Alex McPherson

Total Post: 142

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

Ensemble Shines in Ambitious, Full-Hearted Directorial Debut ‘We Were Dangerous’

Ensemble Shines in Ambitious, Full-Hearted Directorial Debut ‘We Were Dangerous’

By Alex McPherson

A sincere and impressively well-acted reminder of the power of community to persevere through adversity, director Josephine Stewart-Te Whiu’s debut feature, “We Were Dangerous,” shines a warm, hopeful light through the darkness.

The film is set in 1954 and begins at New Zealand’s School for Incorrigible and Delinquent Girls, where the free-spirited and courageous Nellie (Erana James) plots an escape from the institution with her best friend, the younger but no less resilient Daisy (Manaia Hall), and her other Māori classmates.

Their class instructor, The Matron (an alternately satiric and terrifying Rima Te Wiata), aims to “correct” these girls through her three education principles: “Christianize, civilize, and assimilate.” The program attempts to restrict the girls’ free will and independence each step of the way. 

When Nellie’s escape attempt fails, just a few inches from clearing the gate, The Matron is instructed by her superiors to relocate her class to a small island previously used as a leper colony. This renders their chance of escape and risk of pregnancy moot, given that the only man there is the island’s bumbling caretaker, Barry (Stephen Tamarapa).

Nellie and Daisy’s group are accompanied by some new arrivals to the program, including the mysterious and confident Lou (Nathalie Morris), who Nellie and Daisy strike up a fast friendship with. The three of them room together in a ramshackle hut with a leaky ceiling. As the girls spend their days doing manual labor and enduring mind-numbing lessons about religion and female etiquette under The Matron’s eye, their vibrant spirits endure, and their bond strengthens, despite their bleak circumstances. 

But when the institution begins running sterilization experiments on the girls, Nellie, Daisy, and Lou must fight back against The Matron and her superiors before it’s too late.

“We Were Dangerous,” executive produced by Taika Waititi, isn’t a downbeat film,  despite the tough subject matter. Stewart-Te Whiu positions the lead characters as heroes resisting the systems trying to shape their identities, complete with a surprisingly light touch that works as its own sort of defiance against their grim reality and the morose nature of many period dramas. 

It’s definitely a choice that risks sugarcoating the timely issues on display if used in the wrong hands. Luckily, the performances and rich visuals give “We Were Dangerous” a soulful weight that elevates the sometimes archetypal nature of a screenplay that, for all its wry and rousing sensibilities, can’t quite do justice to the characters at its center.

Stewart-Te Whiu doesn’t wallow in the sadness and horror, but doesn’t underplay it either, striking a seriocomic tone that brings to mind Waititi’s work in its balancing of the harrowing and humorous. “We Were Dangerous” almost plays like a comedy at certain points, with the girls’ wit and playfulness contrasting with The Matron’s ghastly actions and the antiquated ideas of womanhood being forced upon them.  

Cam Ballantyne’s score, too, is lively and energetic, reflecting the continued hope and moments of happiness found scattered amid the abuse and drudgery they endure under The Matron’s watch. María Inés Manchego’s cinematography captures a vivid beauty alongside chilling isolation in the island’s untouched landscapes.

James brings rousing confidence and heartbreaking vulnerability to Nellie, who was forced to attend the school after being caught shoplifting in Christchurch. She had  been sent there by her family to live with a relative, but ultimately left to survive on her own.

Nellie is a surrogate big sister for Daisy, brought to life by Hall with a playful innocence belying Daisy’s trauma and determination to not have her “wild” spirit be tamed. Morris brings a mischievous energy to her performance as Lou, rejected by her well-off family and sent away to the school due to her sexuality.

James, Hall, and Morris have terrific chemistry, and their dynamic is tangible and grounded. It’s easy to buy them as a surrogate family unit, even though Stewart-Te Whiu and Maddie Dai’s screenplay rushes through their initial bonding without giving enough space for it to develop organically. 

Their connection feels a bit schematic as a result, especially during late-game plot beats that half-heartedly explore the risks and benefits of rebellion with the foot firmly on the gas pedal, building towards a near-fantastical conclusion. Indeed, the film’s 82-minute runtime is both efficient and limiting.

Stewart-Te Whiu is clearly intentional with what she focuses on — foregrounding the defiant joy and strong, distinct personalities of the girls above all else — but the film’s insistence on being inspirational also robs more traditionally dramatic character moments of the weight and consideration they deserve.

Narration by The Matron is woven throughout the plot — she explains Nellie, Daisy, and Lou’s backstories through her own point of view, flashbacks included — and while this decision successfully illustrates the contrast between The Matron’s warped worldview and reality, it also condenses these women’s stories to a semi-frustrating degree.

Still, the performances truly elevate the proceedings, revealing complexity not always afforded by the screenplay. 

Te Wiata, for example, chews scenery to a nasty, memorable pulp as The Matron, but we can see for ourselves, through subtle mannerisms, the self-hatred that percolates as a result of embodying the misogyny she was herself indoctrinated into as a young Māori teenager once searching for purpose — perhaps recognizing that it’s easier to conform than to embrace her own individuality.

Suffice to say, “We Were Dangerous” is an imperfect film, but one that features shades of greatness and that tells a worthy story while (in some respects) bucking convention. It’s disappointing that Stewart-Te Whiu opts for speed rather than necessary patience, but this remains both a serious-minded and life-affirming film that, especially in today’s troubled times, we can all take something from right now.

“We Were Dangerous” is a 2024 drama directed by Josephine Stewart-Te Whiu and starring Erana James, Manaia Hall, Rima Te Wiata, Nathalie Morris, and Stephen Tamarapa. Its runtime is 1 hour, 22 minutes, and it’s currently unrated. It opens at the Hi-Pointe Theatre May 9. Alex’s Grade: B

‘Misericordia’ Is An Entertaining, If Bizarre, Drama of Desire

‘Misericordia’ Is An Entertaining, If Bizarre, Drama of Desire

By Alex McPherson

Infused with wry humor and gradually mounting dread, director Alain Guiraudie’s “Misericordia” is a fascinating drama in which repressed urges and human fallibility come bubbling to the surface in quietly bonkers fashion. 

We follow Jérémie (Félix Kysyl), an attractive, mild-mannered, yet unpredictable man traveling from Toulouse to the picturesque countryside village of Saint-Martial for the funeral of his late boss Jean-Pierre, who ran the village bakery. The baker’s widow, Martine (Catherine Frot), invites Jérémie to spend the night in the room previously occupied by her hot-headed son, Vincent (Jean-Baptiste Durand). Vincent is disoriented by Jérémie’s reappearance, and he’s weirded out that his former “pal” doesn’t seem to want to leave Martine’s house. 

It’s clear that Jérémie and Vincent shared (or share) some connection beyond the platonic. Their roughhousing session in the nearby forest, for example, carries a homoerotic charge that’s difficult to deny. But Jérémie apparently isn’t interested in rekindling their nascent bond, and Vincent grows increasingly paranoid that Jérémie actually has his eyes set on Martine — who recognizes that Jérémie had and continues to have feelings for her late husband. Both Jérémie and Martine lovingly admire pictures of him in a Speedo, and Martine even lets Jérémie wear Jean-Pierre’s clothes.

Jérémie continues to stay in Saint-Martial, wandering through the village hunting for mushrooms and slowly inciting confusion wherever he goes. Jérémie hits on Walter (David Ayala), an unkempt older man who’s also Vincent’s best friend, despite the fact that Walter claims he treated him poorly in the past.

Film/ Misericordia

Vincent’s anxiety continues to grow and, soon enough, a web of desire, violence, and forgiveness manifests, especially when the idiosyncratic local abbot, Philippe (Jacques Develay), floats onto the scene, drawn to Jérémie’s mysterious and strangely threatening energy.

What follows is a sensory, deliberately paced slice of absurdism whose weirdness builds scene by scene as Jérémie, returning to his roots, causes turmoil in the bucolic Saint-Martial — chipping away at the boundaries between spoken and unspoken urges to decidedly strange results. “Misericordia” (Latin for mercy or compassion) explores the power and perils of desire held back by societal/cultural expectations. The film walks a tightrope between the comic and downright sinister, operating by its own twisted logic.

Guirardie avoids spoon-feeding us what these characters, especially Jérémie, are ultimately after. Rather, “Misericordia” renders literal their internal feelings in its own understated, but nonetheless mischievous fashion. The film teases out characters’ true feelings in pointed glances, deadpan dialogue, and perverse symbolism (particularly regarding mushrooms), within a fairytale-esque environment in the midst of transition not unlike the characters themselves.

From the opening moments, in which Claire Mathon’s richly textured cinematography takes us into Saint-Martial from the POV of Jérémie’s car — driving in pitch-blackness through winding streets, setting an ominous tone from the outset as we’re not sure what awaits beyond each turn — “Misericordia” establishes Jérémie as a foreign presence disrupting the equilibrium of the village. 

He seems unassuming enough, at least initially; Kysyl brings an oddly calming, yet inscrutable energy to the character, rendering Jérémie immediately likeable but difficult to read. But every action is deliberate. Despite the film’s languid pacing, Guiraudie doesn’t waste our time, encouraging us to read between the lines to identify the messiness beneath seemingly banal interactions that, when revealed, are both shocking and darkly hilarious.

Without spoiling too much, Jérémie gets in some serious hot water. Much of “Misericordia” consists of him trying to weasel his way out of trouble via lies and misdirection in various “low-stakes” (but high-stakes) conversations that teeter dangerously close to chaos and which are enjoyably uncomfortable.

The ensemble is perfectly calibrated to Guiraudie’s rhythms — Frot is especially effective as the welcoming but knowing Martine, and Develay as the quirky abbot unable to embrace his true passions. 

Guiraudie’s tactile filmmaking and the precisely tuned performances keep suspense high and the dark humor higher, as “Misericordia” zeroes in on the lengths to which we’re willing to overlook treachery for what we truly believe in, as well the unknowability of people when societal constructs of “normalcy” are stripped away, sometimes literally.

This is a dark story, but Guiraudie mines plentiful humor even in the film’s most unsettling moments. It’s amusing just to see what shenanigans these unassuming characters stumble into, subverting expectations to a ballsy, likely polarizing degree.

“Misericordia,” at some points, feels more like a dream than a traditional narrative, guided and framed through the psychologies of its characters rather than by traditional conventions. The film is patiently edited and easy to become lost in without the freneticism that impacts much of what graces the multiplex. Guiraudie ensures we’re in good hands, and, if we’re willing to embrace the eccentricity, there’s much to appreciate about his film, one whose mysteries enthrall long after the last mushrooms are plucked from the forest floor.

“Misericordia” is a 2024 dark comedy and psychological drama written and directed by Alan Guiraudie, starring Felix Kysyl, Catherine Frot, David Ayala, Jacques Develay, and Jean-Baptiste Durand. It is unrated and the runtime is 1 hour, 44 minutes. The film is French, with English subtitles. It opened at the Hi-Pointe Theatre in St. Louis on April 18. Alex’s Grade: A.

‘Death of a Unicorn’ Is A Horror Satire That’s Not Quite Sharp Enough

‘Death of a Unicorn’ Is A Horror Satire That’s Not Quite Sharp Enough

By Alex McPherson

Coasting slightly above mediocrity thanks to delightfully unhinged performances from Will Poulter and Richard E. Grant, director Alex Scharfman’s “Death of a Unicorn” is neither sharp nor poignant enough to leave a lasting mark amid its “Eat the Rich” contemporaries.

Scharfman’s film centers around recently widowed lawyer Elliot (Paul Rudd) and his college-aged daughter Ridley (Jenna Ortega). At the beginning of the film, they are en route to an estate owned by the Leopolds, owners of a pharmaceutical empire, in the Canadian Rockies. The family’s ailing patriarch, Odell (Grant), might make Elliot a board member of the company if Elliot plays his cards right. 

The relationship between Ridley and Elliot has been strained since the death of Ridley’s mother, with Elliot throwing himself into work at the expense of dealing with his grief. Elliot brings Ridley along as a half-hearted way to reconnect, but he’s really out for financial security. Although the Odells are a vain, nasty bunch, they have boatloads of money.

Elliot and Ridley’s winding, somewhat awkward road trip through the mountains is interrupted, however, when Elliot hits a strange creature with the rental car. Surprise surprise, it turns out to be a unicorn, with purple blood oozing from its flank and a glowing horn.

When they get out of the car to investigate, Ridley touches the horn, which induces a psychedelic, seemingly higher state of being. Ridley’s experience with this dying creature is rudely interrupted by Elliot bludgeoning it with a tire iron, resulting in them both being splattered with its innards. He then loads the corpse into the backseat.

Upon arriving at the Leopolds’ lavish estate, Elliot and Ridley meet up with the frail Odell, his extravagantly dressed wife, Belinda (Téa Leoni), and his son, Shepard (Poulter), a well-sculpted fool covering his inherent cowardice with a veneer of condescending, not-so-slickly deployed bullshit.

They also meet Griff (Anthony Carrigan of “Barry” fame), the Leopolds’ put-upon butler, and their trigger-happy bodyguard Shaw (Jessica Hayes). Ridley, shaken from the encounter with the unicorn, doesn’t greet the Leopolds too warmly. Elliot flat-out ignores Ridley’s concerns to get what he came there for: Odell signing him on as a company partner. His allergies, which were bothering him on the drive up, are mysteriously gone, as is Ridley’s acne, possibly due to the unicorn’s blood.

The previously dead unicorn re-awakens and is promptly put out of its misery again. Once the Leopolds learn of the unicorn’s magical healing abilities, they experiment with the horn to create a serum able to cure any disease — specifically Odell’s cancer, creating another opportunity to become the most powerful company in the world. Ridley argues against messing with the unicorn further and, sure enough, chaos reigns chéz Leopold, with plenty of horny (pun intended) kills to go around.

“Death of a Unicorn” has a lot on its mind – from navigating grief, to environmental exploitation, to the allure of wealth at the expense of personal morality, to the ever-timely idea of not screwing around with things one doesn’t understand. This, plus being a creature feature referencing such cinematic touchstones as “Jurassic Park” and “Alien.”

The issue is that Scharfman’s feature debut doesn’t effectively weave these themes together, resulting in an experience that’s more milquetoast than exciting when viewed in light of recent skewerings of the rich like “The Menu” and even, for better or worse, “Saltburn,” which seasoned its satire with attention-grabbing panache that’s sorely missing here.

The issues mostly stem from Scharfman’s screenplay, which largely fails to make these characters distinctive against what has come before. Elliot – portrayed with an uncharacteristically dull performance from Rudd – is a frustrating figure from the get-go without motivation or agency to “do the right thing” until the story predictably calls for it.

Ridley, too, is disappointingly plain – all the more frustrating since she’s supposed to be the voice of reason and compassion speaking truth to power. Ortega is firmly in her wheelhouse here, but her familiar bag of tricks (recently seen in “Beetlejuice Beetlejuice,” for example) are bleeding together, with “Death of a Unicorn” not giving her much of any new tools to work with.

The supporting players fare better, though, playing more over-the-top characters to match the outlandish premise. Grant is amusingly unhinged as the vain, pompous Odell, and it’s entertaining to watch his evolution (or de-evolution) from being wheelchair-bound to running around like a crazed madman hungry to capitalize on Elliot and Ridley’s discovery.

Poulter is the real cast highlight in “Death of a Unicorn,” though, absolutely nailing the polo-shirt-wearing, rich boy shtick to a T, particularly in the film’s latter half where he becomes a more active, drug-addled participant in the story. 

Carrigan delivers much of the film’s comedic highlights through his aggravated facial expressions alone, though Scharfman’s script gives Griff more dialogue than he needs to get the character’s feelings across. Sunita Mani as Dr. Batia, one of the people the Leopolds enlist to experiment on the unicorn, provides pathos as she’s forced to risk her life for her employers.

Unfortunately, the supporting cast cannot save the plain nature of Scharfman’s script, which neglects both the shock factor and depth of characterization to stand out amongst its inspirations. While surely relevant to current times, and bringing to mind obvious comparisons with the Sacklers, “Death of a Unicorn” doesn’t lend much depth to anyone beyond the surface level. This isn’t necessarily an issue in itself, but when the rest of the film relies so heavily on tropes (obviously set-up jump scares, clunkily earnest revelations, a drawn-out climax), the characters’ simplicity is distracting.

The unicorns themselves, aside from a heavy reliance on CGI, are creative and disturbing, at least. The film’s cat-and-mouse chase sequences are helmed well enough, and the gore – when Scharfman is confident enough to linger on it – shows glimmers of what “Death of a Unicorn” could have been if it had cut loose from the confines of conventionality.

Indeed, this isn’t a bad film by any means, but there’s little here that lingers once the end credits roll. It does provide fitful moments of catharsis, however, and that’s especially appreciated in today’s crazy times.

“Death of a Unicorn” is a 2025 horror-fantasy-comedy directed by Alex Scharfman and starring Paul Rudd, Jenna Ortega, Tea Leoni, Richard E. Grant, and Will Poulter. It is rated R for strong violent content, gore, language and some drug use, and the run time is 1 hour, 47 minutes. It opened in theaters on March 28. Alex’s Grade: C..

Soderbergh Delivers a First-Rate Spy Drama in ‘Black Bag’

Soderbergh Delivers a First-Rate Spy Drama in ‘Black Bag’

By Alex McPherson

Efficient, well-acted, and sleek as hell, director Steven Soderbergh’s “Black Bag” is pure escapist fun, weaving a tale of messy interpersonal drama into a spy yarn whose dense plotting yields ample rewards.

British intelligence officer George Woodhouse (Michael Fassbender) is a cold, calculating, and loyal specialist who can’t stand liars but takes a certain amount of pleasure in rooting them out. He’s told by his superior, Philip Meacham (Gustaf Skarsgard), that a top-secret software program called Severus has been leaked, and  he’s got to “find the rat” in a week’s time or millions of people will die.

Seems like an easy enough task for George who, when he was 37 years old, investigated his own father (once working at the same institution himself) for having an affair.

The only catch is that Meacham reveals that George’s beautiful and enigmatic wife who also works at the agency, Kathryn St. Jean (Cate Blanchett), is one of the five suspects. This troubles George; he and Kathryn share a deep, intimate bond, based on unwavering trust and loyalty to each other.  Why would she betray him and his country?

George invites the other four individuals — who also happen to be couples — over for dinner and drinks (which include truth serum) hoping to shake loose who leaked Severus. There’s the satellite imagery specialist Clarissa Dubose (Marisa Abela) and her trouble-making boyfriend and managing agent Freddie Smalls (Tom Burke); and wry agency shrink Dr. Zoe Vaughan (Naomie Harris) and her vain partner, the recently-promoted Col. James Stokes (Regé-Jean Page).

This group of horny, mentally troubled spies becomes quickly undone thanks to George’s truth serum: a betrayal is revealed, and a hand is promptly stabbed with a knife. But George’s mission isn’t accomplished, and as the plot thickens — especially when the agency’s haughty and slick-haired boss Arthur Stieglitz (Pierce Brosnan, chewing copious scenery) comes onto the scene — a story of double-crosses, insecurities, and life-or-death stakes reveals itself. Most importantly, though, can George and Kathryn’s marriage survive in a job where the code-word “black bag” conceals all secrets?

Indeed, “Black Bag” uses familiar trappings of the spy genre to tell a story about human connections, both frayed and resilient, delivered with smooth style and an ensemble flaunting their star power in entertainingly self-aware fashion. Soderbergh’s film (his second this year after the thrillingly experimental “Presence”)  is a no-frills endeavor, moving at a fast clip as the twists stack up and remain so damn fun to watch. 

Fassbender shines particularly brightly within the star-studded cast, adding another notch to his “malfunctioning robot” characters, which was most recently personified in David Fincher’s “The Killer.” George is charismatic yet socially stunted, moving with a smooth, often darkly funny determination toward conclusions that might terrify him. His stone-cold façade erodes as he evaluates how much Kathryn ultimately means to him, and the lengths he’s willing to go to protect her.

Blanchett exudes effortless coolness as Kathryn, remaining mysterious yet right at home with George. David Koepp’s script portrays their connection with just enough mystery and ambiguity to keep us on our toes as to Kathryn’s ultimate intentions, testing whether we believe in their enduring bond as surrounding characters’ personal and professional lives fall apart, sometimes spectacularly.

The entire ensemble is excellent, with Abela and Brosnan the clear standouts. Abela makes a meal of Koepp’s crackly, quip-filled script; her Clarissa, unsure how to navigate romance within the spy world along with her own insecurities, is feisty and impulsive. She remains compelled to act for what she considers the greater good. Brosnan, in a seemingly anti-James-Bond role, makes a strong impression despite limited screen time, oscillating between confident and increasingly uncomfortable as the plot spirals further out of control.

The ensemble’s talent carries “Black Bag” a long way, but, even with a lesser cast, there’s still much to appreciate from a stylistic perspective. David Holmes’s electronic score pulses in sync with each new revelation; percussive beats amid jazzy themes symbolically tie into the characters’ eroding disguises.

Scenes are lit with a warm, hazy glow, and Soderbergh — who also handled cinematography and editing — opts for finely-tuned precision, not wasting any time as the labyrinthine plot progresses. The aforementioned dinner scene and a polygraph test later in the film are particular standouts, with Koepp’s script and Soderbergh’s editing working in perfect, tension-filled harmony.

It’s refreshing to see a film like “Black Bag” that trusts viewers to follow along with the characters’ lingo and technology without talking down. The (disquietingly current) geopolitics take a backseat to the characters’ interpersonal happenings.

In its own heightened, somewhat soapy way, “Black Bag” has much to say about romantic relationships and the trust necessary to keep them afloat, even in the treacherous terrain of spy craft. Admittedly, “poignancy” is somewhat sidelined in service of keeping the film’s infectiously enjoyable momentum.    

Clocking in at 93 minutes, “Black Bag” flies by and remains prime for future rewatches — a confident, intelligent, sexy spy story that signals one of the year’s first great films.

“Black Bag” is a spy thriller directed by Steven Soderbergh and starring Michael Fassbender, Cate Blanchett, Rege-Jean Page, Pierce Brosnan, Naomie Harris, Tom Burke, Marisa Abela and Gustaf Skarsgard. It is rated R for language including some sexual references, and some violence, and the runtime is 1 hour, 33 minutes. It opened in theaters March 14. Alex’s Grade: A

‘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.