Director: Denys Arcand
Writer: Denys Arcand
Stars: Rémy Girard, Marie-Mai, Guylaine Tremblay

Synopsis: In an era of political correctness, identity evolution, protests, cultural scandals, activism, media storms, and other disputes, an elderly man no longer having faith in humanity, discovers new landmarks and thus his happiness

Denys Arcand isn’t shy in provoking and eliciting strong reactions from the public. Whether it was through his satires The Decline of the American Empire or the Academy Award-winning The Barbarian Invasions (Arcand is still the only French Canadian filmmaker to have won an Oscar), there isn’t a single person who comes out of his films feeling indifferent, regardless if you liked it or not. But it’s been a while since he’s made something as memorable, or at least as interesting, as his Oscar-winning film. Days of Darkness pushed far too many buttons of provocation just because he thought he could, despite Marc Labrèche and Diane Kruger attempting to salvage the film, while The Fall of the American Empire is just plain bad.

Has Arcand lost his filmmaking and screenwriting touch? Or has he always been a “bitter, old, reactionary crank,” as some have recently qualified him? With his latest movie, Testament, he seems to approach the latter as he attempts to criticize our society’s alleged obsession with political correctness and fails miserably at discussing any of the themes and messages he tries to convey.

It doesn’t help that the story is too scattered for its good. The film starts with Jean-Michel Bouchard (Rémy Girard, a frequent Arcand collaborator), who has lost all will to live. He walks every day in the cemetery, longing for his hopefully peaceful demise, though he keeps himself busy by working a day or two at the archives and tending with his friends at the Parizeau-Duplessis retirement home. Herein lies the first part of his “satire,” the home is, of course, named after two of Québec’s most controversial Premiers: Jacques Parizeau and Maurice Duplessis.

In that problematically-named retirement home lies a mural that glorifies a scene of genocide against Indigenous people, with which many activists who suddenly show up at the front door take issue. This causes a massive political scandal, with the Health and Social Services Minister (Caroline Néron) urging the home’s director, Suzanne Francoeur (Sophie Lorain), to find a solution. She hires two painters (Gaston Lepage & Louis-José Houde) to remove the mural, which appeases the activists. 

However, when the Deputy Minister of Culture (played here by controversial playwright Robert Lepage, whose shows SLĀV and Kanata were both canceled after being accused of cultural appropriation) finds out that the mural has high artistic value and was painted by one of the most renowned artists in history, more scandal is created, as nationalist protestors want the mural to be shown again. Oh, and did I forget to mention there’s a subplot involving the retirement home’s library being turned into a video game center for no reason other than an excuse for Arcand to make tired jokes about old people not being able to adapt to new technologies? Yeah…

By describing the plot, we’ve already lost our central protagonist and his arc, which is about Jean-Michel slowly realizing that there is more to his life than he believes. Had the film solely focused on that introspective character’s journey, it would’ve been one of Arcand’s best because Girard gives one of his most compassionate performances. Sure, he is a consistently good actor and always gives his all with whatever character he portrays, but he always gives just a bit extra when working with Arcand. The core of The Barbarian Invasions was about Rémy’s battle with cancer, and some of the later scenes in the film are simply heartbreaking to watch. In Testament, Girard takes a far more meditative approach than he did in the Oscar winner, and the results are simply staggering.

One scene in particular, in which he quasi-confesses his love to Suzanne after she believes he’s been having an affair with Flavie (Marie-Mai, in her first non-dubbed film role), who visits him every week, is the film at its best. It’s a poignant meditation on the meaning of life and what we, as individuals, must do to reawaken our spirit and want to continue living, even if it seems pointless to go on when we’ve seemingly lost everything. Arcand tries to visually represent this through Guylaine Tremblay’s character, who begins to drink, smoke, and binge-eat fast food after her ultra-fit boyfriend dies of a stroke seconds after finishing a long bike run. There’s a bit of exaggeration in her mannerisms, but Jean-Michel’s actions, as he learns more about Suzanne and her family, convince him there is more to his life than he had thought. In my opinion, that’s the heart of Arcand’s film, and it more than succeeds.

However, he seems too busy attempting to criticize Québec’s alleged penchant for “woke” ideologies, joking about cultural appropriation, activism, the use of pronouns, gender identity, intersectional feminism, climate change, and even openly mocking several minorities under the guise of “satire.” Arcand may not be a right-wing figure, but he – and conservatives in general – fail to realize that the word “woke” means “being alert to racial prejudice and discrimination.” So, if you believe something slightly left-leaning is “woke,” it means the above definition and not what you think woke is. But that doesn’t stop Arcand from making “jokes” that are profoundly transphobic, misogynist, racist, and, above all else, unfunny. 

The only times I chuckled were during its National Assembly session parodies, where the satire of parties like the Coalition Avenir Québec and Québec Solidaire are so close to reality it becomes naturally funny. René Richard Cyr’s Culture Minister dozing off in the background seems an apt descriptor of our current legislature because we all know, deep down, that they do absolutely nothing, which Arcand cheekily points out through the provincial government’s response to COVID-19.

How is it inadmissible that a society that has grown to be more progressive over time wants to fix the errors of our past? Anything dated and or/offensive should absolutely be recontextualized or, if needed, removed, but Arcand posits this perfectly acceptable response as anti-art or anti-culture through the commentaries of his painters who are openly saddened to be erasing what they believe to be “important art,” but also through his own words. Last week, Arcand appeared on Tout le monde en parle and said “fuck off” to anyone who told him that he should’ve consulted the Indigenous community before making the film:

Arcand: I do not believe in consultations. It’s now the latest trend when we have to talk about Indigenous people or whatever. We’re always supposed to consult. I’m completely opposed to this. I think the creative process is an absolutely personal act that comes from deep within ourselves. It’s like if you asked Shakespeare if he went to Italy to ask the Capulets and Montagues if they agreed with his interpretation of Romeo & Juliet – fuck off! He’s writing a play called Romeo & Juliet. If you disagree with it, just don’t see it. Consultations are made for governments, unions, and municipalities wanting to know if closing Camilien-Houde is a good idea, for example, but not for writing fiction. 

Marc Labrèche: Did you ever say, “I should’ve not written this scene like that,” or “I should’ve opened my eyes more about something that escaped me?”

Arcand: Of course! All the time. Every day. I’d love to have more talent and skills. But I never said to myself, “Oh, I should’ve consulted!”

This declaration shows immense contempt for individuals who deserve to be properly represented on screen instead of perpetuating the same dangerous – and racist – stereotypes that have plagued moviegoers’ screens for many years. We have recently started to see Indigenous creatives being at the forefront of mainstream titles like Reservation Dogs or the upcoming Echo, but Arcand seemingly wants to continue portraying them in an offensive light instead of asking pertinent questions about how a more open and welcoming society can repair past wounds and aid in reconciliation, or involving them in the creative process. It may be a personal act, but asking them what they think of your script before it gets shot doesn’t hurt.

Testament asks all the wrong questions and perpetuates even more dangerous stereotypes passed off as “jokes” and “satire,” positioning Arcand as a bitter, old, reactionary crank instead of a serious auteur who revolutionized Québec cinema with his American Empire series. Even his exploitation film Gina has a hidden political subtext that goes far deeper in its messaging than it has any right to, especially compared to his hackneyed Testament. Who knows if the title itself means this will be Arcand’s last film, but if it does, he’s leaving us with quite the whimper that could make some viewers rethink his past films as products of their time instead of some of Québec cinema’s greatest treasures.

Grade: D+

Director: Wes Anderson
Writers: Wes Anderson (based on stories by Roald Dahl)
Stars: Benedict Cumberbatch, Ralph Fiennes, Dev Patel

Synopsis:

The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar: Chronicles a variety of stories, but the main one follows Henry Sugar, who is able to see through objects and predict the future with the help of a book he stole.

The Swan: A small brilliant boy is tormented by two large idiotic bullies.

The Rat Catcher: In an English village, a reporter and a mechanic listen to a rat catcher explain his clever plan to outwit his prey.

Poison: When a poisonous snake slithers onto an Englishman’s stomach in India, his associate and a doctor race to save him.

Several prominent directors or directing teams have taken on anthology films or film series. Most notable, of course, are the Coen Brothers’ Western anthology The Ballad of Buster Scruggs and Steve McQueen’s epic series Small Axe. Some anthologies like the Cities of Love project or the V/H/S films knit short films by multiple filmmakers together around a theme. Wes Anderson and his partners at Netflix have chosen to keep this set of films, all based on Roald Dahl short stories, as four separate shorts. Though they are complete films that can be viewed in any order, these films compliment each other and have a great deal in common in how they’re shot and work thematically. (This reviewer chose to watch them in this order: The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar, The Swan, The Rat Catcher, and Poison.)

Wes Anderson has been inching toward near complete artifice in his films for a long time. Often they look like they take place not in the real world, but on intricate sets. With these four shorts, Anderson takes that artifice to a new level. Anderson and his brilliant production designer Adam Stockhausen have built incredible sets that are intricately detailed and move with the action. Often, the actor speaking stands still as the location around him, which can be said for all characters because there are no women in these films, moves, thus creating no need for a cut in editing to a new location. One of the standouts is the ever changing background behind the titular Henry Sugar in The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar, as the background lifts and moves him from room to room without Henry moving much of a muscle.

All four films, shot by director of photography Robert Yeoman, rely heavily on stationary, but no less exciting, action. Yeoman’s camera packs the scenes with deep backgrounds and incredible close ups. Some of the most intricate moves of Yeoman’s camera are the overhead shots and movements of characters in Poison. He slides through walls and among the rafters to make a film about a man trapped in bed feel dynamic.

The films all feel like they have very long scenes or like they were shot in long takes, but that is the mastery of editors Adam Weisblum and Barney Pilling. The two of them have impeccable timing moving from a wide to a close up and from character to character. It’s never more impressive than in The Rat Catcher, the action of which takes place nearly in only one space in front of a newspaper office and garage as a reporter and mechanic speak with the titular rat catcher. The subtle shifts in perspective and point of view are captured with a beautiful fluidity by Weisblum and Pilling.

All that said, the shorts are each exhausting in a way. Because of the way Anderson chose to adapt the stories with narration of the dialogue and plot in full, there is nothing but wall to wall dialogue for 17 or so minutes. 40 minutes in the case of The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar. It’s quite daunting. The actors speak so quickly and the scenes move so fast that there’s almost a whiplash in the viewer’s brain as they try to keep up. 

Each of the shorts also engages in a theater of the mind aspect that, while interesting from the idea that the audience could supply their own images, is a little silly to see actors pretending to hold things in their hands. The most strange example of this is when the titular rat catcher explains how he is going to kill the rats with a tin of poisoned oats, but actor Ralph Fiennes holds nothing in his hands, just has them in the shape of a tin.

It often does feel like you can lose focus watching the films because of the constant narration. Even as aspects of the story play out as the actors speak, the mind creates its own images on top of the images on screen. It’s enough to make one zone out and have to catch themselves up on the action on screen while attempting to disregard the action in their heads. It would be as if puppeteers stared at the audience continually as they manipulated their tools and spoke the voices and gave narration. There’s too much for the brain to focus entirely. It can make you miss something important in the background as our eyes are being drawn to the speaker, constantly in the foreground.

The stories themselves are fascinating, though. It’s clear that Roald Dahl has been a great influence on Wes Anderson. The stories, like Anderson’s films, have a whimsy to them that mask a darkness underneath that crawls under a person’s skin. The most nerve wracking and gut wrenching of the shorts coming out of this dark sandbox is The Swan. The unnerving escalation of the two older teens bullying and doing great harm to Peter Watson is disturbing. It makes the viewer thankful that Anderson didn’t choose a more overtly dramatized version for this film as seeing a child in this kind of peril would have been truly horrifying. It’s the short that will haunt you the most, but also has the most to say.

Taken together, these four shorts are funny, exciting, beautifully crafted and deftly acted by an incredible troupe. Though they can be a bit much all in a row. Take them in individually. Savor the terrific performance of Benedict Cumberbatch in The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar. Appreciate the intricate minimalism of the sets of The Swan. Marvel at the deft editing of The Rat Catcher. Be awed by the incredible camerawork of Poison. These four shorts are a welcome addition to the Anderson canon and an obvious labor of love by all involved.

Grade: B

Director: Sofia Coppola
Writers: Sofia Coppola, Sandra Harmon, and Priscilla Presley
Stars: Cailee Spaeny, Jacob Elordi, Ari Cohen

Synopsis: When teenage Priscilla Beaulieu meets Elvis Presley, the man who is already a meteoric rock-and-roll superstar becomes someone entirely unexpected in private moments: a thrilling crush, an ally in loneliness, a vulnerable best friend.

There’s a line Aaron Sorkin once wrote years ago that immediately popped into my head while watching Sofia Coppola’s minimalist biography of Priscilla Presley. Coppola evokes a sense of innocence (and purity lost) from a simpler time that was anything but wholesome. Priscilla is that anti-Baz Luhrmann Elvis movie. One that strips away the lore, the razzle-dazzle, and exposes what Sorkin was talking about when he wrote, “The things we do to women.”

What’s wrong with the way these two met and fell in love? Priscilla (Cailee Spaeny) was only 14 years old then, and Elvis (Jacob Elordi) was 24 while stationed in Germany. The teenager, who wasn’t old enough to drive, smoke, or have a drink, was approached by one of Elvis’s buddies at a local diner. This buddy had no business taking a pubescent teen to party on that German Army base. The excuse is that Elvis liked to talk to people from home because he was homesick. As if, somehow, that made everything okay.

That’s the start of Priscilla, based on the nonfiction book Elvis and Me by Priscilla Presley and Sandra Harmon. The other patrons at the party hardly batted an eye when the King of Rock and Roll invited the teenager to his room, where they would meet in a few minutes. Like any man of power, his entourage never said anything because they wanted to be part of it all. Elvis was always surrounded by his buddies, no matter the situation or intimate occasion.

Like most celebrities, Elvis was insecure and the film captures the insecurities of the rich and famous. Coppola’s adaptation subtly highlights these themes that led to Elvis practically using Priscilla for multiple purposes that never took her feelings and needs into account, but only his own. In the film, Coppola draws a powerful comparison. When Elvis is granted permission from Priscilla’s father to stay in Graceland with him, he goes on the road and leaves her an adorable poodle to keep her company.

The white pup has its small fenced-off area, its own Graceland. When Elvis returns, you see the similarities. Elvis is using Priscilla as his companion. She cannot bring home friends from school. Priscilla has to stay at home and cannot get a part-time job or talk to any office assistants working in the house. Elvis even dresses her, tells her how to wear her hair and makeup, and changes her hair color, making a teenage girl look like she’s trying to seem older than her age.

Coppola’s Priscilla is a beautiful prison of lonely isolation. This is never more apparent than when we see Spaeny’s stoic and soulful gaze out of the window, framed by some white windowsills and the blue wildflowers of Tennessee swaying slowly in the wind. The performances bring the long courtship and marriage to a terrible light. Elordi is very good here, displaying a spot-on accent and playful, disarming charm, but he can also be ignorantly controlling and abusive without warning, with a quick-trigger temper.

The extraordinarily tall actor has Elvis use his tremendous size to impose fear, towering over Priscilla. Then there’s the emotional abuse, threatening to send his wife away or leave her, using her tears as validation (and in another incredible scene where Priscilla calls his bluff; he crumbles in fear she will leave him forever). Even the use of pregnancy is another way to keep Priscilla in the home, preventing her from having the power of free will or choosing to have a life of her own.

Then you have Spaeny, who gives a thoughtful performance. The Devs and Mare of Easttown star won the Volpi Cup for Best Actress at the Venice Film Festival, and her performance is extraordinarily instinctual here, displaying realism when someone suffers in silence despite the trappings of wealth around them. Spaeny conveys complex emotions and situations with subtlety and nuance well beyond her years. When you leave the theater, you’ll know this is one of the year’s standout performances.

There are times when Priscilla lacks energy, and it is a film that will be hard to embrace for mainstream audiences (especially anyone looking for a companion piece to last year’s Elvis). Yet, that’s beside the point. Coppola’s film is a work of art and has much to say about why we reached the tipping point of the fourth wave of feminism in the past decade.

It’s the things we do to women.

Grade: A

Director: Cal Brunker
Writers: Cal Brunker and Bob Barlen
Stars: McKenna Grace, Taraji P. Henson, Marsai Martin

Synopsis: A magical meteor crash lands in Adventure City and gives the PAW Patrol pups superpowers, transforming them into The Mighty Pups

Whether you wanted one or not, a sequel to PAW Patrol: The Movie is here in PAW Patrol: The Mighty Movie. Reviewing a movie like this is always daunting, as its target audience isn’t adult moviegoers but small children. However, children can’t roam free on their own in the theater. Their parents are quasi-forced to sit through the film and enjoy (or endure) what’s in front of them while their kids are distracted by the colors and bright animation on the screen. Most animated movies these days are indeed distractions. Small children will enjoy how pretty it looks, but those looking for a deeper message or at least something to grasp won’t get much out of them. PAW Patrol: The Mighty Movie is no different. However, it is far superior to the first movie. 

Part of the reason why it’s a better movie has to do with the fact that the PAW Patrol become full-fledged superheroes, with a meteor carrying magical crystals giving each respective member of the crew superpowers: Skye (Mckenna Grace), for example, can fly, while Chase (Christian Convery) can travel at super-speed. It plucks powers from the Justice League and Fantastic Four. It wraps them into the Mighty Pups, where the team now has to go after Victoria Vance (Taraji P. Henson), who wants to steal the crystal for her gain, and Mayor Humdinger (Ron Pardo), who returns from the first film to exact his revenge on the PAW Patrol.

As you can see, the plot is not very sophisticated, and one doesn’t expect it to be with a film titled PAW Patrol. But the film contains more than enough compellingly crafted action sequences to at least mildly entertain adults and blow away small children’s minds. One kid sitting in front of me was at his first movie and couldn’t believe the scenes where Skye could destroy meteors with the power of flight or when Chase dodged Vance’s electroshocks in bullet-time fashion. Did I expect to see visual references from The Matrix in a PAW Patrol movie? Absolutely not. Nor did I see an Olivia Rodrigo needle drop coming within one of the first action sequences that reintroduce audiences to the world – and team – that comprise the PAW Patrol.

These elements make the film  surprisingly off-kilter, with enough direct references to appease adults. At the same time, kids get their first exposure to what the power of cinema can achieve. Of course, the story isn’t at all developed convincingly. There are too many plot holes to explain exactly what Vance wants to do with the crystals or how they work. How can the crystals magically bind to the pups and somehow give them powers? And how are they suddenly able to hone them instantly? In superhero origin stories, it takes weeks, if not months (and sometimes two movies), for a hero to finally understand their place in the world and master their powers.

In PAW Patrol: The Mighty Movie, it takes five seconds. Skye realizes she can fly, and we’re supposed to buy into the fact that she’s now the film’s Supergirl (the cape during the climax was a nice touch). They do, however, play around with the concept of how the powers work through Liberty (Marsai Martin), who has a hard time figuring out what her powers are, until they magically appear during the climax, in a moment everyone, except the kids (who yelled out WHOAAAAA) saw coming.

The animation is also nicely done. It’s not as detailed as Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse, but that feels like an apples-and-oranges situation. We can’t compare the two because they don’t appeal to the same audience. PAW Patrol’s animation is more towards small children, with strong sequences of action that are never too violent nor too edgy but with the right amount of kinetics to engage the smallest possible viewer. I was even surprised when the meteorite blew up the Patrol’s tower, though it was a light thrill.

The animation work is primarily aimed at small children, in which characters feel like cartoons and the world doesn’t only feel lived in and grounded in reality but with enough fantastical elements to blow the small kids away. However, that doesn’t prevent Mikros Animation from crafting some truly incredible textures on the titular pups and playing with light and color to enhance the action sequences on screen.

As a result, PAW Patrol: The Mighty Movie is completely inoffensive. No, it won’t change cinema. Yes, it’ll be forgotten in a day for adult viewers who went to see it with their kids, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is whether or not the smallest viewer will have the time of their lives. I can confidently say they absolutely will, and that’s the only thing in the world worth caring about with a movie like this. Take your kids and watch them have an incredible time on the silver screen. They may get hooked for life.

Grade: B-

Director: Emily Atef
Writers: Emily Atef, Lars Hubrich, and Josune Hahnheiser
Stars: Vicky Krieps, Gaspard Ulliel, Bjørn Floberg

Synopsis: Hélène and Mathieu have been happy together for many years. The bond between them is deep. Faced with an existential decision, Hélène travels alone to Norway to seek peace and meet a blogger she found on the internet.

For many writers, terminal illnesses only serve as a source of dramatic tension when they can provide a fatalistic ending to a story that wouldn’t be quite as romantic if it concluded with two lovers walking off into the sunset together. Teenage girls have spent decades lusting after Byronic heroes who suffer from mysterious illnesses, so it’s only natural that most filmgoers have an idealized vision of what life as the victim of a terminal illness is like. It’s all tearful deathbed confessions and intense declarations of love. If you throw a loving, supportive husband into the mix and set the story in a series of picturesque locations, you can expect that certain viewers might start to get the wrong idea. 

Emily Atef’s More Than Ever (2022) is no Camille (1936) but it also refrains from being the anti-melodrama that one might expect it to be. It dispenses with many of the tropes that we associate with the ‘sick girl’ genre but it doesn’t necessarily play out as Love Story (1970), as reimagined by the Dardenne brothers. When approaching this sort of material, which has traditionally been the stuff of sappy melodrama, directors tend to employ a visual style that provides an obvious counterpoint to the content of the narrative. Atef is confident enough to avoid obviously signaling that this isn’t your grandmother’s four-hanky picture. Her exploration of one woman’s struggle with major existential questions is absent of the sort of art school affectations that typically weigh down this sort of genre experiment. This is a full-throated melodrama that tackles weighty issues head-on and it’s all the better for it.

We get an inkling of what Atef is working towards early on, when we drop into the film’s narrative at a surprisingly late point in the game. Hélène (Vicky Krieps), is introduced as a successful young urbanite who maintains a stable, loving relationship with her husband Matthieu (Gaspard Ulliel). Their comfortable lives are thrown into turmoil when Hélène learns that she suffers from terminal lung disease. Matthieu tries his hardest to meet her on her level and relate to her struggles but Hélène comes to feel that she needs to get away from everything and everyone she’s ever known. She begins to interact with Mister (Bjørn Floberg), a Norwegian blogger who suffers from a terminal disease and ends up traveling to Norway to live with him. Matthieu agrees to this arrangement, on the condition that he will still be able to contact and visit her. However, Hélène feels herself drifting further and further away from the people that she knew in her previous life and begins to question whether she wants to cut off contact with Matthieu altogether. 

This is one of those films that subtly advances a mildly provocative thesis statement. Our heroine endures grief and trauma while wrestling with the knowledge that there’s no way to escape from the fact that she’s dying. The finality of this statement is almost impossible to come to terms with, so she starts to address the problems in her life through a utilitarian lens. As time goes on, we see her compartmentalizing her emotions and treating those who are close to her like pawns on a chessboard. One naturally assumes that she is attempting to limit the amount of damage that her eventual death will cause, but there is a darker undercurrent to her attempts to organize the final months of her life down to the nth degree. She is convinced that she is taking control of her life and regaining the sense of independence that she lost when those around her began to treat her like an invalid. It’s easy to get swept up in the excitement that she feels when she starts to put her life back in order but, as the film comes to a sudden, unexpected close, you are left with plenty of questions about the toll that Hélène’s actions could take on her mental health. 

This is just one of many ways in which this thoughtful drama creeps up on you. Atef’s generous, carefully controlled style of direction helps to bring out the best in both Krieps and Ulliel, while also introducing unexpected tonal shifts into the progression of the narrative. There isn’t one flashy showpiece that serves as a selling point for this quiet, emotionally restrained film but it’s strong enough to stand on its own terms. It’s the sort of finely observed, textured character study that tends to fly under the radar but it should find an audience among fans of European art cinema. 

Grade: A-

Director: Justin Benson, Aaron Moorhead, Michael Waldron
Writers: Eric Martin, Michael Waldron
Stars: Tom Hiddleston, Owen Wilson, Gugu Mbatha-Raw

Synopsis: The mercurial villain Loki resumes his role as the God of Mischief in a new series that takes place after the events of “Avengers: Endgame.”

Loki had a magnificent freshman season. Their sophomore effort confirms the show is the best Marvel series, by far. While the first season was soaked in its well-regarded, irreverent mischievousness, the second season abandons some of that dark playfulness for deeper, richer themes. The filmmakers behind the shape-shifting trickster, easy to love but hard to embrace, have found that sweet spot where Loki has begun to see his soul and redemption arc brought out by his new partner while his nefarious nature is always near the surface.

The sophomore season of Loki (Tom Hiddleston) starts with the titular character jumping through different variant timelines after Sylvie (Sophia Di Martino) kills Victor Timely, AKA the notorious He Who Remains (Jonathan Majors) in last year’s finale. His death caused a splintering of variant timelines, creating major internal problems for the bureaucratic organization known as the Time Variance Authority (TVA). Not only are lines drawn and sides chosen, but Sylvie’s actions have caused a branching off of thousands of timelines, something the organization is meant to stop and protect the one true sacred timeline.

This was all part of He Who Remains’ plan, as the Multiversal War caused him to create the Sacred Timeline and the TVA to protect it. However, we discovered that everyone is a variant, even the leading players like Loki’s new BFF, Mobius (Owen Wilson), Hunter B-15 (Wunmi Mosaku), and even Ravonna Renslayer (Gugu Mbatha-Raw). Heck, it seems like Miss Minutes (voiced by Tara Strong), the He Who Remains AI creation, is the only original, even though she’s been through various updates over the years.

That sets up the story. While two different factions debate the merits of keeping or eliminating timelines, Loki and Mobius are set to chase down Sylvie, Ravonna, and Miss Minutes to protect everyone, not just themselves. This sets the impressively darker tone and more decadent themes in Loki’s second season as they debate faith, control, and, above all else, the value of human life, no matter the variant.

What I admire about the second season of Loki is that creator Michael Waldron doesn’t get bogged down in the trappings of the season finale; he cuts the cord immediately. Waldron could have spent the entire season trying to bring Loki back to the Sacred Timeline but wisely cuts to the chase in the first episode, having Loki jump back into the original future quickly. Otherwise, you’d have abandoned what made the first season enjoyable—the buddy chemistry between Hiddleston and Wilson.

What makes this season so interesting is that Marvel embraces Loki’s antihero character, which sets up the plot and slowly transforms his character into something gradual, heartfelt, and empathetic. For instance, Sylvie saw timelines as a source of control for uncaring and cold government officials last season, while Loki understood there was a greater good. That’s where Waldron and company begin to fold into those themes we talked about above, something that the film The Creator played with last month (and even The Matrix), like freedom of choice versus conformity, individualism versus collectivism, existentialism, and most importantly, morality.

The cast is near pitch-perfect, with the addition of Ke Huy Quan, who plays the author of the TVA manual, O.B., who consistently delights by bringing a positive energy to the series’ darkest scenes. Then you have Blindspotting’s Rafael Casal, who plays agent X-5, who questions the TVA’s actions and finds solace in the life that was taken from him (think Joe Pantoliano’s Cypher in The Matrix), like being the star of a 70s star of a shlock horror film. 

And, of course, we need to address the elephant in the room: Jonathan Majors’s role not being cut in Loki reportedly because filming had already wrapped well after the abuse allegations surfaced. (Producer Kevin Wright was also quoted saying Majors won’t be recast because he was hesitant to do so without knowing how the case would play out.) I know the late Roger Ebert made a famous point to his partner Gene Siskel about being able to separate them two decades ago. Still, you can’t watch Loki with Majors in the scene without the alleged issues of domestic violence popping into your head. Still, Majors is a gifted talent, and his turn as Victor Timely is very good here, showing some of the innocence of Timely before the change of personas. 

However, if you can get past the real-life issues of Majors, the show is great fun with its combination of mind-blowing storytelling and disarming charm from the cast. The series is a creative burst of fresh air, embracing the famous comic’s limitless storytelling and using the plot of branching timelines to keep viewers on the edge of their seats.

Frankly, Loki uses the multiverse storyline better than most of Marvel’s famed filmography. With multiple jaw-dropping moments that keep you guessing and knowing the unexpected can be coming at every turn, that’s a rarity in television, where networks and streaming services want to do nothing else but follow the episodic rule book step by step. Loki is more morally complex, engaging, even divisive, and suspenseful than anything Marvel has done in recent years.

Grade: A-

Director: Kevin Gruetert
Writers: Pete Goldfinger and Josh Stolberg
Stars: Tobin Bell, Shawnee Smith

Synopsis: A sick and desperate John travels to Mexico for a risky and experimental medical procedure in hopes of a miracle cure for his cancer only to discover the entire operation is a scam to defraud the most vulnerable

When Saw opened up at the 2004 Sundance Film Festival it took the world by storm, the buzz coming from this mysteriously original horror film echoed all the way to even my 7th grade class room and this was before the internet that we know today. When it hit theaters that Halloween season it was a mega hit with the ultimate mouth to the floor reaction that hadn’t been seen since 1996’s Scream, and as we know in Hollywood, what works once must work again and again and again and just when you think it cannot work again; it barely does and then takes a breath. 

From 2004-2010 we got a new installment into the Saw series with seven straight films, each film opening in first place until the fifth one came out. Its competition the year Saw 5 came out and to boot it to 2nd place, High School Musical 3. By then the steam was up on the series and the “torture porn” category of this type of horror film was on its way out. Eventually the movies did end for a while after the abysmal seventh chapter, ironically named “The Final Chapter.” This lasted for about seven years until the weird eighth and forgettable chapter that was Jigsaw. Again, the series would stay dormant for four years until it got a ninth chapter with a odd boost of star power from Chris Rock and Samuel L. Jackson with Spiral, another weird entry that is odd but not memorable.

With the announcement of Saw X last year, one could only imagine where it could or would go, and then tonight after watching it I’m truly glad to report back, this was a big swing and a hit for a franchise that eventually became its own punchline. The tenth installment is a huge breath of fresh air and I’m extremely happy to see critics embracing this as much as they did the original. Fans on the other hand, we shall see- because what this one does so right is what the sequels forgot to do. It creates a story with these characters. In this case, when characters are killed off you feel something for them. While this was the base formula for Saw 2, it got muddled at the halfway mark, and from there onward, the remaining sequels were simply   mind numbing with the amount of red shirts they would bring in to just die a whole two minutes later. 

The last time a Saw movie did this was the original film, and what I mean by that is that this movie builds its world. Its story line, its characters are genuine and it takes its time in doing so.   even get an opening trap to this film because the initial focus is on world building. What we do get is a daydream trap but it’s never brought to fruition. In the nearly two hour runtime, we don’t get a trap until almost the 50 minute mark, and honestly- it works for me, for this film, and the series that once relied only on the traps themselves and not the story. This movie is so much like its original counterpart that it is the ultimate love letter to itself, and is the perfect actual “Final Chapter” if it were to become it, because I’m not really sure where the series could go from here without a full on remake. 

Of course one couldn’t talk about this movie without talking about Tobin Bell and the wonderful return of Shawnee Smith as Amanda, whose exit in Saw 3 was massively felt by a lesser Detective Hoffman character taking over. It was so nice to see the chemistry that they’ve developed between these two characters over the last 19 years. 

So, should you watch all 9 movies before you go into this? If you’d like. Do you have to watch all 9 movies before you go into this? Absolutely not. Saw X is actually set in between Saw and Saw 2. So no, you don’t have to watch all 9 (but go ahead, who am I to dictate that for you). What is really refreshing about a nearly two decade long franchise to come back with something that feels fresh and different is that the writers did it the right way (unlike last year’s Halloween Ends that was such a swing and giant miss that it’s universally panned by critics and fans alike) meaning that what they could have done here is given us another run of the mill sequel but instead they took the liberty to craft a story based on what made the original so great and bring in characters to support the story and not take it over.

So whether a fan of the franchise or a casual movie goer, as long as you’ve seen the first Saw, go see Saw X. You will have a blast if you can put on your 2004 glasses and enjoy the holiday season.

Grade: A-

Director: John Carney
Writer: John Carney
Stars: Eve Hewson, Jack Reynor, Joseph Gordon-Levitt

Synopsis: It follows Flora, a single mom who is at war with her son, Max. Trying to find a hobby for Max, she rescues a guitar from a dumpster and finds that one person’s trash can be a family’s salvation.

Overall, Flora and Son will be your least favorite John Carney film, but it may be the most relatable and honest. It also features the best performance in any of Carney’s films from Eve Hewson. Her off-key and inharmonious character gives the viewer some grounded discord that sets Carney’s film apart from the rest of his filmography. 

The story follows Flora (Hewson), a single mother stuck in arrested development. Flora and her ex-boyfriend Ian (Jack Reynor) are co-parenting her troubled teenage son, Max (Orén Kinlan), who has been detained several times for fighting and petty theft. A local guard (Don Wycherley) wants Max to join a local boxing club to keep him out of trouble because the next time he’s arrested, he will serve some time in a juvenile detention center.

The issue is that Flora and Ian had Max when they were very young, and both parents are still trying to find themselves, just like Max. Ian is between jobs, and Flora still loves the beats of club music, where she dances and takes strange men home to her apartment, not considering if Max is there. In fact, Flora is so self-involved that she forgets her son’s birthday.

To rectify that, Flora finds a string guitar, pays someone to fix it, and gives it to Max as a gift. After the peace offering blows up in her face, she takes guitar lessons herself. Flora finds a handsome music teacher named Jeff (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) online for $20 a session so she can start strumming the strings and find some purpose in her life.

Flora and Son was directed by John Carney, the ingenious maestro behind such musical films as Once, Begin Again, and the cult favorite Sing Street. His latest work is more like the love child of Sing Street and Once in tone, with fewer musical numbers and gritty artistry. It is more focused on depicting the aftermath of the characters’ failed musician dreams (Jeff), the youthful exuberance of musical aspirations (Max), and the redemption music can offer (Flora).

Carney’s script deals with that in-between with Hewson’s Flora, who had a child so young she’s still trying to find her way, stunting the progress of her flesh and blood. What’s exciting about this concept is that Flora is openly transparent and honest with everyone around her, which makes for a refreshing experience for the audience.

This becomes even more apparent as Flora and Jeff’s practice sessions progress. Carney has created a bond with these sessions and weekly meetings that begin to be more therapeutic than educational. This offers vulnerable characters self-reflection, providing a connection when those expressions of personal emotional connection are needed.

As they continue to talk, the boundary from education to therapy is crossed into something intimate. Imagine how personal writing your song can be, and collaborating with someone you are attracted to can be euphoric. Carney incorporates some very clever camera editing maneuvers to evoke these emotions as if Jeff were in the room with Flora.

While we can wax poetic about the utterly charming chemistry between Flora and Jeff, the wholly unapologetic performance by Hewson keeps the film from floundering in its third act, practically nose-diving headfirst into mediocrity. Hewson’s Flora is a natural, authentic, and, at times, almost despicable mother who finally finds her way when faced with an opportunity to change her life, make a choice, and ultimately show some overall maturity. Case in point: Hewson is a character that’s three-dimensional, unvarnished, and hard to like  in one moment but charming the next. 

My big issue with Flora and Son, however, is that songs swoon exempt the final number that’s meant to tie everything together. You’ll watch Jeff and Flora heat up the screen and be vibrant when Max begins to assemble his dance beats. 

However, the film shifts into something overtly sentimental, and the film’s most significant musical number it ends with is underwhelming, even if it’s meant to change the movie into something heartwarming that feels cheaper than anything Carney has ever done.

Ultimately, Flora and Son offer an experience unique to Carney’s cinematic worldview, where music can bring people together. It may not be Carney’s best work, but it’s his most grounded and enjoyable. 

Grade: B-