Director: James McAvoy
Writers: Gavin Bain, Billy Boyd, Elaine Gracey
Stars: James McAvoy, Amber Anderson, James Corden

Synopsis: Two Scottish lads from Dundee conned the music industry by pretending to be an established Californian rap duo, bagging a record deal and appearing on MTV until their scam unraveled..

If the music industry has always thrived on image, California Schemin’ asks a deliciously uncomfortable question: what happens when the image is entirely fabricated? Directed by James McAvoy, this stranger-than-fiction story follows two working-class lads from Dundee who successfully convinced the industry they were a Californian rap duo, long enough to land a record deal and even appear on MTV, before the illusion inevitably cracked.

It’s a premise that sounds almost too outrageous to be true, and yet that improbability becomes the film’s greatest strength. From the outset, California Schemin’ leans into the absurdity of its central con. Two young men, armed with little more than ambition, nerve, and a carefully constructed persona, navigate an industry that proves surprisingly willing to believe what it wants to believe.

McAvoy proves a confident presence behind the camera, balancing humor with a sharper observational edge. The scam itself is undeniably entertaining; there’s a mischievous energy in watching the duo build their alter egos, refine their accents, and step into a world that feels galaxies away from Dundee. The music industry is portrayed as both gatekeeper and enabler; eager for authenticity, yet oddly blind to it when it’s staring them in the face.

The screenplay maintains a lively rhythm. There’s an awareness that, beneath the surface-level comedy, lies a more complex story about identity, aspiration, and the performative nature of success. It’s the one-liners that will make you laugh, ‘tele-com Jesus’ and ‘Beverly Hills council estate’ being some examples. Scenes like teaching grannies to rap on a coach to London are the exact type of content our screens need. They’re wholesome, relatable, and not exaggerated to the point where they’re unbelievable.

Performances across the board are excellent. The central duo, whose journey anchors the film, is portrayed with a balance of cheek and vulnerability, ensuring they’re more than just punchline machines. Seamus McLean Ross (Gavin) and Samuel Bottomley (Billy) give an honest and undeniable performance. They’re charming and simply sweet on screen, and their characters are so easy to root for. What’s hilarious is that the dynamic duo doesn’t sound (or look) the part, but you want them to be better and succeed. They do get better, though. Ross has some lovely, emotional moments towards the end, showing audiences what he’s capable of as an actor.

James Corden brings his usual charisma to a supporting role, adding a hilarious layer of industry satire – his rapping is unmatched. Lucy Halliday’s character, Mary, injects perspective, bringing the story and the boys back to reality. McAvoy is a standout as always, stealing every scene with his sharp, serious tone.

The idea that you can simply decide to be someone else, and have the world accept it, is both empowering and deeply unsettling. The film plays with that tension, allowing the audience to revel in the audacity of the con while gradually recognizing its fragility. Inevitably, the story turns. As the cracks begin to show, the tone shifts subtly. Our loveable duo are slowly pulled apart, and tensions rise as Gavin wants to continue this facade, going deeper and deeper into the fame and fortune, and Billy wants to come clean. There’s the reality of how quickly the world can turn against you; they’ll tear you from the pedestal they put you on, and it’ll be your fault.

The film does occasionally skim over the deeper implications of its premise. Consequences and stakes do emerge, but don’t feel high enough. The only stake is between Billy and Mary’s relationship, which is emotional, but Gavin’s character needed a stronger reason to continue lying other than not liking Scotland. When the boys do come clean, Gavin spirals into drug and alcohol abuse, but it’s brief. With one final rap, it’s a gentle, poignant ending to an energetic film.

California Schemin’ is an engaging and joyful ride. It’s a story about ambition taken to its most illogical extreme, about the power of belief, and about an industry that sometimes values the myth as much as the music. In a world obsessed with image, California Schemin’ opens ideas on identity, reality, and faking it until you make it. A must-watch film!

Grade: A

Director: Kristoffer Borgli
Writer: Kristoffer Borgli
Stars: Zendaya, Robert Pattinson, Alana Haim

Synopsis: A happily engaged couple is put to the test when an unexpected turn sends their wedding week off the rails.

Director Kristoffer Borgli is known for helming dark comedies, tackling themes of cancel culture in his previous feature, Dream Scenario, and the unhinged lengths that narcissism goes to in Sick of Myself. The Drama represents his most audacious outing yet, balancing the tonal inflections of squirmy cringe comedy and stress-inducing drama that surround the real-world ramifications of its twist. Borgli is great at delving into the hilarity of these bleak confrontations and giving nuance to the subject matter at hand, but like his previous films, it lacks in a few key elements that keep it from being great, mainly residing in the deeper commentary that is touched upon effectively enough but always comes across as more that was waiting to be explored within difficult conversations. Still, thanks to a remarkably committed cast and Zendaya and Robert Pattinson rolling within the recoils of awkwardness in this story, it makes for a uniquely unhinged dramedy that’s as funny as it is thought-provoking around the conceit of love being or not being enough.

We begin the road to a wedding disaster following a happily engaged couple, Emma (Zendaya) and Charlie (Robert Pattinson). They’re about one week away from their wedding, and the preparations have been in full swing. The film’s editing stands out from the get-go, flashing us back to Emma and Charlie’s meet-cute and date where Charlie first discovers his girlfriend is deaf in one ear, as their first meeting begins awkwardly but has a cute, goofy charm to it. Their clumsily sweet chemistry is showcased in full as they both deliberate on the speeches to give and songs to dance to with the big night ever approaching. 

Things start to take a turn, however, when, while walking on the street, Charlie and Emma see their wedding DJ smoking heroin just across from them. This sight leads to a discussion later in the night with their married friends Rachel (Alana Haim) and Mike (Mamoudou Athie) over a round of drinks, where they all reveal the worst thing they’ve ever done. It starts as a cutesy convo at first, revealing bad secrets through comedic banter until Emma’s incredibly bad secret flips the entire movie on its head, sending the couple and their friends into tough questions about morality and the impending wedding, essentially becoming a collision course.

The Drama’s tonal balance is like walking the world’s highest tightrope while juggling blades of fire. Borgli’s screenplay constantly shifts between the most absurdist comedy and the brutally bleak reality surrounding the psyche of nearly every character here and their response to the subject matter. The dark satire matched with nuanced conversations will test the limits of many audience members, but the movie manages to nail the balancing act thanks to the performances at its center and the shocking, brilliant usage of technical elements on display. The editing by Joshua Raymond Lee and Borgli is simply exquisite as the film takes its shift into darker territory within its second act. Scenes can often have a nightmarish quality to them, where the stressful cuts between flashbacks and fantasy create a mood where every sense of tension hits you like a ton of bricks. The cringe of anxious laughter followed by the shock of each revelation makes the viewer question their own judgment as the movie brings up further queries about what it really means to be unconditionally loved or acts as a stabbing, reflective critique of the obsessively juvenile and performative nature of our American culture.

Borgli’s screenplay sometimes falls short of its desire to ruffle as many feathers as possible, but the performances from the whole cast manage to elevate the flatter elements on the page. Alana Haim’s “holier than thou” Rachel particularly stands out within the supporting cast as someone whose hypocrisy shines bright, essentially claiming self-righteous superiority after the film’s central revelation with a standout speech in the third act, but Zendaya and Pattinson are electric on the screen. Pattinson’s Charlie is essentially a pressure cooker of slow but sure loss of sanity as the revelation grows in gossip and his charmingly weird demeanor dissipates as the events of the week go further off the rails, trying to make the indefensible defensible.

Zendaya’s role acts as a more tricky situation as there are key moments where the development of Emma needed something a bit more to fully earn more of the surprisingly bittersweet elements of the story as it concludes emphasizing more of the romance instead of the comedy, but this role is right up with Challengers in giving the widest range of emotions she’s had to play with yet. She tackles the thorniness of every conversation, wonderfully balancing the unhinged comedy and dramatic reveals in the third act so well. The two leads act as the perfect antithesis to the wide array of tones in the writing, and the questions are left to ponder over as the credits roll.

The aforementioned aspect of the film brings up more questions than answers surrounding its horrific real-life subject matter; rather than getting even further into the weeds of it, it will leave some a drift to the movie’s gestures, but it acts more in the film’s favor in a majority of cases. When sitting in the discomfort of something thrown straight in your face that’s no laughing matter, it forces you to question your own morality and whether it is just how possible it is to justify the past complexities, no matter how terrible they truly are, and while the lack of answers can be frustrating, it only adds to the movie’s overall twisted unconventionality. 

The Drama is sure to be a discourse storm, with varied options across the spectrum, but Kristoffer Borgli crafts a successful pitch-black rom-com that tests the limits of its dramedy while also delivering on its bittersweet dynamics and unhinged cringe comedy in equal measure. Even within its more shaky components, thanks to the chemistry of its two leads and unbelievably stressful reveals, The Drama will stand out as one of 2026’s most unconventional films, completely reveling in its prickly complexities.

Grade: B+

Director: Julia Loktev
Writer: Julia Loktev
Stars: Olga Churakova, Irina Dolinina, Sonya Groysman

Synopsis: Julia Loktev documents independent journalists in Moscow facing government crackdown as Russia invades Ukraine, capturing their fight for speech amid risks of being branded “foreign agents” and the country’s drift towards authoritarianism.

Long films can be a big ask for some viewers, as evidenced by a nearly constant misunderstanding of what editors do for a living. But there is no ideal length for a movie, it all just depends. A perfect example of this is the documentary, My Undesirable Friends: Part 1 – Last Air in Moscow. Much has been made of its 5 hour and 24 minute runtime, and even more has been made over the fact that this is only part one. The length of this film is both the point and besides the point. The long form documentary has now generally been relegated to the streaming television world, which is both good and bad. It is hard to expect people to spend nearly a work shift in a theater and streaming offers more opportunities for films to be seen. However, there is a great deal to be gained by watching this film straight through, although there are chapter breaks built in for rest periods, should they be needed.

For anyone concerned about the encroachment of government overreach, regardless of location, My Undesirable Friends will hit uncomfortably close to home. As we are introduced to the many young people, mostly women, who populate this documentary, there is an energy and a sense of hope, even if we know that most of it will evaporate, given current events. The focus on TV Rain, which was supposed to be a fun, young, new station, is a perfect metaphor for what powerful governments do to their people. As it quickly transforms into a news station that is in direct opposition to government funded news in Russia, the individuals become “radical” by necessity. The title of the film becomes clear, derived from the message that must be placed before each and every broadcast (as well as their personal social media posts): stating that the information on the broadcast is from foreign agents, serving outside forces. This is, of course, blatantly untrue, but it enables them to continue broadcasting for the time being. And for the time, this is truly the last free breath of air in a country ravaged by overreach.

The film is broken into five chapters, with obvious time lapses between each. It begins in October of 2021, and ends in March of 2022, with the Russian invasion into Ukraine. Despite the terrifying situations shown in the day-to-day, interestingly, much of the bad news takes place interstitially. Often, the chapters end with a hopeful closing, only to be undone by text detailing what has happened in the interim. When viewers finish the final chapter (of part one), it will seem incredible that less than a year has passed in the lives of these subjects. They are almost unrecognizable, from an emotional standpoint, in comparison to the people we were introduced to in Chapter 1. And this is an important lesson, given without a sermon from director Julia Loktev. Loktev clearly has a rapport with her subjects that allows for honesty, both from a professional and personal standpoint. We are allowed to see not only their desire for a better world, but their struggles in relationships. Her minimal interruptions serve to make us feel like we are connected to their difficulties and her camera becomes less noticeable and intrusive as the time passes, yet another advantage to the film’s length.

The timing of this documentary was both upsetting and fortuitous from a filmmaking perspective. World events obviously shaped the inherent drama following these reporters, but it is their humanity that shines through. It becomes impossible to separate their difficulties from our own, despite a separation of thousands of miles. One might wonder how a documentary could fill this amount of time, but any of the women focused on here could have their own full-length documentary, as they all have struggles that make them intensely and immediately relatable. 

In the first chapter, one of the main foci is Anna Nemzer. And yes, she is an on-air reporter, but she is also, just as importantly, a mother. As she drives through Moscow with her child in the backseat, she is like us, desperately attempting to explain the unexplainable. People in large cities are even more aghast at the controlling nature of fascistic governments. The unthinkable becomes not only possible, but probable. State control, even in a city of millions, is now the norm, unless you fall in line with what they want, an impossibility for a person of morality.

Later, we hear the story of Ksyusha, whose fiancée has been arrested by the government at some point earlier. Watching her struggles with frustration, loneliness, and rage all balanced with the reminders of her youth. She, like many others, is forced to face problems that would be impossible at any age. As she vacillates between trying to distract herself and processing the overwhelming sadness of possibly leaving the country, one cannot help but put themselves in her shoes. Would I have the strength to stay because of how it would impact those close to me that I am not allowed to see? I hope so, but watching this internal strength is both inspiring and rage-inducing. This young woman, who simply wants to do the right thing, is blockaded into decisions that have no correct answer.

And therein lies the trouble in our current world predicament, so perfectly echoed in this stunning, important documentary. As the government tightens its hold on certain inalienable rights, it becomes even more paramount to remember that it can move quickly. These women knew what was coming and made plans for an escape. The tearful goodbyes, the simmering rage at their leaders, the desire to simply enjoy a movie; it is all captured here and we cannot help but wish for a better world. But that is the trap. Wishing is not enough. Like these strong young women, actions must be taken. Even if they seem small, likely simply not parroting government talking points, every moment of truth makes us more human. They can call us traitors, undesirables, radicals, or whatever term they like. We live in hope that the pendulum will swing back and we can return to a sense of normality.

My Undesirable Friends: Part 1 – Last Air in Moscow is important, and not in the way we usually speak about movies. The parallels to our own experience in the United States are clear, and not because of a director weaving a fiction to lead us there. Instead, the clarity comes in opening our eyes and ears and feeling the human connection. A quest for truth, honesty, and a way through has been provided by Julia Loktev. She has enabled us to see a story we were not meant to see, and one that will repeat if we don’t have the strength to stand in the face of it. There are no guaranteed happy endings for the women in this documentary, they are bittersweet at best. Their survival and strength gives us hope and helps us to remember the importance of our freedom of speech and press, for as long as we have it.

Grade: A

Director: Rick Gomez
Writers: Rick Gomez, Steve Zahn
Stars: Steve Zahn, Ethan Hawke, Audrey Zahn

Synopsis: A struggling single father tries to reconnect with his distant teenage daughter while chaperoning her at a regional dance competition in the Southeast.

She Dances steps into the quiet tradition of father-daughter stories; often rooted in tender moments, emotional distance, and unspoken love, with ease and sincerity. I won’t deny I’m a true lover of these types of stories, whether from the classic Cinema Days of Paper Moon to animated Features such as The Mitchells Vs The Machines, and even as recent as this year’s Best Picture Winner, One Battle After Another. So as soon as I discovered this feature and the people involved in this, I knew it was catnip for me, in the best ways. The picture follows Jason, a single father who volunteers to chaperone his daughter’s final dance competition before she graduates high school. This attempt comes after the loss of a loved one, which further complicates an already distant father-daughter relationship. 

Emmy-nominated Steve Zahn has long been one of the most underrated character actors. Known for supporting roles in Rescue Dawn and Captain Fantastic, Zahn takes on something rare here: a lead role and co-writing credit. She Dances comes from a personal place, as Zahn himself has been a real-life dance dad to his daughter and co-star, Audrey Zahn. In a world often dominated by the motherly perspective elevated by mainstream shows like Dance Moms, the film offers a warm, easygoing indie experience.

One of the film’s strongest qualities is what it chooses not to do. It avoids typical Hollywood tropes: there are no climactic blow-up arguments, contrived misunderstandings, or on-the-nose dialogue. Rick Gomez, as a director, keeps the film engaging with a tight runtime and editorial choices that highlight the dichotomy of Jason and Claire. The use of split screens displaying the polar opposites lives and of Jason and Claire of one’s controlled mess and another’s messy control post family split up makes for an intriguing directorial approach. It’s utilized again for future scenes that bridges the gap symbolically between older to younger generations finding middle ground rather than further separation. 

The film captures the intensity and nuance of dance competitions, the pressure of routines, the rivalries behind the scenes, all without descending into melodrama. Unlike reality shows that sensationalize conflict, the story humanizes a sports rivalry between Claire (Audrey Zahn) and an older rival with a clever reversed Rocky reference. Gomez and Zahn’s writing perfectly captures the small but well established stakes of the story. It isn’t afraid to show the uncertain realities of what process from injuries to simple wrong date reservations to hotels. 

The performances, as a whole, are understated and naturalistic. Steve Zahn delivers one of the most memorable performances of his career, balancing quiet mourning, internal support, and everyday awkwardness. Audrey Zahn, in her feature acting debut, shows promise, though her first half performance struggles with consistency. Chemistry with her best friend Kat (former Dance Moms star Mackenzie Ziegler) is believable, but the intentional flow is uneven. The third act reveals her growth, through a heartfelt ending. An ending that does take a swing at her character’s striving to heal with emotional intelligence rather than concerns of who wins or not. But even with its good intentions and well written ending, it doesn’t fully resolve the unevenness that’s within the first half of the picture through her portrayal.

The film’s comedic nuances land in places, such as Jason’s encounters with eccentric dance moms or delivering a bag backstage. Yet some moments leave the audience unsure whether a scene is meant to feel sincere or awkwardly comedic.

Narratively, the film in small moments can feel incomplete. For instance, Brian (Ethan Hawke), is revealed as an important sentimental anchor for Jason as his business partner and best friend. While the subplot works conceptually, Hawke’s limited screentime and underdeveloped presence leave his character’s emotional significance somewhat undercut, despite a charming performance. Endearing  performances are seen with other supporting cast members, including Sonequa Martin-Green and Wynn Everett, who give their all to roles that enrich this niche competitive world.

She Dances is a pleasant, heartfelt film made by friends and family. While it struggles with tonal balance and never reaches extraordinary heights, it remains an honest, well-intentioned indie that knows exactly what it wants to be. For many viewers, that will be more than enough.

Grade: B

Director: Oscar Boyson
Writers: Ricky Camilleri, Oscar Boyson
Stars: Jaedan Martell, Asa Butterfield, Chris Bauer

Synopsis: Follows a wealthy New York City teenager who, eager to impress his activist crush, follows an online connection to Texas where he believes he can stop an act of extreme violence.

What lengths will someone go through for a friend? How far will someone go through for someone they haven’t actually met? What difficulties will someone go through to be hailed as a hero in the eyes of someone they are desperate to impress? These are just a few of the questions that Our Hero, Balthazar brought to my mind.  In his directing and from a screenplay he co-wrote with Ricky Camilleri, Oscar Boyson brings us a film that reminds me of Fight Club-era David Fincher.  This film is a raw, bleak, disturbing, and hilarious look at youth culture in America. 

Jaeden Martell plays the title character, Balthazar, a posh upper class private school kid growing up in New York City. He is obsessed with social media and makes videos in which he cries while speaking of loneliness. He even rehearses his tears until he gets it right. To impress a young woman in his class, he decides he will befriend another lonely teen, Solomon (Asa Butterfield), from Texas, to try to prevent him from becoming a school shooter, and become a hero.  Solomon is a product of his environment, and is played to perfection. While the premise of the film seems simplistic, it is a damning look not just on gun culture in America; but social media, family, and societal pressure. These boys have grown up in vastly different environments, but the familiar ache of feeling isolated connects them. 

Does this movie answer any of the many questions it raises? Not really. But what it does do is offer a glimpse into the lives of people society ignores, or maybe just refuses to see. Solomon is not just a violent kid. I went into the film expecting a series of tropes and cliches, but this movie tried to show him as a human being before being a stereotype. We see him taking care of his elderly grandma, for whom he is the primary caregiver. We see him try to connect with a woman he has a crush on, only to be humiliatingly rejected. As embarrassing as it is to watch his character, I do feel some sympathy for him.  He wants someone to love and care for, and desperately needs someone to love and care for him. When Balthazar arrives in Texas with the sole purpose of befriending him, he believes his life is going to change. Will Balthazar become the hero of this story? You will need to see the film to find out. 

I went into the film expecting the film to focus solely on the topic of gun culture in the United States. I was wrong. It explored family dynamics, and the universality of being disconnected from parents, the need for approval. The relationship between the ultra-wealthy Balthazar and his mother could use some deeper understanding, but Boyson really shows us the relationship, or lack thereof, between Solomon and his father. We see Solomon’s father impart some extremely toxic ideas of masculinity on his son. I also appreciated the film’s not so subtle jab at the Mid-Level Marketing business idea, and how it traps poor people into the idea that they will become wealthy if they keep spending their rent money on expensive products they won’t be able to sell. This not only made a statement on the importance of familial relationships, but added depth and understanding to Solomon’s character. 

The writing and direction of this film are astounding. The screenplay is written by two men who clearly understand the subject matter and the world of youth today. They show the impacts on a national level of social media, and how it infects the minds of those who devote their lives to it. The film gripped me from the opening shots, and ended with what felt like an emotional punch to the throat. It lingered in my soul long afterwards.  This film is not an easy film to watch. However, it is an important film to see.

Grade: A

Directors: Aaron Horvath, Michael Jelenic, Pierre Leduc
Writer: Matthew Fogel
Stars: Chris Pratt, Charlie Day, Anya Taylor-Joy

Synopsis: Mario ventures into space, exploring cosmic worlds and tackling galactic challenges far from the familiar Mushroom Kingdom.

I was surprised, like anyone, to enjoy The Super Mario Galaxy Movie, a far superior sequel to The Super Mario Bros. Movie. The sad part is that the less Mario and Luigi, the better, especially the latter. The sequel levels up, featuring some of the most beautiful and dazzling animation you will ever see, it is, at times, truly jaw-dropping. 

There is a kinetic energy to Nintendo’s surging film studio, with plenty of intellectual properties in its pocket. However, The Super Mario Galaxy Movie thrives when it focuses on its supporting characters, even if the obvious goal is to launch a wave of IP spinoffs. For example, like Fox McCloud, voiced by Glen Powell (The Running Man), a desperate-for-a-hit legendary pilot from the Star Fox series. 

The action is exciting and inventive, and most of the jokes land, ranging from cute to amusing to downright funny. Above all, the dose of nostalgia, paired with clever ways to blend old-school gaming with modern sensibilities, proves to be a genuine delight. While the film leans into “newer” character tendencies to attract younger viewers, it honors the original enough to embrace both the old and the new with enjoyable results. 

The story begins with the introduction of a beloved Super Mario Bros. character who rarely gets her due: Rosalina (Brie Larson), a galactic princess and adoptive mother to the Lumas; friendly, mysterious, star-like creatures who bring new meaning to codependency. A beautiful blonde baddie with striking bangs that cover one eye, she cares for her star-children with deep empathy, proving more than capable of handling herself when things turn dangerous. 

Cue Bowser Jr. (Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret’s Benny Safdie), the new leader of the Koopas, a hot-tempered turtle race. Junior is in constant search of his father, Bowser (Jack Black), who is currently under house arrest by Mario (Mercy’s Chris Pratt) and Luigi (Charlie Day, annoying as ever here). This follows Princess Peach (Anya Taylor-Joy) shrinking Bowser to an adorable size, with help from Toad (Keegan-Michael Key) and his allies.

What does Princess Rosalina have to do with Bowser and the future of the Koopa race? That answer lies in a father-and-son story, one Bowser, Sr. once told his son. Either way, when Rosalina is abducted, the Lumas journey to the Mushroom Kingdom, following her instructions to seek out Princess Peach if anything ever happened to her. This sets Peach, Mario, Luigi, Toad, and their new ally, Yoshida (Donald Glover), on a mission to rescue her.

The Super Mario Galaxy Movie, from the creators of Teen Titans Go! To the Movies, Aaron Horvath and Michael Jelenic, who also helmed the original, work from a script by Matthew Fogel (Minions: The Rise of Gru, The Lego Movie 2: The Second Part). The film capitalizes on Yoshi, a lovable dinosaur with a hearty appetite and a tendency to, ugh, “plop”  enemies into tiny eggs, serving as a buffer between the Mario brothers, who remain the driest part of the film.

As I said, Charlie Day offers nothing to the Luigi character other than, to put it politely, a distinct voice that brings a beloved character down, which is grating. Chris Pratt, meanwhile, has capitalized on his The Lego Movie fame, cashing paycheck after paycheck with an animated filmography that is quietly on par with his Guardians of the Galaxy and Jurassic World franchises. Unfortunately, the characters are really straight men for a vibrant supporting cast.

Surprisingly, the most heartfelt story comes from Jack Black’s Bowser and his son, featuring a sweet scene that cleverly sets up the exposition for why Rosalina was taken. That thread drives the film more than Mario and Luigi, who, along with Peach, are given a more standard setup. The third act leans into retro charm that any gamer, and their kids, will appreciate. This is pure family fun and memory lane escapism.  

The Super Mario Galaxy Movie is not without its flaws, like thin main characters, which is a drawback. However, the sequel’s plot is unusually heartfelt, with the villains being three-dimensional, which is welcome. Even though the Star Fox character is nothing more than a way to introduce a sequel, the other supporting characters and easter eggs throughout are richly rewarding. 

The sequel delivers charm, humor, and visual spectacles, making it a definite crowd-pleaser, even though a third would be wise to focus on improving the main character’s story arc for a more well-rounded, soulful conclusion. Until then, The Super Mario Galaxy Movie is a fun placeholder while we wait for Super Mario Bros. film worthy of the titular characters that fans deserve.

You can watch The Super Mario Galaxy Movieexclusively in theaters starting April 3rd!

Grade: B

Director: Dominik Moll
Writers: Dominik Moll, Gilles Marchand
Stars: Léa Drucker, Jonathan Turnbull, Guslagie Malanda

Synopsis: Case 137 is seemingly just another case for Stéphanie, an investigator at the IGPN, the police of the police. But an unexpected element will trouble Stéphanie and transform case 137 into something more than a simple number.

Dominik Moll’s Case 137 may frustrate viewers seeking a satisfying conclusion or easy answers. However, the fictitious story based on the 2018 Yellow Vests protests in France isn’t trying to coddle or handhold you, but to highlight a problem that sadly persists within society. In that regard, Moll isn’t saying anything new when approaching the subject of police brutality and corruption within the system, but it doesn’t make its predictable ending less impactful. 

Moll’s approach feels very much in line with the social realist dramas of Ken Loach, but inside the parameters of a police procedural, as IGPN (Inspection Générale de la Police Nationale) inspector Stéphanie Bertrand (Léa Drucker) is tasked to do something that won’t sit well with her colleagues outside of her line of work. The protests, which were initially peaceful, turned into violent, even bloody riots, which saw the police frequently use excessive force in an attempt to quiet down the atmosphere on the streets of Paris. 

The case Stéphanie examines is that of Guillaume Girard (Côme Péronnet), who was hit by a flash-ball projectile during the heat of a riot and was permanently scarred as a result. While Girard’s character is entirely fictional, the cases of protesters being hit in the head with  flash-balls are not. Some lost their limbs, eyes, or had their cognition impaired as a result of the BRI’s (Brigade de Recherche et Intervention) acts during the protests and eventual riots. In many (if not all) cases, such a use was not necessary, and many officers who did end up permanently injuring a protester walked home scot-free, with no consequences or punishment for their actions. 

Stéphanie is now investigating the potential officers responsible for Guillaume’s impairment, at the request of her mother (Sandra Colombo), and Moll slowly uncovers the clues by allowing her characters to examine elements they have at their disposal, interrogate suspects, and scrutinizing images on their phone, or a computer, until they notice minute details that completely shifts the case in a different direction. Some of this can be a bit languid, because we do spend considerable time looking at computers during cold interrogations or observing Stéphanie track down a potential witness (played by Saint Omer’s Guslagie Malanda, once again giving a performance of long-lasting impact) who may or may not want to help her. 

However, there’s something immediately absorbing about Molls’s calculating approach. The use of music is minimal. He lets the tension simmer through conversations that progress into more dramatic or uncomfortable territories. The emotions in the actors’ faces feel deeply natural and human. There’s nothing that feels too treacly or manipulative. He’ll also force the audience to be patient examiners of images by focusing his camera on pixelated second-screen footage shot on phones, serving as crucial evidence in an age when everyone records anything on their devices. 

Moll will also frequently cut to these videos to immerse us in the gritty realism of the Yellow Vests movement, staging scenes that feel vivid in our imagination, especially for audiences who are familiar with what happened during this drawn-out event. It adds texture and raw naturalism to the film’s aesthetic choices, which makes the eventual scene where we find out what happened to Guillaume all the more harrowing. When we get to the video recording of that moment, the artifice of cinema is no longer present.

The situation itself was real, and Moll’s mise-en-scène harkens so well to that historical scene that we immediately believe in what’s unfolding before our eyes. Characters don’t feel like they were written “on the page,” but act as living, breathing human beings. Moll thrives in total immersion, and Case 137 works best when it seeks to remove any instances of trickery from the audience’s eyes. He would rather patiently show them the intricacies (and eventual fallacies) of the IGPN’s operations and put us in the shoes of a detective who has sworn to remain “neutral” in her investigation, but the bureaucratic system in place prevents her from reaching a satisfying conclusion. 

In that regard, Léa Drucker gives one of the most morally complex performances of her career as a police detective who struggles in an internal battle between neutrality and pursuing the truth, no matter how painful it will be. It makes some of its latter scenes all the more effective because the emotions she’s repressed are no longer there when she lays it all out to her superiors, explaining that nothing is being done to actively stop this corrupt system from improving itself if the higher-ups refuse to hold the BRI accountable for their actions. Sadly, though, some of the dialogue delivered by Drucker and Malanda feel too telegraphed, almost as if they want to deliver the message to the audience verbatim instead of inferring the failures of such a system to us. 

The predictable structure of Case 137 is the point. One can see where such an investigation will end, because the system in place rewards those in power, and the people who do the work to bring them to justice are the ones who get punished. However, Moll’s insistence on bringing a two-sided argument about the ethics of the police investigating their own, notably in conversations Stéphanie has with her ex-husband (Stanislas Mehrar), backfires because the director ends up saying nothing at all. 

The same thing happens when he wants to point Case 137 in the direction of All Cops Are Bastards (ACAB), which is an admirable position to take. However, he also ends up saying nothing on that point, at least not in the historical context of the Yellow Vests protests and the BRI’s abuse of power. It renders some of the movie’s sociopolitical commentary moot because he almost feels afraid to take a stance on anything he presents that will spark a discussion. Moll is certainly not in support of the police, but one wishes he had boldly stated it instead of giving haphazard assurances that, yes, all cops are bad. 

It makes the movie’s conclusion less impactful than it should’ve been, even if Case 137 remains a worthwhile procedural that offers no facile answers to questions audiences might have when they step into the cinema. In that sense, Moll has more than accomplished his task, even if one hoped the film would’ve had a much stronger emotional impact long after the credits have rolled…

Grade: B

Director: Tony Benna
Stars: André Ricciardi, Janice Ricciardi, Tommy Chong

Synopsis: Andre, an irreverent man, embarks on an unexpected journey after receiving a terminal diagnosis, determined to maintain his humor while learning to die happily.

André is an Idiot is one of the most challenging reviews I’ve had to write. Two years ago, I lost my father to lung cancer. The attempts to find any sense of levity while watching someone suffer can be as difficult as searching for oxygen on Mars. The trauma of watching a loved one succumb to cancer is indescribable. Yet, André Ricciardi spent his last days finding the humor and optimism in the final stretch.

He opens the documentary with an embarrassing story about accidentally getting splinters in his genitals and using tweezers to solve the problem because he was afraid to tell his family. He goes on to say that it used to be the stupidest decision of his life until he skipped getting a colonoscopy at 50. The story is crude, hilarious, and transparently shows how shameless André is in every aspect of his life. Simultaneously, it informs the documentary’s agenda: the potential to save someone.

Directed by Tony Benna, the documentary centers on André Ricciardi, a dying man with a personality as frizzy and animated as his hair. After discovering he has stage four colon cancer, André decides to document his fight to stay alive. During the first set of interviews, André remarks about his own hypocrisy for making a documentary about his condition. For him, if it were anyone else, André says he would call it a terrible idea. But for André, it’s another reason to laugh about the situation. It clearly reads as a method for him to cope with the diagnosis, while showing the importance of getting a colonoscopy.

The setup further establishes the support André has around him. There is a heartfelt introduction to his wife, Janice, who fell in love with André by accident. Janice, a bar owner, required a marriage to stay in the United States, and André jokes that he volunteered to marry Janice for the venue benefits. The resulting fake marriage began as fraudulent, then slowly became something real. The green card marriage led to a successful life, with careers and a child. But as many accidental correct choices as he made in life, his biggest accidental choice was avoiding the colonoscopy months after his 50th birthday. A decision that might have saved his life if he had taken the plunge right away. 

Most documentaries have a bleakness with the subject matter. However, André approaches cancer like another whimsical adventure. For instance, after a round of chemo, André jokes about the frizzy hair falling from his head. And he comments that the hairball simply appears to him as a fuzzy character. The documentary then uses stop-motion to bring André’s chemo hair to life. The documentary also uses stop-motion claymation in the vein of Wallace & Gromit to reenact hypothetical and real-life scenarios that occurred off-camera. One of these sequences involves André, musing about a time when he was getting radiation on his butt. The day of treatment, he went to vote and received an “I Voted” sticker. André’s bright idea was to place the sticker right on the “hole” to make the doctor laugh. While he explains this, we see a laser fire at the butt of a clay version of André.

As evidenced by the “I Voted” sticker, André is highly self-aware of his absurdist personality and embraces it without apology. It’s André’s energy that makes the tone feel refreshing. There is almost no scene in the documentary that does not feature him smiling in some form. Even when his condition worsens and he is in more pain, we rarely see a frown. André is an Idiot also includes one of the year’s most moving segments. He visits a teacher who specializes in helping students practice their last words (or the “death yell,” as the teacher calls it). The setting is beautiful, with mountainous hills that echo in the background against a setting sun. The goal, as the instructor explains, is to prepare for those final words. What begins sincerely becomes comedic as André and his friend Lee start screaming nonsensical statements from the hilltop.

His main profession was advertising. One of the last things he did was launch a campaign to encourage colonoscopies. The theme featured objects that resemble butts or anuses, with words reminding individuals to get theirs. For close to ninety minutes, the journey of André’s cancer battle unfolds in this comical manner. He is so personable and joyful about it all that it almost feels foreign. Typically, with death or if someone is dying, there is an aura of depression circling the atmosphere. For André, it was greeted like another wild adventure to find joy and laughter. 

For close to ninety minutes, the film breezes through endless comedic segments with great sincerity, and the result is one of the most inspiring depictions of cancer you’ll ever see. It’s also one of the bravest documents of someone fighting terminal cancer. As mentioned, André is an Idiot is one of the most difficult reviews I’ve had to tackle personally. Like André’s daughter, I saw my own father suffer through his last moments. And for a while, it made the idea of perceiving the final chapter feel uneasy. However, I do believe André is an Idiot could change the ending for someone. That in those final moments, when facing the battle against the grim reaper himself, someone will find joy in “Rick Rolling” the angel of death instead of surrendering. I believe that is what André would have wanted.

Grade: A+

Director: Matthew Shear
Writer: Matthew Shear
Stars: Amanda Peet, Matthew Shear, Alessandro Nivola

Synopsis: An actress falls for the anxious law school dropout babysitting her kids in this smart, New York-set romantic comedy

Romantic comedies are a strange beast. When a film gets labelled as such many people are suddenly averse to the idea of it. Yet, there is a certain draw to the idea of a perfect relationship that is begun, challenged, and strengthened within about an hour and a half. That draw of perfect, beautiful people is a fine fantasy to escape into, but the idea of flawed people who find each other is a far more interesting prospect. Our lives aren’t perfect and we deserve a film that’s willing to show the messiness of people not as quirks, but as pieces of the whole. Fantasy Life delves deeply into the lives of two people who live with mental illness and find, in each other, a way to cope with the mixed-up messages of their brains. 

The chemistry between Sam (Matthew Shear) and Dianne (Amanda Peet) is an odd mix. They aren’t well matched to each other, but they seem to meet each other where they are. There’s an understanding that neither of them overtly talk about, but what each of them senses in the other. Sam’s anxiety and Dianne’s depression are able to be in tandem in a way that they never cancel each other out, but become a white noise for the two of them to be a bit more comfortable. It’s there that the lines of their employer/employee relationship blur.

There’s a scene when Dianne gets home after she’s had a frustrating meeting with her agent and an even more frustrating meal with her husband, David (Alessandro Nivola). She sees Sam and finally lets herself invest in the most positive adult relationship she has. She and Sam end up sitting on the couch, eating Sam’s granola bowls and watching the early ’00s reimagining of Battlestar Galactica. The distraction eases them into comfort with each other. There’s a moment when Dianne even lets her guard down enough to stretch her legs out on the couch so her feet touch Sam’s leg. Sam is visibly nervous. When Dianne realizes what she’s doing she slowly moves her feet and the moment is broken.

Matthew Shear’s script plays so well with this delicate precipice that this relationship sits on. This, coupled with Shear’s and cinematographer Conor Murphy’s eye for detail, makes for a film that lives in the tiny minutiae that other films may not understand how to handle. It isn’t just the movement of Dianne’s feet, but the way hers and Sam’s hands find each other in the space between the two front seats of the car and the passing of a spoon between them seen from David’s perspective. The film is built on the subtleties of two people falling for each other and one of them understanding that this infatuation isn’t healthy for either of them, it’s only what they think they need.

In this revelation, and all of the film’s revelations, Amanda Peet is devastatingly brilliant. Many of her scenes rely on and are necessary to her showing the inner turmoil of Dianne on her face. She has long pauses that convey so much depth of emotion and thought. When Dianne and David are alone at dinner and he tells her he’s going on tour with the band he’s joined, she takes several beats before assenting to let him go. In those beats, every facet of every possibility of decision crosses her face and we feel the anguish when she says what she really  doesn’t want to say. Peet has always been incredibly funny and witty, but with Fantasy Life she shows the versatility of her talent.

It’s hard to define a film like Fantasy Life or to put it into a genre box. Its humor is the kind that can induce anxiety, but its love story is calming if non-traditional. Any label you could put on it would pale in comparison to what it actually is, which is a film that deals honestly with finding a connection you didn’t know you needed in another person. Whether the romance aspect of it completely makes sense is beside the point as the film is not doing what a traditional rom-com would do, but what makes sense for these two characters. Fantasy Life is a film that catches you off guard and wins you over with a tremendous amount of heart and stellar performances.

Grade: A

Director: Sofia Coppola
Stars: Sofia Coppola, Marc Jacobs, Spike Jonze

Synopsis: An intimate, unconventional portrait of Marc Jacobs, crafted by Sofia Coppola to capture the genius and singular universe of the iconic American designer.

Marc by Sofia is a fashion lover’s dreamscape, a personal exploration of creativity, friendship, and the everyday intricacies of the fashion world, though it isn’t without its small flaws. From the first frame, it’s clear this is no ordinary documentary or standard biography—it feels like being allowed into the private world of two creators who share decades of trust, curiosity, and mutual admiration. Only Sofia Coppola could have made this film; her sensibility transforms even the smallest gestures into something intimate: fleeting glances, soft smiles, and quiet pauses carry a sense of warmth and familiarity. The film has a delicate rhythm, weaving Marc Jacobs’ playful brilliance with his personal life, though at times the pacing drifts or feels slightly uneven, making the film feel occasionally indulgent.

Right from the start, the viewer is immersed in the quiet chaos of Jacobs’ atelier as he prepares his 2024 spring collection. The runway itself is never the central focus; instead, Coppola draws attention to the in-between moments—the debates over textures, the careful arrangement of color swatches, and the seemingly minor choices that ultimately shape an entire collection. These glimpses into Jacobs’ creative process make him feel more human than a distant fashion icon: curious, thoughtful, and at times anxious. Watching inspiration unfold is engaging and often inspiring, though a few sequences repeat ideas or linger longer than necessary, slightly hindering the film’s overall momentum.

Some of the most captivating moments appear during the interviews, where Jacobs speaks directly to the camera with casual honesty. His stories meander, occasionally circling back, which adds a relaxed charm but can also make the film feel uneven in its pacing. There is a subtle, effortless glamour to everything he does—the metallic flash of his nails, the playful choice of pajamas, the ease with which he inhabits his world. These moments are not staged or overly curated, though Coppola sometimes dwells on small details that verge on indulgence. Still, these glimpses provide insight into Jacobs’ warmth, humor, and personal style, showing him as both approachable and endlessly intriguing.

What distinguishes Marc by Sofia from many other fashion documentaries is the authentic, long-standing relationship between Coppola and Jacobs. Decades of friendship give the film credibility, allowing Jacobs to exist fully on camera without performative polish. He jokes, hesitates, and fixates on choices that might appear trivial to outsiders, yet these moments feel genuine and revealing, even if they occasionally slow the narrative. Their connection is visible in subtle gestures, quiet support, and knowing looks. Coppola presents Jacobs not just as a legendary designer, but as a person navigating ideas, perfectionism, and friendship—though at times the film leans heavily on admiration, which can feel a touch repetitive. There’s a distinct sense that only Coppola could capture this intimacy and trust on screen, turning ordinary moments into something quietly cinematic.

Visually, the film is appealing, with Coppola layering archival photos, behind-the-scenes footage, past shows, and glimpses of New York into a collage that mirrors Jacobs’ creative mind. It often feels like moving through a living scrapbook, full of color, texture, and small, interconnected stories. Yet the editing sometimes drifts, and the pacing of certain sequences can feel uneven. Despite this, the film succeeds in letting viewers inhabit the messy, unpredictable side of artistic creation, even if it could benefit from a slightly tighter focus in some moments.

Quiet, reflective moments punctuate the film, revealing Jacobs alone with his work and thoughts. These scenes explore doubt, triumph, and the human side of someone who has shaped modern fashion. Even a designer of his caliber questions choices and experiments with ideas, and Coppola gives space for these uncertainties to unfold. While these passages are insightful, they occasionally linger too long on minor details, slightly affecting the flow.

Overall, Marc by Sofia is infused with Coppola’s sensibility, warmth, and understanding of intimacy. It celebrates brilliance without pedestalizing it and honors friendship as much as genius. The film captures the exhilaration of creation and the beauty of collaboration between two artists with decades of shared experience. Yet the pacing and occasional indulgence make it feel slightly uneven. Still, it’s enjoyable, warm, and personal, even if it isn’t perfectly polished or universally accessible.

In the end, Marc by Sofia is about creativity, friendship, and the ways art can be a living, shared force. It highlights small victories, late-night epiphanies, and the messy labor behind brilliance. Watching it, you gain a sense of intimacy and the rare magic that occurs when a filmmaker of Coppola’s unique vision meets a creator like Marc Jacobs. The movie is thoughtful, warm, and detailed—a rewarding experience, even if it falls short of perfection. For those who love fashion and the personal stories behind it, the film is an engaging, if occasionally uneven, look into artistry, collaboration, and enduring friendship.

Grade: B+

Director: Sergey Loznitsa
Writers: Sergey Loznitsa, Georgy Demidov
Stars: Alexander Kuznetsov, Anatoliy Beliy, Dmitrijus Denisiukas

Synopsis: In the USSR in 1937, a newly appointed prosecutor discovers an undestroyed letter from a prisoner that reveals corruption in the secret police, the NKVD. His search for the truth becomes dangerous.

Two Prosecutors should not be funny. The movie is set during Joseph Stalin’s leadership. The setting is riddled with torture, false imprisonment, and unspeakable acts toward innocent civilians. The performances within the film are played completely humorlessly. Yet, the film seems to want us to laugh at the unfolding events. Not because fascism is inherently funny, but because the procedures of fighting it can be overly absurd.

The story, written and directed by Sergey Loznitsa, is based on a novel by Georgy Demidov and centers on a Soviet prosecutor who is summoned to visit a prison after a letter leaked to the local prosecutor’s office. The prosecutor, Kornyev (Aleksandr Kuznetsov), visits a prison in Bryansk, where the prisoner, I.S. Stepnyak (Aleksandr Filippenko), is held deep inside an unsanitary part of the unit, an area of the prison the guards refer to as “the special block.” Almost immediately, Kornyev becomes bogged down by intentional procedure delays. The guards and the prisoner director purposely keep him wailing all day. They do so because it’s within their power. However, Kornyev’s stubbornness undermines their efforts, and he outplays them with patience. 

With each barrier he overcomes, Kornyev journeys deeper into the prison. Oleg Mutu’s cinematography is claustrophobic. Every shot is static, with no motion whatsoever. The inability to see anything beyond what is allowed in frame makes the viewer feel as equally confined as the prisoners. The constant opening of prison bars plays as a metaphor for the pursuit of justice within a fascist regime. Kornyev’s persistence earns him access to places where he isn’t welcome, but he is achieving those victories within a system devoid of actual justice. He is an unwitting prisoner of fascism.

The film is at its most serious once he arrives in the cell with Stepnyak. It’s here that we truly understand the film’s stakes. Stepnyak explains that he and many others were coerced into confessions by means of torture. The NKVD (or secret police) attempted to imprison anyone trying to fight for the truth falsely. Filippenko gives a harrowing performance as an honorable, withered old man beaten by the terrors of red fascism. He is only in the movie for about 20 minutes, but those scenes are among the most memorable of the film. 

Kornyev then faces the difficult task of delivering the news to Moscow and speaking with the Prosecutor General. However, he is repeatedly delayed by bureaucratic procedures. It’s during these moments that Loznitsa’s script discovers a subtle humor. The situations are relatable even for Americans. Anyone who has ever tried to get something done through the government will recognize the ridiculous obstacles in the process. For example, whether applying for disability benefits, getting food stamps, or just filing a lawsuit—the system can be extremely slow. Kornyev is determined to be patient, but the system hopes he will get tired and give up. 

The darker aspect of the film is the acknowledgment of the impossibilities of fascism. In an ideal world, it’s understandable how Kornyev might emerge unscathed. However, when considering problematic institutions like the American legal system, handing over a branch of government plagued by systemic issues can only worsen matters under authoritarian rule. Loznitsa’s direction powerfully conveys the weight of the forces he faces during Stalin’s regime. As an actor, Alexander Kuznetsov shows great depth in portraying Kornyev through silence. There are key scenes where Kornyev confronts these impossible barriers with quiet resistance. For example, when a guard briefly prevents him from leaving the prison, Kuznetsov’s eyes reveal a mix of fear and anger. The performance requires an actor with expressive eyes, and Kuznetsov certainly knows how to say something quietly.

For many, the Two Prosecutors’ conclusion will make or break the entire experience. It’s an ending that intentionally frustrates the viewer. However, upon rewatch, the seeds were planted all along. The message carries signs of a warning. It’s not meant to be hopeless, but rather a reminder of how tough it is to fight back against authoritarians once they’ve infiltrated every safety net. Sadly, it feels very relevant because we are living through a time when fighting to keep institutions alive has become a tiresome task. We all feel like Kornyev waiting in the lobby for a corrupt figure to waste our time. Two Prosecutors is a remarkable film that seems destined for the Criterion Collection. It’s strange to think about how captivating a movie about a guy waiting around can be. Hollywood movies spend millions to engage viewers with explosions, special effects, and spectacle. Yet here is a film about a man who is constantly waiting to speak to the right person, and it somehow manages to be more compelling than any blockbuster.

Grade: A

Director: Nadav Lapid
Writer: Nadav Lapid
Stars: Ariel Bronz, Efrat Dor, Aleksei Serebryakov

Synopsis: A jazz musician and his dancer wife Jasmine offer their artistic talents to help their nation after the October 7 attacks, with the musician tasked with composing a new national anthem.

There may not be a more angry film released this year than Nadav Lapid’s Yes (Ken). The Israeli writer/director is fed up with Western countries’ blind allegiances (or, more aptly, bootlicking), following the attacks of October 7th, and with the normalized complicity of his own country for the continued barbarity committed against Palestinians. Actually, it’s not necessarily anger, but exhaustion. It’s always the same thing that’s been happening, way before October 7th, which has further exacerbated tensions between outspoken critics of Israel and its adherents, especially in the age of social media disinformation and the rise of Artificial Intelligence. 

As expected, a film that was partly financed by Israel to criticize the country’s unconscionable actions towards Palestinians had a difficult time finding distribution. Don’t let the opening logos fool you, Lapid is very much not in favor of Benjamin Netanyahu’s ongoing dehumanization campaign and his labeling of critics of the right-wing government’s actions as antisemites. It won’t take long before you realize this fact, even if you’ve not seen his more politically-driven works, such as Synonyms and Ahed’s Knee. 

Similar to Radu Jude’s Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn, Lapid employs maximalism (at least for the first or three chapters in this 150-minute satire) to rebuke complicity. He puts us in the shoes of Y (Ariel Bronz), a musician who prefers to party all day and night long with his wife, Yasmin (Efrat Dor), rather than get his head out of the sand. Living in the modern city of Tel Aviv, Y isn’t worrying about what’s occurring beyond the wall that separates Israel and Palestine, even after October 7th. The strong sentiment of patriotism in Israel makes him blindly believe in the military’s campaigns within the Gaza Strip and actively distrust any news that perhaps hints at anything other than what the IDF has officially stated via press releases. 

After all, turning on his phone and being reminded of the constant horrors in Gaza prevents him from living in the idyll promised by the seascapes of Tel Aviv. In that regard, Yes feels very much in conversation with Jonathan Glazer’s The Zone of Interest, where audiences are forced to hear (and feel) dehumanization occurring right next door to where the protagonists live, while the perpetrators turn a blind eye to what is unfolding right outside their windows. That said, audiences won’t see Gaza until the second half of the picture, where Y is hired by a powerful Russian billionaire (played by Anora’s Aleksei Serebryakov) to write a new national anthem for Israel to rally the country following October 7th. 

The first chapter of Yes is a little too exhausting in its in-your-face visual language. One bravura musical setpiece, scored to Max Rieger’s version of “The Ketchup Song,” features dizzyingly expressive camera moves that evoke the day-to-day chaos of tuning out the internal and external noise of living in Tel Aviv. However, by the time Lapid reaches the film’s second chapter, he dials down the heightened colors and stroboscopic effects to recenter his drama on a protagonist who, in making the vow to say “yes” to everything that comes his way, fails to realize what goes on beyond the wall. He will have to reckon with his choices when he eventually comes face-to-face with the clouds of smoke that enshroud Gaza. 

At that pivotal point, any ounce of absurdist humor Lapid had drawn out in the first chapter completely dissipates, and Yes begins to confront audiences with their own complicity. Most Westerners who live far away from the Middle East might not have a broader understanding of what’s occurring as opposed to someone at the heart of the conflict, which may be true, but their continued ignorance of the Israeli government’s deliberate and systematic dehumanization of Palestinians allows it to continue. Lapid has had enough of Israel’s blind allegiance to its right-wing government and the ignorance that most in contemporary society have of what’s happening in his place of birth. 

Despite currently living in France for several years, Lapid’s feelings towards Israel as a state – and, by extension, Tel Aviv as a city – are incredibly complex. He may find occasional glimpses of beauty in the city’s modern architecture and the seascapes surrounding it, but the decay at its center is always threatening to crawl back up. But he doesn’t have any complex feelings about the ongoing war crimes committed by Israel’s government, and boldly dismantles the propaganda campaign at the heart of their operation in Gaza. Thinking that he will find inspiration for his song by looking at the current decimation, Y travels to see the destruction first-hand, and begins to perhaps regret his blind allegiance to Israel’s elites after surrendering to them for monetary gains. In that moment of regret, a voiceover narration tells audiences, “The Israelis, who grew up with the question, ‘How could people live normally while perpetrating horror?’ have themselves become the answer.” 

This becomes the central thesis of Lapid’s third chapter, which presents a scene of real-life horror. The song Y has been writing is not fictitious, but, in fact, exists, as a “distorted” version of Haim Gouri’s “The Brotherhood.” The song was rewritten by an activist group named “The Civil Front,” now dubbed “The Song of the Victory Generation.” While the original version of the song is not heard, this distorted rendition contains lyrics such as “Over the beaches of Gaza falls the Autumn night. Planes are bombing. Destroy! Destroy!” and “In one year, there will be nothing living there, and we’ll return safely to our homes. In one year, we’ll annihilate them all, then we’ll come home to plow our fields.”

If that doesn’t make you sick to your stomach, the song is performed by children. 

Nothing more needs to be said. Lapid pulls no punches, because he’s got none left. With Yes, he wants audiences not to simply think about what’s currently unfolding before their eyes, but to understand that this is the price of complicity or of staying “indifferent” to what’s happening in the Middle East. And while Israel certainly gained lots of support following October 7th, which allowed its government to shape a narrative they’ve been wanting to construct for a long time, and for Western powers to give Netanyahu powers to do what he’s always wanted, the tides have turned. More people are speaking out against this corrupt war criminal and his government, which not only wants to decimate an entire population but threatens peace around the world. 

It’s sad, though, that the world is screwed – and we’ve collectively allowed it to reach that point. We should all feel shame for what the powers that be are doing to apparently make the world “safe,” because nothing in their actions guarantees safety or peace anytime soon…

Grade: A-