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Movie Review (Cannes 2025): ‘Her Will Be Done’ Conjures Terror from the Familiar


Director: Julia Kowalski
Writer: Julia Kowalski
Stars:Maria Wróbel, Roxane Mesquida, Wojciech Skibinski

Synopsis: In a remote village, Nawojka grapples with dark urges she believes stem from an ancestral curse. Her world shifts when Sandra moves in next door, offering a glimpse of freedom from her family’s rigid control.


Not every horror coming-of-age story about a distressed girl in a drowning town refers to Brian De Palma’s 1976 classic, Carrie. Still, the elements from said picture are smeared across the conceptually similar films after it. The lonely girl in a small, cold town who has secret abilities she can’t seem to control. A parent who neglects her and suppresses her mysticism. A set of bullies who wear down the young girl and end up as the catalyst for the impending tragedy. Lastly, an older mother-like figure who embraces the girl and helps her come face-to-face with her true self. These stories have been told time and time again. Yet these stories remain fascinating because skilled filmmakers reframe them through new perspectives and settings.

Julia Kowalski’s sophomore effort, Her Will Be Done (Que ma volonté soit faite, screening at the 2025 Cannes Film Festival in the Quinzaine des cinéastes) is yet another example of a reinterpretation of this tale that remains truly fascinating because of its unique perspective, location, and horror influences. In the film, the girl with uncontrolled supernatural abilities is Nawojka (Maria Wróbel), a twenty-year-old who dreams of being free after spending her whole life working at the family farm. The lines “My mother knelt before Satan. The evil was in her. It is inside me too.” provide Her Will Be Done with a fiery introduction. Nawojka’s parents stare at a bonfire, bearing subtle, yet malevolent, grins on their faces, as though they seem ready to accept this evil in their souls, no matter the cost. 

The flames rise, rise, and continue to rise, to the point where it swallows the screen. And when it does, the young Nawojka wakes up. Was it a dream or a memory? Whether it is one or the other, it doesn’t seem like this was the first time Nawojka has had this vision. Upon waking, it becomes clear how lonely she is in the small house with her father and two brothers, who act like wild animals at any moment. They are harsh and mean for no reason on some occasions and nonjudgmental in others. But there’s a particular disdain towards her from the two brothers, as if she’s guilty of their mother’s passing. While working at the farm one day, she notices a woman outside the window, Sandra (Roxane Mesquida, an underused French talent who should get more recognition). 

Nawojka stares at her with much interest and curiosity, fascinated by the messy-haired, free-spirited wanderer. With the arrival of Sandra into her eyesight and later life, as the two connect, and who is deemed a witch by the locals, Nawojka begins to experience some trance-like episodes. During these trances, she can’t control herself and berates herself for things that aren’t her fault, like the insults thrown out at Sandra or her mother’s passing. These episodes are depicted in two forms, both of which call back to Luca Guadagnino’s reimagining of Suspiria. Either it is seeing Nawojka convulse as queasy, squeamish sounds and groans are heard, or hallucinogenic collages appear on screen, both of which are equally creepy and effective. 

Kowalski lets the camera linger for enough time on the disturbing scenes to make the viewer uneasy, and nearly always she succeeds in doing so. Although there are sequences that are provocative because of the inclusion of murder of animals by euthanasia (not the only film at Cannes this year that does that) and brutal, cold-blooded killings, Kowalski is wise enough to distance her lens and not dwell on it; instead, the film cuts away, leaving the gore up to the imagination of the viewer and letting the crimson red spill out of the frame instead of in. The movie descends into madness as Nawojka and Sandra slowly connect and understand each other’s grievances, the pain and toll the city and its people have done to them.

One of the few moments of happiness happens when the two are together. But sooner rather than later, Kowalski makes the atmosphere feel darker and colder than before. The film will shift from the mundane to something fresh and distinctive because of her bravery in her imagery placement. Her Will Be Done, like Carrie, is a tale not solely about female independence but also female empowerment and the challenges of traditional gender roles. Kowalski explores the societal expectations placed on women in these male-dominated small towns as women struggle for autonomy and potential, embracing their unique abilities, literally and metaphorically. The film falters in sparse moments when the dialogue becomes too repetitive. 


Similar scenes were being thrown one after the other, which tended to bother, specifically during its most horrific scenes. For example, the brothers’ bullying of Nawojka or Sandra tends to happen often. And most of those scenes are constructed in the same manner or contain similar dialogue. They are crucial to the other being told about women’s autonomy. However, I do feel there could have been a diverse way of exploring the sexist men’s dynamics instead of repeating the same routine. Nevertheless, I felt entranced by the other and its potent imagery because of Kowalski’s boldness and steady direction with the performances. Her Will Be Done can be considered one of the many in the vast landscape, although Kowalski and her team offer a different angle to a recurrently told story.

Grade: B-

Episode 637: Top 5 Characters To Get ‘Andor’ Treatment

This week’s episode is brought to you by Koffee Kult. Get 15% OFF with the code: ISF25

This week on the InSession Film Podcast, inspired by the incredible two-season run of Andor, we thought it would be really fun to discuss the characters that we’d like to see get the same treatment as Cassian Andor with their own spinoff show!

– Opening Banter (0:42)
We begin the show this week with JD telling a crazy story in regards to his latest beer league hockey game (which also effected the recording of this episode) and how it connected to the new 2025 movie Eephus, one of the best surprises of the year.

Andor / Rogue One (15:24)
While we didn’t have a chance to have a full discussion on Andor (Brendan hasn’t seen Season 2 yet), JD wanted to give some brief thoughts on how the show stuck the landing and we debate if/how it effects Rogue One in hindsight. The rich depths we get with Cassian is tremendous in Andor, and when coupled with the remarkable nuances with Jyn in Catalyst, you would think Rogue One is a much stronger film as a result. It is, to some degree, but maybe not as great as we’d like it to be.


RELATED: Listen to Episode 610 of the InSession Film Podcast where we discussed our Top 10 Movies of 2024!


– Top 5 Characters To Get Andor Treatment (36:29)
Okay, so this one was a lot of fun. It’s also quite different form a lot of other lists we do because it’s purely subjective. It simply comes down to which characters you want to see again for whatever reason. Which means this list could go in a million different directions, involving any type of genre, style or performance. So while challenging, that’s also what makes it really fun and boy did we have a good time having this conversation. With that said, what would be your Top 5?

– Music
Past/Present – Nicholas Britell
LED Spirals – Le Castle Vania

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InSession Film Podcast – Episode 637

Next week on the show:

Mission: Impossible – Final Reckoning

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Movie Review (Cannes 2025): Raving Through Sun-Scorched Purgatory in Oliver Laxe’s ‘Sirat’


Director: Oliver Laxe
Writers: Santiago Fillol, Oliver Laxe
Stars: Sergi López, Bruno Núñez Arjona, Stefania Gadda

Synopsis: A father, accompanied by his son, goes looking for his missing daughter in North Africa.


In the world of Mad Max, created in 1979 by George Miller, the Wastelands are a form of purgatory. This post-apocalyptic hellscape catches everyone and places them in a cycle of violence, suffering, and potential redemption. The Wastelands become a place where people like Max, Furiosa, or Immortan Joe confront their guilt, trauma, and the chance for change. Lost souls roam through the desert, ending in either damnation or salvation, wherever their respective journeys lead them. As the endless, barren desert is bolstered in fire, fury, and blood, it all feels like a loop, purgatory’s waiting, and the cyclical penance. For his latest work, Sirat (screening in competition at the 2025 Cannes Film Festival), Oliver Laxe takes this symbolic representation of the wasteland and barren desert, without excessive violence or Ozploitation elements.

The Spanish-French filmmaker turns it into something so outlandish, adventurous, and remarkably moving that you are surprisingly fascinated by everything he offers. Mad Max meets Zabriskie Point, as many have described it, Laxe puts us, and the characters, through the ringer, on a proverbial odyssey where we walk the bridge between life, hope, and death. It swings constantly and could lead to damnation in one misstep. It is a daunting and expressive journey that confounds and inspires, with Laxe making some of the boldest and adventurous moves in his time as a filmmaker that ultimately grip you in a quiet but unrelenting emotional hold.

Sirat begins with some workmen setting up giant speakers and sound equipment on a rock cliff in the Moroccan desert for what appears to be a rave party. Kangding Ray’s magnificent score begins to pulse through the barren land. The basslines vibrate through the sand like a spell, waking both the living and the dead. A post-apocalyptic music festival in the vein of Coachella and Burning Man is constructed in minutes. Within the partygoers and drug-takers, there’s Luis (Sergi López) and his son, Esteban (Bruno Núñez), joined by their terrier, Pippa. Luis is out there searching for his daughter, who has been missing for five months, and rumor has it that she’s at the rave party. 

He shares photos of her with the partygoers, hoping somebody knows about his daughter’s whereabouts. In a place covered with people dancing their hearts out, or what’s left of it, Luis and Esteban are outsiders, suffering the disappearance of a loved one and holding out for fate to reunite them again. Luckily, the two meet a ragtag group of ravers, who look like they have been through hell and back, and are happy to share that another party is scheduled soon on the other side of the desert. The party is terminated by a soldier announcing that a state of emergency has been declared. Everybody packs quickly, regrouping with eerie calm to head elsewhere. 

War has broken out and reached their location, but everyone seems to have been prepared for it; you get the feeling that they all have gone through similar perils, which leads them to be mentally organized for what comes next, even if they don’t know where to head out to. Luis makes a quick decision: follow the ravers to the other location. This leads them towards a perilous venture through the Sahara with dangers lurking around every corner, some of which feel inspired by Henri-Georges Clouzot’s masterpiece, Wages of Fear—the dangers lie not only in the road ahead but also in their fractured mental states and growing desperation.

Laxe is no Clouzot, nor reaching the level of William Friedkin, who made an equally excellent remake of Wages of Fear in Sorcerer. Hence, the mastery of holding an audience captive through tension, introspection, and existentialism is not here. However, he manages to completely control the various tones displayed in Sirat with tremendous confidence. Laxe implements the Mad Max element of a wasteland as a purgatory with dashes of mysticism, the title coming from the separation of paradise and hell. But there are also similarities with Fury Road, without the spectacle and popcorn entertainment, yet with the same amount of tension and shocking moments, some of which do leave you speechless and without room to breathe. 

The characters head towards salvation, even if everything in their way impedes them from doing so. They wander through sun-flared lands for what seems like eternity. “Is this what the end of the world feels like?” A character replies, “It’s been the end of the world for a long time.” Time does not move in the world of Sirat; things may change, incidents tend to occur, but everything remains still. The only thing moving is the people dancing in the face of death and near reach of deliverance. Even though it is set in a location where there isn’t much to it, Laxe focuses on the story’s setting, detailing every inch of the locations, from the grains of sand and dust covering the screen to the vehicles the characters travel in. 


Sirat is built from this specificity, constructing his parable about release in a world of decay from the outside in. Oliver Laxe crafts more than a dystopian odyssey–he constructs a spiritual trial by fire, where nothing is guaranteed and grace must be fought for through exhaustion, despair, and communion. The film’s power lies in its atmosphere and willingness to sit with stillness and ambiguity. Laxe doesn’t offer salvation, only the possibility of it. The bridge of Sirat is not one you cross once, but repeatedly in search of hope. It’s sun-scorched, soul-searching, and stress-inducing, but ultimately unforgettable and admirable–a true standout in the Cannes selection and modern Spanish cinema.

Grade: B+

Movie Review: ‘Any Day Now’ Keeps You Guessing


Director: Eric Aronson
Writer: Eric Aronson
Stars: Paul Guilfoyle, Taylor Gray, Alexandra Templer

Synopsis: To stage a masterpiece of a heist, you need time, friends, and balls. Steve has two of the three


Art thieves are complicated criminals. On the one hand, they seem to have a sense of art history and the value of the medium. On the other hand, they seem nuts because they are taking something that is catalogued and has no other like it on Earth and thus, nearly impossible to move without someone noticing. It takes a certain type of thief to be modestly successful at art theft. Which is not what you think when you meet the crew in Any Day Now.

Any Day Now' Review: Reimagining an Unsolved Heist

Writer and director Eric Aronson’s script doesn’t give us much confidence that the crew of art thieves led by Marty (Paul Guilfoyle) could rob a liquor store, much less a guarded museum. At one point, a member of the crew is brought in to intimidate a drug dealer and in a confusing move with a shotgun, seemingly blows his own testicles off. It’s unclear whether it was intentional or not. Much of Aronson’s script evolves that way as we are stuck with point of view character Steve (Taylor Gray), who knows next to nothing about what is happening.

This is both a benefit and a detriment to Aronson’s script. The idea that we’re always on our back foot when it comes to Marty and his schemes is refreshing. This way of revealing things as they become necessary makes sure that the audience shouldn’t be ahead of the action in predicting the outcome of any one plot point. It’s an intriguing way to keep the audience interested.

It’s too bad the other main plot is such a dud. We have seen the lovelorn guy many times before. We’ve seen the girl of his dreams who doesn’t know how he feels and doesn’t understand her own self worth, many times before. We’ve seen the doormat guy who worries about losing his best friend since childhood even though that friend is an incredibly crappy adult. These plot points drag down the more interesting characters and plots.

Marty is a fascinating character. His charm is in his mystery, though, so he never would have worked as the focal character of this film. There is a scene that perfectly encapsulates how he is willing to save Steve from his pushover relationship with friend and roommate Danny (Armando Rivera) while also reminding Steve that he’s a pushover for Marty now. As Steve and Danny’s band play Massachusetts anthem, “Roadrunner” by Johnathan Richman and the Modern Lovers, Marty makes his way to the stage and stares down Danny until he gets the microphone from Danny. Marty then begins to croon the Boston standard, “Dirty Water” by The Standells. He gets the band into it and the crowd into it and completely takes over the space that Danny once held in the crowd’s hearts and minds. It’s a scene that evolves the two overbearing relationships in Steve’s life without forcing the issue with unnecessary dialogue.

Any Day Now' Review: Reimagining an Unsolved Heist

The scene is all the more rich for Paul Guilfoyle’s bruiser charisma. Guilfoyle has been a character actor for a long time and he can give us all we need to know about a character with only a word and a gesture. His presence is felt in every scene he’s in not because he’s speaking, but because he’s thinking. Marty is always thinking and Guilfoyle makes this plain with every look he gives. It’s a masterfully subtle performance that conveys everything dangerous and enticing about Marty.

For the most part, Any Day Now is an enjoyable film. It’s not the best of heist movies, or relationship dramas for that matter, but it has characters and instances that make it intriguing to watch. It’s hard not to want to know what is going to happen when the mystery is held back so well. It’s worth tracking down for Paul Guilfoyle’s performance and for the intrigue of the heist plot.

Grade: C

Movie Review (Cannes 2025): ‘Mirrors No. 3’ Continues Petzold and Beer’s Elegant Evolution


Director: Christian Petzold
Writer: Christian Petzold
Stars: Paula Beer, Barbara Auer, Matthias Brandt

Synopsis: A young music student’s life takes an unexpected turn when her boyfriend tragically dies in a car crash, forcing her to reshape her path forward.


One of the most magnificent duos in modern cinema is the collaboration between German filmmaker Christian Petzold and his current muse, Paula Beer. After making many films with another, equally talented, German actress, Nina Hoss, Petzold landed with Beer as one of the leads in his 2018 feature, Transit. Ever since, both have evolved for the better in their respective crafts—Petzold as a director, Beer as an actress–becoming top-tier acts in the European scene, although some part of me still feels they are undervalued in their fields. The two are elegant, with significant poise and control in their work. 

Petzold grows into a filmmaker who does more with less, depending on the tactility in the emotional underpinnings of his narrative rather than style and innovation. Meanwhile, Beer has emphasized finding the truths in her characters, which leads to honest, authentic performances that connect easily with the audience. Their latest (and fourth) collaboration, Mirrors No. 3 (Miroirs No. 3, screening at the 2025 Cannes Film Festival in the Quinzaine des cinéastes), is the smallest regarding production (and runtime, running under ninety minutes). Still, it may be their best, and most touching, one yet. If the only issue it has is that you wish you’d spent more time with the characters, that says the whole story. 

Petzold and Beer deliver an honest, intimate portrait of strangers and the pain they carry, centering around a young piano student from Berlin named Laura (Beer), played by the talented German actress. Named after Ravel’s piece of the same name, Mirrors No. 3 follows Laura, who is changing her heart during a road trip with her boyfriend Jakob. They are going to the pier to meet with a producer willing to work with Jakob for his upcoming record. He needs Laura to be there for the whole weekend, but she wants out–enraging Jakob vastly, enough to drive her back to the station, leaving her alone during the next couple of days. But they don’t make it there; a car accident occurs and kills the impatient boyfriend, with Laura surviving, yet being shaken to the core. 

The accident is not shown, only a moment before and after, so details are missing from this introduction. Petzold’s ambiguous nature remains high, and we are meant to slowly decipher the many secrets and metaphors he presents us during the film’s development. The only person who can be considered a witness to this tragedy is a middle-aged woman named Betty (Barbara Auer). She invites Laura to her humble farmhouse nearby after leaving the wreckage. After a while, Laura asks her to stay indefinitely, and Betty is happy to do so, yet surprised at the request. From here, a mother-daughter relationship arises, even though they are strangers. 

Their quick bonding becomes similar to that of a parent and their child, with the white picket fence Betty was painting the first time we see her being part of the family picture Petzold is constructing. While Laura remains a mysterious figure that is hard to read, like most of her characters during the beginning of the narrative, Betty is much clearer. By mere accident, she calls Laura by a different name, Yelena, revealing the root of the pain she holds from the loss she can’t move past. It is a moment of clarity in a still and unsettled canvas, framed by Petzold’s usual cinematographer, Hans Fromm. 

That moment, along with one where Betty requests Laura to play a Chopin piece, helps provide the audience with a path towards understanding the character of Betty while forging the next steps for Laura after these events. A sympathy built on anxiousness, secrecy, and grief is built, and the audience begins to see how these characters deal with their respective griefs. These are strange ways to deal with the loss of a loved one. But who are we to judge? We all have had different ways of expelling our sorrows, which are difficult to explain yet help us move forward. 

Other members later join this reflective journey, including Betty’s husband, Richard (Matthias Brandt), and son, Max (Enno Trebs), who live in the car-repair shop they manage nearby. Like in Afire, the appearance of Beer’s character begins to stir the household, with some members being warm towards her, while others feel like she is a burden, questioning her relationship with Betty. But sooner rather than later, she becomes the key to solving their sorrows. And later on, the roles are reversed for Laura’s pains and woes. The four form a unit that begins with distance and ends with a level of compassion. Not only is Betty suffering the loss of the named Yelena, but Richard and Max as well, in a different manner that is more internal rather than outwardly expressive. 

That is how Petzold works. He puts more emphasis on the effects that an incident has rather than the moment of impact itself. Everything that has caused the characters to be this way, apart from the image of Laura in the wreckage, is alluded to. And even by removing the aforementioned image, Mirrors No. 3 would retain its tact and eloquence, although with more ambiguity and mystery to the stranger–mirroring Petzold’s recurrent interest in how the presence of a bystander can subtly alter the emotional trajectories of those around them, implemented by Pier Paolo Pasolini in his 1968 masterpiece Theorem, albeit without the provocation or existentialist crisis. We don’t know Laura as a whole; it is only the version that Betty reconfigures to fit the image of her loved one. 

With an aptitude for emotional opacity and inner turmoil, Beer offers a haunting and touching performance, with her smiles and looks indecipherable, adding layers to the enigmatic narrative. We grieve and worry alongside her; she is a mirror into herself, but one that takes time to show its reflection to the audience. The film is ghostly, not in the manner of frights or scares, but in how memory can quietly distort our perception or save us from sinking into our woes. Mirrors No. 3 is elliptical as Petzold moves his minor-key symphony of human connection into profoundly moving territories. Its fleeing nature creates echoes that linger as you deconstruct each character’s mask to reveal what they are hiding–a work of quiet devastation and unexpected grace.

Grade: A-

Movie Review (Cannes 2025): ‘Nouvelle Vague’ Reenacts the Revolution with Reverence and Restraint


Director: Richard Linklater
Writer: Holly Gent, Laetitia Masson, Vincent Palmo, Jr.
Stars: Guillame Marbeck, Zoey Deutch, Aubry Dullin

Synopsis: Follows the production of Jean-Luc Godards’s “Breathless”.


As every cinephile must know, the French New Wave is one of cinema’s most important film movements. Influenced by Italian Neorealism and the works of Alfred Hitchcock, French film critics from the Cahiers du Cinema magazine (François Truffaut, Eric Rohmer, Jacques Rivette, and the godfather of the movement, Jean-Luc Godard) and the Left Bank directors (Agnes Varda, Chris Marker, Alain Resnais) assembled in proposition for a new vision for filmmaking and the cinema being shown in their country at the time, which they criticized as trite and unimaginative (the “tradition de qualité”, as they referred it to). Some aspects present in films that emerged from this movement are talk of modern situations, directors having complete control of their movies, and a focus on showcasing realistic portraits rather than pure fiction.

Nouvelle Vague' Teaser: Richard Linklater Channels Godard

After the release of Claude Chabrol’s Le Beau Serge, Truffaut’s The 400 Blows, and Godard’s Breathless (À bout de souffle), just to name a few, cinema changed forever. A breath of fresh air roamed through the medium and reached international markets–inspiring many for years to come. Even to this day, the works made from the French New Wave have influenced people to become filmmakers or view cinema differently–timeless pieces that conjure the magic of art and prove to be more than artistic, but revolutionary ones. To honor such a movement and those involved in it, which many have done multiple times with books, documentaries, and art installations, American filmmaker Richard Linklater gives them an homage with his latest feature, Nouvelle Vague (French New Wave, screening in competition at the 2025 Cannes Film Festival).

Nouvelle Vague is an act of love from Linklater, who has been inspired by Truffaut, Rivette, and Godard not in style or technique but in the free-spiritedness of their work. Unfortunately, it is an act of love that they would have hated, and very much so, as it goes against what they were implementing back in the late 1950s. Yet Linklater does not care about such; he aims to showcase his love and admiration for a time and place, and the people in it, which is long gone, but its effect is still felt, like cinematic aftershocks after their shattering artistic earthquake. 

In the same style and spirit, although with some elements being stripped down for a more relaxed fit rather than being a straight rip-off, Nouvelle Vague is a film about the making of the iconic Breathless from 1960 following Jean-Luc Godard (Guillaume Marbeck), Jean-Paul Belmondo (Aubry Dullin), Jean Seberg (Zoey Deutch, who is excellent in the film and very spot-on with her accent work and posture), François Truffaut (Adrien Rouyard) as they make a film that will change cinema forever and cement Godard as an icon of the art form. Every movement Linklater creates in the production is made to reenact or allude to past creations of those who inspired him, and he wants to celebrate with this piece. 

You see this in the shooting style—cinematographer David Chambrille was tasked with matching the essence of Raoul Coutard (the cinematographer of Breathless)—the sound mixing, and even in the casting choices, with each actor looking very similar to the people they are interpreting. From beginning to end, you sense how Linklater wanted to take the audience and his cast and crew back to 1950s France, creating an immersive experience. With such celebration, there is an abuse of nostalgia, an issue that occurs in some of his features, particularly his period pieces, Everybody Wants Some and Apollo 10½: A Space Age Childhood, where although he nails the specifics of the time and place, there’s a rumination that is all remembrance without discussion. 

First Trailer for Richard Linklater's Nouvelle Vague Brings Cinema History  to Life

That issue then travels to Linklater’s 1950s France set in Nouvelle Vague, where the memory of the ghost of the legends is there, but there are no assertions on why this time, place, people, and films were so important and influential. He treats the setting and topic with his hangout film panache. We get the behind-the-scenes look of the production–Godard’s on-the-spot direction, his relationship with Beauregard, meetings, the mechanics of their techniques, line readings–as well as reenacted scenes, which do feel quite tacky and the film could have been done without them. Nevertheless, Linklater does something that provides his film with plenty of magic, one that fractures time and memory in a playful way that I vastly appreciated. 

Some “fictionalized” scenes shift the film from its hang-out, history lesson persona to an encapsulation of the movement and all of its participants. In one of those scenes, we see Jean-Luc Godard having a fascinating conversation with Roberto Rossellini (Laurent Mothe), a prominent figure in Italian neorealist cinema, with films like Germany, Year Zero and Paisan. Godard viewed Rossellini as a foundational figure in modern cinema. Hence, a conversation between a student and his hero helped build the figure of Godard within the confines of the movie’s purpose, showing the “passing of the baton” in revolutionary filmmaking. I do not know if this conversation ever happened, and I haven’t found a source of information confirming it. 

Linklater has people who knew Godard in his production team, so it may be true. But this brings a mysticism to Nouvelle Vague that is captivating and outright magical, a feeling missing for most of the picture. Another short sequence with the same effect is when we see Robert Bresson shooting his 1959 film Pickpocket in an abandoned Parisian tunnel. This is yet another filmmaker (and film) that inspired many filmmakers, from Paul Schrader and Abel Ferrara to Chantal Akerman and Andrei Tarkovsky. Linklater himself has not been inspired by Bresson per se, but that is beyond the point of including him. If you are encapsulating this period, he must be included as one of the best figures to emerge from it. 

Yet again, it is a minor scene that fades rapidly when put into the microcosm of Nouvelle Vague, like many of the cameos that appear here and there (Agnes Varda, Claude Chabrol, Jean Cocteau), yet it helps Linklater navigate this artistic world of filmmakers, poets, storytellers, and activists. The screenplay struggles with placing all these people on the canvas; most appear for seconds and disappear. And their backstories and influence are not referred to. That is up for the audience to pick up on if you know your cinema history, or be lost upon if you haven’t. At the time, neither Godard, Truffaut, nor producer Georges de Beauregard knew what they had their hands on, yet believed in it through and through. Now, it has reached the point where many see it as one of the best films in cinema history. 

For someone who does not know what the French New Wave and the founders entail, Nouvelle Vague will be just another movie about making movies. The film has conversations and dialogue that allude to the inspirational nature, yet it is too far between. This is the opposite of what happens with David Fincher’s Mank, where the impact of Mankiewicz’s screenplay is seen through a microscope–how every conversation, action, open bottle, cigarette burned, and discussion leads to the creation of Citizen Kane. In contrast, Linklaker’s piece lets these historical moments float in and out like half-remembered dreams, more concerned with evoking a time than interrogating it. Reverence is through and through in the director’s gaze, but it comes with a cost, and that is depth. 

NOUVELLE VAGUE" - Review

A romanticization of this movement’s chaos, brilliance, and rebellion builds as the characters interact with one another, albeit without the contradictions or the radicality. It feels safe, way too neat and clean, without the grittiness of French New Wave. And while there are things to like and appreciate, Nouvelle Vague ultimately ends as trite. At least, it is a better and more honest homage than a previous Cannes Film Festival film, Godard Mon Amour (Le Redoutable) by Michel Hazanavicius, which was an embarrassing attempt at uncovering the next stage of Godard during the production of La Chinoise. That was pastiche. Linklater does not amount to doing such things because he respects Godard and company plenty. 

Grade: C-

Movie Review (Cannes 2025): Ari Aster Sets Out for Jet-Black Satire and Instead Makes a Tired Farce with ‘Eddington’


Director: Ari Aster
Writer: Ari Aster
Stars: Joaquin Phoenix, Pedro Pascal, Emma Stone

Synopsis: In May of 2020, a standoff between a small-town sheriff and mayor sparks a powder keg as neighbor is pitted against neighbor in Eddington, New Mexico.


When Beau is Afraid was released two years ago, I called Ari Aster a master manipulator—his eerily prescient grip on the audience felt like a cinematic Ludovico technique, eyes pried open à la A Clockwork Orange. Many directors wish they could have these kinds of powers of deceiving and capturing the audience; Aster and his jet-black comedic panderings are an inseparable pair and one of a kind. With each feature, the Midsommar director has been getting more provocative and darker, the fine line between stirring and bothersome, self-indulgence and introspective, being walked on a tightrope hanging a hundred feet above ground. It feels that during his latest walk, Aster managed to slip, unfortunately, for the first time, falling into the side of being groan-inducing and pompous. 

Eddington' Review: Joaquin Phoenix, Pedro Pascal in Ari Aster Western

Eddington (screening in competition at the 2025 Cannes Film Festival), a western-dark comedy hybrid about the pandemic and the hysteria that ensued during it, socially, psychologically, and politically, is both precise in its analysis of what occurred during those dark times in the early 2020s and a complete farce. It is something I didn’t know was possible to achieve, yet, Aster, the unique filmmaker he is, managed to do it. With Beau is Afraid, he teamed up with Joaquin Phoenix to create the definitive film about Freud’s Oedipus Complex, where dread, disappointment, and overbearing mothers were just the tip of the surrealistic iceberg. Aster sets out to do the same with Eddington, but with the effects of the pandemic in America. 

Phoenix switches from the anxious and ever-suffering Beau Wasserman to County Sheriff Joe Cross, who encapsulates everything that went wrong at the time. The two films are born from the director’s greatest fears. Aster stated in the post-premiere press conference in Cannes that he’d written Eddington in fear, worried about what America has become. Similar to Beau is Afraid, where he took his nightmares and anxieties to craft a film he has longed to make. However, some aspects deviate from his previous—the provocation and indulgence. Beau contains such in spaces (even I, a fan of said movie, admits it), yet it is part of the experience rather than the whole thing. His latest film is provocation and indulgence, becoming a rather frustrating watch, with Aster feeling the unnecessary need to one-up himself.

Set in the fictional town of Eddington, home to nearly 2,400 people, in May 2020, Phoenix’s Sheriff Joe Cross is introduced to us by being pulled over by Officer Butterfly Jiminez (William Belleau) for entering his jurisdiction without a face mask. Joe says that, because of his asthma, he can’t breathe with his mask on. This leads to a bad example and places him at odds with the kind, compliant mayor, Ted Garcia (Pedro Pascal), who is up for re-election in the coming elections. Sheriff Joe Cross and Mayor Ted Garcia clash heads repeatedly during the film’s runtime, much like the cowboys and outlaws in classic Westerns do to build tension for a final shootout, which Eddington slowly builds towards in unconventional, absurdist ways. 

This is no High Noon or The Searchers; this is Ari Aster’s version of a Western, so don’t expect the classic tropes and expect twist, turns, and shrewd violence. Heroes and villains are difficult to find here, as you sympathize with none of the characters, nor does Aster want you to do so. A new AI data center is one of Ted’s moves to polish his re-election. He believes it will help Eddington, both the town and its people, but many residents are against it. The data center will consume many of their limited resources, especially since a lengthy drought has minimized the water supply in the desert town. This is one of the first moves that makes the people go against Ted and his policies. 

After other circumstances arise, Joe runs against Garcia for mayor, causing mayhem in this political debate. From the mention of AI and the pandemic setting, the film is rooted in America’s urgent contemporary anxieties. While the idea of Eddington might have occurred to Aster a while ago, the film’s aim has changed through the years and become a different project overall, commenting on everything that has happened (and is occurring) in the U.S. at this very moment. There’s a bit of everything here—an overstuffed encapsulation of America—and that’s part of the problem. Aster talks about gun-control debates, Black Lives Matter protests, Antifa, TikTok absurdities, and media hysteria. The result is less a coherent satire than thematic mush—thrown into a mincer and drained of its thematic nutritional value. 

The experience changes from an engaging portrait to a hindrance in a matter of minutes; it removes the satire and reaches a level of farcical behavior that includes some funny gags here and there, but, ultimately, lacks the inward-looking element that Beau is Afraid, even with its pretension and baggage, had in its core. A series of side characters–Emma Stone’s Louise, Joe’s desperate wife, and Austin Butler’s cult-leader Vernon, both of whom get limited screen time–provide the film with some of its best moments and appear on screen to heighten the aforementioned scenarios and dilemmas. Aster delves with precision into the pandemic hysteria and political madness, taking digs at the drowning sensation we all felt inside our rooms. At the same time, everything collapsed, staring out the window and seeing the world burst into flames. 

In such moments, you get the stress and fear that you had five years ago. However, the palpable feeling dissipates when placed alongside the multiple plot strands. And even so, to this point, there have been so many films, comedy specials, SNL sketches, podcasts, and more about that time and place that you don’t get anything from Eddington. Maybe Ari Aster’s point is that, after five years, we have remained the same, yet each time, America feels more like a farce than a properly running country. Politicians remain ignorant and keep on making things worse. The world is crumbling as the rich and powerful get their way. Aster’s nightmares are turning into a reality. But he does not provide a witty enough satirical conceptualization in the mise-en-scène, dedicating his time to building exaggeration rather than thoughtfulness or humanity. You can feel Aster’s anger and urgency in interviews, but on screen, that passion translates into excess, not insight.

Grade: D

Movie Review: ‘Final Destination Bloodlines’ Depicts Death As A Birthright


Directors: Zach Lipovsky and Adam Stein
Writers: Guy Busick and Lori Evans Taylor
Stars: Kaitlyn Santa Juana, Teo Briones, Richard Harmon, Tony Todd

Synopsis: Plagued by a violent and recurring nightmare, a college student heads home to track down the one person who might be able to break the cycle of death and save her family from the grisly demise that inevitably awaits them all.


Marcus Aurelius was dead long before the Final Destination franchise was even a scribbled note in creator Jeffrey Reddick’s notebook, but his idea that “death smiles at us all” is an unofficial pillar of the horror mainstay that has entertained audiences for the better part of 25 years. What’s missing is the idea that “all a man can do is smile back,” for as one or more characters in the series’ now six films love to say, “Death doesn’t like it when you fuck with his plans.” The Grim Reaper himself, hood and scythe and all, isn’t so much a character in these gory romps as he is a constant, the idea of a shadow lingering over his next many victims rather than a literal shadowy figure. But his ploy tends to be the same: Cheat death, and you’ll soon meet your maker, always in the order that was initially intended when your plane fell out of the sky, or your roller coaster came undone at its hinges, or the bridge on which your corporate retreat bus sat was moments away from crumbling beneath you.

Death is back with a vengeance in 'Final Destination Bloodlines' trailer

The franchise’s newest feature, Final Destination Bloodlines, is not only the first in almost 15 years, but the first flick out of the lot to change up its tried-and-true formula, if only just. What tends to occur in the opening scenes of a Final Destination film is a massive calamity that takes the lives of most, if not all of the main characters we’ve been previously introduced to through overwritten banter and vague flirtation that hints at who’s in a relationship with who, only to reveal that said disaster was a premonition. One of the characters has inexplicably seen the future, and it’s not bright; they then do their best to remove their pals from the soon-to-be dire situation, typically succeeding and leading to the disruption in Death’s chain of kills. At the onset of Bloodlines, we’re transported back to the late 1960s, where Iris (Brec Bassinger) and her boyfriend Paul (Max Lloyd-Jones) are hoping to enjoy a fancy dinner at the Skyview, a new restaurant that – you guessed it – sits in the sky, as if the Seattle Space Needle had a fine dining establishment on its top floor. A series of troubling signs stick out to Iris, including a creaky elevator, 50-too many dancers on the restaurant’s glass floor (on which they stomp to the tune of the Isley Brothers’ “Shout!,” and a chandelier that looks all-too eager to fall from the ceiling. 

The only difference here is that the ensuing carnage isn’t so much a premonition as it is a nightmare, one that Iris’ granddaughter, Stefani Reyes (Kaitlyn Santa Juana), has been repeatedly jolted awake by, much to the disdain of her roommate. What Stefani can’t seem to figure out is why exactly she is plagued by this recurring terror; it’s only later that the gaps in our knowledge are filled in, most notably the fact that Iris’ night atop the Skyview actually happened, and though she saved a number of people prior to the disaster, Death eventually made up for lost time, killing them in the same order they were meant to die during the rooftop’s collapse. We get to see the event in full, thankfully; after all, this is a Final Destination movie, and one of those can’t go too long without a number of grisly kills, hypothetical or not. But that it didn’t happen as advertised in Bloodlines’ prologue is precisely what starts the domino effect of the film’s real-time tragedies, each passing one more grisly than the last. 

Bloodlines’ trailers and marketing materials have teased a number of setpieces – from a backyard barbecue gone wrong to one character’s closing duties at the local piercing parlor becoming more than he bargained for when he took the job – but there’s plenty more to enjoy, depending on how sick your taste is (and how much you can withstand before getting sick all over the theater floor). This, of course, has always been the draw to Final Destination, the aggressive, ridiculous nature of its many deaths and accidents. But where Bloodlines finds its true stroke of brilliance is in how it views death as a birthright, a genuine form of generational trauma that waits for the opportune time to strike. Iris escaped death, and has continued to avoid it for decades, not least because she’s spent most of that time hidden in a hut, estranged from her family. That doesn’t mean her family members will be so lucky.

Final Destination Bloodlines Ending Explained: Death's Plan & Who All Dies

As ever, the actors that play these sons, daughters, grandchildren, and nieces/nephews aren’t exactly worldclass, but the point of the Final Destination franchise is that they don’t have to be. The main attraction has always been (and will forever be) the gore-filled hijinks, like when blood spurts from a face that has been chewed up by a lawn mower or a metal rod goes flying through one’s eye socket. (These movies tend to love a good decapitation, or something adjacent and still involving the skull.) Credit to co-directors Zach Lipovsky and Adam Stein, the former of which being a special effects artist whose insight on that front have clearly been put to good use here despite the overreliance on digital blood and guts, a frustrating trend in modern horror that persists here. Nevertheless, they take what Guy Busick and Lori Evans Taylor have laid out on the page and bring it to splattered, bone-crunching life, often in ways that previous Final Destination entries have failed to explore. 

Where the franchise’s other films were more interested in how easily dimwitted high schoolers could be lured into Death’s clutches – whether they came in the form of a tanning bed or a public pool drain – Bloodlines is curious in multiple ways, from how a magnetic MRI machine could become a death trap to what it might actually look like for a group of people to come together in a collective effort to stop Death in his tracks. (The late, great Tony Todd also plays a part in furthering their unenviable quest, a fitting send-off for an actor whose sinister demeanor was always a calling card.) That said group is a family makes Bloodlines’ proceedings much more intriguing; not only does it provide us with something worth investing in, but it makes the characters inherently invested in one another. The teenagers and 20-somethings from past Final Destination offerings have almost always eventually given up on one another, either by rejecting the main character’s psychic episodes or by prioritizing their own survival over the inevitable demise of others. When it’s your brother or cousin on the chopping block, the stakes are higher. Even Bloodlines’ black sheep, the tattoo-covered Erik (Richard Harmon), becomes a sympathetic figure, one who is as eager to ensure his brother’s safety as he is to tempt Death at every turn.

Final Destination Bloodlines' gets haunting new trailer - ABC News
And though it’s likely that no one who finds these flicks entertaining is itching for them to contain some heart, Bloodlines offers just enough of that thematic device to add an interesting, unforeseen wrinkle to its narrative. Final Destination’s emotional stakes tend to start and stop with the unconvincing relationships between its vaguely-attractive D-list stars, but to ask “wouldn’t you be scared if your family member was guaranteed to perish in a matter of days?” is as much a feat of genius as the franchise’s willingness to send a log through a character’s face when you least expect it. Lipovsky and Stein clearly understood their assignment here, that being to add a few new gadgets to its wheel, not to reinvent it. In that sense, the co-directors are a bit like Death: The way he strikes comes in various ways, but the result is always the same. Ditto for Final Destination; this execution, though, should be the blueprint moving forward.

Grade: B

Movie Review (Cannes 2025): ‘Bono: Stories of Surrender’ is a Promotional Solo Act that Lacks Soul


Director: Andrew Dominik
Stars: Bono, Gemma Doherty, Kate Ellis

Synopsis: Bono shares life stories and U2 songs in an intimate show, exploring relationships with family, friends, and faith. Features unseen footage from his Beacon Theatre performances of “Stories of Surrender.”


For me, Andrew Dominik is one of the best and most fascinating directors working today. Ever since Chopper back in 2000, he has made a great impression, each of his pictures managing to show a different side of his directorial vision and stir the mind of the viewer, whether it is by painting a portrait of the famed, notorious outlaw Jesse James or a Fire Walk with Me-inspired tale of trauma, objectification, self-destruction, and loneliness through the eyes of Norma Jean, Marilyn Monroe, and their armor, the Blonde. But, in between those projects, Dominik has taken on some musical ventures, teaming up with Nick Cave and his fellow Bad Seed, Warren Ellis, for some beautiful, multi-layered concert-documentaries that speak on their artistic process and personal tragedies: One More Time with Feeling and This Much I Know to Be True, the former being one of the best musical biographies in recent memory.

The two projects make us feel like we are trespassing, as if Dominik and Cave accidentally left the door open and we just stumbled upon them having these very personal conversations about loss, suffering, existentialism, and the difficulty of finding hope in the face of tragedy, particularly after the passing of Cave’s son in 2015. These two projects go hand in hand, a before and after portrait of a man who underwent something so painful that nobody wishes upon another. When This Much I Know to Be True was released in the U.S. later in 2022, tragedy struck again; Cave lost his eldest son, making the project more melancholic and reflective than it already was. 

What makes these projects so compelling and unique, in the vast, mostly saccharine landscape of music portraits, is the relationship that Andrew Dominik and Nick Cave have. It helps convert the films from a classic concert-documentary to a study of Cave and his mental state–his grief, search for hope and empathy, recovery, and more–through a time lapse of six years between the two projects. Nobody other than Dominik could have captured the essence of Cave, as a person, a father, and a musician, in this level of susceptibility. Because of that 2016 documentary, Cave became one of my favorite artists. 

Seeing him dispel his grief and suffering made me see another version of Cave, considering that what I heard before was his work from the ‘80s and early ‘90s. Cave was honest, broken, and willing to share his pain with the world in his most painful days. And Dominik’s bond helped the film become clearer while trapped in this desolate void, portraying the inside and outside of Cave. One More Time with Feeling and This Much I Know to Be True are going to stand the test of time, but I don’t think Andrew Dominik’s most recent musical venture with the U2 frontman, Bono: Stories of Surrender, will, or, at the very least, leave a lasting impression.

Named after his critically acclaimed one-person show (and the new version of his book of the same name releasing alongside the film), Stories of Surrender has Andrew Dominik filming Bono through the stages of producing his show. It is a pulling back of the curtain-type project, where an artist is given the spotlight to talk about their past, present, and future–their goals, mistakes, legacy, and woes–through personal anecdotes and song performances that match with such. This sort of project happens mostly with artists who have planted their seeds in the genre they embarked on for many decades, significantly impacting the musical landscape. And Bono, whether you like him or not, has done so to an astronomical level, and he and the band have been relevant since their creation in 1976. 

The band’s style has evolved through the ages, for better or worse, yet their expressionism and sociopolitical commentary on their records has remained untouched. They are never afraid of speaking their mind, which established the band’s reputation and separated them from the many that were coming up during that period. In Stories of Surrender, Bono talks about many things deeper than music, more open and personal than he has been in other U2 documentaries, like From the Sky Down. Friends (close collaborators and bandmates like The Edge, Jacknife Lee, Gemma Doherty) and family; his faith and how it has challenged him in various ways; the cross-generational struggles and role changes in his life, from son to father and musician to activist. 

Though Bono still performs the songs that launched his career, he presents them as someone who has evolved, at least in part. Under Dominik’s lens, you get a backstage pass into his life, with intimate anecdotes about his childhood in Dublin, which paved the way for his activist life, and how he decided that his artistry should have meaning, a significance on today’s society, rather than just sing love songs and churn out pop records. These interviews are intertwined with some performances of classic U2 records, which were re-recorded during the pandemic. Even if I don’t particularly like the tracks themselves, Bono is a good showman; he knows how to get the crowd invested in the stories he tells in his records. 

Bono: Stories of Surrender - Apple TV+ Press

Now, Stories of Surrender has some things that make it somewhat distant, even if Bono is open and wants the viewer to know him better, inside and outside the spotlight. Bono’s self-righteousness and pretentiousness appear constantly during the performances and interviews. As George Harrison said, “U2 is based on ego, with most tracks being self-centered.” Many people despise the Irish singer because of these antics during interviews with magazines and newspapers; in one of the most recent, he says that he finds much of the U2 catalog cringeworthy. Bono has to always pull the focus on himself and himself alone, without regard for the experiences of others, which is one of the reasons why his band gets plenty of flak. 

Even if he apologizes for the “unreasonableness of youth” during his 60s, Bono does not try to dissipate that behavior. Being a very bold and ambitious director, Dominik tries to make use of this self-righteousness, as he has done before with some of the characters in his films. However, it doesn’t amount to an exploration of an artist’s mask and his true persona. This wasn’t the project’s intention, and Dominik doing so would have caused many problems with the singer and his estate. However, a part of me would have liked to see Dominik accept Bono’s behavior more and reflect on it as an outsider. 

Secondly, it lacks the director-musician bond that helps elevate the Dominik and Cave projects, where in each frame, there is a sense of closeness and kinship even when the lead Bad Seed isn’t speaking. You never feel that Bono and Dominik have a connection with one another. A coldness covers the stage, even when Bono sings his fiery lyrics. Another excellent example of an artist-musician bond is Martin Scorsese with New York Dolls frontman David Johansson, who passed away recently, in Personality Crisis: One Night Only. Stories of Surrender and Personality Crisis are similar in concept and structure. Scorsese captured an exceptional performance in January 2020 at the legendary Cafe Carlyle in New York. 

Johansson sings his classic joints in a different tone than Buster Pointdexter, the hepcat lounge lizard alter-ego he created in the ‘80s. The records are reimagined from their punk origins into blues ballads with a self-reflective tone. Johansson reevaluates his legacy through performances and interviews, where he is questioned about death, grief, his discography’s expressionism, and much more. Scorsese’s love and admiration for the New York Dolls and Johansson are smeared across each running second, and the artist and filmmaker are connected to paint an incomplete yet introspective and honest portrait.

Bono Performs U2 Hits in Apple's 'Stories of Surrender' Trailer

That sensation that transcends film and music is missing from Stories of Surrender; it fails to capture what makes Bono the man, myth, and legend he is, nor does it have a specific reason to make a reflective piece about his work. Nick Cave was grieving the loss of his son while making his most personal record to date. Johannson turned seventy and began to ponder death after many of his colleagues and bandmates passed–he being one of the last few icons from his time up and running. Meanwhile, Bono has the re-release of a book and a tour to promote. That alone shows you that the project is more promotional than reflective.

Grade: C-

Women InSession: Hamlet in Film

This week on Women InSession, we discuss and debate all of the Hamlet film versions we’ve seen over the years and what makes Shakespeare cinematic! Specifically we discuss the Best Picture winner from Laurence Olivier, the incredible adaptation from Kenneth Branagh and even the interesting film with Mel Gibson. With, of course, a few other notable adaptations.

Panel: Kristin Battestella, Amy Thomasson

On that note, check out this week’s show and let us know what you think in the comment section. Thanks for listening and for supporting the InSession Film Podcast!

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Women InSession – Hamlet in Film

Movie Review (Cannes 2025): ‘Death Does Not Exist’ Confronts the Price of Resistance and the Fragility of Identity


Director: Félix Dufour-Laperrière
Writer: Félix Dufour-Laperrière
Stars: Karelle Tremblay, Barbara Ulrich, Zeneb Blanchet

Synopsis: Young activists attempt an armed attack that fails, leading one to abandon her comrades. A former member haunts her, exploring violence, beliefs, friendship, love against societal crises.


“Don’t abandon what makes you free and dangerous. And be careful where you step,” one character in Félix Dufour-Laperrière’s Death Does Not Exist (La Mort n’existe pas, screening at the 2025 Cannes Film Festival sidebar Quinzaine des cinéastes) states halfway through the film. It perfectly encapsulates what the French animation director wants to explore in his latest experimental work. It is a layered and cautionary message to the characters and the audience watching. We should hold onto what shapes us and gives us autonomy, individuality, and independence, not letting go of our edge, courage, and nonconformity. But, to the same degree, we should be aware of our surroundings and the consequences of our actions as we navigate this slowly crumbling world. We are free, but everyone is watching.

The world is full of traps that can cost all that we love. An animated film that is both mystical and grounded in various ways, Death Does Not Exist is about commitment, in all that the word entails, and connection, both in the physical (romances, friendships, encounters) and metaphysical (the brooding and nurturing intersection between life and death). Dufour-Laperrière conceives a story with its characters riddled with self-doubt, contradictions, impossibilities, and hard-hitting existential questions. The characters are brooding, slowly realizing that there’s forthcoming damnation–something they must accept and commit to before it is too late. Because of how the film is constructed, the audience places themselves in the mindset of the characters during their treacherous dilemmas and ponders the things we must come to terms with. 

Death Does Not Exist begins with an array of still frames and solid color canvases in which you can still see the brush’s etchings, as the sound of an exhausted woman breathing heavily is heard in the background. It is then quickly followed by a selection of images showing gold statues in the garden of a wealthy family. These statues allude to power or extreme wealth, the ridiculous things rich people spend their money on. You may not know it yet, but these statues foreshadow some of the story’s arcs. Wolves and sheep; weak hummingbirds; a slight caress between two people; a woman with a thousand questions. Those are the statues. This is a story of people haunted by regret, searching for meaning in the aftermath of a harsh decision, seen through the perspective of the survivors of a failed heist. 

A group of angsty activists meet up in the forest near the house of a wealthy family, preparing for their bullet parade to ensure everything goes as planned. It is all guns blazing and no survivors allowed; they want this violent act to set the trend for an uprising against the higher class and their debauchery. Everyone seems ready with their fingers on the trigger, except for Hélène (voiced by Zeneb Blanchet), whose perspective we will follow and whose mind we will dissect. The thought of killing a person tears her apart. Hélène is frequently asked if she is ready to pull the trigger, both literally, by gunning down whomever is in her way, and metaphorically, committing to this team and the consequences that might arise. Her silence hides a psychological breakdown that she can’t even begin to comprehend. 

Hélène is the ghost of doubt in a room full of certainty, succumbing to the desolation as the day of reckoning is near. She might say she is prepared, but her face and attitude say otherwise. When the day comes, everybody is locked and loaded. They slowly approach the mansion, waiting for the right moment to strike. The gates open and they approach with haste. And everything goes haywire in a matter of seconds. One after another, each member of the job is shot to death by the security guards. Hélène, in the heat of the moment, freezes and runs away from the blood bath, scared desolate because of just happened. Dufour-Laperrière depicts her escape as a harmless sheep hunted by wolves, rapidly catching up to her. 

Dufour-Laperrière uses animal metaphors to chart the evolution of Hélène’s psyche and moral compass. The wolves and sheep underscore her vulnerability and inevitability of her reckoning, the rupture of innocence and birth of a new life outside the one she briefly tried to belong to alongside the other activists. After several miles out, Hélène takes a big fall, which leaves her unconscious. When she wakes up, Hélène notices that one of her friends, Manon (voiced by Karelle Tremblay), is beside her. Manon is disappointed that Hélène ran away from them, leaving the crew behind to die a painful death. “You swore we’d be together forever”, Manon says to her. But through the disappointment, Manon offers a second chance to keep their relationship alive. This threat sends chills down her spine and flips the film into an unexpected territory filled with hope and melancholy. 

Through psychedelic and metaphorical imagery, including ones that reference the cosmic flower-covered animal cadavers in Alex Garland’s Annihilation, beautifully animated by Dufour-Laperrière and team, Hélène is forced to revisit her convictions and choices, as well as confront her fears, morals, and most hurting woes, disrupting her perception of right and wrong, life and death, and the true meaning of freedom. It unravels with thorough abstraction, utilizing elements from filmmakers like Philippe Grandrieux–the power of images presented to the audience with every possible form of love, violence, and life, even at its darkest–and Jan Švankmajer, although not to the extent of being grotesque or highly absurd with its creations. She traverses a dreamlike wasteland, where time warps and landscapes melt into memory. 

Dufour-Laperrière adopts a looser narrative structure here, where linear logic is tossed aside for a reflective, existentialist resonance that keeps the viewer gripped onto the story. It is a character’s reckoning that is both internal and cosmic, positioning Hélène not only as a survivor of a failed heist but as a crucible for her loyalty, morality, faith, and inner angst. The final movements of the film seem to signify that Hélène is nearing a state of inner peace. But there’s a side to these last few images that does seem to hint towards that hopeful fairytale ending; it suggests surrender. Hélène accepts and commits to this finale, wherever it may lead her, to joy or further suffering, which makes Manon’s purpose of guiding this lost soul into one of enlightenment. 

One of the last lines in Death Does Not Exist comes from Manon, and it has stayed with me a lot: “Life… It’s a movement, and a movement has a cost, inevitably.” This line reminded me of the quote in the poster for Gaspar Noé’s Vortex. “Life is a short party that will soon be forgotten.” Of course, Noé’s one is far darker and more depressing. But the two lines connect in confronting the transient, often painful, nature of existence. Dufour-Laperrière and Noé want to highlight the fading of memory and meaning as life continues, and people leave and enter your life, like people checking into a hotel and leaving when their vacation is over. Moving through life demands something in return, whether regarding joy or despair. And while Death Does Not Exist examines plenty of topics other than mortality and acceptance, this element, alongside this quote from the character of Manon, stuck with me the most.

Grade: B+

Podcast Review: Fight or Flight

On this episode, JD and Brendan discuss James Madigan’s new action film Fight or Flight, starring the great Josh Hartnett! We may not have loved this film, but we are 100% here for whatever this era is for Hartnett. He’s a captivating actor and we’re eager to see him in more leading roles. We’re just hoping for more Trap‘s and less Fight or Flight‘s in terms of film quality.

Review: Fight or Flight (4:00)
Director: James Madigan
Writer: Brooks McLaren, D. J. Cotrona
Stars: Josh Hartnett, Charithra Chandran, Katee Sackhoff

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InSession Film Podcast – Fight or Flight

Movie Review: ‘The Old Woman with the Knife’ is a Fun Enough Thriller


Director: Min Kyu-dong
Writers: Kim Dong-wan, Min Kyu-dong
Stars: Lee Hye-young, Kim Sung-cheol, Yeon Woo-jin

Synopsis: An aging assassin with a knack for taking out society’s worst encounters a young protégé eager to learn the trade. As they form an unlikely bond, the veteran killer discovers fresh purpose in her twilight years of violence and routine.


Spoiler alert: The old woman does have a knife in The Old Woman with the Knife. Eventually, though, she carries a gun to eliminate a horde of baddies when a relatively simple situation begins to overcomplicate itself. But director Min Kyu-dong always goes back to the knife, at any given opportunity, because it’s “Hornclaw”’s (Lee Hye-young) weapon of choice. Hornclaw is the nickname she gave to herself after a traumatic event in her past led her to become the young protégé of an assassin. In her 60s, she now works for a secretive organization that specializes in killing the biggest of all vermin, but faces a new challenge when a young man with the nickname of “Bullfight” (Kim Sung-cheol) wants to work with her.

The Old Woman with the Knife': Assassin Drama With Excess Flashbacks

Of course, she works alone and accomplishes all of her assignments on her own. However, Bullfight is so eager to meet her that he always interferes with her work. What she doesn’t know, however, is his true identity, related to an event that has shaped the rest of his life ever since he was a child. That’s about as far as I will go without revealing a thing, as the pleasure of watching The Old Woman with the Knife is learning the story developments as the 124-minute runtime progresses.

It does, frequently, complicate itself as if it’s a piece of soap opera, but there’s never a dull moment inside Kyu-dong’s genre hybrid that goes from a nifty slasher to a poignant character drama so it can end with an action-filled climax sure to rock your world. The truth is that, as Hornclaw ages, she is beginning to question her place in this society and whether or not she is a good person, after all the harm she has caused for the better part of forty years. It’s only after meeting veterinarian Dr. Kang (Yeon Woo-jin) that Hornclaw begins to open up and potentially realize that she can, if she wants to, do some good on this planet as her time begins to dwindle.

Is it because she is finally reckoning with her own mortality – and age – that she has grown a conscience that is at odds with what she’s doing? Or is it because a figure from her past has come back to her life and wants revenge for what she has committed? It’s possibly the most unclear thematic (and narrative) thread of the whole movie, but it also continuously keeps us on our toes. The constant parallels to her actions in the present, which communicates with what she did in the past, is a great bit of associative editing that recurs as the film’s story develops. In fact, the editing is a massive highpoint of the whole package, notably a match cut so thrilling during the climax that I had to rewind my digital screener five times to properly sink in such a major visual cue.

And it’s incredible how it unabashedly steals from a known video game, to then cut to the exact image from that game (what it is, I’ll let you find out on your own) and get away with it. Few filmmakers are able to execute it like this, but it’s also part of the development of such a character like Bullfight, who associates his past with Hornclaw with the strong images he took away from his time with her. The movie will frequently cut to fragments of Bullfight’s past, as he interacts with Hornclaw, so the audience can understand his connection with her, and her connection with him, as well. It’s mutual, but since she doesn’t recognize him, the confrontation between the two is semi-complicated.

The Old Woman with the Knife' Trailer - Lee Hye-young is an Aging Assassin  in South Korean Thriller Film - VIMooZ

Had the film only focused on this particular aspect, it probably would’ve been one of the best thrillers of the year. Its action sequences are terrifically shot and cut, particularly the final knife fight. As much as Kyu-dong allows the old woman to carry more than just a knife, it eventually leads us back to the titular weapon and makes the audience observe her dexterity at manipulating such a dangerous object. In any event, the movie culminates in one of the year’s most thrilling finales, a terrific mélange of various fighting styles until the knife makes its grand return and directly shows us why Hornclaw is not to be screwed with.

As the protagonist, Hye-young imbues her with as much complexity as possible, especially when Kyu-dong develops her through fractured flashbacks, where she is played by Shin Si-ah. Both portrayals of the protagonist are equally affecting, from our understanding of the trauma she has turned into pure rage that feeds her violence, to her atonement of her past sins as she grows older. The relationship between Hornclaw and Bullfight is incredibly complicated, especially when she finds out his identity. Sung-cheol is also terrific in the movie, as a worthy opponent to Hornclaw, even if Kyu-dong eventually loses the meaning of that conflict through subplots involving the veterinarian and his daughter, and trying to build a shadowy organization for its assassins that feels highly reminiscent of the world of John Wick.

Yet, even with those hurdles, The Old Woman with the Knife succeeds in drawing an entertaining thriller with a few narrative tricks up its sleeves to keep the audience invested. It helps that it contains as much verve as it can to visually stimulate genre aficionados, especially when it’s executed so well. Do yourself a favor and go in as blind as possible, and you may end up appreciating it more when you reach the end credits…

Grade: B+

Classic Film Review: ‘Mad Max: Fury Road’ is a Lesson in Redemption


Director: George Miller
Writers: George Miller, Brendan McCarthy, Nick Lathouris
Stars: Tom Hardy, Charlize Theron, Nicholas Hoult

Synopsis: In a post-apocalyptic wasteland, a woman rebels against a tyrannical ruler in search for her homeland with the aid of a group of female prisoners, a psychotic worshipper and a drifter named Max.


“As the world fell, each of us in our own way was broken. It was hard to know who was more crazy: me, or everyone else.” No better words describe the world of the Wasteland, a place plagued by war and famine and the complete collapse of society. In this world, the rules are clear: there are none. Survivors will do what they must to make it another day, even as fanatics and those establishing power across the Wasteland oppress more and more desperate people just wanting a morsel of what’s left. After an initial look into this destabilization in 1979’s Mad Max and a display of the monstrous nature of humanity, director George Miller expanded the Wasteland across its sequels The Road Warrior and Beyond Thunderdome. Each movie showcased the best and worst of people, and the sickly approaches they would take to see the next day.

In Mad Max: Fury Road, this insidiousness is explored through the warlord Immortan Joe (Hugh Keays-Byrne), who controls the supply of water in the Wasteland and gives very little to the thirsty, starved people below his Citadel. He has established himself as a divine being with a cultish following that hangs on his every word. His brethren, the War Boys, are malnourished and brainwashed men and women who live on ‘blood bags’ (people with enough blood still to ‘donate’ so the War Boys can keep going) and drive in Immortan’s name by worshipping him and honoring their ‘god,’ the V8 engine. When going after enemies and factions that may threaten them, they are willing to give their lives in the Immortan’s name, hoping to be ‘witnessed’ and ride to Valhalla to join the heroes of all time.

Mad Max: Fury Road' (With Movie Trailer): George Miller Narrates a Scene -  The New York Times

Like every movie in the series, this rule is eventually challenged by someone who decides they have had enough. In Fury Road, that’s Furiosa (Charlize Theron), a War Rig driver hauling cargo who decides to drive off-road, with the Immortan realizing quickly that Furiosa is also driving with his harem of wives (Rosie Huntington-Whiteley, Zoe Kravitz, Courtney Eaton, Riley Keough, Abbey Lee), and gives chase to her with his War Boys, like Nux (Nicholas Hoult), who hope to catch her and find favor in the Immortan’s eyes. And much like his involvement in the previous installments, Max (Tom Hardy) is in the middle of the action, as a blood bag to Nux at first and then driving along with Furiosa looking for a paradise within the ruins of the Wasteland.

All of this leads into one of the best action movies of the 21st century and, by extension, one of the finest ever made, with an ample amount of solid characterization, terrific dialogue that’s endlessly quotable, and phenomenal direction from Miller. Once Furiosa drives the War Rig out of the Citadel limits and towards Gas Town, the movie refuses to relent, even for a second. Powered by Tom Holkenborg’s thunderous score that is even personified in the movie in parts by the thrashing of the Doof Warrior’s flamethrowing guitar, Fury Road moves from one incredible setpiece to the next, from a chase where they battle the Buzzards, a rival faction, to one of the most visually spectacular sandstorms ever put to film, two brilliant canyon runs, and a tense nighttime sequence as the War Rig moves through a swamp. With the combination of John Seale’s incredible cinematography and fantastic visual effects, Fury Road soars as an action spectacle.

Yet throughout it all, the movie never forgets its characters, who are given ample development as the world around them goes to an even lower depth of hell. Everyone is broken, and trying to find some form of redemption and absolution for the things they have witnessed or the mistakes they have made, and wanting to be better people despite the world telling them they can’t. From Max’s tortured psyche due to his past failures to save everyone to Furiosa’s shattered past and lost family waiting to be found, to the wives of the Immortan Joe who find themselves at the precipice of a life with no shackles and futures that aren’t relegated to being child bearers for the warlord, and even Nux, a War Boy realizing his pursuit for Valhalla is more than pleasing a man who cares little for everyone else; the storytelling creates an emotional journey for them that by the time the credits roll, leaves audiences with a new set of favorites in the franchise.

Mad Max: Fury Road | Cast, Awards, Charlize Theron, & Description |  Britannica

10 years later, it’s no surprise that Mad Max: Fury Road has achieved the status it has in the pantheon of action cinema. A relentless two hours crescendos in a magnificent final chase in the other direction, with some of the finest stunt work and vehicular carnage of the century, giving every character a chance to shine and be a prominent part of the rampage, even incorporating that guitarist on a rig just powering everything with a crew of drummers behind him, and with a fascinating character piece that followed with 2024’s Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga, it creates a picture perfect arc for the character as well. In the end, it rides eternal, shiny and chrome.

Grade: A+

Movie Review: ‘Mission Impossible – The Final Reckoning’ Is The Tale Of Two Halves That Can’t Work Without Each Other


Director: Christopher McQuarrie
Writers: Bruce Geller, Erik Jendersen, Christopher McQuarrie
Stars: Tom Cruise, Hayley Atwell, Ving Rhames

Synopsis: Our lives are the sum of our choices. Tom Cruise is Ethan Hunt in Mission: Impossible – The Final Reckoning.


Every entry in the Mission Impossible franchise contains one non-negotiable constant. Beyond the obvious institutions, of course, like Tom Cruise’s presence, a handful of death-defying setpieces – shot and performed practically in accordance with the star’s apparent death wish commitment – a larger handful of Bond girl-esque heroines for Cruise’s Ethan Hunt to woo, save, and occasionally mourn, etc. No, the stalwart pillar of each film, from 1996’s Mission Impossible1 through 2023’s Dead Reckoning, has been a choice, though Hunt has never wavered in his ensuing decision. “Your mission,” a recorded voice from inside a pair of sunglasses, a Jazz record, or the hollowed out pages of Homer’s “The Odyssey” says, “should you choose to accept it…” Perhaps it comes within a few minutes, or within the film’s first hour; either way, Ethan is always presented with an option. The road less traveled, in his case, tends to be the avenue to safety, to life as a ghost, away from Luther (Ving Rhames), Benji (Simon Pegg), and whoever else he’s aligned himself with for the time being. The path he always selects is precisely what has made Mission: Impossible the most consistently exhilarating franchise to grace modern multiplexes, if not since it debuted ‘96, then certainly since 2011’s Ghost Protocol, the Brad Bird-directed fourth film that saw the explosion of the Kremlin, Cruise literally scaling the Burj Khalifa, and somehow the only entry to ever include the words “mission accomplished!” in its physical text.

It’s also what has made its inevitable finale – the conclusion of the Cruise-led era, anyway – that much more anticipated. Couple that excitement with the belated removal of Dead Reckoning’s “Part One” designation, and the picture came into fuller focus: The end was nigh. Despite the (very funny and realistic) jokes that Cruise would continue to make Mission: Impossible films until he died performing one of its insane stunts, getting out while the getting was still good was likely always in the cards for Hollywood’s rebel leader and the de facto savior of the cinematic experience, as to remain Ethan Hunt for the rest of his career likely would have become caricaturistic at some point. Imagining an 80-year-old Cruise2 dangling from the side of the Eiffel Tower is a comical (if not entirely unrealistic) vision, but to have it come to fruition would imply that 1) our nation’s geopolitical relations with other countries were in better standing and, 2) he never actually moved on to the stage of his career where he fully realizes his own reclamation project by making more arthouse films in addition to the franchise fare that he’ll never be able to leave behind. 

So it was understandable, and even exciting to a select few, when the title of the eighth Mission: Impossible film was revealed to be The Final Reckoning, seemingly putting the close to Cruise’s Ethan Hunt chapter in writing. To get out while the getting is good, as aforementioned, isn’t necessarily such a bad thing, especially when you look at the fates of other mega-franchises that have frittered away for the better part of a decade in search of their next step(s). With The Final Reckoning, Cruise and his now-longtime collaborator Christopher McQuarrie – who has directed and written every M:I film since 2015’s Rogue Nation – gave themselves the opportunity to gracefully close the door. To send Hunt into retirement, if you will, perhaps on a remote, undiscoverable island, one where he could reunite with his ex-wife, Julia (Michelle Monaghan), or maybe Ilsa Faust (Rebecca Ferguson’s character, who fans have long-suspected didn’t actually die in Dead Reckoning), or even Grace (Haley Atwell), who Hunt held more longing, horny gazes with than any other woman in just one film. Benji and Luther would be okay; after all, Ethan disappeared from their orbits before, and while he always returned with a new mission in his pocket, their partnership couldn’t last forever.

Tom Cruise plays Ethan Hunt, Pom Klementieff plays Paris, Greg Tarzan Davis plays Degas, Simon Pegg plays Benji Dunn and Hayley Atwell plays Grace in Mission: Impossible – The Final Reckoning from Paramount Pictures and Skydance. | © 2024 Paramount Pictures

The Final Reckoning thus not only serves as, literally, the final reckoning for Ethan Hunt and his Impossible Mission Force, but the final reckoning for this iteration of the Mission: Impossible franchise as a whole. So it’s only fair – if a touch over-indulgent – that the very beginning of The Final Reckoning is chock-full of voiceovers and furiously-montaged clips featuring characters from the franchise’s  past, including those of Solomon Lane (Sean Harris), August “John Lark” Walker (Henry Cavill), Alan Hunley (Alec Baldwin) and others, all recounting moments from Ethan’s previous adventures in a way that will seem vague to the less initiated, yet ultimately are just specific enough for obsessives to clock the fact that ensuing near-three hours are, indeed, about to be detail the biggest test of Ethan Hunt’s life. His final mission: Somehow taking down The Entity,a  malicious A.I. with world destruction on its sentient mind that was introduced in Dead Reckoning. “Everything you’ve done,” President Erika Sloane (Angela Bassett) tells him in the franchise’s most personal briefing to date, “has given the world another sunrise.” Cue Ethan’s huggy reunion with Benji and Luther, both of whom he has evidently not seen in at least a few weeks since the final moments of the most recent installment, and the description of this film’s very broad stakes: Should Ethan and his team fail to stop The Entity, the world as they know it will end.

That the lead-up to how Hunt and co. will approach this mission of devastating proportions is how The Final Reckoning’s first hefty chunk is spent is nothing if not regrettable, as it tasks various characters with the unfortunate responsibility of delivering grating exposition dumps that feel designed to serve an audience that is glued to a second screen. (Here’s hoping you time your Paramount+ free trial just right.) It’s unexpected, sure, but not in the way that this franchise has made its name. Since McQuarrie took over directing duties – ending a string of one-off Cruise-approved hires 3– each Mission: Impossible film has been singular and whip-smart on its own merits while still remaining referential to its predecessors. The Final Reckoning is the first time McQ’s M:I has felt hamstrung by the unbearable weight of being a film within a franchise. Perhaps that’s due to the burden grand finales tend to be tasked with carrying, or because its own road forward had to be repaved once it shed its direct attachment to Dead Reckoning. Either way, the movie spends so much of its first act (and then some) operating in Part Two mode, thus spoon feeding its audience narrative context that it should already know, that you almost forget you’re watching a movie about a crew that has mastered the art of deception. 

This is not to say that it doesn’t look, sound, nor feel like a Mission: Impossible during this time. Ethan Hunt’s big running moment occurs during this span, as do a number of important conversations in large, government-designated meeting rooms, a few unspoilable moments that go directly for the emotional jugular, and a hilarious combat scene in which Grace watches in horror as Ethan brutally dispatches a few enemies. (We know what Ethan can do; not everyone has seen it up close.) It also features a pivotal encounter with The Entity itself, thanks to a perfectly-planned game of cat and mouse that the A.I.’s chief operator, Gabriel (Esai Morales), devised in order for Ethan to come face-to-face with his past, present, and future. But it also includes six or seven separate line readings from Gabriel in which he says the same thing over and over again – “Your choices have led to this, and you can’t win,” or something to that nature – three or four inexplicable mentions of Inuit fisherman, and the big, inane reveal that [redacted] is [redacted’s] [redacted]. 

There’s something glorious about how overstuffed The Final Reckoning’s first half is with its own lore, just as there is something fascinating about watching its brass force themselves to tie up ends that weren’t even loose to begin with, yet it doesn’t occur in the way we’ve come to expect from the same folks who have made some of the best spy thrillers ever made, not to mention one of the very best films of the 2010s. Maybe that has more to do with outsized expectations, but hey, our lives are the sum of our choices. The choice made here has the film flirting with being an honest-to-God mess to the point of desperation, almost like Cruise, McQuarrie, and the like are desperate to save something that didn’t need saving. (Sound familiar, Ethan?)

Tom Cruise plays Ethan Hunt, Hayley Atwell plays Grace and Simon Pegg plays Benji Dunn in Mission: Impossible – The Final Reckoning from Paramount Pictures and Skydance. | © 2025 Paramount Pictures.

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to survive a first hour and change that is so high on its own expositional supply that not even The Entity would bother analyzing the script in its efforts to achieve global destruction. Should you do so, you’ll be met with rewards befitting a journey so taxing that your head spins more than the biplane Hunt hangs from in the film’s oft-teased climax: Thrills aplenty, logic… just enough. Prior to that, we’re introduced to a whole new cast of characters, including Hannah Waddingham’s Admiral Neely, Katy O’Brian’s4 Kodiak, and Tramell Tillman’s5 Captain Bledsoe, all of whom have their own unique rapports with the strange agent who has stumbled onto their aircraft carriers and/or submarines in search of the Sevastopol, the Russian military sub that houses The Entity’s command center, as teased in Dead Reckoning’s opening scene. 

The stunt-and-fight-ridden sequences that unfold from here are worth the price of admission alone – and who are we kidding, that’s why you came, isn’t it? – and some of the best practical work that the franchise has pulled off yet, on par with (if not exceeding) the insanity of Fallout’s Halo jump, rooftop-set chase scene, and helicopter duel, as well as the aforementioned Burj Khalifa climb and Dead Reckoning’s motorcycle jump. Cruise’s ever-sincere performances in each M:I film have never been up for questioning, let alone worth much critique given how similar many have suspected the man himself is to the character he plays, but there’s something method about how he embodies Hunt’s fear as he ventures thousands of leagues under the Bering Sea and, later, thousands of feet into the skies above South Africa. 

What Benji, Grace, and Paris (Pom Klementieff, practically begging to be the series’ next steward) get up to while Ethan trots the open seas and clouds doing his half of the work to stop The Entity’s powers from launching a global arsenal of nuclear missiles is difficult to discuss while spoiling, but that’s half the fun. Mission: Impossible tends to separate its leader from his trusted confidants for tens of minutes at a time, only for them to reunite in a last-ditch effort to accomplish the job once and for all. And in some ways, The Final Reckoning is no different. How we get there is intercut with a lot of panicked isos of United States military officials stuck in rooms with too many red buttons to push – that we’ve yet to mention Holt McCallany or Nick Offerman’s names should tell you all you need to know about their collective presences here – and it’s hard to know whether or not Fallout, Dead Reckoning, and Top Gun: Maverick editor Eddie Hamilton’s clunky chopping during these stretches has to do more with an overflow of footage to deal with or a surplus of story that Cruise and McQuarrie seem overwhelmed by. But it’s all rounded out nicely, if only because the Mission-making duo never fail to stick their landings. Even with all of the easter eggs 6they’ve saddled themselves with in an attempt to bring *gestures wildly at everything* to a proper close, they even manage to make great use of Bill Donlow (Rolf Saxon), the food poisoning-addled Langley pencil pusher from Brian De Palma’s original M:I offering. (I said the film was messy, I never said it wasn’t surprising.)

Tom Cruise plays Ethan Hunt in Mission: Impossible – The Final Reckoning from Paramount Pictures and Skydance.

For some, getting to this point could be the most impossible mission these films have tasked their viewers with yet, and certainly since the John Woo-ified Mission: Impossible 2, widely considered the worst movie in the franchise if only because it favored maximalist action over any true substance on a character-driven level. It arguably took until Ghost Protocol for the series to find a true footing as a series – 2006’s Mission: Impossible III featured Philip Seymour Hoffman as the dastardly villain Owen Davian, so we can’t be too critical – primarily because that’s when a consistent team began to take shape for Hunt, with Benji and Luther both accepting greater responsibility and power as far as their leader’s safety went. While it spins its wheels in the lead-up to an action-packed finale that Woo and Abrams would be proud of, The Final Reckoning upholds the spirit of each later entry by infusing more heart into its proceedings than any of the previous films combined. We may be one utterance about the importance of “family” away from this feeling more like a Fast & Furious effort than an impossible mission, but the folks calling the shots from this franchise’s command center at least have a sense of how real human beings communicate, fight, and what hijinks ensue as they hurtle towards their fitting ends. 
Which is precisely what makes The Final Reckoning’s landing a smooth one despite the turbulent ride it took us to get there. Most early reactions to the film have leaned mixed rather than positive, a response that diehard fans have balked at out of hope for cinema’s most reliable franchise to end on its highest note. That’s not the case, but there’s some level of charm to watching Cruise and McQuarrie actively try to connect so many moments from past films to this new one, even if that means telling a wholly new story gets lost in the shuffle. What can also be true is that the final half of The Final Reckoning is among the most thrilling 90 minutes of the series, a mad dash to save the world – and each other – one last time. The most fitting thing of all, like the oft-mocked cruciform key that accesses The Entity, is that one half is rendered entirely ineffective without the presence of the other. Whether that’s for better or for worse is ultimately your mission, should you… ah, you know the rest.

Grade: B-

  1. Ethan Hunt receives the primary mission briefing in every film but the first. Jim Phelps (Jon Voight) is the recipient of the initial message – on an airplane cassette tape, disguised as “the cinema of the Ukraine” – while Hunt’s arrives at the end. 
    ↩︎
  2. Cruise previously indicated that he would like to be making Mission: Impossible films until he is in his 80s, similar to how Harrison Ford continued appearing in Indiana Jones movies until he was well past octogenarian age. ↩︎
  3.  Cruise had a hand in hiring John Woo for M:I 2 (citing a desire for the director to “make it his own”), J.J. Abrams for M:I III (he loved Abrams’ television series Alias), and Brad Bird for Ghost Protocol (because of the heart he brought to his animated works The Iron Giant, The Incredibles, and Ratatouille). ↩︎
  4. Woefully underused, despite receiving one cheer-worthy moment. ↩︎
  5.  Fans of Apple TV’s Severance are in for a treat once Tillman’s now-trademark inflection rears its glorious, low-timbred head. ↩︎
  6. Yes, The Rabbit’s Foot plays a pivotal role. The knife from Mission: Impossible, well… ↩︎

Podcast Review: On Becoming a Guinea Fowl

On this episode, JD and Brendan discuss Rungano Nyoni’s incredible sophomore effort On Becoming a Guinea Fowl! Simply put, this is one of the best films of the year so far. It also has one of the best performances of 2025. It’s such a rich work of art thematically and emotionally, all coupled with some subtle but immense filmmaking.

Review: On Becoming a Guinea Fowl (4:00)
Director: Rungano Nyoni
Writer: Rungano Nyoni
Stars: Susan Chardy, Elizabeth Chisela, Henry B.J. Phiri

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InSession Film Podcast – On Becoming a Guinea Fowl

Movie Review: ‘The Salt Path’ Takes A Dangerous Road Less Traveled


Director: Marianne Elliott
Writer: Rebecca Lenkiewicz
Stars: Jason Isaacs, Gillian Anderson, James Lance

Synopsis: A couple lose their home and later discover the husband has been diagnosed with a terminal illness as they embark on a year long coastal trek.


Sentiment takes precedence over what should be viewed as a devastating failure in Britain’s legal and care systems in Marianne Elliott’s ‘true story’ inspired, The Salt Path. Based on Raynor Winn’s (played by Gillian Anderson) bestselling memoir-travelogue about her walk with her husband, Moth (Jason Isaacs), along the 630-mile South West Coast Path from Minehead, Somerset to (eventually) Land’s End. Screenwriter Rebecca Lenkiewicz and cinematographer, the immensely talented Hélène Louvart, take the audience and the couple through King Arthur’s Land (Cornwall), as well as Devon and other ruggedly beautiful or lushly beautiful coasts and forests. The journey, although perilous, is so immersive and healing in Elliott’s frame that it becomes all too easy to forget what necessitated it in the first place.

The Salt Path' Review: A Walk with Gillian Anderson & Jason Isaacs

Arthur, ‘The Once and Future King,’ would be disappointed with what has befallen the Winns. A protracted legal case where the judge refused to admit evidence that the Winns were not responsible for the debts incurred by a former friend’s business has left them penniless and soon to be evicted from their home which has been seized. Moth Winn’s ‘arthritis’ turns out to be an incurable degenerative neurological condition, corticobasal degeneration, or CBD, which isn’t enough for the local council to put the couple on the emergency list for housing. If this story were told by Ken Loach there would be a lot more justified seething instead of soothing. It’s clear that neither Moth nor Ray wants to lean on friends or family for support (which is admirable, and one might say ludicrously, selfless). They are in their 50s, the parents of two adult children, Tom (Tucker St. Ivany) and Rowan (Rebecca Ineson), they lose everything they’ve built by hand which includes their farm, and one of them is, in medical terms, dying. 

With the bailiffs banging down their door, Ray comes up with the idea that they take a walk following the path set out in a book they own. It will give them time to “work things out” if they camp along the path. Their only belongings are two backpacks, a cheap tent, a copy of Seamus Heaney’s translation of Beowulf (which comes into play in a rousing moment) and a lot of pot noodles. Expecting to receive a tax credit of forty pounds a week, they decide that they can find a way to survive in the elements, relying on each other for support and hopefully the kindness of strangers along the way.

If The Salt Path were entirely fiction it would be nigh on unbelievable that the two don’t, at some stage, succumb to exposure or starvation. They are ill-prepared to deal with the wild weather and the steep and punishing path. There are remarkably few scenes where either Ray or Moth actually loses their temper at their situation or properly grieves it. The one foot in front of the other maxim keeps them going as does their abiding adoration for each other and their inherent “goodness.”

The one section where Moth’s health really is at risk doesn’t come from his condition, but rather from his decision to go cold turkey off pregabalin – something that is highly dangerous and reckless. Moth is extremely lucky that his health is somehow boosted by the exercise and plain eating instead of going through deterioration. It’s most certainly luck that isn’t medically advisable and the warning “do not try this” should probably flash up somewhere.

Luck does seem to be on the side of the Winns who at times of extreme crisis do find people who are willing to share with the couple, just as the couple are willing to share with an endangered young woman, Sealy (Gwen Currant) who Ray quietly convinces to come along with them.

The Salt Path is one of those films (and books) where the indomitable human spirit overcomes the worst of circumstances, where nature puts life into perspective and heals the heart, hurt, and bodies of those who need to feel as if there is something beyond the snatching away of security and livelihood they saw as their future. It’s difficult to argue with the majesty of coastal South West England and the subtle and lovely performances given by Anderson and especially Isaacs. Yet, with every deer, rabbit, underwater paradise, and soaring gull they see accompanied by Chris Roe’s whimsical score, the sense that these two people are the exception and certainly not the rule grows stronger. 

The Salt Path - FilmInk

The Winns eventually decide that they need and prefer the freedom that walking the path gives them and Ray’s deep love for Moth means that even if there are safer alternatives to look into, she will go with him. The idea of giving up everything and following their example isn’t pushed in the film, but nor is it thoroughly discouraged when the one person who offers them housing in exchange for labor, Polly (Hermione Norris) is painted as a nuisance rather than someone who is trying to help her friends.

The Salt Path is enthralling because where they go is gloriously picturesque as an idealized England, even with the squalls, bad weather, blackthorn bushes, and dangerous mud. Ray and Moth were salted by their travels and enlivened by their unusual swerve that saved them from a fate they should never have been subjected to. The location and the performances make the film more than the writing itself. There will be audiences who find The Salt Path a wonderful tale of resilience and hope, and others who cast a slightly more cynical eye over the undoubtedly stunning proceedings and ponder how a single serious misstep could have led to something much darker.

Grade: C

Movie Review: ‘Jane Austen Wrecked My Life’ is a Lively, Smart Rom-Com


Director: Laura Piani
Writers: Laura Piani
Stars: Camille Rutherford, Pablo Pauly, Charlie Anson

Synopsis: A desperately single bookseller, lost in a fantasy world, finds herself forced to fulfill her dreams of becoming a writer in order to stop messing up her love life.


When women are written in a realistic manner, giving them personal agency and with their intelligence at the forefront, it’s no wonder those stories stand the test of time. Jane Austen’s work has been a comforting hand to hold, especially as a woman whose path in life refuses to adhere to societal norms. Countless adaptations of Austen’s work have been brought to any and every form of retelling imaginable, from plays to television; you don’t have to look far to see her influence on the world still today. Writer and Director Laura Piani pays an endearing homage to Austen’s work with her newest film Jane Austen Wrecked My Life, a lively rom-com that is equally smart and giddy with love.

Sony Pictures Classics Sets Release Date for 'Jane Austen Wrecked My Life'In true Austen fashion, Piani opens her film in a bustling bookshop, where audiences are introduced to Agathe Robinson (Camille Rutherford), a lonely bookkeeper looking for love while working on her writing. It’s clear from our first encounter with Agathe that she is the epitome of an Austen main character; she seemingly has no prospects, is unhappy with the direction of her life, and has little to no self-esteem. Working in a bookstore in France, Agathe passes time during her workday dreaming of romance while suggesting only the best Austen books to her customers. Her writing is a point of frustration in her life as much as it is her creative outlet; stories as of late have been going unfinished, leaving Agathe unfulfilled. One drunken night at a solo sushi date, Agathe finds inspiration at the bottom of her sake glass, a story that would launch her into a new adventure.

There’s something special about Agathe’s writing that catches the right attention as she finds herself with an invite to a retreat for writers. There’s a reluctance in Agathe while she mulls over if she should take this opportunity or continue to live in a cramped apartment yearning for purpose. With some convincing by her coworker best friend Felix (Pablo Pauly), she agrees to take the trip, hoping that the location will inspire her. The trip is already set off with hiccups, with Agathe butting heads with her overbearing chauffeur Oliver (Charlie Anson), who quickly becomes a recurring annoyance during her retreat away. Those in Agathe’s life know that her writing is praiseworthy to the highest degree, but, in true writer’s fashion, she doesn’t believe it’s anything extraordinary. While away from the distractions of home, Agathe finds herself in a dreamlike retreat that has more than enough inspiration in both writing and romance to go around.

There’s a wonderful tonal balance in Jane Austen Wrecked My Life, as there’s no lack of humor with Agathe going through some skin crawling embarrassing moments. Romance is alive and well just as much as the humor, with characters exploring their newfound feelings with one another. Piani’s writing within the film is witty and this is where Austen’s influence is at its most. Most of these influences come from Agathe and the situations she finds herself in, either as a critique of societal demands of women, or her walking into the room of her crush naked by accident. While Agathe plays things off for laughs more often than not, there’s a pain that can be felt from each awkward chuckle she lets out. Piani shows Agathe settling into a different form with her time at the retreat as she gains confidence within her writing and herself.

Jane Austen Wrecked My Life - MSP FilmJane Austen Wrecked My Life gives a cozy familiar feeling while exploring love through the life of Agathe, mainly due to the performance from its lead. Rutherford’s brilliant portrayal of Agathe, even in slapstick moments, is utterly convincing.  She doesn’t shy away from physical humor, showing her dedication to the role. Her character is a plain Jane, making her easy to see yourself in but also admire through the personal journey she goes on. The best moments from Rutherford are when she’s letting her character’s intelligence shine through quick-witted comebacks, paired perfectly with Piani’s superb writing. They show a woman that wears her insecurities on her sleeve but has enough confidence to stick up for herself when it’s needed.

There are plenty of tropes within Jane Austen Wrecked My Life that Piani is playing with, some directly coming from Austen’s work and thoughts. Within the relationship between Agathe and Felix, there’s an inkling of attraction; they both have different ways of finding love, with Felix relying on dating apps that Agathe despises. A genuine connection is felt between them with their shared interests, but there also feels like a vital romantic connection isn’t there, and that they are only attracted to one another because they have no other options. Their relationship reflects Austen’s thoughts on friendship being great sources of happiness, but also disappointment. Piani subverts expectations with the romance, letting Agathe flourish in her work rather than making a choice of partner be the focal point of the film. Marriage is not at the height of Agathe’s life; rather, finding purpose through her writing first before romance.

Cinematographer Pierre Mazoyer brings a warmth to the film through his work that pulls the fantasy of Austen’s work to life through the picturesque French countryside of the writing workshop. Who wouldn’t want to fall in love with their own work, and potentially a dreamy man, with a background of lush greenery and a lavishly decorated manor away from it all? Mazoyer captures the yearning between characters with his framing, making sure that although Agathe might not see Oliver secretly yearning for her, the audience does. There are many scenes that stand out to display Mazoyer’s work, but the best comes from Agathe sitting in a windowed nook desperately trying to finish her work with a yellow glow from the sun enveloping the room. The film’s combination of radiant visuals and inspiring storytelling will have audiences reflecting on their own fantastical dreams.

Jane Austen Wrecked My Life' Review: Cozy Jane Austen-Influenced Rom-Com  Marks a Smashing Debut for Laura PianiOverall, Piani takes a spin on Austen’s work that is refreshing with its use of romance, and charming with its humor. Agathe is a character that is easy to root for with her relatable relationship woes and her struggle to hone her talents. Jane Austen Wrecked My Life sweeps us off our feet and encourages us not to settle for anything less than what we deserve, reminding us that love and personal growth go hand in hand.

Grade: A

Podcast VIP: Ranking Mission: Impossible (Pre-Final Reckoning)

On this episode, we discuss our pre-Final Reckoning rankings to the Mission: Impossible franchise! We’ve had these conversations before, obviously, but our rankings to these movies have changed over the years. On a rewatch for Final Reckoning, things once again shifted around and we had to talk about it. 

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Movie Review: ‘Watch The Skies’ Helps Us Remember Discovery


Director: Victor Danell
Writers: Victor Danell, Jimmy Nivrén Olsson
Stars: Inez Dahl Torhaug, Jesper Barkselius, Sara Shirpey

Synopsis: A rebellious teenager who believes her missing father was abducted by aliens joins forces with a quirky UFO club of endearing misfits. They embark on a high-stakes adventure that defies the law and challenges the very fabric of reality.


There is a disclaimer here for people watching Watch the Skies in the US or other English speaking countries. For the US release, the filmmakers partnered with a company called Flawless, which takes AI tools and does a process they call visual dubbing. The cast is still speaking their lines and, since many of the cast members also speak English, they are also delivering those lines. Yet, instead of the dialogue and the movements of the actor’s mouth not matching like with traditional dubbing, Flawless has developed processes to make the voice and the mouth on screen sync. The technology also works for written language on screen, so any important written ideas are also available in the viewer’s language. 

Watch the Skies' director Victor Danell on eating Swedish tarts and  searching for UFOs | Space

That being the case, the real question is, can you tell? The answer is if you’re looking for it, yes, but it is rare that a mouth is in an uncanny position. It’s honestly a little worse on the ears. Because of the dubbed dialogue, the sound of voices is always crisp and nearly always audible. There isn’t the layering that occurs with sound captured on a film set, so like with other dubbing, the vocal track doesn’t perfectly match the scene and so it feels otherworldly with these subtleties. For those of us that are cinema purists it’s a bit of a let down as we don’t mind that “one-inch tall barrier of subtitles,” to quote filmmaker Bong Joon-ho. Yet, for those that create exciting films with universal themes in their own language, this is a way to really reach a broader audience who would otherwise eschew a foreign made film. With that being written, though, how is the movie?

Watch the Skies evokes the golden age of the late 20th century adventure story. It features a group that stumbles upon a conspiracy theory, a shady government organization, and unexplained phenomena that makes us question all that we hold as truth. It’s a fantastically well executed story that has inaccessible science explained in layman’s terms mixed with incredible visuals.

Co-writer, co-editor, and director Victor Danell has a panache when it comes to filmmaking. His feature is Speilbergian in the scope of his project and the heart he injects into it. With co-writer Jimmy Nivrén Olsson, Danell has created a story that feels familiar, but never the same as everything it is influenced by. There is an excitement for scientific curiosity and a complicated familial relationship at its core that really sings through the film.

The only disappointing aspect of the script is the interpersonal relationships. It often feels like the characters are doing or saying something to strain their relationships artificially. They don’t talk with each other enough about their feelings and in some ways it rings false. The personal resolution of the final frames feels diluted in a way because it’s hard to believe in such a short amount of time these people would have formed a bond that would supersede the slights suffered within the action of the film.

Watch the Skies – Exclusive Review and Interview: A Bold Sci-Fi Adventure  Rooted in 80s Heart - Orbital Today

Watch the Skies can be forgiven for this disappointment because it is so thrilling. There is a sequence as UFO Sweden, the group investigating the unexplained phenomena, really ramps up their operations. They attach a magnet to a raft and slowly row it out to a lake that is the crash site of what they hope is a UFO. Once they have something attached to the magnet, the team tries to reel it in with a winch. There’s shouts as the truck with the winch begins to move and the object gets closer. The butting heads come to the fore as the group notices that the UFO is an IFO (identified flying object) and not what they hoped, but Denise (Inez Dahl Torhaug) will not give up. It’s a taut sequence with a lot of shots edited expertly by Danell and co-editor Fredrik Morhedon and beautifully composed by cinematographer Hannes Krantz who is a director of photography who really knows how to shoot in the dark. 

In spite of complicated feelings about the use of AI, Watch the Skies is worth the price of admission. It has that feeling of when you were a kid at the movies and you saw something that made you want to find out the mysteries of the universe. It has that spark of adventure and the filmmaking acumen to go along with it. It’s a film meant for the big screen and hopefully with its slight augmentation will reach a much wider and enthusiastic audience.

Grade: B