Alex McPherson

Total Post: 80

Alex McPherson is an unabashed pop culture nerd and a member of the St. Louis Film Critics Association.

‘Love Hurts’ An Entertaining Slapstick and Scattershot Action Film

‘Love Hurts’ An Entertaining Slapstick and Scattershot Action Film

By Alex McPherson

Packed with impressively choreographed action sequences and featuring another lovable performance from Ke Huy Quan, director Jonathan Eusebio’s “Love Hurts” delivers schmaltzy Valentine’s Day beats with a side of cartoonishly excessive violence.

Marvin (Quan) is a successful realtor who goes about his days with a smile on his face and a sense of true contentment. His depressed and jaded assistant, Ashley (Lio Tipton), on the other hand, threatens to leave her job, but can’t bring herself to actually quit. Marvin’s boss and BFF, Cliff (Sean Astin), awards Marvin a coveted Employee of the Month certificate.

Everything seems dandy for Marvin for the time being (Marvin’s inner monologue frequently reminds us that he loves his life), but, as it happens, Marvin’s history as an assassin just ain’t done with him yet.

After being ambushed in his workplace office by The Raven (Mustafa Shakir), a killer with a taste for bad poetry, Marvin makes use of his dormant skill set.. Marvin KOs The Raven with the help of, among other things, a freshly-sharpened #2 pencil — reassuring Ashley that he’s doing “high intensity yoga” when she hears the ruckus from the lobby and knocks on the door. 

The Raven was sent by Marvin’s crime lord brother, Alvin a.k.a. Knuckles (Daniel Wu), to find the whereabouts of Rose (Ariana DeBose), Alvin’s former right-hand who stole money from him and, along with that, stole Marvin’s heart. Long ago, when working as an assassin for his brother, Marvin was ordered to eliminate Rose, but he spared her life.

André Eriksen, Ke Huy Quan) and Marshawn “Beastmode” Lynch, star in a scene from the movie “Love Hurts.” The OSV News classification, A-III — adults. Motion Picture Association rating, R — restricted. Under 17 requires accompanying parent or adult guardian. (OSV News photo/Universal Pictures)

The badass Rose, previously in hiding, has returned to take down Knuckles once and for all, while also luring Marvin into his old ways — not-so-subtly nudging him to embrace the love he still has for her. 

She soon gets in touch with Marvin directly (by tasing him, as one does), and Marvin reluctantly joins forces with her to end Alvin’s criminal reign. They’re also pursued by goons King (Marshawn “Beastmode” Lynch) and Otis (André Eriksen), who are working for Renny (Cam Gigandet), the current second-in-command at Knuckles’ criminal enterprise.

They all have absolutely no idea who they’re dealing with. Over-the-top violence, double-crosses, and copious exposition dumps ensue, as the innocent-looking Marvin confronts his violent past and maybe embraces his true love along the way.

Suffice to say, viewers going into “Love Hurts” expecting a masterfully crafted action extravaganza à la “Monkey Man,” “Nobody,” or the “John Wick” franchise won’t be blown away. Longtime stunt coordinator Eusebio’s film, his feature directorial debut, is neither slick nor particularly clever, ultimately doing little with its now-familiar premise.

But what “Love Hurts” does have, in spades, is charm, thanks in large part to Quan, who more than holds his own as an action star even when the script lets him down. 

Indeed, as demonstrated recently in his Oscar-nominated turn in “Everything Everywhere All At Once,” Quan has an inherent likability that’s easy to become attached to. Here, in “Love Hurts,” that persona is initially dialed up to 11, with Marvin embracing his job as a realtor seemingly caring only about helping his customers find their perfect homes. 

It’s a natural fit for Quan, and Luke Passmore’s screenplay finds humorously nutty contrasts between the normal-ish appearance Quan puts on at the beginning and the cutthroat carnage he’s willing to dish out if provoked.

Less successful are the film’s  inner monologues (not just applicable to Marvin), which outright tell us what Marvin feels at any given moment, undermining Quan’s obvious skills as an actor to show rather than tell.

Quan shines over the rest of the ensemble, which, like him, aren’t supported by strong characterizations. DeBose slides into the role of the “cool,” seductive Rose a bit too easily, not given much to work with on her own thanks to the screenplay’s rushed exposition; Rose functions more as a vessel for Marvin’s arc than anything else. 

Gigandet and Wu don’t bring much to the table, besides some dangerously-sharp boba tea straws, but Eriksen and, especially, Lynch (who showed his comedic chops in 2023’s “Bottoms”) are hilarious and well-cast as two henchmen in a bromance.

Shakir is also entertainingly deadpan as The Raven, who strikes up an unexpected romance with Tipton’s Ashley. Astin (a long way from “The Lord of the Rings”) seemingly has more romantic chemistry with Quan than DeBose does. Rhys Darby, sans most of his teeth, also pops in for a brief but memorable appearance as a back-stabbing bad guy.

From a storytelling perspective, “Love Hurts” is clumsy, packing in a surprisingly dense amount of exposition during its 83-minute (wow!) runtime that Eusebio doesn’t weave into the proceedings with any sort of elegance.

But that’s okay when the action is so relentless, creative, and, above all else, fun — creating an entertainingly unhinged juxtaposition between the film’s cheesy, lovey-dovey character arcs and R-rated beatdowns.

Bridger Nielson’s cinematography puts viewers right in the thick of it, in which characters use anything and everything at their disposal to dish out maximum pain. Like the best of Jackie Chan, “Love Hurts” excels when showing violent set-ups and payoffs amid its fisticuffs and gun-fu-adjacent set-pieces; they’re perfect to watch with a crowd, where the carnage on display provides more comedy than anything in the film’s script.

And that’s what “Love Hurts” delivers — excellent action with a likable lead let down by a decidedly less-than-excellent narrative that, despite its ample flaws, remains agreeably pure at the end of the day. Quan and DeBose, especially, deserve meatier roles than this, but “Love Hurts” is a perfectly enjoyable, blood-spattered action film that doesn’t overstay its welcome.

“Love Hurts” is a 2025 action-comedy directed by Jonathan Eusebio and starring Ke Huy Quan, Ariana DeBose, Sean Astin, Cam Gigandet, Mustafa Shakir, Marshawn Lynch, Lio Tipton, Daniel Wu, and Andre Eriksen. It is rated R for strong/bloody violence and language throughout. and the runtime is 1 hour, 23 minutes. It opened in theaters Feb. 7. Alex’s Grade: B.  

Valentine Rom-Com-Slasher ‘Heart Eyes’ is Fun But Has Commitment Issues

Valentine Rom-Com-Slasher ‘Heart Eyes’ is Fun But Has Commitment Issues

By Alex McPherson

Neither scary nor swoonworthy, director Josh Ruben’s “Heart Eyes” is a horror-rom-com hybrid that is amusing but never truly carves out its own spot among its influences.

We follow Ally (Olivia Holt), an advertising exec at a Seattle jewelry company who has given up on romantic love. In fact, her “ingenious” new ad campaign proposal revolves around doomed cinematic romances. This idea doesn’t go over well with her boss (Michaela Watkins, with a cartoonish southern drawl) and on social media, given that there’s a killer on the loose — a masked murderer with heart-shaped eyes, who has employed copious tools for impaling, slicing, and dicing unsuspecting couples on Valentine’s Day for the past two years.

The Heart Eyes Killer has arrived in Seattle, and, as evidenced by a suitably gnarly cold open involving a staged proposal, literal “camera cut,” and novel use of an industrial grape press, they’re as bloodthirsty as ever.

But, for the time being, Ally isn’t all that concerned, given that she’s written off true love as a myth. In typical rom-com fashion, she bumps into the extroverted and charismatic Jay (Mason Gooding) at a coffee shop, and sparks fly. Their first interaction is awkward, cute, and, given the film’s propensity for slapstick violence, quite bloody, ending with Ally and her best friend (Gigi Zumbado) awkwardly rushing out of the building.

It turns out, however, that Jay was just hired at Ally’s company to help clean up her PR mess with the ad campaign, and he’s eager to take her out for dinner to discuss a new marketing plan — after his yoga session in a nearby spa.

Ally agrees to meet Jay at a swanky restaurant (complete with a cheesy dress-shopping montage beforehand), but she remains emotionally guarded, unwilling to welcome this (overeager) Mr. Right into her life. Their meet-up is decidedly awkward and uncomfortable, exacerbated by a run-in with Ally’s ex and his girlfriend. Ally kisses Jay to make her ex jealous, which catches the attention of the Heart Eyes Killer lurking nearby. 

Thus, Ally and Jay are on the run from the sadistic slayer, eventually encountering a pair of detectives, Zeke Hobbs (Devon Sawa) and Jeanine Shaw (Jordana Brewster) — yes, it’s a joke about the “Fast & Furious” spinoff film “Hobbs and Shaw” — who are determined to catch the killer once and for all. Plus, love is in the air, or whatever.

“Heart Eyes” has a solid premise — parodying two conflicting genres for a Valentine’s Day film with as much cheesy romance as ultraviolent mayhem. But to what end, exactly? Ruben’s film is enjoyable, but lacks the cleverness and wit to truly stand out. It tries to have the best of both worlds while remaining firmly in bland territory, no matter how cheekily self-aware it thinks it is.

That’s not to say “Heart Eyes” is a bad film, just an insubstantial one. It is too obvious in its humor and structure to leave much of an impression beyond mild enjoyment. Holt and Gooding make a solid pairing, with nice chemistry that makes their gradual attraction believable, if not easy to become invested in.

Neither actor is given much to work with from a “dramatic” perspective, and the screenplay by Christopher Landon, Michael Kennedy, and Phillip Murphy relies on broad, reference-heavy humor that’s both trying too hard and not hard enough to earn its laughs and scares.

“Heart Eyes” ultimately embraces the clichés of both rom-coms and slashers without meaningfully subverting them. The Heart Eyes Killer itself, for example, is seemingly a combination of Jason Vorhees, Batman, and V from “V For Vendetta,” stalking around in the shadows with a full toolbelt of weapons underneath their jacket. Except this time, their mask has two glowing red hearts where eyes should be.

Indeed, “Heart Eyes” is content to coast on tropes without presenting much of anything surprising within the genres it parodies and, clearly, has affection for., Instead, it insists that its competent mediocrity on both the horror and romance fronts is enough to excuse an ultimate lack of ideas.

Jump scares are aplenty, laws of space and time are thrown out the window, and the ultimate “reveal” is eye rolling, to say the least. But Holt and Gooding are charming, the kills are gnarly, and the film’s seemingly perpetual scenes of cat-and-mouse pursuits are engagingly helmed and keep the film moving at a fast clip.

Through all the bloodshed, Ruben’s film maintains an innocence and belief in the power of love that’s endearing, and, for Valentine’s Day fare at the movies, what more could you ask for? “Heart Eyes” doesn’t aim for “classic” status; it’s a fun, harmless little trifle that won’t break anyone’s heart.

“Heart Eyes” is a 2025 horror-romance directed by Josh Ruben and starring Olivia Holt, Michael Watkins, Mason Gooding, Gigi Zumbado, Jordana Brewster, and Devon Sawa. It is rated R for strong violence and gore, language and some sexual content., and the run time is 1 hour, 37 minutes. It opened in St. Louis Feb. 7. Alex’s Grade: B-.

Bloody Horror-Comedy ‘The Monkey’ is Entertaining and Nihilistic

Bloody Horror-Comedy ‘The Monkey’ is Entertaining and Nihilistic

By Alex McPherson

Featuring outrageous kills and directorial craft, Osgood Perkins’ “The Monkey” is a nihilistic experience that undermines its potential through a reliance on hit-or-miss dark comedy — substituting emotional connection for blunt-force laughter and smug pessimism about the state of humanity.

Based on the short story by Stephen King, Perkins’ film begins with pilot Petey Shelborn (Adam Scott) attempting to return the titular drum-playing toy monkey to an antiques shop, but not having much success (the shop’s owner meets a grisly end, to put it mildly). Petey takes a flamethrower to the little rascal, but the monkey doesn’t give up so easily.

Years later, in 1999, Petey’s young children, identical twins Hal and Bill (both played by Christian Convery) are living with their mother (Tatiana Maslany), with Petey no longer in the picture. Hal is the more sensitive, soft-spoken one, whereas Bill is a popular, immature bully, often humiliating his brother at school. 

While looking through their father’s belongings one random day, the boys find the monkey, and things start to get tragic. Hal and Bill are unnerved but intrigued by this creepy contraption. They wind the key on the monkey’s back, watch its mouth open into a toothy grin, and see its drumstick spin theatrically.

The boys have absolutely no idea that, when the monkey starts to play the drum that evening, accompanied by circus music, their babysitter will get decapitated at a Teppanyaki restaurant. 

Everyone is shocked by the suddenness and brutality of the death (including the priest at her funeral service, who stumbles through his sermon in darkly funny fashion), but Hal — who feels like the monkey is watching and stalking him at any given moment — suspects he knows who, or what, is behind it.

And, after being humiliated yet again at school, Hal sees a chance to get the revenge he’s craved his whole life against Bill. But the monkey doesn’t take requests, resulting in further tragedies that tear the family apart, and in the monkey being thrown into a nearby well, hopefully never to be heard again.

Flash forward 20 years, and the all-grown-up, at least physically, Hal (now played by Theo James) is a deadbeat dad estranged from his son, Petey (Colin O’Brien), drifting through life without much enthusiasm or purpose.

When their kooky Aunt Ida (Sarah Levy) meets a demise of R-rated “Looney-Tunes” proportions, Bill (also played by James) contacts Hal out of the blue to reveal that, yes, the monkey is back for more bloody shenanigans, and there’s no running away this time.

Perkins, who directed last year’s “Longlegs,” has a knack for creating unsettling worlds where violence could occur at any point. “The Monkey,” though, represents a stylistic departure in terms of its cartoonish, deadpan instincts that encourage viewers to laugh at the carnage — it’s best viewed in a packed theater with viewers willing to go along with its warped sense of humor. 

Without real emotional connection, however, “The Monkey” eventually wears out its welcome by not fully exploring its themes and presenting characters that are difficult to latch onto amid Perkins’ devilishly sardonic tendencies.

Indeed, there’s definitely merit to the off-kilter, desensitized world that Perkins depicts here, and the skillful ways he crafts suspense through patient camera movements and editing that jolts and amuses in equal measure.

The film plays with expectations and takes obvious glee in putting the story’s hapless characters in harrowing situations where, should that monkey kick into gear, their fates are essentially sealed. 

The kills are memorably gory throughout, usually ending in exploding limbs and showers of blood. The bulk of the film’s crowd-pleasing entertainment value comes from watching what elaborate scenario Perkins concocts for us next; he encourages us to laugh at the craziness, which ensures “The Monkey” is never boring.

Perkins doesn’t spend time delving into the monkey’s origins or how it came to focus on Hal and his family. It’s a smiling, omnipresent manifestation of death, fueled by hatred of the Other and remaining ambiguous in its targets — except that it never chooses the one who winds the key. This idea is compelling, as is the film’s timely perspective on continuing to live amid the anarchy in whatever way we can and break cycles of trauma.

The film’s main issues stem from a lack of strong characterization, especially as the screenplay resorts to third-act exposition dumps (also a flaw in “Longlegs”), and tends to undercut its fleeting moments of sincerity with blood-spattered punchlines that leave little room for reflection. Perkins ultimately takes the easy way out rather than thoughtfully engaging with the story’s themes.

The ensemble — Maslany and James especially — do what they can to add extra layers to their characters through their easy charisma and ability to convey unspoken pain, but there’s no escaping the film’s exhaustingly snarky sensibilities.

It’s apparent that “The Monkey” is deeply personal to Perkins, who experienced unimaginable family tragedy himself. But regardless of how he and this film use humor as a deflection from trauma, it creates a distancing effect that numbs and dilutes the film’s messages and, finally, lessens the impact of its twistedly hopeful ending. 

At the end of the day, “The Monkey” is a strange beast — defiantly marching to the beat of its own sinister drum but seemingly forgetting to give its characters the same attention. 

“The Monkey” is a 2025 horror-comedy thriller directed and written by Osgood Perkins. It stars Theo James, Christian Convery, Tatiana Maslany, Adam Scott, Sarah Levy and Colin O’Brien. Rated R for strong bloody violent content, gore, language throughout and some sexual references and runs for 1 hour, 38 minutes. It opened in theaters March 7. Alex’s Grade: B-,

Alex’s Top Ten Best Films of 2024

Alex’s Top Ten Best Films of 2024

By Alex McPherson

11 Honorable Mentions: “No Other Land,” “Nickel Boys,” “A Real Pain,” “The Outrun,” “Monkey Man,” “Love Lies Bleeding,” “Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga,” “Nosferatu,” “Sing Sing,” “In Our Day,” “Ryuichi Sakamoto: Opus”

10. “Good One”

Meditative, and maintaining an undercurrent of suspense throughout, director India Donaldson’s debut feature is a true gem – an indie that has ample layers to unpack beneath its deceptively simple premise. Lily Collias gives one of the year’s absolute best performances as Sam, a young woman preparing to leave home for college, who goes on a weekend backpacking trip with her father, Chris (James Le Gros), and his best friend Matt (Danny McCarthy), in the Catskills. All is not well, however, and tensions simmer among the group; everyone is trying to find their place in the world, navigating life’s complexities. Mesmerizing cinematography from Wilson Cameron and a soothing score from Celia Hollander complement this unconventional and thoughtful coming-of-age story.

9. “I Saw the TV Glow”

Director Jane Schoenbrun’s dreamlike, unnerving, and uncompromising take on identity and loneliness is one of 2024’s most memorable films. It’s difficult to describe and suffused with a foreboding, hypnotically engaging mood. “I Saw the TV Glow” feels like a film of the moment, zeroing in on the ways media and pop culture can help form/support one’s sense of self, and the suffocating effects of not living one’s truth. Open to interpretation and polarizing in the best ways, Schoenbrun once again proves themself as a director with a surreal vision that’s all their own.

8. “Civil War”

Director Alex Garland’s “Civil War” is a provocative look at a dystopian near-future taken to extremes, and a thought-provoking exploration of the nature of journalism and storytelling itself. Looking beyond the film’s grimly compelling Road-Trip-From-Hell structure, excellent performances, and controversial premise that bends some logic, Garland spotlights photojournalists willing to risk their lives and their sanity for the next shot, the next story, in the hopes that, in the end, it will all mean something. It ultimately encourages viewers to look outside the frame to apply their sacrifice to our own reality. Will we merely let their stories wash over us, desensitized, or will we mobilize to support causes that might, one day, end self-perpetuating cycles of violence and cruelty? “Civil War” is an action-packed, grimly entertaining watch on its own, but it’s also a cautionary tale with real bite, a call to action within visceral, propulsive genre filmmaking.

7. “Hard Truths”

Marianne Jean-Baptiste gives a staggering performance in director Mike Leigh’s “Hard Truths,” — a study on empathy, mental illness, existential angst, and community that offers no easy answers. Leigh’s film is alternately funny, shocking, and heartbreaking, as we observe Jean-Baptiste’s character, Pansy, rampaging through every interaction with little consideration for others or for herself. “Hard Truths” is far from an easy watch, often harsh and unrelenting, but there’s great power in seeing shreds of hope shine through at the most unlikely times, something to hold onto if we have the will and bravery to cherish them in the hopes of a brighter future. An essential film.

6. “The Substance”

Coralie Fargeat’s “The Substance” is one of the most intense films I’ve experienced this year — brazenly confident in its style, performances, and satire that’s both in-your-face and ingeniously layered. It’s a poignant takedown of societal beauty standards, especially in Hollywood, but also a nightmarish exploration of fame, self-hatred, and aging bodies. The film’s body horror set pieces are both highly entertaining and wildly unsettling, delivering an escalating series of WTF moments along with human truth and real directorial craftsmanship. Indeed, “The Substance” is an unforgettable ride.

5. “The Seed of the Sacred Fig”

Filmed in secret in Iran, director Mohammad Rasoulof’s “The Seed of the Sacred Fig” is a daring look at a family in disarray. Iman (Missagh Zareh) is appointed as an investigating judge in Tehran’s Revolutionary Court, a sought-after position that nevertheless requires him to sacrifice his personal morality. His responsibilities create a rift between him, his wife, and his daughters, who watch protests outside their home (Rasoulof shows real-life, harrowing footage taken from smartphone cameras) in horror and want to stand up for what they believe in. What follows is an urgent, riveting thriller that reaches a fever-pitch of intensity by its conclusion, made all the more powerful by the bravery of the cast and crew, who risked their lives to bring this story to life.

4. “Do Not Expect Too Much from the End of the World”

Director Radu Jude’s latest film is a blisteringly funny satire that tackles a whole bunch of ideas— worker exploitation, the search for true self-expression, the perils of the gig economy, corporate dehumanization, the push-pull between truth and fiction in filmmaking, and Romania’s tumultuous history — in a nearly three-hour odyssey that’s constantly upending expectations and remains as deeply poignant as it is defiantly unsubtle. Ilinca Manolache is a force of nature as Angela, a production assistant pushed to her limits on a never-ending assignment filming auditions for a multinational company throughout Bucharest, taking breaks whenever she can to make TikToks as her caricatured alter ego, Bobiță. “Do Not Expect,” in all its acerbic glory, is a cry from the heart, a masterful takedown of societal ills. 

3. “Wallace and Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl”

As a lifelong fan of “Wallace and Gromit,” especially “The Wrong Trousers,” my expectations were sky high for the return of the world’s favorite inventor and his canine companion. Luckily, directors Nick Park and Merlin Crossingham do not disappoint — delivering another charming, clever, and well-crafted gem that retains the distinct spirit of the series, putting most other animated films to shame through its sterling attention to detail and all-ages appeal. “Vengeance Most Fowl” packs in some thoughtful commentary about technology (specifically artificial intelligence) as well, and it marks the return of the diabolical penguin Feathers McGraw, one of cinema’s great antagonists. Nothing can recapture the brilliance of the original three shorts, but “Vengeance Most Fowl” comes damn close at times.

2. “Anora”

Fueled by a star-making performance from Mikey Madison, director Sean Baker’s “Anora” is an emotional roller coaster if there ever was one, presenting an intense, darkly comedic, and heartbreaking fairytale turned on its head. With Baker’s characteristically empathetic eye, he explores the complicated nature of the American Dream, the dehumanizing power of wealth, and the perils of young love, while painting compelling pictures of people striving in systems that take advantage of them. Madison, taking us on Ani’s arc every step of the way, expertly conveys the character’s perseverance, fiery spirit, and gradual self-actualization as Baker’s tragicomic odyssey unfolds. A pitch-perfect ensemble elevates the film further, with each character given depth through Baker’s nonjudgmental eye. 

1. “Hundreds of Beavers”

There’s some films that change you, and director Mike Cheslik’s “Hundreds of Beavers” is one of those experiences — a slapstick epic that demands to be watched with a crowd. The inventiveness is off-the-charts, and the film is a reminder of the creative potential of the medium, using limited resources and limitless imagination to elicit guffaws galore, while delivering something firmly, unquestionably new. Nothing has stuck with me quite like “Hundreds of Beavers,” and, if you’re one of the hundreds of people I’ve been preaching its merits to who haven’t checked it out yet, consider this all-powerful ranking another nudge to press play. It’s time. Take the plunge.

Trauma Howls in Enjoyable Horror ‘Wolf Man’

Trauma Howls in Enjoyable Horror ‘Wolf Man’

By Alex McPherson

Efficient and stylistically engaging, if being neither especially scary nor emotionally involving, director Leigh Whannell’s “Wolf Man” is the embodiment of a serviceable horror flick— coasting along on atmospherics and gory set-pieces instead of fully chowing down on its themes.

We begin in 1995, where a young boy named Blake (Zac Chandler) lives with his survivalist father, Grady (Ben Prendergrast), on a farm nestled within a remote valley in west-central Oregon. Dad, a single, paranoid ex-Marine with a temper, runs a tight ship around the house; his over-protectiveness masks a deep-seated distrust and fear of the outside world.

One day while out hunting, Blake and Grady encounter a strange, frighteningly erratic humanoid creature weaving amongst the trees. They barely fend it off while holed up in a deer stand — a sequence greatly enhanced by the film’s enveloping sound design and camerawork; the threat could come at any time, from any angle. Could it be the hiker that recently went missing and is, allegedly, feral? Grady must find out.

Flash forward 30 years, and the all-grown-up Blake (Christopher Abbott), now an aimless writer in-between jobs, has moved from the Cascades to the Big Apple and started a family. He’s seemingly doing pretty well, but he’s going through a rough patch with his journalist wife, Charlotte (Julia Garner). Blake is very close with their young daughter, Ginger (Matilda Firth), but strains of his father’s toxicity shine through from time to time, an uneasy reminder of the mental scars Grady left on him.

Blake receives a letter in the mail notifying him of Grady’s passing, along with the keys to the farmhouse. Thinking that it could be a good opportunity to get away from the city and reconnect with his family, Blake, Charlotte, and Ginger take a roadtrip to the foreboding mountains. 

It’s not exactly a relaxing vacation, though, as they soon encounter a creepy acquaintance from Blake’s childhood (Benedict Hardie) and, yes, that fuzzy-mugged humanoid beast from all those years ago. After causing Blake’s van to crash, the creature scratches Blake, later prompting Blake to undergo a gnarly metaphorical transformation in which he slowly but surely becomes the titular “Wolf Man.” 

Whannell, a skilled filmmaker who previously directed such works as 2020’s deeply messed up “Invisible Man” remake and 2018’s underappreciated sci-fi gem, “Upgrade,” ensures that “Wolf Man” coasts along well enough on its jolt-heavy suspense and excellent sound design without impressing from a character standpoint. 

Indeed, for all its effective scenes of cat-and-mouse suspense, “Wolf Man” can’t deliver on the emotional front. The seams of Whannell and Corbett Tuck’s screenplay show early on, where exposition dumps largely take the place of organically learning about who these characters are and what they’re striving towards. 

The performances are merely fine. Abbott gets more to chew on than others, literally, as he embodies Blake’s gradual loss of faculties and humanity and visibly battles the disease that’s overtaking him, while Garner’s Charlotte is underwritten and mostly one-note. Firth fares better than some other child-actors-in-horror-movies as of late, but she can’t break free from the clunky confines of the screenplay. 

It’s all quite programmatic. At the least the simple characterizations help make the film’s 103-minute runtime go at a fast clip; all the better that we get to the scares sooner. 

These are Whannel’s forte, and he delivers the goods — creating a series of setups and payoffs that are more enjoyable than outright scary, playing with viewers’ expectations to catch us off guard (or at least attempt to), complete with suitably graphic makeup effects. Whannell and cinematographer Stefan Duscio make great use of the isolating landscape, peppered with trees, and Blake’s creaky farmhouse, keeping the focus tight on the characters as the events pass in real-time, largely over a single night. 

The film’s outstanding sound design also does much of the heavy lifting throughout — especially strong during the tense opening sequence, and in visualizing the werewolf mutation directly through Blake’s eyes. Whannell shows the difference between reality and the warped distortions Blake experiences, often changing between them in the same shot; voices become muffled and faces turn barely recognizable. It’s neat, bringing to mind the sorts of cinematic tricks Whannell deployed in “Upgrade,” but remains more of a novelty, since “Wolf Man” doesn’t do enough early on to make us actually care.

While Whannell should be commended for tackling this Universal Monsters character with a different angle — veering away from the mysticism of its origins — and focusing on generational trauma and mental illness, “Wolf Man” feels half-baked. Whannell tries to be both fun and, by the end, weirdly sobering. This tonal mishmash doesn’t do the film any favors given itss sloppiness in scenes that aren’t focused on the immediate horror at play.

But “Wolf Man” was never trying to be groundbreaking. Watching in a theater is always the best option for movies, but, in this case, it’s the essential way to sink your teeth into this perfectly fine take on a horror legend.

“Wolf Man” is a 2025 horror movie directed by Leigh Whannell and starring Christopher Abbott and Julia Garner. It is rated R for bloody violent content, grisly images and some language and the run time is 1 hour, 43 minutes. It opened in theaters Jan. 17. Alex’s Grade: B-.

‘Vengeance Most Fowl’ A Triumphant Cracking Return for Wallace & Gromit

‘Vengeance Most Fowl’ A Triumphant Cracking Return for Wallace & Gromit

By Alex McPherson

Brilliantly clever and charming, the 20-years-coming return of the world’s favorite inventor, Wallace, and his canine companion, Gromit, does not disappoint. Directors Nick Park and Merlin Crossingham retain the franchise’s beating heart in “Vengeance Most Fowl,” and, as a lifelong fan, I think that makes for absolutely essential viewing.

“Vengeance Most Fowl” takes place many years after the events of “The Wrong Trousers,” with the criminal mastermind penguin Feathers McGraw imprisoned in a cell off the Arctic exhibit of the Lancashire zoo, biding his time for an escape, and the Blue Diamond back in the hands of bumbling authorities.

The jaded Chief Inspector Mackintosh (Peter Kay) is preparing to redisplay the priceless rock in the local museum, assisted by the eager newcomer PC Mukherjee (Lauren Patel). 

Meanwhile, things are proceeding as usual in cheery 62 West Wallaby Street — the cheese-loving inventor Wallace (admirably voiced by Ben Whitehead after the passing of Peter Sallis) has filled the house with even more Rube-Goldbergian contraptions aimed at maximizing “convenience,” while his loyal pooch Gromit provides emotional support and cleans up the messes Wallace leaves behind. 

Wallace has a new invention, however, that he claims will make both their lives easier: a perpetually-smiling garden gnome turned handyman called “Norbot” (Reece Shearsmith), who can carry out any and all chores around the house while yapping incessantly about how it “likes to do a job.”

One of the “tidying ups” included slicing-and-dicing Gromit’s well-kept garden into a squarely homogenized version of its former self. Wallace and Gromit’s neighbors take interest in Norbot and want to employ him, so Wallace starts a “Gnome Improvement” company to help him pay the ever-worrying stack of bills. 

Ol’ Feathers watches from afar, and as Norbot gains in popularity, the incarcerated penguin plots how to take advantage of the gnome to escape the zoo, exact his revenge, and acquire the Blue Diamond once and for all. An action-packed adventure ensues, where Wallace’s future as an inventor is threatened, and Gromit’s ingenuity is put to the test.

Indeed, “Vengeance Most Fowl” hits the spot like a warm cup of hot chocolate on a cold winter’s day: a Greatest Hits celebration of Wallace and Gromit that’s beautifully animated, hilarious, and packs in some resonant commentary about the current state of technology for good measure.

On a basic level, though, it’s great to spend more time with these characters — “Vengeance Most Fowl” is a balm for even the most cynical soul, packing more creativity, craft, and all-ages entertainment into its 79-minute runtime than most films could ever dream of.

Even so, achieving the heights set by the original three short films (“A Grand Day Out,” “The Wrong Trousers,” and “A Close Shave”) was a near impossible task. “Vengeance Most Fowl,” for all its strengths, isn’t immune from shameless nostalgia (particularly regarding Lorne Balf’s score, which is largely content to riff on older tracks) nor is it as well-paced as it could be, occasionally feeling stretched with side-characters that are nowhere near as fun to watch as the dynamic duo and dastardly penguin. 

But Park and Crossingham preserve the essence of “Wallace and Gromit” here. The claymation stop-motion animation (with some occasional CGI) is glorious to behold — tactile and timeless, albeit smoothed-down compared to its predecessors.

Park and Mark Burton’s screenplay is chock full of puns and dad jokes, often opting for broader, more literal comedic beats than the prior installments (perhaps to appeal to a wider audience than the sometimes niche humor of the originals), but no less amusing, and always in the affably British spirit of the series.

Gromit and Feathers are the true standouts in “Vengeance Most Fowl,” though, two silent film adversaries squaring off once again after many years. Feathers, in particular, gets numerous opportunities to shine like a pseudo James Bond villain, using his wits and badass vibes to get what he desires — beady-eyed, intimidating, and darkly funny, with plenty of totally convincing disguises at his disposal.

Gromit provides much of the film’s pathos, struggling to accept Wallace’s increasing overreliance on technology in practically every facet of daily life, greatly exacerbated by Norbot, who seemingly hijacks Gromit’s roles in the household. Gromit’s bemusement, frustration, and undying loyalty to his master and friend is as funny and emotional as ever.

“Vengeance Most Fowl” is a fun ride from start to finish, with gags and plot developments that are best left unspoiled. What’s surprising, though, is the film’s trenchant commentary on artificial intelligence and technology in general — the necessary balance between what can be automated and what’s best left to the human touch. 

Park and Crossingham don’t take the easy way out and demonize Norbot, but rather recognize the guardrails that must be put in place, and the importance of not letting convenience hijack lived, meaningful experience.

This also extends to the film’s construction itself — “Vengeance Most Fowl” is an ingenious mixture of old-school and new-school animation, of updating the look of “Wallace and Gromit” without sacrificing its soul, brought to life with hand-crafted effort.

There’s just no excuse not to give “Vengeance Most Fowl” a shot. This newest adventure is a real treat, sure to please longtime fans and newcomers alike.

“Wallace & Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl” is a 2024 stop-motion animated film directed by Nick Park and Merlin Crossingham, with voice-over work by Ben Whitehead, Peter Kay, Lauren Patel, and Reece Shearsmith. It is rated PG for some action and rude humor and runtime is 1 hour, 19 minutes. It began streaming on Netflix on Jan. 3. Alex’s Grade: A.

‘Gladiator II’ Is An Underwhelming Sequel Stuck in the Past

‘Gladiator II’ Is An Underwhelming Sequel Stuck in the Past

By Alex McPherson

Lacking the focus and heart of its predecessor, director Ridley Scott’s “Gladiator II” undercuts its splatter-filled action sequences and on-point performance from Denzel Washington with a jumbled narrative that’s content to live in the shadow of greatness.

Scott’s sequel takes place takes place 16 years after the events of “Gladiator,” which concluded with the deaths of Maximus (Russell Crowe — the Roman general-turned-revenge-fueled-gladiator-turned potential “savior” of Rome — and the beady-eyed Emperor Commodus (Joaquin Phoenix), a tyrant who assumed power after killing his father and former emperor, the wise Marcus Aurelius (Richard Harris). 

The “Dream of Rome” to establish a true republic, which motivated Maximus and his supporters, has seemingly been extinguished, and chaos reigns once again among the populace. Rome is controlled by two pasty, unhinged brothers — co-emperors Geta (Joseph Quinn) and Caracalla (Fred Hechinger), with a monkey on his shoulder — who seek wealth and violent conquest above all else.

They order the Roman army, led by the increasingly disillusioned General Marcus Acacius (Pedro Pascal), who is married to Marcus Aurelius’s daughter Lucilla (Connie Nielsen), to conquer as much new territory as possible, as violently as possible.

Pedro Pascal.

Lucius (Paul Mescal), Lucilla’s son, is living humbly as a farmer in the North African colony of Numidia with his wife, Arishat (Yuval Gonen). They were forced to flee Rome after Maximus’s death. But Lucius, all grown up and using the nickname “Hanno,” cannot escape his Roman past.

Acacius and his troops show up and ransack the city — killing Arishat and taking Lucius back to Rome as a prisoner. The stage is set, like Maximus before him, for a tale of revenge, and Lucius (fittingly angry) is bloodthirsty to avenge his wife.

Also like Maximus before him, Lucius is quite a capable fighter. He impresses the conniving, calculating slave trader Macrinus (Washington), who takes Lucius under his wing as a gladiator and promises to grant him an opportunity to kill Acacius if he wins enough fights. 

The ever-manipulative Macrinus, who was also once a gladiator himself, plots his own ascendancy through Roman royalty, as Lucius fights his way through the coliseum, and Acacius prepares to rebel against the parasitic rascals in command. The stage is set for plenty of drama and political intrigue, complete with hyperviolent set-pieces galore and numerous hunks in kilts. 

It’s a continuation of “Gladiator,” all right, and Scott delivers the basics of what fans of swords-and-sandals epics expect. What’s lacking this time around, though, is a clear emotional throughline — a focused narrative of one man’s quest for vengeance and eventual unity of a fractured society. 

Denzel Washington

By awkwardly stitching its subplots together, “Gladiator II” has neither the pacing nor strong characterization of Maximus’s story, sapping momentum while hitting familiar plot beats and offering only glimmers of greatness amid its nostalgia-laden framework.

Most of these involve Washington, who embodies Scott’s commentary on “playing the system” with a mixture of camp and fearsome excitement that’s sorely lacking elsewhere.

Lucius isn’t as compelling a hero as Maximus, and Mescal’s characteristic talent for subtlety is poorly realized here. David Scarpa’s uneven screenplay gives Mescal plenty of chances for impassioned speechifying and opportunities to look angry, but Mescal lacks Crowe’s charisma and gravitas, worsened by the all-too-familiar setup for Lucius’s story that “Gladiator” fans (or anyone familiar with the revenge genre) have seen done before, and done better. A questionable accent certainly doesn’t help. 

Still, Mescal certainly has a “Movie Star” look, if not the screen presence of Crowe, who conveyed an enduring compassion despite Maximus’s burning desire for revenge. Mescal is muted and bland by comparison, a talented actor playing against his strengths as a performer.

Mescal and Pascal fight

Pascal doesn’t leave much of an impression either, essentially filling in the aspects of Maximus’s character that Lucius lacks. He’s a victim of the film’s narrative structure that jarringly cuts between several subplots, seemingly unsure of what’s worth focusing on narratively and tonally. 

Acacius is relegated to sequences laden with exposition that carry little impact, weighing his love for Lucilla (Nielsen is typically radiant but saddled with much of the screenplay’s blunt dialogue) and the Dream of Rome with his official responsibilities.

These sequences feel workmanlike via Scott’s scattered direction that, more generally, abandons the classical feel of the first film and undercuts its typically excellent period detail (with strong production and costume design) with the goal of moving the plot along, rather than immersing viewers in the drama itself.

What “Gladiator II” does have, at least sporadically, are crowd-pleasing scenes of brutal violence and backstabbing politics, elevated by the always-excellent Washington.

Indeed, Macrinus — fiendish, verbose, and menacing (possessing viciousness beneath smiles and “playful” banter) — gives Scott’s film a much needed burst of energy. Washington is clearly enjoying himself, taking big swings in an ensemble that otherwise plays it safe.

Macrinus is always thinking three steps ahead — playing the system from the inside, casting aside any and all compassion for those caught in the crossfire. 

Connie Nielsen is Lucilla

It’s alternately funny and shocking to watch what he and Washington have up their sleeves — Washington brings a sense of volatility that commands his every scene, and Macrinus’s backstory is layered enough to shoulder the entire movie on his own (but that would have meant relinquishing the “nostalgia factor” that this sequel depends on).

The action set-pieces, too — with savage swordplay and CGI animals galore, including baboons, rhinos, and sharks (?!) — are always fun to watch: loud and chaotic in the best ways. There’s still something lost in the film’s visual effects, an immediacy that the scrappy battles from the first “Gladiator” had in spades. 

These sequences, and those of Macrinus’s machinations (with Quinn and Hechinger being suitably repugnant beside him), are where “Gladiator II” ascends beyond mediocrity — leaning into enjoyable craziness rather than humorless moralizing. 

Like Scott’s tonally erratic “House of Gucci” before it, “Gladiator II” can’t balance its more satirical flourishes (mostly involving Macrinus) with the earnest drama of Lucius’s quest for revenge and eventual redemption of Rome.

It comes across as confused and scattered, reliant on blatant callbacks and rehashed emotions, ultimately swapping its relevant political commentary with shrug-worthy simplifying.

There’s still enough pure spectacle in “Gladiator II” to engage on the surface level. Am I fully “entertained,” however? Not quite.

Fred Hechinger plays Emperor Caracalla in Gladiator II from Paramount Pictures.

“Gladiator II” is a 2024 action period drama directed by Ridley Scott and starring Paul Mescal, Denzel Washington, Pedro Pascal, Joseph Quinn, Fred Hechinger and Connie Nielsen. It is rated R for strong bloody violence and its runtime is 2 hours, 28 minutes. It opened in theaters Nov. 22. Alex’s Grade: C+

Hugh Grant Embraces Evil in Impressive Horror-Thriller ‘Heretic’

Hugh Grant Embraces Evil in Impressive Horror-Thriller ‘Heretic’

By Alex McPherson

In large part due to a deliciously sinister performance from Hugh Grant, co-directors Scott Beck and Bryan Woods’ “Heretic” is a taut, suspenseful slice of horror that strikes an unwieldy but entertaining balance between big ideas and blood-soaked chills.

We follow two young Mormon missionaries, Sister Paxton (Chloe East) and Sister Barnes (Sophie Thatcher), on a seemingly innocent quest to proselytize about the tenets of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (LDS) in a small mountain town.

Sister Paxton has been a member all her life, her faith passed down to her by her parents. Sister Barnes is a more recent convert — trauma-hardened and steadfast, finding in Mormonism a way to cope with past family tragedy. 

Paxton and Barnes travel door-to-door and are used to being turned away, even publicly humiliated, but when they’re invited to the home of an older gentleman named Mr. Reed (Grant), they see a chance for a new convert — potentially Paxton’s first! When they show up at Mr. Reed’s deceivingly modest cottage, everything seems fine, initially.

A thunderstorm is raging, so Mr. Reed (donning a cozy cardigan) welcomes Paxton and Barnes inside, reassuring them that his wife is in the kitchen baking a blueberry pie.

But all is certainly not as it seems. Mr. Reed, radiating charisma (Grant’s specialty), begins to poke at Paxton and Barnes’ beliefs — questioning their personal histories in the Church as well as, in an awkward shift, how they square the Church’s doctrines with Joseph Smith’s practice of polygamy. The Sisters (especially Barnes) push back against his assertions.

Mr. Reed’s mansplaining leaves little room for counterargument, and the Sisters uncomfortably balance standing up for themselves with going along for the sake of getting to leave the house sooner. At least, that’s what they’re hoping. 

But remember that blueberry pie? Barnes notices that its smell is being simulated by a scented candle on the living room table. The front door is also locked, and, thus, they’re forced to venture further into Reed’s puzzle-box-esque abode. Reed is certainly not finished with his pop-culture-laden TED talks on the nature of faith as business. And the Sisters must play along, or else, as Reed ultimately seeks to sell them on what he views as the “Ultimate Religion.”

Beck and Woods’ film — for all its “high-minded” talk of faith and free will — prizes entertainment above much else. It’s a haunted-house-monster movie with a pompous mansplainer strutting his stuff, reasonable conversation be damned.

Although the well-crafted suspense and incisive dialogue of the first half devolves into rushed twists later on, “Heretic” ascends to new levels of enlightenment thanks to a wonderfully creepy performance from Grant, who uses his characteristic charm to fiendish ends.

In a just world, Grant would be in the awards consideration. Committing completely to the film’s over-the-top swings, he renders Mr. Reed a deceivingly plausible villain, disguising his rotten core beneath a veneer of interpersonal niceties. There’s an obvious glee in the way he manipulates the Sisters.

Mr. Reed is giddy at another chance to voice himself, luring the vulnerable into his lair and daring them to fight back, with no “correct” answers to the questions he poses. 

It’s impossible to take your eyes off Grant whenever he’s on screen. He’s definitely evil, but there’s a strange appeal in watching him walk Sister Paxton and Sister Barnes towards their fates, and “Heretic” doesn’t discount the incisive points he makes about modern religion. Rather, it acknowledges their validity while underlining the real horror at play — the insidious ways Mr. Reed imposes his views on others.

The film refuses to make a statement on the literal “truth” of religion itself, zeroing in on the psychological functions it can serve instead.

Mr. Reed is high off his own ego and his alleged understanding of human behavior, wrapping his takedown of religion around the idea of iteration, with every new belief system building upon the other in the name of the wealthy and privileged exerting power over the masses.

He throws in everything from Monopoly to Lana Del Rey to the “Star Wars” prequels to illustrate his point, complete with a blasphemous impression of Jar Jar Binks. It’s to the film’s, and Grant’s, credit that Mr. Reed never becomes too irritating.

The rest of the film, while not operating quite on the same level as Grant, impresses nevertheless. East and Thatcher are capable leads — likable from the first scene onwards, and never letting their characters slide into caricature. Thatcher’s world-weary turn conveys Sister Barnes’ hurt and perseverance. East, with a bubbly screen presence, conveys Sister Paxton’s relative innocence and surprising layers. 

Philip Messina’s production design is outstanding in how off-kilter it makes the Reed residence seem — a twisted puzzle-box of interlocking parts that Mr. Reed maintains like a master conductor. Chung Chung-hoon’s cinematography reflects this idea, confidently flowing throughout spaces as if pre-ordained to do so, smoothly on-rails and mechanical, also using close-ups to suspenseful effect.

Beck and Woods’ wry screenplay incorporates plenty of humor throughout its accessible discussions of faith and control, and it delights in misdirection. It’s disappointing that third-act twists (particularly Mr. Reed’s final intentions) are spelled out so bluntly, however, somewhat abandoning the slow-burn satisfaction of what came before.

Indeed, when “Heretic” opts for more standard horror movie set-pieces (bringing plenty of blood and gore to the table) and reveals that stray far from believable, it’s less easy to become swept up in. And the ending, while thought-provoking and up to interpretation, is still frustratingly abrupt.

This remains one of the year’s stronger horror films in a year that’s already been full of them. Watch it for Grant if nothing else. His acting chops are certainly not up for debate.

“Heretic” is a 2024 psychological thriller-horror film written and directed by Scott Beck and Bryan Woods, and starring Hugh Grant, Chloe East and Sophie Thatcher. It is rated R for some bloody violence and the runtime is 1 hour, 51 minutes. It opened in theaters Nov. 8. Alex’s Grade: B+.

Mikey Madison Stuns in Sean Baker’s ‘Anora,’ One of 2024’s Best Films

Mikey Madison Stuns in Sean Baker’s ‘Anora,’ One of 2024’s Best Films

By Alex McPherson

An intense, darkly funny, and, ultimately, heartbreaking tribute to those striving to achieve the American Dream, featuring a magnificent performance from Mikey Madison, director Sean Baker’s “Anora” is a film that feels gloriously alive.

The story centers around Anora “Ani” Mikheeva (Madison), who works as a dancer and occasional escort in a high-class Manhattan strip club. She’s disarming, fierce, charismatic, and highly skilled in her lines of work. When we first meet Ani, she is gliding near-effortlessly from client to client, flashing her smile, showing off her body, and luring her clientele (often of the rich, older, White man variety) back to the club’s private rooms, for a manufactured fantasy that’s repeated night after night, under her control. 

But no matter how much fun she seems to be having in the moment, it’s just a job for Ani, and a taxing one at that, complete with co-worker rivalries, a demanding boss, and hours that leave her shuffling to a cramped house in Brighton Beach every morning for a few hours of shut-eye before doing it all over again.

Ani has a vulnerable, damaged soul behind her confident persona at work, trapped in an exhausting cycle to make ends meet doing what she knows. Should an “out” arise, she’s willing to seize it. On one fateful night, an opportunity finally presents itself.

Ivan “Vanya” Zakharov (Mark Eidelshtein), the unruly, childish son of a wealthy Russian oligarch, visits Ani’s club one night. He’s allegedly on a trip to America from Russia to “study.” Having some Russian heritage herself and being able to understand the language (if not fluently speak it), Ani is instructed by her boss to treat Vanya with a good time.

Before long, they hit it off, and Ani — drawn to Vanya’s carefree youthfulness and goofy charm — is hired as a private escort in Vanya’s father’s lavish mansion in Brooklyn. As their bond blossoms, Vanya offers Ani $15,000 to be his “super horny girlfriend” for a week, partying and partaking in various shenanigans around New York City, before flying on a private jet for more revelry in Las Vegas. 

Ani is swept off her feet by her Prince Charming, who seemingly presents her with a new life, leaving those “beneath them” to clean up their mess. When Vanya proposes to Ani, she can’t help but say yes, giving herself fully into the fantasy.

The only problem is, well, Vanya, who hopes to get a green card to stay in America. Once his parents in Russia get wind of the marriage, they rush to get it annulled. Vanya’s godfather, Toros (Karren Karagulian), and his unlucky goons Garnick (Vache Tovmasyan) and the surprisingly sensitive, observant Igor (Yura Borisov) are tasked with apprehending Vanya and Ani to move the annulment process along and bring Vanya back to Russia.

Challenges arise when Vanya runs away, leaving the group on a frantic search through New York City to find him, and sending Ani’s hopes and dreams crashing back to injustice-laden reality.

Like Sean Baker’s previous films, “Anora” is an involving experience that’s wholly empathetic to those living on the margins of society. It’s a fairy tale turned on its head — one where the allure of wealth and the illusion of consequence-free living comes crashing down, where the dehumanizing pull of money is on full display, and where genuine, non-transactional human connection is fleeting. It’s also a cinematic wonder whose highs remain long after the end credits roll.

In a star-making, effervescent turn, Madison delivers one of the year’s finest performances. Her Ani is a complex, feisty, and lovable character with depth and a history that Madison conveys with a tangible sense of lived experience. Without resorting to overacting or blatant exposition, and relying as much on delivery as on Baker’s excellent screenplay, Madison takes us on an emotional roller coaster— displaying the gradual thawing of Ani’s initial skepticism, the whirlwind of young love, the subtle-but-crushing realization of the future she’s envisioned falling apart, and her clinging to the shred of hope that remains (and is worth fighting for) amid the literal and emotional wreckage that ensues. Madison’s performance is made all the more stirring thanks to Baker’s direction, which mirrors Ani’s changing sense of self.

Baker’s characteristic attention-to-detail is in full swing from the film’s opening moments. He throws us into Ani’s world — depicting her work in nonjudgmental, matter-of-fact fashion that doesn’t linger in the male gaze. Drew Daniels’ cinematography and Baker’s editing are busy but precise, reflecting Ani in her element, before becoming free-flowing and loose during Ani and Vanya’s time together, and descending into “Uncut Gems”-level chaos in the back half, both farcical and distressing as everything spirals further and further out of control.

Baker’s screenplay — naturalistic yet wry, poignant, and always in service of developing character — rarely resorts to caricatures. The central characters contain layers beneath their initial impressions, brought to life by a consistently strong ensemble.

Everyone is mostly believable here, from the impulsive, trouble-making Vanya, to the handlers beholden to the demands of his father, to the workers they run into (and disrespect) during their scrounging for the flaky Russian Timothée Chalamet gone rogue. The situations are sometimes over-the-top, but Baker refuses to sand down his characters, never letting us forget what’s at stake.

The film’s tone, veering from darkly comedic to laugh-out-loud funny to serious to somewhere in between, threads the needle between “entertainment” and serious drama, sometimes within the same scene. Baker finds moments of humor and sensitive connection surrounding the (largely inevitable) narrative beats.

He counters moments of levity and occasional warmth with emotional gut-punches that leave a lasting sting. The outstanding, quietly shattering final moments, for example, come as a stylistic rebuke to the chaotic highs and lows that have come before. We’re left with a character that’s re-discovering herself and what matters to her, with the weight of her experiences bubbling to the surface.

Baker recognizes the power of fantasy, but also the perils of it, underlining the societal divide between who gets to indulge in it and who is relegated to being used, as well as highlighting someone persevering and trying to retain her dignity when the world is against her.

“Anora” is unique in how Baker involves us in Ani’s story, where each revelation and realization hits with force despite us knowing where it’s likely headed. Indeed, the craftsmanship makes it easy to become swept up in Ani’s feelings — establishing the kind of bond that makes the most of the film medium.

Baker’s latest is one of the year’s best films, without a shadow of doubt, only growing more powerful with further reflection. And Madison deserves all the awards.

“Anora” is a 2024 drama, comedy, romance written and directed by Sean Baker starring Mikey Madison, Mark Eidelshtein, Karren Karagulian, Vache Tovmasyan, and Yura Borisov. It is rated: R for strong sexual content throughout, graphic nudity, pervasive language, and drug use, and the runtime is 2 hours, 19 minutes. It opened in theatres Nov. 1. Alex’s Grade: A+

‘Saturday Night’ Comedy a Half-Baked Trip Down Memory Lane

‘Saturday Night’ Comedy a Half-Baked Trip Down Memory Lane

By Alex McPherson

Frenetic, scattershot, and thoroughly self-absorbed, director Jason Reitman’s “Saturday Night” might satisfy those nostalgic for the early days of “SNL,” but fails to make a name for itself on its own merits.

Presenting itself as a fictionalized version of the stressful 90 minutes leading up to the original “Saturday Night Live” (originally called “Saturday Night”) broadcast in October 1975 at Studio 8H, Reitman’s film revolves around Lorne Michaels (Gabriel LaBelle), the show’s executive producer and ringleader. Michaels remains insistent on the show’s potential while having little idea as to what it actually is.

Co-creator Dick Ebersol (Cooper Hoffman) is increasingly worried about how things will pan out, trying to reason with the ever-resistant Michaels as the cramped, claustrophobic halls of Studio 8H buzz with both excitement and growing fears of potentially spectacular failure. There’s also a llama, for some reason.

All the while, a group of unruly, up-and-coming comedians — including the arrogant yet charismatic Chevy Chase (Cory Michael Smith), Dan Aykroyd (Dylan O’Brien), Garrett Morris (Lamorne Morris, no relation), John Belushi (Matt Wood), plus several talented women such as Gilda Radner (Ella Hunt), Laraine Newman (Emily Fairn), and Jane Curtin (Kim Matula) that the film mostly treats as afterthoughts — prepare to go on-air, confronting their own mini-crises and doubts as the clock ticks, ticks, ticks toward showtime, and the history books.

Tempers run hot (the pretentious Belushi and Chase butt heads, and Belushi hasn’t even signed his contract yet), people are stoned out of their minds, lights are falling on-stage, the sound system’s busted, head writer Michael O’Donoghue (Tommy Dewey) is spewing acerbic barbs at anyone and everyone questioning his scripts, and rival late-night host Milton Berle (J.K. Simmons, typically strong) is, quite literally, waving his dong around.

Gabrielle LaBelle, Kaia Gerber and Cory Michael Smith.

NBC executive Dave Tebet (Willem Dafoe) is observing the whole production from afar, egging on Lorne with smug anticipation of his passion project’s downfall, as the whole endeavor is a pawn in NBC’s contract dispute with Johnny Carson.

Suffice to say, the stakes are high, at least in the context of these characters, who don’t yet know that SNL will wildly succeed and become a cultural institution. Watching as a casual fan of the iconic program, though, “Saturday Night” is curiously devoid of surprise, or insight, or, even, laughs. There’s way too much smugness in Reitman’s retelling of this “revolution in comedy.” The film appeals to mainstream cinema’s obsession with callbacks at the expense of telling a story worth investing in.

Still, despite its emptiness, “Saturday Night” features dynamic performances from an ensemble doing an at-times-scarily convincing job at portraying their real-life counterparts. LaBelle brings a nervous, stubborn energy that’s simultaneously inspiring and pathetic, barely tamping down Michaels’ anxiety over his passion project’s success (or downfall, but we already know it’s going to be a success).

Hoffman is typically excellent as Ebersol, channeling his father’s capacity for emotional release during a pivotal scene in the latter half of the film.

Cory Michael Smith is an obvious standout as Chase, conveying the man’s arrogance and insecurity (and hilarity) in a way that demands attention, whether we like it or not. O’Brien makes a mark with his brief screen time as Aykroyd. Morris brings some much-needed pathos as his character questions his purpose and reason for being there as the only Black cast member. Wood does what he can with Belushi, with Reitman and co writer Gil Kenan highlighting his drug use and fickleness (mostly as a punchline) — making Belushi’s will-he-won’t-he arc both semi-poignant and weirdly uncomfortable, given Belushi’s later tragedy.

Gabriel LaBelle as Lorne Michaels.

The rest of the cast — including the ever-reliable Rachel Sennott as Michaels’ then-wife, Rosie Shuster, Jon Batiste in a small-yet-memorable appearance as Billy Preston, and seemingly a million other recognizable faces playing various recognizable faces, with Nicholas Braun doing double duty as punchline-ready interpretations of Andy Kaufman and Jim Henson — are perfectly adequate, but not exactly given much to sink their teeth into narratively with their limited screen time.

Indeed, “Saturday Night” ultimately reveals itself to be little more than a carnival ride of memories and irritating dialogue that — when it’s not replicating famous jokes and sketches — takes advantage of 20/20 hindsight to constantly pat itself on the back.

Reitman and co-writer Gil Kenan’s script takes an Aaron-Sorkin-esque approach in its witticisms, fast pace, and at-times blatant sentimentality as it literally clicks down the moments until showtime, incorporating as many famous gags as possible that loyal viewers are expected to get excited about. Some barbs and vignettes amid the chaos are amusing, and “Saturday Night” is never less than watchable, if usually superficial.

Cory Michael Smith as Chevy Chase.

Eric Steelberg’s textured, 16mm cinematography weaves throughout the studio’s sweaty interiors, faithfully recreated with attention to period detail in sets and costuming, making plentiful use of long takes and whip-pans.

The film careens from one easter egg to another — complete with its own pseudo laugh track of characters cracking up; the film desperately begs us to laugh along with them. Batiste’s percussion-laden score, combined with Nathan Orloff and Shane Reid’s editing, helps create a fittingly frantic, albeit artificial, sense of paranoia that highlights the film’s construction as an allegedly off-the-rails roller coaster that’s never truly allowed to chart its own path.

It’s fine: There’s just not much there beyond the film playing to viewers’ nostalgia. And maybe that’s acceptable for those who’d like to coast on the associated dopamine rush. Myself, however, not so much. “Saturday Night” is never bad (far from it), but it never ascends beyond average — a self-congratulatory tribute to the groundbreaking show in a puzzlingly vanilla framework.

“Saturday Night” is a 2024 comedy based on a true story, directed by Jason Reitman, and starring Gabriel LaBelle, Cooper Hoffman, Willem Dafoe, Corey Michael Smith, Lamorne Morris, Rachel Sennott, Matt Wood, Dylan O’Brien, Ella Hunt, Kim Matula, Emily Fairn, Nicholas Braun, Jon Batiste, Tommy Dewey and JK Simmons. It is rated R for language throughout, sexual references, some drug use and brief graphic nudity and the run time is 1 hour, 49 minutes. It opened in theaters Oct. 11. Alex’s Grade: C