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

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