Director: Gareth Johnson

Synopsis: Follows the Mackenzie Shirilla case, a 17-year-old who intentionally crashed her car into a brick wall in Ohio, killing her boyfriend, Dominic Russo and his friend Davion Flanagan. She was convicted of 12 felonies

At this point, Netflix has practically turned true crime into one of its defining genres. From Making a Murderer to The Staircase and the endlessly discussed Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story, the platform has built an audience that seems endlessly fascinated by stories where tragedy, psychology, and media spectacle collide. Part of the appeal, I think, comes from the uncomfortable question at the center of most true-crime stories: how does something horrific happen in seemingly ordinary circumstances? Viewers aren’t just watching for shock value anymore; they’re trying to understand motive, behavior, and the fragile line between accident and intent. As active viewers, we want to think we can solve a case, and sometimes, even get away with a crime.

The Crash is a deeply unsettling new documentary from director Gareth Johnson that examines the real-life case of Mackenzie Shirilla, the Ohio teenager convicted to life in prison after a fatal car crash that killed her boyfriend, Dom, and his friend, Davion.

The documentary features the kind of imagery we’ve come to expect from modern true crime: wreckage photos, emergency recordings, devastated families. A car traveling at 100 miles per hour into a brick building is already horrifying enough. But what initially appeared to be reckless teenage driving slowly transforms into something more disturbing as investigators begin questioning whether this was truly an accident at all.

The Crash spends much of its runtime exploring the conflicting narratives surrounding Mackenzie herself. Was she a traumatized teenager in an unstable relationship? Was this an impulsive act driven by emotional volatility? Or was it, as prosecutors argued, intentional murder? Interviews with friends, family members, investigators, and legal experts slowly build a portrait of teenage relationships shaped by insecurity, obsession, and emotional instability. It’s not sensationalized in the way some Netflix true-crime entries can be. If anything, The Crash feels colder and sadder than expected.

We get first-class interviews with Mackenzie from prison to get her side of the story. This is interesting, as it’s toward the end of the documentary, where audiences will have their opinions and conclusions. It’s striking that she looks so young, but there’s still a lack of accountability and selfishness to her (maybe edited to look intentionally so), but she’s hard to sympathize with.

There’s very little stylistic excess; no dramatic recreations every five minutes or flashy editing designed purely for social media clips. Johnson keeps the tone grounded, and this choice works in the documentary’s favor because the case is already emotionally loaded enough without needing artificial embellishment. The use of police dashcam footage gives the documentary a sense of authenticity and shows real-time horrors, such as telling her parents what had happened and walking through hospital corridors. You simply can’t recreate their disbelief and shock. This type of footage is what made The Perfect Neighbor an Oscar contender, and I suspect we’ll see this use of footage in future true crime documentaries.

There is also the CCTV footage of the car speeding and crashing, and whilst we do not see the car crash, we see the build-up, and that’s just as horrifying. But the most distressing footage is definitely of both teenagers creating content in their cars, smoking weed, doing drugs, and driving. This is what makes the case more suspenseful when her drug tests came back clean after the accident.

However, the documentary occasionally struggles with balance. In trying to present multiple perspectives fairly, there are moments when it risks becoming emotionally detached from the victims themselves. Dom and Davion sometimes feel slightly overshadowed by the psychological intrigue surrounding Mackenzie and the trial. It’s a difficult line for true crime to walk, and The Crash doesn’t entirely avoid that trap.

The courtroom scene, I found very sad, and whilst I hadn’t reached my own conclusions about what I think happened (as I don’t think we’ll ever truly know), I did find myself feeling sorry for Mackenzie. But the families felt that they had gotten justice, as we must remember that two lives were lost. It’s up to you if you believe it was an accident or not.

By the end, I found myself less interested in the mechanics of the case and more unsettled by the humanity behind it. That’s where The Crash leaves its mark, not as a mystery to solve, but as a tragedy that becomes more complicated the longer you sit with it. If there’s a lesson to be learned, it’s that social media simply doesn’t have a positive influence on anyone, and we’re seeing how every single post and your online presence can and will be used against you. The Crash is an excellently produced documentary, which is a must-watch for true-crime fans. It’s an emotional rollercoaster which will keep you intrigued, invested and guessing from start to finish.

Grade: A

Director: Olivier Assayas
Writers: Guiliano Da Empoli, Olivier Assayas, Emmanuel Carrère
Stars: Paul Dano, Alicia Vikander, Jude Law

Synopsis: A young Russian filmmaker becomes an unlikely advisor to Vladimir Putin as he rises to power in post-Soviet Russia, navigating the new era’s complexities and chaos.

You have probably heard the phrase “The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.” Is this about art specifically? No, of course not. This was supposedly originated by Aristotle when talking about metaphysics, but I am happy to borrow it here. Sometimes, in the best of circumstances, art is greater than the sum of its parts; a group of wildly talented professionals working together manage to make something even better than expected when thinking of their combined skills. It is one of the many wondrous and unexplainable mysteries about artistic expression. We cannot simply quantify art by adding up the value of the tradespeople involved. Unfortunately, the opposite can be true, as well. And frankly, this is the perfect description of The Wizard of the Kremlin; the whole is less than the sum of its parts. Despite combining a fantastic director, a stacked cast, and what should be an interesting story, the film disappoints at nearly every turn.

The Wizard of the Kremlin opens strongly, and how could it not, with the camera panning over a snowy expanse expertly from cinematographer Yorick Le Saux. These images, combined with voiceover from Rowland (Jeffrey Wright), lead us to the titular wizard and kingmaker, Vadim Baranov (Paul Dano). Baranov is fictional, but reportedly based on Vladislav Surkov, as stylized in the novel of the same name, penned by Giuliano da Empoli. These opening scenes (mostly focused on Wright) are well-performed and may give the audience a slight bit of hope, but this will soon be dashed. And looking back, even the introduction is hampered by not only exposition dumps (welcome to the rest of the movie), but also a faulty framing device. Rowland is a man who obviously knows a lot of Russian history and culture, and yet, Baranov treats him like he would a person with zero knowledge. This is clearly necessary for the audience, but makes little to no sense from scene to scene.

There should be an easy level of interest in this story, given that it details the rise of Vladimir Putin (Jude Law). Shockingly, the direction from Olivier Assayas (Clouds of Sils Maria, Personal Shopper) feels both amateur and consistently on autopilot. This feeling also transfers to many of the performances, which pains me to say. Dano has never been less watchable, mainly due to the script from Assayas and Emmanuel Carrère, which forces him mostly to watch from the sidelines and forbids most of his considerable emotive skills. Aside from a few moments of snark shared with the always excellent Jeffrey Wright, there is simply not much to latch onto. Almost as if the film understands this boredom, it introduces a love interest, Ksenia (Alicia Vikander), whose only job seems to be to provide energy in all directions, whether it makes sense or not. 

The only actor who stands out is Law who manages to capture both the correct tone and play Putin both with realism and a wink. Every time he appears on screen, there is a palpable feeling of excitement which is lacking through the rest of the runtime. Law, as usual, understands his assignment and commands the room in each and every scene. He has a particularly difficult job, playing a nearly universally reviled man with just enough charm to catch our eye. If the film was more about the “king” and less about the “wizard,” the lengthy sit might be enjoyable.

As it is, The Wizard of the Kremlin becomes a mostly tedious and overlong watch that feels more like a history lesson than a narrative film. Yes, there are interesting moments sprinkled throughout (mostly when Law takes center stage), but all of these are bookended by movements in time that either feel like a nuisance or a distraction. These sequences are also mostly unimaginative, providing nothing more than a soft focus to make any change clear. Frankly, the film thinks that Baranov is more interesting than he is portrayed onscreen. And this is unsurprising. A shadowy figure who may be puppeteering the placement of world leaders should be inherently fascinating. 

The Wizard of the Kremlin features an accomplished director, a well thought-of cast, and a backstory that should grab the audience. However, it is much less than the sum of these prodigious parts, leading to a brutally long runtime, tedious history lessons, and wildly missed opportunities.

Grade: D+

Director: Jo-Ann Brechin
Writers: Jo-Ann Brechin, Katharine McPhee
Stars: Virginia Gardner, Mel Jarnson, Mitchell Hope

Synopsis: Follows best friends Maddie and Trish as they find themselves trapped in a remote lagoon with the dangerous killer whale named Ceto.

There is an orca fact clearly stated twice in this film. Orcas have never attacked people in the wild. They have only ever been aggressive toward humans in dire circumstances like when they are in captivity or feel their pod is being threatened. It’s been observed that orcas are social creatures who need other orcas and that they mourn the deaths of those they love. When they are left alone in captivity, they get depressed. With all these realities firmly in place, Killer Whale still attempts an elevated creature feature where an orca is the antagonist.

There is so much about this film that is a stretch. The torturous lengths the script goes to explain how this could all come about is agonizing to watch. The skeptic in all of us will be apoplectic at the sheer lunacy at play on screen. Not only about the orca’s behavior, but about the attempts to elevate this film beyond its premise.

Writers Jo-Ann Brechin and Katharine McPhee seem to have wanted to write a horror film with depth. The structure is there for this to be a film that has meaning beyond the creature feature premise. There are so many different angles set up in this film that it becomes too ambitious. The different threads are never quite fleshed out and no one of them really rises to the surface. All of them reach their conclusions with a whimper, not a bang. It’s too much, but because no story is satisfying and it’s also not nearly enough.

You keep wondering if there’s going to be a bit of humor to this. You keep wondering about one of the orca’s intended victims floating on an inflatable slice of pizza and why there is absolutely no commentary about this. There is no commentary at all, not even a groaner of a Free Willy joke. The film is so self serious that it just can’t understand the inherent goofiness of all of this.

In what could have been the funniest plot thread, or at least a bit of dark humor to offset the head scratching melodrama, is that there is a horrifically unscrupulous person in charge of a terrible, rundown tourist trap of a sea park. From the prologue, there is a scene where Josh (Mitchell Hope) sneaks Maddie (Virginia Gardner) and Trish (Mel Jarnson) into the park, and there is a tossed off line between a security guard and the person at the other end of his radio; this animal has killed at least three people already. Why aren’t we given the moustache twirling, cigar smoking fat cat in charge of this crummy knock off Sea World? Why are we denied the pleasure of an inept crew somehow transporting this animal to this strange remote lagoon? Why don’t we see the pure evil train of thought of, “this animal is killing people because it’s unhappy in captivity, let’s torture it by releasing it into a space that creates a natural form of captivity?” The fact that all these reasonable things are completely unexplained, even in a serious way is beyond baffling.

Instead of a horror-comedy we get a hodgepodge of a film that’s achingly dull and lacking in any sort of joy. The friendship of Maddie and Trish is so ill-defined. The scenes of them having fun drinking and taking drugs at a bar looks so performative. Hunky Josh is so boring. Even the attacks by the orca are so obvious and telegraphed that the only reason you know it was intended to be scary is by a cliched music cue. The 89 minutes of Killer Whale‘s runtime feel like an eternity.

Everything about Killer Whale is utterly uninteresting. The filmmakers attempted far too ambitious a plot. If there was no animal at all, if this were a film where Maddie and Trish finally have a heart-to-heart about all of their issues while trapped on a rock in the middle of the ocean it would have been a passable drama. Even Trish’s completely bonkers revelation would have been fitting. Yet, we are given something that works neither as a drama or horror or even a “so bad it’s good” unintentional comedy. We’re given a creature feature with no teeth and absolutely nothing to say.

Grade: F

Director: Lawrence Kasdan
Stars: Martin Short, Deborah Divine, Tom Hanks

Synopsis: The definitive documentary on comedian Martin Short, exploring his career across film, television, theater and comedy.

“It’s like seeing your best friend in the world who is also the weirdest person ever.” – That sums up this documentary perfectly. Some comedians become famous for a single persona, and then there’s Martin Short, whose career has been built on complete unpredictability. For decades, he’s been one of comedy’s great shape-shifters, capable of stealing scenes in broad slapstick comedies, improvising his way through talk show appearances, and delivering moments of genuine emotional sincerity when you least expect it.

His most beloved work arguably remains Three Amigos, a film that has only grown more iconic with age. At the same time, one of his least successful outings, the expensive sci-fi comedy Innerspace, struggled commercially despite later gaining cult appreciation. That strange mix of critical respect, cult fandom, and occasional box office unpredictability feels oddly fitting for Short himself. That complexity is exactly what makes the Netflix documentary Marty, Life Is Short such an engaging, compelling watch.

Directed by Lawrence Kasdan, this documentary is warm, personal, and wholesome. While the film certainly covers the expected milestones, SCTV, Saturday Night Live, Hollywood comedies, Broadway success, and his recent resurgence through Only Murders in the Building, what I loved the most was how much the documentary focuses on Martin Short the person, not just Martin Short the entertainer.

The documentary acknowledges Short’s immense talent while also exploring the insecurity, ambition, and grief that have quietly shaped his career. The film’s most affecting sections revolve around the loss of his wife, Nancy Dolman, and how performance became both an escape and a survival mechanism. Short has always projected this almost chaotic energy onscreen, but Marty, Life Is Short reveals the discipline and emotional resilience underneath it.

The archive footage is a genuine treasure trove. Home videos, backstage clips, old auditions, and candid family moments give the documentary a lived-in intimacy, which audiences will be able to identify with. Through this, the film has a balance of awkwardness, vulnerability, and even loneliness alongside the laughs. The home video includes the late Catherine O’Hara and Dan Levy, co-workers and friends from his SNL days, and you can feel the warmth and love coming through the screen. They dance, joke, and host dinner parties – implying that Short is the life of the party.

The interview lineup is exactly what you’d expect for someone as widely adored as Short. Fellow comedians, actors, collaborators, and longtime friends all appear, and while some talking-head segments occasionally drift into familiar “he’s the funniest person alive” territory, there’s enough sincerity behind the praise to stop it from becoming repetitive. Particularly enjoyable are the moments exploring his friendship with Steve Martin. Their chemistry, both onscreen and off, is presented as a comedy partnership and a deeply supportive friendship built on mutual admiration and shared loss. There are snippets from Andrea Martin, Tom Hanks, Rita Wilson, Walter Parkes, Laurie MacDonald and Steven Spielberg.

And of course, interviews with Short himself. After recently watching John Candy, I Like Me, it’s so lovely to see a documentary like this to celebrate the person whilst they’re still here to enjoy it. He’s charming, bubbly and wonderful, and you can tell he wants to make the interviewer, the camera crew and the viewer laugh. He really is one a million. Maybe even one in a billion.

What I appreciated most is that the documentary doesn’t try to force a narrative of reinvention. It’s not interested in framing Martin Short as an “underrated genius finally getting recognition.” Instead, Marty, Life Is Short celebrates endurance, how someone sustains joy, creativity, and generosity across decades in an industry that rarely rewards longevity without cynicism.

If I have any criticism, it’s that the documentary occasionally glosses over the less successful stretches of his film career a little too quickly. There’s a brief acknowledgment that not every project worked, but I would have liked a deeper exploration of how Short navigated commercial disappointments and changing tastes in comedy. As Marty, Life Is Short celebrates endurance, how someone sustains joy, creativity, and generosity across decades; some harder moments are touched on, but never fully unpacked.

I could have watched hours and hours of this documentary – for once, I wanted something to be episodic. I didn’t just feel reminded of how funny Martin Short is; I felt reminded of why audiences have stayed connected to him for so long. Beneath the eccentric characters and relentless energy is someone who genuinely loves making people laugh, and Marty, Life Is Short captures that spirit beautifully. This documentary is a must-watch for Short fans, fans of comedy, physical comedy, and documentaries in general. With a respectable runtime of 1 hour and 42 minutes, it’s a perfect watch.

Grade: A+

Director: Huo Meng
Writer: Huo Meng
Stars: Wang Shang, Zhang Chuwen, Zhang Yanrong

Synopsis: In 1991 rural China, as villagers migrate to cities for better opportunities, 10-year-old Chuang remains in his hometown. The third child of his family navigates life during a time of sweeping national changes.

Winner of the Silver Bear for Best Director at last year’s Berlin Film Festival, Huo Meng’s Living the Land is a patient and observational drama that tracks an unmoving village at the throes of socioeconomic changes occurring throughout China. Often stunning and remarkably cogent about its views on various policies that have controversially defined the country, Huo’s most critically acclaimed feature holds a tangible staying power, even if it frequently stumbles along its lethargic 132-minute runtime. 

It’s a shame, too, because the heart of the story is fairly devastating. Huo puts us in the perspective of ten-year-old Xu Chuang (Wang Shang), the third child of a family, whose familial lineage is hidden from everyone due to the country’s one-child policy. As China moves further into industrialization and invites inhabitants of more rural towns to settle in cities where industrial employment will flourish, Chuang is left by his parents once they decide to move into Shenzhen, without their son. 

Of course, one realizes that Chuang’s parents were forced to leave him behind, because China didn’t allow more than one child living per household, a controversial policy which lasted until 2016. Huo’s film is set in 1991, in the village of Bawangtai, where time has essentially stopped, and the future awaits people who willingly decide to move into it. Yet, the lives Huo tracks in his film are simple, but easily attachable. The characters feel tangibly real, and each can see how their experiences influence the way Chuang sees the world. 

Huo seems very Hou Hsiao-hsien in his treatment of atmosphere and characters, preferring to bathe the audience in the movie’s aesthetics (there is no music until the film’s jaw-dropping final image) than spelling out everything to the audience. In fact, most of Living the Land’s sociopolitical themes are inferred by the characters and we make the associations that explain why Chuang is left behind, and why he’s always ostracized by his classmates. These sequences are, in many respects, the beating heart and soul of Huo’s movie, and the main reason why Living the Land might have won the Director award at the Berlinale. 

His view of China’s most crucial inflection point in its history is as thoughtful as some of the country’s mainland filmmakers in their prime, specifically Zhang Yimou with films such as Raise the Red Lantern and Not One Less, and Chen Kaige, with Yellow Earth and Farewell My Concubine. It’s unfortunate that both auteurs are now mouthpieces for government propaganda, because their most-known films had something to say. Living the Land falls in that same category, of patient, but rewarding works that envelops the viewer into a time that once was for them to better understand China’s status in the present. 

In that regard, Guo Daming’s photography is a real stunner. Preferring symmetrical steadicam tableaux for the audience to observe the characters rather than actively peering into their psyche, the film’s images are stunningly married to the film’s purposeful absence of music. The ambient sounds surround our senses and informs us of the time the characters are set in far clearer than any other device the filmmaker employs. The natural performances from its cast certainly helps, but the visual and aural experience is even better. 

That said, Living the Land’s pace is fairly glacial, and audiences may (or may not) appreciate a movie that asks its audience to sit with its atmosphere primarily before anything else. It can often make our connection with the characters, especially as Guo’s camera visualizes the perspective of the child before any other figure, limited. This distancing effect unfortunately makes us lose our grip on the story, especially during its meandering final hour, as Huo has completely exhausted what he wants to talk about and begins to run around in interminable circles. 

Still, one can’t necessarily fault such a distancing film, because the bulk of Living the Land’s viewing experience occurs through the eyes and ears. It may not result in the emotional catharsis Huo hopes, but it’s a good enough effort to at least hold some power in our minds even once the credits have rolled and we understand what’s at the heart of the film’s push-pull between the past and the present. Because of this, one can’t entirely dismiss this effort, even if it could’ve (slightly) been a little better.

Grade: B+

Director: Jonah Hill
Writers: Jonah Hill and Ezra Woods
Stars: Keanu Reeves, Jonah Hill, Cameron Diaz

Synopsis: Hollywood star Reef is forced to confront his problems and atone for his past after being threatened by bizarre video footage from his past.

Outcome starts its journey already climbing uphill. Imagine being a celebrity the public loves to hate, then asking that same audience to sit down and watch your film. That’s the tension Jonah Hill walks into from the very first frame. The past several years have put the Superbad actor in a challenging position within the media landscape. The steady stream of behind‑the‑scenes antics has cast Hill in a less than favorable light. One of the most striking incidents from the news was his push to have Christopher Mintz‑Plasse removed from Superbad. The decision was allegedly because Mintz-Plasse’s breakout performance threatened to overshadow him. Then came the leaked text messages to a woman he was dating—private conversations that, once public, only intensified the scrutiny. 

A movie is a collaboration of many talents, and with Outcome, Hill is simply one of those individuals. However, given the subject matter in Outcome, it’s difficult not to take reality into account. What is clear in the subject matter of Hill’s latest movie is that he is well aware the world does not like him. Moreover, taken at face value, it doesn’t seem like he even likes himself. It feels like an apology—the kind with an intention that is difficult to decipher.

The film centers on a beloved actor named Reef Hawk, played by the most lovable actor in Hollywood, Keanu Reeves. The character shares many commonalities with Reeves’ Hollywood persona. Reef is an actor considered “the most likable guy” in the industry. That is, until his lawyer, Ira (Jonah Hill), receives information about the circulation of a damaging video. Ira recommends that Reef begin making amends with anyone he may have hurt.  Like Hill’s personal life, Reef is less likable behind the scenes. For example, it’s implied that he takes professional relationships for granted, used his ex-girlfriend, and abused drugs heavily during one phase of his career. He has few friends, and confides in two longtime buddies he has known since high school, Kyle (Cameron Diaz) and Xander (Matt Bomer). Given the number of people that Reef has met as a celebrity, the list of individuals hurt by Reef might be uncomfortably long. 

Reef then goes on an apology tour, starting with his first agent, Red (Martin Scorsese). It’s in these introductions that the screenplay feels strangely expository. Reef greets his ex-agent as “Red Rodriguez. Manager to the Stars.” There is another similar sequence involving an interview with a real-life TV personality, Van Jones. In this segment, Jones oversells Reef, saying, “Before we get started, I just got to say, this is a career highlight for me. You, Tom Cruise, Denzel, you’re my favorite actors of all time.” The dialogue in some of these conversations feels unrealistic. Most people don’t greet someone by giving their full name and occupation at the start of a conversation. The entire film is a trip down a winding road with a celebrity seeking forgiveness from people he has wronged. Unfortunately, the motivation throughout the first half of the movie is so self-serving that it’s hard to feel a connection. There’s even a strange conversation between Reef and his mother in which she says, “Just because an apology is performative doesn’t mean it’s not the truth.” It’s in these scenes that the viewer may find it difficult to grasp what Jonah Hill is trying to say with this movie.

Outcome had great potential if Jonah Hill had stepped outside of his own head and let the story speak. His lawyer persona, Ira, steamrolls every scene with aggressive humor that rarely works. He is loud, uncomfortably obnoxious, and spills off-color humor moment-to-moment. It feels like someone begging for attention after being criticized for doing something wrong. Whatever is meant by his performance in this movie, it doesn’t strike the right tone for a comeback. His performance undermines its intended sincerity, and the abrasiveness contradicts the supposed ego it claims to condemn. And even worse, it gives the story almost zero room to breathe. On top of this, a large portion of the characters are unlikable. In most stories, there is an effort to find a level of relatability. Here, every character is full of ego, self-centered, or is trying to get something from Reef. Even when there is sincerity between Reef and his only two friends, they feel like characters completely out of touch with everyday reality.

The best I have to say about Outcome is that, by the end of the film, it lands on nuggets of an idea. Throughout the narrative, Reef is merely making good on the pain he has caused others to preserve his wealth and legacy. The big reveal, if there is one, is that someone recorded Reef in a compromising moment of loneliness, and his PR team uses that moment to paint him as the victim. Ultimately, Reef sabotages the PR maneuver because he knows, deep down, that he is neither a victim nor a hero. It’s not an outstanding moment of earnestness, but it grabs at something grounded. The problem with Outcome is the same as the problems that impacted the careers of comedians such as Dave Chappelle and Chris Tucker. When they first started, they were funny because everything they talked about in their stand-up was relatable. Now, Dave Chappelle is 52, filthy rich, and he talks about rich people’s problems, makes offensive humor about the same set of minorities every special, and comes across as out of touch with everyday life. Maybe Jonah Hill is sorry for everything that he’s done. Maybe Outcome is the only way he knows how to express his apologies. But the execution feels like that of a rich person, living like an alien, trying to relearn what “sorry” actually means.

Grade: D+

Director: Reinaldo Marcus Green
Writers: Jon Bernthal, Reinaldo Marcus Green
Stars: Jon Bernthal, Chelsea Brea, Colton Hill

Synopsis: As Frank Castle searches for meaning beyond revenge, an unexpected force pulls him back into the fight.

Brooding, volatile, and cathartic; The Punisher: One Last Kill, the Marvel and Disney+ special featurette collaboration, is hard to categorize, as it defies being boxed into the constraints of normal television or movies. With a runtime of approximately 48 minutes, this precursor to Frank Castle, aka The Punisher, serves as a bridge to his next reported appearance in Spider-Man: Brand New Day.

The Punisher: One Last Kill, for all intents and purposes, is a storytelling aberration, if you will. We should not waste too much time trying to nail down where this takes place within episodic series The Punisher, Daredevil: Born Again, or the overall Marvel Cinematic Universe timeline. Though if you care, it appears to overlap with the superior second season led by Charlie Cox, since Frank Castle does not appear in those eight glorious episodes.

This, technically, at over forty minutes, could be considered a feature film, and is a thematically heavy and visceral look at an imaginative world crumbling around us. Like Daredevil: Born Again, this authoritarian crime aberration attempts to capture a community, country, and a world spinning off its axis while still trying to find equilibrium. There is hardly any banter in the special, creating a sense of dialogue brevity.

However, there are several eye-catching visuals, including a breathtaking Steadicam continuous one-shot sequence of Jon Bernthal’s Frank Castle walking through the war zone that is Hell’s Kitchen with nothing but a dingy hoodie covering his Easter Island-like head, as people are assaulted, guns are fired, and cars are lit up like bonfires ( or “bonfires of the vigilantes,” if you will). Director Reinaldo Marcus Green (King Richard) makes the scene criminally hypnotic. 

Then, for some reason, the special, film, or featurette lends itself to several minutes of exposition. That scene features theater royalty, and Who’s the Boss? Legend, Judith Light as Ma Gnucci, recounts Frank’s past sins. In a stroke of John Wick-like revenge, she hires every killer in the city to hunt Castle, who is still grieving the loss of his beautiful wife, Maria (Kelli Barrett), his precious daughter Lisa, and Frank Jr. 

Of course, he sees them in visions, traumatically ruminating to the point that he has conversations with them. The theme of post-traumatic stress disorder is rampant, visceral, and deeply felt throughout this chapter. So much so that Castle struggles to distinguish reality from imagination. He is also haunted day and night by his three former military brothers, Curtis, Nick,, and Colton. Of course, this is where Bernthal is at his very best.

Bernthal’s trembling physicality, mood swings that can turn like a light switch, and those stoic thousand-yard stares where his eyes and clenched-jawed restraint echo a young Brando or Gandolfini. Then there is that action-packed scene where Castle attempts to escape an apartment building, blending bone-crunching thrills and dark humor, as addictive as Punisher fans will remember from the famed Netflix series. 

However, what is the point? It is hard to say. If anything, this feels like a series finale, or at least a conclusion to Frank Castle’s personal inner turmoil, for the original Netflix series that ran for 26 episodes. One would think that, amid the streaming wars, Disney+ could have greenlit its own legacy-continuation series for Punisher. Instead, we are given a little over forty minutes of blood-soaked, bone-crunching, glass-pulling brutality that initially feels like nothingness.

Not necessarily. Written by Jon Bernthal and Green, The Punisher: One Last Kill is a storytelling oddity that brings Frank Castle’s full-circle journey to a close, finally allowing him to work through his grief. The “film” is pure fan service, nothing more and nothing less, but it keeps its finger firmly on the pulse of inner turmoil and reflection while putting a cherry on top of a character revived during a time when we arguably need him most, reminding audiences that anyone can heal.

Even Frank Castle, in his own vengeful, murderous, and deeply fractured kind of way. Hey, progress, is progress, is it not?

You can stream The Punisher: One Last Killexclusively on Disney + on May 12th+

Grade: B-

Directors: James Cameron, Billie Eilish
Writer: Tarik Mikou, Billie Eilish
Stars: Billie Eilish, Finneas O’Connell, Andrew Marshall

Synopsis: An accompanying 3D concert film, documenting the Manchester shows and co-directed by Eilish and James Cameron.

The first time I was introduced to Billie Eilish was through a college class. As part of an exercise in a filmmaking seminar, students had to recreate a scene from a movie, show, or music video of their choosing. The list ranged from movies like Die Hard and Dark City to The Royal Tenenbaums and The Godfather. In this specific class, I was working with a group whose director wanted to recreate a section from the music video of “bury a friend”, a song that had just been released as part of the album “WHEN WE ALL FALL ASLEEP, WHERE DO WE GO?” The latter was not information I knew at the time, but we worked on creating the set, getting the lighting and the framing of the shot right to pull it off. Every class was four hours, so by the end, we were done and had a recreation on file. At the time, the focus was more on making the recreation of the snippet work, so I wasn’t able to fully get a grasp on Eilish as an artist. Later, I would listen to the album and become more interested in her future ways.

That was 2018. Now in 2026, Billie Eilish is a multi-Grammy winning and two-time Oscar winning singer, with two more excellent albums, “Happier Than Ever” and “Hit Me Hard and Soft,” under her belt, and it is that third album that leads to this documentary, which showcases the final concert of the “Hit Me Hard and Soft Tour,” taking place in Manchester. To pull off this movie, Eilish worked with James Cameron–yes, that one–to film and present the performance in 3D, and create an immersive experience that allows audiences to feel as if they are at the venue themselves. Throughout its 1 hour and 52 minute runtime, audiences are treated to the concert as well as a majority of the setlist that was performed, which contains songs from all her albums as well as singles like her Oscar-winning song “What Was I Made For?.” Sprinkled in between some of the performances, however, are moments behind-the-scenes that provide some insight into Billie Eilish’s process and her life, as well as her connection with the fans who follow her work. 

If anyone was curious to catch a glimpse of the effect that Billie Eilish has had on millions around the world, one need only come and watch this movie. Hit Me Hard and Soft: The Tour is an incredible experience to behold. For fans of her music and her artistry, this is paradise. From a booming, visually flashy opening with a raving crowd around the stage, to a series of kinetic and energetic performances that will have everyone in the know singing and dancing to the beats, Eilish and Cameron direct this wonderfully, and expertly give even more life to an already turbocharged evening. The production design is simple but extremely effective, giving Eilish all the room to literally run circles around it and interact with the fans watching. The camerawork, with Cameron himself holding the camera and recording it, almost never stays still as it often goes from onstage to down below in one fluid motion, with seconds sometimes between performances where Billie Eilish quickly catches her breath or prepares for the next song. It’s seamlessly crafted, further amplified by the excellent use of 3D, which adds a layer of wonderful depth to the crowds as well as the performances onstage, with even the smallest of details popping out to make it even more immersive. Watch out for a shot where even a hair flip from Billie Eilish gets a 3D effect and pops out of the screen.

Interspersed between the performances are moments that chronicle the prep for the concert and conversations between Eilish and Cameron as they discuss her process, with a 3D camera on Cameron’s shoulder filming everything from her vocal preparations to saying hello to fans around her. These moments, while brief, add enough depth to some of the moments on stage, particularly an extended scene where Billie reads a letter from her brother Finneas, who cannot make it to the show and it would mark the first time she hasn’t performed with her brother…until he does (not a spoiler, it’s in the trailer)! Perhaps the best aspect of Hit Me Hard and Soft: The Tour is it showcases the humanity and personality of Billie Eilish in a manner that makes her far more endearing and a delight to interact with. Another extended segment where Eilish, Cameron, and the concert crew interact with rescue dogs and help provide a moment of peace in the midst of everything. While they may only take up a handful of minutes in the movie’s 1 hour and 53-minute runtime, they help in humanizing and bringing her down to Earth even more, and helps 

Where Hit Me Hard and Soft: The Tour (Live in 3D) also excels is in its appreciation for Billie Eilish’s fanbase. In perhaps the most affecting part of the movie, the crew speaks with fans who are outside the concert venue camping out and waiting for the show. As the interviewed people talk passionately about why they love her and how Billie’s music has been such an integral part of their lives since they first heard it, the film’s emotional heart comes to the surface, and creates a resonant experience with audiences. At the screening which I attended, fans around were actively sobbing and sniffling to the words, and through those moments, it is very evident just how much of an impact the lyrics to her songs have had on people, and why they showed up to the theater. 400 people, all dressed in concert attire and even like Billie Eilish herself. According to reports, Eilish herself told Cameron that she wanted the movie to include those moments, and it’s to the movie’s benefit that they made it into the final cut.

A great concert movie is defined by the concert itself, yes, but also the filmmaking on display. Both of those aspects are aces here, and by extension, this ultimately makes for a great movie, too. While Billie Eilish and James Cameron are a combination that doesn’t immediately come to mind, one couldn’t imagine a more well-suited duo for this. By the end of Hit Me Hard and Soft: The Tour (Live in 3D), fans of Billie Eilish will no doubt have had one of the finest experiences of their lives, from singing and dancing along to the music–at one point, 200 of the 400 people at my screening congregated at the front to dance along and have fun, with the 3D effects almost ‘spilling’ out into them and expanding the image–to being moved by the movie’s more sweeping moments like those fan interactions where Billie says hello to fans camping down below Videotron Center or the interviews outside the concert venue. For those who are new to her music and her persona, the movie may even help bring more fans to the foray, and appreciate her work even more. One thing is for sure: audiences across the board will likely be ‘happier than ever’ by the end.

Grade: A

Director: Tarik Saleh
Writer: Tarik Saleh
Stars: Fares Fares, Lyna Khoudri, Amr Waked

Synopsis: Egypt’s most adored actor, George Fahmy, falls into disgrace with the authorities overnight. On the verge of losing everything, George is forced to accept an offer he can’t refuse.

With Eagles of the Republic, writer/director Tarik Saleh concludes a trilogy of Cairo-set films, each starring Fares Fares in a key leading role. Whether in the clinical The Nile Hilton Incident or the gripping Cairo Conspiracy (AKA Boy from Heaven, which won the Best Screenplay award at the 2022 Cannes Film Festival), Saleh’s Cairo-centric trilogy has emerged itself as an important corpus of dissident cinema, unafraid to heavily criticize the institutions of power that are currently corrupting Egypt’s democracy, under the authoritarian reign of its current President, Abdel Fattah el-Sisi. 

In Eagles of the Republic, Saleh criticizes Abdel’s regime head-on, by making its central protagonist, actor George Fahmy (Fares Fares), a mouthpiece of government propaganda. Fahmy is a well-known, highly celebrated figure within Egyptian cinema, especially in the genre pictures that has made him a household name. However, almost overnight, Fahmy’s comments on the current government’s tyrannical reign forces him in a precarious position. Some of his colleagues, including actress Rula Haddad (Cherien Dabis), are forced to speak out against him, which many of them refuse of doing so. 

As the government threatens his son and wife’s safety, George has no choice but to reluctantly accept starring in a propaganda film designed to portray Egypt’s president as a heroic figure and portray the overthrow of Mohamed Morsi’s government in a positive light. More than his previous two films, Saleh discusses the subject of cinematic censorship and government propaganda, and showcases exactly how well-known actors eventually get roped in to star in these projects. To put it simply, none of them have a choice in the matter. As George’s agent Fawzy (Ahmed Khairy) says to him, “Nobody says no to them.”

Unfortunately, Eagles of the Republic is also Saleh’s weakest entry in his trilogy, and never fully commits to anything it presents. It’s a real shame, too, because the cast is undoubtedly his most stacked. Apart from the main draw of seeing Fares collaborate with Saleh again, the filmmaker has garnered even more significant talent than his previous two installments, including Lyna Khoudri, whose performances in Martin Bourboulon’s The Three Musketeers diptych has garnered her significant acclaim, and Amr Waked, who is always an effective screen presence. 

Sadly, and apart from Fares, every single supporting character are pitifully underused and rarely, if ever, have any shred of development. The treatment of female characters, especially, is appalling. Most, if not ever women in this picture are frequently objectified and used as pawns for George’s sexual desires, with no agency of their own. They’re also the only characters whom the filmmaker disposes of, in particularly brutal ways. It very much leaves a sour taste in the mouth, because the only person who is fully developed and feels somewhat three-dimensional is the central, sexually impotent, male at the heart of the movie. 

I wouldn’t mention his carnal issues if Saleh didn’t make it such a big deal, especially when George is around women, who are almost always sexualized. Khoudri and Dabis never feel like fully-fledged characters, but always in service of George no matter what occurs to them. This was also the case in The Nile Hilton Incident, but it didn’t feel as egregious as it does in this entry. These actors deserve so much better, because they’ve proven themselves as capable to portray characters with real agency and feeling, and to see them do the exact opposite is baffling. 

Yet, this is one misstep among many in a film that seems cogent in discussing themes of gubernatorial censorship and oppression in a fascistic rule, but doesn’t know where to direct his narrative and thematic threads. Throughout the movie’s slow 128-minute runtime, there’s nary a moment where we recognize what the film clearly wants to state, because it goes in a thousand different directions. Unlike Saleh’s Cairo Conspiracy, which discussed the subject of political espionage with the glacial, but thrilling pace of a John le Carré novel, Eagles of the Republic wants to be about five different things at once. 

That wouldn’t be a problem if Saleh knew how to operate between the genres he is undoubtedly wanting to riff on, while simultaneously acting as a movie about movies, but since most of the characters don’t get their time in the spotlight, and the messaging eventually becomes muddled, the emotional impact of the picture is minimal. Fares is, obviously, without reproach. His character is in a perpetual conflict between himself and his own beliefs once he’s forced doing something he doesn’t want to. That internal push-pull is genuinely thrilling, even if Saleh falls short at giving his supporting characters something, anything, of substance. 

That’s why when the movie eventually reaches an explosive denouement, with an assassination attempt that recalls the brutal action of Saleh’s debut in Hollywood with The Contractor, the effect such a sequence leaves is minimal. We’ve spent two hours with the same egotistical protagonist whose conflicts are intriguing enough, but lead to nowhere, just like none of the supporting characters possess any ounce of individuality beyond their use as pawns for George. It’s a frustrating conclusion to an otherwise compelling trilogy that positioned Saleh as a major voice to watch within dissident cinema. He still says, but perhaps not in the same way as when Cairo Conspiracy confirmed his greatness. Here’s hoping his next movie will be better than whatever the hell Eagles of the Republic ended up being…

Grade: D

Directors: Gene Gallerano and William Pisciotta
Writers: Gene Gallerano and William Pisciotta
Stars: Brittany Allen, Jim Cummings, Corbin Bernsen

Synopsis: Merriell Sunday Sr. and Hollis Bannister vanished in Alaska. Ellie and Merriell Jr. mount a search, but an ancient threat stalks their expedition into the wilderness, hunting them as they seek the truth behind the disappearances.

The Yeti begins on a silly note. Before we are introduced to our main characters, we see a group gathering at a remote cabin in Alaska as they play games and drink. The scene cuts to a short while later, showing a man on a ladder trying to fix something, and a woman approaches to hit on him. Then a mysterious noise thuds from the rooftop, and he is pulled by a fierce creature, followed by the woman being absurdly sprayed with blood as she screams. Given how this sounds, one might expect The Yeti not to take itself too seriously. But one would be incorrect.

The movie has all the window dressing of a silly B-grade horror movie. A string of characters with exaggerated personalities and characteristics. Even the marketing title font has the personality of a cheeseball Ed Wood production. However, for a movie with a Yeti gruesomely murdering a search crew in Alaska, the film has a blistering cold identity crisis. 

Written and directed by Gene Gallerano and William Pisciotta, the film centers on Ellie Bannister (Brittany Allen), the daughter of a famous adventurer, Hollis Bannister (William Sadler), who has been recruited to lead a rescue expedition in Alaska. The search is for a missing oil tycoon and businessman, Merriell Sunday Sr. (Corbin Bernsen), with his son, Merriell Sunday Jr. (Eric Nelsen), assembling the world’s grittiest team for the expedition. At first, the film leans into silliness, showing black-and-white footage of each team member as a fast-talking 1940s-style announcer narrates. The voice introduces characters like “Dynamite Daniel Hewitt (Gene Gallerano)” and adds, “because sometimes the only way through is with a fistful of powder.” Other key players on the expedition include Margaret Lamb (Christina Bennett Lind), Leander Coates (Linc Hand), a soldier with a partial prosthetic face; and Booker Marchmont (Jim Cummings), a radio specialist who witnessed the bombing of Japan.

From the outset, it’s hard to decipher whether the film is intentionally rushed or if large sections of the plot were removed. In our first scene with Ellie, she comes across as the reluctant hero. Ellie refuses to take part in the expedition, whether or not she might find her father. And to seal her refusal, she hands the recruiter a compass and says, “You might need this.” Then, in an abrupt case of whiplash, we cut to the next scene, where Ellie has shown up at the press gathering for the expedition and reclaimed the compass. Even more disorienting, the scene that follows throws viewers straight into the Alaskan wilderness, where the party already seems to be in conflict for unclear reasons. Tensions are high, and a few have already turned on Ellie as the navigator. It’s implied that they have been traveling for a few days, and Dyamite Dan keeps referring to Ellie as the nickname “slow walk.” The execution makes it feel as if an entire scene (or scenes) were removed, leaving the viewer confused about why there is hostility towards Ellie. 

The practical effects done by Ali Gordon and Tate Steinseik are impressive. The Yeti looks as nasty and real as some of Rick Baker’s early work, especially when the monster has to kill one of the film’s vast array of one-dimensional characters. It’s one of the few things the film gets right. Unfortunately, none of the sequences in The Yeti have any sense of stakes or suspense. Due to the rushed setup, we hardly have an opportunity to understand the characters. In Kurt Vonnegut’s rules for writing, he says, “every character should want something, even if it’s a glass of water.” Beyond the desire for the plot to move forward, I could not begin to explain what anyone wants on a deeper level in this movie, except maybe Jim Cummings as Booker, who speaks about the unspeakable brightness of the Hiroshima bomb. Booker never says exactly what he wants, but it’s the way Cummings handles the character that shows he’s done his homework. His character and Ellie share one moment of humanity in the film before it devolves into a strange, uninspired mess of monster attacks and overly sluggish, melodramatic scenes.

The film also features one of the worst character deaths ever written for any film. The Yeti begins walking around the cabin, attempting to kill the characters inside. One character shouts, “Back away from the window.” A few seconds later, the same character unwittingly stands directly in front of the window, perfectly positioned for the creature to skewer him like a shish kebab. A scene like this would be perfect as a spoof or a comedy. But the scene that follows involves a tender exchange between Ellie and Booker, signaling a confusing tonal shift for the viewer. One moment, we might feel the need to laugh at the absurdity of a character’s stupidity, and the next, we are expected to mourn Ellie’s struggle as a navigator in the shadow of her father’s legacy. 

By the time The Yeti reaches its climax, it offers an interesting commentary on the theme of man vs. nature. The reasons the creature is killing are recontextualized, giving viewers a chance to reconsider as the film takes a final lap. The ideas are not terrible; they simply deserve a far better film to support them. The film’s photography is not half bad either. Cinematographer Joel Froome gives segments of the movie a soft glow, a look commonly seen in pictures from the ’40s and ’50s. There is a version of this film that might’ve actually looked decent in black-and-white. Unfortunately, The Yeti fails to function as either a campy B-movie or a serious horror flick; by trying to be both, it succeeds at neither. The characters are one-dimensional, extremely unintelligent, and lack depth. The monster looks great, but it’s not scary whatsoever because there’s no one to root for. By the end, you’re mostly left cold and aggravated, like The Yeti himself.

Grade: D-

Director: Aleshea Harris
Writer: Aleshea Harris
Stars: Kara Young, Mallori Davis, Sterling K. Brown

Synopsis: Two sisters embark on an epic quest for revenge; confronting a charged family history that will push them to extraordinary lengths.

I am not going to sit here and tell you Aleshea Harris’ Is God Is is a perfect film. The film has a lot on its mind thematically, emotionally, and visually. But I will tell you one thing for sure: nothing about this film is boring or uninteresting. In fact, it is never anything other than completely captivating.

Everything Harris tries doesn’t work, but she delivers it with such energy and verve, it almost doesn’t matter. What that occurs on screen is awesome to watch, which gives the audience plenty of rope to forgive some of Harris’ shortcomings as a new director. Filled to the brim with lush, complex characters, an atmosphere of mystery, and an ensemble of exceptionally cast and performed roles, Harris proves herself to be one of the most exciting young directorial voices to emerge.

Based on Harris’ own play, Kara Young and Mallori Johnson star as twin sisters Racine and Anaia. Both sisters have significant burn scars, causing sideways stares from strangers, which draw Racine’s ire. Able to communicate telepathically, the twins receive word from their dying mother Ruby (Vivica A. Fox), also named God, to meet with her before her death. God instructs the girls to find and kill their father (Sterling K. Brown), who was the cause of the group’s burns.

Racine becomes embattled by her task, ready to find her father and exact revenge, while Anaia questions her mother’s charge as well as her sister’s potential as a murderer. The twins seek out preacher Divine (Erika Alexander), another of their father’s wives, tongue-less lawyer Chuck (Mykelti Williamson), and their father’s new wife (Janelle Monae). The twins will find out about themselves and their family as they get closer to their goal from God.

Yes, there are some of the shortcomings you can expect with a first-time filmmaker. Despite the film having a propulsive rhythm, the narrative takes a number of tonal detours that break the flow. On top of that, the character’s shifting motivations might add to their complexity, but it also muddies their characterization. When the film begins to wind down, you are sitting there enjoying what you are watching, but you don’t see much conclusion on the horizon. When the ending gets there, it’s so abrupt, you feel like a rug has been pulled. It’s not wrong, it’s just abrasive. That being said, the film doesn’t attempt to shy away from the more seedy elements.

Luckily, those are mostly small problems. Young and Johnson are dynamic performers with such a clear understanding of the characters, you just want to live in their atmosphere for that much longer. Racine and Anaia are opposite personalities, but live in that world of familial comfort. They know each other’s moves and sensibilities, but have different views in approaching life. Their differences inevitably lead to conflict, but their history and love for each other bring them back together.

Young, in particular, excels in anger. Fiercely protective of her sister and the world’s view of her scars, her first instinct is to lash out in response to adversity. Young is able to project this justifiable anger without entering into being a psychopath. Johnson goes in the opposite direction, turning everything she feels inward. Her sensitivity feels out of place in such a world of violence and chaos, but her goodness (and some would say naivety) is a welcome breath of optimism, even when the world doesn’t need it. The pair are beyond exceptional in their very different roles.

For his part, Brown is mostly seen below the nose, only revealing his full face in the last 20 minutes of the film. His inherent likeability and on-screen persona leads the audience into a false sense of security, but he is an exceptional foil to the girl’s quest. Fox, covered in layers of scar prosthetics, commands her limited scenes with gravity and purpose. Monae, Alexander, and Williamson all have their own standouts in separate vignettes, but they all do fantastic work. The entire ensemble is stellar.

It might not be perfect, but Is God Is entertains with a dynamite cast, and a pair of exceptional performances from Kara Young and Mallori Johnson. Aleshea Harris will be a director to keep an eye on for years to come.

Grade: B

Director: Jing Ai Ng
Writer: Jing Ai Ng
Stars: Kelly Marie Tran, Andie Ju, Brandon Soo Hoo

Synopsis: Siblings Raymond and Coco Zhang run a forgery ring. Coerced by a disgraced millionaire, they create counterfeit masterpieces for his family’s collection. FBI agent Emily Lee investigates a new string of art forgeries.

Since I was a young kid, I’ve been told that the American Dream is something I can obtain with hard work and ingenuity. What the people who told me that didn’t mention was that I’d also have to deal with the roadblocks of classism and racism from companies and institutions that are supposed to be a helping hand on that journey. The characters in Jing Ai Ng’s Forge are ambitious and still figuring out their identities. They’re willing to do whatever it takes to climb the social ladder, make real money, and prove to themselves that they can hold their own without relying on anyone outside their inner circle.

Forge tells the story of siblings Coco and Raymond Zhang (Andie Ju and Brandon Soo Hoo), who run a forgery ring that includes everything from classic art reproductions to fake passports and IDs. Coco is the painter — she can replicate any classic work and make it look indistinguishable from the original. Raymond specializes in documents: IDs, passports, anything that requires precision. They have a good thing going until they sell a replicated painting to an unsuspecting art dealer for twenty thousand dollars. The rush from that score is unlike anything they’ve felt before. Soon after, they’re coaxed by disgraced nepo‑baby millionaire Holden Beaumont (Edmund Donovan) into forging his dead grandfather’s art collection. The siblings hesitate, but ultimately decide they need the money. Unfortunately for them, FBI agent Emily Lee (Kelly Marie Tran) has just transferred from New York to Florida. She’s investigating a string of art forgeries — and the siblings’ work is at the top of her list.

The performances from Ju and Soo Hoo are profound and multi‑layered. To their family, they’re hardworking college dropouts trying to find themselves in Florida. In reality, they’re a team of scammers using the skills they developed in college to make serious money. They’re chasing the good old American Dream that so many people pursue. In the end, Coco and Raymond learn that their class status will always be frowned upon by the upper elite — even though those elites are often bigger scam artists and criminals than they’ll ever be. Donovan’s Beaumont is a straight‑nosed, smarmy asshole desperate to make a quick buck. He treats Coco and Raymond like they need him, when in truth, without their help, he’d be in prison for creating fake start‑up companies and scamming donations from a long list of friends.

When the third act arrived, I felt like Emily was going to do everything she could to help Coco and Raymond. She sensed they were being taken advantage of by Holden and pressured into the job. During her recon around Florida, she notices Raymond walking around his old workplace in a brand-new suit and driving a brand‑new car. That moment reminded me of the scene in American Gangster when Richie spots Frank Lucas at a boxing match dressed to the nines — and instantly knows he’s in the drug business. The characters in Forge have the depth and development needed for this story to work. Jing Ai Ng wrote a detailed script that could make even a veteran writer like Gillian Flynn say, “Girl, how did you do that?”

I’ve watched this film multiple times, and each time I find something new to appreciate. There’s so much to discover — from the well‑framed, painterly cinematography by Leo Purman to the revealing and refined costumes by Colleen O’Connell. Ng’s second feature film shows audiences that she continues to wield a mighty pen and the directing skills to go far in the entertainment industry.

Grade: A

Director: Olivia Newman
Writers: Olivia Newman, John Whittington, Shelby Van Pelt
Stars: Sally Field, Lewis Pullman, Colm Meaney

Synopsis: Through unlikely bonds formed during night shifts at a local aquarium, Tova, an elderly widow, learns of a life-changing discovery that may bring her joy and wonder once again.

Netflix’s adaptation of the bestselling novel Remarkably Bright Creatures is the kind of movie that likely never would have been made if not for the content streaming wars we find ourselves in today. And what I mean by that is a traditional studio would have to devote a remarkable amount of time, money, and creative effort to a project with limited commercial appeal. 

There is a need to attract recognizable stars and established filmmakers to turn a hidden gem into something truly special and a genuine crowd-pleaser. Instead, the streaming giant places greater value on simply filling its library with recognizable faces and emotionally accessible storytelling designed to manipulate the audience to the heart’s content. 

That’s what you have in Remarkably Bright Creatures. An affable, perfectly fine, yet middle-of-the-road experience that repeatedly wants to hit the genre’s most emotionally egregious zones in hopes of squeezing a few unearned tears from the audience. All of this is done in the hope that audiences will keep their subscriptions for just a few months longer. 

The story follows an older woman with a haunted past, Tova (the great Sally Field), who works as a caretaker at a small-town aquarium in Sowell Bay, a picturesque slice of heaven in Washington. Tova is a widow with no family to speak of besides a close group of friends and an eclectic cast of residents in a town where everyone knows your name.

However, her life is about to be shaken up, for better or worse, when a young man some would call a rambling soul pulls into town in his van, not necessarily down by the river, with a smoking radiator and no money to fix it. That would be Cameron (Top Gun: Maverick’s Lewis Pullman), the lead singer of the band Moth Sausage, which has not played in months.

Cameron is searching for the biological father he has never met, hoping to collect 18 years of child support payments after being raised solely by his now-deceased mother, as Cameron tells Tova while helping her care for her beloved octopus, Marcellus (voiced by Alfred Molina, though Ving Rhames would have been a bit of inspired casting), after Tova suffers a nasty fall.

Of course, being a giant Pacific octopus, Marcellus has three hearts. In what some would call a novel storytelling cliché, he seems to lend two of them to Cameron and Tova as they bond through caring for him and begin mending their own broken souls. The result is something soulful, sometimes funny, but never quite moving enough to keep the audience truly engaged.

That has become the real commodity in the streaming era. The same is true with Remarkably Bright Creatures, as director Olivia Newman (Where the Crawdads Sing), finds the Netflix sweet spot, little artistry or originality, but content designed to keep viewers emotionally engaged as a way to trick you into thinking you’re getting your money’s worth

Sure, the film is pleasant enough. However, it leans heavily into a cliché that has existed since series like Northern Exposure, Picket Fences, and Twin Peaks were all the rage in the 1990s, with their eclectic small-town characters constantly mixing and matching. Yet the script, by Williams and John Whittington, waters down the source material like algorithmically engineered comfort food.

At least a bunch of small-town clichés and mysteries would have been fun, even appreciated. Instead, the trope of what almost feels like an Alec Baldwin-style narration inspired by The Royal Tenenbaums, complete with watered-down whimsy from Alfred Molina, becomes another tired storytelling tool. Frankly, Marcellus offers nothing meaningful to enhance the story. 

So much so that you forget he is even there. The anthropomorphic narrative device, which is also an issue with the source material, ultimately renders the creature pointless when it should be anything but. The rest of the script simply goes through the motions, complete with predictable romantic subplots.

Sure, we want Lewis Pullman’s Cameron catching the eye of a local paddleboard owner (Sofia Black-D’Elia) to find love and meaning in his rudderless existence. And yes, we don’t have cold hearts, so let Sally Field’s Tova connect with a charming country store proprietor (Colm Meaney) to find some Autumnal romance. 

However, Netflix’s adaptation of Remarkably Bright Creatures has a fatal flaw in that it never knows whether it wants to be a Hallmark Channel original or a quirky, offbeat independent comedy. Like its main characters, the filmmakers seem saddled with source material designed to be easily adapted into middle-of-the-road entertainment.

The result is a streaming experience that is tonally timid and far too creatively cautious for its own good. 

You can stream Remarkably Bright Creatures exclusively on Netflix on May 8th!

Grade: C–

Director: Katie Aselton
Writers: Katie Aselton, Mark Duplass
Stars: Katie Aselton, Daveed Diggs, Brad Garrett

Synopsis: Erin and Charlie escape to the desert to navigate an unexpected and challenging new phase of their relationship.

Grief, of all types, walks hand-in-hand with change. That change is usually irrevocable and forces us into places that we would never go willingly. Whether that grief is the upcoming loss of a romantic relationship, a friend leaving our side, or the death of someone close to us, the change has a similar weight. We feel a very specific lack, a quiet that discomfits and leaves us wandering from room to room hoping for the familiar noise. And when that relationship is particularly intimate, it becomes even more difficult to process because, frankly, no one else can possibly understand the exact connection that you shared. 

Katie Aselton, director of Magic Hour, is clearly interested in the what-ifs of the possible ends of these relationships. Erin (Aselton) is paired with Charlie (Daveed Diggs), but they, for unknown reasons, are struggling. Actually, Aselton gives herself a truly difficult character to inhabit. Diggs is so effortlessly charming that the film has to do a fair amount of work to balance the problems between the partners. Magic Hour never fully manages this, but the script, from Aselton and Mark Duplass, does provide enough conflict (even if purposefully obscured). As the couple travels to the desert at Joshua Tree, purportedly to figure out their relationship after an unspoken problem, Aselton and director of photography Sarah Wheldon begin a dreamy mirage-filled visual perspective that serves to unmoor us, until more is revealed.

It feels strange given the short runtime of Magic Hour, but there are numerous scenes that serve as either pure distraction or filler. When you have performers as talented as Aselton and Diggs, everything else feels like simply waiting until you get back to them. Given the circumstances, it is understandable, but Aselton gives herself the role of being slightly more out of control and Diggs is handed the opportunity to mainly be the sole voice of reason for Erin. Although this may distance some audiences, it allows us to understand what Erin stands to lose if this relationship is truly over. 

There is a pretty massive twist that is being tiptoed around in this review, but even if you are spoiled, it does not ruin its power. There are certainly clues as to what is about to happen, but the real trick it performs is making sense of both the look of the film and explains some odd cuts from editors Kyle Boston and Stephanie Kaznocha. There is a serious moment of clarity and one wishes that Magic Hour had stayed more with this exploration instead of attempting to broaden its focus, without the needed context to make these future scenes hit a bit harder. Instead, Aselton attempts (as both director and actor) to process massive emotions with characters that we don’t know much about.

As the film moves forward, gaps are filled simply because Aselton and Duplass feel that they must. It is unfortunate because when Erin and Charlie are together, Magic Hour floats on the cloud of their chemistry so easily that we never want to leave their side. Even when others show up to liven the proceedings, like Ricky (DJ ‘Shangela’ Pierce) and a few other drag queens, it all ends up feeling a bit hollow and as if they lack the confidence to stay with the couple at hand. It is interesting that Aselton feels a kind of pressure to build moments of guided emotional closure that distract from her journey detailing the trials and tribulations of adult partnership. 

Magic Hour is a film that, when homing in on the dual processes of love and loss, has the full attention of its audience. When it strives to break out of that insular world, the audience will likely feel its padding. Aselton has created an interesting feature that sometimes feels as if it could have been a tremendous short film. That being said, her visual choices are stunning, her casting decisions are on point, and, even with its flaws, Magic Hour is watchable, engaging, and thought provoking.

Grade: C