is particularly subtle, but Eastwood somehow manages to keep it from veering into Afterschool Special terrain. And he delivers a first-rate performance as well. (B.)
THE DAMNED--I've been obsessed with Luchino Visconti's rococo masterpiece since December 1969 when I first saw an ad in the Arts and Leisure section of the New York Times. The photo of Helmut Berger in full Marlene Dietrich drag, effusive pop quotes from household name critics like the Today Show's Judith Crist and talk-show perennial Rex Reed, a cast (Dirk Bogarde, Charlotte Rampling, Ingrid Thulin, et al) comprised of actors associated with sophisticated, grown-up movies (most of which I hadn't seen) and, of course, its scarlet-letter "X" rating sent my 11-year-old self into fits of apoplexy. Although I knew the film would probably never open in my podunk Northeastern Ohio town (it eventually did, albeit four months later), and that I'd never be allowed to see it if it did, I knew this was a movie I absolutely, positively had to see, and that I was going to love it. That opportunity wouldn't present itself until my freshman year at NYU when I finally--victory!--got the chance to see it at the Carnegie Hall Cinema rep house on a double-bill with Visconti's follow-up, 1971's "Death in Venice." Needless to say my obsession continued apace. When Warner Brothers finally released it on a bare-bones DVD in 2005, I was first in line to buy a copy. But I couldn't help wishing that it had been a Criterion release with the usual tantalizing Criterion supplements. It took awhile--16 years to be exact--but "The Damned" is finally a member of the Criterion family, and their newly issued Blu-Ray (digitally restored, natch) is pretty much everything I could have dreamed of as a movie-besotted sixth grader in Youngstown, Ohio. Polymorphously perverse and jaw-droppingly decadent, Visconti's grandly operatic chronicle of a Krupp-like German dynasty--named the von Essenbecks here--who make nice with Nazis to further their steel industry concerns remains one of my all-time top-ten favorite films (along with "The Last Picture Show" and "Satyricon," two other Criterion stablemates). And it's as shocking, maybe even more so, than it must have seemed at the time. (Footnote: 1969 was also the year of such envelope-pushers as "Midnight Cowboy" and "The Wild Bunch.") Extras include a 1970 Visconti interview; archival interviews with Berger, Thulin and Rampling; the 1969 behind-the-scenes documentary, "Visconti on Set;" a contemporary interview with film scholar Stefano Albertini discussing the movie's sexual politics; and an essay by former U.C. Berkeley professor (and "Hidden Hitchcock" author) D.A. Miller. There's even an alternate Italian-language soundtrack for anyone who wants to hear "The Damned" in Visconti's native tongue. (A PLUS.)
DAYS--Taiwanese master of "Slow Cinema" Tsai Ming-Liang's 2020 film festival darling is the sort of rarefied artflick that separates cinephiles from philistines. Tsai muse Lee Kong-sheng plays a mopey loner who obsesses about body issues--an extended sequence is devoted to one of his torturous acupuncture treatments--and makes a connection of sorts with the sex worker (Anong Houngheuangs) he hires for a "happy ending" massage. That's pretty much all the story here, but what makes this almost non-narrative movie fascinating and even inexorably moving (particularly for Tsai cultists) are the privileged moments liberally scattered throughout. It's the sort of movie where a music box achieves near-Proustian dimensions, close-ups are virtually non-existent (Tsai prefers medium or long shots) and the dearth of subtitles seems less perverse than divinely inspired. While not the towering masterpiece Tsai's 2004 "Goodbye, Dragon Inn" was, this is still essential viewing for anyone with a vested interest in the art of cinema. (A.) EXCLUSIVELY ON MUBI.
DEAR EVAN HANSEN--Director Stephen (2012's "The Perks of Being a Wallflower" and 2017's "Wonder") Chbosky's breathlessly anticipated screen adaptation of the Tony-winning 2016 Broadway smash about a high school nobody (Ben Platt reprising his titular stage role) who claims BFF status of a classmate (Coltan Ryan) who committed suicide. Chbosky does a commendable job of opening up the play and giving it cinematic life, but his film works less because of Platt than despite him. A supremely unctuous screen presence in even the best circumstances--e.g., the likable recent indie "Broken Diamonds"--he never bothers scaling back his theater performance for the intimacy of the camera. Not helping matters is that Platt is possibly the oldest-looking high schooler since Stockard Channing played Rizzo in 1978's "Grease." Fortunately, the supporting performances (Julianne Moore as Evan's mother; Amy Adams and Kaitlyn Denver as, respectively, the dead boy's mom and sister; etc.) are all terrific, and Benj Pasek and Justin Paul's songs ("You Will be Found"!) remain eminently hummable. I was moved in spite of my misgivings, and I'm guessing that a lot of moviegoers will be, too. (B.)
DUNE--As someone who loved David Lynch's generally reviled 1984 Frank Herbert adaptation, I didn't really see a crying need for a reboot. But Denis ("Arrival," "Blade Runner 2049") Villeneuve clearly did. And he wasn't thinking small either. Apparently afflicted with "Peter Jackson Elephantiasis," Villeneuve decided that Herbert's wildly influential sci-fi magnum opus had the makings of a--yawn--"epic trilogy." So like Jackson's torturously protracted "Hobbit" trifecta, he's chosen to italicize every Herbert comma and apostrophe. The result is a visually dazzling, but glacially paced "Chapter One" that beautifully, sometimes thrillingly, dawdles to, well, nowhere in particular. I'm assuming the real ending is being saved for "Chapter Three" since this particular movie doesn't end so much as stop. "It" boy Timothee Chalamet plays Paul Atreides who journeys to the planet Arrakis to find the precious "spice" (think mescaline or some other groovy hallucinogen) that will hopefully save his doomed planet. As Chalamet's parents, Oscar Isaac and Rebecca Ferguson (Duke and Lady Atreides) do fine work, and the entire supporting cast is an embarrassment of of high-voltage talent (Javier Bardem, Charlotte Rampling, Josh Brolin, Stellan Skarsgard, Zendaya) and franchise movie beefcake (Jason Mamoa and Dave Bautista). During the courseof its lumbering two-and-a-half-hour run time, I frequently wanted to freeze an image and frame it on my mantelpiece. But I was never emotionally invested or, quite frankly, entertained. (C.)
THE EYES OF TAMMY FAYE--Entertaining, if largely superficial biopic about the late televangelist, Tammy Faye Bakker, better known for her drag queen make-up than any intrinsic spirituality. Beginning in 1960 when Tammy (Jessica Chastain) meets future husband Jim (Andrew Garfield) at Bible college, Michael ("The Big Sick") Showalter's movie covers a lot of ground--the Bakker's Heritage USA theme park; cable celebrityhood; the sex and financial scandals that toppled their "Christian" empire--and is buoyed by terrific performances from the entire cast, including Cherry Jones as Tammy's mom and Vincent D'Onofrio's Jerry Falwell. Unfortunately, the filmmakers' revisionist attempt to turn grifting con woman Tammy Faye into a #MeToo heroine before her time feels more like a Ronan Farrow wet dream than anything approximating reality. For the record, the film was adapted from Randy Barbato and Fenton Bailey's same-named 2000 documentary which was considerably less agenda-driven. (B MINUS.)
FREE GUY--If "The Truman Show" and "Ready Player One" had a baby with ADD, it might be Shawn ("A Night at the Museum") Levy's frenetic and ultimately fatiguing farce. As a video game avatar with identity problems, Ryan Reynolds is his usual charming self, but this non-gamer had a hard time following the overheated action from setpiece to setpiece. If you're making what is essentially a live-action cartoon, it would have been helpful if the director had an aptly 'toon-like visual sensibility. (Either the late Frank Tashlin or "Gremlins" auteur Joe Dante could have made a minor masterpiece from the convoluted scenario.) Journeyman Levy, however, clearly wasn't up to the task. (C.)
THE FRENCH DISPATCH--Like every Wes Anderson movie, his latest marvel has such a hand-made, almost artisanal quality--with near-pointillist mise-en-scene that practically jumps off the screen without the benefit of 3-D--that you spend most of the time just gazing in wonder at its creator's fecund imagination. Set in the fictitious Ennui, France, the film concerns the day-to-day operations of the titular English-language magazine whose editor (an impeccably droll Bill Murray) is mother hen to his eccentric corps of writers, including Frances McDormand, Owen Wilson and Jeffrey Wright. As their various stories (inhabited by the starry likes of Benicio del Toro, Adrien Brody, Timothee Chalamet, Lea Seydoux, Willem Dafoe, Christoph Waltz and Saoirse Ronan!) come to enchanted life, Anderson exerts the push and heart-stopping pull of classic fairy tales. (A.)
THE GREEN KNIGHT--Visionary director David ("A Ghost Story," "The Old Man and the Gun") Lowery's fanciful riff on Arthurian legend stars Dev Patel as Sir Gawain who embarks upon a heroic quest to prove his mettle by besting the titular--yes, he's literally emerald-hued--knight. The supporting cast includes heavy-hitters like Oscar winner Alicia Vikander (in a dual role) and Joel Edgerton, but the real stars are Lowery's exquisite mise-en-scene and his deft touch with FX. It's that rare effects-centric film that doesn't feel weighed down by pixels. (B PLUS.)
HALLOWEEN KILLS--Picking up where David Gordon Green's well-received 2018's "Halloween" reboot left off with Laurie Strode (Jamie Lee Curtis) recovering in the hospital after Michael Myers was (or so everyone thought) burned to death in her basement, Gordon Green's Covid-delayed follow-up is a lot like the slew of cash-grab sequels that followed John Carpenter's 1978 original. It's overly familiar, lacking in the panache that made its predecessor pop and fatally illogical, even by slasher-movie standards. Laurie's daughter (Judy Greer) and granddaughter (Andi Matichak) join a group of Haddenfield vigilantes to vanquish Myers from their town once and for all. Playing the grown-up version of Tommy Doyle--the kid Laurie was babysitting when the first Halloween massacre took place--Anthony Michael Hall is so aggressively MAGA he's kind of a joke. But an exponentially increased body count (this is quite possibly the bloodiest "Halloween" movie yet) should keep gore-hounds pacified. For anyone hoping for an actual climax, though, you'll have to wait until "Halloween Ends" opens in 2022. (C.) In theaters and available at no additional charge to Peacock+ subscribers.
HIGH SIERRA--Paul Thomas Anderson, one of our finest working directors, has been MIA since 2017's "Phantom Thread." (Anderson's latest, "Licorice Pizza," finally opens this December.) 80 years ago, while under contract to Warner Brothers, Raoul Walsh directed four movies, all released within the span of 12 months. Among that quartet were the James Cagney screwball romp "The Strawberry Blonde" and "They Died With Their Boots On," a Little Big Horn epic starring Errol Flynn as General Custer. "High Sierra," the best of Walsh's 1941 oeuvre, has just been released by the Criterion Collection in a spiffy 4K digital restoration. Needless to say it looks better--the glistening b&w cinematography literally pops off the screen--than ever. A sort of test run for what would become known as film noir, "Sierra"--cowritten by John Huston and W.R. Burnett and based on Burnett's novel--stars Humphrey Bogart as recently paroled thief "Mad Dog" Roy Earle whose dreams of going straight are foiled when he falls in with some lowlifes planning a major heist in the Sierra Nevada. As Bogart's love interest, Ida Lupino has one of her juiciest screen roles. Their chemistry is both palpable and improbably touching. Walsh, who began his career working as an assistant to D.W. Griffith (he played John Wilkes Booth in Griffith's "The Birth of a Nation"), was an eclectic artisan. His 49-year career ran the gamut, although he found his greatest success in masculinist genres (e.g., 1940's "They Drive by Night" and 1945's "Objective Burma"). Accordingly, that made him less easy to pigeonhole than such contemporaries as Ford and Hawks which might explain why he remains so criminally undervalued. In "The American Cinema," Andrew Sarris wrote: "If there is no place in the cinema for the virtues and limitations of Raoul Walsh, there is even less place for an honestly pluralistic criticism." Well said, sir. The Blu-Ray extras are predictably stellar, as is the Criterion norm. Among the many highlights: "Colorado Territory," Walsh's entertaining 1949 western remake of "High Sierra;" a conversation about Walsh between critics Dave Kehr and Farran Smith Nehme; the 1997 documentary, "Bogart: Here's Looking at You, Kid," which originally aired on England's South Bank Show; Marilyn Ann Moss' 2019 documentary, "The True Adventures of Raoul Walsh;" "Curtains for Roy Earle," a 2003 short about the making of "High Sierra;" an interview with film/media historian Miriam J. Petty extolling the virtues of character actor extraordinaire (and "High Sierra" costar) Willie Best; a 1944 radio adaptation of "High Sierra;" excerpts from a 1976 American Film Institute interview with Burnett; and an essay certifying "High Sierra"'s noir bonafides by "In Lonely Places: Film Noir Beyond the City" author Imogen Sara Smith. (A PLUS.)
HOME SWEET HOME ALONE--Ellie Kemper and Rob Delaney go to torturous lengths to retrieve a priceless antique doll they think was stolen by bratty 10-year-old Max (Archie Yates) in an appalling reboot of the 1990 Chris Columbus/John Hughes blockbuster. The fact that it all turns out to be a case of mistaken theft does nothing to erase the unpleasantness of what transpires before an unconvincing"happy" ending. Yates, so appealing as a comic sidekick in "JoJo Rabbit," is gratingly obnoxious here playing a privileged snot whose sadistic efforts to protect his family home--which looks only slightly smaller and less ornate than Buckingham Palace--from Delaney and Kemper's underclass interlopers are literally revolting. The whole think reeks of bad faith/taste and preaches a tone-deaf gospel of conspicuous consumerism that's the farthest thing from the true meaning of the holiday season. (D MINUS.)
KING RICHARD--Will Smith is the whole show in director Reinaldo Marcus Green's pleasant, if somewhat pedestrian biopic about Compton security guard Richard Williams, the show-boating dad of tennis phenoms Venus and Serena. As the future superstars, Saniyya Sidney and Demi Singleton are both immensely appealing, but Zach Baylin's screenplay never seems terribly invested in their personal stories. (It's called "King Richard" for a reason.) Fortunately, Smith is more than capable of shouldering the weight of carrying a two-and-a-half-hour movie, and he's never been better.The former Fresh Prince somehow manages to make Williams a likable blowhard despite all of his surface bluster, and we never doubt his love for his daughters or steely determination to insure they have a better life. Strong support from Aunjanue Ellis as Mrs. Williams, and Jon Bernthal and Tony Goldwyn (tennis coaches who sometimes clash on and off the court with Mr. Williams). It makes sense that Warner Brothers is making this available free of charge to HBO MAX subscribers day-and-date with its theatrical release since it has the appeal--and limitations--of an old-fashioned "HBO Movie." (B MINUS.)
THE LAST DUEL--Set in 14th century France, Ridley Scott's #MeToo spin on Akira Kurosawa's "Rashomon"/competing narrative template stars Matt Damon as a battle-scarred knight whose wife (Jodie Comer from "Killing Eve" and "Free Guy") accuses a nobleman (Adam Driver) of rape. Ben Affleck plays the king's playboy cousin who's caught in the middle because he's a friend of both men. Dripping with painstakingly realized period verisimilitude and truly epic battle scenes, the movie wears its two-and-a-half-hour length with such ease you wouldn't want it to be any shorter. The three different versions of the assault are equally compelling (and convincing), so it's hard to know who's telling the truth. Which is precisely Scott and the film's point. Cowritten by Damon, Affleck and Nicole Holofcener who brings a much-needed female perspective to the material, it's the kind of unapologetically adult, big budget studio movie that Hollywood stopped making years ago. Or around the time Scott directed his first film, 1978's "The Duellists," set in Napoleonic France. (A MINUS.)
LAST NIGHT IN SOHO--Edgar Wright follows up his sensational 2021 rock doc "The Sparks Brothers" with a groovy ghost story mostly set in mid-1960's London. As an aspiring fashion designer who crawls through a rabbit hole and winds up in Swinging England, Thomasin McKenzie makes a wonderfully empathetic heroine. And playing the glamorous, wannabe singer who becomes McKenzie's doppelgänger on the other side of the looking glass, "Queen's Gambit" breakout Anya Taylor-Joy delivers a (big screen) star-making performance. Sort of a Brit-accented--and slightly more explicable--riff on David Lynch's nonpareil "Mulholland Drive," the movie features juicy supporting turns by '60s icons like Terrence Stamp, Rita Tushingham and the late Diana Rigg, and a wonderfully venal bad guy in the form of former Dr. Who Matt Smith. It doesn't all come together, but a swell golden oldies soundtrack (cue Petula Clark's "Downtown"!) makes Wright's sugarplum fantasy well-nigh irresistible. (A MINUS.)
THE MANY SAINTS OF NEWARK--When "The Sopranos" ended its run on HBO in 2007 after 86 episodes over 6 seasons, the two burning questions on fans' minds were: "What happened next?" and "What happened before?" Series creator David Chase has finally decided to give the faithful some answers, at least in regards to the latter query. Directed by Alan Taylor--who helmed 9 episodes of the series--this "Sopranos" prequel is set in late-'60s/early '70s Newark when a teenaged Tony (Michael Gandolfini, son of the late James Gandolfini) lived in the Italian North Ward of the city and--believe it or not--entertained the notion of attending college and living a straight and narrow life despite having grown up in a mobbed-up family. As Tony's future-virago mother, Vera Farmiga shows a softer, gentler side of Livia we never saw in Nancy Marchand's embodiment of the character. Also popping up as their younger selves are Uncle Junior (Corey Stoll), Paulie "Walnuts" (Billy Magnussen), and sundry others. As Johnny Boy Soprano--Tony's previously unseen old man--an excellent Jon Bernthal does as much as anyone to help explain how Tony became Tony. Think of this very solid movie as an extended "lost" episode of "The Sopranos." (A MINUS.)
MULHOLLAND DRIVE--One of the key American films--and one of the key texts period: its cultural influence has been prodigious--of New Millennium Cinema, David Lynch's spectacularly unhinged, yet supremely disciplined immersion into the rabbit hole of his own fecund imagination cuts deeper than any Lynch movie except perhaps 1986's "Blue Velvet." In a star-making performance that should have won her an Oscar (shockingly, she wasn't even nominated; Lynch, fortunately, was) Naomi Watts plays dewey ingenue Betty Elms, newly arrived in Hollywood with dreams of becoming a star. Betty's fateful meeting of mysterious brunette Rita (Laura Harring) who suffers from amnesia after a near-fatal car accident on (!) Mulholland Drive sends the two women hurtling into the underbelly of L.A.'s Dream Factory in an attempt to solve the mystery of Rita's identity. Hint: "Silencio"--the sepulchral nightclub where the action (mostly) climaxes--is not just a place, it's a state of mind The sumptuously restored new Criterion Collection release includes both a 4K UHD DVD presented in Dolby Vision HDR, as well as a Blu-Ray copy. Among the extras are 2015 interviews with Lynch, Watts, Harring, Justin Theroux (who plays Tinseltown golden boy Adam Kesher), casting director Johanna Ray and longtime Lynch collaborators composer Angelo Badalamenti and production designer Jack Fisk; making-of footage; a tantalizing deleted scene; and Lynch's deep-dive 2005 interview with "Lynch on Lynch" author Chris Rodley. (A PLUS.)
NATIONAL CHAMPIONS--When Missouri Wolves quarterback and first-round pro draft pick LaMarcus (Stephan James from "If Beale Street Could Talk") goes on strike demanding financial compensation for student athletes the same weekend as his team's national championship game, the world of collegiate sports comes crashing to a halt. His coach (Oscar winner J.K. Simmons), an NCAA honcho (splendidly weaselly Jeffrey Donovan) and sundry lawyers (including a no-nonsense Uzo Aduba) are all personally invested in squelching the contretemps. This surprisingly trenchant drama from Ric Roman Waugh (best known for brainless Gerard Butler actioners like last year's "Greenland") is blessed with a first-rate Adam Mervis script that seems to be channeling Aaron ("Moneyball") Sorkin with its rat-a-tat pacing, bristling topicality and judicious wit. (B.)
NO TIME TO DIE--Finally released after 18 months in Covid jail, Daniel Craig's farewell outing as 007 winds up being something of a letdown, especially after the last two fantastic Sam Mendes-directed Bonds ("Skyfall" and "Spectre"). Picking up five years after the last movie--it's really been 6 1/2, but who's counting?--James has retired from M16 and is living a quiet retirement in Jamaica. (His "007" insignia has already been passed on to a new agent.) Summoned back into the field to rescue a scientist kidnapped by megalomaniacal terrorist Lyutsider Safin (Rami Malek, overacting like crazy), Bond is forced to seek the help of former nemesis Blofeld (Christoph Waltz) who's ensconced, Hannibal Lecter-like, in a British loony bin. Director Cary Jaji Fukunaga (HBO's "True Detective") hits the globe-hopping action in a professional, if somewhat perfunctory manner, but the only parts of his (egregiously overlong) 163-minute film that have any emotional resonance are the scenes between James and "Spectre" inamorata, Madeleine (Lea Seydoux). I actually wanted more of their love story and less of the rote CGI action setpieces: hardly what I was expecting from a new 007 movie. (B MINUS.)
PIG--Nicolas Cage has appeared in so many crappy movies this Millennium that when he occasionally--seemingly accidentally--knocks one out of the park, it's a reminder of what a powerful actor he can be. In Michael Sarnoski's stunning directorial debut, Cage is as extraordinary as the film itself. Cage's Robin, a scruffy hermit living in the Oregonian wilderness with his beloved truffle-hunting pig, becomes unmoored when his porcine BFF is kidnapped. To help retrieve the hog, Robin teams up with the yuppie (Alex Wolff) who's been buying his truffles and selling them to upscale Portland restaurants. The mystery of Robin's past--he was a venerated four-star chef before going off the grid after a personal tragedy--is tantalizingly teased out, and the brilliance of Samoski's movie is how the (vast) layers of Robin's identity help inform his quixotic actions. The ending is so bleakly beautiful it will take your breath away. I was shaken and stirred. (A.)
THE POWER OF THE DOG--New Zealand visionary Jane Campion's strongest film since 1993's Oscar-nominated "The Piano" is so remarkable in so many unexpected ways that it quietly--very, very quietly--takes your breath away. Benedict Cumberbatch and Jesse Plemons play brothers Phil and George Burbank who share the running of their family's Montana ranch circa 1925. When George marries widowed restauranteur Rose (Kirsten Dunst) and moves her and Rose's teenage son (Kodi Smith-McPhee) into the home he shares with Phil, his passive-aggressive sibling begins waging psychological warfare on his brother's emotionally fragile new bride. Based on the 1967 cult novel by Thomas Savage, Campion's masterwork has a primordial, near Biblical dimension that reminded me of both Terrence Malick (especially "Days of Heaven") and Elia Kazan ("East of Eden" and even "A Streetcar Named Desire" in the Phil/Rose psychosexual dynamics). Stunningly lensed by Ari ("True History of the Kelly Gang," "Zola") Wegner and memorably scored by Jonny ("There Will Be Blood") Greenwood, it ranks among the year's most singular and unforgettable artistic achievements. Let the Oscar chatter begin. (A.)
RATCATCHER--When I first saw Lynn Ramsay's "Ratcatcher" at the 1999 Toronto International Film Festival, Ramsay impressed as a distaff Shane Meadows. The fact that I saw Meadows' "A Room for Romeo Brass" the same week helped their movies bleed together. Both were thickly-accented working class slices of life (1973 Glasgow for Ramsay; Britain's Midlands district for Meadows) with juvenile protagonists and social realist tropes that recalled the films of Ken Loach (particularly "Kes"), albeit with uniquely poetic bents. It wasn't until seeing Ramsay's follow-up, 2002's brilliant "Morvern Callar," that I recognized her as a sui generis world-class talent. Subsequent Ramsay films like "We Need to Talk About Kevin" and "You Were Never Really Here" only solidified my fandom. Thanks to the Criterion Collection, I finally had the chance to revisit Ramsay's feature debut, and it was positively revelatory. (Bollocks to Meadows who essentially disappeared after a few early-'00 movies.) I now consider "Ratcatcher" a worthy successor to coming-of-age masterworks like Francois Truffaut's "The 400 Blows" and Terrence Davies' "The Long Day Closes." The extras are a tad on the skimpy side--for Criterion anyway--but still choice. Included are three Ramsay shorts ("Small Deaths," "Kill the Day" and 1998 Cannes Jury Prize winner "Gasman"); Ramsay interviews from 2002 and 2021; an audio interview with "Ratcatcher" cinematographer Alwin H. Kuchler; and essays by Film Quarterly editor Girish Shambu and "Moonlight" director (and nonpareil Ramsay cheerleader) Barry Jenkins. (A.)
RON'S GONE WRONG--Locksmith Animation and director Sarah Smith brought us 2011's lovely "Arthur Christmas," yet this overly formulaic family comedy is only fitfully engaging. Middle school misfit Barney (Jack Dylan Grazer, most recently heard as a voiceover artist in Pixar's "Luca") bonds with a runaway robot (Ron, voiced by Zach Galifianakis) who quickly becomes his BFF. But since the irrepressible Ron is a few microchips short of a fully-functioning A.I. (he literally fell off a truck), the pair get into a series of fairly predictable, somewhat belabored misadventures. The social media and Apple jokes are a little too lazy-pat, and not even the participation of Oscar winner Olivia Colman and Ed Helms (as, respectively, Barney's grandma and dad) can elevate this to top-tier 'toon status. Considering some of the superior animated movies that went directly to streaming services in the Covid era (including Pixar's "Soul" and Sony's "The Mitchells Vs. the Machines"), it's somewhat mystifying that Disney/Fox would consider this worthy of a theatrical release. Harried parents looking for a new video babysitter are advised to wait a few weeks when it becomes available as a VOD. (C.)
SHANG-CHI AND THE LEGEND OF THE TEN RINGS--Marvel Corp.'s first Asian-centric superhero movie is nearly as affirmative and potentially game-changing as "Black Panther" (Marvel's first Afro-centric superhero flick). Charismatic newcomer Simon Liu plays Shawn (or Shang-Chi), the prodigal son of thousand-year-old Wenwu (longtime Wong Kar-Wai muse Tony Leung in a smashing Hollywood debut), whose humdrum existence as a San Francisco parking valet gets violently upended when he's tasked with saving the world. (Something involving the titular rings which look an awful lot like George Lucas' lightsabers.) A dandy supporting cast--Awkwafina; Michelle Yeoh; Meng'er Zhang; Florian Munteanu--adds spice to an already tasty package. Director Destin Daniel Cretton, none of whose previous credits (including Brie Larson's career-launching "Short Term 12" and Michael P. Jordan starrer "Just Mercy") hinted at a flair for blockbuster productions with elaborate action setpieces, handles his tentpole duties in expeditious fashion. (B PLUS.)
SPENCER--Kristen Stewart gives an extraordinarily layered, deeply empathetic performance as Princess Diana in Pablo ("Jackie") Larrain's microscopic, fly-on-the-wall portrait of the late "People's Princes." Because screenwriter Steven Knight wrote and directed Tom Hardy's 2013 "Locke," he definitely knows his way around compressed-time narratives, concentrating on a three-day Christmas weekend in the early '90s when Di began formulating her plans to leave the aloof, two-timing Charles (Jack Farthing). Described by the filmmakers as "a fable from a true tragedy," it's not a biopic in a conventional sense. But regardless of how "factual" the events depicted truly are, it feels emotionally true thanks in large part to the mercurial, mesmerizing Stewart. The film would be unimaginable without her. Thanks to Stewart it's a minor masterpiece. (A.)
SUMMER OF 85--Former enfant terrible--and now revered elder statesman of post-New Wave French cinema--Francois ("Swimming Pool," "8 Women") Ozon's delicately hued memory film tells the story of a star-crossed summer romance between two teenage boys in mid-'80s France. Alexis (Felix Lefebvre, very good) falls under the spell of the slightly older David (Benjamin Voisin, really nailing his character's charismatic cocksureness) after he rescues him from a minor boating accident. Soon the pair become inseparable and--ultimately--lovers. But there's heartache around the bend, and the affair ends tragically. Curiously for a film set at the cusp of the AIDS epidemic, the disease is never mentioned (surely a deliberate choice on Ozon's part). Accordingly, the movie feels timeless and could be taking place at any period in history when teen hormones raged and common sense was jettisoned. (A MINUS.)
THROW DOWN--This 2004 genre-bender finds director Johnnie To--heir apparent to John Woo as the king of Hong Kong action cinema--in a surprisingly mellow, even sweet mode. Whether "Throw Down" truly merited the Criterion Collection treatment is up for discussion. (Personally, I would have given the CC imprimatur to To's fantastic "Breaking News," also from 2004). Yet this could be To's most appealing film, and it certainly ranks among his most entertaining and emotionally accessible. The fable-like story involves a fledgling young martial arts fighter (Aaron Kwok), the former judo champion--and currently alcoholic karaoke bar owner--he hopes to challenge (Louis Koo) and a wannabe singer (Cherrie Ying) with dreams of pop stardom. This unlikely trio of misfits somehow manage to forge a makeshift family unit--of sorts--in To's gorgeously lensed, neon-saturated Hong Kong. Dedicated to Akira Kurosawa whose "Sanshiro Sugata" is frequently referenced throughout the pacy 94 minute run time, the movie will probably strike To fanboys who only know him from hard-edged urban crime flicks like the "Election" actioners as a lightweight curio. But it's an indisputably delightful curio just the same. Extras include a 2004 To interview; new interviews with co-screenwriter Yau Nai-hoi, composer Peter Kam and Asian cinema aficionados David Bordwell and Caroline Guo; a 2004 making-of doc with To, Kwok, Koo and Ying; and a To think piece by Tacoma film critic Sean Gilman. (A MINUS.)
TICK, TOCK...BOOM--"Hamilton" auteur Lin-Manuel Miranda makes his big-screen directorial debut with a somewhat clumsy, if heartfelt Netflix adaptation of late "Rent" composer Jonathan Larson's quasi-autobiographical musical. As the designated Larson surrogate, Andrew Garfield is surprisingly credible playing a starving artist waiting for his big break in early '90s NYC. As Garfield's tsk-tsking girlfriend and gay BFF, Alexandra Shippp and Robin De Jesus are rather colorless and bland, but Bradley Whitford and Vanessa Hudgens impress as, respectively, Stephen Sondheim (Larson's real-life mentor) and the star of Garfield/Larson's workshop production. In fact, Hudgens' "Come to Your Senses" number is the highlight of the entire movie. (C PLUS.)
THE UNFORGIVABLE--It's doubtful that Sandra Bullock's latest Netflix movie will have the same watercooler success of her previous 'flex streamer (2018's dystopian suspenser "Bird Box"), but the fault is less Bullock's than a pea-brained script. After serving a 20-year sentence for killing the sheriff who tried to foreclose on the house she shared with her baby sister, Bullock's Ruth encounters a world she barely recognizes. Thanks to her sympathetic lawyer (Vincent D'Onofrio) and a new beau (Jon Bernthal), Ruth's life begins showing glimmers of hope. But because director Nora Fingscheidt's film prefers trafficking in souped-up melodrama, almost nothing that transpires has the ring of emotional truth or narrative plausibility. (C MINUS.)
VENOM: LET THERE BE CARNAGE--A sequel to the 2018 Marvel franchise-starter that's faster, looser and easier to take than the middling original. Apparently someone--director Andy Serkis perhaps?--decided to take a page from Ryan Reynolds' "Deadpool" movies and make it a larkish comedy. At least that's how Tom Hardy plays his titular role this time. Adding spice to the mix is Woody Harrelson as Big Bad arch villain Carnage, and the whole thing is so breezily paced and unapologetically ridiculous that it's impossible to be offended by the wall-to-wall "R"-caliber violence that somehow managed to squeak by with a "PG-13" rating. The only real downside is the return of perennially mopey Michelle Williams who makes a fleeting (thank heavens!) appearance as Venom's dour ex. (C PLUS.)
---Milan Paurich