Director: Julian Glander
Writer: Julian Glander
Stars: Jack Corbett, Grace Kuhlenschmidt, Elisie Fisher

Synopsis: A teenager in suburban Florida desperately hustles to make $5,000 in this dreamy and surreal animated coming-of-age story.

Animation is a medium often pigeon-holed into the realm of all ages entertainment, but it can express something more than simple stories of general interest. Sometimes it can interpret the thoughts, feelings, and dreams of its creators in a medium that has no limits. It’s a portal to distant worlds and while some computer generated animation has snuck into and evolved live action filmmaking, there’s nothing like a purely rendered experience. The experience of seeing a film like Boys Go to Jupiter is like no other.

Boys Go to Jupiter is a classic coming-of-age tale. Billy 5000 (Jack Corbett) needs money to escape his circumstances and the prison of his home town in Florida. Yet, the life lessons imparted by writer and director Julian Glander are not so simple. The story takes on capitalism, family, friends, and first love in a way that is bizarre, but utterly human. Even rendered as designs that look like the first versions of what we know as 3D animation, these characters are droll and truth driven.

The script is a wonderful tapestry of dry humor and relatable circumstances. We’ve all felt the pangs of first love, outgrew friends, and learned even when we find a life hack, we can be slapped and dropped back down to the start of the game. Glander’s world is magical, but is earth bound in spirit and the pragmatic aspects of life. No amount of chants, hacking, snatching, or performed nonchalance can keep Billy from failing like the rest of us. The beauty is in when he finds a different path.

That is the beauty in the film’s medium as well. Glander could have done as many animated films do and used the latest and slickest of technological devices to create his film, but he chose instead to cultivate an aesthetic. Even as most of the characters look like Playmobil figures, their faces are as expressive and emotive as their rubbery limbs and bodies. As soon as you get settled in the world as it is, Glander adds depth. The sequences move beyond the parameters we think this film’s style should have into a transcendent world of shape and color. As much as you may balk at first, if you let it wash over you, the animation can take hold of you as anything coming from the latest millions spent by Dreamworks or Pixar.

The music featured in the film is also gorgeous. All of the songs are written by Glander and performed by the cast. Don’t be fooled, though, Boys Go to Jupiter is not a traditional musical. While the songs are sung by the characters in the moment, they don’t explain the plot or advance it. The songs are more like conduits to a character’s thoughts or a transitional experience to introduce a new motivation or character. They’re all lusciously layered synth-pop gems that could stand on their own as much as they enhance an already joyful experience. The haunting melodies sink into your skin and envelop you warmly while you contemplate the lyrics that evoke something primal inside of you. The song “Winter Citrus,” featured twice in the film, is a dreamy testament to the power of creation and commerce and where the two connect in our always striving human ambition.

Boys Go to Jupiter is not going to be for everyone, but the people who let it into their psyche, who hum the music, and meditate on how much time we spend in search of meaninglessness are going to have an incredible experience. Julian Glander has been steadily working in animation for a while, but with his feature debut he has gone beyond the short form and proved he can make something that stands on its own. Boys Go to Jupiter is an experience like nothing else you will see in a theater this year and it’s well worth every second of your time.

Grade: A

Director: Antonio Negret
Writer: Daniel Negret
Stars: Sara Canning, Alejandro Fajardo, Kuri Fuerez

Synopsis: A Missionary converting an Indigenous Community in a remote Ecuadorian volcano must come to terms with her own Faith when her son is possessed by dark forces.

Somewhere within Shaman there is a film that balances all of its ambitious swings. Theological disputes between cultures and the dangers of colonialism get overshadowed by a mediocre exorcism film. It’s a shame that the more interesting moral questions the film poses go relatively untapped, leaving them almost entirely to instead focus on cheap scares and underwhelming performances. What starts out as a visually eerie film that establishes an unease almost instantly quickly falls apart as its best moments fade into a disappointing mixture of run-of-the-mill horror jump scares.

Director Antonio Negret’s feature debut Shaman introduces audiences to two differing cultures: Catholic missionaries have entered an Indigenous community’s land to convert them. In fact, the film opens with Candice (Sara Cunning) witnessing a young woman converting while her son plays in a nearby field. There’s a sense of unease immediately, mostly due to how Candice doesn’t completely let her guard down while keeping tabs on her son. If her people were there to help, what threats could there possibly be to her son? Unbeknownst to her, her son Elliot (Jeff Klyne) finds himself wandering in a cave that locals told him was off-limits in pursuit of his missing ball. A once studious child who was well on his way to becoming a leader of his missionary group with his upcoming confirmation was now missing.

When Candice discovers her son is not under the safety of her roof she panics, it’s totally out of her son’s character to do this, and their final conversation is part of the reason he is missing in the first place. Eager to get her son found before his big day of being recognized by his church, she takes to the streets of their small community desperate for answers. All clues lead to Candice entering the same cave that Elliot was told not to enter, as she walks through the narrow walkway she finds her son. Elliot is knocked out cold, seemingly in a deep slumber being cared for by a shaman. Chaos quickly envelops their lives as, against the shaman’s wishes, she removes her son from his watchful eye. Elliot is now slowly falling into a demonic possession, which makes his mother go mad, blaming the people she once sought to convert for the ailments that have inflicted her son.

There’s a much more interesting story just below the surface of Shaman; unfortunately, writer Daniel Negret shifts the focus from the missionary work to a lackluster exorcist film. The theological differences between these two opposing cultures are neglected; Negret gives us small moments, mostly through Father Meyer (Alejandro Fajardo) and Candice when discussing the best way to treat her son. Candice believes her son’s illness was caused by these shamans, but her reasoning is never fully developed enough to feel like anything other than a prejudice against this other culture. The film focuses too much on the colonizers’ lives and their point of view that the indigenous community barely gets a characterization that isn’t directly connected to those who are invading their lives.

When Elliot becomes fully possessed, the film turns into a final act that seems like it comes from an entirely different film. As the tone shifts from eerie to over-the-top theatrics, this is where it lost my interest. This could be in part because director Negret is trying to balance more than he can for his first feature, but for all the cultural imagery from the Indigenous people that is used, we really don’t get much insight into who they are and what they believe. Showing the film from the white lead’s perspective doesn’t give the native culture much grace when Elliot falls ill. While it doesn’t feel that their culture is neglected purposefully, it does feel like those making the film were more interested in making an exorcism film than in exploring the horrors of colonialism.

What saves Shaman is the lead performance from Canning, who puts out a performance that is a contained paranoia. She’s a woman who is worried about her son, seeing him fall deeper and deeper into his sickness, and she refuses to do nothing. Even while her character is written as one-dimensional with her distrust of a foreign to her culture, Canning’s performance adds depth to moments that would fall flat with a lesser talent. She isn’t afraid to show deep emotions through her face alone; one moment that sticks out is in the beginning of the film as she goes from hopeful, as she gazes on a new member getting baptized, to unnerved, watching her son play in the distance. It also helps that this moment is a visual flex from cinematographer Daniel Andrade, who opens the film with a glowy idyllic view of their missionary community that quickly grows dark.

Ultimately, Shaman doesn’t say much worthwhile about religion, other than that each culture has its differences, but those differences are barely tapped into in a meaningful way. While the opening of the film could hook you, there’s not enough explored within the film’s more intriguing moments to reel you in.

Grade: D+

Director: Iain Morris
Writers: Allison Burnett, Melissa Osborne, based on the novel by Julia Wheelan
Stars: Sofia Carson, Corey Mylchreest, Dougray Scott

Synopsis: An ambitious American student travels to Oxford in England to fulfill her dream, but encounters a charming local who changes both their lives.

I’ve wanted to watch My Oxford Year long before I set my eyes on the trailer. And no, it’s not because I read the book it is based on, which I haven’t by the way. My interest was piqued when I saw a teaser poster of the two leads: Sofia Carson and Corey Mylchreest. I was immediately intrigued and honestly just wanted to see what the chemistry between the two of them would be like. When the trailer dropped, you better believe I was one of the first to watch it. I loved it so much that I immediately forwarded the link to a very close friend of mine. Spoiler: she did not share in my enthusiasm. 

But that wasn’t an issue for me, because I can’t remember the last time I was actually counting down to the day a movie is set to premiere. Yeah, the sequel to the Chinese hit Ne Zha was a high for me, but if something came close to it, it was My Oxford Year. It didn’t help that when “made by the producers of The Fault in Our Stars” showed up on my screen, something from the comments section caught my eye. It read, “When the producers from The Fault in Our Stars popped up I got scared… I don’t think I have that many tears in me again.” Dang! 

Is it a cozy rom-com; is it going to weigh on my heart like another The Notebook?”I really could not tell. So let’s just say that I was equal parts excited and wary going into the movie. 

Okay, when August 1 came around and the movie premiered on Netflix, I was ready to watch and be touched and moved by these new characters and this new world. I will not lie, the idea of Oxford added another beautiful layer to the new world I’m venturing into. 

However, in the first twenty minutes of the movie I was still grappling with the idea of what Netflix means to accomplish with it. On the one hand, they seem to want to push the envelope with the characters – Harry Trevaldwyn’s Charlie for one thing – and for another, they were playing it a bit too safe with the plot. To top it off, none of their moments designed to make me haha was able to get a smile out of me – and I’m usually the type to howl my head off at every little joke in a movie. 

So let’s just say that early on, I had already acquainted my mind to the idea that it’s not one of those rom-coms that makes you LOL. Don’t get me wrong, my interest in the movie has by no means flatlined, even though our protagonists’ first little encounter is somewhat cliché. Anyway, Anna De La Vega (Carson) and Jamie Davenport (Mylchreest) accidentally headbutting in the latter’s office was weirdly satisfying. I love it when movies have relatable little accidents in them. 

Moving on, I found it quite hard connecting with the characters – everything seemed to be moving so fast that I kind of got lost in the mess of the flowing plotlines. I could have told them to cut the unnecessary plots to make more room for character building, but would they have listened? Well, to be honest, not many people listen to me, so it wouldn’t have been their fault. Still, I so badly wanted to feel the pain that Jamie’s father must be feeling. I did understand the concept of his pain, I just couldn’t feel it. 

Even when the movie’s great tragedy happened, I was like, “Oh well.” However, if something in the movie touched me, it was the moment Anna walked into the classroom as Oxford’s newest lecturer offers her new students cake and quotes the same thing Jamie does on his first day teaching. I just have one lil suggestion to make: Bella Thorne’s Midnight Sun handled rom-com tragedy brilliantly. My Oxford Year could learn scores from it. 

One other thing: I understand that they tried to weave poetry into the plot, but they barely did it in any way that was powerful or moving. The exploration of British culture, or at least the clash of it with American ones, was also not done in a satisfying way. It seemed like the writers were on a mission to fixate on every little popular stereotype about jolly old England, instead of giving us an intimate understanding of these new people and their culture. 

If My Oxford Year was going for my emotions, it didn’t get it. And it’s sad to say knowing quite well that it was going for my emotions. That, in itself, might just be the saddest thing about the movie.

Grade: C-

Director: Jon Holmberg
Writers: Jon Holmberg
Stars: Alex Kelly, Lucy Smith, Paul Tylak

Synopsis: Willie’s dream of fighting crime with his cop dad is shattered when his baby brother Charlie arrives. Besides stealing all the attention, Charlie turns out to have actual superpowers.

“What superpower would you have?” is a common playground hypothetical. We like to imagine ourselves as more. We want to be beings of power and righteousness who fight crime and save people. Usually we are in grade school when we imagine this, but it is a fun thought experiment to wonder what would happen if a baby were granted incredible powers. Super Charlie attempts to answer that question.

A baby can’t do it on their own, though, so Charlie (Lucy Smith) is blessed with a superhero-obsessed older brother, Willie (Alex Kelly), who mentors Charlie in the ways of crimefighting. Willie is, like most kids who have dreamed of superpowers, more than a little miffed he wasn’t given the powers himself. While Charlie’s mind has grown exponentially he’s still very new to the world and can’t understand Willie’s exploitative ideas. The story sort of borders on a Cain and Abel like relationship. Not unlike another pair in the film.

The film begins fifty years prior when a special space rock drops a superpowered cloud through Earth’s atmosphere, Anton (Paul Tylak) and his sibling, Inferio (Brendan McDonald), are having a bike race. Inferio gains superpowers and wins the race and takes revenge on Anton for cheating. Inferio then compels Anton into lifelong service making better technology for Inferio’s criminal empire. 

Though, there may have been something lost in the translation of the script from its original Swedish to English or the attempt at not revealing Inferio’s true identity got a little ham fisted. Inferio is constantly referred to as Anton’s brother. Yet, in the opening sequence they are clearly modeled as a tween girl and when Inferio’s true identity is revealed, they’re modeled as a woman. It’s more than a little confusing and can drag you out of the plot.

The plot itself, written by Jon Holmberg, adapted from Camilla Läckberg’s book series, is juggling a lot. It’s not overly convoluted, but there are many threads that have to delicately come together for it to make sense. For an all ages film with few original laughs, this isn’t the best use of the limited attention span of viewers. There are plenty of cool superpower effects and action scenes, but the child trying to solve a mystery while caring for another child who can do amazing things is a bit of a drag.

There is one sequence that has a great animated effect. While Willie is coming up with his initial scheme, one of the posters on the wall of a superhero and sidekick begins to speak to Willie and be the angel and devil on his shoulder. These characters are kept in their 2D mold, even after they jump off the poster. It’s kind of reminiscent of 2D animated characters in a live action film. It’s a great effect. It’s made even better as the sidekick represents the side of Willie’s psyche who wants to do the right thing by Charlie and mentor him and the superhero represents the jealous side of Willie, who wants to manipulate Charlie so that Willie can be the hero.

Super Charlie is an O.K. romp. It has some exciting action scenes and unique character development. Even with the short runtime, the story can wear a bit thin in places. As it’s not trying to reinvent a genre or elevate the art of animation this can make for dull watching. Super Charlie does its job in making a coherent piece of entertainment that is at least mildly entertaining and will likely spawn a sequel to keep the cycle going.

Grade: C

Director: Akiva Schaffer
Writers: Dan Gregor, Doug Mand, Akiva Schaffer
Stars: Liam Neeson, Pamela Anderson, Paul Walter Hauser

Synopsis: Only one man has the particular set of skills… to lead Police Squad and save the world!

It’s been a while since Liam Neeson gave a damn. While I respect the hustle of collecting one easy paycheck after another, essentially becoming this generation’s Charles Bronson when he collaborated with The Cannon Group, the films he made were of extremely poor quality. The unfortunate box office hit of the awful (yes, I said it) Taken has resulted in Neeson being typecast in the “particular set of skills” genre, with the only pictures of note he has made within that time being his four collaborations with Jaume Collet-Serra. The rest of it can be thrown in the trash (with the exception of Martin Scorsese’s Silence, since it isn’t part of that canon). 

After giving up watching his last few efforts that likely treaded in the same bland screenplays as Taken, I wondered when we would see the film that will (hopefully) free the 73-year-old Irish actor from the shackles he has sadly been stuck in since Taken. I never, in a million years, expected that the film to bring him back to the glory days of his best acting performances – in Steven Spielberg’s Schindler’s List, Neil Jordan’s Michael Collins or Michael Caton-Jones’ Rob Roy – would be a reboot of David Zucker, Jim Abrahams and Jerry Zucker’s The Naked Gun, which is, in my opinion, the pinnacle of comedy. 

What ZAZ pioneered has sadly not been replicated in an era that seems to be ashamed to make comedies for the big screen, which is incredibly stupid, because why would you not make a breezy time at the movies for people to turn their brains off and simply have the time of their lives in under ninety minutes? That’s what was so brilliant about all three Naked Gun movies (in turn based on the incredible TV series Police Squad!): they never overstayed their welcome and packed enough laughs for audiences to have an entire day’s worth of fun. Writer/director Akiva Schaffer and co-writers Dan Gregor and Doug Mand approach their reboot of The Naked Gun in that same vein: the film is under 90 minutes, and the laughs come every minute. 

Whether or not the film would work was entirely dependent upon its understanding of why ZAZ’s comedy was so good (“was” because their last efforts were complete garbage). At the pinnacle of their career, the trio was able to make us laugh about anything through their genius associations, wordplays, and sight gags. When Leslie Nielsen’s Frank Drebin offered a smoke to a suspect and said, “Cigarette?” they would usually reply with a variation of “Yes, it is” or “Yes, I know.” 

Even better, while in an interrogation, if a character said, “Let’s say you did go to the movies,” the suspect would reply, “Okay,” and repeat “You did go to the movies” in unison with everyone else. That’s the level of stupid we’re dealing with here, and what Schaffer captures in his 85-minute fourth installment, now with Liam Neeson as Frank Drebin Jr, who continues his father’s work within Police Squad. The plot is unimportant, and the director knows it too, by having Kevin Durand’s Sig Gustafson steal a thingamajig at the top of the movie that’s aptly named “P.L.O.T. Device.” 

In a film like this, nobody cares about the plot or its leaps in logic. It’s a pure farce from beginning to end, and only cynics will actively scrutinize something that doesn’t need to be examined, because everything is a spoof! Visually, it’s a sight gag festival. Verbally, it’s a pun festival. There are so many mile-a-minute jokes that one can watch the entire thing on mute and have an amazing time, while another can only listen to the soundtrack and laugh their socks off. The sad part is that, because of how funny The Naked Gun is, you forget the joke you were laughing about a few minutes ago, because the one you’re laughing at now is even funnier. For instance, when Drebin interrogates Beth Davenport (Pamela Anderson) about the disappearance of her brother, she tells him she graduated from school in Los Angeles. 

Drebin then replies, “UCLA?” Beth, “I see it every day.” This is pure ZAZ, captured at its most potent essence, and the contagious laughter emanating from the audience is enough to cure the woes of this world. Simply put (and this is a sentence I avoid to use), it’s the movie the world needs right now, one so hilarious it’s bound to loosen up the cynics and make us realize that life is beautiful if we just have a laugh. And Liam Neeson is perfect. It’s the best performance he’s given since…*check notes*…Qui Gon-Jinn in Star Wars: Episode I – The Phantom Menace. Whatever you think about that movie, he was arguably the best part. 

The thing is, Neeson, much like Leslie Nielsen at the time Airplane! was released, is an underrated comedic talent. But he’s been stuck in a rut of mediocrity for the better part of seventeen years. He never could show the world that he could make us laugh until today. His sense of comedic timing is just as good as Nielsen’s, although he has a much different “particular set of skills” to play with than when Nielsen first portrayed Frank Drebin. Maybe that’s the advantage he had for portraying essentially variants of Bryan Mills for the past seventeen years – he is able to distill them inside a riotously deadpan turn to not only breathe new life into the iconic presence of Frank Drebin, but also for his career. 

Like I said at the top of this review, it’s been a while since Neeson gave a damn. And all that was needed for him to deliver what will likely be remembered as one of the finest roles of his career was a good screenplay, and one that allows the actor to let loose and have fun, either alone in his nonsensical soliloquies (worthy of Leslie Nielsen) or through the incredible chemistry he shares with Pamela Anderson, who equally steals the show. She, like Priscilla Presley in the original series, understands what’s needed for her character to be of equal measure to Neeson attempting to free himself from the “tough guy” antics that have defined his mid and now late-stage career. 

Perhaps the villain, played by Danny Huston, isn’t up to snuff, but when Schaffer replaces the name of the “crypto.com arena” with “ponzi-scheme.com arena” in its climax, where the antagonist’s plan is set in motion, it doesn’t matter. The plot doesn’t matter. It’s all about the jokes. Nothing more, nothing less. That’s what ZAZ did when they crafted Police Squad! and the subsequent Naked Gun installments, and that’s exactly what Schaffer is doing here. And unless you’re the most heartless person in the universe, there’s no way you won’t find enjoyment in this much-needed breath of fresh air for a genre that has been sadly shunned by Hollywood studio executives who have no idea what they’re doing. 

The timing is perfect to stick it to ‘em and see this masterpiece in droves. Comedy needs it, and the world needs it, too.

Grade: A+

Director: Ebs Burnough
Writer: Eliza Hindmarch
Stars: David Amran, W. Kamau Bell, Josh Brolin

Synopsis: Explores Kerouac’s “On the Road” through today’s lens, as celebrities and travelers reflect on authentic experiences in our digital age, echoing the novel’s timeless search for genuine connection.

America. This name evokes many details; lately, it’s been more negative than positive, but it still holds its allure and mystery in the collective consciousness of people everywhere. Sometimes, we need a reminder of why we love this contradictory continent and why it will always carry its mystical and magical resonance in outsiders’ hearts. Ebs Burnough’s latest documentary, Kerouac’s Road, is one of those Americanophile works meant to reinforce the mental image of America at its core — a single, endless road of travel, with no settling down or permanent residence.

To this day, Jack Kerouac’s novel “On the Road” is still an important piece of literature. For one thing, Kerouac wrote it with truth, ambition, and curiosity for the Americans of his generation. And because it has been rooted in its times and the locality of its setting; the American road, stretched as far as the eye can see and beyond.

Burnough interviews celebrities, famous writers, and theorists, but also Kerouac-like travelers who only care about the road, not the destination. His interviews with the roadies not only define what America means to them, but also their perceptions of the road, poverty, and what home means to different people. Burnough chooses a diverse group of travelers and drivers; people who refuse to settle and their stories are both interesting and thought-provoking.

One of the things I -ashamedly- just discovered through the documentary was that Kerouac was a son of French-Canadian immigrant parents. It makes it really sad when we observe through the documentary how this man who has felt like an outsider to America; the only country he has known, is considered one of the quintessential American writers, one of the writers who are heralded as the “voice of America.” This country has been built on immigrant shoulders and through their sweat and hardships, and now it strays so far off from the core of its origins. There are also many other interesting parts like speculations about his sexuality, his complex relationship with his mother, his stance on war, religion, and social issues.

As far as a documentary goes, Kerouac’s Road is conventional, playing it safe. There are passages narrated from Kerouac’s writings. There are interviews with celebrities who represent the masculine car trope in our minds. There is minimal presence from the director -save for a few laughs or his voice asking questions- and the subjects have enough room to express and exist without forced directorial intervention, especially the regular people. Would it have benefited from Burnough’s complete disappearance? Absolutely. Unfortunately, when the curtain is lifted to reveal his voice questioning the subjects, it doesn’t turn into a companion documentary to The Motorcycle Diaries. Instead, it falls back into its banal state as Burnough’s project explores America through Kerouac, and vice versa. But if his voice had been completely cut out, this could easily have become a travel vignette suitable for a modern photo album on social media, rather than constantly reminding us that it’s a traditional Kerouac documentary.

The question remains: is a Kerouac documentary too cliché for our current times? Yes, the topic has been made and remade, done and adapted multiple times. There could be some problematic or outdated aspects of the source material. But the question at the core of it remains lively and relevant. What does it mean to set sail on the open highway? What does it mean to want to find oneself in a society that is not originally one’s own?

Kerouac’s Road nails that nihilistic experience of existing in a rootless world. It tackles the American dream through the perspective of an immigrant who, in his attempt to understand a country that once felt foreign to him, has etched his name forever into its mythos.

Grade: B+

Director: Steven Kostanski
Writer: Steven Kostanski
Stars: Conor Sweeney, Adam Brooks, Kristy Wordsworth

Synopsis: Workaholic yuppie Conor is in an existential rut until one night he catches a bizarre ad for a party hotline hosted by a strange dancing goblin: Frankie Freako. Could this be just the recipe to spice up his boring life?

With movies like Manborg and PG: Psycho Goreman, one aspect director Steven Kostanski has mastered is making audiences feel as though they have been transported back to the 1980s. His style of do-it-yourself filmmaking that blends green screen backgrounds and special effects with actual puppets and prosthetic work make for movies that are often incredibly entertaining, fully embracing the era they evoke. In Frankie Freako, Kostanski once again brings these flourishes to his storytelling, crafting another unique and appropriately freaky experience.

Conor (Conor Sweeney) is a workaholic who has left behind many of his passions and creativity along the way, with his wife Kristina (Kristy Wordsworth) taking notice of this and considering him to be more uptight as of late. While Kristina is leaving for the weekend, she wants Conor to find that spark of fun once again. When Conor sees a commercial with a character named Frankie Freako (Matthew Kennedy) offering an experience that’s incredibly fun and hoping it will prove that he still has some spirit left in him, he calls the hotline wanting to party. However, when Frankie shows up, he brings destruction and chaos with him, and eventually brings Conor on a journey that takes them beyond the world he knows.

Much like the two aforementioned movies, Frankie Freako is very much a love letter to ’80s cinema, from its visuals and animatronic work to its musical score and action sequences. Its self-awareness is prevalent in every moment of its runtime, from the naming of its main characters to embracing the weirdness that ensues as it progresses. Throughout it all, Kostanski’s earnestness and love for the project comes through in spades. The puppetry work for Frankie and his friends Dottie Dunko (Meredith Sweeney) and Boink Bardo (Adam Brooks) is wonderful, and the homages made to movies like Gremlins and The Garbage Pail Kids Movie are present throughout its runtime from the visual look of the characters to some of the gross-out humor provided by them, with each of their “fun” activities getting on Conor’s nerves with each passing minute. The voice work is also stellar, with funny work from Kennedy, Sweeney and Brooks, who bring the gang to life wonderfully.

As a whole, Frankie Freako isn’t a particularly layered story , keeping it focused on its initial premise with Conor and his lack of fun in life. When it is eventually revealed that Frankie is an alien who is on the run from President Munch (Rich Evans, of RedLetterMedia fame), who would rather have them live 9-to-5 lives on the hotline instead of let loose and party, the sci-fi world is brought to life in vibrant and fascinating ways, and adds an extra layer to the proceedings, though it doesn’t spend as much time with this aspect of the movie as it does back on Earth. Conor Sweeney’s portrayal of…Conor, a man who is slowly opening up to everything else life has to offer and eventually coming around to Frankie’s antics and his approach to everything, is very effective, and he’s likeable enough to root for as the movie progresses, but beyond a few moments, the characterization is also fairly limited.

Still, despite some issues, it is Frankie Freako’s commitment to the absurd and over-the-top situations it finds itself in that make the movie an entertaining watch overall, and serve as another reminder of Kostanski’s passion for the era of movies which he evokes and the nostalgic aspects of it that make revisiting the ’80s special, down to 1-800 toll free lines that charge $2 per call.

Grade: B

Director: Joseph Kahn
Writer: Joseph Kahn, Dan Koontz, Samuel Laskey
Stars: Brandon Routh, Mena Suvari, Malina Pauli Weissman

Synopsis: Science teacher Hank’s life changes when he reconnects with his first love and suspects a new student is his daughter, all while facing an alien threat in their town.

There are more than a handful of successful film directors who got their start in the heyday of the music video. David Fincher, Spike Jonze, and Michel Gondry are a few of the most prolific who come to mind. Though these auteurs understood the art of the short form story that is a music video, they have evolved to tell feature-length stories. Joseph Kahn has been directing music videos steadily since the mid-’90s with some of the biggest names in the music business and his features have yet to show an evolution beyond his music video aesthetic. Ick is no exception.

For some reason, Ick is in a hurry to end. The opening sequence is a long drawn out montage that could have been the entire plot of another film. It moves so fast that you barely have time to cringe at the poor CGI in many places. It’s not always fair to criticize movies without studio tentpole budgets for their visual effects choices, but if your film relies on a monster and significant effects to tell its story, there have to be some other things in the budget to cut in order to get it right. Even the gore is rushed with mayhem too dark to see and dozens of characters never seen before and barely seen as they die.

It doesn’t help that the plot is razor thin. It’s so thin that Ick can’t come up with an actual reasoning for the Ick itself. What it does have is cribbed heavily from any version of The Blob or Invasion of the Body Snatchers, though, those films have a subtext that comes through, while Ick fails to have much of a text. Even the most intriguing part of the plot, Hank (Brandon Routh) might be Grace’s (Malina Pauli Williamson) biological father, is short changed. There is no resolution and barely time to get to know why Hank is even interested in having a relationship with Grace. The rush to the end is like this was made with those that have ruined their attention span with endless short influencer videos.

It also feels like the writers think Gen Z are a bunch of pompous windbags. Every teen is parroting something to the point that there’s a character, Dylan (Harrison Cone), who is the epitome of performative wokeness, it’s like the chants of a mob, but he’s off by a few beats so he’s louder than the rest. Every word from his smug mouth is frustrating and it takes far, far, far too long for Grace to actually put him in his place. The adults aren’t much better as most of them are conspiracy spouting, deep state obsessives. It makes one wonder who this film is for. One or two characters like these would be adequate to suggest a moderate centrist’s eye roll and smirk, but there are no characters that aren’t Hank that actually have normal human interactions.

Hank is the only reason the film has any watchability to it. Brandon Routh has an ability to be charming even when his character’s a bit of a moron. He’s got the hero’s build and strength of cause. He’s also in on the joke and can deliver a line with an extra bit of conviction that makes you pity this hapless science teacher he plays. Routh has a perfect bit as he sits, contemplating what he will do about the Ick. He turns on his crummy MP3 player from when he was a teenager and queues up “Hey There Delilah” by the Plain White Ts then says, “[expletive]. This song rips.” It’s just a perfect moment hearing him say that with a straight face and for that song.

As much as it is fun hearing a bunch of pop-punk songs from the early ’00s, it’s no basis to build a movie around. It’s a poorly executed, half-cocked approach to a not well thought out film. Even though it is mercifully short and Brandon Routh is exactly the right fit for this type of character, it’s not worth the time and effort to try and see it. It’s a better use of your time and nostalgia to see if The All-American Rejects or Good Charlotte are playing your local county or state fair or local resort and casino.

Grade: D

Director: Ramon Zürcher
Writer: Ramon Zürcher
Stars: Maren Eggert, Britta Hammelstein, Luise Heyer

Synopsis: The stark personality differences between sisters Karen and Jule become apparent as their families come together for a birthday party.

In a bucolic and picturesque field in Switzerland stands a haunted house. The ghost inhabiting it is a mother and she’s alive. Ramon Zürcher’s The Sparrow in the Chimney is a tale of generational dysfunction and questions Leo Tolstoy’s maxim that “every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” Karen (Maren Eggert) appears to be the locus of unhappiness in her family, just as her mother before her was. When Karen moved her family into her now-deceased mother’s home she put herself, and them, in a beautifully situated site of depression, withdrawal, and resentment. “I sometimes feel lost in her,” Karen tells her younger sister Jule (Britta Hammelstein) “I don’t know where I have gone.” 

It’s Karen’s husband Markus’ (Andreas Döhler) birthday and the celebration brings Jule, her husband Jurek (Milian Zurzaway), her young daughter Edda (Luana Greco), and baby Leni with her. As much as their presence is a needed distraction for Markus and Karen’s two children who live with them: young and shy Leon (Ilja Bultmann) and firebrand Johanna (Lea Zoe Voss), the gathering reveals how broken Karen’s relationship with her family has become. With her eldest daughter, Christina (Paula Schindler), flying to the house and the neighbor, Liv (Luise Heyer), vying to replace Karen as matriarch – the house becomes an emotional tinderbox filled with justified resentment and no-holds-barred anger.

The shift from warm and inviting, a sunlight kitchen where Leon is preparing a roast, to foreboding comes in through the mid-afternoon awakening of Karen. The family dog is barking and Leon trepidatiously opens the door to his mother’s room (his father has been banished to the cellar for “snoring”). Karen barely speaks and seems to drift like a dark cloud into the house. A sparrow is indeed caught in the chimney and, in releasing it, Leon’s shirt is made dirty. Later, Karen scolds him for it and deliberately pulls out a shirt he doesn’t want to wear and forces it on him. Although she seems to have a pane of glass between herself and her family, Karen occasionally does knock at it, mostly to enact a small unkindness. 

Johanna openly hates her mother. Their first interaction is her arriving home from school. “You’re late,” Karen notes. “You’re insane,” Johanna retorts. There is limited sympathy from Karen that her daughter is suffering from a degenerative disease which will one day leave her motionless. During a particularly heated argument where Karen reaches out to strike her, she says, “Don’t think I’ll spare you just because you’re crippled.” Johanna responds, “Don’t think I’ll love you just because you’re my mother.” Later, Leon echoes Johanna’s anger and tells Karen, “I hate you, and I wish you were dead.” Even Christina, the preferred (by Karen) daughter, admits that she can’t stay for long in the house. She thinks of her siblings and father all the time, but those thoughts lead to her recalling Karen sitting alone, away from them all. She left the house to forget that aspect of her memory and being there reinforces the withholding distance between them that Karen can’t take back. Markus has been pushed so far away from Karen that his affair with the possible arsonist and former biologist Liv doesn’t so much seem like infidelity as it does a way for him to survive.

Adding a party to this familial maelstrom where Jule’s current happiness with her family contrasts with the misery inherent in the house pulls Karen’s rigid coldness into sharp contrast. It’s Jule who gives Johanna the history of her grandparents (an affair conducted by the grandmother, a tragic end for her grandfather) and her frankness in explaining how much she too hated her mother emboldens Johanna and Leon’s destructive behavior. The place is poisoned by history, and, like an island in a pond nearby, crowded with screeching cormorants (metaphorical in the home, literal on the island) who have claimed the space leaving no room for anyone to rest safely.

Zürcher blends the all-too-real tensions of a family dealing with a matriarch’s depression and coldness with a disturbing surreality. As it stands, the house is a magnet for budding sociopathy and unremitting antipathy. Karen deliberately burns her hand in one of Leon’s dishes simply to feel something. Liv likens herself to a firefly (the garden is lit with them) who is poised to poison the slower insects – in this case, Karen. Johanna aggressively flirts with her uncle. Leon, who is the victim of bullying, in turn victimizes something smaller than him. Karen and Jule turn on each other with the latter calling the former a vicious monster. A gloriously festooned garden filled with cheer, false and real, doesn’t gloss over the rot. Yet within this deep malice-bound space Zürcher and Karen see an extreme solution.

The Sparrow in the Chimney is a forensically observed and impeccably acted psychological drama of generational unhappiness. Maren Eggert’s near expressionless face is perfect for Karen’s intentional isolation from those she should love and who should love her. It’s a bravura performance which is complemented by child actor Ilja Bultmann as Leon descending into a darkness at odds with his age, and Lea Zoe Voss’ agent of desperate chaos, Johanna. The audience is situated in the suffocating bitterness and sharp (sometimes hilarious) extremes of behavior in a family lost to disappointment and disgust. An intelligent and scathing film which offers redemption in a fiery dreamlike manner because for this family only scorched earth can meet scorched earth. The Sparrow in the Chimney is a dark, disturbing, and vicious portrait of a family that needs to reset to survive. To leave behind the haunted house and let the past with its tendrils suffocate the present to sink into oblivion.

Grade: B-

Directors: Pierre Perifel, JP Sans
Writers: Yoni Brenner, Etan Cohen, Aaron Blabey
Stars: Sam Rockwell, Marc Maron, Craig Robinson

Synopsis: The Bad Guys are struggling to find trust and acceptance in their newly minted lives as Good Guys, when they are pulled out of retirement and forced to do “one last job” by an all-female squad of criminals.

Even though The Bad Guys 2 comes from Universal Pictures, after watching the first two films in this budding animated franchise, I’d say it’s the closest thing we’ve had to Looney Tunes in decades. The movies are packed with exaggerated slapstick and over-the-top physical comedy that’s genuinely hilarious. The visual gags are fast-paced, with snappy timing that echoes those classic cartoons.

Of course, there’s that signature mischief over malice—these characters may be “bad,” but they create an oddly delightful sense of chaos. Still, the film evolves with surprising emotional depth and heart, growing beyond simple cartoon antics. The Bad Guys 2 also happens to be a waggishly good time at the movies.

The last time we saw our favorite mischievous group of thieves, they had gone from being “bad” to oh-so-good. But while they’re still adjusting to their new reputations, living up to them has proven difficult. Take Mr. Wolf (Sam Rockwell), for example—he’s discovering that staying on the straight and narrow isn’t as easy as it looks. Working a nine-to-five job, he’s struggling to keep up with the bills, and the temptation of a quick fix through a life of crime begins to creep back in.

Joining him in his struggles are Mr. Snake (The Order’s Marc Maron), Mr. Shark (Craig Robinson), Ms. Tarantula (Jackpot!’s Awkwafina), and Mr. Piranha (Transformers: Rise of the Beast’s Anthony Ramos), who all grumble about feeling lost in this new life—though they know it’s better than their former scheming ways. Of course, the only way to get the gang back into something exciting is to pull a Michael Corleone: just when the Bad Guys thought they were out, they get pulled back in.

That’s because the group is framed. These once-proud criminals are forced back into the underworld of crime and misdemeanors. Their goal? To prove their innocence—and clear, uh, their good names.

Pierre Perifel returns to helm the film, directing his second feature—both animated entries in The Bad Guys franchise. The first was super cute and undeniably cool, and this sequel maintains that same zippy comedic tone, laced with just the right touch of darkness that made the original so enjoyable. The overall sight gags are noticeably improved, which is all you can really ask for in a sequel to a mildly recommendable animated original.

Of course, it helps when the script is from a pair of writers responsible for Idiocracy, Tropic Thunder, and the Rio franchise of animated films. That would be Etan Cohen and Yoni Brenner, who add the element of the “bad girls” to the equation. That includes the welcomed addition of voice talents like Danielle Brooks, Natasha Lyonne, and Maria Bakalova, who want the guys to pull off one final job.

The animation in The Bad Guys 2 is stunning, light years above anything Smurfs produced a couple of weeks ago. There is a vibrancy and kinetic energy to the effects that marry perfectly with the comedic style that will have you laughing out loud and constantly engaged. This animated comedy, perfect for adults and kids alike, offers a positive message about how doing the right thing is hard, but always worth it. 

Sometimes, adults need to learn that, too. 

You can watch The Bad Guys 2 only in theaters starting August 1st.

Grade: B