Director: Michael Winterbottom
Writer: Michael Winterbottom, Laurence Coriat, Paul Viragh
Stars: Irina Starshenbaum, Harry Melling, Douglas Booth

Synopsis: In this edge-of-your-seat thriller, a British police officer and a Jewish woman fall in love amidst the political turmoil of 1930s Tel Aviv.

In this horrible period in the Israeli-Palestine conflict comes a growing output of films about the conflict of the last two years and of the years before 1948 when Israel was founded. No Other Land, Palestine ‘36, and The Voice of Hind Rajab all bring to light the absolute horrorshow of the Middle East and what seems to be an infinite war with no end in sight. It remains an impossible subject to navigate without showing a tint of partiality, especially when Shosana, the latest from director Michael Winterbottom (The Trip series), made the movie prior to the events of October 2023. Only this summer was the film released in the United States in the most relevant of times.

It is based on the true story of the titular character, Shoshana Borochov (Irina Starshenbaum), who is a member of the Hagunah, the Jewish defense force in British Palestine (1917-1948) formed to protect Jewish settlers from Arab attacks. Shoshana is the daughter of a leading figure in the Zionist Labour movement and is well known, and while the Hagunah is illegal, the British tend to look the other way as the group tolerates them for controlling Arab violence. She starts a relationship with a British Palestine police officer, Tom Wilkin (Douglas Booth), who knows of her affiliation but keeps it a secret for his superiors. This becomes a challenge when a more radical group, the Irgun, emerges with a more blunt violent attempt to banish Arabs and the British from the country.

Avraham Stern (Aury Alby) is the noted leader of the Irgun who makes it clear through bombings and shootings that British occupation is not acceptable. His presence complicates things and forms a fissure between Wilkin, doing his job, and Shoshana, who is trying to keep the peace and wants to be part of Stern’s gang of terrorists. However, Wilkin’s partner (Harry Melling) is an officer willing to get rough with any suspect to go after Irgun and Hagunah members as they threaten British imperial plans. Their informants get killed one-by-one by Stern as these aggressive tactics get leaked out with who has been talking and Wilkin can’t protect them. It builds to a violent climax that, considering what happens after, shatters the whole peace of the land.

Winterbottom, who has directed comedy, drama, and war films – his previous film, Eleven Days In May, is a documentary he co-directed about an Israel bombing campaign in Gaza – had the difficult task of tackling all of these real-life details, but does a decent job. It’s not flashy, and the script he co-wrote focuses on the conflicting politics of the time. It isn’t about Jews versus Arabs, but the civil war between Jewish militants, moderates, and the British occupants from one side. Add to the fact that all of this happened amidst the backdrop of World War II, where while they know Jews have been rounded up by the Nazis, they had no idea of the “final solution,” which would only accelerate the urgency of a Jewish state after the war. 

With the romantic section of the film, the movie has it take a backseat to the entire story. It lacks passion between the characters, not giving enough stakes to the danger of their relationship. Wilkin isn’t just with someone who’s a member of a criminal gang, but learns of a dangerous tie between Shoshana and the Irgun that puts his life and those of his countrymen in danger. Yet, what is something named important to the whole movie at the beginning becomes second-hand as the danger over the political situation boils up. The performances, as restrained, maintain their respective character’s emotional tone whether it be Melling giving Morton his cold, old-fashioned tone towards his subjects (the Jews and Arabs) or Starshenbaum’s balance between devotion to her cause and feelings for Wilkin.

Shoshana is a look at the past through the lens of a historical figure who saw everything from the beginning up to today. With archive footage to push the story along in the beginning and at the end, Winterbottom smoothly gives us a timeline through the British era where the volcano of religious nationalism was ready to erupt to what we see today. Even amongst the Jewish groups, how far they were willing to take it was split up, and the British had zero control of what was coming and couldn’t contain it. No love, even if there was passion for it in the film, was going to sustain the radical elements that were dooming it, and what we see today was always going to happen from the very beginning.

Follow me on X: @brian_cine (Cine-A-Man)

Grade: B

Director: Claire Denis
Writers: Claire Denis, Suzanne Lindon, Andrew Litvack
Stars: Matt Dillon, Isaach De Bankolé, Tom Blyth, Mia McKenna-Bruce

Synopsis: A vast public works project in West Africa. Horn, the construction site manager, and Cal, a young engineer, share lodging behind the double gates of their compound. Leone, Horn’s recent bride, comes to join them the same night that a man appears at the fence. His name is Alboury. Like a specter in the darkness, he demands the body of his brother who died earlier that day on the site. He will hound the two men all night long until they return it, as Leone watches the disaster play out before her.

Isaach de Bankolé has been a working actor for the better part of 40 years, yet despite his many collaborations with filmmakers like Claire Denis and Jim Jarmusch, among others, most “modern” audiences would probably recognize him from The Brutalist. Brady Corbet’s epic tale of artistry and corruption housed its fair share of scene-stealing performances – most notably Guy Pearce’s work as Harrison Van Buren, a role that would have won the Aussie an Academy Award in a just world – but de Bankolé’s turn as Gordon, the blue-collared pal to Adrien Brody’s László Toth, is the film’s most understated and grounded. While the Ivorian actor’s lines were limited and on-screen sequences relatively sparse, he served Corbet by remaining soft-pedaled in a movie chock full of theatrics and showy efforts from stars on their grandest levels. de Bankolé’s Gordon is a stoic realist, not one to shout nor berate, and certainly not one to take over a room with bellowing provocations about greatness and wealth. But given that he’s played by the man who rose to prominence in Denis’ Chocolat and has since made meals out of appetizer-sized portions in many a great film since, his position in the background never causes him to go invisible. 

So it’s extremely fitting that de Bankolé spends much of Denis’ new film, The Fence, lingering both in the background of many scenes and above the entire picture given its inciting incident, the death of his character’s brother on a construction site. Alboury has come to collect his brother Nouofia’s body; the site’s foreman, Horn (Matt Dillon), is hesitant to deliver it to him, so much so that it’s immediately evident that something awry and worth concealing has occurred. For the entirety of the film, Alboury stands on the other side of a fence – fitting – separate and unequal to Horn, who mans his workplace like a dictator with skeletons in his closet. By its conclusion, it matters less whether or not the literal fence is still standing, but if the barriers between Denis’ four main characters have been broken down, burst through, or have held firm. In some ways, all three occur at once. 

As The Fence is a mystery, questions abound from the top. Why, apart from their significant age difference and lack of chemistry, do things feel so off between Horn and his new wife Leone (Mia McKenna-Bruce), who arrives at the worksite thanks to Cal (Tom Blyth), Horn’s trusty human steed? Speaking of Cal, what’s up with him and Horn, namely their somewhat psychosexual dialogue that reeks of a power struggle and homoerotic fantasy? More than anything, though, uninformed audiences are sure to wonder why everyone is talking like that? The answer to the latter is far simpler than the rest: The Fence is adapted by Denis and her Both Sides of the Blade co-writers Suzanne Lindon and Andrew Litvack from Black Battles With Dogs, a French play by Bernard-Marie Koltès, and her choice to do so in such a faithful fashion causes her script to maintain its theatrical quality to a tee, but to a fault as well. There’s nothing wrong with a filmmaker exercising loyalty when it comes to a beloved source text – especially one she has lived with since seeing the play in 1979 – but one wonders whether or not this particular piece of stagecraft possesses enough of a cinematic quality for even a master such as Denis to get the translation right.

One can feel the stiltedness not only coming through in the dialogue, but in the way the characters move, too. While they have more room to walk about on Denis’ set – which has convincingly been turned from a real-life jail guarded by towers stocked with gunmen, gates, and barbed wire into a collection of shipping containers used as offices and bedrooms for those working on the site – than they would on stage, her actors seem committed to the notion that they only have so much flexibility to their motion, as if they’ll disappear behind a curtain should they travel too far. And though Dillon and Blyth are both excellent performers delivering stellar work here, only de Bankolé and McKenna-Bruce seem to be aware that they will be appearing in front of a crowd via projector, not a director’s off-stage call for action. 

Still, The Fence represents a fascinating entry in Denis’ legendary oeuvre, one that has never quite gone mainstream but has, at the very least, become more recognizable considering her inspired casting choices and her continued commitment to thrillingly romantic storytelling, even in its most harrowing sense. 2019’s High Life, one of the best films of that year, starred Robert Pattinson, Mia Goth, and another Denis mainstay in Juliette Binoche, and portrayed a spaceship full of criminals and a mad, horny doctor as they careened toward a black hole and screwed or murdered one another in the process. (It was her first film scripted entirely in English.) She took on double duty in 2022 with Both Sides of the Blade and Stars at Noon, and though neither film should be considered amongst her best efforts, they represent the two sides to her ever-evolving coin: A devotion to thoughtful, sensuous cinema in both French (Blade) and English (Stars), and a curiosity with actors old to her (Binoche and Vincent Lindon in the former) and new (Margaret Qualley and Joe Alwyn in the latter). 

The Fence somehow manages to be less successful than each of these previous three projects while being significantly more interesting at the same time. It’s certainly a play in film’s clothing and not the other way around, but even at its least digestible, it rises above what most other similarly brilliant auteurs would manage to mine from its material. Come for the fact that it’s another movie from Claire Denis – who knows how many more we’ll get – and stay for the dramatics within. Just don’t expect an intermission nor a moment to collect your thoughts on why it plays out in such stark, stagy manner.

The Fence screened in the Main Slate at the 63rd New York Film Festival. It is currently seeking U.S. distribution.

Grade: B-

Director: Julia Jackman
Writer: Julia Jackman
Stars: Emma Corrin, Nicholas Galitzine, Maika Monroe

Synopsis: A young bride named Cherry lives in a remote castle with her neglectful husband, Jerome, and their faithful maid, Hero. When the charming Manfred arrives, he throws their dynamic into chaos, leading Jerome to leave Cherry alone for a hundred days to test her fidelity.

It’s taken me a few days to actually sit down and write this review of Julia Jackman’s 100 Nights of Hero. I wanted to be totally sure of my feelings on the film before typing things out because there’s so much I liked about it, but other parts which I found put a stop to what could’ve been something great. 

Based on the graphic novel “The One Hundred Nights of Hero” by Isabel Greenberg, which itself was based on the Middle Eastern folktale “One Thousand and One Nights, 100 Nights of Hero” is a trippy, beautiful romantic fantasy centered on Cherry (Maika Monroe). She lives in this sort of medieval world whose sky has three moons and where humans worship the deity known as Birdman (Richard E. Grant). As weird as that may sound, it turns out this world isn’t all that different from our own. 

Cherry faces growing pressure from the rich relatives of her husband Jerome (Amir El-Masry) to produce a male heir, as women are seen as lesser in this society and aren’t even allowed to read or write. She leans on her maid and confidant Hero (Emma Corrin) for support against a husband who is indifferent to her. Hero, secretly a storyteller, gives Cherry an escape from reality and provides hope that maybe things don’t have to be this way. It’s maddening, because if Jerome truly loved Cherry, he’d be providing that, but this is part of where the relatability of writer/director Julia Jackman’s script comes from. Women in real life have had to keep going in a seemingly never ending fight of being held down and forced to conform to societal norms by the patriarchy all while longing to do more.

Instead of supporting his wife, Jerome leaves her with a mysterious stranger, Manfred (Nicholas Galitzine) and places Cherry at the center of a bizarre contest over her fidelity. Too often, I’ve found that men will do just about anything rather than listen to their partners while still holding all the power and that’s the case with Jerome. What he exhibits isn’t love, but rather a classic case of men treating their partners like toys just because they can. Jerome knows the kind of pressure Cherry is under to have a son and doesn’t care because if she doesn’t, as he can simply find another wife. 

Meanwhile, Cherry just wants to be a good wife and mother while also being loved by someone. That’s all she’s been taught to do and it takes Hero to make her realize that perhaps there is more to life than what she knows. You see Cherry come out of her shell throughout 100 Nights of Hero and it’s really awesome to witness because Maika Monroe can really showcase her character’s emotional evolution through facial expressions, tonal shifts, or even a quick look. You can feel Cherry’s desire, her kindness, and, ultimately, the love she develops as the film goes on through Monroe’s performance.

Cherry can’t very well be a good wife with a hilarious oaf like Manfred breathing down her neck in an effort to get her to sleep with him, which is why she turns to Hero to distract Manfred with the tale of Rosa (Charli XCX) and her sisters. That story does more than take Manfred’s mind elsewhere though, it also opens Cherry up to new possibilities.  

In a bit of a surprise, Charli XCX impressed me with her brief but pivotal turn as Rosa. She commands the screen and honestly this makes me want to see her in a more substantial role. Though Corrin, Monroe, and Galitzine are tremendous, this film’s most heartbreaking moment comes from the pop star turned actress. I give her all the credit in the world for making me see Rosa as opposed to Charli.  

There’s a real passion beyond Jackson’s storytelling as she tells two stories which have similar themes. We see parallels between Rosa and Cherry throughout the film and get to see just how powerful stories can be when it comes to inspiring people to do more, but how they can change the world around them. This historical fairy tale is filled with harsh realities and ultimately a sense of hope and I give Jackson a lot of credit for finding the right tonal balance throughout the film. 

Jackson’s script also combines with some truly divine cinematography from Xenia Patricia to create a fantastical, dreamy atmosphere. You get the sense that this is a grounded world but at any moment, the color palette can shift to something more magical and trippy, signaling the changeover to Hero’s story. These visuals will captivate you, calling to mind the styles of Wes Anderson and Emerald Fennell while having their own unique flair. 

Where 100 Nights of Hero runs into a bit of trouble comes back to the screenplay. For as much good as Julia Jackman does, she still seems to hold the viewer at arms length. There isn’t as much depth given to this world or even our main players if we’re being honest. We are given just enough so that what we see throughout the film makes sense, from how this world works to why these characters ultimately end up at their end points, but Jackman never allows us to fully connect with them. There’s not enough meat on this screenplay’s bones which makes it seem like it was made for teenagers or young adults at most. Its marketing and actual content skewers towards an audience in their twenties ala Saltburn, and yet Jackson doesn’t give any real depth to her religious metaphors, character decisions, or how this world with fantastical elements really works. There’s a voiceover to kind of explain things, but nothing more. From that point on, the story just happens and whether or not it works for you depends on how much you enjoy everything else. 

100 Nights of Hero is a fascinating fairy tale with powerful themes. Even though it could use more depth in several areas, the bare bones of this story should be enough for audiences to enjoy as they ponder how much societal norms have shifted when it comes to women and the work that still needs to be done.

Grade: C+

Director: Osgood Perkins
Writer: Nick Lepard
Stars: Tatiana Maslany, Rossif Sutherland, Birkett Turton

Synopsis: Liz and Malcolm escape for a romantic anniversary weekend at a secluded cabin. When Malcolm suddenly returns to the city, Liz finds herself isolated and in the presence of an unspeakable evil that reveals the cabin’s horrifying secrets.

Osgood Perkins has been on a bit of a hot streak with Neon as of late, with a sleeper hit in the gritty noir that is Longlegs, to his cartoonish dark comedy lean in The Monkey. It seems that he’s found his stride with the distribution company despite the hit-or-miss nature of his films. Perkins’ latest feature, Keeper, is arguably his most stripped-back, slow stab at the horror genre since The Blackcoat’s Daughter, a fairly simple setup of a premise unveiling the layers of its horror as it goes on. Unfortunately, Keeper lands on the weaker side of Perkins’ filmography as it struggles to capitalize on any of the intrigue it has going for it. Perkins is no stranger to abstract artistry within his visuals, and that remains true in Keeper, but they’ve never been this substanceless, adding nothing of value to the film’s atmosphere, and by its end, it rushes to the finish line to explain away all its mystery. Despite any interest it may have garnered, Keeper is all intrigue and no substance. This slow burn only burns more wheels to spin through the film’s runtime, cementing itself as one of Perkins’ worst directorial efforts. 

After a montage of women being shown to us in quick succession, being tortured and preyed upon in quick POV shots, the movie begins from the perspective of Liz (Tatiana Maslany) and Malcolm (Rossif Sutherland). The two have been dating for a bit and decide to go on a trip to a cabin Malcom owns in the middle of the woods. Aside from the occasional visit of annoyance from his cousin Darren (Birkett Turton), Malcolm mostly tries to keep Liz company. However, as the days pass and Malcolm starts to leave her in the cabin alone, Liz comes to learn of the dark secrets that reside within the cabin and how she and the previous victims within it are all connected. 

Even with its extremely typical setup within the genre, Perkins does give Keeper a few merits of sorts. One element Perkins has always been able to accomplish behind the camera is providing an eerie atmosphere and image of locations within his more dread-filled horror, and the film is most effective at this when it starts. From his use of dissolves, multiple angles of the cabin to make it truly feel alive, even the horrific designs of the film’s creatures, Perkins has a knack for scary imagery, and it helps when Maslany sells every moment of terror and mystery in an incredibly captivating performance. 

Unfortunately, the longer Keeper goes on, the more its problems start to increase. No matter how many surreal shots or scenes of tension Perkins crafts, the film, despite its 99-minute runtime, starts to drag early on. Slow burns within the genre tend to vary from each film in terms of effectiveness, and Keeper’s repetitive usage of quick creepy shots and quick succession, and what was effective at first is tiring less than halfway through the film. To top it all off, as the film enters its last third, there comes a staple of some Osgood Perkins movies, which is explaining everything that’s going on in the mystery within rapid-fire succession. Sometimes it’s more effective, like in Longlegs’ storytime, telling of its final reveals, but it’s where this film completely deflates. It’s unfortunate, considering this final section of the film is where the shot composition and creep factor are truly striking, but it’s never enough to dispel how disappointing the initial reveal is. 

There’s also something to be said about how little the film decides to delve into the darker subject matter it initially presents of generational trauma inflicted upon women. In addition to Nick Lepard’s lackluster reveals within his script, as the film slowly unveils itself, there’s never anything interesting conveyed about this theming at all. In the final scene, Perkins’ imagery remains somewhat effective, but the script’s monotonous nature lets down any lasting impact that could’ve been left on the viewer.

Keeper’s faults never make it a complete waste, but it certainly makes it a complete disappointment as a genre picture. Suffering from a tedious structure and sugar reveals within its final act, despite its occasional burst of creativity, Keeper might be the most alarming mode of picture an Osgood Perkins feature has ever been in, boredom.

Grade: C–

Director: Steve Carr
Writer: Holly Hester
Stars: Alicia Silverstone, Oliver Hudson, Jameela Jamil

Synopsis: A separated couple tries celebrating one last Christmas together with their kids before their divorce. However, the husband’s new girlfriend joins the festivities, causing tension and chaos during the holidays.

The Christmas centered rom-com is a staple for a reason. It heightens this time of love, good will, and family. It exposes the cracks in something thought unbreakable and its traditions a reminder of the good times. For new romance, Christmas is the tension point, but for a second chance romance it’s a point at which the lovers find their footing as to who they once were to each other.

It could seem like a type of spoiler to announce that A Merry Little Ex-Mas is a second chance romance, but it’s obvious as soon as you get the rhythm of the film. It would be hard to spoil a romance as the destination is a foregone conclusion. It’s a staple of the genre for there to be a happy ending. It’s a genre that embodies the, “it’s the journey, not the destination,” ethos.

The journey that is A Merry Little Ex-Mas is a pretty delightful one. That’s mainly thanks to Alicia Silverstone as Kate. She’s an actress who can give something more substantial to the silliness around her with just a look. She’s never lost that bright and hopeful optimism of her best roles, but her characters now, and especially Kate, keep the optimism with a healthy dose of reality mixed in. Silverstone has a good sense of timing with an emotive face that makes her a heroine to cheer for.

We want to cheer for Kate, even if her trajectory rings a bit false at the end. Writer Holly Hester does an excellent job within the tropes of the genre. She’s come up with ridiculous and funny scenarios as well as a host of great characters. Most of the ridiculous scenarios involve either terrific himbo Chet (Pierson Fodé) or adorkable Harry Potter tour guide and along for the ride boyfriend Nigel (Timothy Innes).

The producers made the right call in hiring journeyman comedy director Steve Carr as well. He’s got the depth of knowledge to pull off some excellent bits because he understands how he can enhance a well written scene. There’s a scene toward the end that is a perfect piece of chaos. As the Christmas tree comes aflame, man of many hats, Chet leaps into action. The much more competent Gabriel (Wilder Hudson), goes to actually help, while Chet tears off his clothes because he tells us later, they are flame retardant, which is necessary for his exotic dancing act. Carr and cinematographer Adam Santelli show us wide angles of the sexy floor show and the reactions of the audience, including the lecherous April (Melissa Joan Hart), sipping her martini. It’s a weird and funny scene that was enhanced by Carr’s direction. Though, like most of the film, it feels like far too easy of a solution.

Too easy is sometimes the trouble with a genre that deals with falling in love. It may be that this film’s story feels this way because the characters were in love before. They have the basis and they have no true animosity until it comes out in the course of the story. So, to see the obvious end coming as it barrels on toward us feels like a bit too much compromise was made for the sake of the genre. There are concessions in the finale toward where the story could have gone, but the need for the correct type of happy ending failed the storytelling of the film.

A Merry Little Ex-Mas isn’t supposed to redefine the rom-com genre. It isn’t supposed to upend the tropes or give us a twist to really ponder. What it is meant to do is give us another story that can make us feel a little less alone and a little like we might want to escape to a very small town where everyone knows your business because they care. It’s meant to make us laugh, cry, and feel warm inside. A Merry Little Ex-Mas  does all of that. It’s a film that feels like fuzzy slippers and a mug of hot cocoa and that’s not a bad thing at all.

Grade: C

Director: Alex Woo
Writers: Alex Woo, Erik Benson
Stars: Jolie Hoang-Rappaport, Elias Jenssen, Craig Robinson

Synopsis: In Your Dreams is a comedy adventure about Stevie and her brother Elliot, who journey into the absurd landscape of their own dreams. If the siblings can withstand a snarky stuffed giraffe, zombie breakfast foods, and the queen of nightmares, the Sandman will grant them their ultimate dream come true…the perfect family.

The opening scene of Alex Woo’s In Your Dreams immediately grabbed my attention only by a smart employment of Outkast’s “Hey Ya!” as a family prepares breakfast in a relatively fast-paced fashion. If you want to ensure your audience is locked in from the minute it begins, the song is perfect, especially as it punctuates a rather chaotic family dynamic between Stevie (Jolie Hoang-Rappaport), her brother Elliot (Elias Janssen), and her parents (voiced by Simu Liu and Cristin Milioti). The familial relationship seems joyful and loving, until, we realize, this occurred many years ago, and their current bond has been fractured for some time. 

Before we even get a sense of the gist of the story, it becomes clear that, by the end of the film, every “uncertainty” plaguing Stevie’s life, whether in her mother potentially accepting a new job at a city far away from their home or their parents likely eyeing a separation as the opportunity of a new professional endeavor tears the family from the inside, would be resolved satisfactorily. Woo and co-writer Erik Benson tread on incredibly familiar territories, and don’t do much to reinvent what’s already been treated in way better movies than this one. That said, this isn’t inherently a problem, because most family films tend to repeat the same storylines, through different thematic and visual variations, for kids to grasp complex subjects they will understand more deeply later in life. Yet, the execution from Woo in his story feels incredibly lazy, and that’s the biggest issue plaguing the core of In Your Dreams.

Take, for instance, a sequence where Stevie and Elliot go to a pizzeria that has absolutely no correlation whatsoever to Freddy Fazbear’s. No, sir, where are you getting this idea from? Instead of creating an animated world that feels distinct and is far removed from known IPs and other familiar designs, Woo’s movie consistently reappropriates stuff we know from popular culture and tries to pass it off as its own. At some point, Stevie and Elliot are in a dream where their bed rides an attraction with a visual palette similar to Disney’s “It’s a Small World,” while Not Freddy Fazbear haunts them by singing a “creepy” version of The Pussycat Dolls’ “Don’t Cha,” a song that was already dated when it released to the world. 

Even sequences of great creativity, such as a chase scene in the protagonists’ own dreams with their bed acting as a horse of sorts, have obvious callbacks to classic films that don’t feel earned, such as the most famous image from Steven Spielberg’s E.T. the Extraterrestrial. Credit where credit is due, though, the setpiece builds to that moment, and Woo does slightly get away with it, since E.T. is also about larger-than-life dreams for a child who discovered a world he didn’t even know existed before meeting the alien that will change his life. Still, it indicates a larger problem that the movie can’t effectively transcend – everything looks and feels like reheated nachos. 

Even Elliot’s favorite plush toy, Tony Baloney (Craig Robinson), who comes to life in their dreams, is totally not Donkey, and Robinson is absolutely not in any way imitating the same vocal patterns as Eddie Murphy’s portrayal of his most iconic animated character. Again, there isn’t a single original idea in Woo’s film, whether in its micro details in tracking a divided family who will eventually bond through their subconscious, or in its macro world as the siblings must plow through Nightmara (Gia Carides), the figure representing all of their deepest, darkest, nightmares before reaching the Sandman (Omid Djalili), who promises to make all of their biggest dreams come true. 

I don’t even need to describe anything else, because you probably know that the Sandman is not what he seems, and the same can also be said for Nightmara. There is a deeper moral to appreciate when both mythical figures are stripped down to their most human characteristics. However, Woo doesn’t delve as deeply as he can in making these characters feel as textured and three-dimensional as the telegraphed relationship between Stevie and Elliot. Yes, both are familiar, but their dynamic is at least entertaining enough to make us want to see their journey through, regardless of whether it’s (too) easy to figure out where it’s heading. 

With all that being said, In Your Dreams is neatly animated in its attempt to replicate the same “quest for realism” as Pixar does, until it surprises through a staggering maximalist shift when the characters dream of “dynamite fists.” What that entails won’t be spoiled in this review, but this is where Woo frees itself from its conventional shackles and, on some occasions, gets surprisingly invigorating and creative. One wishes the entire movie were like this, because In Your Dreams rarely attempts to surpass its conventional narrative and character beats, instead preferring to stay within the limited imagination and references it wants to bathe in. 
Kids will undoubtedly enjoy it as a mild distraction. As a result, the movie will likely achieve massive success on Netflix. But will it have the same unexpected cultural longevity as KPop Demon Hunters, which became a worldwide phenomenon in the weeks after its initial release on the streamer and is now positioned to be a major awards contender? That is the question of the hour, and there’s only one way to find out…

Grade: D+

Director: Ryan White
Stars: Andrea Gibson, Megan Falley

Synopsis: Facing an incurable diagnosis, two poet lovers embark on a poignant yet unexpectedly humorous exploration of love, mortality, and life’s moments.

Anyone who has found themselves surprisingly weeping through a song or in the audience of a musical knows an unassailable fact. Music has the power to move us when normal words fail. There is something in our brains that connects with this, even at a young age. Andrea Gibson, one of the main subjects of Come See Me In The Good Light is not a musician, at least not in the common sense. But, as a spoken word poet, there is a lyricism in both their voice and their published work that triggers that same point in our brains. 

Of course, the film is not only about their work, but also about their relationship and their diagnosis of and living with ovarian cancer. As the film opens, they have already been living with the diagnosis for quite some time. But this film is absolutely not what you may think. There have been many stories of people struggling with cancer and dying from it. Come See Me In the Good Light is something different and singular. Finding not only a peek into Andrea’s mind but also into their relationship with poet Megan Falley is insightful, life-affirming, and deeply moving. 

It is impossible to watch this film without a sense of awe and wonder at the way Andrea looks at the world. This is the attraction to artists in general, as they tend to think deeper and differently about the world around us and our very existence. To have the gift of two artists as the focus of this film truly fills the audience with wonder. The film nearly forces you to wonder about how you might react to having your life possibly cut short by this horrendous disease. What would I do? How would I react? Would I, like Andrea, want to hold on to whatever life might have to offer? Or would we rather be comfortable and end it sooner? These are impossible questions to answer if we are not at this point, but Andrea knows, seemingly without much doubt.

Even when the cancer threatens to take their instrument, their voice, there never seems to be a loss of passion and faith. Faith in their existence propels them, even when emotion threatens to overwhelm every thought. The relationship on display is truly one of deep connection and one to aspire towards. Watching the two of them navigate their emotions and the ups and downs of living with a disease manages to be both entertaining and a real look at the sadness of possible impending loss. Director Ryan White manages to balance all of these emotions (with the help of his subjects) and the absolute stunning joy of life, regardless of our struggles. 

The film seems blessed with the turns that Andrea’s life takes. The fact that they are able to perform one last time allows the story to not only focus on Gibson’s past but also the present. Additionally, it gives an opportunity to instill their moving performances in front of an adoring crowd. That audience, along with those of us watching, realize that we are seeing something important. A chance for Andrea Gibson to process this struggle, pain, and triumph on their own terms. And this is really where the musicality of the film comes to the forefront.

Previously, we were given drops of their talent in reviewing their history, complete with a frank discussion of difficulties with sexuality and gender. But now, as the event begins (complete with an appearance from producer Tig Notaro), it feels a bit like when a sports movie gets to the big game or fight. It has all led to this. And to say that it does not disappoint is the understatement of the century. Andrea Gibson’s final performance, aided by their words superimposed on the screen, creates a perfect storm of pure emotion. The audience will feel not only Gibson’s history of struggle, but our own, as well. There is little to no chance of dry eyes as they succeed in not only getting on stage, but performing to the hilt (helped by a deeply adoring crowd).

You cannot speak about Come See Me In the Good Light without being awestruck by the power of love and connection. This is not simply a reflection of Andrea and Megan’s relationship, but how they both see the world. Yes, there is pain and struggle, but all that means is that we are still alive and fighting. Even if Andrea can never perform again, their spirit and work endures and urges us to be grateful for the limited time we have on this beautiful planet, surrounded by others who fight their own fights.

Grade: A

Director: Lotfy Nathan
Writer: Lotfy Nathan
Stars: Nicolas Cage, Noah Jupe, FKA Twigs

Synopsis: Family hiding in Roman Egypt. Son known as ‘the Boy’ doubts guardian ‘the Carpenter’, rebelling with mysterious powers. As he uses abilities, they face natural and divine horrors.

If you’ve ever been curious about the upbringing and youthful life of Jesus — yes, Jesus Christ — then writer and director Lotfy Nathan has just the film for you. A mixture of psychological horror and hysterical scripture shouting, The Carpenter’s Son is filled with spiritual violence and completely committed performances. Based on “The Infancy Gospel of Thomas (an apocryphal gospel about Christ’s childhood), a devout Nicolas Cage bellows prayers while raising the Son of God. Bathed in its serious tone, which helps bolster tense moments, makes this non-biblical peek into Jesus’s life fascinating to behold.

Genre filmmaking is at its best when it’s telling stories that challenge its audiences, and Nathan does just that with The Carpenter’s Son. While it has its fair share of issues, it’s refreshing to see a view of the life of Jesus that is complicated, especially during his formative years. As the film begins, The Mother (FKA Twigs) screams in pain from birthing The Boy (Noah Jupe) in secret, with The Father (Nicolas Cage) keeping guard and assisting when possible. As The Boy takes his first breaths into the world, The Father knows that his son is different and deeply fears for his family’s safety. Quickly taking them on the road to seek shelter and lay low, The Boy’s powers are unable to be hidden as he grows.

The more whispers of the healing powers of The Boy make their way through the village, the more complicated this life becomes. While The Mother remains adamant that her son is special beyond what words can describe, the family’s faith is tested in numerous ways. The Father is undoubtedly abusive, mostly seen through the relationship between The Father and The Mother. Nathan frames the story with her in the background, and it’s one of the flaws The Carpenter’s Son has — cutting off her thoughts and feelings on her son’s well-being while being completely controlled by The Father. Their relationship is a point of confusion, with The Father seeming more like her handler than her partner.

The relationship between The Father and The Boy rarely feels attached to one another; throughout the film, The Father chastises his son, and while his fears for their safety are admirable, it poses interesting questions to the audience. If there’s an ability to help and heal those less fortunate, why shouldn’t it be shared? The Boy doesn’t completely understand his healing hands at first, and his young age leaves him susceptible to those who seek to take advantage. While being pranked by The Stranger (Isla Johnston), he unknowingly heals a leper. The more The Boy comes into his own and stands up to his overbearing father, the more powerful he becomes. The Father is a man who deeply wants the best for his child, but his faith in his son’s powers isn’t as deep as The Mother’s.

As any teenager, The Boy is tempted at every turn — showing interest in a beautiful young woman, being distracted from his studies, and listening to those who don’t have the best intentions for him. He is barely able to recite scripture and questions the practices of his teacher. These temptations make him relatable, and Nathan doesn’t shy away from showing the teen who will become Jesus as a flawed character. Jupe is easily the glue that holds the film together; his impassioned performance as a young Jesus shows a side of his life believers and nonbelievers alike rarely see. His conflicts with The Father are intense, and Jupe is able to hold his own against a talent like Cage, even outdoing him during their on-screen disagreements.

The biggest disappointment with The Carpenter’s Son is how underutilized FKA Twigs is, and while the camera undoubtedly loves her, it rarely is on her. She gets a few satisfactory minutes of screen time that make it worth her being in the film, but her soft-spoken nature is sorely missed. Her chemistry with Cage is abrasive and highlights the hardships women went through during these times — showing women as basically cattle rather than those who are allowed a say in their lives. It’s a shame that Nathan doesn’t highlight Twigs more in the film, but when she’s on screen with Jupe, their age gap doesn’t lend any favors to the believability that this is her son. She feels no doubt about how special her son is and always believes in his abilities, but Nathan doesn’t give the two enough to work with to make their relationship compelling. Twigs has a bright spark of becoming a unique actress, but The Carpenter’s Son doesn’t allow her to ignite.

Adapting from non-biblical stories makes each of the miracles The Boy creates seem less holy and more disturbing. Nathan making this a horror film was the correct decision, and it’s gnarly to witness. Snakes being pulled from throats, ears being bitten off, and unsettling nightmares — it’s easy to see how one would confuse it with witchcraft. Although there’s room for more gore, a film about Jesus showing this amount of blood and violence leaves a mark far beyond its runtime. Stunningly captured by Simon Beaufils, he creates a world that instantly transports us into their world; it’s dark, bleak, but oddly uplifting. Paired with the grimy aesthetic, with characters covered in a mixture of dirt and blood, The Carpenter’s Son is atmospherically divine. While The Carpenter’s Son could use more of a feminine presence, it shows how dynamic Jupe is and gives audiences a fresh new perspective on Jesus. Visually blessed and blood-soaked, Nathan’s newest film will be sure to spark conversation from those devout and those not.

Grade: C+

Director: John Swab
Writer: John Swab
Stars: James Badge Dale, Ben Foster, Michael Mando

Synopsis: Based upon extensive research with law enforcement, gangs, inmates, migrants, and addicts, an exposé on fentanyl trafficking, and its effect on all walks of life.

When viewing a cops and robbers action film, there is an ever-present expectation of the next story beats. We’ve all seen many action thrillers before and each has genre presumptions for the film to follow. The beauty of John Swab’s King Ivory is the push against those presumptions to deliver something unexpected and calculated instead of the expectations of conventional storytelling.

That’s not to say the film is actively pushing against those conventions simply to be performative. Instead, the filmmakers take those genre elements and manipulate them ever so slightly, and they feel revolutionary. If the cops make a big case, they have a metric ton of paperwork to do. A massive action set piece ends with no death and no dialogue. All the action takes place in Tulsa, Oklahoma. That doesn’t sound like much, but when these films begin to feel interchangeable, little updates make all the difference.

James Badge Dale, Ben Foster, and Michael Mando co-star as the headliners in each of their separate stories, which combine as a Traffic-esque whole. Dale plays Layne West, a Tulsa drug cop looking to shut down fentanyl distribution in the city. Foster plays George “Smiley” Greene, an Irish enforcer fresh out of jail. Mando plays Ramon Garza, the Mexican cartel’s local rep who works with the Indian Brotherhood head Holt Lightfeather (Graham Greene) to distribute drugs as well as working as a coyote, ferrying Mexicans over the border into the US.

West works closely with his partner Ty (George Carroll), but has to deal with the rebellion from his teenage son, Jack (Jasper Jones), which leads to Jack’s addiction to fentanyl. Smiley navigates the ins-and-outs of the drug trade, while dealing with his unpredictable uncle, Mickey (Richie Coster), and his protective mother, Ginger (Melissa Leo). Garza tries to redeem a deadly mistake by allowing immigrant Lago (David Bacrena) to work for him, while attempting to get medicine for his daughter.

This film could have easily gone down as a “message movie” covering the dangers of fentanyl, the failings of government, and society as a whole. There is a distinct opportunity for the film to take that moral stance, but it instead decides there are no good solutions. In fact, it makes the argument the drug distributors have as much at stake as anyone else. A shocking amount of empathy and understanding is given to people who would otherwise be viewed as the criminal contingent. No act is viewed as criminal for the sake of evil. Even an act of cold-blooded murder (by more than one character) is seen as necessary, or in a specific case, completely justified.

But it’s not all just subversion. When the action ramps up, Swab knows how to stage a solid action scene. A late film hotel shootout circumvents the usual “you shoot, I shoot” standard and adds extra wrinkles, like shooting through hotel walls, or bystanders viewing all the action. Despite a fair amount of shootings, stabbings, and death, the film has very little interest in carnage or gore. Death is a part of the story, but it’s not anything it wants to dwell on, unless that’s the precise point. A scene with a fentanyl overdose and the incredibly human response is a particular highlight.

While each character might not have the most development, the actors portraying them are dynamic enough to give bits of color where there otherwise would be none. Mando specializes in playing a character of deceiving sensitivity, and this film is no different. Luckily, Mando is really good at it. Foster underplays almost every moment, but he makes it work. Equipped with a tracheostomy, he barely talks, and when he does, hardly speaks above a whisper (all of his lines are subtitled). Dale might be one of the most underrated, consistently working actors, able to embody both police officer machismo, and parental sensitivity from moment to moment. Each actor carries his segment wholeheartedly.

Of the supporting players, Coster has the most to do, and adds more to it than any other. Leo has one scene of any substance, and tears into it, but has little to do otherwise. The recently departed Greene is always a welcome on-screen presence, if only for a few minutes of screentime. If the film has an issue, it’s Jones, unable to rise to the occasion of the more seasoned actors around him. His character should be the corrupted innocent, but he is far too annoying of a character to connect to. That’s not only Jones’ fault, as the screenplay doesn’t do his characters any favors either. King Ivory subverts as many expectations as possible, while still maintaining the ability to entertain as an action thriller. That fact alone is worth the price of admission.

Grade: B

Director: Edgar Wright
Writers: Stephen King, Michael Bacall, Edgar Wright
Stars: Glen Powell, Emilia Jones, Josh Brolin

Synopsis: A man joins a game show in which contestants, allowed to go anywhere in the world, are pursued by “hunters” hired to kill them.

Watching the remake of Edgar Wright’s freakishly exciting and relentlessly propulsive The Running Man, if you didn’t know it before, you’ll know it now: Glen Powell is the next great movie star. You’ve known since the man burst onto the scene with Everybody Wants Some!! that he was destined for cinematic greatness. When he was passed over for the role of Goose’s son in Top Gun: Maverick, he licked his wounds and turned “Hangman” into a magnetic creation all his own. He even survived the media-engineered off-screen romance rumors with Sydney Sweeney, but before you knew it, reviving the rom-com at the box office with Anyone But You.

Now, with the resurrection of the character of Ben Richards, a role originated by Arnold Schwarzenegger, he cuts through the chauvinistic bullsh*t for a performance that straight rips and slaps and f*cks, or whatever the kids are saying nowadays. Powell is angry, wanting to grab the audience by their vengeful throats—a turn for one who knows how it feels to be impoverished, starving, and downtrodden. In almost every scene, this can be felt viscerally.

The remake of The Running Man is an action thriller packed with glorious carnage, humor, and a message about socioeconomic status that captures the reason Stephen King created the source material in the first place: don’t mind the fact that corporate media is entertaining you, but consider what it is preparing us for.

If you’ve seen the 1987 original, you’re familiar with the story. Powell stars as Ben Richards, a laborer who makes being fired for insubordination a national pastime. When we meet Ben, he’s holding his sick child, who is dying of the flu, and pleading with his boss for his job back. Richards is denied, bringing his baby girl only to stop himself from burying the arrogant supervisor’s face in his metal desk and leaving an indentation like Han Solo’s face in carbonite.

Ben has one big, furious chip on his shoulder. He is out of money, which he needs for his daughter’s medication. He is enraged that his wife, Sheila (Sinners’ Jayme Lawson), has to work for tips at a sleazy club to help make ends meet. His ego is bruised. His manhood is shaken. And the man is so prideful that it shields him from showing any humility. So, what does he do? Ben decides to try out for a series of game shows that will test his mental toughness and physical capacity to earn the cash his family needs.

However, in today’s dystopian society, nearly all of them injure, cripple, and maim their contestants. There is just one game show he will never try: the worldwide sensation The Running Man. What is it? Well, it is a killer network reality game show that promises to give a worthy player one billion dollars if they survive 30 days without being killed by five of the world’s finest hunters. Of course, the show’s producer, Dan Killian (Josh Brolin at his seedy best), sees Ben as an instant star. Not to mention a man who may change the game forever.

Edgar Wright helms the remake of The Running Man, deconstructing the genre by treating the audience to an enthralling thriller that highlights the absurdity of corporate media while also conveying an emotional core that keeps viewers engaged. Wright also brings the same qualities he’s known for in his previous works, like Baby Driver, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, and Hot Fuzz: he infuses a kinetic energy that is unmatched. His lens has rhythmic transitions that convey musicality and rhythm.

Wright’s beats are unmistakable, along with comic precision brought out by a few notable supporting turns. There is Michael Cera, an underground dissident from Maine who wants to help Powell’s character bring down the Network with pamphlets, squirt guns, and, I don’t know, gumption. Then there is the great Colman Domingo, whose loquacious, morally corrupt ringmaster hosts the series that has taken the world by storm. The Academy Award-nominated actor brings a commanding, morally complex presence that perfectly embodies the themes.

Is the movie perfect? No. For instance, the ending is too abrupt, fixated on an influencer gimmick that can detract from the immersive experience. There is a sleight of hand that is a bit too convenient and neat, where it feels like a compromise between studio demands and an artist’s self-indulgence. Some may quibble that Powell’s turn becomes a little unhinged when speaking directly into the camera, which may be perceived as a tad pandering. 

Yet, at the same time, the cherry-on-top-of-sorts ending does encapsulate the revolt against authoritarianism that the movie holds up with a giant middle finger to the establishment. The script, written by Wright and Michael Bacall, also smartly utilizes modern technology to keep the viewer guessing where the story is headed. This is where Brolin’s villain is so compelling, always one step ahead of our hero, but as the ending reveals, never able to predict a cultural shift in society. 

The Running Man is worth watching for its well-earned self-awareness. Yes, this is an adrenaline-fueled, action-packed, and amped-up satire. Yet, it feels apt considering we are living in a time when politicians are controlling the media and holding up food subsidies for needy families. At the same time, the oligarchy, fat cats, and corporate overlords are throwing costume balls as people experiencing poverty suffer. 

Wright has crafted a big studio remake that keeps a pulse on what is happening today, on our digital screens, and right before our eyes.

 
You can watch The Running Man only in theaters starting November 14th!

Grade: A-

Director: Bess Kargman
Stars: Diane Warren, Cher, Common

Synopsis: The untold story of a legendary songwriter. Featuring Cher, Common, Jennifer Hudson, Gloria Estefan, Kesha, LeAnn Rimes, and more.

In the beginning of the film, Cher says about her ‘If I Can Turn Back Time’ songwriter, “Diane is nuts.” Just about everyone in the documentary says the word that is part of the movie title: relentless. Diane Warren herself has it on a bracelet she wears, “Relentless as fuck.” At the end of the documentary, it says that Warren has no plans to retire. Aged sixty-nine, why would she? For the last forty-years, hit after hit after hit has been written by one single person and movie after movie after movie has a song written by this same one person who keeps getting nominated for Oscars – and not winning. But director Bess Kargman goes through her life in a breeze, delving into the ins and outs of her upbringing, career decisions, and the enigma of how a Van Nuys girl became songwriting royalty.

Warren, who has Asberger’s and says her neurodivergency has played a massive role in her creativity, explains the massive drive that pushes her. Her childhood wasn’t totally happy and Diane developed a hot streak of rebellion being a teen in the 1970s and ran away multiple times to where her own parents put her in juvenile detention after catching her with marijuana. It also didn’t help that when she sought out a music career, Diane’s own mother continued to doubt her, trying to steer her into being a secretary, like she was. Only Diane’s father recognized the drive and bought her first guitar; she would give tribute to him in ‘Because You Loved Me’ by Celine Dion for the movie, Up Close and Personal.

With every bump along the road and people challenging her and doubting her, Diane’s thought is, “Fuck you. I’ll prove you wrong.” It is this drive that the documentary puts out her continuous need for validation in her songwork, going back to when she sued out of her original contract because of how she was being financially used, leading her to create her own publishing company. It is a catalog worth over half a billion dollars today, but while every artist is cashing in, Diane has no interest in selling hers. Diane says music has saved her life and it’s not about fame and fortune. She also was never interested in marriage; there’s a coaster that says, ‘Relationship Status,’ and of the options, it is checkmarked by a word I won’t write here, but it rhymes with ‘hunt.’ 

The most obvious thing in the documentary is that Diane is both A) a demanding figure who has alienated some people from performing with her again, and B) not shy to talk about herself, yet finds it awkward to talk about herself and her creative process. Simply put, there is no process, and everything in one room is a massive clutter. She’s not vain about herself. There are also the more serious feelings underlying her, such as revealing of being assaulted as a child in making ‘Til It Happens To You’ with Lady Gaga and the pain of losing that Oscar especially compared to other nominated songs. Kiss lead Paul Stanley only has one clip in the documentary, but as he noted in talking about Diane, “it’s easier to write about heartache when you don’t have to live it…but you do fear it.”Diane Warren: Relentless isn’t a wowing documentary, but pulls the curtain back to show off a woman who has played to every massive artist and producer and is widely beloved. It remains staggering that one person just showered us with glorious songs – ‘I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing,’ ‘Unbreak My Heart,’ and ‘How Do I Live’ to name how many hit singles written by her? Bess Kargman brings out Warren as candid as she can be comfortably from her personal life to her love of animals, energetically showing us that someone who will never stop working and never stop succeeding. 

Follow me on X: @brian_cine (Cine-A-Man)

Grade: B

Director: Ruben Fleischer
Writers: Seth Grahame-Smith, Michael Lesslie, Rhett Reese
Stars: Jesse Eisenberg, Woody Harrelson, Dave Franco

Synopsis: A diamond heist reunites retired Horsemen illusionists with new performers Greenblatt, Smith and Sessa as they target dangerous criminals.

The tagline for Now You See Me: Now You Don’t feels like an inside joke aimed at the audience. Yes, there’s a third installment of the Lionsgate franchise that no one wanted and no one asked for. The tagline—delivered as Morgan Freeman sits in a chair cashing a paycheck, reads, “The closer you look, the less you see.” It’s oddly fitting because there’s simply nothing here, new or old, that might hold an audience’s interest.

That’s because the film is all spectacle and no magic, an elaborate distraction to hide how little substance the franchise actually has, yet somehow still manages to maintain a stranglehold over.

The story follows three new magicians, thieves, and con artists who set out to disrupt the alchemy that controls the global economy. That includes Charlie (I Saw the TV Glow’s Justice Smith), the brains behind the operation, who works comfortably in the background. Then there’s June (Avengers: Infinity War’s Ariana Greenblatt), one of the best young pickpockets in the world, who’s never found an object she couldn’t steal with her expert sleight of hand. 

Finally, there’s the “face” of the group, every team has one, Bosco (The Holdovers’ Dominic Sessa), a former Juilliard student who dropped out and now gets his kicks playing a wide variety of characters, making him invaluable in the con-game. Bosco is the charismatic antihero of the group, where being the hero is thrust upon him. At least, that is how he comes across when Atlas (Jesse Eisenberg) confronts their team after their latest theft from the corrupt and gives back to the people.

See, the young bucks used a hologram of the Four Horsemen as a beard. Utterly impressed, Atlas now wants to recruit these young illusionists into their world. That would be stealing the world’s largest diamond from Veronika (Golden Globe nominee Rosamund Pike), the leader of a worldwide crime syndicate. (I mean, is there any other kind?) When the operation goes haywire, the rest of the Horsemen reunite, including Merritt (Woody Harrelson), Jack (Dave Franco), and Henley (Jay Kelly’s Isla Fisher), whom they haven’t seen since the Pont des Arts in Paris.

Now You See Me: Now You Don’t was directed by Ruben Fleischer, which is almost shocking. The filmmaker—known for his distinct, crowd-pleasing genre films with an edge, including Zombieland, 30 Minutes or Less, Venom, and the gut-busting Zombieland: Double Tap—somehow loses the comic bite, irreverent humor, and genre-blending energy that defined his earlier work. Qualities, I think we can all agree, the franchise could have used an injection of.

It probably doesn’t help that the script, watered down by multiple rewrites from the likes of Michael Lesslie, Paul Wernick, Rhett Reese, and Seth Grahame-Smith, treats the movie like a superhero film, where anything can happen thanks to the so-called “magic” of illusion. Trust me, if Joe Pesci’s Vincent “Vinny” Gambini were around, he’d be calling out everyone for their transparent escapes.

The main issue with the Now You See Me franchise is that it relies too heavily on CGI and over-the-top spectacle, stripping away the imagination and suspense the film should be building for its audience. At its core, and at its best, it’s essentially a heist movie, a con game that should bring the same joy as classics like The Sting or contemporary crowd pleasers like Catch Me If You Can, The Thomas Crown Affair, or even Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. 

When real illusion is replaced with comic-book spectacle (there’s even an eye-rolling scene where each magician tries to out-trick the other), the CGI sleight of hand leaves the film with no tension, no awe, and no sense of risk. Not to mention, the real magic of any movie, the plot, is so convoluted that we aren’t even sure how they got there. I would call it fraud. Then there’s the issue of movies like this setting up sequels or resurrecting beloved characters solely to manufacture an emotional moment that’s hardly earned. 

This is the equivalent of pulling a rabbit out of the wrong hat. The ridiculous twist at the end doesn’t hold up under scrutiny, especially when it results in the Horsemen losing one of their own because of it. Mistakes like these—despite all the money and time invested—leave a good story vanishing in a puff of smoke the moment Eisenberg appears on screen. For those reasons, Now You See Me: Now You Don’t fails to live up to its potential as good, campy fun.

You can watch Now You See Me: Now You Don’t only in theaters starting November 14th!

Grade: D