A Different Man

Director: Aaron Schimberg
Starring: Sebastian Stan, Renate Reinsve, Adam Pearson, C. Mason Wells, Owen Kline, Charlie Korsmo, Patrick Wang, Michael Shannon
Running Time: 112 min.
Rating: R

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

With A Different Man, writer/director Aaron Schimberg's asks the intriguing question of how someone living with a seemingly permanent condition would react if they were cured. It's easy to assume they'd be thrilled to put the agony behind them and start over, maybe even reinventing themselves to take advantage of all the opportunities that slipped by. But if said disorder directly ties to their physical appearance, it's more complicated, forcing them adjust to an existence that no longer hinges on how others see them. 

The film's facially disfigured protagonist knows all about perception, as it fully informs how he talks, walks and carries himself through various interactions, many of which are unpleasant. And though it's become routine, this doesn't necessarily make it any less easier or tiresome, even as he tries to take it in stride. Some glance, others turn away in shock while the rest either just politely pretend not to notice him or are too involved in their own business to care. 

Assumptions that Schimberg would make some kind of disabled PSA are shot down with an early scene that spoofs one, setting the stage for a dark, absurdly hilarious satire anchored by a gut-wrenching turn from Sebastian Stan on par with his recently Oscar nominated work in The Apprentice. That this is the same actor we just watched play a young Donald Trump is mind boggling, even while acknowledging both characters' affinities for real estate and reinvention. Here, he creates this indelible portrait of a man who gets a life changing gift, only to collapse under the weight of a jarring new reality that might cost him everything.

Struggling, socially awkward New York-based actor Edward Lemuel (Stan) suffers from neurofibromatosis, a genetic medical condition that causes disfiguring facial tumors. Plagued with lingering self consciousness and anxiety, he befriends new neighbor and aspiring playwright Ingrid Vold (Renate Reinsve) moves in next door, with him even gifting her his vintage typewriter. Fearing to express his romantic feelings, he soon gets a call to participate in an experimental drug treatment that could potentially cure his condition, Shocked to discover it actually works, an entire outer layer of skin peels off as the tumors begin dissipating 

Now with a new appearance, Edward fakes his suicide, taking the name of "Guy Moratz" as he accumulates wealth and success as a hotshot realtor. But when he discovers Ingrid is producing an off-Broadway play based his life, he's compelled to audition for the lead, with her unaware of his true identity. As the two grow close again, a confident, outgoing neurofibromatosis patient named Oswald (Adam Pearson) takes interest in the production. Soon, his input into the show's direction heavily influences Ingrid, jeopardizing Edward's chances at tackling the role he was born to play.

The possibility it wasn't Edward's physical appearance that held him back, but his own insecurity is a notion that taints what should be a celebratory metamorphosis into the man he always wanted to be. But the recognition this miracle cure won't just flip a switch that shuts off his problems is a tough pill to swallow, especially since there are issues related to having the condition that aren't solely physical. 

Putting the film's magical realism aside to view this strictly as a actual medical breakthrough, it's likely any patient would have mental health professionals charting their progress for years following the procedure. And while that could have very well been protocol, Edward disappearing in an effort to erase his past throws that for a loop. In actuality, the hardest lesson he'll learn is how he's still the same exact person, regardless of looks. 

Edward's top priority soon becomes reconnecting with Ingrid in an attempt to take the place in her life and on stage he feels he's owed. But when Oswald bursts onto the scene and stands out as someone with the same affliction, but a far different personality, his plan unravels. Gregarious and fun, Oswald's everything he isn't, and as crazy as things get when this man politely interjects himself into the play, Schimberg's script carefully avoids painting either as the villain. It's Edward who becomes his own worst enemy. 

Beneath makeup artist Mike Marino's facial prosthetics (which draws Elephant Man comparisons), Stan's withdrawn demeanor and closed off body language offer powerful glimpses into Edward's defeated state of mind and sense of inadequacy. And the feeling's only heightened by a hypnotic, insanely catchy original score from composer Umberto Smerelli that captures the story's bizarre idiosyncrasies. Stan's performance truly takes hold when the miracle drug does, with an uncomfortably anguished Edward slowly becoming invisible in this new skin, going so far as wearing the mask mold of his old face to reclaim his "original" life.

Reinsve brilliantly plays Ingrid as full of inscrutable contradictions, her true feelings and intentions constantly keeping us on our toes. While cultivated over a relatively short period of time, the bond she shares with Edward seems genuine, even if her promise to write him into a play that revolves around his life can be read any number of ways. If we're left speculating whether this is charity or borders on exploitation. she also wrestles with that herself. The idea pops up again in a superb later scene where Edward glumly listens to an irritating but observant audience member's interpretation of the show that mirrors our own conflicted theories.  

Pearson (who's best known for 2013's Under The Skin and lives with neurofibromatosis) is a revelation as the free spirited Oswald, whose eerily timed presence is offset by his charm. Even when a frustrated Edward's jealously take over, he still can't really bring himself to hate someone whose jovial personality becomes the measuring stick for what could have been. He sees at least part of himself in this pleasant stranger, culminating in a third act that skirts the line between tragedy and farce as cruelly comical misfortune unfolds. And while the possibility of revealing the truth to Ingrid constantly hangs over this picture, coming clean and attempting to regain his allegedly stolen life isn't so simple when it's already gone.

With elements recalling that classic Twilight Zone episode, "Eye of the Beholder,"The Substance and even Adaptation, this film examines an anti-hero who can't emotionally disengage from the supposed ugliness he thought was holding him back, no matter how miraculous the outward transformation. Maybe Edward was just incapable of change this entire time, unable to let go of who he always viewed himself to be.The final line is an ironic gut punch, finding profound meaninglessness at the bottom of a meta rabbit hole where art and morality intersect.

The Monkey

Director: Osgood Perkins
Starring: Theo James, Tatiana Maslany, Christian Convery, Colin O' Brien, Rohan Campbell, Sarah Levy, Adam Scott, Elijah Wood, Osgood Perkins, Tess Degenstein, Danica Dreyer, Laura Mennell
Running Time: 98 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)   

With barely enough time to catch our breathe and recover after his release of last year's polarizing Longlegs, writer/director Osgood Perkins returns with The Monkey, based on Stephen King's popular short story from 1985's "The Skeleton Crew." And while it's somewhat of a departure for a filmmaker whose previous horror entries have been deadly serious, signs started to emerge he could be veering closer to the mainstream with subsequent efforts. 

After showing an affinity for dark, cerebral thrillers like Se7en and Zodiac in Longlegs, Perkins' story took a turn into more conventional territory, splitting critics and audiences down the middle. This combined with one of Nic Cage's crazier performances makes it less shocking to see the director now giving us a black comedy that invokes Final Destination, Child's Play and M3GAN by way of M. Night Shyamalan. But it's also his most purely enjoyable outing, full of gruesomely macabre situations and laugh out loud moments that should cause viewers to satisfyingly squirm with discomfort.

In 1999, identical twin brothers Hal and Bill Shelburn (Christian Convery) are left to be raised by single mother Lois (Tatiana Maslany) when their father (Adam Scott) disappears after attempting to return a drum-playing toy monkey to an antique shop. But when the boys go through their dad's belongings and discover the toy, they find that the monkey causes death once its mechanical key is turned. And after their beloved babysitter is decapitated, Hal's attempt to kill his bullying brother backfires when he realizes the monkey doesn't take requests, leaving them motherless and under the guardianship of kooky aunt Ida (Sarah Levy) and uncle Chip (Perkins).

Now twenty-five years after the monkey's presumed disposal, Hal and Bill (Theo James) are estranged, with Hal rarely seeing his own teen son Petey (Colin O' Brien) in an effort to protect him from the toy's potential return. But when a freak accident draws him back to his childhood home in Maine, it's clear the monkey's back to claim a new cluster of innocent victims. Reconnecting with Bill, Hal must find a way to stop this while protecting a son who assumes his dad wants nothing to do with him. Only when the family finally comes to terms with their shared, sordid past can they possibly put an end to the destruction.

In a lengthy but gripping prologue, the monkey is introduced via a hysterically unhinged Adam Scott performance as the twins' father, shaken to his core in attempting to rid himself of what he warns the store's owner isn't a "toy." This blood-soaked scenario perfectly sets the stage for what follows, as its the first of many elaborately staged monkey kills that tie into the film's central theme of not knowing when anyone's time is up, an idea imparted on the twins by their cynical, bracingly honest mom Lois. 

The opening section works overtime in establishing the uneasy dynamic between siblings who Convery gives two very distinct personalities, especially with his depiction of Bill as an insufferable, bullying teen we want to see get his comeuppance. And Maslany makes a huge impact with limited screen time, her character leaving an impression on the twins that lingers long after the prologue ends. She's also at the center of the film's most chilling moment, with Perkins knowing that for as many over-the-top, jaw dropping deaths there are, hers needs to be played terrifyingly straight.  

Once the action shifts into the present and reluctant father Hal attempts to shield Petey from the monkey, things get pretty wild, as the doll causes continuous carnage with its randomly sadistic murders, most notably an electrifying one at a hotel pool. But the most impressive aspect of all this insanity is how firm a grasp Perkins has on tone, infusing often ludicrous scenes with Hal's lingering guilt, which is magnified by the twin he still resents and a son he's pushed away.

After seemingly falling off the movie radar for years, Divergent series star Theo James pulls off a Josh Hartnett inspired comeback to portray adult Hal as a dad too imprisoned by his mistakes to forge a real relationship with anyone until catastrophe intervenes. He's also resonates equally as the smug, slimy Bill, whose preoccupation with avenging their mother's death decades earlier carries lethal consequences. We also get some humorous turns from Elijah Wood as a self-help parenting guru married to Hal's ex-wife and Halloween Ends' Rohan Campbell (in a hilarious wig) as a local metalhead who comes into possession of the cursed toy. 

Visually striking and atmospheric, there's a sense of sinister, pessimistic dread that's driven home with an occasionally powerful message about death and childhood trauma. The events are over-the-top, but presented in such a way that you'll feel and fear the cruel hand of fate behind each kill. Despite minor faults accompanying a busy final act, it's hard to imagine King himself being dissatisfied, especially when compared to lesser cinematic interpretations of his work. Those still anxiously waiting for Perkins to take his talent to the next level may have to wait a little longer, but as a fun, skillfully made diversion, The Monkey checks just about every box.                                    

The Brutalist

Director: Brady Corbet
Starring: Adrien Brody, Felicity Jones, Guy Pearce, Joe Alwyn, Raffey Cassidy, Stacy Martin, Emma Laird, Alessandro Nivola, Isaach de Bankolé, Jonathan Hyde, Ariane Hyde, Peter Polycarpou  
Running Time: 215 min.
Rating: R

**The Following Review Contains Plot Spoilers For 'The Brutalist' **

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Brady Corbet's uncompromising epic period drama The Brutalist lives up to its title, pulling no punches in exploring a fascinatingly flawed figure who never existed, but sure feels like he could have. And with every shot, scene and performance conveying an astounding amount of authenticity, you're convinced this amalgam of various Hungarian architects was a real person whose life and work we should already know.

In one sense, the film can be categorized a fictitious biopic along the lines of 2022's Tár, examining the psychology of a creative genius who unravels before our eyes. But the difference here is that we know this protagonist is a victim, his survival dependent on pretending not to care what anyone else says or thinks. And even after all he's gone through, his fate still depends on how others judge him, as the trauma of his worst days continue to linger. Unfortunately, its aftermath proves to be a whole different kind of awful he'll continue to feel equally powerless against. 

Broken into four chapters that include an overture and 15 minute intermission, its gargantuan running length of nearly three and a half hours is as meticulously constructed by editor Dávid Jancsó as the buildings designed by the film's long suffering architect. Corbet's steady direction combined with Lol Crawley's impressive cinematography infuses each scene with the idea of an unattainable American dream, jarringly represented by its skewed opening titles and an early inverted shot of the Statue of Liberty that plays with perspective in ways that challenge our own. 

When Hungarian-Jewish Holocaust survivor László Tóth (Adrien Brody) reaches the shores of New York Harbor in 1947 after being forcibly separated from his family, the Bauhaus trained architect is taken in by his cousin Attila (Alessandro Nivola) in Pennsylvania. While Attila gives him a room to stay and employment at his furniture store, his Catholic wife Audrey (Emma Laird) is less than thrilled, looking to nudge László out. But when the cousins are hired to renovate wealthy industrialist Harrison Lee Van Buren's (Guy Pearce) mansion library at the behest of his son Harry (Joe Alwyn), Harrison's initial displeasure leads to an about-face, prompting him to commission László for the job of a lifetime. 

This project, a tribute to Harrison's late mother, will be known as the Van Buren Institute, a community center in Doylestown intended to house a library, gymnasium, theater and chapel. Despite the millionaire retaining final say, he gives László's free reign over the risky endeavor, even arranging the expedited immigration of his wheelchair bound wife Erzsébet (Felicity Jones) and mute, orphaned niece Zsófia (Rafey Cassidy) back to the states to live on the property. But while Harrison views them as unwelcome interlopers and starts undermining László's vision to stay on budget, the gifted builder senses he and his family's future being threatened by this jealous and manipulative man.

A survivor of Germany's Buchenwald concentration camp, a teary eyed László arrives in America with hope for a new start, only to find himself treated like dirt. Initially, Atilla seems more than willing to help, but it isn't long before signs emerge that he sees László as an unwelcome obstacle jeopardizing his own assimilation into American culture. Having already changed his name and converted to Catholicism for his wife, Attila's clearly threatened by the idea of this Jewish relative blowing up his carefully manufactured reputation.

That only marks the beginning of László's exploitation, as he's granted opportunities by those looking to control someone they view as lesser. But since bigots aren't typically self-aware or prone to announcing their prejudices, they'd feign shock at such supposedly outrageous allegations. So what starts as plausibly deniable microaggressions grow until a convenient excuse to get rid of László falls right into Atilla and Audrey's laps. 

Strung out on heroin and working construction, László doesn't have much choice but to hear out the mercurial, hotheaded Harrison Lee Van Buren, who hints at his despicableness right off the bat. True to character, he can't recognize his new library's greatness until those with actual taste let him know and start giving it attention. Now privy to László's architectural prowess, an apologetic Harrison is suddenly grateful and generous, bending over backwards to make amends. 

Despite László having this guy all figured out, the job is still a sacrifice he needs to make for his family and career, regardless of the abuse it'll undoubtedly entail. But he'll get caught in a vicious circle that reaches a crescendo in the film's divisive second part when ground is finally broken on the Van Buren Institute. As Erzsébet and Zsófia settle in at the mansion, the enormity and logistical complications of the project begin to take its toll. Or more accurately, Harrison does, as the pompous industrialist's need for dominance reveals his true contempt for these outsiders. 

Blown over by his "intellectually stimulating" conversations with László, Harrison appears genuinely excited to be in the company of a thinker who represents everything he isn't. And that's exactly the same reason he aims to belittle him, filling an empty void his wealth never will. Pearce is so brilliant in the complicated role, turning on the charm when necessary, but showing enough shades of humanity to have us holding out hope Harrison's intentions still might be genuine. Of course, they're not, his arrogance rivaled only by his Richie Rich-like nepo baby son, who Joe Alwyn plays with smug depravity in the film's unsung supporting turn. 

The most transfixing facet of Brody's work is what's shown rather than said, whether it's through his wiry body language, mournful eyes, or even the occasional fits of rage. But while László's assembled a collection of coping mechanisms to internalize the discrimination, he reaches a breaking point when his brutalist design plans are altered by Harrison and his contractors. Once the project quite literally flies off the rails, Harrison dumps him like yesterday's garbage, or at least until he's needed again. 

The controversial rape scene is cited by detractors as a bridge too far, but Harrison's been metaphorically raping László the whole time, with this event representing the physical manifestation of that. It'll understandably alter him, causing a rift with Erzsébet that only worsens when he gets her hooked on drugs. 

Played with a mixture of desperation and ferociousness by Jones, Erzsébet emerges as the film's most fearless character by still having her husband's back under the worst of circumstances. Had the rape not been spoken of again, you could classify it as gratuitously over-the-top, but it instead results in finding enough courage to do what's right. Harrison disappearing into the shadows may frustrate some, but it's an honest depiction of how cowards run and hide when confronted with the incriminating truth.

If the whole film can be read as a symbolic assault on art by commerce, 1980's Venice Biennale of Architecture epilogue is one of the more inventive, purposeful uses of a time jump you'll see, revealing not only how long it took to complete this monolithic project, but the painful motivation behind László's aesthetic choices. It represents a larger battle America's waged with itself as creative minds continue paying the price for the stranglehold a select few in power hold over them. In the end, it turned out to be just another job.

In one sense, it's a tragedy that this rich man's greed and insecurity monopolized the time and skill of an artist with more to give. Then again, he still persevered enough to be remembered and appreciated in a manner unattainable at any other stage of his journey, adding poignancy to middle-aged Zsófia's speech about the destination being what matters. László being forced to compromise returns us to the theme of artists ceding control to their clients, a notion ironically expressed in the obscure Italian disco song that plays over the film's closing credits. 

A colossal achievement, The Brutalist takes an ambitious detour from previous award contenders by focusing entirely on the Holocaust's fallout, specifically in terms of its impact on art and culture. Corbet and co-writer Mona Fastvold's script converges with staggering set pieces, clinical execution and an industrial sounding score from Daniel Blumberg to create a savage spectacle that puts capitalism's effects on identity under a high power microscope. Ripe for repeated viewings, closer inspection reveals just how ambitious this is, taking wild swings at every turn while continuing to frustrate and perplex those certain they've figured it all out.                                            

The Electric State

Directors: Anthony Russo and Joe Russo
Starring: Millie Bobby Brown, Chris Pratt, Ke Huy Quan, Stanley Tucci, Woody Norman, Giancarlo Esposito, Jason Alexander, Holly Hunter, Anthony Mackie, Woody Harrelson, Jenny Slate, Alan Tudyk, Brian Cox, Hank Azaria, Colman Domingo, Billy Gardell
Running Time: 128 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★½ (out of ★★★★) 

It's hard to pretend critics' knives weren't already sharpened for the Russo brothers' latest big budget action spectacle, The Electric State, before it was seen. Chalk that up to the "Netflix Effect," where the streamer's fondness for pumping out easily disposable popcorn fare gets blamed for all of entertainment's ills, specifically the sharp decline in theatrical releases. But wishing a film you detest had a wider reach is wild, especially when these titles seem ideal for Netflix's fast food menu style of streaming. You can either take it or leave it, which is the whole point of having options. 

Based on Simon Stålenhag's 2018 illustrated novel, its most glaring flaw is a concept that would have probably worked better as the series many assumed it was after seeing those trailers and commercials. Not as unwatchable as you've heard, it plays like a rushed, far inferior counterpart to Amazon's recent Fallout adaptation, which possessed a gripping human element sorely lacking here. But all the complaints about this being one of the most expensive movies ever made is silly once you realize that statistic will inevitably be topped by something worse in a matter of months.

It's 1994 and the war raging between humans and robots for the past four years has ended, leaving society a post-apocalyptic wasteland where semi-comatose humans are entirely reliant on the Neurocaster virtual reality headsets that helped win the battle. Successfully used for combat drones, the technology stuck around and caught on with the public, allowing them to physically check out while these electronic surrogates live their lives. 

With robots now outlawed and banished to the forbidden "Exclusion Zone," teenager Michelle Greene (Millie Bobby Brown) is visited by a big headed yellow bot named Cosmo (voiced by Alan Tudyk), who's based on a popular cartoon character. But she'll soon discover that inside this steel can is the uploaded consciousness of her gifted younger brother Christopher (Woody Norman), presumed dead in a car accident. 

Escaping her abusive father Ted (Jason Alexander), Michelle and Cosmo join up with military vet turned smuggler Keats (Chris Pratt) and his wisecracking robot Herm (voiced by Anthony Mackie) to find Christopher. Hunted by mercenary Marshall Bradbury (Giancarlo Esposito) as they head toward the Exclusion Zone for clues, Michelle hopes to reunite with her brother. But Neurocaster creator and evil tech mogul Ethan Skate (Stanley Tucci) needs him for more nefarious purposes that could jeopardize humanity's future. 

For better or worse, the Russo's Marvel offerings proved their penchant for efficiently delivering huge, effects laden extravaganzas even when the script's an overstuffed mess. This is one of those, but at least you wouldn't know it from the opening, which details the circumstances and background of this post-war society through documentary style newsreel footage. In fact, most of the world building in its first hour is done well, promising potential we keep waiting to arrive. 

The story dips when flashbacks meant to establish the close bond between Michelle and Christopher feel squeezed in and strangely executed, as their affectionate displays seem laid on unnaturally thick for teen siblings. Whether these scenes are Michelle's rose colored recollections of Christopher or intended to suggest knowledge of his impending doom, they're bizarre, much like Jason Alexander's character, who hovers between being an actual threat and a dimwitted comedic foil.

While Pratt will undoubtedly be accused of playing a variation on his Star-Lord from Guardians of the Galaxy (with some Han Solo thrown in), business does pick up once he's introduced, though not necessarily because he and Brown share such great chemistry. It has more to do with robots Cosmo and Herm, who make a more entertainingly worthwhile pair. 

The group's arrival at the Exclusion Zone represents the film's creative peak, with all the banished bots congregating in a run down mall they've converted into a semi-functional society comprised of colorful characters like Brian Cox's Popfly (a takeoff on the Cincinnati Reds' Mr. Redlegs mascot) and Jenny Slate's Penny Pal letter carrier. But the real star is bespeckled, top hat wearing Mr. Peanut, who Woody Harrelson voices as the wise, soft spoken war vet who signed a peace treaty with President Clinton in an unintentionally hilarious Gump-like scene. He's the bots' leader and may be called to action again, whether he wants it or not.  

MCU writers Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely sprinkle in politically relevant themes involving the dangers of technology and government overreach, but those familiar messages get muddled amid the bombastic adventure. Much of the last act is driven by the big reveal involving Tucci's evil CEO, and though his intended use of Michelle's brother is obvious even by wacky sci-fi standards, he and Esposito do give the film's two strongest human performances, adding needed dimension to their sneering villains. Key Huy Quan also briefly shows up in a fun role as a doctor who allegedly holds all the answers Michelle's seeking.

Despite creating a retro futuristic alternate 90's world brimming with possibility, The Electric State can't help but feel like a giant AV project assembled from parts of movies that cover similar terrain. Allusions to Edge of Tomorrow, Ready Player One, Five Nights at Freddy's, and even Stranger Things are all noticeable in a picture that isn't the total abomination you've heard, but problematic in important spots. Even with a packed cast of surprisingly huge names in unexpected roles and impressive effects, we're still only left with a mildly painless watch that's biggest offense is its unoriginality.                                                           

Nosferatu

Director: Robert Eggers
Starring: Lily-Rose Depp, Bill Skarsgård, Nicholas Hoult, Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Willem Dafoe, Emma Corrin, Ralph Ineson, Simon McBurney, Adéla Hesová, Milena Konstantinova
Running Time: 132 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)    

On paper, another cinematic Dracula interpretation would seem to be the last thing anyone wants or needs, especially if it happens to be a remake of F.W. Murnau's 1922 indisputable German classic, Noseferatu. And while it's the rare project that risks trampling on sacred ground for film buffs and horror fanatics alike, most can agree that if an updated version has to happen, Robert Eggers is probably the best director for the job. And following The Witch, The Lighthouse and The Northman, it also feels like the next logical step for a filmmaker who's already proven himself more than capable of handling similar material. 

Given how there are still mainstream moviegoers unfamiliar enough with the original, Eggers now gets the opportunity to put his own stamp on the story without alienating newer audiences or offending purists. And that's just what he does, offering up an unusually distinctive vision that mostly meets those expectations. While an altogether disturbing, grotesque and unpleasant experience to sit through, that's sort of the point, as Eggers delivers on exactly what he sets out to accomplish.  

It's 1838 and the newly married Ellen Hutter (Lily-Rose Depp) and her realtor husband Thomas (Nicholas Hoult) are living in the German town of Wisburg when he accepts a job from prospective employer Herr Knock (Simon McBurney) to sell off the dilapidated Grünewald Manor estate. Upon Thomas learning the buyer is the mysteriously reclusive Count Orlok (Bill Skarsgård), a frightened Ellen begs him not to go, realizing this is the same supernatural creature she gave herself to in her youth. But knowing how this opportunity will financially benefit them, he goes, leaving Ellen to stay with wealthy friend Friedrich Harding (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), his wife Anna (Emma Corrin) and two young daughters. 

Warned by the locals to stay away from Orlok, Thomas arrives at the castle to finalize the sale before becoming suddenly ill in his presence. But the Count rejects his desperate pleas to leave, giving him little choice but to attempt an escape. Meanwhile at Friedrich's, Ellen is suffering from violent seizures, sleepwalking and hallucinations, leading eccentric Swiss scientist and occult expert Albin Eberhart von Franz (Willem Dafoe) to diagnosis her as being under the spell of the demonic, plague carrying vampire Nosferatu (a.k.a. Orlok). As she continues to conceal her connection to the monster, Thomas heads back to Wisburg, but Orlok isn't far behind, planning to claim Ellen as his own, but not before causing unimaginable bloodshed and death. 

After a methodical opening the horror truly begins at this old, cavernous estate when Thomas comes face-to-face with this vampire lurking in the shadows who lets it be known through his foreboding voice and presence that he's not just looking for a good property deal. What Orlok really covets is Ellen, who's not only terrified, but appears to be in no position to stop the potential trap Thomas has walked into.  Rendered helpless under Orlok's spell, Ellen gets little support from the Hardings, specifically a skeptical, patronizing Friedrich who refuses to acknowledge any supernatural component to this at all. 

Friedrich's disbelief reaches new heights with the arrival of Dafoe's scientist, who the actor skillfully plays as something of a loony cross between Dr. Loomis from Halloween and the psychiatrist at the end of Psycho. The film's most repulsive events unfold while Thomas is trapped inside this Transylvanian castle where's he bitten, chased by wolves and unintentionally signs his wife's life away. But once Orlok sets his sights on Ellen, the story enters its creepiest, most exciting territory as he unleashes his plague on Wisburg.

If the first half belongs to an effective Hoult as the hapless husband in way over his head, from that point on Depp is devastating as Ellen, whose traumatic past opens a gateway for destruction. In a vividly unhinged performance that conveys her character's sense of impending doom, she's over-the-top, but appropriately so, leaving no doubt what's at stake. And much like her dad, she has this peculiar onscreen charisma that seems ideally suited to Gothic horror genre. As Orlok, an unrecognizable Skarsgård makes the most of what he's given by conveying the desperate motivations of this damaged beast through what must be pounds of prosthetic makeup. 

Thrilling at times, depressingly hypnotic at others, the film definitely looks beautiful, with Jarin Blaschke's dimly lit cinematography and some visually stunning production design from Craig Lathrop bringing a nightmare to life. Functioning as an homage to the original while still remaining unmistakably his own, Eggers deserves credit for going all out with a cast that looks and feels completely at home in this demonic world, even if it can be an unsettling watch. Though more likely to evoke feelings of respect than outright admiration from some, it won't be difficult for others to embrace this with even fewer reservations.                                                                    

A Complete Unknown

Director: James Mangold
Starring: Timothée Chalamet, Edward Norton, Elle Fanning, Monica Barbaro, Boyd Holbrook, Dan Fogler, Norbert Leo Butz, Eriko Hatsune, Scoot McNairy, P.J. Byrne, Michael Chernus, Charlie Tahan
Running Time: 141 min.
Rating: R

★★★½ (out of ★★★★)

When a quality musical biopic comes around, whatever praise it receives is usually accompanied by some dismissive, backhanded compliment about it not feeling like one. As if the entire genre only exists to chronologically retrace a public figure's life with little insight or nuance. So for skeptics, it's probably best not to label James Mangold's A Complete Unknown a biopic, but a great film Bob Dylan happens to be at the center of. Besides referencing his famous lyric, its clever title doubles as a description of the man himself, which could have only helped in convincing the notoriously picky and cantankerous artist to sign off on Mangold and co-writer James Cocks' script. 

That it's based on Elijah Wald's 2015 book Dylan Goes Electric!, gives us a pretty good idea all roads will lead to his controversial 1965 Newport Folk Festival performance that turned the music world upside down. Filtered through the prism of Timothée Chalamet's disappearing act, we get glimpses of the sensitive, creative genius at his peak who's also defined by a selfish, obsessive perfectionism that pushes away those closest to him. And though fame was an entirely different animal back then, it's fun and fascinating to watch Dylan subvert his while still remaining repulsed by the whole idea of it.

It's 1961 when a 19-year-old Bob Dylan (Chalamet) hitchhikes from Minnesota to find his idol, folk legend Woody Guthrie (Scoot McNairy), who's in a New Jersey hospital slowly succumbing to Huntington's Disease. Upon his arrival, Dylan meets Woody and his good friend Pete Seeger (Edward Norton), who are both blown away by the young man's singing and songwriting talents. Pete invites Dylan to crash at his house, introducing him to New York's Greenwich Village folk scene and rising star Joan Baez (Monica Barbaro), who he immediately takes a liking to. 

After being signed to a record deal by manager Albert Grossman (Dan Fogler), Dylan embarks on a relationship with artist Sylvie Russo (Elle Fanning), who grows frustrated by his standoffish behavior and inability to open up to her. But as Dylan's popularity skyrockets amid the political turmoil of the 60's, he strays from folk's traditional roots to embrace more modern, socially conscious songwriting. While Pete and the folk community disapprove of Dylan's plans to bring a polarizing new sound to the masses, Sylvie is increasingly alarmed by his growing connection with Baez.  

Because this period represents the most vital slice of Dylan's development, Mangold consciously avoids making pit stops through the various stages of the legendary singer's career, instead dropping him into his own story, seemingly out of nowhere. Neither Pete or an ailing Guthrie have a clue who this kid is, but after picking up the guitar and working his magic, none of that matters. 

Fanning's Sylvie isn't just the film's fictionalized version of Dylan's real-life girlfriend Suze Rotolo (best known for appearing alongside him on the album cover for 1963's The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan) but the only person interested in who he actually is. But in prodding the former Robert Zimmerman about his days working at a traveling carnival, she only awakens a more temperamental side to his personality. If she views a person's past as the gateway to their soul, Dylan merely sees it as an inconvenient obstacle in crafting an entirely new persona out of whole cloth. 

The soft spoken warmth in Norton's portrayal of Pete Seeger prompts us to suspect the folk legend would have still taken Dylan in knowing the repercussions his protégé's choices would have on folk and how negatively he'd feel about it. While Dylan's respect for the genre is unquestioned, he only sees a dead end recording cover songs from previous generations while society yearns for something that addresses their current reality.

The Baez partnership is best described as magical onstage but parasitic off it. While Mangold definitely takes some liberties and fudges the timeline a bit, the essence of how they became so inextricably linked does shine through, particularly in the stage performances. Career-wise, she doesn't actually need Dylan, so while they both artistically benefit, it creates an uneven power dynamic because he's a control freak, as some geniuses are. Gifting her "Blowin' in the Wind" is where his generosity stops, at least once he discovers she won't be catering to his every whim. 

Sylvie painfully realizing the palpable bond between Dylan and Baez as they perform is the closest Mangold comes to pedaling in familiar tropes, but Fanning makes the plight of a long suffering girlfriend ring true, effectively conveying the frustration of putting up with an emotionally inaccessible partner who views relationships as disposable. So even while movie's reverence for Dylan's work is persistent, this isn't a saintly, fawning depiction of him in other respects.

If the running joke about Chalamet learning how to sing badly enough to play Dylan holds any truth, he passes the test, nailing that nasally, rambling inflection as he tears through timeless classics like "Girl from the North Country," "Like a Rolling Stone," "Mr. Tambourine Man," "Masters of War" and "The Times They Are a-Changin'." Despite only scratching the surface of music's richest catalogue, the film undeniably hits the key peaks of his early to mid 60's output while Francois Audouy's production design and Arianne Phillips' costuming helps provide the transportive backdrop.  

Any criticisms leveled against Dylan never stuck because he had a perfect voice for the songs he wrote, forever marking him as a storyteller before all else. He was also a prickly, complicated personality that Chalamet effectively blends with an aloofness and underdog quality worth rooting for. Once Dylan enters his most recognizable black turtleneck/sunglasses phase, the actor completes his full immersion, becoming stranger, moodier and more withdrawn in the celebrity spotlight.

Feeling the burn of getting too close to an almost casually cruel Dylan, Monica Barbaro captivates as the increasingly frustrated Baez who tires of his games. Justifiably tiring of his games. she risks becoming collateral damage in his quest to reinvent folk/rock, which comes to a head in the film's thrilling final act. But her biggest feat is in credibly replicating Baez's distinctively rich soprano voice despite no prior singing experience. Asked to fill enormous shoes, it's about as accurate a portrayal as anyone thought possible.

One of the best details of Dylan's infamous '65 Newport set is the presence of Boyd Holbrook's Johnny Cash, who's depicted exactly how we'd hope, cheering on his pal's attack on the music establishment as the act of rebellion it truly is. Pete and the festival organizers may try to stop it, the crowd can boo and heckle him, but when Dylan starts in on "Maggie's Farm," the train's left the station and it hardly matters who's right anymore. As Baez says, he got the freedom he wanted. 

A Complete Unknown is less concerned with checking off dates, facts and milestones than conveying the experiences of those Dylan sucked into his vortex. In an irony he'd appreciate, by film's end he remains as much an enigma as when it started. Drawing the battle lines between what music was and where it's going, we can tell he didn't see any of it as a big deal, shrugging his shoulders with bemusement at all the chaos. He knew everyone would have to move on because this was just the beginning.

Dexter: Original Sin (Season 1)

Creator: Clyde Phillips
Starring: Patrick Gibson, Christian Slater, Molly Brown, Christina Milian, James Martinez, Alex Shimizu, Reno Wilson, Patrick Dempsey, Michael C. Hall, Sarah Michelle Gellar, Brittany Allen, Raquel Justice, Jeff Daniel Phillips, Sarah Kinsey, Jasper Lewis, Aaron Jennings, Roberto Sanchez, Randy Gonzalez, Isaac Gonzalez Rossi, Amanda Brooks, Roby Attal, Joe Pantoliano
Original Airdate: 2025

★★★ (out of ★★★★)    

For those still keeping track, Showtime's Dexter ended its eight season run in 2013 with a much maligned finale before returning nine years later for its continuation, New Blood, which fans still whined about despite getting the ending they claimed to clamor for. But when plans for subsequent seasons were scrapped after Michael C. Hall's title character seemingly met his demise, it appeared we were done. That is until creator and showrunner Clyde Phillips realized the best way to ward off complaints was to ensure the series never ends again, resulting in this prequel, Dexter: Original Sin.

Taking place fifteen years prior to the start of its first season, the new series opens with the shocking revelation that our favorite serial killer/blood spatter analyst Dexter Morgan may have survived the shooting in New Blood. And now with Hall back to narrate the character's past from his death bed, there's still a direct sequel ahead with Dexter: Resurrection, as well as the proposed Trinity Killer prequel spin-off focusing on John Lithgow's murderous psychopath. 

Returning us to the show's comfortably familiar Miami surroundings for a period piece that delves deeper into how this complicated anti-hero came to embrace his "Dark Passenger," Original Sin has promise. And while the central mystery is its weakest aspect, casting and performances pick up the slack, especially one from a lead who expertly channels Dexter in all the ways you'd want from an actor playing Hall's younger counterpart. Filled with easter eggs, wonky creative choices and even some occasional retconning, it's not perfect, but builds a solid enough foundation that viewers will want to stick around for what's next.

It's 1991 and eccentric, socially awkward 20-year-old Dexter Morgan (Patrick Gibson) is hired as the newest forensic intern at the Miami Metro Police Department, where his adoptive father Harry (Christian Slater) works as a homicide detective. Keeping an eye on Dexter in hopes of curbing his increasingly dark and violent impulses, Harry also has his hands full with angry, rebellious daughter Deb (Molly Brown), who's still coping with the recent death of her mom and Harry's wife, Doris (Jasper Lewis).

Learning the ropes from unshakeable forensics chief Tanya Martin (Sarah Michelle Gellar), wise cracking analyst Vince Masuka (Alex Shimizu), fedora wearing detective Angel Batista (James Martinez) and his dad's partner Bobby Watt (Reno Wilson), Dexter joins a squad rocked by a series of child kidnappings. As Captain Aaron Spencer (Patrick Dempsey) explores a possible cartel link, he assigns Harry to keep an eye on the first female Miami PD homicide detective, María LaGuerta (Christina Milian), who's investigating a string of murders she suspects is the work of a serial killer. 

Meanwhile, Dexter's applying Harry's "code" to satiate his worst urges, targeting only society's worst criminals as he builds confidence with each new kill. But his youthful hubris and inexperience also leads to some major rookie mistakes that could get him caught, or worse. Haunted by past trauma and guilt, Harry fears losing control of his adopted son, continuing to shield Dexter from the grisliest details of a childhood he's subconsciously blocked out.

With the exception of New Blood, the original series always followed a certain formula that usually ended with the big bad on Dexter's table by season's end. And in showing how this all started, these ten episodes don't necessarily stray from that template.While remaining emotionally detached from Morgan family problems, Dexter sloppily navigates his way around as a killer, still searching for a system that works as he implements the tactics he'll later hone. 

Whether it's how Dexter chooses his victims, the first use of an Etorphine injection, the origination of his kill room, or solving the body disposal problem, this is him still figuring everything out. A few missteps alarm an already stressed Harry, who harbors major secrets of his own about Dexter's upbringing. And the childhood backstory we only heard about or saw brief glimpses of now gets a full fleshing out with '70's set flashbacks of Harry's affair with his cartel drug mole Laura Moser (Brittany Allen), mother of Dexter and older brother Brian. 

While we know how Dexter witnessing his mom's murder in that shipping container shaped him and future "Ice Truck Killer" Brian, the entire unfiltered experience is laid bare here. But the biggest revelations concern Harry, who's presented as being far more responsible for Laura's death and the brothers' evolution than we previously suspected. He's also heavily flawed and careless as a detective, developing a savior complex as his attempts to protect Laura go awry, putting her in harms way and nearly destroying his own marriage.

Since James Remar's version of Harry only appeared in brief flashbacks and as an apparition during the classic series, it's unfair to compare his take to Slater's since both serve entirely different purposes. But Slater's tremendous, making few attempts at directly imitating what Remar did as a father and cop torn apart by the guilt of failing his family. Though the writers have Harry make unbelievably incompetent mistakes, Slater's has it covered, shedding light on why he's so protective of Dexter and obsessed with shielding him from the truth about his past. In this sense, Harry's "code" to curb Dexter's darkest urges is also an effort to shield his own shortcomings, rationalizing that if he couldn't save Laura, there's still hope for her son. Or at least one of them.

Learning what not to do as Harry breathes down his neck, Dexter fumbles his way through the killings of a murderous nurse (Tanya Clarke), loan shark (Roberto Sanchez) and mob hitman (Joe Pantoliano), all of whom have left innocent victims in their wake. As Dexter, Patrick Gibson's brilliant, adapting portions of Hall's detached approach while simultaneously providing a blueprint for what we know will follow. 

With Dexter still lacking a full understanding of himself or his capabilities, it's all about not screwing up as a skeptical Harry hovers over him. But Gibson's even better at depicting Dexter's awkwardness in social situations, displaying some great comedic timing as he navigates a relationship with Deb's best friend Sofia (Raquel Justice) or clumsily attempts to endear himself to co-workers.

Because Jennifer Carpenter was so physically distinctive as Deb, they were never going to fill that part with her doppelganger, leaving Molly Brown to turn the volume up in incorporating the character's various personality quirks. Reeling from her mom's death, the anger and swearing is off the charts as she seethes at all the attention Harry gives Dexter. And with the two now suddenly working together, she's never felt more invisible, causing her to rebel by dating the older Gio (Isaac Gonzalez Rossi), who talks a smooth game, but might be trouble.

Unfortunately, Deb's subplot with Gio amounts to less than expected, sort of fading away without any concrete resolution. Despite that, Brown brings sass to the part, excelling most in the moments she vulnerably displays concern and affection for her "weirdo brother." It's through this, her strained bond with Harry and a series of personal roadblocks, that the seeds are planted for a future career in Miami homicide. 

The rest of the cast is uniformly strong, as Shimizu and Martinez are dead ringers for younger incarnations of Masuka and Batista, while Christina Milian gives the season's most underrated turn as the no-nonsense LaGuerta, eerily capturing previous actress Lauren Vélez's demeanor and inflection. Her feud with Dempsey's Captain Spencer is an ongoing thread, with him thoroughly insulted someone so publicly critical of the department would be brought in to undermine him. Besides helping to explain how LaGuerta became the hardheaded boss we know, it also sheds some light on her noticeably different treatment of the Morgan siblings.

Whenever any character pops up in a prequel who wasn't in the original there's wild speculation about why they weren't. And the more recognizable the star, the crazier these theories get. So as much as the writers try to distract us from it, it's impossible to ignore the presence of billed guest star Sarah Michelle Gellar as Tanya Martin, or stop wondering what her overall purpose is. 

Unfortunately, they do so little with Gellar it's almost as if whatever plans were in place for her character got completely scrapped. As a result, we're left wondering what could have been, especially since she steals every scene she's in as a dry, sarcastic forensics expert who actually shares a lot in common with Dexter. The possibilities seemed endless, so while Tanya's influence is still felt in some choice scenes, it's a missed opportunity they won't get back since Gellar's now attached to a Buffy reboot.    

It's somewhat ironic that everything involving Dexter perfecting Harry's code and finding his sea legs as a vigilante is more engaging than the season's big arc involving the murdered and kidnapped kids. Once the perpetrator is revealed, you'll start counting down the minutes until Dexter closes in, but not before the writers jump through hoops to avoid explaining too many details of the killer's convoluted plan.

When it's all over, there are lingering questions you're forced to kind of just let slide, mainly because Harry and LaGuerta's side hunt for the NIH killer so quickly overtakes the main case in interest. More directly tied to what Dexter was and who he'll eventually be, it also provides a further glimpse into Harry's motivations with a surprising twist that skillfully sets the stage for forthcoming seasons. 

Despite some messiness getting there, this does finish on a strong note, with the added benefit of an early 90's milieu and soundtrack that really captures the period's specificity. Narratively and stylistically faithful to its predecessor, it also updates the show's iconic opening title sequence by cleverly incorporating the supporting players into Dexter's superficially tedious, but sinister morning routine.

The advantage of Dexter's origin story being this heavily expanded upon can be a handicap when loyal viewers pick apart every detail, carefully hunting for inconsistencies. But with so many clever callbacks, it's a real trip seeing the his formative years depicted in such detail, prompting us to rethink popular theories. And if this is any indication, the Dexter franchise shows no signs of slowing down, evolving into a full blown multiverse with a shelf life as long as the character himself.            

Burning Questions From The 2025 Oscars

  

Didn't it feel good seeing this start at a reasonable time?

 

Did you expect that optimism would fade later on?

 

Wasn't that L.A. tribute montage incredibly short given the circumstances? 

 

Can you believe they were seriously considering not have any musical performances on the show at all?

 

Was that a rhetorical question?

 

Were you expecting Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande to perform in character?

 

Was that maybe asking a little too much?

 

Okay then, how about Chalamet?

 

Out of all the nominees Conan could insert himself into, wasn't 'The Substance' the best choice?

 

Wasn't his joke about Netflix's constant price hikes the cold, hard truth?

 

Just like the one about Karla Sofía Gascón's publicist?

 

Didn't you know he'd immediately go there with the Gascón jabs?

 

And why shouldn't he?

 

Can you believe she actually attended? 

 

A sand worm playing the piano?

 

While the musical number was funny, did you think "I Won't Waste Time" was a promise Conan wouldn't be able to keep?

 

And wasn't that kind of the song's point?

 

With the exception of Chalamet's ultrasound, didn't those celebrity headshots resemble not so embarrassing high school yearbook photos?

 

How about that Adam Sandler bit? 

 

Did Robert Downey Jr. ramble or what? 

 

Are they really not showing any film clips of the nominees...again? 

 

Were you worried they'd present every category like that?

 

With the Culkin win, was everyone officially guaranteed one right on their ballots?

 

Sort of like he and his wife are officially guaranteed two more kids?

 

So, they're showing clips after all?

 

Did anyone correctly predict Animated Short?

 

In any year?

 

Ever? 

 

Didn't the costume nominees presentation take up a lot of time?

 

What would Conan say about that?

 

Wasn't Nick Offerman the ideal choice for announcer?  

 

Were you thinking that Original Screenplay win was a promising early sign for 'Anora?'    

 

Or were you thinking that Adapted Screenplay win was a promising early sign for 'Conclave?'

 

Weren't June Squibb and Scarlett Johansson an inspired pairing? 

 

Did Squibb display the best comedic timing of any presenter?

 

In the event of an Adrien Brody win, wouldn't it be better to have Halle Berry announce Best Actor?

 

Is isn't absurd how Margaret Qualley had to be a part of the James Bond tribute to get onto the Oscars?

 

So, they decided to go all in on the musical performances anyway?

'Cinemastreams?'

 

Was that the first time we've seen Darryl Hannah in over a decade?

 

Did that editing loss seal 'Conclave's' fate? 

 

Why were they not showing clips for the Supporting Actor and Actress nominees?

 

When Zoe won were you wondering if she'd mention Karla Sofía Gascón? 

 

If you still wanted a career after this, would you?

 

Was that Rolex commercial better than just about any Oscar montage?

 

Mick Jagger?!

 

Isn't he unsurprisingly great at this whole presenting thing?

 

Did you think the 16th time would be the charm for Diane Warren? 

 

Did anyone correctly predict Documentary Short?

 

In any year?

 

Ever?

 

Am I in shock that I actually did?

 

Would "guessed" be a more accurate word than "predicted" in this instance?

 

Miles Teller and Miley Cyrus?

 

Are they Conan's version of Letterman's Oprah and Uma?

 

Was Conan's 'Anora' joke about "standing up to a powerful Russian" the line of the night?  

 

Am I the only one perplexed at the level of online hate directed toward Rachel Zegler?

 

Doesn't that 'Better Man' movie look ridiculous? 

 

Did my luck run out with Live-Action Short?

 

Didn't everyone's?

 

Wasn't that a classy tribute to Gene Hackman from Morgan Freeman? 

 

Wasn't it jarring to see how many big names we lost over the past year?

 

And surreal seeing Shelley Duvall, David Lynch, James Earl Jones and Gene Hackman listed consecutively at the end of the montage?

 

Did you yell "Oh no, not again!" when you realized they excluded Michelle Trachtenberg?

 

How can they so royally screw this up every year?

 

Are they trying to upset viewers?

 

Was 'I'm Still Here' winning Best International Feature the ultimate slap in the face to 'Emilia Pérez?'

 

Wasn't that sort of expected? 

 

Does it get any better than Mark Hamill coming out to John Williams?

 

Was Best Actor the most suspenseful award of the night? 

 

Did you breathe a sigh of relief or disappointment when Adrien Brody won? 

 

Was Cillian Murphy worried Brody would try to kiss him?

 

Did Brody's gum tossing top his infamous Halle Berry moment? 

 

Was his speech longer than 'The Brutalist?'

 

Did you notice Tarantino nodding and clapping with approval when Sean Baker talked about the importance of preserving the theatrical experience?

 

Was he preaching to the choir with that one? 

 

After seeing the poorly chosen Demi Moore clip, were you worried she may not have this in the bag after all? 

 

Did 'Anora''s screenplay, editing and directing wins forecast Mikey taking this? 

 

Didn't she give a really nice speech?

 

Though she hid it well, how disappointed must Demi be right now? 

 

Once Best Picture rolled around, wasn't 'Anora' winning inevitable?

 

But did you really expect it to clean up like it did?

 

Can Conan O' Brien do this again?

 

At this point, should any host just chalk it up as a victory they made it through the show without getting slapped? 

2025 Oscar Predictions

Lately, there's been this split inside the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, as the old guard continues to clash with an influx of newer members who changed the game when preferential balloting went into effect in 2009. While the former still cling to traditionalist views of what an Oscar winner should look and feel like, a younger, more diverse voting body has risen up, with some surprising results. 

Rarely has the playing field seemed as fractured as this year, as competing definitions of what a Best Picture is comes to a head an hour earlier Sunday when Conan O'Brien hosts the show. And as recent victors like Parasite, Nomadland, Coda and Everything Everywhere All At Once have proven, bigger doesn't always equal better for voters, with gigantic, high grossing theatrical epics becoming extinct in the streaming era. In retrospect, last year's "Barbenheimer" phenomenon was an anomaly, not just in terms of critical and commercial success, but in generating the kind of water cooler buzz that leads to renewed Oscar interest. 

Wicked appeared to be taking that route until abruptly fading from the conversation despite its 10 nomination haul. Instead, the headline surrounding this 87th Academy Awards is scandal, with former frontrunner Emilia Pérez's chances going up in smoke after a flurry of offensive tweets resurfaced from Best Actress nominee Karla Sofía Gascón. Now, it faces the very real possibility of being shut out of all 13 categories for which its nominated. 

Suddenly, we're left with a potential Conclave vs. Anora showdown when the dramatic papal thriller faces off against a more zeitgeisty vision that could better represent where modern filmmaking's headed. Whether it gets the general public to care about the show is almost beside the point since this almost century old institution isn't going anywhere, regardless of what wins or how much doomsayers complain. But we are set for a really tight one on Sunday. Below are my predictions, along with an analysis of the major categories.                

 

*Predicted Winners 

ANIMATED FEATURE
Flow
Inside Out 2
Memoir of a Snail
Wallace & Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl
The Wild Robot

ANIMATED SHORT
Beautiful Men
In the Shadow of the Cypress
Magic Candies
Wander to Wonder
Yuck!

DOCUMENTARY FEATURE
Black Box Diaries
No Other Land
Porcelain War
Soundtrack to a Coup d'Etat
Sugarcane 

DOCUMENTARY SHORT
Death By Numbers
I Am Ready, Warden
Incident
Instruments of a Beating Heart
The Only Girl in the Orchestra

INTERNATIONAL FEATURE
I'm Still Here (Brazil)
The Girl with the Needle (Denmark)
Emilia Perez (France)
The Seed of the Sacred Fig (Germany)
Flow (Latvia)

LIVE ACTION SHORT 
A Lien
Anuja
I'm Not a Robot
The Last Ranger
The Man Who Could Not Remain Silent 

FILM EDITING
Anora (Sean Baker)
The Brutalist (David Jancso)
Conclave (Nick Emerson)
Emilia Pérez (Juliette Welfling)
Wicked (Myron Kerstein)

SOUND
A Complete Unknown (Tod A. Maitland, Donald Sylvester, Ted Caplan, Paul Massey & David Giammarco)
Dune: Part Two (Gareth John, Richard King, Ron Bartlett & Doug Hemphill)
Emilia Pérez (Erwan Kerzanet, Aymeric Devoldère, Maxence Dussère, Cyril Holtz & Niels Barletta)
Wicked (Simon Hayes, Nancy Nugent Title, Jack Dolman, Andy Nelson & John Marquis)
The Wild Robot (Randy Thom, Brian Chumney, Gary A. Rizzo & Leff Lefferts)

PRODUCTION DESIGN
The Brutalist (Production Design: Judy Becker; Set Decoration: Patricia Cuccia)
Conclave (Production Design: Suzie Davies; Set Decoration: Cynthia Sleiter)
Dune: Part Two (Production Design: Patrice Vermette; Set Decoration: Shane Vieau)
Nosferatu (Production Design: Craig Lathrop; Set Decoration: Beatrice Brentnerová)
Wicked (Production Design: Nathan Crowley; Set Decoration: Lee Sandales)

COSTUME DESIGN
A Complete Unknown (Arianne Phillips)
Conclave (Lisy Christl)
Gladiator II (Janty Yates & Dave Crossman)
Nosferatu (Linda Muir)
Wicked (Paul Tazewell)

ORIGINAL SCORE
The Brutalist (Daniel Blumberg)
Conclave (Volker Bertelmann)
Emilia Pérez (Clément Ducol and Camille)
Wicked (John Powell and Stephen Schwartz)
The Wild Robot (Kris Bowers)

ORIGINAL SONG
"El Mal," Emilia Pérez (Clément Ducol, Camille & Jacques Audiard)
"The Journey," The Six Triple Eight (Diane Warren)
"Like a Bird," Sing Sing (Abraham Alexander & Adrian Quesada)
"Mi Camino," Emilia Pérez (Camille & Clément Ducol)
“Never Too Late,” Elton John: Never Too Late (Elton John, Brandi Carlile, Andrew Watt & Bernie Taupin)

MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLING
A Different Man (Mike Marino, David Presto & Crystal Jurado)
Emilia Pérez (Julia Floch Carbonel, Emmanuel Janvier & Jean-Christophe Spadaccini)
Nosferatu (David White, Traci Loader and Suzanne Stokes-Munton)
The Substance (Pierre-Olivier Persin, Stéphanie Guillon and Marilyne Scarselli)
Wicked (Frances Hannon, Laura Blount and Sarah Nuth)

VISUAL EFFECTS
Alien: Romulus (Eric Barba, Nelson Sepulveda-Fauser, Daniel Macarin & Shane Mahan)
Better Man (Luke Millar, David Clayton, Keith Herft & Peter Stubbs)
Dune: Part Two (Paul Lambert, Stephen James, Rhys Salcombe & Gerd Nefzer)
Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes (Erik Winquist, Stephen Unterfranz, Paul Story & Rodney Burke)
Wicked (Pablo Helman, Jonathan Fawkner, David Shirk and Paul Corbould)

CINEMATOGRAPHY
The Brutalist (Lol Crawley)
Dune: Part Two (Greig Fraser)
Emilia Pérez (Paul Guilhaume)
Maria (Ed Lachman)
Nosferatu (Jarin Blaschke)

ADAPTED SCREENPLAY
A Complete Unknown (James Mangold, Jay Cocks)
Conclave (Peter Straughan)
Emilia Pérez (Jacques Audiard; In collaboration with Thomas Bidegain, Léa Mysius & Nicolas Livecchi)
Nickel Boys (RaMell Ross, Joslyn Barnes)
Sing Sing (Clint Bentley, Greg Kwedar; Story by Clint Bentley, Greg Kwedar, Clarence Maclin, John "Divine G" Whitfield)

A month or two ago, Audiard's script for Emilia Pérez would have been a serious threat in this category, or at least leading Nickel Boys and Sing Sing. Now it's in dead last, with all the controversy shining an even bigger spotlight on what dissenters already thought was the film's weakest aspect. Now, A Complete Unknown has made up about as much ground as Pérez lost, but most are more enamored with Chalamet's take on Dylan than Mangold and Cocks' script. That leaves the still very well regarded Conclave, which almost has to win this with Edward Burger's direction going unnominated and the Actor and Picture outcomes still in doubt. Its recent SAG and BAFTA trophies only help.       

ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY
Anora (Sean Baker)
The Brutalist (Brady Corbet, Mona Fastvold)
A Real Pain (Jesse Eisenberg)
September 5 (Moritz Binder, Tim Fehlbaum; Co-Written by Alex David)
The Substance (Coralie Fargeat)

It's a surprise enough voters even knew about September 5 so its inclusion here is probably reward enough. A Real Pain has a great chance, but with only one other nod to its name, it may not be significant enough to topple three strong Best Picture contenders. If it's between Anora, The Brutalist and The Substance, this outcome largely depends on what happens in the bigger, more consequential races. Given the roll Anora's on and that the latter two will likely be recognized elsewhere, you have to figure this goes to WGA winner Sean Baker, who's the only nominee equally respected as both a writer and director. Whether or not Anora takes home the big one, voters will want to reward him here.        

SUPPORTING ACTRESS
Monica Barbaro (A Complete Unknown)
Ariana Grande (Wicked)
Felicity Jones (The Brutalist)
Isabella Rossellini (Conclave)
Zoe Saldaña (Emilia Pérez)

With a frontrunner who's been forced to distance herself from the very film she's nominated for, the discussion revolves around how much damage has been done to Zoe Saldaña. But there's good news. While not quite the lock she was a month ago, even Pérez's most vehement haters would admit her performance is far and away the best thing in it. So what it really comes down to is whether anyone can beat her. 

Rossellini has two minutes of screen time in Conclave, most need to be reminded The Brutalist's Jones was nominated, and as much love as A Complete Unknown's Monica Barbaro has gotten, a win her first time out is a stretch. That leaves us with Ariana Grande, who's deserving, but Wicked's stalled campaign makes it hard to imagine voters favoring her, even under these circumstances. If anything, the Academy will be more inclined to reward Saldaña for graciously holding it together throughout the entire P.R. disaster. With Globe, BAFTA and SAG wins under her belt, she's got this.               

SUPPORTING ACTOR
Yura Borisov (Anora)
Kieran Culkin (A Real Pain)
Edward Norton (A Complete Unknown)
Guy Pearce (The Brutalist)
Jeremy Strong (The Apprentice)

Anora's Yura Borisov earned a surprise, but well deserved nod that's hopefully just the start for him. Norton represents yet another endorsement for A Complete Unknown, but he's a real longshot. Though many think Guy Pearce should be getting even more attention for his role as industrialist Harrison Lee Van Buren in The Brutalist, he's a lot less likely than Adrien Brody to be the acting win that polarizing film picks up. 

So good as young Trump's slimy mentor Roy Cohn in The Apprentice, Jeremy Strong taking this feels completely justified, if not for the fact his Succession costar Culkin already has it locked up for his manic portrayal of rambunctious, grief ridden cousin Benji Kaplan in A Real Pain. While the Supporting Actress race is known for its upsets, this category isn't, and should be the only foregone conclusion of the night. Put your money on Culkin, who won every precursor in sight and seems poised to deliver another wildly entertaining acceptance speech.   

ACTRESS
Cynthia Erivo (Wicked)
Karla Sofía Gascón (Emilia Pérez)
Mikey Madison (Anora)
Demi Moore (The Substance)
Fernanda Torres (I'm Still Here)

Gascón never had much of a chance at pulling this off anyway given how her lead category placement was called into question from the get-go, with many still believing she and Saldaña should have swapped places. But none of that matters now, as her shot at becoming the first openly trans actress to win an Academy Award has evaporated. But what it does is create an opening for beloved underdog Fernanda Torres to capture some of those international votes for her Golden Globe winning performance in I'm Still Here, which no one dislikes.

Erivo seemed much stronger before Wicked fizzled, erasing her from contention and leaving Mikey Madison and Demi Moore to battle it out in a race that's narrowed considerably in recent weeks as Anora's gained momentum. Madison's surprise BAFTA win definitely helped and a potential Best Picture victory could seal this since her performance and the film are nearly inseparable. But SAG and Globe losses to Moore, combined with her lower visibility, could hurt. Voters have also have a history of passing over young ingenues by rationalizing how much "time" they still have to win Oscars.

It's less what Madison lacks than everything Moore brings, which is immense popularity and a narrative that overcomes any ambivalence toward endorsing a graphic body horror film. And who among the Academy won't want to hear another inspiring acceptance speech about the double standards facing  women in Hollywood? Or reward an actress who thought she was finished, only to pour all those fears and insecurities into the defining role of her forty year career? Comeback stories don't get much bigger than this.                     

ACTOR
Adrien Brody (The Brutalist)
Timothée Chalamet (A Complete Unknown)
Colman Domingo (Sing Sing)
Ralph Fiennes (Conclave)
Sebastian Stan (The Apprentice)

In a sparser than usual field, I'd jump out of my seat if Sebastian Stan won for The Apprentice, but it's just not in the cards. And neither is a victory for Sing Sing's Colman Domingo or Conclave's Ralph Fiennes, who's slipped despite Conclave recently regaining ground. Besides giving the category's most popular performance, Chalamet managed to win over many doubters who assumed he couldn't play a believable Bob Dylan and does his own singing (something previous winners like Rami Malek for Bohemian Rhapsody can't claim). The surprise SAG victory indicates passionate support, even if it came after Oscar voting already ended. 

Whether or not playing a real life figure still carries the same currency it once did, Chalamet would be the youngest Best Actor winner ever at 29, breaking the record set by fellow nominee Adrien Brody over twenty years earlier in The Pianist. And we'll see if voters can justify holding off on crowning Chalamet, who many believe will be back here again soon. But whatever hesitation there is in recognizing Mikey Madison for that reason, just double it and ask Elvis' Austin Butler how things went for him against Brendan Fraser. As divisive as it is, The Brutalist can't go home empty handed and Brody's suffering performance as Hungarian-Jewish architect and Holocaust survivor László Tóth could be how voters honor it, making him a two-time Oscar winner. Still, this race is a coin flip.                

DIRECTOR
Jacques Audiard (Emilia Pérez)
Sean Baker (Anora)
Brady Corbet (The Brutalist)
Coralie Fargeat (The Substance)
James Mangold (A Complete Unknown)

Voters might be feeling a twinge of remorse that they can't substitute Conclave's Edward Burger, Nickel Boys' RaMell Ross, or Dune: Part Two's Denis Villeneuve in for Audiard, but the ship already sailed. A Complete Unknown will be remembered and celebrated for a while to come, but most agree it won't necessarily be for Mangold's direction. The Substance making it this far is a real credit to the talents of writer/director Fargeat, but a Best Actress and Makeup win is probably its ceiling. 

A possible Picture/Director split is always on everyone's minds when this year's no exception. Almost equally strong cases can be made for Brady Corbet and Sean Baker, but Baker has the slight edge having picked up that coveted DGA, an almost foolproof indicator that the Oscar's his. And if The Brutalist is a rough sit for voters, the more warmly embraced Anora has been held up as the ultimate signifier of Baker's skills. And him somehow feeling overdue with barely ten films behind him has to be seen as a very positive sign.         

BEST PICTURE
Anora
The Brutalist
A Complete Unknown
Conclave
Dune: Part Two
Emilia Pérez
I'm Still Here
Nickel Boys
The Substance
Wicked

Emilia Pérez is finished, and while it's still leagues better than the atrocity that's been described, the film's excessive nomination tally and unfortunate scandal put a target on its back. Wicked peaked months ago and will occupy a proverbial blockbuster slot alongside Dune: Part Two, with voters awaiting their final installments before awarding either.

The competition is too stiff for I'm Still Here and Nickel Boys, neither of which have a director nod or equally meaningful notice that indicates a break through. The Substance's genre starts factoring in here since there's very little chance the Academy would crown a horror film with its top prize. A Complete Unknown's late surge is impressive, but more likely to result in a win for Chalamet than the movie as a whole. 

The Brutalist was looking much better a couple of weeks ago and it's hard to imagine a cerebral critics pick running away with this, especially considering how a similarly themed and executed masterpiece like There Will Be Blood couldn't even manage to pull it off. Conclave has a BAFTA and just recently got the SAG boost, but Berger's lack of a directing nod is worrisome.

While there's some precedent for overcoming the director hurdle (ask Ben Affleck), what can't be overcome is Anora winning both the PGA and DGA, making its path to gold a whole lot easier. Of those that have, only Brokeback Mountain, La La Land and 1917 failed to win Best Picture, with their losses documented as the most shocking in Oscar history. This doesn't feel like one of those races. Anora checks all the important boxes, solidifying it as the safer bet.