Director: Lilian Mehrel
Writer: Lilian Mehrel
Stars: Ayden Mayeri, Amira Casar, Jose Condessa

Synopsis: June and her Persian-British mom Lela travel to the romantic Azores for a grief anniversary, with contrasting ways of coping. A hot-and-deep surfer takes them on a tour as we surf the waves of life, loss, flirting – an unforgettable ride.

Happiness is a fascinating concept. We view it as one of our basic emotions, but it’s more elusive than we give it credit for. It’s also far more subjective than it should be. Our happiness is different from your happiness is different from their happiness. Let’s not get started on how angry other people’s happiness can make us. Honeyjoon, while a film about a grief anniversary, grapples with happiness or at least how we interpret happiness in another person.

Lilian Mehrel’s script is very funny with a deep poignancy to it. She balances her characters perfectly between two poles of grief. Lela (Amira Casar) is very much a doom scrolling wallower who wants to bring down the mood of everyone to her level. On the other hand is June (Ayden Mayeri) who wants to move forward by finding joy in living life beyond grief. These poles create a terrific conflict and make for an even better catharsis between mother and daughter.

The two leads of Honeyjoon are just perfect for these roles. Amira Casar has impeccable timing which turns her cringe-inducing lines into very funny moments. Casar plays these moments very straight and like the woman of conviction Lela is. Lela’s a woman broken by a loss that came too soon, but she is still a person with great empathy for the terrors other people experience in the world. Casar takes us on a terrific emotional roller coaster with the deftness of a skilled craftsperson.

Ayden Mayeri is a skilled comedic actor with a way of getting us to see the emotional strain of June’s relationship with her mother. Mayeri, as June, is charming and a bit hapless. This leads to a spectacular running bit of June flirting with the eligible bachelors she meets and striking out as they are all aloof service professionals. It’s obvious her life isn’t going the way she planned, but she still has a sense of optimism about it. She knows she can do it if she just puts herself out there. Yet, when June is at her lowest, Mayeri really delivers there, too. Mayeri has a strong sense of this character and is able to bring out an inner turmoil that is affecting on screen.

As fun and poignant as the film is, there are still many unanswered questions. Like a lot of films, we don’t particularly need the answers, yet it feels like there’s something missing. These characters are very lived in and nuanced, but they lack some concrete details that would have added much more to the tapestry of the film. It can be hard to get everything in when a film is only 75 minutes, but a couple of more minutes of backstory couldn’t have hurt.

Honeyjoon embraces the past and the present in various ways, but none more intriguing than its use of different film mediums. For the ethereal landscapes of the flashbacks, Mehrel and cinematographer Ines Gowland use physical film. It gives these shots texture and ambiance that couldn’t be found in the present’s digital medium. Interspersed with these two are several clips of vertical footage shot from a smart phone. While this could be annoying to mix in the harsh HD with the crisp digital, these scenes add a component of realism to this trip. 21st century humans document their lives in a way that no other past humans did. These scenes make us feel as if we are seeing what it would have been like to follow this story on June’s social media pages. The out of context shots and the ones that show us a version of happiness are how we would try and understand June’s experience. It’s a wonderful blend of techniques.

Honeyjoon is a very good comedy that tackles some difficult issues. The leads are perfect and while the film as a whole leaves us wanting more, what we get is very enjoyable. The film will make you think about the happiness we project versus the happiness we actually feel and how there’s often a thin line between the two.

Grade: B

Director: Pål Øie
Writers: Vilde Eide, Kjersti Helen Rasmussen, Natasha Arthur
Stars: Sara Khorami, Mikkel Bratt Silset, Ingvild Holthe Bygdnes

Synopsis: A marine biologist is doing research on a fish farm when she encounters several strange occurrences. Along with the brutal deaths of two teenagers, all signs point to the deep fjord; can there be more to the depths than the eye can see?

From the enduring success of Jaws to modern crowd-pleasers like The Meg, there’s something undeniably entertaining about humans battling creatures far beyond their understanding. Creature features can lean into camp, horror, suspense, or even social commentary depending on the filmmaker. Kraken, directed by Pål Øie, simply keeps things grounded in atmosphere and tension, producing a high-end quality monster horror film.

Set against the haunting backdrop of Norway’s deepest fjord, Kraken tells the story of a marine biologist investigating strange activity around a fish farm who soon finds herself drawn into a series of increasingly disturbing incidents, including the brutal deaths of two teenagers. As rumors spread and the water becomes more dangerous, it slowly becomes clear that something ancient may be lurking beneath the fjord’s icy depths.

The premise itself is fairly straightforward, but the film benefits enormously from its setting. The fjord landscapes are stunning yet ominous, and the cinematography makes excellent use of the cold blue-grey color palette. Even before the monster fully reveals itself, the vast, unknown environment creates a quiet suspense. The dark water, towering cliffs, and near-constant mist create a naturally unsettling atmosphere. Unlike many modern creature features that rush toward nonstop action, Kraken allows suspense to simmer. The monster itself, when it does arrive, is big and booming, and thankfully the CGI isn’t poor or tacky and doesn’t take away from the beautiful use of shots in the film.

The script is quite clever, offering audiences a look into the way of life in Norway’s fish farming industry. There’s also something refreshing about how seriously the film takes its folklore elements. Rather than turning the mythology into cheesy exposition, Kraken folds Nordic legend into the narrative organically. It gives the story a slightly more haunting quality than the average monster film, grounding the creature within local history and superstition rather than simply presenting it as another oversized, unconvincing CGI threat.

Sara Khorami anchors the film as the increasingly desperate marine biologist trying to make sense of the growing chaos around her. She brings enough intelligence and emotional realism to stop the character from becoming another generic horror protagonist constantly making terrible decisions. Mikkel Bratt Silset, Øyvind Brandtzæg, and Jenny Evensen all contribute solid supporting performances, helping the film maintain a believable emotional core even when things become increasingly monstrous.

When you hear the word ‘Kraken, you may think of the delicious rum alcoholic drink, or the spectacular CGI work from Pirates of the Caribbean; either way, it’s something exotic and exciting. This film doesn’t live up to the drama as it opts for a quieter, more intense and suspenseful take on the creature feature. Which isn’t a bad thing. Modern monster movies often ruin their creatures by showing too much too early, but Kraken keeps enough mystery intact to preserve the fear factor. The creature isn’t constantly thrown onto the screen every few minutes. There are several genuinely suspenseful sequences involving boats, underwater shadows, and sudden bursts of violence that make excellent use of the setting.

That said, the film occasionally falls into familiar genre patterns. Some supporting characters exist largely to become monster fodder, and certain plot developments are fairly predictable if you’ve watched enough creature features. There are moments where the pacing drags slightly in the beginning and middle section as the film juggles many ideas and audiences are waiting for something exciting to happen. With a respectable runtime of one hour and thirty minutes, Kraken is a smart, atmospheric addition to the creature-feature genre. By combining Nordic folklore, strong visual atmosphere, and well-paced suspense, Pål Øie delivers a slick Nordic horror film. This is a must-watch for creature feature fans and fans of the monster horror genre. It might make you think twice before booking a Norwegian Fjords Cruise.

Grade: B

Director: Roy Cohen
Stars: Roy Cohen, Aseel Asleh, Tobias Saumel Stein

Synopsis: Haunted by the killing of his Palestinian childhood friend by Israeli police in 2000, Arab-Jewish, queer filmmaker and activist Roy Cohen revisits their friendship in an intimate cinematic letter written during Israel’s war on Gaza.

Ever since No Other Land snagged that Best Documentary Feature Film at the 97th Academy Awards, the Israel-Gaza war has become a rich source for people to sink their teeth and dig deeper about the complicated history in the region. All eyes were on Yuval Abraham and Basel Adra, the two brave filmmakers. The idea itself fascinated the world; two friends, an Israeli and a Palestinian, both committed to this cause, intent on letting the Western world witness the reality of the drastic situation in Gaza post-war.

Without No Other Land, there wouldn’t be a widely praised documentary on the Israel-Gaza world, created from the empathetic perspective toward Gaza. This is not something that was remotely possible before the existence of this film. Just like No Other Land, Arab-Jewish filmmaker Roy Cohen’s intimate portrayal of grief and lost friendship in a morally corrupt world, Far From Maine, is his love letter to his late friend Aseel Asleh, who was murdered in their youth by Israeli police. But it’s also Cohen’s attempt to find hope amidst the darkness of a hopeless world, shaped by the greed of political leaders and the depravity of war leaders.

The documentary runs like a series of heartfelt poignant letters from Cohen to the deceased Asleh, the fact that Cohen finds no one more fitting than his dead friend to express his raw feelings about bringing his partner to live with him in Tel Aviv and how that reflects on his place in the world as a queer Jewish activist against the genocidal actions of his government. Cohen masterfully weaves situations from his real life, with examples of the hardships that the Palestinians are going through. He compares the safety and comfort of his situation with the fear and instability that Palestinians experience, looking for moral clarity of his decision to stay in Israel, the only home he wants to stay in.

When footage of Asleh appears, our heart shatters. There goes a young man who could’ve lived a life parallel to Cohen, but in a different part of the same country that comprises a home to both. At a certain point, it appears like Cohen has survivor’s guilt. He once described Asleh as someone with far more charisma and talent than him, and one wonders if Cohen is guilty that only because of the toss of a coin, one belonged to Israel, the other to Palestine, and of course, the less privileged and fortunate one was the one to pass away at a very young age, even though he could’ve been the one more deserving of success and spotlight. 

Far From Maine is not an easy movie to watch, as is anything about a war that has been going on for three years now. Countless women and children have been murdered, and thousands are in mourning, even non-Palestinians like Cohen, but the bodies keep piling up, and the future looks foggy, with no end to the total catastrophe in sight. But if not for the voices of honest men like Cohen and Abraham before him, the world would lose that silver lining of bravery, courage, and truthtelling. After the unfortunate event at Tribeca Film Festival, bigger and wider release of films like Far From Maine is no longer a luxury, but a must. For the future generations to learn the reality of the situation for the less privileged citizens of the world.

This documentary has never accepted any Israeli investment, public or private. It aims to give voice to the voiceless, even if they are, like Asleh, dead.

Grade: A

Director: John Travolta
Writer: John Travolta
Stars: Clark Shotwell, Kelly Eviston-Quinnett, Ella Bleu Travolta

Synopsis: Propeller One-Way Night Coach follows young aviation enthusiast Jeff and his mother on a cross-country flight to Hollywood that transforms into a life-changing journey filled with unexpected moments.

John Travolta’s brain is indecipherable. That much is clear after viewing his feature directorial debut, Propeller One-Way Night Coach, based on his book of the same name, which follows the cross-country adventure of a young aviation enthusiast named Jeff (Clark Shotwell), on his first-ever flight. Travolta himself is a certified pilot and holds several licenses to fly commercial aircraft, and his love of aviation has been a part of his life ever since he was a child. It’s only natural for him to convey this passion in an hour-long film (which is more or less a television special, but since it premiered at Cannes, the word “film” will be frequently used in this review). 

Unfortunately, most of what’s on screen is completely devoid of interest in anything being filmed, which is a shame, considering how skillful he’s always been at operating himself in front of the camera. Behind the camera, Travolta struggles to bring to life images that evoke the same awe-inspiring wonder Jeff feels on his first plane ride, by interacting with the pilots and stewardesses, eating food he isn’t necessarily accustomed to, and even sleeping on his own berth. Who remembers the first time they boarded a plane (or a train) for the first time when they were a child? These larger-than-life modes of transportation instill in us a sense of real adventure, before we discover new places.

That sense is never captured in Travolta’s rambling semi-autobiographical project. Instead of letting his retro-inspired images with intricate production design recalling the work of Jacques Tati speak for themselves, the writer/director speaks as an older version of Jeff through endless voiceover narration that ranges from mildly amusing to overbearingly annoying. Consider the scene where he introduces flight attendant Doris (played by Travolta’s real-life daughter, Ella Bleu). Travolta films her in slow-motion, almost like she will be the next big movie star, and the accompanying narration (through Jeff’s mind) describes how beautiful she is and how he’d like to marry her. Strange way to describe your daughter to the world, sure, but the narration is totally unneeded at any given moment. You get the idea that Jeff is infatuated by her through the use of slow-motion – why add things via Travolta’s own voice that simply don’t belong?

You would think that, after fifty years in front of the camera and working with some of cinema’s greatest formalists – Terrence Malick, Quentin Tarantino, Mike Nichols, Brian De Palma, and, of course, John Woo – that Travolta would’ve been able to incorporate what he learned with each of these artists and develop a language of his own. Minus garishly-conceived CGI establishing shots and a vintage emulsion to the film’s colors, there isn’t a single frame in Propeller One-Way Night Coach that possesses Travolta’s same earnestness found as one of Hollywood’s greatest performers. In many scenes, he has no idea where to place his camera, and the shot-reverse-shot conversations between characters feel awkward and stilted. 

Shotwell’s portrayal of Jeff recalls Bobby Driscoll’s charm in the 1950s, but his line deliveries don’t have the same impact. Every other performer doesn’t have much to work with, other than trying desperately to sell a screenplay to the audience that gives them absolutely no favors. Some dialogue exchanges feel downright alien to basic human interactions, especially in the picture’s back half. Never has an hour-long movie felt so interminable, going around in circles until an inevitable conclusion that’s admittedly moving because of how personal it is for Travolta, but the end result still leaves much to be desired. 

Still, his tribute to his late wife, Kelly Preston, and son, Jett, feels appropriate given the project’s personal nature. One hoped it would’ve been so much better than what’s on screen, because you can tell how much Travolta cares about the source material, and aviation as a whole. If only he could translate this same passion on screen…

Grade: D-

Director: Adrian Chiarella
Writer: Adrian Chiarella
Stars: Joe Bird, Stacy Clausen, Mia Wasikowska

Synopsis: Two teenage boys must escape a violent entity that takes the form of the person they desire most — each other.

If The Holy Bible was a legislative doctrine – and, with apologies to our American cohabitants from a grave collection of jurisdictions, it is decidedly not – we’d already be residing in Hell. Maybe we already are. But in either case, the truth remains: The Bible is a document that classifies the people it preaches to in ways that are not only outdated (supposing that they were ever all that “dated”) but restrictive. Classification is inherently restrictive, which explains why a skim of the foremost religious text will note that slavery, genocide, and the forced marriage of survivors to their rapists are all kosher practices.

Also permitted is homophobia – worse yet, the damnation and death of those who love a member of the same sex. Leviticus 20:13 reads, “If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them.” This Old Testament verse is an apt reference point, then, for Australian writer/director Adrian Chiarella’s feature debut; even more aptly, Leviticus takes its title from the book in which it sits, growing more and more antiquated with time. Yet despite that world’s ever-churning evolution continues to creep in this petty pace from day to day, hatred toward members of the LGBTQ+ community creeps as well, and Chiarella was sure to make note of that ugliness back in April when he introduced his film’s Opening Night screening at the New Directors/New Films Festival, telling audience members that they would “see scenes of homophobia and anti-queer violence in [his] film… and those scenes [would] be depicted through the lens of the horror genre.” Chiarella went on to encourage viewers to recall the legacies of artists like F.W. Murnau, Mary Shelley, James Whale, and Clive Barker, all “queer storytellers who truly shaped horror into the powerful genre it is today.”

Instead of taking inspiration from these artists in the forms of Murnau’s Count Orlok or Clive Barker’s Pinhead, Chiarella digs beneath the surfaces of those terrifying presences and taps into something altogether more frightful: The sensation of intense desire, the kind that paralyzes and hypnotizes, that renders everything else in one’s life moot, at least until it is satisfied. It’s not long before we see Naim (Joe Bird) operating in this exact state as he grows closer to Ryan (Stacy Clausen), a classmate who lives across the street from the house Naim and his mother (Mia Wasikowska) now call home in a small Australian town. As it is only wont for two teenaged not-quite-men to do, their afternoon activities at a local abandoned mill begin with the duo seeing who can throw the heaviest object across the building and evolve into an impromptu wrestling match. Yet their delicious, sexually charged flight-or-flight rendezvous ends with a passionate kiss, one that hints at something the audience has already picked up on: Not only that Naim and Ryan are queer, but that a place like this – barren, filthy, isolated – is where they are the safest to be themselves, and with one another. 

Just as it didn’t take long for the connection between our main protagonists to be established in an introductory stage, Chiarella swiftly presents the challenges they’ll face should they proceed in engaging in a romantic relationship. For starters, their town is all but defined by the Christian parish that attracted Naim’s mom to the area in the first place; everyone in the town is a member, and no one is exempt. (Certainly not the young men in its “congregation,” those of which it seems to target with its proclamations and most devilish practices.) Its emotional pastor (Ewen Leslie) is like plenty we’ve seen before in cinema, and certainly within the confines of the horror genre: Charming and powerful with a cunning, cutting edge to his sermons that targets those who don’t blindly follow his creed. Not helping matters is the introduction of a Deliverance Healer (Nicholas Hope), who it appears is no stranger to this town nor the queer youth that reside there. His job, as both he and the community see it, is to cast out the sinful desires that fester within their souls. When Ryan’s sexuality becomes public knowledge, the sequence that follows is a gruesome act of torture, but not one that merely leads the teen to fear his own identity, but something he can only see due to the Healer’s spell: The person he wants most, only an invisible, menacing variant that uses love as a weapon designed to deliver maximum pain.

Not only are Bird and Clausen’s performances particularly strong – their distinct interpretation of young love leans closer to longing than it does to the typically giddy butterfly-laden crushes we see in many lesser teen-led romantic narratives – but it’s striking how seamlessly they pivot from one mode of emotional ferocity (amorous passion) to the other (still a passion, but a vicious one). That could be due to horror’s bylaws; it’s often that a romantic couple takes center stage in a fright fest, but rarely is it done well. In 2026 alone, we’ve seen Obsession succeed but Passenger, Corporate Retreat, and, er, The Bride! falter. Leviticus is something entirely different, a work of true terror and of sincerity. It is because of that that it eschews direct comparisons to “similar” works, using horror as its draw but not its only discovery upon viewing. 

Also evident is how assured Chiarella is in understanding his influences more than he borrows from them. It’s a feat that shouldn’t go unnoticed, especially considering how fond we tend to be of adorning fresh filmmaking faces as genre kings and queens before they’ve even ascended to prince/esshood just because one shot in their picture recalls The Shining. He may revere the likes of Murnau, Shelley, Whale, and Barker, but he’s not telling their stories, nor is he trying to. That’s what makes it especially disheartening to read and hear accounts of the film that liken it to David Robert Mitchell’s It Follows, a film that similarly deals with how your past liaisons come back to haunt you, but charts an entirely different path in doing so. 

Worse yet, the streaming television hit Heated Rivalry has been mentioned in what I can only assume is a few desperate attempts at SEO-mining, but what Chiarella is doing is far too sophisticated and amorous to be reduced to a formulaic tale of two young, gay men attempting to find themselves individually and sexually only for a litany of challenges to appear along the way. It honors that trope, and can occasionally be just as expositional as those projects in its plot explanations, but does plenty more to create something profound that surges past the latest YA adaptation of note. Limiting its reach by making broad associations misses the point. If we’re to take anything from Leviticus, it shouldn’t be that these stories share commonalities, but that they each carry their own value and exercise such in ways that touch audiences new and seasoned to the form. It just so happens that Leviticus does so in a way that looks beyond the works that came before it, brilliantly and brutally so.

Grade: B+

Director: Jared Isaac
Writer: Jared Isaac
Stars: Mark McKenna, Lukita Maxwell, Louise Barnes

Synopsis: In a magical lake town, one couple and four best friends spend the final month before college chasing an endless summer.

Recently, and soon enough, millions of teenagers all around the world are graduating high school. This sudden breath of fresh air is hitting them and every aspect of their lives is changing. It’s a sense that all of life’s trivialities have suddenly been solved and there is a weight off their shoulders. Yet, there’s also this huge black cloud of “the future” just waiting to burst. This is the feeling captured in the film An Autumn Summer.

While there is a story and plot, An Autumn Summer functions mostly as a mood piece. The characters don’t say everything they’re thinking. We who have been through this transitional period know exactly what they’re thinking from the looks on their faces. When it does come down to it and we come to know that these four who are so close are going to be split apart, the mood shifts and that black cloud they didn’t want to speak of moves ever nearer. Their easy camaraderie and deep affection shifts from playfulness to a desperate need to hold on.

Jared Isaac’s script is impactful that way. In his hands, summer is a magic bubble. The final month of summer is the hardest. Creating time, making memories, and holding onto magic before the gossamer thread of that time slips away. Isaac, when directing his script, makes us feel every word, touch, and moment like a gentle, but perpetual wave lapping at our feet in the surf as the tide recedes.

Isaac, with the help of cinematographer Brandon Somerhalder, makes us feel the breeze from the lake or smell the flowers and grass with their visuals. It’s a lush vista of water, green forests, and welcoming sandy beaches. The interiors also feel as if we’re home even if we’ve never been there before. It looks, as the characters feel, like we’ve been transported somewhere unearthly and magical. Then, editor Daniela Ovi’s montages make the magic feel lived in and grounded like it could be a memory from any one of us.

That is where the film loses ground, though. Each of the characters are unique and they have their own stories to tell, but it all feels like the film is floating without much concrete detail to go on. It feels as if everyone is putting on an affectation. This can be explained away as a coping mechanism for the big change that is hitting them all at once, but it’s hard to get too attached to these characters. They don’t feel like they exist in our world even if they’re meant to. With that in mind, the film languishes in disconnected days of summer fun in between the bigger elements of the plot. A lot of it could feel irritatingly solipsistic and like we were invited to a party, but completely ignored if it weren’t for the four main actors.

All of the actors playing teens in this film are excellent and have a comfort with each other that is palpable and feels very real. Though, Lukita Maxwell stands out amongst them. As Cody, she has more of the heavy emotional lifting because it’s obvious from the first scenes that she’s grappling with something more than separation. Cody and Kevin (Mark McKenna) are dating and going to different schools, so then it’s up to the two of them to decide to try to continue dating or to move beyond that relationship and into something else. Maxwell pulls off a great feat of introspection and angst. She’s able to bring a much needed dose of reality to this gauzy summer film.

An Autumn Summer is frustratingly magical. It’s easy to sink into its warmth and memory, but can be trying when you want answers or details that are never forthcoming. That is the blessing and the curse of characters who know each other so well. There’s a short hand, but anyone watching feels left out. The film can be forgiven its faults as it conjures the feeling of when summer had promise and the fear of summer’s end in equal loving measure.

Grade: B

Director: Steven Spielberg
Writers: David Koepp, Steven Spielberg
Stars: Emily Blunt, Josh O’Connor, Colin Firth

Synopsis: If you found out we weren’t alone, if someone showed you, proved it to you, would that frighten you?

Disclosure Day, the latest film from the great Steven Spielberg, is nothing like you’d expect. Which, in today’s age of spectacle filmmaking, feels like an act of cinematic bravery. Tricking you in the first act into thinking this is going to be an invasion thriller, the movie instead becomes an existential crisis—not for an individual, a group, or a community, but for the entire human race —which can be profound.

The experience is unlike anything Mr. Spielberg and his scribe-disciple, David Koepp, have done in quite a long time. Marking the fifth time Koepp has written a script for Hollywood’s great mythmaker, the movie plays with its themes patiently and pointedly, focusing more on bringing people together than tearing them apart; relying on the magic of filmmaking and the human heart. 

Yes, roll your eyes, but Disclosure Day is almost hopelessly optimistic, taking real chances as it jumps back and forth with edge and tone, not to mention science-fiction subgenres that work against each other. Yet, all of this is held together by Oscar nominee Emily Blunt’s performance in a role more challenging than it appears, as she has to be the heart, soul, dramatic heft, and comic relief.

The story follows Margaret Fairchild (Emily Blunt), a bubbly and phony meteorologist who loves to shake what God gave her while predicting hail for the greater Kansas City metro area. Restless and unable to be content with her place in the world, she has her boyfriend, Jackson (Thunderbolts*’ Wyatt Russell), film her audition tape for the weekend newscaster desk position.

Meanwhile, the night before, government cybersecurity whistleblower Daniel Kellner (The Mastermind’s Josh O’Connor) arranges an exchange of classified pictures and digital files he stole from federal agents, who have abducted his girlfriend, Jane (Flora and Son’s Eve Hewson), to recover the top-secret information. 

Leading the way is Noah Scanlon (Colin Firth), head of an ultra-secret corporate entity known as Wardex, which is keeping this information from being disclosed to the world. Due to some clever thinking, Daniel escapes with Jane and goes on the run, with help from Hugo Wakefield (Running Man’s Colman Domingo), who leads a resistance movement determined to bring Wardex’s crimes to light.

What happens next? Well, after a red cardinal lands on Margaret’s kitchen table, the popular on-air personality can suddenly read minds and speak a handful of languages. Then, on air, and before she can tell Taylor Swift and the Cowtown community about tomorrow’s warm front coming their way, she blacks out and begins speaking in tongues, in a language only one other person can understand.

Reportedly, Mr. Spielberg came up with the story for Disclosure Day almost a decade ago. Some may see the film as loosely evoking the “Dark Forest” theory, particularly in the way it uses nature, including animals from the woods, as a mysterious form of communication. However, Spielberg’s film is ultimately less interested in cosmic paranoia than in unity, turning a familiar science-fiction fear into something more hopeful.

Of course, pushing up against that hope is fear and concern over weaponization. The movie spends too much time obsessed with Firth’s ability to chase his enemies with a technology that will remain nameless, going to that well far too many times. Then there is the storytelling get-out-of-jail-free card that studios like Marvel love to use, like opening a portal to avoid writing themselves into a corner. 

Here, unexplained powers are used in almost any situation. Yet, in one particular scene that at first bothered me, I later found it completely refreshing and unexpected, which is rare in today’s big-budget genre landscape. The story is layered, almost intimate, and approaches a Spielberg  summer blockbuster with tender care that only the Bearded wonder could get away with. 

That’s not to say the film does not have its clear faults, including a second act that runs far too long and a tendency to overplay its hand when it comes to the telekinetic subplot(s). Then there is the contrived moment where O’Connor’s Kellner hands the most important weapon over to someone who clearly should not be trusted, a choice made only to force the object back into the third act.

In the end, Disclosure Day’s hopeful, genre-bending swings outweigh the tonal shifts, second-act issues, and the convenient telekinetic detours used to keep the story moving. The difference here is that these devices are used to evoke empathy, which is used just as much to set up the audience for a resonant, satisfying experience that ultimately seeks connection rather than provocation. In the cynical age we live in, Spielberg reminds us that his greatest special effect can be: hope. 

You can watch Disclosure Day exclusively in theaters starting June 12th!

Grade: B+

Director: John Carney
Writers: John Carney, Peter McDonald
Stars: Paul Rudd, Nick Jonas, Peter McDonald

Synopsis: Rick, a washed-up wedding singer, and Danny, a fading boy band star, bond over music and a late-night jam session. When Danny turns Rick’s song into a hit, Rick sets out to reclaim the recognition he believes he deserves.

Sometimes, a film comes along where you gladly overlook its flaws because you become swept up in its enjoyable, even rousing, nature. That’s the best way to sum up Power Ballad; a joyous, heart-swelling crowd-pleaser. From writer-director John Carney, the film is effective, almost devastatingly so, when it comes to poignancy. This is a trait in most of Carney’s work that has struck a chord, over and over again. 

This all culminates in a moment that tugs at your heartstrings in a way that may depend heavily on the stage of life you’re currently in. What cannot be argued, however, is that Power Ballad features two very strong performances at its center, exploring both sides of the price of fame, ambition, and recognition. That is especially true when it comes to its star, Paul Rudd, who finds the earnestness in pity. 

Rudd is a performer who specializes in man-child roles that often come full circle, revealing what is truly important in life. That comes full circle in his latest, which is by no means revolutionary. Yet, when done well, Power Ballad is that type of movie; offering an experience that, for me, is the type of movie made for a lazy Sunday afternoon. The kind that makes you appreciate what you have or long for what you don’t.

The story follows Rick Power (Rudd), the lead singer of a wedding band based in Dublin, Ireland. An American who found himself migrating to the Land of Saints and Scholars when he met Rachel (Marcella Plunkett), started a family, and had a daughter, Aja (Beth Fallon), now a jaded teenager. Rick gave up his dream of headlining Madison Square Garden with his ’90s rock band, Octagon, and is now relegated to the scrap heap of history.

Now plying his trade by celebrating the nuptials for those across the Emerald Isle with The Bride and Groove, alongside his best mates, including his goofball pal Sandy (The Penguins’ Peter McDonald). While performing at a castle wedding, they meet Danny Wilson (Midway’s Nick Jonas), a guest working on a solo album after a successful career with a famous boy band. The bride begs Rick to let Danny perform, impressing the group with his ability. 

However, what Rick doesn’t realize is that the young pop star is equally taken with his talent. After the wedding, the two share a drink and a smoke, trading stories, swapping melodies, and smoothing out the rough edges of unfinished songs, including a ballad he wrote years ago, “How to Write a Song (Without You).” They part ways the next morning, with Danny leaving behind a prized guitar, but taking something far more valuable in return. 

Power Ballad has its detractors, many of whom point to the film’s and much of Carney’s work’s reliance on sentimentality. However, the script, written by Carney and McDonald, explores different facets of reinvention, ambition, and, in Rick Power’s case, legacy. More broadly, the film is funny, soulful, and joyous, placing its two lead characters in unfamiliar territory: one chasing fame and success, the other seeking fulfillment.

What makes Carney and McDonald’s script so satisfying, and distinct from others like it, is that both men ultimately discover that fame and success mean little without fulfillment. The film does rely on coincidences and remarkably understanding characters to move the story along and reach its third-act revelation, but the finale is so wondrous and emotionally fulfilling that you almost forgive whatever contrivances the script employs to get there.

Whatever you think of Power Ballad, it is rare to find a film that is both smart and sweet without falling face-first into the easy trap of cynicism. Nick Jonas is electric, but he also finds nuance in a character who could have easily been one-note. Rudd is wonderful here, bringing warmth to a man living with regret without ever resorting to playing him as a sad sack, instead finding the bittersweet beauty of contentment. Rudd and Jonas shine throughout, with a wondrous finale delivering an emotional payoff that earns its encore.

You can watch Power Ballad exclusively in theaters on June 5th!

Grade: B+

Director: Michael Tiddes
Writers: Marlon Wayans, Shawn Wayans, Keenen Ivory Wayans, Rick Alvarez, Craig Wayans
Stars: Marlon Wayans, Shawn Wayans, Anna Faris, Regina Hall

Synopsis: Twenty-six years after outrunning a suspiciously familiar masked killer, the Core Four are back in the killer’s crosshairs and no horror movie IP is safe.

It may seem silly to say it at face value, but it’s truly a high-wire balancing act to make a truly great comedy, let alone a spoof movie. Not only does there need to exist a clever inversion of whatever genre of film it’s spoofing, but it must accomplish such a joke about a joke per few seconds of fame, and classics like Airplane and The Naked Gun films manage to capture this so effortlessly. Considering the absolute hot streak the horror genre has been on within the past decade and the multitude of changes it’s gone through, it’s a wonder why a new Scary Movie from the Wayans brothers wasn’t on the table sooner. Fret not, however, because for all intents and purposes the new Scary Movie acts as the Wayans’ excuse to reference and joke nearly every film, cultural moment, and historical event that has happened since the franchise was taken from them in the early 2000s for better and for worse (mostly worse!). 

Say what you will about the many flaws to find within the first two Wayans-helmed films of the franchise, but those films did have a certain charm to them, especially within their wackiest of moments that this new film can’t really capture. Jokes in the film tend to work whenever it just plays to a simple visual gag within its constant barrage of skits and less so in its attempts to joke about real-life events that are already outdated or mean-spirited attempts at taking jabs at the youth of today that come across as certified “how do you do, fellow kids” moments. Not every joke is a complete whiff, but the experience of watching Scary Movie is nearly as exhausting as the absolute worst the spoof genre has to offer.

The Scary Movie’s never really had much of a cohesive storyline per se, with the focus obviously being on the parodies themselves, and the same remains true here, as any story the film has is a mix of the narratives mainly following Scream (2022) in particular, with a dash of Scream VI and Halloween 2018 on top. The film’s main purpose is to act as a referendum on the recent string of reboots/legacy sequels that have been more popular in the genre recently, as a new Ghostface is targeting our characters from both old and new generations. 

The main cast of the original Scary Movie films all return including Shorty (Marlon Wayans) who’s now a crypto-pilled Twitch streamer, Ray (Shawn Wayans) the gay guy who they constantly like to make jokes about how he’s gay, and, of course, Cindy Campbell (Anna Faris) and Brenda Meeks (Regina Hall) who are both outfitted as Laurie Strode from Halloween and Ma from Ma, respectively. Sara (Olivia Rose Keegan) and Tuesday (Savannah Lee Nassif) are Cindy’s daughters, and Cameron Scott Roberts plays Sara’s incredibly suspicious boyfriend as new blood blends with the old, and no horror movie (or movie in general) is safe from a parody.

Look, there is a certain fun to the fact that most Scary Movies, including the originals, are just a collection of quick sketch ideas that fill up 80 minutes, but Scary Movie completely forgets why the cohesion between parody and jokes even worked within the franchise in the first place. The originals understood that within the parody, there also existed clever ways to tie each parody together that further added to either a separate joke or strengthened the take on the specific set of movies they were tackling. Here, there are so many references to movies and media that aren’t even horror-related that it’s hard to even latch onto a clever gag when one passes, since piles of “jokes” wanting you to laugh at something because you’re familiar with it exist in its place. Yes, Scary Movies have never been about “plot,” but there was a specific cadence to what was chosen to be parodied. When you’re just throwing another reference at the wall, it isn’t the same in the slightest, and it makes the misses a lot more noticeable.

This topic only deepens what is probably the biggest problem with the film, in that it somewhat exists in the same space as the later Scary Movie films or the worst of Jason Friedberg and Aaron Seltzer movies that nearly killed the spoof genre by not understanding the difference between a reference and an actual joke. At least even when they were painfully unfunny or egregiously outdated, the first two films told jokes; here, whether it’s M3GAN, Weapons, Get Out, or The Substance, the reference to the “remember that!” The media is the only type of humor the movie can provide. More often than not, when the movie actually utilizes a cute setup for a visual gag or implements a cameo in a fun way, like its opening parodying Scream VI, it’s actually funny! The Wayans, instead, however, opt for an “edgy” brand of humor to our modern culture that’s supposed to be scathing or offensive to Gen Z and touch, and either come across as incredibly outdated (they/them jokes in the big 26’?) or obvious, like COVID jokes that are SNL-level at best.

It’s a shame that after getting their franchise back after it was essentially snatched from their hands, the Wayans brothers could barely register a modern spoof that’s better than the absolute worst of the franchise, which mistakes references for humor and touching upon every cultural moment within the past 10 years is a good substitute for actually telling jokes. It has its moments of clever bits, in particular its ending reveals, and Faris and Hall, as always, are comedic gold, but watching the new Scary Movie is basically the equivalent of viewing an extended YouTube skit that haphazardly strings together references from movies you may or may not remember, which makes for about a 20% hit ratio in the funny department.

Grade: D+

Director: Jonathan Zuck
Writers: Dick Grunert, Ryan R. Johnson, James Kondelik
Stars: Alice Eve, Eric Michael Cole, Jim Klock

Synopsis: A newlywed couple joins friends on a Mediterranean yacht excursion, only to find themselves caught between a predatory shark and a psychopathic killer in their midst-transforming a sun-drenched escape into a fight for survival.

Shark films occupy a fascinating corner of cinema. For every genre-defining masterpiece like Jaws, there have been countless imitators hoping to capture the same magic. Some have succeeded surprisingly well. Films such as The Shallows and Deep Blue Sea understood that audiences come for the sharks but stay for the tension. Others have embraced outright absurdity, with everything from Sharknado to giant prehistoric predators leaping through blockbuster spectacles. Yet for every memorable shark movie, dozens disappear without a trace, lost somewhere in the murky depths between suspense and silliness. Thankfully, Chum falls into the more entertaining category. It embraces its ridiculous premise with enough enthusiasm to make for a surprisingly enjoyable film.

The setup is wonderfully chaotic from the start. It wastes no time in action and drama, letting audiences know exactly what this film is about. What should be a dream wedding in the sun-drenched beauty of Malta quickly spirals into a nightmare when a deadly shark begins circling the celebrations. If that wasn’t enough trouble, a mysterious fisherman with his own sinister agenda enters the picture, turning a survival story into something far more unpredictable. Suddenly, the wedding guests find themselves trapped between a hungry predator in the water and a dangerous human threat on land. It’s a premise that sounds like several different films stitched together, and in many ways, that’s exactly what makes Chum entertaining.

Visually, the film benefits enormously from its setting. Malta provides a beautiful backdrop that contrasts nicely with the increasingly bloody events unfolding throughout the story. The crystal-clear waters and picturesque scenery create a false sense of security that the film gleefully destroys whenever possible. The music is very important and used extremely well in building the suspense in this film, as well as creating the overall party and easy vibe the characters are feeling before dread and despair set in.

Alice Eve brings welcome credibility to the production, delivering a committed performance even when the script occasionally veers into familiar genre territory. She’s joined by a solid ensemble that helps bring this story to life – convincingly. Nobody plays the material as a joke, but neither does anyone take it so seriously that the fun disappears.

One of Chum’s more enjoyable qualities is its willingness to add extra layers to what could have been a straightforward shark attack movie. The inclusion of the fisherman subplot introduces an additional threat that keeps the narrative moving whenever the shark isn’t actively causing problems. This dual-threat approach gives the film a slightly different flavor from many of its aquatic horror contemporaries.

That said, the screenplay occasionally struggles to juggle all of its moving parts. The shark, the fisherman, the wedding drama, and the relationship tensions don’t always fit together seamlessly. There are moments where the film feels torn between being a creature feature, a survival thriller, and a relationship drama.

The shark effects themselves are a mixed bag. At times, the creature looks genuinely intimidating, particularly when glimpsed beneath the water’s surface. At other moments, budget limitations become more noticeable. Thankfully, the film’s overall aesthetic allows for this without it being cheesy or cheap. Just watch out for some pieces of dialogue and how they’re executed; it can be pretty basic, but that’s what we love B-movies for.

What works particularly well is the pacing. At just 87 minutes, Chum isn’t as dull as dishwater. The film moves quickly from one crisis to the next, keeping audiences entertained without getting bogged down in unnecessary exposition. The body count steadily rises and not just in the form of added side characters you know are there to be shark bait.

It’s messy in places, occasionally predictable, and sometimes held back by its budget, but it’s also entertaining, self-aware, and surprisingly suspenseful. In a crowded sea of shark movies, Chum manages to avoid sinking entirely and instead offers a fun, blood-soaked diversion that knows how to have a good time. A must-watch for shark-thriller fans!

Grade: B

Director: Ol Parker
Writers: Brett Goldstein, Joe Kelly
Stars: Jennifer Lopez, Brett Goldstein, Betty Gilpin

Synopsis: Jackie, President and CEO of Air Cruz, runs a tight ship in her business, including a rigid anti-fraternization policy for all her employees. When a new sexy lawyer begins working for her, that policy becomes very tested.

Netflix’s Office Romance is a throwback to the golden age of ’90s rom-coms. With two charming, good-looking leads, chemistry that practically burns up the screen, and just enough raunchy humor, it offers the kind of crowd-pleasing romance that should appeal to a wide range of audiences, something the streaming giant specializes in.

The appeal here, and what elevates the movie, is that Office Romance was written by Ted Lasso’s Brett Goldstein, who brings his signature brand of winning comedy, making this fairly straightforward, low-risk romantic comedy worth taking a chance on. Combined with the megastar wattage of Jennifer Lopez, you have a movie that’s endearing instead of cheesy. 

Then there are dashes of gross-out humor, including a childbirth scene shot with guerrilla-style camerawork, that gets right in the middle of the action; a gag that may either win audiences over or send them running for the exits. Either way, the new streaming film will charm the audience it was made for, with Goldstein bringing some unexpected wit and humor that the genre is known for. 

The story follows Jackie Cruz (Lopez), the chief executive officer of the airline Air Cruz, which is trying to expand into the Dallas/Fort Worth market. Securing gates at a major airport is like finding shelf space in a big-box store, where you need to punch, scratch, and elbow your way into obtaining them, but it’s even harder to keep them.

When a rival airline sues Jackie and her father, “Captain” Jack (Edward James Olmos), who founded the company, in an effort to slow their momentum, Jackie turns to her top lawyer, Peter Vance (Get Out’s Bradley Whitford). However, after Peter ends up in the hospital from choking on a breakfast burrito, they call in his replacement, Daniel (Brett Goldstein), to handle the deposition.

Daniel is immediately taken aback by Jackie’s immense beauty, fumbling his words, and the only legal shop talk he can come up with is complimenting Ms. Cruz’s fancy shoes. However, after he clears his head, he handles the legal proceeding with ease, impressing Jackie, who shakes his hand and begins to give Mr. Blanchflower an unexpected, uh, standing ovation. 

That’s the setup, and now the regrettable pun of here’s the carrot, that is really as complex as Office Romance becomes, putting much of the focus on the chemistry between the leads, and folding in an inane plot of will they or won’t they blow their cover of being involved in strictly forbidden workplace trysts. You really cannot take your eyes off them, becoming more with each passing scene. 

Director Ol Parker (Ticket to Paradise) never falls into the trap of self-importance or pretentiousness. If anything, you wish the script from Brett Goldstein and Joe Kelly (Saturday Night Live) put more effort into the plot, instead of relying on corporate governance issues as a key component of the story. It’s a predictable development that audiences will see coming from a mile away.

Office Romance is nothing special, losing steam by the end of the film, but for fans of the genre and Lopez, the “classic” ending feels almost like an homage to the rom-coms of Meg Ryan, Julia Roberts, and Sandra Bullock. Sure, the plot is basic, and some irreverent comedy bits and subplots seem out of place. Yet, if we choose to find them refreshing, the combination of Goldstein’s warm and anything-but-cynical writing makes this film rise above the formulaic premise for the audience the movie is intended for. 

You can stream Office Romance exclusively on Netflix starting June 5th!

Grade: C+