Director: Grace McNally

Synopsis: A look at the shocking act of violence and subsequent trial that transpired between a retired Olympic equestrian and the dressage student he took on at his farm in New Jersey.

There’s something inherently unsettling about violence erupting in places designed to feel serene. UNTOLD: The Shooting at Hawthorne Hill, the latest installment in Netflix’s sports-adjacent documentary strand, is a slow, disquieting study of how pressure, ego, and suspicion can curdle into something far more dangerous.

The story begins with an almost storybook calm. A retired Olympic equestrian, living and training at an idyllic New Jersey farm, takes on a promising new student. Hawthorne Hill is presented as a place of discipline and beauty, where horse and rider move in near-silent harmony, and control is everything. But as the documentary makes clear, control is an illusion.

Wide shots of paddocks and training arenas emphasize space and stillness, creating a sense of calm that makes the eventual violence feel even more jarring. We have first-class interviews with the lead trainer, who explains the sport; the time and effort it takes, and their relationships with competitions like the Olympics. We then cut and have an interview with the student and their reasons for riding, choosing this trainer, and their experience. We have two completely different sides and it does begin to feel a petty he-said-she-said.

The tensions between mentor and student build through disagreements over training, questions of authority, and a growing sense of mistrust. Through intimate interviews, home videos, and online footage, audiences can piece together the emotional undercurrents that will later explode. It’s a lot of drama for a runtime of just over an hour and you’ll find yourself on the fence for a lot of it.

As the relationship deteriorates and the tension builds, the narrative shifts into more familiar true-crime territory. 911 calls, cryptic social media posts, and accusations of surveillance begin to surface, each adding another layer of unease. You’re waiting for the ‘big moment’, the ‘blow up’ that makes this story worth investing in. But, this ambiguity is one of the film’s strengths, though it may frustrate viewers seeking clear answers. The Shooting at Hawthorne Hill is less interested in resolving every question than in examining how such a situation could unfold.

When the shooting is brought into play, it’s quick. The trial provides structure and a degree of closure, but the emotional questions feel somewhat unanswered. The footage from the court scene is very interesting; it’s probably the most intriguing part of the documentary, as this is a he-said-she-said fight, and you get to really examine the situation as a viewer.

Some moments are ridiculous to the point where you’ll giggle. They bring up social media posts to suggest the shooting was justified, and one of the posts they’re using is a quote from The Greatest Showman. There could have been an opportunity here to explore how social media is used in other cases that have been successful and unsuccessful to inform audiences of how their words and posts can be used against them. Even if they are the victim.

There are more moments where the film could have pushed further. The insular nature of the dressage world is hinted at but not deeply explored. Issues of privilege, access, and the pressures within elite sporting communities remain largely in the background. A deeper dive here might have added additional context to the central conflict.

As part of the UNTOLD series, this installment trades the high-profile sports scandals of previous entries for something quieter, more insidious, and equally entertaining. In the end, UNTOLD: The Shooting at Hawthorne Hill is a reminder that even in the most disciplined worlds, human emotion remains unpredictable and that beneath even the most elegant performances, something far messier can be waiting to break through. With a solid pace, intimate interviews, and interesting courtroom footage, UNTOLD: The Shooting at Hawthorne Hill is a must-watch for true crime fans!

Grade: B

Director: Tom Harper
Writer: Steven Knight
Stars: Cillian Murphy, Barry Keoghan, Rebecca Ferguson

Synopsis: During World War II, Tommy Shelby returns to a bombed Birmingham and becomes involved in secret wartime missions facing new threats as he reckons with his past.

Once upon a time, Tommy Shelby nearly had everything. As the man leading the Peaky Blinders and running Birmingham for years, there was almost nothing standing in his way, and any threat that reared its head in his direction was dealt with. But nearly isn’t enough, and for all the victories and power plays he succeeded at, there were plenty of close personal losses and devastating blows to him that have made him a shadow of the man he used to be. A man who lives on as death envelops others, and is haunted by the ghosts of those he once held close.

The Immortal Man, the continuation—and conclusion—to Peaky Blinders thus far puts the spotlight on Tommy (Cillian Murphy), six years after the series finale where he seemingly found peace and left behind the life of a gangster. As World War II rampages the world and bombs fall on England, he lives in isolation, leaving behind the Tommy Shelby he once was and not fighting another war, but fate has other plans. Enter Duke Shelby (Barry Keoghan), Tommy’s now adult son and the new head of the Peaky Blinders, who is about to make a dangerous deal with the Nazis through a man named Beckett (Tim Roth) and sell out the country, and the world, in the process, allowing Germany to win the war. In order to prevent this, Tommy must return to Birmingham once again to put a stop to it.

In many ways, The Immortal Man plays like an extended coda to Peaky Blinders (so far, as a sequel series is on the way), often feeling like Part 2 of the finale. The aim of the movie, however, is less to end the entire story, but to give a definitive final note to Tommy’s journey thus far. From being a soldier in the first World War whose trauma from fighting in the tunnels scarred him and his brother Arthur to his life as a Peaky Blinder, writer and show creator Steven Knight aims to see Tommy’s story through to its end. The result is a mostly satisfying conclusion for him, despite a few bumps and polarizing decisions along the way.

From the start, the visual and musical musings of Peaky Blinders are once again on full display, with George Steel’s imagery capturing the grimy and muddy Birmingham and the warzone it is becoming, as the world around tries to move through the war. Juxtaposed with that are the isolated moments in the countryside where Tommy lives alone, with only Curly (Ian Peck) as company. When the action is going down, the use of slow motion and stylized visuals that made the show’s biggest moments so iconic are once again used rather effectively. On a musical level, the electric score and songs from Antony Genn and Martin Slattery with additional work from Grian Chatten add wonderfully to the ambience and tone of the story, filling it with a sense of dread and the hint of something that was once epic, but picking up more with the return of Tommy to Birmingham.

Cillian Murphy, to no one’s surprise, is once again incredible as Tommy, playing a mere shadow of the gangster he once was, and now just a man haunted by the ghosts of those who left before him, such as his daughter, Ruby, who keeps appearing in the compound around him, her scarf an eerie reminder of her passing. Murphy brings out the tragedy and humanity of Tommy brilliantly, as you see a man who just can’t seem to die as everything implodes around him, and despite not being a particularly good man, look back on his legacy and ponder on what it all meant. These more introspective moments with Tommy in that first half, then balanced out with a return to his Peaky Blinder self as he comes to Birmingham on a horse—echoing his very first scene in the series—and reminding everyone what he is capable of, make for a great extended run of the character from Murphy. Barry Keoghan as Duke matches him in excellent fashion, balancing the hardened nature of the character in violent situations with his vulnerability and even fear on display when something becomes too intense. Much like the show, the realities of life that are shown with the Peaky Blinders are what make them so endearing, and Keoghan’s performance reflects that well.

As the movie progresses, returning characters like Ada Shelby (Sophie Rundle) and Hayden Stagg (Stephen Graham) add some gravitas to the proceedings, delivering very fine work on their ends as well, and newer characters like Beckett and Kaulo Chiriklo (Rebecca Ferguson) also providing some solid performances and weight to the story. The direction from Tom Harper, who also directed the last three exceptional episodes of the first season, is also well done, with the shootout sequences and the final explosive act brought to life in vivid, grimy, and stylistically violent ways. It is also with the newer characters, however, that the movie runs into some road blocks, as beyond some of the solid work from Roth and Ferguson, their characters are not given as much depth as previous new entrants in the series. As Peaky Blinders has had a plethora of excellent villainous performances from Sam Neill to Adrien Brody and Sam Claflin, Roth’s Beckett doesn’t quite reach those heights, despite a menacing performance that elevates his scenes. Ferguson is great as per usual, but her role, and significance of her character, play like late-inning entries into the story, and feel even less developed in some ways.

Where The Immortal Man proves most potentially divisive, however, is with some of its story decisions. With a six-year gap between Season 6 and this movie, many events have taken place during that time which are only referenced in exposition, or shown in flashes. One of those significant events involving a supporting character, for example, is handled in a slightly lopsided manner, highlighting an aspect of the movie’s story and a character arc, but could have used a better build into that. While some other plotlines that were left dangling at the end of the show are still unresolved, The Immortal Man is more concerned with wrapping up Tommy’s story and providing a conclusion to his arc, as well as building a compelling dynamic between Tommy and Duke as the two work together to take down Beckett, and in those two departments, the movie is more than a success.

By the time the credits roll on Peaky Blinders: The Immortal Man, the final movie is a very satisfying and emotionally powerful conclusion to Tommy Shelby and Cillian Murphy’s extraordinary run as the character that hits many of the beats it sets out to. While it doesn’t reach some of the heights of the series, such as its final few seasons and even the series finale, it still manages to be a rather solid watch and opens the possibilities to where the story of the Peaky Blinders will go next. In the bleak midwinter…

Grade: B+

Director: Ben Wheatley
Writers: Derek Kolstad, Bob Odenkirk
Stars: Bob Odenkirk, Ryan Allen, Lena Headey

Synopsis: Centers on a temporary small-town sheriff who uncovers dark mysteries after a local bank robbery.

I’m sure nobody saw it coming that Bob Odenkirk, in his third balls-to-the-wall, knuckle-busting, bone-crunching, lip-splitting action film in the past five years, has become the action star we need right now with his new film, Normal. An everyman who was once best known for Mr. Show and directing the failed comedy The Brothers Solomon, before striking it big with Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul. 

Generally, it is not, well, normal for a television star entering his late fifties, known for a broad mix of cerebral humor and silliness, to become our next great action star. Sure, give us your pretty boys like Glen Powell or any of the Chris’s. Yet, you, I, and the rest of America want to embrace a senior citizen with wispy hair, probably a Werther’s Original ready to go in his pocket, to bust some heads, spray some blood, and break some bones in the name of what’s right.

Yes, Bob Odenkirk in Normal delivers bruising entertainment that packs wild punches and savage laughs, with every intention of dragging the viewer across ice-cold asphalt, leaving shards of glass in their forehead. A quick ninety-minute shot of adrenaline, Odenkirk’s turn may not be award-worthy, but it is a damn good time at the movies or while holding your phone to take in six inches of action on your streaming screen.

The story follows interim Sheriff Ulysses (Odenkirk), who has come to Normal, Minnesota, filling in after the town’s long-term police chief died under somewhat shady circumstances, like freezing to death while ice fishing, even though the local townspeople say he was using a fly rod. Ulysses partners with the affable Mike (Billy MacLellan), befriends a local bartender (Game of Thrones alum Lena Headey), and is offered the job full-time by the mayor (Henry Winkler).

However, Ulysses begins to suspect something is off. A small, run-down town has somehow secured millions in donations to refurbish downtown. A little old lady overorders mauve-colored items, but never seems to sell a thing. The police station is equipped with more firepower than a Los Angeles SWAT unit. Even a local hardware store owner has dozens of sticks of dynamite, oh, and there’s a bank vault filled with cash and gold bricks. 

Normal has an impressive pedigree behind it. From director Ben Wheatley (Free Fire) and writer Derek Kolstad, the mind behind the John Wick franchise and Nobody (co-written with Odenkirk), the film arrives with serious action credentials. The trio creates a subtle action film that sneaks up on you, leaving your head spinning. Filled with vigorous action sequences, the script is clever enough to have Odenkirk’s Ulysses observe quirky behaviors, letting the story come to him.

Those include surprises where suddenly good people are the villains, and bad ones have moral compasses. The story is outlandish, but there are always explanations that ground it a bit, to make things somewhat believable. The third is clever, until reality sets in. Wheatley gets back to his roots, with stylized action that practically screams, “Give the people what they want!” Those are genre picture thrills, which are stuck on repeat. 

Now, not everything works as well as it should. You could argue the opening, which features a five-minute scene about the Yakuza, would have played better if it didn’t reveal the villains behind the illicit activities, allowing the audience to discover it alongside the characters in Normal. Then, there is a quick cameo from Henry Winkler, who leaves the film as quickly as you can say correctamundo, which, after thinking about it, you almost have to admire. 

For what it’s worth, Normal’s third act takes the time to set up the final scenes that make the movie worth watching. A battle-royale action sequence is intense, even exhilarating. Then, the script gives Odenkirk’s character subtle shades of mystery, along with a framed storytelling device that reveals his backstory and shows that nearly everyone in the film struggles with their past, present, and future. Sure, it is messy, uneven, and utterly ridiculous, but by the time the film is over, Normal proves the past doesn’t just linger, it reloads. 

You can watch Normal only in theaters starting April 17th!

Grade: B+

Director: Giulio Bertelli
Writers: Giulio Bertelli, Pietro Caracciolo, Pietro Caracciolo
Stars: Yile Vianello, Alice Bellandi, Michela Cescon

Synopsis: As the fictional Olympic Games of Ludoj 2024 approaches, Agon shows the stories of three athletes as they prepare and then compete in rifle shooting, fencing and judo.

In his contemplative and visually rigorous film Agon, director Giulio Bertelli strips away the high-octane artifice typically associated with the “road to the Olympics.” Set against the backdrop of the fictional Ludoj 2024 Games, the film tracks three female athletes as they prepare for and compete in rifle shooting, fencing, and judo. While these sports are professionalized and governed today by strict protocols designed to mitigate harm, Bertelli never lets the viewer forget their primal origins as modes of combat intended to inflict violence.

From its opening frames, Agon establishes a stark visual dissonance. The film’s aesthetic is unexpectedly airy and muted, filmed with a detached, chilling elegance. Rather than relying on the gritty, high-contrast visual language of the traditional sports drama, Bertelli employs a clinical, documentary-like lens. This muted palette creates a profound friction with the brutal reality of what we are observing. When they come, the sudden, intrusions of pain and failure feel both jarring because the world they inhabit is so beautifully, coldly composed, and yet they also feel inevitable; a natural consequence of pushing the limits. 

Oscillating between wide shots that capture the macro-geometry of the sports and invasive, extreme close-ups detailing specific physical processes, the camera treats the human body as just another piece of apparatus. An unflinching early sequence of a knee operation sets the tone. By juxtaposing the visceral reality of surgery with the heavy industrial manufacture of bullets and fencing blades, Bertelli is telling us that flesh and bone are as specialized, and as prone to failure, as the tools they wield. 

Crucially, the film almost seems to desexualize its subjects. In contemporary cinema, women’s bodies are frequently either objectified or framed as triumphant vessels of “empowerment.” Agon rejects both narratives, presenting these young women as highly tuned, ambitious instruments of sporting excellence. This visceral authenticity, however, is not merely a feat of acting; it is lived. By casting real-world athletic powerhouse such as Olympic gold medalist in Judo, Alice Bellandi, Bertelli blurs the boundary between documentary and fiction. 

The repetitive muscle memory and the exhaustion etched into the micro-expressions of these athletes carries the weight of lived experience, making palpable the psychological toll and “emotional saturation” of being treated like a machine.

Yet, Bertelli purposefully allows this mechanical artifice to crack in moments of profound, solitary desperation. The facade shatters during two highly intimate scenes: when the rifle shooter, Sokolov, masturbates, and later, when an injured Bellandi resorts to a desperate bout of binge eating. Rather than observing the physical acts themselves with the clinical detachment used during their training, the camera anchors itself in long, unflinching takes fixed solely on the actresses’ faces. In these suffocatingly quiet moments, the audience is forced to reckon with the devastating emotional toll of their discipline. The bodies they have treated as mere tools finally demand a visceral, human release, revealing the psychological weight of their ambition.

Perhaps the film’s most striking formal decision is its acoustic landscape. Deprived of the public, the fictional events are staged entirely within soundstages to feature a new, overwhelming layer of audio. The validating, triumphant roars of the crowd are entirely absent. Instead, the soundtrack is a stark, tactile symphony: the metallic clash of equipment, the heavy breathing, and the guttural grunts of extreme exertion. This sonic isolation forces a profoundly intimate and often uncomfortable watch, confronting the viewer with the raw grind of elite competition without the emotional safety net of a cheering audience.

The film finds its sharpest tension in the friction between these ancient forms of combat and the digital age. In a brilliant flourish of what the director terms “techno-realism”, Bertelli shows athletes embracing video games to hone their competitive edge. This digital interface acts as a sterilising filter over the reality of combat, abstracting the flesh-and-blood competitor into pixels and blurring the line between human frailty and digital perfection.

This hyper-modern intrusion extends far beyond training, bleeding into the very real anxieties of the athletes. They must navigate the contemporary threat of “cancel culture” via social media, the parasocial nature of which further dehumanizes the competitor, flattening their experience into yet another label, “Influencer.” Furthermore, the film delivers a bitter irony through a tragic equipment malfunction. In sports that have been heavily sanitised by advanced padding and sensors to ensure safety, the catastrophic failure of this technology underscores the inescapable danger athletes face. It exposes the fallacy that modernity can entirely tame the violence of the arena.

Agon manages to be utterly compelling without ever relying on the manufactured highs and lows of the genre. It understands that the capricious nature of elite sport provides its own inherent suspense. In a world where the margin between victory and defeat is separated by a hair’s breadth, the simple, repetitive mastery of a routine does not require a stirring orchestral score. Ultimately, by stripping away the glamour and the crowds, Bertelli asks a haunting question: what remains of the human drive to compete when the external rewards are gone? He has crafted a somber, essential meditation on the banality and the grotesque beauty of the athletic grind.

Grade: A

Director: Nicholas Ma
Writers: Joy Goodwin, Nicholas Ma
Stars: Lexi Perkel, Christine Ko, Judy Greer

Synopsis: No one gets Callie, an awkward pre-teen whose one friend, Mabel, is a plant. As Callie’s obsession grows, she is put at odds with her mother and jeopardizes her first chance at a real friendship.

It’s not easy being a girl, especially one who has distinct interests. Those interests stray from the socially acceptable hobbies and fixations that change almost daily. Nicholas Ma’s quiet slice-of-life film, Mabel, focuses on an intelligent young girl during the most formative time of her life: middle school. It captures the awkwardness of not fitting in and becoming conscious of yourself from your peers’ perspectives. A sweet reminder to embrace what makes us different instead of pushing our uniqueness aside.

One of my favorite parts of getting to know someone is asking them what their main hobby or interest was as a child. For me, I was similar to Callie (Lexi Perkel), someone who has a deep love for plants and how we interact with and treat them. Mine stemmed from wanting to help my mom during summer flower planting, but hers comes from a genuine admiration. And as much as it’s clearly more than just a hobby for her, she has a hard time with life outside of her leafy friends.

As a sixth grader, Callie has moved to a new school, where it’s rare for anyone to even care for a cactus properly. She comes from a loving family, but she has a hard time communicating about anything other than botany. Instead, she spends a lot of time with her potted plant, which the film is named after. Whether having conversations or taking in the beautiful scenery, Mabel is truly the only living thing that Callie thinks understands her. Choosing to believe that plants have feelings and are much more aware than most people would think.

Jumping into a new school isn’t ideal for Callie, but her father, David (Quincy Dunn-Baker), and mother, Angela (Christine Ko), decide to move their family due to David’s job. Social circles and lab partners have been well established by the time Callie gets to her first class. After a few failed attempts to talk to her classmates, Callie gives up until she finds herself sneaking into an upperclassmen botany class. It’s like she becomes a completely new girl, filled with confidence and imagination. Finally, a class where she can be herself without judgment or the pressure of fitting in.

In Callie’s life, there are only a few people she can really be herself with, and sadly, none of them are her family. With her mother being the main parent, as her father can be gone for quite some time on work travels. She doesn’t get a lot of attention at home, and when she does, it’s rarely positive, making her loneliness that much more noticeable. But she always has her plants. When she first moves into her new home, she meets her neighbor Agnes (Lena Josephine Marano), who is much more outgoing and bubbly than she is. It takes some time for both girls to warm up fully to one another, but their friendship blooms into something truly special.

There’s also Mrs. G (Judy Greer), who teaches the botany class Callie slipped into. Callie looks up to Mrs. G and sees that she can turn her love for plants into a meaningful career path to further develop her understanding of nature. They have a mentor-mentee connection, where Mrs. G feeds the inquisitive mind of Callie with theories that, in turn, become Callie’s experiments. Allowing her to have an outlet for her energy rather than making her suppress it allows Callie to be her authentic self with no shame. They both share a matter-of-fact kind of personality that makes their interactions short but sweet, making a sizable impact on Callie.

What Mabel does with its characterization of Callie makes her equally relatable and frustrating. Anyone who has been the outcast in social circles knows how painful that can be. Callie doesn’t care much about other people’s thoughts, which makes it easy for her to come across as cold or rude. But Ma and Joy Goodwin’s screenplay, along with Perkel’s performance, shows a young girl becoming socially conscious of herself and finding that, to make friends and build connections with people, she has to meet them on their ground once in a while.

Rather than wanting only to do or talk about what she is enthralled with, she notices she needs to be open to hearing about their interests as well. These interactions are few and far between, and although they do show Callie’s willingness to open herself up to being more social, the film doesn’t show that she has changed much. Choosing not to show her social skills improving with people outside of her small circle, Mabel focuses on doing the same activities with the same people she already has relationships with.

There’s a real love felt from behind the camera with Mabel, not only with its screenplay surrounding Callie, but also with its dreamlike aesthetic. Centering nature and its beauty in the film is essential for Mabel; a lot of Callie’s intrigue with plants comes from their unique looks or their abilities. Mark Jeevaratnam’s cinematography shows us Callie’s life through vibrant green petals and dark, damp potting soil, framing shots that make audiences appreciate the real-world beauty around us with plants of all sizes littering the screen.

Mabel is a thoughtful reflection of what makes a human unique. From the moment we become socially aware, there’s pressure to conform to normalcy. Carefully written and endearingly portrayed, everyone who watches Mabel will see a little bit of themselves in her. It’s a film that challenges us to be open to making new connections without sacrificing what makes us, us.

Grade: A

Director: Peter Farrelly
Writers: Rhett Reese, Paul Wernick
Stars: Mark Wahlberg, Paul Walter Hauser, Sacha Baron Cohen

Synopsis: In this raunchy, over-the-top comedy, marketing executives Brad and Elijah go “balls out” and pitch a bold full‑coverage condom sponsorship with the World Cup. After their drunken celebration in Brazil sparks a global scandal, they must outrun furious fans, criminals, and power-hungry officials to salvage their careers and make it home alive

Look, I laughed. A lot. What do you want me to say? Sure, Peter Farrelly’s latest foray into the nether regions of lowbrow humor in Balls Up is stupid, juvenile, and excessively inappropriate. It’s also very funny and is fully cognizant of how preposterous this whole scenario may be. Because of this, Farrelly allows his leads to actually have fun being in one ridiculously over-the-top situation after another, where private parts and bodily fluids are at the heart of the movie’s humor. 

I’m also the first one to say that these types of jokes can sustain themselves for a bit or two, but not an entire, 104-minute-long feature film. I panned numerous movies where dick (or balls) jokes were the entire movie’s thesis, because they’re always terribly unfunny and get tiresome incredibly fast. Not in Balls Up, even if some jokes have the tendency to overstay their welcome. However, it’s not that big of an issue when the inciting incident that sets the plot in motion is legitimately clever, and Mark Wahlberg gives one of his most playful performances in a very long time. 

With this and Shane Black’s Play Dirty, Wahlberg has seemingly found his groove in comedic acting, after a stint of horrendous direct-to-streaming efforts that I’ve all seen and completely forgotten (they all started to resemble one another after a while). You can tell he’s having a blast being a total goofball with Paul Walter Hauser, the complete polar opposite of Marky Mark’s personality. Together, they’re a match made in heaven as marketing executives Brad (Wahlberg) and Elijah (Paul Walter Hauser), who are attempting to pitch a condom to influential Brazilian figures timed to the country’s World Cup. 

The pitch fails, but the two still get invited to the World Cup final when the occasion arrives. It’s Brazil versus Argentina. This is more than “just a game” to anyone who’s fully invested in football. It’s a way of life, and a match that could potentially topple one nation if a specific team wins. While I’ll attempt to keep plot details to a minimum, let’s just say that an altercation occurs between Brad and Elijah during a decisive moment in the game, which causes Argentina to gain the upper hand and win the whole thing. 

Naturally, anyone invested in football wants to kill Brad and Elijah for having prevented Brazil from scoring a goal that could’ve shifted the final’s direction. And that’s exactly what happens. Throughout the runtime, the duo will have to make it out of the country alive, as they’re being hunted by ordinary civilians (with too much time on their hands to be this invested in football, I think), underground criminal figures, and even high-level politicians with direct ties to the army. In short, they’re screwed – unless they make allies, and fast. 

As they meet a revolving door of colorful characters (played by Benjamin Bratt, Sacha Baron Cohen, Eva de Dominici, Eric André, and Daniela Melchior), the two will quickly realize that no one remotely cares about helping them, but only their self-serving interests. It results in a bevy of highly memorable set pieces, even if I can’t say everyone will ultimately like this. The thing is, stupid humor, when done right, can be the funniest thing ever. To do this, a filmmaker must understand that the entire movie is stupid and that the actors should play their roles knowing what they’re doing is completely idiotic. 

In that regard, Farrelly more than succeeds in staging pure stupidity on screen and allowing Wahlberg and Walter Hauser room to play. Both don’t phone it in, and they seem to have a hell of a time acting like complete idiots the entire time. Never has part of the duo that brought Dumb & Dumber to life felt so vindicated in popularizing a new form of raunchy comedies, where acting like a buffoon is rewarded and will make you laugh, provided you’re not too cynical about the world. Each joke being set up by characters has an often hilarious payoff, and even if it’s too childish, it doesn’t matter. You can’t help but laugh at them. 

Sometimes, that’s all we need. A good dose of laughter to alleviate the woes of the world. Seeing Wahlberg loosen himself up a bit feels refreshing, because Farrelly knows he can be good if he just gives a damn for a second. Twice now, he’s collaborated with directors who know he’s better than using films to promote his Municipal brand and just have fun. You wouldn’t believe how loudly I laughed during the scene where Brad faces Vampire fish, or when both Brad and Elijah are forced to swallow their own condoms whole, filled with cocaine. Yeah, it’s ridiculous. But who cares? 

Will this critic’s cinephile card be revoked for recommending Balls Up and not Project Hail Mary? Maybe, but the thing is, I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Even if I didn’t want to in scenes that are clearly meant to provoke and make you feel awkward, I laughed. There’s nothing more joyful and uniting about the power of laughter, because it’s an intrinsic part of our own humanity and a sign that I (not yet, at least) haven’t been desensitized to human feeling. If Peter Farrelly wanted to remind me that I still have emotions, he’s more than succeeded. However, one hopes his next film, an Oscar-bait biopic on the making of John G. Avildsen’s Rocky won’t be filled with that same humor. You gotta know when to make ‘em laugh, and when to make all of us think. Balls Up won’t make you do the latter, but it will certainly make you laugh.  

If this isn’t what cinema is made for, what is?

Grade: B

Directors: Neil Ely, Lloyd Eyre-Morgan
Writer: Lloyd Eyre-Morgan
Stars: Lloyd Eyre-Morgan, David Tag, Liam Boyle

Synopsis: Benji encounters Jake at an airport gate, sensing attraction. Their relationship unfolds through Amsterdam trips and intimacy, revealing complex power dynamics.

It’s extremely lonely when you feel that you are unloveable, or when you feel that you deserve to be treated poorly by someone else in a relationship. There are healthy relationships where one partner is dominant and the other submissive, but those are based on respect and consent. Any other form of this is emotional and physical abuse. To watch someone live in this cycle of toxic partnerships is painful and aggravating. It’s very hard to watch Departures for this reason.

The film is billed as a comedy. There are several funny scenes and lines, but the humor of the story is heavily carried by the narration and Benji’s (Lloyd Eyre-Morgan) point of view shots as well as a few fantasy sequences. Even with those, though, the film feels like it’s a friend who is finally ready to open up about a terrible relationship, describing the bad circumstances they’ve been living with while laughing as you sit in open mouthed horror. The funny moments never supersede these awful, depressing images.

That is the point that writer, co-director, and star Lloyd Eyre-Morgan is trying to make. His script is meant to evoke the hindsight that comes from the other side of a truly toxic relationship. In seeing Benji’s pain played out in the order and way he wants to show us, Benji is showing us an equation for comedy. Pain plus time equals laughter. We all have painful memories we can laugh about now or at least tell so that they don’t affect us negatively any more. Those incongruities can make for something funny in the long run. Yet, even the funny bits are a bit dull. 

The bits and quips can’t overpower the sadness in watching someone self-destruct. If it has a comparison, it’s like watching a film with a drug addict as the main character. They continuously use and it becomes far too painful to watch. Benji’s self-loathing in constantly chasing anonymous sex in order to feel something after his break up with Jake (David Tag) serves the story that the filmmakers want to tell, but is just not engrossing. It’s a turn off in many ways to just see the spiral, but never feel that there is a way out. Even when there appears to be a way out, it feels tentative and too much like the toxicity will seep back in.

What Departures has going for it is an excellent depiction of the ugliness of internalized homophobia. In the flashbacks we see Jake as both bully and bullied. His relationship to queerness is that it is his weakness, pure and simple. He engages in it with his trysts with Benji, but can’t bring himself to speak about it, to enjoy it, or label it. In flashbacks we learn how he was rejected completely by his family, not for queerness, just because of their own selfishness. This translates into his constant chasing of multiple partners, none of whom know that there is anyone else. Jake’s  loathing seeps out of him into every relationship he has and means he’ll never truly be happy.

It’s the same with Benji. While he knows he’s gay and is out of the closet, he still feels as if he has to be punished for it. He picks the worst men for himself because they will make him feel bad for being himself. He’s got such a deep self-loathing that the poison the men in his life spew at him feels like an antidote for his own hatred. It’s an external confirmation of what he’s always believed, that he’s not worthy or worth anything.

Departures is a difficult watch. It’s not meant to be. The filmmakers may have intended something more balanced. It’s likely that there will be people for whom this film rings true. It’s likely they will see themselves in this film and get some satisfaction about being on the other side of it. Though, it’s likely that this comedy is just too depressing for the rest of us to want to sit with. It’s definitely not a film for those that want a light send up of toxic relationships.

Grade: D

Director: Tyler Atkins
Writers: David Frigerio, Russell Crowe
Stars: Daniel MacPherson, Mojean Aria, Russell Crowe

Synopsis: MMA legend Patton James, now a commercial fisherman, is pulled back into the cage when his brother is in danger. Reuniting with his old coach Sammy, he commits to one final fight in ONE Championship against its brutal champion Xavier Grau.

Films that feature MMA fighting are so much more brutal than other combat sport films. While there are harrowing fight scenes in boxing films, the fighting is structured and regulated. The same with films that deal with martial arts competitions. In a film with MMA there’s technique and skill like the others, but it feels like the point of the fight is physical damage. In boxing you hit, but you hit to score or knock down. In most competitive martial arts films, the defeat of the opponent is done with points or a pin. The fighters in MMA hit seemingly without any motive beyond completely incapacitating their opponent. Unless in the narrative of the opponent being an actual “bad guy,” watching our hero beat the snot out of someone else is a bit unsatisfying and hardly motivational. This makes films like Beast struggle to find footing in a genre dominated by inspiration and heart.

Beast certainly tries every trope in the genre, though. It wants to get us to feel something for Patton (Daniel MacPherson) and his journey back into the fight game. Writers David Frigerio and Russell Crowe give Patton every one of the major sports motivations. His financial situation is precarious, sibling rivalry, sibling protection, revenge, and redemption are all reasons Patton returns to the fighting world. Even though most overlap at some point, they do try to let the story evolve into each of these motivations, but it’s at the sacrifice of all the characters.

The character that suffers most from this is Malon (Mojean Aria) who is Patton’s younger brother. Malon is a jerk. He’s brash, aggressive, and every cliche of the fighter looking for something to prove. After he’s seriously injured in a fight, Malon could have become more vulnerable, maybe made his way back into his brother’s life in a more meaningful way, but he’s not given that chance. He just becomes a prop in Patton’s motivation to fight Xavier Grau (Bren Foster) one last time. It’s even more confounding as Patton seems to have genuine affection for this little twerp. In the flashback scenes the two of them have, there is a heartfelt gauziness to the screen. Yet these are near wordless seconds of screen time. We’re given no real reason why Patton should ever give this goober the time of day. This relationship holds no real weight and so for it to be the linchpin for so many actions that Patton takes is baffling.

Though, most who may want to see this film may see the story and characters as just a means to an end anyway. The main reason to see a film like Beast is to see the emotional arc of the characters take physical form in the circle, as these fighters call their ring. The three fight sequences created by director Tyler Atkins and cinematographer Thomaz Labanca are exciting. They look like these blows are landing as hard as they would be in life. It looks utterly brutal. Thankfully you can forget the lackluster story once the final fight begins.

The final fight sequence is very long. There are lots of cuts to Luciana (Kelly Gale), Patton’s wife, terrified at home, Sammy (Russell Crowe), his former trainer, streaming on his computer at the gym, and Barry (Matt Nable), the loan shark, and his enforcers watching on Barry’s strip club headquarters’ big screen. The sequence is a far better short film than the feature before it. You almost wish they could have created a framework around this fight with short interludes of flashbacks between rounds to give context. Without the linear nature of the scenes that come before, though, the context of the fight is lost. The film builds up to this contest and makes it the make or break of the film.

With that in mind, your mileage with Beast may vary. There is certainly a story and plot, but it’s nothing new and really just everything old about combat sport films. The action is dynamic and the training montages are top notch, but most of the rest is not that interesting. A film about MMA shouldn’t be this much of a snooze.

Grade: D

Director: Taratoa Stappard
Writer: Taratoa Stappard
Stars: Ariana Osborne, Toby Stephens, Umi Myers

Synopsis: A Maori Gothic Revenge Horror set in Victorian England, 1859.

Gothic horror film Mārama, writer-director Taratoa Stappard takes familiar elements and reframes them through an Indigenous perspective, crafting a film that is as much about historical reckoning as it is about spectral terror. The result is a genre-bending work that is visually striking, thematically ambitious, and unconventional. As the first co-release between Dark Sky Films and Watermelon Pictures, Mārama signals a commitment to bold, boundary-pushing storytelling. It may not be a flawless execution, but it is a striking and thought-provoking one.

Set in North Yorkshire in 1859, the film follows a young Māori woman, played by Ariāna Osborne, who is summoned from Aotearoa (New Zealand) to England. As she uncovers the truth about her family’s past, her journey into the unknown becomes far more unsettling. She is forced to confront not only a legacy of colonial violence but her deeply personal connection to it.

Osborne’s performance carries the weight of the narrative with intensity, allowing grief, anger, and resilience to surface naturally. Her excellent and compelling performance is one of the many reasons to watch this film. The supporting cast adds texture to this world, all with an unnerving chemistry that will keep audiences guessing. Toby Stephens brings a measured menace to his role as the Englishman tied to the protagonist’s past, embodying an authority that feels both refined and deeply unsettling. Umi Myers and Erroll Shand round out the ensemble with performances that, while occasionally underwritten, contribute to the film’s broader sense of unease.

Visually, Mārama leans into gothic tradition while subtly subverting it. The Yorkshire setting is rendered in muted, cold tones, vast landscapes, austere interiors, and looming architecture that feels almost sentient in its watchfulness. Yet these familiar aesthetics are disrupted by the presence of Māori cultural elements, creating a visual and thematic tension that runs throughout the film. The result is a kind of cultural dissonance that mirrors the protagonist’s own experience. In this, it’s beautifully clever. 

From natural sounds of the ocean to hearing every heavy breath, the stillness keeps the film grounded. There are classical, striking violins and soft piano sequences to help drive the scenes along. As dialogue can be sparse, we’re observing the actors and the visuals around them. But what is most intriguing is the local indigenous singing, which is both beautiful and powerful.  

The “haunting” in Mārama is not just supernatural, but historical. Colonial violence is treated as an active force. This approach gives the film a weight that elevates it beyond standard gothic fare, even if it occasionally struggles to balance its ideas with narrative momentum. The film is, of course, very dimly lit, building a strong sense of tension and intrigue. There are one or two jump scares that might catch you out. Spoiler: there’s a scene with a mirror fairly early on that caught me off guard. A typical horror trope, but it was still effective. 

The pacing can feel uneven, particularly in the middle act, where the film lingers on atmosphere at the expense of progression. While the slow burn enhances the sense of dread, it also risks diluting the urgency of the protagonist’s journey. There are moments where the story feels caught between introspection and escalation, never fully committing to either.

Additionally, the film’s blending of genres, gothic horror, historical drama, and revenge narrative, doesn’t always cohere seamlessly. Some transitions feel abrupt, and certain plot developments arrive with less impact than they might have with tighter structuring. Yet these rough edges are also indicative of a film willing to take risks, to push beyond the confines of a single genre.

By centering an Indigenous voice within a traditionally Eurocentric genre, Mārama reshapes the conversation around who gets to tell these stories, and whose histories are allowed to haunt them. It’s a film that asks its audience to look beyond the surface-level chills and consider the deeper, more uncomfortable truths embedded within.In the end, Mārama is a stylish Gothic horror, filled with tension and suspense. The film challenges and reshapes the gothic genre, leaving behind an eerily unnerving feeling. With themes of identity, family, love and loss, this is a perfect film for fans seeking more meaning from the genre.

Grade: B

Director: Pete Ohs
Writers: Pete Ohs, Jeremy O. Harris, Charli XCX, Lena Góra, Will Madden
Stars: Charli XCX, Lena Góra, Jeremy O. Harris, Will Madden

Synopsis: When a volcanic eruption strands Bethany and her boyfriend Rob in Warsaw, Poland, she takes it as a sign to reconnect with her childhood friend, Nel. The pair go on an adventure through the city and Bethany must determine what she wants from life and love.

There’s a real uniqueness to Erupcja and yet the film is also pretty straightforward. Despite having Charli XCX in the lead role, this isn’t some flashy affair meant to announce her arrival as a movie star. That honor went to The Moment, which was a funny satire with surprising emotional depth. This follow up pairs her with director Pete Ohs and a small, but great cast to create something more intimate that sticks in your mind. 

When you talk about this narrative being unique and intimate, that begins with the fact it was written by Pete Ohs and his cast, which I’ve never really seen before. Charli XCX, Jeremy O. Harris, Lena Góra, and Will Madden were all in the room with Ohs trying to craft the best story and arcs for their characters. It could’ve been chaotic, but instead Erupcja not only flows well, but feels very close knit with no one character stepping over the others. 

Plot wise, it will bring to mind Frances Ha, as Bethany (Charli XCX) tries to uncover what she wants from both life and love in her own slightly messy way. Like Frances, Bethany doesn’t feel like a real person yet and leans on her closest friend in the face of anything that could force her to grow up. Even with a loving boyfriend in Rob (Madden), she has no idea what she wants from life and that’s part of what makes her a fascinating character. 

Throughout the film, she seems to be fighting between the idea of a humdrum life with Rob and adventures with her childhood friend Nel (Góra), who has actually built a stable life. There are moments when Bethany seems happy with Rob, but then the camera lingers on Charli XCX’s face and you can see her character’s unease paired with a burning desire to break free. That freedom comes out whenever she’s with Nel, but both of them seem to be being pulled in different directions even as they have a great time. What if they’re no longer good for each other and keep fighting against that notion until everything explodes? Erupcja is about coming into your own as an adult and it’s something that Bethany, Nel, and, to an extent, Rob are faced with. 

It’s really been awesome seeing Charli XCX enter the world of acting and genuinely give it her all, each time out. That doesn’t change here, she’s brilliant as Bethany, turning this, at times, frustrating character into someone sympathetic. She can conjure so many emotions without saying a single word because it’s written all over her face. The minute you start to get angry with Bethany, you’ll notice this shift in her demeanor which makes you hold your horses and consider what she could be trying to say.

Her moments of release during Erupcja are so satisfying because Charli XCX’s has been making you think about where this character’s mindset is and what she might actually want. The beauty of it all is that you won’t fully know which way Bethany is leaning until everything is over. 

You also won’t know what the end is for Nel and Rob because they’re both tied to Bethany. Lena Góra is so charming as Nel, serving as the ideal counter to Charli XCX’s performance as her fiery best friend. They’re in separate places in life, but Nel is willing to throw everything to the side for Bethany and it’s such a good dynamic because there’s a question of not only if Nel should, but if Bethany deserves it.  Góra captures that warmth of friendship while also harboring a sense of doubt. 

Rob, on the other hand, is a confounding character. He’s so tied to Bethany and we barely learn anything about him outside of their relationship. That said, the character is an important cog in this story and much like Bethany and Nel, Rob’s got to figure out what he wants from life and romance. The problem is this character isn’t interesting enough on his own to make you care, even with Will Madden giving a good performance. Every minute with him has something to do with Bethany and, as a result, you’re left wondering why you’re spending time with this one note wet blanket when you could be getting back to her and Nel. 

Another thing bringing Erupcja down is the cinematography by Pete Ohs. While I understand that he was going for an old school foreign film angle with this film, it doesn’t fully come together.  His shots are impressive at times, really capturing the beauty of Warsaw, Poland while also bottling up this feeling that we’re going through the lives of these characters. With that said, it becomes apparent Ohs only has so many tools in his arsenal to make his film capture the vibe of a bygone era. He cycles through the same shots and angles to the point it starts to feel like we’re watching a music video. Things look good, sure, but I would’ve appreciated more visual variety.

Erupcja is a chill relationship drama bolstered by Charli XCX’s charismatic, and outside her comfort zone, lead performance. This story of finding yourself worked far better for me than expected despite one of our central characters being pretty weak. There’s enough meat on the bone to make you connect with Bethany’s journey, and if the writing doesn’t do that for you, Charli certainly will. We now have proof that she can put together multiple good performances and this should make audiences want to see more of her.

Grade: C+

Director: Kirk Jones
Writer: Kirk Jones
Stars: Robert Aramayo, Peter Mullan, Maxine Peake

Synopsis: John Davidson: diagnosed with Tourette’s syndrome at a young age which alienated him from his peers, he struggled with a condition few people had witnessed.

The subgenre of the inspirational biopic is littered with well-meaning directors and actors attempting to educate while entertaining. This is a particularly difficult needle to thread as, with time passing, audiences have become hyper-aware of when they are being preached to about any number of subjects. Although they may have been positively received upon release, films like The Pursuit of Happyness and The Blindside are now looked at with derision, and for good reason. These films metaphorically hold the hand of the audience, telling them what to think and how to react. Now, even if most inspirational stories have this issue, it does not mean that all must. I Swear, a film about a man with Tourette Syndrome attempts to be equal parts uplifting, funny, and heart wrenching, and manages to succeed, to varying levels, at all three.

John Davidson (played as an adult by Robert Aramayo), is now quite well known as a Tourettes activist, and has even been given the title of Member of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire (MBE) for his tireless work in normalizing and educating about the disorder that he has lived with. And smartly, I Swear begins just before the awarding by The Queen. This opening scene accomplishes a lot in a short amount of time. The audience is both let in on Davidson’s success and shown that said success does not solve everything. Additionally, it introduces us to Aramayo, who gives a dedicated, genuine, multi-layered performance. His willingness to engage with the tics, slurs, and movement, along with a real human experience is reason enough to watch I Swear.

As I Swear moves many years into the past, it performs a very special trick of context, provided by writer/director Kirk Jones. As Tourettes, especially the type that causes a person to hurl insults and slurs (echolalia), never allows the outside world to see the beginnings of the disorder, there is a distinct lack of understanding, and even fear. In this case, a young Davidson (Scott Ellis Watson) shows the beginning warning signs, just as he is about to attempt to impress some soccer scouts as a goaltender. It is the first in a series of times that life was made difficult for John, through no fault of his own. This continues throughout his childhood, especially from his parents. After his father (Steven Cree) leaves the home, his mother, Heather (Shirley Henderson), has a deeply difficult time with his constant spitting and cussing, and who wouldn’t? Given the misunderstanding of Tourettes even now, it is not hard to imagine that it was no better in the 1980s. But this, in general, is the minor issue with the film. Besides John, and one other character, most of the people shown here are caricatures, which only serve to show us either wholly positive or wholly negative reactions to the disorder. This makes the film wildly effective, but also lacking in a real supposed lived experience. Movies like these tend to take emotional shortcuts, and it can make an educated audience yearn for the shades of grey.

Luckily, as an adult, John is introduced to the mother of his friend, Chris. Dottie Achenbach (Maxine Peake) is nearly a literal angel, especially in comparison to the way he has been treated by his mother. As John is called in for a meal, his Tourettes (and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) symptoms begin to spike in his introduction to the Achenbach family. Through breaking mirrors, cursing, and destroying plates, she refuses to allow him to apologize, as it is not under his control. This is, of course, the platonic ideal of how to help someone with Tourettes, especially one who has been battered by the world. Aramayo and Peake have an immediate chemistry and this maternal replacement is all good nature and needed assistance. Aramayo truly shines in these moments, not just through his incredible physicality, but also his expressive eyes, deep pools that show us both the pain he has felt and the relief of having someone who accepts him, disorder and all.

She even connects him with a possible employment opportunity, something that John has always wanted, but long ago given up on. As he is introduced to Tommy Trotter (Peter Mullan) a caretaker for a local community center, I Swear becomes a much better movie than expected. Tommy is the first person in the film that is both understanding and has boundaries. There are things that he won’t accept, even if it is explained via a disorder. Aramayo and Mullan could have easily made an entire buddy comedy based on this portion of the story and no one would have tired of it. And throughout all of this back-and-forth, the humor of the film is unlocked. As Tommy quickly learns, both John’s physical movements and vocal tics can provide a soul of comedy.

I Swear sets itself apart from other films of its ilk by showing that one person alone cannot solve all of the problems of a disorder like this. More importantly, the film posits that the disorder is not the issue, but the lack of education. Aramayo is wonderful throughout, but really comes into his own when John Davidson begins to educate the public and bring in others with Tourettes so they can form a community. One can not only see the impact on others, but through his measured performance, there is a new lightness to John. This is not an easy thing to impart, but Aramayo makes it look so simple as to be natural. It is truly a masterclass in performance, without ever feeling like you can see him putting on said performance. Given the physicality he must engage in, it is impossible to overstate the level of difficulty involved.

I Swear has an extremely difficult task, given its attempts at being many types of film. And besides the use of all-or-nothing characterizations of the adults in John’s life, it manages all of them. I Swear is heartfelt, funny, educational, and entertaining. For the understanding of a difficult diagnosis, there is no better treatment than watching this film. I Swear is approachable, enjoyable, and buoys your spirits. If John Davidson can keep this positivity, then we, as a culture, owe him and others who struggle with Tourettes our best effort and understanding.

Grade: B+

Director: Kat Coiro
Writer: Ryan Engle, Kristin Engle
Stars: Regé-Jean Page, Halle Bailey, Marco Calvani

Synopsis: When a woman crashes at an empty Italian villa, posing as the owner’s fiancée, she discovers an unexpected romance that may transform her life.

When it comes to the genre of romantic comedies, there has always been a subsection of them targeted towards the African-American audience. Films like Love Jones, Love and Basketball, Think Like a Man, etc., provide audiences with examples of Black love and romance. Thus, providing representation in a genre that is white-skewing at best. In You, Me, and Tuscany, the latest rom com from producer Will Packer (the guy whose name has been all over the billboards) and his collaborators attempt to revive aspects of the subgenre. In both ways that it does and doesn’t work for the film and the representation at hand. 

In You, Me, and Tuscany, we follow Anna (Halle Bailey), a former aspiring chef, who is now working as a housesitter after a personal tragedy. After a really bad day in the office, Anna meets Matteo (Lorenzo de Moor), a wealthy real estate agent, who just so happens to be Italian. After a one-night stand (or an unsuccessful one), Anna is inspired to revisit her and her mother’s dream of going to Italy. However, once she gets there, due to a major holiday festival, she is unable to find a room. This leads her to devise a plan in which she pretends to be Matteo’s fiancée. All the while, Anna begins to fall for a winemaker named Michael (Regé-Jean Page), who just so happens to be Matteo’s adoptive brother/cousin. 

First off, the good, or the ways the film does work. Led by Bailey and Page, the cast delivers solid performances all around. Bailey is likable as Anna. Even in a predicament (that she somewhat caused herself), we still root for her. And that’s largely thanks to Bailey’s awe-inducing and innocent charm. As for Page, he makes Michael an interesting contrast. Whereas Bailey’s Anna is warm, friendly, and likable, Page’s Michael is the opposite, with Page playing the role cold, but still likable. When together, the two display solid chemistry. However, the standouts come from the supporting cast –  namely Aziza Scott as Claire, Anna’s best friend, Stella Percello as Francesca, Matteo’s sister, and Marco Calvani as Lorenzo, a cab driver that Anna befriends. All three, despite being supporting players, all manage to help separate this film from the others, especially in the humor department. Now, that’s not to say Bailey and Page aren’t humorous. But their comedy is a bit more understated than the others. As for other positives, the cinematography by Danny Ruhlmann was lush and clean, with Ruhlmann taking full advantage of the Tuscany countryside in some shots. 

Now, moving on to the negatives. Or rather, the ways the film doesn’t work. It should be noted that this reviewer isn’t the biggest romantic comedy fan. While there are some great ones like 1988’s When Harry Met Sally, most of them are a dime a dozen. Overall, it’s safe to say that the film is already starting at a disadvantage. When it comes to the script by Ryan Engle (who for context, is a white writer – more on that later) and Kat Coiro (also white)’s direction, Engle and Cairo make such a strict adherence to its conventions that there’s no room for innovation or even originality at times. Instead, it feels very surface-baked. Which is a shame, given the amount of emphasis regarding Black representation, primarily with Bailey, Page, and Packer being in front of the film’s marketing campaign. Had Engle and Coiro put in a little bit more originality, whether in the direction or the script department, we might have something truly unique on our hands as opposed to the same old. It doesn’t have to be awe-inspiring or fantastic, but it does have to expand beyond the genre its working in. To use an example, last year Sinners managed to bring in not just horror fans, but people who aren’t even into horror due to writer/director Ryan Coogler, taking in other inspirations and not just sticking to the original genre. In other words, to use a cooking term, a little bit more spice would have gone a long way. 

You, Me, and Tuscany is a bit of a mixed bag, in ways that are both in the movie’s favor and are not. As a piece of representation, the film is not as groundbreaking as it’s been pushed to be online, especially, once you start to factor in the inclusion of the behind-the-scenes talent beyond Packer. However, quality-wise, the film’s humor, supporting cast, and leads in Bailey and Page help it cross the finish line. Still, one has to wonder – maybe the basicness of You, Me, and Tuscany was the point? Most romantic comedies themselves aren’t anything unique. They’re just there. And maybe that’s what is needed. To just be there. Because even in a romantic comedy, we all want to be represented.

Grade: C+