Director: Alicia MacDonald
Writer: Rachel Hirons
Stars: Angourie Rice, Spike Fearns

Synopsis: When a lovesick musician is given the wrong number for his dream girl, he teams up with a driven psychology student to find her. Together, they spark a hilarious campus-wide frenzy that tests their own hearts and ambitions along the way.

It all started on the one night a year when single people were legally allowed to have sex. Wait, no. That’s not it. My dates were mixed up. It was at a wedding in Australia where their two best friends were getting married; they, of course, hated each other. DAMN IT. That’s wrong, too. Okay, I have it straight now: She was dead and only had so long to decide with whom she’d rather live out their days in the afterlife, but she was torn between her first husband and her second husband, both of whom were also dead… Right?

Wrong. Ah, you see, this was all a ruse! I had to foil your abilities to focus in order to make the film I’m going to tell you about seem a bit more complicated than it actually is, while also reminding you of the Ghosts of Rom-Coms past (and one, the first, sorta present). It was imperative that I do so given that Hollywood has entirely forgotten how to turn proper romantic comedies into theatrical events without drumming up the most ridiculous premise imaginable. Even if they turn out precisely how you figured they would in the end, we have to muck up the proceedings in order to get there. No longer is it enough to have a Harry and a Sally share a ride from college to New York because one of them has a car and the other doesn’t, only for opposites to attract decades down the pike. We cannot reincarnate Cary Grant, so we replace him with (checks notes) Noah Centineo, or the most recent clone of him now that he has grown a beard moved on to balancing his filming calendar between independent addiction dramas and video game adaptations. It won’t be long before A24 duct tapes Nicole Holofcener to her desk and forces her to rework Breakfast at Tiffany’s into a modern, Manhattan-set romance starring Madelyn Cline as a free-spirited advertising agency employee with a speciality in matcha campaigns and somehow lives in a building with in-unit washer/dryers who magically falls for Jonathan Bailey, playing a writer who hasn’t published anything in years (so, a writer). They’ll call it Breakfast at Whole Foods.

This diatribe has been brought to you by exhaustion not of the physical variety, but a creative one. For while Finding Emily – the new film starring Spike Fearn and Angourie Rice – is charming enough and contains more inter-character chemistry than Millie Bobby Brown has ever shared with a green screen, it still feels like the retreads that have come before it and are bound to come after. Its setup initially delays the necessity for suspension of disbelief, but only for so long until it eventually leads to world-stopping consequences that threaten to yank you out of the experience if you were ever truly invested to begin with. And while it affords the likes of Fearn and Rice, two semi-accomplished young actors with seemingly bright working careers ahead of them, opportunities to breathe where a number of other projects have whipped past their presences before you can even check your oxygen supply, neither star is offered the chance every performer longs for: The chance to invent something, to do something at least one viewer perchance has yet to see. 

Directed by Alicia MacDonald – who waded into the mainstream (and British) rom-com waters when she directed an episode of Lena Dunham’s Netflix series Too Much in 2025 – and written by Rachel Hirons – whose charming enough feature debut starred George MacKay just before he became George MacKay – the problem with Finding Emily has less to do with Finding Emily itself than it does with the expectations we’ve awarded its inherent genre. Rather, it’s the lack of expectations it needs to worry about. We meet Owen (Fearn) at a student-inclined club where he works as a sound engineer, though he spends most of his time scanning the evening’s patrons for a potential soulmate. (Think Jim Halpert meets 75% of The Inbetweeners principal cast and you’re likely halfway there.) He strikes up a flirty chat with his bird of choice (Sadie Soverall), whose name (Emily, right?) and contact information he takes down, only to later discover that she had left out a digit and rendered Owen’s text useless. 

He sets out to find this Emily, and the hopeless romantic happens to fall into the lap of a different Emily (Rice), a psychology student in search of a thesis subject. She has a topic – that love is bullsh*t and something forced upon us by evolutionary standards, not just something that happens – but needs a test case. Owen is perfect, and it seems that they can serve one another’s missions handily. Boy provides Girl with the necessary research Girl’s final paper lacks; Girl assists Boy in finding Other Girl he fell in love with over the course of an hour or two a few nights back. That is, until their experiments in uncovering Other Girl’s whereabouts lead to Boy forgetting to hit “Bcc” on the email he sends to every Emily enrolled at the fictional Manchester City University, a stunt that turns his lovesick stunt into national news and makes him a pariah bordering on sex pest to those without true insight to his intentions. One of those insiders happens to be Rice’s Emily, and thanks not only to their proximity to one another during “this case” but also their individual charms, those that are designed to disarm the other and nothing more, their relationship begins to grow more complex itself.

You see how this looks, right? Those with a passing ability to read between the lines of a not-so-vague plot description and to see that Fearn and Rice are the two players featured on the poster can see where this is all heading. And it’s not that romantic comedies need to reinvent the wheel every time their repetitive plots are conceived of, but that they all seem to be trying so hard to do exactly that, only to subvert the stronger ideas it flirted with examining further were it not so busy sensationalizing its best themes. MacDonald and Hirons never get preachy about the fact that Owen’s moves have undertones of toxic, masculine privilege, nor do they beat around the bush when tasked with pitting an army of angry Emilys against Owen after he flooded their inboxes with desperation, only to say “Oh, no, not you,” when “his” Emily never actually received the message. But these concepts never grow beyond that word’s definition: Abstract overarching ideas that really only bridge the gap between Finding Emily’s central mayhem and its surefire finale.

The job of a critic is not to describe the movie they wanted while critiquing a film in question, so I want to make it clear that that is not what’s happening here. What I’m suggesting is that the genre itself broadens its horizons beyond beats so recognizable that we walk out of the theater bruised given how hard we’ve been hit with them again and again. No matter how hard Alamo Drafthouse tries, theaters are not restaurants and movies aren’t meals: When I see a film, I hope to enjoy differentiation between the one I saw previously and the one I see next. The expectations we have set down in regards to genre conflict with that, but must they? Must every romantic comedy be reheatable? Leftovers can be great, but eventually they go bad, some quicker than others. Finding Emily has qualities to it that make it preservable. But the mold lies in wait, and the stench is already beginning to form inside the fridge.

Grade: C

Director: Poh Si Teng
Stars: Thaer Ahmad, Mark Perlmutter, Feroze Sidwha

Synopsis: When three American doctors-Palestinian, Jewish, and Zoroastrian-enter Gaza to save lives, they find themselves caught between medicine and politics, risking everything to expose the truth.

Documentaries that follow medical professionals into conflict zones have carved out a reliable niche in recent years, from harrowing hospital-set films about Syria to intimate portraits of aid workers navigating impossible triage decisions. Audiences return to this genre because it offers something rare: an unfiltered, ground-level view of crisis, delivered not through the lens of politicians or pundits but through people whose job is simply to keep others alive. There’s a moral clarity to the doctor’s perspective that cuts through noise, and it’s exactly this clarity that American Doctor provides its audiences. 

Directed by Oscar-nominated and Emmy-winning filmmaker Poh Si Teng, the film follows three American physicians, one Palestinian, one Jewish, and one Zoroastrian, who each volunteered in besieged hospitals in Gaza before returning to the United States. The choice to center three doctors of different backgrounds is clearly intentional, a structural argument that the oath to save lives supersedes identity or politics. Watching these three people, who might be expected to hold very different views on the conflict, arrive at similar conclusions about what they witnessed carries real weight. 

Rather than staying in the war zone for its runtime, the documentary makes an intriguing structural choice: it follows its subjects home, tracking how their experiences abroad reshape their lives, relationships, and professional obligations once they’re back in American exam rooms, their home kitchens, and eventually, congressional hearing rooms. This documentary isn’t here to present the horror of war, but rather to examine what happens to people after they’ve witnessed it.

While there is footage from Gaza that is difficult to watch (children being hurt and deceased is especially hard to view), the film spends at least as much time observing its three doctors in their quieter moments: struggling to describe what they saw to family members, wrestling with insomnia and guilt, and simply trying to grapple with the reality around them. These scenes do more to convey the psychological toll of the work than any amount of harrowing hospital footage could on its own, and they give the film an emotional texture that similar documentaries sometimes skip in favor of pure reportage.

The back half of the film follows the doctors as they lobby Congress and speak publicly about their experiences. And after the intensity of images and footage from Gaza, some might feel that the pacing occasionally falters. The shift from intimate, observational filmmaking to something closer to advocacy journalism is a natural extension of the doctors’ arcs, but it also flattens some of the nuance built up earlier. 

But it quickly brings you back to the harsh reality and the reasons the doctors are fighting the good fight. We watch a very intimate surgery on a little girl, where three surgeons and four fellows are involved, and she is likely to lose her legs, if not all of her limbs. If this reality doesn’t make you want to fall to the ground in despair, you’re not human. From this scene alone, it pushes the message that bombing hospitals, killing innocent people, including children, and erasing their way of life is not okay. Then the cut to President Donald Trump bragging about their use of weapons on Gaza, which is utterly disgraceful. So, the editing of this documentary is very clever and clear in the messages they want to send to their audiences. 

The ending to this documentary is a powerful array of images and brutal footage of bombings, protests, weapon dispatches, and miles of destroyed buildings. With disturbing numbers of deaths that have happened since 2023, including the deaths of 1,700 health care workers in Gaza. It’s a pause for thought, and I left the documentary feeling sad, angry, and a little helpless. 

American Doctor does well to humanize a set of medical professionals whose expertise and moral authority might otherwise get lost in a broader context, whilst informing its audience on topics and trauma they might be aware of if they rely on mainstream media. The three central performances, if it’s fair to call unscripted testimony a performance, are uniformly compelling, and editors have clearly worked hard to weave together three separate journeys into something that feels cohesive rather than fragmented.

For viewers already steeped in documentaries about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict or medical humanitarian work, American Doctor may not radically shift perspectives. But as a character study of ordinary people processing extraordinary trauma, and as an argument for the particular moral standing of medical witnesses, it’s a thoughtful, well-crafted addition to the genre, one that trusts its subjects’ humanity to do most of the persuading.

Grade: A

Director: Ridley Scott
Writers: Mark L. Smith, Peter Heller
Stars: Jacob Elordi, Margaret Qualley, Josh Brolin

Synopsis: In a post-apocalyptic world, a virus wipes out humanity. Survivors face roaming scavengers called Reapers. Protagonist Hig, a pilot, survived the flu but lost his wife.

Ridley Scott has been making films for almost 50 years now. He has been a master of his craft from the jump, has made brilliant films such as Alien and Blade Runner, and it seems that he shows no intent on slowing down. At this point, it’s unclear whether he’s chasing something with his high output of films or if he is really enamored with the material he is presented with. Now we have his fifth feature film of the 2020s – The Dog Stars. And should you walk away thinking “does the quantity of Scott’s output impact the quality of his filmmaking?” A clock can be right twice a day (see The Martian or Alien: Covenant), but unfortunately, The Dog Stars is not an instance that fits.

The Dog Stars is a post-apocalyptic film following the life of a former mechanic, Hig (Jacob Elordi), after a flu pandemic decimates humanity. Hig resides with Bangley (Josh Brolin), and after Hig receives a radio signal from “Grand Junction” he seeks to find his way there in the hopes of finding more survivors or anything else. The Dog Stars is one of the few post-apocalyptic films that feels much warmer and inviting, rather than cold and desolating. It’s because of this when moments of insanity or savagery occur that it feels less interested in the violence on screen, rather to just get back to the movie stars looking clean and well dressed. Disappointing, as the premise and the events are relatively interesting, but the world does not lend itself to the characters. Rather, the words on the page display the events instead of giving life to anything.

What makes The Dog Stars frustrating is that the more intimate moments or moments where you develop a connection with a character or moment is undercut by what comes next. The pace is brisk, but at the cost of the weight of certain moments. A revelation about Hig and his dead wife has no impact because we’re never given any time to live in their relationship. Everything relies on the suspension of belief and the extension of the viewers personal lived experiences. Which is unfortunate, because in a film revolving around the aftermath of tragedy there is little actual tragedy to pull from – except one thing that I won’t give away but was such low hanging fruit it was practically laying in your hands before the film even started.

Now there are some interesting filmmaking moments in the film. Design-wise, the world is well made, appropriately decayed and overgrown as if ripped from The Last of Us. There’s an action sequence with Bangley involving a night vision scope that stood out in the otherwise bored visuals. Otherwise, The Dog Stars is a hodgepodge of elements from much better films (and a few video games). You can recall moments from The Shining, the aforementioned The Last of Us, Avatar, Silent Hill 2, and Mad Max. There would be no reason to indulge in The Dog Stars if you can have the pieces that raise it up.

It feels like The Dog Stars should end multiple times, the product placement is insane (Coke products and Bulleit Bourbon galore), and no one seems particularly interested in the material in the film. But The Dog Stars isn’t a complete disaster. The all-star cast are there! It is written well enough! The scope is decent enough! And it certainly doesn’t look like hell (just boring)! Will you remember this? Barely. But you won’t be upset by anything in The Dog Stars. In New York City, a movie ticket is a lot more expensive than most cities – with that said I’d only recommend it if you’re watching in a dollar theater or it gets added to whatever streaming platform it will unceremoniously land on in a month.

There’s little to give much praise for this film, but the assembly of The Dog Stars is right above the level of ‘whatever’. The burning obnoxious question of ‘should Ridley Scott retire’ is equally tired as it is offensive (plenty of younger filmmakers that would make much better insurance sales agents than filmmakers). Which is to say, I don’t hate The Dog Stars, I don’t love The Dog Stars, and no, this isn’t a Goldilocks ‘just right’ situation either. The Dog Stars is bored on a lot of fronts but straddles right above being boring enough to not make this an outright disaster. Go watch it, I guess?

Grade: C

Director: Chris Schwab
Writer: Chris Schwab
Stars: Eric Toms, Marlene Mc’Cohen, Spencer Weitzel

Synopsis: Dr. John Seward, a depressed doctor at an asylum for the criminally insane, finds a rare glimmer of hope when he connects with his new neighbour, Mina, and her young daughter, Lucy. But beneath the city streets, an ancient evil stirs in the sewers. Dracula is building a harem of undead brides, and he soon sets his sights on Lucy.

As a big fan of Dracula adaptations, I know there are many great options out there. Sadly, many of them fail to do anything new or interesting, coming across as mere copies of something better. Thankfully, Dracula: The Night Around Us isn’t pretending to be the next perfect retelling; it feels like a new, bare-bones approach to a legendary character that reminds audiences what makes the character so thrilling. Breathing new life into one of the most iconic novels ever written, it strips the vampire of his regality and places him in a minimalist modern world.

There has never been a shortage of Dracula movies, either focusing on the gothic horror the character lives in, or the yearnful romantic he gets painted as. Each director approaches the work differently; writer-director Chris Schwab is the newest filmmaker to take a swing at it. His film, Dracula: The Night Around Us, takes place somewhere in America. It really nails the midwestern vibe of grey-washed cement buildings and a general dingy fog hanging in the air. A charred Dracula (Brenton Jones) has his eyes on a new home, and his journey brings more than just his physical baggage.

What stands out the most right away is Schwab’s lack of backstory for his main character, choosing to skip over who he is, his famous castle, and the land that he inhabits before his move. Those hoping to see this retold through Schwab’s lens might walk away disappointed, but it adds to the unease that creeps onto the screen when Dracula appears. His very presence exudes discomfort, partly because his unsettling physical design and the extent of his evil aren’t immediately apparent. The usual characters are scattered throughout the film: Renfield (Spencer Weitzel), who is still feeding on animals; Mina (Marlene Mc’Cohen) and Lucy (Raelan Mackiewicz), who, in this retelling, are a mother and daughter; and Dr. Seward (Eric Toms), the character Schwab tells this story through.

Each character has a twist; Mina and Lucy have just moved into the apartment they got after running away from their prior situation. Their neighbor, Dr. Seward, is the film’s narrative vessel, and he’s deeply connected to his work as a psychiatrist but still has time to befriend his new neighbors. They share a meal that does much to establish who these characters are in Schwab’s script. He uses these three characters to show the dark connections they have to Dracula, who is quickly making his way to his new home. The forbidden intrigue that comes from a being like him, one you know is dangerous, and everything within you tells you to run, but you can’t. Everything from their religion to their night terrors to their clinical practices ties into why they are drawn to Schwab’s version of the creature of the night. Though there’s a particular period-piece allure that is missing to amplify the supernatural elements of vampires, it does take a bit more convincing to make the instant connection among everyone fully work.

Although the horror in Dracula: The Night Around Us comes mostly from the impending dread each character feels, there’s still quite a bit of classic Dracula blood-sucking to quench audiences’ thirsts. Jones’s version of the character comes across more like a shadow haunting the lives of those he encounters. His design helps with this, as does the way he appears on camera. He looms over those he shares a screen with and does not appear for long. His voice is spoken in whispers, with sharp, blackened hands that make it easy for him to slice his chest open and offer Mina a drink of his immortal blood. The lack of visual horror with blood and guts doesn’t impact the toned-down story, especially because the film is shown through a mortal lens, but there are times when the film begins to feel less like a vampire movie and more like a cat-and-mouse detective story. It works for the most part because Schwab sets the tone of small-town stakes early on, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss seeing Dracula feasting as he wishes.

In this iteration, audiences are taken into the damp sewers where Dracula festers. Unknown creatures lurk in the dark corners and in the shadows beyond the imagination of Dr. Seward. Dwelling below the streets, Schwab’s version of Dracula is treated like a plague hidden until he is ready to show himself. And, performance-wise, Jones’s work as the titular character is unsettling. With little spoken dialogue, his character’s physical demeanor is that of a silent predator. His physical appearance resembles Nosferatu more than the classic Dracula, with sharp features and a bald head. Jones gives the character a floating movement, making it unclear whether his feet are touching the ground. Tom’s performance as Dr. Seward is also worthy of praise; he portrays an overworked psychiatrist well, showing a tired eagerness to help those suffering. With a haggard and weary mind of his own, he has a conflict of his own mind he has to overcome. The minimalist script allows not just these two characters but the others as well space to craft unique performances that fit the dark, moody atmosphere.

Is this a perfect adaptation of one of the most famous pieces of literature? No, but it doesn’t have to be. Where Schwab’s film excels most is in creating its own identity. Small-town America becomes a haven for a being that brings only death and despair in a gloomy yet familiar atmosphere. It’s a well-pieced-together film, with a Midwestern charm felt in its design and its performances. Dracula: The Night Around Us is the exact kind of reimagining audiences want to sink their teeth into, and Schwab gives them plenty to digest.

Grade: B

Director: Adam Wingard
Writer: Simon Barrett
Stars: Adria Arjona, Alex Pereira, Dan Stevens

Synopsis: When a rogue squad of genetically engineered super soldiers break loose in the desert, a badass Army sniper must unleash hell to protect her young daughter.

Adam Wingard sits as an interesting filmmaker to view the roadmap from deep genre roots to the IP machine. He and frequent collaborator and writer Simon Barrett have always had horror running through their veins with sturdy slashers like You’re Next, stylish throwbacks like The Guest, and even small stints as a director with the early years of the VHS series. It wasn’t long, however, before Wingard took a trip to the IP machine with a triple whammy of a Blair Witch remake, a Death Note adaptation, and a delve into the monsterverse with two Godzilla and Kong movies in 2021 and 2024, respectively. All this to say, Onslaught represents the promise of Wingard’s return to his roots as a filmmaker post-IP land. A stripped-down back-to-basics ode to the early days of grindhouse slashers you’d find in your local VHS store in the ‘80s, blending exploitation with loads of atmospheric horror and action, and luckily the film succeeds. Ironically, Onslaught’s biggest asset can also be to its detriment, as the lean and mean moniker it lives up to can tilt a bit too far in the lean category, leading to elements of its commentary surrounding growing government evils and third-act buildup to come up a bit short. Still, if you’re looking for some good old genre pulp, Onslaught will be more than sufficient, and it helps that Adria Arjona is here to anchor it all as the film’s badass heroine.

Arjona plays Celeste, an ex-Army vet still reeling a bit from her traumas as a sniper in the war zone, but finds as much solace as she can as the onsite manager for a trailer park in the desert outskirts of New Mexico. When she isn’t collecting rent, she gets the occasional visit from her ex-husband (Jacob Scipio) threatening to take full custody of their daughter Daisy (Blake Kennedy), who is dropped off for a surprise visit for the day. Little does Celeste know that hell is about to be unleashed as mad (and balding) Nazi scientist Hans Kammler (Dan Stevens) has been performing top-secret government experiments in a base to create three ultra supersoldiers led by The Butcher (Alex Pereira), removing any past memories and transforming them into unstoppable killing machines. Of course, as with most dangerous government experiments, things go awry fast once the soldiers escape the base and wreak havoc on the populace, and sure enough, begin heading towards Celeste’s trailer park. With her daughter to protect and robotic killers chasing her down, Celeste must unleash a fury like no other to stop the madness.

Endless inspiration from John Carpenter oozes in and out of Onslaught, from Matthew Pusti’s techno-based score to the visceral meanness that radiated from films like Assault on Precinct 13. What remains most impressive about the film’s genre play, however, is how effortlessly it flips between atmospheric tension and sleek, delightfully bloody action. There’s often a hyper stylization that the film toys with throughout, implementing gritty black-and-white sequences during flashbacks of Celeste’s army past and past endeavors of the super soldiers before they were exploited for government experimentation. 

The film is not subtle at all in its theme of government evils, but there exists a well-implemented throughline of our slowly growing fascist government willing to do whatever is necessary in the name of efficiency, even if it means dismantling and exploiting any sense of humanity within us or those who have served the country. The film often satisfies a great itch within the space of a simple horror slasher and relentlessly bloody action, similarly to another 80s classic, The Terminator, building the tension of hiding from the soldiers or seeing them in silence in the background one moment and Celeste sniping the assailants so they can get sawed in half by a chainsaw the next. It’s a difficult task, simultaneously helming hoot-and-holler-worthy dismemberments with horrifically realistic depictions of gun violence side by side with one another, but the film’s greatest strength is its balance of atmospheric thrills and transient public violence with the relentlessly bloody, pulpy genre goods Wingard knows we came for.

The narrative tends to get a bit shakier when the quick efficiency of Onslaught’s genre thrills can leave a few key aspects in the dust, removing its potential to be a great flick. For as much as the film rips as an all-efficient machine within both the kills and thrills, it feels like there’s still a couple of minutes of rip-roaring satisfaction that would’ve made everything hit harder at the end. It’s almost like the film decides to close shop on everything once it realizes it’s just about reaching the 90-minute threshold. While a quickly satisfying 90-minute genre thriller is just as good as any film offering it, it leads certain aspects of its fascist government commentary and delightfully freakish characters, like Drew Starkey’s role as Cyrus, a forever inebriated contractor sent to clean up the government mess, to end up with a bit less screentime than you’d want. The qualms are, however, never enough to stick a wrench in the film’s thrill ride machinery, and the mother-daughter throughline between Celeste and Daisy alongside other kickass vet Josiah (Reginald VelJohnson of ‘80s action fame with Die Hard) are enough to carry the film’s spottier story beats. 

Onslaught lives up to its title as both a throwback to the glorious visceral nature of grindhouse flicks and a film that zooms through its plot mechanics so fast that it tends to leave certain aspects of its action a bit lacking to fully satisfy in its endeavors. It’s never a dealbreaker, however, as Onslaught provides the sharp thrills, laughs, and gnarly dismemberments to succeed in its homage to the VHS classics we know and love in both horror and action. With Adria Arjona as the glue holding it all together, Wingard and Barrett’s return to their stylized horror roots rips a more than sufficient amount and gets the job done as slickly exquisite and relentlessly violent genre pulp.  

Grade: B

Director: Hongchun Lan
Writer: Hongchun Lan, Leng Yang, Xuanxuan Zheng, Liyun Zhu
Stars: Li Sitong, Wang Yantong, Wu Shaoqing, Zheng Runqi, Wang Xiaohui

Synopsis: Xiaowei travels to Thailand to find his “billionaire grandfather” whose debt problems have kept out of contact, but he unexpectedly finds that the one who has been corresponding with his grandmother for years is not her husband.

“First bitter, then sweet.”

In looking back at life, and films, sometimes a simple, efficient statement truly does say it best. We can all be fooled by being prisoners of the moment. Human beings are often, for better or worse, emotional creatures that are ruled by our hearts. The problem with this, sometimes, is we are unable to see other possible explanations with our head once our heart has decided. How many times have any of us said, or thought, “Logically, I know…”? It can be difficult to recover from this, to teach ourselves that the story we have told is at best, incomplete, and at worst, completely false.

In Hongchun Lan’s film, Dear You, there is a truth shown at the beginning of the film that slowly unravels over the two hour runtime. The film opens in present day China, where Iap Sok-jiu (Wu Shaoqing), affectionately called ‘Ama’ by her grandchildren, is celebrating her 87th birthday. At the same time, her grandson, Hiau-ui (Zheng Runqi), who is in deep debt and decides to travel to Thailand to find his grandfather, who abandoned their family. His plan is to find a way to have him pay off his debts as money owed for time lost with his family. This is the accepted truth. Ten Bhakseng (Wang Yantong) fled when he was conscripted into the army, made his way in Thailand, found another wife, and fathered children. This is known because of a picture sent to Ama without a note of explanation. Understandably, she assumes he will never return and sets herself to her new life.

Hiau-ui, on arriving in Thailand, quickly finds out that not only did his grandfather not have a great deal of money (despite schools being named in his honor), but he also died many years ago. This, of course, ruins his plans, but it does open up the story to reveal itself in flashback. The script –from Hongchun Lan, Leng Yang, Xuanxuan Zheng, and Liyun Zhu – is structured in such a way that it allows an almost leisurely pace, despite some high drama. The naturalistic performances, paired with an impressive eye for detail in the recreation of these times and places, makes it nearly impossible to not be taken with the story surrounding it. Most especially the relationship between Bhakseng and Nam-ki (Li Sitong) stands out as truly impressive. 

Their interactions, at first, have the highest amount of conflict and drama, but it never ends up exactly as one would expect. Plus, their distinct acting styles play as foils for one another. Bhakseng is brash and impatient, while Nam-ki is shrewd and patient. Li Sitong, especially, has a mastery of the material that carries the film in moments that could feel slow or missing connective material. If anything, these two almost make you wish that the entire film was about their back-and-forth. But Dear You is much larger and deeper than one relationship. At its essence, it focuses on the painfully slow passage of time and the bonds we form, even with strangers over great distance.

There are certainly minor characters that feel a bit standard or wasted, but that mostly serves to remind us of the work that our leads are engaged in. The film makes great use of the history of ‘Qiaopi.’ This was a practice in which Chinese people who were living abroad would send money home to support family and friends. They would send money, paired with a letter in a single envelope. These letters, which Bhakseng was sending to his wife, were the source of not only financial assistance, but great romance. Smartly, despite his reported betrayal, we, along with Iap Sok-jiu, are left swooning at his words. So much so, that it is hard to believe and understand what he did.

Dear You is a time and world spanning journey that, despite a few detours that affect the pace, is well worth traveling. It is a beautiful lesson in the fact that, despite what we think we know, things can change. We do not get to know every piece of the truth, and it is important to live a good life, even if we feel betrayed. It is because of these feelings, not despite them, that we should continue moving forward and helping others. Indeed, life can sometimes be sour. But in a long enough timeline, our life’s timeline, it can become sweet, if we search.

Grade: B+

Director: Agnieszka Smoczyńska
Writer: Robert Bolesto
Stars: Andrzej Konopka, Noomi Rapace, Reika Kirishima

Synopsis: As a private eye investigates a murder in a future world of sentient A.I., his identity and marriage suffer a hypnotic meltdown.

There isn’t a term I hate more in film criticism than “big swings” or “swings for the fences,” because what the hell are you actually talking about? What constitutes a “swing” in a movie? Because it deviates from a preconceived “three-act” structure or decides to have a few unwieldy images and ideas? As far as I’m concerned, art isn’t monolithic and a movie can take different forms. It doesn’t need to adhere to anything in particular, or any notion of film theory, to address (or, more aptly, captivate) its audience. Many might feel the urge to describe Agnieszka Smoczyńska’s latest movie, Hot Spot, as a “big swing,” but what exactly is the Polish filmmaker swinging at? As far as I’m concerned, there are no swings (let alone big ones) to be found in this tedious but oddly intoxicating nothingburger. 

After a world premiere at the Fantasia International Film Festival that left many audience members perplexed and allegedly led to walkouts, Hot Spot (which was itself developed as one of the biggest titles born out of the festival’s Frontières Market) finally arrives in cinemas with little to no fanfare. One can see why – the movie presents a dystopian future where an A.I. entity dubbed “The Head” rules society, and the auteur behind one of the best genre films of the past decade, The Lure, does nothing with what seems like an already tired premise. Instead, she follows detective Jan 623 (or Djonny, played by Andrzej Konopka) as he investigates a murder alongside his partner, Maria (Filippa Kaye). 

They investigate, find the suspect, and resolve the crime with little to no urgency. Or do they? Because during their examination of the crime scene, they meet Rana (Noomi Rapace), a refugee also known as a “Cyber Witch,” who can jump into people’s minds and make them see things? Is that it? Because Djonny can also do this? I’m sorry, this is where the movie lost me, irrespective of an aesthetic that’s always at the precipice of drawing us into a desolate world where Artificial Intelligence has depleted all resources and destroyed the environment. 

The case doesn’t seem to be the primary importance of Hot Spot, but rather Jan’s dissociation as his mind begins to unravel after a first contact with the Cyber Witch. After that, well, he becomes a tiger. I don’t really know how we get from Point A to Point Z7, but he becomes a tiger. I also don’t know whether it was intentional that the protagonist looks exactly like Tiger King’s Joe Exotic, right down to the animal-inspired wear, but it definitely seems like Smoczyńska thought about this long in advance. 

I say this because after each public execution is aired by the A.I, it finishes the live stream with “Thank you for your attention to this matter.” Which political figure repeatedly says this sentence in our era? It can’t be a coincidence, now, can’t it? So why in the hell does Jan look like Joe Exotic? And why does he transform himself into a tiger? What has awakened in him that forces this metamorphosis? 

Who knows, because Smoczyńska refuses to lay out any of the questions that she introduces and never gets back to. We’re a far cry away from The Lure, a genuinely alluring genre-bender that I saw almost a decade ago and still think about to this day. Hot Spot wants to be a maximalist affair where we’ll ponder the significance of its images long after the credits have rolled, but as soon as I’m done filing the review you’re reading right now, I will never think about it ever again. 

The thing is, though, I also had a genuinely interesting viewing experience. I can’t say I appreciated what was on screen, but I definitely had a more thoughtful time viewing Smoczyńska formally experiment in ways she hasn’t done before than her previous effort, The Silent Twins. This is a movie that refuses to kowtow to basic notions of film structure and even image-making. It’ll frequently introduce new ideas in the middle of another one, hoping you’ll run with it. I didn’t, but one specific concert scene certainly made me think the movie would amount to something more. The way she links recurring close-ups of an eye “awakening” to the film’s larger canvas took my breath away. 

But the way in which she clumsily blends Blade Runner, Dune, Akira, Total Recall, Mad Max (and Tiger King, for some reason) makes the thing look like an algorithm was fed these science-fiction movies and wrote a film based on concepts they’ve seen in all of them stitched together, without understanding what any of these films actually meant. It’s a real shame, because Smoczyńska is a talent I want to champion. I was so happy when the Fantasia premiere for the movie was sold out, less so when I heard the chatter from people who attended it, as yet another soul-crushing venture from a director who has peaked at their feature debut and never made anything worthwhile ever again. 

The one net positive is that it’s a much better mind trip than Nicolas Winding Refn’s Her Private Hell, which also premiered at Fantasia, because it isn’t much concerned with saying something. It just wants to make the audience feel an emotion. I certainly felt many emotions watching Hot Spot. Bewilderment. (Unintentional) laughter. Complete and utter boredom, and, finally, relief that I would finally be able to leave the theater and that my time wouldn’t be wasted like this ever again. Whoever says this wildly ambitious, but horrendously developed, sci-fi joint is a “big swing” should understand that no film is ever the same, and that this vague term should be retired once and for all…

Grade: D-

Director: Sam Green
Stars: Ann Blackwell, Violet Brown, Genia Carter

Synopsis:  A ten-year worldwide exploration tracks successive holders of the oldest living person title. A study of longevity transforms into reflection on time’s flow, fate’s unpredictability, and the joy of human existence.

We have become increasingly obsessed with living longer. From billionaires spending fortunes trying to slow the aging process to documentaries investigating the science behind so-called superagers, the desire to extend our time on Earth has become a fascinating cultural obsession. Netflix’s Don’t Die: The Man Who Wants to Live Forever followed entrepreneur Bryan Johnson’s extreme attempts to defy aging, while Michael Mosley: Secrets of the Superagers explored the habits and science behind people who appear to age remarkably well. Sam Green’s The Oldest Person in the World approaches the same fascination from a completely different direction. Rather than asking how we might live longer, it asks what it actually means to have lived a very long life.

There is something wonderfully simple about the concept. Someone becomes the oldest person in the world, holds the title for a while (the smallest amount of time being four days), and eventually someone else takes their place. The record sounds permanent until you remember that it isn’t. Green’s decade-long documentary follows the ever-changing record holders of the title of oldest living person. It is an immediately intriguing premise, but what starts as a fascination with extraordinary age gradually becomes something much more personal and unexpectedly moving. Green travels across the world to meet each new record holder, while his own life continues to change in the background.

Everyone interviewed has stories, memories, personalities, and very different experiences. Some of the most enjoyable moments come from simply watching Green spend time with them, sharing something unspoken. It also prevents the film from becoming another documentary promising the secret to a longer life. No miracle diet or revolutionary exercise routine is waiting at the end of this journey. Instead, Green finds something considerably more complicated. Longevity appears to be shaped by circumstance, genetics, luck, relationships and countless factors that no individual can entirely control. But, seen as though we all are interested in how people can live to 117, some people say their “secret” to a long life is eating three raw eggs a day, staying away from men, being inspired, and then no secrets, just that God decides when it’s your time to go.

For a documentary centered on the world’s oldest living people, death is inevitably present throughout The Oldest Person in the World. Every new record holder is also a reminder that the record will eventually pass to somebody else. Green doesn’t shy away from that uncomfortable reality. There is a lovely balance between recognizing the inevitability of death and celebrating the privilege of being alive. I would be lying/not doing a service to this documentary film if I don’t say that it made me think about my own mortality and how comfortable I am with ever making this age. This documentary will make you think about age, death and how one will die. So if that’s uncomfortable for you, maybe watch something else instead.

Visually, the documentary has a gentle, observational quality that suits its subject. There is no need for manufactured drama. The passage of time provides all the drama Green needs. The changing faces of the film’s subjects become a visual representation of the fleeting nature of existence. Green includes home videos of his son growing up, time with his brother, and stills from his life changing and growing as he makes this film. He discusses why he’s making it, and how he’s felt across the process. It does feel like a personal journey he’s taking – especially when he faces death in his family and battles cancer.

Perhaps the most ambitious aspect of the project is that Green doesn’t intend for it to end here. He and his team plan to continue filming the oldest person in the world for the rest of their lives, creating a new film every decade. The idea of turning it into an evolving “living film” is both fascinating and poignant. Nobody knows who will hold the title in ten years, or what the filmmakers’ own lives will look like by then.

The Oldest Person in the World encourages a much simpler appreciation of time. There is humor, sadness, curiosity and plenty of humanity here, but above all there is a sense that every life, regardless of its length, is worth paying attention to. After watching it, the question isn’t really how long we might live. It is what we do with the years we have. And that makes The Oldest Person in the World a surprisingly life-affirming film about the one thing none of us can stop: time.

Grade: A

Director: Jacob Chase
Writers: Jacob Chase, David Leslie Johnson-McGoldrick, Leigh Whannell
Stars: Amelia Eve, Island Austin, Lin Shaye

Synopsis:  Gemma, a young mother raising her daughter in the house she grew up in, discovers she can travel into The Further, where she possesses an ability to bring what lives there back to the real world.

We’re in the final days of summer. Most of the big blockbusters have already been released, and now a mix of indie films and studio projects are competing for the attention of audiences. The new installment in the Insidious series will certainly draw in fans familiar with the franchise and hungry for some scares in the comfort of a cold theater. Insidious: Out of the Further steps away from the Lambert family and introduces a new cast of fresh faces who venture into the Further.

Gemma (Amelia Eve) is a dental hygienist in a small town and a single mother to her daughter Maya (Island Austin). Twenty years earlier, she witnessed her mother seemingly commit suicide in their home after battling what she believed was depression and a manic episode. Gemma has tried her best to leave the past behind and raise her daughter to have a normal life, but her past refuses to stay buried. There’s unfinished business between her, her mother, and the place franchise fans know all too well: The Further. Gemma slips between the real world and The Further in a race to protect the people she loves — with help from a familiar face guiding her along the way.

In 2026, we’re now six films deep into the Insidious franchise. Every story has been connected through Elise Rainer, played by the wonderful Lin Shaye. I’ve always enjoyed her role as the paranormal investigator willing to help anyone, but she deserves a stronger script. In this installment, she’s given limited screen time, and her appearance feels like an Avenger popping up in a non–team‑up Marvel movie — just long enough to say “Hey!,” have a quick fight scene, and disappear into the darkness.

We’re introduced to new characters like Brandon Perea’s Nick, Gemma’s boyfriend who wants to pull her out of the constant state of franticness caused by living in her childhood home. His character would’ve worked better as a paranormal investigator rather than someone tied to the police force. Then there’s Maisie Richardson‑Sellers as Clare, a tattoo artist who can astral project and is clearly meant to serve as a spiritual guide for Gemma, stepping in for Elise within the Further. Blumhouse still struggles to write characters of color with little backlash from fans of color, and Clare is no exception. She’s not given a proper backstory — how she can astral project, how she knows Elise, or even why she’s a tattoo artist. These new characters feel like tropes checked off a list of “people typically found in a horror movie.”

One aspect of the film I genuinely enjoyed was the practical effects and makeup on the spirits from The Further. The prosthetics remain slimy, colorless, and creepy as ever. The makeup department’s work is never a disappointment and is one of the elements that keeps me coming back. The cinematography by David Garbett is reminiscent of the earlier films. I appreciated the increased POV shots, the wide establishing shots of the Further, and noticeable improvements from The Red Door. Garbett, who worked on Ash vs Evil Dead, Evil Dead Rise, and Lee Cronin’s The Mummy, is a mainstay in the horror genre. If he continues to refine his craft, I think award wins could be in his future.

Joseph Bishara’s score, however, is lacking the tension and unsettling energy that made his work in earlier entries so memorable. It feels like he copied and pasted cues from past Insidious films. Nothing stood out or made me sit up and think, “Oh, Bishara is cooking now!”

Blumhouse makes their movies on cheap budgets, and they always turn a profit — that’s their model. But is it wrong to want them to put more effort into their scripts and storytelling? I wasn’t pleased with much in this movie aside from a few decent scares in the first half, strong practical effects and makeup, and solid cinematography. I’m happy for Lin Shaye, though, because she’ll be back for the next film. Let’s hope she brings a better story with her.

Grade: D

Director: Louis Paxton
Writer: Louis Paxton
Stars: Gayle Rankin, Domhnall Gleeson, John Hannah

Synopsis: On a remote Scottish isle, siblings Isla and Sandy hunt birds and talk to mythical beings while fighting off outsiders. Their lives change when Daniel, an awkward official, arrives to relocate them.

Louis Paxton’s directorial debut, The Incomer, is one of the most delightful and hilarious first feature films I’ve had the pleasure of watching in the last few years. The film leans heavily into Scottish folklore, centering on a brother and sister living on one of the many isolated islands off the coast of the Scottish Highlands. With only each other and the island’s animals for company, they honor their father’s dying wish to defend the land from any incomers from “the mainland” by any means necessary.

After spending decades undiscovered on the island, Isla (Gayle Rankin) and her brother Sandy (Grant O’Rourke) are understandably borderline insane, regularly scuffling with one another. Survival has become increasingly difficult, with the pair now living off seagull meat caught during the day between their military-style drills, all in preparation for an invasion from potential “incomers.”

In keeping with the themes on display throughout the film, the siblings’ drills often feel like something you might expect from Braveheart, not a lighthearted comedy. Strangely, though, it feels rather apt, especially when you take into account the mysterious and bonkers Finn-men. They are part human, part seal and they spend their existence lurking in the surrounding waters of the isle, constantly attempting to lure the siblings into the murky depths of the sea and have them sacrifice themselves to the waves. Just like the movie itself, they are suitably weird but for all the right reasons.

Unfortunately for Isla and Sandy, the peaceful paradise is about to be invaded by the pesky Scottish council who have caught wind of their existence. The council sends Daniel (Domhnall Gleeson), a nerdy, nonconfrontational guy to serve them with an eviction notice. That is far easier said than done. The tense, friction-filled interactions once Daniel reaches the island result in some hilariously nerve-wracking moments. His life flashes before his eyes more than once as he’s painted as the terrifying mainlander the siblings have spent years preparing for.

On the surface, The Incomer presents itself as quirky and goofy, but it’s the tender, and ultimately vulnerable, story of Isla and Sandy that truly begins to shine through. We learn about their father’s death and the way their mother “abandoned” them to return to the mainland, leaving the siblings to essentially raise themselves from childhood into adulthood. It’s a surprisingly poignant thread that, for the most part, lands beautifully and provides some much-needed depth to the characters’ stories.

Suitably, Louis Paxton leans into the mystery of what it would be like to be so out of touch with modern-day society. For the most part, that’s explored sensitively through deeper conversations, predominantly between Daniel and Isla as their relationship blossoms. Their connection never feels forced, despite how easily it could have fallen into that trap.

In tune with the rather crazy but entertaining tone of the film, Daniel’s tales of this mysterious mainland the siblings have missed out on provide some of its most charming moments. His retelling of “The Lord of the Rings” especially feels, in a strange way, relatable, as Isla and Sandy are completely captivated, much like audiences are when they first meet the Fellowship. It teleported me back to hearing my dad talk about the magical franchise, when I could sit down and listen for hours.

That said, there are definitely moments that threaten to derail the momentum, particularly after the unhinged council leader Roz (Michelle Gomez) lands on the island. While undoubtedly still very enjoyable, it feels rather telegraphed how the third act begins to unfold, perhaps ensuring a potentially big emotional punch doesn’t quite land as hard as it possibly could have. To Paxton’s credit, though, he’s able to hook audiences back in during the final moments, ensuring you’ll still have a beaming smile on your face as the credits begin to roll.

As well as being a barrel of laughs, The Incomer is impressively well acted. As expected, Domhnall Gleeson delivers a stellar performance, once again showcasing his impeccable comedic timing. His on-screen chemistry with Gayle Rankin is infectious, with their back-and-forth banter proving a real highlight. The same can be said for Grant O’Rourke, who plays Sandy with such convincing childlike innocence that he may well be the funniest character in the entire film. With the undoubted talent on display, that’s no easy feat.

So despite a slight decline towards the end, The Incomer remains a compelling and hugely enjoyable experience, packed with some of the best comedy you’re likely to see this year. It’s a deeply heartwarming story about genuine human connections, with a sprinkle of magic thrown in for good measure, and one that I’m sure most people will have a great time with. Even if the film ultimately heads in a direction you might expect, the journey there is more than worth taking.

Grade: B

Director: Macon Blair
Writer: Macon Blair
Stars: O’Shea Jackson Jr., Dave Franco, Kiernan Shipka

Synopsis: When two unqualified bozos are hired to transfer a rich teen to rehab, their straightforward gig quickly spirals into dangerous mayhem.

Idiots (previously entitled The Shitheads at its Sundance premiere)  is a fascinating film to dissect in terms of the specific type of comedy it’s aiming for and the multiple tonal inflections it ends up giving off throughout. From both the marketing and vibe of the film’s opening minutes, most would likely think of it as a good old-fashioned vulgar and delightful crude comedy that only increases in hilarity as its mountains of hijinks escalate, and while that’s mainly true, writer/director Macon Blair intertwines the escapades with a surprising amount of attempted genre blending. The film, as it plods on, takes a shift into multiple genres, including a touch of action, genuine drama between its two screw-up lead characters, and even a percolating commentary on the ever-growing privilege of the rich youth that those of lower classes couldn’t even dream of touching. The result is a film that grows a bit more uneven in its plotting the longer it goes on, and it occasionally struggles a bit to find a true identity as our leads get into more dangerous situations, often becoming too mean-spirited and tonally confused. Still, Idiots is able to stay just sturdy enough to provide a fair amount of hearty laughs as a thrilling road trip comedy, even if everything it attempts doesn’t fully land.

The setup is simple enough, as our leads are two screw-up slackers, Davis (O’Shea Jackson Jr.) and Mark (Dave Franco). Both of them, mostly due to incompetence, have been fired from their jobs as Davis opens the film being let go from his church after accidentally showing the group’s youth a showing of Antichrist (yes, THAT Antichrist), and Mark is fired from his desk job on a count of doing too many drugs while working. The two hope to turn their recent mishaps around as they sign on to work for a transportation service that brings kids to a court-ordered rehab facility. The kid they’re in charge of is Sheridan (Mason Thames), a bratty and pampered rich kid with a large follower base on social media, and throughout the film, he only further showcases his troubled tendencies. With one destination to get to and a legally binding contract that they both signed keeping them focused, Davis and Mark try to make the gig as straightforward as possible, but when a chain of increasingly insane events begins when they stop at a motel, their night veers out of control and what was a simple job spirals into pure chaos and a matter of life and death. 

Idiots is at its strongest, both structurally and comically, throughout the majority of its first half, as the character dynamics between our main duo are formed fairly well from the start. Mark and Davis are essentially polar opposites in their outlook on their current life choices, and it makes for a captivating butting of heads that slowly transforms into a buddy duo of sorts that’s more than appreciated, with Sheridan acting as the chaos agent in the dynamic. Franco is particularly good here as a consistently inebriated weasel, and it’s a testament to Blair’s writing that he makes such tried-and-true character archetypes still worthy of rooting for. The film peaks during a stretch in the motel when Sheridan escapes, and Kiernan Shipka’s erotic dancer character Irina is introduced. The small spurt of her, Mark, and Davis trying to get Sheridan back is where the film best balances its absurd silliness and underlying discomfort (especially in one great bodily dysfunction bit).

Unfortunately, the longer Idiots goes on, the more what were previously smaller issues start to pile up. The movie admittedly starts with an underlying mix of tones that it later develops as the bad situations for our protagonist escalate, but the problem is that the film struggles to have a clear idea of the exact type of movie it wants to be. This is particularly evident when Peter Dinklage’s character of Koko and his band of armed criminals are introduced, and a film that was already veering towards a few different tonal directions takes a complete 180 into mean-spirited territory. The bits begin to overstay their welcome (especially one rap sequence with Nicholas Braun’s character going full “Werewolf”), and that, on top of a shift the film takes with Sheridan’s character, never feels quite earned considering its previous rich privilege commentary. It’s where the entire film completely capsizes, but Jackson Jr. and Franco’s chemistry are still just able to keep things afloat within what starts to become an uneven mess. 

For the most part, what you see is what you get with Idiots, an increasingly insane road trip to hilarity that’s clever enough, bits bolstered by its committed cast; it’s just increasingly hampered from being anything stronger by a screenplay that can’t quite narrow down what exactly it wants to accomplish by its end. Still, if progressively wacky hijinks, mayhem, and fairly funny situational comedy are what you want, Idiots will suffice, even with more than a small number of caveats holding it back. 

Grade: C+