Director: Kiyoshi Kurosawa
Writers: Tim Hedrick
Stars: Eric Nam, Dave Bautista, Jessica Matten

Synopsis: Avatar Aang, the world’s last Airbender, learns of an ancient power that could save his culture from extinction. With the help of his friends, he embarks on a global quest to find it before it falls into the wrong hands.

Nickelodeon’s Avatar: The Last Airbender took the world by storm in 2005 and has been revered ever since as one the best animated shows of our time. Rooted in martial arts fantasy, Asian culture, and a captivating lore at its center, The Last Airbender provided us with four remarkable seasons exploring a young Airbender taking the mantle as the Avatar and mastering all four elements in his quest to end the war and bring peace to the world. All while navigating Aang’s emotional baggage of running away from home because the pressure of being the Avatar at such a young age was too much for him. It’s easy to see why a whole generation fell in love with the show (myself included).

The brand has become so popular that Nickelodeon formed Avatar Studios back in 2001 to oversee the franchise and its new projects. Born out of that was its first feature in Avatar Aang: The Last Airbender. Set some odd years after the Hundred Year War, Aang (Eric Nam) is now an adult Avatar as the Four Nations live in harmony, realizing his dream when the war came to an end. There is one thing, however, that runs deep and has always been the main thing for Aang; he is the last Airbender. During he show’s initial run, he was forced to grapple with his decision to run away, which, in part, is the reason the Air Nomads were destroyed. Now, as an adult, he is feeling even more pressure to keep his culture alive.

In the early scenes of the film, we catch up with Aang as he finds himself back at the air temples, reminiscing on his people, the history of the place and the memories that define his childhood there. His partner, the Waterbender Katara (Jessica Matten), warns him that he is neglecting his duties as the Avatar in Republic City, but Aang realizes what’s at stake if he were to die as the last Airbender. So, naturally, during a visit to the air temples he is attacked by a non-bending group known as “The Denied,” who are searching for something in the temple ruins. They might not have bending powers, but they are formidable warriors and come close to taking down the Avatar.

Once Aang realizes where The Denied are headed, he assembles his group of Avengers, if you will, to hunt them down and stop them before they start another war. Joining Aang on his mission is the aforementioned Katar, her quirky but lovable brother Sokka (Román Zaragoza), the cheeky Earthbender Toph (Dionne Quan) and the once villain but now good friend to Aang, Fire Lord Zuko (Steven Yeun). After 20 years since we last saw them together like this, the nerd in me did geek out a little bit as they began their journey to the mountains. There they find something very unexpected, a person bound in a magical sphere similar to how we found Aang in the original series. It’s another Airbender by the name of Tagah (Dave Bautista), who was trapped in the mountain for thousands of years.

We soon realize that Tagah is a powerful Airbender who was once the signature sidekick to the Avatar Sonam, who has seemingly become lost to time. Aang can’t even find her in the Spirit World, a dimension that Avatars can use to speak to past Avatars. Tagah is able to help fill in the gaps for Aang while also teaching him new things about airbending that even he wasn’t aware of previously. It’s in this where the film’s irony and paradox becomes vital; Aang is no longer the last surviving Airbender. This forces him to ponder even harder about the future of his people/culture. An idea that even more complex once Aang learns of a staff that Sonam hid from the world because it became too dangerous. This staff is what gave Tagah is bending powers. With it, Tagah and Aang could resurrect the Air Nomads and bring their culture back in a real way.

Of course, it’s never that simple. After the group make it through a harrowing storm, while being chased by The Denied, they find an island where the staff may reside. The group also unearth Tagah’s real motives, which are rooted in a deep pain and trauma, that fostered an uncontrollable anger in him.

This central conflict creates quite the emotional teetering for Aang. The only other airbender he ever knew is now someone he has to stop before another war breaks out. His existential crisis is heightened to new degrees that put him at a crossroads. But as the Avatar, he has to do what’s right by the people, regardless of the cost to him personally.

Avatar Aang: The Last Airbender is going to be a struggle for those who never watched the original series. Tim Hendrick and Christopher Yost’s script offers very little in terms of context and character development. Avatar: The Last Airbender does most of the heavy lifting emotionally and psychological. But that’s not a bad thing. This is a movie for the fans. It expects you to have seen, and loved, the original series. It is gorgeously rendered in its animation. Originally slated for theaters, Paramount pulled the plug after the entire film was leaked online, forcing the studio to drop in Paramount+ instead. While understandable, the animation and sound design soars and would have been quite the treat on the big screen.

Avatar Aang: The Last Airbender might not have broad appeal, but Aang’s existentialism is still resonate despite packing a lot of story into a compressed timespan. There’s a more mature tone here that also gives the film a different edge. Aang’s survivor’s guilt is amplified in a new way that we hadn’t seen before and that alone makes the experience worth it. The stunning visuals are a great compliment, though. And that’s the big difference between this and something like Moana 2 (for example). Avatar Aang: The Last Airbender was made for the big screen. That is very clear in the craft and how the film is made. Could it have worked better as an 8-episode mini series? Probably. Most likely. But still, it’s a good time at the movies. Or, in this case, on Paramount+.

Grade: B+

Director: Yeon Sang-ho
Writers: Yeon Sang-ho, Choi Gyu-seok
Stars: Gianna Jun, Koo Kyo-hwan, Ji Chang-wook

Synopsis: Professor Se Jeong attends a biotech conference, only to witness it spiral into catastrophe when a rapidly mutating virus is unleashed. As the outbreak spreads and the infected begin to transform, authorities seal off the entire facility.

After a disastrous misstep with smaller-scale confines in The Ugly, Yeon Sang-ho returns not only to the world of big-budget (read: high-concept) blockbuster entertainment, but to the sub-genre that made him famous ten years ago with the release of Train to Busan. Having its Canadian premiere at the Fantasia International Film Festival, Colony meshes every single idea you’ve heard of before in plenty of Zombie movies, including, of course, the Romerian concept of the horde, the rapid incubation period of Danny Boyle’s 28 Days Later, and the immunity touted in a project like The Last of Us. 

The zombie, of course, is the ultimate allegory because it can represent a range of issues related to our current social issues. Many things changed between the release of Train to Busan and Colony, including the COVID-19 pandemic, which becomes one of the allegories represented here in Yeon’s reinvention of the undead. The main one, though, is how his horde functions within the Die Hard-esque setting of a bioterrorist attack that turns unsuspecting humans into flesh-eating infected. In its slow, deliberate opening half, Yeon introduces audiences to the concept of colonies and to how ants gather and share information within them, based on their understanding of the spaces they inhabit. 

The virus that terrorist Seo Yeong-cheol (Koo Kyo-hwan) activates within the body of a high-profile CEO rapidly infects an entire skyscraper, with a select group of humans having to outsmart its horde to find Yeong-cheol, who holds the key to producing a vaccine that will make them immune to the virus. The antagonist injected himself with the vaccine and encourages a zombie to bite him to produce an immune response that will allow him to mind-control the colony. However, he doesn’t expect that Professor Se Jeong (Gianna Jun), who has been studying colonies throughout her research, knows who – and what – to target, to ensure that the information the zombie colony has been gathering is completely useless. 

The mechanics of the colony are what make the bulk of Yeon’s latest foray into the world of the undead (after Seoul Station and Peninsula) so thrilling to watch, although a film like Colony doesn’t have the most sophisticated plot in the world, nor the smartest characters. Your appreciation (or disdain) of the work will stem from whether you’re able to suspend your disbelief in a convenient narrative that seems to respond incredibly well to whatever change Yeon wants to throw at the characters. When Se Jeong’s group agrees not to directly talk and communicate only via text, as a blindfolded Seo’s mind-control powers activate as soon as he knows where he is, a character talks and gives away the location relatively quickly. 

More than Train to Busan or any other film Yeon has directed, he asks us to throw logic out the window and enjoy the carnage on display, which could prove complicated for anyone seeking sophisticated entertainment. But there’s no pretension here: Colony isn’t sophisticated at all, and what Yeon stages throughout the course of his 123-minute runtime might (aesthetically and thematically) trump Train to Busan easily, even if the character work may not be as textured as his first go-around in the world of zombies. 

This is pure, unadulterated genre entertainment from beginning to end. As soon as the action begins, it never lets up, and the way Yeon shoots said action is electrifying. How he continues to find new and exciting ways to make the zombie – the ultimate archetypal figure of horror cinema – interesting is a testament to his singular talent as a true genre artist, one of the rare filmmakers whose subsequent works are more enthralling than his most well-known picture. He’s always tried to evolve and find new images to ratchet up the tension among the characters. Colony is a far better evolution than The Ugly, which acted more as a regression than anything else. 

However, working under more independent constraints has encouraged him to think about how his images should be conceived, and there are numerous angles from his perspective that are simply breathtaking on the big screen. The action is urgent and kinetic because the zombies always adapt themselves to their surroundings. The way he represents the colony gathering and sharing information is especially striking, because one thing that may work against them will probably not work in the next scene, because they’ve figured out the humans’ ruse. Such a mélange between genuine scientific (in this case, biological) subjects and popcorn thrills is what has always made Yeon’s brand of entertainment stand out among the bevy of filmmakers in South Korea, and he’s proven yet again why his brand remains one of the most successful. 

Once Colony eventually leaves the skyscraper and enters over-the-top Fast & Furious territory, the movie loses momentum. That said, Gianna Jun’s lead performance as Se Jeong is so deeply moving in its humanity that it’s hard not to feel compassion for a world slowly decaying, just as our current divisive predicament is leading all of us to total cataclysm. Maybe Yeon cops out during a conclusion that leaves much to be desired, but what comes before such a non-event is so invigorating and bracingly kinetic that it undoubtedly makes up for some of its shortcomings. 

I mean, the last film Yeon directed was so terrible that I even questioned why I appreciated his filmography, given how inconsistent it is. Colony proves to all of us that Yeon Sang-ho should only work within genre constraints, because he’s always able to thoughtfully reinvent himself and the allegories he represents within an immortal figure that will always be a major part of the horror landscape. It is, without a doubt, one of the highlights of this year’s Fantasia, and a pure thrill to witness on the big screen, with a reverberating sound system. I wouldn’t have watched it any other way.

Grade: A-

Director: Berner, Alex Ferrufino
Writers: Berner, David Mansanalez
Stars: Reed Shannon, Quincy Brooks, Zakee Brooks

Synopsis: Two brothers on diverging paths struggle to survive amidst the pressures of their community.

I think everyone should have a shot at showing how talented they are, no matter what field they’re pursuing. This especially goes for anyone who isn’t a cis white male. Rapper and entrepreneur Berner has taken the next step in his career by entering the film industry. He’s directed his own music videos in the past, but this time he’s decided to step out on faith. He and co‑director Alex Ferrufino bring the audience into their own backyard of Northern California — the Bay Area, to be exact. Together, they take viewers on a thrilling ride with a cast of characters searching for a way out of poverty and willing to do whatever it takes to escape it.

Splash City doesn’t feature any big-name actors who might draw an audience looking for a standout performance from a familiar face. Instead, we get a cast of up‑and‑coming actors and first‑time performers who bring hunger and compassion to the screenplay written by Berner and David Mansanalez. The story follows two brothers, Juju (Reed Shannon) and Elijah (Zach Sowers). Elijah is a high school basketball phenom on his way to becoming an even bigger star in college. Juju isn’t the perfect son their mother wants him to be; he’s a young man trying to break out of his big brother’s shadow. He seeks approval from his friends in the streets by “bipping,” a term for smash‑and‑grab jobs targeting people’s cars. The money is quick and easy, and Juju sees himself rising through the ranks of the crew led by the unpredictable and relentless Dolo (Quincy “Galaxy” Brooks). Elijah does what he can to help Juju get on the right path, but Juju refuses to let go of the life he’s chasing. As the film progresses, we see just how far the brothers are willing to go for each other as crime in their city escalates.

I enjoyed what the actors brought to their roles in this debut film from Berner and Ferrufino. You can tell it’s the first time many of the supporting cast have acted on screen, but that actually adds authenticity to an independent film. Indie films aren’t supposed to be perfect — they’re meant to be a little rough around the edges. Shannon and Sowers deliver incisive performances, and their chemistry as brothers who want to protect each other makes them the emotional core of the movie. Still, the standout performance comes from newcomer Brooks as Dolo. He’s the film’s main antagonist, and his abhorrent, arrogant behavior makes him easy to hate. He believes he’s the biggest player in the smash‑and‑grab game, but he has no idea that people in the shadows see him as a liability as he goes on a rampage throughout the Bay.

Ferrufino and Berner clearly drew inspiration from crime films like Deep Cover, Paid in Full, and Four Brothers in both dialogue and plot. There aren’t many crime films set in San Francisco, let alone ones featuring predominantly Black and brown cast members. They wrote about a world they know, and they succeeded in telling a solid story. The movie doesn’t glorify bipping — it does the opposite, offering a cautionary tale about getting caught up in a criminal lifestyle and doing everything you can to turn things around. The music, provided by Traxx FDR, features some of the best Bay Area rap, amplifying the dramatic and action‑packed scenes. The one‑two punch of Alejandro Lalinde’s cinematography and Josai‑Rodriguez Villegas’s editing is reminiscent of Berner’s recent music videos: clean, sleek, and moody.

While I enjoyed the performances, editing, cinematography, and directing, I was disappointed by the lack of roles and dialogue for women in the film. Elijah and Juju’s mother (Hazel Green) and Elijah’s longtime girlfriend Destiny (Destiny Hernandez) deserved more development and screen time. There was plenty of room for their perspectives, but the story’s focus on the brothers and the world of bipping ultimately overshadowed them. Splash City is currently being screened across the U.S., with more showtimes being added in the first week of August. It’s great to see first‑time filmmakers of color pooling their resources to showcase their work in multiple states. With support from distributor Lionsgate, the film has earned a well‑deserved push.

Grade: B

Director: Jean-Paul Guigue, Dimitri Planchon
Writers: Clémence Lebatteux, Dimitri Planchon
Stars: Léa Drucker, Jacques Gamblin, Timéo

Synopsis: Follows 16-year-old introverted Blaise who always agrees to everything until he meets Josephine and decides to blow everything up, while his mother Carole tries to win over employees and his father Jacques seeks respect.

One full week into the Fantasia International Film Festival, a diamond in the rough has finally come into my lap, and I’ve got no choice but to discuss the extraordinary, animated oddity that is Jean-Paul Guigue and Dimitri Planchon’s Blaise. After a rapturous premiere at the Cannes Film Festival last May, Blaise comes to Montreal in its uncensored glory, an adult animated series of vignettes that feels very much in line with the spirit of Quentin Dupieux’s work, not only through the presence of Mr. Oizo alum Léa Drucker, but in its mordant, absurd humor seeping in every frame.

If the discordant animated style of Blaise surprises you, it didn’t much surprise this ardent viewer of both Archer and the Têtes à claques. Its style of humor is undoubtedly in that same spirit, which will likely divide audiences who may be unfamiliar with its array of deadpan (and frequently morbid) jokes the movie takes throughout its brisk 77-minute runtime. Essentially, it follows the tribulations of the introverted titular character (voiced by Timéo), but there’s no real throughline or plot. It’s basically stitched together by a series of sketches that vary in quality but are so absurd it won’t take long for you to fall in love with the group of eccentric (and terrifyingly realistic) characters both Guigue and Planchon draw for you.

I will say that the political aspect of the movie doesn’t get as deepened as it should, especially as it’s an intrinsic part of the satire, but it yields in one of the darkest (yet funniest) moments I’ve seen in a movie in a (very) long time. Using the word “moments” in a review may feel like a catch-all, but it is a specific bit that takes a considerable while to get to that payoff, one that’s so gutsy and genuinely original that it surprised even a critic that doesn’t get much thrilled by watching new releases in cinemas. It’s the type of bold swing that will either make or break your appreciation of the work, but one that we so desperately need in an era of risk-free entertainment that wants to coddle viewers instead of provoking them.

Blaise is definitely a movie in the latter category; one filled with so many outré scenes it almost defies categorization. The caricatural animation is detailed and perceptive, while the screenplay isn’t afraid to push buttons and go as far as they can with jokes involving the French president having to sign a treaty on rocks, and being welcomed in a household with a cabinet of loaded guns inside. I can’t even describe what happens next, not just for spoilers, but because the bit is too funny to reveal in words that none of them will do justice. It must be seen to be believed.

In a way, Blaise does feel like a feature-length sitcom, where some scenes work to the detriment of others, but the proposition feels so fresh and daring that it almost doesn’t matter if all the jokes don’t land, or if many characters embody archetypes. The directors don’t really evolve them past their one-note attributes, but that’s also the point. If you’ve watched Archer or the Têtes à claques, none of the figures that are presented in these respective series evolve. They stay the same and are always stuck in perpetually dumb situations. It’s what made these shows so popular (and hilarious), beyond their daring animation styles.

Even in the fallout of a fairly traumatic and harrowing event, Guigue and Planchon still go all in on comedy. One has to respect their commitment to the bit, even if Blaise can often exhaust itself and end in a relatively abrupt fashion. That said, as far as the current crop of films I’ve seen at Fantasia is concerned, there probably isn’t a better oddity I’ve (so far) seen at this year’s edition of the festival than this one. The Animation Plus section can sometimes screen some genuinely creative stuff that audiences seem to dismiss more easily than some of the other offerings at the festival, but it shouldn’t be ignored. Films like Blaise, and Cherry and Virgin are living proof that animation does have its place at Fantasia and needs to be championed even more than it is. 

Grade: B+

Director: Kiyoshi Kurosawa
Writers: Kiyoshi Kurosawa
Stars: Masahiro Motoki, Masaki Suda, Yuriko Yoshitaka

Synopsis: Based on Honobu Yonezawa’s novel. Set in 16th century Japan, follows Lord Murashige Araki who, besieged in his castle, confronts mysterious crimes and allies with imprisoned strategist Kanbei Kuroda to uncover the truth.

When introducing Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s The Samurai and the Prisoner at the 30^th edition of the Fantasia International Film Festival, programmer Rupert Bottenberg called the movie “a fascinating intellectual challenge.” There probably isn’t a better way to describe Kurosawa’s latest movie, and first foray into the world of the jidaigeki. Kurosawa isn’t much interested in the warfare aspects of Japanese period movies and instead focuses entirely on a confined chamber piece that continually flips its story in intriguing, often confounding (read: cerebral) directions.

It’s hard not to compare Kiyoshi’s painterly sense of image-making in The Samurai and the Prisoner with that of Akira Kurosawa (though the two aren’t related), especially during scenes where we go outside of Lord Murashige’s (Masahiro Motoki) castle. There’s a real feeling of absorption when the movie veers into the unexpected, especially as Kurosawa’s camera moves so precisely to lure us into its labyrinthine story, set across four seasons, starting with a murder that puts Murashige’s empire in disarray and signals its end. Murders beget more murders, and he is now forced to work with an unlikely ally to figure out who is causing such violence within his four walls.

From there, Kurosawa inverts the traditional jidaigeki structure and keeps throwing one twist after another, until it becomes hard for the audience to catch their breath and figure out the grand conspiracies at the heart of the crimes. Some of the most well-known period movies are arguably remembered for their intense, artful action, but Kurosawa keeps that aspect at a minimum. That doesn’t stop him from staging a few tension-filled fights that are both exact in their execution and editing. However, instead of showcasing broad strokes of bloodshed, there’s a deliberate choice to always cut away (or never show) the violence, only implying that it’s occurring in front of our eyes.

One scene in particular is stomach-churning, as Murashige is forced to do something he doesn’t want to. Kurosawa doesn’t hold anything back. He shows us images we probably don’t want to think about (without explicitly pointing his camera at the violence being inflicted), and his patient lens focuses on the protagonist’s tormented face in the process. It’s a lot to assimilate, but the camera is so attuned to the movie’s needs that we’re quickly swept into the drama, even if it can sometimes be complicated to put everything together. Kurosawa has never worked within the confines of the jidaigeki before and certainly doesn’t want to do what his contemporaries have already done. By attempting to flip the structure on its head and create a more character-driven mystery, he refreshes an age-old sub-genre of Japanese films and gives The Samurai and the Prisoner a real sense of purpose.

It also helps that Kiyoshi is working with performers at the top of their game, with Masahiro Motoki particularly excellent as Murashige, who is watching his empire crumble before his eyes and doing everything he can to preserve what’s most important. War isn’t fully shown, but it is taking a toll on him, and those aspects are probably the most fascinating of Kurosawa’s movie. It’s also really funny, which is a particular trait for the filmmaker to insert humor in the oddest of places. One such scene delivers an amazing payoff that had the Fantasia crowd go wild, but it’s also an interesting exploration of Murashige’s belief that divine intervention is at play and that spiritual forces are here to test him.

I won’t sugarcoat that the film is quite dense to assimilate, perhaps much denser than Kiyoshi’s previous two movies, Chime and Cloud. That said, he makes the film’s central drama so legible that anyone who has difficulty understanding might not be paying attention. It is a slight intellectual challenge to parse everything together, but it’s also such an utterly fascinating piece in Kurosawa’s oeuvre that one even wonders why he spent most of his time behind the camera in the realm of J-horror. It feels as if The Samurai and the Prisoner have unlocked something deep inside him that he has kept dormant until reaching the age of 71, but there’s hope that such a reinvention of his own filmmaking form (and of the jidaigeki) will not be his last period drama, because the world needs his movies more than ever…

Grade: A

Director: Mark H. Rapaport
Writers: Mark H. Rapaport
Stars: Luke Speakman, Mila Middleswarth, Al Warren

Synopsis: Eccentric twins proclaim themselves prophets to a priest, blurring reality and delusion as they involve him in their supposed divine mission.

Belief is one of the world’s most powerful forces. Capable of altering the state of minds or the realities we live in with acceptance. When faith is involved, it takes belief to a much deeper level. Faith is the action of belief, and in his new film Godhead, Mark H. Rapaport examines the lengths those with an abundance of faith will go. Premiering at Fantasia this year the film is a mesmerizing religious nightmare that questions every aspect of religious doctrine.

Rapaport is no stranger to the Fantasia International Film Festival; his first film, HIPPO, premiered at the festival in 2023. Met with high praise, his dark dramedy showcased the unique cinematic voice Rapaport possesses. Going from a twin coming-of-age story to a religious thriller, also involving siblings, there’s a through line in his work so far. He focuses on religion, drawing on his own background and experience within a hyper-religious community.

While he chooses to keep Godhead’s trajectory clear with its premise, a small-town priest, referred to as Father (Al Warren), spends his days helping his local community. Either through the power of prayer or through his actions, he is no doubt trusted by those who walk through the church doors. He even cares for a young boy who is left on the church stairs as an infant, Boy Luke Speakman). Though their relationship raises eyebrows early on, it’s not until prophetic twins Firstborn (Sara Coffey) and Secondborn (Kimball Farley) take their seats in the pews of Father’s church, seeking his judgment and truth. Their making white jumpsuits and uniquely sculpted faces make them oddly alluring; soon, they go from eccentric to calculated.

The film’s cast brings an endless supply of talent, mixed with Rapaport’s thoughtful script; Godhead soars to one of the festival’s best. Father and Boy have a strange relationship, and why wouldn’t it be strange? He finds the child who appears to have been abandoned. Speakman has much less screen time than the rest of the cast, but he adds a level of youthful wonder. While Warren’s character is the film’s main focus, he plays a helpful priest with a secret bubbling below the surface. When he begins to unravel due to the self-proclaimed twin prophets and their endless pursuit of his guidance, Warren kicks up his character’s hysterical demeanor. His performance will leave a lump in viewers’ stomachs. Coffey and Farley are played by mind-warped, twisted little freaks, entertainingly well. With Coffey delivering a personal favorite of the year, her ability to get under your skin is unmatched. Godhead has a cast that doesn’t disappoint, and only amplifies the already strong writing.

There are plenty of moments within Godhead that are tense, sucking all the oxygen out of your lungs. Mainly when Firstborn and Father are alone, after hours of attempting to get Father to partake in their request of selecting a God out of the two of them, it wears Father down. Rapaport sheds light on what happens when faith overcomes the mind, making those devoted to it blind to the truth. Their dark truths are hidden from those who interact with them most, adding a bizarre uncertainty that is hard to shake. Most effectively, Rapaport makes it glaringly apparent that not everything, or everyone, within his film is as it appears, and it’s chilling.

Captured in a stunning, hazy black-and-white, Godhead takes the fantastical aspects of religion and places them directly on screen. From walking on water to gruesome childbirths, cinematographer William Babcock, who also shot HIPPO, takes audiences uncomfortably close. Such as forbidden sexual acts where the camera lingers on the sinner. Or witnessing someone fall to their knees with tears streaming down their face as they submit wholly to their beliefs. Glowing white and deep, dark blackness sprawl across the film’s 99-minute runtime, emphasizing the strange, hollowed faces of the twins. Babcock creates an environment that makes those witnessing it question what’s real and what their truths are.

Godhead works best when it’s the trio interacting, all trying to convince the other that their teachings are the absolute. They are intolerant of each other, but their freedom depends on each other’s judgments. It’s a powerful message for the times we are living in. When each new day brings new horrors revealed with the guise of beliefs being the motivation behind them. And questioning those beliefs is seen as more offensive than the darkness those teachings hide. Rapaport proves he’s a filmmaker with a strong sense of direction, and Godhead proves he can handle intense topics with a refreshing, singular style.

Fantasia is a festival that allows films such as this to have a spotlight, with Godhead being at the top of this year’s offerings. From its impeccable cast that riles up a disturbance within the viewer that is hard to shake. To the dreamy black-and-white beauty that shows even the most divine are capable of our worst imaginings.

Grade: A

Director: Destin Daniel Cretton
Writers: Chris McKenna, Erik Sommers
Stars: Tom Holland, Zendaya, Sadie Sink

Synopsis: A forgotten Peter Parker lives alone as a full-time Spider-Man until mounting pressure triggers a dangerous change and a powerful new enemy emerges.

I’ll just say it: The problem with Spider-Man: Brand New Day is that the iconic Marvel character is no one’s second fiddle. Coming off Spider-Man: No Way Home, one of the MCU’s most satisfying, nostalgic, and ultimately heartbreaking entries, the executives used their Spidey senses to do something beneath a character they had worked so hard to bring back home.

And that’s not to say you will not be entertained by the fourth Spider-Man film since making Sony Marvel back creative control of the Web-Slinger. It’s the fact they used Peter Parker and Spider-Man: Brand New Day to set up another budding entry in the Marvel Cinematic Universe that was thrown on top of the scrap heap less than a decade ago. 

The choice feels cheap—not even sleight of hand, but a heavy-handed maneuver that undercuts the emotional storytelling this chapter is trying to achieve. And that is a shame because the film squanders a darker turn from Tom Holland—has anyone had a bigger summer?—who brings the demons haunting Stan Lee’s iconic creation to the surface. The result is an emotionally mature Spider-Man film that was earned, only to be sacrificed to Marvel’s franchise-building machinery. 

Doctor Strange used Peter Parker (Holland) to help save the multiverse from collapsing in on itself, not the worst idea in the world, but doing so caused everyone Peter loves, and everyone who loves him in return, to forget he ever existed. Now, Peter lives a life of isolation and loneliness. This gives Holland plenty to sink his teeth into during the film’s best first-act scenes.

Peter sticks to a routine: fight crime, leaves flowers at Aunt May’s grave, and maintains his only real contact with the outside world through Detective Jean DeWolff (The Bear’s Liza Colón-Zayas), with whom he coordinates crime-fighting strategies. Or, more accurately, becoming a crime-fighting rideshare, delivering bad guys like Scorpion (72 Hour’s Michael Mando) directly to her feet.

However, Peter is hanging onto the past, preventing himself from moving forward. He keeps track of his best friend, Ned (Jacob Batalon), and the love of his life, MJ (Zendaya), as they go off to college and graduate from MIT together. You could say his only human contact is with Frank Castle (Origin’s Jon Bernthal), whom we last saw in Punisher: One Last Kill, as his healthiest relationship. 

That’s the cinematic carrot. Now let’s give you the stick, though the plot tends to get tangled in its own web. Chris McKenna and Erik Sommers’s script borrows a plot device reminiscent of the 1998 Denzel Washington film Fallen and the modern horror classic It Follows: a villain takes over the minds of unsuspecting citizens, leaping from person to person to create chaos.

And, mind you, not the controlled kind. That is where director Destin Daniel Cretton, who has found success in independent film (Short Term 12) and one of Marvel’s most refreshing films of the decade (Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings), struggles, barely managing to keep Spidey and another top-secret character separate but on equal footing.

The main complaint is that the Stranger Things alum Sadie Sink’s character, who is electric here, becomes the most relevant part of the third act, which takes away from, well, the homecoming, bringing MJ and Ned back together with Peter. The movie is still entertaining, but it is a recycled MCU effort that we have seen time and time again. The action is fun, the special effects are good, and I’ll admit that a frame-flip technique used during one fight scene is awe-inspiring.

There was no need to dedicate the entire third act to setting up a new franchise, especially when it could have been handled with greater nuance and a deft touch. Why should Spider-Man serve as a stepping stone for another franchise? The script should have concentrated on Holland, who delivers a wonderful performance as Peter, who only scratches the surface, as Holland explores the darkest corners of Parker’s psyche. 

The themes of grief, loneliness, and isolation are capable of turning even the strongest of men into someone they no longer recognize. Then, on the verge of seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, that is scrap, for a third act that feels like a different film. The fact is, Sink’s character and Holland’s mirror each other, but so much clutters the emotional connection between the two and the power that it could have solved the script’s second-half emotional arrested development. 

The movie has some good humor, Bernthal and Holland share strong chemistry, and the intricate web-slinging action makes the second act exciting. Ironically, Spider-Man: Brand New Day becomes the same old entry in the MCU machine when it had the chance to delve into the darkness of a hero’s isolation. Parker’s story deserved to come full circle with a complete emotional trajectory, not be used as a launching pad for whatever franchise comes next.

Grade: C