The Gorge (2025)

Score: 3 / 5

You may find familiar, dear reader, my praise of films that know and demonstrate exactly what they are, regardless of budget, marketing, and online chatter. A B-movie that is, enthusiastically, the kind of simpler, cheaper, wackier thing you expect to see in an encore feature at a drive-in or underground film festival will earn extra points for me purely as a result of this self-awareness (not metafiction, mind you, but pure comfort in its clearly defined subgenre or intended audience) and resulting conviction. Think genre films. Think zany action. Think excuses for flair. These are films you don't have to take notes during -- heck, you probably don't even need subtitles, because the dialogue isn't that important -- and can sit back and fully enjoy. Or not, and you can snack and chitchat with your friends while it plays before you. 

This is what Scott Derrickson, notably religious creator of thoughtful and haunting horrors The Exorcism of Emily Rose and Sinister, has released to us this year. I'm a big fan of Derrickson's work and the way he has articulated his faith in relation to his preferred genre, and I've been glad for his continued rise in prominence and studio structures. Though nothing he's directed has felt as poignant or personally affecting as those two titles already mentioned -- the former remaining the single best meditation on the intersection of faith and horror I've ever seen and the latter being the single scariest viewing experience I've ever had in a cinema -- the director of Deliver Us from Evil, Doctor Strange, and The Black Phone seems to enjoy playing with big budgets and effects-laden visuals in recent years. The admittedly diminishing returns show no sign of running out with The Gorge.

Sadly, though, this film was not released in cinemas, and I simply cannot understand why. Unless you're at home with a sizable tv screen and at least decent surround sound, The Gorge cannot glean from you the awe it was clearly intended to harvest. 

In brief, the plot concerns two mercenary snipers stationed in isolation at two towers opposite a gorge, which they must maintain lest the dangerous creatures below emerge. That's it, and I tell you that because as such, this is a fabulously high-concept film. Compare it to '70s disaster films or major summer blockbusters: you can get a lot of mileage out of Kevin Bacon fighting carnivorous giant worms in the desert. And regardless of the quality of its special effects, there is something charming about simply watching the compelling conceit unfurl; it helps the film's legacy when major stars populate the screen and special effects are convincing and/or funny. 

And while Derrickson and his screenwriter Zach Dean clearly have fun plumbing the depths of their titular gorge and its secrets, one does grow a little suspicious of their own investment in the film. Because for all its wacky energy and bizarre plot turns -- and trust and believe, these are aplenty -- the film takes itself just -- just -- too seriously. Needless details are one thing, but when their sole purpose is to elicit sympathy from the viewer and intensify emotional attachment, we trespass into sentimentality. We don't need to know that Miles Teller has PTSD from the military or that Anya Taylor-Joy's terminally ill father is soon to commit suicide; these are masterful performers with enough charisma to lead larger projects than this, so let them just do it. Edit out the sentimental crap and turn this movie into what it should be: a mostly silent, curious and introspective, white-knuckled ride through hell and back.

That's not to say the romance aspect of this thriller/adventure/sci-fi/horror film is unwelcome. Despite its truncated length, the budding relationship between the two characters feels both blissful and earned, thanks to a montage sequence for the ages. By the time he hatches a plan to visit her, we're fully on board with this, though frankly she was so rude to him at first I was yelling at the screen for him to go back. The problem is rather that the film leans too heavily into this at times, and too heavily into the action and mystery and horror at others, with no clear tonal through line or even recognizable pattern. Worse, and this is perhaps a little mean, but Dean's dialogue needed some serious workshopping to sound believable and to save my poor eyes from rolling.

After you see the film, I dare to just think about the exact same story but shot entirely from Miles's perspective. Or Anya's. Think about us, stuck there silently with one character as they have to learn their job, settle into place, discover each other, try to communicate and build a relationship, and decide to make the dangerous and disobedient visit. That approach would ratchet up the tension and mystery even more by obscuring certainty about the beguiling other person, shed the artificial sentimentality of being force-fed their backstories, add opportunities for creative cinematography, editing, and sound mixing around one person's isolated existence, and provide space for unexpected and earned comedy as we would understand the awkwardness of being alone and needing to connect with another character even from afar, if only to learn what the heck the movie was about! We'd discover things along with the characters in a much more compelling and authentic way, without too many details from the screenplay being lost along the way.

And I think that's where we'll leave this review. Several things yet I wanted to mention -- including the amazing score from Reznor and Ross that electrifies this film's energy, Sigourney Weaver's delicious appearance from head to toe, effective and scary monster design (a mix of Annihilation and The Mist), Sope Dirisu's considerable skill in enlivening a miserable exposition-dumper minor part before being totally wasted by the film, the absolute nonsense that these lovers need binoculars to even see each other yet often smile and wave without so much as a squint, the insane color grading of the fog scenes (gray to yellow to blue to red, for no apparent reason) that had me in a panic attack because I hadn't taken anything so why was I tripping -- but describing too many details of a movie like this can really take the joy away from your raw viewing of it. So if any of this sounds remotely interesting to you, or you want to just have a fun time with a fine flick, check out The Gorge. It's a solid date night choice.

Spiderhead (2022)

Score: 1.5 / 5

It took me longer than it should have to understand what was going on in this film. It's playing a very weird game from the outset. While science fiction thrillers work best by destabilizing our sense of context, forcing us to get on their weird wavelength right away, Spiderhead doesn't articulate itself very quickly. In some ways, the film treats us like its characters, trapped in a slightly trippy prison of ideas while being manipulated into a certain attitude. The story takes place in a strange futuristic prison where inmates are generally pretty free but the mysterious prison directors alter the prisoners' brain chemistry for research. They hope to be able to cure the world's problems with various medical enhancements and adjustments, and they use dubious scientist Steve Abnesti (Chris Hemsworth) to do it all. 

Inmates have free will in this process -- it seems that saying "acknowledge" is their in-the-moment consent -- and apparently acquiescing can shorten their respective sentences. But it becomes pretty clear pretty soon that Abnesti is playing with fire. The drugs he chooses have intense effects: Laffodil provokes an overwhelming desire to laugh and Darkenfloxx induces extreme psychological pain, the latter resulting (at almost exactly the film's halfway point) in one inmate's graphic suicide. I point out the time of this revelation because the previous 45 minutes or so are almost unbearably dull. Half the movie goes by before we really understand a) the genre is thriller, b) the stakes of the situation, c) the quality (or lack) of the characters themselves. Those are all crucial to this story, and the film squanders them for too long, making everything after feel cheap.

I wondered a few times if I was being had. While I'm not familiar with the short story by George Saunders that inspires this film, it's clear that this film was desperate to stretch the material to a feature length. Screenwriters Rhett Rheese and Paul Wernick (Deadpool) try to imbue the proceedings with an off-beat sense of cold humor, and to some extent director Joseph Kosinski (Top Gun: Maverick) tries to follow suit by featuring blaring oldies rock and slapping neon pink scrawl on the screen for the opening and closing credits. Even Hemsworth vacillates between playing the role as a fairly serious therapist who may genuinely care about his patients/prisoners and a somewhat campy mad scientist who gets off on watching paranoid and horny people suffering under his control. The problem is that the film takes so long to get us to this realization -- or appreciation -- and nothing before adds up to much.

I kept waiting for this film to take a Shutter Island kind of turn, to make a political or moral statement like The Stanford Prison Experiment, or even to pull a Stephen King and make a humanist story about overcoming odds like in The Shawshank Redemption or The Green Mile. But it never does; it routinely marches forward, hitting all the familiar beats, reaching an uninteresting and uninspired climax that felt as though the filmmakers hadn't seen any movies since the late '90s. In fact, the few moments of actual revelation are so poorly executed, I find myself wondering again if this movie plays itself dumb for some smart reason. At the aforementioned midway scene, Abnesti drops his office keys while running to try and help the suicide; inmate Jeff (Miles Teller), nominally the protagonist, slowly grabs them and opens his desk drawers for unclear reasons, suddenly discovering that Abnesti is fully in charge of the program and experiments, not a mysterious board or committee. 

Maybe I just don't care about sci-fi for the sake of sci-fi. But this movie couldn't even make any statements -- or, much more better, open possibilities for further consideration and conversation -- about the prison system or pharmaceutical corruption. It says nothing about incarcerated men trying to help or one-up each other, about the psychological strain of the imprisoned or real attempts to help. It just exists for no satisfying reason and can't even muster up the artistic gumption to make itself memorable or worthwhile. What a waste.

Top Gun: Maverick (2022)

Score: 2 / 5

Here we go again. The opening title card is the same as before, and the opening sequence again plays out over the familiar song "Danger Zone." This is a legacy sequel in spades, one that feels determined to work best for nostalgia's sake. Even though the late Tony Scott isn't directing this time, new director Joseph Kosinski seems to do his best mimicking the style of the earlier film, though his tone is much more somber this time. Frankly, I don't much like the first one, and while this film feels more serious and features much better-filmed practical effects, it also is just more of the same (without any queer coding to distract from its emptiness). I'm just not a fan of the whole Top Gun thing.

We begin with Tom Cruise's character, call sign "Maverick," working as a test pilot for the US Navy, a more believable career for him after the first film ended with him preparing to teach the top-tier titular program's students to become the Navy's best fighting pilots. He is summoned on a mythic "final job" mission to return to teaching a group of recent Top Gun graduates for a crucial mission. He doesn't really want to, but it persuaded to join. Unfortunately, he quickly learns that one of his students will be "Rooster" Bradshaw (Miles Teller) the son of "Goose," Maverick's former wingman who died in an accident Maverick caused. He has never forgiven himself, and is sure that Rooster hasn't either.

The actual plot is about as irrelevant and vague as it was in the original. There is an enemy, but great care is taken to never identify the enemy (in the first, we can probably assume North Korea or China; in this, it's almost certainly Russia). There is a mission to be done, though it's basically opaque. There's an impossible flight plan to destroy some target and almost certainly die in the process (is it the trench climax from Star Wars: A New Hope, or perhaps a Mission: Impossible task?). And, on the home front, Maverick needs to navigate his way around these young hotshots, harden them for the impossible, and also hopefully kindle romance with the local single-mother bartender (Jennifer Connelly). Because he's him, and this is us, and why not?

The cast is uniformly, well, uniform. Serviceable but generally unremarkable, and that's the result of writing and direction. A film so narratively castrated can scarcely harness the kind of energy wartime action dramas need to capture our attention. The lack of specifics in plot, in any capacity, makes the film feel more like a dreamy, vaguely patriotic attempt at rousing dangerous ideological pockets of our culture, much like the first film was so jingoistic and vainly pious for its own good. (Then again, the performatively macho presentation of the first has since been subjected to much critical suspicion, resulting in famed attempts to queer the material. It's funny and diverting, but ultimately a troubling exercise unless you take the whole film as camp, which is also diverting but I think fruitless.)

It's a summer blockbuster, taken for its entirety, and some people will love it. I enjoyed some of the didactic zingers and the general nostalgic sentimentality for what they were. Even though the actors are largely irrelevant, Connelly works hard to feel important and Cruise just sort of is important anymore, so they command the screen well. Teller often plays off Glen Powell, and I'd like to see them square off in a better film together, as their repartee is delightful. Val Kilmer returns for a single scene, and it's emotional enough when he reveals why he selected Maverick for this job; Jon Hamm and Ed Harris also pop in occasionally for apparent reasons. Movies like this tend to cast recognizable, grizzled older white men to bark orders and repeat lines like "But that's impossible" and "You're here to follow my lead," and that's all they do here too. There are some breathtaking sequences of airborne dogfights and low-altitude chases that are infinitely better than their counterparts in the original -- and a sexy beachside football match to rival the original's volleyball playoff -- and while it's still not movie material I love, I appreciated the authenticity and lack of VFX (and excellent editing!) in telling those parts of the story.

Fantastic Four (2015)

Score: 2 / 5

Everybody's hating on this movie. I think I understand why, sort of, but I don't really want to bash it here. Because, if nothing else, it's not as dismal as people seem determined to shout. I think the biggest problem people have with this movie is that it's rehashed material done in a not-so-blockbustery way. So it doesn't really fit into a genre. Which a lot of people tend to lose their minds over.

Is it a superhero movie? In name only. Sorry, fans of the team, but this film has very little in the way of your typical Marvel fare. In fact, this film feels more like it took inspiration from last year's Interstellar (not really a great model, guys) than from X-Men or even last decade's attempt at Fantastic Four franchise. In fact, this movie tonally feels like it belonged to the last decade, but it visually looks like one we'd see today. It has a distinctly apocalyptic message, and its treatment of authority, purpose, and catastrophic horror comes straight out of the 2000s. But it features long, art-house dialogue sequences and expository whispering that feel more like a weird coming-of-age/political thriller of the 2010s. And its special effects are a hybrid of practical, Interstellar hardware and dust-storm explosions and neon cosmic liquid from Thor. It's just a strange mix.

Besides the whiplash between these elements, though, I don't think there's been a more compelling cast for a superhero movie in a few years. Miles Teller (Whiplash, Rabbit Hole) leads with Kate Mara (American Horror Story, House of Cards), Michael B. Jordan (The Wire, Fruitvale Station), and Jamie Bell (Billy Elliot, Snowpiercer), and all are wonderfully realized, though the script and camera don't spend quite enough time with them as intelligent, autonomous characters. We also enjoy the company of Toby Kebbell (Control, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes), Tim Blake Nelson (O Brother, Where Art Thou?, Child of God), and the wonderful Reg E. Cathey (The Wire, House of Cards), but again these players have limited time on screen.

I really don't think it's a bad film, and frankly I wish more superhero films would allow for lengthy dialogue and greater character development like this one. Unfortunately, we have this notion that superhero movies need to have loads of action in them, and hence the last hour or so of this film disintegrates into mindless (and, truly, poorly devised and executed) fantasy action sequences. But the beginning of the film is really very intriguing, if not quite original. We have our heroes -- established as such from the first scene, as children -- as young people engaged in the sciences and full of hope that they are acting upon. Frankly, I think we as a culture would do well to admire this kind of hero over people who punch each other and then spit out sarcastic witticisms.

But that's also not particularly engaging or entertaining for mainstream audiences. And after the kinetic joy of the more recent Guardians of the Galaxy and Ant-Man, it's hard to reframe our perspective on superheroes. And so the film goes from coming-of-age to sci-fi adventure as our heroes travel to another dimension and unleash radiation that turns them into David Cronenberg-esque bodies with superpowers. Then the Authorities That Be inter our heroes, and the film becomes more like a war/political thriller as our heroes attempt to escape or succumb to demands placed upon them. And, finally, and less successfully, our heroes determine to embrace their new abilities and each other as a team.

It's a bit heavy-handed. It's a bit messy. And it's a bit fun. It has wit but few laughs, it has danger but little action, and it has vision but little skill. I felt rather melancholy in leaving, and more than rather confused. In short, it's a summer blockbuster, all in all. We shall look upon its like again.

IMDb: Fantastic Four

Whiplash (2014)

Score: 4.5 / 5

I don't know much about the percussion world, but Whiplash presents us with a cutthroat competition of academic drumming. The movie centers on young Andrew now enrolled at Shaffer Conservatory, supposedly the best music school in the United States. In a coming of age story, Andrew becomes increasingly isolated and obsessive over his ambitions; he longs to be "one of the greats" and allows nothing to interfere, including his new girlfriend, his distant family, and his own physical health.

Miles Teller (Rabbit Hole, The Spectacular Now) plays our protagonist with passion and strength. I don't know if he learned to play the drums like a pro -- a feat that is no small matter, even from my layperson perspective -- but his dramatic performance alone carries the film. His haunted stare and furious perseverance take the movie into a darker side of the "coming of age" narrative, without his becoming an antihero.

The other star of the film is his primary instructor, Fletcher, played by a terrifying J. K. Simmons. Fletcher is a monster, one who seems to have no personality traits other than aggressive violence and sadism. He terrorizes his students with unpredictable cruelty and often unjust punishments. He humiliates students in class, encourages backstabbing and jealousy, and even throws a chair at Andrew's head. He claims to do it all for a good reason -- that he seeks to continually push students to be better, and that "good job" are the most harmful words in the English language -- but his methods are barbaric. Simmons performs as a chameleon, hiding his true self behind a series of false caricatures. We get only brief glimpses into his true self, which vaguely reveal a tortured soul, before he dons another mask. The performance is a marvel.

Whiplash, named for one of its tough musical numbers but having a curious double meaning, is never less than brutal. Its depiction of competitive musical culture is perhaps even more compelling than any number of action-oriented "sports" movies, likely because it is so unexpected. This isn't Glee or even Stomp. Its focus on artistic and educational atmospheres make it feel more like Dead Poets Society -- but with a bad teacher, rather than Robin Williams -- and the self-torturing Teller and insane Simmons make it feel weirdly like Black Swan. So, yes, it's pretty great. The editing is tight and effective, Damien Chazelle's direction is wonderful, and the ending is nothing short of rousing. Well, okay, it's a bit of an incredulous stretch, but it's quite exciting anyway. Do yourself a favor and check this one out.

IMDb: Whiplash

Rabbit Hole (2010)

Score: 5 / 5

It's a character study in bereavement. After their 4-year-old son is killed, Becca and Howie live in an isolated daze. Hoping for the return of normalcy but unable to actively seek it, they cycle through guilt, anger, and despair while continuing their damaging interactions in an otherwise sexless marriage. Becca, a previously stay-at-home mom, satisfies her craving for life by exercising indoors and gardening. Her ventures beyond the walls of her house tend to end badly, as her social skills have all but abandoned her. When Becca and Howie finally seek to expel the ghosts from their house, they fight each other's efforts and sometimes botch their own.

Add to this mess Becca's mother and her own ghosts, Becca's troubled and troublesome sister, Howie's prospect of an extramarital affair, and the reappearance of the teenage boy, Jason, who accidentally killed their son with his car, and you've just about grasped the plot. Sound brutal yet? It should.

I'm always happy to see artists continue to perfect their work, and David Lindsay-Abaire adapted this screenplay from his own Pulitzer-winning stage play. His work is distinctly recognizable by the extreme situations of the plot (though these are more often farcically bizarre than horrifically real) and by the dialogue's sheer comedy. A delicate pattern of silence, softness, and shouting emerges in Rabbit Hole, a tunnel down which echoes continually grow while seeking escape. But the final product is not a cacophony of sounds or a mournful lament; it is a melody simple, sad, and ultimately affirming.

This film retains the combination of awkward humor and devastating honesty that works so well in the play. The actors -- including Nicole Kidman, Aaron Eckhart, and Dianne Weist -- brilliantly embody the subtle rhythms of the dialogue while filling every silence with floods of sensitivity and empathy for their characters. Besides the masterful performances of these leads, Miles Teller notably delivers a heartrending performance as Jason, the guilt-ridden high schooler who provides Becca with a means to find hope again.

John Cameron Mitchell (of 2001's Hedwig and the Angry Inch fame) beautifully directs this moving film with an eye to delicate, detailed visuals. The camera becomes a brave character in itself, watching the characters in their darkest moments with a sensitive, gentle eye. Vivid colors and inventive angles emphasize the beauty and dynamic quality of life in all its complexity. Mitchell's own prowess is shown clearly in his relaxed approach to an otherwise simple story. This material calls for thematic attention, not agitated plot devices, and Mitchell provides enough warmth and simple humor to keep the film from being a weepy dirge.

In a world where people can't find the right words to say, Lindsay-Abaire finds words that reveal the human condition. In a situation that words cannot define, Mitchell demonstrates the importance of compassion for other people. This is a 90-minute exercise in humanity you won't soon forget.

IMDb: Rabbit Hole