Jennifer Lawrence is Outstanding in Harsh Character Study ‘Die My Love’

Jennifer Lawrence is Outstanding in Harsh Character Study ‘Die My Love’

By Alex McPherson

An intensely gripping acting showcase for Jennifer Lawrence, director Lynne Ramsay’s “Die My Love” paints an existentially nightmarish picture of motherhood, conformity, and relationships in fateful disarray.

Based on the novel Matate, Amor by Ariana Harwicz, the film follows Grace (Lawrence), a free-spirited and frustrated writer who moves into an old house in rural Montana with her ruggedly handsome but insecure boyfriend, Jackson (Robert Pattinson). The house, nestled within tall grasses and fairy-tale woods, was left to Jackson by his uncle who committed suicide.

It’s seemingly a prime location for Grace and Jackson’s antics; they drink nonstop and have wild sex, fully embracing their physical passions. Before long, Grace is pregnant and gives birth to a baby boy (whom they choose not to name), forever altering the paradigms they exist within.

Grace and Jackson’s relationship begins to crumble. Jackson is away at work for suspiciously long periods, and Grace suspects him of infidelity. Loneliness, emotional detachment, and sexual frustration grow exponentially day by day, with Grace feeling abandoned even when Jackson is at home.

She crawls on all fours like a prowling dog and masterbates in the nearby woods, at one point walking through the plain’s wispy grass, knife in hand, while their son sits unattended on the porch. 

Grace’s new responsibilities and social expectations untether her present self from her former self, with troublingly extreme results. Jackson’s unstable mother, Pam (Sissy Spacek), lives nearby and is grieving her recently-deceased husband (Nick Nolte). She offers Grace some support, but Grace stubbornly refuses to accept help during her postpartum spiral. 

Jackson is also largely clueless and unwilling to change his ways. He and Grace are still drawn to each other, but they’re unable to let go of a toxic cycle of fighting and reconciliation. A mysterious biker (LaKeith Stanfield) living in the area offers the possibility for Grace to indulge her needs.

Melding sheer brutality with sequences of dreamy, sensual beauty, “Die My Love” thrives on its ethereal atmosphere and a show-stopping performance from Lawrence. She inhabits Grace with a wild-eyed intensity and crushing pathos, a woman fallen out of touch with both herself and with “civilized” society writ large. 

Ramsay, known for disquieting character studies, is a prime fit for this portrait of mental decline. “Die My Love” prizes tone over traditional narrative —we’re watching a hypnotizing trainwreck as Grace destroys both herself and her relationships.

Neither Grace nor the people in her orbit have the power to shift her trajectory; she’s as much a byproduct of postpartum depression as she is from the ways that Jackson and the world treat her in her new role as a mother. 

Seamus McGarvey’s cinematography frames the expansive yet confining landscape as foreign and disorienting. The environment often distorts as characters move through space, as if each step renders Grace further divorced from desires she feels forbidden from embracing, with other characters also struggling to find their own paths forward.

There’s a haunting, symbolic quality to the 4:3 aspect ratio and the wide-open surroundings the characters reside within: expansive and limiting, even isolating.

“Die My Love,” not completely unlike Mary Bronstein’s “If I Had Legs I’d Kick You,” does a fantastic job at submerging us into its protagonist’s mind. Ramsay’s filmmaking is at times dreamlike and other times startling in its blunt depiction of Grace’s self-destructive behaviors (animal lovers beware).

Music plays a critical role here, featuring one of the year’s best soundtracks, expressing dread as well as mournful reflection on the idealized life Grace once envisioned she’d have.

Lawrence gives a highly physical performance, from manifesting Grace’s desires through animalistic, “interpretive dance” sequences (that the film plays completely straight), to the peace she feels within the nearby woods away from civilization, and the violent self-hatred that flares unexpectedly.

There’s some bone dry humor in Lawrence’s matter-of-fact delivery. This is especially apparent during a scene where she has a “conversation” with a friendly gas station cashier, although Grace’s wit always reflects her deep-seated malaise.

The screenplay by Ramsay, Alice Birch, and Enda Walsh doesn’t provide much backstory, which puts more emphasis on the intricacies of Lawrence’s performance. Luckily, she is fully up to the task of conveying Grace’s emotional limbo.

Pattinson, not given as much to do as Lawrence, brings a shaggy insecurity that underlines Jackson’s volatility and half-hearted attempts at making amends. Like most other characters in “Die My Love,” Jackson remains unable to truly listen to Grace and understand where she’s coming from, every conversation seemingly creating more distance.

Spacek, too, does a lot with limited screen time; on some level, Pam identifies with Grace’s decline, and supports her efforts for independence even as they threaten Grace’s life.

The problem is that “Die My Love” eventually starts to wear out its welcome in Grace’s perpetual perils. Grace’s “journey” is a downhill slide that won’t stop until it’s all burned down. Ramsay’s film is disconcertingly harsh, alienating viewers through a story about alienation. And, well, isn’t that part of the point? It’s a dark, twisted vision of Hell still worth experiencing.

“Die My Love” is a 2025 psychological thriller directed by Lynne Ramsay and starring Jennifer Lawrence, Robert Pattinson, Sissy Spacek and LaKeith Stanfield. It is rated R for sexual content, graphic nudity, language, and some violent content, and the run time is 1 hour, 59 minutes. It opened in theatres Nov. 7. Alex’s Grade: B+.

‘If I Had Legs I’d Kick You’ Is An Exhausting But Darkly Transfixing View of Motherhood

‘If I Had Legs I’d Kick You’ Is An Exhausting But Darkly Transfixing View of Motherhood

By Alex McPherson

An aggressively unpleasant experience that traps viewers within its protagonist’s tortured psyche, director Mary Bronstein’s “If I Had Legs I’d Kick You” throws us into the void and leaves us to flail. A feverishly commanding performance from Rose Byrne guides us through the pressures of parenthood and a largely uncaring world.

The film focuses on Linda (Byrne), a therapist in Montauk, New York, who is stretched beyond her limits. Her daughter (Delaney Quinn) has a mysterious illness that causes a severe aversion to food and requires a feeding tube apparatus that Linda maintains and monitors every night. Linda’s ungrateful husband, Charles (Christian Slater), who’s in the Navy, is away on a two-month assignment.

It is of course during this time that a leak causes their bedroom ceiling to collapse and flood the house. This gaping hole makes the house unlivable, requiring Linda and her daughter to stay in a seedy motel. It also becomes a metaphorical window into Linda’s traumatic memories

Linda desperately wants doctors to remove her daughter’s feeding tube, but a nurse informs her that her daughter is not meeting her weight requirements, and threatens to “re-evaluate the level of care” that Linda can give her. She’s scolded every day when she double-parks at the daughter’s facility.

Her own patients take a toll (one of them, concerned about motherhood, is clearly on a dark path), and Linda’s own therapist down the hall (a surprisingly intense Conan O’Brien) refuses to take her swirling thoughts seriously. 

The snarky motel clerk (Ivy Wolk) refuses to sell Linda wine late at night, and the curious superintendent (A$AP Rocky) takes a liking to her and wants to strike up a friendship (which Linda immediately refuses). Everything is happening to Linda and she cannot catch a break, as barely-repressed psychological wounds resurface and send her already tenuous illusion of control veering drastically off course.

Catastrophe is around the corner, and Linda — lacking any clear support system — is headed right towards it.

Definitely not all sunshine and rainbows. Through Linda’s perpetually escalating crises, Bronstein explores the crushing psychological weight that Linda faces in every avenue of her life, trapping Linda in a version of Hell that she feels guilty for existing within. Bronstein’s film firmly roots us in Linda’s world, forcing us to view it through her eyes and never providing a sense of catharsis or release. I

t’s an exhausting watch (with an overlong runtime), but its maximalist stylings are viscerally, hauntingly tangible. Byrne’s performance is so strong, and heartbreaking, too, that no matter how intentionally off-putting “If I Had Legs I’d Kick You” gets, it’s difficult to look away.

Byrne  inhabits her  character, who makes impulsive, often questionable decisions that leave her paralyzed despite being constantly in motion. Linda is a complicated, emotionally fractured presence who’s on edge from frame one, barely holding on to her sanity as proceedings grow further frenzied.

Byrne’s comedic chops are put to use through Linda’s acerbic wit, yet we can see the damage being wrought upon Linda’s mind as she code-switches from role to role, trying, unsuccessfully, to keep her mounting dread at bay.

Bronstein keeps the chaos level high from start to finish, with cinematographer Christopher Messina (also the DP on Josh and Benny Safdie’s “Good Time”) remaining uncomfortably closed-in on Linda. This lends a palpable, subjective sense of peril to her actions; we’re seeing her struggles through her eyes.

Sound design plays just as big a role here — we never actually see Linda’s daughter’s face. Instead, we hear her nagging demands and meltdowns off-screen like a burdensome creature that requires Linda’s constant attention.

Sequences within Linda’s house have a horror-esque feel, complete with impressively effective jump-scares, disorienting visual effects, and the mocking, ironic jingle that plays whenever Linda’s office door opens. 

Indeed, “If I Had Legs I’d Kick You” is an alarming cacophony of noise and stress punctuated with bursts of pitch-black humor and sobering poignancy. Parenthood, depression, skewed gender dynamics, isolation, and the pressure that therapists feel are all under Bronstein’s magnifying glass — confronting aspects of motherhood, especially, that aren’t typically portrayed in media, and that people are often too nervous to address. 

The main issue with “If I Had Legs I’d Kick You” is that it starts at such a high key that there’s little crescendo throughout the 113-minute runtime. The domino effect of issues grows almost comical at times (poor hamster), and, after a while, the film starts to spin its gears and become repetitive — complete with a grueling finale that’s both inevitable and deeply distressing.

Still, Bronstein’s film shines as an acting showcase and a manifestation of pure, no-holds-barred cinematic panic. You might just feel completely drained afterwards.

“If I Had Legs I’d Kick You” is a 2025 psychological drama written and directed by Mary Bronstein and starring Rose Byrne, A$AP Rocky, Christian Slater, Delaney Quinn and Conan O’Brien. It’s runtime is 1 hour 53 minutes and it is rated R for for language, some drug use and bloody images. It opened in theatres Oct. 31. Alex’s Grade: B+

Ensemble Astounds in Lanthimos’ Grim Doomscroll ‘Bugonia’

Ensemble Astounds in Lanthimos’ Grim Doomscroll ‘Bugonia’

By Alex McPherson

A nail-biting exploration of the selfishness and deep-seated class enmity afflicting our doomed species, director Yorgos Lanthimos’ “Bugonia” grips from its opening frames and never lets go, even as it grows increasingly, thoroughly unhinged.

Based on the 2003 South Korean film “Save the Green Planet!,” “Bugonia” follows Teddy (Jesse Plemons), a disheveled and emotionally scarred beekeeper working a low-level warehouse job for the pharmaceutical company Auxolith.

The company is managed by the performative, media savvy CEO Michelle Fuller (Emma Stone), whose face appears on magazine covers and who claims to support her employees while stripping them of work-life balance. 

Teddy, who has done his own research, believes that wealthy elites are destroying humanity and the planet. Reasonable, right? Well, not so much. He asserts that they are “Andromedan” aliens, and that he must stop them from wiping us out. Michelle might provide an opportunity to enact his master plan.

With help from his neurodivergent cousin Don (Aidan Delbis), Teddy hatches a plan to kidnap Michelle. If Michelle is an alien, they will force her to beam them into her mothership before the next lunar eclipse so that Teddy can negotiate with her leaders to let humanity be. 

Donning cheap Jennifer Aniston masks and syringes, the pair nab Michelle and lug her to their dingy basement for interrogation, shaving her head and slathering her with anti-itch cream for good measure.

Michelle is, understandably, quite shaken, and confused about what exactly Teddy and Don are ranting about. The clock is ticking for both her and her paranoid kidnappers as the eclipse draws near.

It’s not a particularly rosy view of humanity, and one that Lanthimos — ever the provocateur — packs full of his signature twisted sensibilities that dare viewers to follow along or get the hell out.

Lanthimos and screenwriter Will Tracy present a disquieting allegory for the ways our (very American) communication has broken down amongst each other.

Indeed, “Bugonia” is a relentless but, ultimately, cathartic experience as proceedings swiftly descend into all-out madness, with lead performances that stagger in their intensity and commitment to the plot’s every twist and turn. 

Plemons is startlingly compelling as Teddy, who has gone so far down the rabbit hole of conspiracies and personal vendettas that he’s a ticking time bomb, driven by rage, fear, and a search for purpose.

He believes he’s the savior of Earth while he succumbs to his neuroses, every hitch in his plan emboldening him to act more violently and rashly.

Plemons is frightening and unpredictably cruel in his portrayal, yet Teddy never becomes an outright monster. 

Lanthimos and Tracy paint Teddy as someone wronged by corporations and the lies they spew. He is consumed with grief, self-loathing, and hatred of the “elites” he feels have set the planet on a spiral towards doom.

He acts out on beliefs that are both absurdist and based in emotional truth, rendering his decisions darkly funny and deadly serious, even tragic. 

Stone, too, brings layers to Michelle that complicate our feelings towards her scene to scene. She’s an almost comically condescending character thrust into a situation seemingly beyond her control–that is, until she learns how to manipulate her captors.

She plays into their frayed headspaces in an attempt to regain agency, save herself, and deliver her own cutthroat retribution for the wrongs they committed against her and her “kind” at large. It’s a performance on par with her Oscar-winning turn in “Poor Things”: she maintains a calculated, sometimes vicious edge even in Michelle’s most powerless moments.

Equally strong is Delbis in his feature film debut. Don is trapped within Teddy’s conspiracy-driven world and sees Teddy as his only support and someone who can potentially free him from the hardships of his reality. Don feels that he has no choice but to follow along, although Teddy’s reckless and cruel treatment of Michelle makes him increasingly guilty and frightened.

Shreds of compassion break through, along with a gradual realization of the monstrous actions that he and Teddy have taken. Through Delbis’ superb performance, that bubbling inner turmoil is palpable.

“Bugonia” presents little hope for these characters. Nearly every bizarre conversation (including with a creepy, bumbling cop played by Stavros Halkias) is based in manipulation and misdirection over understanding, the constant sense of ulterior motives and trying to gain the upper hand without meeting the other party on their level.

(L to R) Emma Stone as Michelle, Aidan Delbis as Don and Jesse Plemons as Teddy in director Yorgos Lanthimos’ BUGONIA, a Focus Features release. Credit: Atsushi Nishijima/Focus Features

There’s little common ground, and what common ground exists is paved over with different terrain, which reflects America’s condition in 2025. Through this, Lanthimos shrewdly, and effectively, observes the end of “truth” as we know it. 

The film is stylistically crisp yet abrasive, with Robbie Ryan’s wide-lensed cinematography opting for extreme close-ups and angling to reflect ever-shifting power dynamics. A memorably jarring score by Jerskin Fendrix, plus creative use of Chappell Roan and Marlene Dietrich, enhances the film’s gonzo atmosphere

Add to this an ending that ranks among the most twisted (and horrifically beautiful) in recent memory, and “Bugonia” is a wild viewing experience — making up for broad-strokes commentary with exceptionally tense filmmaking, gasp-worthy set-pieces, and outstanding performances.

It’s an understatement to say that the film is not for everyone, but, in its pessimistic glory, it stands among Lanthimos’ most engagingly disturbed efforts yet.

“Bugonia’ is a 2025 dark comedy-sci-fi film directed by Yorgos Lanthimos and starring Emma Stone, Jesse Plemons, Aidan Delbis and Brad Carvalho. It’s run time is 2 hours, 15 min., and it is rated R for bloody violent content including a suicide, grisly images and language. It opened Oct. 31 in theatres. Alex’s Grade: A-

Kathryn Bigelow’s Chilling ‘A House of Dynamite’ Is a Frightening Warning

Kathryn Bigelow’s Chilling ‘A House of Dynamite’ Is a Frightening Warning

By Alex McPherson

A bleak and palm-sweating look at just how profoundly screwed we all are, director Kathryn Bigelow’s “A House of Dynamite” refuses to answer its impossible questions about nuclear war, and urges reflection on the chaos and fatalism of our current fractured reality.

The film, a work of fiction that remains chillingly plausible, zeroes in on the question: What if a nuclear warhead launches from an unknown location in the Pacific for an unknown reason, and is en-route to Chicago with only 18 minutes until impact?

It’s an eventuality that many personnel in the windowless facilities of the government have been trained to deal with, but can they put theory into practice when the beginning of the end is at hand? Is anyone prepared to endure the fallout? 

Bigelow’s film repeats those 18 minutes three times from different perspectives within a series of situation rooms and command-and-control suites from Alaska to Washington, D.C., going up the chain of command until we reach the President (Idris Elba).

Military and civilian personnel — portrayed by an impressive ensemble including Anthony Ramos, Rebecca Ferguson, Moses Ingram, Tracy Letts, Jared Harris, Greta Lee, and Gabriel Basso, among others —  scramble to make sense of and neutralize the threat before it’s too late. The President struggles to decide what to do next should that missile actually hit Chicago. 

Time is of the essence, and these trained staff are susceptible to buckling under the weight of what’s headed their way. They are ultimately powerless no matter their rank, and an uncertain future is in the trembling hands of the Commander in Chief. As one flummoxed NSA advisor puts it, the options are either surrender or suicide.

The stakes are dreadfully high, and, despite some unnecessary flourishes, Bigelow refuses to reassure us. Indeed, “A House of Dynamite” is a warning about our (and the world’s in general) precarious situation involving nuclear weapons, as well as a high-strung look at the ways procedures and moral clarity can crumple when theory is put into practice.

Not exactly a “jovial” viewing experience, and one ripe for debate. Still, it’s compulsively entertaining— bringing the scenario to life with a vigorous attention to detail and layered structure that builds toward an integral choice. Bigelow is firmly in her wheelhouse here, supported by acting and production value wholly up to the task.

Bigelow and screenwriter Noah Oppenheim aren’t aiming to make a “satire” here à la Stanley Kubrick’s “Dr. Strangelove.” Rather, the officials depicted in “A House of Dynamite” are skilled at their jobs, many with families at home dealing with familiar, relatable challenges. 

The meaningful, albeit brief, insight into their personal lives before the ICBM is detected furthers the idea of these officials being people at the end of day — that no matter their rank, they are capable of fault just like the rest of us.

Their success in this situation, as depicted in this film, is also ultimately as much dependent on luck as their competence; the advanced technology they have at their disposal can only help them so much, too, as unknowns about the missile’s origins and what they should do if it strikes Chicago are left frustratingly opaque.

Bigelow, having consulted with several ex-Pentagon officials, brings a fly-on-the-wall verisimilitude to her direction, with cinematography by the legendary Barry Ackroyd (a frequent Paul Greengrass collaborator) that adds an effectively shaky, almost documentary-esque realism to the proceedings from start to finish.

“A House of Dynamite” is primarily composed of conversations, but fraught ones, backed by a rattling, slightly overused score by Volker Bertelmann (similar to his work in “Conclave”) that lends extra tautness. 

The film’s triptych structure adds additional context to what we’ve heard and seen before. Bigelow and Oppenheim visualize the series of checks of balances at play, and the reality that those systems cannot save us.

It’s all effectively nerve-jangling, stressful, and draining through the film’s insistence on going through those 18 minutes three different times — ending on a note that encourages conversation, or, perhaps more likely, shocked silence. Less impressive are the occasional “Hollywood” lines of dialogue that break the illusion of real-life that Bigelow works hard to maintain.

But with such an outstanding cast — Ferguson, Letts, and Elba are particular standouts — it’s difficult to become too distracted by the script’s intermittent clunkiness.

“A House of Dynamite” has additional resonance when thinking about what our current governmental administration would do in the same position. Even with experts at the helm in this film, though, doom is possible if we continue down the same path, alongside procedures that are far from foolproof. Bigelow presents a dire message, and it’s extremely hard to take your eyes off the screen.

“A House of Dynamite” is a 2025 political thriller directed by Kathryn Bigelow and starring Idris Elba, Rebecca Ferguson, Jared Harris, Anthony Ramos, Jason Clarke, Tracy Letts, and Gabriel Basso. The film is rated R for language and run time is 1 hour, 52 minutes. It opened in theatres Oct. 10 and streams on Netflix Oct. 24. Alex’s Grade: B+.

Benny Safdie Swings and Misses in ‘The Smashing Machine’

Benny Safdie Swings and Misses in ‘The Smashing Machine’

By Alex McPherson

Plenty of punches are thrown but few connect in Benny Safdie’s solo directorial debut “The Smashing Machine,” an awards-hungry drama that sacrifices depth for dress up.

Safdie’s film focuses on Mark Kerr, one of the original American Ultimate Fighting Championship fighters, from 1997 to 2000. When we first meet Mark, he’s the hulking yet surprisingly vulnerable undefeated champ who cannot fathom the concept of losing. He appears almost gentle in his public interactions, yet he remains a force of nature in the ring with a messy life behind the scenes.

He’s accompanied by his girlfriend, Dawn Staples (Emily Blunt), with whom he shares a decidedly unstable relationship. They struggle to navigate the effects of Mark’s celebrity status, Dawn’s attempts to support him, and Mark’s addiction to painkillers.

Mark decides to take part in PRIDE to make more money, the rival UFC league in Japan, with his wrestling BFF Mark Coleman (real-life MMA fighter Ryan Bader). But Mark’s addiction takes its toll, and he loses focus, leading to his first major loss — well, a “No Contest” ruling by the judges.

This sends Mark into a tailspin. His public image is being chipped away, and his already rocky personal life veers down new chaotic avenues. Mark finally goes into rehab and emerges 21 days later (a time jump that the film abruptly cuts to) ready to redeem himself at PRIDE. But can Mark win the championship once and for all, and potentially beat up-and-coming Coleman?

Familiar and slightly-less-familiar beats follow, leading up to, ahem, not all that much to think about. Safdie, one-half of the team that brought us high-throttle stress fests “Good Time,” “Heaven Knows What,” and “Uncut Gems,” takes an unusually surface-level look at Mark’s life in “The Smashing Machine.”

It’s an ostensibly “raw” approach that comes off as curated and sanitized. At least Johnson and Blunt give impassioned performances that are perfect for Oscars highlight reels.

As an opportunity to showcase his acting muscles alongside his actual ones, Johnson delivers. He convincingly showcases the various “sides” of Mark scene to scene as he navigates his public persona and private realities, bringing an intensity and vulnerability (with the help of some impressively detailed makeup) that pairs effectively with Maceo Bishop’s rugged cinematography.

Blunt, too, is intense and volatile as Dawn. The confrontations between Mark and Dawn  are where “The Smashing Machine” succeeds most, as Safdie’s screenplay keeps who we’re “rooting for” in flux as the couple navigates the effects of Mark’s sobriety with often explosive results. 

Indeed, when “The Smashing Machine” focuses in on Mark’s vices, vanity, and loneliness after not being able to maintain the carefully-sculpted façade he’s spent years working towards (particularly during the first half), it succeeds where it counts.

Safdie’s voyeuristic approach brings an uncomfortable immediacy that’s emotionally taxing to watch (in a good way), and the film’s period-accurate stylings and music give it a grimy sense of pizazz; the fights themselves are viscerally well-choreographed, lent extra force by Nala Sinephro’s percussive, restless score.

As soon as Mark goes through the rehab center’s doors, though, Safdie winnows the narrative down to a much more digestible framework, zapped of thematic heft. Mark’s journey from addiction to sobriety largely takes place behind (literal) closed doors, and the nuances of that growth are locked within. 

Perhaps the real-life Mark Kerr, who worked as an “informal consultant” on the film, had reservations about just how much Safdie could reveal about his story — seeing the “before” and “after” is definitely a choice, one that skips over a crucial element of Mark’s journey and the courage his recovery requires.

Mark’s eventual self-compassion and acceptance arrives, but, given the film’s lack of meaningful connective tissue, his evolution is merely seen, not felt, or fully understood.

Not every film has to be about something grandiose or particularly important. Wanting to shine light on a sport’s early pioneer is a noble enough goal. With the pedigree of a Safdie brother in the director’s chair, “The Smashing Machine” had the potential to hit hard. All this film leaves us with, though, is a sense of half-developed feeling — lots of yelling and period-accurate immersion lacking much to reflect on once the end credits roll. Oh well, maybe Johnson will get that Oscar.

“The Smashing Machine” is a 2025 sports biopic written and directed by Benny Safdie and starring Dwayne Johnson and Emily Blunt. Rated: R for language and some drug abuse. its runtime is 2 hours, 3 minutes. The film opened in theatres Oct. 3. Alex’s Grade: C.

June Squibb And Erin Kellyman Excel In Scarlett Johansson’s Shaky Feature Debut ‘Eleanor the Great’

June Squibb And Erin Kellyman Excel In Scarlett Johansson’s Shaky Feature Debut ‘Eleanor the Great’

By Alex McPherson

Even a top form June Squibb can’t quite save director Scarlett Johansson’s “Eleanor the Great,” a dramedy that can’t reconcile its disparate tones.

Johannson’s directorial debut stars the 94-year-old Squibb as Eleanor Morgenstein, a snarky Jewish widow sharing an apartment in a Florida retirement complex with her best friend, Bessie (Rita Zohar). The two are happy together, with Eleanor finding particular enjoyment in nagging the neighborhood “youths” with her bubbly-faced, acerbic wit.

In quieter moments, though, Bessie battles inner demons and trauma. Bessie, also a widow, is haunted by her experience during the Holocaust, sometimes sharing harrowing stories of death and survival with Eleanor that she has never told anyone else. This delayed “catharsis” clearly eats away at her.

When Bessie dies unexpectedly, Eleanor is, understandably, deeply shaken. She moves back in with her divorced, perpetually stressed daughter Lisa (Jessica Hecht) and grandson Max (Will Price) in their small New York apartment.

Besides mercilessly judging Lisa from the get-go, Eleanor’s loneliness rapidly creeps in, and she feels adrift without Bessie by her side. Lisa signs Eleanor up for a senior’s social group at the local Jewish community center, hoping to get her out of the apartment and help her make new connections. 

Things get wonky when Eleanor accidentally wanders into a support group for Holocaust survivors and, impulsively, decides to claim Bessie’s experiences as her own. Eleanor gets the attention of NYU journalism student Nina (Erin Kellyman), who sits in on the support group hoping to write a story for class and connect with her own Jewish roots. She quickly decides that Eleanor would be the perfect person to center for her article. 

Nina is also grieving her mother who recently passed away. She’s currently living in an apartment with her news reporter father, Roger (a typically excellent Chiwetel Ejiofor), who has grown increasingly distant since the loss. 

Despite some initial reluctance, Eleanor sparks up a friendship with Nina, and the two grow close. Eleanor’s lie gives Nina the chance to grapple with her own grief, and find solidarity with a pseudo-parental figure.

But as Eleanor continues this falsehood of being a Holocaust survivor, it’s only a matter of time until the truth is revealed. Eleanor’s connections and newfound sense of belonging are in serious jeopardy.

But not all that much jeopardy. As it turns out, Johansson’s film is content to bring up thorny topics of truth, love, aging, and trauma without fully exploring them, awkwardly positioning its “‘Dear Evan Hansen’ for the Holocaust” thread alongside a lighthearted story of intergenerational friendship.

The former almost seems too much for Johansson and screenwriter Tory Kamen to handle; they refuse to reckon with the darker implications of Eleanor’s lie and the effects it has on those who believe her. “Eleanor the Great” ultimately eschews true introspection for a schmaltzy resolution that sands down ambiguity for the sake of convenience. Still, there’s enough impactful performances and wry humor to hold mild interest.

Squibb, coming off the heels of last year’s sleeper hit “Thelma,” carries most of Johansson’s film, punchily delivering Eleanor’s barbed insults and judgy asides in another strong late-career performance. She also embodies how Eleanor’s lie gradually eats away at her and her gradual recognition of how it represents her own grief.

Squibb’s commanding, confident screen presence, “innocence” belying impulsion and cynicism, anchors even the most over-explanatory dialogue from Kamen’s screenplay — if only “Eleanor the Great” had trusted Squibb further to convey Eleanor’s inner concerns in a more subtle fashion rather than having both Eleanor and other characters bluntly spell them out for us.

Kellyman holds her own alongside Squibb, bringing fresh-faced energy and deep wells of grief, with Johansson’s unobtrusive, albeit bland direction and Kamen’s gentle screenplay believably selling the characters’ friendship.

It’s in these moments — where Eleanor imparts worldly wisdom to Nina, and the two of them explore New York City together — where “Eleanor the Great” shines as the uplifting film it could have been without the baggage of its darker elements.

It’s not that Johansson and Kamen shouldn’t be commended for attempting to explore such a weighty topic as the Holocaust, but “Eleanor the Great” too often remains stuck in an inter-genre limbo that never figures out what it wants to be.

Yes, it’s admirable that Johansson cast real-life survivors of the Holocaust for Bessie and the support group. Yes, scenes where Zohar recounts Bessie’s history (through flashback) are raw and gripping, particularly in the film’s final stretch.

But “Eleanor the Great” lets Eleanor herself off the hook too easily, particularly in its predictable generalizations about grief’s many different forms, leaving the more ambiguous consequences of Eleanor’s decisions to viewers’ imaginations.

The tonal whiplash is striking, prompting off-kilter vibes that “Eleanor the Great” can’t shake. Squibb and Kellyman make a dynamic pair, though, and the film’s rickety yet ultimately familiar shape makes it a passable enough, not “great,” time at the movies.

“Eleanor the Great” is a 2025 drama film directed by Scarlett Johansson and starring June Squibb, Erin Kellyman, Rita Zohar, and Chiwetel Ejiofor. It is 1 hour, 38 minutes, and rated PG-13 for thematic elements, some language, and suggestive references. It opens in theatres Sept. 26. Alex’s grade: B-.

Sports Horror Film ‘Him’ Is a Half-Hearted Tackle

Sports Horror Film ‘Him’ Is a Half-Hearted Tackle

By Alex McPherson

Alternately goofy and self-serious, director Justin Tipping’s “HIM” fumbles intriguing ideas and crash lands into a barren field of mediocrity.

Executive produced by Jordan Peele — but, crucially, not directed by Peele — “HIM” follows rising football quarterback star (and emotionally stunted hunk) Cameron “Cam” Caid (Tyriq Withers). Cam is entering the pro draft, hoping to be recruited by his favorite team, the San Antonio Saviors.

Cam has worshiped the Saviors since he was a child, particularly their star quarterback Isaiah White (Marlon Wayans). Isaiah suffered a gruesome injury on live television years ago yet recovered enough to play another 14 years and rack up eight championship rings. Cam’s demanding, masculine father reproached young Cam from looking away when Isaiah’s injury happened, instilling in him a twisted idea of what a “real man’s sacrifice” looks like and a drive to become the next GOAT.

In the present day, Cam is close to achieving that goal, but his father has passed away. He’s supported by a doting team including his mother, high-school-sweetheart girlfriend, and slippery manager (a somewhat out-of-place Tim Heidecker). There’s even rumors that White might be stepping down, giving Cam a prime opportunity to replace him.

One night, as Cam trains to take part in a pre-draft scouting “combine,” he’s surprise-attacked by a samurai-costumed being wielding a giant hammer, giving Cam some good ol’ CTE and apparently dashing his chances of joining the big leagues.

All is not lost (yet), as Cam suddenly receives an invitation from the all-powerful Isaiah himself to join him for a week-long training/rehab program at his off-putting New Mexico compound. Cam is thrilled and filled like childlike glee, but soon finds himself out of his depth. Suffice it to say, it’s not a particularly great sign when he’s jump-scared by freaky-looking fans en route to the compound in the middle of the desert. Cam doesn’t think too much of it, or much of anything, for that matter.

Isaiah swiftly takes Cam under his wing with persuasive philosophizing, homoerotic tension, and demanding, increasingly bloody training exercises under the guise of “becoming the best,” all while his devoted assistant Marco (Jim Jefferies) jabs Cam with syringes full of unknown substances and Cam loses touch with the outside world. The situation gets crazier by the minute. Will Cam come to his senses, or is the allure of becoming “Him” worth the sacrifice?

The notion of exploring the dehumanizing horrors of America’s favorite pastime is rich, if not particularly novel, and “HIM,” with its unbridled maximalism, runs into its themes head on. It’s a mélange of excess, though, that often resembles a prolonged, gory, “edgy” music video — abandoning earned emotion for bludgeoning and cliché-ridden horror that quickly wears thin.

Indeed, “HIM” is a mixed bag. Each instance of visual creativity and trippily impressive scene-setting is offset by wooden dialogue and emotionally-leaden performances (with the exception of an enjoyably off-his-rocker Wayans) that rapidly chip away at the worthy topics that Tipping and co-screenwriters Skip Bronkie and Zachary Akers have on their minds. It’s all style, stitched together with hyperactive editing by Taylor Joy Mason that resorts to convenient, rushed montage with a heavy background of hip hop as Cam’s bootcamp progresses. 

The film’s “experiential” qualities are still sometimes arresting; giallo-inflected freakouts and X-ray bone-breakage in a brutalist, alien-like setting that Tipping and production designer Jordan Ferrer clearly had fun with concocting. Cam never quite gets his footing, and, perhaps fittingly, neither do we, caught up in a swirl of weirdness that’s intoxicating for Cam, yet tiresome for everyone else involved.

Management of tone, or the lack thereof, is perhaps the film’s most glaring flaw, oscillating back and forth between broadly satirical and deadly serious, frequently taking pains to revel in shock imagery and inserts that grow repetitive while losing any fear-inducing impact along the way. 

Withers’ uneven performance adequately sells the gradual “loss” of who Cam used to be, even as the script resorts to exposition dumps and familiar trauma-dependent backstory as a last-ditch effort to pump some pathos into the narrative by the third act. On the other side of the spectrum, Wayans, plus Julia Fox as Isaiah’s unstable wife Elsie, fully lean into the narrative’s absurdity with intermittently amusing results; too bad the screenplay lacks any real character of its own.

There’s admittedly fun to be found in how “HIM” explores football as a suffocating, pseudo-religious experience where the gods of capitalism manipulate the vulnerable while fighter jets zoom overhead spouting red, white, and blue smoke.

No spoilers, but the final scene is quite a spectacle, bringing together the film’s heavy-handed metaphors for a glorious display of incendiary violence that’s fully self-aware. But Tipping, as of now, is no Peele, and “HIM” is most assuredly no touchdown.

“Him” is a 2025 sports horror film directed by Justin Tipping and starring Marlon Wayans, Tyriq Withers, Julia Fox, Tim Hedecker. It is 1 hour, 36 minutes, and rated R for strong bloody violence, language throughout, sexual material, nudity and some drug use. It opens in theatres Sept. 19. Alex’s grade: C-.

PopLifeSTL Picks Weekly: Sept. 1 – 7

PopLifeSTL Picks Weekly: Sept. 1 – 7

Dateline: Sept. 1
By Lynn Venhaus, Alex McPherson, C.B. Adams and Carl “The Intern” Middleman

Are we ready to cross into the spooky season? And no, I don’t mean the pumpkin-spice aisle at the grocery store. (And besides, aren’t you stockpiling Halloween candy like sensible adults?). In the pop culture universe, we’re buzzing about film festivals, new television season, live theatre coming our way, and outdoor fall activities.

Here’s Round 3 of our new endeavor — our curated weekly round-up guaranteed fresh every Monday on our website and in your inbox. (Or in case of holidays, Tuesday. We hope you not only enjoy but spread the word – we’d like to reach as many fellow Popsters as we can.

This newsletter features links to our recent online works, in other publications, and heads’ up tips on what’s ahead, is meant to serve as a guide for you navigating an extensive ‘what to watch, go, see, do” that the universe is beckoning us to check out.

Now Showing:
Our timely film reviews so you can decide what’s worth your time and money.

Caught Stealing: Austin Butler’s star charisma enlivens a scruffy, grungy, brutal chase through late 90s New York. Mayhem ensues in a bloody treasure hunt.

Zoomer and Boomer Takes:

Alex review: https://poplifestl.com/darren-aronofsky-takes-a-detour-in-hyperviolent-crime-thriller-caught-stealing/
Lynn review: https://poplifestl.com/austin-butler-drives-dark-comedy-action-thriller-caught-stealing/

Hamilton: To celebrate its 10th anniversary on Broadway, the filmed version of the musical, which premiered on Disney + during the pandemic on July 1, 2020, will be available in local theatres, and will feature a cast reunion special feature.

I consider :“Hamilton,” which I’ve now seen three times, to be the greatest live theatrical experience of my lifetime. Here is my review of the 2020 movie: https://poplifestl.com/hamilton-the-movie-meets-the-moment/

“This view has new opportunities for discovery, to marvel at Miranda’s attention to detail and his nimble storytelling. The recurring themes and repetitive nature of the score add texture to the rhythms and harmonies, and the cast’s enunciation and verbal dexterity is remarkable.” – Lynn

New to Streaming:

“The Thursday Murder Club” — charming -2-hour comedy-mystery with an all-star British cast on Netflix, including Helen Mirren, Pierce Brosnan, Ben Kingsley, Celia Imrie, Jonathan Pryce, David Tennant, Naomi Ackie and Think “Knives Out” meets “The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel.”

Here’s Lynn’s review on KTRS Aug. 29: (My segment starts at 34:30 and ends at 49:30)

The mystery may be by the book,  but the team in the retirement home solving cases is a delight to watch — Helen Mirren, Pierce Brosnan, Ben Kingsley and Celia Imrie (you know her from The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel movies and Bridget Jones).

The great Jonathan Pryce plays Helen Mirren’s husband who has dementia and Naomi Ackie plays a local police officer who is investigating a real murder.

I had fun watching them all play together on the playground (in this case, a grand old senior living center).

Also on streaming beginning Sept. 5 on Apple TV+:– “Highest 2 Lowest,” the latest collaboration between Spike Lee and Denzel Washington, filmed energetically in the streets of New York. Here’s Lynn’s review in the Webster-Kirkwood TImes.
https://www.timesnewspapers.com/webster-kirkwoodtimes/arts_and_entertainment/reel_world/highest-2-lowest/article_44478a18-0e77-4ec4-b13d-92c76833c4b5.html

On Stage:Sublime voices, staging so-so. CB Adams review of Union Avenue Opera’s “Salome.” https://poplifestl.com/union-avenue-operas-salome-delivers-power-and-uneven-spectacle/

PopLifeSTL Presents Podcast: Chas Adams joined Lynn this week as Carl the Intern Middleman is on an epic hero’s journey on the Mother Road with his family, and we had a swell time talking with promoter Greg Hagglund of Steve Litman Productions about a Napoleon Dynamite Bash at the District in Chesterfield on Sept. 3.The Napoleon Dynamite Bash is a teaser in preparation for showing the movie on Oct. 9 at The Factory, with cast members Jon Heder (title character), Jon Gries (Uncle Rico) and Efren Ramirez (Pedro) in attendance for a Q&A.

We also enjoyed talking with Eric Dundon from the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra and talk about an epic journey! Their upcoming events this month — unveiling Powell Hall’s additions, the free community concert in Forest Park Sept. 17, and release of their new album with composer in residence Kevin Puts. They have many things going on!

Here’s our jam-packed podcast! https://soundcloud.com/lynn-zipfel-venhaus/august-31st-2025-with-greg-hagglund-slsos-eric-dundon?si=beac0cb47d034e3b9f66ec74673b0eee&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharin

Our Playlist:
We recommend —
Chas: My playlist has been a continuous shuffle of my 200+ song playlist called The Road — tunes with traveling, driving and getting away as the theme or vibe.

Alex: The soundtrack/score for “Inglourious Basterds.”

Carl: Part 2 of the “WKRP in Cincinnati” double feature – this time with Venus Flytrap  https://www.awphooey.com/venus

Lynn: After certifiable musical genius Jon Batiste rocked the Muny Thursday, exuding goodness and light, I’ve been listening to different cuts from several albums. I love the vast scope of his music, but I’ll share his Grammy-nominated song “Butterfly” from his 2024 “World Music” album, live from “Late Show with Stephen Colbert”: https://youtu.be/CR115pxSjWM?si=czO2tsGn51myAWjg

And if you haven’t seen the heart-tugging documentary about Jon and his wife, writer Suleika Jaouad, “American Symphony,” it’s streaming on Netflix. Here is my review: https://poplifestl.com/american-symphony-triumphs-as-tender-look-at-art-life-and-love/

Good Eats and Fun Treats: Fans of “Napoleon Dynamite” can try “Tot Dogs” at Steve’s Hot Dogs in The District at Chesterfield, plus take their photo with a llama on site, enter a look-a-like contest, play trivia and win tickets to the upcoming movie event, and more to celebrate the 2004 cult classic film on Wednesday, Sept. 3, from 5 to 7 p.m.
The Napoleon Dynamite Bash is a teaser in preparation for showing the movie on Oct. 9 at The Factory, with cast members Jon Heder (title character), Jon Gries (Uncle Rico) and Efren Ramirez (Pedro) in attendance for a Q&A.

Rear Window with Jimmy Stewart and Grace Kelly.

The Vault:
Special anniversaries this week –

Sept. 1, 1984: Tina Turner’s single “What’s Love Got to Do with It,” shot to no. 1, his first as a solo artist. Turner, who attended Sumner High School in St. Louis, launched her music career here, singing with Ike Turner’s band.

Sept. 2, 1954: Alfred Hitchcock’s classic thriller Rear Window was released in American theaters. Often imitated. A luminous Grace Kelly takes your breath away.

Sept. 3, 1972: Everybody, sing along! “It was the 3rd of September, that day I’ll always remember.” That’s the first line of The Temptations’ iconic cover “Papa Was a Rollin’ Stone,” which won a Grammy and went to no. 1 on the Billboard Top 100.

Sept. 4, 2002: Kelly Clarkson was crowned winner of the first “American Idol” singing competition show.

Sept. 5, 1976: Jim Henson’s “The Muppet Show” premiered on TV and Mia Farrow was the first guest star.

Sept. 6, 1997: The funeral of Diana, Princess of Wales, was watched by an estimated 2.5 billion people globally. She had died a week earlier, at age 36, in a car accident in Paris on Aug. 31.

Sept. 7, 2008: Jonathan Larson’s Tony and Pulitzer Prize winning musical “Rent” closed after 12 years on Broadway, and 5,123 performances.

The company of ‘The Cottage.’ Photo by Jon Gitchoff.

On Our Radar: What we’re excited about this week.

Chas: I’m looking forward to this week’s return of the Two Reps – The Black Rep and St. Louis Repertory Theatre!

On my radar is the upcoming “Art Work: On the Creative Life” by Sally Mann, one of my top five photographers. Not only is she a stellar artist, but she can also write beautifully. I’ve pre-ordered a hardcover on its Sept. 9 release.

Alex: “Sanatorium Under the Sign of the Hourglass” at the Webster Film Series next weekend (Sept. 5-7).

Carl the Intern: Finishing the last 302 miles of the Route 66 trip from Santa Monica to Chicago.

Lynn: The fall theatrical season kicks off with the farce “The Cottage” at The Rep and the musical “Raisin” at the Black Rep, and I’m excited to see both productions.

“The Paper” starts Thursday on Peacock, and it may become my new favorite show. It’s the new spin-off of “The Office,” and it’s the same documentary crew now at a struggling small-town newspaper in Ohio – the Toledo Truth-Teller. Domhnall Gleeson, plays the new editor-in-chief. After 50 years in news, I may either laugh or cry, or both.Chas:

Where Can You Find Us?

Chas: St. Louis Arts Scene, PopLifeSTL.com, STL Stage Snaps on YouTube and IG, and the socials.

Alex: https://bsky.app/profile/gdogmcp.bsky.social and https://letterboxd.com/gdogmcp/

Carl the Intern: Find me@_CarlTheIntern on IG, X & Threads and on the Big 550 KTRS M-F 5a-10a.

Lynn: KTRS, “The Frank and Jill Show,” every Friday at 11:08 a.m., PopLifeSTL.com, Webster-Kirkwood Times, Alliance of Women Film Journalists (awfj.org), plus Belleville News-Democrat for news and features, St. Louis Magazine for dining contributions, and all the socials.

Darren Aronofsky Takes a Detour in Hyperviolent ‘Caught Stealing’

Darren Aronofsky Takes a Detour in Hyperviolent ‘Caught Stealing’

By Alex McPherson

As it descends further into chaos, director Darren Aronofsky’s crime thriller “Caught Stealing” becomes increasingly muddled; it’s a grimy, mean-spirited film that’s effective in spurts but remains dazed by (literal) hit-or-miss sensibilities.

Based on the book of the same name by Charlie Huston (who also wrote the screenplay), “Caught Stealing” follows 20-something Hank Thompson (Austin Butler), an aimless, alcoholic man tending bar in New York City’s Lower East Side circa 1998.

Hank grew up in a small town in California hoping to become a major league baseball player. At one point years ago, he was close to achieving that dream — but the possibility was shattered when Hank was in a drunk driving accident that resulted in a career-ending knee injury and the death of his teammate.

Cool and sociable, but remaining wracked by a past that he’s too scared to address, Hank carries on well enough in the Big Apple, finding some purpose amid the eccentric clientele of his dive bar, his friends-with-benefits relationship with EMT Yvonne (Zoë Kravitz), and his continued passion for the San Francisco Giants.

Hank’s tenuous stability is threatened by his mohawked, punk-rock neighbor Russ (Matt Smith), who entrusts Hank with caring for his feisty cat, “Bud” (Tonic the Cat), while he visits his ailing father in London. Hank confronts two unhinged Russian mobsters trying to break into Russ’s apartment, and they insist that Russ gave Hank something they want.

Hank is subsequently beaten to a pulp, losing a kidney in the process, along with any hope of peace and safety. Turns out Russ is involved in some shady business with the Russian mob and, more troublingly, the cutthroat Hasidic Drucker brothers (Liev Schreiber and Vincent D’Onofrio), who — as sympathetic but shady narcotics detective Roman (Regina King) informs him — he does not want to encounter if he wants to make it out alive.

Thus begins a blood-soaked comedy of errors with a high body count, as Hank encounters various idiosyncratic people throughout NYC who could quickly end his life.

When the stakes are tragically raised and a large sum of money comes into the picture, Hank must stand up for himself and fight for those he cares about, in a nihilistic crime thriller that also finds room to be resolutely pro-cat in between the grisly violence and frequent bursts of smugly anarchic humor.

“Caught Stealing” represents a departure from Aronofsky, who previously directed such films as “Black Swan,” “Mother!,” and, most recently, the emotionally cruel “The Whale.”

This film, on the other hand, takes a more traditionally entertaining approach, albeit not shying away from brutal beatdowns, crossfire casualties, and traumatic flashbacks.

Aronofsky maintains a tongue-in-cheek tone throughout the carnage, whisking us along to new, high-stakes scenarios as Hank fumbles his way through an increasingly convoluted story that prioritizes momentum over depth, becoming a compulsively watchable crime genre pastiche with little actual meaning.

Fortunately, the film’s ensemble and tactile stylings lift it above the story’s limitations. Butler is a near-perfect lead here, bringing a swagger belying palpable hurt that lends pathos to a character whose traumas are hammered home with obvious force.

Aronofsky and cinematographer Matthew Libatique keep the camera close to Butler, his facial expressions highlighting Hank’s “evolution” in a richer way than the screenplay affords.

Butler’s raw physicality and vulnerability suit the character well, making Hank’s repeated near-death escapes and ability to withstand gratuitous punishment easier to buy into, if only just.

Butler and Kravitz also have red-hot chemistry, particularly in the beginning when Aronofsky lets us sit with these characters for a bit before things spiral out of control. Smith gets time to shine as the perpetually disoriented, live-wire Russ, who slings a near-constant stream of obscenities and has a rather jumpy trigger finger.

Other turns from King, rapper-turned-actor Bad Bunny, and, especially Schreiber and D’Onofrio (clearly relishing their roles) help keep energy high and the film intermittently amusing through its twists and turns. 

“Caught Stealing” doesn’t have the patience to flesh out these characters organically, though; they’re fairly well-drawn but are quickly subsumed into the convoluted machinations of a plot that refuses to slow down once the first punch is thrown.

That’s not necessarily a negative — Aronofsky ensures the film always has some harsh spectacle waiting around the next corner, framed with a gnarly eye and complemented by production value that convincingly transports us back in time to the squalid city streets and dingy locales (although the setting is used more as a backdrop than a key part of the narrative). 

What the film can’t escape is a prevailing sense of pointlessness beyond in-the-moment thrills. “Caught Stealing” becomes rather generic by the end, neatly tying up its threads and rushing through a typically far-fetched climax.

For all its gruesome violence, self-satisfied humor, and sporadic moments of strange earnestness, Aronofsky’s film lacks a true “standout” element, eventually blending together and fading away once the credits roll (the credits are depicted with more eye-catching visual flair than most of the film itself).

But at least Aronofsky is trying something new, even if “Caught Stealing” is far from a clean getaway.

“Caught Stealing” is a 2025 darkly comedic action thriller directed by Darren Aronofsky and starring Austin Butler, Regina King, Zoë Kravitz, Matt Smith, Liev Schreiber, Vincent D’Onofrio, Benito Martínez Ocasio, Griffin Dunne and Carol Kane. It’s rated R for strong violent content, pervasive language, some sexuality/nudity and brief drug use, and the run time is 1 hour, 47 minutes. It opens in theatres on Aug. 29.Alex’s Grade: C+