Killers of the Flower Moon (2023)

Score: 5 / 5

There's nothing quite like seeing Scorsese do what he does best these days. Not unlike how I feel about Ridley Scott's films, it's just something to cherish when we get it on the silver screen. And, while some will say Scorsese's best are his Italian-American crime sagas -- and sure, there are some gems in his monopoly there -- I personally got burned out on those a long time ago. Give me Silence or Hugo or New York, New York any day instead. I'll always be bitter The Aviator didn't win more Oscars, and I still think Shutter Island is one of the best mystery thrillers ever made. After the wretched mess that was The Irishman, I was afraid his swan song had been sung; thankfully, it was not the end.

Perhaps the thing I loved most about this movie -- and there is a lot to love -- is how much it taught me. Based on the 2017 nonfiction book by David Grann, it's the story of the Osage Nation who, after being displaced from their home and pushed into uninhabited Oklahoma territory, discovered oil and immediately became the wealthiest community per capita in the country. It's the dawn of the twentieth century and the law required that the "incompetent" tribe members had "guardians" to manage their money based on full or half-blood status, as white people greedy for money and land will do. And, unsurprisingly, the Osage became targets of masked assailants who robbed and murdered them for their money; the newly formed FBI was brought in to investigate the twenty-plus murders (though it is likely far more Osage were murdered) and eventually the mastermind was discovered.

Apart from teaching me history, this movie imparted other valuable lessons. In terms of storytelling, master screenwriter Eric Roth (Forrest Gump, Munich, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, A Star is Born, Dune) pulls a stunning feat: making the villains obvious and apparent to us immediately, and forcing us to experience their evil motivations and machinations. Their bald-faced corruption and murderous greed isn't hidden from us at all, though they certainly smile and play nice with their intended victims. Leading the pack is the diabolic William King Hale (Robert De Niro in one of his best performances), a reserve deputy sheriff and political boss who acts as an ally to the Osage, learning their language and observing social graces and generosity, while scheming to have them all slaughtered. His nephew Ernest (Leonardo DiCaprio, in yet another perfect performance), arguably the protagonist of this film, is no less sociopathic but is clearly less intelligent. Meaning well, he returns home from the war to be a driver for an Osage family that includes Mollie (Lily Gladstone, who will win many awards for her work here), his future wife. As she becomes ill with diabetes and Ernest cares for her, we wonder about the extent to which he is nursing her or poisoning her, and if any of it is intentional or if he himself is being manipulated by "King."

Scorsese masterfully balances the heartrending tragedy at the core of this story, tightly focusing on the relationship between Ernest and Mollie as it grows organically, as she withers with illness and with sadness, as Ernest straddles genuinely caring for her with his horrific crimes, and as suspicion and doubt creep into their marriage. It's a potent romantic drama, one of Scorsese's best, and it functions best by making both characters endlessly complex and fascinating; they give of themselves but often to the point of undermining their goals or well-being. But what makes this movie amazing is that Scorsese also richly dramatizes the expansive scope of the murders and politics in the community at large, turning what could be a chamber drama into an epic in every sense of the word. Think Hadestown, and that's more along the lines of how this movie operates. One particular scene features Mollie lying in bed, suffering, while Ernest attempts to administer her medicine and the fires in town outside cast a red and orange glow into their room, and if that's not hell for them -- and us, in that moment -- I don't know what is. 

And that's another thing this movie teaches: substance with style can be the best way to make a movie, rather than prioritizing one over the other. Of course it depends on the material, but here it is the story that Scorsese cares most about: the story and, by extension, the characters. Moments of expansion matter, of course, particularly the film's references to the Tulsa Massacre and the KKK and how that ties in with expansionist white violence against people of color and how land ownership and greed played such a fundamental part in the excessive bloodshed of our nation's formation and specifically the formation of wealth inequities that have only gotten worse in the subsequent century. The weight of this movie is felt, too, through its actors, including the likes of Jesse Plemons, Brendan Fraser, and John Lithgow, who show up for only a few scenes but lend their considerable talents to a story already rife with authenticity and artfulness. Rodrigo Prieto's cinematography perfectly matches Scorsese's dual focus, making us uncomfortably intimate when necessary before sweeping us along the Oklahoma landscapes in all their beauty. The score and editing make the three and a half hours of runtime ripple with tension, and despite the agonizing length, barely a moment is dull or unnecessary.

Five Nights at Freddy's (2023)

Score: 2 / 5

Did you ever visit "Chuck E. Cheese" as a kid? In the '90s, it was a pretty cool place, with ball pits and climbing pipes and Skee-ball; they had a few interactive video games like a Jurassic Park jeep you drove to escape dinosaurs, but it was mostly arcade-style games. My family went for several years to celebrate my birthday, and it was always a blast, cheap toy prizes and all. I won a pair of fuzzy dice once and I still have them along with the memories. The only icky thing I remember -- well, "icky" is relative, because of course the pizza grease-smeared ball pits were icky by today's standards -- was the band of animatronic characters. They always played fun music, but they were kind of creepy due to their massive size, jerky movements, and general oddness. Maybe it's a "me" thing, but I don't generally like large, loud anthropomorphic animals, whether they are costumes or robots.

So I was about as hopeful for this movie as I was for M3gan and Child's Play, which is to say, not particularly excited but curious enough to get a ticket. After all, with Josh Hutcherson starring, Matthew Lillard in the cast, and a trailer that looked much darker than it had any right to, Five Nights at Freddy's looked to be a fun time! I've not played the games -- didn't even know they existed until this year -- but based on a few YouTube clips I watched in preparation, they seem to be first-person survival games where you can't fight or even really run so much as watch and react (such as watch security monitors and close doors) to try and protect yourself. So, given a cinematic adaptation, the franchise would surely do well with suspense in the Hitchcockian manner: a sort of creeping voyeuristic dread when things at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza start going bump in the night.

Unfortunately, that's not the movie presented to us just in time for Halloween. Instead, the film tries to straddle the line between tragic character drama and something like a PG-13 version of Saw, succeeding at neither genre and only marginally succeeding at much in the way of entertainment. For its horror elements, I was surprised by the amount of blood actually shown, but very little in the film was effectively scary. A few jump scares were nice, but they were mostly the result of clever editing and musical stings. The animatronic characters are lumbering and dull; apart from eye-catching design elements (apparently they were brought to life by Jim Henson's Creature Shop), they're more akin to Boris Karloff's Frankenstein monster in terms of pitiful awkwardness. Unless, that is, you have an innate discomfort around puppets and robots, in which case you'll mutter constantly to yourself "nope, nope, nope" throughout the movie.

A few additional horror elements also failed to resonate with me. Namely, (SPOILER ALERT) the ghostly children feel shoehorned in and completely out of left field. They're not scary, they're not given time or reason to evoke sadness, and their presence frankly didn't make full sense to me. The friend who joined me for the screening had to try and explain to me afterward exactly what had happened and why these kids were even there, because while the basic plot was easy enough to grasp, there is a lot of story and a lot of characters packed in to this film. While also trying to balance tragic psychodrama with flaccid scares, it's clear the screenwriters (three of them, no less) were doing far too much for their own good. In a film like this, and the first of what is surely a wannabe franchise, simplicity and a certain minimalism would have served the material much better.

As a drama, however, I didn't totally hate it. Josh Hutcherson gives a somber, committed performance, and it was refreshing to see him in a suitably complex role. He plays Mike, a security guard looking for work in order to support his much younger sister; he's haunted by the memory of his younger brother being abducted from under his watch many years prior. Then he gets hired as the night watch at the now-defunct Freddy's family entertainment restaurant. Elizabeth Lail gives a somewhat confounding performance (or, rather, a solid performance in a confoundingly written role) that was clearly intentionally underbaked by the writers; so much of the mystery hinges on her sharing what she knows, and she infuriatingly doesn't share information until the finale. Matthew Lillard only shows up in a couple scenes, but he's utterly delightful, naturally.

But the movie is squarely Hutcherson's, and he carries it admirably despite the lackluster material he tries to elevate. His recurring nightmares about his brother's abduction are a bit harrowing, especially when the ghost kids inexplicably show up, but by the third one it's boring, and they just keep happening. Mike's waking life is far more interesting, particularly as he struggles to balance brotherhood and parenthood to his young sister Abby (Piper Rubio). Their Aunt Jane (Mary Stuart Masterson) is angling to get full custody, but Mike knows it's only to collect child support money. His dreams get worse once he is hired at Freddy's, no doubt due to the child disappearances there in the '80s. So when the animatronic band comes to life at night, it feels a bit too busy, despite their annoyingly not-so-scary antics.

I've faulted the writers enough, but I think director Emma Tammi does some pretty cool things with the material as well. It's all much more atmospheric than the material calls for, so her pacing and control of tone feels horribly mismatched. But her keen attention to evocative imagery and color grading is occasionally really beautiful, and I'd have liked to spend more time in the world of the film. She harnesses a sense of nostalgia that has become popular (think Stranger Things) but voids it of much sentiment, turning the accoutrements of childhood materialism into hollow --and dangerous -- waste.

All in all, this movie is just weird. From what I gather, it doesn't do much to appease fans of the games in new or exciting ways, but it also tries to pack in too many obscure plot points and characters to make much sense for the uninitiated. It features some solid suspense and dread, then fumbles in moments that should be earned scares; in fact, the only emotion I felt in this movie was sadness, which actively dampens the frisson we should be feeling. For being almost two hours long, it bounces off too many ideas and plot threads to feel substantial or consequential. For being PG-13, it's both bloodier than it has a right to be and less scary than it deserves (there are some truly terrifying PG-13 movies out there, including Insidious, The Ring, A Quiet Place, so do your homework and stop complaining about that). I just wanted something more original, more thematically satisfying, and more fun.

Dicks: The Musical (2023)

Score: 3.5 / 5

How do you "score" a movie like this? It's not in any way conventional, so as to render itself as subject to a rubric. It aggressively eschews -- to the point of deliberate obfuscation -- any semblance of propriety or taste, almost daring us to try and assign a grade or ranking to it. Dicks is the kind of film that just exists for its own sake, with no sticky raison d'être beyond idiosyncratic expression and absurdist comedy. As the first musical film released by A24, we can't really have expected more than that, though I was shocked to learn during the credits that this film is in fact adapted from an Off-Broadway musical. Why did that shock me? Well, the whole damned movie is shocking to say the least, but it's just not the kind of thing you see on stage. Or in most films.

Perhaps for the first time in my life, walking out of the cinema after a screening of Dicks, I was keenly aware that I had just seen a cult classic in its infancy. It's always a bit annoying to call anything a classic when it's brand new, but the viewing experience of this film reminded me so strikingly of a few other experiences that it's all I could say about it. Do you remember the first time you saw The Rocky Horror Picture Show? What about Tommy? Or, for the discerning musical theatre weirdos out there, how about Reefer Madness? Maybe the first time you saw or heard the soundtrack for Evil Dead: The Musical? Dicks has almost terrifyingly similar energy and ideas, and it feels like a shoe-in on the same shelf. A disturbed -- and somewhat disturbing -- experiment in genre and tone that takes gender and sexuality (and, I guess, class, family, and capitalism?), wrings them through genre and narrative tropes, and finally turning them on their heads with postmodern flair.

It's an absolute mess of a movie, with old-fashioned and mostly lo-fi cinematography and editing but enchanting and offensive production design. Costumes are incredible throughout, even though they have no right to be, and hair and makeup must be intentionally bizarre. The music, while largely unmemorable, tends to make fun of music from musicals while assaulting us with uncomfortable and provocative lyrics. Choreography, when it happens, is delightfully earnest despite the deranged lyrics. The performances are universally unhinged and over-the-top; you could call it camp if it was about anything serious, but it's not serious and knows it isn't serious. In fact, the narrative itself is only about half a narrative, and even that is only about half-baked. Think of it more like a 90-minute SNL skit on uppers, that might help you contextualize the energy Dicks is serving.

People will either love this or hate this, and frankly I still don't know if I adopt either extreme. Personally, deliberately vulgar comedy like this doesn't usually tickle my funny bone, especially when there isn't much higher purpose. Absurdism, similarly, I can only take in small doses and usually only in a context that provides me other pleasures (for example, the Gothic and queer elements of Rocky Horror or the Arthurian adventure comedy elements of Monty Python and the Holy Grail). So, in and of itself, I didn't really care for Dicks, apart from seeing Nathan Lane and Megan Mullally absolutely losing their shit and loving every second. But a lot of the "bits" I found deeply satisfying, such as Bowen Yang as God and Megan Thee Stallion's unmitigated banger of a mid-show number. And the fact that a movie like this can exist, and be released theatrically, is so fabulous to me that I have trouble feeling negatively about it. Whereas Sausage Party just wanted to be offensive to anyone and everyone, this at least had the musical theatre element and the gender commentary that kept me going (and it helps that those elements aren't nearly as problematic as they could have been).

All in all, it's a fun time if you're into some trippy cinema. Truly, I felt high after only about ten minutes in, and it doesn't let up until after the credits are done (stick around for some bloopers to ice your cake). And, while the ending is knowingly icky, there is something to be said about its earnest call for tolerance and acceptance and celebrating everyone's self-expression. Who cares who loves whom, who's sleeping together, what we do for work or fun? Just be kind to each other -- don't be dicks -- because we're all just muddling through, after all. Maybe life is only worth living if we have fun along the way.

The Exorcist: Believer (2023)

Score: 3 / 5

How do you take something universally regarded as one of the most foundational, terrifying, and iconic cultural productions of all time and, several decades later, attempt to generate a fresh, direct sequel as the start of a new trilogy? There's no simple answer, but David Gordon Green seems determined to make legacy sequels his thing. He did it with Halloween, Halloween Kills, and Halloween Ends, a trilogy I dearly love and look forward to revisiting in a few weeks (it's also notable that Halloween II and H20 are also excellent parts of the series, and that I have no intention of ever watching any of the other installments or iterations again). And now he's doing something similar with The Exorcist, now in its 50th anniversary year, launching Believer as the start of a new legacy trilogy that ignores all of the other sequels. And while the infamous first sequel is not one I enjoy, there are significant and fascinating points to be made for The Exorcist III, Exorcist: The Beginning, and Dominion. I also strongly recommend the two-season series of The Exorcist, which aired on FOX from 2016-2018; a sort of legacy sequel in its own right, its brilliance and technical acumen makes it one of my favorite horror series and I very much hope that, at some point during Green's trilogy, he pays homage to it. Because it's great.

But so far, Green seems to be doing his own thing, for better or worse. This film, written seemingly by committee, tries to do a whole heck of a lot, and most of it makes for a fun time at the cinema. During the first half, which mostly serves to set up the premise and raise its own stakes, I was totally enraptured. Its slow pace and emotional introductions to characters reminded me more than a bit of Friedkin's original, to say nothing of the editing and sound editing and even some cinematography, all of which feel true to form from the original. Clearly these filmmakers have done their homework and are trying to make a spiritual and aesthetic sister-film to the 1973 classic.

I don't want to focus too much on plot, but it bears mentioning that the film starts off without clear ties to demons or possession at all, much like the original. There is a disturbing opening event in a distant country again, but that doesn't really add much to the mythos. The first half sets itself up as more of a mystery than anything else, and I quite liked that, though I'd have preferred something more along the lines of Prisoners or Picnic at Hanging Rock if we were going that route. During these scenes, the film's use of silence and negative space make for occasionally eerie moments that force us to wonder if there is already evil at work in the lives of our main characters.

As far as characters go, nothing can really match the Chris and Regan MacNeil dynamic (nor that of Merrin and Karras, for that matter), but there are some intriguing faces. Victor (Leslie Odom, Jr.) is the protagonist, whose past haunts him: his pregnant wife was killed during an earthquake on vacation in Haiti, though her child was saved. In the present, Victor is a great father to Angela (Lydia Jewett), though flashbacks and an eventual climactic revelation will throw it all into dramatic levels we didn't quite expect. Their relationship is pretty great; everyone else in the film feels shoved in, cobbled together, and largely forgettable, sadly. The young teenager Angela and her best friend Katherine (Olivia O'Neill) go on a "study break" after school, when they sneak into the woods and attempt to communicate with a spirit (presumably Angela's mother). When they disappear, Victor and the other girl's Catholic parents (Jennifer Nettles and Norbert Leo Butz) collide as they attempt to mount search parties and support each other.

I got excited when more characters were introduced who are not Catholic. Given the uptick in possession films in non-Catholic contexts, which has been lovely, it makes sense for an Exorcist in this day and age to be more interfaith. To that end, there's a nice fine line drawn between what this movie is setting out to do as opposed to other Catholic exorcism movies of late that seem to opt for the Grand Guignol approach to theatricality (think of The Nun and The Pope's Exorcist). Here, Green and his team seem more interested in the psychological and spiritual approach to the story and characters, resulting in a climax of interfaith religious leaders working together to fight the demonic force possessing the young girls. Over the course of the film, we see a female priest, a former nun (an underused Ann Dowd), a fearful padre, and even a witch doctor of sorts (Okwui Okpokwasili), all of whom join up to fight Pazuzu on multiple theological fronts. Multiple, that is, until the end of the climax, when it all boils down to pretty clearly Christian language. I had hoped for more and better, so let's hope the writers come up with something a little different next time.

Then there's Chris MacNeil, played again by Ellen Burstyn, who is utterly wasted in this film. She's brought in oddly as a sort of legacy aid, by virtue of her having published a book on her experience decades ago. As fallout from that, her daughter Regan has gone into hiding and cut off communication. But Chris seems willing enough to help Victor and Angela, so she leaves her oceanside retreat to engage with the devil yet again. When she arrives, she's treated like Father Merrin reincarnated, as if she's a spiritually battle-hardened champion ready to cast out her nemesis. It makes little to no sense, and the frail old woman is quickly subdued by the demon. One wonders how she'll be used moving forward, because this was pretty pathetic, and I'd say fairly insulting to a character (and actor) we all so dearly love.

Critiquing the first part in a planned trilogy is difficult, especially one meant to cater to fans of an original fifty years prior, because we simply don't know the big picture yet. But for what it is, Believer is a lot of fun on its own terms. I'd say it's a refreshingly solid -- grounded -- entry in the genre, one that prefers realism to gonzo spectacle. There are about two moments of CGI that prove paranormal activity, and I fundamentally disagreed with their inclusion in this film, but for the most part it's all pretty reasonable. Better use of legacy characters will be crucial moving forward, but at least Linda Blair might be back for that. And I hope that the next two movies more fully develop their thematic concerns, whether about various faith approaches to possession and exorcism or about how emotional connections to each other can help us resist evil and heal from trauma. Obviously two incredibly well-meaning priests saved Regan but weren't strong enough to defeat Pazuzu before; we'll need something better this time around.

Frankly, I wish this series would have more in common with the short-lived television series, whether by including those characters, continuing those plotlines, or adopting those themes and aesthetic. It's unlikely, but it might stop my head from spinning and squirting pea soup.

Saw X (2023)

Score: 3.5 / 5

If you had told me to expect actual entertainment from the tenth -- tenth -- installment in this particular franchise, I'd have laughed and probably asked what drug you're taking. The first is a work of brilliance, one of the best films of the 2000s, a puzzle box of horror and cleverness that is surprisingly tame; the following two are much more violent and "icky" but seem to create a decent story altogether. Beyond those, as noted in my review of the series, I have hated each subsequent entry, including its soft reboot Jigsaw and attempted spin-off reboot Spiral, which were basically more of the same tired format of the previous sequels. As such, I had no interest in seeing this film, until a friend mentioned its placing in the franchise and the return of an iconic character and I relented.

There's something about the rote nature of so many of these films I just can't endure anymore, from the angsty music to aggressive editing, which is annoying because at first they were original. But each sequel has gotten bogged down in the same ways: crueler and nastier violence, often inflicted on characters who don't deserve such awful punishments, that is increasingly meant to titillate viewers and further distance us from the actual narrative and potential themes. Each one hinges on some surprise reveal near the end about who the Jigsaw killer is this time, usually being an acolyte or apprentice of the original killer. It's clearly a fun gauntlet and aesthetic for some, given the sheer number of entries in the series, but it's not for me.

Saw X, however, does some pretty interesting things to disrupt the formula and cater to early fans. This movie is set between the events of the first and second films in the franchise, and it's made to somewhat reflect that visually. Director Kevin Greutert and his team slow the pace down substantially, at least for the first half, keeping character drama the focus of this entry rather than endless violence. They also flood certain scenes with colored light, saturating various situations with a hazy yellow or deep blue, apparently a tip-of-the-hat to the first film.

In terms of plot and character, this film is also a franchise disruptor. Set when it is, Jigsaw is still the sole mantle of John Kramer, and he's played once again by Tobin Bell. The first half of this film is essentially limited to his experience: we know that he is established as the Jigsaw killer, but we're with him on his journey as he receives his fatal diagnosis of cancer. While attempting to come to terms with this, utilizing group therapy, he learns of an experimental but life-saving treatment, for which he will pay a ton of money and have to travel to an off-the-grid facility in Mexico. Unfortunately, once it's done, Kramer comes to understand that the surgery was a fake, the providers scam artists, and that he himself is still going to die. The king of vengeance (and dubious justice) will not permit such a slight against himself, and so begins the second half.

It's nice (can we say that?) to follow such a straightforward setup, and to actually care about the characters involved. Well, "care" might be a stretch, but this film certainly strives to make us sympathize with Kramer's situation. By the time he starts actively hunting those fraudulent doctors, we're emotionally on his side, and we want him to teach them all a lesson. It's a sly move on the writers' part, and I'd say it works shockingly well. And Kramer is not alone, either, as fan favorite Amanda (Shawnee Smith) comes to help him wreak revenge on Dr. Cecilia Pederson (Synnove Macody Lund) and her co-conspirators. Their collaboration is actually kind of fun to see, although I was surprised more than once at how obviously they interact with their victims. Once they're all chained up together in the warehouse, John and Amanda pop in regularly to discuss their rules and games with the hysterical baddies. It kind of makes the Jigsaw audio tapes unnecessary, though it wouldn't be Saw without those!

And making him appear onscreen is a good thing for Bell, who fills every moment with nuance and dread; he seems to really enjoy getting to do some dramatically meaty material, and it's a pleasure to watch. Smith is also enjoyable here, especially as I don't fully remember her antics after Saw II, and her emotional relationship with John is impressively realized. And, really, this is why I liked this movie so much.

Eventually, the second half does dive headfirst into gory territory, as expected. Notably -- and I'd need a more dedicated fan to confirm this -- but I'd hazard that this is one of the bloodiest installments in the franchise. That's not to say it's to excess; indeed, unlike most of the "games" and "traps" in this series, here the punishments largely seem to fit the crimes, which also helps the plot feel more believable than in later sequels. Then again, the self-performed craniotomy was more than I could handle, and most of the violence I couldn't fully watch; it's just too intense for me, even when it feels clever or just in making the fake doctors perform real surgeries on themselves. Then again, I'm not sure that these particular traps are escapable; maybe that's the point, as Kramer does not want these folks to survive. But it does take some suspense out of the proceedings. And there's a renewed nihilistic streak to this film in that several of the desperate victims do complete their tests, but they fall just shy of their time limits, which is a bizarre and unfortunate element to this story I found perhaps the most disturbing. Surely extracting one's own femoral bone marrow should count for success, even if the exact amount would take a few more seconds to collect. But what do I know? I'm no sociopathic mastermind.

The Creator (2023)

Score: 4.5 / 5

All I knew of The Creator heading in was that it was a new science fiction thriller about artificial intelligence from director and co-writer Gareth Edwards. I've been a fan of Edwards since Monsters; his few films since then have all been major titles on my favorites list each year, including his revival of Godzilla and of course Rogue One, which is my favorite Star Wars film by far. Upon reflection -- and perusal of the film's credits -- it makes sense that this new film feels and looks a lot like Rogue One: Edwards previously worked with Chris Weitz to write both movies, as well as with cinematographer Greig Fraser (Dune, The Batman). As such, it's a complicated, rich experience of world-building in the vein of Blade Runner, Alien, or District 9, one that combines gritty, realistic science fiction with heightened concepts of humanity's purpose and doom.

We're told right away, during a brief but effective montage, that artificial intelligence has (in the fictional world here) been a crucial and helpful part of global culture for many years, from rudimentary robots to complex computer-controlled vehicles and surgeons. We are then suddenly introduced to 2065, when AI had dropped a nuclear bomb on Los Angeles and been banned from the Western world. In fact, the US seems to be leading the charge, and a new conglomerate of nations making up "New Asia" is the sole remaining holdout, all but worshipping AI and protecting its use. The US is seeking "Nirmata," which translates to "The Creator," the mysterious architect of New Asia's groundbreaking AI technology. The US uses NOMAD, a mobile space station that can launch devastating attacks on entire cities in its hunt to destroy AI in the Eastern world.

It's all a very heady setup, but in Edwards's capable hands and mind, it's not too overwhelming with sci-fi jargon. In fact, once you accept the premise of this film, the narrative and themes are surprisingly simple. After you get used to the sight of NOMAD, one of the most fully realized fantasy weapons of mass destruction in a film in ages, you realize it's just a Star Destroyer of a different shape. The story proper concerns Joshua, played by the always wonderful John David Washington, whose family has killed when LA was destroyed. Since then, he has worked undercover for the Army to locate Nirmata in New Asia; he fell in love and lived with Maya (Gemma Chan), believed to be Nirmata's daughter, until their home is attacked and Maya is apparently killed. Five years later, Joshua is recruited to find and destroy "Alpha O," a new weapon created by Nirmata intended to destroy NOMAD and save AI; he is needed because there is evidence Maya may still be alive and involved, and his success could grant her immunity and their reunion.

The film is riddled with mythic tropes and themes, which are best in this kind of speculative genre. Salvific hope (for either side of the conflict) rears its head in the form of an adorable, childlike character who could also be damningly dangerous for humanity. The longsuffering, world-weary protagonist becomes a sort of obligatory, reluctant father figure to the child. The protagonist is also drawn into a journey into a Heart of Darkness, if you will, which indicates its own literary history, though some of the strikes and general chaos on the ground in civilian villages seems meant to visually reference Apocalypse Now and the Vietnam War in general. As for other references, I was reminded of Aliens or Avatar in the characterizations of the tough and merciless US military officials (who include Allison Janney and Ralph Ineson). 

The film's odd use of AI, in light of the recent writers' strike and ongoing performers' strike, will garner some criticism, and rightfully so. Much like Ex Machina, the film refuses to really make a point so much as open up the dialogue and try to foster better understanding while underscoring everything with a palpable sense of dread and consequence. Regardless where you come down on the "debate" of AI, there will be long-lasting and potentially deadly fallout, so to speak. But Edwards is too savvy to remain fully aloof, choosing instead to embrace aesthetics over philosophy. He uses music to chilling effect, perhaps the best moment being Radiohead's "Everything in Its Right Place" during a haunting twilight raid on the compound believed to house Alpha O. And by the end, when Joshua risks his life on an absolute gamble of a massive climax, my heart was lodged in my throat, even though I wasn't completely sold on all the inferences and ideas whirling around. Edwards and his team sold me on the story, the characters, the visuals, and the ideas enough by that point that I was ready to embrace this utterly fresh and beautifully rendered vision for all its worth.

Chevalier (2023)

Score: 4 / 5

It's been a long time since I've seen a biopic this enchanting and thrilling, even a costume drama, and one about music to boot! Admittedly, it also taught me about a historical person I never knew about, which is arguably also the point of the film, making it that much more of a success unto itself. Chevalier is the rare perfect blend of style and substance, a shocking and timely story told through rapturous production design and seamless filmmaking technique. They pop up every now and again -- most recently, I'm thinking of one of a number of Jane Austen adaptations like Persuasion and Emma., and then Lady Chatterley's Lover -- but they've fallen a bit out of fashion, especially any not adapted from classics.

In 18th Century France, with Queen Marie Antoinette on the throne, a young man named Joseph Bologne works his way up the social ladder. He's an accomplished fencer, proficient violinist, and popular composer. In public, he's charming and charismatic, so much so that becomes an intimate friend of many in high society, including the queen herself. He's keenly aware of his ravishing good looks, considerable talents, and widespread adoration. Bologne is also of mixed race, the son of a plantation owner and his slave, and no amount of friendship with royalty will spare him from the racist and classist elites in Paris. Not with revolution on the horizon.

It's a fascinating story, one I won't recount here except to say his rise and fall feels less like a traditional tragic or comic arc and more as though Bologne was a lynchpin of sociopolitical anxieties during a turbulent period in French -- and world -- history. The filmmakers here, specifically director Stephen Williams and writer Stefani Robinson, seem to feel a sense of pride and urgency in sharing Bologne's story, which as ending text reveals, has been mostly lost to time since Napoleon's regime blacklisted (pardon the word choice) Bologne's name and music. The costumes and production design are beautiful, rapturously transporting us to the period in both its glamorous and decadent aspects. While the inclusion of the simmering French Revolution is arguably the film's weakest element -- shoehorned in after lots of steamy romance, emotional family drama, socioeconomic anxiety, and of course music -- the film makes a strong case for relating Bologne to major cultural and historical shifts and indeed reclaiming his role in the conflict in real life.

Educational in the best way, Chevalier is also intensely entertaining. Apart from the filmmakers' modern sensibility in terms of editing and dialogue (the film opens with a sort of violin duel in concert that, while somewhat fantastic, is certainly arresting), there is also the immensely intriguing title character. Bologne is charismatic and knows his attractiveness; he's also deeply conflicted and loaded with larger-than-life concerns, from being as excellent as his father charged him to be to relearning about his emotional roots when his newly freed mother (Ronke Adekoluejo) arrives. Kelvin Harrison Jr. plays the Chevalier (or "knight") de Saint-Georges with a grounded cockiness, an earned wisdom of the world that is nevertheless somewhat sardonic and even angry. One of my favorite moments for him, though, is in the quiet when he removes his wig and his mother cornrows his hair. He also has some fun -- read: hot -- chemistry with the queen (Lucy Boynton) and his sometime paramour, the white and married opera singer Marie-Josephine (Samara Weaving), whose anti-artistic husband (Marton Csokas) is utterly chilling on screen. But it's when things get really deadly during the final act that this movie lurches into something much more powerful than a costume drama about musicians vying for fame and favor. It's about them dying for freedom, and familiar as the narrative structure may be, you're not ready for its emotional assault.

The Covenant (2023)

Score: 3.5 / 5

Another year, another war movie, although it's been a while since we had a solid one set during the late War in Afghanistan. In The Covenant, which came out earlier this year, we're introduced to Army Sergeant John Kinley (Jake Gyllenhaal, who continues to be un-typecast-able) in an opening scene that seems ripped from The Hurt Locker. His team specializes in recovery of explosives and the hunt for weapons of mass destruction; in conducting yet another routine roadside inspection of local vehicles, a bomb detonates and kills Kinley's translator and two other soldiers. It's sad, of course, but not the most tragic or even unusual thing to happen to soldiers in this region. It's, chillingly, part of the job.

Shortly after, Kinley takes on a new translator named Ahmed (Dar Salim in a wonderful performance), who hammers home in his "interview" the rote, almost mercenary nature of the job. The two men work well together, and while Kinley is arguably the protagonist, Ahmed wields the dramatic focus and intrigue of the first half of the film. He's mysterious and vaguely threatening, at least to his white teammates, but he does his job well if stoically. During negotiations and interrogations, he is comfortable and eager to go "off script," and when answering to Kinley he holds his own and is unafraid to speak up on his own behalf. Early on, Ahmed proves his mettle in saving his team, and Kinley admires and trusts him in the equally stoic way of hardened soldiers.

When another Taliban attack kills their entire team, Kinley and Ahmed escape on foot through the desert mountains; Kinley becomes wounded and Ahmed kills their pursuers before tending to Kinley and single-handedly pulling him through the wilderness to safety. Seven weeks later, Kinley, at home in California, knows Ahmed saved him but doesn't know how or even really why. Thus the title's significance comes into full effect, as Kinley desperately tries to procure visas for Ahmed and his family, who were forced into hiding after their exploits. Kinley then embarks on a return journey -- through the heart of darkness, you might say, to locate and rescue his savior and his family. 

It's a war story of brotherhood forged in battle, an unlikely pair who share a life debt together. Kinley's agony at the thought that he owes Ahmed his life yet can't get the help he needs in the form of visas is the kind of thing Gyllenhaal does best, and his return journey is a terribly evocative and satisfying climax. Eventually, Ahmed's hatred of the Taliban is revealed as much deeper than first supposed, and indeed his hiring into this position is more than just a paycheck to him. The two men make for a fascinating dynamic on screen, and if you like this kind of story, you'll be eminently satisfied.

While the title is annoyingly identified properly as "Guy Ritchie's The Covenant," it doesn't really feel like a Ritchie film. For the most part, it's very restrained and tuned in to nuanced, quieter moments away from the battlefield. Except for a few cinematographic and effects-riddled moments, it could be a Clint Eastwood film from back in his less-problematic years. Well, that, and its booming score by Christopher Benstead, although I actually like a war or adventure movie with an overpowering score; it just adds to the operatic intensity of everything else.

But I'm just not sure what the point of it all is, apart from the story of this commitment between the two men. Kinley's attempts at procuring visas reveal the failure of American bureaucracy to fulfill its promises to Afghan allies. I hoped Ritchie and his writers would lean into this aspect, critiquing American exceptionalism for its lies and emptiness, and establishing one of the first films of its kind to be really honest about the US failures in the Middle East. And how timely would that be, considering what happened two years ago (the film takes place in 2018, so the connection is clear) when America withdrew our troops from Afghanistan and many allies were executed by the Taliban. But instead of exploring these ideas with any active interest or even anger, Ritchie redirects his film towards sentiment, the bonds of brotherhood, and the thrill of wartime action. And that's how we're reminded it's a Ritchie movie, unfortunately.

Vesper (2022)

Score: 3.5 / 5

Opening text tells us the state of the world, sometime in the future, when humanity's efforts to stop ecological crisis backfired, destroying the world's edible plants and devastating the human and animal populations. In this new Dark Age, oligarchs rule "citadels," closed and protected cities, while the outside world starves and scavenges what it can. The citadels trade goods, including seeds for produce that only yield one harvest. To help with the work, scientists have also developed Jugs, androids meant to be laboring slaves.

With this thick science fiction setting, I had no idea what to expect from Vesper, a European indie genre flick that arrived in the States with almost no fanfare. I'm not really of the opinion that "science fiction" is a genre so much as an aesthetic, but this film is generically a coming-of-age story for its title character, a young teenaged girl who lives in the forest with her paralyzed father Darius. In the dystopian, post-apocalyptic world, even the forest around her home is dangerous, so as she daily goes out to scrounge for seeds and food, as well as scavenge for power sources and materials to keep her house running and her father alive, we see her resourcefulness and determination shine through. She may be young, but she's already a hardened survivor. But she also wants love, and knows she needs companionship and care, as she clearly misses her mother, who left some time ago to join a group of "Pilgrims," though we are not told exactly what that means. Based on the feudal system of society, we can guess they are searching for life elsewhere more sustainable and free.

The film, written and directed by duo Kristina Buozyte and Bruno Sampler, is not your typical sci-fi experience. While it features more than its share of clunky dialogue, an unwelcome amount of genre lingo, and contrived plot points to push the whole thing forward while offering exposition, it also does some unexpected things. For such a young heroine in Vesper, the film works to emotionally and psychologically mature her before our eyes, underscoring the harsh truth that life can't be fully planned or controlled and that her struggles will be a part of her life in perpetuity. The playing field is far from level and almost never fair. As such, the film eschews token empowerment for its characters (though its heroes are notably young and female while its antagonists are mostly older men) and works hard to avoid much sense of hope or validation. Indeed, all of Vesper's actions are based on her own observations and scientific experiments on seeds, and we're never really given the option to entertain the fact that she is right. She is very possibly misguided or simply wrong, but it's her determined pursuit of hope that wins us over. It's really not until the very end -- I mean about the last three minutes or so -- that a tiny glimmer of hope shines into the film. And even then, it's only after the very worst has occurred to everyone Vesper cares about.

Which isn't to say many people. The bulk of the film is a series of unfortunate events that involve Vesper's predatory and violent uncle Jonas (Eddie Marsan), a crashed scientist's ship, invading citadel soldiers, and experiments to "unlock" seeds for more harvests. The actors are all fine, though acting is clearly not the point of this movie (nor is the dialogue). Vesper is best experienced as a surrealist fantasy, a visual trip through Cronenbergian production design replete with tendrils and mucus and membranes and organic fluids and violent bugs; warning for anyone with trypophobic aversions, this movie's textures are weirdly and disturbingly specific.

I don't want to spoil the specifics of the plot, but Marsan's character is clearly an amalgamation of what lengths desperate white men will go to for survival in positions of power, and his threat is at once mortal, material, sexual, and spiritual. Vesper won't be entirely alone in her tribulations, as she rescues a mysterious citadel refugee named Camellia (Rosy McEwan), whose partnership with Vesper is cleverly written and acted to avoid sentimental romantic or familial pitfalls. Their relationship is fairly unique in the genre, and it's beautiful to behold. The film's other strengths are primarily visual, with arresting design from props and set dressing to costumes and restrained use of digital effects. But it won its way into my head by virtue of not force-feeding us the typical YA dystopian journey to heroism; Vesper makes us survive alongside a young person who tries hard to succeed through hypotheses and experiments all on her own, while fearing that every step she takes could prove disastrous.

No One Will Save You (2023)

Score: 4 / 5

Brynn's life seems pretty perfect. She lives in a house that's a little too picturesque, nestled away from any nearby neighbors. She spends her days sewing and building her miniature town, cooking and cleaning, and dancing alone; it's her best impression of what Rapunzel sang about in Tangled. As Kaitlyn Dever plays her, she's a bit anxious about connecting with others, and there's a hint of desperation to hold onto this life. After all, why is she alone? Who is the person named Maude she writes letters to? And what is she going to do when her house is invaded one night by a monster?

Writer and director Brian Duffield (who also wrote Underwater and The Babysitter) wastes absolutely no time getting into the horror of things, and I love that. This is a lean, mean survival movie, and that the home invasion starts so early is just the first of many tricks in his arsenal to ratchet up the tension. During that first encounter, she discovers her nighttime visitor is an alien -- the Grey alien type -- with powers of telekinesis. After a chase and some stalking, all of which is taut and raw in cinematography and editing, she is able to kill it. It's a surprisingly graphic moment for our young leading lady to outright stab her assailant, and it very much sets the tone of the film moving forward. This won't be the last monster in her house, and it won't be her final test.

Afterward, noticing that electronic devices aren't working now, Brynn heads into town past other ransacked houses and vehicles. Clearly her encounter wasn't unique. Her journey into town starts to reveal to us -- and possibly to Brynn, who may or may not be living in a private fantasy world -- the reasons for her self-imposed isolation and what happened between her and Maude. Once she gets back home, after being attacked by several other citizens who seem to be under the influence of malevolent parasites, she prepares for another round of invaders. They do indeed come, after a UFO seems to park above Brynn's house. 

In terms of planning and design, this is an expertly crafted film. The whole thing features one -- count it, one -- spoken line of dialogue, and it's a gut punch in context. The rest of the movie is nevertheless beautifully recorded in terms of diegetic sounds of Brynn's environment as well as Dever's relentless breathing, gasping, etc. Watched with attention and a good sound system, this film is terrifying and will creep under your skin right from the off. A primary reason for engagement, though, is Brynn's notable intelligence in fighting her assailants. Despite her silence -- and the clear fact she's not a seasoned fighter or ever been in this kind of situation before -- she's fierce and resourceful, smartly moving through her house without unnecessary noise or panic, finding weapons and using them to appropriate effect. There was maybe once where I groaned at what she chose to do, but the rest of the time I was fully rooting for her.

And even when the film's climax tries to do a little too much -- the repeated capture-and-release scenes pile up a little too quickly, to say nothing of the unearned sentimentality of the "big reveal" -- it's a breathless kinetic rush of ingenuity in presentational style and technical design in all aspects. Even the design of the aliens is cool and weird enough to be really interesting. While the ending left a little to be desired for me, as I'm frankly not sure what we're supposed to "get" from it (the need for some interpretation is fine and dandy unless we aren't given proper context in order to glean meaning), the rest of the tense, violent, and beautiful film more than makes up for it.