Director: Makoto Shinkai

Writer: Makoto Shinkai

Stars: Nanoka Hara, Hokutu Matsumara, Eri Fukatsu

Synopsis: A modern action adventure road story where a 17-year-old girl named Suzume helps a mysterious young man close doors from the other side that are releasing disasters all over in Japan.

With a magnificent animation team and a blend of melancholic and humorous tone shifts, Makoto Shinkai delivers his best work to date with Suzume. This film takes apart his usual directing trademarks to pursue a mature (and personal) version of the stories we have seen from him before. 

There haven’t been many animated films lately that have blown me away. As the years pass, the less impressive the majority have been. The big guys, such as Illumination and Disney, dominate this genre. It has caused other interesting works to have limited time in the spotlight as general audiences tend to seek out the aforementioned companies’ filmographies more so than the smaller ones. This decade so far has been mediocre when it comes to animated flicks, but, at the very least, there are quite a few surprising and marvelous films – Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio, Unicorn Wars, Wolfwalkers, and FLEE. Those films demonstrate the creative and innovative things a filmmaker can do with the genre instead of doing the same just to fit the mold or current trend. Another movie can be added to that short list of films, and that is Makoto Shinkai’s latest work, Suzume, which, in my honest opinion, is better (and more ambitious) than his record-breaking box-office mega-hit, Your Name (2016) – the film that put his name on the map for audiences worldwide. 

Makoto Shinkai is known for creating emotional and beautifully animated pieces that dwell within magical realism and fantasy realms. And with Suzume, the Japanese filmmaker continues his trend of delivering melancholic tunes to his stories about young love and trauma while intertwining them with natural disasters – in this case, the Tōhoku Earthquake and Tsunami of 2011 – and daydream essences. The film is titled after its main character, Suzume (Nanoka Hara), a 17-year-old girl who lives with her aunt Tamaki (Eri Fukatsu) in the south of Japan. She has plenty of people that care about her, but Suzume always keeps them at a certain distance. Suzume is distant from those she cares about due to her mother’s passing twelve years earlier during the Tōhoku disaster. Her loss still pierces her soul; a melancholic cloud floats around her head as she can’t shake the feeling that she’s gone. 

As Suzume walks to school one day, she comes across a mysterious young man named Souta (Hokuto Matsumura), who’s asking for the location of a magical door in a nearby ruin. Of course, Suzume knows where the door is located and, because she’s attracted to him, goes along the journey that she’d never expected to be on – the door is a portal into another world. Frightened by such a reveal, she decides to head back to school. Later, everyone’s phone explodes with earthquake alarms; Suzume looks out of the window and sees a giant red monster ascending into the sky. That benign creature is a supernatural force that’s the main cause behind Japan’s natural disasters. And since Suzume curiously opened the door (and didn’t close it afterward in fear), it managed to escape into the real world. As a “gift” for helping it escape, the creature turns Souta into a three-legged wooden chair – the last memento Suzume has from her childhood before her mother’s passing. 

In pure Shinkai fashion filled with lovely moments, fantasy sequences, and beautiful animation, the two strangers turned journey travelers go around Japan trying to catch a cat that can lift Sota’s curse and close the portal doors, stopping the monster before it destroys the city. His blend of CG and hand-drawn animation just takes your breath away, leaving the viewer in awe of seeing a master at work. Instead of sticking to one Japanese region, specifically the metropolitan area, Shinkai decides to visit multiple locations by implementing a “road trip” movie scenario where the characters are forced to branch out elsewhere for their respective journeys. Because of this, Shinkai and his animators get to show various vistas and locations ranging from smaller villages to countryside plains. Those shots are beautiful and sharply vivid, but the most enthralling ones are those of human connection – scenes where subtlety is crucial, and every emotion is tactile. 

Coping with trauma and love amidst loss are the main themes scattered through Suzume’s narrative, as there is an intertwining between a sensation of dread and the willingness for hope – emotion and heartbreak tied together. The film also illustrates how the world has changed around you when tragedy strikes by showing us abandoned amusement parks and other torn-down places that haven’t been rebuilt since the big earthquake. These scenes where Suzume looks at the decaying abandoned locations around her add a melancholic tone without a single line being spoken, almost like a ghost story. Despite the darker tone of the story, in comparison with his other features, this is still a Makoto Shinkai film full in full, but with a defined earnest and dramatic flair attached to it. One of the main reasons Suzume works is that it’s never overly sentimental nor reaches a melodramatic tone when approaching those true-to-life narrative scenarios. 

The blend of tones – a love story to a fantasy battle sequence, exploration of trauma to comedic quips – might cause some viewers to lose patience, as Shinkai is tackling concepts with bigger heft and uniting them with his usual narrative tendencies. Yet, if you can keep on the film’s wavelength, the result is his best and most personal work ever. Humor and melancholy are ever prescient; you laugh at its comedic and cute segments, later to weep in its emotional catharsis of saddened hymns. Shinkai’s storytelling prowess is manifested through imaginative visualizations of these intersections between longing and cessation. This paves the way for some of the most captivating and detailed images in modern Japanese animation. Its interconnection with an array of emotions reminds me of Studio Ghibli pictures, Shinkai often referencing a couple of master Hayao Miyazaki’s films – Kiki’s Delivery Service, Spirited Away, and Castle in the Sky in particular. 

While there are still some cringe-worthy lines in Makoto Shinkai’s screenplay, stating that he still hasn’t been able to shake off his most prominent narrative fault, Suzume still feels like his most mature work. The impact it brings depends on how much you connect with the characters and the willingness of the viewer to dwell in Shinkai’s directorial ambitiousness. I found it richer in terms of his thematics and storytelling composition than his previous features, as the topics are elaborated upon in a manner that he isn’t used to doing, even if it still has Shinkai’s trademarks. As the titular character wanders through the various doorways scattered across Japan, the film shifts itself into a territory where the real and fantastical all blend together, creating an experience that hooks you from beginning to end. Whether or not Shinkai will best himself after Suzume is yet to be seen. But I’m excited to see an extraordinary filmmaker generating a ripe technique years into his beloved work.

Grade: B+

Director: Brit McAdams

Writer: Brit McAdams

Stars: Owen Wilson, Michaela Watkins, Stephen Root

Synopsis: Carl Nargle, Vermont’s #1 public television painter, is convinced he has it all: a signature perm, custom van, and fans hanging on his every stroke – until a younger, better artist steals everything (and everyone) Carl loves.

Comedies, like dramas, can come in many different varieties. The dramedy which plays both sides, the sex comedy where everybody wants some, and the offbeat, quirky affairs that find their loving, devoted niche. Paint wants to be that offbeat comedy. It wants that underdog status, but it’s just kind of a chuckler. It’s the kind of comedy where rather than laugh out loud you chuckle or your brain says, “Oh, that’s funny.”

That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it doesn’t make for an interesting movie. Paint’s a bit of a shrug. A, “So that’s what you want to do with your not Bob Ross, but obviously Bob Ross adjacent, comedy?” kind of movie. It feels stale the first time Owen Wilson talks about bushes and trees in his whispering lilt. So much of that character exists in our minds already that it was a disappointment that Carl Nargle is just another uninspired imitation.

The filmmakers didn’t even play up the idea of the man out of time aspect of it. In fact, until one character jarringly refers to The Real Housewives and another calls an Uber, it’s not at all clear when this is supposed to be set. If their timeline matches, then the 22 years earlier flashback that occurs is roughly 2000 not the more obvious references to the late 1970s and early 1980s which would have made more sense as that’s when shows like Paint with Carl Nargle would have been on. Much more could have been mined from a man who doesn’t accept the changing of the times with forty years of history behind him.

There is a lot of comedy like this left on the table. The cringiness never boils over, the pratfalls are pitiful, and many quirks are never explained even with a satisfying nonsensical explanation. Though, one sequence that is genuinely funny is when Carl wants to avoid some bad press. He drives his van to every house with a newspaper and steals the paper so no one can read the article that mentions him negatively. The genius comes from editor Sofi Marshall’s work as she does several quick cuts to the sequence of Carl speeding forward by inches, hitting the brakes, putting in park, jumping out for the paper, throwing it in and then jumping back in to start it again. It’s a ridiculous sequence that finally does more than make you chuckle.

However, the film as a whole is just half baked. It’s trying to mine depths that aren’t present and it has a main character that has no likable qualities. Carl would have been a great anti-hero. He could have been a spectacular cad. He could have kicked puppies, pushed an old lady down, popped a kid’s balloon, but he didn’t. He didn’t really do anything, fight for anything, or stand for anything. His downfall isn’t so much of a downfall as leaving one room for another slightly less comfortable room. Even his grand ambitions are just pitiful.

The whole film has this pity party feel to it that’s playing to an audience of one. Who can say who that one really is, but I hope they like their movie. It’s probably best to just skip this one all together. There are quirky comedies out there that actually care about being funny and interesting at the same time.

Grade: D

Director: Manuela Martelli

Writers: Manuela Martelli and Alejandra Moffat

Stars: Aline Kuppenheim, Hugo Medina, Nicolás Sepúlveda

Synopsis: Chile, 1976. Carmen heads off to her beach house. When the family priest asks her to take care of a young man he is sheltering in secret, Carmen steps onto unexplored territories, away from the quiet life she is used to.

Impressively so, Manuela Martelli demonstrates her exceptional directorial capabilities with Chile ‘76 – a film that blends arthouse visual sensibilities with Hitchcockian thriller elements to create a tension-filled and fearless take on a year in the Pinochet dictatorship, anchored by a superb performance from Aline Küppenheim. This “political nail-biter” focuses on forging its atmosphere and curating complex imagery rather than implementing the usual genre elements seen in today’s cinema. 

Out of the many feature-length directorial debuts in this year’s New Directors/New Films festival program, Chile ‘76 (formerly titled 1976) is the boldest and most impactful of the bunch. Actress-turned-filmmaker Manuela Martelli (known for her work in Machua and B-Happy) has created a suspenseful and gutsy story about a year in an authoritarian regime, particularly the Augusto Pinochet dictatorship. Before the film truly starts, a deep and dark sense of dread lingers around in the setting’s atmosphere, replicating how Chile was suffocating under Pinochet’s reign in power. This trepidation in the background paves the way for the film’s introductory scene. A middle-aged woman, Carmen (Aline Kuppenheim), is at a local paint store looking through an Italian traveling book for the best shade of pink to paint her beach house. There’s a sort of delicateness to this quick glimpse into Carmen’s life. As her cigarette burns, she brushes through the pages like there is not a worry in the world. 

Carmen asks for more blue shades to match the pink-tinted skies of the image that inspired her to choose that color. However, there’s a contrast between the image chosen and the scene that occurs after. She selects a picture of Doge’s Palace during the sunset; Carmen wants the pastel-colored hue of the evening covering the skies. What a lot of people don’t know is that such a place, which looks stunning from that frame, housed thousands of prisoners and tortured them for centuries. The picturesque Venice landmark and Carmen’s life both have something ominous creeping underneath them – a façade filled with beauty covering up the darkness. As the camera lingers on, the beautiful colors of blue and pink mixing together in the blender, the evils of Pinochet strike almost instantly. Outside the paint store, a kidnapping is taking place. We never actually see the woman being abducted, but the viewer hears her screams – begging to be let go. 

A drop of the pink-colored paint falls onto Carmen’s shoes as a reminder of such an event taking place; that drop stands in for a blood-stain, hinting at something absent at that precise moment yet inevitable in the long run of Manuela Martelli’s narrative. This is a brilliant introduction to Chile ‘76. It is fascinating how Martelli has captured such strong emotions and imagery filled with plenty of analogies in just a single scene, all worth digesting and examining once the film ends. We get to know her sharp and astute skills as a director mere seconds into her movie. After the woman has been seized, we follow Carmen’s upper-middle-class life as she renovates her family’s beach house. But, her life is about to turn upside down when the local priest, Father Sanchez (Hugo Medina), convinces Carmen to take care of a “common criminal” who has suffered a gunshot wound, Elías (Nicolás Sepúlveda). This sets the path for a new major shift in her lifestyle as she later becomes acquainted with the man and learns that he’s running away from Pinochet’s police force. 

Paranoia and fear run through her veins as the rush of inevitability and suspicion intertwines, fueling Carmen’s anxiety about government-caused gender oppression. In Chile ‘76, Manuela Martelli offers a fresh and vastly rich perspective on the torments and terrors of Pinochet’s reign in power. By combining Hitchcockian and 1970s thriller elements in the vein of Francis Ford Coppola’s The Conversation (with each dialogue set-piece containing pressure-cooker suspense) and Michelangelo Antonioni’s The Passenger, Martelli captures that pulsating adrenaline rush of uncertainty and dread-tainted serendipity. She builds tension by curating a feeling of the “will they, won’t they”; the audience is worried about Carmen and her family as she continues to aid the injured Elías. What will happen to her if they catch her? Is someone carefully watching all of her moves? The hesitation of every characters’ decisions (and their outcomes) keeps the audience guessing until the very end, fascinated by the various upcoming twists and turns. However, there are a couple of moments in which you know in which direction the story is headed. 

Outside of Martelli’s vision and Soledad Rodríguez’s cinematography, there are various forms in which Chile ‘76 demonstrates paranoia and unease. As Camila Mercadal’s nifty editing shapes the growing anxiety of Carmen’s apprehensions, the synth-focused score by Mariá Portugal creates a disorienting effect that replicates the country’s restlessness. While every facet is impressive and adds to the film’s ever-growing tension, Chile ‘76 wouldn’t work without Aline Kuppenheim’s performance. Her delicate facial expressions and smooth voice intertwine with the fear of being hunted and later getting caught. Out of the films I have seen, this is my favorite performance of hers. You are worried for her throughout the runtime, from the film’s thrilling introduction to the more significant dangers that arise later in the narrative. 

Chile ‘76 doesn’t capture the complete feeling of life under Pinochet. But the fresh perspective gives it a sense of importance due to Martelli’s innovative grasp on tackling the theme of oppression. Instead of dwelling on the macropolitical aspects or tunning a melodramatic tone, Manuela Martelli inputs an arthouse style and combines it with conventional thriller sensibilities. This approach helps uplift some of the weaker elements in the film, such as the lack of in-depth character development outside of Carmen, because it is gripping and increasingly far more interesting than the multi-million-dollar pictures we see from the bigger studios. 

Grade: B+

Director: Kristoffer Borgli

Writer: Kristoffer Borgli

Stars: Kristine Kujath Thorp, Eirik Sæther, Fanny Vaager

Synopsis: Increasingly overshadowed by her boyfriend’s recent rise to fame as a contemporary artist creating sculptures from stolen furniture, Signe hatches a vicious plan to reclaim her rightfully deserved attention within the milieu of Oslo’s cultural elite.

With a more profound aggravating touch to his usual acerbic comedic sensibilities and a great “down for anything” performance by on-the-rise talent Kristine Kujath Thorp, Kristoffer Borgli satirically (and equally frustratingly) depicts the toxicity of competitive narcissism, egotistical sympathy, and victim mentality in our modern times with his latest work, Sick of Myself (Syk Pike).  

Norwegian filmmaker Kristoffer Borgli has been interested in creating outlandish yet intriguing movies that cause significant reactions from the audience. His approach to filmmaking is somewhat absurdist, but not in the way of Quentin Dupieux or Leos Carax because he adds meta-commentative humor into his works, as seen in his 2017 mockumentary, Drib. Although that film was relatively lackluster and didn’t manage to achieve its full potential, many of us were intrigued by what he would do next. With his first film in five years, Borgli ups the ante, both for better and worse – mainly for the former. Titled Sick of Myself (Syk Pike), Borgli wants to take on, satirically, the obsessive narcissism that spreads like a virus among influencers and people obsessed with social media. And he does capture that feeling of competitive self-admiration, all through hilarious and annoying dialogue and scenarios that make and break the film. So is it worth indulging in the vanity of this farcical story? For the most part, yes!

Sick of Myself begins with a birthday celebration at a restaurant, where we meet our two unlikable young protagonists, Signe (Kristine Kujath Thorp) and Thomas (Eirik Sæther). Thomas wants to impress her by buying a two-thousand-dollar bottle of wine – the most expensive one in the locale. They both laugh at the absurdity of consuming such pricey liquor, pouring their glasses as if they have  all the money in the world. Signe states that everyone is looking at her, even though most people eating there aren’t. These are the first signs of self-obsession and narcissism Borgli puts in the film, and there are many more where that came from. However, something peculiar is about to happen.  Thomas asks Signe to go outside and pick up her phone. In my short experience as a waiter, this scene definitely frustrates me as I know exactly what is about to happen – I know of such incidents firsthand (I’m looking at you, the couple at table three). As she lights a cigarette in the street, Thomas runs away with the bottle; the waiter chases him to ensure he pays for his actions.

Immediately after, Signe delivers the quote that cements the film’s crux: “Narcissists are the ones who make it… combined with talent, it’s a plus.” Signe sure is narcissistic, but she lacks the talent to pull it off. Instead, she depends on desperation to acquire her daily dosage of conceit. The young couple lives in a stylish apartment with colorful paintings and a hodgepodge of stolen furniture. While the film’s introductory scene might present that their relationship is intact, the reality is the opposite. Toxicity runs through the longevity of their romance. Together they are amorously unhealthy; if you put them apart, you begin to notice that, in a way, they are meant for each other. The two of them constantly fight for attention wherever they go, whether at dinner with friends or parties in their apartment. When Thomas is headed for fame with his artistic work, Signe becomes bitter about it. So, Signe decides that she needs to fight for eyes to see her every move. 

At first, it is minor, yet distasteful; lies about being attacked by a dog or having a nut allergy in front of Thomas’ dinner guests. Yet, later on in the narrative, her yearning for attention causes Signe to make very drastic decisions. She indulges in some illegal Russian drugs with a side-effect that triggers an allergic reaction — a rare skin disease that scars your face. Because she’s frantic enough to do engage in such actions that might jeopardize her health, Signe swallows one pill after another as if it was candy; her skin slowly breaking out to the point where she needs to be hospitalized due to her infection. And that’s precisely what she wants; with that hospitalization, Signe gets the egotistical sympathy that fuels her daily living. At this point in the story, many viewers will find themselves either annoyed or engaged with the film due to the excessive and tongue-in-cheek satire delivered by Borgli. When the Munchausen syndrome comes into play, that division between annoyance and entertainment will make or break the viewing experience for many. 

Although I found some scenes rightfully annoying, I was intrigued by Sick of Myself’s satirical exploration of the modern-day pursuit of fame or being recognized, as well as tainted relationships. The characters in this film, largely the unhealthy pairing of our “protagonists”, are sick of one having more attention than the other, to the point where one decides to become ill to fuel the fire of their crumbling partnership. Borgli doesn’t want to let any of them off the hook for their actions, creating various brutal scenarios for them to cross paths into. But, of course, the person we see suffer the most, at least on the outside, is Signe, played by a fiery Kristine Kujath Thorp. Thorp is just having a blast with the material she’s been given. This performance demands a lot from her since it is a balancing act of making the audience disgusted by the character’s cruel decisions and care about her simultaneously – understanding why Signe is a manipulator and frequent liar. 

Because Thorp is such a talented actress, you want to keep watching what other outrageous things her character will do next, even if it is morally repugnant or just plain erroneous. Borgli doesn’t shy away from showing us her transformation into a solipsistic monster. He implements elements in the story that both figuratively and literally shine a light on the different aspects of the main character’s victimhood and egocentricity. The main two are the clever script by the Norwegian director and the fantastic makeup work by Dimitra Drakopoulou and Izzi Galindo. The script focuses more on exploring how Signe has used her own suffering and illness as a tool (or sport) for her pleasures, as well as how Thomas’ antagonistic approach to their relationship served as a trigger for her downward path to self-destruction. Meanwhile, the highly well-crafted practical effects and makeup show the literal impact of her compulsive “look at me” mania.

There are gags in the movie that feel short-sighted, placed to create a reaction rather than to amplify the project’s themes. But, for the most part, Sick of Myself is pretty entertaining and witty. This film and Ruben Östlund’s Palme d’Or-winning Triangle of Sadness enjoy seeing people in pain and suffering because of their rash and questionable decisions. And honestly, I do too. There’s a magnetic feeling in seeing these satirical scenarios become more insane and corrupt by the minute. It is also hilarious that Sick of Myself was brought to us by the same people who made Joachim Trier’s Oscar-nominated film, The Worst Person in the World, because there is no close comparison between Renate Reinsve’s Julie and Kristine Kujath Thorp’s Signe. The former feels like she is the worst person in the entire world on the inside, while the latter is the pure definition of such a description. I’m definitely looking forward to Kristoffer Borgli’s next film, the Nicolas Cage-starring and A24-backed Dream Scenario. 

Grade: B

Director: Daniel Goldhaber

Writers: Ariela Barer, Jordan Sjol, and Daniel Goldbaber

Stars: Ariela Barer, Kristine Froseth, Lukas Gage

Synopsis: A crew of environmental activists plot a daring plan to disrupt an oil pipeline.

In Paul Schrader’s First Reformed, a frustrated Rev. Toller played by Ethan Hawke yells out “Well somebody’s got to do something” when speaking to a fellow priest about the church’s involvement in the ongoing battle of climate change. His frustrations are not singular, millions around the world have tried to make their voices heard by stating the importance of the climate change movement and how we, as a society, have to counter the environmental damages we have caused to our planet. By the end of Schrader’s film, the focus stirs away from finding a solution to the biggest problem facing humanity, leaving the door open for someone else to find answers. With How to Blow Up a Pipeline, director Daniel Goldhaber’s second feature examines how far people will (or even should) go to make a real impact on this vital issue.

Based on Andreas Malm’s nonfiction novel covering multiple accounts of various individual stories to advocate for saving the planet against the threat of climate change, the film takes all of these stories. It combines them into a group of mostly strangers who band together to make a statement big enough to change the world’s current stance on fossil fuel admissions and dependence on oil. The group’s inception starts with Xochitl (Ariela Barer) and Shawn (Marcus Scribner), who are two college students working on a documentary focused on climate change. In gathering together with their classmates, their anger and frustrations continue to grow, as they are having the same old conversations that we’ve been having about climate change for the past twenty to thirty years. They are tired of the false hope they are told to put in powerful leaders, waiting for small changes to be made, but ultimately they get nowhere close to the legislation that can make a difference. So, they decide to see if they can pull a team together of experts on the issue to make something that will get the attention of the oil companies and politicians; they decide to create a bomb.

Once this decision is made, Goldhaber cuts back and forth from the group’s creation of the bomb to more backstory of the other members of the group, showing how they all got here and how this issue affects them or why they have nothing to lose in going head in on a project as dangerous as this one is. Emotional backstories only heighten the drama happening and the importance of this mission’s success. Take Theo (Sasha Lane), who is diagnosed with leukemia and wants to leave a lasting legacy before she dies, or Dwayne (Jake Weary), who has been fighting the oil companies for the land that has been in his family for over a hundred years and is about to get kicked out so they can continue to drill on something that was never the companies, to begin with. These frustrations turn into anger, and lead to our characters having nothing to lose, thus making an individual so driven that you can’t stop. All of this is written expertly by Barer, Goldhaber, and their co-writer Jordan Sjol, who create a tight thriller filled with tension and deep emotionality.

 In an effective, tension-packed 104-minute runtime, How to Blow Up a Pipeline sucks the audience into the urgency of this mission by seeing the bomb being built step by step. Every setback or shortcut is slowly examined by Goldhaber, who steadily directs each scene like an expert, even though this is only his second feature film. In doing this, the mission of the entire team keeps us, the audience, on the edge of our seats with the last 45 minutes coming at such a heart pounding pace that you can’t help but be captivated. Solid work by the entire ensemble, though there isn’t a performance that stands out above the rest. But the point of this film isn’t to have big speeches about how to fix issues, it’s about taking action and thus when we see the bomb blow up, we see this cast now have to deal with the damage they have created and how this doesn’t end happily for all involved but it serves the purpose intended; to create a movement of change.

 In the film’s coda, we find out just how impactful their actions are and what we will see going forward because of it. The spark has been lit and it is up to us after the film is over to make a larger change. The message isn’t preachy but instead urgent and real. How to Blow Up a Pipeline is an effective political thriller with a lot of heart and passion behind it. It seeks to change the minds of people around  the world, whether or not it will do that will ultimately be the legacy of the film and the topic of climate control as a whole.

Grade: B

Directors: Aaron Horvath and Michael Jelenic 

Writer: Matthew Fogel

Stars: Chris Pratt, Anya Taylor-Joy, Jack Black

Synopsis: The story of The Super Mario Bros. on their journey through the Mushroom Kingdom.

While Pac-Man might have been the first official video game character in 1980, the first version of Mario wasn’t far behind. Initially named ‘Jumpman,’ and a carpenter instead of a plumber, he made his first appearance in 1981 in the arcade game Donkey Kong. It wasn’t until the 1983 release of Mario Bros. that Mario, and his new brother Luigi, would step into the spotlight as the main characters in their own game. From then on, the character of Mario exploded culturally spawning variations including Super Mario, Mario Kart, Mario Party, and countless others. While Nintendo’s most profitable and well-known character has made many appearances in game form, when it comes to the big screen, he has been relatively absent. That is until now with The Super Mario Bros. Movie, the first Hollywood adaptation of this character since the 1993 live-action Super Mario Bros.

The Super Mario Bros. Movie kicks off in the world known best by the Mario Games with Bowser (Jack Black) invading the Snow Kingdom, home of the Penguins, searching for a legendary Star. Meanwhile, in Brooklyn, Mario (Chris Pratt) and his brother Luigi (Charlie Day) have recently quit their jobs to pursue their dream of starting the Super Mario Bros. Plumbing service to help out their neighborhood and save Brooklyn one leaky faucet at a time. Mario and Luigi head underground to solve the problem when a water line bursts and the streets flood. However, when their attempt to help goes wrong they wind up in a pipe system deeper underneath Brooklyn. One of the pipes isn’t like the others and eventually sucks in Mario and Luigi sending them to the universe of the games.

While traveling, Mario and Luigi get split up, with Mario landing in the Mushroom Kingdom and Luigi on the floating island inhabited by the evil Bowser. Upon entry, Mario stumbles into Toad (Keegan-Michael Key) who tells him that the best way for him to save his brother is by meeting with Princess Peach (Anya Taylor-Joy). They both travel to the castle to find Peach who is currently speaking to the Toad army about the best way to go about the Bowser invasion. After running into Mario and hearing his cry for help, Peach puts him through a series of tests before they venture off to the Jungle Kingdom to recruit the Kong Army, led by Cranky Kong (Fred Armisen) and his son Donkey Kong (Seth Rogen). With the help of the Kongs, Peaches and Mario will be able to protect the Mushroom Kingdom, and save Luigi.

As more time passes it feels as though there is more of a longing for the past; a need to remember a time that has come and gone. This is especially covered in visual media such as television and film as a way to pop the nostalgia bubble and evoke a feeling of youthful innocence. Sometimes this kind of media can work in a way to hit the feels while still expanding on the already-developed story to bring about something that feels similar, but new – last year’s Top Gun: Maverick is a good example. However, for The Super Mario Bros. Movie, nostalgia isn’t just the basis of the story, it’s the entire story itself.

In what has to be the most easter-egg-heavy movie of the year, The Super Mario Bros. Movie plays out more like a speedrun than a traditional playthrough. Bouncing through different worlds and game styles, there is never a moment in the short 92-minute runtime in which, as an audience, you can stop to smell the roses, in this case the fire flowers, and instead it’s a jolt from one level to the next. Screenwriter Matthew Fogel spends too much of the film’s time attempting to get casual “oohs” and “ahhs” rather than creating a story with any real heart behind it. Once the sentimental feeling this film does elicit begins to fade away, what’s left is an odd tale of what one will do to protect the ones they love that, in this case, worked far better in the 8-bit world than on the big screen.

The lack of any real story might be the most disappointing factor when it comes to The Super Mario Bros. Movie because a lot of the other factors of the film actually work. Directors Aaron Horvath and Michael Jelenic both have a strong vision of how they want this world to look and visually this film accurately depicts Mario in its later forms. The animation was sleek, and the different variations of the many Mario games and lands were exciting to see on screen. There were a lot of things this movie did well from a fun and entertainment aspect, but the lack of world-building caused it to feel like something that was visited rather than something lived in. The emotional connection to the characters wasn’t made through the actions on screen and instead is solely built on your connection to them going into the movie rather than during it.

As for the characters, most of them are voiced even better than initially advertised. Anya Taylor-Joy as Princess Peach isn’t particularly great, but Keegan-Michael Key is hilarious as Toad, and Charlie Day is exactly the voice Luigi needs; Seth Rogen brings Donkey Kong to life in a great way, and Chris Pratt, while still massively miscast for the character, fits the role better than I initially had thought. However, it is Jack Black as the menacing Bowser who truly steals the show and voices this character with the perfect amount of gruffness displaying villainous tendencies that Black is able to articulate so well. 

Even with good visuals, a clever score from Brian Tyler that incorporates the Mario themes in a great way, and nostalgia galore, The Super Mario Bros. Movie is too fast-paced and too underdeveloped as a film to truly be considered a good movie. There are fun moments throughout, but this adaptation of the games leans far too heavily into sentimentality and sacrifices the story for the sake of it. Maybe the quick pacing and lack of development were done in a way to set up sequels that would explore these characters more, but if Illumination and Nintendo truly want this film to spawn into a franchise, it’s going to need a power-up.

Grade: C-

Director: Charlotte Colbert

Writer: Charlotte Colbert

Stars: Alice Krige, Kota Eberhardt, Malcolm McDowell

Synopsis: An aging film star retreats to the Scottish countryside with her nurse to recover from surgery. While there, mysterious forces of revenge emerge from the land where witches were burned.

Aging star Veronica Ghent (Alice Krige) attends a Scottish retreat with nurse Desi Hatoum (Kota Eberhardt) after a mastectomy, and the eerie outdoors help Veronica face her disturbing past thanks to past burnings at the stake and future astral revenge against her former director Hathborne (Malcolm McDowell) in the 2022 Dario Argento (Suspiria) produced She Will.

Writer and debut director Charlotte Colbert opens She Will with eerie lake reflections and upside down vistas paralleling the looking up at overhead surgery eyes, skin, and lipstick. A brief narration tells us of the layers of masks and make up rituals we use to preserve ourselves as the ticking clock speeds faster. She Will immediately establishes its female audience and sense of ageism with breasts making the woman a woman societal pressures and the extremes women go through to attain our warped sense of beauty. The furs, sunglasses, and red lips look Old Hollywood out of place in the forested, isolated Scottish quaint, for wealth and grand train cars can’t overcome the trouble sleeping, tunnel metaphors, and painful breast prosthetics. Men don’t like to see these chest scars, and the real life scary is evident in a sad woman holding her fake breasts in her hands. Tabloids also abound with her then and now face alongside repeated mentions of Navajo Frontier as Veronica’s big ingenue film and retro footage of Malcolm McDowell as the famed director who discovered her. Other guests at the retreat chant with yoga, crystal pedestals, and champagne amid storms, stone ruins, and the 1722 grave markers commemorating the 3,000 witches burned there. The wide lens panning camera captures the awkward fish bowl interactions, smartphone lights flashing, and adoring people in your face commotion as dreams of our past starlet collide with flashes of blood, knives, screams, and nightmares reflecting her traumatic state of mind. Veronica walks in the woods and feels like she has been there before – apparitions of encroaching mud, moss, bonfires, and incantations aren’t herky jerky strobe meant to scare the audience but rather nature calling in unnatural ways. Drawing with charcoal made from the local ash purported to have healing properties leads to automatic writing, Gaelic words, and phallic images. The retreat therapist suggests how we see is ingrained by the patriarchy, but a male guest who says hysterical women bite the hand that feeds them, i.e. men, has his hand catch fire. Whispering winds, dreams of witches, and memories of Navajo Frontier blur as bruised girls in white float back to the nighttime city – circling the talk show sets with astral observations of Veronica’s former director. She promises supernatural torment to come thanks to the projection as empowerment. What Veronica thinks can happen, and past and present women connected by pain combine for a vicarious paranormal experience. Nature, spirit, and healing are in tune as Mother Earth responds to the cancers within with all consuming horror.

Malcolm McDowell’s director Hathborne likes to court controversy. Life long consequences to a thirteen year old girl be damned in the name of art! When asked if he was unlawful and went too far, he disturbingly justifies his “making her into something” by capturing the exploration of their special bond for Navajo Frontier. To Hathborne, hindsight is distorting how he only wanted the best for his special girl. She knew what she was doing and how dare she be ungrateful to him now! She Will provides truthful conversations and commentary on the maturing too soon gaze. Even the character’s name is an excellent personification of the actions he hath wrought coming back to haunt him. Kota Eberhardt’s Desi does her best to care for a patient that doesn’t want to be told what to do. Both women resent each other but know they need one another, and Veronica gives Desi advice to be teeth and claws when the retreat staff flirt with her. Local men try to scare Desi with rumors of the past witchcraft, and viewers fear for her walking into town alone with no reception even if she enjoys the drinks and compliments. Of course, the pressure to stay for another round gets out of control, and the ladies come to an understanding in the rite of passage women must endure. Unfortunately, Veronica’s class and sophistication aren’t enough when the hair wrap, wrinkles, and drinking mini liquor bottles make her feel old and delicate. She’s reluctant to join the retreat’s group activities and scoffs at their mumbo jumbo about the stars aligning. The rustic cabin is not her style and Veronica prefers to be alone, but she is not without wit – joking that their situation is just like a horror movie with her young nurse is the isolated maiden soon to be sacrificed. Veronica doesn’t want to be babied, yet both admires and is jealous of Desi because she can be anything she wants to be. She says Desi’s short white, edgy, androgynous haircut is attractive in the young, but it’s repugnant to the old ghosts in her bed. Veronica wants to look in the mirror and be happy, and getting dirty outside and letting her hair grow wild takes away her pain. Her renewed connection to the earth makes for a second chance, and Alice Krige deserved awards notice for She Will.

Although the blue digital gradient is noticeable and we don’t need an astral cool moment every time once the connection is established; red firelight and orange lanterns accent the moon, fog, and ash falling from the sky. Rippling rain, assorted reflections, screens, and mirrors create distortions of ourselves. Swirling smoke and water photography invoke the winds, thunder, and spooky Clint Mansell score as the ye olde beats match the barefoot in the woods levitating, ancient trees, and mud baths. She Will becomes brighter – shining the light on its ills with Expressionistic stairs, black and white patterns, square buildings, and harsh architecture versus the natural green wilds, organic visuals, and red metaphors of the women’s domain. At 97 minutes, She Will feels a touch long with a redundant end where the dialogue and revenge projections in action are hard hitting enough. This is probably too weird or overly feminine for some mainstream audiences, as She Will forces us to pay attention to our mother daughter relationships, women’s horrors, and real world consequences.

Grade: A 

Director: Ben Affleck

Writer: Alex Convery

Stars: Matt Damon, Ben Affleck, Viola Davis

Synopsis: Follows the history of shoe salesman Sonny Vaccaro, and how he led Nike in its pursuit of the greatest athlete in the history of basketball: Michael Jordan.

It’s been just shy of over a decade since Ben Affleck directed Best Picture Winner Argo, but he’s never really left the eye of the public. In that time, he’s been announced as Batman, confirmed he is done playing Batman, returned as Batman, directed Live By Night, his coldly-received Best Picture follow-up effort, starred in the insanely under appreciated The Last Duel, reunited with his bestie Kevin Smith, married Jennifer Lopez, and, of course, become the ultimate spokesperson/meme extraordinaire of Dunkin’ Donuts. All that is just the tip of the iceberg. The point being: a lot has happened over the years, and time can fly by to the point that everything seems unrecognizable. And that’s exactly how Affleck’s Air begins, with a fun catch. Yes, 1984 is almost 40 years in the past, and the present world should be completely unrecognizable ten times over. In many ways, it is, but luckily we have all the colorful and fun iconography of the mid ‘80s to ground us. But there’s an even larger link between then and now: Michael Jordan. The immortal figure, or rather his mythos, around which this film centers itself in a fascinating way.

Air follows Matt Damon as Sonny Vaccaro, the Nike employee who (spoiler) brought Michael Jordan to the company at a time of dire straits. While Vaccaro didn’t achieve this alone, and we will surely touch on the supporting players shortly, Air very much feels centered around Vaccaro setting forth the big risks being taken; and Damon excels in this role. There’s a pivotal moment around the third act of this film that feels like an Oscar reel playing out live before your eyes. The reason being is simple: it’s wholeheartedly believable, and even for just those moments, it feels as if the lines between character, actor, and real-life persona blend into something magic. When paired with the editing of Oscar-winning William Goldenberg, it’s deeply chilling. Some may question whether this film will feel impactful knowing the outcome of Nike and all the success of the Air Jordan sneaker and brand. To them, I say, “You must not have seen the fervor and energy The Last Dance created.” When it comes to Michael Jordan (whose face is unseen in the film aside from archival footage), the very idea of his presence is enough to captivate viewers. For those who witnessed him play, the feeling must be indescribable. But for those who haven’t, I would argue that it becomes even more powerful. To live in a world where the man and the brand bearing his name is practically inescapable, the mythos this film encapsulates is deeply felt without practically any effort. So the fact that a talented cast and crew came aboard for this makes each moment hit harder and more effectively.

At one point, Phil Knight (Affleck) makes the claim, “You’re remembered for the rules you break.” By no means does Air feel as if it’s redefining the biopic in any sense, or breaking any rules impactfully along the way, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t play to its strengths. Take for example, the repeated motif of personal ambition and the lengths one will sometimes go to in order to prove something. Throughout the film, many conversations are framed in extreme close-ups with varying, almost jarring, shifts in focus. These moments of clarity, or lack thereof, feel as if Affleck wants the viewer to know that, at times, we sometimes have to hear what we want to hear. Personal ambition and ego can get in the way of many things, that is a certainty in life. But if everybody were to live pragmatically for the rest of time, would any innovation ever come about? Between that and an unshakeable belief in oneself and those around us, it feels like anything can be achieved. It’s in this notion that Viola Davis grounds the film as Deloris Jordan, Michael’s mother.

In a statement regarding the film, Affleck noted that he “came to the realization that the fulcrum of the movie is… Deloris.” It shouldn’t be a surprise that Davis comes across as a true force to be reckoned with on screen, as per usual. She brings a sense of gravitas and fierceness to any role she takes on, regardless of how much screen time she may have. Unfortunately, it does feel as if the film leans more towards other characters and their stories a bit more, but her presence is massively felt throughout the film, especially in the third act. One reason that Air works so well is because the history of Michael Jordan and the Air Jordan sneaker is etched in stone. As montages are shown of what audiences all know is to come, a large part of it all stems from Deloris; and we are acutely aware of it. From how she raised Michael, to the ground-breaking deal she made insisting her son take a percentage of the shoe profits, Davis brings a genuine belief to the film that grounds it all in the end. It’s a moment that extends far beyond the film, far beyond sneakers, far beyond basketball; we see a mother wholeheartedly endorsing her child solely based on her belief in him, and that’s all an audience needs to latch onto the success story Air depicts.

While Air certainly leans heavily into the 40-year nostalgia of 1984, it feels very earnest and well-earned. Most films that lean into nostalgia in such a way feel hollow. There are many culprits, some more blatant than others, yet Affleck’s film is able to find a genuine middle ground. When discussing the film, Damon and Affleck both repeatedly harkened upon how Jordan “meant so much to” them and “loomed so large in [their] childhood[s].” Above all, this film is a scrappy, fun look at how one of the most recognizable brands of all time came to be. It’s an emotional, honest ode to a mother making sure her son gets all that he deserves. It’s a movie where the great Matthew Maher is introduced within a basement lair at Nike like he’s the next MCU superhero. More often than not, AIR succeeds in its mission of being a crowd-pleaser, with something genuine to say.

Grade: C+

Director: Jonathan Goldstein and John Francis Daley

Writers: Jonathan Goldstein, John Francis Daley, and Michael Gilio

Stars: Chris Pine, Michelle Rodriguez, Regé-Jean Page

Synopsis: A charming thief and a band of unlikely adventurers embark on an epic quest to retrieve a long-lost relic, but their charming adventure goes dangerously awry when they run afoul of the wrong people.

Big-budget fantasy films are out in force in this modern age of cinema, and yet the majority of the films that plague this genre feel emotionless and largely boring at this point. So, how refreshing is it when one particular film comes along and smashes down all the usual barriers and delivers an enthralling adventure filled with great comedy and even better characters? The arrival of Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves couldn’t have come at a better time, when the world has become tired of rinse and repeat comic book adaptations and huge budget CGI films have become a passionless common trend – this is how you make a fantasy film people, a masterpiece of the fantasy genre.

Jonathan Goldstein and John Francis Daley’s joint effort is based on the gaming phenomenon known as Dungeons and Dragons (you might have heard of that at some point in your life) and is set in the Forgotten Realms campaign setting. It’s actually a reboot of the critically panned original trilogy that began with Dungeons and Dragons (2000) starring Jeremy Irons, which was then followed by a TV film and a direct-to-video finale, so thank God it’s not a continuation of that hugely questionable series. This directing duo clearly have a fabulous creative connection with each other – the pair co-wrote Horrible Bosses (2011) and co-directed the black comedy Game Night (2018) – but they needed to crank things up a few notches for this latest venture, and that they did as well.

Honor Among Thieves introduces us to a magical land, one that has become a staple in so many gamers’ lives over the years. It follows Edgin Darvis (Chris Pine) a charming thief and bard who, along with his loyal partner, the fearsome barbarian Holga Kilgore (Michelle Rodriguez) must attempt to rescue Edgin’s daughter from the clutches of evil. Like any death-defying quest, they will need a team of trusty friends and allies (but a group of reprobates will do) to help them conduct the heist of all heists. Their path leads them to recruit an old gang member; the terrible wizard Simon Aumar (Justice Smith), as well as Doric the druid (Sophia Lillis) – with all angles now covered, the group set out to dethrone the Lord of Neverwinter and get back what is theirs.

With this being an action-adventure film, it is exactly that which will be put under the microscope for close inspection – it’s a good thing it’s brilliant then. The action scenes are fantastically choreographed and hugely enjoyable; every single scene, whether it’s chaotic combat in the Underdark or a simple prison escape, is as entertaining as the last. The film also uses its special effects perfectly; never becoming solely reliant on them, but instead cultivating them with great efficiency. There is a small but important decision that the directors make; the use of prosthetics for some of the characters really was a masterstroke.. How often is the creation of fantastical beasts and monsters left up to CGI when talented people are gearing up and ready to manufacture a human-sized bird costume with mechanical wings? It adds a level of care and creativity that can often be lost in these films.

Chris Pine also puts in a very assured performance as the film’s lead (thankfully not being affected by a case of protagonist syndrome that has stricken so many leading characters in fantasy films over the years) and turned into a fine comedy leading man in the process. The cast in general was superb as well though, and they all added glitz to proceedings while the chemistry between them all was magnetic. Whether it was Rodriguez as the stoic sidekick or Hugh Grant as the slimy but weirdly irresistible Forge Fitzwilliam – the rejuvenation of Grant’s career as a comedy scholar is one potentially welcomed by many. And for once, we have a family fantasy film that didn’t fall into the trap of forcing its comedy, with an incessant need for cheese and glaringly obvious punchlines that can be seen from a mile away – this film really is a breath of fresh air, and it’s about time, too.

For the first film in a possible franchise (although that’s yet to be confirmed) it had everything that a full trilogy sometimes struggles to attain. It doesn’t feel like your usual warm up film in a series, it just dives head-first into the madness and it pays off massively. There was never a dull moment in Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves, and it results in a sparkling big-screen experience – which is exactly where you should be enjoying this because it will be the most fun you’ve had at the cinema in quite some time. 

Grade: A