Tron: Ares

Director: Joachim Rønning
Starring: Jared Leto, Greta Lee, Evan Peters, Jodie Turner-Smith, Hasan Minhaj, Arturo Castro, Gillian Anderson, Jeff Bridges, Cameron Monaghan, Sarah Desjardins, Selene Yun
Running Time: 119 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

While many were blindsided by director Steven Lisberger's groundbreaking and eerily prescient Tron in 1982, even its biggest detractors knew he was onto something, as its following in the years since has proven. So when Tron: Legacy came around over two decades later, it became a euphoric payoff for longtime fans repeatedly told for years a sequel would never happen. But with the industry finally evolving enough to do justice to Lisberger's futuristic vision, audiences were given an opportunity to experience a 2010 incarnation of the Grid in all its blue neon, 3D glory. And the timing couldn't have been better, at least until those tired "style over substance" complaints that plagued the original resurfaced, squashing any immediate hopes for a follow-up. 

Now after another excruciating wait comes Tron: Ares, with Norwegian director Joachim Rønning taking the reigns of a trilogy no one thought they'd ever see, in the franchise that refuses to die. And despite multiple delays, bad buzz and divisive reactions, it's just as spectacular as the others, ensuring its eventual enshrinement into cult status. Not exactly a sequel or reboot, it exists in this grey area in between, again managing to meet the moment with a timely plot centered around the perils and benefits of artificial intelligence. Of course, the first film foresaw this moral dilemma before anyone, knowing even then that technology's impact largely depends on how humanity chooses to use it.  

It's the year 2025 and rival companies ENCOM and Dillinger Systems are embroiled in a race to bring  digital constructs into reality. One such AI "being" is a program called Ares (Jared Leto), created by Julian Dillinger (Evan Peters), the grandson of former ENCOM executive Ed Dillinger. An expendable super soldier, he's a Master Control Program following Julian's directives, but hampered by a fatal design flaw that limits its lifespan to 29 minutes. That's unless Julian can somehow obtain developer Kevin Flynn's (Jeff Bridges) "Permanence Code," which is in the hands of ENCOM's current CEO Eve Kim (Greta Lee), who located it on a floppy disk at Flynn's remote Alaskan station. 

Ignoring his mother and ex Dillinger CEO Elisabeth's (Gillian Anderson) warnings, Julian uses Ares and digital solidier Athena (Jodie Turner-Smith) to attack ENCOM's grid and retrieve the code. After that fails, Julian sends them to target her in the real world to get it, even if this means killing her. But when Ares starts showing signs of empathy and self-awareness, he and Eve agree to work together, infuriating Julian, who escalates his tactics to obtain the code. Alternating between real and virtual worlds, the war for digital supremacy unfolds, carrying increasingly high stakes for Eve and Ares. 

Picking up exactly where Joseph Kosinski's Legacy left off just wasn't feasible, especially considering how they'd have to entice the key players back after over a decade away. If anything, it's a testament to how well Sam and Quorra's arc concluded, with that unforgettable final shot leaving no where else to go, or at least not enough to justify another feature length adventure focused solely on the aftermath.  

The idea that Sam would bow out of ENCOM and hand the company over to someone capable of carrying on his dad's work seems right given how things were left. And most of that information is cleverly dispensed in a slick pre-title sequence that introduces Eve, who's been acting as sole CEO following her sister Tess's (Selene Yun) death. And to the film's credit, that's not a minor detail, as so much of Eve's desire to possess this code stems from a need to fill her late sibling's shoes, and maybe just a touch of lingering jealousy. 

Like his grandfather, Julian's a greedy meglomaniac, only with the volume turned up and far less competence. Even his own mom thinks he's a loser, only making him more dangerous and ambitiously eager to prove himself with this risky, unregulated program. If Ares' perceived flaw is a conscience then the Dillinger CEO's human malfunction is his complete lack of one, causing him to play fast and loose with potentially fatal tech. It's a concept that's permeated Tron's universe from day one, but takes on even greater relevance as AI outpaces society's preparedness in dealing with the potential consequences.  

This all comes to a head when Julian sets his sights on the code, which Eve and colleague Seth (Arturo Flores) use in digitally transplanting an orange tree, effectively breaking the 29 minute rule. This is what Julian wants and he'll stop at nothing to get it, leading to a surreal, action packed light cycle chase through the streets where Eve's hunted by the dutifully compliant Ares and Athena. But upon realizing he's no longer interested in being considered "expendable," Ares develops a rebellious streak, instead trying his chances at freedom. 

While Leto's casting was derided before a trailer even dropped, it's hard to imagine this working quite as well without him, and not just due to his involvement in actually getting the picture made. You'd assume playing a digital entity with human traits is a thin line for any actor to walk, but Leto drops subtle hints that his assassin harbors some strong feelings about what Julian's planning, taking to reality in ways his creator couldn't have counted on. 

Conveying distinctly human qualities with something just a little off, Leto proves up to that task and remains equally convincing in full fledged action hero mode, whether inside or outside of the virtual world. And in an aesthetic departure, this Grid has a substantially darker, grittier feel and look that really sets it apart from its predecessors. This red-tinged hallucinatory trip is backed by Nine Inch Nails' hypnotizing electronic soundtrack, which won't supplant Daft Punk's beloved Legacy score, but provides an awesome accompaniment, representing some of Reznor and Ross's best recent work. 

In a series often overlooked for its performances, Greta Lee's phenomenal as the sympathetic heroine who unexpectedly goes into badass mode to protect Flynn and her sister's legacies from a maniacal Julian, played with deranged glee by Peters. Gillian Anderson shines in a smallish role as the disgraced former CEO embarrassed by her own son while Jodie Turner-Smith is a physical presence, commanding the screen when Athena gradually emerges as the story's chief antagonist.

As the saga's connective tissue, Jeff Bridges' return as Flynn wasn't exactly a well kept secret, but he's perfectly utilized at just the right time, making a colossal statement with the clarity his character imparts on Ares. Taking place in a familiar setting that calls back to the '82 original, this sequence also marks a convergence point for the trilogy, bringing the saga full circle. And while the final battle is a volcanic cacophony of speed and sound, its very last scene is the best of surprises, addressing the elephant in the room and silencing skeptics who assumed the previous entry's events would go unacknowledged.

A visual feast for the senses, this legitimizes the cliché that certain films are intended to be seen and experienced in the biggest, most immersive environment possible. Of course, that's what Tron's always been, and a lot more, regardless of how many bothered to notice at the time  You're either onboard or not, which may as well sum up the history of a franchise that never really got the respect it deserved. But if this is the send-off, it's hard to imagine a better way for the series to go out than staying ahead of the curve, still waiting for the rest us to catch up.                                                  

Jay Kelly

Director: Noah Baumbach
Starring: George Clooney, Adam Sandler, Laura Dern, Billy Crudup, Riley Keough, Grace Edwards, Stacy Keach, Jim Broadbent, Patrick Wilson, Eve Hewson, Greta Gerwig, Charlie Rowe, Louis Partridge, Alba Rohrwacher, Josh Hamilton, Emily Mortimer, Thaddea Graham, Sadie Sandler, Isla Fisher
Running Time: 132 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)    

In Jay Kelly, George Clooney plays a charismatic, enormously successful 60-year-old movie star aging into the latter phase of his career. And while the film could write itself in terms of how closely it reflects the star's own life and public image, that irony isn't lost on Noah Baumbach, who doesn't always go for the easy laughs. Surprisingly subdued and introspective, it's more traditional than we've come to expect from a director known for his acidic, off kilter takes on relationships. This feels more like a high minded Hollywood dramedy from an earlier era, which is fitting for a protagonist who's spent his whole life in front of the camera. 

If accolades and worldwide fame suggest the title character has it made, a realization suddenly hits him that this isn't the case, at least on a personal level. Surrounded by dedicated handlers, fellow celebrities and fawning fans, he lives in a manufactured reality, even as strained relationships with his two daughters become a harsh reminder of just how lonely he is. Taken on its own terms, the story's lightweight in spots and nothing extraordinary, but a talented cast and sharp writing manage to get it over the finish line. As does the inspired pairing of Clooney and Adam Sandler, with the latter again proving his range when handed material that plays to his overlooked strengths. 

When beleaguered film actor Jay Kelly (Clooney) finds out his college-aged daughter Daisy (Grace Edwards) has chosen to travel through Europe with friends rather than spend time with him, he tells longtime manager Ron Sukenick (Sandler) he's agreed to accept the career tribute award in Tuscany he previously turned down. Hoping to blow off a big movie shoot and surprise Daisy overseas, a series of crises occur before he leaves, including the sudden death of former director and mentor Peter Schneider (Jim Broadbent) and an unexpected encounter with old acting school buddy Tim Galligan (Billy Crudup).  

All this dredges up emotional baggage for Jay as he tries to connect with his school teacher daughter Jessica (Riley Keogh), who still resents his absence during childhood. Meanwhile, a stressed Ron unravels at the realization he's Jay's lackey, serving at the actor's beckoned call without so much as a hint of gratitude or acknowledgment. It's a harsh truth cynical publicist Liz (Laura Dern) knows well, as she attempts to convince Ron this is the job he signed up for. But with Jay growing increasingly selfish, the trip forces him to confront the fact he has no idea who he is outside this sheltered cocoon of massive fame.

Movies about the movie business and those inhabiting it tend to invoke more groans and eye rolls than just about any other sub-genre. Viewed as egotistical navel gazing by most mainstream audiences, it's hard not to cringe when hearing how miserable wealthy, privileged Hollywood types are with their lives. And while there's an element of that here, those vehemently opposed to the topic would probably stay clear anyway so it doesn't make much of a difference. Luckily, Baumbach avoids this pitfall thanks to the work of Clooney and Sandler, who share the screen for the first time in their careers to better than expected results. 

At many points, Jay comes across as a big baby in need of constant coddling by an entourage who love the guy, but find him insufferably egocentric. The script really earns its stripes when exploring why, like during Jay's uncomfortable encounter with his an ex-friend who fell short of his full potential. Compellingly played by Crudup, there's more to this story than it appears, as their impromptu reunion deteriorates when a few drinks are consumed and the real truth comes out, little of which reflects well on Jay. 

Cleverly conceived flashbacks provide Jay's present self a front row seat to regrets and bittersweet memories that, for better or worse, brought him to where he's now at, painting a portrait of young ambition at any cost. This device is particularly effective in depicting the rift between him and eldest daughter Jessica, who begrudgingly accepts the fact he isn't changing and her life will move on, with or without him in it. You could argue Keogh registers the film's most grounded supporting performance, aided by a realistic sub-plot that sidesteps the silliness occasionally present elsewhere. 

Some of that nonsense is provided by Laura Dern's publicist character, who has a mind boggling mini-arc with Sandler's Ron that should have been left on the cutting room floor. And while inexplicably sidelining talents like Greta Gerwig, Emily Mortimer and Isla Fisher is certainly a choice, Clooney and Sandler's intentionally unbalanced dynamic helps cover for it. 

Unfailingly loyal and eager to please, Ron operates under a sadly misplaced hope Jay views him as a friend. But his star client's unwillingness to compromise is the final straw for the put-upon manager, who's already in the process of losing his other client (played by Patrick Wilson). Sandler effectively conveys Ron's evolution throughout, arriving at this place of clarity he hopes his boss will eventually catch up to. For his part, Jay does clumsily try to bond with Daisy on the trip and even invites his own ornery father (a rambunctious Stacy Keach) along, whose behavior goes a long way in explaining Jay's issues.      

Clooney creates an intersection where fiction and reality collide for those envisioning how things would play out if the actor himself boarded a train full of adoring fans. In that respect, the film invokes comparisons to Nic Cage's similarly meta, The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent, only as a character study rather than a high concept action comedy. It's especially evident in the final scene's tribute reel, which seamlessly incorporates Clooney's career into the film's narrative for a heart tugging conclusion.

The ending also sadly shows how much of Jay's life is defined by his screen persona, as a string of inciting events cause his mistakes to come back and haunt him. With this, Baumbach transforms a somewhat conventional premise about a celebrity's mid-life crisis into a modern day spin on A Christmas Carol. When confronted by ghosts of decades past, the movie star faces failures and missed opportunities, with Clooney flipping the charm on and off as only he can.         

One Battle After Another

Director: Paul Thomas Anderson
Starring: Leonardo DiCaprio, Sean Penn, Benicio del Toro, Regina Hall, Teyana Taylor, Chase Infiniti, Wood Harris, Alana Haim, Paul Grimstad, Shayna McHayle, Tony Goldwyn, John Hoogenakker, Starletta DuPois, Eric Schweig, D.W. Moffett, Kevin Tighe, Jim Downey, James Raterman, Dijon Duenas 
Running Time: 162 min.
Rating: R

**The Following Review Contains Plot Spoilers**

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

With a few masterpieces already under his belt, many assumed Paul Thomas Anderson had nothing further to prove, his recent projects merely reaffirming what most of the filmmaker's hardcore fanbase always knew. And while incapable of a total misstep, we've accepted the fact he keeps carving out his own cinematic arthouse niche of sorts. That's why the notion any Anderson project could carry mainstream appeal, capture the cultural zeitgeist or take place in contemporary times always seemed absurd, even for our greatest director. It became less about whether he could do it than if he'd ever really want to. But all that doubt comes to end with One Battle After Another, an explosive departure miles removed from anything he's previously done. 

A strangely accessible crowd pleaser, it opens with enough timely parallels to have us worrying what's ahead, before taking a more personal, affecting turn matched only by its darkly twisted sense of humor. Very loosely adapted from Thomas Pynchon's 1990 novel Vineland, it's also about as unfilmable as the author's similarly challenging Inherent Vice, which Anderson tackled with lukewarm results. Only now he's cracked the code, giving this enough of an overhaul that it's completely unrecognizable from the source material. What he does retain are its themes and ideas, brought to vivid life by a handful of brilliant performances from actors both new and familiar. The film doesn't sneak up on you so much as throw a live hand grenade in your lap, with scenes that should continue replaying in viewers' minds long after the experience ends. 

"Ghetto" Pat Calhoun (Leonardo DiCaprio) and Perfidia Beverly Hills (Teyana Taylor) are members of the far-left revolutionary group, the French 75, breaking out detained Mexican immigrants from California's Otay Mesa Detention Center. During the raid, Perfidia encounters and sexually assaults officer Steven J. Lockjaw (Sean Penn), who enjoys this a little too much, especially once he realizes he can use her to his advantage. So when Perfidia abandons Pat and their newborn baby Charlene to dive headfirst into her activism, she's caught by Lockjaw, who cuts her a deal to rat out the rest. But she soon disappears from witness protection while Pat and Charlene go on the run.

Flash forward sixteen years and Pat and Charlene are now living off the grid in a sanctuary city under the aliases of Bob and Willa Ferguson (Chase Infiniti). With Bob now a paranoid stoner overprotective of his free-spirited teen daughter, Lockjaw has since moved up the government ranks. He's also aiming to join the exclusive, far-right white supremacist group, the Christmas Adventurers Club, so long as a disqualifying secret from his past doesn't come to light. But when a burnt out Bob realizing Willa's been targeted, he desperately tries to find her as a deadly cat-and-mouse game ensues with his former nemesis.

The story really starts cooking with gas after the time jump, though you could argue it happens earlier when a ferociously determined Perfidia first encounters slimy commanding officer Lockjaw. To an extent, they're both using each other, as she wields her sexuality as a weapon after recognizing his interest, which immediately borders on obsession. And it isn't long before he realizes the advantage he holds over her and the revolutionaries as a result.

There's a twisted, toxic psychological game playing out between Perfidia and Lockjaw that has us questioning whether they actually have feelings for each other or he's exaggerated the relationship in his delusional mind. And though we're never completely sure, these questions prove the film's far more interested in exploring the complicated motivations of its characters than inciting political debate.

Mayhem unfolds when a washed-up Bob gets the dreaded distress call that his local karate champion daughter is in danger, confirming the reality of his stoned out paranoia. And while he's prepared Willa for this moment, it's tough for the teen to take her kook of a dad seriously, especially since he's high as a kite, prone to irrational outbursts and perpetually clad in a beanie, bathrobe and oversized shades. 

While frequently mislabeled a "comedy," the film does have an extended stretch that undeniably qualifies, as Bob hilariously attempts to extract intel from the resistance without the required password his brain's too fried to remember. DiCaprio's in top form here alongside an effortlessly cool Benicio del Toro as Willa's Sensei, Sergio St. James, a community leader and immigrant smuggler who facilitates a deliriously entertaining escape. 

This isn't Sergio's first rodeo and it's a thrill watching how Anderson frames all the chaos around this beer-drinking zen hero who hardly breaks a sweat, remaining completely calm and controlled in the face of Bob's emotional breakdown. Of course, Bob screws everything up anyway, but that hardly matters with Sensei able to pick up the pieces, dust the ex-freedom fighter off and steer him in the right direction.

Teyana Taylor owns the first 30 minutes as the intimidating and vulnerable Perfidia, but after exiting, her past actions continue to inform the rocky father-daughter relationship between Bob and Willa. But what's more amazing is how much DiCaprio and Chase Infiniti manage to convey with their limited screen time together. In just a couple of minutes we can tell why Willa's been shielded from certain details, both for her own safety and to ease Bob's guilty conscience. They also let us look past the bickering to recognize how much they care for each other, especially in moments where you'd mistake Willa as the parent, trying to reign in her unhinged dad. She's also underestimated, which is about to change once the French 75's exhausted, but fiercely loyal Deandra (Regina Hall) takes her into hiding. 

The one mistake Perfidia can't erase is the deplorable Colonel Lockjaw, played by a phenomenal Sean Penn in one of his weirdest, creepiest turns. With a goofy haircut and stilted gait, he's the walking embodiment of every self-hating loser given too much power or authority. Each mannerism, line delivery and facial tick induce shivers, as Penn plays him with a Napoleon complex so frighteningly recognizable that he's constantly walking this tightrope between cowardice and egomania. 

It's only logical a covert cabal of wealthy white supremacists would view the sleazy Lockjaw as their ideal recruit, just as he'd make it his life's mission to join, tempted by the promise of being considered "superior." This leads to the unforgettable mid-film meeting in which the Christmas Adventurers' leader Virgil Throckmorton (Tony Goldwyn) reveals their newest prospect is instead a liability marked for elimination by the club's seemingly innocuous, Patagonia vest wearing hitman Tim Smith (John Hoogenakker). And Anderson presents this secret organization is terrifying in its everyday casualness, as the blaring holiday music and polite exchange of pleasantries only make their eventual discussion that much more disturbing.  

Once Willa realizes that she's the loose end Lockjaw needs tied, it's flight or fight mode from here on out, with the film's sensational second half belonging to a revelatory Infiniti, who channels Willa's fear, angst and sadness into a struggle for survival. Going toe-to-toe in an intense verbal and physical showdown with Penn, Infiniti portrays her as an endless well of resourcefulness as insurmountable danger looms. It'll culminate in a Bullitt-inspired car chase unlike any sequence we've recently seen on screen, with Anderson hypnotically shooting the three vehicles over the rolling hills of California's desert highway as if we're on a dizzying rollercoaster simulator. The risk of a crash or flip keeps the stressful, elegantly edited sequence humming until the distance between cars closes and a believably executed payoff comes. And what a clever one it is, revealing the depth of Willa's ingenuity, as well as the justifiable doubts and suspicion that linger even after she survives the most traumatizing of threats. 

The film's final coda is about as strong as endings come, arriving after this jaw dropping twist that sees a character finally get his comeuppance from those just as equally evil. And while Jonny Greenwood's pounding score underlines the unsettling action, Anderson also delivers a pair of unexpected needle drops so effective it that takes a beat to properly recognize songs we've heard countless times, just never in this context. But now it's impossible to ever hear them the same way again, especially one that propels Willa into the next stage of her life's journey. 

Though its story centers around revolutionaries and their failed attempts to escape the past, it's the familial through line that gives this exhilarating film its heart and soul, sucking them down a wormhole of paranoia and conspiracies. It also marks the rare instance where moving a book's period setting into the modern era actually pays off, lending an immediacy to these events that could only derive from its timing. Debate will ensue where it ranks in Anderson's filmography, but you have to believe it's up there, as he pulls off a feat even his biggest supporters didn't think he had in him.          

Roofman

Director: Derek Cianfrance
Starring: Channing Tatum, Kirsten Dunst, LaKeith Stanfield, Juno Temple, Peter Dinklage, Ben Mendelsohn, Uzo Aduba, Emory Cohen, Melonie Diaz, Molly Price, Lily Collias, Kennedy Moyer, Alissa Marie Pearson, Tony Revolori
Running Time: 126 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)   

In Derek Cianfrance's Roofman, we get a nostalgic glimpse inside a Toys "R" Us as it existed in the early to mid 2000's, filled with aisles of DVDs, video games and stuffed animals as far as the eye can see. And it's a safe bet even younger viewers unfamiliar with the store will still be equally amazed and perplexed by this unusual setting for a film. So it only stands to reason that the idea of actually living in one for six months would fulfill the wishes of a certain generation of kids who all identified with the company's philosophy of never growing up.

Unfortunately, that doesn't work as well as an adult, especially if you're scouring the shelves for junk food, relying on a Spider-Man sleeping bag for comfort and lacking a shower or any meaningful human contact. And there's nothing like being slapped with the harsh reality that even our most beloved stores employ incompetent managers handcuffed (or zip tied) by crippling corporate policies. While it beats being homeless, a wanted fugitive can't stay in one place for long, making this extremely likable protagonist's dilemma a sort of karmic comeuppance for years' worth of irreversible mistakes.

It's 1998 and divorced U.S. Army veteran Jeffrey Manchester (Tatum) is resented by ex-wife Talana (Melonie Diaz) and struggling to provide for his three kids, seemingly hitting a dead end in life. But after extracting the wrong message from a conversation with friend and former sergeant Steve's (LaKeith Stanfield), Jeffrey utilizes his military skills to rob multiple McDonald's restaurants by breaking through the roof overnight. Unusually apologetic and polite to the morning crew of employees, he garners national media attention as the "Roofman" before eventually being caught and sentenced to 45 years.

Seamlessly escaping prison in 2004, but with a manhunt underway, Jeffrey finds refuge inside a Charlotte Toys "R" Us, disabling security cameras, ransacking shelves for candy and finding an inconspicuous spot to sleep. After noticing employee and single mom Leigh (Kirsten Dunst) having problems with inflexible store manager Mitch (Peter Dinklage), he secretly intervenes before stealing toys for her church's toy drive. Dating Leigh under the guise of New Yorker "John Zoran" he even connects with her daughters Lindsay (Lily Collias) and Dee (Kennedy Moyer). But the closer Jeffrey gets, the more likely he's caught, ending this relationship for good.      

The real kicker is how Jeffrey doesn't exactly fit the profile of your typical armed robber, even when he superficially seems to. He's failed as a husband, fears he's disappointing his kids and probably has a story similar to other incarcerated individuals who took up crime as a last resort. But the key difference lies in how acutely aware he is of his shortcomings, never losing the desire to prove he's someone his family can rely on. 

Even clad in black clothes and a ski mask, Jeffrey's guilty conscience betrays him by how well he treats his petrified McDonald's hostages. And when the police do catch up with him, all he can think about in prison is getting out, naively hanging on to the hope he can just return home and start over, despite his young daughter watching him get tackled and arrested on her birthday. And it's that motivation pushing him to orchestrate a prison break smooth enough for The Shawshank Redemption's Andy Dufresne to wonder where he went wrong. 

Some of the most entertaining scenes involve Jeffrey's tricks to avoid detection inside the Toys "R" Us, at least for a while. He even starts to have fun, until the temptation to get involved becomes too great, unconventionally affording him a second chance built on one giant lie. But his feelings for Leigh and her kids are genuine, even as he continues to put them in danger, hoping they won't get hurt when the fallout comes. 

In one of the best performances of his career, Tatum plays to his understated everyman strengths, projecting a charm and harmless sincerity that immediately puts viewers in the palm of his hand as he  juggles lightweight comedy with more emotional drama. While we understand why strangers would embrace this guy without question, Tatum's biggest feat is in getting us to empathize with Jeffrey regardless of his criminal indiscretions. We dread his eventual capture not for the consequences he'll inevitably face, but all that lost potential.

Sharing an effortless chemistry with Tatum, Dunst completely gives herself over as the trusting, feisty Leigh, who's trying to recover from her own failed marriage, if only for the sake of her two daughters, the eldest of which couldn't be moodier. For Leigh, "John" is too good to be true, mostly because she's only seen what he's shown her, however real those feelings are. As Mitch, Dinklage gives one of the more eerily accurate portrayals of a prickly retail manager, right down to his sarcastic asides and passive-aggressive criticisms. It's kind of scary just how well he nails this character, who only shows his true vulnerabilities when the going gets tough. 

Nearly every sub-plot works, whether it's Jeffrey's interactions at the church, his wild attempts to bond with Leigh's daughters or a side story involving hapless Toys "R" Us employee Otis' (Emory Cohen) inability to stand up for himself. If there's a head scratching character, it's Stanfield's Steve, who's constantly passing judgment on his friend, which would fine if he wasn't hypocritically running a criminal enterprise himself. Even worse, all his advice only leads to more trouble for Jeffrey and a coincidentally huge bill for help. 

All of this can only end one way, with Jeffrey pulling off a final heist to earn the kind of freedom he's not sure he wants or deserves. It also brings him face-to-face with some of the messier consequences his choices cause, as Cianfrance and co-writer Kirt Gunn flip this unbelievably true story on its head to mine thematic gold. But much of that can be attributed to Tatum, who has us rooting for his affable character to somehow turn things around, as increasingly unlikely as that may seem.                                       

Black Phone 2

Director: Scott Derrickson
Starring: Mason Thames, Madeleine McGraw, Ethan Hawke, Demián Bichir, Jeremy Davies, Miguel Mora, Arianna Rivas, Anna Lore, Graham Abbey, Maev Beaty, James Ransone
Running Time: 114 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)    

To its credit, Black Phone 2 doesn't take the easy way out, with director Scott Derrickson resisting the urge to retrace the steps of his creepy original by instead taking things in an entirely different direction. No longer working from Joe Hill's short story on which the first film was based, it utilizes the author's idea for a follow-up, creating a worthy next chapter that expands the Grabber's universe beyond what we previously assumed. Echoing themes from A Nightmare on Elm Street while incorporating a frigid, desolate setting that recalls The Shining, it leans further into the supernatural by suggesting death was just the beginning for this killer looking to finish what he started.

Most horror films avoid fleshing out a backstory for their villain since it's difficult coming up with an idea that doesn't diminish our fear of the unknown. Here, Derrickson takes a risk by actually giving evil a name and past while the surviving characters he terrorized struggle to move past their trauma. And now that he's phoning back from beyond, there's no choice but to answer, as the lines separating dreams from reality get even blurrier. 

It's 1982 and four years have passed since Finney Blake (Mason Thames) killed his abductor, the masked murderer known as the Grabber (Ethan Hawke). Burying his emotional pain by constantly fighting at school, younger sister Gwen (Madeleine McGraw) is having nightmares about a series of brutal murders that took place at Alpine Lake Camp in 1957, where their deceased mother once worked as a counselor. Despite dad Terrence's (Jeremy Davies) objections, she obsesses over finding answers, convincing Finney and classmate Ernesto (Miguel Mora) to travel with her to the camp. 

Upon arriving, a blizzard traps the three there with camp supervisor Armando (Demián Bichir), his niece Mustang (Arianna Rivas) and skeptical employees Kenneth (Graham Abbey) and Barbara (Maev Beaty) But when mysterious calls start coming from an abandoned, inoperative pay phone and Gwen's disturbing nightmares worsen, they realize the Grabber may have been responsible for the 1952 murders of those  campers. Only he's back, entering Gwen's dreams to get revenge on Finney. To stop him they'll need to locate the victims' bodies, in the process uncovering frightening truths about the Grabber's past. 

While the last film took place almost entirely within the confines of a darkened basement and revolved around a simple, straightforward premise, it did have an unmistakable look and feel Derrickson used to invoke a sense of oncoming dread. Here, his sequel ups the ante, and if it's become a running joke that horror killers never really die, he and co-writer C. Robert Cargill use this to their advantage, concocting a clever way to resurrect the Grabber that ties details we already know to others not yet revealed.  

Taking place in a snowy, haunted camp with Overlook Hotel vibes, cinematographer Pär M. Ekberg channels a grainy, 70's aesthetic filled with trippy dreamscape sequences that feel akin to stepping into an old Super 8 movie. And it's jaw dropping shots like the old phone booth standing in the frozen tundra or a dazed Gwen being confronted by visions of the Grabber's burned and battered victims that help the film maintain a malevolent, unsettling tone throughout. 

These characters also evolve in dramatically satisfying ways following the events that befell them four years earlier. McGraw's Gwen is upgraded to full fledged protagonist as she battles Finney's dead captor, who's taken a page or two from Freddy Krueger's playbook. And the pain and punishment he inflicts in her dreams very much carries over to reality, making it far safer to stay awake, even if that remains at odds with what she's hoping to accomplish.  

In a heavily expanded role, McGraw gives a powerhouse performance as Gwen, while Thames effectively portrays the angry teen in a state of detached denial, burying his fear behind apathy and pot. More like his alcoholic father than he'd ever admit, he's heading down a similar path of self loathing and regret unless he pulls it together. Bechir is tremendous as the kind, strong-willed camp owner, valuable for his own connection to the Grabber and as the only adult who believes them. 

Despite being the brother of a past victim, Mora's Ernesto is still little more than an appendage, his romantic sub-plot with Gwen providing a serviceable enough diversion. But the script skillfully uses Finney and Gwen's late mother Hope (Anna Lore) as a vessel to join past and present, culminating in a spectacularly filmed sequence that finds Gwen entering her mom's dreams, piecing together the Grabber's history as she comes to a shocking realization. 

Derrickson settles into a more predictable rhythm when the gang attempts to vanquish the beast, but it's still a hallucinatory ride, building on the goodwill garnered in the previous installment. Though we rarely "need" sequels, it's always a relief when we get one this ambitious. Transfixing but oddly repetitive at points, it boasts a more threatening antagonist and even better atmosphere than its predecessor, reaping the rewards of taking place in an icy hell from which there's no escape.                           

The Smashing Machine

Director: Benny Safdie
Starring: Dwayne Johnson, Emily Blunt, Ryan Bader, Bas Rutten, Oleksandr Usyk, Olga Dzyurak, Lyndsey Gavin, Satoshi Ishii, James Moontasri, Yoko Hamamura, Stephen Quadros, Whitney Moore
Running Time: 123 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)    

It seems odd that the biggest question going into The Smashing Machine was whether Dwayne Johnson could capably play the role of former amateur wrestler turned MMA fighter Mark Kerr. But that we still  ask given the actor's history on the mat speaks to just how far removed he's been since becoming a major movie star. It's less whether he can do it than if audiences would bite after an endless string of action vehicles had us thinking he gave up being taken seriously as a dramatic actor. Johnson came out of the gate with such undeniable charisma and early promise we knew he'd eventually jump into more challenging roles in different genres. It's only when the big paydays came and his movies kept dominating the box office that he resisted straying from his familiar formula. 

Now after stumbling with Black Adam and the PR mess that followed, Johnson's asking fans to accept this sudden shift that can best be called a calculated gamble. But while that and a depressing subject matter are potential reasons for why audiences stayed away, it isn't a reflection of the film's quality. Everything that can go right does, even as writer/director Benny Safdie crafts a somewhat familiar sports underdog story laced with tragedy. Unfolding with almost documentary-like truthfulness, how it's told and Johnson's performance help lift it, making for an emotionally raw character study.  

It's 1999 and we see grainy, VHS fight footage of UFC competitor Mark Kerr (Johnson), being interviewed about his impressive winning streak as he heads to Japan for his next fight, accompanied by trainer, best friend and fellow competitor Mark Coleman (Ryan Bader). But it's Kerr's volatile relationship with girlfriend Dawn Staples (Emily Blunt) that causes problems, especially as he becomes increasingly dependent on drugs, injecting opioids around the clock to numb the pain and continue fighting. 

Between arguing with Japanese officials about his pay and getting into locker room screaming matches with Dawn, a glassy eyed Kerr reaches the end of his rope after a devastating loss sends him home and eventually to rehab following an overdose. While he diligently commits to staying clean, rehab and recovery is a change Dawn can't deal with, especially once he begins training for his comeback under the tutelage of MMA legend Bas Rutten (playing himself). With one last shot at redemption, Kerr attempts to maintain his sobriety and career, as he and Dawn continue to lock horns, headed for a nasty collision course.  

There's this moment early on when Kerr's asked by an interviewer what he'd do if he lost and his reaction speaks volumes. It's almost as if he can't wrap his head around such an idea, much less the actual possibility, despite it being a prerequisite for every great champion. Watching, you're reminded of Ronda Rousey, a fighter so driven by her hunger to win that she couldn't psychologically process the alternative. When it came, she unraveled, just as Kerr does, going into immediate denial and frantically grasping at straws to search for a loophole that might overturn his worst nightmare. 

Of course, Kerr being high all the time doesn't help, transforming him into someone far different from the polite, mild mannered giant who befriends grandmas and kids in doctor's offices at the film's start. On the mat he's a maniac, but the loss marks a turning point in his personal life, causing him to direct much of that rage at a frustrated Dawn, who gives it right back. Nearly from the jump, Safdie plant the seed that she's an outsider in her boyfriend's world, always taking a back seat to his love of competition. 

Accustomed to being the center of attention, Dawn tries to connect with him, only pushing his buttons instead, leaving a patient, levelheaded Coleman to act as intermediary while facing media criticism his own MMA career is winding down. Ironically, it's when Kerr gets clean that things get far worse, prompting us to realize his toxic relationship with Dawn can't exclusively be chalked up to the drugs. At times it's more a symptom than a cause since there's more than enough blame to go around for both. Only when he starts making real strides in his recovery do they drift even further apart, causing an isolated Dawn to spiral.

Buried under facial prosthetics, a bigger, more jacked than usual Johnson sort of resembles a cross between Lou Ferrigno and Kurt Angle, with a little of The Rock peeking through. Claims that he's completely unrecognizable or totally disappears aren't exactly accurate, but that's a good thing, since this portrayal wouldn't be nearly as effective without the actor's real persona enhancing it. And though his skills are stretched beyond anything we've recently seen from him, it still incorporates a showmanship and intensity similar to that he displayed between the ropes. We glimpse it in scenes where he's demolishing doors and walls, but it's actually the quieter, emotional moments where he's most impressive, breaking down like a small, helpless child as his character crumbles. 

Eyes rolled when it appeared Blunt would be saddled with another suffering wife role, but Dawn has a meatier arc than that, particularly in the film's second half, mostly due to the actress and a certain level of awareness in Safdie's script. And while Kerr's pairing with her is marred by addiction and mental instability, it strays from the usual template of a abusive relationship, creating a murkier than usual dynamic. MMA fighter Ryan Bader is also excellent in his acting debut, bringing a grounded believability to pal and cornerman Mark Coleman while Bas Rutten's brief but memorable appearance is as crazy as you'd want. 

The ending notably diverges from the "final fight" sports biopic trope in that there's no victory, at least in a traditional cinematic sense. What Kerr achieves is subtler, less tangible and only achievable through continued progress. The very last scene is a keeper, delightfully showing us the real Kerr out and about in the present day. But for those blaming the film's perceived failure on no one knowing who this guy is, it's best to remember all characters are strangers before the credits roll, whether we've heard of them or not. An actor's job is to fill in the blanks, which Johnson compellingly does from its opening minutes.  

I'll gladly take ten Smashing Machines over the projects Johnson's recently chosen, while hoping its muted reception doesn't cause him to swear off riskier parts and head straight back to the action realm. Ideally, he should do a variety of both, which would have already gotten fans used to the idea of him tackling heavier material. But he's on the right track, even if it didn't pull viewers who flocked to Johnson's other movies. Unflinchingly honest, it rarely pulls its punches, dropping us into a grittier era to tell the story of the fighter who helped put UFC on the map.                                         

The Life of Chuck

Director: Mike Flanagan
Starring: Tom Hiddleston, Chiwetel Ejiofor, Karen Gillan, Mark Hamill, Mia Sara, Nick Offerman, Carl Lumbly, Benjamin Pajak, Jacob Tremblay, Annalise Basso, Taylor Gordon, Kate Siegel, Samantha Sloyan, Trinity Bliss, Matthew Lillard, Violet McGraw, Heather Langencamp, David Dastmalchian, Cody Flanagan, Q'orianka Kilcher, Antonio Raul Corbo, Molly C. Quinn, Michael Trucco, Carla Gugino, Lauren LaVera
Running Time: 111 min.
Rating: R

**The Following Review Contains Plot Spoilers**

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

In a year that's seen no shortage of Stephen King's work on screen, the feeling is that most of his films fit into one of two categories. Although he's best known for straightforward horror, it always seems to be the others that stop you dead in your tracks, forcing a double take to confirm it's his name appearing above the credits. But it wasn't until The Shawshank Redemption hit theaters in 1994 that perceptions of the author really started to change, earning him full respect outside the horror genre. And now we can properly credit this evolution for helping clear the path for Mike Flanagan's The Life of Chuck, one of the strongest King adaptations ever lensed. 

Based on a novella from the writer's 2020 short story collection, If It Bleeds, the film fearlessly explores the minutiae of everyday life, carefully walking a delicate line that separates mysticism from reality. And it comes from a director who's no stranger to King's material, having helmed Gerald's Game and The Shining's surprisingly well received sequel, Doctor Sleep, both of which share little in common with this. But who is Chuck? The answer is simpler than we expect, yet also much deeper and more profound. Every scene, moment and line of dialogue revolves around this title character, even when you're lulled into thinking otherwise. It's all about him, and in a strangely cosmic sense, also us. 

Middle school teacher Marty Anderson (Chiwetel Ejiofor) is having an awful day, even as many around the globe are suffering far worse. California was just struck by a catastrophic 9.2 earthquake, the internet is out worldwide, cars are falling into sink holes and suicides are way up. It could be the end and he's stuck sitting through unpleasant parent-teacher conferences when not being bombarded by billboards, commercials and advertisements thanking an accountant named Charles "Chuck" Krantz for "39 Great Years!' Marty's ex-wife Felicia Gordon (Karen Gillan), a nurse at the local hospital, isn't faring any better, with the pair leaning on each other during what could be their last days. 

Flashing back some months earlier, we follow a middle-aged Chuck (Tom Hiddleston), who while attending a banking conference has a spontaneous musical moment involving a street drummer (Taylor Gordon) and red-haired young woman (Annalise Basso) in the midst of a bad breakup. From there, we get a look at Chuck's childhood spent living with his kind but alcoholic grandfather Albie (Mark Hamill) and free spirited grandmother Sarah (Mia Sara) following the death of his parents and unborn baby sister. Torn between an interest in dance and Albie's insistence on a more practical path, Chuck is sternly warned by him to stay out of the house's locked cupola, only further piquing the boy's curiosity.  

Told in reverse chronological order, those expecting the life affirming tale hinted at in the trailers may initially be taken aback by an apocalyptic parable along the lines of a moodier, more philosophical Leave The World Behind. But the worst way to approach any of this is literally, like a puzzle in need of solving. Better described as the series finale of a life, there are clues, just not related to what you'd assume, some of which are caught on a second watch once the whole story's played out. 

Even when we struggle to process how much of the opening act's cataclysmic disaster is actually real, Marty and Felicia's sinking feelings of dread and hopelessness remain a constant. Exes with only each other to lean on as they try to process all that's happening during a deep late night conversation, the substance of their talk proves important later. We'll also meet other shaken residents, like Marty's manic neighbor Gus (Matthew Lillard), kindly, dignified town mortician Sam (Carl Lumbly), depressed single father Josh (David Dastmalchian) and a reappearing young girl on roller skates (Violet McGraw). 

With the situation worsening, a distracted Marty and Felicia still can't seem to figure out who this "Chuck" guy is or why his pleasant, bespeckled mug is everywhere of late, including through the illuminated windows of neighborhood homes. Becoming as ubiquitous as Truman Burbank, he's not old enough to be retiring so there's clearly something else going on. But as achingly believable as Ejiofor and Gillan are in these roles, they'll exit stage left when it's time to meet Chuck. 

In the first of Flanagan's many carefully calibrated tonal shifts, the story enters uncharted territory with the introduction of mild mannered insurance agent Chuck, who's briefly played by Hiddleston in a part smaller than you'd expect, but no less monumental. His encounter with this street drummer and bystander comes delightfully out of nowhere, with the actor gradually conveying all the complicated, inexplicable emotions flowing through Chuck in that moment.

This is also when Nick Offerman's narrator emerges as a character unto himself, supplying pointed and poignant observations lifted directly from King's prose. The actor's deep baritone and droll, bemused delivery is immediately recognizable when delivering a sarcastic, occasionally hilarious commentary that disproves the ridiculous theory all voice overs are lazy. Anything can be mishandled, but A Christmas Story and Arrested Development would probably like a word since both serve as a template for how Offerman deftly adds to the verisimilitude of Flanagan's universe.

Carefully placed but never overused, the narration builds and memorably punctuates certain scenes, like when tracking the three strangers as they cross paths in the spectacular, impromptu dance sequence that means more than we initially think. The thrilling choreography and performances provide a wake-up call, putting viewers on notice that the film's turned an unpredictable corner. But what's scarier is how it'll later be topped by an even better one. 

Joy begets tragedy when Chuck's childhood is drastically altered following his parents' death. Played by three different actors at separate ages, the heaviest lifting comes from a revelatory Benjamin Pajak as the 11-year-old version. And while he's nearly unrecognizable behind a scraggly, walrus-like mustache, Mark Hamill gives the performance of his career as Albie, at one point turning a speech that extols the virtues of mathematics into quiet devastation for a grandson whose ambitions are squashed in an instant. But in embodying this flawed but well meaning grandfather with such sincerity, we believe his advice comes from the right place, despite how visibly painful it is for the boy to hear.    

That moment puts everything previously shown into proper perspective, helping explain why Chuck stops at the sound of those drums later on the street as an adult, surrendering to a love that's laid dormant for decades as he pursued a more conventional career path. But many of his interests stem from his movie musical obsessed grandmother Sarah, a practical voice of wisdom and reason he always felt more connected to than Albie, mainly because she's so much fun. In her first acting role in over a decade, Ferris Bueller and Legend star Mia Sara doesn't get a ton of screen time, but does she ever make the most of it, her character's presence and impact reverberating long after she's left the picture. 

A seemingly superfluous side plot involving Chuck's extracurricular dance club hits hardest, forming the crux of the story's importance and bookending what that came before. This is Flanagan's finest hour, depicting the pangs of adolescence with relatable humor and heartbreaking nostalgia, avoiding the sappiness that would sink lesser films of a similar ilk. It's also full of small moments you don't want to see end, from Chuck's unforgettable interaction with hippie teacher Miss Richards (Kate Siegel) to his crush on taller, older dance partner Cat (Trinity Bliss) that culminates in the film's most moving scene. Everything about it is pure magic, including Chuck getting just the right advice from the coach (Samantha Sloyan) during a sudden attack of fear and insecurity. And while there's real doubt how things will turn out, the pay off is exhilarating, with Offerman's narrator capping it all off with a perfect line that encapsulates a kind of memory that can't be described. 

Invoking elements from The Tree of Life and even Robert Zemeckis's Here, Flanagan gives the material a Spielbergian touch by celebrating the profound intricacies of human experience in ways that speaks directly to mainstream moviegoers. With cinematographer Eben Bolter expertly conveying each chapter's distinctive look and The Newton Brothers' sweeping score carrying us through, it feels like the type of dramatic fantasy that would have blown theatergoers away in the 90's and 00's. Bubbling just under the surface is this mystery that comes to a head in its closing minutes, pulling back the curtain with a reveal that leaves you gasping for air as the credits roll. 

Between an off-putting title, its inexplicable 'R' rating, poor promotion and getting dumped into theaters a year after winning the top prize in Toronto, it's obvious the studio didn't have a clue how to sell a film this adventurous. A meditation on life and death in reverse, shocking developments and surprising performances pop up at every turn, forcing viewers to question the journey they're really on. And with a myriad of tiny details left for discovery on repeated viewings, it saves the best act for last, making it a rarity among King's prolific output.