Director: Emily Mkrtichian
Writer: Emily Mkrtichian
Stars: Sose Balasanyan, Gayane Hambardzumyan, Svetlana Harutunyan

Synopsis: Four women of Artsakh face war’s aftermath, build lives amid uncertainty until another war interrupts; some take arms, others flee as homeland faces ethnic cleansing and erasure.

This is, unquestionably, the year of documentaries. It features multiple emerging voices of documentarians, tackling various topics from wars to sexual identity and, more importantly, accounts of humans as they mess up their lives, make art, love, procreate, and die.

There Was, There Was Not is a story about land and women. But women are lands in their own right, fertile, giving, nurturing, but also requiring care. The problem with “land” is that people tend to overlook the fact that it needs care and nurture to survive and sustain its giver nature. So when war strikes land, and when women are displaced and lose their sense of safety and belonging during wars, the core trait of what makes a land “land” and a woman “woman” is lost. 

Director Emily Mkrtichian paints a picture of a world destroyed, a painful concept that is not typically understood in the “modern” Western mindset. It is the idea of nations erased from the earth, their homes and memories obliterated. The mere thought of their homeland existing only in storytelling, where they immerse themselves in a perfect image of what their countries could have been. 

The documentary showcases four Armenian women forced to live in a manufactured country called Artsakh, a country that lies in the Soviet Republic of Azerbaijan, even though it has an all-Armenian population. After a few wars, Armenia regained control of Artsakh, and it became an independent republic of the Armenian people. However, this temporary heaven vanishes after Azerbaijan starts another war on the make-belief republic, wanting to claim it as its own. Soon the façade of peace that these women thought they have lived in is shattered, and they find themselves a term “women of war”. They no longer have their separate identities but collectively a single entity. The director excels in recording live footage of the war, and it looks scary from a personal angle up close. It gives the documentary a harrowing tone, especially with how late it comes in the film (after approximately 40 minutes of runtime).

Mkrtichian takes us on a magical journey with her through the lives of the women. Her choices are very niche and unique in that they are all strong, influential women who leave their mark on the Artsakh society, but it’s a great way to highlight the contrast of the tragedy and how it affects how these women contribute to their community. War is usually the elephant in the room, those women have moved on with their lives and considered Artsakh home, but the mention of “war” sneaks into their conversations in the slightest of ways. 

The director captures the smallest details that make these women seem less like heroes and more like familiar faces you might pass on the street. She removes the burden of having to be seen solely as subjects; a title that feels lifeless and based in hostility. We see Sosé Balasanyan, the gold medal-winning judoka, holding her favorite plushie, activist Gayane Hambardzumyan preparing meals for her family after organizing meetings for battered women, and the politician Siranush Sargsyan dancing and chilling in a pub. Through these subtle details, Mkrtichian gradually draws us into a larger Armenian folk story, without neglecting her focus on the harsh realities of war. Instead, she weaves a patchwork of conglomerate truths that together reveal the lives of women in wartime.

There Was, There Was Not perfectly humanizes the stories of people who went to war and came back alive. It creates a realistic, if all-too-painful way to look at those wartorn nations, but through a microscopic lens that zooms in on individuals, rather than complete identities. The women of Artsakh are not simply a fairytale told at night before bed, or around the fire, but they are a saga of perseverance.

Grade: A

Director: James L. Brooks
Writer: James L. Brooks
Stars: Emma Mackey, Jamie Lee Curtis, Jack Lowden

Synopsis: An idealistic young woman juggles her family and work life in a comedy about the people you love and how to survive them.

The most fascinating aspect of James L. Brooks’ Ella McCay is how its style, from cinematographer Robert Elswit, plunges us into an era of comedies we no longer see, both on the big and small screen. Through a soft, but effective score by Hans Zimmer giving light notes to a movie that, on paper, doesn’t want to take itself seriously too much, Elswit’s photography reminds us of a time where all movies looked like…movies, and not the digitized grey sludge we’re all too used to seeing on any screen nowadays. There’s actual depth of field, the colors are warm and inviting, and every actor in this star-studded ensemble looks like they are capital S movie stars. 

It’s a type of filmmaking that has sadly been glossed over for reasons I don’t understand, and there was hope that Brooks’ return to moviemaking, after 2010’s How Yo Dou Know, would make audiences yearn for more smaller-scale comedies that look and feel like something you can’t miss on the big screen. Sadly, Zimmer’s score and Elswit’s images are the only elements of note in what is otherwise one of the most disastrously conceived studio films I’ve seen to come out in my lifetime, one that gives ammunition to the “comedy on the big screen is dead” crowd more than any other film released in the 2020s. Many will probably tell you that Brooks’ writing is dated. Yet, even in the period Ella McCay is depicting (the Great Recession, specifically 2008), the movie somehow feels like it’s been released 30 or so years too late and would’ve done gangbusters at the box office in 1987.

With such an amazingly-mounted cast and an effervescent Emma Mackey in complete control of the camera as the film’s titular character, you would think that the movie would somehow be palpable enough to be at least watchable. Yet, Brooks genuinely has no idea what he wants to talk about, through alien dialogue exchanges that feel so caricatured that no actor, as talented as they may be, can perform with the texture and humanity of his previous directorial efforts. There’s a moment or two where some characters will perform light gestures and movements that recall Brooks in his heyday, which are charming in their own right. Still, they’re sandwiched between overlong and drawn-out nonsense that one wonders if the guy who brought us Terms of Endearment, Broadcast News, and As Good As It Gets is truly behind the camera. 

And thank God he has Elswit cooking with gas, because his directing (alongside Tracey Wardmore-Smith’s nonsensical cutting) is on autopilot. Brooks’ writing is no longer sharp and incisive; it’s cartoonishly dated and inert. The jokes never land, and always feel like they overstay their welcome when they weren’t even funny the first time a character uttered them. It’s the cinematic equivalent of punching at dead air for two uninterrupted hours. In fact, one could rename this film Dead Air: The Movie because Brooks never devotes his focus to Ella’s journey of self-actualization. The premise of the movie sees the titular character become the Governor of an unnamed state and has to juggle the responsibilities of being married to a devoted husband (Jack Lowden), repairing the fractured relationship she has with her father (Woody Harrelson) ever since the death of her mother (Rebecca Hall, completely wasted), while also dealing with the pressures of becoming a female Governor who must get to work and actively enact laws that will benefit her state.

All of that is great, but the movie spends far too much time not making it the sole aspect of the picture and devoting its time to interminable sequences where characters throw punchlines at one another, without ever meaningfully developing who any of these people are. One such sequence sees Ella’s brother, Casey (Spike Fearn), ask his ex-girlfriend, Susan (Ayo Edebiri), for another shot, and it seemingly goes on much longer than you think. Brooks no longer possesses any sense of timing (which was his bread and butter, back in the day), nor does he know when the film’s lightly funny sections stop being so, because sections where the audience chuckles are immediately hampered by the same joke that gets repeatedly beaten to the point where we feel bad for having laughed the first time we heard it. Worse yet, none of the multiple storylines, which take up the bulk of the runtime, actively pay off or mean anything in the grander scheme of the film, nor do we learn anything about its protagonist. She’s a governor who has to deal with a lot. By the end of the film, she screams with her Aunt Helen (Jamie Lee Curtis), but still has to deal with the same problems. There’s no evolution. No cogent message. Just tedium.

The problems Brooks creates are trivial and uninteresting, and they bloat the story to the point where we have no idea why we should care about anyone on screen, even Aunt Helen, who is a constant source of affection and support for Ella after her mother passed away. There are sequences in which one thinks Brooks will do something to flesh out these familial relationships, but he always settles for comedic platitudes rather than making comedy an integral part of Ella’s development as a fully-fledged, three-dimensional human being. Each scene reads as silly; there’s no tangible examination of who these characters are beyond the jokes they tell each other, and it all gets increasingly tiresome as we begin to realize this movie is going literally nowhere. 

Thankfully, Emma Mackey seems incredibly committed to the role and clearly enjoys being in a James L. Brooks film, but the rest of the cast doesn’t fare as well. When Ella McCay’s structure makes itself apparent, one yearns for the movie to end as soon as possible instead of meandering inside a cyclical screenplay that will never amount to anything by the time it reaches a footnote of a final scene with nothing, and I mean nothing, to hold onto. If this disastrously unfunny comedy is touted as the “grand return” of a moviegoing era we’ve sorely missed in cinemas, then I’m afraid it’s better for all of us that this era stays dead and buried forever.

Grade: D-

Director: Rachel Feldman
Writers: Rachel Feldman, Adam Prince
Stars: Patricia Clarkson, Thomas Sadoski, John Benjamin Hickey

Synopsis: About a courageous factory worker who fights for justice when cheated and mistreated by her company. Based on the life of Lilly Ledbetter.

Rachel Feldman’s Lilly enters the arena of biographical dramas with a sense of purpose, telling the story of Lilly Ledbetter, an Alabama factory worker whose fight for equal pay became a turning point in American labor rights. Unlike many biopics that inflate their subjects into mythic figures, this film chooses a softer, more intimate approach. It locates its power not in grand speeches but in the slow, painful accumulation of everyday injustice, and in the woman who finally decides she has had enough.

Lilly follows its protagonist through the years she spent working at a tire plant, where she was underpaid, undervalued, and systematically overlooked. Patricia Clarkson has always excelled at characters with emotional steel hidden beneath quiet exteriors, and here she builds a woman not born a crusader but who becomes one through sheer necessity. Her performance is compelling, thoughtful, and shaped by a life of factory shifts, family obligations, and the exhausting bureaucracy of seeking justice. Clarkson’s subtle performance elevates every beat, giving Lilly a quiet emotional potency that many viewers should be able to identify and resonate with. 

The film and Clarkson acknowledge that Ledbetter is neither fearless nor flawless; she is simply someone who refuses to be dismissed one more time. This grounding keeps the story accessible even to viewers unfamiliar with the real-life court battle that eventually led to the Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act of 2009.

John Benjamin Hickey, playing Lilly’s husband, plays a role of unwavering support. Sometimes frustrated, sometimes quietly heroic in its ordinariness. Their chemistry as a couple is warm and feels real. Thomas Sadoski, as the corporate figure representing the company’s more hostile indifference, provides a chilling reminder that discrimination is often behind the scenes and not confrontational: found in paperwork, whispered judgments, and closed-door decisions.

The cinematography is lovely, as the film opts for darker palettes and keeps Lilly in some color rather than black and white to showcase the past, which is clever and a way to avoid using the generic tool that all other films do. The music is expressive, from the first song “The Daughters,” viewers are thrown into this feminist, expressive film. There is also the use of archive photos and footage of Ruth Bader Ginsburg speaking about Lilly’s job, life, and the wider issues surrounding discrimination against women in the workplace. It’s subtle, not overbearing, and gives the film an edge. This documentary aspect helps viewers understand the realism and truth behind this film’s story. There is also footage from presidents such as Obama and other political powerhouses like Hillary Clinton, arguing for the rights of women. The footage of the bill passing is quietly powerful. 

The screenplay, co-written by Feldman and Adam Prince, walks a delicate line between education and character study. It certainly wants to inform about wage discrimination, legal barriers, and the systemic disadvantages faced by women in male-dominated jobs. The film filters political urgency through personal stakes. Lilly’s fight is not abstract; it is about her mortgage, her children, her dignity. Lilly makes clear that she doesn’t want to be a symbol; she just wants the company to acknowledge her worth. And while there are moments of empowerment, there are many more stumbling blocks and setbacks than you’d expect. 

Lilly tends towards overly neat dialogue at moments when messiness might have felt more truthful. There are scenes where emotional revelations arrive a bit too tidily, smoothing over the jagged complexities of a year-long struggle. Some viewers may also crave more exploration of the broader workplace culture that enabled Lilly’s mistreatment, rather than focusing so tightly on her individual perspective. 

Still, Lilly remains compelling because it understands that change often begins not with dramatic movements but with one person’s refusal to stay silent. Feldman’s commitment to authenticity has created a biographical drama that is both timely and timeless.

In a world where 148 economic countries have gender pay gaps, and women earn less for doing the same job as a man (for every dollar earned by a man in the USA, a woman makes 78 cents), this film is an important reminder to not be complacent and to stand up for what you deserve.

Grade: B+

Director: Max Walker-Silverman
Writer: Max Walker-Silverman
Stars: Josh O’Connor, Lily LaTorre, Meghann Fahy

Synopsis: After wildfires take his ranch, a cowboy named Dusty winds up in a FEMA camp, finding community with others who lost homes, including his daughter and ex-wife.

The West has always held a mythic place in our culture. There are wide open spaces with farms, trails, and quiet stoicism. The West, though, is being burned at an alarming rate. It’s going through a period of dry weather unlike anything on record. The people of the West are, on top of fears of money issues and bad seasons, more aware and more alert that a fire could sweep through and take it all away regardless of anything human looming on the horizon. Rebuilding isn’t about the drama of the fire, but about what happens after it goes out.

Rebuilding is a film that catches you by surprise in its universality. For a lot of us in this situation we would be thinking about getting back to normal. We would be like Dusty (Josh O’Connor) with big dreams about how he’s going to rebuild once he’s back on his feet. Even in our reality when the world had to manage the crisis of COVID-19, many kept repeating what they would do when we got back to normal. Those folks and Dusty have to realize that back to normal is gone and the new normal is what they must get used to.

That’s what works well about Max Walker-Silverman’s script. His drama, as much as it isn’t about the fire, it also isn’t wholly about a person struggling against an unfeeling system. There are scenes of dejection on the part of Dusty about the bank and FEMA woes, but they aren’t his whole conflict. Dusty has to realize how much he needs other people. Walker-Silverman builds the bare bones of attempting to recover from losing almost everything into a story about starting over with a new understanding of one’s self and community.

Dusty is a character who believes and wants for self sufficiency. He strives to go it alone, to be alone. It’s in the quiet moments of recovery we see the people Dusty has only let in sparingly. We see the community he’s had but ignored in order to do as he’s always felt he’s been meant to do. It takes something catastrophic for him to realize how much he’s missed while trying to be everything he’s always wanted to be.

Josh O’Connor plays this very well. He has an open face that shows the weight of the burden Dusty faces without giving away too much of what Dusty holds inside. O’Connor is a calming presence on screen and his Dusty lopes and moves with the speed of a person lost deep in thought. His performance isn’t showy or deeply emotive, but with his physicality and thousand yard stare he gives us all we need to know about Dusty.

What you want from Rebuilding more than anything is the community Dusty finds. Dusty’s journey is mostly of the self, but his driving back and forth and staring off into the distance isn’t always compelling viewing. The trailer park crew is as fascinating as Dusty’s family who he’s become estranged from. Dusty’s a good introduction, but the film suffers when we don’t learn more about the fascinating characters in his orbit and why they’re drawn to this new place.
Rebuilding is a slow and methodical film that will keep your attention and reward you with small beauties if you stick with it. It’s a kind of love poem to a way of life and a sense of place. The performances are good and the scenery shot by director of photography Alfonso Herrera Salcedo is stunning. It’s a film of quiet that speaks volumes about the need for community.

Grade: B

Director: Adam Volerich
Writer: Leo Winters
Stars: Jefferson White, Shawn Christensen, Siobhan Fallon Hogan

Synopsis: At a struggling New York dive bar in the days leading up to Christmas 2019, Chet, a beleaguered bartender in a state of extended arrested development, must balance caring for his misanthropic, aging regulars – who have nowhere else to go, and rely on him for far more than pouring drinks – with his naive desires to muster some Christmas spirit.

Drink and Be Merry arrives just in time for the season when sentimentality flows as freely as cheap mulled wine. The film roots itself in a dingy New York dive bar, a place where the tinsel looks a bit tired, the lights flicker, and it lacks holiday cheer. So Drink and Be Merry is one for those more cynical Christmas viewers, wanting a little more true grit on their festive screens. 

Drink and Be Merry sets its story in the final days before Christmas 2019, and follows Chet, a bartender who seems to be living in a holding pattern he can’t quite name. Played by Jefferson White (Yellowstone), Chet is earnest, well-meaning, and perpetually exhausted, and White brings warmth to the role and is the reason to keep watching.

Chet’s bar is populated by an assortment of aging, misanthropic regulars who treat the place as something between a sanctuary and a personal dumping ground. These are not the lovable eccentrics of a traditional holiday comedy; they’re cranky and occasionally intolerable, but there’s something you like about them. Very early on, there is a section where some women come into the bar, and the men all look confused, and there’s a pause. Chet then doesn’t have the ingredients for a cocktail, so Vodka Sodas it is. Reaffirming this is a bog-standard dive bar. Subtle and great storytelling. This is where you get a glimpse into the subtle humor throughout. 

The characters are naturally funny in the way everyday people often are: unintentionally, or simply out of sheer human absurdity. Chet’s attempts to summon even a flicker of Christmas spirit are met with blank stares, insults, and plain refusals. The regulars aren’t interested in transformation; they’re just trying to get through the season in one piece. Siobhan Fallon Hogan, Delaney Williams, Brian Anthony Wilson, and Shawn Christensen round out the ensemble with performances that lean into the characters’ abrasiveness while revealing small, surprising wells of vulnerability. Everyone has believable chemistry; you’ll feel as if these men have been at this bar for years, basically part of the crappy furniture. 

The film’s central tension lies in Chet’s growing awareness that his bar is on the brink of closing, and to his punters, he’s not just their bartender. He’s their sounding board, caretaker, reluctant therapist, and in some cases, their only consistent point of human contact. The weight of that responsibility presses on him as Christmas approaches, and there seems to be no way out. Jefferson White delivers a fantastic performance, blending vulnerability and strength and soaking up every moment on screen. 

Visually, Drink and Be Merry embraces the cramped intimacy of the bar. The entire film takes place mainly in this one setting, which is pretty impressive. The only other setting is a small bedroom/apartment. The claustrophobic settings keep the focus on the characters, who are constantly bumping up against each other both physically and emotionally. Despite the cold dispositions of everyone in the bar, the bright lights and Christmas music build a festive vibe. The colors have a very warm tone to them – it’s a bar that’s inviting, despite only one or two customers being in it at one time. 

If the film falters anywhere, it’s in its occasional hesitance to push deeper into the messiest corners of its characters’ lives. There are hints at darker histories and unresolved grief that sometimes feel skimmed over. And it’s a simple story, easy to follow, and keeps a solid pace throughout. Viewers might find the film slow, lacking in action, and needing more conflict for a memorable and meaningful resolution.

Drink and Be Merry lands somewhere between melancholy and hope. After Christmas, in his bar, Chet sees a future going back to acting classes and a world beyond the responsibilities he’s burdened himself with. But a regular in the bar isn’t in his usual spot. Looking around an empty bar, still covered in Christmas lights, Chet’s reflective on what is next for him and his life. In its modest way, the film captures something true about the season: that sometimes the best we can do is gather in a place that feels familiar, raise a glass, and make it through together.

Grade: C

Director: Bryan Fuller
Writer: Bryan Fuller
Stars: Mads Mikkelsen, Sigourney Weaver, David Dastmalchian

Synopsis: An eight-year-old girl asks her scheming neighbor for help in killing the monster under her bed that she thinks ate her family.

The biggest fear most children have at a young age is wondering if there is a monster under the bed. More often than not, we would ask our parents to check there or in the closet, in case something was ready to pop out and either give us nightmares for life or eat us up. But what if there was indeed a monster under the bed and it actually did want to eat everything in its path? This–among other things–is the question posed by Dust Bunny, the directorial debut from Bryan Fuller (Hannibal).

The plot is simple: Aurora (Sophie Sloan) is a 10-year-old girl living in New York City who is fully convinced that her home is haunted by a monster under the bed that comes out at night to try and eat her. This thought is escalated by the sudden death of her parents, who she believes was killed by the monster in the middle of the night. She eventually has to move around the house in a rowing hippo, afraid that she will be eaten if she steps foot on the floor. Taking matters into her own hands, Aurora decides to enlist the help of her neighbor (Mads Mikkelsen), who she sees fight monsters as a skilled hitman and believes could kill her own monster.

Dust Bunny often feels like the moments in Bill Watterson’s Calvin and Hobbes strips where Calvin checks if there’s a monster under the bed and hears or sees no one, but then they make a noise or move something on the bed to give themselves away. Given how vibrant Calvin’s imagination is, readers can flip a coin on whether or not the monsters are in fact real, or if Calvin’s tiger Hobbes is even real, and much of that plays into the ongoings of Dust Bunny as well. Aurora believes it without question, and wants to convince others of the fact, but often to no avail. Her neighbor–referred only to as Resident 5B–is still fascinated by the notion however, and does decide to look into it, leading to an incredibly entertaining flick that’s as charming and funny as it is often intense and unsettling.

Where Dust Bunny succeeds a lot is in its clever and inventive visuals. Fuller fills the movie with tons of visual gags and surreal props to make Aurora’s reality even more fantastical (watch out for the chicken lamp), while built over something that is definitely much darker and sinister beneath, and very much tapping into the childlike wonder of the situation, which increasingly becomes more sinister as the movie progresses, and the line between what is real and what might not be becomes more blurred, albeit in some incredibly unexpected ways. The movie is incredibly colorful, with some vibrant cinematography from Nicole Hirsch Whitaker and stylized violence where blood is either confetti, and the often wacky production design with maze-like homes and restaurants shown throughout, amplified by Aurora’s perspective of everything. Adding to that is Isabella Summers’ score that also brings the emotional beats and the bizarre New York City to life in truly fantastical ways.

Sophie Sloan conveys all those feelings wonderfully, giving a great performance and holding her own terrifically next to Mads Mikkelsen, who plays the assassin next door in a cold and calculated manner, but one who cannot help but be charmed and curious about what Aurora claims exists while helping her. The two have hilarious chemistry throughout as they navigate different facets of the underworld trying to find answers, even when the people they interact with become increasingly more evil, including a very fun turn from Sigourney Weaver who plays a mob boss trying her best to keep up with everything and get Resident 5B away from this situation.

When the action does go down, Fuller directs it in the most amusing ways, with everything given a more kid-friendly approach so Aurora doesn’t have to witness something too intense, with not a single drop of blood spilled (at least, not that she can see) and everything looking more like a comic panel than often. The more creepy moments as Aurora wakes up at night to the monster under her bed becoming bigger and angrier are also incredibly well done, with a very effective blend of practical effects and CGI throughout. Towards the third act, these hit exhilarating highs and lead to some lovely use of said practical effects and even solid puppetry, and even more clever use of the malleable sets present in the movie.

Could Dust Bunny delve a bit more into what led to everything with Aurora and her family? Perhaps, as the movie does allude often to a shadier past with her parents and what may have really gone down with them, and the story doesn’t look into that aspect as much as it hints at past a certain point, or what else is going on with Resident 5B and his line of work, but by the end, Dust Bunny is so much fun and so charming in its execution that it is able to overcome those minor flaws and result in an entertaining experience that is definitely worth a watch. Make sure to look under the bed after seeing it though, just in case.

Grade: A-

Director: Matt Danner
Writer: Jeff Kinney
Stars: Aaron D. Harris, Chris Diamantopoulos, Bashir Salahuddin

Synopsis: Greg continually finds himself at odds with his dad’s outsized expectations. As pressure builds to turn his act around after a series of hilarious near disasters, Greg’s dad presents him with an ultimatum—and a trip to wilderness camp—that just might challenge Greg’s wimpy ways for good.

While watching Diary of a Wimpy Kid: Christmas Cabin Fever in 2023, a feeling of dread slowly started creeping into me, as I suddenly realized, “Disney can’t be making these flimsy animated movies forever, can they?” Because the animated transpositions of Jeff Kinney’s popular book series took a one-year hiatus in 2024, I had foolishly thought The Mouse had put an end to what could’ve been a promising way to adapt Kinney’s work, without having to recast live-action actors as they grow old consistently, but it was ultimately disappointing endeavor that served to only mindlessly adapt the books, without trying anything different outside of its surface. The prior live-action works (minus The Long Haul) had a massive cultural imprint, as they were released a few years after the books took off. The animated franchise has never been able to recapture the same feeling, preferring to illustrate its bevy of humorous stories with the laziest, second-rate designs possible, without meaningfully expanding upon Kinney’s text.

There’s very little creativity in these movies, and the task of watching these admittedly short installments seems more like a chore than something you look forward to every holiday season. This latest effort, a semi-adaptation of The Last Straw, is just as boring as the other three entries in Disney’s most unimpressive modern-day animated works. That said, credit needs to be given to director Matt Danner (who previously helmed the unwatchable Night at the Museum: Kahmunrah Rises Again for the streamer) for at least trying to make Greg Heffley’s (Aaron D. Harris) latest adventure more expressive in its stretching and squashing than the desire to be animated but never do anything with the medium of the first three movies of this “reboot.” 

The animation flows much better – and is more vivid – in sequences where Greg’s “wimpy” antics blow out of proportion, which makes this entry more serviceable than the last films we got out of this series, meant to promote Kinney’s books but did nothing genuinely interesting with them. Kinney once again takes screenwriting duties, and his words aren’t as sharp (or resonant) as they are in his books, because the film lacks any form of verve, even if Danner is more interested in making this animated entry feel like…*checks notes*…an animated movie than the previous filmmakers who were tapped to helm these forgettable titles and did nothing with the prospect of an animated adaptation of these highly imaginative books. 

It still doesn’t change the fact that these movies aren’t remotely good, and this latest installment isn’t either, although it has a more concise story than the previous three movies, deciding to focus on Greg’s relationship with his father, Frank (Chris Diamantopoulos), rather than other characters from the books. For example, Greg’s friendship with Rowley (Jude Zarzuar) falls by the wayside, while Danner and Kinney further flesh out how Greg and Frank feel towards each other. Frank wants to send his son to military school so he can be whipped into shape, while Greg gives his father an ultimatum: if he reaches the badge of Woodchipper Elite at his Scouting club, he’s off the hook. If not, he’ll accept his Father’s choice to send him to Spag Union, the military academy.

Of course, several antics ensue, but they’re all indifferently bland, even if Danner’s semi-piquant style is more energetic than the previous three entries of this franchise. For once, there’s movement and attempts at expressivity. That said, it’s completely far removed from Disney’s current big-screen animated effort, Zootopia 2, which stimulates the senses for both young and old moviegoers alike in frequently jaw-dropping ways. There isn’t a single image in the animated Diary of a Wimpy Kid franchise, apart from Kinney’s hand-drawn drawings transposed to the screen, that stays with us. It’s a series of mindlessly forgettable motion pictures that undoubtedly serve as “second screen” entertainment, where the primary goal is to distract children for an hour and 15 minutes or so, rather than giving them something substantial to be transported by. 

Story-wise, it’s as “been there, done that” as you think, unable to bring its message home more effectively than simple morals that will leave your head as soon as they enter. There’s rarely anything of note in this, other than a light chuckle or two when Danner (or Kinney) reference more popular IPs, making you yearn to watch these titles instead of wasting your time with movies that haven’t improved, four entries in, and likely won’t, since they keep churning them out rapidly, as if audiences are clamoring for them when less and less of them are tuning in with each passing installment. 

Kids deserve so much better than this. The fact that parents will put them in front of a television to show them anything destined for children, as if their minds can’t comprehend what they’re seeing, is honestly contemptuous. They’re much smarter than you think and more averse to the world they’re living in than adults who were once in their shoes but have seemingly forgotten the magic of discovering life before it dawned upon them that this world is actually much harsher than they think. A film like Zootopia 2 will remind them of the joys of rediscovering cinema, as kids learn the true power of image-making and are consistently dazzled by what directors Byron Howard and Jared Bush put on the screen. A movie like Diary of a Wimpy Kid: The Last Straw will do the exact opposite. They’ll be momentarily distracted, sure, but will they like what they’re seeing? Will it have any lasting impact? Let’s talk in two weeks from now…

Grade: D-

Directors: Hélène Cattet, Bruno Forzani
Writers: Hélène Cattet, Bruno Forzani
Stars: Fabio Testi, Manon Beuchot, Yannick Renier

Synopsis: A retired spy suspects his former adversaries have resurfaced when his intriguing neighbor vanishes.

I would be lying if I said I understood everything about Hélène Cattet and Bruno Forzani’s Reflection in a Dead Diamond. In fact, everyone outside of the filmmakers probably would be. As confusing the narrative may be, it doesn’t take away from the style and substance the film delivers.

Fabio Testi stars as John Diman, a retired spy living in luxury on the French Riviera. Seeing his beautiful neighbor, John’s memories of his spy life in the ‘60s are rekindled. Young John (Yannick Renier) is tasked with protecting Markus Strand (Koen De Bouw) from a killer alongside his partner, Cantatrice (Kézia Quental). When Cantatrice disappears, John must piece together what happened while evading a killer named Serpentik.

Without giving too much away, there is much more to it than that. The story begins as a Bond tribute of a man looking back on the failings of his past, only for shocking bits of ultraviolence and reveals to twist the narrative into something completely different. At one point, you aren’t even sure John was a spy, but maybe was actually a movie star in a Bond-like franchise. Then again, maybe he was and this is the work of a more nefarious agent. When the film ends, there are certainly no definitive answers.

Instead, the film disorients while entertaining. Flashes of madmen in madness, memory-infused sequin dresses, layers upon layers of rubber masks, and dozens of other memorable images assault the senses. Even the action scenes invoke a sense of misunderstandings and bait-and-switches, mixed with an occasionally shocking amount of ultraviolence. At times, the audience is unaware what is a memory, a film scene, a hallucination, a dream, or a fantasy.

But understanding isn’t as important as experiencing. It’s completely possible (though, I believe unlikely), the filmmakers don’t actually care to present a coherent throughline and story and want to keep you guessing. This is certainly the type of film to become a candidate for cult classic status, only to be dissected and analyzed for years to come. But, don’t let the confusion turn you away. The Bond reference (and reverence) is enough to set you on the path to enjoying yourself. While the film does not have direct correlation to any spy genre, it pays homage and parodies all of those films.

While not playing the character in the present, Renier is the runaway star of the film. Balancing the debonair spy attitude with dashing good looks, but also a streak of insanity, the Belgian actor looks, acts, and lives the role. As a testament to his devotion, Renier never blinks at the insanity the filmmakers ask of him. This film marks his highest profile film in the United States, he stands a good chance of becoming the next international breakout star. In a supporting role, De Bouw paints a devilish picture as the erstwhile villain while Quental paints an indelible picture of the doomed female spy equivalent to John.

Testi does a fine job as the elder John, languishing in memories and possible psychosis in his modern-day luxury. Maria de Medeiros is the most famous face to American audiences, showing up to deliver a scene-stealing late-film performance. Every actor is equally committed to their roles and each excel. Reflection in a Dead Diamond might be confusing and alienating, but if you let the iconography and intrigue take you in, you might find yourself overwhelmed and enhanced by the experience.

Grade: B

Director: Jim O’Hanlon
Writers: Jimmy Carr, Patrick Carr, Andrew Dawson, Steve Dawson, Tim Inman
Stars: Damian Lewis, Tom Felton, Thomasin McKenzie

Synopsis: A new porter forms an odd bond with the youngest daughter of a well-known UK family. As the Davenport family, headed by Lord and Lady Davenport, deals with the epic disaster of the wedding of their eldest daughter to her caddish cousin.

Parody can be subtle like a hint of something in the background. It can also be blunt and sit on your chest like an overly large dog who instead of woofing, shouts, “Did you get it?” over and over again. Movie parodies are especially difficult to maneuver. In the ’80s heyday of the genre, they rarely referenced the films they were skewering directly, but built a story around the concept of the original with gags that were simultaneously clever, stupid, and crass. In more recent outings like the “[Blank] Movie” movies of the ’00s the parody is overt, often putting direct analogs from the films they’re skewering into a very heavy gag and non-existent story structure. Fackham Hall attempts to straddle these types of parody with varying degrees of success.

The film has genuine moments of humor. There are several funny gags or line readings that will make you chuckle, but it often relies heavily on crass gags. If you’re a person who likes your silly comedies with more wit, you’ll find with Fackham Hall you get more… toilet humor. It would be one thing if the film relied so much on the low brow, that has its merits as well, but these aren’t new lowbrow jokes, they’re stale and boring. Most of these gags feel cribbed from much better and far more interesting films. Fackham Hall feels very lazy in that way.

The actors, who can pull off some funny bits, also seem to forget to deliver their lines with a bit more sincerity because their characters shouldn’t know they’re in a comedy. Most of them deliver the lines with a bit of a goofy look on their faces, so the gag falls flat. While most of the principal cast have been in comedies before, they aren’t used to this type of comedy or delivery. They rush to get the lines out and when they pause behind it, it’s awkwardly long because they’re hoping for a laugh in that space. But that space becomes a place where our brain catches up with an, “Oh, right, that’s funny,” while it waits for the next gag.

The filmmaking itself, directed by Jim O’Hanlon, is very close to its source material. He and cinematographer Philipp Blaubach have the sweeping vistas of the great manor and the crowded party scenes well in hand. There’s one incredible special effects gag in the film that these two pull off very well. Eric (Ben Radcliffe) is wanting to show up the boorish Archie (Tom Felton) and so he takes the rifle Archie claims is defective and aims it at a beer bottle. It looks as though Eric has missed, but then we’re given the POV of the bullet as it lights a cigarette, ricochets off the dome of a serving tray, back the way it came to open a bottle of champagne, break the original bottle and land in the gun’s chamber with a smug Eric smiling down at Archie. It’s one of the best gags in the film and it feels fresh because of how they shot the scene.

That’s Fackham Hall‘s biggest problem. It feels so stale to parody Downton Abbey, Gosford Park, and other between the wars, class struggle stories. The prime of these stories was about twenty years ago. We’re well past when this parody would have been relevant. Sure the “final” Downton Abbey film was just in theaters a few months ago, but even then, the cultural moment has long passed it by. The concept is as stale as the comedy within.

It’s difficult to judge a film like this as comedy is a very subjective medium. There are going to be many people who laugh heartily at this film. There will be people who believe this film is a terrific time. If you like purely dumb comedy and just want to laugh at something silly, then more power to you. For those of us who have seen Airplane and other classic parodies, this film will feel too much like those. Worse, it feels like the used gum you step in on the street the day you wear your new sneakers. It’s gross and annoying.

Grade: D