Director: Carrie Cracknell

Writers: Ron Bass, Alice Victoria Winslow

Stars: Dakota Johnson, Cosmo Jarvis, Henry Golding

Synopsis: Eight years after Anne Elliot was persuaded not to marry a dashing man of humble origins, they meet again. Will she seize her second chance at true love?

There’s nothing so universal than that icky feeling of running into an ex. It’s compounded exponentially when that ex still makes your heart beat faster and your face flush. Not to mention that you dumped them because they weren’t all that and now they’re on the come up, while you are less than thriving in spite of what your countenance shows the world. This pain and ache is universal so it boggles the mind at why writers Ron Bass and Alice Victoria Winslow thought we wouldn’t get it, if it were traditionally presented.

This adaptation of Persuasion has all of the regency trappings of a traditional period romance. However, we as the audience are burdened with the references to many 21st century ideas, slang, and snark. A modern Austen adaptation can be done and done well, see last month’s Fire Island, but it’s strange to have everything all at once. It’s jarring, to say the least, to see a letter arrive written in the clipped form of a text with accompanying emoji. It’s even more tiresome when the writers don’t believe we can suss out information ourselves. While Dakota Johnson is charming and really sells the breaking of the fourth wall, it’s truly unnecessary to our understanding. It’s as unnecessary as the very Marvel-esque title cards that block out the screen with large white text for each house and town visited.

Persuasion isn’t entirely without merit, though. It has its moments of being genuinely funny. There’s a perfectly terrific dinner scene just after Anne (Dakota Johnson) and Wentworth (Cosmo Jarvis) have been reunited. Anne is about to be seated next to Wentworth and instead tries to find a different place. It becomes a game of musical chairs as she tries to avoid Wentworth’s gaze. As the dinner goes on, Anne’s only contribution to the conversation is to entirely embarrass herself and her hosts as she blurts out that she was the first choice of her younger sister’s now husband, then tries to dig herself out of the hole. Director Carrie Cracknell builds this scene perfectly with editor Pani Scott as each cut of the scene lands another perfect reaction or quip.

With this editing style, Cracknell makes some of Anne’s looks to the camera bearable. Some are even perfectly timed. They’re certainly not a thing that would be what most of us would want in an adaptation like this, but without the expository bits bogging them down, some of the looks are quite funny. When Anne is interacting with her younger sister Mary (Mia McKenna-Bruce) these looks actually add to the already funny, lopsided, and narcissistic viewpoint of Mary. In fact, a lot of the side characters are an utter delight, which makes up for the lackluster central couple.

The main romantic pair is a bit one sided. Cosmo Jarvis is excellent at the smoldering end of his character, but it’s hard to believe that his smolder alone could ever rekindle into a fire. Especially as he has to play opposite Dakota Johnson whose smize and direct eye contact are utterly charming. If Henry Golding’s Mr. Elliot wasn’t made into such an obvious cad, our allegiance would have been turned upside down because of his effortless charm. It’s all a bit conflicting.

If you want to make a modern adaptation, make that modern adaptation. Mixing modern thought into period drama doesn’t always work, especially when the conceit is that the only way to survive is marrying for money and station and that partner potentially being a cousin. This version of Persuasion has a few terrific things about it, but the overall package is… less than persuasive.

Grade: C

Director: Claire Denis
Writers: Christine Angot and Claire Denis
Stars: Vincent Lindon, Juliette Binoche, Grégoire Colin, Bulle Ogier, and Mati Diop

Synopsis: A love triangle story about a woman caught between two men, her long-time partner, and his best friend, her former lover.

After the success of 2018’s English-language High Life, Claire Denis returns to French cinema with Both Sides of the Blade. Adapted from Christine Angot’s Un tournant de la vie, the film sees frequent Denis collaborator Juliette Binoche and Vincent Lindon as Sara and Jean, a married couple madly in love with one another. Jean is an ex-con looking to rebuild his life by working at a sports agency with his friend François (Grégoire Colin). However, Sara used to love François before meeting Jean, which challenges the relationship he has with Sara, while she starts to see François in secret. 

Denis isn’t exploring new territory here. And even if she’s adapting a book and co-writing the screenplay with the author, it’s a story we’ve all seen before in a thousand movies. A woman (or man) rekindles an old flame and threatens their marriage. What makes Both Sides of the Blade stand out amongst a sea of love triangle films is the central performances from Vincent Lindon and Juliette Binoche. Lindon blew our socks off last year by starring in Julia Ducournau’s Titane in a role that was surprisingly more emotionally restrained than the film’s electric aesthetic and pace. In Both Sides of the Blade, Lindon not only channels the same amount of restraint he held in Titane, especially in how he interacts with his son, Marcus (Issa Perica), with whom he shares a distant relationship but also manages to amp up the intensity when he believes his wife is lying to him. 

The confrontation scenes are by far the most riveting sequences in the entire movie because they’re the perfect showcase for Lindon and Binoche’s acting skills. Lindon channels massive amounts of pain as Jean, because he genuinely loves Sara, while Binoche’s disbelief turns into anger when she believes her side of the story isn’t getting heard from her husband. Moments of intimate and tender love during the film’s first act turn into a fiery bout of passion in the movie’s final scenes as both of them try to salvage their love, and prove to themselves that they’re made for each other, even if they don’t want to listen to what they have to say. Without Lindon and Binoche in front of the camera at all times, the movie wouldn’t have been as enthralling as it is, especially without Lindon as Jean. Had someone else played the role, the movie certainly wouldn’t have had the same emotional impact as it did.

The way Lindon is able to play with despair, through his facial expressions, is astounding and further proves why he’s one of French cinema’s most powerful forces. As soon as he is on screen, drinking coffee and looking from his balcony, we already know that Denis is trying to establish that his character will be full of despair, whether it’s trying to reconnect with his son, or keeping his marriage alive while Sara is off having sex with François. Lindon packs so much anguish and emotional baggage in the role that it’s hard not to feel bad for him. After everything he’s lived through in his life, Jean deserves to be happy and thrive, but it doesn’t seem like it’s going to happen. 

These elements kept me engaged during Both Sides of the Blade, even if most of the film is tonally inconsistent. For starters, Sara’s relationship with François is barely developed, with Colin giving an incredibly ridiculous performance as Sara’s other lover. There’s some passion in the way they look at each other when they meet again for the first time, sure, but it wasn’t enough for me to have been sold on their relationship as a whole. But the movie spends its first fifty-six minutes with Lindon and Binoche, as they go about their day, during the COVID-19 pandemic. 

I obviously do not mind a movie that takes its time to establish the core relationship before delving deep into the drama, but most of the plot threads Denis and Angot introduce during its first two acts lead nowhere. It also doesn’t help that most of the dialogue written during the film’s first half feels terribly corny and robotic, particularly the material given to Perica (Bulle Ogier), playing Jean’s mother, and Mati Diop as a pharmacist. Diop and Ogier are pitifully wasted in their roles and add nothing of note to the overall movie when their screentime could’ve been compensated by a deeper exploration of Sara’s rekindling with François, who reunite as if no time has passed. 

Because of this, Both Sides of the Blade isn’t as impactful as it should be. Still, the film is an impeccable showcase of how terrific Vincent Lindon and Juliette Binoche are as actors, and are able to chew up the screen and make the most of their time together in the most cathartic way possible. Without them, the movie would’ve likely been one of Claire Denis’ worst projects. However, their acting mastery keeps our eyes glued to the screen, never knowing where their journey as a couple will go next. It’s a shame that most of the movie feels unfocused, but once the drama starts to intensify, the film gradually improves and culminates in an impeccable finale. 

Grade: B-

Director: Patrick Hughes 

Writers: Robbie Fox and Chris Bremner 

Starring: Kevin Hart, Woody Harrelson, Kaley Cuoco, Jasmine Matthews, and Ellen Barkin. 

Synopsis: The world’s deadliest assassin and New York’s biggest screw-up are mistaken for each other at an Airbnb rental.

Kevin Hart has reshaped his film career as a decent actor doing entertaining enough projects after the disastrous Ride Along, and Get Hard. Since, he’s made enjoyable films like Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle, Jumanji: The Next Level, and Fatherhood, and the level of maturity he brought to his respective roles were not only very funny, but contained a tremendous amount of heart in his performances. His latest movie, The Man From Toronto, brings back the old version of Hart and sticks him in a painfully annoying (and dull) buddy comedy featuring the worst action sequences you’ll see all year. 

Initially slated to release in theaters, the film’s rights were acquired by Netflix due to the lingering effects of the COVID-19 pandemic. One perfectly understands why Sony decided to sell the movie to a streaming service as soon as the first action scene appears—a poorly shot and edited fight inside an airplane that culminates with, hands down, the most atrocious CGI I’ve seen in a major motion picture all year. I had to rewind to see if what I witnessed was real, but the visual effects are as bad as a SyFy original film…with a $75 million budget. It had a bigger budget than Todd Phillips’ Joker and yet looks like it was made for $5. Every action sequence is edited to shreds, which seems to be a recurring motif in Patrick Hughes’ films, even his R-rated The Hitman’s Bodyguard films. 

Of course, there seem to be lots of restraint in wanting the movie to be rated R to fully display The Man from Toronto’s (Woody Harrelson) abilities through hard R-rated action scenes, but the PG-13 rating prevents any large-scale action scene from being memorable in any way, especially considering how shoddy looking the VFX and cinematography are. Hughes likely faced some studio pushback from Sony to tamper down the brutality, because editor Craig Alpert cuts at almost every opportunity to hide the blood and any type of gruesome effect that would make the action feel cathartic and raw. And the editing isn’t solely a problem in the action scenes–the camera speeds up every time it changes a location while cutting in the middle of that specific moment. It’s hard to explain what visually occurs without seeing it, but it’s horrible. It wouldn’t be as bad if it happened only once, but it happens all the time. Without fail. 

And I’d be more forgiving of the film’s technical aspects if the rest of it was enjoyable, but very little of it made me laugh, or feel anything. Hart is back in his old self as Teddy, an aspiring salesperson trying to convince the world that non-contact boxing will revolutionize fitness, and gets mixed up while on holiday with an assassin, The Man from Toronto, and the schtick gets tiresome real fast. The jokes are either terribly unfunny or go on for too long. There’s a legitimate five-minute bit involving Ellen Barkin’s Handler who tries to convince the main antagonist that Teddy is an impostor, and Hart mumbles on and on for five straight minutes, without pause, and without bringing any ounce of laughter to anyone watching. I don’t even believe Hart (or Harrelson) found the material funny, even if their chemistry kept me moderately engaged. 

But the best part of The Man from Toronto comes in a minor supporting role from Pierson Fodé as The Man from Miami, the assassin The Handler tasks to kill The Man from Toronto and Teddy, as being around Teddy has made Toronto go soft. Fodé owns every aspect of his ultra-caricatural performance, nailing the fight moves (they’re truly the only times where the action sequences produce something exciting) of a martial arts expert, and always arrives “in the nick of time” to spice things up a bit. It’s a shame his role wasn’t expanded as the film’s main antagonist, because he absolutely rules in every single scene he’s in. 

Aside from that, The Man from Toronto is a largely unimpressive bore, even if Hart and Harrelson try to keep their chemistry as engaging as possible. But the both of them just aren’t funny together as they work with some of the most uninspired material for a buddy comedy involving two of the biggest stars working today. We’ve seen the story before, and the movie does nothing to reinvent the wheel, on top of delivering the very worst action scenes of any film released this year so far. I’d like to think that COVID will now be used as an excuse for major studios to get rid of some of their most embarrassing films to streaming services, even if audiences have come back to cinemas multiple times. The Man from Toronto may very well begin that trend. 

Grade: D

Director: Emma Holly Jones

Writer: Suzanne Allain

Stars: Freida Pinto, Sope Dìrísù, Zawe Ashton

Synopsis: A young woman courts a mysterious wealthy suitor in 19th century England.

The modern movie theater experience seems to have little room for romance. If it’s not got a man on a mission or a tough woman, because she can’t be in any way vulnerable, on a mission, a film will be drowned out by the sea of capes and ‘quels (se, pre, legacy, and otherwise). Yet, bubbling underneath is the growing, diversifying market of romance books. Most of the biggest series, Virgin River, Firefly Lane, and Bridgerton have been adapted and absorbed into the streamer content mills, but a small amount are beginning to appear again on the big screen like The Hating Game and, now, Mr. Malcolm’s List..

Like a handful of period pieces of the last few years that are based on fictional works, Mr. Malcolm’s List eschews the narrow minded thinking that a film set in the past has to have a homogenous cast. Mr. Malcolm’s List‘s diversity of actors is one of its biggest strengths. Sope Dìrísù smolders with the best of them. He is able to pull off the titular Mr. Malcolm’s introspective brooding with ease, but when he lets Malcolm’s veil drop it’s like a charm bomb has exploded. His million watt smile makes you melt and his heartbreak comes right off the screen to clutch at your chest.

Though Freida Pinto’s no slouch either. Always cast as the love interest and rarely the romantic lead, Pinto is an actress who is best when she can show her range. In Mr. Malcolm’s List, she deftly balances comedy, romance, and drama with the slightest of looks and gestures. Her chemistry with everyone is palpable and keeps you guessing as to whom she might lavish her affections on. Pinto’s performance makes you yearn for the happiness of Selina.

The two of them together are a force of radiant desire. One particular scene, at a masquerade ball encompasses this perfectly. The whispers start both positive and negative about the pair. They dance, only having eyes for each other, and as they come closer together, the other voices, the other people drift away. The music takes over the soundtrack and accents the scene beautifully. It melts you to watch as Selina and Malcolm steal glances at each other, smile, linger on each touch, and get so close to a kiss; it’s agony.

Director Emma Holly Jones builds these moments perfectly. She and editor Kate Hickey know how long to let the shots linger. She and cinematographer Tony Miller know just what to show us. There’s even a terrific melding of the three creatives in a lovely long take. As John (played by Divian Ladwa), footman to Miss Julia Thistlewaite (played by Zawe Ashton), delivers a note to Lord Cassidy (played by Oliver Jackson-Cohen), the message of the note traverses the room. It’s a complicated shot with a lot of moving pieces that all work so well in complement to one another.

Suzanne Allain’s script makesroom for more than just the main story. The secondary romance for Julia evolves as beautifully as the one between Mr. Malcolm and Selina. Though, what is most heartening to observe is as John and Molly (played by Sianad Gregory) create a sort of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern comedy duo in the background. John obviously seeks a life beyond his current station and Molly is content. Yet, Molly’s not above giving John pointers by the end. The two of them even share a dance at the close of the masquerade ball that’s sweet and charming. Mr. Malcolm’s List will lull you into familiarity while surprising you with inventive subplots.

The story beats are very familiar and there are parts that can drag, yet Mr. Malcolm’s List is a delightful film. It’s comforting to escape to a world of decadence and uncomplicated living. It’s comforting to watch as two charming, attractive people fall in love. Mr. Malcolm’s List is a comfort and well worth the big screen experience.

Grade: B

Director: Nathalie Álvarez Mesén

Writer: Nathalie Álvarez Mesén and Maria Camila Arias

Stars: Wendy Chinchilla Araya, Ana Julia Porras Espinoza, and Daniel Castañeda Rincón

Synopsis: In a remote village in Costa Rica, Clara, a withdrawn 40-year-old woman, experiences a sexual and mystical awakening as she begins a journey to free herself from the repressive religious and social conventions which have dominated her life.

I think it is fair to say that Brian de Palma’s adaptation of the beloved Stephen King novel, Carrie, changed the horror landscape for good. Since its release back in 1976, many filmmakers have been inspired by that film. That inspiration may arrive not only from its coming-of-age and horror elements, but its take on religion, femininity, and the sin that develops through that mystical and horrifying tale of a woman experiencing extreme amounts of torment. Like the stories that derive from this classic, its strongest of horrors do not come from a supernatural form or act; it’s developed by the suspicions and contempt for women. Hence, the fear for the feminine prowess in the respective films. The debut feature of Costa Rican-Swedish director Nathalie Álvarez Mesén, Clara Sola, projects these same ideas with a different style, while also implementing small dashes of mythicism and magical realism into its naturalistic atmosphere. Clara Sola does not indulge too much in the horror side of things; it is mainly implied or subdued, with no scenes of pure violent rage. 

It’s a stripped-down version of the familiar tale to reflect the atmosphere and locations it is presenting on-screen. Set in a remote village in Costa Rica, the film follows the titular Clara (Wendy Chinchilla Araya), a 40-year-old woman whose life is about to change entirely in the next couple of days its narrative transgresses through. Clara is off on a journey that will break her free from all of the permanent religious conventions in her small village. From the initial moments, the viewer sees there is some magical realism being smeared slowly onto the screen, and Clara is going to be the host of what happens with those elements in the narrative through her exploration of her sexuality and the confinement created by the religious traditions. Like Margaret White in Carrie, Clara’s mother, Fresia (Flor María Vargas Chavez), is very religious and overprotective. She must protect her daughter from these dangers that arise outside of the repressive religious conventions and doesn’t allow her space for self-discovery. 

The only times where Clara expresses herself the most are with her white horse, Yuca, and its caretaker, Santiago (Daniel Castañeda Rincón). Santiago is the equivalent of Billy Nolan, the only person who gives her the light of day. There are various parallels between the De Palma picture and Clara Sola. Still, both develop pretty differently from each other, yet, in some manner, end up with some of the same concluding ideals. Unfortunately, the audience is one step ahead in this one and knows what is about to come. Hence, losing its sense of tension and the interest along the way – slowly developing toward a culminating scene of rage and a presentation of violence of some sorts (as well as some arson amidst its blossoming). But what’s most interesting about Clara Sola is its balancing act of religion and culture. The film doesn’t indulge much in its representation of both aspects, so there could be a more significant effect on the lead character by both ends. However, this same decision causes the final product to feel less effective. Clara Sola is distant. Although thematically relevant, it is to a fault. 

Not so much cold in demeanor, but instead departed in some manner that doesn’t help the viewer be entranced or appropriately connected to the story being told. At least, on a relatively positive note, there’s a soothing atmosphere in the Costa Rican village, primarily thanks to cinematographer Sophie Winqvist (Pleasure, Aniara). The fog, the various plants and trees, and even the spiderwebs feel tactile; you can sense the multiple elements (rain, sunlight, mountain breeze) while watching. The scenes where the camera lingers on and carefully watches Clara connecting with the earth are the film’s best and most reflective. The movie contains its heftier thesis in those quick, yet fascinating sequences. There’s one specific scene where Clara just lays down on the mud while it is still raining outside, showcasing how deeply in sync Clara is with nature. It reminded me a bit of a scene in Lars von Trier’s Antichrist in which Charlotte Gainsbourg’s character blends with the earth as a coping mechanism for her lost child and repressed desires. 

Nathalie Álvarez Mesén’s depiction of the said connection in Clara Sola between womanhood and nature is truly fascinating. It is the most exciting and engaging concept that Clara Sola has to offer. This is even further explored with the representation of how her sexual awakening resembles a flower blooming and the connection of her experiences with the mimosa pudica (known as the touch-me-not or shame plants). The film doesn’t go beyond the lead character’s experience, as it studies her progress through femininity and desires. However, it did have a moment where it could have expressed a broader depiction. Perhaps, it could have shown the various reflections in her household (sister, mother, neighbors). It shines when it focuses on nature, both literally (the beauty of it all) and figuratively (its connection with the various forms of expression and lusts). Unfortunately, Clara Sola’s connections to Carrie bring it down a notch as it heads toward a familiar conclusion. Still, there’s great potential for the director’s future career, Nathalie Álvarez Mesén, for what it is, especially in that realm between naturalism and magical realism. 

Grade – C+

Director: Taika Waititi

Writers: Taika Waititi, Jennifer Kaytin Robinson

Stars: Chris Hemsworth, Natalie Portman, Christian Bale

Synopsis: Thor enlists the help of Valkyrie, Korg, and ex-girlfriend Jane Foster to fight Gorr the God Butcher, who intends to make the gods extinct.

During the inception of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor was the one hero who didn’t seem to have much depth in his character arc. In his first film Thor (2011), we were introduced to what seemed like the Marvel equivalent to Superman. He was the almighty Thor, god of thunder. We were shown how powerful he could be. We knew his strengths, weaknesses, and what made him tick. No matter how powerful he became, I felt no empathy for his character. By the time that Avengers: Age of Ultron came to theaters, it felt like his character was drowning and being thrown to the wayside. That all changed when Thor Ragnarok came into my life. Thor became relatable and humanized by director Taika Waititi. He gave Thor a fresh start, not only for the character but for the fans, and Taika Waititi has done it again. Thor: Love and Thunder has graced us with its presence, and it’s a story to remember.

With a runtime of 2 hours and 5 minutes, Thor: Love and Thunder has impressed me on multiple levels. This is easily one of the best Marvel films that we’ve received since the start of phase four of the marvel cinematic universe. It’s extravagant, witty, and has almost the same emotional barriers as Spider-Man: No Way Home. Thor’s humanity is continually shown by Taika Waititi from start to finish. This film opens with a hilarious voice over monologue that explains what Thor (Chris Hemsworth) has been up to since the events of Avengers: Endgame. The last time we saw our hero, he was traveling with the Guardians of the Galaxy who make a small appearance to kickstart Thor’s latest journey, which was something that I appreciated. I was afraid going into this film that Thor’s journey would be sidelined by the Guardians, but thankfully this is not the case. This film focuses on Thor maintaining his current and past relationships with his countrymen, the Asgardians, and his former lover Jane Foster (Natalie Portman) whose portrayal as The Mighty Thor was brilliant and inspiring. Her character has been mentioned a few times throughout Thor’s adventures with the Avengers but I adore how Taika Waititi was able to bring her back into Thor’s life, as she is one of the main reasons why Thor becomes the hero he is today. 

A superhero film is only as good as its villain and Christian Bale (The God Butcher) gives us one hell of a performance. This film gives us a respectable amount of backstory as to how he came to be. His motives are simple, to kill all gods, deities, and supreme beings. Christian Bale does a phenomenal job with getting the audience to resonate and empathize with his character much like we have seen in past Marvel films. Such as Black Panther with Killmonger (Michael B. Jordan), Thanos (Josh Brolin) from Avengers: Infinity War and Avengers Endgame, and Wenwu (Tony Leung) from Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings. The God Butcher leaves a ominous presence throughout the film as the tension builds as to where he will strike next, which is why he is one of the best villians in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. 

The music of Michael Giacchino nicely complements the movie’s soundtrack. Anyone who hears his song Mama’s Got a Brand New Hammer will notice how it gradually intensifies.I also appreciate Taika Waititi’s taste in music. It seems as if he creates soundtracks based around specific decades. Thor: Ragnarok;s  soundtrack was heavily 70s rock based with tracks like Led Zeppelin’s “Immigrant Song” and now moving on to 80s rock with Guns N’ Roses “Sweet Child O’ Mine” being the driving song for the film. I have officially associated this classic 80s rock tune to this film and have declared Taika Waititi as the master of needle drops.

Thor: Love and Thunder is an emotional rollercoaster with the perfect amount of humor, as you would expect from a Taika Waititi movie. I will always be grateful that the character of Thor has been given a new life. The story does a fantastic job of giving us new aspects to explore with Thor; not as a god, but as a hero. The movie provides us a cause to empathize with Christian Bale’s and Natalie Portman’s characters, which pay off in the most beautiful way possible. Both actors deliver standout performances. I strongly advise staying for both post credit scenes because they are both worthwhile.

Score: A+