Director: Mahdi Fleifel
Writers: Mahdi Fleifel, Fyzal Boulifa, Jason McColgan
Stars: Mahmoud Bakri, Aram Sabbah, Angeliki Papoulia

Synopsis: A Palestinian refugee living on the fringes of society in Athens hustles and schemes his way to get out of this limbo by any means necessary.

Bureaucracy doesn’t serve the people. It serves the state. The paperwork, endless meetings, legal proceedings, more paperwork, and denials are meant to get you to give up. They, the state, don’t want you to have what you need even though they ostensibly supply it through their process. The ambiguity of the system is what keeps the system alive and the people from advancing.

This is where we find Chatila (Mahmoud Bakri) and many people in his circle. They have become people without a country because the legal means for getting from where they were to where they want to go is not fast or fair enough. These refugees get stuck in a sort of purgatory where their morality and humanity is tested.

The script for To a Land Unknown, written by Mahdi Fleifel (who also directed), Fyzal Boulifa, and Jason McColgan, depicts a constant state of waiting. The tale is Sisyphean in the constant struggles the characters face. As Chatila and his friend Reda (Aram Sabbah) feel like they have the scheme to get them ahead, the scheme that will finally get them out of Athens, something sets them back. Their schemes, no matter the nobility of the final goal, test their moral fortitude and bend their sense of human decency. These are good people in a bad situation, who have in turn become bad people by trying to better their situation.

The story, in some ways, evokes John Steinbeck’s “Of Mice and Men.” Chatila, the brains, is trying to keep Reda, the meek, from screwing up their plans. There is even a very similar scene between the two stories when Reda asks Chatila to describe the restaurant they’re going to open just as simple Lennie begs shrewd George to tell him of the farm the two of them will one day have.

Yet, it’s reductive to think of Reda as simple as Lennie. He’s more world weary than Chatila, having been through this type of purgatory before. He’s been dragged back here by Chatila’s optimism and drive. His good nature is being tainted by the things he must do to survive and the things Chatila schemes to get them closer to his goal of Germany. Reda says in so many words, time and time again that this isn’t what he wants. He asks Chatila time and again what he will even do at the restaurant to contribute in a meaningful way. Every step he takes toward Chatila’s dream is a step away from himself.

This is where Mahdi Fleifel excels as a director. He and cinematographer Thodoros Mihopoulos have set up shots where the men walk with purpose toward the camera as the camera moves backward. It’s as if the camera is their goal, just out of reach as it moves away. This is never more focused then as Reda makes a decision about a pair of shoes he promised to fellow refugee, Yasser (Mohammad Ghassan). Reda spies the store out of the corner of his eye as the camera stops with him. He tells Malik (Mohammad Alsurafa), a lone boy he and Chatila have been mentoring, to wait for him in the park. We don’t enter into the shop with Reda, but we see the interaction with the clerk from outside. As soon as he’s given the box of shoes, Reda bolts. He runs as if chasing the camera and looks as if this act has once again set him further back than having brought him ahead like he wanted. His chase is futile because his true goal of contentment and security will always be out of his reach.

These scenes of desperation, frustration, and anguish simply would not work without the great talents of Mahmoud Bakri and Aram Sabbah. The fiery passion that Bakri brings to Chatila is matched by his skill with Chatila’s more tender moments of deep thought. The anguish of Reda would not be as poignant if it weren’t for the expressive face of Sabbah. The two of them play off each other brilliantly and create a pair that is easily understood as needing to be together and in need of a separation because their codependence will bring them both down.

To a Land Unknown is almost like a bottle. The cork of legality is firmly stuck over the heads of Chatila and Reda. They can try and chip at the cork or break through the bottle, but neither option is as easy as they hope. The film is about the hustle and the humanity lost in surviving in between trying to live a better life. It’s a beautiful meditation on friendship and a stark reminder of the tremendous lengths people will go to get out of a dire situation.

Grade: A

Director: Embeth Davidtz
Writer: Embeth Davidtz
Stars: Lexi Venter, Embeth Davidtz, Zikhona Bali

Synopsis: Depicts 8-year-old Bobo’s life on her family’s Rhodesian farm during the Bush War’s final stages. It explores the family’s bond with Africa’s land and the war’s impact on the region and individuals through Bobo’s perspective.

My expectations for Embeth Davidtz’s feature directorial debut, Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight, were relatively nonexistent. Being unfamiliar with the source material and period of history Davidtz adapts the story from, the movie felt like a significant ask, especially as a transition from acting to directing. Yet, there was something utterly transfixing about how Davidtz showcased this period in history and the dark coming-of-age tale that acts as the basis of Alexandra Fuller’s memoir that I began to become completely hypnotized by it, even during some of its most difficult scenes. 

What impressed me the most about Davidtz’s approach to filmmaking, right from the top, is how strong of a formalist she is. With cinematographer Willie Nel, she creates images of real, tangible poetry, whose impact marks an indelible imprint in her memory. For starters, shooting the story through the eyes of its titular character, Alexandra “Bobo” Fuller (Lexi Vinter), gives it a much more intimate feel. We’re forced to observe a child born in the throes of an ongoing war, who has known nothing but conflict and division and whose perception of the world is warped by her parents’ beliefs, attempting to make sense out of a situation that complexifies itself further as the movie progresses. 

Davidtz plays Nicola, one of the parents, and her vision of the world is imparted within Bobo’s behavior, and how she (curiously) observes people, either under a table or by directly doing things she shouldn’t, such as smoking, and knowing how to cock a gun. It’s in those moments where the audience understands the weight of what the filmmaker wants to tell, without an ounce of handholding in its 100-minute runtime. In some cases, we perfectly understand what’s going on. Fragmented archival footage of news reports, or radio announcements, gives the audience context in different ways than we’re usually accustomed to in historical dramas. We’re forced to listen and pay attention to what the characters are watching, or listening to, for us to get a sense of what’s happening. 

At some point, though, the narrative becomes increasingly muddled, and it’s a bit hard to follow what’s most important. Yet, Davidtz’s image-making is so strong that we’re often encouraged to extract meaning from how she frames Bobo’s story. The fact that the camera is constantly on her level, and lets us see her point-of-view, either through direct shot-reverse-shot exchanges between the characters or images that literally show what Bobo is seeing. One of the most striking recurring ones occurs at the beginning of the movie, where she half-closes her eyes, and we see the sunlight reflect on her eyelashes, saying internally to the person she’s looking at, “If you love me, you have to turn around.” 

This is repeated at the end of the movie, and what emerges overwhelms the senses. It’s pure cinema, distilled at its most potent essence. Again, I didn’t know what to expect from Davidtz, and was shocked at how jaw-dropping each frame of her movie was. It envelops us and encourages the audience to come up with their own conclusion as the story gets darker, bleaker, and far more confrontational in its exploration of protagonists we shouldn’t relate to, or feel an ounce of sympathy for, with the exception of Bobo, whose innocence has been stripped out by endless trauma, either direct or indirect. 

As Bobo, Venter’s performance is revelatory. We feel for her plight at every turn, and express great compassion when we see what she sees – because a child’s eyes aren’t meant to observe what she looks at on a daily basis. It makes some of the film’s more difficult scenes even tougher to swallow, especially its gut-wrenching conclusion, which is of immense emotional power. Davidtz is equally as good in a supporting performance, but I’m more than hoping she will continue to carve a path as a singular artist within the world of filmmaking rather than acting. 

If anything, Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight proves to me that Davidtz has what it takes to be one of the best filmmakers working today if she continues in that direction. We already knew how good of an actor she is, whether in her heartwarming portrayal of Mrs. Honey in Danny DeVito’s Matilda or in her sorrowful turn as Helen Hirsch in Steven Spielberg’s Schindler’s List. And as she’s about to blow sixty candles next month, Davidtz has found something that has likely been boiling inside her that she desperately wanted to make, on her own terms, as a director we should all watch out for as she will (hopefully) create another film much sooner than later…

Grade: A-

Director: Chris Miller
Writer: Pam Brady
Stars: Rihanna, James Corden, Nick Offerman

Synopsis: When Papa Smurf is mysteriously taken by evil wizards, Razamel and Gargamel, Smurfette leads the Smurfs on a mission into the real world to save him. With the help of new friends, the Smurfs must discover what defines their destiny to save the universe.

One question that has seemingly always managed to rack my brain is, “What is the appeal of the Smurfs?” Sure, maybe the whole adjective to describe what one of these blue creatures does was cute while the original cartoon ran in the ‘80s, but what is so special about these characters that they now have four feature films? The two live-action animated hybrid films The Smurfs and The Smurfs 2 are among some of the most dreadful movies made in recent years, and the fully animated Smurfs: The Lost Village is about as memorable as a piece of sandpaper. Enter Smurfs, which manages to showcase almost all the laziest and most shameless aspects of modern children’s entertainment. With bottom-of-the-barrel attempts at modern lingo in dialogue, jokes that are barely formed, and a story that manages to be simultaneously generic and convoluted as hell, Smurfs is a fascinating embarrassment to witness. Some occasional nice animation and songs save it from being the worst of the Smurf films, but that isn’t saying much.

After an exposition dump of Papa Smurf (John Goodman) narrating about how the smurfs have a magical book that they must keep away from four evil witches who need the book to complete a scheme to remove all the goodness from the universe, we meet No Name (James Corden), a smurf who’s still searching for his “thing” amongst the village and Smurfette (Rihanna),  a smurf initially crafted by Gargamel to capture other smurfs. When Papa Smurf is captured by Gargamel’s brother, Razamel (both voiced by JP Karliak), it’s up to No Name and Smurfette to lead all of Smurf Village to define themselves and save their world. 

From the minute it starts, the overly broad story beats within the film’s screenplay begin rearing their heads. The movie’s main message of finding worth in oneself is something that, despite its overuse in media, can be told in creative ways in younger-skewing films such as The Lego Movie, but it’s done about as plain as they come here. No Name Smurf just suddenly can do whatever the plot needs him to do in the final act, leading to his growth of becoming Magic Smurf, being glossed over, and Smurfette’s conflict of how she comes from a different space than the other Smurfs could not be more tacked onto the film’s entirety as an afterthought. 

Matters aren’t helped because the universe that the Smurfs reside in could not be more poorly thought out. Once the Smurfs start their journey to find Papa in Paris, the live-action elements of the movie’s environment are wildly out of place. Why do real-life human beings never remotely notice the blue creatures that are near them? Why do animated humans and live-action humans occupy the same space? The film’s animated portions clash so badly with real life, an aspect of the filmmaking that even the early 2010s Smurf films did better.

These constant irks would matter less if the film were even remotely funny, but it misses the mark on nearly every punchline. The movie’s “jokes” are mostly a mix of replacing random words with Smurf, specific Smurfs limited to doing what word describes their character, obnoxious puns such as “What the shell?”, and a finishing touch of cringey modern lingo that comes across so desperate for relevance. There’s rarely any switch ups between these four joke variations, and this star-studded voice cast is rarely, if ever, able to bring any charisma to these lines that doesn’t just come across as nonsensical noise happening on screen.

The film’s one singular saving grace is the admittedly beautifully looked backgrounds and animation styles on display here. This film easily has the best-looking visuals of any Smurf film to date, as it uses a similar cell-shaded animated style to other recent films within the medium to its advantage. There’s even a full sequence in the film where our characters jump through different dimensions of animation styles like stop-motion and stick figure, and it’s where the movie is at its most inspired. However, there’s even a small caveat to this singular complement as the movements of cell-shaded character models can oftentimes be a bit janky and awkward to look at, but not enough for it to be a complete take away.

Smurfs may, at the very least, entertain the smallest of children, but it’s hard to imagine anyone else being enticed by what happens here. It’s a forgettable trash heap that offers nothing new, funny, or interesting to the average viewer, that isn’t executed infinitely better elsewhere. The absolutely preposterous world-building tops it all off, and it’s safe to say that this franchise couldn’t be more dead on arrival.

Grade: D

Director: Jennifer Kaityn Robinson
Writers: Sam Lansky, Jennifer Kaityn Robinson
Stars: Madelyn Cline, Chase Sui Wonders, Sarah Pidgeon

Synopsis: A group of friends are terrorized by a stalker who knows about a gruesome incident from their past.

I have no idea why people have reverence for Jim Gillespie’s I Know What You Did Last Summer, which is essentially Scream if you order it off Temu, but 90s horror seems to be a prime time for many fans of the genre. Plus, who doesn’t love to see Freddie Prinze Jr., Sarah Michelle Gellar, and Jennifer Love Hewitt in movies? We used to see them all the time, and now they’ve disappeared off the map. 

In a way, it does make sense for Sony to want to capitalize on the recent trends of legacy sequels, or, more aptly named, requels and attempt to expand the I Know What You Did Last Summer franchise with fresh new faces, while Freddie Prinze Jr. and Jennifer Love Hewitt return to reprise their iconic roles as Ray Bronson and Julia James. After all, the Danny Cannon-directed sequel, I Still Know What You Did Last Summer, was critically and commercially reviled (I personally thought it was fun, but in an extremely stupid kind of way), and the Sylvain White-helmed direct-to-video third outing, I’ll Always Know What You Did Last Summer, is incredibly mean-spirited. 

With Jennifer Kaityn Robinson in the director’s chair, who gave us Do Revenge in 2022 and also co-wrote the screenplay for Thor: Love and Thunder, there was hope that this new installment in the I Know What You Did Last Summer franchise would revamp this unique slasher for new generations. Unfortunately, there’s very little here that actually works. Apart from retreading the same plot beats as the original, focusing on a group of teenagers who accidentally kill someone in a car accident and decide to keep it a secret, until they are stalked by a killer wearing a fisherman’s outfit and exacting its victims with a hook, the movie then decides to “spice things up” by doing something no person who has some form of reverence for the original would. 

But I’m getting ahead of myself, and won’t dare spoil this denouement that is bound to leave the audience equally perplexed and frustrated. For a good chunk of the movie, Kaityn Robinson stays in platitudes that repeat what the first film laid out without the desire to try anything new with Kevin Williamson’s formula. Though if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, right? And while the cast’s chemistry may not reach the levels of the original, each respective actor does a fine job in attempting to uncover who the serial killer could be. But it won’t take long for you to guess who it is – even if the filmmaker will attempt to insert red herrings that could exonerate them and divert your attention to someone else. 

Obviously, the one who looks suspicious isn’t the killer, and the one who is the least suspicious is. It won’t take long for you to put two and two together, especially if you’ve seen the latest iterations of Scream or, more recently, Heart Eyes, and the rest of the movie is as dull as you think. Even the kills aren’t that impressive. The usage of hooks and fishing instruments does give the franchise a bit of an edge that most slashers don’t have, but Kaityn Robinson’s sense of geography and rhythm during repetitive chase scenes and gnarly kills contains little thrills. The kills aren’t nearly as playful and elaborate as the original, and their impact is lessened by cinematography that seems restrained to shock – or surprise – viewers in its attempt to modernize a series that didn’t necessarily need a revamp. 

Because when Julie and Ray eventually show up to help Danica Richards (Madelyn Cline), Ava Brooks (Chase Sui Wonders), Milo Griffin (Jonah Hauer-King), and Stevie Ward (Sarah Pidgeon) track and hunt the killer before his hook finds them, their purpose in the movie seems limiting, other than giving exposition to the characters on events that happened in the original two movies. Hewitt is barely in the picture, spoon-feeding things that could make tracking the assailant easier, and then dropping out entirely, save for one semi-compelling exchange with Ray that showcases how the two stars still haven’t lost their spark. 

There are a few surprises that admittedly worked on me, particularly a specific dream sequence, but most of the “legacy” appearances are pedestrian at best, and baffling at worst. There’s a narrative decision that happens later on in the movie so insulting to the fans of the franchise that the potential for a cult following is pretty much evaporated once we get to this sequence and Kaityn Robinson doubles down on this giallo-inspired twist that, in any circumstance, doesn’t work. 

Only Sarah Pidgeon from the new cast comes out of this requel unscathed, especially during the climax, where she seems to enjoy each new twist and turn the story takes, knowing how baffling they are. It’s a shame no one shares the same pleasure she has in letting loose and playing with the confines of such a unique slasher that Kevin Williamson wrote as a deviation of sorts from Scream. Even a post-credits scene, which reintroduces a character that may or may not resonate with fans, reeks of desperation instead of actual fun. We’re promising audiences that the next one will be more entertaining than this one, when all we wanted was a good time at the movies, in the present moment.

Grade: D-

Director: R.T. Thorne
Writers: R.T. Thorne, Glenn Taylor, Lora Campbell
Stars: Danielle Deadwyler, Kataem O’Connor, Michael Greyeyes, Milcania Diaz-Rojas

Synopsis: Hailey Freeman and her family are the last descendants of African American farmers who settled in rural Canada after the Civil War. In a famine-decimated near future, they now struggle to safeguard their farm, as they make one last stand against a vicious militia hell-bent on taking their 40 Acres

The words “famine-decimated” and “vicious militia” are doing a fair bit of heavy lifting in the case of R.T. Thorn’es debut feature, 40 Acres, considering how, with them subtracted and a few flesh-eaters added in, the film would be imperceptible from yet another apocalyptic thriller. The last few years have already had its handful of them, hence the italicized groan in the last sentence. Said gripe has less to do with the quality of films like 28 Years Later, In the Lost Lands, or The Gorge. (Okay, maybe it has to do with the quality of The Gorge.) But, as is often the case, familiarity can end up feeling synonymous with enervation. What counts is whether or not you can transcend the exhaustion of the garden-variety apocalypse narrative, thus crafting something original and refreshing despite recognizable tropes.

40 Acres nearly crosses that threshold, though it also feels unmistakably like an extended cutscene from The Last of Us, or worse yet, AMC’s forever-running series The Walking Dead, especially as the story evolved beyond the need for zombies to be the most terrifying entity in the room. Viewers who counted themselves among the dedicated many to latch onto the journeys of Rick Grimes, Daryl Dixon, Carol, Glenn, Maggie, and others in the early seasons of Frank Darabont’s show always feared the presence of biters, but once villains like The Governor (David Morrissey) and Negan (Jeffrey Dean Morgan) showed up, it was clear that harm’s way was down every trail these characters could possibly traverse, undead notwithstanding. 

It’s admittedly disingenuous to compare Thorne’s film to the cyclical nature of a series that lost its own way midway through its run on the small screen, but the comparisons are hard to miss: A family lives on a farm, protecting their land, and facing constant opposition from neighboring armies of misfit madmen eager to take what doesn’t belong to them. Outsiders are to be feared, not entertained. That’s how Hailey Freeman (Danielle Deadwyler) – a former soldier – and her husband, Galen (Michael Greyeyes) conduct things in their houseland and the land it sits on, a deeply personal undertaking that dates back centuries to when Hailey’s ancestors settled there (the film takes place in Canada; its director is from Calgary) after escaping Civil War-era Georgia. The movie’s exhilarating opening sequence sees Hailey, Galen, and their family – most notably their 20-something son, Emanuel (Kataem O’Connor) – fending off intruders, of which there are many more hidden on the outskirts. If only the remainder of its runtime maintained such exhilaration.

Not that every apocalypse picture needs to move a mile a minute; if that were the case, we’d grow more exhausted by the proceedings themselves than the plottiness they’re steeped in. Yet 40 Acres never manages to evolve beyond the “keep the outsiders out” mantra that its lead character preaches with the fury of an angry judge banging her gavel through the wood of her stand. That Hailey is judge, jury, and primary executioner makes matters even more complicated: It would be one thing if she was stern, but it’s another to watch her rigidity foster an environment that begs for rebellion, something Emanuel can’t help but inch toward. When he notices a beautiful stranger (Milcania Diaz-Rojas) swimming in a river near his home, his curiosity piques and his eyes bulge (along with something a little lower on his body). When questions swirl about whether or not Dawn is who she says she is, and the family’s land comes under attack (again, and repeatedly, all in relatively rapid succession), it’s not particularly difficult to clock where and when the first domino was nudged.

Thorne has a tight grasp on what makes for compelling violence in a realm such as this, and it’s easy to imagine his future in film being far brighter than that of the characters he has drawn here, to say nothing of their fates as more outsiders invade over the course of almost two hours. But so little of 40 Acres seems to care about being anything more than a one-note tale at the end of the world, as though it drove itself into a proverbial dead end and said, “Yeah, this feels like a good place to set up shop.” It’s a dark, picturesque movie that is light on its feet enough to not cause the weight of its overlong runtime to bear down on you – a credit not just to Dev Singh and Sandy Pereira’s editing, but to the images cinematographer Jeremy Benning provided them – but it’s also a film with a great deal of thematic heft (chief among them, how race remains omnipresent, even in dystopia) at its disposal that it chooses to forego for the blander path, not the more contemplative one. (Even Deadwyler, its stalwart star, seems to be trudging through plottiness in search of deeper meaning.) Movies like this one have promise in theory, but without proper care become commonplace and rote, 40 Acres being case in point. It doesn’t help that 40 Acres and the many similar films to follow in its wake feel far less apocalyptic the more frequent they become.

40 Acres is now playing in select theaters.

Grade: C-

Director: Kensuke Sonomura
Writer: Yugo Sakamoto
Stars: Akari Takaishi, Masanori Mimoto, Mario Kuroba

Synopsis: After being possessed by the ghost of vengeful hit man Kudo, college student Fumika Matsuoka agrees to help him finish his quest for vengeance from beyond the grave.

Those who have been on action choreographer Kensuke Sonomura’s train for some time, since Resident Evil: Vendetta or the Baby Assassins trilogy, know he’s one-of-a-kind, and has crafted some of the best action sequences you’ll ever see. He should be known by all action movie lovers as a household name in the genre, because his choreographies push the boundaries of what many of his predecessors have established in showcasing bodies in motion, the likes of which you’ve never seen before. 

Sonomura seems to elevate what Chang Cheh and Lau Kar-leung have established within martial arts cinema, through choreographies that focus on the body first before anything else, because it is a vehicle for all types of emotion, whether physical or psychological. We feel everything in how each character expresses themselves through their fighting styles, or smartly attempt to overthrow baddies, just in how they use their bodies as the fuel for all emotion. And in his latest directorial effort, Ghost Killer, he takes this approach to the extreme. 

The conceit is essentially an excuse for Sonomura and screenwriter Yugo Sakamoto (the man behind the Baby Assassins franchise) to put their protagonist, Fumika Matsuoka (Akari Takaishi), inside one elaborate action set piece after the next. As she discovers a bullet case on the street, she picks it up and is immediately connected with the ghost of Kubo (Masanori Mimoto), who appears after Fumika touches the bullet. Kubo has been killed by assailants for reasons that we’ll eventually learn as the plot develops, but for now, the two have realized that they can connect their souls if they hold their hands together. 

When this happens, Kubo’s spirit can inhabit Fumika’s body, giving her fighting skills she never knew she had. Once we understand this framing device and Sonomura clearly defines how it works within a given action scene, this is where the fun begins, and where the filmmaker pushes the limits of his mind/body approach to martial arts choreography. Each fight, whether fleeting or extended, is a genuine work of art. There’s playful physical comedy in the movie’s first half, when Fumika attempts to process what’s going on; confused, terrified, even at the mere thought of a spirit taking control of her body. 

But the film gets increasingly violent as the story progresses, and we learn more about what caused Kudo’s death. It also becomes much darker, with a final half that ramps up the bloodletting and perverse sense of slapstick. The movie constantly enthralls and surprises, especially during the final confrontation between Fumika/Kudo and its main antagonist, a fight worthy of Lau Kar-leung’s Dirty Ho, where each punch (or stab) leads to more endless movements of emotion as the stakes get higher and Fumika’s life is literally on the line, while Kudo swore he would protect her with his otherworldly presence. 

It’s a fight scene that ranks high among Sonomura’s best, and would probably be his crowning achievement if he weren’t a major part of the success of the Baby Assassins movie, and that the third film (which is coming out on VOD next month but this critic saw at Fantasia last year) may be the decade’s greatest action movie. His understanding of kineticism rivals any good action artist who established themselves in Hollywood – even Chad Stahelski. That’s how good he is, and it’s unfortunate that most covering film in this space have no idea who he is. 

But none of this would work if the chemistry between the human and the ghost wasn’t in top form. Luckily, Akari Takaishi has been one of the most exciting burgeoning actors from Japan, and what she does in this movie is nothing short of exceptional. It may not be as narratively strong as the last Baby Assassins film, but Takaishi’s performance is just as good, if not better than her starmaking turn as Chisato Sugimoto in those pictures. How she lets her eyes shift between her two states of mind – unpossessed and possessed – is genuinely riveting, and her sense of comedic timing seems effortless. 

When she needs to convey the physicality of being possessed by the spirit of an assassin, she more than understands the assignment, until Fumika’s body is fully taken over by Kudo’s, leading to a succession of action setpieces that will make your head spin in utter bewilderment. Her sense of alchemy with Mimoto is explosive, especially when the two need to work hand-in-hand to topple a horde of endless baddies. It’s action cinema at its purest and most sincere – the type of stuff you usually crave to see on the big screen from major Hollywood studios, who prefer to fill their slate with endless CGI battles instead of the tangible, tactile creativity of Kensuke Sonomura’s innovations. 

Hopefully, as the internet chatter on Baby Assassins intensifies, people will divert their attention to examine Sonomura’s directorial works, and Ghost Killer might be his finest effort yet. Its sense of pacing is still a bit wobbly, but it almost doesn’t matter when he stages one of the greatest final fights you’ll ever see. It cements Sonomura as a real action artist, and someone who isn’t afraid of pushing the mind and body in fighting combinations you’ve never seen. Lau Kar-leung probably dreamt of directing something as bracingly kinetic and emotionally exciting as Ghost Killer, but it’s Sonomura who will be long remembered for it on the same level as the greatest martial arts  masters.

Grade: A

Director: Christian Swegal
Writer: Christian Swegal
Stars: Nick Offerman, Jacob Tremblay, Dennis Quaid

Synopsis: A father and son who identify as Sovereign Citizens, a group of anti-government extremists, find themselves in a standoff with a chief of police that sets off a manhunt.

The Sovereign Citizen movement has been slowly rising in certain parts of the United States over the past couple of decades. This group of citizens brings some interesting yet untenable ideas about government that have seldom been explored thoughtfully in film or television. You’ll see some clips of courtroom settings where they try and weasel their way out of the law, but not much else. Writer-director Christian Swegal’s debut feature, Sovereign, shines a light on this cultural movement through the real-life story of Jerry (Nick Offerman) and Joe Kane (Jacob Tremblay), a father and son who identify as Sovereign Citizens. The film follows the pair as they travel the country spreading their wisdom to help free people from “illegal debt” with banks and the government. 

Sovereign is incredibly somber and introspective, focusing deeply on Jerry and Joe’s relationship to each other and their relationship to the world around them. From the outset, we see Joe living by himself in a rundown household, dishes in the sink, and scraps of metal in the yard. Jerry returns from a long road trip of evangelizing for the masses to multiple foreclosure notices from the bank, refusing to look at them due to “receiving being a choice,” using this as a loophole to not pay the bank. Jerry makes every moment with Joe count, constantly indoctrinating him with his ideology and hatred of the government. 

The counterpoint to the Kanes comes when they are brought in for questioning after a routine traffic stop gone wrong. Police Chief John Bouchart (Dennis Quaid) gets Joe alone and tries to get him to turn his back on his father, but to no avail. After this encounter, the film splits into two running stories, continuing to follow the Kanes and tracing Chief Bouchart and his son Adam (Thomas Mann) as he is finishing his time in the police academy. 

Swegal’s script chooses this moment to put these two resolute ideologies against each other: law and order against anti-government sovereignty. In less nuanced hands, this could have turned into a “copaganda” story, with the Kanes being labeled as evil guys who are stopped by the righteous police. Fortunately, Swegal takes a more layered approach that brings empathy to both sides of the coin. In many ways, the American system made these people on both sides who they are, without much room to turn out differently. 

The film’s craft is simple yet effective, using dull, dark lighting and color tones to establish the mood. This is not a happy story. James McAlister’s light, guitar-driven score evokes the quiet beats of something like The Last of Us, where existential dread surrounds moments that are meant to be peaceful. Sovereign’s craft makes the narrative that much more harrowing as it unfolds. 

This harrowing feeling builds impressively throughout the film. Each time the Kane’s interact with anyone outside of themselves you expect something to go wrong. Jerry’s got a short fuse, something Joe just seems to be used to at this point. There are a few moments where he feels he can push back, but those come in rare instances of courage for him. 

It’s safe to say that this is Nick Offerman’s best performance in a film, and essentially explores what would happen if Parks & Rec were rated TV-MA and Ron Swanson leaned into a darker version of his politics. Offerman portrays Jerry’s distrust and anger with such menacing power. At no point do you expect Jerry to do the right thing and know that the jig is up. His disillusionment doesn’t make him one-note, but rather speaks to his desperation. His way of thinking has to work or else they lose their home and life together. It’s a scary performance, one that vastly outshines Tremblay’s more inward-focused turn. Tremblay is excellent, but it’s very hard for him to stand out against a robust performer like Offerman. 

All-in-all, Christian Swegal delivers a powerhouse debut in Sovereign, tackling warring schools of thought and the terrifying impacts they can have on how we live our lives. It’s full of suspense, dread, and great performances from its two leads. Sovereign was a stand-out at the 2025 Tribeca Festival and I hope it becomes more than just one of the many hidden gems to be released this year.

Grade: B+

Director: Tyler Perry
Writer: Tyler Perry
Stars: Tyler Perry, Cassi Davis Patton, Tamela Mann

Synopsis: Madea and family attend Tiffany’s rushed destination wedding in the Bahamas. Tensions arise as Tiffany doubts her fiancé, Zavier, and her mother acts strangely, raising suspicions about the marriage’s legitimacy.

No one in Hollywood seemingly works faster than Tyler Perry, who has now released his third film of the year with the fourteenth installment of the never-ending Madea franchise in Madea’s Destination Wedding. And while it may not be as baffling as Perry’s previous two directorial efforts, Duplicity and Straw, profoundly misguided melodramas for entirely different reasons, it’s also one of the dullest movies of the entire year, with little to no laughs or entertainment offered in what looks like a 102 minute commercial for the movie’s main attraction.

Essentially, the gist is to put Madea (Tyler Perry), Joe (also Tyler Perry) and the franchise’s bevy of key supporting characters, including Aunt Bam (Cassi Davis Patton), Cora (Tamela Mann), and Mr. Brown (David Mann) in situations we haven’t seen before. After all, we’ve survived two Halloweens, a trip to the Big House, a funeral, and even a crossover with Mrs. Brown’s Boys in the franchise’s last movie, Madea’s Family Reunion.

However, we’ve yet to see the titular character take an exotic trip outside the confines of her home. It gives Perry the vehicle to step these protagonists out of their comfort zones and put them in one zany situation after the next. At least, someone with an understanding of comedic timing and pacing would’ve done this, but Perry’s proposition is incredibly languishing, with the “Destination Wedding” in question arriving after 45 minutes of extended sequences of verbal comedy that’s essentially a repetition of a line that an elderly character misunderstood to paint them as senile and/or confused.

If that’s your kind of humor, you’re going to have a blast watching Madea’s Destination Wedding. But for those looking for actual comedy, you’re only going to find it sparingly. There was…*checks notes*…one joke that made me laugh. I laughed in spite of myself because of how stupid the punchline was, but it’s actually quite clever in how Perry primes attentive viewers with a needle-drop of The Clark Sisters’ “Center of Thy Will,” which is sampled in Beyoncé’s “Church Girl.” It results in the funniest physical gag of the movie and doesn’t overstay its welcome.

One can’t say the same for the entire movie, which focuses on the wedding of Brian’s (another character played by Tyler Perry) daughter, Tiffany (Diamond White), at the Atlantis Resort in The Bahamas. There’s the obvious setup, which lasts an eternity, in which Brian introduces Tiffany’s fiancé, Zavier (Xavier Smalls), to the family. Then there’s the scene where Madea, Joe, and the rest of the family need to get their passports, and it also lasts an eternity. After that, they go to the airport, and there’s an elongated bit where Madea pretends to have her purse missing, until they board the plane, and a plethora of the insensitive, ill-conceived humor that Perry is most known for comes back in full force.

Yet, nothing will prepare you for what happens as the family lands in Atlantis. While the first half or so isn’t particularly well-shot or interesting, it at least stays within the confines of what audiences expect nowadays from Madea movies: large bouts of improvisation stitched together by a threadbare plot that has little to no importance with the situations its characters are stuck in. As soon as they arrive at the actual location of Atlantis, the movie shifts gears and becomes a commercial for the resort.

I should’ve expected this – the way Perry shoots the movie is different from previous Madea films, even the ones that look televisual, such as the Boo! A Madea Halloween duology. This one has the glossy feel of an “as seen on TV” ad, where paid actors overwhelmingly promote a product, with no shame, and hyperbolically describe its qualities so it becomes tantalizing for a semi-gullible viewer to buy it. This is also how Perry films Atlantis: it all looks incredible, too good to be true, and you’d likely be inclined to book a room as soon as the credits roll.

(Side note: I have been there, and it is pretty damn great, but in no way is this an endorsement of what Perry is doing. He should actually feel some bit of shame for suckering his audience into this supremely long advertisement for the resort, almost as if Atlantis financed the project under the condition that he would promote the place as much as possible.)

It’s terribly unashamed at how it effectively integrates as much promotion for Atlantis as possible, not only in how it films its key attraction, “The Leap of Faith,” (replete with a Mr. Brown GoPro POV, because why not), but how it lets the characters peruse the lobby, ask questions about what’s included with their room key, tour their suites, go to the Casino, the gift shop, you name it. It also creates dialogue scenes with Atlantis employees that function only as explainers for the audience to know exactly what they can do in the resort, what’s complimentary and what isn’t, and how “paying” works (there is a funny bit that comes out of the latter, but it, like most of the jokes, gets stretched until Perry punches dead air).

We spend an unforgivably long amount of time touring the place before the actual wedding happens, and Perry throws in one of his giallo-esque twists to “spice up” the plot which are always nonsensical and unnecessary. While its denouement may not reach the inane levels of Duplicity (an ending so catastrophically awful you will never see coming and it must be seen to be believed) or the poor taste conclusion of Straw, it still is completely unwarranted and actively makes what is otherwise a disposable wedding comedy we’ve all seen before worse.

But that’s the Tyler Perry touch for you – a filmmaker who desperately wants to be taken seriously as an artist but doesn’t feel like he wants to sharpen his writing/directing skills at all. If he thought about the considerations that go into making good movies, he’d probably make one a year, but that wouldn’t keep the empire he built floating, wouldn’t it? I’ll always give my commendations to Perry for building his own studios from scratch and attaining wealth that few will in their lifetimes. If only his movies were better…

Grade: D-

Director: Natasha Kermani
Writer: Natasha Kermani, Joe Hill
Stars: Titus Welliver, Brady Hepner, Judah Mackey

Synopsis: Abraham van Helsing moves his two sons to the United States in an attempt to escape their past.

The tale of Dracula has truly never gone out of style, and there’s no sign that adaptations of the character and its many secondary characters will be slowing down. Writer and Director Natasha Kermani helms the film based on Joe Hill’s short story simply titled Abraham’s Boys. Isolation has driven an aged Van Helsing to teach his two sons how to be proper men no matter how brutal the lessons are. Deeply rooted in the fear of a looming darkness making its return, Abraham’s Boys: A Dracula Story slowly reveals who should and shouldn’t be feared.

It’s been 18 years since Abraham Van Helsing (Titus Welliver) defeated Dracula, and much has changed since then. Now, Abraham lives in California with his family on an isolated farm, with no neighbors for miles. Raising his sons, Max (Brady Hepner) and Rudy (Judah Mackey), to not only be book smart through his homeschooling methods but also introducing them to his life’s work. Helping him raise these young men is their mother and Abraham’s wife Mina (Jocelin Donahue), whose past is quickly throwing their seemingly perfect farm life through the ringer. When Mina falls ill from her long-ago run-in with Dracula, Abraham begins to unravel. Equipped with wooden stakes and mysterious hidden basements, Abraham’s sons quickly realize that their father might not always know what is best, making vampirism the least of their worries.

From the start, there’s an overwhelming sense of dread; the movie opens up with a woman who stands face-to-face with a dark figure. It’s completely effective in establishing the tone that lasts the duration of the film. Kermani takes that dread and mixes it into Mina’s story perfectly. As the film progresses, Mina begins to show signs that there is potentially a vampire nearby through the physical and mental changes in her behavior. It’s easier to brush off her strange changes in the beginning of the film; but soon her eldest son, Max, begins to see visions of his mother’s past that scare him enough to sleep with one eye open. Abraham’s Boys: A Dracula Story captures a terrifying confusion about what the threat to Mina is and often moves too slowly to keep the film interesting.

Once the film establishes what is going on in the Mina, it fully lets Abraham’s thoughts and actions run wild. It doesn’t go unnoticed that Abraham strives for his sons to be smart and able bodied men, something his father made sure he also understood. Kermani focuses heavily on Abraham’s past and how it shaped him as a father, and also a husband. He’s shown as his family’s protector, but there’s definitely parts of his past that he hasn’t uncovered to them. There’s no shortage of moments that put Abraham’s short fuse on display, although he boasts himself as a man doing God’s work, specifically when he’s dealing with either of his sons. When Max struggles at the kitchen table with his math homework, Abraham makes his disappointment verbally known. And when Rudy refuses to chop off the head of a woman his father claims is a vampire, his disappointment is made physically known. It was an unexpected route for Kermani to go, to show Abraham as a flawed man rather than just his heroic vampire hunting ways.

Taking place in 1915, it’s no wonder Abraham and his sons struggle to communicate; they are young men who have lived in isolation almost their entire lives, and their father rarely speaks to his sons without offering them a lesson. What Abraham’s Boys: A Dracula Story shows is that even under threats of bloodthirsty vampires, isolation breeds resentment that can manifest itself in harmful ways. Max and Rudy have never had a normal childhood or agency to make choices for themselves; everything has been controlled by Abraham, who struggles to keep his place of authority. When Max expresses his desire to leave, Abraham mockingly eggs him on rather than comforting his son.

Mostly due to the duo of Hepner and Mackey, it’s easy to feel for their characters with their sincere and engaging performances. The brothers have a somewhat noticeable age gap. Hepner plays the more physical role with daily wood chopping and taking care of his sick mother. Mackey brings an inquisitive performance with Rudy, a boy who would rather read a book or solve a math problem than shove a stake in someone’s chest. Their scenes together make for some oddly relatable sibling moments that have you wishing for their safety. Welliver does a serviceable job as the titular Abraham; he pulls off the mysteriousness shrouding his life, but often his line delivery is wooden at best. Mina is the heart of the film, and Donahue captures a tortured woman who is filled with love for her family but also a quiet sadness for her bleak fate.

The pacing of Abraham’s Boys: A Dracula Story is where the film hits the brakes, causing a slow burn that might be too slow when the film needs more fuel. The atmosphere of the film is tense, always looking for something lurking in the dark, but as the film goes on, its slow moments left my mind to wander, thinking of when the vampires were going to show up. It’s not completely detrimental to the enjoyment of the film; some of the creepier moments get time to set in rather than them ending up as random jump scares. Paired with some of the best cinematography this year has to offer from the talented Julia Swain, the film captures the bleak isolation through the glimpses of open range with mountains littering the skyline. The film is shot in a 4:3 ratio that helps the film’s overall atmosphere, especially during a black-and-white dreamlike flashback; its tighter frame makes for claustrophobic moments with a family on the brink of falling apart.

There’s more that works with Abraham’s Boys: A Dracula Story than what doesn’t; Kermani tells a uniquely dark story from the mythos of Dracula, showing that even after the monster is gone its impacts are still felt. Showcasing an aging Van Helsing in his fatherhood era gives new life to an old tale. While the film is a slow burn that almost loses its flame, there’s enough within the film’s performances and visuals to get you to the finish line.

Grade: B+

Director: Sean Byrne
Writer: Nick Lepard
Stars: Jai Courtney, Hassie Harrison, Ella Newton, Josh Heuston

Synopsis: When Zephyr, a rebellious surfer, is abducted by a shark-obsessed serial killer and held captive on his boat, she must figure out how to escape before he carries out a ritualistic feeding to the sharks below.

If it were up to me, I’d tell you to go into Sean Byrne’s Dangerous Animals (almost) completely blind. I’d confirm two things ahead of your viewing experience: One, that sharks are absolutely involved, and two, that Jai Courtney is the personification of delirious entertainment in the film. Like, silly fun, perhaps the greatest form of the sensation. But that would be it. I’d send you off, wishing you well, and would be waiting for you on the other side, arms raised, prepared to embrace your opinion, which would unequivocally be positive, for the movie has actually been placed next to the words “blast” and “banger” in all dictionaries. Don’t check; it’s true.

Again, that’s if it were up to me. That’s how I entered the film: Not knowing a thing, fully prepared for a delightful Jaws-adjacent romp set in the outback. But my job is to tell you more, if not necessarily that much more. My job, in terms of formatting this review, is to transcribe the film’s proper synopsis. (Which, if you ask me, tells us too much straight from the jump.) If it were up to me, I’d have you scroll straight past that plot summary, right to these words, the ones telling you not to look at what this movie is about, entails, etc. It’s not worth it! We should go into movies blind more often. It’s exhilarating, the thrills we experience when we revel in the bliss of ignorance, with adventure at our fingertips. That’s why I tend not to read reviews of festival premieres – a club that Dangerous Animals is inexplicably a member of, having premiered at Cannes in May – because I don’t want to know a damn thing about a movie I’m already going to see. Joachim Trier’s follow-up to The Worst Person in the World, also starring Reinate Reinsve? My ticket was reserved before it even had a release date. Lynne Ramsay’s first film in seven years, starring Jennifer Lawrence and Robert Pattinson as two lovers of some sort? I’m seated. Bi Gan’s near-three-hour Resurrection, apparently a science fiction movie with tons of long takes? BET!!!!!!

And yet, we live in a world where reactions, reviews, and reply guys alike are inevitable forces on our feeds and in our brains, and thus we are bound to acquiesce the knowledge – for the final time, I hate to do this, and you’ve been warned – that Jai Courtney’s character in Dangerous Animals, a ship captain called Tucker, is a serial killer. He’s not some amalgamation of Matt Hooper (Richard Dreyfuss in Jaws) and Captain Ahab the way I’d imagined him, but a guy with a boat who’s obsessed with sharks and feeding his victims to them. And you know what? That makes Tucker decidedly more awesome; as a movie character, obviously, not as a person. He films these feedings with an RCA camcorder. He drinks beers on the outer deck as he fishes. He speaks in a low timbre, occasionally uttering lines that are too predictable for the script’s own good – “Some might argue that [sharks associating boats with food] is a recipe for more accidents… I’m inclined to agree with them” – but he’s a villain you would want to escape and want to watch flaunt his stuff as he threatens, mocks, and murders. In other words, he’s precisely the reason to watch a movie like Dangerous Animals: A bloodthirsty, entertaining villain, and an even better representation of the title’s deeper meaning.

Ergo, Dangerous Animals could feasibly be referring to the sharks swimming below the ocean’s surface, but is more likely nodding at power-hungry men who feed on the theoretically-weaker women they come into contact with, by circumstance or not. Prior to Byrne’s opening titles, Tucker takes two 30-something travelers eager to swim with sharks out on his boat, quickly dispatching of the male and keeping Heather (Ella Newton) alive. It’s not until later that he encounters Zephyr (Hassie Harrison, with a character name almost as killer as her own), a wayward soul whose alluring impact on those who enter her current can’t rival her desire to surf the sunny days away. She thrives “as far away from home as possible,” which only makes the sexy Aussie realtor Moses (Josh Heuston) want her more. When she suddenly disappears, seeming to have ditched her surfboard and van for stronger waves (hint: she parked by the gnarliest tides she could find, so something bad must have occurred), he takes it upon himself to find her. Big mistake… HUGE.

Running a hair under 100 minutes, there’s still a small something about Byrne’s first film in a decade that feels like it has been gestating that long, and that the many set piece ideas he and scribe Nick Lepard (whose only other screenwriting credit is the Oz Perkins’ directed Keeper, out later this year) were all jammed into the final cut. But there are worse things to be done in a film as relatively simple as this, one where the bruising Courtney sets the tone by hamming it up at an uncontrollable clip, at one point splitting the difference between the solo dance scenes in Reservoir Dogs and Risky Business, drunkenly jiving to the beat of his own delirious drum. Harrison makes for a capable, albeit somewhat stale final girl, but that feels more like a script problem than a charisma one; her line readings may be drab and the character thin, but Harrison’s physicality matches Courtney’s well as they face off down the film’s stretch. 

And though much of Byrne’s thriller amounts to little more than a survival film where the most dangerous thing in most frames is not a great white but the tank-donning guy who lives on a fishing boat that looks (and probably smells) as though it’s rotting from the inside out, it’s stirring to watch the Aussie director make his own Jaws homage by honoring this aquatic subgenre’s roots without so much as attempting to reinvent its well-worn steering wheel. In the 50 years since Steven Spielberg’s 1975 masterpiece caused the masses to run from the idyllic sandy beaches to the nearest multiplex in hopes of seeing what all the fuss was about, plenty have tried (and mostly failed) to effectively capture both the awe and terror that Jaws inspired regarding its Big Bad. But Byrne’s film – like Jaume Collet-Serra’s 2016 effort, The Shallows – embraces the fact that what most audiences are interested in when it comes to movies like these is watching its characters sweat. The Shallows saw Blake Lively’s surfer character get stranded on an oceanic rock as a shark circled her, waiting for its prey to give up trying to escape the jaws of defeat. In Dangerous Animals, the sharks are certainly a threat, but Byrne recognizes two things: One, that the “swim for your lives” approach has been taken before, and two, that serial killers are more predictable than sea dwellers, and still potentially more interesting to watch another human thwart. In this instance, at least, a shark film can have its chum and eat it, too.

Dangerous Animals will be available to rent on PVOD on July 22.

Grade: B

Directors: Bjorn Franklin, Johnny Marchetta
Writer: Bjorn Franklin
Stars: Toby Kebbell, James Cosmo, Shia LeBeouf

Synopsis: An aging boxer struggles to escape the grasp of a small town while battling a fractured relationship with his teenage daughter.

The sport of boxing is filled with stories of athletes who never made it. It’s why the films that include the sport and its athletes are so rich for audiences because there’s always a chance that the underdog can win. There’s always a chance that with time, the right attitude, and just enough training, the underdog can be redeemed and take the glory that has so long eluded them. They can become what they and their trainers always believed themselves to be. Yet, it’s never that easy and Salvable portrays the complicated nature of keeping a dream, while trying to stay grounded.

For the most part, the plot of Salvable is very familiar. It shows a boxer who has had a few too many setbacks and while still thinking about the thrill of the fight, knows it might be time to give up. Where Salvable becomes its own film and takes the audience in a refreshing direction is its story. Writer Bjorn Franklin has crafted a script that is unique in its approach to this character and the down on his luck fighter subgenre.

The best parts of the script show the gentleness within the mass of muscle that is Sal (Toby Kebbell). Sal has a day job at a nursing home where he really cares for the people under his charge. He didn’t envision his life going this way, but he makes the most of it. It’s also in his relationship with his daughter. He knows he’s not a good father in the traditional sense, but he knows it’s far better to come to Molly (Kíla Lord Cassidy) with understanding rather than an authoritarian bent.

There is a scene late in the film where Molly is caught with drugs at school and Sal comes to take Molly home. He talks to the principal, a woman he had grown up with and gotten into trouble with, and gets her to understand that the way to handle the situation isn’t the hardline, but to lean toward clemency. Then, rather than addressing the issue with Molly head on, Sal brings out his own demons. He doesn’t chastise, cajole, or make light of the situation, but attempts to give Molly a chance to change her mind about the path she’s on through sharing his own pain.

At this point, it becomes clear that even as he tries to put Molly on the right path, Sal feels he doesn’t have a choice with what he can do next. When he struggles to keep doing the right thing, or at least the moral and upright thing, he faces setbacks that keep him from getting out from under everything in his life. It’s what keeps him from seeing Vince (Shia LeBeouf) as the black hole that will envelop him and remove him from any chance at the life he wants. The second we see Vince we know that in spite of the challenges that Sal has faced, keeping Vince out of his head will be the greatest one he will face.

You couldn’t have predicted when Shia LeBeouf showed up as a child actor that he would spend a decent portion of his career playing heavies. Yet, it’s a niche he has built for himself and it likely comes from his deep well of intensity. Vince is a character that fits into an archetype in a lot of films, but with the right actor behind him, he can feel new or more menacing in a way. In spite of his many public personal failings as a human, LeBeouf has an acting talent that is undeniable.

Much can also be said of cinematographer Simon Plunket’s camera work. He gives us an immersive style where there is no ring to keep us on the outside and we are in the action as it happens. His talent is on full display in the opening scenes as Sal pantomimes the fight that lost him his shot at greatness. The way the scene is shot is like the best filmed boxing scenes. Even as there is no one else on screen, we can sense the other boxer, the referee, and the crowd from the angle of the camera.

Salvable has a lot of great story beats even if the overall plot is pretty predictable. Like many sports underdog films, we want the best for Sal and his loved ones. Though, Salvable is unique in that its fight scenes are rarely in a traditional setting or of a traditional ilk. It’s a film that takes its time and lets its characters grow in unique ways that make a familiar story feel different and refreshed.

Grade: B