Director:James Griffiths Writer:Tom Basden, Tim Key Stars: Tom Basden, Tim Key, Carey Mulligan
Synopsis:The Ballad of Wallis Island follows Charles, an eccentric lottery winner who lives alone on a remote island and dreams of getting his favorite musicians, McGwyer Mortimer back together.
It’s strange to be nostalgic for the late ’00s and the entirety of the ’10s folk music boom, but it was quite a phenomenon. All a band had to have was a powerful, melodic group of voices, at least one guitar, a kick drum, and someone playing an instrument like the banjo, lute, or mandolin. It was an acoustic sound that filled, and in some cases still does fill, arenas, stadiums, and amphitheaters. The Ballad of Wallis Island reminds us of what that kind of music can evoke within us. Folk music is intimate, rhythmic, and moving; just like this film.
The concept of a man hiring his favorite artists to play a private show for him, and having that be funny and not creepy, would not work without a strong script behind it. Tom Basden and Tim Key have written a very eclectic charmer of a film. The blended plot points weave in and out of each other like a beautiful melody. It’s raucously funny at times and utterly heartbreaking at others. The references fly at the speed of light and are often beautiful plays on words. The next time you’re caught in a rainstorm you’d be hard pressed to find a better one liner for the story than calling yourself, “Dame Judi Drenched.”
Though, as good as the script is, the chemistry between all of the lead actors is unquantifiably exquisite. The comic pairing of Basden and Key is so great and funny. They’re reminiscent of great cinematic comedy pairings with Key being the motor-mouthed goof and Basden the exasperated straight man. Even with as well known an actress as Carey Mulligan in the film, you only see her as Nell. The three of them together are very close to comedic perfection.
Tim Key is the clear standout of the group. His scenes of drama tend to land a bit harder and his scenes of comedy are absolutely perfect. While we get snippets of who Charles is, an eccentric wealthy man who lives alone in a large house on an island, it’s through Key’s reactions that we see the man underneath. In one of the quieter scenes, Herb (Tom Basden) comes back with his guitar so that he and Nell can sing one of their more romantic ballads. After a few chords, the camera stays on Charles. It pushes in as he has a strong emotional reaction to the song and the people singing it. He’s trying to swallow his tears with gulps of air. It’s written all over his face that this isn’t just a gimmick or a way to spend his money, but that this music means more to him than anything else that exists in the world. It’s a beautiful piece of beautiful dramatic acting within a comedy reminiscent of John Candy in Planes, Trains, and Automobiles.
It’s also a point where we notice the filmmaker’s hand. James Griffiths’ style as a director looks to be to let the comedic moments fuel the film, but there are moments when he and his team go the extra mile to land the scene. After Herb questions Charles’ wealth, Charles shows Herb the framed winning lottery ticket that made him wealthy. He gives a story about how he spent it all and felt a little empty. In a stroke of genius, as Charles is avoiding Herb’s follow up questions, Griffiths and cinematographer G. Magni Ágústsson track the camera with Charles as he reveals his second framed winning lottery ticket. It’s a small moment, but it’s a moment that lands the joke better than any other could.
Even if you aren’t a lover of folk music, the original songs in the film are beautiful and human in their exploration of love, joy, and pain. Even if you like your comedies uncomplicated, the interpersonal relationships in The Ballad of Wallis Island are worth it. It’s a film that is the very definition of the phrase, “It made me laugh, it made me cry.” There is beauty in a small cast and a goofy concept that is well executed. The Ballad of Wallace Island is very much one of those rare beauties.
This week on the InSession Film Podcast, inspired by Warfare coming to theaters, we had a war movie draft discussing the best war movies of the 21st century so far! We also continue our Best Picture Movie Series with the 1967 winner In the Heat of the Night.
– War Movie Draft (8:15) After some opening banter, we begin the show this week with our War Movie Draft, where we discussed the best war movies of the 21st Century so far. There have been some incredible war movies over the last two decades and we thought it would be a fun exercise to do a draft (pun intended?) to see whose lineup would make for a great film festival. After listening and hear our picks, who do you think won this draft between JD and Brendan?
– Best Picture Movie Series: In the Heat of the Night (1:18:51) We continue this series with another fascinating entry into the Best Picture canon given the context of 1967. In the Heat of the Night might not go down as one of the best films to ever win the award, however, it was the right film for the year in which it won. Just three years after the Civil Rights Act of 1964, as tensions were still immensely high, comes a movie with a revolutionary lead character and remarkable performance by Sidney Portier. That cannot be overstated, giving In the Heat of the Night an importance that makes it a worthy winner.
If you want to help support us, there are several ways you can help us and we’d absolutely appreciate it. Every penny goes directly back into supporting the show and we are truly honored and grateful. Thanks for your support and for listening to the InSession Film Podcast!
Director: Robert Livings, Randy Nundlall, Jr. Writer: Ben Groves, Robert Livings, Rob Macfarlane, Randy Nundlall Jr., and Peter Paskulich Stars:Brenda Yanez, Samantha Laurenti, and Norah DeMello
Synopsis: While sorting through their late friend’s belongings, two women discover VHS tapes showing them in haunting, unfamiliar scenes, each one drawing them into the grasp of a mysterious, malevolent entity.
There’s a beauty to found footage/anthology horror films in which the rawness of a discovered video changes the course of events in the fictional world in which it takes place. It creates a microcosm of multiple stories within stories, a Decameron taking place in the land of the macabre. With the recent surge in low-budget horror making significant box office successes and shifting audiences’ attention toward a different formula for scary movies, there has been an openness for new frightening feature experiments.
For starters, this is what Conjuring Tapes is about: two friends who discover a set of tapes with themselves as heroes of morbid stories. A seance gone wrong, two influencer ghost hunters who meet more than they bargain for, a haunted therapy session, and a creepy cult set in the podcasting world. The further they dig into the tapes, the more they discover, not only about the events unfolding, but also about a malevolent entity that may or may not hold all the threads to their existence.
The film, as faithful as it is to its source material, starts with a slow burn. Too slow at times, but it is a significant precedent to the horror that happens later. The indie setting allows for a low-key, laid-back atmosphere. The unknown actors make the eeriness of the situation more believable and the horror more significant. The multiple roles that actresses Brenda Yanez and Samantha Laurenti play bring so much to the table as they go back and forth between characters and storylines while retaining the personalities of the original protagonists as they weave all the stories together. The beauty of their acting works in the film’s favor despite the script struggling to keep up, and it complements the dread that anticipates both the characters and the characters they portray in the VHS metaverse.
The camerawork is the highlight of this feature. Robert Livings is the co-director -along with Randy Nundlall Jr.- as well as the cinematographer, and he deserves all the credit for creating a pulsating, shaky screen that never lets the viewer rest with his magical handheld camera work. The biggest obstacle in this horror piece is that the narrative doesn’t hold up to the visual work, so there seems to be a disconnection between the two; while one elevates the game, the other drags it down. The jump scares are fantastic, but the build-up to them is what the script struggles with, for the most part.
One of the main reservations I have about this horror flick is its tameness. Imagine it with gorier, more brutal storylines and some scenes that will stick in your mind like glue. This one relies more on psychological horror than on explicit gore and sadistic violence. While some found-footage anthology horror films use that element to perfection, this feature, directed by Nundlall Jr. and Livings, needs a bit more spice.
Does this take away from the fun? Absolutely not. There’s a spark of creativity in this film that calls for not only fans of the genre but also avid admirers of horror family dramas, engaging them in a puzzle-solving game, interacting with the stories unfolding one after the other like Matryoshka dolls. Surprisingly -or not- Conjuring Tapes works perfectly as a horror family drama where the horror lies within the family dynamics and the interactions between characters: traumas resurfacing, old grudges and wounds dug from shallow graves, etc.
Conjuring Tapes feels like the film someone shoots in their basement. Indie horror filmmaking at its finest might work for some, while others won’t necessarily connect with the stripped bare aesthetic that makes it more like a home video footage without the cinematography prowess of films that use found footage as a formulaic cinematic medium. It’s still fun, though, and very spooky, in a way that will most definitely leave fans of the genre satisfied, regardless of relating to the meatiness of the film.
This week on Women InSession, we continue our critic spotlight series as we get to know ISF founder JD Duran and his experience becoming a critic and starting the website/podcast! JD talks about the movies that inspired him as a young person, the challenges of balancing film with family and even how sports plays a role.
On that note, check out this week’s show and let us know what you think in the comment section. Thanks for listening and for supporting the InSession Film Podcast!
Director:Francis Ford Coppola Writer:Francis Ford Coppola Stars: Gene Hackman, John Cazale, Harrison Ford
Synopsis:Harry Caul, a meticulous and intensely private surveillance expert, is hired to record a conversation between a young couple. As he painstakingly pieces together the fragmented recording, he becomes increasingly obsessed and guilt-ridden, believing he may have uncovered a potential murder plot. His professional detachment crumbles into paranoia as he grapples with the moral implications of his work and the ambiguity of what he has heard, leading him to question everything and everyone around him.
Francis Ford Coppola’s staggering run in the 1970s – The Godfather, The Godfather Part II, Apocalypse Now often overshadows the quieter, more introspective film nestled right in the middle: The Conversation (1974). Yet, revisiting this paranoid thriller today reveals it as not just a product of its Watergate-era anxieties, but a chillingly prescient and masterfully crafted character study with themes that echo louder than ever in our hyper-surveilled world. It’s a film that leaves you feeling both tense and deeply thoughtful, grappling with ambiguity long after the credits roll.
At its heart is Harry Caul, arguably Gene Hackman’s finest, most understated performance. In the wake of Hackman’s recent passing, revisiting his portrayal of Caul feels particularly poignant. This isn’t the bombastic Popeye Doyle or Royal Tenenbaum; this is a deeply internalized study of a man at the absolute peak of his clandestine profession – audio surveillance – yet profoundly tormented by its moral implications. Hackman embodies Caul’s meticulousness, his crippling social awkwardness, and the gnawing guilt stemming from a past job gone wrong. He’s a virtuoso haunted by his own expertise. Weathered and competent, yet unraveling under the weight of his conscience. We see glimpses of pride in his craft, particularly during a revealing party scene in his workshop fortress, but mostly we witness a man desperately seeking detachment, only to be drawn inexorably into the lives he records.
The plot, like Caul himself, operates with a slow-burn intensity. Tasked with recording a seemingly innocuous conversation between a young couple (Cindy Williams and Frederic Forrest) in a busy San Francisco square, Caul becomes obsessed with deciphering its meaning and potential consequences. Coppola masterfully uses ambiguity, is Caul uncovering a murder plot, or is his paranoia projecting sinister interpretations onto fragmented phrases? The film refuses easy answers, layering Caul’s escalating anxiety onto the narrative, forcing the viewer to question what is real versus what is perceived. This deliberate pacing and refusal to spell everything out are central to the film’s cumulative impact.
Released in the shadow of Watergate, The Conversation was undeniably a commentary on burgeoning surveillance technology and governmental overreach. Yet, its exploration of privacy, guilt, and the dehumanizing potential of technology feels startlingly contemporary. Coppola seemed to anticipate the anxieties of our modern surveillance capitalism. The tech may look quaintly analogue now, but the core dilemma – the trade-off between technological capability and personal privacy, the unease with relentless progress – remains potent. One can easily imagine a modern Caul as a conflicted Silicon Valley engineer, eschewing the very tools he helps create.
Crucially, the film’s power relies heavily on its groundbreaking sound design, orchestrated by Walter Murch, and David Shire’s unsettling score. Sound isn’t just accompaniment; it is the subject. The repeated playback of the titular recording, gradually revealing different layers and potential meanings, draws the viewer directly into Caul’s obsessive analysis. Shire’s piano-led score, balancing melancholy melody with jarring, discordant notes, perfectly mirrors Caul’s fractured psyche and amplifies the pervasive sense of unease. Watching with headphones truly immerses one in the film’s meticulously crafted soundscape – a debt clearly owed by modern scores like that of Severance.
While The Godfather films and Apocalypse Now sprawl with epic grandeur, Coppola adopts a more austere, claustrophobic approach here. The focus is tight, the mood oppressive. Much of the film unfolds in confined spaces – Caul’s workshop, anonymous hotel rooms, crowded convention floors enhancing the sense of isolation and paranoia. It’s a testament to Coppola’s directorial range, proving he could craft a taut, character-driven psychological thriller as effectively as a sprawling crime epic.
Though Hackman dominates, the supporting cast is superb. John Cazale, in another tragically brief but memorable turn, brings a nervous energy to Caul’s assistant Stan. Their dynamic subtly mirrors Harry’s own internal battle: Harry admonishes Stan for his curiosity about their subjects’ lives, a projection of the very impulses Harry struggles to suppress within himself, attempting to convince himself as much as his colleague. A young, almost unrecognizably sinister Harrison Ford makes an impact in a small but pivotal role, and Allen Garfield provides a contrasting note of sleazy professional bravado as competitor and counterpoint, Bernie Moran.
The Conversation doesn’t offer neat resolutions. Its famous ending is a haunting tableau of paranoia consuming itself, leaving the audience, like Caul, surrounded by questions. It’s a film that demands reflection, provoking debate decades after its release. In its meticulous craft, its profound themes, and its unforgettable central performance, The Conversation remains an essential, deeply unsettling masterpiece – a quiet film whose echoes continue to reverberate powerfully.
Director: James Hawes Writer: Ken Nolan, Gary Spinelli, Robert Littell Stars: Rami Malek, Rachel Brosnahan, Jon Bernthal
Synopsis: When his supervisors at the CIA refuse to take action after his wife is killed in a London terrorist attack, a decoder takes matters into his own hands.
The Amateur follows Charlie Heller (Bohemian Rhapsody’s Rami Malek), a cryptanalyst working in the CIA’s Decryption Department. Heller loves his job—cracking codes, busting ciphers, and decoding those pesky encrypted communications from enemies; both foreign and domestic. It’s quite the contrast to his wife: while Charlie is stuck behind a desk, slowly developing computer vision syndrome, Sarah (The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel’s Rachel Brosnahan) travels the world for her job, going on one adventure after another.
However, that all changes when his wife is one of the victims of a terrorist attack in London while attending a work conference. Charlie is wracked with guilt, not having time to have a meaningful conversation the night before when she called. Why? Heller accidentally came across an illegal and unauthorized operation sanctioned by his boss (The Iron Claw’s Holt McCallany) that even their direct superior director, O’Brien (Togo’s Julianne Nicholson), doesn’t know about. Charlie gets the run around from his superiors, who refuse substantial help.
This is where the script gives you those eye-rolling moments. Charlie blackmails the CIA, scoring cash and a crash course on becoming a deep-cover operative—which, you know, might take more than a week or two. It’s disappointing, especially considering the screenplay is based on a novel by Robert Littell and written by Ken Nolan (and Gary Spinelli), since he wrote such great films as Black Hawk Down and Only the Brave. The problem seems rooted in the source material, though the script generates enough action and suspense to help you suspend disbelief.
The Amateur was directed by James Hawes (One Life) in his feature film debut, following a successful run behind the camera on television shows like Raised by Wolves and Slow Horses. The film embraces all the classic tropes of a vengeful action thriller—particularly the story of a man seeking revenge against those who killed his wife. (I’m shocked there wasn’t a scene where he remembered her smiling under a gently billowing bedsheet.) The picture is undoubtedly compelling, even if it follows the standard genre playbook step by step.
Gloomy and ominous, sure. (It appears Martin Ruhe can only use an under-lit and depressed color palette, taking the same point of view as previous films like The Midnight Sky and The American.) This isn’t the type of film to put much time and effort into comic relief. Instead, the film throws a handful of eccentric supporting characters that come and go as they please, hardly making an impression. (You wish the supporting roles played by Jon Bernthal and Laurence Fishburne had more meat on the bone.) The film has an even tone and pace, proving that Hawes has a knack for restraint that serves the movie well.
Ultimately, in a film like this, you have to care about the character, which depends on the lead’s performance. Malik always puts an interesting spin on his performance that stands out, like hyper-focused, expressive micro-reactions, and the sudden burst of energy in the strangest places. (When you watch the film, look at what he does with his expression and sudden movement in the garage scene.) You can never take your eyes off of him. He also brings a poignant emotional resonance to the role, which is standard in a film like this.
Some may point out thatThe Amateur is based on a novel written back in the 1980s. However, Doug Liman and Paul Greengrass had no trouble updating The Bourne Identity franchise for modern audiences. Those films effectively explored themes of guilt, identity, and moral agency through Matt Damon’s nuanced portrayal of the titular character. In contrast, Malek’s character here feels far more one-note, resembling a dressed-up, faux-sophisticated version of Law Abiding Citizen, rather than the compelling depth in the Bourne series.
Fans of the genre expect more from films like this, particularly when following the titular character into hell (and back), which requires a personality that contrasts with Malek’s introverted portrayal. While I won’t fault the thoughtful spin on the character, I do take issue with the predictable plot and story, which feels nearly 30 minutes too long and ultimately undermines the escapist experience the film strives for.
You can watch The Amateur only in theaters starting April 11th!
Director: Jared Hess Writer: Chris Bowman, Hubbel Palmer, Neil Widener Stars: Jack Black, Jason Momoa, Sebastian Hansen
Synopsis: Four misfits are suddenly pulled through a mysterious portal into a bizarre cubic wonderland that thrives on imagination. To get back home they’ll have to master this world while embarking on a quest with an unexpected expert crafter.
I don’t love Minecraft, the game—because I’m an adult and not under five years old. What I do love about it is the way it sparks creativity in such a powerful and accessible way. So, imagine my complete lack of surprise at how pedestrian and mundane the final product can feel. A Minecraft Movie looks great, but it’s overproduced to the point of becoming repetitive and redundant.
A strange trait for a film based on intellectual property is unlimited imagination.
That said, it’s clearly meant to be good-natured fun for a younger audience, which might lift parents’ spirits just enough to act as a form of emotional medication to get them through the one hundred and one minutes of A Minecraft Movie. Unfortunately, this movie has more holes in it than those blocks can patch and fill.
The story follows Steve (Jack Black doing what Jack Black does best), a lovable oddball who enjoys digging through his hometown’s abandoned mines, which he believes is his calling. (Maybe someone should have him stream October Sky and reach out to Homer Hickam.) There, he discovers a couple of mysterious artifacts, including a glowing liquid-blue block. Steve combines them, and just like peanut butter and jelly, something miraculous happens—he’s sent to the Overworld, a place of freewheeling creativity where anything is possible.
Jason Momoa also stars as Garrett “The Garbage Man” Garrison, a man with a unique flair—sporting a hot pink jacket and a fabulously voluminous shag, just like any former diva gaming champ from 1989 might. He’s also pulled into the Overworld, the eccentric and offbeat cubic realm where players hone their skills to become master crafters. He’s joined by two orphaned siblings, Natalie (A Good Girl’s Guide To Murder’s Emma Myers) and her little brother Henry (Sebastian Eugene Hansen).
The fourth member of their unit is Dawn (Danielle Brooks), who dreams of owning her own zoo someday. Unfortunately, Brooks is given so little to work with in the film. After her standout performance as a human stick of dynamite in The Color Purple, she only gets a few decent scenes and rarely has the chance to showcase her comedic chops. They eventually come across Steve, who introduces them to the “Endear Pearl,” which can help you imagine anything you want, as long as it’s in block form.
Yes, if this sounds like Tetris meets Jumanji, the filmmakers are probably laughing maniacally while smoking a fat cigar with their feet on the desk, counting their money as we speak.
A Minecraft Movie was directed by Jared Hess, known for Napoleon Dynamite,Nacho Libre, and last year’s underrated Netflix animated film, Thelma the Unicorn. Like the latter, Hess incorporates an infectious sense of humor, mainly drawing from the energy of Black and Momoa. However, the themes that could resonate with both parents and children feel sterile and recycled. The timely message of substance over style—what family and community mean to each other—is lost in the material’s overwrought style.
I will say the look and aesthetic are pleasing—full of fun and lively energy. The mash-up of real life and video game visuals is a hoot at times. Hess keeps the movie moving at a fast pace, which is a double-edged sword. On the plus side, you’ll never get too bored, though it can feel chaotic for an ADHDer like myself. Still, it moves so quickly that when you start to question the canon components of Minecraft, you don’t have time to dwell on them. In a way, that’s almost refreshing.
Where A Minecraft Moviesuffers most is in how unimaginative it feels compared to the game itself. The source material offers an endless world of creativity, stimulating young minds with the sense that anything is possible. The film, however, boxes that imagination in with tired genre clichés that are sometimes yawn-inducing, making the story utterly predictable from start to finish. Rather than taking bold swings with its narrative, the movie falls victim to corporate risk-aversion, leaning too heavily on safe, family-friendly material that plays it far too safe.
Of course, we know precisely who the film is aimed at: those who grew up with the best-selling video game that has stood the test of time since 2012 and the little ones who are just now discovering it. If judged overall, Minecraft is a mild rejection—no doubt kids of all ages will dig it, since it was made for them.
Unfortunately, in this critic’s eyes, it lacks the spirit of what the IP was meant to represent.
Director: Christopher Landon Writer: Jillian Jacobs, Chris Roach Stars: Meghann Fahy, Brandon Sklenar, Violett Beane
Synopsis: A widowed mother’s first date in years takes a terrifying turn when she’s bombarded with anonymous threatening messages on her phone during their upscale dinner, leaving her questioning if her charming date is behind the harassment.
Drop is an excellent idea for a thriller. A single mother, hesitant to dive back into the dating pool after being a victim of domestic abuse, is forced to murder the first man she’s met in ages on their first date. It’s cleverly cruel and adds a modern twist to the classic genre, like a strange love child of How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days and Nick of Time. The final product is suspenseful, sometimes gratingly annoying, but always a bloody good time.
If only they had found a fresher way to end the third act, they could have really had something.
The script by Jillian Jacobs (Fantasy Island) and Chris Roach (Truth or Dare) follows Violet (The White Lotus’s Meghann Fahy), who is raising her nine-year-old son alone after being deemed responsible for the death of her abusive husband. Violet has been messaging Henry (It Ends With Us’ Brandon Sklenar), a hunky dreamboat who travels the world taking pictures for a living.
(Sure, Sklenar is the second coming of Harrison Ford, but personally, it sounds like he needs to get a real job, but Violet has lowered her standards in the past decade.)
Henry shows up, sporting some Hasselhoff chest hair, no coat or tie (classy guy), with an adventurous aura, saying he had to bring his camera bag up with him (and probably a Tom Selleck mustache comb) to the date or it might be stolen. Before he arrives, Violet meets a host of interesting characters, like a vivacious bartender (Gabrielle Ryan), an anxious gentleman on a blind date (Reed Diamond), and a lecherous piano player who hasn’t met a stiff drink he couldn’t fight off before near-inebriation.
While waiting, she begins to receive constant and insistent AirDrops to her cell phone. Violet keeps checking her phone because she wants to make sure it’s not from her sister Jen, who is babysitting her son tonight. Proving that Sklenar is not as dreamy as everyone says, Violet doesn’t get lost in those baby brown peepers. Instead, she keeps getting distracted over and over by the drops until she finally answers. It turns out there is a man in her house, and if Violet doesn’t do what the man on the other end of the digital messaging feature says, he will kill her son.
Drop is the new film from Christopher Landon, who has a history of innovative modern horror thrillers with Happy Death Day, Happy Death Day 2U, and Freaky, has made a good genre picture here, which rides the coattails of a strong performance from Fahy, who is excellent here. The beginning is suspenseful but oddly irritating, simply because Violet’s phone vibrates every few seconds. It’s odd, being one of the most annoying things to happen during a movie is a phone going off, making it a vexing plot in the film.
What transpired made me want to give Sklenar’s Henry a Klondike Bar, a product placement opportunity they missed at the movie’s end. Any other date would have left after the first hundred interruptions, but never question the possibility of taking a beautiful person home with you to see the forest for the trees. That’s the key to Drop: you have to suspend belief often, like Trap, and just turn your brain off to enjoy it. This is fine because not every movie is meant to be a work of art or Oscar bait.
The movie is fast-paced, sensationalized, and clearly over the top, but it’s a lot of fun. The characters are quirky, and the script does a nice job of keeping the potential suspects in the shadows. The reveal of the villain is well done. Unfortunately, I can’t specifically tell you how much I enjoyed how the actor revels in the role due to spoilers. It’s campy but scene-stealing and key to enjoying the experience.
Essentially, Drop is the perfect date movie. It’s an emotional rollercoaster full of adrenaline and excitement and clever at times, even though the third act has an atrociously bad ending involving a children’s toy. Fahy’s lead performance and her chemistry with Sklenar carry the viewer through the experience, which is enjoyable yet likely forgettable.
You can watch Drop only in theaters on April 11th.
On this episode, JD and Brendan discuss the new action-comedy from Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck in Freaky Tales! We love a good anthology film and this is one that sets off to connect its four stories together in a mystical way that we’ve never really seen before. Maybe it doesn’t all work, but the film is a lot of fun and has some captivating characters.
Review: Freaky Tales (4:00) Director: Anna Boden, Ryan Fleck Writer: Anna Boden, Ryan Fleck Stars: Pedro Pascal, Ben Mendelsohn, Jay Ellis
On this episode, JD and Brendan discuss the horror-comedy from Finn Wolfhard and Billy Bryk in Hell of a Summer! The background behind this film is so fascinating given that Wolfhard and Bryk sought financing for this when they were just 22-years-old. Not only did they find financing, they were tasked with starring in and directing the film that they also wrote the screenplay for, along with producing as well. Talk about getting some major experience at a young age, and if you ask us, it’s not all bad.
Review: Hell of a Summer (4:00) Director: Finn Wolfhard, Billy Bryk Writer: Finn Wolfhard, Billy Bryk Stars: Fred Hechinger, Abby Quinn, Finn Wolfhard, Billy Bryk
This week on the InSession Film Podcast, we discuss all the exciting news that came out at this year’s CinemaCon and continue our Best Picture Movie Series with the 1966 winner A Man for All Seasons.
– 2025 CinemaCon (3:19) We begin the show this week by discussing this year’s CinemaCon and all the news that was revealed over the last week. Because we spent a fair amount of time nerding out last week over Marvel, we kicked things off with all the MCU news that dropped at CinemaCon. We also get into the Fantastic Four updates and Spider-Man 4 being officially titled Brand New Day. We then shift gears to talk about Avatar: Fire and Ash, which sounds exciting, and the new trailer for Tron: Ares.
– More 2025 CinemaCon (41:48) As we continued to move on with our CinemaCon conversation, we talked about how the John Wick universe is continuing to expand, including a John Wick 5 movie that was announced. The live-action How to Train Your Dragon movie played in its entirety and they announced a sequel in the works. The reaction to Masters of the Universe was quite surprising and piqued our interest. The Beatles biopic movies were announced to be coming out all on the same weekend, which seems like a bad idea if you ask us. We couldn’t get to everything, but we had a great time digging into what CinemaCon had in-store for us this year.
– Best Picture Movie Series: A Man for All Seasons (1:20:45) We continue this series with arguably the most underrated film of the ’60s in A Man for All Seasons. It’s a film that holds up extraordinarily well today, given its themes and conviction, and where we find ourselves with today’s political landscape. But that aside, it also serves as a bridge between Old Hollywood and New Hollywood, given its filmmaking craft and how it works in both worlds. It’s a film that isn’t talked about much, but it’s a really good film that isn’t undeserving of its Oscar. Even if it wasn’t the best film of 1966.
Best Picture Movie Series – 1960s: In The Heat of the Night
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Director:Samir Oliveros Writer:Maggie Briggs, Samir Oliveros Stars: Paul Walter Hauser, Shamier Anderson, David Strathairn
Synopsis:May 1984. An unemployed ice cream truck driver steps onto the game show Press Your Luck harboring a secret: the key to endless money. But his winning streak is threatened when the bewildered executives uncover his real motivations.
The Luckiest Man in America includes a line about game shows being a version of the American Dream. It’s true that, in America, your intelligence, ambition, or abilities are not enough to ensure success. Success here is often about luck, but every system designed by humans has a flaw that can be exploited. Games of chance are just a math problem to be solved.
The Luckiest Man in America begins as a mystery to be solved. Unless you’ve read the real life account or seen the episodes of the game show “Press Your Luck” that the film is based on, Michael Larson (Paul Walter Hauser) is an enigma. He acts strange, he has a unique style all his own, and he’s cagey about every detail of his life. As the layers are peeled back, we see his motivation for pressing his luck more and more.
Writers Maggie Briggs and Samir Oliveros have crafted a script that works like a pyramid. We start at the broad base and work our way up as the details get finer. Not only are we learning about Michael, but we see an intriguing arc between two behind-the-scenes characters. At the beginning, Bill (David Strathairn) and Chuck (Shamier Anderson) have a typical give-and-take as boss and employee, but when Bill senses his lost grip on the show may mean his head on the chopping block, he throws Chuck under the bus. It’s a subplot that keeps the story interesting and moving forward when the main plot gets a little maudlin.
For the most part, The Luckiest Man in America stays on course. If there are slow parts it’s because of Michael’s complicated backstory. We don’t get concrete answers, but what we do get isn’t that interesting. It seems like Michael’s story will go one way, when we learn he has a restraining order out on him because of a Ponzi scheme; but then there is a hard shift toward the truth about his family. It gets complicated and never fully serves the purpose the filmmakers want for the story. Michael works better as a truly unknowable figure.
Though, there is a fabulously dreamy scene in which we get to finally hear some truth about Michael in his own words. Director Oliveros and cinematographer Pablo Lozano set up a sequence where Michael is realizing that he’s been found out, that the secret of his luck is that it’s not luck at all. He’s paranoid and frantic. The camera follows him as he tries to chase a security guard in a cart, then approaches a man dressed as a police officer, only to see another one and then another one and realizes they’re actors waiting for an audition. When he finally ducks into a studio he realizes he went in the wrong door and he finds himself at the taping of a late night talk show. The host (Johnny Knoxville), rather than stop the taping or get rid of Michael, invites him to sit down and talk. Michael finally lets his guard down and tells a part of his story.
This scene is so surreal and a little out of touch with the rest of the film, but the way that Michael is framed and the camera pushes in, it’s very affecting. It’s like the catharsis Michael needs to just keep going, to push beyond his fears and doubts because he knows that this far into the taping the producers can’t stop him without causing a scandal. It makes you wonder if the scene was all in Michael’s head and he just wandered onto an empty set.
Paul Walter Hauser plays this scene and all his scenes with an incredible sweaty anxiousness. He’s an actor who really understands the mind of an eccentric. Though, the ones to watch are David Strathairn and Shamier Anderson. Anderson cuts an imposing figure, but he plays his irritation and investigation through quiet anger and frustration. Even when his character, Chuck, is intimidating Michael, the intimidation is far more psychological than physical and it’s a testament to Anderson’s prowess. Strathairn has a tremendous arc from confident boss, to worried director, to submissive sycophant and finally, cowardly survivor. He morphs into each with a practiced ease.
The Luckiest Man in America has its ups and downs, but is a very enjoyable film. You expect it to be funny and it is in many ways, but more than that it is a strange and eerie character study. The characters are all fascinating and the writing is very good. It’s a tiny gem of a film that one could mine out of the rest of the craft on display at their local cineplex.
Director:Nick Hamm Writer: Friedrich Schiller, Nick Hamm Stars: Jonathan Pryce, Ben Kingsley, Jonah Hauer-King
Synopsis: The narrative unfolds in the 14th Century amidst the days of the Holy Roman Empire where Europe’s nations fiercely vie for supremacy and the ambitious Austrians, desiring more land, encroach upon Switzerland, a serene and pastoral nation.
William Tell throws audiences into the life of its titular character as he must aim his arrow true to shoot an apple off his son’s head, to guarantee the safety of his family. Directed by Nick Hamm, William Tell is a return to the epic hero-driven sword and board films of the early 2000s, like Ridley Scott’s Kingdom of Heaven and Wolfgang Petersen’s film Troy. Packed with medieval action, William Tell is overflowing with lush mountainous visuals and an inspiring story of revolting against a tyrannical government.
Right from the start, William Tell showcases its eponymous hero (Claes Bag), as he ischallenged with his most daunting task: shooting an apple off his son’s head. Surrounded by villagers, soldiers, and his wife Suna (Golshifteh Farahani), the film sets its iconic lead up while taking audiences back to the beginning of his story. A veteran soldier, Tell now lives a quiet life with his small family while the Austrian government rules over them with a violent and greedy fist. As Tell is out with his son Walter (Tobias Jowett), he must choose to help Baumgarten (Sam Keeley), a man whose wife was just brutally assaulted and murdered by the tax collectors and risk his own families safety or let the cruel soldiers take him in. In true Tell fashion, he agrees to see the man to safety; while on their journey, Tell finds that in order to stop this violence for good and restore their freedom, their ruling leaders must be stopped.
Hamm doesn’t just direct William Tell but also pens the story, taking elements from the 1804 play of the same name by Friedrich Schiller. Not only is the film a showcase for a folk legend, but it also serves as an inspiring story of citizens saying enough is enough when their government no longer serves them properly. Tell works with his friends to bolster the community against the Gessler (Connor Swindells), who works for King Albert of the Hapsburg royal house (Ben Kingsley) to keep the villagers of all walks of life in line, by whatever means necessary. Traveling the vast countryside putting a team of rebels together, men and women alike, Tell continuously does the right thing, even when it means taking a life. Hamm’s script shines during the most dramatic moments of the film, posing moral obstacles in front of Tell, like having to end a suffering old man’s life while he screams in pain from the Gessler’s men. The film earns its R rating, not shying away from the cruel casualties of war, and the brutal limb-slicing gore.
The film stands apart from other period dramas with its lavish costuming that shows the drastic difference between the ruling class and the working class of the fourteenth century. Where costume designer Francessca Satori explores the social rankings through fashion the best is with Bertha (Ellie Bamber), the niece of King Albert. Her fiery red hair is often matched with deep blue or green dresses, showing her rank in intricate stitching work. The rest of the Hapsburg family is dressed just as well; King Albert dons a gold eye piece with dark flowing robes that make him stand out among the rest of his court. Paired with Tonino Zera’s production design, William Tell is a breath of fresh air in a sea of films overusing green screens. Homes of villagers feel lived in, with their candle-lit tables and roofs fashioned with straw; they depict working-class men and women who take pride in what they have. Which makes it all the more devastating when the tax collectors invade their homes, tossing the place around.
The film’s performances are stacked with heroism, not only from Tell but also from its vast supporting cast. The standout is Bamber, who portrays a young royal that stands up for her own freedoms during a time when women were often silenced. She’s not afraid to speak her mind and stand up for herself, especially when it comes to her future. Claes makes Tell easy to root for, playing him as a somewhat Robin Hood; where his performance stands out the most is in intimate moments between him and his wife. He brings a vulnerability to his performance, showing that even the most heroic of men have their weaknesses. What really makes the film is the villainous performance from Swindells; his Gessler truly will have your blood-boiling with frustration. The joy Swindells exudes while taking pride in his cruelty is beyond impressive. There are many supporting roles that don’t get much time to shine; even with the film’s 2-hour and 13-minute runtime, there’s a lot going on with each character’s secondary stories that would work better in a limited series capacity.
William Tell brings a plethora of medieval action with different kinds of weapons; crossbows, sword and shield, even hidden daggers show the brutal impacts of war. Showcased best during a tax collector’s raid on a citizen’s farm, a homeowner uses a scythe to de-limb men in armor who threaten his prized bull’s life. Captured by cinematographer Jaime Ramsay, the action proves to be its own character, especially during flashback scenes with Tell; the camera lingers on moments of violence, letting the audience sit with it like the memories that haunt Tell. Ramsay’s stunning camera work doesn’t just stop at the action, as each frame in William Tell could easily be a painting with the vast mountain ranges and lush forests decorating the background as Tell and his group of heroes battle their way to freedom. Deep green forests and the dark blue waters of the sea pop with the film’s vibrant color grading.
Overall, William Tell is an epic story that is not only easy on the eyes with its visuals and costume designs, but in its fighting against those in power storyline. Hamm crafts a film that brings in inspiring performances from its main cast that is stuffed with gory medieval action. Worthy of a watch for fans of the once plentiful period piece action dramas of the early 2000s
This week on Women InSession, we finish our James Bond mini-series by discussing the Daniel Craig era in the franchise! Craig is arguably the most celebrated Bond, but is that deserved? He obviously had a few hits, however we wanted to debate his iteration of the character and talk about the strengths and the weaknesses of his films.
On that note, check out this week’s show and let us know what you think in the comment section. Thanks for listening and for supporting the InSession Film Podcast!
On this episode, JD and Brendan discuss the latest Jason Statham / David Ayer collaboration in A Working Man! While it’s not as seamless as The Beekeeper, it still has all the Statham ass-kicking you go to the theater for when he’s in a movie. There is lots of action and the film delivers on what it promises.
Review: A Working Man (4:00) Director: David Ayer Writer: Sylvester Stallone, David Ayer Stars: Jason Statham, Jason Flemyng, Michael Peña, David Harbour
Synopsis:When Naveen brings his fiancé Jay home to meet his traditional Indian family, they must contend with accepting his white-orphan-artist boyfriend and helping them plan the Indian wedding of their dreams.
A film can make you experience love at first sight. The introduction, the first swell of music, and the way the camera is placed or moves can cause a flush of your skin and a quickening of your pulse. As the film goes on, that love will either flourish or fade. For A Nice Indian Boy, that love will most assuredly flourish.
There is an elegant energy to the film that feels less melodramatic, but no less cinematic than other rom-coms. It’s due, in large part, to director Roshan Sethi and cinematographer Amy Vincent. The camera pushes in and pulls back in equal measure. There’s a terrifically shot scene where Jay (Jonathan Groff) is walking away from a difficult family meeting with Naveen’s (Karan Soni) parents. The camera follows Jay down the walk, but when he’s in the car, the camera goes back to Naveen to watch Jay drive away. The meet-cute between Naveen and Jay is also a superb example of how to effectively use close up to enter a character’s thoughts. We crush as hard on Jay as Naveen does staring at that incredibly handsome face. There are many scenes like that where the movement of the camera helps to tell the story.
The editing also bolsters the storytelling. Editor Stephanie Kaznocha takes the traditional tropes of rom-coms and adds a twist. The typical rom-com has a first date scene and then a download with the best friend. A Nice Indian Boy upends this idea by starting with the date and suddenly cutting to Naveen and his friend Paul (Peter S. Kim), to get Paul’s reaction. In this simple cut, we learn Naveen is telling the story as it plays out for us. This reaction in near real time is refreshing and heightens the comedy as the reactions are funnier in the moment than they would be with a little distance. Refreshingly, there are a couple of tropes turned and made fresh by this film.
That idea comes from the story. While A Nice Indian Boy has the traditional rom-com structure, there are elements that make it unique. Writer Eric Randall’s adaptation of Madhuri Shekar’s play, also titled “A Nice Indian Boy,” blends the story well into film. The film never feels like it is staged or confined, but it breathes and expands into a world more than a play can. The writing is sharp and witty and touches on an aspect of queer life that many films that have a gay romance tend to overlook in favor of a more dramatic expression of familial disquietude toward queerness.
It’s less rare now to have an acceptance of queerness within a family. Our culture has shifted just ever so slightly and now a coming out scene isn’t always chaotic. Yet, A Nice Indian Boy touches on a very salient point that it is one thing to accept the idea of a family member’s queerness and it is quite another to be confronted with it. The exploration of shame, both from the perspective of Naveen and his father Archit (Harish Patel), isn’t only present to build toward a catharsis, but to dig deeper into why a parent may be uncomfortable with queerness in their child. It’s an exploration of the complicated relationships we can have with our family members when they haven’t examined their own fears and shame. It’s about how that shame is passed on to the children who maybe feel open and honest in their personal lives, but can’t live that way at home.
The way this idea and concept lands is in large part due to Karan Soni’s terrific performance. He plays the soft-spoken and shy Naveen so well. The deep well of emotions he feels is written on his face and in his posture. His timing is, as always , perfectly and outrageously funny. He is matched by the fearlessness and gravitational pull of Jonathan Groff. Groff sings like an angel, has an angel’s face, but can express vulnerability with a slight downtick of his lips and a change in his posture. They make an odd, but incredibly believable couple.
A perfect rom-com is nearly impossible. The truth is when you have to have the tropes to make the genre function and flourish, you lose some of the authenticity of the couple in front of you. Many of us ignore that in favor of good chemistry and a cute couple. It’s very easy to ignore A Nice Indian Boy‘s faults because it tells a story that feels familiar, but forges its own path. We need more queer rom-coms and it will be easy to welcome A Nice Indian Boy into that growing canon.
Director:David Ayer Writer:Sylvester Stallone, David Ayer Stars: Jason Statham, David Harbour, Arianna Rivas
Synopsis:Levon Cade left his profession behind to work construction and be a good dad to his daughter. But when a local girl vanishes, he’s asked to return to the skills that made him a mythic figure in the shadowy world of counter-terrorism.
The savior narrative is a staple in the action genre and kidnapping is one plot point that gets the audience’s blood pumping. There is a long history of successful films about men saving women who have been kidnapped. Much like star Jason Statham and director David Ayer’s outing last year, The Beekeeper, which took on fraud targeting older people, A Working Man is building its action around a topic, human trafficking, that is infuriating a lot of people.
Jason Statham is the perfect vessel to channel this type of savior fantasy. He’s become much more of an everyman hero over the last 15 years or so. Yes, even though he’s British, Statham represents the classic American action hero. In this film he embodies what most heterosexual American men wish they could be. He’s an incredibly capable, highly skilled, defender of women; and he does it all while wearing his male pattern baldness like a badge of honor rather than a hidden shame.
The only shame here is that most of the action is ridiculously difficult to see. Director David Ayer and cinematographer Shawn White have made the baffling choice to shoot most of the hand-to-hand combat in close up. Adding onto this, editor Fred Raskin cutting each move into millisecond chunks and it seems like Statham walked into the room, and a minute later all the other men there are just on the ground with dislocated limbs. An action movie deserves more than close-ups of the disgruntled expression permanently stuck on Statham’s face. At least the final gun battle redeems these early confounding scenes, in a way.
Though, it’s hard to find much in the way of a truly compelling action film here. It’s mostly by the numbers. So much so that whatever sort of ludicrous name Statham’s character has (Levon Cade), you never see him as anyone but Statham. His performances rarely vary and that may be the point. This is where the spirit and the enjoyment of the film lies. Like Charles Bronson before him and Dwayne Johnson contemporaneously, the power of the persona is what sells the tickets. People pay to see Jason Statham kick butt and the fact he’s a character at all is completely beside the point.
What makes this film actually different is that the woman Statham is trying to save is no damsel. Jenny (Arianna Rivas) is set up to be another spoiled college girl, but she can absolutely handle herself. She isn’t a victim cowering in the corner, but a woman who is terrified choosing first fight then flight. She does everything she can possibly do given the circumstances she’s in. It doesn’t help her that even though many of her captors find this kidnapping morally reprehensible they do nothing to aid her.
That is what A Working Man is really trying to get at. It’s not that all money is bad, but the people able to pay everyone, the elites, are corrupt. Statham is on a separate moral playing field because he doesn’t need money. After his first kill, he takes the money from the corpses only to return it to its rightful owner before killing him. The film holds the person who sees value in people over money as the righteous ideal. A Working Man never goes so far as to promote an anti-capitalist agenda, just a nebulous anti-elite one.
A Working Man tries to do many things with its plot, even going so far as to layer each of the groups of antagonists Statham encounters on top of each other during the final firefight like level bosses before he can get to the main boss at the end of this particular video game. But people don’t go to see a movie like A Working Man for plot, story, or character development. They go for action. If it’s action you’re looking for, A Working Man supplies it in confusing, quick fights that will leave you unsatisfied. Save it for when it hits the top ten on a streaming platform and you remember it exists.
On this episode, JD and Brendan review Alex Scharfman’s comedy-horror film Death of a Unicorn, starring Jenna Ortega and Paul Rudd! While the unicorns are badass and are fun to watch, sadly the rest of the film leaves a lot to be desired. The writing and direction is messy at its foundation and unfortunately the film couldn’t overcome that for us. The unicorns are innocent though!
Review: Death of a Unicorn (4:00) Director: Alex Scharfman Writer: Alex Scharfman Stars: Jenna Ortega, Paul Rudd, Will Poulter
Director:Billy Bryk, Finn Wolfhard Writer:Billy Bryk, Finn Wolfhard Stars: Fred Hechinger, Finn Wolfhard, D’Pharoah Woon-A-Tai
Synopsis: The counselors of a summer camp are terrorized by a masked killer.
Finn Wolfhard and Billy Byrk, of Stranger Things and Ghostbusters fame, coming together to direct a modern day tribute to the slasher classics of old was not on anyone’s horror bingo card for the new year. It being good – really good, in fact – may be an even greater surprise. At only 22 and 25 years of age, respectively, the directing (and writing, and producing) duo set out to do something that many much older, more experienced filmmakers have failed to do: replicate the magic of a bygone era of horror movies that still find a way to stand out today.
While Hell of a Summer may spend more time winking and nodding in reference to films from 40 years ago than it does worrying about its own singular merits, somehow, it works. From the very beginning, the filmmakers’ love for films like Halloween and The Thing (both of which have been mentioned as direct influences) are wonderfully evident. Whether it be in the destructive, eerie symphony laid under the whole thing or through impressive practical effects around every turn, anyone who has a passion for the 80s/90s era of horror movies, particularly slashers, will have a hard time not falling in love with this one.
The film, in an old fashioned, simplistically follows a group of stranded summer campers who get caught up in a murderous scheme plotted by one (some?) of their peers. You’ve got the expected douchebags, preppy girls, socially unaware camper, oddball side character who nobody seems to understand; truly, every caricature is accounted for. While that may sound distracting, or even cheap at first, when seen through the lens of early twenty-somethings humor, everything becomes infinitely more compelling.
Wolfhard and Byrk tap into some surprisingly up-to-date pop culture references (given the genre’s recent trends in the opposite direction) and reverent dialogue in the same swoop, allowing their characters to grow on the audience by way of making them laugh. Hell of a Summer is relentlessly funny, oftentimes preferring that tone to the more subdued scary one that peeks through the cracks on relevant occasions. The comedic highlight of the film is Fred Hechinger’s Jason, the aforementioned unaware camper who shines because he sticks out as so far removed from the rest of the film.
Hechinger also produced the movie, working on the film in the earliest stages with Wolfhard and Byrk and lending his creative sensibilities to both his character specifically and the project as a whole. Just as he was in Gladiator 2, he’s perfectly awkward and, though in an exaggerated way, terribly relatable. The actor has really begun to thrive in that sort of niche, and if this role is any indication, it won’t be the last time we see him operate in it.
Where Hell of a Summer loses a little traction is towards its third act, when it attempts a reveal incredibly common in modern slashers and, in the manner in which most of the newer efforts do, fails to retain the dramatic impact in the tension leading up to the twist. The thought is there, as is the narrative purpose, but there’s just something so deflating about being able to track a film’s twist all the way up to its climax. In that way, Hell of a Summer is a hell of a bummer.
But this is still a really impressive, genre-faithful debut from two filmmakers who clearly have something to say on this scene. In a Q&A following a screening of the film, Wolfhard and Byrk hinted at a future collaboration on the horizon and, for horror fans, that should be a really exciting prospect. Hell of a Summer is exactly what it needs to be; little more, and absolutely no less.
Synopsis:A mysterious woman repeatedly appears in a family’s front yard, often delivering chilling warnings and unsettling messages, leaving them to question her identity, motives and the potential danger she might pose.
I’m not breaking any news when I say that all of us are going to die, and, in some shape or form, death stares at us in the face every day. When a celebrity you love passes away, it forces you to not only think about that person, but also your own mortality. After all, we are finite human beings who only exist on this Earth in passing and whose purpose is to create a series of memories that’ll make us remember who we are, in the eyes of other people, before our ultimate trip. For many, this realization that we’re not meant to exist forever is a peaceful reminder of the biggest mystery of all that awaits us on the other side. But for some people, living on this planet continuously reminds us of our deepest, most painful regrets – waking up is a bigger nightmare than falling asleep, and perhaps ending it all may be a less painful solution than the hell of carrying memories and constantly being haunted by them.
This is the central subject matter of The Woman in the Yard, a surprisingly layered and violently disturbing psychological thriller that’s so much more than the horrendous marketing will lead you to believe. In fact, the promotional advertisements you may see of the movie hide what the film is about, which, in some cases, is perfectly acceptable to shroud your project in mystery and let the audience discover the story for themselves. However, in the case of Jaume Collet-Serrra’s first venture into horror cinema since 2016’s The Shallows, the film should come with the biggest of all trigger warnings, and not as a mid-credits text, but at the very top of your movie, before it even begins.
I’m not the type of person who usually advocates for these, as most filmgoers will usually have a general idea of what the movie is about if they watch a trailer, or read the plot synopsis on IMDb, ensuring they fully understand what they’re going into before they make the choice of buying a ticket. For example, not knowing that the Terrifier franchise is filled with extreme violence, despite the promotional material heavily leaning into that specific aspect, is being very ignorant – you can’t complain about a warning when you completely ignored them in the first place! But The Woman in the Yard is different, as it directly – and accurately – visualizes how it feels, inside the subjective viewpoint of Ramona (Danielle Deadwyler), to be suicidal.
In fact, the movie contains the most harrowing depictions of suicidal ideations I’ve seen in a major motion picture, going much further than simply expressing the sorrow and perpetual pain one feels when they think their life isn’t worth living. Through the figure of “The Woman in the Yard” (Okuwi Okpokwasili), Collet-Serra and cinematographer Pawel Pogorzelski (who has two films coming out on the same day, alongside Mimi Cave’s Holland) illustrate a woman wanting to end it all, attempting to push back the lingering shadow of Death, but is so powerless in attempting to stop it that she ultimately succumbs to its darkness. There isn’t anything remotely light or even thrilling about the movie – it’s a metaphorical representation of depression and suicide of the likes that few filmmakers are actively willing to depict this way on film, because of how violent and profoundly upsetting it is.
The Woman shows up in Ramona’s yard, with little to no explanation, and soon begins to invade her house, getting closer and closer to her children (played by Peyton Jackson and Estella Kahiha) and to the protagonist, who is still reeling from the crushing loss of her husband, David (Russell Hornsby). The two were involved in a car accident – Ramona was driving, while David sat in the passenger seat. Since then, her life hasn’t been the same. She’s grown more distant with her kids, and the mere thought of David suffocates her so violently that she can’t bring herself to carry on, despite her continued calls to a higher power for strength. It’s at that point that her son realizes that “there’s a woman in the yard” and it won’t be hard for anyone to figure out who this woman represents, not only to Ramona, but in the grand scheme of the picture.
The antagonist itself is not your traditional otherworldly figure haunting the family, but a metaphorical representation of what humans fear the most and what they constantly try to ignore in their daily lives even if it constantly stares at them in the face. For Ramona, she’s staring at it directly for the first time after trying to ignore it and move on for the sake of her children. This results in an utterly devastating series of events that, while reaching a telegraphed conclusion, still manages to shock by the time Collet-Serra and Pogorzelski conclude with the most significant image of their entire film. It never once handholds the audience or spells out the metaphor in front of them (although one doesn’t need to be versed in subtext to know who the woman is), preferring to represent Ramona’s longing anguish through the best use of expressionistic imagery seen in a horror film with a contemporary setting.
Unlike Robert Eggers’ Nosferatu, which imbued the picture with Murnau signifiers that acted as empty gestures with little to no purpose, Collet-Serra and Pogorzelski appropriate the cineaste’s use of shadows to create a disturbing showcase of a death portent, where each deliberate act by the woman is meant to afflict Ramona until she loses all sense of self. It creates an unforgivingly dire atmosphere that only amplifies in intensity as the protagonist realizes there is no way out of this predicament but committing the unthinkable. It’s at that point where Collet-Serra brilliantly distorts perspective, blurring the lines between her imagination and the harsh, cruel hell of reality, never knowing if what she sees is happening for real or a fragment of her darkest memories, bringing back events she doesn’t want to think about – or even merely acknowledge.
In representing this never-ending pain, Danielle Deadwyler continues to prove why she’s one of the very best actors working today, whose work will transcend generations. There’s a specific moment that occurs near the end in which she recalls to her son what happened with David, and she simply uses her eyes to express everything she has been feeling inside ever since the loss of her husband, where it’s hard to pull back tears. What does it mean to live in this world, when the people you love most are not only gone, but whose voices have now been completely forgotten? My grandfather died seven years ago, and, when our family digitized an old VHS with a video featuring him, I had entirely buried what he sounded like. Ramona continuously remembers the best parts of the time she spent with David, but as his voice only becomes a distant memory, and warps itself with the most regretful moment of her life, these memories become unreliable and agonizing.
As a result, this forces Collet-Serra to rethink classic horror movie devices as not simple “gotcha!” moments, but a part of Ramona’s psyche. The jumpscares are the most petrifyingly effective I’ve seen in ages (I can’t remember the last time I genuinely jumped out of my seat in terror like that), acting as the living embodiment of the Hell Ramona believes she is living in, becoming much harder for her to “snap out of it.” She believes there is no way out but death, and this clouds her judgement so much that she can never realize this perceived ending will only bring more suffering to the people she loves most, and who want her to move on, for their sake.
In some ways, this is Collet-Serra’s As I Was Moving Ahead Occasionally I Saw Glimpses of Beauty. Of course, the comparison is strange, and both movies are formally distinct from one another. However, in his succession of images, each more jaw-droppingly evocative and haunting than the last, Collet-Serra urges us to remember that this life is worth living. The people we’re connected to are worth fighting for. Death will always linger like a shadow, and remind us of our fragile nature, but if we let it take hold of our minds, we may never move on. We may never hope for anything good happening in our lives again. We’ve given up and believe this is it.
But it’s not it. It can’t be. We must continue to live until it’s truly our time to go – prematurely ending it won’t solve anything. We have so much more to accomplish, still, and no matter what happens, this finite world we’re in is worth spending a bit more time in it. While I understand that some may be profoundly destabilized by The Woman in the Yard, Collet-Serra accomplishes his intended effect and guarantees you’ll never be able to wipe it off your memory and think about your life in a far more introspective way than ever before. In any event, the movie undoubtedly positions the Spanish filmmaker as one of the best genre artists working today, who, after freeing himself from the shackles of Dwayne Johnson, finally delivers his best work yet.
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