Director: Natalie Erika James
Writers: Natalie Erika James
Stars: Midori Francis, Madaleine Madden, Danielle Macdonald

Synopsis: Hana, a lovelorn medical student, becomes terrorized by a sinister force after taking part in an obscure weight loss craze: eating human ashes.

For as long as I have been conscious of myself, I have been insecure about my image. Being too fat, too tall, crooked teeth, you name it, I had an insecurity for it. Being a child of the 90s, I have seen just about every diet fad come and go, but the issue always remained: fatness still existed no matter what. Today is no different, with a new diet craze on the rise and the early 2000s thinness making a comeback; it’s hard not to feel pressured to partake in a culture that feeds off insecurities. So when a film like Saccharine comes along, it’s frustrating when it turns out to be hurtful rather than accepting.

Films involving beauty standards have seen an influx lately, with The Substance, Skincare, and The Ugly Stepsister all falling into the same category. As someone who watched all those films, I never felt completely seen because rarely do those films depict body types outside of acceptable levels of thinness. What piqued my interest in Saccharine was its examination of weight loss and diet culture. Anyone who has gone to the grocery store has seen that diet foods have gone overboard, with protein being baked into everything, even popcorn. Needless to say, the potential that Saccharine possesses in material is endless.

Writer and director Natalie Erika James opens her newest film with a montage of a fit woman working out with footage being interrupted with someone stuffing their face with various foods. Quickly, audiences are introduced to Hana (Midori Francis), a medical student working with a group on a cadaver. She’s a shy woman, and instantly her awkwardness is felt, especially when she is around a beautiful woman. A recent encounter with an old friend has captured her attention when a miracle weight loss supplement is introduced to her. But this isn’t a normal supplement; it’s made from human remains.

James goes to great lengths to show the extremes that deeply insecure people will go to just to become what society decides is an acceptable size. As Hana takes her first dose, the side effects, at least in the beginning, are worth it. She can eat whatever she wants, and it doesn’t impact her appearance. It even gives her the confidence to take a 12-week fitness course by Alanya (Madeleine Madden), a fit gym employee at the gym she frequents. As the pounds fell off, the insecurity remained, with James choosing to have a fat woman haunt Hana that only she can see. Understandably, this makes her increasingly unhinged around those around her to escape this woman 

Saccharine is a film filled with potential, but it squanders a lot of what it has going for it by its own harsh view of fatness. Francis is a great lead and gives a heartfelt performance, but this film feels like it was made for a plus-size actress to shine. As an example, the film has Hana wear what appears to be a prosthetic double chin in the beginning to evoke some kind of overweight look, with baggy clothes. This is truly a shame because these cultures don’t just target larger bodies, they target all age groups and sizes. One can’t help but wonder why they couldn’t leave the actress as is, instead of adding a double chin as if it’s a flaw needing to be removed?

Hana has a complicated view of food and bigness, coming from a family where her mother is incredibly small, and her father is overweight, suffering from many health issues. She loves sweets and carbs, but also fears becoming the size that her father is. Her family life isn’t established in a particularly meaningful way; even when James shows her around them, their issues with one another remain largely ambiguous. It comes across that this portion of the film is meant to explain why Hana feels the way she does about herself, but it doesn’t move the story forward much at all.

The horror aspects of Saccharine are mainly during Hana sneaking into her lab to remove various portions of her cadaver’s body to make more of her pills or jump scares when an unclothed being appears in the reflection of Hana’s spoon. James does well with these, making up for the lack of coherent ideas with a great sense of tension. Seeing Hana emotionally eat through the stress of being attacked by someone, she can only see and highlight some of the more disturbing moments of the film.

The film clocks in at nearly 2 hours and definitely has its repetitive moments. A majority of the film is Hana working out and trying to out-eat this hungry ghost hanging around her. And it’s hard to keep track of what moments happened in this stretch of runtime. With constant back and forth between her apartment, the lab, and the gym, it all gets muddled together. Throw on top of that, James focusing more on the being that has attached itself to Hana rather than making an impactful commentary on the predator habits of dieting fads, Saccharine overstays its welcome by the final act.

At the end of it all, Saccharine is well made, with disturbing visuals, and uncomfortable food noises galore. It can be enjoyed for those aspects alone, even when the rest falls short. Coloring is a major aspect of Saccharine, and the use of close-up shots brings us directly into Hana’s view. Even the gym that Hana attends is viewed through a bright and colorful lens as opposed to the gloom of the rest of her life. When we watch her binge on all the food she can find, it doesn’t look appetizing; it looks painful as she chews and chews. Anyone with an ASMR queasiness should steer clear. While Saccharine is a let-down in many aspects, it shows James as a confident filmmaker tackling topics that need to be pushed to the forefront. It’s just an utter shame that it chooses to blame a woman for her insecurities rather than the companies that make money off of women all around the world.

Grade: D

Director: Boots Riley
Writer: Boots Riley
Stars: Keke Palmer, Naomi Ackie, Taylour Paige

Synopsis: A fearless crew of inventive young women turn shoplifting into a radical act of defiance.

Satire is a genre within the film world that can be frankly tough to truly have a firm grasp on. Sometimes they can be too on the nose in a way that never reflects a creative parallel, or maybe just never capitalizes on any meaningful commentary that brings something new to the table. In a world where many satires, in particular, and movies, in general, lack true ingenuity, it’s a true-blue miracle we have an artist like Boots Riley pushing the envelope of true bursts of never-ending imagination amidst a sea of redundancy. Riley’s debut feature, Sorry to Bother You, was merely a glimpse of the filmmaker’s willingness to delve into touchstones of clever satirization of relatable real-world struggles. I Love Boosters is a true evolution of Riley’s most unique traits. It sounds easy to say we’ve never seen satire to this degree but Riley’s ingenuity is next level, whether it’s the way he fleshes out his colorful heightened realities of slanted buildings or implementation of hallmarks like full stop-motion animation blended in with live action set pieces with so many moving cogs, I Love Boosters is a nonstop train of gleeful absurdism. He accomplishes this all while taking a proper beat down to the continuous rot plaguing our world that is capitalism. Sure, sometimes the ambition can outweigh the tools at hand, and there’s enough constantly moving plot pieces within the film’s back half that would leave most a bit confused, but I Love Boosters is more than enough proof that Boots Riley is a voice in filmmaking that is utterly transfixing in his delightful chaos, flaws in all.

I Love Boosters follows the plights of Corvette (Keke Palmer), a woman struggling to get by in a world that’s beating her down so hard she has to live in an old chicken restaurant with a literal snowball of debts and overdue bills following her everywhere she goes. Corvette leads a group of boosters known as “The Velvet Gang” that includes her, Sade (Naomi Ackie), and Mariah (Taylour Paige), who steal from big brand stores and sell their insanely expensive clothes at a discount price. 

Their heists are meticulously planned out, often using exaggerated distractions like fake sicknesses and fights to often take from a top designer brand, Metro, owned by stuck-up billionaire designer Christie Smith (Demi Moore). Corvette has a complicated relationship with Christie; she wants to have a similar outsized influence, but also wants to focus on how fashion can operate as an art form, rather than just simply lifeless corporate marketing.  Corvette even lands a job at one of Metro’s stores and sends in one of her personal designs but she soon realizes if she wants to make change within a deeply broken fashion industry, she must do it from the inside out. She attempts to do so through various means, including more escalating heists with a dash of Sci-Fi teleportation technology (yes, you read that right).

Even after the full off-kilter tilt within the back half of Sorry To Bother You, Riley’s full veer into doubling down on the absurdist surrealist is just as shocking. Despite similar themes, due to the new perspective of the fashion industry, there is no redundancy to be found in I Love Boosters.

Corvette is a fascinating lead character in that she is constantly mesmerized by the inner workings of the capitalist industry that surrounds the art she loves, while quite literally and physically being against everything it stands for within society. Corvette’s struggles to balance the realities of being a cog in the corporate machine vs keeping the spirit alive of what truly being an artist means in the fashion world, which takes similar themes Riley toyed with in his first feature and dials it up to an 11, and it always helps when you have a performer as spirited as Palmer to roll perfectly with the absurdities of Riley’s wavelength.

The rights of workers and solidarity amidst corporate pressure are naturally all over Riley’s latest, and it’s just so refreshing to see a film essentially scream from the rooftops for us to come together against workers’ rights being constantly exploited. If anything, Riley hits the nail on the head here even harder than he did in his dissection of these themes in Sorry To Bother You, fully exploring the abuse of workers within Chinese sweatshops under the Metro brand and how they work long hours for increasingly poor pay and labor in an environment that constantly puts them in danger of illness due to its unkempt conditions. 

This perspective is delved into from the perspective of Jianhu (Poppy Liu), whose teleportation device, which was used to get to where the boosters reside in Oakland, becomes far more important in the back half of the narrative.  Riley’s ultimate message is simple, yes, but powerful nonetheless. Whether it’s Violeta’s (Eiza Gonzalez) search to unionize against Metro rather than steal from them, Jianhu’s sweatshop struggles, or the Corvette’s crew’s never-ending boosting, we are all fighting the same fight against the corporate exploitation and artistic theft Christie Smith stands for that plagues both our real world and Boots Riley’s heightened dystopias. An obvious takeaway, but it’s more than clear by now that Riley is anything but subtle in the best of ways. 

The technical wizardry on display throughout I Love Boosters from Riley and his team essentially feels like anything Riley couldn’t accomplish in the confines of his first feature was crammed in here. The world of the film tends to operate on a cross between fairy tale and Looney Tunes logic. Characters are often running as if they could be placed in a Wile E. Coyote and Roadrunner cartoon, buildings are slanted to insane degrees, and the camera often zooms in and out like you’re on a next-level acid trip. 

The gonzo nature of Riley’s sensibilities never tries too hard to get you to be reactive, though, fully embracing the silliness sometimes, using simple, well-told jokes or situational comedy surrounding its colorful cast of characters. In the film’s third act we even straight up move into the car and foot chases that implement miniatures, and stop-motion characters fully interacting with our main cast. The practicality of nearly every crevice of the film’s craft and production design makes for a truly delightful viewing experience even when the movie gets a bit too high on its own supply surrounding the Sci-Fi mumbo jumbo of its teleportation device and outlandish side characters considering its stretched runtime. 

Whether you’re tapped into his deranged wavelength or not, there’s simply no one executing the perfect surrealist dystopian satire like Boots Riley, and I Love Boosters is the most uniform project of all of his best quirks, combining sugar rush heightened absurdity with powerfully implemented social commentary. Sometimes things get a bit too crazy for the film’s own good, but anytime the movie feels lost within its own mess, Riley dumps another bucket of paint on the canvas to create the type of delightful, distinctive experience that will always be more intoxicating than it is exhausting, and props to him for his continued ingenuity within a world of so many unique creators.

Grade: A-

Director: Marianna Dean
Writer: Simon X. Frederick
Stars: Zoe Cunningham, James Cosmo, Eloise Lovell Anderson

Synopsis: To join the elite ATIC Guard, Alana Toro must stop a simulated terrorist attack, but every attempt takes her further from the sanctioned solution.

Low-budget sci-fi films are hard to get just right. There’s a sense of escapism into an altered reality that needs to come across for audiences. For films that can’t rely on heavy amounts of CGI or VFX work, like Voidance, they must instead focus on its story. What starts as a charming murder mystery in the far reaches of the galaxy evolves into a time-traveling test of morals. Although it doesn’t all completely work, Marianna Dean’s newest film shows a director with a clear love of the genre.

Voidance takes place deep in space where two planets, Atopia and Cho-Hacha, are at each other’s throats. Terror is running rampant, and Atopian-born Alana Toro (Zoe Cunningham) is well on her way to becoming an ATIC agent. One final challenge stands between her and becoming a member of a prestigious group of guards. Though their popularity among civilians is murky. Alana needs to finish a simulated terrorist attack, where the reset button is limited, and the stakes are high.

What makes Voidance interesting at first is the use of a reset device that Alana wears. Showing how many chances she has left in order to pass, and allowing her to communicate with those watching her progress. While her mission first turns into finding a missing ship, it quickly evolves into Alana trying to save as many lives as possible, even when it costs her a reset. Unfortunately, it becomes overly repetitive, especially near the end of the film, the dialogue-heavy moments hold the film back more than they push along the story.

Alana does a lot of interviewing throughout the first run-throughs of her mission. Looking for truck drivers with information on the missing ship, she finds a murder that has happened on the ship. Each time she tries to stop it from happening, she fails, finding a new item of information each time. It’s a neat way to unravel a murder, and audiences get to meet numerous different characters along the way. Like Fir Jie (Mim Shaikh), a karaoke-loving nervous wreck, or Ede (Eloise Lovell Anderson), a barfly with a mysterious side. Each of these side characters doesn’t remember Alana after each reset, leading to some hilarious interactions fueled by her frustration.

From a style standpoint, Voidance is going for a look that’s stylish but not over-the-top. For the wardrobe, it works, but the set design suffers. Alana wears a black leather jacket with loose-fitting pants tucked into boots. Her hair is right above her shoulders with baby bangs. This gives her a slight officer look while still allowing her to blend in with others around her. Sets are bare minimum and show the confined spaces each room on this vast ship is. The bar is shown the most, with cool lighting and tables and chairs littering the area. Though doorways flash with light when in use, there’s not much to show that these people are in a sci-fi environment. Each area Alana finds herself in looks too similar to the last to feel fully immersed in the story.

Voidance has a villain problem; mostly because it has such a relatable theme, of not trusting the people in power. ATIC officers aren’t looked upon well in everyone’s eyes, mainly due to their being connected to those who rule over them. When the film focuses on Alana investigating that avenue, it’s at its best, but it doesn’t last nearly long enough. Choosing to spend a large amount of the time on two gunmen that caused chaos over Alana’s several attempts to beat her trial. This makes audiences sit through their moments over and over, even recapping afterwards.

Cunningham’s performance is the most memorable aspect of Voidance, even if her blaster use doesn’t come off completely believable. Arguably, her fish-out-of-water gestures make her mindset of saving as many lives as possible admirable. She comes across as a regular woman who has an interest in problem-solving, who just so happened to get recruited into essentially the CIA. She gives Alana a human aspect, using nearly all her chances to pass just to make sure she doesn’t miss an opportunity to save someone.

Dean directs Voidance well and shows a clear love for the genre she’s working in. It has a distinct style that reminded me of films like 1997’s Cube, where the entire film takes place in limited spaces. It focuses more on the reactions to danger than the danger itself, where each side eye or smirk is noted. Not all the pieces come together, but for a director early in their promising career, Dean shows a clear vision.

For all of its aspirations, Voidance falls above more average small-budget sci-fi films. The ideas may be larger than its pockets, but there’s incredible promise behind the camera. Its glaringly topical theme of questioning those in power makes it an entertaining murder mystery in space with a charming lead performance. Dean leaves her work open for a sequel, which sounds interesting on paper.

Voidance celebrated its European Premiere at Sci-Fi-London-Film-Festival on May 17th, and will be available on Digital Platforms from May 25th.

Grade: C

Director: Andre Gaines
Writer: Qasim Basir, Andre Gaines, Amiri Baraka
Stars: André Holland, Kate Mara, Stephen McKinley Henderson

Synopsis: A successful black businessman, haunted by his crumbling marriage and identity crisis, is drawn into a sexualized game of cat and mouse with a mysterious white woman on a subway that leads to a violent conclusion.

Expanding upon the provocative one-act play by Amiri Baraka, The Dutchman is a sleek, unsettling psychological thriller that weaponizes intimacy, race, and performance with unnerving precision. Directed and produced by Andre Gaines, the 88-minute feature adaptation transforms a famously claustrophobic stage work into something more cinematic without losing the suffocating tension that made the original text so enduring. Led by powerful performances from Andre Holland, Zazie Beetz, and Kate Mara, the film will feel like a slowly tightening vice.

The Dutchman is a conversation film, but one charged with such escalating hostility so it seems that every line is like a concealed threat. Holland plays Clay, a successful Black businessman whose carefully curated life begins to unravel after an encounter with a magnetic stranger played by Mara. What appears flirtatious soon mutates into something far more invasive and psychologically predatory. Gaines stretches the original framework into a broader urban nightmare, using the city itself as an extension of Clay’s growing paranoia.

Audiences might make a comparison to Jordan Peele, which is understandable, though not entirely accurate. Like Get Out, The Dutchman dissects racial performance beneath the veneer of liberal civility, but Gaines is less interested in satire than destabilization. The film thrives on discomfort, forcing audiences to sit inside manipulative and invasive exchanges. Some viewers may also find the film’s ambiguity frustrating, particularly during the final act, which prioritizes mood and implication over narrative clarity. This does feel intentional; opting for mystery rather than exposing and giving concrete conclusions.

Holland delivers one of the film’s strongest elements through a performance built on restraint. Clay is introduced as composed, intelligent, and socially fluent; a man accustomed to navigating elite spaces by maintaining control. It is a remarkably internal performance, one that allows the audience to feel the pressure mounting before the character fully acknowledges it himself. Even though there are moments where he’s hard to root for, you’ll enjoy trying to work him and his story out. 

Mara, meanwhile, is mesmerizingly unreadable. Her character shifts constantly between seductive, playful, antagonistic, and frightening, often within the same scene. Her menace emerges through unpredictability; she transforms ordinary social interaction into psychological combat. She’s seductive, wild, and someone you’d be drawn to and want to run away from at the same time. When she gives Clay a red apple, you can’t help but think of Snow White – the relevance being a scary but beautiful woman poisoning you to take advantage. 

Zazie Beetz’s supporting role adds another layer to the film’s examination of privilege and performance. Beetz plays moments with calculated coolness, reinforcing the film’s central anxiety: that social acceptance can evaporate the moment someone refuses to perform correctly. Each actor has a believable and intense chemistry which will keep viewers interested and invested. 

As the story continues, if you’re not paying attention, you may find it confusing. The film does rely on its audience being active. This isn’t a film to watch when you’re doom scrolling. Even if you feel a little lost and disjointed, this may very well be the intention, keep watching as the end has a violent conclusion you won’t see coming. 

At just 88 minutes, The Dutchman moves with sharp efficiency, though there are moments where its expanded scope feels slightly constrained by its theatrical origins. A handful of secondary characters exist more as thematic devices than fully realized people, and certain transitions between realism and surrealism can feel abrupt. They could have been further developed and given the film more depth and conflict. Ultimately, The Dutchman is an intelligent, deeply uncomfortable thriller that trusts its audience to sit with contradiction rather than seek resolution. Anchored by excellent performances, the film transforms a classic stage confrontation into a contemporary nightmare about race, power, and the dangers hidden beneath performative civility.

Grade: B

Directors: Phil Cunningham, Brent Dawes
Writer: Brent Dawes, Kyle Portbury, Sam Wilson
Stars: Brandon Engman, Brian Stivale, Shahar Tovach

Synopsis: From his mother’s songs to his clash with Goliath, David’s journey from humble shepherd to anointed king tests the limits of faith, courage, and love–culminating in a battle for the soul of a kingdom.

Animated biblical storytelling has often struggled to balance reverence with cinematic excitement, frequently leaning too heavily toward either solemn instruction or sanitized spectacle. David, directed by Phil Cunningham and Brent Dawes, attempts something more emotionally expansive. Angel Studios‘ Book of Samuel adaptation is a sweeping coming-of-age adventure about courage, faith, identity, and the burden of destiny. David frames its central figure as a deeply human young man navigating fear, loyalty, and spiritual conviction in a fractured world.

This is a great film for both adults and children; there’s no offensive language or inappropriate content, and adults can enjoy the drama and relatable themes throughout. At the center of the story is David, wide-eyed and bushy-haired, voiced with earnest vulnerability by Phil Wickham. His character is filled with younger incarnations, both warmth and innocence. He yearns for bigger and better things, and after valiantly protecting his sheep he’s summoned before the Prophet Samuel (Brian Stivale), who anoints the young lad as the future king of Israel.

David’s bravery emerges gradually through uncertainty and emotional conflict. He doubts himself, questions his purpose, and struggles beneath expectations imposed upon him by others. This layered portrayal gives the narrative emotional accessibility even for viewers less familiar with the biblical material.

Much of the film explores the emotional consequences of being chosen. The relationship between David and Saul, voiced by Adam Michael Gold, provides the story with some of its richest dramatic tension. Saul’s descent mirrors David’s rise, creating a compelling emotional symmetry between the two figures. A little more banter between the two could have given this film a humorous uplift. David’s character does become a little stale; he doesn’t develop enough. 

The supporting cast adds texture without overwhelming the central narrative. Lauren Daigle brings warmth and sincerity to Rebecca, while Asim Chaudhry offers a more eccentric energy as King Achish. Meanwhile, Jonathan and Samuel are portrayed with understated nobility, grounding the film’s larger spiritual themes in personal relationships and loyalty.

Visually, the animation occasionally fluctuates in quality. Certain crowd scenes and character movements reveal budgetary limitations, particularly when compared to larger studio productions. Facial animation can sometimes appear stiff during dialogue-heavy exchanges, and the pacing in the middle section occasionally sags beneath the weight of exposition. At one hour and forty-nine minutes, the film perhaps stretches beyond what its narrative momentum can consistently sustain. There are influences from DreamWorks, Disney, and even Blue Sky Studios, with The Prince of Egypt and Ice Age coming to mind. The Giant and his sidekick reminded me of Jafar and Iago from Aladdin – this isn’t a bad thing. They’re quite an entertaining pair. 

The film’s most memorable sequence, unsurprisingly, is the confrontation with Goliath. Yet what distinguishes the scene is not simply scale or action choreography, but the psychological framing surrounding it. The battlefield is a field of poppies (significance to fields that run red with blood). It’s a quick scene, and it’s in the middle of the film, the build up could have been stronger to give the scene more gravitas, but it’s exciting nonetheless. There is another battle scene towards the end, with a bigger build up, and the consequences feel more real. 

However, the ambition behind the project is undeniable. The directors are clearly striving for emotional and spiritual grandeur rather than quick entertainment. The musical score plays a crucial role in this, blending orchestral swells with folk-inspired melodies that reinforce the film’s themes of devotion and destiny. There are some lovely songs, but they’re not too memorable. “Tapestry” and “Shalom” are the two that stood out and have stuck with me. 

In an era where irony often dominates mainstream storytelling, David feels refreshingly earnest. It does not mock belief, nor does it aggressively sermonize. The film invites audiences into a story about courage born from conviction and compassion. David is a heartfelt animated epic that finds strength in its emotional sincerity. While some technical limitations prevent it from reaching the visual heights of major animation studios, the film compensates with atmosphere, thematic ambition, and genuine emotional resonance. By focusing on the humanity beneath the legend, Cunningham and Dawes craft a version of David’s story that’s a timeless reflection on fear, purpose, and the difficult path toward becoming who one is meant to be.

Grade: B

Directors: Heather Ballish, Mia Moore Marchant
Writer: Mia Moore Marchant
Stars: Mia Moore Marchant, Aria Taylor, Abigail Thorn

Synopsis: After reliving the same day over and over again for 10 years, Agatha awakens to realize she’s escaped and now faces the horrifying reality of a brand new day.

Time loops have almost always been associated with some sort of comedy. It’s a great gag machine because it’s the same sequence over and over again. Most time loops eventually come to a point where the protagonist can’t stand it any more and needs to get out. Yet, when they do get to “tomorrow,” the film and the protagonist don’t have time for getting used to or reintegrated back into linear time. To be suddenly thrust into the unknown, in spite of the familiar things about the world around you, would be jarring to say the least. Depending on how long the loop was, it could be an existential nightmare. This is where we find Agatha (Mia Moore Marchant) at the beginning of Again Again.

The film is so conceptually refreshing. We get the depth of time loop flashbacks mixed with the deeply tragic drama of being thrust back into linear life. Agatha’s time loop was the equivalent of ten years. She’s essentially lived a large chunk of her life stuck in one place. It feels like a prison sentence or a bad relationship that one just can’t get out of. Agatha knows so much about Tessa (Aria Taylor), her partner, that it becomes hard to forget, hard to get a sense of the Tessa in front of her. It happens with all the people Agatha’s met. She’s known them all, but they don’t know that.

So much of Mia Moore Marchant’s excellent script is about the trauma of knowing everyone else’s deepest secrets. Agatha knows that Tessa is questioning their relationship because she’s never expressed an attraction to women, let alone a trans woman before. This needling thought now that she can go somewhere else, now that she’s not stuck is itching just below her skin. In several loops Agatha strayed and cheated on Tessa to try and get away from the pain of her memories. Yet, when Agatha seeks out her most intense of these liaisons, Naomi (Abigail Thorn), in the linear world, they’re strangers. The intimacy and affection the two of them built in different loops is completely gone, but those memories are stuck in Agatha’s head and she desperately wants it like a lifeline. These interactions show Agatha how much she needs to find a way to break free.

One of the best sequences brought together by directors Marchant and Heather Ballish is like this. In the timeline of Friday, the day the loop ends, Agatha hears a familiar sound as Tessa picks up her bass guitar and tries to play a song she’s been learning. What follows is a sequence of the same mistake played in loop after loop. At first Agatha is understanding, then frustrated, and finally tortured by the same mistake. On this Friday, though, Agatha decides to do something else. She gives advice and sits behind Tessa so the two of them can play through the song together as Tessa sings. It becomes a revelatory scene, which shifts into beautiful, romantic love. In this scene it’s like Agatha can only remember the best things about Tessa and how much she loves her.

Again Again has several powerful moments. It’s not a comedy, but it embraces the comedy of Agatha finding herself suddenly in “tomorrow.” There’s a scene where Tessa and Agatha are trying to have a heart-to-heart in the park when Agatha spies a teenager she’d seen in many of her loops. When the teen lands the kick flip he was desperately trying all “yesterday,” Agatha suddenly has a proud parent moment where she cheers for him as he skates away. Then there’s her unbridled joy that she can attend the demolition derby that she saw so many posters for, but thought she’d never be able to see.

The film is deep and delightful, but also flawed in many ways. It’s a debut feature on a very tight budget, so there is bound to be amateurish bits and things that look rushed. Yet, this is a film where you have to turn off that nit picking side of your brain. There is something absolutely special here. The story and characters are so fully formed. The relationship drama is intense, focused, and existentially complicated. The messiness of queerness in both sexuality and gender is plowed into in a way that’s refreshing and earnest.

Again Again is a film that takes a heady concept and brings it into the fabulous microcosm of a troubled relationship. The revelations within about how the time loop started, who Tessa and Agatha are to each other, and what life could be like if they head into the unknown with eyes open is entrancing. This is a film that you walk into with an open heart and feel a sense of fullness, love, and light after having seen it. It’s a beautiful film, flaws and all.

Grade: A

Director: Joshua Bailey
Writers: Joshua Bailey, Matthew Serrano
Stars: Matt Sonswa, Patrick Spikes, Dave Ensign

Synopsis: Follow the history of misdeeds and debauchery at Walt Disney World Resort over 30 years, which leads to the theft of almost half a million dollars worth of stolen props.

There are those of us who do have to see how the sausage is made. We deeply care about not only the object as presented to us, but dissecting that object and finding out how it came to be what it is. There are those of us who need to go where the powers that be tell us not to so we can thumb our noses at them and their petty rules. There is freedom in both types of exploration and rebellion. These needs and ideas coalesce in the people interviewed for the documentary Stolen Kingdom.

Disney theme parks have an almost impenetrable sheen to them. The urban explorers featured in Stolen Kingdom show us how easily that sheen wears off. The frankness of their exploits is a bit uncanny. The fact that some of them were able to explore into the bowels of Walt Disney World in the 21st century feels unthinkable with the amount of secrecy and security Disney provides itself with and prides itself on. Especially fascinating is that the later explorers have a significant online presence with so much evidence of their exploits.

That is the most shocking part of the film. The fact that these people not only worked their way past layers of security, but for a significant amount of time were able to explore and discover within these places is astonishing. As is seeing the footage of no longer used attractions or attractions soon to be discontinued. The first group featured in the film who documented their exploits were leaving rides in motion and taking a look at the depth and engineering of the rides. This seems unthinkable that it could happen, but before someone does it, things almost always seem unthinkable. Their exploits mostly came out of boredom.

Many of the featured explorers, as much as they may have loved Walt Disney World at one point in their lives, the magic of the park has vanished for them. Yet, in their adventures they create a new magic for themselves. The excitement at finding something that no one thinks about anymore or a place that has felt inaccessible is a new sort of magic. Even if they feel that their original love is gone, their new interest is an attraction that can’t be denied. It’s exciting to see the excitement of people finding magic in the mundane even if that magic potentially comes at the cost of their future freedom to do so.

Director Joshua Bailey does a great job of leading us through the ins and outs of this culture of urban exploration. We get to see these explorers as a new kind of pioneer. Pioneers who are as reckless about their own safety as the original pioneers. Of course, as the story progresses and the novelty becomes something more people seek, they also begin to question if there is something else to be gained from these journeys into secret spaces.

This is where the crux of Stolen Kingdom is fleshed out. The documentary is not trying to solve the mystery of who could have stolen a large animatronic from a discontinued attraction, but to show us how greed will always take something special and warp it. Even a legitimate collector featured in the film notes that he will always struggle to identify where the items he accumulates come from. The black market is always big business and the need for some to boast that they have something authentic and unique is more precious than a few thousand dollars.

Stolen Kingdom has what all documentaries want; an undeniably engrossing hook. The film takes us on a journey through a subculture with the background of a central event to try and keep us attuned to an unsolved mystery. The talking heads are informative and opinionated about one another, which creates a unique perspective within the film. It’s less about solving the mystery than about doing as the subjects have done and uncovering the story and the motivation behind the scenes. It’s a fascinating film that won’t inspire copycats as it is very clear that crime will catch up to you, but may make us think twice about the boarded up warehouse down the street.

Grade: A

Director: Jon Favreau
Writers: Jon Favreau, Dave Filoni, Noah Kloor
Stars: Pedro Pascal, Martin Scorsese, Sigourney Weaver

Synopsis: Once a lone bounty hunter, Mandalorian Din Djarin and his apprentice Grogu embark on an exciting new Star Wars adventure.

Jon Favreau’s The Mandalorian and Grogu is supposed to carry on a long and storied tradition one of the most thrilling and lush universes in science fiction. What transpires is an occasionally action-filled, overly safe, and most uninspired piece of franchise IP you could imagine.

Star Wars in theaters used to be appointment viewing. After long gestation periods, both The Phantom Menace in 1999 and The Force Awakens in 2015 broke box office records and launched the series back into the cultural lexicon. Not only is The Mandalorian and Grogu a pointless endeavor on screen, it adds nothing to the franchise, either title character, or towards Summer big budget blockbuster filmmaking.

Even when Star Wars failed, it was trying to connect to something bigger than just a straightforward story of a guy who fights and a cute creature who gets into shenanigans. Say what you want about the prequel trilogy or even something as reviled as The Rise of Skywalker, the franchise had lofty goals. It wasn’t just a vignette of a bounty hunter going on adventures. That’s all this film is. Even the shoehorning of Easter eggs and callbacks are gone. There’s nothing there for anyone.

Even if you are an acolyte (no pun intended) of Star Wars and have dug deep on every episode of The Mandalorian, there is little connective tissue to what the series has established. There are few existing characters to build off of, nor is the Mandalore lore met with anything other than passing mentions. It’s like the film was meant for someone who wants to like Star Wars, but has no prior experience with the actual installments.

The film cycles through the same rhythm of plot beats. The Mandalorian (Pedro Pascal) does some awesome action scenes, Grogu does something cute and heroic, then they come together to solve the problem. Later, the Mandalorian goes on another adventure because he apparently has nothing better to do, he does some action, gets into trouble, Grogu helps, and they come back together. This happens three to four times in the film. Frankly, it gets boring.

The action is well-staged and captivating, but those are just bursts. Each large-scale set piece arrives out of nowhere, concludes with an expected result, and is quickly forgotten. Nothing about the film, including the action, is memorable. Even when Star Wars failed, it failed memorably. The Mandalorian and Grogu provides no other memorable characters, plot points, or thematic elements worth mentioning.

This is not a universe where nothing is worth exploring. Andor and the early seasons of The Mandalorian have proved this universe is worth expanding out. But they don’t expand, they contract. The only outreach from the normal world is going back to the well of the Hutt criminal family. The amount the film asks you to care about Rotta the Hutt (voiced by Jeremy Allen White) is shocking. The Mandalorian and Grogu are in nearly every scene, but there is no actual drama. You can safely assume they aren’t going to kill off these characters. Therefore, there are zero stakes.

While it is undeniably cool to see Sigourney Weaver flying an X-wing, those moments are rare, take too long to get there, and are surrounded by too much fluff to make an impact. It’s an immensely frustrating film that adds nothing to the franchise, the series, and has no reason to exist outside of making a bit of money for one of the biggest film studios in the world. It’s a net loss.

The film is shiny and predictable, the score is familiar, the script is meaningless, and the performances are what they are.  There is nothing to hang your hat on, besides it being a Star Wars film.  If it didn’t have that franchise attached to it, there would be zero reason to keep your interest. The Mandalorian and Grogu is a major disappointment. Never before has Star Wars felt so pointless and skippable. For a franchise with such monumental highs, this is a staggering low.

Grade: C-

Director: Ivy Meeropol
Writers: Leah Goudsmit, Ivy Meeropol, Ferne Pearlstein
Stars: Lisa Birnbach, E. Jean Carroll, Roberta Kaplan

Synopsis: E. Jean Carroll won two lawsuits against Donald Trump for defamation and battery. Beyond that, she built a career as a successful magazine writer and authored one of America’s longest-running advice columns.

The danger with documentaries about high-profile public figures that they can feel overly polished, biased, and carefully smooth out contradictions in favor of inspiration. Ask E. Jean, directed by Ivy Meeropol, embraces the unpredictability of its subject. The film is energetic, entertaining and entirely powered by the enormous personality of E. Jean Carroll herself.

At 91 minutes, the documentary moves quickly through Carroll’s extraordinary life, from her early fame as Miss Cheerleader USA to her groundbreaking work as a journalist and advice columnist, before arriving at the legal battles that transformed her into one of the most publicly scrutinized women in America. Much like Carroll herself, the documentary is witty, restless, and often unexpectedly funny.

For viewers who know Carroll through recent headlines, the film serves as a reminder that she had an enormous cultural presence way before the courtroom. The documentary does an excellent job of highlighting how influential she was in reshaping women’s voices in magazines traditionally dominated by male perspectives. Her work at publications like Esquire and Playboy is showcased as part of a cultural shift in how women can write and talk publicly about sex, relationships, identity, and independence, and being fiercely positive.

The interview with Jean isn’t stylized in a clean, neutral-toned room, but in what looks like a trailer. Bright, colorful, in her comfort zone, she speaks so naturally and with passion.

Of course, the documentary’s emotional center inevitably revolves around Carroll’s legal battles against Donald Trump. These sections are handled with seriousness, and importantly, the film doesn’t position Carroll solely as a victim. Instead, Ask E. Jean frames her courtroom victories as part of the bigger story about reclaiming agency and refusing silence. She discusses how she was assaulted by the current president, and felt she could express this when other women came forward. Honestly, watch for the questions Carroll is asked when it comes to her allegations. It will infuriate you. An example question: “Were you wearing underwear?” The whole interview is recorded and we watch as Jean relives the experience.

There are clips from Trump’s response, famously saying, “she’s not my type” and how dismissive he was of these allegations. Carroll was in her eighties when she went against Trump in court – a reminder that you’re never too old to come forward and fight for justice. In case you aren’t familiar with this case, Carroll was victorious and was awarded 5 million dollars. She was then later award 83 million dollars for defamation of character.

There’s a careful balance throughout between public history and personal portraiture. Interviews with figures like Robbie Kaplan and Lisa Birnbach add context and admiration without overwhelming Carroll’s voice. The documentary is at its strongest whenever it simply lets her speak. She remains endlessly watchable, sharp one moment, reflective the next, and occasionally veering into wonderfully eccentric tangents.

Visually, the documentary keeps things fairly conventional. Archival footage, interviews, courtroom material, and magazine imagery are stitched together efficiently, though not always stylishly. This isn’t a formally groundbreaking documentary, and there are moments where the editing feels slightly too eager to rush through significant periods of Carroll’s life. Certain aspects of her journalism career (and the effects on her life) could probably have used more breathing room.

What struck me most was how modern Carroll still feels. Even archival footage from decades ago carries the same fearless energy that defines her public appearances today. The documentary repeatedly emphasizes her refusal to fit comfortably into expectations, whether professionally, socially, or politically, and that rebellious streak gives the film much of its momentum.

The documentary occasionally feels slightly overpacked. There’s enough material here for a longer, more expansive series, and some transitions between Carroll’s past and present happen so quickly that the emotional weight doesn’t always fully settle. Another documentary that I could have easily watched as a three to five-part series. Some sections could have been extended; looked more deeply into. And opinions on the future of journalism, being a woman in America, and relationships could have been explored. After all, her career has spanned decades, and I think we got a glimpse of it.

“We’re serious women. And a serious woman is an extremely powerful entity”. By the end, Ask. E Jean has explained why Carroll is an icon: fiercely intelligent, deeply human, occasionally chaotic, and utterly unwilling to disappear quietly. In an era where public figures are often flattened into headlines, told what to do and say, and where we can’t tell a real photo from AI, this story’s complexity feels refreshing. A must-watch for documentary fans, feminists, and future documentary makers.

Grade: A