Director: Nick Rowland
Writers: Ben Collins, Jordan Harper, Luke Piotrowski
Stars: Ana Sophia Hager, Taron Egerton, Jamie Bernadette

Synopsis: A girl marked for death, must fight and steal to stay alive, learning from the most frightening man she knows-her father. An adaptation of Jordan Harper’s award winning novel.

Equal parts gritty and touching is She Rides Shotgun, directed by Nick Rowland, based on the award-winning novel of the same name by Jordan Harper. A tense action thriller that, at its core, is a compelling story about a father doing whatever he can to protect his daughter. Centered around the life of an ex-con as he finds there is a hit out on his estranged daughter, this high-stakes crime drama takes audiences on a wild ride. Exploring the impact of having a father that has a violent past on their children, a rather simple story packs a big emotional punch from start to finish. She Rides Shotgun is packed with powerful performances that elevate it beyond any ordinary crime chase film with its tenderness and determination.

Rowland establishes a sense of unease immediately in She Rides Shotgun by opening the film with Polly (Sophia Ana Heger) awaiting her mother to arrive at school to pick her up. Long after the bell has rung, Polly is surrounded by a crowd of children that dwindles as more and more cars of parents show up. As minutes tick away, Polly tries to pass the time by climbing trees, hoping the next car is her mother’s. When asked where her mother is by a teacher, Polly admits that her mother sometimes shows up late, but soon she’d realize that it wasn’t her mother picking her up; instead, it’s her estranged father, Nate (Taron Egerton). There’s an awkwardness to their interactions, looking at one another as if they were acquaintances rather than father and daughter. After some convincing, Polly jumps into the passenger seat, a decision that will change her life in drastic ways. 

The relationship between Polly and Nate is basically non-existent, and as their car ride goes on Polly starts noticing that something isn’t right. Wires exposed near the car’s steering wheel, paired with broken glass that falls out of the window frame while she attempts to roll her window up. Without knowing where they are going or why her father was the one to pick her up, she soon realizes that her father is hiding something. His past isn’t a complete secret, but once they are safely settled in at a hotel for the night, Nate reveals that he is on the run from police for his connection with the drug ring in their town in New Mexico. And while he carries that information with him, someone puts a hit out on someone close to him, his daughter. Desperate to get away from both the lawmen, and the law breakers, Nate gives his daughter a haircut and dye job. As they make their plans to get out, Polly learns of her mother’s fate, forcing her to make a difficult decision for her own safety.

She Rides Shotgun is Rowland’s second feature as a director, with the first being 2019’s rural crime thriller Calm with Horses. He has no issues serving up a gripping film with killer performances. Where he works best in this film is the father-daughter moments, even if this pair has a troubled past. He balances the high-stakes shootouts with the tear-jerking proclamations with ease, which helps elevate where the film falters in its main conflict. While the focus is so heavily on Polly and Nate, Rowland struggles to make the bad guys compelling, which is a shame because there’s an important message about corruption that is too quickly passed over. The looming threat of those after Polly is felt throughout the film, but is left too ambiguous for too long in the film.

There’s a dangerous drug world hidden within the film’s story that is not explored enough to feel important. While it’s the main point of each of the film’s action pieces, it takes a backseat even when it should be front and center. Nate has quite the criminal past and is no stranger to dealing with the police. And where the film could be telling an interesting story about small town corruption, it chooses to barely dig below the surface. It makes the stakes of the film feel uneven; on one hand, we see the father-daughter duo going to great lengths to protect each other, but even they are too in the dark on the reason why until it’s too late to really care. It plants some great seeds that don’t get to fully bloom, but it sure does make for some gnarly fight sequences.

Thankfully for Rowland, Egerton and Heger make each moment of their screen time charged with emotion that pulls you into their rocky relationship instantly. Egerton is no stranger to transforming for roles, but he’s nearly unrecognizable in She Rides Shotgun; with a shaved head, sunken eyes, and skin riddled with random tattoos, he’s unlike any of his prior roles. His character carries a lot of guilt around with him that Egerton captures through his facial expressions, especially when witnessing his daughter fall into dangerous situations he placed her in. Heger is captivating to watch as Polly; she is not only playing her as an intelligent child, but her ability to adapt to each increasingly scary situation she is faced with is impressive. Formidable and observant, Heger’s performance is one of the strongest of the year. Her final scene is haunting and showcases the enormous talent she possesses.

Centering the story around this frayed relationship is a smart choice; even through the chaos of gas station robberies gone wrong and high-speed car chases, there’s a beautiful exploration of both Polly and Nate and their complicated relationship. Writers Ben Collins and Luke Piotrowski tap into all the complex feelings the duo faces and make sure each moment lingers with emotional weight. Nate wants to know everything about his daughter, from her favorite show to her favorite color. There’s a genuine admiration felt between them and a desperation to keep one another safe. Even during large action sequences, their fight for survival only brings them closer, both saving one another in more ways than one. Nate sees his daughter as his redemption for all the wrongs that he has committed, and Polly sees her father as her source of courage. They have a relationship that grows stronger in the face of relentless and increasingly ruthless violence.

The stark wonder that is New Mexico is on full display here, and cinematographer Wyatt Garfield shows the silent beauty of the landscape. Wide shots of cars along a highway showcase the endlessness of the desert where mountains blend with horizons, creating a stunning golden hour glow. During the night, lights from buildings create an endless sky; the stillness in the air, seen through Garfield’s lens, adds to the unease while Nate and Polly are on the run. As the film comes to its final moments, Garfield utilizes framing that locks us in on Polly’s face, letting her performance linger with the audience and making us think about how far her character had come from her schoolyard introduction.

She Rides Shotgun is a brutal crime drama that proves its power through the moving performances from Egerton and Heger. There’s plenty of thrilling moments as this duo pushes through obstacle after obstacle, but where it shines is its touching examination of how crime impacts our loved ones. Although there’s quite a bit to be desired from the film’s main conflict, its haunting visuals and performances make this worth a watch.

Grade: B+

Director: Kyle Newacheck
Writer: Tim Herlihy, Adam Sandler
Stars: Adam Sandler, Julie Bowen, Christopher McDonald

Synopsis: Revisit Happy Gilmore’s golf career after his win in the Tour Championship.

Netflix hasn’t exactly become known for gracefully handling properties that aren’t their own; whether it be the countless, suspect animation adaptations or small-screen, weightless blockbusters of books that deserved better, the platform has developed a reputation for misunderstanding what made a franchise, title, or icon popular in the first place. So it isn’t difficult to imagine the widespread disdain when it was announced that the company would team with Adam Sandler to revive his long beloved Happy Gilmore.

The original comedy, which dates all the way back to 1996, has become a cult classic and, for many, the crown gem of Sandler’s zany filmography. Despite the reservations of just as many, paired with his contestable run with Netflix in recent years, Netflix’s sequel quickly became highly-anticipated solely due to the legacy of the first film… and it felt like Netflix knew that all too well, at least according to the worrying marketing campaign. But now that Happy Gilmore 2 has actually released, it’s become clear that, surprisingly, the streaming giant knew the assignment. This is a really solid comedy, and a shockingly reverent sequel, too.

As usual, Sandler has every dial turned to 11 here, but he also manages to retain Happy’s general personality and likability as a character beyond simply acting insane. Moments with his newly-added family, as funny and ridiculous as they often are, are tinged with a touch of sweet earnestness that may have you pulling for this character as he fights his way out of a midlife crisis. In an effort to rehabilitate himself and finance his daughter’s expensive foreign ballet lessons, Gilmore returns to the game of golf with a newfound purpose, looking to rediscover himself in the sport that gave him purpose in his younger years.

It truly is as dramatic as it sounds, and at times, the movie allows that concept the proper room to breathe. Gilmore has multiple heart-to-heart moments with his daughter regarding the concept (played by his real-life daughter, Sunny), which, again, lend themselves to the film’s sneaky sense of levity. All the same, it usually isn’t long after that a character drinks hand sanitizer or is lobbed into a tank of lobsters at the grocery store. You’ve got plenty of Sandler’s outlandish comedic sensibilities here, too. 

But if you’re watching this, you went in expecting that, right? As tired as some people are of them, those same tendencies are what made the original Gilmore a classic. Perhaps it’s a matter of circumstance, and simply putting Sandler back into this universe contextualizes his goofiness in a way that works for the same reason now that it did back then. It just never gets old seeing the Sandman go ballistic on an innocent bystander shortly after driving a ball directly into a nearby pond. And while there’s plenty of that here, Gilmore 2 also manages to widen its scope a little in comparison to the film before it, introducing new characters, environments, and dynamics into the field of play.

Not everything is a zinger, but in traditional Sandler fashion, he’s just throwing so much at you on a constant basis that something is bound to stick now and again. That, and this his second team-up with director Kyle Newacheck – a relatively new addition to the Sandler carousel, save for his middling Murder Mystery comedy – adds another refreshing angle to the overall mix. Newacheck opts for a ton of handheld, organic movements and leans into the sporadic nature of his titular character here. While there isn’t anything particularly inspiring about the film’s visual palette, Newacheck’s taste for kinetic movements and lively set-pieces give the sequel a much-needed boost of energy compared to the platform’s other such similar comedic offerings.

Even the countless celebrity cameos – countless is no exaggeration – feel well-placed and are often both relevant and hysterical. Much like the rest of the humor, it’s all so random, eccentric, and utterly unbelievable. And so, again, just like the first film, it works. Happy Gilmore 2 will by no means blow your mind and is, by many measures, a somewhat conventional comedy in structure, tone, and pace. Yet, it manages to make two hours feel like fifteen minutes, both justifying its own existence and honoring the beloved movie that came before it. It’s just much better than I think anyone reasonably expected. In this case, simply being good is perhaps the greatest outcome. Happy Gilmore 2 is good. Hallelujah, hallelujah, amen.

Grade: B

Director: Sophie Brooks
Writer: Sophie Brooks, Molly Gordon
Stars: Molly Gordon, Logan Lerman, Geraldine Viswanathan

Synopsis: Iris and Isaac’s first romantic weekend getaway goes awry in a most unexpected way.

Of all the tasks a person faces in life, dating may be one of the most challenging; since the rise of online dating, it has become even harder. You might think that having access to more people would make finding a partner easier, but it often just leads to more confusion and fatigue. Someone you feel a strong connection with might be just in it for fun, already looking at the next potential match, even if they take you on a romantic getaway to a remote cabin on the lake. That’s the story of Oh, Hi! by writer/director Sophie Brooks.

Oh, Hi! begins with Isaac (Logan Lerman) and Iris (Molly Gordon) driving to a romantic getaway at High Falls. The two are seen in the car singing, laughing, kissing, and genuinely enjoying each other’s company. The romantic banter between them is maybe a bit over the top at times, but still feels realistic, especially since the “relationship” is still in the early honeymoon phase. They are inseparable, and the chemistry between Lerman and Gordon makes it seem like they’ve been together much longer than they actually have. However, it’s shown that despite their great appearance together, they don’t really know each other all that well yet—they’re still trying to understand each other on a deeper level. After an intimate moment where Isaac is chained to the bed, this lack of understanding fully comes to light as he tells Iris he isn’t looking for a relationship and that she’s not the only girl he’s seeing romantically. Understandably upset, Iris leaves him chained to the bed overnight and the following morning plans to win him over against his will. 

The scenes where Iris tries to win Isaac’s affection are among the funniest and most thematically powerful parts of the film. Sophie Brooks crafts these characters with humor and authenticity, making them believable. Iris’s frustration is palpable, and Molly Gordon delivers a hilarious performance as a manic, earnest girl desperately trying to connect with someone who doesn’t care either way. Though absurd, her behavior feels genuine—a plea for connection. Molly Gordon dominates these scenes, making a strong effort to carry the film. The first act benefits greatly from her performance and the film’s dark humor, which is both stressful and cringeworthy yet also funny. 

However, all the momentum gained quickly fades once the twelve hours Isaac agreed to pass, and Iris’s attempt at winning him over turns to keeping him trapped to avoid dealing with the repercussions. When Isaac insists his feelings haven’t changed and plans to contact the police, Iris rebinds him and calls her friend Max (Geraldine Viswanathan) for help. The arrival of Max and her boyfriend Kenny (John Reynolds) halts the movie’s momentum entirely. This shift isn’t due to the characters but results from the story losing its plot-driven focus. Numerous conversations between Iris, Max, and Kenny go nowhere, as Isaac’s character becomes irrelevant. The film shifts from exploring complex themes of dating to attempting comedy that never quite lands in any meaningful way, causing the plot to become sidetracked and lose its momentum. It almost seems as though Brooks’s initial idea for the film lost its way, and she struggles to reconnect with the core themes. The dialogue between characters was already absurd in a funny and endearing way, but eventually transitions into something far past believability. The film takes some unusual turns, exploring witches and potions that feel monotonous and meaningless, and as a viewer, I felt tied to my chair with no escape.

In just this year alone, several films, such as Companion and The Materialist, have explored the complexities of relationships in various ways. For a while, Oh, Hi! was doing a good job of bringing something different and relevant to the table. Still, the longer the film dragged on, the less I cared about the characters and the situation they were in, because it began to feel like they didn’t care all that much either. It began to feel less like Iris wanted Isaac to understand how trapped she had felt in the vulnerable position he had put her in, and more like she was in over her head with no way out. The humor became stale, and at times, it was rehashed with the same jokes told by different people. Once the film lost its sense of comedy, it truly lost its way as well. 

The end of the film forces the audience to suspend disbelief to an exponentially large extent. These characters, who were at war with one another for different reasons, wake up and understand the other’s point of view without any apparent reason for why they would have done so. After a tiresome second act, the film rushes to its conclusion in a less-than-satisfying way. One of the major problems is that it didn’t feel like the film took many risks. A film that raised questions about the difficulties of modern dating felt too nice, and the bow tie ending accentuated that idea, as it didn’t feel as though there was much of a point to it. 

There is a good movie in Oh, Hi!, it just wasn’t the version that was released. The genuinely funny performance from Molly Gordon and equally as charming Logan Lerman is essentially wasted on a film that knew what it wanted to say but couldn’t quite figure out how to convey it. The script’s beats are surface-level at best, and while I initially understood the characters’ motivations, they were quickly discarded in favor of absurdist comedy that wasn’t absurd or comedic. At one point, Isaac proclaims to Iris, “The problem is that I was too nice?” And I think the same could be said about Oh, Hi! as well.

Grade: D+

Director: Laetitia Dosch
Writer: Laetitia Dosch, Anne-Sophie Bailly
Stars: Laetitia Dosch, François Damiens, Jean-Pascal Zadi

Synopsis: Avril, a young lawyer, goes to great lengths to save her client, a repeat-offender dog, from capital punishment. This dog helps Avril accept her own human complexity.

Courtroom films, even if the film is a comedy, often have a complexity and drama that is rare for our court rooms in reality. There are grand speeches, weeping testimonies, harrowing witness statements, intrigue, bombshells of surprise information, gasps, and gallery participation. That is what we relate to. The passion of the moment and of justice. Dog on Trial has all of that, but it also has a canine defendant who is confused by the whole affair.

Dog on Trial is a funny movie, but it takes the defense arguments Avril (Laetitia Dosch) makes on behalf of Cosmos (Kodi) very seriously. Laetitia Dosch and co-writer Anne-Sophie Bailly have brought forth in their screenplay a compelling case for a dog sentenced to death for what comes natural to him. The courtroom becomes a fantastic menagerie of humans attempting to explain the psychology and nature of dogs. One of the best scenes is when one expert sets a sound board in front of Cosmos for him to answer questions posed by the judge. This goes surprisingly well as the button Cosmos hits to answer the first test question is coherent. Even the next button for the second test question is apt, but when the judge asks too complicated of a question, the button pushing gets erratic. Then Cosmos is just pushing the buttons for his own pleasure.

While the fun of this film is pure and sweet, the depth of the story is in human relations to dogs. There will be many people who have a shallow reaction to this story, an “aw, so cute,” reaction, but there is more here. The arguments of Roseline Bruckenheimer (Anne Dorval), the prosecutor, are futile because she attempts to equate this dog’s instinct with a human’s amorality. A dog never got drunk and hit its child. A dog doesn’t kill for the thrill. This is an animal and has no morality but the one imparted by biology and nurturing. There are no bad dogs, but there are bad humans who make dogs bad.

There is a feeling Dog on Trial can pull out of your chest, especially if you’re a dog person. It’s an immediate defense of Cosmos because he is a good dog, unfairly made into a pariah. The film delves deeply into the fact that dogs and humans have a kind of bond that is spiritual. Looking into Cosmos’ eyes, makes more than one human in the film see something more to the situation. This film, while very funny, is about the realities of the companionship between our two species. Rarely does the film ever engage in the “magical dog” trope, but keeps Cosmos grounded in the behavior of a real dog.

It’s strange to write, but this is a truly incredible dog performance. Kodi as Cosmos is trained so well that he is effortless in look and behavior. Yes, this performance is very much in the editing, superbly performed by Isabelle Devinck and Suzana Pedro. It’s also in the cinematography by Alexis Kavyrchine and the direction of Dosch. Yet, there is one scene especially that will make you question whether or not Kodi is a performer or just a good mimic. As Marc (Jean-Pascal Zadi) plays with Cosmos out in his pasture, Avril listens to Marc’s explanations of play dynamics. When Marc throws the stick he was tugging on with Cosmos, Cosmos chases after it and with a command, Marc stops him. Cosmos turns, not to run back to Marc, but to stare at him. He stares and it’s a look of disappointment, like Cosmos hoped that Marc wasn’t like the others. Cosmos hoped Marc would never cage him because the two of them developed such a strong rapport. It’s there in the look of Kodi as Cosmos and whether that was Kodi’s reaction in the moment or a different take, it doesn’t matter, it’s effective and seems to have been done with real instinct, not training.

A performance we can gauge on the obvious cognitive abilities of its performer is the great one by Laetitia Dosch. Dosch balances the goofy humor of her character’s inner monologue with the heft of a person who has deeply held convictions about right and wrong. Playing opposite a dog is never an easy feat, but Dosch has the temperament and skill that makes her scenes with Cosmos effortless. She’s funny and fierce. She’s sweet and serious. Dosch is terrific as Avril.

Dog on Trial could have swung for the comedy fences. It could have been a screwball affair with hammy performances from people and pets alike. It could have been overly serious and maudlin, which would have elicited laughter because it’s so atonal to the subject matter. Dog on Trial strikes a terrific balance and finds a near perfect middle that makes you forget the absurdism while marveling at it at the same time. It’s a film that is understanding of the realities in a case like this and while the verdict won’t be spoiled here, you will need some tissues when it’s read on the faces of the humans and dogs in the court. Dog on Trial is a special film that understands our connection to nature and that it should never be taken for granted.

Grade: A

Director: Kelsey Taylor
Writer: Kelsey Taylor
Stars: Maddison Brown, Ivan Martin, Kaitlin Doubleday

Synopsis: In a modern re-imagining of Little Red Riding Hood, a social pariah discovers a teenage runaway in the Oregon Wilderness and does his best to help her find a way home – a troubling exploration of trauma and redemption.

There’s something about the tale of Red Riding Hood and its deep-seated roots in the lore. The Brothers Grimm kingdom of dark fairytales has always had its fans and inquisitive searchers, especially in the film world. Many have tried multiple times to interpret it differently, especially concerning the darker elements connected to these cautionary childhood tales.

The latest attempt, written and directed by Kelsey Taylor, To Kill A Wolf tells the story of a mysterious woodsman (Ivan Martin), infatuated not just with music, but with sound -shown through the disparity between his modest living and his self-assembled, high-tech sound gear and systems- who relies on music to kill his infinite loneliness. He has another hobby, he likes to unhook wolf traps in the woods, he saves wolves, rather than kills them -a bold contrast to the film’s title- and during one of his elaborate wolf-saving missions, he finds an unconscious Dani (Maddison Brown). After he saves her, their journey begins.

Dani’s journey as the Red Riding Hood is one of being let down by one adult after the other. Unlike the woodsman, whose mystery in life is easily revoked by his openness about his emotional expression, Dani is a closed book. It’s not easy to decipher how she’s feeling amid the chaos. Taylor does an excellent job of shifting POVs and dismantling tropes. If there is mystery about the woodsman’s origin and past, Dani’s inner world is a vault. Her heart is locked, not to be unearthed any time soon. Their characters couldn’t be more different, but their unity stems from a single goal: running away from pain.

Dani’s harrowing silence unfolds into scenes from her scary reality, and the hints at her sexual abuse surface along with the manipulation of her “wolf,” rationalizing her into silence, putting her on mute. This leaves the viewers in a state of discomfort, relief, and catharsis. The truth is out, but what does a girl like her do about it? And is there anything to do about such prickly situations where one person is defenseless, young, and scared and the other…a wolf!

I am surprised by Taylor’s -a director unfortunately I have not been familiar with- immaculate attention to detail. Her characters don’t foolishly exist in a vacuum but have their own inner worlds, shown in glimpses from one scene to the next. She brilliantly practices world-building for her characters like a pro, handling the tonal shifts and the uncomfortable character dynamics with a mastery that paves the way for better control of her craft in upcoming movies.

Adam Lee’s cinematography highly complements her careful direction, creating a grainy, gloomy, world that manipulates the idea of a wolf. An animal born to hunt or a sexual predator, carefully manipulating all those around him to appear as villains, while he’s the one who hides his claws in plain sight. The wolf -or the Canis lupus- is innocent in this tale, hunted down by greedy humans, while the wolf (as the director dedicates one of her chapters to him) in his human form is the predator, the real one guilty of hurting Dani; the Red Riding Hood of our tale.

But what is the wolf really? And why do we have to kill it? Is it metaphorical -the wolf of our past, haunting us, running after us in the dark trail at night- or actually approaching the predator in the dark? The film doesn’t necessarily specify those symbols with clarity. A wolf is a wolf. And a grandma is a grandma, but what if a symbol is complicit in playing the role of another. Then who is to say the fairytale doesn’t play by the rules?

To Kill A Wolf makes the alluring woods, lonely, dark, and deep as they are, a place for refuge and shelter, but also an incubator for where the sleeping dogs lie. Secrets are buried alongside their perpetrators, and the woods with their giant trees are witnesses to all the traumas buried beneath the surface. Taylor’s film makes one car ride a woodsman makes to transport Red Riding Hood into a journey inside the forest of the self.

Grade: A

Directors: Jason Gerber, Sarah Blue Winslow Gerber
Stars: Chelli Look, Bridget Botchway Bradley, Jon Colon

Synopsis: Chelli Look, a leather bag artist, faces overwhelming grief after the murder of her sister. Chelli’s journey towards healing forces her to rediscover who she is as an artist, leading to a revelation that takes her in a new direction.

In telling the story of the life of Chelli Look, an artist best known for her work as a designer of handbags, directors Jason and Blue Gerber choose to center her development as an artist. This may seem like an odd choice, given the fact that her personal life could have so easily been sensationalized, but it allows for the creation of a more sensitive portrait of Look as a human being. Her struggle with the grief brought on by her sister’s murder at the hands of her brother-in-law is examined in considerable detail but the focus of the documentary is never entirely given away to this horrific tragedy. This ensures that it can function as more than simply a true crime portrait that revels in gory details and wallowing in the misery of others. It can instead function as a more fully rounded, three-dimensional study of the messiness of the mourning process when it expands its subject out to consider the professional life of one of the people directly impacted by this event. 

The documentary also derives a considerable amount of its emotional power from the fact that it refuses to conform to standard ‘inspirational’ narratives. The approach taken to depicting Chelli’s efforts to channel her grief into art is surprisingly straightforward. Her pain is captured in a sensitive manner but the audience is not asked to linger on it in an exploitative fashion. One is left with the impression of a form of grief that, rather than dissipating over time as part of a reparative process, comes to be cyclical in nature. The subtler aspects of the mourning experience are presented here in matter-of-fact terms. Nothing is over-dramatized and Chelli’s experiences are not contrived to fit into a pre-conceived vision of what this form of suffering should look like. In this regard, a case is made for the unique potential of the documentary form. It is perhaps easier for artists working in this medium to diverge from the tightly scripted narratives that often play a central role in shaping classical Hollywood cinema productions. There is more room to portray a slippery, difficult to pin down emotional journey here.

The muted emotional palette on display extends outwards to the visual style on display in scenes that focus on the design and construction of CHC leather goods. The bright, summery imagery on display offers us an optimistic vision of the act of creation. Rather than centering around the psychological strain that often results from this struggle, the film presents it as something that can be liberatory. This occurs, in part, because the subject of the documentary takes a constructive approach to her work and does not hold herself to any objective standards. For viewers who, like myself, were not aware of the ins and outs of the leather goods industry, there is also a fascination in getting a window into this highly exclusive sphere. Learning about the specifics of this very niche field is intriguing and, at times, the documentary even invites comparisons to the epic observational documentaries of Frederick Wiseman. In the same way that Menus-Plaisirs – Les Troisgros captured the nuances of day-to-day operations at fine dining restaurants in France, this documentary picks up on minute details that can completely alter one’s perception of an entire milieu. In size and scale, it is far more intimate than one of Wiseman’s sprawling, encyclopedic works but the interest in that which could otherwise be seen as insignificant is very much present in this film. 

To a certain degree, the documentary could be said to be limited by the fact that it does fall back on certain conventions when inserting footage from interviews with associates of Look. These segments very commonly appear in documentaries of this sort but, to me, they represent a divergence from the more free-flowing, experimental passages of the film. The interviewees do provide valuable information about Look’s family history and how she first became interested in designing bags. However, I can’t help but feel that these observations could have been delivered in a more original manner. Massive innovations have been made in the past few decades when it comes to weaving firsthand accounts into documentary storytelling and it would have been interesting to see more of a deviation from well-established norms. In a work of art that is often striking for how it works to undercut convention and avoid hewing too closely to tradition, it is disappointing to see something that feels more tied to a previous era of filmmaking.

Grade: A-

Director: Matt Shakman
Writer: Josh Friedman, Eric Pearson, Jeff Kaplan, and Ian Springer
Stars: Pedro Pascal, Vanessa Kirby, Ebon Moss-Bachrach

Synopsis: Forced to balance their roles as heroes with the strength of their family bond, the Fantastic Four must defend Earth from a ravenous space god called Galactus and his enigmatic Herald, Silver Surfer.

Listen, The Fantastic Four: First Steps is fine. And that’s fine, I guess, right? Considering the franchise’s history has been tepid at best, Marvel almost had to play it safe—using this film to relaunch the brand and pinning the studio’s hopes on Phase Six of its cinematic history. Yes, the movie looks great, as if the Mad Men production design team collided with the Marvel Cinematic Universe to give this new wave a unique presentation and feel like you’re watching a superhero movie from another time and place.

However, beyond that, is The Fantastic Four: First Steps really anything special? The story is just—what’s the word—oh yeah, fine. The good guys protect a city, which, of course, has to be a major market like New York or Los Angeles. God forbid they set up in Buffalo—probably because Times Square offers a plethora of product placement opportunities to help pay for the lavish production. A villain shows up—this time doing the “honorable” thing by warning everyone that the end is near, so enjoy what time you have left.

Again, we’re not reinventing anything here. And for some reason, studios seem determined to skip the origin story setup altogether—a trend that robs these kinds of films of some of their charm. We’re given a quick run-down of how the Fantastic Four came to be and have already saved the world. They’re back, and now holed up in a Trump-like tower, eating dinner as a family after returning to Earth-828—cosmically changed forever. A cosmic ray exposure has transformed Dr. Reed Richards (Materialists’ Pedro Pascal), known as Mr. Fantastic, who can now stretch any part of his body to great lengths. 

His wife, Sue Storm—aka the Invisible Woman (Academy Award nominee Vanessa Kirby)—drops a bombshell: after years of trying, they’re finally pregnant. (No word on whether Reed’s ability to stretch, uh, any part of his body played a role in ending that dry spell.) It’s about to be a full house at 260 Baxter Building Plaza. As they sit down for dinner, Ben Grimm—aka the Thing (Emmy winner Ebon Moss-Bachrach)—a sensitive soul now covered in an external layer of orange rock, picks up on the news from Reed’s dumbfounded expression. 

Johnny Storm—aka the Human Torch (Stranger Things’ Joseph Quinn)—is thrilled at the idea of returning to space and is over the moon for his sister and brother-in-law. However, he is about to fall in love as well, as he meets the Silver Surfer (Ozark’s Julia Garner), an enforcer for a cosmic gigantic being, Galactus (Ralph Ineson). They are told Earth’s days are numbered. However, when the Fantastic Four set out to save the world, they are given a choice to surrender Sue and Reed’s unborn son—or witness the total annihilation of Earth.

The Fantastic Four: First Steps, from WandaVision’s Matt Shakman, takes a disappointingly “just fine” approach—abandoning that series’s risk-taking and creativity in favor of a script that feels more paint-by-numbers than a bold reinvention of the genre. It’s not that Shakman dusted off the Marvel playbook—it’s that he followed it step by step, which is really all Marvel seems to do these days. Skipping over the group’s formation was a misstep, though I understand the desire to introduce one of Marvel’s greatest villains, the Silver Surfer, early to help establish the new phase. 

Is that fine? No—because a production like this should take more risks and build stronger conflict. Yet almost nothing elevates the tension. For one, the script is utterly predictable. And the attempted dynamic between the Human Torch and the Silver Surfer lacks any real spark, despite the efforts of screenwriters—take a deep breath—Josh Friedman, Eric Pearson, Jeff Kaplan, and Ian Springer, who desperately try to forge a human connection between them. Pascal and Kirby have more chemistry off-screen than on. The most compelling storyline belongs to Ben Grimm and Natasha Lyonne’s Rachel Rozman, but unfortunately, The Thing never gets any clobberin’ time with his love interest.

That’s a shame, considering the film went through numerous rewrites—stripping away most of its personality in the process. Odd, given the roster of writers includes names behind fun, big-budget fare like Thunderbolts*, Thor: Ragnarok, and Black Widow (I will defend David Harbour’s comedic performance in that film until the day I die). Frankly, I would have preferred more of Paul Walter Hauser’s Mole Man over Galactus, who is a gigantic bore for much of the film. The villain lumbers around like a lethargic Transformer—is that supposed to be exciting or suspenseful? We already know Disney won’t allow a child to be abducted or a main character to be killed off, so where’s the actual tension?

The result is an improvement over the turn-of-the-century adaptations. The film aims to be a friendly, comforting family story about teamwork, and its retro-futuristic flair consistently provides visually stimulating moments. While the bond between characters is present, the audience never gets to witness how that bond was formed—missing the emotional connection and resonance that could have grounded the story.

I did enjoy Moss-Bachrach’s voice work, Kirby’s luminous star quality, and Pascal’s nerdy, family-man take on Mr. Fantastic. However, the overall experience feels humdrum, never allowing the audience to invest in the picture fully. That may be fine for some—fine for now—but The Fantastic Four: First Steps is ultimately a recycled effort with a fresh coat of paint, and hardly worth your time, especially at theater prices. 

You can watch The Fantastic Four: First Steps only in theaters July 25th!

Grade: C

Director: Laurynas Bareiša
Writer: Laurynas Bareiša
Stars: Paulius Markevicius, Karolis Kasperavicius, Greta Grineviciute

Synopsis: To celebrate Lukas’ victory at the martial arts tournament and Tomas’ birthday party, their wives Juste and Ernesta organize a weekend at the summer house with a families. It was suppose to be a quiet weekend at countryside.

It should come as no surprise that Laurynas Bareiša’s Drowning Dry manages to be darkly funny while tackling an almost unbearably bleak subject. This balance is made possible by the fact that, for a long time, the film gives off the impression of not being about a horrifying family tragedy. It begins as a razor-sharp examination of the faltering bond between two Lithuanian sisters, Ernesta and Justé, who appear to have drifted apart. They travel, along with their respective families, to a lakeside cabin for what is intended to serve as a relaxing holiday. Before long, Ernesta’s husband Lukas is engaged in a low intensity conflict with Justé’s husband Tomas. The divide between the sisters only deepens and they find themselves increasingly growing apart as the weekend drags on. When an unexpected catastrophe upends the lives of both families, they each find themselves reflecting on their past experiences through markedly different lenses. These unexpected divergences become the centerpiece of a film that slowly becomes more of a conceptual art piece than a traditional narrative feature film. 

The film is distinguished by its ability to capture the fragility of familial bonds established between members of an extended family unit. The in-fighting and backstabbing that is already commonplace within the immediate family becomes infinitely more complicated when slightly more distant relatives get involved. We watch as in-groups and out-groups quickly form, with a kind of tribalistic outlook being taken on by the sisters at the center of the narrative. The cracks in the foundation of their relationship, which are too close for comfort in some regards, are further exposed when they introduce their children into the mix. Resentments over economic inequality and social status that appear to have driven a wedge between the two women have the effect of chilling relations between members of their respective families. Bareiša is extraordinarily perceptive in his understanding of how delicate arrangements, such as this one, can rapidly spiral out of control when put under pressure. Every character in the film is seen to retreat back into a shell of sorts, or even form somewhat calculated alliances with others, in order to survive this upheaval. Being a slow-moving Lithuanian drama, the film remains light on heavy theatrics or operatic showdowns. However, it does depict familial relations as a form of emotional warfare. 

There is also something to be said for the fact that the class dynamics on display here are legitimately knotty and complex. The basic scenario would appear to set Tomas, who is comfortably middle class and capable of buying a home, off against Lukas, who pursues a highly competitive and unstable career that prevents him from making large investments. One can easily imagine a telling of this story in which the perceived ‘tackiness’ of the MMA milieu that Lukas inhabits is played up more. While his physical strength is clearly a source of envy for the comparatively buttoned up Tomas, he is never outwardly portrayed as an unsophisticated or boorish individual. This makes the divide between himself and his brother-in-law less glaring than it could have been. There is ultimately a thin line that appears to separate the two men and Tomas, who faces financial concerns of his own, is eager not to fall behind his rival. As the film goes on, it becomes clearer and clearer that he derives at least some of his sense of self-worth from the fact that he can orient himself as the more stable, reasonable counterpart to a brother-in-law whom he perceives as childish and irresponsible. Part of what we respond to is the fears and anxieties that the two men project on to one another. Their very real antagonism has its basis in a set of unfounded misapprehensions but it also fills a need for the two of them. 

The teasing out of the underlying tensions at the heart of their bond occurs in tandem with an exploration of the unreliable nature of memory. In Rashomon fashion, we bear witness to multiple different interpretations of the same events, with slight variations cluing us into the very specific insecurities that each sister suffers from. While this has become a well-worn trope in cinema, it never feels like a gimmick here. The differences in perspective are subtle enough to leave the audience guessing and the message being conveyed is not merely that the human perception of reality is inherently subjective. The brief flashbacks in this film play out as troubled attempts to reconcile half-remembered events from the past with the horrors of the present. There is a heavy sense of foreboding that hangs over these scenes and an eerie feeling of not being rooted in a specific point in time. Bareiša’s utilization of this popular storytelling technique is effective because it disorients the audience instead of seeking to turn the film’s narrative into a puzzle box of sorts. There are no grand revelations that uncover the fact that one seemingly upstanding character was, in fact, lying while another, apparently untrustworthy, figure was telling the truth. All that the viewer is left with is a few fragments of the superficially mundane events that led up to an unspeakable tragedy. Much like Ernesta and Justé, we can only engage with these discrete moments in time from a distance; all the while failing to grasp their full weight and significance.

Grade: A

Director: Dan Allen
Writers: Felix Salten, Rhys Warrington
Stars: Roxanne McKee, Samira Mighty, Nicola Wright

Synopsis: After a mother and son get in a car wreck, they soon become hunted by Bambi, a mutated grief-stricken deer on a deadly rampage seeking revenge for the death of his mother.

The Poohniverse or The Twisted Childhood Universe has become a trademark; a fingerprint of B-horror that is a hit and -in most cases- a miss for a variety of reasons. Lack of creativity is one, but the other is the failure to utilize the rich material at hand; an abundance of dark fairytales and reimagined childhood favorite animated films with darker, murderous tones. The franchise includes a bunch of titles that vary dramatically in quality and attention to detail. The feature I’m about to review though, is one of the finest that the Poohniverse has to offer.

Bambi: The Reckoning is a dark fairytale twisted into a modern narrative. Instead of Bambi, the small, gentle deer mourning his mother’s death at the hands of hunters, he is now a minotaur-like predator—a deadly, mutated creature on a bloody trail to avenge his mother’s death by humans. Family dynamics ensue as a mother (Roxanne McKee) and son (Tom Mulheron) abandoned by a father, cross paths with the bloodthirsty Bambi, whom they get in a car crash with, only for him to hunt them all over town. 

One great thing about the horror flick is how nasty and unlikeable some of the human characters are. Instead of making viewers sympathize with the victims -save for the mother and child, but even those we don’t spend enough time with them enough to root for them. Bambi doesn’t try to be sophisticated or add unnecessary depths and dimensions to its killer or its characters. It deviates a little from Peter Pan’s Neverland Nightmare which has tried to stir the wheel of guttural horror into a creepy tale about sexual abuse and trauma. This time, this is pure horror for horror, murder for murder, and mayhem for mayhem.

One of the most impressive aspects about the film is the creature CGI. Director Dan Allen holds no barrels back in showcasing the gruesome deaths, the blood sprees, and the mutilated corpses of Bambi’s victims. Bambi himself is a marvel. Caked in blood, with sharp, vampiric teeth, and zombie-like eyes, he’s like a messenger from Hell, out to cause mayhem and chaos on earth for our protagonists. The special effects and visual effects craftspeopledo an excellent job in creating one of this year’s most nightmarish villains. Allen makes use of the silent, claustrophobic nature of the deep dark woods at night, building the perfect tension and heightening the claustrophobic feeling of the hunted being chased by the not-so-hapless prey.

Does the film add to the ever-expanding universe? It does, more than many of its predecessors. For true gory, B-horror fans who find their pleasure in flying limbs and crushed skulls, this flick has it all. A few jump scares that will send chills down the spine and cause some discomfort in the dark movie theater. It doesn’t take long before we start cheering on Bambi to finish them all like a ghostly killer in an AgathaChristie novel except this time it is not a whodunnit and this killer is not secretive. It’s a British winter, and the film has a posh setting of a British mansion, but the mystery lies in the cruelty of nature, where Bambi lures his victims into his kingdom where he reigns with terror, throwing it in the hearts of the humans who wronged -and did not wrong- him. Nature aids Bambi on his murder rampage, brutally murdering the victims he cannot reach in the most violent way possible. 

Bambi: The Reckoning is Cujo for the Brothers Grimm aficionados, one of the strongest additions to the Poohniverse, if not the best so far. It’s B-horror as B-horror should be: bloody, cruel, unflinching, and not concerned with the dramatics.

Grade: B+