Companion

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

★★★ (out of ★★★★)  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Drop

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

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Old Ass

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

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)   

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Novocaine

Directors: Dan Berk and Robert Olson
Starring: Jack Quaid, Amber Midthunder, Ray Nicholson, Jacob Batalon, Betty Gabriel, Matt Walsh, Conrad Kemp, Evan Hengst, Craig Jackson, Lou Beatty Jr., Garth Collins
Running Time: 110 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)   

Crank meets Nobody in the high concept action thriller Novocaine, which centers around an unlikely hero blessed and cursed with an inability to feel pain. And while the script spends considerable time digging into the details of his condition, it also presents this affliction as a lifelong albatross, until he uses it in a way he never could have imagined. Armed with a premise that suggests a Marvel movie or variation on Unbreakable, it impressively feels like neither, suggesting the line separating weakness from superpower is only as thin as the protagonist perceives. 

Directors Dan Berk and Robert Olsen roll with this idea until it's time to get down to business, throwing their main character into a life and death scenario that forces him to use his infirmity as a weapon. And it works best when exploiting those situations and star quality of a lead whose effortlessly likable everyman performance recalls a young Tom Hanks. As a result, viewers will find themselves strangely anticipating each new predicament where he's pummeled, shot and beaten within an inch of his life to protect the girl he loves. Logic gaps notwithstanding, it's also absurdly funny, with hardly a joke or sight gag missing the mark as it attempts to subvert genre conventions.      

Nicknamed "Novocaine" growing up, mild mannered assistant bank manager Nathan Caine (Jack Quaid) suffers from CIPA (congenital insensitivity to pain with anhidrosis), a rare nerve condition that blocks out pain, prompting him to safety proof his home and office for protection. Self-conscious about the disorder, he spends nearly all his free time online gaming with Roscoe (Jacob Batalon), a friend he's never met. But when Nathan's crush, co-worker Sherry (Amber Midthunder) expresses a romantic interest in him, he reluctantly agrees to go out with her, despite the fear he'll have to reveal his disorder. As he nervously stumbles through the date, an interested and understanding Sherry forms a connection with him over drinks. 

After spending the night with Sherry, Nathan's on cloud nine the next morning, until a gang of armed robbers dressed in Santa suits rob the bank and take her hostage. Unwilling to wait for law enforcement to intervene, Nathan steals a police car and follows the vehicle through the San Diego streets, landing himself in a series of brutal brawls with these thugs. Unable to feel pain, the conflict averse Nathan sure can take a beating, but with cops hot on his trail and suspecting he's involved, the clock's ticking to save Sherry. 

Lars Jacobson's screenplay puts a huge early focus on Nathan and Sherry's burgeoning relationship, which is a plus since Quaid and Midthunder are good enough together you almost wish this was a romantic comedy focusing on her trying to coax him out of his shell. And for a while it looks like it will be, as an unusual amount of attention is given to a buildup most action films would have rushed through. The only drawback is that sometimes all the talk about his condition borders on overexplanation, delaying the inevitable as the filmmakers work extra hard to cover their medical bases. 

While much of that info comes into play later, the more details he reveals about the disease, the more questions we have, whether it relates to his inability to eat solid foods or the nagging bladder issue. But Quaid's such a pro at selling this that you're onboard, even during a bank robbery that features some pretty incompetent police work. Though without it, the door wouldn't be opened for the chronically passive Nathan to get involved in all these wildly violent fight sequences and adrenaline fueled chase scenes. 

Whether he realizes it or not, Nathan's exposed to a continuous physical onslaught that takes its toll, subjecting him to a level of punishment no one else could withstand. Unwilling to back down until he reaches ringleader Simon (Ray Nicholson), nearly everything involving Nate's gaming friend Roscoe hits just the right notes, reminding us what a well written and performed comedic sidekick can add. And though neither of their characters are winning medals for police work anytime soon, the supporting turns from Betty Gabriel and Matt Walsh as exasperated officers are also solid. But this is Quaid's show all the way and he doesn't disappoint, especially in the frenetic last act.

The story takes a turn midway through that might split audiences down the middle or even leave them feeling as manipulated as Nathan, whose naïveté becomes his most endearing quality. The notion that everyone hides or suppresses something because they're uncomfortable in their own skin helps some of the wackier developments go down easier. It's a theme Novocaine exploits when Nathan seemingly accomplishes his goal, only to be blindsided by the worst kind of surprise. To say he emerges unscathed is inaccurate since a lack of pain won't erase fatal injuries or magically cure emotional ones. By film's end, he'll have plenty of both, but remain capable of dusting himself off for another round.                                             

You (Season 5)

Creator: Greg Berlanti and Sera Gamble
Starring: Penn Badgley, Charlotte Ritchie, Griffin Matthews, Anna Camp, Madeline Brewer, Frankie DeMaio, Pete Ploszek, Tom Francis, Natasha Behnam, Amy-Leigh Hickman, Michael Dempsey, Michelle Hurd, Elizabeth Lail, Saffron Burrows, Shalita Grant, Travis Van Winkle, Cayleb Long, Jefferson White, Tilly Keeper, Tati Gabrielle, Robin Lord Taylor
Original Airdate: 2025

**The Following Review Contains Major Plot Spoilers **

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

For its polarizing final season, Netflix's You returns to the scene of the crime, in some ways proving just how little has changed for serial killer Joe Goldberg since the series first premiered on Lifetime 7 years ago. But what a trip it's been, with the psychological thriller maintaining an enviable level of consistency since the jump to streaming exposed it to a much wider audience. Now that solid run reaches its end with Joe not only forced to confront the past, but meeting his ultimate match in more ways than one. 

Having gone from New York to California to England, Joe's back in the city after leaving a long line of victims and clues in his wake, evading capture long enough to fixate on his next obsession. Whether it's Guinevere Beck, Love Quinn, Marienne Bellamy or Kate Lockwood, all were duped into believing he'd be their white knight. And despite Joe convincing himself this latest reset is different, he'll always revert to his sociopathic default setting, gradually revealing the worst parts of himself before blowing everything up and moving on. 

If last season was defined by a huge Fight Club-inspired twist that raised Joe's body count, this follows those events with an even bigger one, complete with a plethora of callbacks and returns to bring the story full circle, teasing the possibility he'll finally get his. Now with the tables turning, predator becomes prey when an outmaneuvered Joe makes some of his sloppiest mistakes yet. But if this season marks a homecoming, it's only fitting that it all comes back to Beck, who's legacy has him backed into a corner like never before. 

Three years have passed since Joe Goldberg (Penn Badgley) returned to New York City with Kate (Charlotte Ritchie) after killing politician Rhys Montrose (Ed Speleers) and framing his student Nadia (Amy Leigh Hickman) for murder. Having since rehabilitated his image and regaining custody of their son Henry (Frankie DeMaio), he's now one half of a married power couple with Kate, the CEO of T.R. Lockwood Corp. 

Despite covering for Joe, Kate's still unaware of the full extent of his crimes, which causes problems when vindictive sister Reagan (Anna Camp) digs up dirt to have her removed from the company. With Reagan's twin sister Maddie (Camp) caught in the middle, Kate confides in loyal half-brother Teddy (Griffin Matthews) for help. But with his thirst for retribution growing, Joe discovers a homeless woman named Bronte (Madeline Brewer) breaking into the now abandoned Mooney's bookstore. 

After an antagonistic start, Joe and Bronte bond over their shared love for writing as he hires her for the store's reopening. Though his plan to contain Reagan goes horribly awry, he can't stop obsessing over Bronte, who harbors a big secret of her own. Now with Joe's marriage to Kate imploding as she catches on to his lies, Bronte may be the only person left who truly understands him. But even with his newly reassembled cage in Mooney's basement, Joe's luck could be running out.

You'd figure returning to a familiar city with his wife and son would give Joe the chance to permanently put the past behind him. But that's a song we've heard before as his desire for control again overrides the fantasy life he's concocted in his damaged psyche. That he somehow lasted three years in a seemingly normal, functional marriage could almost be considered a success given his track record. So, of course, he's getting restless again. 

Just as he previously discovered how unfit he was for suburban life with Love, the dinner parties, board meetings, fame and fortune that comes with being Mr. Kate Lockwood isn't Joe and never will be. And now Kate's family predicament has given him the perfect excuse to let his darkest urges resurface. What he frames as protecting her is only fuel for his own addictive release, even if it begins under plausibly deniable circumstances. 

As we've come to expect, dishing out punishment is always exclusively about Joe and no one else. He'll also enjoy it way too much, immediately raising red flags and putting Kate in more danger. From him. And we're barely at the second episode before he makes one of his biggest miscalculations, as a seemingly straightforward plan to eliminate Reagan unravels in spectacular fashion, leaving us wondering whether the writers have backed themselves into a corner. The solution is crazy, but also kind of ingenious, enabling Joe to pull another rabbit out of his hat, for the time being.

No plotline features twins without a reason, and while the scenario gets a little convoluted, it works due to Anna Camp's unhinged and ferociously comical dual performance as Reagan and Maddie. Especially in the episodes when she's not only playing both twins, but one masquerading as the other. For a while it even appears Joe won't be able to gain an upper hand on the shrewd, conniving Reagan, who's made it her mission to destroy him and Kate by exposing their shady pasts. 

Chomping scenery like no one's business, Camp is effectively detestable as the evil twin who steps on her clueless himbo of a husband and petrified daughter. But she saves her meanest wrath for outgoing, barely stable sister Maddie, who isn't the ditz she first appears to be. Having built up a lifetime of insecurity and rage from Reagan's bullying, Joe's found his ace in the hole. Unfortunately, she's also a real wild card who could come back to bite him later. 

From the get-go we know Bronte's hiding something beyond her real name and identity. But in the meantime, she's checking all the same boxes as previous women who transfixed Joe. The only question is what game she's playing, with Madeline Brewer proving incredibly effective as this irritatingly artsy, high-strung thinker concealing a presumably troubled past. But whatever Bronte's intentions, she's also drowning in a sea of self-doubt, which only makes Joe fall harder, shutting out the wife he thinks no longer appreciates him. And for all the complaints about Brewer's character not being likable enough, she's not supposed to be, understandably eliciting as many conflicted opinions from viewers as she does Joe.

Episode six ("The Dark Face of Love") is the season's turning point, giving us Bronte's full backstory and and reframing events we've already seen as a master plan's revealed, before abruptly crumbling. The season's huge twist isn't an enormous surprise on its face, but all the details and revelations accompanying it are, along with a pivotal flashback involving Elizabeth Lail's Beck. 

Where "Bronte" begins and Louise Flannery ends is anyone's guess, but her catfishing soon lands her in the same territory as Beck and the rest, shedding pieces of her own identity to believe in Joe. It's almost as if she's entered one of those cheap romance novels she pretends to enjoy, devolving into the very trope she scoffs at while losing sight of her true purpose.  

Since Joe's story always contained details that would drive true crime fanatics crazy and set social media ablaze, it's only natural the writers would fully exploit this in the final episodes. Exposed for the world to see and judge, he's again forced him to do some spin control to reclaim a narrative that's quickly spiraling out of his hands.  

While it seems every crime series is now required to incorporate a podcast, vlog or TikTok subplot, there's rarely been a better thematic match for it than Joe, whose public profile occupies this weird space somewhere between Ted Bundy and Luigi Mangione. We believe he'd want the world to see and hear his delusional version of events, even appealing for sympathy with a childhood trauma tour of the infamous cage. Watching Badgley walk the tightrope in successfully pulling this off is mind boggling, but the hilarious user comments that scroll across the screen during his interview are the true highlight, echoing obsessive thoughts of diehards who pour over every aspect of the show.  

The best part of last season was Charlotte Ritchie's performance as Kate, whose armor of cynicism still wasn't strong enough to withstand the guilt and daddy issues that eventually drove her to Joe. Rattled and more vulnerable, she's now armed with the full truth, done covering for an unstable husband who isn't just a danger to her, but a son who may have inherited his dad's violent streak.   

For far far different reasons than Joe, viewers also yearn for the return of "ice queen" Kate from last season, if only because we know she possesses the strength and intellect to take him out. At first, it doesn't appear as if she'll get there, opting instead to delicately contain him in order to avoid a public relations nightmare. It isn't until she's fully honest with herself about just how dangerous he is that the gloves come off and she recruits some backup. 

Of course, Kate's hardly the only victim so it stands to reason the others Joe wronged would want to extract revenge. Like imprisoned former student Nadia and ex Marienne (Tati Gabrielle), who Joe assumed he left for dead last season. Less conspicuous by her absence is fan favorite Ellie, but given Jenna Ortega's busy schedule, that return was always the longshot and not exactly imperative for closing this out. But it would have been a great surprise. 

With Kate looking to take the law into her own hands, Joe finds himself on the wrong side of the cage by the series' penultimate episode, "Trial of the Furies," which stands as the series' definitive entry for how it brings Joe face-to-face with the cold, hard truth of what he is and why. It's also something this narcissistic killer with more lives than Dexter will never admit to. 

As Joe's current existence literally goes up in flames, starting anew becomes his only option. Barreling toward the home stretch with a slasher-style finale, the question is less about whether his reign of terror will end, but who makes it out alive. And that's where the writers use up every last ounce of goodwill, asking for a massive suspension of disbelief when it comes to these characters' fates. 

Marienne has this brief but memorable talk with Bronte warning her against assuming she's too smart to get sucked into Joe's vortex. It's a standout scene magnified by Gabrielle's powerful performance, suggesting some sort of deprogramming is required for Bronte to stop projecting what she wants to see and start noticing the facts. And with her fate still very much in the air, the show's narrative voice shifts, placing Joe's future in someone else's hands for a change.

This is the season that examines how women who should see Joe for what he is still somehow remain powerless to his charm and excuses, even lying to themselves to justify it. A toxic predator with a type, he's drawn to hurt or damaged people in need of "saving," exerting the control he couldn't as a child trapped inside that cell he'd later lock them in.

Badgely's tackled the most complicated of tasks in playing a tormented protagonist who views himself as the savior, straddling the line between charming manipulation and full blown psychopathy. That's why a trial that fully exposes him to the world is the character's worst nightmare, or at least almost as bad as a castrated life spent alone in prison. It's still a cage of his own making, but a real one he complains "you" put him. And it's the closest thing to a victory his victims can hope to get.                             

Queen of the Ring

Director: Ash Avildsen
Starring: Emily Bett Rickards, Josh Lucas, Tyler Posey, Walton Goggins, Francesca Eastwood, Marie Avgeropoulos, Deborah Ann Woll, Cara Buono, Kailey Farmer, Gavin Casalegno, Adam Demos, Kelli Berglund, Damaris Lewis, Martin Kove, James E. Cornette, Toni Rossall, Trinity Fatu, Mickie James Britt Baker
Running Time: 140 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

On one hand a very traditional biopic, Queen of the Ring offers something different by telling a story many remain unfamiliar with, wrestling fan or not. Avoiding comparisons to The Iron Claw, it also comes unencumbered with the impending sense of dread and doom unique to that tragedy. With more viewers aware of the Von Erichs, the film had to overcome an avalanche of expectations, as photos, footage, documentaries and first hand accounts all helped fuel wild speculation about what we'd see. So while this isn't nearly as anticipated, writer/director Ash Avildsen reaps the benefits of flying under the radar to explore an unexamined corner of pro wrestling history.  

Told in a straightforward, no-frills style, it's a classic underdog tale that features a dynamic lead performance, some nicely fleshed out mini-arcs for the supporting players and impressive era specific production design. At nearly two and a half hours, it's also lengthy, with the action hitting a slight lull in the middle before regaining momentum the rest of the way through. But the big surprise is the dark places it goes toward the end, laying the groundwork for a myriad of problems that would plague the wrestling industry for decades to come. 

It's the 1930's and Mildred Burke (Emily Bett Rickards) is a single teen mom working at her mother's (Cara Buono) Kansas diner when she discovers and falls in love with wrestling after watching matches at the local arena. After pestering grappler Billy Wolfe (Josh Lucas) to train her, he relents, assuming she won't amount to much, at least until seeing her extraordinary potential between the ropes. Strong, athletic and eager to learn, Mildred works carnival matches, eventually marrying Billy as the two attempt to get bans lifted on women's wrestling across various territories in the U.S. 

Mildred's big break eventually comes from forward looking Mid-Atlantic impresario Jack Pfefer (Walton Goggins). A forefather of "sports entertainment," the eccentric promoter envisions a new theatrical era on the horizon, with her as its centerpiece. But Billy sees his meal ticket, soon building a stable of women's wrestlers as he cheats on and physically abuses Mildred, much to his son G. Bill's (Tyler Posey) quiet disgust. Yearning to break from Billy and show naysayers what she's truly capable of, her journey culminates in a pivotal but controversial world title clash with longtime nemesis June Byers (Kailey Farmer).

Partially inspired by Jeff Leen's 2010 book, this covers a relatively underrepresented time in wrestling that spans from the 30's to the mid 50's during which the sport was in a transitional stage, straddling the line between "work" and "shoot," with even wrestlers occasionally confused as to how much will be scripted. While promoters choose winners based largely on each wrestler's ability to draw money, they can't publicly acknowledge it's predetermined, even as discreet arguments about match outcomes continue behind closed doors in smoke filled arenas.

Enter Mildred Burke, who knows she physically has what it takes to be the best, along with the dedication and contagious optimism to make it happen. But with women's wrestling banned and the National Wrestling Alliance (NWA) maintaining its stranglehold on the business, aging heel wrestler Billy Wolfe sees universal appeal and dollar signs in helping her break through. And Rickards is perfect as the plucky heroin who may be naive to the industry's inner workings at first, but picks things up fast, refusing to settle for being Billy's cash cow. 

Like most of the cast, Rickards benefits from the anonymity of playing characters most modern audiences are unaware of, either in appearance or personality. This enables the actress to build an amiable, girl-next-door persona from the ground up, carving her own niche as Mildred while also looking credible in the ring. And it's not just the wrestling scenes that look good, but the rest of the film, which captures the period with distinctive wardrobe and sets that belie its lower budget.

Lucas gruffly portrays Wolfe as this amalgamation of various sleazebag promoters and ex-wrestlers, initially making a fairly likable impression before revealing his true colors. A textbook abuser, he turns on the charm and manipulation when needed, not just with Mildred but whomever he envisions as the next headliner, both in the ring and his bed.

More a business partnership than marriage, Mildred keeps Billy close enough to protect her earnings, but not so close as to continuously suffer his abuse. But that doesn't work, especially during a time when even the scuzziest promoters are protected and hold all the cards. The more sides she sees of her husband, the worse he gets, as Lucas dives into his character's two-faced persona with gusto, revealing himself as more crooked outside the squared circle than in it. 

There are appearances from a few current wrestlers like Toni Storm as Clara Mortensen, but it's Kailey Farmer (AKA Kamille from AEW) as the imposing June Byers whose presence and badass demeanor looms largest. We also get a cameo from legendary manager Jim Cornette as the NWA commissioner refusing to give the women a shot. And while him sharing the screen with The Karate Kid and Cobra Kai's Martin Kove (as promoter Al Haft) definitely wasn't on anyone's 2025 movie bingo card, it's still great to see.  

More than a few supporting performances stand out, such as Francesca Eastwood's turn as feisty grappler Mae Young, bringing needed dimension to a woman still only known to many as the octogenarian who gave birth to a hand on WWE TV. Adam Demos also impresses as George, a struggling wrestler on the cusp of discovering his new "gorgeous" and famously flamboyant persona while Tyler Posey conveys conflicted feelings as Billy's son, working around his dad to help Mildred. 

Mildred's thrillingly contested 1954 championship match with Byers may blur the lines of entertainment and reality, but her real opponent is Billy and the other promoters who followed in his footsteps. With them ensuring that her designation as the "first million-dollar female athlete" is mostly forgotten, it'll take until the mid 2010's for women's wrestling to get its proper due, only recently rivaling the men in popularity. Vince McMahon Jr. isn't portrayed in the film, but briefly mentioned in a clever context by his father, Vince Sr. That seems fitting considering how this film's greedy promoter previews what the younger McMahon later does, only on a much larger scale.  

Entertaining and smartly written, Queen of the Ring is the type of project that could have packed theaters in an earlier moviegoing era, if not for wrestling's public perception at the time. But if an aspirational sports biopic made by the son of the director of Rocky and The Karate Kid now feels more karmically appropriate, harsher truths about those calling the shots still seep through. This is really about the ultimate babyface clearing a path by showing how "lady wrestlers" could draw big crowds. Doing that may have been hard, but proving it to these old school promoters was even harder.                                                          

Black Bag

Director: Steven Soderbergh
Starring: Michael Fassbender, Cate Blanchett, Marisa Abela, Tom Burke, Naomie Harris, Regé-Jean Page, Kae Alexander, Ambika Mod, Gustaf Skarsgård, Pierce Brosnan
Running Time: 94 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)     

In Steven Soderbergh's sleek, stylish espionage thriller Black Bag, a group of suspects find themselves roped into a cerebral chess game by a calculating couple. It's like Clue for intellectuals, respecting the audience's intelligence while succeeding off the strength of its performances and a tightly wound script. Though occasionally difficult to follow on a single viewing, the puzzle pieces gradually fall into place as two of our most captivating actors keep us glued to the screen throughout. 

Only when the film settles in your mind do you realize it's more about trust between partners and the difficulties of making a relationship work. And even in such an inherently duplicitous job, the two leads have this figured out in a way few couples do. They may not trust their spouse indiscriminately, but they've reached an understanding to have each other's backs at any cost, giving them an edge in a profession where that seems unattainable. 

When British intelligence agent George Woodhouse (Michael Fassbender) is given a week by his superior Meacham (Gustaf Skarsgård) to investigate the mysterious leak of a top-secret software program known as "Severus," he's informed that one of the five suspects is his wife and fellow SIS operative, Kathryn (Cate Blanchett). But when Meacham's poisoned, George invites the four other suspects to dinner, lowering their inhibitions and playing a game meant to uncover the traitor's identity. 

These suspects include the organization's satellite imagery specialist Clarissa (Marisa Abela), her boyfriend and managing agent Freddie (Tom Burke), another managing agent James (Regé-Jean Page) and his girlfriend Zoe (Naomie Harris), the agency's psychiatrist. But while the couples' dirty laundry is aired, George discovers additional clues that could point to Kathryn as the possible mole. Treading carefully, he digs deeper, while still suspecting the others are hiding something. Inching closer to the truth, he'll have to decide how much to tell Kathryn and weigh whether it's worth jeopardizing his career to protect her.  

The best scenes involve George cooly and calmly gaining the upper hand, whether it's at the dinner table or during an impromptu polygraph test intended to unearth the liar among them. The latter sequence is masterfully edited and scored with a pitter patter rhythm that builds tension as his interrogation escalates from simplistically irrelevant to incriminating. Each of the suspects are smart but have secrets they're hiding from each other and George, which may or may not be directly tied to the Severus program. Either way, these personal and professional relationships become a tangled web George must unravel to find the leak. 

Part James Bond, part George Smiley, a fastidious, subtly menacing Fassbender is decked out in horn-rimmed glasses and a turtleneck to play this seemingly low key man who makes his few words count. Knowing more than he's letting on, he puts viewers in the same boat as these highly capable suspects, any of whom could be behind this. But as shifty as the other couples are, George and Kathryn operate on another level, even when they're on different pages as his suspicions of her grow. In tackling this sophisticated ice queen to perfection, Blanchett expertly keeps us guessing, with both actors leaving little doubt their characters would kill to protect their partner. There's also a great undercurrent showing how George and Kathryn constantly watch each other since they're incapable of shutting that mechanism off. 

The supporting cast is uniformly excellent, especially Abela, who follows her breakout role as Amy Winehouse in Back to Black with another impressive turn as the tough but vulnerable junior agent Clarissa. Going toe-toe with Fassbender, she's the film's scene stealer, bringing different shades to a character who has everything to prove and lose. Regé-Jean Page and Tom Burke are effectively shady, as are Bond vets Naomie Harris and Pierce Brosnan (as the gruff SIS boss), with Harris really shining in her witty exchanges opposite Page. Accompanied by a thorough, extremely detailed explanation, the ending isn't just smart, but makes sense, even if you'll need to run it back in your head a few times.   

Staying a step ahead and knowing more than we do, Black Bag's mostly actionless plot relies on dialogue, sneaky looks, great cinematography and locations to get its points across. And since David Koepp's script can be challenging to decode, viewers are asked to read between the lines, which would usually invite a rewatch, if not for its whole plot serving as a thematic smokescreen for larger, more intriguing themes about fidelity. Well made and thought provoking, it's consistent with the rest of Soderbergh's prolific output, representing the kind of perceptive adult spy drama we could stand to see more of.