Director: Justin Benson, Aaron Moorhead, Michael Waldron
Writers: Eric Martin, Michael Waldron
Stars: Tom Hiddleston, Owen Wilson, Gugu Mbatha-Raw

Synopsis: The mercurial villain Loki resumes his role as the God of Mischief in a new series that takes place after the events of “Avengers: Endgame.”

Loki had a magnificent freshman season. Their sophomore effort confirms the show is the best Marvel series, by far. While the first season was soaked in its well-regarded, irreverent mischievousness, the second season abandons some of that dark playfulness for deeper, richer themes. The filmmakers behind the shape-shifting trickster, easy to love but hard to embrace, have found that sweet spot where Loki has begun to see his soul and redemption arc brought out by his new partner while his nefarious nature is always near the surface.

The sophomore season of Loki (Tom Hiddleston) starts with the titular character jumping through different variant timelines after Sylvie (Sophia Di Martino) kills Victor Timely, AKA the notorious He Who Remains (Jonathan Majors) in last year’s finale. His death caused a splintering of variant timelines, creating major internal problems for the bureaucratic organization known as the Time Variance Authority (TVA). Not only are lines drawn and sides chosen, but Sylvie’s actions have caused a branching off of thousands of timelines, something the organization is meant to stop and protect the one true sacred timeline.

This was all part of He Who Remains’ plan, as the Multiversal War caused him to create the Sacred Timeline and the TVA to protect it. However, we discovered that everyone is a variant, even the leading players like Loki’s new BFF, Mobius (Owen Wilson), Hunter B-15 (Wunmi Mosaku), and even Ravonna Renslayer (Gugu Mbatha-Raw). Heck, it seems like Miss Minutes (voiced by Tara Strong), the He Who Remains AI creation, is the only original, even though she’s been through various updates over the years.

That sets up the story. While two different factions debate the merits of keeping or eliminating timelines, Loki and Mobius are set to chase down Sylvie, Ravonna, and Miss Minutes to protect everyone, not just themselves. This sets the impressively darker tone and more decadent themes in Loki’s second season as they debate faith, control, and, above all else, the value of human life, no matter the variant.

What I admire about the second season of Loki is that creator Michael Waldron doesn’t get bogged down in the trappings of the season finale; he cuts the cord immediately. Waldron could have spent the entire season trying to bring Loki back to the Sacred Timeline but wisely cuts to the chase in the first episode, having Loki jump back into the original future quickly. Otherwise, you’d have abandoned what made the first season enjoyable—the buddy chemistry between Hiddleston and Wilson.

What makes this season so interesting is that Marvel embraces Loki’s antihero character, which sets up the plot and slowly transforms his character into something gradual, heartfelt, and empathetic. For instance, Sylvie saw timelines as a source of control for uncaring and cold government officials last season, while Loki understood there was a greater good. That’s where Waldron and company begin to fold into those themes we talked about above, something that the film The Creator played with last month (and even The Matrix), like freedom of choice versus conformity, individualism versus collectivism, existentialism, and most importantly, morality.

The cast is near pitch-perfect, with the addition of Ke Huy Quan, who plays the author of the TVA manual, O.B., who consistently delights by bringing a positive energy to the series’ darkest scenes. Then you have Blindspotting’s Rafael Casal, who plays agent X-5, who questions the TVA’s actions and finds solace in the life that was taken from him (think Joe Pantoliano’s Cypher in The Matrix), like being the star of a 70s star of a shlock horror film. 

And, of course, we need to address the elephant in the room: Jonathan Majors’s role not being cut in Loki reportedly because filming had already wrapped well after the abuse allegations surfaced. (Producer Kevin Wright was also quoted saying Majors won’t be recast because he was hesitant to do so without knowing how the case would play out.) I know the late Roger Ebert made a famous point to his partner Gene Siskel about being able to separate them two decades ago. Still, you can’t watch Loki with Majors in the scene without the alleged issues of domestic violence popping into your head. Still, Majors is a gifted talent, and his turn as Victor Timely is very good here, showing some of the innocence of Timely before the change of personas. 

However, if you can get past the real-life issues of Majors, the show is great fun with its combination of mind-blowing storytelling and disarming charm from the cast. The series is a creative burst of fresh air, embracing the famous comic’s limitless storytelling and using the plot of branching timelines to keep viewers on the edge of their seats.

Frankly, Loki uses the multiverse storyline better than most of Marvel’s famed filmography. With multiple jaw-dropping moments that keep you guessing and knowing the unexpected can be coming at every turn, that’s a rarity in television, where networks and streaming services want to do nothing else but follow the episodic rule book step by step. Loki is more morally complex, engaging, even divisive, and suspenseful than anything Marvel has done in recent years.

Grade: A-

Director: Kevin Gruetert
Writers: Pete Goldfinger and Josh Stolberg
Stars: Tobin Bell, Shawnee Smith

Synopsis: A sick and desperate John travels to Mexico for a risky and experimental medical procedure in hopes of a miracle cure for his cancer only to discover the entire operation is a scam to defraud the most vulnerable

When Saw opened up at the 2004 Sundance Film Festival it took the world by storm, the buzz coming from this mysteriously original horror film echoed all the way to even my 7th grade class room and this was before the internet that we know today. When it hit theaters that Halloween season it was a mega hit with the ultimate mouth to the floor reaction that hadn’t been seen since 1996’s Scream, and as we know in Hollywood, what works once must work again and again and again and just when you think it cannot work again; it barely does and then takes a breath. 

From 2004-2010 we got a new installment into the Saw series with seven straight films, each film opening in first place until the fifth one came out. Its competition the year Saw 5 came out and to boot it to 2nd place, High School Musical 3. By then the steam was up on the series and the “torture porn” category of this type of horror film was on its way out. Eventually the movies did end for a while after the abysmal seventh chapter, ironically named “The Final Chapter.” This lasted for about seven years until the weird eighth and forgettable chapter that was Jigsaw. Again, the series would stay dormant for four years until it got a ninth chapter with a odd boost of star power from Chris Rock and Samuel L. Jackson with Spiral, another weird entry that is odd but not memorable.

With the announcement of Saw X last year, one could only imagine where it could or would go, and then tonight after watching it I’m truly glad to report back, this was a big swing and a hit for a franchise that eventually became its own punchline. The tenth installment is a huge breath of fresh air and I’m extremely happy to see critics embracing this as much as they did the original. Fans on the other hand, we shall see- because what this one does so right is what the sequels forgot to do. It creates a story with these characters. In this case, when characters are killed off you feel something for them. While this was the base formula for Saw 2, it got muddled at the halfway mark, and from there onward, the remaining sequels were simply   mind numbing with the amount of red shirts they would bring in to just die a whole two minutes later. 

The last time a Saw movie did this was the original film, and what I mean by that is that this movie builds its world. Its story line, its characters are genuine and it takes its time in doing so.   even get an opening trap to this film because the initial focus is on world building. What we do get is a daydream trap but it’s never brought to fruition. In the nearly two hour runtime, we don’t get a trap until almost the 50 minute mark, and honestly- it works for me, for this film, and the series that once relied only on the traps themselves and not the story. This movie is so much like its original counterpart that it is the ultimate love letter to itself, and is the perfect actual “Final Chapter” if it were to become it, because I’m not really sure where the series could go from here without a full on remake. 

Of course one couldn’t talk about this movie without talking about Tobin Bell and the wonderful return of Shawnee Smith as Amanda, whose exit in Saw 3 was massively felt by a lesser Detective Hoffman character taking over. It was so nice to see the chemistry that they’ve developed between these two characters over the last 19 years. 

So, should you watch all 9 movies before you go into this? If you’d like. Do you have to watch all 9 movies before you go into this? Absolutely not. Saw X is actually set in between Saw and Saw 2. So no, you don’t have to watch all 9 (but go ahead, who am I to dictate that for you). What is really refreshing about a nearly two decade long franchise to come back with something that feels fresh and different is that the writers did it the right way (unlike last year’s Halloween Ends that was such a swing and giant miss that it’s universally panned by critics and fans alike) meaning that what they could have done here is given us another run of the mill sequel but instead they took the liberty to craft a story based on what made the original so great and bring in characters to support the story and not take it over.

So whether a fan of the franchise or a casual movie goer, as long as you’ve seen the first Saw, go see Saw X. You will have a blast if you can put on your 2004 glasses and enjoy the holiday season.

Grade: A-

Director: John Carney
Writer: John Carney
Stars: Eve Hewson, Jack Reynor, Joseph Gordon-Levitt

Synopsis: It follows Flora, a single mom who is at war with her son, Max. Trying to find a hobby for Max, she rescues a guitar from a dumpster and finds that one person’s trash can be a family’s salvation.

Overall, Flora and Son will be your least favorite John Carney film, but it may be the most relatable and honest. It also features the best performance in any of Carney’s films from Eve Hewson. Her off-key and inharmonious character gives the viewer some grounded discord that sets Carney’s film apart from the rest of his filmography. 

The story follows Flora (Hewson), a single mother stuck in arrested development. Flora and her ex-boyfriend Ian (Jack Reynor) are co-parenting her troubled teenage son, Max (Orén Kinlan), who has been detained several times for fighting and petty theft. A local guard (Don Wycherley) wants Max to join a local boxing club to keep him out of trouble because the next time he’s arrested, he will serve some time in a juvenile detention center.

The issue is that Flora and Ian had Max when they were very young, and both parents are still trying to find themselves, just like Max. Ian is between jobs, and Flora still loves the beats of club music, where she dances and takes strange men home to her apartment, not considering if Max is there. In fact, Flora is so self-involved that she forgets her son’s birthday.

To rectify that, Flora finds a string guitar, pays someone to fix it, and gives it to Max as a gift. After the peace offering blows up in her face, she takes guitar lessons herself. Flora finds a handsome music teacher named Jeff (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) online for $20 a session so she can start strumming the strings and find some purpose in her life.

Flora and Son was directed by John Carney, the ingenious maestro behind such musical films as Once, Begin Again, and the cult favorite Sing Street. His latest work is more like the love child of Sing Street and Once in tone, with fewer musical numbers and gritty artistry. It is more focused on depicting the aftermath of the characters’ failed musician dreams (Jeff), the youthful exuberance of musical aspirations (Max), and the redemption music can offer (Flora).

Carney’s script deals with that in-between with Hewson’s Flora, who had a child so young she’s still trying to find her way, stunting the progress of her flesh and blood. What’s exciting about this concept is that Flora is openly transparent and honest with everyone around her, which makes for a refreshing experience for the audience.

This becomes even more apparent as Flora and Jeff’s practice sessions progress. Carney has created a bond with these sessions and weekly meetings that begin to be more therapeutic than educational. This offers vulnerable characters self-reflection, providing a connection when those expressions of personal emotional connection are needed.

As they continue to talk, the boundary from education to therapy is crossed into something intimate. Imagine how personal writing your song can be, and collaborating with someone you are attracted to can be euphoric. Carney incorporates some very clever camera editing maneuvers to evoke these emotions as if Jeff were in the room with Flora.

While we can wax poetic about the utterly charming chemistry between Flora and Jeff, the wholly unapologetic performance by Hewson keeps the film from floundering in its third act, practically nose-diving headfirst into mediocrity. Hewson’s Flora is a natural, authentic, and, at times, almost despicable mother who finally finds her way when faced with an opportunity to change her life, make a choice, and ultimately show some overall maturity. Case in point: Hewson is a character that’s three-dimensional, unvarnished, and hard to like  in one moment but charming the next. 

My big issue with Flora and Son, however, is that songs swoon exempt the final number that’s meant to tie everything together. You’ll watch Jeff and Flora heat up the screen and be vibrant when Max begins to assemble his dance beats. 

However, the film shifts into something overtly sentimental, and the film’s most significant musical number it ends with is underwhelming, even if it’s meant to change the movie into something heartwarming that feels cheaper than anything Carney has ever done.

Ultimately, Flora and Son offer an experience unique to Carney’s cinematic worldview, where music can bring people together. It may not be Carney’s best work, but it’s his most grounded and enjoyable. 

Grade: B-

Director: Grant Singer
Writers: Grant Singer, Benjamin Brewer, and Benicio del Toro
Stars: Benicio del Toro, Justin Timberlake, Eric Bogosian

Synopsis: Nichols, a hardened New England detective unflinching in his pursuit of a case where nothing is as it seems, one that begins to dismantle the illusions in his own life.

Reptile is an atmospheric Southern crime thriller dripping with an ominous and obsessive style that gradually seeps under the skin, keeping the viewer on edge and making them uneasy. Grant Singer’s haunting tale excels when the script delves into fear and explores how good people create a moral gray area to unburden themselves of the guilt of doing very bad things.

The story follows Tom Nichols (Benicio del Toro), a once-celebrated Philadelphia detective who has taken a job in a small township. His wife, Judy (former del Toro Excess Baggage co-star Alicia Silverstone), arranged the position, and his uncle, who suffers from multiple sclerosis (Eric Bogosian), secured the job after a scandal back east left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth. That move pays off when Nichols is assigned to investigate the scandalous murder of a local real estate agent.

Her name was Summer (Matilda Anna Ingrid Lutz), and she was separated but dating a wealthy real estate magnate, Will Grady (Justin Timberlake), who discovered her brutally murdered body in a house they were both preparing to put on the market. Summer was stabbed so brutally that the murder weapon was left behind, lodged in the victim’s pelvis with sheer force. Assisting in the investigation is Nichols’s partner, Detective Dan Cleary (Ato Essandoh), another officer with aspirations beyond the police department (Domenick Lombardozzi, exceptional here), and a mysterious sleuth (Michael Pitt) with an agenda.

This is Singer’s directorial debut after directing music videos for some of the industry’s mega-stars, including The Weeknd, Sky Ferreira, Lorde, Sam Smith, and Skrillex. In short, the man knows style. Still, what makes his debut feature so surprising is its autonomy. From an ominous climb up a dark staircase to a shadowy figure trapping its prey, minimalist symmetry is clean and conveys a visual sense of order and balance. Yet, this is all an act to give the appearance of order when what is happening around the characters is nothing but sinister.

The film’s title refers to the cold-blooded nature of people. In the first few minutes, a character finds a snake that has shed its skin, a metaphor for how some can shed their covers, exposing their cruel nature. Singer co-wrote the script with del Toro, and Benjamin Brewer has infused this discerning story with that sentiment, loading the frames with the subtlest of symbolic imagery. By the time the third act rolls around, the smallest revelations are enhanced by the carefully meticulous plot, the unsettling cinematography of Mike Gioulakis, and the sinister musical score by Yair Elazar Glotman and Arca.

Generally, I never have an issue with a movie’s running time because movies have to be as short or long as they need to be. As Roger Ebert would say, no great film is long enough, and no bad film is short enough. While this review is very positive, Reptile has a longer-than-expected run time, but upon a second watch, most of it was needed to understand the plot. With the exception of the puzzling beginning dinner scene (and the divisive ending sequence), the film’s visual and pitch-perfect pacing hardly make the 132-minute running time barely noticeable and never drags along. While some subplots within the first two acts seem like filler, everything works out in the end.

Even at Reptile’s weakest moments, the film never fails to entertain, even if the ending has a giant plot hole involving witnesses looking through a window, which can be maximized based on how you interpret the conclusion, which is meant to create discussion points.

Regardless of the perspective, Reptile can gracefully navigate the viewer with a steady hand thanks to del Toro’s magnetic performance, which effortlessly seizes your attention. Disregard those critics intent on comparing Reptile to the king of underbelly crime thrillers, David Fincher, which is an unnecessarily high standard. Movies deserve to be evaluated on their own merits, and they have entirely missed the point because they were not carefully paying attention.

Grade: B

Director: Gareth Edwards
Writers: Gareth Edwards and Chris Weitz
Stars: John David Washington, Ken Watanabe, Gemma Chan

Synopsis: Against the backdrop of a war between humans and robots with artificial intelligence, a former soldier finds the secret weapon, a robot in the form of a young child.

Let’s get some housecleaning out of the way immediately. The Creator is not the original film that many outlets have claimed it to be. Let’s face it; it’s the classic cliche, most notably lifted from Dances with Wolves, where a member of the powerful military trades sides for the greater good. And that’s not to say Gareth Edwards’s visionary science fiction epic isn’t worthy of its praise. It’s bold and affecting, emotional, and even profoundly spiritual. Ultimately, it’s an action-packed movie with more on its mind than meets the eye. 

In the sometime-distant future, an uprising of artificial intelligence will form a rebellion against the world. Mainly, it’s against the United States after the AI soldiers set off a bomb, killing thousands and leaving a crater the size of SoFi Stadium teeming with a deadly amount of radiation. Of course, the government powers cannot look themselves in the mirror, taking responsibility for their hand in the civil war and choosing to blame China for its blatant disregard for AI and the overproduction of robots worldwide.

That’s where Joshua (John David Washington), an undercover special forces agent, comes into play. He’s been tasked with locating the mysterious architect known as The Creator, who, rumor has it, is developing a war to end humankind, leaving Earth to itself. After infiltrating one of the leaders of the uprising, Harun (Ken Watanabe), complicating matters is Joshua’s relationship with Maya (Gemma Chan), a human whom the AI race took in when she was a child (sound familiar?). Complicating things even further, Maya and Joshua are married and are expecting a child.

Yes, we’re pretty sure that’s against protocol. Still, this plot device gives the script its juice because Joshua’s cover is blown. The military begins peppering the rebel compound with a weapon called “Heaven,” which drops military-grade weapons from space, leaving Joshua with emotional scars that run deeper than his physical pain.

However, Joshua gets a second chance at happiness when military officers Andrews (Ralph Ineson) and Howell (a terrific Allison Janney) show a recording that holds special meaning to him and ask his help in infiltrating the facility, holding the weapon everyone is searching for.

Edwards wrote the script with his Rogue One scribe, Chris Weitz, an Academy Award nominee for About a Boy. Their focus is on a girl, an AI named Alphie, whom Joshua locates and who is the secret weapon. (The trailer reveals this within the first minute.) The plot is well-crafted, allowing the viewer to invest in the universal story of lost love, with Joshua going rogue with Alphie because he may have been the last person to see Maya alive. 

Janney’s Howell leads the chase and plays a ruthless badass (she has one of the film’s most poignant moments talking about her sons), making tough business decisions and continuously putting her soldiers in harm’s way. Her character is easily one of the best villains of the year. Ken Watanabe continues to bring his usual brand of gravitas to the role. His character is the moral counterpoint to Howell, but he has no qualms about doing what needs to be done. Both these performances further enrich the poignant nature of the film’s underlying subject matter.

While The Creator cannot truly be called original, the plot is essentially rebranded for issues today. However, the script’s basic structure is borrowed from past movies but now feels fresh and new because it taps into timeless themes that, unfortunately, have not changed. These themes revolve around the spawning of oppression leading to conflict and a lack of cultural understanding and tolerance. All of this is wrapped in an enthralling sci-fi saga elevated by the ideals of a mindful heart.

None of this would be possible without John David Washington’s enthralling portrayal of Joshua. It’s a performance that resonates deeply and can be felt, as Washington possesses his uber-famous father’s soulful gaze, enhancing the high-stakes relationship with Alphie. It’s a performance that may be underappreciated, but Washington has the charisma and ability to connect with the audience that few possess, which is often considered the nature of stardom.

The Creator is stunning, a beautiful piece of escapist cinema. It’s a visionary epic that relates more to our current world than any doomed future because we are already there.

Grade: A-

Director: Monia Chokri
Writer: Monia Chokri
Stars: Magalie Lépine-Blondeau, Pierre-Yves Cardinal, Micheline Lanctôt

Synopsis: Sophia’s life is turned upside down when she meets Sylvain. She comes from a wealthy family, while Sylvain comes from a family of manual workers. Sophia questions her own values after abandoning herself to her great romantic impulses.

There isn’t a single more extraordinary filmmaker working in Québec today than Monia Chokri (some will say Denis Villeneuve, but he’s out here making large-scale Hollywood blockbusters, so it may or may not count, depending on who you ask). Her first feature, A Brother’s Love (La femme de mon frère), is one of the most revelatory debuts this province has seen, perhaps since Villeneuve’s August 32^nd on Earth (Un 32 août sur terre). And her sophomore feature, Babysitter, takes parts of A Brother’s Love’s anxiety-fueled ultra-absurd scenes and cranks it up to a thousand. For some, it was too much. For me, it was 88 glorious minutes I will gladly watch again (and again), and one of the boldest productions Québec has seen during this new decade.

Not even a year after Babysitter’s release, Chokri premiered her latest movie, The Nature of Love (Simple Comme Sylvain), at the Cannes International Film Festival – and now the film has finally hit our screens after months of anticipation. In this feature, Chokri dials down on the absurdity and instead offers a poignant, often lyrical, mediation on humanity’s desire to love. It may very well be the best film released in Québec this year, but it’s also one of the best dramedies of the year. Period.

If we want to analyze a director’s recurring motifs, Chokri’s fascination with philosophy is a good place to start. It plays a significant role in A Brother’s Love but is even more prominent in The Nature of Love. Heh, and the English titles for both films end with LOVE, and both main characters are named Sophia, who study/teach philosophy. In The Nature of Love, Sophia (Magalie Lépine Blondeau), teaches a philosophy class for seniors focused on…love but has difficulty communicating with her partner, Xavier (Francis-William Rhéaume). The biggest visual sign that they aren’t in love is apparent from the beginning: the two don’t sleep in the same room, even if they tell themselves they love each other before bed.

Sophia has to go to the summer cottage to supervise its renovations, where she meets Sylvain (Pierre-Yves Cardinal), an independent construction worker with an outlook on life that feels so freeing for Sophia that they immediately lock arms and have sex. Of course, you probably know where the movie will go from there, but there’s something in Chokri’s picture that makes it stand out amongst the rest of most clichéd romantic comedies. 

For instance, she teams up with cinematographer André Turpin (best known for his collaborations with Xavier Dolan) and gives the movie a visual palette that’s so unlike anything we’ve seen before, it’s almost indescribable. Some of the visual cues feel evident, splashes of Michel Brault, François Truffaut, Jacques Demy, John Cassavetes, and even shots that feel plucked out of Denis Héroux’s Valérie are found. Turpin frequently uses crash-zooms to enhance the intimacy, not only in Sophia and Sylvain’s relationship but in visually representing how the characters evolve as the movie continues to morph from light-hearted romantic comedy to absurd mumblecore, to then finish with an intimate drama examining not only “the nature of love,” but the nature of life itself.

How Chokri frames her actors is the key The Nature of Love holds. Some shots don’t feel as well-stitched together as others, particularly in a sequence where Sylvain and Sophia engage in primal screams, but that’s by design. There isn’t a single visual moment in this film that doesn’t feel important, whether it’s setting the locations or representing Sophia’s internal monologues, which the audience tries to examine as she sits alone outside, smoking a cigarette, only for the movie to interrupt her moments of solitude with an unexpected event, or character, appearing in the frame.

Even the background noise feels essential and enhances our understanding of the world Sophia inhabits (and Émile Sornin’s score is impeccable). Family conversations with the different parents she encounters throughout the film, whether her mother (Micheline Lanctôt), Sylvain’s (Linda Sorgini) or Xavier’s parents (Marie Ginette-Guay & Guy Thauvette), show different facets of the nature of love –and life: whether it’s heated family discussions at the dinner table (lord knows Quebecois love to talk loudly about anything and anyone) or brief, fleeting glimpses of a love that once existed, but is no longer there as disease progresses. It’s equal parts hilarious and devastating, striking a rare balance between comedy and drama that feels integral to how the film is shaped.

But it’s also bolstered by incredible acting – Lépine Blondeau gives the best performance of her career. She shares electric chemistry with Cardinal, who is equally charming and funny. The supporting cast is also excellent, with Chokri herself appearing alongside Babysitter’s Steve Laplante in some of the movie’s funnier – and more awkward – scenes. Without spoiling anything, one of the film’s final scenes is The Nature of Love’s most integral and encapsulates its entire message.

Everyone will have a different definition of what “The Nature of Love” is, and Chokri smartly leaves room for interpretation. Those who are expecting the same level of absurdity found in A Brother’s Love and Babysitter may be disappointed, but there’s no denying how massively ambitious this picture is, not only for Chokri’s incredible career as an artist but also for Québec cinema as a whole. It’s one of the funniest and most heartbreaking movies you’ll see all year, and it cements Chokri as one to watch as a daring auteur who never made the same film twice and will seemingly continue pushing the boundaries of what modern Québec cinema can – and should – be.

Grade: A+

Director: Brian Duffield
Writer: Brian Duffield
Stars: Kaitlyn Dever, Elizabeth Kaluev, Zack Duhame

Synopsis: An exiled anxiety-ridden homebody must battle an alien who’s found its way into her home.

What I enjoyed about Hulu’s No One Will Save You is that it gets right to the point. By the end of the first act, writer/director Brian Duffield stops pussyfooting around and immerses the viewer in a monster in the house picture that feels fresh and remarkably alive because of its anxiety-ridden plot and lead performance. A chiller where the horror isn’t just lurking around the corner but in the deepest parts of our brain.

That’s because of the performance from Kaitlyn Dever, who has no more than a few dozen words in the entire image and who’s not afraid to look rough, messy, and sweaty like any of us would be as we give chase to something that ranges from looking like a cute E.T. to a giraffe-sized praying mantis with ease. 

Very early on, Duffield’s script has the viewer on edge, as Dever’s Brynn Adams seems more isolated than most early twenty-something pretty twenty something to be. Brynn gets snide looks, and she hides at the sight of a middle-aged couple (Geraldine Singer and Dae Rhodes) pushing their way into their golden years. The poor girl seems to have no family, even friends, and, in particular, is alienated (remember that word) by the entire community. 

What did Brynn do? Well, that is half the suspense and mystery that lay the foundation. The morning before, Brynn found a small burnt-out circle in her yard, thinking she had to water it because the grass must have died. Later that night, she sees something inhuman outside her door just after her house loses power (including even the phone). The first thirty minutes are as obsessively intense and nail-biting as any thriller you will find this year.

Duffield is a master of alienation, creating dread with every single creak, shadow, light, and pin-sized nail drop from a windowsill. Along with the help of director of photography Aaron Morton, Duffield’s film showcases his keen eye for evocatively ominous visuals, such as the beautiful overhead shot tracking a bus and revealing numerous front lawns with the same circle that Brynn has in her front yard. Each image is meticulously integrated, nicely avoiding your standard cliche jump scares.

While No One Will Save You does delve into some tropes—running from a monster in a house and finding yourself stuck, hiding under the bed, others being overtaken by something unexplainable—they are executed well. It’s a thriller meant to entertain. While we can complain about the generic use of film techniques in mainstream films nowadays, you cannot deny the seamless tone, tension, and suspense that the team of Duffield and Dever build with each passing scene.

Credit should also go to Dever, who excels in film and television and must carry the movie’s weight on her shoulders for the entire 90-plus minutes. With limited dialogue, she skillfully portrays her character’s thoughts and emotions in a way that feels entirely authentic, compelling, and convincing. Yes, before you start rolling your eyes and screaming out loud about this being a horror picture, you should acknowledge that carrying a film by yourself with virtually no one else to play off of or support you is no easy task.

Yet, the ending is so weird that there’s no other word to describe it—the Stepford Wives-inspired moment surprisingly works. The entire film is a giant metaphor for Brynn’s lot in life: being “alienated” by her community, fighting her inner demons, the inner turmoil of acceptance, moving towards self-compassion, practicing mindfulness, taking responsibility, and letting go.

No One Will Save You is such an unrelenting, arm-rest-grabbing, psychological chilling banger that you’ll forgive almost any artistic choice Duffield wants to embrace. His film is a minimalist thriller, virtually dialogue-free, brilliantly simple, and deftly poignant. It has a wickedly satisfying ending that breezes by while leaving the viewer on the edge of their seat.

Grade: B+

Director: Janis Pugh
Writer: Janis Pugh
Stars: Louise Brealey, Annabel Scholey, Emily Aston

Synopsis: Helen lives with her ex-husband, his 20-year-old girlfriend, their new baby – and his dying mother Gwen. Her life is a grind, and like all the other women she toils with at the local chicken factory, is spent in service of the clock. She lives only for laughing with her friends at work, caring for Gwen, and music. When Joanne, the girl she secretly loved at school, comes back to town, Helen’s world is turned upside down.

Chuck Chuck Baby explores the lives of its characters in the present moment and one in particular who is incapable of it. The film’s main protagonist, Helen, is in a challenging situation. She’s divorced but still living with the man raising another woman’s infant child, which is magnified because she cannot have any of her own. Living in North Wales, she cares for Gwen, a mother figure who lives with her. Even her ex-husband’s girlfriend resides there, and none of them work. Everywhere she turns, Helen is reminded that she’s living a life she never wanted. 

However, that’s all about to change with the return of her high school crush, Joanne (Annabel Scholey), who hardly acknowledges her existence as if she’s going out of her way to ignore Helen. Yet, her return reawakens something inside her. This is a noticeable change because, up to this point, her factory friends have had to drag her along in life practically without her consent. She’s the sad sack of her clan, a group of women working the overnight shift at a local chicken processing plant who break out into song at the sight of some chicken feathers or even a grocery cart.

Despite the joy her friends try desperately to infuse into her everyday comings and goings, life has beaten Helen down, causing her to lose some of her thirst and the joy it can bring. Through self-healing methods involving alcohol, laughter, and music, these women find solace. That doesn’t mean life will immediately turn around for Helen, a woman with fiery red hair who is anything but a spitfire; she’s stuck in an eternal melancholy state. 

Chuck Chuck Baby, which refers to the company where the women work. Headlining the cast is Louise Breasle, who portrays Helen, delivering a stoic yet brave performance that rediscovers some of the joy life can offer. The screenplay, and direction come from Janis Pugh, who previously worked on the The Befuddled Box of Betty Buttifint. That film deals with the fragile nature of living in the past with fractured memories and exploring the theme of healing in Chuck Chuck Baby. This underlying theme runs throughout the film beneath all the whimsical musical numbers.

While the women in the film frequently break out into song, it serves as a symbolic shield to cope with the challenges in their lives. They need some form of creative (or perhaps even self-medicating) outlet to stay in the present moment so they don’t dwell on what lies ahead or what they may have left behind. Pugh’s film is as far outside the box as you can get from your traditional musical, evoking something much more grounded, joyful, and sad.

If anything, this is a modernized British working-class comedy with LGBTQ+ themes, and comparable, in my opinion, to The Full Monty, obviously, minus the work up to the big reveal, pun intended, in which the musical numbers replace their practice sessions. These dames, particularly Beverly Rudd’s Paula, ground the film’s whimsical nature into something grounded and relatable. 

There is something oddly refreshing about the Chuck Chuck Baby experience, besides characters being unkempt and virtually all being free of cynicism. For one, many films try to capture that person of a certain age and reignite their zest for life and love, with mixed results because it’s overflowing with melodrama that targets young adult and teen dramas. Somehow, Pugh captures that youthful exuberance in a middle-aged romance that leaves cynicism on the chicken processing plant floor.

That’s what makes Chuck Chuck Baby so effective, in how Pugh has her film remarkably comfortable in its skin. The story is not necessarily about finding love or purpose, but looking at your lot in life not too far in the future, or even wallowing about situations from past years but finding something in the present moment that makes life worth living. 

For example, when someone professes their love for you while white chicken feathers fall around you like freshly fallen snow, and that one person comes back and declares something passionate. 

There’s joy there, no matter how much chicken crap rests at your feet.

Grade: B-

Director: Sébastien Marnier
Writers: Fanny Burdino and Sébastien Marnier
Stars: Laure Calamy, Doria Tillier, Dominique Blanc

Synopsis: A woman on the verge of financial collapse attempts to reconnect with her wealthy, estranged father and his new family.

On the international festival circuit, American filmgoers are typically exposed to sophisticated, highly experimental arthouse fare. The likes of Philippe Garrel, Jacques Doillon, and Luc Moullet attract passionate followings within the relatively closed off world inhabited by dedicated cinephiles. However, these films generally struggle to reach a wider audience in the United States. Your average non-cinephile is quick to stereotype foreign films as artsy fartsy, pretentious nonsense. This means that it’s exceedingly rare for genuine commercial blockbusters to gain a foothold in the American market. For every A Man and a Woman (1966), there are dozens of hit films that fail to strike a nerve outside of a domestic setting. This contradiction often comes into play when one surveys the landscape of modern French cinema. There are plenty of great potboilers and romantic comedies being churned out in France but you wouldn’t know it if you walked into your local multiplex.

Sébastien Marnier’s The Origin of Evil (2022) is the sort of film that gets pushed out of the American market because arbitrary labels get attached to any and all foreign language films. It tells the twisty tale of the wealthy Dumontet family, which is headed by Serge (Jacques Weber), a commanding patriarch who regards his family members as vultures circling around his increasingly frail body. He will leave behind a valuable estate and when his secret lovechild Stéphane (Laure Calamy) appears on his doorstep, claiming that she wants to get close to her long lost father, it puts everyone on edge. His wife Louise (Dominique Blanc) and daughter George (Doria Tiller), regard her as an avaricious interloper who will try to steal their share of the inheritance left behind by Serge. While attempting to endear herself to Serge, Stéphane begins to wonder whether his relatives are actively plotting his downfall and comes to understand that she has unwittingly placed herself in the line of fire. 

As in any good thriller about morally vacuous rich people who are driven to commit increasingly perverse acts in their quest to increase their social status, the cast serves as a big selling point. Everyone from Calamy to Blanc goes big and with good reason. The film’s plot is so preposterous that the characters need to operate on a slightly heightened plane, where everyone lives their life as though they’re performing a farce on stage. It’s a real joy to see Calamy, who has already proven herself to be a masterful comedienne, return to her roots. In recent years, she has become better known for her work in gritty character studies and crime dramas, and while it’s gratifying to see her display her full range, it’s pleasant to see her weaponize the feisty charm that so endeared her to audiences back in the early 2010s. This slightly ditzy quality also allows her to play off against the hard-nosed, severe Weber in an effective manner. 

Beyond its ensemble cast, The Origin of Evil also boasts delightfully ostentatious production design and a rhythmic score that sets the tone for the entire film. The filmmakers work to immerse you in the nerve-racking situation that Stéphane finds herself trapped in, while also throwing in a couple of unexpected grace notes. However, the screenplay is guilty of under-developing many of the juicy plot points that get doled out over the course of the film’s first hour. As it hurtles into its third act, Marnier’s handling of tone and pacing gets a bit shakier. All of a sudden, it feels as though thorny, difficult subplots are being wrapped up rather too neatly. Perhaps this points to the fact that this sort of plot-heavy thriller is better suited to the needs of long-form storytelling. One can easily imagine a three hour cut of this film that has more time to linger on the high points in the film’s plot. As it is, the film ends up concluding right at the point when it seemed like things were really starting to heat up. Unfortunately, it comes as a real disappointment at the end of two hours of cracking entertainment.

Grade: B-