Director: Luke Korem
Stars: Sabrina Solerno, Diane Warren, Downtown Julie Brown

Synopsis: The bizarre untold truth behind the greatest con in music history – Milli Vanilli.

White North American and European music executives love nothing more than using Black artists for financial gain and leaving them with the burden. From the 1950s, pop covers were stolen by white artists to bring in more money for studios, to country music theft of Hillbilly music. There’s no creative genius that wasn’t stolen and called their own. 

And then there’s the case of documentary titled Milli Vanilli, a German-French duo that took the music world by storm with “Girl You Know It’s True.” Like Albert Freedman and Dan Enright in Quiz Show, European music producers found their guys. They needed a brand, a story, and two struggling artists who oozed sex appeal to sell albums and make everyone rich. 

In the grand scheme of things, it hardly seemed to matter that Milli Vanilli couldn’t hold a note. German record producer Frank Farian saw stars, and, no doubt, blamed it on the money signs that undoubtedly caught his eyes falling down like rain. 

This is the crux of one of the greatest cons in music history, as laid bare in Luke Korem’s thought-provoking film. This is an examination of the motivations of the betrayal of public trust, a concept that carries a certain irony, considering how MTV began reshaping the music industry in the 1980s, prioritizing the visual spectacle over vocal prowess. We can blame it on Madonna, who had both, and everybody wanted their version of her.

Yes, it is a fraud, with the German-French duo being the victims of being made human capital with the relentless drive for profits. Internet companies today need constant content. Executives needed to strike while the iron was hot with the birth of music television. The duo had an astonishing rise, selling a staggering 50 million records. The Milli Vanilli album “All or Nothing” had five number-one singles, unheard of at the time. They even won a Grammy and had multiple platinum and gold records. 

Then, during a concert at Lake Compounce in Bristol, Connecticut, Rob Pilatus, and Fab Morvan were exposed during a technical malfunction, becoming a national punchline for late-night and radio drive-time hosts. The film then shows footage of televised American interviews where the duo had several communication breakdowns with the English language that was painfully evident. In one eye-opening scene, Milli Vanilli began an attempt to start a song with their voice and get the crowd involved. Only then did they start their visual dance number, and a noticeable improvement in vocal quality began. 

Almost everyone was complicit, including the pop idols. However, Milli Vanilli demonstrates the story through the poignant lens of Rob and Fab. You can empathize with their plight of being used to make everyone millions but judge them for falling victim to the alluring power of money and fame themselves. What Korem does so well is embrace the three-dimensional human story when it comes to the creation of fame, the strenuous journey, and fight to keep your place there. 

By all accounts, this is entertainment, and one could argue no one was hurt. By the time the jig was up, Arista Records had too much money invested to turn around. Personally, I have no idea how the executives wouldn’t know, with Fab Morvan claiming they did. Either way, no one stopped that gravy train, and that brings us full circle to how Rob and Fab were left to explain it all, feeling like dancing pawns, lip-syncing for their supper. 

You certainly cannot absolve Rob and Fab for their role – they are grown adults, after all, and know right from wrong. However, the film Milli Vanilli exposes a seminal moment in music history that had layers of complexity that went past the fraud. This was an exploitation of Blackartists and the deception of public trust that comes with marketing during the dawn of music television. 

At the same time, revealing the human cost of making a choice and not caring about the consequences until it’s too late.

Grade: B

Director: Maryam Keshavarz
Writer: Maryam Keshavarz
Stars: Layla Mohammadi, Niousha Noor, Arty Froushan

Synopsis: When a large Iranian-American family gathers, a family secret is uncovered that catapults the estranged mother and daughter into an exploration of the past, and to discover they are more alike than they know.

This piece was published during the 2023 SAG-AFTRA strike. Without the labor of the actors currently on strike, the movie being covered here wouldn’t exist.

As soon as The Persian Version opens, its energy never dials down. The movie consistently jumps from one scene to the next, with a frenetic pace that is oftentimes engaging but can, in certain moments, feel extremely overwhelming. Writer/director Maryam Keshavarz helms the movie with confidence, immediately setting the tone for the wild ride audiences will embark on, going back and forth from the past and present, whilst also having Leila (Layla Mohammadi) and Shireen (Niousha Noor) consistently break the fourth wall.

At its core, The Persian Version is about Leila’s relationship with her mother, who has always appeared stern and difficult towards her daughter, but there is a reason for these actions Leila will eventually discover why that is, which will become The Persian Version’s emotional core. The film was marketed, through its trailers, as a coming-of-age comedy in which Leila surprisingly gets pregnant and deals with this newfound event in her tumultuous life while her father (Bijan Daneshmand) is ill in the hospital. But that’s not what the movie is about. It mainly focuses on Leila’s connections with Shireen and how their past lives will eventually coalesce together so they can reconcile and hope for a brighter and happier future.

It does take a while to get into the movie’s groove, but once it finds its footing, The Persian Version is a highly enjoyable dramedy bolstered by two incredible performances from Mohammadi and Noor. The unfortunate (and fundamental) problem with The Persian Version lies in its editing, where the consistent back and forth between the past and present feels jarring and discombobulating. There are times in which Keshavarz directly tells us which time period this event is set, but there are also many sequences in which it’s hard to discern whether or not it’s set in the past or present.

It makes the movie’s overall presentation feel daunting, with the audience frequently picking up the puzzle pieces and figuring out exactly who it’s following and in which period it’s set. 

Sometimes, it’s easy, as we see younger versions of Leila and Shireen. But there are many times in which it overcomplicates itself instead of dialing down on its flashier aesthetics. Boldly affirming yourself as an artist through pure maximalism is always welcomed, though even the best wall-to-wall pieces know when to stop a bit for the emotions to weave in naturally and when to go all in. Keshavarz, unfortunately, has a hard time figuring out these pieces, and, as a result, the film never really finds its flow until the second act, where it starts to calm down just a smidge.

But then the story is flipped, and Shireen starts breaking the fourth wall. It becomes even more confusing as the movie now attempts to create two narrative threads with the same exhausting rhythm. It never really knows when to stop, which is a shame. However, when some more emotional sequences arrive, Keshavarz understands their power and restrains on being too showy, fully knowing that these scenes must be handled with care and that the acting performances should showcase massive empathy and heart.

Thankfully, the performances are phenomenal. Mohammadi gives one of the best breakout roles of any movie this year, deftly balancing relatable slices of comedy with a more human and vulnerable side. Some of the film’s biggest laughs involve Leila’s relationship with Maximillian (Tom Byrne), the man who surprisingly got her pregnant, even if she is queer. The two aren’t a perfect match, but they seem to make it work, even if her family isn’t impressed with him.

But The Persian Version is Noor’s movie through and through, imbuing Shireen with a remarkable array of raw emotion and unadulterated love. She never explicitly shows that she loves Leila (we eventually get to find out why, and it’s devastating), but we see, deep down, how much she cares about her just through her eyes and how she looks at Leila. It’s a mostly quiet and reserved turn that fills the movie with as much emotional resonance as possible and makes its final scene all the more poignant. Noor should be at the top of everyone’s list for Best Supporting Actress this year, in her most powerful work as an actor so far.

She and Mohammadi are the main reasons The Persian Version is worth watching. The supporting actors are equally as excellent but do not get enough screen time to make an impact as much as they do. And even if some of its visual style can be distracting and remove some of its character development, The Persian Version remains an impassioned piece of work that sets Kezhavarz, Mohammadi, and Noor as ones to watch if you weren’t paying attention to their work before.

Grade: B

Director: Gabe Polsky
Writers: Gabe Polsky, Liam Satre-Meloy, and John Williams
Stars: Nicolas Cage, Rachel Keller, Xander Berkeley

Synopsis: An Ivy League drop-out travels to the Colorado wilderness, where he joins a team of buffalo hunters on a journey that puts his life and sanity at risk. Based on the highly acclaimed novel by John Williams.

There’s much to admire when it comes to Butcher’s Crossing. The breathtaking landscape was shot exclusively on the Blackfeet Reservation in Colorado. There’s a majestic shot of a buffalo hunt scene that doesn’t quite rival anything with Dances with Wolves, but it is good. Even a sense of isolation and danger comes with the American West. However, what Gabe Polsky’s film falls short of is depicting a group descending into madness, which is what the script aims for.

Based on the novel of the same name by John Edward Williams, one of the fundamental issues of Butcher’s Crossing is how it loses its protagonist along the way. That character is Will Andrews (played by Fred Hechinger), who leaves in the middle of his Harvard education for an adventure in a Buffalo hide trading post called Butcher’s Crossing. While there, he locates an old family friend (played by Academy Award nominee Paul Raci), hoping to allow him to accompany his men on a buffalo hunt.

Raci’s character is obnoxious (frankly, his performance seems incredibly over the top) and scoffs at the idea. Young Will then runs into a brazen buffalo hunter who goes by the name of Miller (Nicolas Cage). We cannot tell if Miller sees the youngster as a mark or wants to take him on what he promises: a hunt. You can only read about it in books. The idea is too irresistible for Will to pass up, using all his savings to finance the quest. (Will has $500, or about $14,811.79 in today’s money.) Frankly, I cannot believe they didn’t shoot and toss him in a creek.

From there, we see what makes Polsky’s adaptation tick. Along with his trusty hunting companion, Charley (an unrecognizable Xander Berkeley), and Fred (Jeremy Bobb), often the voice of dissent, they go past the thinning bison herds of the Kansas Plains to a mountain valley in Colorado, where Miller claims to have the biggest herd he’s ever seen and hides as thick as their heads. In one of the film’s best scenes, during the journey to get there, they encounter a mother with her children who have become lost from their party (unsure if their last name was “Donner”) and need water. Miller denies them, holding a gun on them until they leave.

The rest of the film can be interesting, but the adaptation takes a turn, beefing up Cage’s role and tracking his obsession with murdering the entire herd. This consequence causes Will to be reduced to what amounts to sleepwalking throughout the rest of the picture. Here is where the film’s tension should be wrapped up considerably. Instead, Hechinger’s Will attempts to get lost in hysteria but is sullener than anything.

Cage’s Miller takes center stage, including keeping his California accent in the middle of a perilous frontier film. Miller is obsessive but greedy and never succumbs to a psychosis of madness. In fact, the character is never as driven as you’d like, even when attempting to locate the bison herd. Miller is no Colonel Walter Kurtz, and the only psychological break comes from supporting characters in a scene that lacks any raw power. Cage’s character is a narcissist who should be using manipulation and a type of abuse to get the group to do his bidding. Instead, he has a forgiving side that rings false.

In the original work, Will’s reverence for nature and the teachings of Ralph Waldo Emerson led him to find peace where humans and nature meet. Just like Saul Rubinek’s W.W. Beauchamp found more than he was bargaining for with the nature of violence in Unforgiven, Will should begin to find out how society is protecting him back home from the cruel reality nature has to offer. Instead, we are given a heavy-handed history lesson about the pillaging of American buffalo.

Butcher’s Crossing never fully completes the psychological factor it desperately needs to connect and meet the film’s weighty themes. The attempt can be respected since the final product as a whole is not as interesting as a handful of parts. However, the film sacrifices storytelling for heavy-handed preachiness that wasn’t needed.

Grade: C-

Director: Sam Wrench
Stars: Taylor Swift, Amanda Balen, Taylor Banks

Synopsis: Experience the breathtaking Eras Tour concert, performed by the one and only Taylor Swift.

Universally intimate. Those are the words I use to describe Taylor’s music. I am reminded of her best lyrics – lyrics which share specific moments of life that paint a vivid picture of lives lived. Taylor Swift writes songs that are a mosaic of moments we all can relate to – but each moment is uniquely specific as if it were being shared by a best friend. It’s universal, and it’s intimate.

What Era’s tour concert Film manages to do is celebrate the impact each of these songs has had on the lives of the listener. Taylor Swift has been a pop culture icon for 15 years, and for most, at least one of her songs has left a lasting impression on our memories. Whether it’s “Love Story” or “Teardrops on my Guitar” or “Clean” or “Exile,” or “All Too Well.” Every era has connected with someone, and Eras tour manages to create an environment where every audience member is transported to a world where they can share in that universally intimate moment. There are performance pieces that infuse new meaning into older songs (such as the elegantly bittersweet performance of “Tolerate It”), and other songs are hype songs begging the audience to move from passive observation into active dance. Red and 1989 are the best examples of that active call into dance, and the energy that fills a theater is unlike anything else this side of Avengers Endgame. It’s an electric experience, being a part of an audience that gets transported away from a multiplex in a small town with no hope of ever seeing Taylor Swift in concert to front row seats at SoFi Stadium. 

The transportive effect of The Eras Concert Film is due in large part to the impeccable recording quality of the show. I made an effort to look for the cameras, and throughout the nearly three hour film, I only saw cameras 3 times. It’s magical, the almost perfection achieved by a crew that is purposefully invisible. Watching Eras doesn’t feel like watching a movie or a live recording; it feels like being there at SoFi stadium, surrounded by the noise of a crowd of over 100,000 people. So much of this can only come from the theater experience; with crystal clear sound reverberating off the walls, and a massive screen that floods your vision completely. Taylor goes from pop-star queen to goddess in the theater. The audio tracks are mastered to place the audience in the back of the theater, so cheering and getting into the music doesn’t feel out of place, while letting the music production and Taylor’s beautiful vocal work be front and center, using every speaker to its maximum effect.  

And Taylor is the main attraction of Eras. Her performance is controlled and powerful, and her stage presence demands the attention of the audience. This is a three-hour performance, and Taylor’s vocal (and physical) endurance is on full display. Empowering Taylor are the changing costumes and production design that shifts with each era.

The production design changes with each era, and where these transitions may have taken minutes in real time, through the medium of film, it’s instantaneous. One set ends as the next begins, and the anticipation for each set is palpable. 

All of these components mark Eras as a competent, and potentially great, concert film. But that isn’t the true magic of Eras – the true magic is found in the recontextualization of her music. I’ve already mentioned the jaw-dropping “Tolerate It” set piece, but it isn’t the only piece that utilizes the set to its fullest potential. “The Man”, “Betty,” “Look What You Made Me Do,” and “Vigilante Shit” are just a few songs that became truly transcendent on film. These songs have varying energies, but on a massive stage with a moving set and pitch perfect camera-work, these songs become all encompassing, begging the audience to look on in awe and burn this moment into their memories. Like many others on Twitter, I didn’t love “Vigilante Shit” on Midnight’s release day. It’s a fun throwback to the sonic palette of Reputation, but it doesn’t fit into the vibe of the rest of the album. Only through seeing it performed live, does one truly understand the vision that Taylor Swift has for the song. 

And yet, the most impactful moment in the concert for me isn’t in those songs with bombastic choreography and impressive sets. For me, the most impactful moment was when Taylor Swift asked the audience if they had ten minutes to spare. “All Too Well” may very well be my favorite Taylor Swift song. It may be composed of a simple four chord progression in the key of C major. It may not have the excellent production of Jack Antinoff. In its simplicity, “All Too Well” allows for one thing – the only thing that matters –  to shine through: Taylor Swift’s universally intimate storytelling. 

I’ve loved the song since it first came out. Every part of the song is burned into my mind, Taylor’s vocal timbre, the distorted swell of the electric guitar, and the snare drum that lingers every time it’s hit. That original CD, released by Big Machine Records, was played hundreds of times, just so I could skip to “All Too Well.” 

“All Too Well (10 Minute Version) (Taylor’s Version)” didn’t connect with me when I listened to it last year. At first, I thought it was a headphone issue – I wasn’t using my beautiful Sony WH1000-XM3’s. But when I listened to it again, I just couldn’t connect with it the same way as I always had. It wasn’t the expansion I had hoped for. Its guitar wasn’t as clear as in the original recording, and Taylor’s voice has changed throughout the years, making a record that was all about the naivety of love and innocence lost feel different. And of course, the snare didn’t linger anymore. I appreciated the ambition of Taylor re-releasing her music far more than I appreciated the actual re-recordings. They didn’t have the same emotional impact on me. Despite the more layered production, the additional verses, and that all new production, I found myself disengaged with the work. 

When I watched The Eras Tour movie, I was transported into a whole new world. I’ve made the joke that it was a religious experience with my siblings and friends… but the more I reflect on it, the more true that statement is. “All Too Well (10 Minute Version)” as featured in the film doesn’t feel less intimate than that original recording from 11 years ago, because despite the larger audience and the bigger production, every single eye is glued to Taylor’s impassioned singing and her powerful guitar playing. Through the medium of recorded live performance, when sitting in a room with 200 people, watching a performance played in front of 100,000, “All Too Well (10 Minute Version)” felt far more intimate than it ever had in my headphones playing in the dark of night. 
Era’s Tour is a massive achievement for Taylor Swift, and is a film that every swiftie – nay, every individual who considers themselves even slightly intrigued by her music – should be watching in cinemas. The three hours fly by in an atmosphere buzzing with excitement. It’s an extremely high quality production accessible to far more people than the concert was, at a fraction of the cost. And while some songs were cut from the live performances for the film, it flows together perfectly and makes for the biggest movie event of the year. 

Grade: A+

Director: Martin Scorsese
Writers: Martin Scorsese and Eric Roth
Stars: Leonardo DiCaprio, Lily Gladstone, Robert DeNiro

Synopsis: Members of the Osage tribe in the United States are murdered under mysterious circumstances in the 1920s, sparking a major F.B.I. investigation involving J. Edgar Hoover.

“Can you find the wolves in this picture?” 

In Martin Scorsese’s epic tale of the murder and torture of the Osage people in the 1920s, there are, indeed, many wolves to be found. But, as in life, they are never who they seem to be. Of course, if you know your American history, they will be easier to spot. But the people most affected by this story, the Osage, did not have that particular privilege. Their story here begins in pain, forced off their land and accepting the fact that their children will not learn their ways. Their piercing wails say more than any dialogue could ever muster. However, after miraculously striking oil on their new land, everything changes for the Osage. They become some of the richest people in the country. They have finery, and some level of power. But money does not equal equality and, over time, they intermingle with white people in this new land. 

Killers of the Flower Moon, at first, is a simple love story. Ernest Burkhart (Leonardo DiCaprio), after returning home from the war, without engaging in combat, lives with his uncle, William “King” Hale (Robert DeNiro). Here, he is shown how things work. The Osage have rights to property and money in the town, but there are opportunities to marry into this advantage. Dicaprio, playing a simple man, his jaw jutting in mockery of his movie star good looks, meets and quickly falls in love with Mollie (Lily Gladstone). Scorsese’s gift, in this first act, is to make us feel for Ernest, and believe the love story between him and Mollie.  Both DiCaprio and Gladstone shine in these sequences, their smirking flirtation creating heat, even without much physical contact. 

Scorsese and his production designer, Jack Fisk, seemingly build every set from the ground up, including Mollie’s house. This sense of lived-in authenticity creates a comfort that allows us to slide into this world with an easy grace. Additionally, the music created by the late Robbie Robertson creates the heartbeat of this very real story of almost unbelievable pain and loss. Scorsese is able to create a world that is both separate from us and able to focus on lives that are given an inherent arc and depth.

This initial love story, though wildly convincing, is quickly replaced with a world that absolutely sees color. The use of the Tulsa Race Massacre to help us understand that white supremacy, especially in the 1920’s will not allow non white people to gain real power, especially power not shared. Master editor Thelma Schoonmaker is able to weave this footage into the process of the film so expertly, that we feel it in the present moment. It is important to note the duplicitous nature of apparently kindly characters, as opposed to those involved in Tulsa. Scorsese makes a point to focus on characters who seem to be connected to Native people and their actions. King Hale, specifically, acts as a friend, even sitting with them in their pain, and yet, behind the scenes, he is a different man entirely. Don’t let his disapproval of the KKK fool you, he is simply careful to keep his hands clean while doing the same work. 

For all of his faults, and there are many, Hale does have awareness of exactly who he is. He is shrewd, cunning, and understands people. Ernest, in a sense, is his opposite. He believes that he is a good man, as most of us do. But he is foolish, and easily manipulated into doing the next wrong thing. Ernest truly believes that his actions are not hideous, are not manipulative, and are not evil. Scorsese and Eric Roth, pen a screenplay (based on a novel by David Grann) that creates an incredibly specific trick. They help us understand the reasoning behind Ernest, while also never letting him off the hook. Much of this can also be attributed to the transcendent performance of Gladstone. She takes a character that could have been relegated to the role of victim, and imbues her with strength, conviction, and deep soulful sorrow. Her performance here is unforgettable. Although, yes, Killers of the Flower Moon, is from the perspective of rotten white men, it is her story that is lasting in our minds.

Scorsese, unlike in previous iterations of stories of greed, refuses to let his audience consider being on the side of the monsters. Without giving much away, he actually shows unflinching torture of a people, without giving in to a tendency to glorify the violence. Given that it is a movie about numerous murders of Native people, it is a subtle piece of work, in terms of violence.

But that subtlety does not hide the monster of white supremacy. At two different points, the script makes a point to mention that the white man’s actual guts are to the point of bursting. Their insatiable greed and assumed right to riches compels them to devour. They devour until they are metaphorically vomiting Native blood and oil. In one particularly memorable scene, King Hale continues to use his knowledge by having fire set to his property to gain insurance money. Scorsese and cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto create a horrific, nearly satanic, sequence featuring DeNiro quietly watching from safety as the world burns and lackeys do his bidding. He seems to be above reproach, no matter what disgusting acts he puts into motion.

Martin Scorsese seems obsessed with terrible, evil men. He reckons with our ability to destroy one another, seemingly with ease. He, and the film, sets up a possibility that these men will have to reckon with their actions by the time the credits roll. Instead, he cleverly removes context of the ending of the film and forces us, the audience, to reckon with the role we play instead. Terrible things have indeed occurred throughout history. Are we doing anything to change that in the future? Or are we simply devouring their pain greedily?

Grade: A

Director: David Slade
Writer: Michael Gilio
Stars: Casey Likes, E’myri Crutchfield, Elizabeth Reaser

Synopsis: A legendary monster called Sawtooth Jack terrorizes residents in a small Midwestern town while he rises from the cornfields every Halloween and makes his way toward those who are brave enough to confront him.

This piece was published during the 2023 SAG-AFTRA strike. Without the labor of the actors currently on strike, the movie being covered here wouldn’t exist.

David Slade’s latest movie, Dark Harvest, is a strange beast. On the one hand, it has one of the worst screenplays of the year, with characters so paper-thin who deliver the most ridiculous lines (such as “You got a gun?” “I got a gun.” or, “Where did you learn how to do that?” “I know things.”) in the most nonchalant ways imaginable. On the other hand, the film contains some of the most creative action setpieces of the year and an overarching story that feels so expansive it’s almost criminal how Slade and screenwriter Michael Gilio undersell it at almost every turn.

Based on the book of the same name by Norman Partridge, Dark Harvest takes place in 1963, where, from our understanding, high school teenagers must participate in “The Run” every Halloween night to keep the town’s crops safe. “The Run” consists of the boys being unable to eat for three days before the event, so their lust for food will convince them to run towards Sawtooth Jack (Dustin Ceithamer), a creature who magically appears every Halloween. Whoever kills Sawtooth Jack first gets to win a very nice car and get out of town.

Richie (Casey Likes) wants to achieve this after his brother, Jim (Britain Dalton), won The Run last year. He wants to win to join his brother wherever he may be, but as The Run continues, he learns about the town’s dark secret and Sawtooth Jack’s origins, putting him on a path to end the curse once and for all.

It’s in this specific moment that Dark Harvest becomes interesting, but one has to go through an expository-driven first act that is filled with so many tired clichés that it’s easy to think the film won’t progress to a somewhat satisfying turn. It’s particularly hard to invest ourselves in a movie with no interesting characters. Every male character is one-dimensional: they all exude machismo in some way (either through smoking cigarettes, dressing up like Danny Zuko from Grease, or fighting man to man…with knives, of course!) and think they’re the coolest dude in town. There’s no difference between Richie and Riley Blake (Austin Autry), except that the latter-mentioned character acts more like a bully. Remove that, though, and they both have the same arc.

The only character with a modicum of development is Kelly Haines (E’myri Crutchfield), who acts as Richie’s love interest. However, her arc is also associated with some of the film’s most problematic moments, as she is the town’s only Black girl and is frequently dehumanized with racial slurs hurled towards her.

When the two characters kiss for the first time, it’s in front of the town, in which its citizens all look on with utter disgust. This only serves as a reminder of how deeply-rooted their racism is, if you didn’t understand it through their constant insults of its only Mexican kid, Bud (Alejandro Akara), who is far more underdeveloped than Kelly. Still, Slade and Gilio give Kelly enough agency throughout the movie that she not only stands up to herself in these difficult moments but also helps Richie at his attempt to defeat Sawtooth Jack.

Then, we’ve got Officer Jerry Ricks (Luke Kirby), who could be an interesting antagonist for Richie/Kelly but is played with such an overexaggerated tone by Kirby that it falls completely flat on its face. There isn’t a scene in which Ricks isn’t yelling incessantly like a cartoon character who got his toe stubbed by Bugs Bunny or something of that ilk. I don’t know what he was exactly doing here, but it’s embarrassing.

It wouldn’t have been that big of a problem if the other performances had balanced things out, but it saddens me to report that none of the actors give any noteworthy turns here. Even Elizabeth Reaser, who previously collaborated with Slade on The Twilight Saga: Eclipse and Nightmare Cinema’s This Way to Egress, can’t muster up something at least palatable as Richie’s mother, especially during one of the film’s bigger emotional moments.

Even Likes delivers his lines with no sense of engagement to the story. If the main actor can’t seem to care about the film he stars in, how do you expect the audience to want to watch the whole thing? Well, there is something Slade can do to at least make the film semi-compelling, which is to make its core sequence, The Run, feel like the most exhilarating extended horror action setpiece in ages.

Cinematographer Larry Smith consistently shoots Dark Harvest frenetically, shaking the camera in various ways to disorient the viewers. But he ups the ante during The Run. He creates some extremely cathartic and truly vivid images, particularly during a sequence set in a cornfield where Sawtooth Jack reawakens and starts to murder some of The Run’s participants in one creatively bloody way after another. I expected the film to be violent, but not quite like this. And it’s all the better for it. There isn’t a single action setpiece in Dark Harvest that feels stale – Slade’s penchant for self-aware campiness with the same energy as Anthony Dod Mantle’s lens in 28 Days Later creates some incredibly gnarly stuff that practically saves the film from being a complete failure.

A final plot twist, which reveals not only the origins of Sawtooth Jack but expands upon the town’s connection to The Run, also helps to lift Dark Harvest and give it some form of emotional investment. It also brings massive weight to the movie’s ending, which could shock some people, even if one can see it coming a mile away. Still, its impact works, and its post-credit scene may or may not set up a Dark Harvest 2, making us want to clamor for more, even if Partridge only wrote one book. 

Releasing Dark Harvest on VOD with little to no promotion might have been a mistake for Amazon, as it marks the final movie to be distributed by United Artists Releasing before it merged into Amazon MGM Studios earlier last month. It was a sign of an absolute lack of confidence from the studio after its release was delayed many times due to the COVID-19 pandemic. As a result, Dark Harvest may not find a big reach for a broader audience to turn it into a cult classic like Slade’s 30 Days of Night. However, those who have seen it will probably be inclined to recommend it to others, even if every actor does completely shoddy work and the screenplay is, by all accounts, terrible. There’s just enough good in it to make it the next great midnight movie classic, and that might be enough for anyone looking for a killer time at the movies during Spooky Season.

Grade: C+

Director: Nahnatchka Khan
Writers: David Matalon, Sasha Perl-Raver, and Jen D’Angelo
Stars: Kiernan Shipka, Olivia Holt, Charlie Gillespie

Synopsis: When the infamous “Sweet Sixteen Killer” returns 35 years after his first murder spree to claim another victim, 17-year-old Jamie accidentally travels back in time to 1987, determined to stop the killer before he can start.

Nahnatchka Khan takes tired concepts, like the horror and teen comedy genres, and doesn’t make them fresh again, but somehow incredibly entertaining. That’s because Don’t Trust the B—- in Apartment 23 and Fresh Off the Boat writer/director (and frequent Ali Wong collaborator) adapts an American black comedy slasher into an often hilarious cultural critique of a decade known for its social faux pas. In other words, the film is Totally Killer.

Khan’s film follows Jamie (Kiernan Shipka), a 17-year-old high school student rebelling against her overbearing and controlling mother, Pam (Julie Bowen), and her needy father, Blake (Lochlyn Munro). Jamie wants to go to a costume party with her best friend, Amelia (Kelcey Mawema), but Pam wants her daughter to stay home and hand out candy to the trick-or-treaters. That’s because, in 1987, Pam had her three best friends murdered by the Sweet 16 Killer.

Frankly, Jamie is sick of hearing about it. Blake drops her off, and Pam hands out the candy. That’s until the Sweet 16 Killer returns wearing their famous Max Headroom masks. The killer is equipped with a giant knife. But make no mistake, the joke is on them, because Pam is a kick-ass mom who has been taking self-defense classes for years. 

After hiding numerous weapons around the house (she makes the fatal mistake of talking too much), Pam makes a valiant attempt to survive the attack but is found stabbed to death by some grade schoolers looking for free diabetes-inducing treats. 

Now that her mother is the fourth victim on the notorious killer’s list, Pam begins to try to save her mother by traveling back to a time dominated by big hair, colorful neon shirts with shoulder pads, and acid-washed jeans, where all the rage is to stop the killer, which means it will save her mother in the future—no matter the consequences.

Totally Killer was written by David Matalon, Sasha Perl-Raver, and Jen D’Angelo. Typically, too many hands in a script would make things chaotic and incoherent. However, Khan’s film hits the right note of clever satire, biting commentary, and horror thrills to create a consistently entertaining, yet not all surprising, streaming dark comedy with fun twists of nostalgia. Just like Happy Death Day and Freaky, respectively.

Totally Killer has a much lighter touch because the film is more comic and fantasy-based than anything. Yet, since the film is produced by Jason Blum when murders occur, they can be sobering because they are particularly jarring. I mean, who wants to see Claire Dunphy scream for her life and get stabbed a couple dozen times in the back for fun (even though I could see Phil Dunphy finally snapping)? Since the film really is a comedy, the writers make the horror count.

While the script can be very clever with its jokes, particularly when Kiernan Shipka’s deadpan reactions to the politically incorrect actions, statements, and overall attitude towards women clash with today’s feminist principles, the time travel plot is glossed over without real thought or care, with a flimsy excuse of a conductor. It’s as if they wanted to do Back to the Future but had the Netflix streaming dud When We First Met in the background, threw a photobooth into the script, and washed their hands of it. Not to mention, why not just go back to the night of her mom’s murder and not decades prior?

However, that’s a minor complaint, because Khan’s film doesn’t want to redefine the time travel genre. Totally Killer is meant to provide an entertaining and smart social commentary, in which it slays often and well. It’s an entertaining slasher entry for people who are non-horror enthusiasts, but want to dip their toes in those bloody good waters that October has to offer. 

Grade: B

Director: Kitty Green
Writers: Kitty Green and Oscar Redding
Stars: Julia Garner, Jessica Henwick, Hugo Weaving

Synopsis: US backpackers Hanna and Liv take a job in a remote Australian pub for some extra cash and are confronted with a bunch of unruly locals and a situation that grows rapidly out of their control.

Kitty Green’s sophomore feature directorial effort, The Royal Hotel, is not easy to watch. At first, it starts out in a rather conventional manner, as it follows Hanna (Julia Garner) and Liv (Jessica Henwick) taking a job at a bar in a highly remote place in Australia to make money. Liv’s credit card has been maxed out, and the two can’t finish their backpacking trip if they do not find employment. Arriving at The Royal Hotel, the owner, Billy (Hugo Weaving), described the job as easy enough and should theoretically be simple once they get accustomed to the tasks they must perform. 

However, it quickly becomes a nightmare, as Hanna and Liv are consistently catcalled by some of the men in the bar, including Matty (Toby Wallace), who has made some sexual advances towards Hanna, and Dolly (Daniel Henshall), who at first appears friendly but slowly starts to show his true nature to the girls. The film is inspired by Pete Gleeson’s 2016 documentary Hotel Coolgardie, chronicling two Finnish backpackers’ stint at a local hotel in Coolgardie after their credit cards were stolen in Bali. 

Gleeson’s vérité documentary is extremely disturbing. The audience gets to see firsthand the verbal abuse Steph and Lina receive from the patrons, including their boss, who consistently berates them and “jokes” about their nationality to diminish their efforts. It’s a fascinating watch at times, especially when Gleeson attempts to sew a narrative thread between the girl and the late ‘Canman,’ who acts as a protector figure for them. But the final twenty minutes or so are sickening, as Gleeson films one of the men taking advantage of Lina while on a camping trip after she had one too many drinks while the others sit and do nothing to prevent this from happening. It also raises many ethical questions on vérité filmmaking: how far are the filmmakers willing to go in capturing this story without breaking the artifice? Way too far, as the camping trip caused Lina to contract an infection, resulting in permanent eyesight loss in one eye and over 30% in the other. 

Green’s film does not show any rape but alludes to the men’s intentions through their verbal and non-verbal interactions with the protagonists. She also transposes many key sequences from the documentary into the world of fiction, making The Royal Hotel more of a character-driven thriller that isn’t afraid of challenging the audience on toxic masculinity. 

In the film, Liv seems more open-minded to the culture than Hanna and consistently gaslights her into thinking everything is fine, most notably when Billy calls her a “sweet c—t” within minutes after they arrive. Liv believes it’s just an expression they coined here, while Hanna doesn’t believe it is. This scene establishes the dynamic between the two throughout most of the film. Liv wants to be more independent in meeting new people and exploring what this town offers, but Hanna quickly wants to go home. The documentary sees both characters as equals who experience Coolgardie together and put up with the patrons’ commentary to make money, while Green’s film pits a quasi-rivalry against the two as the film progresses. 

At some point, the dynamic becomes redundant, but that’s when Green morphs the film into something far more unsettling than it initially introduced itself as. Near its midpoint, the film’s centerpiece scene involves a tense conversation between Hanna and Dolly (which Green takes massive inspiration from Lina’s conversation with Pikey in Hotel Coolgardie, though with a far less humorous tone). His behavior was already misogynist by then but becomes even more disturbing as he begins to make Grizzly sounds at her (alluding to the fact that she is Canadian, though is pretending to be one) and throw pennies on the bar floor. 

The most difficult part of the scene is watching Hanna attempting to regain control but feeling completely helpless as none of the other customers around her want to de-escalate the situation and move Dolly out of the bar. It’s as if the town has adopted these actions as normal – and acceptable – towards women and won’t do anything to protect them from harm. It’s one of the most terrifying depictions of toxic masculinity ever put on film, and the scene will stay with you long after the credits have rolled.

The Royal Hotel takes an even more brutal and unnerving turn during its final act. While most of the abuse shown before the climax is verbal, Green shows barbaric acts of physical abuse near the movie’s end. It’s not as violent as some other films that have depicted the same subjects as The Royal Hotel, but its sharp cuts by editor Kasra Rassoulzadegan and wide shots from cinematographer Michael Latham convey its excessive brutality with aplomb. Earlier scenes establish the setting and characters, but it also allows Green to slowly crank up the sense of atmospheric dread as the men become more violent toward the protagonists. 

The sound design effectively conveys such, with many scenes occurring when the bar is overflowing with patrons. You can’t hear a single discernable sound nor keep track of everything around you. You have to shout at people to get their attention, but as the men drink more beer, their violent behavior becomes more erratic. The tension is at a maximum and never diminishes, even when the cook, Carol (Ursula Yovich), attempts to regain control in the bar, while Billy drowns out his sorrows and never once takes the woman’s side. 

Julia Garner gives the best performance of her career as Hanna, especially during its latter half. I’ll admit her earlier work hasn’t been my cup of tea, but in The Royal Hotel, she delivers a far bigger breakthrough performance than the ones that put her on the map in Green’s The Assistant and Ozark. A particular shot that occurs near the end involving Garner still hasn’t left my mind, showcasing how incredibly talented she can be. Her emotional progression, just through her eyes and facial expressions, from the moment we get introduced to her to its final shot, shows a massive, top-to-bottom transformation in her psyche. She first appears reserved and terrified, and naturally so. But something clicks inside of her that gives Hanna enough power to stand up for herself once and for all. 

Henwick is also terrific as Liv but doesn’t have enough screentime for her arc to shift meaningfully, unlike Hanna, who isn’t the same person she once was as soon as they walked into that bar. Liv’s arc feels truncated, especially during its latter half, when she could’ve focused more on her before fully returning to Hanna. At 91 minutes, the film feels too long in some areas and too short in others. Plenty of cyclical scenes in the bar could’ve easily been trimmed down, while Green could’ve also helped flesh out the character relationships more because there was far more to tell with Liv. Regardless, The Royal Hotel remains a must-see, despite how difficult the watch will be for anyone sitting in front of it. Garner performs exceptionally, while Weaving and Henshall are terrifying to watch on screen. Green has never avoided discussing difficult subjects in her documentaries Ukraine is Not a Brothel and Casting JonBenet. With The Assistant and The Royal Hotel, she uses the world of fiction to craft deeply unsettling but necessary films that challenge audiences on the questions of power dynamics and toxic masculinity.

Grade: A-