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by Philip Price The Running Man  Photo: Paramount Pictures When Glen Powell decided to take up the Tom Cruise mantle, I didn’t think he’d be so literal with it. Tonal inconsistencies are the last thing one expects from an Edgar Wright experience, yet “The Running Man,” in large part due to the persona its star has already carved out, never lands on whether it desires to be a cynical satire, an alternative actioner, or a balance of the two, resulting in a mess of blurred intentions. No surprise, Scott Pilgrim is the highlight of the film; Michael Cera’s brief diversion provides a glimpse of what could have been had Wright wielded more confidence with the material. The ideas and analogies aren’t lost on 2025 America, yet none of it feels especially biting or as specific in its commentary as Wright’s riffs on other genres. Instead, this is the filmmaker’s least distinct effort to date. The casino with the neon crosses on the front was a nice touch. I also miss the days when Jansky would have been played by Andy Samberg. Crucially, this features one of the most secure towels in cinema history, and even if he doesn’t feel completely settled in the part, Powell is one hell of a legitimate screen presence Christy  Photo: Black Bear Pictures Typically, I’m a big fan of whatever director David Michôd decides to try his hand at, but despite this sports drama feeling like a "movie" movie, there is a distinct lack of passion behind the eyes. “Christy” begins in 1989 and spans 23 years, meaning the titular character, as played by 28-year-old Sydney Sweeney, is expected to play 21 to 44 yet she is hardly aged besides looking a little worse for wear around the eyes thanks to her physically and mentally abusive husband played like a caricature of a person by the (again) typically reliable Ben Foster. Further, the production design sustains its ‘90s atmosphere despite moving well into the 2010s - or maybe that's just West Virginia? Say what you will about Sweeney, but between “Americana,” “Immaculate,” “Eden,” this, and her upcoming “The Housemaid,” she's not exactly playing it safe and is clearly interested in making interesting and ambitious - if not always successful - projects. She's not the reason “Christy” falls short either, somehow even overcoming this hairstyle choice to turn in a credible, weighted performance. Blue Moon  Photo: Sony Pictures Classics Four stars purely for the screenplay, though Richard Linklater's nimble direction guides this sometimes obnoxiously character-driven piece from one conversation to the next with a pace he makes appear effortless, while Ethan Hawke's performance as the grandstanding Lorenz Hart is somehow endearing despite the character's multiple attempts at intolerability. My favorite Linklater films and films about artists in general are those that seem to both admire their subjects while also not necessarily mocking but carry an air of self-awareness that the characters never know. “Blue Moon” largely does this through its exhibitions of Hart's interactions with other bar patrons. Whether this be Patrick Kennedy's E.B. White, Bobby Cannavale's Eddie, Andrew Scott's Richard Rodgers, or - most critically - Margaret Qualley's Elizabeth Weiland, the film layers in Hart's own quirks and pain without ever becoming as intolerable as its own protagonist.
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