Director: Ethan Coen
Writers: Ethan Coen, Tricia Cooke
Stars: Margaret Qualley, Geraldine Viswanathan, Beanie Feldstein

Synopsis: Jamie regrets her breakup with her girlfriend, while Marian needs to relax. In search of a fresh start, they embark on an unexpected road trip to Tallahassee. Things quickly go awry when they cross paths with a group of inept criminals.

When the credits began to roll on Drive Away Dolls, I thought, “It’s time for an intervention to bring the Coen brothers back together.” That’s because Ethan Coen’s story is a pale comparison to his brother’s previous work. The film reminded me of what I heard in the original draft of Good Will Hunting. Damon and Affleck initially told the story of how a genius janitor, Will Hunting, saved the school in some Die Hard escapade. Then, Rob Reiner looked over the script and told them to stick with Will and his therapist, and the rest was history.

Here, Drive Away Dolls dilutes a vibrant and compelling story about the intimacy between the lead characters. The result is another nail in the coffin of estrangement between the Coens, a spectacularly failed experiment. Not because most of the films apart are bad, even though Drive Away Dolls is a substandard effort. It’s the fact that every movie apart proves how ordinary their films are compared to their spectacular endeavors together.

It is set in 1999 in Philadelphia and follows two best friends. One is Jamie (Margaret Qualley), who complement each other differently. Both are gay. Jamie is the unbuttoned, let-her-hair-down type who is independent, unconventional, and spontaneous. Her carefree Texas spirit embodies a combination of a carefree, self-assured attitude and a positive, accepting approach toward sexuality. The other is Marian (Geraldine Viswanathan), the buttoned-up type. The kind that won’t unfasten the top one even if it’s cutting off circulation to her head. She’s conservative and reserved and views spontaneity as a mental health disorder rather than living your best life. She becomes visibly uncomfortable when talking about sex and increasingly so with her sexual orientation.

Jamie then cheats on Sukie (a very funny Beanie Feldstein), a local cop in town. Sukie’s angry; she’s stuck with Jamie’s Chihuahua named Alice B. Toklas (a shrewd touch) and a dildo that was finely crafted to a wall like a taxidermy deer head. Marian wants to visit her aunt in Florida, so Jamie tags along, and they utilize a snowbird driveway service from a man you should not call Curly (Bill Camp). However, curly mistakes the young women as couriers for something illegal in the trunk that could blow the top off an American political system and a major scandal. 

From that point on, Drive Away Dolls is a fairly typical story under the LGBTQ+ beard that makes you think the story is something more special than it really is. If you take away the characters’ sexuality, you have a script that is a version of several Coen brothers’ crime classics that’s uneven. The film somehow manages to somehow be light and unfunny simultaneously, then takes 90-degree turns. That includes a scene involving Pedro Pascal, who abandons the Coen brothers’ dark wit for just disturbing and graphic violence that’s gratuitous.

The first half-hour of Drive Away Dolls has some amusing deadpan remarks from Viswanathan, who is so good in comedies like Blockers, The Package, and The Broken Hearts Gallery. Still, her character hardly evolves from her wet blanket status. Qualley is so good in one of last year’s best films, Sanctuary, and is a breath of fresh air here until the character never grows into anything past what Cyndi Lauper used to sing about. That’s because the film should have put its focus on Jamie and Marian’s relationship, which would have allowed for personal and emotional growth. 

It’s a funny thing with Drive-Away Dolls. Ethan Coen has made a Coen Brothers movie that has become tiresome because, when it aims to shock with its trademark subversiveness, there is simply no purpose for it. Ethan Coen’s film is utterly predictable, the script is overwritten, and the style is overdone. That includes the Matt Damon cameo, the plot’s centerpiece that should have been thrown out to begin with.

Grade: D+

Director: Sherren Lee
Writers: Jesse LaVercombe, Sherren Lee, Kate Marchant
Stars: Robbie Amell, Andrea Bang, Sarah Desjardins

Synopsis: After she nearly drowns, a young woman unexpectedly falls for the small-town lifeguard who rescued her. Based on the novel by Kate Marchant.

At what point will audiences tire of predictable, stakeless romance? You know the type: the stories where girl meets boy, boy has demons, girl and boy fall in love, and boy inevitably says something stupid along the way that endangers the future of their liaison. These narratives have long-been layups for authors and screenwriters alike, particularly those in search of five-finger exercises they can dangle before a built-in audience that spends too much time scrolling endless lists of VOD titles before resorting to the viewing that looks the cutest. As a moviegoer who spends most of his time desperately seeking out fresh storytelling over recyclable fare — unless, of course, it’s for a review — I ask again: When will we collectively move beyond the need for these stories?

The simple answer? Probably never. The devil isn’t in the details, but in the ease with which these projects are crafted, performed, and thus delivered to prospective viewers like spoonfuls of sugar. So although Float, Sherren Lee’s debut feature, is merely a drop in this bucket, it’s still frustratingly unoriginal and telegraphed to within an inch of its life, par for the course in the corner of a genre that feels like it has failed to produce a birdie, much less a hole in one, for the better part of the 21st century. 

Lee’s film, based on Kate Marchant’s 2022 novel of the same name, centers on Waverly (Andrea Bang), a med student who has dutifully followed the predestined path her parents laid out for her at an early age. As the start date for her upcoming residency in Toronto inches closer, impulsivity kicks in and she ventures to a small Canadian town to visit her aunt (Michelle Krusiec) and figure out the part of life that places an emphasis on actually living. The town is quaint, and the people, welcoming; Waverly has been longing for connection, and almost immediately finds it, albeit a touch rudely.

The connection isn’t forced, per se, but it is brought on forcibly, when she falls into a lake at a beach party. Waverly, of course, can’t swim, and thus requires saving. Thank goodness the handsome, damaged lifeguard, Blake (Robbie Amell) — who lives next door to Waverly’s aunt — was there to break up the fight that knocked Waverly into the water, and to save her from certain sinkage. Once the two resurface and dry off, a connection has been formed, a mutual attraction has been established, and the groundwork for a summer romance, set in motion. Blake offers to teach Waverly how to swim. And what better for a budding love story than skin-to-skin contact in the shallow end.

But there are problems with this courtship. For one, Waverly still wants to be a doctor despite the reluctance to follow her parent’s plan to a tee. This detour wasn’t designed for roots to be planted, but for freedom to be enjoyed before the reality of responsibility sets in. As for Blake, he and his sister, Isabel (Sarah Desjardins), lost their parents at an early age, and he has vowed to protect her from the world he imagines as harsh and full of bad boyfriends. While Waverly can’t break free of the destiny she both wants for herself and wishes to reject because of parental influence, Blake can’t bring himself to fully open up because of his self-imposed responsibility, a lifeguard too busy making sure no one in his emotional purview sinks to realize that he can barely keep his own head above water.

It’s a tale as old as time, as long as time is measured in schlocky romantic dramas based on beach reads. A cute girl enters the unknown confines of a kitschy town and finds herself enamored with a local, and he with her, despite in/external distractions persistently threatening the fantasy. Netflix seems to adore churning out films of this ilk; 2022’s Along for the Ride comes to mind, though that flick’s heroine knew how to swim, but could neither let loose nor ride a bike. And while Float isn’t a Netflix product, it fits the mold most streaming libraries would find comfort in, their audiences following suit. This is a watchable film, and fairly well-performed one, but is ultimately an over-sanitized, sexless depiction of flirtation between adults that might as well be called The Summer I Turned Pretty and Learned How to Swim. (Or, better yet, Dr. Love or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Pool.)

Back to that fairly well-performed element. I should clarify that neither Andrea Bang (previously seen in 2022’s Fresh and 2019’s Luce) nor Robbie Amell are asked to do much other than go on the charm offensive and stare longingly into each other’s eyes as everyone else in town roots for their future together. Bang successfully captures Waverly’s summer-long angst but doesn’t quite nail the heavier emotional elements of her character’s story, like the fact that, despite incessant pressure from her parents, she hasn’t seen them in years, for reasons unknown.

The more-recognizable Robbie Amell, meanwhile, remains a curious case of an actor. Probably best-known for looking like he’s never thrown a football before in 2015’s The DUFF, Amell is both hot and charismatic enough to lead an Amazon series and to stand out as one of the few real actors in C-films like The Babysitter and Simulant, but not nearly chameleonic or talented enough to have a Glen Powell-esque filmography. I’ll put it this way: If Amell was the dude under the brim of a cowboy hat in the trailer for the upcoming Twister sequel, Twisters, you’d buy him as a disposable heartthrob, not as an important force in the film’s central plot. 
Float’s principle issues, however, are embedded in the fabric of its genre, not its cast. The romantic framework is growing tired and repetitive, thus shaping misbegotten attempts at storytelling that fail to mine any real emotion from its narrative because the focus is elsewhere. Not everyone has to be Nora Ephron, nor should they even try. But unless filmmakers are willing — or able — to craft something new in this genre, or at worst, to convey a fresh sensation from something familiar, perhaps it’s best not to try altogether.

Grade: D

Director: Robert Morgan
Writers: Robin King, Robert Morgan
Stars: Aisling Franciosi, Stella Gonet, Tom York

Synopsis: A stop-motion animator struggles to control her demons after the loss of her overbearing mother.

Robert Morgan’s uncanny mixed live action and animation feature, Stopmotion, belongs in the genre of obsessive artists being driven to madness. Stopmotion is reminiscent of Peter Strickland’s Berberian Sound Studio, Prano Bailey-Bond’s Censor, and Anne Oren’s Piaffe. Stopmotion also evokes Lucky McKee’s directorial debut May, the oeuvre of Jan Švankmajer, the Brothers Quay, David Lynch’s Eraserhead, Michael Powell’s Peeping Tom, and the work of Cristóbal León and Joaquín Cociña. 

From the moment humans realized they could metonymically exchange one symbol for another, there has been storytelling. From 4000 years BCE to shadows on Plato’s cave back through to stick marionettes. Even ancient societies had their effigies. 

Madness and the artist is recursively documented. Camille Claudel had her clay, bronze, and marble; along with a thirty year stay in Montdevergues Asylum. Richard Dadd his razor, fairies, and Broadmoor Hospital. Louis Wain his psychedelic cats and fifteen years in two asylums. Aloïse Corbaz her imagined love affair with Kaiser Wilhelm; reams of paper, found materials and horror vacui. Unica Zürn her Hexentexte [The Witches’ Texts] and automatic drawings.  Leonora Carrington her debutante hyena, mirror writing, and escape from an asylum via trickery.

Ella Blake (Aisling Franciosi) is a stop-motion model maker and animator living in a spartan and semi-sadistic situation with her famed animator mother, Suzanne (Stella Gonet). Suzanne’s hands are atrophying due to advanced arthritis and Ella is her “poppet” who does everything from creating her fuzzy Ray Harryhausen inspired stop-motion film to cutting up her sizeable steaks. Ella is Suzanne’s “meat puppet.” Whatever ideas or inspirations Ella might have are brushed away by Suzanne. She is simply required to be as still as the creations she is manipulating for Suzanne. “Don’t you breathe, don’t you move a muscle,” Suzanne demands of her exhausted child.

Living with Suzanne and devoting her life to the shrine of her mother’s talents has the asceticism of religious ritual. Ella is trapped. Even when she seeks out sensual and social pleasure with her boyfriend, Tom (Tom York) and his successful commercial animator sister, Polly (Therica Wilson-Read), Ella is somewhat absent. It’s as if Suzanne’s physical debilitation has been passed on to her daughter who is beginning to experience a moribund mental state.

Suzanne’s janus-faced behavior reaches a crucial point when her puppetry of Ella causes the latter to being to make an error. Suzanne has a stroke and Ella, for the first time, is free – but free to do what? She promises her unconscious hospital bed ridden mother that she will “finish her film.” Tom is trying to take care of Ella but finds her increasingly resentful of his ministrations. In her mind, Tom is a hobbyist – people like him and his music – but he’s a white-collar worker first. Ella is the real deal, an artist ready to fully immerse herself in her project. However, for so many years Ella has convinced herself that she is “just the hands,” and everyone else was the brains. “I have no voice,” she says.

Moving out of Stella’s home into a near empty decaying apartment block, Ella sets up her equipment. She recreates her mother’s Cyclops animation (highly symbolic writing from Morgan and co-scribe Robin King) but is listless. What happens next? A little girl (Caoillinn Springall) from a neighboring apartment takes a keen interest in Ella’s work. She also tells Ella that the story is boring. It needs something else. It needs a lot more. It needs Ella to dig into her fracturing psyche and pull something out which is visceral and dangerous.

Morgan makes no secret of the fact that Little Girl is Ella. The nagging and persistent voice who tells her, “You better take me seriously or I won’t tell you how the story ends.” If Ella does not cave into Little Girl’s increasingly abject demands then she will disappear and with her will go her only chance to finally speak. The fairy tale references fly thick and fast. A little girl lost in the woods; but it’s not a wolf who is chasing her. No, that’s too obvious. It’s something else – something almost indefinable. He is the Ash Man (James Swanton), and he stalks the bungalow where the lost girl has taken refuge. He will visit the little girl over three nights.

Ella’s apartment, the bungalow, and her memories of her mother’s house all blur into one space. Just as the puppet who represents the Little Girl of the story, and Ella herself, becomes more faceless and made up of rotting meat, animal carcasses, her own hair, her own body. Morgan isn’t interested in restrained – he’s interested in the atmosphere of perpetual unease. Cronenbergian body horror, meets Jodorowsky, meets the grimmest Hausmärchen.

Morgan said of his film, “[Stop-motion animation] is static yet moving; dead and alive at the same time. It’s the perfect metaphor through which to explore Ella’s struggle.” Ella has been used as a puppet; a marionette set dancing by Suzanne. She dreads that she is, at most, a ventriloquist’s dummy for other people. Her fantasy interactions with Suzanne are full of taunts, just as the interactions with her id creature. 

“We’re all mad here,” said the hatter to Alice. Yet, Alice was a clever and canny girl able to outwit the absurdity of Wonderland. When Ella goes through her own looking glass anyone who appears sane is the threat. Polly is happy to steal her concepts because she doesn’t believe Ella will ever use them. Polly’s “inspiration” comes from drugs. Tom is a numbing anti-depressant. The psychiatry is the enemy. Whatever egg-like orb the Ash Man wants Ella to ingest is a threat but is it also her swallowing herself alive? 

None of the brilliance of Robert Morgan’s work would be possible without his incredible models. Like Švankmajer and the Brothers Quay they are inspired by found objects. Ella patiently explains the skeleton of a stop-motion figure to Little Girl who demands more mortician’s wax. Little Girl insists on the same kind of perfection Suzanne did – but her perfection comes from the abhorrent. Dirt is déclassée, maggots are interesting, but going beyond putrefaction into artistic purity is the goal. The always stellar Aisling Franciosi uses her wide-eyed and often vacant stare to pierce the veil between seeing and being seen. She has observed life but has never properly partaken in it. Even the sex scenes with Tom echo that it is his mutable flesh which arouses her.

Rarely does a debut feature come out so fully embodied and realized. The score by Lola de la Mata fusing with the carnivalesque and grotesque production design by Felicity Hickson (who has notably worked with both Peter Strickland and Ben Wheatley). The eldritch but also neon gel soaked cinematography of Léo Hinstin. The costuming by frequent Strickland collaborator and designer Saffron Cullane (who also worked on Censor) and the creature effects by Dan Martin. 

Stopmotion is a psychodrama, a study of obsession, a look into repressed rage, and the burgeoning artistic psychopath. “Don’t be afraid. Great artists always put themselves into their work” Little Girl tells Ella. Perfection comes from abnegation of self and the embracing of it. Once a piece of art is made, does the maker just go back into a box until they are required to appear again? The artist tears themselves into little pieces trying to make something “real.” The horror vacui – the fear of empty spaces is Ella psychological struggle. Stopmotion makes Ella the puppet master and puppet. Magnificently deranged cinema – Robert Morgan is a virtuoso of the uncanny.

Grade: A

Director: William Eubank
Writers: David Frigerio, William Eubank
Stars: Liam Hemsworth, Russell Crowe, Luke Hemsworth

Synopsis: When an Army ODA team is ambushed, their only hope lies with an Air Force JTAC (Liam Hemsworth) and a drone pilot (Russell Crowe) to guide them through a brutal 48-hour battle for survival.

On the surface, Land of Bad, like many action movies inspired by military operations, is perfectly fine. The movie even generates some intense action and builds some genuine suspense. There’s a grittiness to William Eubank’s action diversion because it simply takes no prisoners in the electrifying first act. You wish they knew when to say enough is enough when it came to its sanctimonious final scenes and sensationalized, over-the-top third act.

The film follows Sergeant JJ “Playboy” Kinney (Liam Hemsworth), an Air Force TACP officer, on his Delta Force rescue mission. (One would think they could have found a small part of Chuck Norris, but we will let that go for another time.) He’s nervous, of course, but he’s joining a seasoned team to be by his side. The group leader is Master Sergeant John Sweet (Milo Ventimiglia), AKA “Sugar,” who offers a calming presence to the young officer.

Abel (Luke Hemsworth) and Bishop (Ricky Whittle) are rounding out the team. Their mission is to locate and extract a CIA agent abducted by terrorists in the Philippines. What separates Land of Bad from others is folding in another layer of modern warfare. Heading up that plot is Russell Crowe, who plays Captain Eddie “Reaper” Grimm, a man who can never retire because of a couple of ex-wives, a half-dozen kids, and one on the way.

That’s when Land of Bad thrives when Crowe begins to take over scenes. After an electrifying first act, Crowe’s Reaper develops a rapport with Hemsworth’s Playboy, and they have genuine chemistry. You know, the kind where you place your life in one man’s hands under traumatic circumstances? The action is intense. As much when Playboy is hiding under some brush in a river as it is dodging machine gun bullets during the lone rescue operation. 

This spectacular action scene is heightened by the addition of unmanned aerial vehicle (UAV) warfare. Other films, such as Good Killer or Eye in the Sky, deal with UAV usage’s moral and ethical dilemmas. Here, it’s pretty simple and cut-and-dry. The purpose is to protect and bring their boys home. It’s impossible to forget what a presence Crowe has on the screen. The type of magnetic performance he can coax out of the demands on which he sits the majority of his role is remarkable.

Land of Bad begins to drag itself down by a couple of things. First, while the film does explain the title, the villains are one-note characters, and you never get to understand their motivation. For that matter, why did they take over the area where the operative is being held? The first and third act scenes involving the Abu Sayyaf rebels are gratuitous. 

The script from Eubank and David Frigerio plants seeds meant to make this type of violence more tolerable. For example, if a soldier is executed in cold blood but he has already had a fatal stomach wound. When Playboy exacts revenge on one of his enemies, it’s fierce and over-the-top. I’m sure the scene was meant to be cathartic in a way for the audience, but the violence reaches jarring levels, to say the least. 

The other issue is that the film tries to portray military commanders and officers in the UAV bunker in Las Vegas as if they don’t care. I can tell you one thing: that would never happen. You don’t live, breathe, and sleep the lifestyle of surviving countless military operations and not take the job seriously. While you can appreciate Crowe’s character’s message for his fellow brothers and sisters in the military, this could have just been communicated through subtext or found another way to bring out that type of pride in service.

At the very least, that type of message brought out my admiration for Land of Bad. Also, the intensity of the first two acts did have me on the edge of my seat. While I have issues with the final 30 minutes, the resolution is eye-rolling; there’s enough to like here, especially Crowe’s turn, as a mild action diversion with its heart in the right place for a mild recommendation.

Grade: C+

Director: Denis Villenueve
Writers: Denis VIllenueve, Jon Spaihts, Frank Herbert
Stars: Timothée Chalamet, Zendaya, Rebecca Ferguson

Synopsis: Paul Atreides unites with Chani and the Fremen while seeking revenge against the conspirators who destroyed his family.

Nerds unite! Hollywood has turned to one filmmaker to bring his brand of smart, sleek, and ultra-cool science fiction epic storytelling from Frank Herbert into all of its glory. That man is Denis Villeneuve. Dune: Part 2 continues the French Canadian maestro’s perfect streak of creating great films and he still never made a bad one. (Yes, all of us Enemy stans stand up and cheer!) Villeneuve’s follow-up to the opening chapter has complex characters, an indescribable mood, visually captivating aesthetic, intense atmosphere, and meticulous attention to detail that transport the viewer to another time and place.

When I saw the first chapter of Villeneuve’s Dune, it took time to wrap my head around it because I had never read the book and had not fully appreciated the sheer accomplishment of bringing Dune to life. It was a necessary first step to something better. And boy, Villeneuve delivers an epic film with jaw-dropping action sequences, visually stunning images, and the type of world building that most can only dream of. 

In short, Dune: Part 2 takes its place with The Godfather Part 2, Empire Strikes Back, and The Dark Knight as one of the greatest sequels ever made. It’s the science fiction epic that will blow you away and is the one we have been waiting for.

In other words, Mr. Villeneuve, I will love you as long as I breathe. 

Villeneuve picks up where the first film left off. Paul Atreides (Timothée Chalamet) forms an alliance with the Fremen, along with his mother, Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson), after Paul wins his way in by winning a fight to the death against one of Stilgar’s (Javier Bardem) men, Jamis. Along with—literally—the woman of his dreams, Chani (Zendaya), Paul begins to develop a plan to avenge the deaths of his father, Leto (Oscar Isaac), and his mentor, Duncan (Jason Momoa). Paul and Jessica, under Stilgar’s protection, assimilate into the Fremen society. As Paul says, half of them think he’s their next Messiah. The others feel he must be a false prophet who must pay for Jamis’s death.

The story’s villains remain, but they have brought in some friends. Glossu Rabban (Dave Bautista) angers the Baron (Stellan Skarsgård) because he can’t stop the band of uprisings and continues gathering the planet’s most valuable asset, spice. The Baron’s nephew, Feyd-Rautha (Austin Butler), is being groomed as his replacement and calls upon him to right the ship. Watching closely is the Emperor (Christopher Walken) and his daughter, Princess Irulan (Florence Pugh), who has a surprising stake in the outcome.

Dune: Part 2’s script, by Villeneuve and Jon Spaihts, crafts an immersive and detailed environment that brings an extraordinary world to life. The world-building enhances the expansive and rich narrative by drawing upon source material that feels authentic and unique. The second installment is essentially an epic war film that pays extra special attention to the romance between Chalamet’s Paul and Zendaya’s Chani. I would love to say their love affair creates more heat on the screen than Arrakis at high noon on a scorching summer day. However, the romance is gentle and slowly develops into something sweetly innocent and curious.

These elements make Dune: Part 2 a well-rounded film that morphs into a sweeping saga with a grand feel, giving the experiences an emotional depth that leaves an impact. This is especially evident as the film slowly becomes more of a political chess match in its third act. That’s where Chalamet begins to grow up in front of our eyes and delivers a rousing speech that we didn’t know he had in him. He provides a powerful and authoritative performance and, dare I say, a James Dean rebellious quality that’s magnetic. This is Chalamet’s graduation day, and he can be cast in any role from this point forward.

We want to avoid specific spoilers, but there are moments and scenes in Dune: Part 2 that are so purely cinematic they will be watched and talked about for generations. For example, you have Paul riding his first worm in front of the Fremen through the scorching expansive desert sand. The awe-inspiring House of Harkonnen gladiator matches under the black sun. And, of course, that spectacular opening wave at the Battle of Arrakeen. These scenes will be known as classics that parents will show their children, as many do with Raiders of the Lost Ark; they are that good.

Dune: Part 2 is the year’s first great film, and you won’t see a bigger or better blockbuster all year. From the stunning sun-burnt visuals from cinematographer Greig Fraser and Hans Zimmer’s heart-pumping alternative-operatic powerful score to the embarrassment of riches when it comes to the deep bench of actors, Dune: Part 2 is a sophisticated sci-fi masterpiece, an instant classic, and an unprecedented sequel. 

Again, Mr. Villeneuve, I will love you as long as I breathe.

Grade: A+

Director: Matteo Garrone
Writers: Matteo Garrone, Massimo Gaudioso, Massimo Ceccherini, Andrea Tagliaferri
Stars: Seydou Sarr, Moustapha Fall, Hichem Yacoubi

Synopsis: A Homeric fairy tale that tells the adventurous journey of two young boys, Seydou and Moussa, who leave Dakar to reach Europe.

Io Capitano, the Best International Film-nominated entry from Italy, is finally out in cinemas. Directed by Pinocchio’s Matteo Garrone, the story showcases a harrowing journey as best friends Seydou (Seydou Sarr) and Moussa (Moustapha Fall) leave their stable life in Dakar to chase their dreams in Italy. In one of the most poignant sequences of the film, Seydou’s mother warns him that this dream is futile and he will only put himself in danger if he chooses to go through with his desire to leave Senegal. 

Of course, Seydou and Moussa do not listen to her – or the organizer’s – advice that Europe is nowhere near as magnificent as the films portray it. Not only that, but the journey itself is treacherous, which entails crossing the border with an illegal passport and walking through the Sahara desert to reach Tripoli. If Seydou and Moussa don’t know what they’re doing and don’t have trustworthy connections, a fate worse than death itself may await them. 

However, no matter the dissuasions, the two embark on the long journey to reach the coast of Malta, which the film depicts in a distressing fashion. Predictably, the trip doesn’t go as planned, and the two are eventually separated when the Libyan police catch them. Seydou is sent to an illegal prison run by the mafia and is immediately told by a French intermediary that if he does not give away his phone number, he will be tortured. He does not and suffers greatly as a result. 

Garrone doesn’t hold anything back and shows how difficult the journey for Seydou is, both mentally and physically. As he attempts to rest in his cell, petrified by the pain that’s been inflicted upon him, he imagines himself sending a message to his mother in Dakar to comfort him. This sequence and another in which a woman floats in the sky are Io Capitano at its most lyrical and devastating. Seydou wants his trip to be an idyllic journey to a better world, floating in the sky as they reach Heaven, but it puts him in purgatory, where Heaven is right here, but gets drawn into Hell. 

This visual representation doesn’t happen as often as it should, but it almost doesn’t matter since cinematographer Paolo Carnera crafts a series of striking images that will stay with you long after the credits have ended. It’s almost too disturbing to describe here, but the raw power of Io Capitano mostly lies in its evocative and powerful visuals, which fully represent just how dangerous Seydou and Moussa’s journey is. 

As Seydou and Moussa, both Sarr and Fall are as equally heartbreaking as they are inspiring in their respective turns. At first, Moussa is the big dreamer of the two, convincing Seydou that this is the right thing to do after he experiences second thoughts. But through it all, Seydou will eventually reveal himself as the more courageous and heroic of the two, particularly when he is tasked to transport passengers from Tripoli to Malta on a ship, not knowing how to steer it. One of the film’s most impactful scenes, in which he pleads to a coast guard officer for help, deftly shows Seydou’s transformation from a timid – and scared – boy to a captain who will stop at nothing before everyone is brought to Italy safely. It also helps audiences attach themselves easily to the two characters as their naturalistic approach to acting greatly informs how we perceive the two as they overcome the odds to reach Italy. 

But Garrone and his co-screenwriters Massimo Gaudioso, Massimo Ceccherini, and Andrea Tagliaferi take very few storytelling risks in depicting Seydou and Moussa’s journey. In fact, the story trods the most obvious clichés instead of choosing a more psychologically active depiction of Seydou’s moral quest to find Moussa. Perhaps the filmmakers wanted to choose an easy route for the film to be a crowd-pleaser, but it feels almost too crowd-pleasing, with every single storytelling beat seen a mile away. When Seydou’s mother warns them of the journey, we know exactly what will happen. It also doesn’t help that the film was released a few months after Rajkumar Hirani and Shah Rukh Khan quasi-treated the same story with Dunki, which had a far less conventional – and more engaging – story (but it didn’t have the striking images produced by Carnera). 

The only time Garrone subverts expectations is in its ending, which doesn’t give a “proper” conclusion to Seydou and Moussa’s story. Audiences are left to interpret what they think happened, which may be the least “crowd-pleasing” moment of the whole affair. I feel there was far more to tell in their journey, which seemed like it was just beginning. Perhaps that’s it. Their story is just beginning, and we all witnessed how they created a new chapter in their lives by overcoming adversity and never giving up, no matter the mental and physical cost. 

Grade: B-

Director: Jon Gunn
Writers: Kelly Fremon Craig, Meg Tilly
Stars: Alan Ritchson, Hilary Swank, Amy Acker

Synopsis: Inspired by the incredible true story of a hairdresser who single-handedly rallies an entire community to help a widowed father save the life of his critically ill young daughter.

Jon Gunn is the director behind Ordinary Angels. He’s a filmmaker who cut his teeth writing scripts for the Erwin Brothers, filmmakers who focus on Christian cinema. Gunn is cut from that same cloth, writing the scripts for last year’s Jesus Revolution and the underrated American Underdog. Now, he steps behind the camera for another incredible (Christian) true story that manipulates you to its heart’s content. 

However, it’s hard not to get caught up in the heartwarming glow of Ordinary Angels’s uplifting story about a community coming together to save a child. The result is a film that builds up enough suspense and goodwill to ignore some obvious genre tropes. Especially when you add two performances from stars Hilary Swank and Reacher’s Alan Ritchson, this is the artist’s version of cinematic comfort food.

Gunn’s film tells the story of Ed Schmitt (Ritchson), a father who lost his wife Theresa (Amy Acker) to complications from childbirth. He has two little girls, Ashley (Skyler Hughes) and Michelle (Emily Mitchell). It’s been four years since Ed lost Theresa and Michelle was born. Now, she has been developing consistent infections. The physicians tell Ed the lousy news during medical evaluations and tests. Michelle’s liver is failing, and eventually, she’ll need a transplant.

We then get a healthy (and surprisingly accurate) assessment of the American healthcare system. Ed works in construction and has no health insurance. He owes a little over $400,000 in medical bills just for his wife’s pregnancy and death. Through a news story looking to help provide clarity for Michelle’s upcoming medical bills, a woman with a drinking problem, Sharon Stevens (Swank), sets her mind to help through grit, determination, and a clear violation of boundaries.

Ordinary Angels has an impressive pedigree, particularly from the writing team. The script was written by Kelly Fremon Craig, the scribe behind the cult hit Edge of Seventeen and one of last year’s critically acclaimed darlings, Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret. The other writer is a novelist and an Academy Award nominee for her work in Agnes of God, Meg Tilly, often mistaken for her sister Jennifer.

Their script is a good one that combines the subtle themes of the genre with a heartfelt story that’s uplifting and builds some genuine suspense. Particularly in the final act, if anyone has been caught in a snowstorm with a whiteout, it is one of the most nerve-racking experiences you’ll ever have. Fold in the look of a pale four-year-old who has days to live, racing to the hospital for a life-saving transplant can be overwhelming.

Now, the storytelling is relatively generic. Swank seems to channel her inner Leigh Anne Tuohy from The Blind Side. You can also appreciate the acknowledgment that she has replaced her addiction to alcohol by keeping her mind busy obsessing over him and the Schmitt family. Swank’s take on Sharon is impulsive and sensation-seeking, but she always has her heart in the right place.

Ritchson replaces his deadpan comic delivery and relentless action-packed persona from Reacher with a homespun version of a man who is simple and unpretentious. The script has him not questioning a higher authority but simply not partaking since his wife’s death, which is a refreshing take on a faith-based film subplot.

The end of Ordinary Angels is over-the-top with its sticky, sweet sentimentality. However, if you are ever going to have that type of scene, can’t we all agree it should be racing to get a four-year-old safely to the hospital for a life-saving transplant during the 1994 North American cold wave, which was the worst of its kind since 1934? 

Gunn’s film is overdone at times, but it is compelling and has a fair balance of genre themes with an inspirational quality that had me caught up in its rousing story.

Grade: B-