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…
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.
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.
This week on the InSession Film Podcast, inspired by The Super Mario Galaxy Movie hitting theaters this weekend, we do a consensus ranking of animated sequels! There are have been plenty of animated sequels over the years, some tremendously great, others not so much, so this ended up being quite the conversation.
– Project Hail Mary (1:46) To begin this week’s episode, we talk about our review of Project Hail Mary from last week as it was one of our favorite conversations we’ve had on the show this year. Ryan Gosling was perfect casting for the film, and while the film could have utilized him more, there’s no denying his incredible performance. We also celebrate the film’s remarkable box office run so far, one that could well into May as there’s little competition in the way.
– Lord of the Rings Spin-Off / Moana & The End of Oak Street Trailers (19:47) For the next segment, we discuss the news that Stephen Colbert will be co-writing a screenplay for a new Lord of the Rings movie. Weirdly it was a divisive topic despite Colbert seemingly being perfect for the role. We also rant about the new “Moana” trailer and rave about how cool The End of Oak Street looks in its initial teaser.
– Animated Sequel Ranking (1:05:33) As noted above, with The Super Mario Galaxy Movie hitting theaters, we thought it would be fun to take a look at the best animated sequels and do another consensus ranking. The films at the top are obvious, this is another one of those topics where we spend the bulk of the conversation dissecting the back half of the list. There are a lot of mediocre and bad animated sequels, and perhaps some will be surprised with where we go, but we found some good films to fill out those 6-10 slots. That said, what did you think of our animated sequel list?
If you want to help support us, there are several ways you can help us and we’d absolutely appreciate it. Every penny goes directly back into supporting the show and we are truly honored and grateful. Thanks for your support and for listening to the InSession Film Podcast!
Director: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.
This week on Women InSession, we discuss our favorite(?) traumatic Disney films and the bold qualities that the studio use to employ in their work! We all remember the feeling of Dumbo and Bambi’s mothers, the donkey’s in Pinocchio and so many more memorable scenes in the Disney canon. We discuss why these sequences carry weight and what makes them special.
Panel: Kristin Battestella, Megan Kearns
On that note, check out this week’s show and let us know what you think in the comment section. Thanks for listening and for supporting the InSession Film Podcast!
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.
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…
On this episode of Chasing the Gold, Shadan is joined by Brandon Lewis as we have a post-mortem on this year’s Oscar season! What are the lessons to take away from the season? What is the state of the industry following the Academy Awards? We have some questions to address as far how the season played out and why it might be a shifting of the tide as we move forward.
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Director:Richard Benjamin Writer:David Giler Stars: Tom Hanks, Shelley Long, Alexander Godunov
Synopsis: A young couple struggles to repair a hopelessly dilapidated house.
Tom Hanks has a long, storied history of film excellence. Ask any five people their three favorite Hanks films, and they will probably all give you different answers. As a result of all of Hanks’ success, Richard Benjamin’s The Money Pit gets lost in the shuffle. But don’t sleep on it. All the madcap hilarity is still there 40 years after its premiere.
Let’s not misinterpret this film: this is no unsung masterpiece. That being said, this is the ultimate “turn your brain off and enjoy yourself” film from the ‘80s. Whether it’s The Secret to My Success, Police Academy, or Overboard, the ‘80s were filled with silly premises, fronted by stars, doing increasingly preposterous things. The Money Pit features pratfalls, easy sight gags, one-liners, and easy jokes. That doesn’t make it bad. In fact, it’s mostly a lot of fun.
Hanks stars as Walter Fielding Jr, a lawyer attempting to clean up the mess of debts left by his absconded father. Walter’s girlfriend, Anna (Shelly Long), is a concert violinist who is doggedly pursued by her ex-husband and concert maestro Max (Alexander Godunov). Forced to vacate their apartment, Walter and Anna find a steal of a mansion being sold by Estelle (Maureen Stapleton). Together, they buy the house and move in.
The moment the pair arrive, the house begins to fall apart, including shoddy electrical work, sewage-filled plumbing, and a complete collapse of the staircase. Any attempts to repair the house themselves fall flat, which causes the pair to turn to shady contractors, the Shirks. Faced with financial and mental ruin, Walter and Anna must overcome everything to stay in the house and stay together.
For a film from 1986, there are some fascinating themes around debt, cohabitation without marriage, and jealousy; but those themes are mostly just the table-setting for humor. Yes, all the money Walter and Anna use for the house is borrowed, but it’s just mined for a scene where Hanks can say the film’s title. It doesn’t have to be that deep when you have an extended sequence where Walter flies through the air, is mauled by various construction equipment and ends up being peed on by a decorative statue. There isn’t subtext here. It’s funny for the sake of funny.
The comedy isn’t all physical. A standout scene late in the film finds Walter and Anna trading barbs about intelligence and alcoholism. All the while, dozens of construction workers input their opinions or just stare at the bickering. That said, it’s mostly physical. Hanks reaches a tipping point with the house following a bathtub falling through the floor, leading to a prolonged fit of wheezing laughter. It’s silly and pointless, but movies don’t have to be so serious all the time. This film knows exactly what it has, and it keeps pushing those same madcap buttons.
At this point in his career, Hanks was still honing his on-screen persona. Smug intelligence was his forte and he leans heavily into that characterization here. He might not stretch himself dramatically (the film never calls for it), but he is more than willing to go the extra mile for a laugh. It’s a much more physical performance than you would expect. Hanks ends up falling from great heights multiple times, covered in plaster, burned, charred, and humiliated throughout the film. Long doesn’t have as much to do as Hanks, but she gets her fair share of house chaos to deal with. Her chemistry with Hanks is easy and believable, which is as much as you could ask for.
Hanks and Long aren’t the only familiar faces. Godunov was still two years away from his role as the villainous Karl in Die Hard, but he nearly walks away with the film. Max is a character of silly contradictions, and Godunov never shies away from any of the preposterous antics. It’s a shame he didn’t get more of a chance to do comedy, as he has excellent timing and delivery. Joe Mantegna, Philip Bosco, Frankie Faison, Josh Mostel, Yakov Smirnoff, Mike Starr, Wendell Pierce, Nestor Serrano, and Michael Jeter all show up along the way to give the film some extra color.It might not be revolutionary cinema, but The Money Pit is stupid fun all these years later. More than anything, it’s a testament to the longevity of Hanks and how far he has come.
Director:Kirill Sokolov Writers:Russell Ackerman, Cheryl Eatock, Carl Hampe Stars: Zazie Beetz, Patricia Arquette, Heather Graham
Synopsis: A woman takes a job as a housekeeper in a NYC high-rise, unaware of the building’s history of disappearances. She soon realizes the community is shrouded in mystery.
Having conversations with my peers about what we’re watching is a weekly thing for me. I love learning about movies and shows that I’ve never heard of and I instantly put them on a watchlist. The new action-comedy-thriller They Will Kill You is definitely one of those movies that most people will want to put on their watchlists just off of the cast alone. I only watched one trailer because I have a rule about not watching more than one trailer of a movie that I am really anticipating going to see. Zazie Beetz is an actress that is known for both her comedic and dramatic talents. Her only other action film was Deadpool 2 where she played Domino. I am glad that she pivoted back into action films after her long hiatus. She put on a good performance that was exhilarating and full of anger.
In the film, Beetz plays a woman named Asia Reeves. When we first meet her she’s on the run with her little sister Maria from their abusive father. After stopping to cool down and get supplies, they’re spotted by their father. In the middle of a standoff between Asia, Maria, and their father, Asia shoots her father in the chest to keep him away from them. Once the police officers get to the scene, her reaction is to run and never look back. Leaving Maria was a tough thing to do and she paid the price for her one mistake. Asia was sentenced to 10 years in prison for the attempted murder of father and Maria was sent back to live with him. Flash forward to the present, Asia gets out of prison and she only has two things on her to-do list, finding her sister and making sure that she’s safe.
Asia goes to a local high rise apartment building called Virgil that’s in need of a new housekeeper. She’s greeted by Lilith Woodhouse, the building superintendent played by Patricia Arquette. Lilith seems welcoming and accommodating towards Asia but she keeps her guard up for the whole time that she’s there. The lights go out and our protagonist is sound asleep in her bed until some unwanted guests raid her room with the intent to beat her and capture her. In this scene we see Zazie play the total opposite of a lot of characters that she’s played before. She’s a shotgun wielding, katana cutting, bare knuckle scrapper. This action sequence is well choreographed, bloody, and the editing, from Luke Doolan, is similar in style to Tarantino’s films. After she mows through the group of people, the look of exhaustion and determination are still on her face. Feeling accomplished, she talks to Lilith like half of her journey is complete when in fact it’s only just begun. Lilith gives Asia the run down on the building, its origins, and the state of its longtime residents. The residents that occupy the building can’t die because the building has a satanic presence over it. Everyone that comes into the building is sacrificed to the devil and in return they have to stay in the building and be immortal.
The supporting cast features Heather Graham and Tom Felton (two of the Virgil’s longtime tenants and Asia’s new adversaries), who give the audience some laughs and characters to root against while Asia’s sister Maria (Myha’la) isn’t given much to do once we are introduced to her. The action sequences are bonkers and exciting, but aside from Asia and Lilith the characters in this film are underwritten and they have sight gags that have been seen in older films. Heather Graham’s character has a bit that has to do with her head. I’ve seen it done better in Beetlejuice and Men in Black. Even given the time difference, those films also managed the special effects in a superior way. I wanted to be invested in Asia and Maria’s relationship but their dialogue is really wooden and the emotional beats or lack thereof didn’t do anything for me.
As the film coasts towards the third act, it slows down. They only focus on four characters and two of them don’t get proper development. Usually a short run time like an hour and thirty minutes is a sweet spot for me. But in this case, given the lack of character development and story building, it wasn’t enough for me to like the movie as much as I wanted to. Director Kirill Sokolov gives the audience satisfying action and fun performances from Beetz, Arquette, Graham, and Felton but after the credits rolled I knew that I wanted to try to watch Ready or Not 2. Hopefully the Blu-ray release will offer a decent amount of deleted scenes and a commentary track with Sokolov and some of the cast to fill in the gaps.
Many arguments could be made as to why Michael Mann’s movies focus solely on men: the occupations we are following, the stereotypical nature of men as criminals, or that Mann is a man (sorry about that) and does not want to write complex, female characters. However, it would be an error on my part to not point out the obvious lack of depth in Mann’s female characters and how more often than not they are used for exploitative, sexual purposes: underwritten with unnecessary sex scenes.
Tuesday Weld in Thief as Jessie holds her own and I attest that her scene of intimacy with James Caan was both brief and tasteful. Jessie’s backstory rivals Frank’s as far as complicated, crime filled histories are concerned and it makes me want to know more about the intricate details of her life with her now deceased first husband. Credit both Mann for the writing and Weld for the performance on that one. However, by the end of the movie Jessie (and their newly acquired David) are shed by Frank because he has put their lives at risk by standing up to Leo. Is it necessary that Frank gets Jessie and David to leave for their protection? Sure. Could more have been given to Jessie’s character to show how much she cares about the solidity of her new family? Absolutely.
If Jessie escaped Thief relatively unscathed, then by comparison Alberta Watson as Eva in The Keep did not. Poor Eva is both a victim of being underwritten and put in not just one, but two unnecessary sex scenes. As far as being underwritten goes, I need to acknowledge two sides to this idea. The fact that Paramount hacked the final cut of this movie to bits does not help Eva’s being underdeveloped. The same studio also kept an overly long scene between Woermann and Kaempffer without being trimmed, the attempted rape of Eva (woman as victim of sex), and her passionate sex scene with Glaeken (women as sex-starved vixen) and felt they were worthy of remaining. And while it is easy to dunk on poor executive choices, Mann did write the screenplay and shoot the film, and this trend continues down the line.
Manhunter gives us two for the price of one as far as underwritten female characters go: Kim Greist as Molly (Will’s wife) and Joan Allen as Reba (Francis’ short-lived love interest). While each of these actors are involved in a sex scene, the gratuitous nature of both is tuned down: no nudity, the sexual encounters do not occupy a lot of screen time, and the threat of violence in both are non-existent (Dolarhyde being incapable of harming Reba at that moment). From a narrative standpoint, both Molly and Reba do play pivotal roles, but only in relation to their male counterparts. For Molly, she is the physical embodiment of the life that Will wants to have – the phone call he makes to her late at night just to hear her voice says a lot about their relationship, but it is more impactful to Will than to Molly. For Reba, her entire arc is to be the object of sexual desire for Francis and to willingly make sexual advances towards him with the ultimate conclusion of almost being killed. All we know in relation to these characters is what they mean to the complicated, lone male figures that make up this movie.
The Last of the Mohicans is where the underwritten aspect takes a different shape as we explore Cora and Alice. Not to shun her, but Alice’s character is simply smaller: she is a side character and her overall arc is not what we are focusing on when we watch the film. And yet we still see the connection between her and Uncas and the pain that occurs internally for her when she sees him fall under Magua’s knife and pushed off the side of the cliff. While Alice and Uncas are secondary characters, we still feel for them and their quietly emotional resonance – proving that they are not underwritten. This brings us to Cora – who I believe is the most fully formed, well-rounded, and vocal female that Mann has brought to screen. Played in a career-best performance by Madeline Stowe, Cora is observant and not one to form to social norms – we see this when she rebukes Duncan’s offer of marriage. Cora is also not afraid to both speak her mind and admit when she was wrong, the former shown when she tells her father that she should be hanged as well and the latter when she starts to see Nathaniel in a new light and not as the savage man that she believes he is during their first interaction. This segues nicely into their romantic relationship and whether their sex scene is necessary. Simply put, the scene in which Cora and Nathaniel finally kiss and embrace each other romantically feels passionate, immediate, and absolutely not gratuitous. There is no nudity in the scene and yet the eroticism leaps off the screen. With the background of war ever-looming in our minds and death always waiting nearby, their love feels reactionary to time being against them, but never feels unnecessary. There will always be exceptions to the rules and The Last of the Mohicans proves that this ComMANNdment does not fit here.
At this point in Mann’s career, most of his films have one main female character of any note. Given the epic and sprawling nature of the storyline in Heat, we now get multiple underwritten women. While I could have included both Lauren and Lillian in this list, I feel like their parts are just small enough to leave alone. Instead, I will choose to focus on our three lead’s significant others: Justine (Diane Venora), Eady (Amy Brennerman), and Charlene (Ashley Judd). To begin, a brief preamble: I think all these performances are solid and may be Ashley Judd’s best work. Any criticisms here are only of the characters as written. These women are very surface level and stereotypical: Justine is sexually frustrated and has become so addicted to pills that she ignores every warning sign from her daughter that something is wrong; Eady is the quiet, somewhat nerdy sexually deprived woman who is so in need of a man that she immediately falls for the wrong one; and Charlene – the vixen with a complicated (and possibly criminal) past who is in too deep but just can’t shake the “love” she feels for Chris. These women, all three of them, get pushed around and only makes decisions in relation to the men in their lives: Justine ends up back in Vincent’s arms as he heroically brings Lauren to the hospital, Eady willingly decides to fly to New Zealand with a known criminal associated with robbery and murder, and Justine determines that she should alert Chris to the police who are waiting for him instead of letting him get caught and possibly ending a cycle of crime and violence for their son. Our men here get full backstories, just not the women.
Right off the bat I can announce with a wry smile that there is no unnecessary sex scene in The Insider…YAY! MANN DID IT! … However, he still commits the first part of this filmmaking (or should I say storytelling?) sin – underwritten women. This is the second consecutive film in which Diane Venora plays a wife and mother who is simply there to propel and set up future choices and character development for the co-male lead of a Michael Mann film. Liane Wigand, as written on the page and then subsequently shown on screen, is a hard woman to support. Our first interaction with her is early in the film when Jeffrey arrives home early from work after having been fired (an event that she is unaware of at the moment, to her credit). She seems to be relaxed while having a cold beverage outside on a nice day at their very lavish house. Later that day, Liane asks where her coffee mug is and Jeffrey says that she should check the car. Jeffrey claiming to need soy sauce at that precise moment also goes outside as Liane asks about the boxes in his car. He finally admits to having been fired and instead of an embrace of empathy Liane reacts with mild hostility asking about how they are going to pay for bills and health medications (in a “save the cat” moment earlier, we see Jeffrey give his daughter medicine for her asthma in a calm and educational manner).
After he assures her that money will continue coming in and that health benefits won’t be terminated, he leaves in the car with Liane left to wallow in her selfishness. An exasperated and half-hearted “Jeffrey!” gets said, but at this point we know what Mann is trying to do: planting the seed of the wife who won’t support her husband when things get tough. The loop of this idea gets closed right before Jeffrey goes down to Mississippi to give his deposition. Bergman has arranged for security to stay with the Wigands after threats had been made – a decision that Liane does not approve of. That night, while Jeffrey is working downstairs, she goes to see him. She sits on the stairs and says, “I don’t think I can do this. I want to stand by my husband…but I don’t think I can do this anymore. I’m so sorry.” Jeffrey asks if they can talk about this after he gets back and she says yes, but the look on her face tells us what we already know but that Jeffrey can’t see yet: she is going to leave him. I want to make it clear that I am not saying Diane Venora is doing a bad acting job in the film, but this character is only here to put new and difficult obstacles in her husband’s path (and to the point of talking about Crowe’s performance – it works! Crowe gives a detailed and precise performance that brought him his first Academy Award nomination).
During the film Ali, our titular character makes comments about being a womanizer and one who cannot keep his eyes (or hands) off of women. Given this personality trait in combination with a woman’s place within the Islamic community, it doesn’t take much to show women as subservient and objects of lust only. Over the course of the film, we see Ali marry two different women and meet one who will eventually be his third wife (not to mention the fourth he married in real life that we don’t see). If we focus on Sonji (Jada Pinkett Smith) and Belinda (Nona Baye), each of them are essentially replaced for different reasons. Sonji converts to Islam even though her lifestyle and personality clashes with core Islamic principles and her “assets” that drew in Ali initially also become the fuel that burns out their marriage. With Belinda, we meet a woman who believes in Islam and is an active partner of Ali: she genuinely cares for him. However, when she starts more freely speaking her mind and calling out Ali’s infidelities, she becomes another woman to be shunned by the heavyweight champ. I understand that the real Muhammad Ali married multiple times and that the film should not change history, but as presented women seem to be nothing more that sexual beings meant to be quiet and subservient to men – furthering the stigma that Mann has a hard time telling stories with strong female characters.
Jada Pinkett-Smith returns to this ComMANNdment for Collateral, but this time only as the underwritten woman. The introduction to her character is brilliantly setup in a Hitchcockian style: bring her in early, let her have an impact on our lead, make it seem like she will only be another idea in Max’s life that he won’t follow up on, and then have her come back full circle when we were least expecting it. GREAT! Her initial scene with Max is pleasantly aggressive and they both let their guards down and enjoy a very nice moment with each other. Here’s the rub: when she returns to the film it is for no other purpose than to become the damsel in distress for Max to save. In another movie with another character, it might not be so glaring, but in Collateral, it feels noticeable. On the phone, we hear her as a powerful woman in control of herself and very determined. Yes, she admits to getting nervous the night before her first day in court, but goes on to explain that her feeling of trepidation goes away. She is capable and the movie does her a disservice by making her seem helpless when Vincent arrives at her law office. Can Max be there to help? Of course – he doesn’t want her to die and knows what Vincent is capable of. Could she be more helpful and less “woe is me” during the movie’s finale? Absolutely. Mann was so close to not committing this cardinal sin, but the third act of this film falls into standard thriller movie tropes and the woman needing to be rescued just couldn’t be ignored.
Women are pawns or sex objects (or both) in Miami Vice…I wish I could make a strong case against this, but I can’t. A great example of a strong, female character who isn’t (at least overly) sexualized is Gina, played by Elizabeth Rodriguez: she holds her own in the shootouts and feels like her own person. However, I need to focus on Gong Li, Naomie Harris, and the bevvy of women in the opening scene – let’s start in that Miami club. If you watch the theatrical version of the film, you are introduced to women dancing in the club. This sets up the expectations that this is a “man’s world” (or “Mann’s world” if you like bad humor) where women will be viewed as objects to be pursued sexually. With Naomie Harris as Trudy, it is clear what Mann is trying to do: create a relationship between her and Rico that is compassionate while also giving her agency as a solo figure within this police unit. The problem here is that Harris is both used sexually (her shower/sex scene with Foxx) and as a pawn after she is kidnapped by the Aryan Brotherhood as leverage for the drug delivery. Additionally, Gong Li as Isabella is set up in the same way. She is a smart, savvy businesswoman who is out for herself, and yet becomes immediately enamored with Sonny, has sex with him, and then becomes the damsel in the final shootout. Miami Vice marks Mann’s ninth theatrically released film, but it will still take a few more swings before we get to a woman who truly holds her own in a film.
Mann may have went back around eight decades or so, but the connective tissue from Miami Vice to Public Enemies is strong: both have two, strong, male leads; both are about opposing sides of the law; and both feature women as purely supporting parts that are merely there to be eye candy or as pawns and/or obstacles for our leads to use. And while the female cast of Miami Vice is solid (and I will say nothing disparaging about them here), Public Enemies has some of the most talented actresses being reduced to damsels in distress or slid into one scene (in the case of Carey Mulligan – what a career she would go on to create after this film). Marion Cotillard is both underwritten and part of an unnecessary sex scene. You could say that the first time Billie and Dillinger have sex it is at least shot tastefully: no nudity, darkly lit, mostly a romantic and passionate vibe. However, this is not the scene that feels unnecessary: it is the Phoenix hotel bathtub scene. At this point, Billie has accepted that Dillinger is a criminal whose life could be taken at any moment. Instead of having a rational conversation about how this relationship is going to work, she is nude in a bathtub and waiting for him to have his way with her. I wish I could say it gets better for Billie, but it does not. She becomes a pawn of the FBI and is tortured to the point of urinating all over herself. I understand that this is showing the depravity and awful interrogative techniques used by the FBI, but I cannot help but see this character as a tool to get Dillinger to have more exciting scenes. Billie is left cold, alone, and offscreen.
If you want to see how two different levels of female actresses can be underwritten in different ways, look no further than Tang Wei as Lien and Viola Davis as Carol in Blackhat. We’ll start with Lien as this character is also included in some unnecessary sex scenes. The film tells us early on that Lien is highly educated, successful in the world of computers, and does not need a man to tell her what to do. Given all of that information, why is it that she almost instantly becomes a cyber-moron in relation to Hathaway? Why does she become so infatuated to the point of becoming incapable of basic tasks? Later, after three members of their team have been killed, Lien becomes a more pivotal figure, but I would also point out that she continuously responds to Hathaway’s beck and call – as if she were his servant. And on top of all that, after almost no real chemistry between these two, Lien and Hathaway begin a sexual relationship – why? To throw one more complication into the mix and have Hathaway and Dawai start to question each other? To really earn that R rating? To reinforce just how in love these two are?
Okay…enough about Lien – let’s move on to Carol. Viola Davis is an astounding actress with a screen presence that is nothing short of magnetic. When she convinces/coerces “Gary the stock guy” to provide her team with information, you are utterly enthralled with her. In fact, the most grounded and relatable part of the film is her character because Carol has to walk this fine line between upholding the laws of justice in relation to Hathaway while also trying to catch the bad guys. Mann almost got through the movie without screwing this character up…and then he pulled out 9/11. From a chauvinistic standpoint, I understand why Mann puts in unnecessary sex scenes: nudity can help get butts in seats. But why overly complicate a character whose motivations were perfectly fine the way they were? And as if to fully make the point while visually talking down to us, the last image Carol sees before she dies is a tall building – not unlike the World Trade Center towers that fell. With all due respect to a director that I highly admire, Mr. Mann very much bungled this character.
The two-sided nature of this ComMANNdment gives me plenty to talk about. We must start with this: not only does Ferrari give us two female characters with fleshed out backstories and true points-of-view, but Penelope Cruz as Laura steals the film and is easily the best performance in the movie. Her motivations are believable, her jealousy is understood, and her actions are loud, strong, and very cinematic. And even though I am low on Woodley’s performance, Lina is understandable and sympathetic: her son is going to be christened soon and she wants to know what his last name will be. These two form opposite ends of Enzo’s love spectrum – and I do mean love as HE believes that he loves both. Twelve feature films in and Mann has got female characters with strong objectives…but he couldn’t resist himself with the unnecessary sex scenes. There are two worth mentioning – we’ll start with one that is unnecessary because of the character involved. After meeting the whole Ferrari team at a lunch, we later see De Portago in his hotel room with his girlfriend, Linda (too many female “L” names in this movie), and, in a moment of celebration, he runs in naked and they start to have sex. What we’re supposed to take away from this is that they are in love and it will be even more devastating when he dies and she is there waiting for him at the finish line. The other sex scene involves Laura and Enzo and it occurs when he asks her to sign over her share of the company to him. Their passion takes them over and they have sex right there on the kitchen table…even though their loathing for one another (or least her to him) is at its highest. The scene feels disingenuous, especially when you clock the title card at the end saying that Lina and Enzo got together as soon as Laura died. Mann got himself two great female characters in this movie – it’s just a shame that he had to force in unnecessary sex scenes.
On this episode, JD and Brendan discuss the new film from the German filmmaker Christian Petzold Miroirs No. 3! We are huge fans of Petzold, and that alone intrigued us, but he’s back once again with his latest muse Paula Beer. As you could probably guess, Miroirs No. 3 has all of the usual Petzold trademarks and great performances, so we had a lot of fun with this one.
Review:Miroirs No. 3
Director: Christian Petzold Writers: Christian Petzold Stars: Paula Beer, Barbara Auer, Matthias Brandt, Enno Trebs
Director: Zack Synder Writers: Chris Terrio, David S. Goyer, Bob Kane Stars: Ben Affleck, Henry Cavill, Amy Adams
Synopsis: Batman is manipulated by Lex Luthor to fear Superman. Superman´s existence is meanwhile dividing the world and he is framed for murder during an international crisis. The heroes clash and force the neutral Wonder Woman to reemerge.
With James Gunn’s Superman releasing last year to general critical and audience acclaim, shortly thereafter lighting the fuse for what is quickly becoming the “new big thing” cinematic universe, the equivalent that was attempted before it has been promptly buried.
The so-called “DCEU,” as it were, has become a thing of the past; dead with it are the dark, brooding, and most often colorless tendencies that defined the franchise. Chief among those examples would be Zack Snyder’s infamous Batman vs. Superman: Dawn of Justice. A movie that not only failed to capitalize on the insane excitement that preceded it, but that has since garnered a reputation as an odd misfire that is ardently loved by a waning corner of superhero cinema fandom.
Now 10 years old, looking back at BvS does do the film a little justice (no pun intended), although what didn’t work in 2016 absolutely doesn’t work now. Snyder’s gargantuan comic book blockbuster got a crucial element wrong, among many, that hampered it from the beginning. That is, its interpretation and use of Superman.
Much can, and has been said about the movie’s vision of Batman as a bloodthirsty, gun-wielding maniac. And while that has been exaggerated by many, it’s true that the Dark Knight kills and kills aplenty. It’s a weird, off-color version of the character that tries to validate this needless violence through his arc. Beyond that misconstruction, though, Superman is almost given the opposite treatment. He’s barely in the movie at all, and undergoes essentially no journey.
For a movie about two heroes butting heads, their conflict orchestrated by the nefarious (and unfortunately teeming with hair) Lex Luthor, the latter half, in name, of the duo is a quiet inclusion. Henry Cavill looks on in stoic silence, uncaring and apparently soulless. It isn’t Cavill’s fault that both Clark and Kal-El are written entirely dependent on their connections to other characters.
Superman is seen on the news in glimpses of heroism, and does get his chance to display that in this film in a climactic, late-movie measure. But between the ticket-selling action sequences, Superman feels like a middle-man. He helps Bruce/Batman mend his severed connection to humanity; he briefly talks to his father in a vision (dream? who knows, really) on a mountaintop, in a sequence that essentially goes nowhere. Otherwise, he spends the majority of the movie under political and governmental fire, and then dies.
He makes Batman more compelling in the end, sure, but when Wonder Woman and her grating sonic accompaniment hit the scene, it’s hard to count much of what Superman accomplishes beyond the basic beats of any Superman story that are only to be redeemed in Justice League. That’s an entirely different and much more compelling story, though. Especially given the aforementioned presence of a bright, world-loving and leading Superman, this adaptation almost seems like a different character. Superman, and the entire movie, truly, is unfeeling. It’s a Batman story at the core; but given the issues with Batman’s own characterization, sprinkled with scarce hints of compelling philosophy between senseless killing and poor one-liners, what are you left with?
You’re left with a movie that looks great, swings big and, ultimately, says very little. For fans looking for a pure aesthetic feast that at least attempts to bring these characters into a grittier, more realistic light, you’ll find that here. It’s fair to say that Snyder fans can argue for this film on its merits as a filmmaker, because it is unashamedly committed to the director’s diehard look and feel.
But for anyone who has read ‘All-Star Superman,’ or seen and loved Mask of the Phantasm, this still misses the mark an entire decade later. If you’re determined to tune in, at least do yourself the favor and watch the Ultimate Edition. Get all that you can out of the big budget on display here, because it’s about the only thing worth watching BvS for.
Synopsis:It follows the life of Pagnol, a playwright, novelist, and filmmaker who grew up in a middle-class household in Marseille and became one of the world’s most inventive and prolific artists from the 1930s to the 1950s.
If you’ve never heard of the incredible work of Marcel Pagnol before, chances are you won’t learn much by the time the credits roll in front of Sylvain Chomet’s A Magnificent Life (Marcel et Monsieur Pagnol). After a world premiere at Cannes and a successful release in France last year, Sony Pictures Classics invites audiences to see Chomet’s latest animated film in a baffling English-language dub. If this is not the biggest insult you can give to one of the most staunch defenders of the French language, in theater, literature, and film, what is?
Of course, the dub isn’t limited to dialogue within the film’s diegesis; it also transforms the footage we see of Pagnol’s features, most notably starring his collaborators Fernandel and Raimu. America has ingrained a culture of moviegoers who are afraid to watch a movie in a language other than their native tongue, or even to read subtitles, to preserve the nuances of the movie’s original language. Bong Joon Ho’s quote is evergreen, but he’s right. Most are afraid to overcome the one-inch-tall barrier of subtitles, which means the French language is not even made available to North American audiences. It’s just as bad as when NEON, a staunch champion of international cinema, decided to release Ugo Bienvenu’s Arco in cinemas across North America without the option of its original French-language version, thus perpetuating the notion that international films aren’t important, when they are far more aesthetically and thematically resonant than a decade’s worth of Hollywood pictures.
Watching clips of Pagnol’s Le Schpountz, Harvest, and The Baker’s Wife, dubbed in English, gave me negative full-body chills I never want to experience ever again. Chomet’s work is too important for American studios to think audiences won’t be interested in hearing Laurent Lafitte’s vocal performance as the legendary Marcel Pagnol. However, even if you ignore the poor dubbing work at the heart of the picture, what’s on screen is of very little interest. It lacks any form of insight that most biographical movies will tend to answer: who is the figure beyond the façade, and what did he truly accomplish?
Chomet spends time making the audience realize the extent of Pagnol’s work and the breadth of the modes of expression he wrote in, but fails to draw a portrait of who the individual truly is. There are scenes in which he tries to give texture to Pagnol the man by having him communicate with his younger self, essentially recounting his life story to himself. After all, when we first meet him, he is about to write an article that will see him lay it all out, before his existence reaches its point of finitude. The framing device doesn’t last long, nor does it have any tangible effect on the viewer. It’s there to say that Pagnol will flesh out the story on his own terms and take us on the tumultuous life he lived. Unfortunately, Chomet essentially cops out from the moment this narrative structure is introduced, heading into more linear, conventional territory.
It’s a real shame that Chomet’s script is so paper-thin, because Pagnol’s body of work still stands the test of time and almost didn’t. The bulk of his work was released during World War II, and the Nazis made significant moves to take over his assets and seize the reels of the films he made. Pagnol deliberately showed worn-out copies to dissuade them from selling, and he pretended his moviemaking business was failing, which prompted him to sell to Gaumont. His actions prevented any of his reels from falling into the wrong hands, and they are the only reason his films can still be seen to this day. Yet, this section is treated with little to no significance, just as his successes and failures in the theatrical productions he conceived. There’s so much to talk about, but very little to actively explore in 90 minutes of what is essentially a drawn-out Wikipedia summary, but without the bullet points that make audiences aware of his impact.
Thank the good lord Chomet is such a skillful animator and can still craft sequences of real expressivity, even though we are many years far removed from his masterpiece, 2003’s The Triplets of Belleville. Still, his style is unmistakable, and he makes every frame of A Magnificent Life feel vivid and urgent. The hand-drawn animation is frequently jaw-dropping, and the multiple stylistic permutations it takes on throughout its runtime are consistently surprising. If only the screenplay had responded so well to the images, or deepened its central character study at the heart of the picture, because what ultimately remains is a painfully hollow and vapid animated affair that will sadly be released by committing the worst possible offense against what Marcel Pagnol stands for. Maybe all of us should wait for the VOD release, when the French version will be available, and Chomet’s words won’t sound this terrible…
On this episode, JD and Megan are joined by Ben Miller to discuss Phil Lord and Chris Miller’s latest film Project Hail Mary! The film has opened to incredible reviews and a stellar box office, and while we mostly indulge with high praise, we do offer a few thoughtful questions about the film. Ryan Gosling is incredible and how can you not love Rocky?
Review:Project Hail Mary
Director: Phil Lord, Christopher Miller Writers: Drew Goddard Stars: Ryan Gosling, Sandra Hüller, James Ortiz
Synopsis: A lonely gravedigger who stinks of corpses finally meets her dream man, but their whirlwind affair is cut short when he tragically drowns at sea. Grief-stricken, she goes to morbid lengths to resurrect him through madcap experiments.
To be completely honest, when I saw the trailer for Dead Lover, I stopped about 10 seconds in. I was sold instantly. What I saw in those short seconds was a taste of what to expect: what looked like a banshee of a grave digger creating an elixir. A vividly colored, singular experience born from the mind of writer and director Grace Glowicki. Death, reanimation, and lustful passion make Dead Lover a film Mary Shelley would be proud of.
Not only would Mary Shelley be proud of the film’s subject matter and execution, but a quote of hers flashes on screen as Dead Lover opens. It’s a mysterious introduction into the film that ushers in the film’s lead character, played by Glowicki herself, who is simply referred to as the Gravedigger. Her reputation revolves around her occupation, and it takes over her entire life. Those around her avoid her due to the stench that radiates off of her. Her skin is pale, ghost-white, with hair to match, and her clothes are riddled with dirt and death. But inside is a woman who longs for romance.
Daily tasks are exactly what you’d imagine: digging graves for funerals, while the only people who come near her are cold corpses. During one of these funerals, she becomes an unlikely hero for a grieving brother (Ben Petrie). His life was nearly the next on the chopping block for a freshly dug grave, and the pair fall in love. Despite her putrid smell, he is head over heels, speaking about how her beauty is unlike anything in the world. Their love is deep, and both make proclamations to one another to always be bound together. But it doesn’t last long, and the gravedigger is back to being lonely, now grieving.
Dead Lover takes inspiration from Shelley’s work most when the newly single (again) gravedigger recounts a recipe for a potion that has the chance of bringing her lost loved one back. Using the only proof he existed—his severed finger—she successfully brings him back. But much like Frankenstein, it doesn’t completely go the way it’s intended. Glowicki shows a real love for the mother of horror and showcases the gravedigger’s intelligence throughout the trial and error of reanimating life. It’s an equally hilarious and explorative experience to watch.
Glowicki focuses a lot on the transformation from the severed finger to the partner her character ends up with. There’s a conflict with a widower (Lowen Morrow) who makes a connection with the gravedigger that devastates the newly single man. Both of their former lovers are related to one another: the grieving brother and his dead sister (Leah Doz). It’s a story threaded craftfully, but Glowicki’s script becomes repetitive at a certain point. It’s still eccentrically entertaining, but the creatures created by the gravedigger could use some spotlight as well.
Dead Lover is the epitome of small-scale cinema; its stark black background allows the film to feel never-ending. The set is minimal: a graveyard with only a handful of graves, a bedroom with only a bed and a window. It perfectly captures the loneliness the gravedigger goes through, and the dusty, dingy atmosphere helps audiences make their own assumptions about how smelly she truly is. Visually, the film has a stage-play feel, with items like shovels and brooms having a prop-esque look to them. It adds to the hilarity of it all.
Much like the minimal scale of the film’s production, there are only a few actors involved in bringing this story to life—four, to be exact—who all play multiple characters in Dead Lover. From lesbian nuns sneaking out to have sinful fun to a group of gossiping old women who talk about the rumors of their local gravedigger, their work is a true labor of love, with Glowicki wearing more hats than I can count.
Love is the driving factor for the gravedigger at the beginning of the film, and while love still drives her, she’s overcome with lust for her partner. There’s a sensuality that he awakens in her that she doesn’t want to lose, even when her lover doesn’t resemble who he once was. Glowicki shows the gravedigger as someone who makes rash choices; she isn’t concerned about what her partner wants, reanimating him without a second thought. It’s an idea that isn’t touched on, which is a shame because it feels worth exploring.
A film like this is best watched without trying to figure out where it’s going before it happens. It doesn’t follow Shelley’s work beyond reanimation and parts of the process, so when it swerves from the obvious directions, Dead Lover keeps the audience on their toes. There’s a real sense of love for the medium, from the actors to the set decorator, all knowing exactly what is needed to make a film like this come to life in the way they intend. Even when some choices don’t work, it’s one of the best creature features of the year.Glowicki and her small cast and crew make Dead Lover a horror comedy that is rare to come across. Their hard work is seen in each scene, and their dedication to the craft proves that budgets and scale don’t make films worth watching; it’s the passion behind them.
This week on the InSession Film Podcast, inspired by Kevin Jacobsen’s captivating series of prompts where he asked who you would vote for if the last five Oscar winners (in any particular category) were up against each other, we thought we would do the same but for our InSession Film Awards winners! So it turned into a fun retrospective on our awards winners over the last six years, many of which we still love, but as you may expect, some of our winners may have changed if we had a re-do.
– JD’s Approach To Horror / Project Hail Mary Box Office (1:14) To begin this week’s episode, JD reveals his secret to horror films and how he’s able to engage with them. Purists will hate it, but it makes that genre fun for him. We then shift our attention to the box office for Project Hail Mary, which launched out of the gate with massive numbers. We always want to celebrate the successes of non-IP like this, especially when it’s made with care and artists creating immersive art that pops on the big screen.
– Dune: Part 3 and Spider-Man: Brand New Day Trailers (23:01) For the next segment, we talk about the new trailers for Dune: Part 3 and Spider-Man: Brand New Day. It’s interesting because both JD and Brendan both loved the Dune Part: 3 trailer, but for very different reasons. Either way, it looks like Denis Villeneuve is bringing the goods once again. As for Spider-Man, there is lots of potential, but visually it looks more of the same with the MCU. So our response is maybe a bit tepid overall.
– InSession Film Awards (52:15) As noted above, we thought Kevin’s prompts regarding the Oscars was quite compelling. “Let’s take a look back at the last five winners and pool them together” is always fun in an all-star kind of way. But with InSession Film Awards, it’s even more electrifying because these are the winners *we* chose. Our nominees and winners often look very different from The Academy’s as they are personal to us. So grouping the last five (or in our case, six, as we also included 2020) winners made this exercise immensely challenging at time. But boy was it a ton of fun! That said, what did you think of our winners?
If you want to help support us, there are several ways you can help us and we’d absolutely appreciate it. Every penny goes directly back into supporting the show and we are truly honored and grateful. Thanks for your support and for listening to the InSession Film Podcast!
Synopsis: After prison, a woman attempts to reconnect with her young daughter but faces resistance from everyone except a bar owner with ties to her child. As they grow closer, she must confront her past mistakes to build a hopeful future.
A Colleen Hoover adaptation was…watchable?!? I know, I’m as shocked as you are. After the horrendous It Ends with Us, this critic skipped Regretting You to preserve his own mental state, but was – for some reason – compelled to head out to the cinema (a bit later than most, blame the unstable weather in my neck of the woods) to see what the fuss was all about on Reminders of Him. Now, I was ready to eviscerate the movie to no end, considering that Hoover’s writing proves she has never had any meaningful interaction with a human ever. However, I came out of it feeling the opposite. Sure, its flaws stick out like a sore thumb, but it’s also surprisingly not terrible?
It essentially boils down to director Vanessa Caswill keeping Hoover’s emotionally powerful story at the heart of the book as human and textured as possible when transposing it to the screen. She doesn’t make the film’s more serious sections feel exploitative, and she also (smartly) avoids the egregious product placements (including the lead star’s personal brand) found throughout It Ends with Us that turned a horrifying portrait of abuse into a glorified commercial for Pinterest mood boards.
Whenever Reminders of Him gets darker and taps into Kenna’s (Maika Monroe) mistakes, the film depicts these sequences with the necessary gravity required, letting you experience what the protagonist feels and the internal battle she faces as a mother longing for redemption. The central event that leads to her imprisonment doesn’t feel manipulative, nor does it blame anyone in particular. It shows the scene as it is, allowing the audience to sit with the character’s actions as a moment of real vulnerability. That said, did it need that many psychotic needle-drops of Coldplay’s “Yellow” playing throughout? And not just the original version – so many variations! That’s debatable (the answer is no).
Regardless, the overall effort is much better than it has any right to be, and that’s mostly thanks to Caswill’s humanist lens. She creates an alluring and patient visual style that’s in near-perfect response to Kenna’s internal and external struggles. Caswill also doesn’t try to depict harrowing situations with an overtly “glossy” or “candy-colored” tinge, although some of the drama and romance feel a bit forced, but that’s not entirely her fault. The screenplay, written by Hoover and Lauren Levine, is sometimes sincere, and occasionally chintzy and downright bizarre.
One scene, you’ll have Maika Monroe give a profoundly soulful turn as an ex-convict looking to do right by her estranged daughter, Diem (Zoe Kosovic) and make amends to her boyfriend’s parents, Patrick (Bradley Whitford), and Grace (Lauren Graham), after the love of her life perished in a car crash when she was driving the vehicle. In another scene, you’ll hear the most baffling dialogue ever written. You’ll quickly be aware which ones were written by Hoover and which ones were polished by the more competent writer. However, there isn’t a scene that isn’t handled with some form of respect, even when it gets shamelessly predictable and downright treacly as Kenna forms a relationship with Ledger (Tyriq Withers, portraying a football player in another movie with Him in the title – if I had two nickels, etc, etc.).
The former NFL star was once best friends with Kenna’s boyfriend, Scotty (Rudy Pankow), but wasn’t there for him when Scotty needed Ledger the most. He now tries to make it up to him by taking care of Diem, who is under the supervision of both Grace and Patrick. Upon meeting Kenna, he also tries to hear her side of the story rather than demonizing her as Scotty’s parents do. Upon her arrival home after her release from prison, both Grace and Patrick sent her a restraining order, forbidding Kenna from ever seeing her child. The succession of dramatic events also piles on in a less natural flow, but Caswill’s patient direction makes these scenes feel somewhat digestible and less egregious than they might have appeared on the page.
Even if the romance at the center of the story doesn’t feel natural, both Withers and Monroe are excellent and remain constantly engaged in the material, surprisingly also when they have to deliver Hoover’s nonsensical lines. So far this year, Monroe is two-for-two in giving career-best performances in aggressively mediocre movies, after (with Troy Kotsur and Helen Hunt) essentially elevating Maxime Giroux’s English-language debut, In Cold Light, to watchable horizons (despite a fairly assured style that ranged from Tony Scott to Michael Bay rip-offs).
Her portrayal of Kenna is incredibly affecting, especially when the film reaches its inevitable tear-jerking conclusion. Revealing more would mean spoiling details that are best left discovered by yourself, but there is one thing you need to know: the mother/daughter storyline works. The camera lingers on both characters in surprisingly moving ways, and their eventual reunion will (even if you’re anti-Hoover) make you feel something. It’s impossible not to, especially when the dramatic tension between the protagonist and Scotty’s parents is at its highest. There are no forced emotions. No manipulation. No exploitation of tragedy. Just pure cinema at its most deeply sentimental.
I could’ve come here and talked about why Colleen Hoover is a menace and continues to misunderstand fundamental human relationships in her writing. All of this is still true. But the filmed transposition of Reminders of Him isn’t bad. Simple as that. As a critic, going into each film with an open mind, regardless of your preconceptions on a specific individual, is always the way to go. I thought I was going to hate Reminders of Him. I didn’t. What does this say about me? I’ll let you be the judge of that.
Director: Meredith Alloway Writer: Lily Houghton, Meredith Alloway Stars: Lili Reinhart, Lola Tung, Alexandra Shipp, Victoria Pedretti
Synopsis:At a mall store, Apple leads a secret witch cult with coworkers Cherry and Fig. New hire Pumpkin questions their sisterhood, forcing them to confront inner darkness or meet violent ends.
Film fans make a massive deal about a director’s first movie. In some ways, we seem to expect a slow start. And if we don’t get that, we expect a sophomore slump. This is not a wholly negative view. Instead, it is indicative of just how hard filmmaking can be. It is hard enough just to get a film made, and doubly hard to make one that is even slightly above average. And let’s not get truly started on how much harder it is for female filmmakers. If they do not have an immediate success, getting funding becomes a near impossibility. So, when a filmmaker arrives on the scene with a genuine style and takes some actual risks, it is worth taking notice, even if there is no guarantee of a repeat. But now that I have seen Meredith Alloway’s first feature film, Forbidden Fruits, hope spring eternal.
Alexandra Shipp, Lili Reinhart, and Victoria Pedretti in Meredith Alloway’s FORBIDDEN FRUITS. Courtesy of Sabrina Lantos. An Independent Film Company and Shudder Release
Forbidden Fruits, dripping with style and charged with energy, takes place almost entirely in a mall and, between laughs and scares, manages to make more than a few statements about female friendship and even the effects of traumatic parenting decisions. The plot follows three women who work at a store, Free Eden, and who, oddly, are named after fruits. Apple (Lili Reinhart), Cherry (Victoria Pedretti), and Fig (Alexandra Shipp) are the queens of the mall, a point driven home humorously by whispered disembodied comments as they stride through the food court. Here, after discussing their co-worker who has disappeared under mysterious circumstances, they are introduced to another possible member of their squad, happily with another fruit moniker, Pumpkin (Lola Tung).
It would be easy to view Forbidden Fruits as shallow or silly. This would be a tremendous error on your part. This is a film that works on more than one level. Yes, it is devilish fun. But beneath its surface is both darkness and depth. As the plot involving a possible coven (or cult?) is slowly revealed, the script, from Alloway and Lily Houghton (based on her stage play), finds a way to become both engaging and mysterious. By the time the film wraps up, Alloway has so many balls in the air, that it is a wonder that very few are dropped. While the script may be imperfect (the post-credits scene is particularly galling), in the hands of Alloway as the director and a wildly game, almost all-female cast, there is literally never a dull moment.
Alexandra Shipp, Victoria Pedretti, Lili Reinhart, and Lola Tung in Meredith Alloway’s FORBIDDEN FRUITS. Courtesy of Sabrina Lantos. An Independent Film Company and Shudder Release
Reinhart and Tung, in particular shine the brightest, but singling them out feels mildly unfair. Given the structure of the plot, these two have the most opportunities to stand out. But Reinhart, as the leader of the pack, relishes every opportunity to absolutely devour the whip-smart dialogue. Her knowing, almost predatory facial expressions would make any film watchable, so here it has an additive effect that makes the viewer lean in all the closer. However, Shipp and Pedretti are also equal parts funny, terrifying, and shockingly genuine. Their arcs, by the end, actually rival those of the co-leads. It is a real gift when a film this heightened in style and dialogue is still able to hit home emotionally. You can certainly watch this film as a comedy-horror hybrid and never think about it on a deep level, but I believe that, on rewatch, this will make an even deeper mark.
What this film does best is show the allure of friendship and how it can easily go too far. Many times, it has been opined that the breakup of a true friendship is much worse than a romantic one. For this reason, the introduction of a dedicated sexual relationship from one member of a friend group can feel like a betrayal. Watching these women navigate the dangerous waters of life, judgment, romance, and growing apart is truly a wonder and is aided by the alternately sharp and deeply edgy cinematography from Karim Hussain.
These emotional journeys are, of course, surrounded by violence (both physical and emotional) and the tangled web at least one of the main characters is weaving. As everything comes to light, much like life, there are no purely virtuous humans or distinctly evil ones. Despite the fact that some characterization may seem slight at first glance, each and every one of these women is well thought-out, has motivations and desires, and an internal logic that is rare in this particular subgenre.
Lili Reinhart, Victoria Pedretti and Alexandra Shipp in Meredith Alloway’s FORBIDDEN FRUITS. Courtesy of Sabrina Lantos. An Independent Film Company and Shudder Release
More than one movie already in 2026 has been propped up as a possible future “cult classic,” but this is the example I would put my money on. However, I still hope that it finds an audience immediately. Forbidden Fruits is proof that Meredith Alloway should be given great leeway and even greater budgets moving forward. She, along with her team, has an incredible eye and a wicked sense of humor that the cinema world could use right now. The film never pulls punches (or fingernails) and is unafraid to poke fun at itself, all while saying something worthwhile about the cultures that it portrays. Forbidden Fruits is more than worth your time on a lot of levels, but especially on one of pure devilish enjoyment.
