Director: Sally El Hosaini, James Krishna Floyd
Writer: James Krishna Floyd
Stars: Ben Hardy, Kate Lindsey, Jason Patel

Synopsis: The story of a queer South Asian nightclub performer living a double life, and a young, single father who works as a mechanic. When they meet, a search for identity is sparked.

Lately, there has been an obsession with the shortening of films. If you spend any time online talking about film, there is a constant deification of the 90 minute movie. And while, yes, sometimes there is a particular joy in a quick journey, there should be no hard and fast rule about the length and breadth of a film. After all, as Roger Ebert said, “No good movie is too long, and no bad movie is too short.” Ebert also discussed the idea of film as empathy, which relates directly to Sally El Hosaini and James Krishna Floyd’s Unicorns.

Unicorns is, at its core, a romance between a queer Southeast Asian drag queen, Aysha/Ashiq (Jason Patel) and a recently divorced father, Luke (Ben Hardy). Frankly, the story of connection is a powerful one, and is set up in the opening scene by screenwriter James Krishna Floyd. That introduction is a sex scene, pretty obviously a rushed hookup between Luke and an unnamed woman. After completion, Luke asks to see her again and she responds immediately that she wants to maintain a casual relationship, just a simple code for a one night stand.

As Luke stumbled upon an underground nightclub where Aysha is performing, there is a beautiful love at first sight moment for Luke. Of course, things immediately get complicated due to his lack of awareness that Aysha is a man. This is the knife’s edge point of the film. If it was handled either too soft or with too much harshness, the movie either strains credulity or leads us to despise Luke. Luckily, the combination of Hardy, Patel, and the script provides just the right interaction and the film is able to succeed. 

What follows is a slow, structured, beautiful sense of connection, growth, friendship, and eventually something more. Patel, in particular, gives a masterful performance. Obviously, given the pseudo-dual role, he must be a convincing performer on stage, as well as play both sides of their gendered persona. There is not a single moment of ingenuineness and this carries nearly every scene in the film. Hardy is also quite good, but his role is more reactionary. Because Luke is closed off and unsure, he needs Aysha to, in some cases, pull him along the right path and teach him how to engage in relationships. The sexual tension between the two is palpable and, despite the struggle for Luke to come to grips with who he is attracted to, the audience will find themselves rooting for a happy ending. 

The struggle that this film has is that it has a difficult choice. Either do not involve the families or Luke and Aysha or involve them in a limited way. Luke has relationships with his father, his ex-wife, and his son, Jamie (Taylor Sullivan). All of these feel oddly limited, mainly because the film must balance between his story and Aysha’s. Jamie is highly featured, but mostly exists to help the romance blossom and for Jake to bridge certain gaps later in the film. Aysha, on the other hand, has relationships with their family that come to light much later in the script.

And these scenes, although tremendously moving, simply leave us wanting more. It feels as if there is another entire film on the cutting room floor that is a full familial drama. Aysha/Ashiq’s loving mother, their disapproving father, and their brother who lies somewhere in between provide a stunning and real dynamic that I wish had more time devoted to it. 

This is not to say that the romance is not important, or moving in its own right. Luke’s journey into a more open, expressive world is gorgeous to watch, not only emotionally, but visually. Cinematographer David Raedaker captures a magical world of movement and sensuality that feels both far-flung and beautifully familiar. Through these visuals, we are treated to Luke being both surprisingly accepting and deeply confused. And because of this, we become firmly planted in our support of this burgeoning friendship and relationship.

The story of Unicorns is a lot of things. An exploration of the queer “gaysian” subculture, a love story, a search for connection, and a discussion of cultural expectations. The film manages to do all of these things well, even if it is hindered by a slightly rushed storyline. Likely because of these limitations, some of the shared moments between Aysha and Luke do not hit quite as hard as they could. If the film was extended, it could easily be one of the best films of the year. As it is, Unicorns is still an extremely moving, delightful love story.

Grade: B+

Director: Victoria Mahoney
Writers: Greg Rucka, Sarah L. Walker
Stars: Charlize Theron, KiKi Layne, Matthias Schoenaerts

Synopsis: Andy and her team of immortal warriors return to protect humanity from a formidable new enemy who threatens their existence.

I adore The Old Guard. It’s a compelling and unique superhero film that boasts exhilarating action sequences while simultaneously leveraging the superhero genre to explore themes of queer love, bodily autonomy, morality, the ramifications of violence, and the salvation of community. With explicitly queer characters and LGBTQ+ themes, it triumphs as something truly special. 

Directing The Old Guard, Gina Prince-Bythewood — a wonderful filmmaker crafting engaging narratives — became the first Black woman to direct a big-budget comic book film. So it’s great that Victoria Mahoney, a Black woman, directs the sequel. I enjoyed her raw coming-of-age debut film, Yelling to the Sky. So I eagerly anticipated her take on this property.

But something is severely lacking in The Old Guard 2.

Based on Greg Rucka’s graphic novel series, Andy (Charlize Theron), a warrior who was the oldest immortal but now has mortality, returns leading her team and found family of immortal warriors, Nile (KiKi Layne), Joe (Marwan Kenzari), and Nicky (Luca Marinelli), along with mortal ally (their adversary in the first film) James (Chiwetel Ejiofor), to keep the world safe.

When Nile sees a photo of a mysterious woman (Uma Thurman) she recognizes from a dream, the group visit Andy’s old friend, Tuah (Henry Golding), who runs a library containing information on all the immortals and the people they have saved. Tuah tells them the mystery woman is another immortal named Discord (also the name of a Greek goddess, carrying on the tradition of Greek myth as Andy’s full name is Andromache).

As they eventually discover, Discord’s plans — which involve Quynh (Veronica Ngô), Andy’s partner freed after being trapped for centuries, and Booker (Matthias Schoenaerts), in exile for betraying the team — threaten the world.

I always hope that two or more films in a series with different filmmakers will complement each other and stand on their own, possessing the director’s unique aesthetic or lens. But everything I enjoyed about The Old Guard seems diluted or absent in The Old Guard 2.

The opening action sequence — a raid on a villa replete with gunfights, swordfights, car chases, and a boat crashing into a window, accompanied by not one but two pop songs — looks intense yet feels like a frothy music video. However, it’s one of the few times each of the characters receive focus.

A masterful actor, Oscar-winner Charlize Theron always captivates. I often ruminate on her evocative action performances in Mad Max: Fury Road and Atomic Blonde. Her expressive acting via her facial expressions, gestures, and physicality wordlessly reveal nuances in her characters’ personalities, perspectives, and emotional states. Andy is a complex character grappling with guilt for not finding Quynh.

The cast from The Old Guard reprise their roles, yet the sequel sidelines most of the other characters. KiKi Layne (great in If Beale Street Could Talk and Dandelion) feels particularly diminished. A fully developed character, Nile had tremendous agency in the first film. She didn’t want to commit violence for no reason; her faith, optimism, and benevolence inspire Andy to emerge from her shroud of apathy and misanthropy. Here, Nile feels like a plot device. Uma Thurman as a villain is similarly underutilized. Joe and Nicky are a charming queer couple and the beating heart of the first film. Marwan Kenzari and Luca Marinelli give excellent performances and wonderfully exude romantic chemistry in the first film. Yet, the sequel squanders their characters.

While it’s a trope to splinter a beloved group in the second story (The Empire Strikes Back, Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers), one of the original’s strengths was its excellent ensemble cast and how it allowed each actor to shine and showcased each character’s memorable arc.

Unfortunately, the sequel lacks the gravitas, emotional connection, and urgency of the first film. The pacing often feels tedious. The cinematography and action scenes often feel mediocre. Some scenes — including the opening where Quynh is rescued from her iron-maiden imprisonment in the ocean  —  suffer from obvious CGI. The editing by Matthew Schmidt (an editor of Marvel films), frustrates as it’s too choppy and frenetic. While intending to indicate chaos or rapidity, it’s a gimmicky editing style I loathe as it obfuscates beautifully fluid cinematography and artfully choreographed fight scenes. It also erodes emotional resonance, not allowing the audience to view the entire scene nor sit with characters’ emotions.

Building on the story’s lore, Tuah informs the group about the history of immortals. Joe lies to Nicky about keeping in touch with Booker. When Andy and Booker meet again, she quickly forgives his betrayal. Or perhaps she knows the perils of holding a grudge. Booker and Tuah spar with Nile. In another scene, a character has a pivotal yet abrupt change of heart that doesn’t really feel truly earned. Events occur but they resemble treading water.

Separated for 500 years, the long-awaited reunion between Andy and Quynh feels surprisingly deflated, rather than the gut-wrenching reaction it should evoke, despite the momentous swell of Barry Ackroyd’s cinematography. The camera revealsAndy’s reaction before it spins to her point-of-view, showing Quynh in a gown and long hair from centuries earlier to spin again to show Quynh in the present day as she gazes back at Andy. Yet they talk to each other as if they merely had a petty quarrel. The camera remains tight (possibly to mask studio-lot filming) rather than a possible wide shot to convey the chasm of time and emotional distance between them. While Andy’s body language expresses shame for disappointing Quynh (who’s upset Andy didn’t rescue her), the scene lacks palpable pain and fury. No yearning exists between them, which is strange considering their rapport in the previous film.

When Andy and Quynh proceed to fight in hand-to-hand combat, a techno score accompanies the action, which feels more appropriate in a John Wick movie than a romantic reunion. The film tells us that Quynh is vengeful, but her righteous fury feels nearly imperceptible. I finally glimpse the emotion I crave when Quynh ragefully curses Andy across all of her lifetimes.

The film builds to an inevitable showdown between Andy and Discord. Despite two icons battling (two women over the age of 40, which I love!), their battle feels anticlimactic due to the writing or the fight choreography. The cliffhanger ending sets up the narrative for a third film.

While thrilling and intoxicating, the original film remains an existential meditation on the resilience and fragility of humanity and the responsibility we owe to each other. I appreciate how The Old Guard 2 touches on the theme of the trappings of time: the weariness of immortality and how sustained suffering can warp one’s integrity and compassion. But I wish it delved deeper.

My biggest problem is how the sequel lacks the queer elements that made the first film so special. While Nicky and Joe bicker like the old married couple they are, and Joe shares with Nicky his fear of their lives and love ending, they never kiss, they never share any affection. Aside from Quynh’s intense outburst and Andy cradling Quynh’s face pleading with her to stop fighting, they don’t feel like lovers. While neither film explicitly states Andy’s sexuality, the first film’s subtext strongly indicates that they are romantic partners.

We still desperately need more queer films, particularly queer characters and stories in genre films. Considering the queerness in the first film — Joe and Nicky’s passionate romantic kiss after Joe’s ardent declaration of love, which comics creator Greg Rucka insisted remain in the film from the comics; Andy and Quynh’s tender eternal pledge to each other; and themes of found family — along with the current barrage of queerphobic and transphobic laws across the U.S., this omission feels particularly egregious.

I hate being negative about any movie, but particularly a women-centric film directed by a Black woman. Considering the rare opportunities for Black women to direct big-budget studio films, this is a disappointment. Perhaps I might feel differently if the sequel existed on its own rather than as a continuation and The Old Guard hadn’t set such a high bar. Sadly, The Old Guard 2 feels physically and emotionally inert and hollow, a shell of the excellent first film with too many missed opportunities.

Grade: C+

Director: James Gunn
Writer: James Gunn
Stars: David Corenswet, Rachel Brosnahan, Nicholas Hoult

Synopsis: Superman must reconcile his alien Kryptonian heritage with his human upbringing as reporter Clark Kent. As the embodiment of truth, justice and the human way he soon finds himself in a world that views these as old-fashioned.

For such a beloved character, Superman has had a relatively unimpressive filmography in terms of quality. Sure, Richard Donner’s original film introduced Christopher Reeve, who was born to play the indestructible alien from a galaxy far, far away. But the post-Reeve era, marred by Bryan Singer’s controversial direction and Kevin Spacey’s portrayal of Lex Luthor, couldn’t get out of its own way. Then, of course, came the DCEU Snyderverse—big, bold, and beautiful on the surface, but ultimately hollow.

Why is Superman such a complex character to capture on film? For one, we’re living in the age of the dark antihero, whereas the Man of Steel represents eternal optimism. The boy scout in a cape and tights can feel outdated in a world run by tyrants abroad and, of course, at home. Donner’s films leaned too heavily into reverence and arrived before special effects could fully bring the character to life.  Snyder’s films, on the other hand, were too serious and forgot the fun. Honestly, I’m starting to think George Reeves’s take in Superman and the Mole Men struck a better balance. 

However, James Gunn’s Superman excels in two areas that previous films failed to achieve. First, the world-building around Clark Kent’s alter ego is a walk on the wild side. 

It’s weird, funky, and offbeat—fueled by candy-coated chaos and populated by oddballs and misfits unlike anything we’ve ever seen in a Superman film. Second—and I’ll make this as plain as possible about Gunn’s DCEU rebirth: Gunn brought the fun.

Gunn, working from his own script, drops the audience right into the action, refusing to rehash the origins of heroes and villains, giving the film the feel of a sequel or second chapter. Superman (Twisters’ David Corenswet) is already battling Lex Luthor (The Order’s Nicholas Hoult), reimagined as an Elon Musk-type tech billionaire who runs LuthorCorp: a propaganda expert who profits by exploiting people’s fears.

Luthor portrays Superman as an alien immigrant corrupting the American way of life, even though the Metropolis Marvel is old-fashioned, embodying empathy and human kindness; qualities that today can feel almost passé. Of course, when he puts on those black-rimmed classics, he is a reporter at The Daily Planet; he is Clark Kent, and he has made a name for himself with numerous Superman exclusives, essentially interviewing himself. 

His girlfriend, Lois Lane (Emmy-award winner Rachel Brosnahan), is also a reporter at the paper. Here, we learn that Lane already knows Clark’s secret identity. In a well-acted scene, she interviews him with a barrage of questions designed to highlight the power her boyfriend possesses—power she has yet to comprehend fully. Together, they work to expose Luthor for who he truly is. Instead, the Bald Baddie flips the script, unveiling a transmission from Clark’s biological parents (played by Bradley Cooper and Angela Sarafyan) that spreads fear and hatred across the world.

As mentioned, Gunn’s Superman brings the fun—but it also explores, albeit sometimes heavy-handedly, themes rooted in the immigrant experience, which, despite what some may think, has been a foundational part of the character since his creation in the 1930s. The film is rich with references to cultural assimilation versus identity preservation, tyranny versus truth, and the power of connection through compassion rather than exploitation and greed.

Naturally, the film is packed with Gunn regulars in cameo roles and features his signature feverishly funny sense of humor. Nathan Fillion steals every scene he’s in as the leader of the Justice Gang, playing a version of Green Lantern whose arrogance—despite having no apparent reason for it—borders on hilarious narcissism.

Much of the comic relief, however, comes from Krypto the Superdog. Far from being a cheap invention to sell plush toys on Black Friday, Krypto made his first appearance in 1955’s Adventure Comics #210. The digitally rendered pup is cute, funny, and full of fluffy fun. Additionally, the inclusion of Metamorpho (Barry’s Anthony Carrigan, fantastic here) is a welcome one, giving the film’s storyline some much-needed depth and gravitas within the Superman lore.

Gunn’s script rarely struggles with tone—the film plays like a goofy, stylized, nerdy comic strip come to life (despite what the infamous Daily Beast review claims in an apparent attempt at clickbait). What does suffer slightly is the relationship between Lane and Kent, which loses its way but regains footing by the third act—a familiar trope, but executed well enough that it’s hard to hold it against the film. The storyline involving Clark’s adoptive parents also feels underdeveloped, but that’s often the tradeoff when starting a franchise with a character whose secrets the characters already know.

Some of those storyline issues detract from the movie’s perceived heart. I would have preferred more of that over additional Lex Luthor scenes that seemed like filler in the third act. However, while the film is stuffed to the brim with Gunn goodness, it is a soaring blast by placing Superman in a world that embraces comic-book sensibilities instead of running away from them. Gunn has begun to flesh out world-building that the DCEU suffered from in the past, 

Gunn has begun filling the streets of Metropolis with his vision of Superman with a battleground of tyrants, freaks, geeks, disgraced heroes, and alien weirdos (and one deeply insecure Green Lantern) that’s pure comic book bliss. 

You can watch Superman only in theaters June 11th!

Grade: B+

Director: Agathe Riedinger
Writer: Agathe Riedinger
Stars: Malou Khebizi, Idir Azougli, Andréa Bescond

Synopsis: Liane, 19 years old, daring and fiery, lives with her mother and little sister under the dusty sun of Fréjus in the South of France. Obsessed with beauty and the need to become “someone”, she sees reality TV as her opportunity to be loved. Fate smiles upon her when she auditions for “Miracle Island”

Exploring unhealthy avenues of fame and beauty is nothing new in the world of film; even recently, movies like The Substance and The Ugly Stepsister have each found unique ways of exploring this theme. French filmmaker Agathe Riedinger joins these films in delving into these ideas while managing to leave a lasting impression on the viewer. The film not only provides commentary on the insane standards of beauty for young women of today, but does it through the eyes of modern-day Gen Z and the brutal look at what it means to expose your body in such a way in the current social media landscape. Even when the film suffers from its more repetitive beats, Riedinger’s gritty and raw cinematography, matched with a fearless lead performance from Malou Khebizi, gives Wild Diamond the edge it needs to stand out. 

Liane (Malou Khebizi) is a 19-year-old influencer who spends her days selling stolen goods and making sure her physical appearance is as perfect as possible. She has a rough home life being from foster care, having to babysit her sister and argue with her lazy mother, but she finally finds the opportunity she’s been striving for when she’s invited to audition for the reality show, “Miracle Island,” where she can finally reach what she has always dreamed of, the spotlight. From the jump, Wild Diamond shows all the harsh realities of spending so much time on the modern media landscape, boob and butt surgeries, instagram filters, compliments,and death threats in comment sections, it’s all here in droves. What sets it apart from other features that have tackled similar themes is how the film never strays away from how unsettling it can feel, and you can feel every ounce of pain Liane goes through. Every moment she sinks deeper into pleasing people she’ll never meet and doing something utterly demoralizing to get to the top, the film is relentless in its loneliness, and more palpable than most other features, giving a tremendous impact that can’t be shaken.

These sequences are only bolstered by Khebizi’s exceptional showcase as Liane. From the moment we meet her, we see how feisty and strong-willed she is, and  Khebizi sells it in every scene. The performance becomes truly key when she shows how she’s about to break at any moment through mostly subtle facial expressions as she falls deeper into the admiration, deeper into arguments with her closest friends and family; anxiety is still bursting through the seams but sympathy is also felt for Liane, making her a compelling central character to follow. The entire film essentially revolves around being invested in Liane, or it would fall flat on its face, and Khebizi carries the film with stride. 

Riedinger’s work with cinematographer Noé Bach shines throughout the film as well. Riedinger knows when to let the camera sit for sympathetic moments with colorful hues, but also lets loose with some exceptional uses of kinetic tracking and handheld shots. Scenes of unsettling subject matter or high confrontation are elevated by appropriate shaky cam and manic camera movements. It gives the film a beautifully gritty look throughout that complements the movie’s thematic presence and Liane’s traits as a character. It’s not the most subtle, but ends up being effective. Composer Audrey Ismaël’s string-centric score also adds to these key tension points. The score and cinematography harmonize to make the film uneasiness rather potent, creating a unique sense of atmosphere. 

Not everything about Wild Diamond comes together. The film’s characters like Liane’s semi love interest Dino (Idir Azougli) and her pathetic mother (Andréa Bescond) suffer from severe underdevelopment within the screenplay and yes, the film isn’t breaking new territory with its familiar premise or mundane thematic beats, but Wild Diamond explores the darker elements of chasing fame so young in a compelling manner. Thanks to a great lead performance and effective visual techniques, Wild Diamond serves as a nice promise of potential for director Agathe Riedinger.

Grade: B

Director: Nacho Vigalondo
Writer: Nacho Vigalondo
Stars: Henry Golding, Beatrice Grannò, Aura Garrido

Synopsis: Follows a man as he joins a sleep trial that allows him to rebuild his life with his girlfriend who died in an accident through the use of lucid dreams.

It’s hard to judge someone who is grieving; each step in their process is hopefully one towards healing in a healthy manner. But what happens when you lose the one person you love in a horrific accident? How far is too far when trying to keep their presence alive? Nacho Vigalondo’s newest film, Daniela Forever, attempts to answer how far is too far, showing how dangerous it is to live in the past without the ability to let go. In our current society, there is this constant need to bring our loved ones back either through technology or even the use of AI, this film should be a knockout of the park. But Daniela Forever, even for all its interesting editing and stylistic choices, chooses to stick with twist after twist instead of saying anything meaningful about technology shaping grief.

When Nicolas (Henry Golding) loses his girlfriend Daniela (Beatrice Grannò) in an accident, his life is completely flipped on its head. His life begins to fall apart as he spirals deeper and deeper into depression. Places, activities, and even people he once found joy in no longer render the same feelings. A once socially active man turns into a hermit, and with a successful career as a DJ, being social is part of the job. Dirty dishes and clothes litter his once lively apartment filled with love; now it looks more like a college frat house. Losing Daniela turns Nicolas to desperation, wanting to spend more time with her but uncertain on how to do so. When the opportunity arises that would allow Nicolas to free himself of the pain of grief, he takes it.

Much like our current social climate, Daniela Forever makes the use of drugs enticing, especially to those who are looking to fill a void. Nicolas agrees to take this experimental drug to relieve himself of hisconstant anguish. And although the experimental drug in the film is an exaggerated process, it resonates as a possible option for our future. Who wouldn’t want the choice of being able to see, and even interact with someone who left their life too soon? Nicolas takes his first dose, and he is sent to a lucid world where Daniela is still alive. He can relive moments with Daniela from their past, like the first time they met at an event he was DJing. But that’s not where he stops, his continued use of the drug has him pushing the agreed upon terms of service as he attempts to create new memories that challenge fate.

Daniela Forever plants interesting seeds when it comes to grief, and the lengths it takes a person. Weaving his way through this new drug induced dream world, and his sober reality, Nicolas’s two worlds begin to mix. The most compelling bits where Nicolas is back with Daniela are sure to evoke a tear or two, but the script doesn’t live up to its early potential. When the two are recounting their first time seeing each other there’s a beautiful humanity to it, both are unsure of the moments leading up to it, and even who said hello first, all that matters in their memories is that they found one another. Their connection is deeply rooted in their shared interests, but as the film progresses there’s less of a focus on their actual relationship and more on how Nicolas can make this last. When his supply of drugs runs low, the film throws twist after twist that takes the focus away from why Nicolas chose to do this in the first place.

There’s no denying that Golding was made for romance films; he’s got an undeniable charm that Daniela Forever uses to sweep Daniela, and subsequently us, off of our feet. The film focuses a lot on his character, which is understandable given it’s from his perspective, but we don’t really get to know him outside of his grief. For a film named after a main character, Grannò is given little to work with, as the most we see of her she is essentially a void of her former self, with her thoughts and feelings being programs that Nicolas can override when he deems fit. Her performance is serviceable in the role of a woman with few words or emotions but mostly comes off as forgettable. This showcases Nicolas as a selfish man who doesn’t really seem to care about what his partner says or does, just as long as it doesn’t interfere with his end goals; and when it does, Nicolas makes sure that any agency Daniela has in his drug-induced dreams is gone.

Daniela Forever, as a visual form, is where it gets the most inventive and the most interesting. When he’s inside his dream world, it’s vibrant, fresh, and a clearer picture than when Nicolas is in reality, which has had the color almost sucked out of it with its drab grading, mostly due to the way the film is shot. Nicolas’s reality is shot in a smaller ratio, 4:3 to be exact, making it feel like his grief is closing in on him. His dream world is easy for him to maintain, even manicuring it to his wants and needs; his imagination is limitless, letting him fill the space of his dream world any way he chooses. The film often focuses a lot on establishing the differences in these two worlds and how Nicolas becomes increasingly possessive of Daniela, and the film, much like Nicolas, ends up treating Daniela like an object taking up space in a dream rather than a person he loves.

As a result, Daniela Forever is a mixed bag; what could be an impactful story about letting our lost loved ones rest turns into an overly humorous dive into a man’s inability to respect his partner’s thoughts or feelings, even in his own dreams. While the film speed runs Nicolas’s growth, it comes a little too late, leaving audiences to wonder who Daniela even was.

Grade: C

Director: Amélie Bonnin
Writers: Amélie Bonnin, Dimitri Lucas
Stars: Juliette Armanet, Bastien Bouillon, Tewfik Jallab

Synopsis: A rising chef, about to open her own restaurant in Paris, must return to her hometown for a family emergency. Far from city life, her memories resurface and her certainties are shaken.

Last year, Quentin Dupieux shocked la Croisette with The Second Act as the opening film of the 2024 edition of the Cannes Film Festival. The 81-minute-long troll was one of the filmmaker’s most audacious, patience-testing moving images yet and was immediately shunned, even if many audiences who attended its world premiere missed its important message of great urgency about why human-made art is worth preserving, through a simple gesture occurring before the end credits. In an era where anti-art idiots dictate how movies should be made, and significant players are bullish on the potential of Artificial Intelligence, Dupieux asks all of us to resist and keep creating, because without it, there’s no point in society existing. 

For me, these are what festivals are made for: screening films that ask their audience, who have likely traveled a long way to get to the steps of Cannes, pertinent questions on the world we live in, and, more importantly, the future of this art form. It was a bold choice for Thierry Frémaux to have premiered Dupieux’s film as the opening of the 77th annual festival, and a far better statement to make than whatever the hell Amélie Bonnin’s Leave One Day is. 

An adaptation of her 2021 short film, Bye Bye, the 94-minute-long comedy opened the 78th edition and has a relatively simple premise that, in isolation, could’ve worked. Unlike the short film, which retains the basis of the story, the story focuses on its female protagonist, played by Juliette Armanet. In the short, the story was filmed in the perspective of Bastien Bouillon’s character who, after returning to the village where he grew up, rekindles with an old flame, played by Armanet. 

In the film, Cécile Béguin (Armanet), an ambitious chef who, a few days before her high-end restaurant is set to open in Paris, receives the call that her father (François Rollin, reprising the same role from the short) is in the hospital due to a heart attack. Encouraged by her boyfriend, Sofiane (Tewfik Jallab), to visit her family, Cécile travels to her hometown and is surprised, when she arrives, that her dad is out of the hospital. Thinking she has nothing to worry about, Cécile immediately wants to return to Paris, away from her family life, but is convinced by her mother (Dominique Blanc) to stay for a few days, where she rekindles with the past life she wants to leave behind, almost as if she is ashamed to be a part of this family. 

It’s at that point when Cécile reunites with a former lover of hers, Raphaël (Bouillon), and still has strong feelings for him, even though he has built a family with his wife and son. It’s a fairly standard scenario we’ve seen thousands of times before, and it is, for the most part, admirably shot and staged. The expected narrative beats hit the way they’re supposed to, the relationship between Cécile and Raphaël feels palpable enough for us to latch onto their reconnection, and the recurring bits of animosity Cécile has towards her family are understandable as to why she would never want to speak with her parents again. 

Had Bonnin stayed in that register, the movie would’ve been a pretty decent, albeit unmemorable, time, that begs the question of why something like this would ever open such a prestigious film festival, where, usually, the best movies of any given year open to a broad audience with thunderous acclaim. However, and for an inexplicably baffling reason, Leave One Day is also a jukebox musical, with characters breaking into popular French songs at some of its most pivotal points, diluting the impact that such a serviceable movie would’ve otherwise received. 

I consider myself a fan of musicals – from Vincente Minnelli’s work, West Side Story, Singin’ in the Rain, the oeuvre of Jacques Demy, to even unconventional oddities like Xanadu. The kookier, the better. Yet, in recent memory, we have had a trend of musicals that despise being so, almost as if they are ashamed of making their characters sing, such as Joker: Folie à Deux, Emilia Pérez, The End, O’Dessa, just to name a few. We can now add Leave One Day to this ever-growing list of musicals that give the genre such a bad name and are the reason why moviegoers shun them. 

It’s particularly baffling, too, because, if you watch the short film, the songs, while a bit stilted, are well-integrated into the film’s diegesis and give the story a more dreamlike quality than it otherwise would have, as Bonnin captures her story with extremely grounded, almost documentary-like realism. They also aren’t overused – at just the right time, the characters will sing whenever they can’t express their feelings in words, and stop when it’s all over. It never overstays its welcome, and adds some much-needed texture to the (short) story and character work Bonnin attempts to create. 

In the feature-length version, not only is there no reason for the characters to sing, except for one sequence where Raphaël and Cécile reminisce on a past love through the sounds of K-Maro’s “Femme Like U” at a figure skating rink, but most of the song covers are completely out of tune or rhythm. In film, characters usually sing because they cannot express what they want to convey through words, making their emotional plight all the more powerful when paired with an expressive language that shows, more than any genre, why moviemaking may be the most powerful art form ever created. 

However, apart from that aforementioned scene, most of the emotional beats that are expressed in Leave One Day can be done so through words. I understand that Bonnin wants her film to set itself apart from the rest of the “Fractured Family Drama” compendium, but it negates most of the otherwise solid character development and turns this movie into something more akin to a torture device than the affecting journey Cécile should theoretically take. 

It also doesn’t help that most of the plotlines introduced in the movie, whether Cécile’s relationship with Sofiane, or Cécile’s pregnancy, a major aspect of her character, get dropped entirely and/or forgotten by the time we reach the final scene, causing this exercise in jukebox musicality (included in this package are Karaoke-styled opening and ending credits) to feel incomplete rather than the fulfilling and life-affirming picture Bonnin thinks it is. 

Armanet and Bouillon do have more time to work on their characters than when they worked with Bonnin on Bye Bye, but the short film is so much better than its feature adaptation, which is usually never the case. That said, the sole decision of making both protagonists sing in the feature when they truly shouldn’t completely tarnishes any impact the movie could’ve had, if Bonnin had thought of executing this simple story admirably. Instead, she decides to clumsily insert covers of French music classics, from Dalida and Francis Cabrel to Stromae, into the mix, which will make you want to leave the cinema as soon as Cécile begins to sing “Alors on Danse” at the top of the movie. And it doesn’t get any better from there.

Grade: D

Director: Alex Ross Perry
Writer: Alex Ross Perry
Stars: Maya Hawke

Synopsis: VHS’s 1980s rise transformed how people watched movies. Using diverse footage and Maya Hawke’s narration, Alex Ross Perry examines video stores’ crucial role in film culture.

We all know that nostalgia is a powerful force. Yes, it was mentioned in a long monologue in Mad Men, but that simply did a wonderful job of elucidating something that we already knew, somewhere deep down. There is proof all around us. How many movies and television shows get greenlit simply because they are either remakes or just remind us of something that we grew up with? Stranger Things, one of Netflix’s biggest success stories, certainly capitalizes on this idea. However, nostalgia without analysis never lasts. Even if it makes money in the moment, will you remember it years from now? Usually, the answer is no. The irony of one of Stranger Things’ stars, Maya Hawke, narrating a long form documentary on a mostly-dead system of accessing media is not lost on me.

Videoheaven, written and directed by Alex Ross Perry, having a busy year, paired with another off-kilter documentary, Pavements, has created a new level of passion project. This is essentially the story, the rise and brutal fall, of the video rental store. A lesser film would bring in “talking heads;” experts in video processing, Blockbuster executives, movie studio employees, and the like to discuss reasons why this happened. But Ross Perry seems completely disinterested in these typical ideas and this is to the credit of the filmmaker and helps Videoheaven be something more than a standard documentary. This is more akin to a video essay, but in a longer and better thought out format. He manages to use many different kinds of films, from blockbusters to nearly unseen direct-to-video movies to prove several important points. He details not only the history of the format, but more importantly, ways in which it was affected by its representations on the very thing that it celebrated, film. And sure, using the narrator’s father, Ethan Hawke as the introductory clip and including Stranger Things more than once rings slightly false. But these are minor quibbles that never truly take away from the stunning creation and editing from Clyde Folley.

And what better way to examine the path of the video store than through how it is depicted onscreen, straight into the homes of viewers? However, this is definitely one for the sickos. Given its runtime (3 hours, give or take), this is likely not a recommendation for a casual moviegoer. Also, this seems like a perfect movie to watch at home, given the subject material. For those of a certain age, like this reviewer, Videoheaven hits a particular sweet spot of that aforementioned nostalgia. Many people of that generation rank picking out a movie at a rental spot as a highlight of their week growing up. There was a joy and a simplicity in not only figuring out what to watch, but also in having actual limitations. 

We have come a long way in the rental space, and Perry details this as an overall loss. Yes, we can pick almost literally anything we want and without even a trip down the street. In this film, there is a great deal of time spent discussing the social aspect, both regarding ingroup and outgroup. Included are the details of a family or a couple finding the right film for an evening and the idea of interacting in positive and negative ways with other people there or, god forbid, the store clerk. And once again, this is all accomplished through clips from actual films and perfectly paced and performed narration by Hawke. 

There could be any number of documentaries made about lost artifacts, but this feels more important for those of us connected to film, even in ancillary ways. For instance, we don’t have payphones (mostly) anymore, but the idea of sitting through representations of phone booths on film for three hours feels tedious, at best. But this social aspect, this desire for connection, does make it feel like a real tragedy the further we get from it as a reality. Ross Perry taps into something that movie fanatics have felt, but struggled to speak to as the DVD revolution seemed to conquer the rental store. 

And that, despite the weirdos (like yours truly) hanging on to physical media by any existing thread, this revolution is being buried by the streaming universe. We humans, many times, desire simplicity and eschew connection because solitude (or the people we live with) is honestly the path of least resistance. As Videoheaven shows us through clips from The Omega Man and I Am Legend, the next generation will not have these processes in a world gone bad. Everything is connected through the internet (if not through other humans) and there is a loss of tangible objects to connect through.

Nostalgia, in this case, has a sell by date. Those of us around now are the last generation that experienced physical movie rental en masse. As the film mentions, the next set of films that reference these spaces (if they even do) will be made by filmmakers that never experienced it firsthand. It will be interesting to see how this changes their reputation, but the loss of this space can never be undone. For young (and old) cinephiles, this space was one of discovery and learning, a place to find something eye-opening that we never knew existed. Our knowledge was limited to our connection with others and recommendations. Now, we have no limits and are simultaneously more limited due to the paradox of choice. But for three small hours, Alex Ross Perry invites us to that small slice of heaven resting in our pasts and our memories. 

Grade: A-

Director: Jon S. Baird
Writer: Steven Rogers
Stars: Allison Janney, Bryan Cranston, Benjamin Evan Ainsworth

Synopsis: As the Smart family wrestle with their over-sized dreams, they come to realize that the struggle to find your voice and your place in the world can happen no matter what stage of life you’re in.

Most of us grew up with a kid like Les (Benjamin Evan Ainsworth) in our class. He’s smart, talented, and so utterly full of himself. This kid we all knew is convinced they’re better than everyone else and that one place, the place they can be themselves, typically New York, sometimes L.A., will be nothing but sunshine and rainbows because everyone there will be convinced and enraptured of their superiority.

That’s where a lot of Steven Rogers’ script for Everything’s Going to Be Great will let you down. Les is never going to learn that other people exist and deserve just as much humanity and space as he does. He’s never going to have a humbling moment. In fact, several of his teachable moments he turns into moments that benefit him. Yes, we have sympathy for him because he is bullied and because of a tragedy that happens in the film, but that only goes so far.

The rest of the film only goes so far as well because while the first portion is amusing and enjoyably silly, the second portion is marred by an unexpected tragedy. The film becomes maudlin, then slips nearer to grand melodrama. The film tries to make the swing toward dark comedy, but falls flat because its turning point is completely unexpected, and not in a good way. There is still humor in this second portion, but the tragedy that overhangs it sucks all the air out of it.

The only reason to watch Everything is Going to be Great is its two lead adults. Bryan Cranston, as Buddy Smart, is loveable and Cranston’s impeccable comedic timing is on full display. There is something charming about the way Cranston plays every scene. Even when Buddy’s being obstinate or obtuse with his family, he’s got this gleam in his eye that makes you want to nod along with him until you’re as excited as he is. On the other side is Allison Janney as Macy Smart. Janney is precise with her timing as well, but her performance bears far more emotional weight. Macy is a more developed character than Buddy, as her inner life is more prominent than Buddy’s. The way that Janney easily and never unbelievably balances the depth and the humor of Macy is what makes her such a great actress to watch.

In one of the better scenes of the second portion of the film, this acting and well-developed character arc is on display in a unique way. Macy is at a low point in her life. She has always had a faith in God, but she’s struggling at this point. As she stands in church, hymnal open, fellow parishioners warbling through “The Old Rugged Cross,” Macy slowly decides she needs a break from God. She sings with the others at first, then stops. She slowly closes the hymnal and holds it at her side as she looks straight ahead. This feeling of loss and dejection plays so well with the devotion to faith all around Macy. It isn’t a film where Macy is pressured to reassert her beliefs, but it is a film that takes the time to understand doubt in one who was once so faithful.

In spite of its annoying theater kid focal character, Everything’s Going to Be Great has several laugh out loud moments and works as a character study for someone who feels she’s been in the background of her life. It lacks joy in its second portion, but that doesn’t mean it lacks depth. It just means we wish the filmmakers could have found a way to have both without feeling like the rug was pulled from under us. If you’re looking for a really quirky family dramedy, this one misses the mark. Though, it might be worth your time if you enjoy watching Allison Janney and Bryan Cranston do excellent character work.

Grade: C

Director: Ilya Naishuller
Writers: Josh Appelbaum, André Nemec, Harrison Query
Stars: Idris Elba, John Cena, Priyanka Chopra Jonas

Synopsis: When the UK Prime Minister and US President become the targets of a foreign adversary, they’re forced to rely on one another to thwart a global conspiracy.

Prime Video’s Heads of State is a film you’ve seen thousands—and I do mean thousands—of times before. The action buddy comedy is a tried-and-true formula that has stood the test of time. From Lethal Weapon, 48 Hrs., and Midnight Run to slightly less acclaimed but still enjoyable entries Rush Hour and the Bad Boys franchise of films, the genre was born out of classics like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.

Of course, that legacy also led to some truly terrible, awkwardly conceived entries—movies born out of the genre’s wedlock, so to speak. One I always remember (and not fondly) is Chill Factor, starring Cuba Gooding Jr. and Skeet Ulrich. I saw it in theaters, and it’s still freezer-burned into my memory.

Heads of State lands somewhere in the middle. The film is derivative, tonally confused, and bogged down by a convoluted plot overwrought with needless action and abrupt shifts. Its saving grace is the comic chemistry between the leads, which serves the movie well, but is not enough to earn even a mild recommendation.

Heads of State follows two of the world’s foremost political leaders: President of the United States Will Derrienger (John Cena), who won an election based on his popularity as an action film star from the blockbuster franchise “Water Cobra,” where he’s known as “Venom in Denim”—which, I’ll admit, is pretty amusing, and probably the funniest thing about the entire film. Derrienger shares a mutual disdain with the British Prime Minister, Sam Clarke (Idris Elba), a former SAS-trained commando with little respect for his American counterpart.

A joint press conference unravels after a collaborative operation between the two countries—led by Noel Bisset (The White Tiger’s Priyanka Chopra Jonas), a senior MI6 agent and former flame of Clarke—goes disastrously wrong, leaving seven agents dead. Clarke joins Derrienger aboard Air Force One for the return trip to the States. However, the same terrorists who sabotaged their mission managed to infiltrate the world’s most secure aircraft. Unfortunately, neither man is President James Marshall—and neither of the villains is Egor Korshunov.

Heads of State is a disappointment, especially given the talent involved both in front and behind the camera. The film is directed by Ilya Naishuller, the filmmaker behind one of the best action comedies of the century, Nobody. Here, though, he’s working with a script that feels like it’s been through one revision too many—credited to writers like Josh Appelbaum (Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol), André Nemec (Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Out of the Shadows), and Harrison Query (Unspeakable: The Murder of JonBenét Ramsey).

Frankly, the whole picture feels like something Prime Video pulled out of a forgotten filing cabinet to pad out their streaming slate in pursuit of quantity over creativity. Every cheap cliché appears, offering nothing new to the genre. That can be fine—many action comedies recycle tropes—but only if executed with flair. Here, the only saving grace is the chemistry between Cena and Elba, whose buddy-comedy dynamic provides a few genuine laughs, particularly as the film pokes fun at the idea of American political leaders being elected based solely on celebrity status rather than experience.

Making the most of his brief appearance is Jack Quaid (Novocaine), who runs a safe house in Warsaw. He’s seen too many Derrienger movies for his own good, but ironically, he has more real-world expertise than the current Commander-in-Chief. Quaid leans into his strength as the scrappy, nerdy sidekick, and the sequence featuring him is the best action set piece in the entire film—a reminder that the movie could’ve used much more of his character.

Of course, the trailer gives away most of the film. You know the drill—another character presumed dead pops up later, and the “hidden” villains are so obvious they may as well be wearing signs. The movie tears pages straight from the genre playbook, step-by-step. I could practically hear Sergeant Al Powell groaning about it in my head. Yes, I am all about dated movie references, so Google him and thank me later. 

Heads of State is not worth watching because it is the same recycled material despite the chemistry between the leads. It makes you wonder why Elba decided to star in a movie like this, while Cena’s streak of bad movies as a lead remains intact. 

You can stream Heads of State only on Prime Video on July 2nd!

Grade: C-