Mickey 17

Director: Bong Joon Ho
Starring: Robert Pattinson, Naomi Ackie, Steven Yeun, Patsy Ferran, Cameron Britton, Daniel Henshall, Stephen Park, Anamaria Vartolomei, Toni Collette, Mark Ruffalo, Holiday Grainger
Running Time: 137 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★) 

Sometimes a movie just lands with a thud, any initial curiosity factor wearing off as it fades into obscurity following its release. And while flopping at the box office isn't a new phenomenon, the turnaround has gotten progressively faster, with even high quality projects struggling to find a foothold. But when it's a film from the Oscar winning director of one of the more popular and deserving Best Picture winners in years, that's bigger news. Especially since Bong Joon Ho's unfairly overlooked sci-fi satire Mickey 17 seems like the kind of visionary achievement audiences would get behind. 

That mainstream moviegoers passed on it could be viewed as a compliment, or at least proof Bong can still paint on a canvas this large without sacrificing the uniqueness and complexity he brought to his previous work. Based on Edward Ashton's 2022 novel Mickey7, the filmmaker's highly anticipated follow up to Parasite throws a lot at the wall, but much of its philosophical absurdity sticks, with some of its better elements recalling Star Wars, Catch-22, Brazil and Southland Tales. But as chaotic and trippy as this ride is, it never feels disjointed or patched together, its few flaws resulting from a lengthy, overambitious final act that still manages to succeed on its own terms. 

It's 2050 and an awkward, down-on-his luck Mickey Barnes (Robert Pattinson) and his friend Timo (Steven Yeun) find themselves at the mercy of a murderous loan shark who vows to travel the ends of the Earth to exact revenge. So their solution is to leave the planet, joining a shuttle expedition spearheaded by slimy, ex-politician Kenneth Marshall (Mark Ruffalo) and his wife Ylfa (Toni Collette). While Timo becomes a pilot, Mickey volunteers as an "Expendable," sacrificing his life in treacherous jobs, only to be continuously cloned in a reprinting machine to do it all again, memory intact. 

During Mickey's four year trip, he develops a romance with security officer Nasha (Naomie Ackie) as the crew eventually arrive on ice-planet Niflheim to prepare for colonization. But when Mickey's seventeenth incarnation is sent out to capture a native life form known as a "Creeper" for testing, he survives, returning to discover a Mickey 18 has already replaced him. Violating Marshall's rules against "Multiples," Mickey 17 forms a strained alliance with his wilder, more aggressive doppelganger so both can avoid permanent extermination.  

As the colony's guinea pig and literal crash test dummy, an impressionable Mickey begins his journey believing he's escaped the turmoil and oppression on Earth to serve a greater purpose with this assignment. Instead, he'll discover the hand he's been dealt is far worse, occupying the bottom rung of a cruel caste system wherein he's sacrificed to the whims of Marshall's insatiable greed.

Hauled up in claustrophobic living quarters and regularly fed slop for meals, Mickey's been manipulated into accepting his lot without a second thought, much like the rest of the lower class. In a society ruled by an oafish king there's no room for individual thought or resistance, at least until an unexpected turn of events challenges that. An easy target for those who wish to mock him, even Mickey's one supposed friend is indifferent to his suffering, which is creatively depicted in a darkly humorous montage that ends with his latest version being spit out of a giant printer. 

Resigned to the physical and emotional trauma of each demise, Mickey consoles himself with the fact each demise isn't really the end. But in many ways it's worse in that he's a human science experiment, ogled at with a mixture of pity and callous curiosity by his peers. The lone exception is his no-nonsense, resourceful girlfriend Nasha, who sticks by whichever version of him she gets next. 

When number 17 doesn't perish as expected, his interactions with the cynical and rebellious 18 results in crazy, often hilarious shenanigans involving recreational drugs and a compellingly complicated love quadrangle involving Nasha and fellow security agent Kai (Anamaria Vartolomei). There's also an incredible scene where Marshall invites Mickey to a dinner that's not only emblematic of the film's themes, but a turning point for him in truly comprehending his place in this zealot's capitalistic food chain. And since it takes the power of the masses to rise up against tyrannical oppression, much of the third act involves that battle to thwart the clownish dictator's dominance.

Adopting a strangely high-pitched voice, unkempt hair and shy, clumsy body language, the versatile Pattinson is astonishing as this odd outcast we can't help but root for. Carefully skirting the line between comedy and drama, he hits all the right notes in giving what has to be the most intriguing turn of his career. Naomi Ackie is a force as Nasha, injecting heart, loyalty and determination into an unresistant character willing to do anything for Mickey, even if it means jeopardizing her own life. A far less loyal Timo is played to squirrely, double crossing perfection by Yeun while Vartolomei impresses as the good hearted but compliant Kai, torn between her feelings for Mickey and an allegiance to the system. 

Ruffalo's brilliantly off-the-wall performance as this failed politician turned smarmy authoritarian is a riot, with the actor very clearly incorporating Trump-like mannerisms into Marshall's personality and demeanor. Under normal circumstances that could come across as a stunt, but in this sociopolitical farce, it completely works. And Ruffalo doesn't hold back, devouring every scene as this laughably incompetent man child who's just delusional enough to be dangerous. This idea is only bolstered by Marshall's bootlicking minions and conniving wife, portrayed with sarcastic flair by a devilish Collette.

The film's finale is bolstered by Fiona Crombie's production design and some surprisingly strong visual effects for the Creepers, who play an enormously important role in the central plot. Part sci-fi, part scathing social critique, Bong manages to create a wholly original universe that has us both laughing and cringing at the circumstances befalling our hapless, sympathetic hero. But what resonates most is Bong's timely examination of how unchecked technology gives those in power another dangerous tool to control the masses.                       

The Last Showgirl

Director: Gia Coppola

Starring:  Pamela Anderson, Kiernan Shipka, Brenda Song, Billie Lourd, Jason Schwartzman, Dave Bautista, Jamie Lee Curtis
Running Time: 89 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)   

Despite covering somewhat familiar thematic terrain, Gia Coppola's The Last Showgirl manages to stand out as the ideal acting vehicle for 90's pop culture icon Pamela Anderson. And while this casting provides a hook for viewers, it's really her surprisingly moving dramatic performance that leaves the biggest impression. In it, she plays a hopefully optimistic and carefree woman at a crossroads whose past mistakes resurface as she processes shattering news, prompting the reexamination of a life she always considered ideal.

While it's hard to avoid passing judgment on how misaligned this protagonist's priorities have been, she made those choices and begrudgingly defends them from the criticism of those closest to her. The film doesn't tap dance around that fact and neither does Anderson, subtly hinting the character's issues are  rooted in serious regret. Flawed but immensely likable, she pulls us in as we root for her to turn the corner and begin taking real steps toward making amends. 

57-year-old Vegas showgirl Shelly Gardner (Anderson) has been performing for thirty years in Le Razzle Dazzle, a French style revue co-starring younger co-stars Mary-Anne (Brenda Song) and Sue (Kiernan Shipka) and overseen by producer Eddie (Dave Bautista). But when he breaks the news the show's being permanently replaced in two weeks by a burlesque circus, Shelly's devastated. 

While Shelly's complaints about the circus's trashy content fails to land with Mary-Anne and Sue, she finds a sympathetic ear in best friend Annette (Jamie Lee Curtis), an ousted fellow showgirl now working as a cocktail waitress. Financially strapped and seeing few options for future employment, Shelly also struggles to connect with estranged adult daughter Hannah (Billie Lourd), a college senior and aspiring photographer resentful of her mom's absence growing up. Now as Shelly's world crumbles around her, she'll attempt a fresh start, as emotionally painful and challenging as that may be.

It's immediately clear that the women in the soon to be cancelled Le Razzle Dazzle form a small, tight knit family that's common for co-workers spending countless hours together. That's why describing their bond as dysfunctional isn't quite accurate, at least early on. You can tell from the first few scenes they personally and professionally support each other, with Shelly acting as kind of a surrogate mother to Mary-Anne and Sue, regardless of whether they want to admit it. 

With the curtain closing on this revue, we realize Shelly's orbiting a planet that's all her own, as none of her friends seem as heavily impacted by this as she. Much of this has to do with age, but there are other factors both within her control and beyond it that makes the upheaval so traumatizing. Mary-Anne and Sue will quickly land on their feet because they're young, a supposedly less replaceable Eddie already has a gig lined up and the blunt, gambling addicted Annette is done with it all, having been booted from the show years ago. 

Though each of these characters deeply care for Shelly, there is a certain rift that forms between them, especially when she's romanticizing Le Razzle Dazzle's importance. And never envisioning the need to do any other job, she unravels at the mere thought, a fear only compounded by her mistakes as an absent single parent. One of the film's more powerful moments comes when daughter Hannah finally gets to see the show but walks away disgusted her mom somehow chose this over her. 

The girls may look at the self rationalizing Shelly as a mentor, but a generational gap persists, particularly when Song's cynical Mary-Anne clashes with Shelly's rose colored idealism or when Shipka's Sue gets a taste of the aging performer's casual cruelty. Both actresses are really strong in smallish supporting roles, as is an unrecognizable Jamie Lee Curtis, who under garish orange spray tan and a hideous wig masks the pain beneath Annette's tough exterior. As Eddie, Bautista gives yet another quietly understated turn that finds his character delicately balancing the role of producer and ex-boyfriend, awkwardly attempting to help the only way he knows how. 

Any hesitation in framing this as Anderson's "comeback," probably stems from just how infrequently she's been tested before. A far cry from Baywatch or Barb Wire, you can easily draw parallels between this and Mickey Rourke's role in The Wrestler, with both containing elements that mirror the actors' own careers. The ending is ambiguously bittersweet since what follows remains entirely in the main character's hands.  But working from Kate Gersten's script, Coppola molds this into a hypnotizing character study anchored by Anderson's warmth and vulnerability. Like the title showgirl, she's been boxed in as a sex symbol for years, only to now see herself afforded an opportunity at changing that perception.                                         

Death of a Unicorn

Director: Alex Scharfman
Starring: Paul Rudd, Jenna Ortega,Will Poulter, Anthony Carrigan, Sunita Mani, Stephen Park, Jessica Hynes, Téa Leoni, Richard E. Grant, Kathryn Erbe
Running Time: 107 min.
Rating: R

★★½ (out of ★★★★)  

For better or worse, Death of a Unicorn is both everything its title suggests and also somehow a lot less. Making his directorial debut, writer Alex Scharfman immediately gets down to business when a unicorn is struck by a car in what might be the film's most compelling scene, if only because that premise carries so much potential. But after creating an air of mystery surrounding where this story's headed, it unfortunately goes downhill from there.   

Accurately described as a mix of drama, fantasy and action, it's all of those at once, yet plays as a single, irritatingly long joke that runs out of gas before the conclusion. Sure, it's messy, but the repetitiveness makes it feel more like a slog, testing viewers patience with how often one character is continuously ignored and dismissed. That even actors as talented as the film's co-leads can't save this speaks volumes, even if they fare better than expected given the circumstances. 

Widowed lawyer Elliot Kintner (Paul Rudd) takes teenage daughter Ridley (Jenna Ortega) with him to spend the weekend at the estate of his wealthy boss Odell Leopold (Richard E. Grant), also meeting his wife Belinda (Téa Leoni) and son Shepard (Will Poulter). But on the drive over, Elliot accidently hits and severely injures what appears to be a white unicorn with his car. Laying on the road near death, Elliot seemingly puts it out of its misery with a tire iron, though not before Ridley experiences strange visions and halucinations after touching its horn. 

When Elliot and Ridley arrive at the mansion with a unicorn in their trunk, Leopold sees an opportunity to use the creature's magical healing properties to cure his cancer and monetize the treatment, enlisting his family, butler (Anthony Carrigan), assisstant (Jessica Hynes) and a pair of scientists (Sunita Mani and Stephen Park) to help. But while Ridley's research uncovers the true danger of what they're doing, larger, more vicious unicorns look to reclaim their young. With Ridely's warnings falling on deaf ears, Elliot will have to choose between his own daughter and an obsessively greedy boss.  

Scharfman takes the increasingly popular route of satirizing the ultra wealthy, with all their bizarre habits, rituals and obliviousness to how normal people live or behave. This is taken to the extreme once the eccentric Leopolds uncover the potential windfall that awaits from replicating and distributing the unicorn's healing powers. But despite their makeshift lab and the reluctant support of a spineless Elliot, the consequences turn predictably dire.

Up to this point, seeds are planted for what should be an exciting mystery-adventure, until the script starts hitting the same notes. Feigning interest in Ridley, the Leopold clan do their best to shun the only character with a brain, writing her off as a clueless, angsty teen. But that gag's run into the ground when these affluent manipulators are bombarded with evidence that harvesting mystical unicorns isn't the safest idea. 

The gory, chaotic unicorn attacks are accompanied by poor digitized effects, but considering how movies twice this budget often look worse, that's actually not the dealbreaker here. Neither is Rudd, who fares decently in a thankless role, his charisma partially shelved as the uptight Elliot spends most of the picture dutifully following the family's marching orders. 

Ortega is the undeniable star of this, and while she can play moody teens in her sleep by now, she holds the film together as a still grieving Ridley, whose pain is only compounded by a father she can't connect with. Poulter's performance as the spoiled, patronizing nepo baby is also a highlight, but by the time Sheperd gets his, the plot's already preoccupied with redeeming Elliot, who treats his own daughter as badly as the Leopolds. 

Rather than settling on a tone, the story's all over the map, squeezing what it can into a run time that feels longer than its 107 minutes. Luckily, the zany acting turns and occasional flashes of creativity do help keep everything afloat once Scharfman's script flies off the rails in the last two acts. While not quite funny enough to qualify as a comedy, but containing too few scares to pass as horror, its closing minutes feel unearned, leaving us to wonder how much better this could have been with a more consistent vision.

Sinners

Director: Ryan Coogler
Starring: Michael B. Jordan, Hailee Steinfeld, Miles Caton, Jack O' Connell, Wunmi Mosaku, Jayme Lawson, Omar Miller, Delroy Lindo, Peter Dreimanis, Lola Kirke, Li Jun Li, Saul Williams, Yao, David Maldonado, Helena Hu, Buddy Guy
Running Time: 137 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)    

Writer/director Ryan Coogler takes a big swing with his supernatural drama Sinners, which burns slowly until erupting into a full blown horror spectacle. Following a first half that draws favorable comparisons to Killers of the Flower Moon, we're prepared for the possibility this too will be a historical exploration into generational trauma, racism and religion. And it is, only with Coogler taking a wildly different turn to get there, with music functioning as these characters' paths to salvation. 

Sharing a lot more in common with 1996's From Dusk Till Dawn than the franchise projects Coogler's known for, it's a uniquely conceived genre period piece that doesn't sacrifice the mainstream appeal of his previous work. But what sticks out most is how he deftly handles challenging material that could have gone wrong in any number of ways. While the writing and performances carry an opening hour we'd rather not see end, the real insanity starts when he pulls the trigger and all hell breaks loose.

It's 1932 and identical twins and World War I veterans Smoke and Stack Moore (Michael B. Jordan) return to their hometown of Clarksdale, Mississippi after working for the Chicago Mob for years. Upon purchasing an old sawmill from a local landowner, they plan to open a juke joint establishment for the Black community with singing, dancing and a bar. They're joined by their cousin Sammie (Miles Caton), an aspiring guitarist whose pastor father believes blues music is the devil and would far rather his son be at church. 

The twins also recruit Smoke's girlfriend Annie (Wunmi Mosaku) as cook, town drunk Delta Slim (Delroy Lindo) as their pianist, sharecropper Cornbread (Omar Miller) as a bouncer and local Chinese shopkeeper spouses Grace (Li Jun Li) and Bo Chow (Yao) as suppliers. Despite distractions stemming from the animosity Stack's mixed-race ex-girlfriend Mary (Hailee Steinfeld) harbors toward him and Sammie's infatuation with married singer Pearline (Jayme Lawson), the opening is a success. At least until the arrival of vampire Remmick (Jack O' Connell) with married Klu Klux Klan couple Bert and Joan (Peter Dreimanis and Lola Kirke), who crave much more than blood. 

If trailers and commercials didn't already hint where the story's headed, you'd wonder what the feared, respected Smokestack Twins are up to when they arrive, throwing their weight around like they own the town. Unfailingly loyal one minute, brutally violent the next, it's clear the money and connections they've made in Chicago has only strengthened their grip over Clarksdale. Distinguishable by their contrasting red and blue hats, they're also simultaneously loved and hated by residents, many of whom know better than to cross them. 

As the brothers attempt to get the joint off the ground, we see another side of them that's filled with regret and determined to create something that will bring this community together through a shared love of music. The loyalty is evident in their recruitment of Sammie, who limps into his father's church bruised and battered in the film's opening flashforward, offering a hint of what's to come. With music and excitement filling the air, an Remmick's gang crashes these opening night festivities as they attempt to assimilate everyone into their undead cult, resulting in a power struggle between good and evil.     

While the vampires seemingly share a hive mind, Irish immigrant Remmick plans to builds this family around an appropriation of Black culture, with Coogler introducing some not so thinly veiled symbolism regarding racism in the Deep South and the corrupting influence of hate. There to consume and exploit, the vampires view a highly vulnerable Sammie as their missing key due to his extraordinary musical talent. But before they can get to him, others are converted one-by-one with a single bite as they're hauled up inside fighting for their lives as seeds of mistrust are sown and alliances tested.

Jordan gives a powerhouse turn in his dual role as the intimidating, hotheaded Stack and a more contemplative Smoke, somehow managing to leave little doubt as to who we're watching in any given scene. And once the twins' seemingly unbreakable bond is broken, Jordan's performance shifts into another gear, enabling the actor to display his action chops. 

Newcomer Caton holds up his end of the deal as Sammie, tracking his journey from young, impressionable sharecropper to blues hero. Steinfeld also leaves an indelible mark as the white-passing Mary, who's pretty much beloved by everyone despite the messy unfinished business with Stack. Lindo, Mosaku, Lawson and Li are all equally exceptional in their varied roles, with each fully fleshed out and given a considerable amount of attention. And thanks to some astounding visuals and Oscar winner Luwig Göransson's blues and folk infused score, everything comes together in a way we quite haven't seen before.   

After the big showdown, there's no returning to yesterday, or even earlier that same afternoon. Once this band of mysterious intruders show up at their doorstep, the surviving characters' lives are permanently transformed and the real protagonist is forced to process it for the rest of his life. With that, Coogler sticks the landing in one of the few post-credit scenes to function not as a gimmicky device, but an unmissable coda the film couldn't exist without. It's a crucial reveal used to maximum effect, giving us a little more to contemplate and the urge to watch it all again through a different lens. 

Companion

Director: Drew Hancock
Starring: Sophie Thatcher, Jack Quaid, Lukas Gage, Megan Suri, Harvey Guillén, Rupert Friend, Jaboukie Young-White, Matthew J. McCarthy, Marc Menchaca
Running Time: 97 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)  

Writer/director Drew Hancock's sci-fi thriller Companion works backwards, opening with its implications before doing an about face to show how we got there. Whether it's her blank, emotionless stare, the curious questions or that mechanically obsessive desire to please her partner and be accepted into his friend group, something's clearly off. But while all the signs this title companion is a robot are present from the start, we can just as easily ignore them, lulling ourselves into the idea we're watching the disintegration of a real relationship. And to a certain degree, that's true. 

Given a permission structure to indulge in his basest instincts, the film's antagonist sees this robot girlfriend as someone who will now finally understand him, tending to his every need and desire. But despite seeing the machine as authentic enough to satisfy all those selfish requirements, he won't hesitate reminding her what she actually is. It's an uneven power dynamic that carries very different implications for each, subversively satirizing the risks of artificial intelligence by taking aim at those who abuse the luxury.   

"Companion Robot" Iris (Sophie Thatcher) is nervously anticipating a weekend trip with boyfriend Josh (Jack Quaid) to a secluded lake house where she'll meet standoffish Kat (Megan Suri), partners Eli (Harvey Guillén) and Patrick (Lukas Gage) and Kat's rich boyfriend Sergey (Rupert Friend). But shortly after the pair's arrival, a violent incident occurs as Iris seemingly malfunctions, forcing Josh to temporarily shut her down while also leaving him with an important decision to make. 

With Iris's emotions and feelings still controlled by the app on Josh's phone, he prepares to notify the robotics company about what happened. But when Iris flees, the group must now determine how to handle what's quickly become a major mess. Armed with the app, and in some small part now driving her own destiny, Iris fights for autonomy in a cat-and-mouse game she may not be able to survive. 

The film begins with a meet cute flashback in the produce aisle that under any normal circumstances would seem completely innocuous aside from the fact it never really happened. It's a fitting visual and thematic homage to that infamous supermarket scene in 1972's The Stepford Wives, replacing zombified, subservient spouses with literal robots as Hancock explores the misogyny leaking from every pore of this premise. Uploaded with memories that never existed, Iris's entire being is tailored to the whims of her buyer.    

The word "user" couldn't be more applicable for Josh, whose sense of  entitlement and male victimhood can freely roam unchecked thanks to the service tech company Empathix provides. And in treating Iris as his own personal blow-up doll, Josh doesn't only exert control in a physical sense, but emotionally, as her lack of agency finally provides him the pass he's always wanted and felt deserving of. 

While the angry incel is now a popular go-to genre trope, that doesn't make this subject or Quaid's performance ring any less true. Here, he continues to show his range with a drastic departure from his recent turn as a reluctant action hero in Novocaine. But the movie belongs to a compelling Thatcher, who has just the right look, delivery and blank, glazed over expressions to make Iris eerily believable as a bot opening her eyes to the conspiracy engulfing her. The plot carries echoes of Ex Machina and M3GAN, and though its ideas don't exactly fall by the wayside in the final act, this does eventually take the shape of a more traditional horror thriller, albeit one with a killer last scene. 

"It's the programming" is a mantra frequently repeated throughout, reminding us how these innovations rarely giving users the level of control they assume they're owed. In that sense, Companion feels like a timely excursion into The Twilight Zone, showing us how advanced technology is only as beneficial or harmful as society chooses. And it's a lesson these characters could have stood to learn before finding out the hard way. But that wouldn't be nearly as fun to watch.

Drop

Director: Christopher Landon
Starring: Meghann Fahy, Brandon Sklenar, Violett Beane, Jacob Robinson, Reed Diamond, Gabrielle Ryan, Jeffery Self, Ed Weeks, Benjamin Pelletier, Travis Nelson, Michael Shea
Running Time: 95 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

A woman experiences the date from hell in Christopher Landon's tense cyber thriller, Drop, which falls into a similar category as Phone Booth, Cellular or even the recent Carry-On. That it comes from the filmmaker behind Happy Death Day and Freaky should help prepare you for a clever premise filled with wildly entertaining twists, though with a slightly less humorous approach this time around. And that's not necessarily a negative, as writers Jillian Jacobs and Chris Roach script cover all their bases with increasingly creative uses of modern technology and an idea that, at just over ninety minutes, doesn't overstay its welcome. 

Providing its fair share of obstacles for the traumatized heroine, she fights an unknown oppressor after having recently survived abuse and attempted murder in her own troubled marriage. While a solid showcase for an actress gaining significant traction of late, the bigger headline is this bizarre date, which through no fault of the character's own, paints her as a total mess to everyone but us, who know better. With every vibration of the phone come a new potential catastrophe, forcing her to silently comply or face the consequences.  

Widowed single mother and therapist Violet Gates (Meghann Fahy) has just jumped back into the dating pool after the death of her violently abusive husband Blake (Michael Shea). Leaving her young son Toby (Jacob Robinson) in the care of sister Jen (Violett Beane) at home, Violet prepares to meet photographer Henry Campbell (Brandon Sklenar) for dinner at a high-rise Chicago restaurant after they connected on a dating app. Already extremely nervous about the date and being separated from Toby, she starts receiving a series of anonymous "digi-drops" on her phone from an unknown user in the restaurant. 

As the memes turn more threatening, a concerned Henry tries to help, combing the area to locate the perpetrator. But when the mystery user alerts Violet to check her home security app, she sees a masked intruder has broken in, targeting Toby and Jen. With the table bugged and Henry growing suspicious of Violet's anxiety, she struggles to keep her composure and quietly follow instructions. Blackmailed into completing a dangerous task by the end of the date, she'll have to extend their meal long enough to pull off the unthinkable, as her family's lives hang in the balance. 

The first thoughts of anyone watching will be that Henry has the patience and understanding of a saint. In fact, he's so tolerant of Violet's apparent breakdown she can't help but be impressed by his chivalry even in the midst of being texted deadly threats. Outwardly cool and laid back, he knows something's very wrong by just the sheer number of times she checks her phone and leaves the table. And while he's not sure exactly what, it's surprising he cares enough to stay and find out.  

Of course, the bigger reason Henry doesn't leave is that Violet can't let him, as his continued presence isn't only imperative to the assignment, but potentially her only lifeline left. With son and sister held hostage at home, she's implicitly ordered not to seek help or attract suspicion, kicking the plot into overdrive. This works on a number of different levels, paving the way for some suspenseful visual storytelling when Violet attempts to identify the sadistic user while under constant surveillance. But she also has some tricks up her sleeve to keep this date going and avoid committing the heinous crime that's demanded of her. 

It's a lot, but Landon streamlines these proceedings pretty well, with the restaurant's layout and atmosphere only enhancing the action. Featuring a main course of murder with its side order of mind games, it's also a safe bet this isn't taking place in an extreme high-rise building for nothing, as we suspect it'll eventually factor in. Violet's history with her deceased and abusive husband also plays a major role, allowing the mysterious antagonist to exploit her emotional baggage as a manipulative tool. Frequent flashbacks to her volatile marriage aren't completely necessary, but do add an extra wrinkle to the character, helping explain her fragile mindset going in. 

Acing her first real test as a feature lead after gaining attention on The White Lotus, a formidable Meghann Fahy brings necessary gravitas to her role as this PTSD-striken single mom caught in a no-win situation. What's interesting is how much of her dialogue consists of awkward date small talk, with the caveat being this silent battle she's simultaneously waging at the table as threatening texts splash across the screen. 

Brandon Sklenar plays a part vaguely similar to his brooding everyman in It Ends with Us, conveying the impression Henry's intrigued by Violet because of her past rather than despite it. The pair also share a sufficient amount of chemistry, which comes as a relief since we're spending the entirety of the film's running length in their company. For Violet, big question isn't whether he's too good to be true, but if it's worth the risk letting him in on what's happening given the stakes.  

Between chatty waiters, concerned bartenders and shady patrons, much of the film relies on the big reveal as suspects narrow and a cornered Violet makes her final, desperate move with the clock rapidly running down. Once the cards are laid out, it's an excitingly ridiculous finale, regardless of whether you see it coming or not. And like all successful single location thrillers, Drop walks the line of implausibility, throwing in enough distractions for us to surrender to the lunacy. But by putting its own spin on a somewhat familiar scenario, it also gives viewers good reason to feel satisfied they've seen an tidy, efficient effort more creative than most.                              

My Old Ass

Director: Megan Park
Starring: Maisy Stella, Aubrey Plaza, Percy Hynes-White, Maddie Ziegler, Kerrice Brooks, Maria Dizzia, Alexandria Rivera, Al Goulem, Seth Isaac Johnson, Carter Trozzolo
Running Time: 89 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)   

In the opening ten minutes of her sophomore effort My Old Ass, writer/director Megan Park immediately rips the band-aid off a premise that's deeper and more complex than you'd assume from its off-putting title. But despite a high concept plot, this coming-of-age dramedy about a teen encountering her future self barely contains a hint of sci-fi hijinks, with Park foregoing the usual plot machinations to focus on exploring universally resonant themes sure to strike a nostalgic chord.  

On the surface, it's about a good kid at a crossroads, looking to escape her family and small town but anxious about what lies ahead and unable to recognize how good she has it. Fun and free spirited, she's yet to experience the same soul crushing disappointment as her cynical middle-aged counterpart, moving through life without ever stopping to take it all in. At least until coming face-to-face with this visitor who's deliberately vague about what the future holds and why she's there. But at the story's core is an unusually smart teen romance carried by two talented leads that's sincere enough to invoke comparisons to mainstream comedies of decades past. 

18-year-old Elliot (Maisy Stella) is living on her parents' cranberry farm in Muskoka Lakes, Ontario, spending her final weeks before leaving for college boating with friends Ro (Kerrice Brooks) and Ruthie (Maddie Ziegler) while hooking up with longtime crush Chelsea (Alexandria Rivera). But when Elliott goes camping to celebrate her birthday and indulges in tea laced with hallucinogenic shrooms, it leads to a trippy encounter with a woman claiming to be her 39-year-old self. After providing reasonable evidence of her identity, she cautions young Elliott to appreciate the time she has with her family and stay away from someone named "Chad."

Though she still communicates via text, future Elliott disappears, but while skinny-dipping in the lake the next day, the teen meets Chad (Percy Hynes White), a boy spending the summer working for her dad. Despite Elliott trying to keep her distance, she quickly develops feelings for him, causing her to question whether she really is gay. But when news concerning her parents' farm prompts Elliott to reexamine everything she thought she knew, her older self delivers the dire warning she's been understandably hesitant to reveal.          

The movie has a lot of fun with the fact Stella and Plaza look nothing alike, as Elliott wastes no time picking apart and mocking her middle aged self, playfully criticizing everything from her appearance to being a Phd student in her late thirties. And with that back and forth, what seems like physically incongruent casting evolves into an oddly perfect match, with Stella's quick wit and straightforward delivery balancing out Plaza's droll sarcasm. Park also wisely avoids getting bogged down in details regarding whether this woman is the imaginary product of a psychedelic trip or an actual time traveler, either of which becomes increasingly irrelevant to the story's progression.   

Willing to answer some questions and offer guidance, Elliott's future self treads carefully, aware of the unwanted problems her interference could cause. And once she temporarily exits, the film sneaks up on you, as you'd be hard-pressed to find leads with better chemistry than the magnetic Stella and an underappreciated Percy Hynes-White. Together or apart, they're hilarious, intelligent, likable and up to the dramatic task when the narrative shifts into heavier terrain.  

Park doesn't take her eyes off the ball, knowing how specifics can set a smaller project like this apart. Actually shot on location in Muskoka Lakes, the film doesn't only look great, but real, having a distinct sense of time and place that distinguishes it from your typical small generic movie town. Sidestepping tired tropes, it also contains the kind of clever humor only present in well written scripts about everyday people. One such instance involves Elliott's little brother's hilarious redecorating choice when he moves into her room, a sight gag so random it can't help but earn big laughs.  

Though both versions of the character are navigating entirely different stages of life, Park doesn't squander the gift she's given with Plaza's presence, who does some of the best work of her career in just a few scenes. Keeping her in the background takes guts, it's also the right call, amplifying an already impactful performance when it takes center stage. But claiming the story takes a major turn sells Park's intentions short, falsely applying a big "gotcha" to the only logical culmination of events. And yet these final minutes are still pretty shocking, not just because of what occurs, but how woefully unprepared we are, having already let our guards down. 

While Plaza's total screen time barely exceeds twelve minutes, her last moments are the picture's most important, sticking a dagger through viewers' hearts and the character's. Known for her dry humor and deadpan delivery, she's already shown the breadth of her dramatic skills in Ingrid Goes West and Emily The Criminal, but even that can't prepare you for what she does in this single scene. Conveying a whole range of emotional introspection, future Elliott unloads a burden she realizes her younger self shouldn't be asked to carry. At least not yet. 

Young Elliott's response suggests a teen already wise beyond her years, now committing to the present with the knowledge it'll all someday disappear. Not letting this control or dictate her choices won't change what's ahead, but it does lead to an important shift, as both versions of themselves are newly connected in a way they weren't at the film's start. And in pulling that off, Park deliver a touching treatise on growing up and growing older, with hardly a misstep to be found. The more it develops, the better it gets, evolving into a rare feel good comedy that still somehow still leaves you wrecked when the credits roll.