Director: Colin Hanks
Stars: John Candy, Bill Murray, Chris Candy

Synopsis: Explores the life and legacy of the iconic funnyman John Candy, who died of a heart attack in 1994, at the age of 43.

I’ll break the third wall of film criticism before referring to myself—self-involved as I already am—because watching Prime Video’s John Candy: I Like Me brought back a flood of nostalgia. My father was a huge Candy fan, growing up in Buffalo just outside the Canadian border, watching that lovable comedian with the thousand-watt smile dance across the screen like a sun-kissed, blonde bear. Candy brought joy to millions, with zany comedic characters, full of warmth and heart, that made a lasting impression on everyone who came in contact with him. 

From producer Ryan Reynolds and director Colin Hanks, John Candy: I Like Me pulls back the curtain on a man who lived his life to the fullest; smoking, drinking, and eating, always trying to live up to the expectations of those around him, especially for the ones, his fans, who hardly know him. Candy never turned down a role, primarily to help a friend, nor would he ever turn down a meal, trying to fill the void of his father dying of a heart attack on his fifth birthday. 

Not to mention, he was always too afraid to trim the excess baggage—lest he lose a career built on the foundation of the most boyishly funny and joyous double chin that could light up a room. It was an unmistakable blend of comedy and kindness, the signature of a performer whose waggish warmth made him an icon of his era.

Yet Hanks does an excellent job of capturing the emotion of those who loved him. This isn’t a puff piece where everyone simply goes through the motions of telling funny stories, like at a eulogy. No—Martin Short, Steve Martin, Dave Thomas, Tom Hanks, Andrea Martin, and Catherine O’Hara all beam with pride for Candy, both as a talent and as a human being, while also being overwhelmed with sadness over his passing. Their voices crack, eyes well up, and memories spill out—three decades after Candy’s fatal heart attack on the set of Wagons East.

John Candy: I Like Me—its title referencing the famous moment when Candy’s Del Griffith tells Steve Martin’s Neal Page, “I like me,” after being cruelly berated in the comedy classic Planes, Trains and Automobiles—draws a striking parallel between Candy and the media. There are countless interviews where reporters use praise as a beard for fat-shaming, framing his weight as his very identity. Candy would politely nod, brush it off, and never take offense on camera. Yet these interviews reveal a man crippled with anxiety, haunted by the fear that he was traveling the same road to an early death as his father. 

That’s the power of Hanks’s framing—through interviews with Candy’s grown children, his widow, and his friends, it becomes a heartbreaking portrait of the human condition. In particular, it highlights his capacity for love, such as when Macaulay Culkin recalls Candy stepping in after witnessing the younger actor’s father’s behavior on Uncle Buck. His insecurities, hope, and joy, all channeled through humor, reflect a man searching for a connection to fill a void he could never quite satisfy.

The final cut, John Candy: I Like Me, is a funny, moving, and enlightening portrait of the cost of fame, of living up to the preconceived notions and labels imposed by others. So the next time you watch Del tell Neal his hand is between two pillows, see Barf the Mog proudly declare he’s his own best friend, or hear the cop trying to buy his fellow officers an “orange whip,” appreciate the man who lived to make others laugh while leading a life of kindness—though it came at a cost.

You can stream John Candy: I Like Me exclusively on Prime Video now!

Grade: B+

Director: Mercedes Bryce Morgan
Writer: Joshua Friedlander
Stars: Alex Roe, Maddie Hasson, Marco Pigossi

Synopsis: A couple’s vacation at a secluded estate is upended when they’re forced to share the mansion with a mysterious couple. A dream getaway spirals into a nightmarish maze of sex, lies, and manipulation, triggering a battle for survival.

Rarely has there been a film whose title is more on the nose than that of Mercedes Bryce Morgan’s Bone Lake. All of its marketing material is suggestive, leading you to believe it’s just a horny, unserious horror movie being dumped at the outset of spooky season. Hell, even the poster puts the R rating logo right next to the title’s first word. Some may say it was an accident, but they knew what they were doing. It’s a smart tactic. You know what they say, “Sex sells!” 

The marketing is stellar, and it is the perfect way to get butts in seats. Unfortunately for them, a certain speed-themed pop star decided to release her “film” on the same weekend, taking up damn near every screen at many cinemas across the country. 

Bone Lake follows Sage (Maddie Hasson) and Diego (Marco Pigossi) as a couple on a romantic getaway at the titular lake. Soon after they arrive, another couple, Will (Alex Roe) and Cin (Andra Nechita), show up claiming to be booked for the same house. After some back-and-forth, they decide to all stay there together, knowing a refund is in their future. It doesn’t take long for Will and Cin to start acting strangely and causing rifts between the other couple as the weekend chugs along. 

The movie’s marketing signals a sleazier, sexier movie than the one we actually get. For some, that may be a bummer, but for many, this wrongfooting is likely to be a pleasant surprise. The story contains a lot more depth and innovative action than you’d expect based on the trailer. There’s also significantly less “spicy content” than advertised, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. This gives more time for the characters to interact and develop rather than forcing in a sex scene every 15-20 minutes.

Roe and Nechita certainly have the meatier roles, but they absolutely devour every scene they’re involved in. Their chemistry together is almost too much, bordering on insufferable. It’s the nature of their characters, but they are too good at leaning into Will and Cin’s unendurable qualities. Despite their grating personalities, they are quite captivating characters, and it makes sense why they suck Diego and Sage into their orbit so quickly. 

Morgan, in tandem with cinematographer Nick Matthews, displays some impressive filmmaking, particularly incredible camera tricks and movements that elevate what could be a boring-looking horror film. The camera doesn’t just sit still in several key scenes that lead to some dazzling images. 

The lighting and production design are also highlights of Bone Lake. The mansion’s setup and layout are used expertly to both distance the couples at times, while also finding ways to keep them in close quarters at others. The setting turns the “cabin in the woods” horror trope on its head while maintaining its best qualities. When will people learn that it’s not always the safest thing to go hang out in a secluded area, no matter how nice the house is?

Bone Lake’s weaker points come through in overwritten dialogue and early scenes telegraphing where the story is going. For couples that have been together for years and years, they sure do a lot of expositional monologues to each other. There’s no shorthand or level of understanding that you’d expect of people who know each other so well. The cold open reveals too much, making it seem like the team behind the movie thought the audience wouldn’t understand what’s happening later on without its inclusion. It’s an exciting scene, but a little on the nose given how things end up. 

Mercedes Bryce Morgan has crafted a small diamond in the rough in Bone Lake, taking well-known horror tropes and sexy marketing and subverting those expectations. Sadly for the team, this diamond is being buried so deeply that it may be hard for people to find. After positive reviews out of 2024’s Fantastic Fest, Bone Lake looks like it will need to find a second life on streaming to find its audience after a crowded few weeks at the theater.

Grade: B

Director: Andrew Durham
Writer: Andrew Durham
Stars: Emilia Jones, Scoot McNairy, Geena Davis

Synopsis: A young girl recounts growing up in San Francisco in the ’70s and ’80s with her gay dad.

Humans make parenting complicated. We’ve figured out all of these different methods, styles, and mantras to try and bring up a child to be better than ourselves, or to at least do better than what we could. A single parent has it the worst because all the people that may challenge the way they would do something are entirely outside of the situation. The child might notice something off, but to articulate it would be to cause chaos. It’s even stranger to be the child of a single parent when that parent has the opportunity to finally live the life they had always hoped for themselves.

Fairyland is based on a memoir of the same name by Alysia Abbott. It’s about her growing up and learning that while her father loved her mother, he was also keeping his sexuality a secret. As a film we only see what the filmmakers adapt. We don’t always get the nuances that adult Alysia Abbott looking back on her life can imbue onto the page. Andrew Durham’s script does a good job of parsing through the memories, though. The script’s focus first on young Alysia’s (Nessa Dougherty) innocent curiosity and then on teens and twenties Alysia’s (Emilia Jones) angsty frustrations evolves our understanding of how her relationship with her father shaped her sense of self.

The sharp focus on Alysia is also what makes the film drag a little. It isn’t obvious at first that this is the intention of the filmmakers and if you hadn’t read the source material, it may take a few scenes to really catch on. It’s easy to see Steve (Scoot McNairy) is attracted to men, but it takes a while before we understand what the deeper situation is. It’s easier to understand this with a narrator, but there isn’t one until the very end. As much as it is frustrating, not knowing everything up front makes the full emotional journey more fulfilling.

Director Andrew Durham puts this personal story into a larger context of LGBTQ+ history in San Francisco. Durham and editors Peter Canada Hagen and Lawrence Klein weave in footage of what was first Gay Freedom Day and became Gay Pride. It brings the film into the past without the need for a larger budget to transform city streets or hire thousands of period appropriate background actors. Set decorators Kiowa Le Clec’h and Mariana Urban also populated the sets with the perfect accoutrements including campaign signs for pioneering gay San Francisco politician Harvey Milk.

Fairyland also acknowledges that it’s hard to understand the larger context of the events around one’s life while you live it. There’s this scene in the film where Alysia comes home for winter break and she sees a note from Steve to meet him at an address. She has a pleasant conversation with Sue (Atim Udoffia) on the porch and the word hospice is casually thrown in, but it’s obvious this word doesn’t penetrate Alysia’s psyche. She finds Steve at the bedside of JD (Cabe Thompson) and it’s obvious to those of us who are putting some things together based on hospice and the time period that JD is suffering from AIDS. It takes Steve outright telling Alysia what a hospice is in order for her to understand the volunteering Steve is doing and why he feels he must do it.

As much as Steve comes across as the bad parent, it’s thanks to Scoot McNairy’s honest portrayal that we forgive him. McNairy is a fierce powder keg of emotion, but he understands how to reign it in. His big scenes at the end aren’t played with crazy tears and emotion, but with a tremendous restraint. He’s an actor that rarely gets to be as expressive or emotive with his face and it’s intriguing to see him do so. In a nearly wordless scene as Steve begins to fall for Eddie (Cody Fern) we see him gesture and look in a way that conveys beautifully how Steve is feeling. It’s a very good performance.

Fairyland is a film that grows into itself. It’s a coming of age story that we see evolve as Alysia grows into it. Her adolescent angst and Steve’s constant reinvention develop side by side. It’s a good story if a bit slow paced at times. It’s a film that examines the single parent and child relationship in a very unique circumstance, but can speak to all of us that have had to reassess our parents as adults.

Grade: B

Director: Aziz Ansari
Writer: Aziz Ansari
Stars: Aziz Ansari, Seth Rogen, Keanu Reeves

Synopsis: A well-meaning but rather inept angel named Gabriel meddles in the lives of a struggling gig worker and a wealthy venture capitalist.

After many years of trying to get a feature directorial debut on our screens, Aziz Ansari’s Good Fortune arrives in cinemas. People who follow movie news may recall that this was not Ansari’s first attempt at directing a movie. In 2022, production on Being Mortal, which was set to be his debut, was suspended after Searchlight Pictures received a complaint against actor Bill Murray, who made inappropriate gestures towards a crew member during filming. The studio ultimately decided not to resume filming, which led Ansari to move forward with Good Fortune. He retained actors Keke Palmer and Seth Rogen from his first attempt for this second go-around, which recently premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival to fairly strong reviews. 

Having now seen the movie, I can confirm that Good Fortune is indeed a decent time, though one wonders exactly what the future holds for Ansari in filmmaking. The movie doesn’t try to reinvent the wheel, nor subvert audience expectations. It delivers precisely what its trailer promises: a classic body-swap story focusing on Arj, a struggling gig worker (played by Ansari) switching places with Jeff (Seth Rogen), a rich venture capitalist who lives the good life. Arj previously worked for Jeff as his assistant. However, after making a shortsighted decision that, although not catastrophic, led to his dismissal, he aspires to achieve the same level of success Jeff has.

Arj has been struggling to make ends meet, to the point of sleeping in his car to avoid paying for rent or even a motel room. It’s at the lowest point in his life where he meets a guardian angel named Gabriel (Keanu Reeves), who tells him there’s so much more he can look forward to in his life if he keeps going, showing him a vision of a future Arj working a minimum wage mail delivery job that forces him to pee in a bottle, moving into the house of his partner, Elena (Keke Palmer), which includes several relatives clashing over the most frivolous things, and euthanize the future dog he’ll eventually buy. Yeah, that sounds like some life!

No wonder he wants what Jeff has, which Gabriel believes is nothing more than materialistic elements that won’t bring him the joy and fulfillment he wants out of life. That’s why the angel thinks that switching places with Jeff will make him realize what matters most. Yet, most of Arj’s problems are solved through becoming the ultra-rich venture capitalist who lives a life of excess, enjoys driving his Tesla around the streets of Los Angeles, and throws parties at his expense, without worrying whether he’ll have money to get by for the next month.

Jeff, on the other hand, is living Arj’s day-to-day struggles of gaining money, while Gabriel, going against his duty as an angel, has his wings taken by Martha (Sandra Oh) and becomes human. Throughout this story, the three will learn fundamental experiences they will, of course, carry with them for the rest of their lives, which is the ultimate lesson the movie wants to bring out to the audience. However, Ansari gets to this emotional conclusion rather haphazardly. Instead of making this “heart” the beating soul of Good Fortune, it seems to take a backseat in favor of mostly entertaining, yet oddly lukewarm comedic scenes that, out of context, are funny, but don’t necessarily bring about much enjoyment in the grand scheme of the movie. 

Some of the jokes get repetitive relatively fast, and it’s also a problem when the movie itself is built on the cyclical situations that a body (or, in this case, life) swap picture brings. How many times do we see the contrast between Arj living the good life and Jeff getting a taste of what “the grind” truly is? Ansari also tries to insert a pro-union commentary in Elena’s storyline that is obviously welcomed, but feels like such an afterthought that it barely has any impact on the emotional progression of the characters, if only to highlight how much of an asshole Arj has become after having all the money in the world.

That’s an obviously telegraphed beat that could’ve been played better, but Ansari effectively compensates with one of the best “late-stage” turns I’ve seen in a long time from Keanu Reeves. I’ll admit not being the biggest fan of his comedic work, compared to his action movie roles in Point Break, Speed, The Matrix, and John Wick, but when Gabriel becomes human, his turn is so sincere that it feels hard to dismiss it entirely. The human experience of tasting a good ol’ American burger, chicken nuggets, chocolate milkshakes or even smoking cigarettes feels like an epiphany for an angel whose sole purpose seems completely futile in the grand scheme of his order, and Reeves completely sinks into the role that we ultimately wish he were our guardian angel. 

It’s hard to portray a divine figure and illustrate its most human aspects, yet, in becoming human and learning to appreciate the value of life, Gabriel begins to understand why Arj wants what Jeff has, and why Jeff wants his world back. Reeves is profoundly moving as an angel who learns what he should strive to do when he eventually gets his wings back, despite the schmaltzy nature of segments like these. It does bring about a few poignant sections with the three, especially Rogen, who has fun bathing in the absurdity of an age-old situation we’ve seen countless times before. Ansari, on the other hand, doesn’t have the same sense of wit and comedic timing that made him such a household name in stand-up and on his Netflix show Master of None, despite giving a pretty solid turn as Arj. 

As a director, he handles himself well, though one hoped his film would be more visually polished than looking like an unaired TV pilot. Ansari is lucky to have a great cast surrounding him – he doesn’t need to do much to elevate their performances. Keke Palmer is a compelling screen presence on her own! The same can be said for both Reeves and Rogen, who have consistently demonstrated why audiences gravitate towards their work.
Even with an aggressively paint-by-numbers screenplay, Ansari knows he’ll be getting something entertaining with such a well-mounted cast, and he mostly succeeds. Regardless of Good Fortune’s glaring shortcomings, it won’t be hard for you to leave the cinema with a smile on your face, and hope instilled in wanting to make the most out of your life before it’s too late. After all, if we don’t step into an uncomfortable zone and make decisions that could alter our lives forever, how will we know if it gets any better?

Grade: B

Director: Bill Condon
Writers: Bill Condon, Terrence McNally, Manuel Puig
Stars: Diego Luna, Tonatiuh, Jennifer Lopez

Synopsis: Valentín, a political prisoner, shares a cell with Molina, convicted for public indecency. An unlikely bond forms as Molina recounts a Hollywood musical plot starring Ingrid Luna.

Film is many things to many people. This is something that we, who adore the art form, sometimes forget. We may catch ourselves judging others for the media that they spend time with, or even how they engage with it. One of the many things that film can be, is an escape. We travel to our local movie theater, sit in a dark room with a flickering light, surrounded by strangers. And through that special magic, we are transported somewhere else, to experience something completely different. Sometimes, we get an eyeful of a difficult life that we hopefully will never experience. There is a joy in that, but I am not sure anything surpasses the pure light of a fantasy. Within that fantasy, there can even be an understanding that what we are watching has faults. But if we are open to the opportunity in front of our eyes, we can evade the pure logical analytics and just be present. 

Kiss of the Spider Woman, in any of its iterations, is both an escape and a truth that we are forced to look upon. It tells the story of Valentin (Diego Luna) who is a prisoner in Argentina due to his political beliefs and activities. One day, he is introduced to a new cellmate, Molina (Tonatiuh), who has been imprisoned for public indecency. Of course, this “indecency” has more to do with their queer identity, rather than any one particular behavior. As Molina makes their entrance, it immediately becomes clear that Tonatiuh is about to give one of the great performances of the year. Luckily, after the runtime is extinguished, they remove all doubt. In a film filled with distractions, technicolor, and singing and dancing, what shines through is the human relationships and pure love, led by Tonatiuh.

The escape within the film is the story of Molina’s favorite old Hollywood musical, ‘Kiss of the Spider Woman,’ and his favorite actress, Ingrid Luna (Jennifer Lopez). Director Bill Condon holds clear control over a difficult text, not only filled to the brim with musical numbers, but also the two plots, constantly overlapping. This is no easy task, but one that was made easier by impeccable casting. Lopez, who has certainly had her ups and downs on film, gives a stunning performance that creates a perfect fantasy for Molina and Valentin. She is the picture of femininity, in all of its power, struggle, and seeming contradictions in form. Her musical and movement talent, never under much question, are on full display. Despite the wonderfully choreographed numbers moving with her and behind her, she is never out of her depth and manages to hold the screen in a quite different style than we are accustomed to in her previous roles. Additionally, the film allows a growth in her performance, culminating in the title track, in which Lopez unleashes her surprising vocal power, along with perfect physicality. This creates a moment that will send chills down the spine of any fan of the form.  

Condon, clearly influenced by classic Hollywood musicals, darts between these storylines deftly and expertly. There is little to no concern with making the colorful numbers fit within the world of the prison. He understands that this is a fantasy with a capital F, and the contrast is needed. If only all directors of modern musicals were this unafraid to dive into color, light, and movement! Everything from the soft lighting to the wondrous costumes (from Colleen Atwood) screams beauty, love, and escape. We fully understand why Valentin and Molina would want to run from the truth of their situation, but the script manages to make all of the right choices with their relationship, as well.

The writing allows both Tonatiuh and Luna to explore their characters’ differences and similarities slowly and effectively. There are no moments between the two that do not feel wholly genuine. Tonatiuh certainly has the showier, funnier part and they take wonderful advantage of every opportunity. Luna, on the other hand, is resolute in his values and so must slowly allow himself to be cared for. Both give performances that match exactly who their characters are and should be commended. The care and consideration built through their conversations, physical connection, and shared space allows for discussions of storytelling, friendship, romance, and even revolution. The patience shown, by not only the film as a whole, but by the performers, allows love to bloom in the most dark, dingy, and unlikely of places. 

Is Kiss of the Spider Woman a fantasy? Yes and no. It is hard not to be struck by the timing of the film’s release. Living in America, where there are people being taken off the streets forcibly because of what they look like, the reality of the prison plotline here hits dangerously close to home. Are things as bad as in Argentina in the 1980s? Probably not, at least not yet. But this all depends on your perspective and experience. Can we tell people losing their homes, jobs, livelihoods, and in some cases, their freedom, that things could always be worse? 

Kiss of the Spider Woman, like film, is many things. It is a beautiful, colorful love story. It is also a warning. Different viewpoints, sexualities, and genders have a history of being attacked by governments at large. But diversity is not our weakness, it is our strength. By the time the credits roll, no matter what ends come to our characters, we understand who and what is right. No longer can we stand by and simply hope that our better angels will prevail. There is nothing wrong with escape, in the right moments, but some things are worth fighting for, in the real world. Kiss of the Spider Woman shows us that, in the end, love is one of those very things that is worth fighting for, no matter what must be sacrificed for it. 

Grade: A-

Director: Joachim Rønning
Writers: Jesse Wigutow, David DiGilio, Steven Lisberger
Stars: Jared Leto, Greta Lee, Jeff Bridges

Synopsis: A highly sophisticated Program, Ares, is sent from the digital world into the real world on a dangerous mission.

Tron: Ares may be the first film to deserve a pull quote of demanding “to be seen on the biggest screen possible,” but is meant to be dripping with sarcasm as an insult. Movies made for IMAX should enhance a filmmaker’s vision and audience enjoyment, not weaponize the cinema experience to disguise hollow storytelling and empty spectacle. That is the feeling you will walk away from with Joachim Rønning’s latest failure to reboot this stale science-fiction franchise. 

Of course, what would you expect from a filmmaker who specializes in this kind of cinematic confidence game—the fifth installment of Pirates of the Caribbean and Angelina Jolie’s Maleficent: Mistress of Evil—films that prioritize commercial intent over any brave artistic vision. The only silver lining is that with each failure of a legacy sequel, we appreciate the 1982 cult classic, which looks better with every passing attempt. 

The movie follows Julian Dillinger (X-Men’s Evan Peters), a brash CEO of Dillinger Systems. Nearly half a century after Kevin Flynn developed digital “Grid” technology, Dillinger seeks to extract the platform’s resources into the real world. His ultimate goal appears to be dragging into reality—kicking and screaming—Ares (Academy Award winner Jared Leto, being very, uh, Leto-like here). Ares is an artificial intelligence and super-soldier, programmed always to obey his creator’s commands. 

The only issue is that anything taken from the GRID can be taken away, like a pizza, in thirty minutes or less. Any AI will evaporate like it wasn’t even there, causing a battle between Dillinger and a rival scientist, Eve Kim (Past Lives’ Greta Lee), CEO of ENCOM. However, Eve hypothesizes that Kevin Flynn solved the issue decades prior but kept the secret to himself. Obviously, before dying off in Tron: Legacy’s digital realm. 

As Eve searches for what she calls the “permanence code,” she is hunted by Ares and Athena (The Neon Demon’s Jodie Turner-Smith) under Dillinger’s command, in what’s billed as a digital cold war unlike anything we’ve seen before. Except, well, we have—through countless Tron sequels, prequels, legacy chapters, and knock-offs—making Tron: Ares one of the more vapid science-fiction epics in recent memory.

Yes, movies are a visual medium. From an aesthetic point of view, Tron: Ares is a feast for the eyes with its spectacular special effects. (The “Light Skimmer” chase scene is by far the film’s highlight.) The pulsating score from Nine Inch Nails is visceral and deeply felt, like an all-consuming mental maelstrom on the senses. Yet the techniques evoke sensory bombardment torture—blurring the thin cinematic line between movie spectacle and enhanced interrogation.

That’s because the script by Jesse Wigutow (Daredevil: Born Again) is painfully predictable—nothing in this movie isn’t telegraphed well in advance. Staying alert while being bored out of your mind only makes the quip about enhanced interrogation techniques perfectly clear. The film’s points about artificial intelligence and its dangers have been made thousands of times before. And just because the original Tron had something to say on the issue doesn’t mean this installment deserves a pass when it offers nothing new or fresh on the subject.

Instead, the audience is dragged through a labyrinth of Tron: Ares plotlines—a tedious journey to nowhere. The result feels sanitized and sterile, lacking the emotion or stakes needed to draw viewers in. What’s left is a soulless expedition—shocking, given that the heart of the original film’s conflict was a tug-of-war over our humanity. Tron: Ares isn’t a movie of the moment so much as a recycling of old plot points, as if studio heads are simply mining IPs they think might resonate with today’s world, rather than exploring themes and subtext through fresh eyes and ideas.

You can watch Tron: Ares only in theaters starting October 10th!

Grade: D+