“My Old Ass” is a movie about savoring people, experiences and the moments we share in and with them. From the bike riding to the rocking of a newborn baby and through to the emotional mountain top this movie reaches, everything about Megan Park's ode to time and understanding that it is the one thing we cannot make more of absolutely wrecked me. Some will call it mawkish, and others will say it is manipulative, but everything is done in such a sincere fashion it's hard to believe Park was attempting to do anything other than remind her own self of these realizations and hopefully help a few others do the same in the process.

It's a great premise that I'm sure has been attempted before yet it never squanders the execution in the ways I expected it to. Initially, as a father of young children, I found the film incredibly depressing so far as I'm now fully sympathizing with adults in movies more so than the bullheaded teen protagonists which I know to be 1000% true because Maisy Stella's Elliott begins the film feeling like her life is finally starting on her 18th birthday, days away from leaving for college, despite it coming to the end of this major chapter for her parents.

That “My Old Ass” makes the arc of Elliott's character realizing how good she has it, how fleeting this moment in time truly is, and that she should take advantage of certain connections while she still can not only made me appreciate the film from an old man perspective but made me fall in love with it in the same way you fall in love with the comfort of a warm blanket and hot bowl of chili after working or playing in the cold for too long. This immediately shot to the top of my "share with friends" list and likely will become one of my default views when I crash into bed after a long day and simply need something to soothe, console and ultimately cheer me up.

Call it low expectations or lack thereof, but Alexandre Aja (“Crawl”) has crafted one of the more distressing, darkly psychological and all-around depressing movie-going experiences of my year in “Never Let Go.” The film manages to remain enticing through its escalating tension rather than get bogged down in its own misery.
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As something of an elaborate metaphor around how the restraints placed on our minds due to certain beliefs are stronger than the convictions they supply, this is pretty rattling. KC Coughlin and Ryan Grassby's screenplay goes one step further though, attempting to parse out what a belief system reflects of the believer, what it says about them individually, and even why certain people become susceptible to certain ways of thinking. Plagued by the context of today's world and in an election year no less, it was difficult for me to look past how certain characters - no matter the amount of evidence provided - were incapable of perceiving things differently from how they've been conditioned, almost groomed, to perceive them.

Not expecting a grand twist or the focus of the third act to rest on a surprise factor made this more enjoyable. I have no idea if that is part of general audience expectations going into this, but given the set-up, it feels like it might be. A twist for the sake of trying to make sense of this world and Halle Berry's character's point of view is not what the film is about though, it's about how Berry's character compiled her orientation in the first place and the harm she is doing to her children by passing it on despite genuinely believing she is saving them. Truly disturbing shit.

In addition, Aja's film is atmospheric as fuck. Shoutout to the production and set design teams, the set decorators (the curtains that look like snakeskin were a great touch), and the costume designers whose contributions all lend to this uncertainty that hangs over the film, trapping viewers in that space of never knowing what to believe is real and what is not.

Robin Coudert's score has some really cool elements as well.

And finally, just some stellar child performances from both Anthony B. Jenkins and Percy Daggs IV, who are both tasked with convincing us of their character perceptions in ways that could have easily been lost in translation from page to performance, but that these guys convey naturally and with such conviction in their presentations that we're truly torn between setting them free and trying to find the cons in letting them continue to believe.

Director: Todd Phillips
Starring: Joaquin Phoenix, Lady Gaga & Brendan Gleeson
Rated: R (some strong violence, language, some sexuality & brief nudity)
Runtime: 2 hours & 18 minutes

 
They say the art of originality is knowing how to hide your sources, but if you saw the first ‘Joker’ film, you know writer/director Todd Phillips has no qualms about sharing his sources.
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Interestingly enough, it would seem that Phillips' foray into the world of his titular character was based not only on making something in the vein of some of his inspirations but also on telling a story of inspiration itself while somehow crafting a film that doesn't feel the least bit inspiring.

"They" AKA Shakespeare also stated that “all the world's a stage,” and it is this divide within the psyche of our main character who so badly desires to be the center of attention - the main character of his own story if not others as well - yet is unable to necessarily stand out without doing something drastic that hangs over Phillips' follow-up. It is this coming to terms with his actual mediocrity that pains Joaquin Phoenix’s Arthur Fleck to the extent he doesn't know which side of himself to turn to in the aftermath of killing five people (actually six) - one of which was live on national television. As lost as Fleck seems, the same could be said for “Joker: Folie à Deux,” the sequel to the billion-dollar-earning and Oscar-winning 2019 film, at least over its first hour. 

On the one hand, Phillips is keen on making a film that subverts expectations and doesn't allow itself to fall into any trappings audiences might expect from a typical sequel. The desire to subvert going so far as to cause the filmmaker to claim this is a musical, but this is true only in so far as the characters sometimes burst into sing-songs that further highlight their emotions in ways intended to deepen our understanding of these aforementioned psyches yet these moments never transcend the reality or develop into full-on musical numbers. The splitting of hairs between avoiding the obvious path of a ‘Joker’ sequel and committing to being something else entirely gives the result an unbalanced feeling, as if the ambition and desire are present but the passion to execute is not. Somehow, this identity crisis becomes the main text of the film, which is an interesting idea, yet in addition to feeling unbalanced, the film becomes a tedious experience where the overarching intent is never quite clear. The film even goes so far as to acknowledge how much the Arthur character wanted to do what the audience expected him to do, for him to give them the Joker they're begging for, but instead simply admits he could no longer carry on the facade, essentially coming clean about his state of mind during the murders and how desperate he is to begin anew - conveying to the audience and more specifically, the fanbase, that they may want to do the same. Admirable, bold even, but not always entertaining.
 
Speaking of entertainment, the idea of this being a full-on musical feels more like a bit after having seen the film, though not one the film nor Phillips was necessarily committed to. Was he simply trying to provoke a fanbase known for getting up in arms about the slightest interpretation changes to their holy canon? Possibly, but the casting of Lady Gaga would suggest he was willing to take the bit pretty far. Also implying a fondness for the melodic is Phillips' choice to have Vincente Minnelli's 1953 film “The Bandwagon” seemingly serve as a prime source of inspiration (his relationship with sources does, in fact, continue here). That film, starring Cyd Charisse and Fred Astaire, was about an aging movie star uncertain of his future who teams up with a top ballerina to headline a new Broadway musical, but the pretentiously artistic goals of its director threaten to change it beyond recognition. In other words, don't fret if you feel called out by ‘Folie à Deux’ because Phillips is making fun of himself too. Phillips and co-writer Scott Silver specifically use the "That's Entertainment!" number from that film to both imbue a sense of that era of backlot movie musicals onto their production but mainly utilize it to highlight (and dismiss) that much of what Fleck's doing is “just a performance” and that he, more than anyone around him, sees all of it as if “it’s all theater” as he genuinely gets upset should anyone attempt to make it about themselves, taking the spotlight away from him. Ultimately, the crux of the film is Arthur finally having to accept his place in the society that bred him. Despite the slight glimmer of hope offered here, Fleck is not dealing in reality as reality is forcing him to come to terms with the fact those professing their adoration for him are doing so for Joker and not Arthur Fleck. In an even more depressing turn, by giving up the fantasy that is the Joker character, he realizes that a slight glimmer of hope wasn't the exception but the definition of the rule. 

If Phillips were going to paint this as a musical and cast Lady Gaga as one of the two leads, though, it would feel like a missed opportunity not to go big or go home, as, unfortunately, ‘Folie à Deux’ just hangs around.

While the opening Warner Bros. cartoon is a fun idea and more or less sets up that aforementioned central text/internal conflict, it was a mistake not to intro with a huge song and dance sequence in the vein of those golden Hollywood-era productions it's drawing (some kind) of inspiration from. This would have both given the audience a particular set of expectations immediately as well as standards for the film itself to sustain throughout, but given the film is actively trying to defy every possible expectation every possible viewer could have, nothing - especially the musical sequences - go nearly as big or as ballsy as they should. Are the breaks from the bleakness welcome? Sure, but only Phoenix’s courtroom performance of a song aptly titled “The Joker” hints at what could have been as this idea that the Joker of this film is relegated mainly to Fleck's subconscious dreams and/or fantasy sequences and doesn't make an appearance in the actual reality of this film until well past the hour mark comes to feel more like a scapegoat than a storytelling choice. 

Though Lady Gaga's Lee Quinzel enters the picture almost immediately, her increased presence in Arthur’s life cracks the code on how much of a martyr Fleck is being positioned as and how much of a monster the people and the system that failed him are. At first glance, Phillips and Silver's screenplay seems to suggest that at the heart of even the worst of humanity are people who want to feel special, if not loved, primarily by at least one other person who understands and supports them in the deepest, most meaningful of ways. After Fleck's childhood and the treatment, he received from his mother, Arthur is thrilled to encounter someone who is not only infatuated with him but who openly declares she would do anything for him. Much like with the story here, it seems this relationship would take on more depth as it continues, yet sometimes, the longer we know people, are conditioned to their ways, and become accustomed to them being around, the less special they begin to feel. The initial period of a relationship when feelings are intense, and the person you're falling for is more an idealized entity than a real human being is what is commonly referred to as the "honeymoon phase" and applies to ‘Folie à Deux’ because such feelings are what make up the entirety of Joker and Harley Quinn's relationship in this film. While the execution of the musical numbers is underwhelming, the characterization of this relationship is most disappointing. How the film posits the dynamic is not the issue - it’s a real connection, love even, that makes Fleck hopeful and gives him the sense of purpose he's been searching for - but instead, it is how transparent Lee's intentions are, and in many ways how predatory they seem (which are surely present to reinforce who the real monsters of the piece are) yet for all the thematic heavy-lifting this relationship is meant to do to get Fleck from where he begins to where the film ends, there is never a sense these two people could build that mountain together - not even when starting with a hill.

It's hard not to make this sound like a dreadful experience, and while it certainly isn't enjoyable, it has its redeeming qualities that at least make it a fascinating case study of playing by your own rules. Phillips is a director I've always appreciated, likely because of my age and the kinds of movies he made in my teens and into my early 20s. His somewhat smug and sadistic sense of humor that made his characters always seem as if they were looking down on you for not taking the same kind of pleasure in the dirty jokes and vulgar acts they enjoyed participating in will always resonate with certain sections of the youth, and Phillips was able to tap into that for a large swath of an entire generation. On top of that, it didn't hurt he has this pristine sense of style and atmosphere that elevated his comedies from low-brow, middle-of-the-road comedic vehicles to art pieces with more of a twisted sensibility than one might expect. A callous, perverted sense of humor is exactly the type of personality one would seemingly need to craft a standalone ‘Joker’ film and his 2019 original created this mythic tale around how a disturbed individual, in the right set of circumstances, might be inspired to become what he believes necessary to remedy others from those same, undesirable circumstances. This recognizable IP and infamous villain transformed into an epic fable when paired with his visual stylings and Hildur Guðnadóttir's score. 

If there is a single reason to seek out this sequel in the largest format possible, it is for some of the genuinely incredible imagery Phillips and cinematographer Lawrence Sher have composed (a lot of extended takes with hypnotizing camera movements) that, again, when paired with Guðnadóttir's score, give way to immediate chills. Despite the inspirations not being as populist or recognizable this time, the source texts reveal themselves and clarify that Phillips and Co. didn't have as much of a handle on how best to interpret despite knowing where they wanted to take the character. My favorite moments of the film are when Arthur laughs at inappropriate times along with some of his expressions/reactions to different witness statements, while the centerpiece Joker scene in which he questions Leigh Gill's Gary Puddles functions as the catalyst it is intended to yet ultimately feel too little too late in a film whose pacing is its enemy. 

“Joker: Folie à Deux” is not as consistent as its predecessor but is still interesting enough in both the familiar turf it treads and the bold swings it takes that it can't help but provoke admiration for its ambition, even when it's not always satisfying.

It would be easy to think of “Wolfs” as a feature-length version of that one scene in “Ocean's Eleven” where George Clooney's Danny and Brad Pitt's Rusty "discuss" the right amount of people for the job they are getting set to pull. In many ways, that is likely exactly what writer/director Jon Watts (the Spider-Man ‘Home’ trilogy) was going for when trying to pick up from where he'd left off before entering the Marvel and Sony Spider-verse when all he had to his name was a Sundance standout starring Kevin Bacon called “Cop Car.”

​Two dudes, in rooms, assessing one another while remaining highly self-aware at the same time. Though George and Brad might not know much about multiverses and the like (well, George might), what both of these credible but aging movie stars do know is how to pull off the balance of tone that Coen brothers' films do so well and if “Cop Car” was anything, it was a loving homage to the bleak eccentricities the Coens typically highlight in both their worlds and their characters.

With “Wolfs,” Watts has dug deeper into the neo-noir side of the Coens with what is a surprisingly but purposefully low-key chronicling of two hit men or "fixers" that tend to approach their grim, disheartening work in good nature, if not necessarily in jest. And despite the abundance of its subdued, sleek style that somehow makes it look simultaneously like a corporate confection as well as a thematic echo true to Watts' intent featuring fun banter and so many plot contrivances that the characters are searching for answers to the same questions audiences are asking themselves by the time we reach the climactic shootout what is most fascinating about the film is its meta-commentary on its two leading men, who they once were, where they currently sit in their careers and, of course, where they go from here.

“The 4:30 Movie” is a movie about watching movies. It's about seeing movies to make sense of life, not necessarily escape it. As saccharine as that may sound, Kevin Smith's “The 4:30 Movie” basks more in the glow of the sentimental than the typical gross-out vulgarity we've come to expect from him. It's his best-looking movie in a decade, even if it is not as thematically rich as “Clerks III.” And despite the fact it doesn't necessarily feel like a movie made in 1986 it somehow manages an authenticity that feels true to the spirit Smith wanted to capture. That is to say, the camaraderie of the three leads in Austin Zajur (who is dating Smith's daughter but stood out in 2019's “Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark”), Nicholas Cirillo (whom I was convinced had to be Skeet Ulrich's offspring) and Reed Northrup (who I hadn't seen before but has plenty of Brian O'Halloran energy) goes a long way.
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It's not a cornerstone of cinema, but a cornerstone of cinema isn't what Smith set out to make. It is a well-meaning and good-natured nostalgia trip with plenty of notable touches (yelling at friends so they don't miss a commercial, guessing how many previews will play and debating which ones you'd rather see, and coming up with workarounds for R-rated movies when you're on the edge of 17) that all contribute to building the kind of film Smith did intend to make: a love letter to not just movies, but movie theaters, and the countless experiences and memories cineplexes housed for him.

In addition, this helped me realize that all Catholic moms are the same, no matter if they are from Jersey or Texas, that Justin Long remains an underappreciated national treasure, Adam Pally still deserves more and that it's always a treat to see Sam Richardson and Diedrich Bader ham it up. And finally, if nothing else, I'll forever hold a soft spot for “The 4:30 Movie” for confirming my dad wasn't the only one who repeated "pork chops and applesauce" well into the ‘90s.

Taking the concept of a certain modern masterpiece and focusing more on class and gender than racial politics, Zoë Kravitz’s directorial debut “Blink Twice” means to illustrate the complicated web (wealthy) men weave to realize their simplest whims. Absolutes are always touchy, but the charismatic ensemble, crisp editing style and very intentional soundtrack and sound design let us know Kravitz means business both thematically and in terms of entertainment value.
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Most appealing about “Blink Twice” is Kravitz's clear obsession with image coordination and consistency, which allows the film an aura of cohesion that works with the themes of solidarity and women choosing to support rather than compete. Still, Kravitz (who also co-wrote the script) doesn't allow the elegance of her imagery to detract from the ugliness of her character's actions and the ideas they are used to signify. Kravitz says all men want/desire is for pretty women to indulge and praise them - even for our smallest wins - and while I won't necessarily argue the point, what she's really exploring and eventually dissecting is the power dynamic women have been conditioned to sustain with men and of course, naturally, how to break that dynamic.

Despite a not-so-subtle "burn it all down" act of symbolism in the final moments and the fact this will likely benefit from a second viewing, “Blink Twice” is far too contemplative and considered in its tone and compositions to be dismissed as little more than a #MeToo companion piece. A shot where Channing Tatum is framed in the background standing over a desk as Naomi Ackie cowers underneath in the foreground hits like a truck while a dinner table sequence in which so much is said, understood, and conveyed without a single line of dialogue being spoken crystalizes the core ideas of the film so well it almost didn't need the surrounding paragraphs of the movie to emphasize its point. Adding some Chaka never hurts, either.

As for specifics on the aforementioned charismatic ensemble, both the casting and performance of Geena Davis are a genuine highlight. Simon Rex has one job and makes the most of it. I wish there'd been more for Haley Joel Osment to do, but Adria Arjona continues to cement her star power and Baby Hawke No. 2 has some solid line readings, "What do you mean? We’re such nice guys!" There is an insert shot of Christian Slater that is just ... the best, while C-Tates remains one of the GOATs in a role that requires him to use his charming, comforting image in order to accomplish the most abusive and exploitative actions. It worked for me.

Have you seen those videos of Cracker Barrel updating its classic look to more of the modern farmhouse style? And while watching it you can feel the soul that was once there being sucked from the establishment? That's kind of what watching this new version of “The Crow” feels like.

​In the 1994 film, Eric Draven was a rock musician, but he's barely a DJ in this new film.

Remember that movie “I, Frankenstein”?? Yeah, me neither, but Letterboxd tells me I saw it. I imagine my relationship to this movie will largely be the same.

Anywho. Brought to you by the guy who cheated on his wife with Kristen Stewart in 2012, this retelling of the story based on the 1989 comic book series by James O'Barr broadens the context and fills in details where the original film remained vague and, thus, more mysterious. Rupert Sanders’ film lacks the style - and frankly, the insanity - that allowed Alex Proyas’ film its distinctive flavor. The fleshing out and over-rationalizing of Draven’s myth does the opposite of what’s intended, making the character and his plight predictable and bland rather than enigmatic and epic.

The most epic thing in this version is the Enya needle drop. And I like Bill Skarsgård well enough, but my man tried to pull a Christian Bale here, and it didn’t work out. His final act and the climactic action sequence are generally pretty punk rock. Still, FKA twigs' Shelly going back to her friend’s apartment knowing the baddies are on her scent, those same bad guys not thoroughly disposing of a body they didn't want to be found ... there's just a lot of dumb decisions all the way around.

“The Instigators” is a buddy comedy with robbers instead of cops, but when the buddy chemistry is so effortless that the comedy grows organically from Matt Damon and Casey Affleck's camaraderie, the way it does, all Affleck's script and Doug Liman's direction had to do was be sturdy enough to support all the seasoning these two defining factors were adding to it — and they do, bountifully so.
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Having never been to Boston but I have to imagine “The Instigators” does a damn good job of making both Bostonians proud as well as making those not from the area get a real sense of what the city and its people are like. For example, the Massachusetts State Police picking fights with officers from Vermont after a failed car chase because neither could pin down the fugitives is some real "in the spirit of" shit.

These details are included in everything from the smallest character interactions to large-scale set pieces. They are so consistent and feel so precise that they are ultimately what separates the film from everything else in the otherwise (over)crowded genre.

It does bum me out a little bit that this is what we got instead of the final chapter in the ‘Prometheus’ and ‘Covenant’ trilogy but I am not a big enough fan of the franchise in general for the ‘Force Awakens’ effect that writer/director Fede Álvarez implements in “Alien: Romulus” to bother me all that much. Álvarez balances homage and fan service well, but includes as much that it's evident he's trying to appease multiple crowds (including the *cough* shareholders *cough*). Yet, it simultaneously feels like he's genuinely making the ‘Alien’ movie he always wanted to make - especially given the final half-hour or so, which is batshit.
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The film is a grand visual scale (mostly) with well-executed tension and creative action sequences more than enough to make it one of the more memorable theater experiences of the summer, even if that's all this will largely amount to despite Ridley Scott's most recent films in the series dealing with committing genocide against an entire species to create the "ultimate, perfect life form" ... but ya know, it's all about purpose and intent and to say Álvarez didn't have as much would be false.

Remember when 2012's “John Carter” was released and caught a lot of heat for feeling derivative despite being the subject of stories published some three decades before ‘Star Wars’ even existed? The IP may have come first, but it was not the cultural representative for those types of stories; thus, it came off a tad recycled, if not necessarily reductive, as one could feel the effort and creativity Andrew Stanton had poured into the project. Having no familiarity with the “Borderlands” property, I wasn't sure what to expect, but where “John Carter” made up for its familiar journey in other ways, director Eli Roth's adaptation of this video game series offers no reason either in the writing or execution to suggest viewers should invest their time or emotions in it.
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Having enjoyed much of Roth's output over the years and considering the caliber of the cast involved, I expected a little more than what was ultimately delivered but it would be unfair to call this mess completely incompetent. This hollow shell of genre stereotypes might be a prime example of the emblematic difference in what regular movie-goers and critics want from their theater experiences. Even still, those casual movie-goers will have forgotten much of “Borderlands” by the time they reach their car afterward. The difference between forgettable and offensive and why “Borderlands” straddles this line is not because of its silly gimmicks - lots of movies have those - but because we never buy into the half-assed world-building or characterizations making the silliness feel stupid.

My “Borderlands” hot take is that Cate Blanchett is only good with the right material and is not good here. Honestly, I don't know if there is a good performance in this, except maybe Jamie Lee Curtis, who gets most of the exposition dumps (and I guess Florian Munteanu by default) ...maybe. It's hard to interpret what’s meant to be sincere and what’s being played for comedy in each performance, but I would like to know if Gina Gershon might have been better in the Blanchett role. It also looks like a late-era Robert Rodriguez movie, which is to say, total shit.

It will take *at least* another watch to somewhat understand what they were going for with “Cuckoo.” I’m unclear if writer/director Tilman Singer has children of his own or if he was the subject of a traumatizing childhood himself, but this idea of transplanting these breeding behavioral patterns from animals like the bird “Cuckoo” takes its name from and applying them to human beings is both fascinating and genuinely disturbing. Layers upon layers of meaning could be divulged from Singer's film, I'm sure, but given the title, premise, and several specific dialogue exchanges, it would seem evident Tilman is either wrestling with the thought of having kids himself or has realized the insanity of doing to children what adults did to him (or potentially someone he knows, I guess).
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“Cuckoo” is one large exercise in symbolism that the viewer is sure to get lost in the longer the film runs, and consequently, I found myself more appreciating what it was trying to accomplish than enjoying it. The value is not hard to see as the vision is as specific as the architecture featured, and the prime antagonist of the piece offers a few legitimate scares when in cahoots with the film's sound design, yet nothing about the film resonated enough to create a personal investment in or connection to the material. The ideas on evolution and the machinations that go into speeding up this process can certainly be adapted to a larger scale, but Singer's script seems to narrowly examine the tradeoffs in nature vs. nurture, the pros and cons each theory presents, as well as the ramifications of both the benefits and consequences that are born from such experiments to reach this hypothetical state of higher existence. On many occasions, though, such granularity can cause those on the front lines to miss the bigger picture, so even if each new generation that is bred is seemingly more powerful than the last, we still have to step back and consider the greater mosaic being painted – if we’ve been stuck in this loop before - and maybe even more importantly, the factors fueling such actions.

Director: Justin Baldoni 
Starring: Blake Lively, Justin Baldoni & Jenny Slate 
Rated: PG-13 (domestic violence, sexual content & language)
Runtime: 2 hours & 10 minutes 

​I unashamedly love this kind of elevated Hallmark/Lifetime/Airport paperback romance genre, and if we’re being honest, “It Ends With Us” has it all. You get an incredibly charming meet-cute between an entirely fictional neurosurgeon who looks like a Greek God (played by the director whose movie reminds us he is extremely attractive multiple times throughout) and a boho-chic flower shop owner who looks like Blake Lively. This is followed by the “hard to get” act that occurs after the ridiculous coincidence of the girl who happened to come bounding into our heroine’s flower shop (Jenny Slate) because she is so bored and her husband so rich that she finds local businesses in which to gift free labor is also the sister of said neurosurgeon who our heroine hasn’t seen since their initial meeting many months before.

What are the stakes you might ask? You mean besides waiting to see if these two can help one another navigate their past traumas in order to sustain a successful relationship? Well, as the opening scene suggests, Mrs. Reynolds has a few unresolved issues with her now deceased father but we're also given glimpses into her teenage years (Isabela Ferrer doing a spot-on Lively impression) that feature a first foray into love with a character earnestly named Atlas Corrigan (Brandon Sklenar in the present, Alex Neustaedter in the flashbacks). Atlas has a troubled home life, which leads to him being homeless, after which Lively's Lily Bloom (the movie at least uses this name as solid material during the meet-cute) reaches out and shows compassion, both ultimately learning they need one another -just in different ways - at that awkward stage in their lives. Naturally, once Lily has met and fallen in love with neurosurgeon Ryle Kincaid (director Justin Baldoni), she then crosses paths with Atlas for the first time in many years, making way for the conflict of a love triangle before the film delves into what it's about.

As someone who's never read or was even familiar with the type of books Colleen Hoover writes, I went into this not knowing what to expect, but as soon as they showed Lively driving back home to Plethora, Maine, in a classic car during the fall, I knew I was in trouble. Credit to Baldoni (the director and actor) for taking the wild twists of fate in this book, which allows the story to play out in the fashion it does and adds some genuine weight to them. The initial meeting between Lily and Ryle feels both organic while being cute, and that moment when Lily realizes she is seeing Atlas in front of her for the first time in probably 15 years is chilling. I felt it, so I know fans of the book did. The rhythm and pacing of people continuously talking and relationships growing more complex is more complicated than it appears, the gradual reveal of Ryle's character compliments the more significant themes of the film, and Jenny Slate just killin' it gives everything one could want from these types of tropes and take them to another level that reveal a semblance of validity.

God, I'm such a basic bitch.

On Saturday night, I texted my wife, Aprille, and said: “I’m watching a Polish film from the late ‘50s. Bet you can’t guess who recommended it.”

She immediately knew it was our old buddy Will, who has spent most of the last decade-plus living in Poland and has really immersed himself in the country's culture.

The film is “Ashes and Diamonds,” or “Popiół i Diament” in its native language. Directed by Andrzej Wajda, it completed his war film trilogy, which included 1954’s “A Generation” and 1956’s “Kanal,” which I haven’t seen.

“Ashes and Diamonds” was my first foray into Wajda’s filmography and the world of Polish film. 

“Ashes and Diamonds,” currently streaming on Max in the U.S., takes place in 1945 on the final day of World War II for the Poles. The film begins with two anti-communist underground fighters, Maciek (Zbigniew Cybulski) and Andrzej (Adam Pawlikowski), setting up the assassination of a local secretary of the Polish Workers’ Party, with communism the next threat to Poland following the defeat of the Nazis.

Maciek and Andrzej, unfortunately, kill the wrong men, setting up a scenario where Maciek must try to assassinate the right man at a hotel on the night of a banquet for a local politician.  

Maciek’s feelings for his duty versus his future lead to doubts about whether to see through his mission or desert and build a new life. This feeling is aided by his immediate attraction to the hotel’s barmaid Krystyna (Ewa Krzyzewska), and I’m sure further by the realization he’s killed innocent men (though to be sure, that’s never explicitly stated).

Being a fan of many American film classics from this same era, I couldn’t help but see how much more mature “Ashes and Diamonds” was compared to its American counterparts, both things like language, sexual mores (the immediate hookup), and its stark realities, undoubtedly coming from the hardships the Polish people had lived through less than two decades prior and hadn’t entirely escaped. It was amazing that this film was even released, given Poland’s politics at the time it was made and released. It could’ve been buried forever, or at least for decades.  

The film's performances are all top-notch, but Cybulski is obviously the film's star. At the time, he was considered the James Dean of Polish actors. Though, I will say he reminded me more of a Peter Fonda/”Easy Rider” era performer (which would, of course, come after – maybe Fonda was inspired by Cybulski?) It’s the kind of performance where you know Cybulski knows he’s hot shit, but it doesn’t impact it negatively.

One of the things I wanted from this exercise of asking friends to recommend movies I likely hadn’t seen was to expand my viewing habits, and the number of international films I've seen over the last two years has been one of the best examples of this. “Ashes and Diamonds marks the fifth international film I’ve seen since beginning this project last year, and Will has been a big help with that. 

My 12 Movies Challenge August movie was 1991’s “Fried Green Tomatoes,” which my friend Donna recommended.

“Fried Green Tomatoes,” directed by Jon Avnet and based on Fannie Flagg’s 1987 novel Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café, feels like something of a Southern rite of passage – maybe more so for women than men – but it feels like this type of movie that is beloved by Southern women everywhere and having been raised by a Southern woman something I probably should have seen at some point, but never had.

I’m glad Donna recommended it. It may not be as big of a Southern rite of passage as another similar film recommended to me earlier this year, “To Kill a Mockingbird, but it’s the kind of simple, tugging-at-your-heartstrings movie you don’t see enough from cinema these days. We mustn’t lose these slice-of-life stories.

The movie opens in modern-day (1991) Alabama with a middle-aged, unhappy, and unfulfilled housewife, Evelyn (Kathy Bates), visiting her husband's sick aunt at a nursing home and developing a friendship with an older woman, Ninny (Jessica Tandy), living at the facility. The friendship between the two blossoms with a story of another friendship, one in the past, and the mark it left on Ninny.

It's incredible that at the time of the film’s release, Bates and Tandy were the two most recent Best Actress Oscar winners, Bates for “Misery” and Tandy for “Driving Miss Daisy.” How much of a coup it must have been for the producers of this film to score that casting, even though I’m not sure if Bates would’ve been crowned an Oscar winner at the time of casting/filming.

While Bates and Tandy are the reason for the retelling of this story from the past, it is the flashbacks, which, from my point of view, seemed to make up most of the film; I found myself getting lost in more.

This friendship between Idgie Threadgoode (Mary Stuart Masterson) and Ruth Jamison (Mary-Louise Parker), born out of tragedy, is a remarkable kinship that is undoubtedly aided by the undertones of homoeroticism between the two. This is a love story between friends on its surface but could easily be viewed as something deeper. The intent seems to be a more profound love than simply best friends. I wonder how many realized this in 1991, and how many realize this now?

“Fried Green Tomatoes” is a story and performance film – the kind I find myself returning to as a favorite. All of the glory is in Flagg’s script, which was nominated for an Oscar, and the performances by the cast – most importantly Bates, Tandy, Masterson and Parker.

It’s a lovely film that will make you feel.

Director: M. Night Shyamalan
Starring: Josh Hartnett, Ariel Donoghue & Saleka Shymalan 
Rated: PG-13 (some violent content & brief strong language)
Runtime: 1 hour & 45 minutes

​I once had a literature professor who'd also served as the mayor of the small town in which I attended community college. Besides the lessons on William Blake, I don't remember much from the class, but of the many anecdotes the professor told, the one I am reminded of most was about how, when he was mayor, a detective met him at city hall and commented on how he knew he was neither a corrupt politician nor serial killer because his office was so unorganized. Please understand this was in 2006, so before “Dexter” premiered, and before my Friday nights consisted of consuming episodes of “48 Hours” as a way to decompress. That is to say, this felt like such an insight at the time. The professor would go on to note how the detective told him a favorable statistic showing that more often than not these people in positions of great risk were obsessive about the state of the world they crafted not only so they had the right boxes checked should said world ever be questioned but because psychologically their impulses wouldn't let them operate in any other way. And so, while the overly obsessive, neat freak of a serial killer is a somewhat tired trope in 2024, M. Night Shyamalan's “Trap” utilizes it to great effect in the most Shyamalan of ways by clearly telegraphing the film's themes and intentions almost immediately while at the same time possessing something of an unidentifiable spirit that both suggests and reassures to inquiring viewers that there's more going on than meets the eye. 

What's great about “Trap” is its seeming disregard for harboring any notion that it needs to sport a signature Shyamalan twist. Given the trailers there was something of an expectation that there might be more to the set-up and there is, to a certain extent, but it puts all of its cards on the table early with the appeal of the film largely resting on this brilliant, four-quadrant set-up. Sure, the movie is also something of a soft launch for Shyamalan's daughter's music career, but this is largely "The Josh Hartnett Show" and with the pre-release narratives established around not only Hartnett's comeback but the buzzy premise and the hope the director might deliver a late-summer surprise all indicators pointed to “Trap” being a major touchpoint in pop culture this year even if it ended up as one of M. Night's more minor works. Fortunately, “Trap” is more interesting because of how it unfolds rather than only because of what happens in the final moments which, while likely disappointing for some, will seemingly ensure the enduring qualities of the movie as a whole for much longer than if Shyamalan were solely banking on a build-up and reveal. As stated in the marketing, this is an experience through and through, an experience that represents the writer/director crafting what is almost the antithesis of what we've come to expect from him in that as far as instead of looking for clues to piece together a puzzle we're simply looking for the next logical step that might allow both us and Hartnett's killer to escape for a little longer.

After two rather heady explorations concerning time and intolerance with his last two features, it seems Shyamalan's biggest goal with “Trap” was to have some fun with the cat-and-mouse thriller. Granted, that doesn't mean switching lanes completely, but rather, the writer/director leans into his trademark touches even more so than usual, making aspects like his plain and unaffected dialogue funnier than usual while the building of suspense and setting of tone ratchets up both the dread and tension in these heightened circumstances. While sure to catch some off-guard, the comedy here is not at all unintentional (just peep Kid Cudi's character), but what is maybe most impressive is Shyamalan's ability to keep the balance of comedy and tension in check enough that much of it translates to an uncomfortable unease throughout; we chuckle to relieve some of the pressure of the situation. Said situation is presented bluntly in terms of the facts of it all: a seemingly average dad, Cooper (Hartnett), is taking his teen daughter Riley (Ariel Donoghue) to a "Lady Raven" concert, the performer portrayed by Saleka Shyamalan in an unabashed attempt to showcase her musical talent (Lil' Shyamalan wrote many of the songs performed in the film). The hook is that Cooper is not an average, middle-aged dad and that the concert is much more than just an additional afternoon show scheduled on a whim because of demand. Cooper is a serial killer known as "The Butcher" and the concert is an elaborate ruse to ... you guessed it ... trap the killer and bring him to justice. That's so Raven.

Of course, the set-up is deceptive in its simplicity, for as soon as we enter this world, Shyamalan can't help but draw larger themes from the material. For starters, the setting of a concert, a place where hundreds of thousands of people gather at the same time for what we assume is the same purpose despite the odds that at least one, if not multiple undoubtedly land on the crazy side is a legitimately scary thought when stopping to consider the possibilities (and probabilities). Our fascination with serial killers and what provokes these monstrous tendencies folds into this idea of how easy it is to conceive of one of them being among the 30,000 people attending a concert. Add to the already mounting layers that this serial killer has a daughter where his love for her feels authentic despite knowing in the back of his mind that one day this will have to end and she will see him for who he truly is - the movie begs the question, "How can someone so mournful about what they’ll miss take as much away from others so easily?" Add onto this yet another layer when you consider Shyamalan has cast his own daughter in the film, the first of two daughters who have elected to follow in his footsteps (Ishana directed “The Watchers” released earlier this summer), in a movie about a dad with mommy issues who is trying to “never let the two lives touch" yet can't prevent them from bleeding into one another. Has Shyamalan himself given into this ideology when it comes to mixing work and his personal life or is he simply taking this opportunity to help his daughter with her career as a way to evaluate and make peace with his own feelings about the kind of father he's been? That the writer/director somehow injects this amount of substantive material into a movie where Hartnett is ostensibly a cringy dad whose fight or flight conflict increases with each sequence is the film's greatest accomplishment, even if you come away wondering about some of the specifics of Hartnett's "flight" tactics.

Whether Shyamalan was baking as much into “Trap” or I'm just projecting is a valid question, and even though it would have been preferable had the entirety of the movie played out from within the concert arena - the screenplay makes some of its most interesting statements through its least plausible act, the final one. Reminiscent of those fugitive-on-the-run movies where they have to outsmart the authorities, the way in which Hartnett's Cooper outsmarts those who are chasing him, namely an FBI profiler played by Hayley Mills (yes, that Hayley Mills), strains credulity the longer the film goes on (and it admittedly overstays its welcome) but through the sheer will of Hartnett's unhinged but very calculated - a neat freak, overly obsessive killer would never allow themselves to go fully deranged - performance we become privy to the aforementioned inner-conflict that has been building in The Butcher since realizing this could very well be the end of the line for him. 

The first three-quarters of the film is all about the chase as well as some politics of parenting involving key decisions about when you introduce smartphones and all of their capabilities to your child as well as navigating disagreements in the friend group both as a parent to your own child as well as a parent in league with your child's friend's parents but while these are nice tidbits of truth that lend Hartnett and his daughter's connection more dimensions it is in the final act where Hartnett is forced to confront his demons in the presence of his family that we get to the good stuff in terms of the larger themes. Shyamalan often goes to a shot in the film where Hartnett is framed so we only see half his face and this likely represents something along the lines of how the character has only ever presented half of who he truly is for the majority of his life, but maybe this is also the issue with the film overall in that it is two halves of the same line of thought unable to reconcile one aspect with the other. The cat and mouse thriller is fun and intense, while the negotiations between The Butcher and Lady Raven are insightful and interesting. However, while complementary in many ways, there is never a cohesion that melds symbolism and reason in a truly impactful fashion. It is a hell of a lot of fun, though, and for a movie whose climactic scene reaches a literal boiling point - maybe that is what it was mostly meant to do. 

Director: Shawn Levy
Starring: Ryan Reynolds, Hugh Jackman & Emma Corrin
Rated: R (strong bloody violence, language, gore & sexual references)
Runtime: 2 hours & 8 minutes