The Mandalorian and Grogu

Director: Jon Favreau
Starring: Pedro Pascal, Jeremy Allen White, Jonny Coyne, Martin Scorsese, Sigourney Weaver, Brendan Wayne, Lateef Crowder
Running Time: 132 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★)  

Whatever problems exist with director Jon Favreau's The Mandalorian and Grogu actually have little to do with the film itself, which marks an admirable big screen outing for the once popular Disney+ series. The real issue is that it comes about five or six years too late, long after the show's popularity peaked and briefly gave Star Wars fans hope their franchise may have turned a corner. And with pop culture moving faster by the day, it's easy to forget just how big a moment it was when a Mandalorian bounty hunter discovered this adorable, childlike green creature we initially dubbed "Baby Yoda." 

With that reveal, it seemed as if any criticisms, complaints and lingering resentment from the sequels momentarily subsided, replaced instead with the adoration millions suddenly had for Grogu. And for at least the first two seasons, Favreau and co-creator Dave Filoni couldn't miss, crafting a deliriously creative space Western that didn't coast on overexposed legacy names of the past. That is until Disney got greedy, flooding the market with inferior spin-offs and abandoning The Mandalorian after 2023's rough third season. So now amid creative chaos and confusion, this oddly becomes the first full-length Star Wars feature to hit theaters since 2019's The Rise of Skywalker. But awful timing aside, it is a blast seeing these two characters reunited in a film that's better than expected. 

Mandalorian Din Djarin, aka "Mando" (Pedro Pascal) and his foundling Grogu are hunting down Imperial forces on the outskirts of the galaxy when New Republic commander Ward (Sigourney Weaver) tasks Mando with rescuing the late Jabba the Hutt's son Rotta (voiced by Jeremy Allen White) and returning him to Jabba's twin successors. In exchange for this, the Hutts' promise Ward intel on the whereabouts of a mysterious warlord, with Mando begrudgingly accepting the assignment after a new Razor Crest ship sweetens the deal. 

Joined by his mini apprentice, Mando is directed to the moon Shakari, where he discovers Rotta pit fighting for crime-lord Janu (Jonny Coyne), Determined not to be judged by his father's tainted legacy or take part in the family business, Rotta enjoys newfound popularity as a fighter, making his extraction messier and more complicated than Mando anticipates. With Rotta disinterested in returning home and Janu unwilling to give up his prized competitor, Mando takes drastic measures, putting him and Grogu in harm's path. Only this time it's the foundling who's called upon to protect his adoptive father. 

In keeping with recent tradition for the spin-offs, this begins with a short title card rather than the franchise's iconic opening crawl, wisely distancing it from the other films and dropping us into the action right away. For fans of the series, a formal introduction is unnecessary while new viewers won't feel lost when Favreau and Filoni stick to the familiar formula, albeit with a few added flourishes.

The central mission to save Rotta is a good one that isn't bogged down by extraneous side quests, setting Mando on a collision course with three formidable villains, two of which share a connection to one of the original trilogy's more substantial characters, both in girth and importance. And though it's awkward seeing any member of the Hutt clan move (think Jabba in Lucas's '97 Special Edition) much less engage in combat, Rotta's backstory is certainly developed well enough. So even if there's no getting around his visual limitations as a muscular, intergalactic UFC fighter, White's vocal performance creates a sympathetic character, especially in scenes opposite Grogu. We're also treated to brief but humorous voice work from Martin Scorsese as a fearful Ardennian fry cook who nearly steals the film's first half.

Sigourney Weaver's role as Ward is smaller than advertised, to the point that some of her scenes in the trailers and commercials appear to have been cut. But in terms of kicking off the plot, the actress's fair, no-nonsense approach as an authority figure can still be appreciated, however briefly. As for Grogu, he kind of tags along for the ride during the first hour, engaging in his typically cute antics while Mando handles the heavy lifting, at least until a major development changes the course of things. 

Sixty minutes in, it feels as if this story's all wrapped up and the closing credits are ready to roll. Of course, we know that's not the case as Mando gets into deeper trouble escalating from his earlier decisions. And by necessity, Grogu will become more involved, giving the film its big payoff when he takes the initiative to rescue his dad. 

Despite a slow section where maybe too much time is spent with Grogu alone in the woods, everything does come together for an exciting finale. And those still complaining about Pedro Pascal's overexposure may want to prepare themselves for Mando's helmet coming off, as it did a couple of times already during the series' run. But how he loses it is thematically warranted, hardly lacking in either context or motivation. 

If Grogu's the real star, his closest competition might come from Oscar winning composer Ludwig Göransson, whose music here actually exceeds and builds on what he did on the show. And besides a return of that main title theme majestic enough to compete with John Williams' best, his electro-synth sounds interestingly highlight Mando and Grogu's excursion into Shakari's gritty fight pit. 

The biggest concern was always whether this would go a more cinematic route or safely play like an extended episode of the series. As a "two-parter" of sorts, it's clearly the latter, hypothetically ranking among the show's stronger entries. But in successfully harnessing the spirit of a series we'll probably never see again, you wonder why Disney couldn't even manage to announce they were shelving it. To this day, no one knows. Still, Favreau and Filoni get their act together to deliver a fun, tightly scripted adventure that recaptures much of the early magic. It's just a shame it didn't come sooner.                                   

Michael

Director: Antoine Fuqua
Starring: Jaafar Jackson, Colman Domingo, Nia Long, Miles Teller, KeiLyn Durrel Jones, Laura Harrier, Juliano Valdi, Joseph David-Jones, Nathaniel Logan McIntyre, Rhyan Hill, Judah Edwards, Jamal R. Henderson, Jayden Harville, Tre Horton, Jaylen Lyndon Hunter, Jessica Sula, Mike Myers, Kendrick Sampson, Larenz Tate, Liv Symone, Deon Cole
Running Time: 127 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)   

Despite widespread opinion that musical biopics are interchangeable, most can actually be distinguished by how far filmmakers stretch the truth and the level of devotion they hold for their subject. Director Antoine Fuqua's Michael proves this by delivering what's partially a tribute to unparalleled talent, but also an acknowledgment of his sad upbringing, both of which inform the superstar he later becomes. At one point he's told they'll never be anyone like him, and for better or worse, we realize just how accurate that statement is. More enamored with his fans than the idea of fame, he was pushed too far too soon, launching a career that reshaped music, but also destroyed him in the process. 

Michael never stood a chance at a normal life, and while Fuqua predictably caught heat for omitting the serious allegations leveled against the singer, he didn't have much choice, reshaping his third act to clear the legal hurdles required in getting this made. But it wouldn't fit the tone or timeline anyway, which revolves around a rags-to-riches story that helps explain why it's hard to find anyone who doesn't call themselves a fan, regardless of age, race, gender or nationality. And this captures that with spectacular musical sequences and a pair of performances in the title role that avoid the groans and awkward laughs you'd expect to associate with the project.

It's 1966 in Gary, Indiana and steel laborer Joseph Jackson (Colman Domingo) forms and manages a boy bond consisting of sons Jackie, Tito, Jermaine, Marlon and 10-year-old prodigy and lead vocalist Michael (Juliano Valdi). Collectively dubbed the Jackson 5 by the strict, domineering Joseph, he works them into the ground as they perform gigs across the country, catching the attention of Motown record executive Suzanne De Passe (Laura Harrier). But with the Jacksons topping charts and the family relocating to an Encino, California mansion, label founder Berry Gordy (Larenz Tate) sees even bigger money in Michael as a solo act.

In 1978 when an adult Michael (Jaafar Jackson) releases his first solo album "Off The Wall" for Epic Records producer Quincy Jones (Kendrick Sampson), Joseph starts tightening the powerful grip he holds over his youngest son who yearns to break away and assert his creative freedom as an adult. With the support of mom Katherine (Nina Long), friend and bodyguard Bill (KeiLyn Durrel Jones) and loyal attorney John Branca (Miles Teller) he does just that, emerging as a pop culture phenomenon. But Michael's success comes at a cost, as he struggles to completely free himself from his father's grip.

From an early age, Michael is told by Joseph that life is made up of "winners" and "losers" and he'll have to decide which he wants to be. It's ironic advice coming from someone who couldn't be a bigger loser in life or this movie, as we've long heard how all of Michael's issues can be traced to his dad. Colman Domingo's performance as this monster definitely tracks, but the actor's perceptive in how he plays him, depicting a man for which nothing is good enough, pushing his kids as far as he wants while lining his own pockets in the process. And in finding hurtful ways to phrase even the most fleeting  compliments, Domingo still manages to give Joseph small doses of humanity, until you realize it's just another con job to get what he wants out of his boys. 

That the Jackson kids never refer to their father as "Joseph" is telling, highlighting not only the distance between them, but the fact he's their manager first, especially when it comes to Michael. So talented on stage that his brothers may as well be invisible, the ten-year-old's potential places him under enormous pressure and first in line for Joseph's vicious belt beatings. 

In vaguely expressing her disapproval while occasionally offering up a delicately worded objection to Joseph's behavior, it's clear wife Katherine fears him. Long's role is easily the film's most thinly written, as we're expected to believe Joseph's reign of terror somehow skipped over the woman he married. For young Michael, escape comes in the form of Peter Pan, a story that reverberates through his adult life when he attempts to manufacture a childhood that was robbed from him. 

Juliano Valdi's heartbreakingly impressionable turn as young Michael and the Jackson 5's formation is probably the least explored, but most pivotal aspect to his biography. It's also a credit to John Logan's script that this period doesn't differ dramatically from the adult section, much like Michael himself. Similar to his fictitious hero, he never grows up and can't, torn between the dread of standing up to Joseph and forging a career on his own terms with the help of super attorney John Branca. There's also an appearance from Mike Myers as CBS Records president Walter Yetnikoff that just might be his least distracting cameo yet.   

Despite the two sharing only a handful of scenes, Michael's bond with his bodyguard Bill represents the rare instance where the singer seems able to forge a real connection with another human being. But like most of Michael's interactions, even this carries a sad transactional quality that could only come from being a star of such stature. His only true friends are the giraffes, snakes and dogs that will roam "Neverland Ranch" along with Bubbles the chimp, who's depicted with CGI laughable enough to temporarily take us out of the plot. 

The second and third acts revolve completely around Michael's music, with Fuqua essentially transforming this into an extended concert film that recreates the singers' most iconic performances and videos. And did he ever make the right decision by casting Michael's own nephew, Jaafar Jackson, who's marvel in the role. Not only does he nail the voice, changing looks and isolation of a scared little boy trapped inside an adult's body, but shows us Michael's brilliance as a performer and choreographer. Whether it's "Beat It," "Billie Jean," "Thriller" or "Bad," even the most skeptical fans are in for a treat watching him capture the King of Pop's moves and mannerisms, all while capably filling the sadder, quieter moments in between. 

The Pepsi commercial disaster is rightly marked as a huge pivot point, officially signaling the last gasp for the Jackson 5 as a unit and Joseph as a promoter too sleazy for even Don King (Deon Cole) to trust. More concerned with exploiting Michael than admitting his own role in the accident that nearly took the life of his now burned and disfigured son, this event only feeds into the star's obsession with altering his appearance. What starts as a rhinoplasty and treatment for vitiligo will spiral into multiple plastic surgeries, but the film stops just short of that. Instead, the focus remains on his stage shows and superstardom, with Fuqua depicting the hysteria of fainting concertgoers being carried out by security.  

If Michael's easily the most eccentric, complicated and strangely inaccessible artist to have such a massive reach, this presents a strong case for why. In scenes when he's visiting hospitalized sick children and relating better to them than any adult his own age, an innocence and kindness shines through, perhaps hinting at what could have been. Of course, it's also impossible to watch this without the looming specter of those eventual allegations crossing our minds, creating an uncomfortable dichotomy.  

Since the first hint of those still legally unproven claims don't surface until 1993, Fuqua gives us a Michael most would prefer to remember, with the caveat that anything resembling a normal, well adjusted life was sacrificed for the music. In a sense, Joseph was right about Michael eventually wanting to surround himself with enablers and "yes" men, possibly in an effort to retain the independence he was cruelly deprived of as a child. It's this that eventually leads to his undoing.  

Michael's a true rarity in possessing near universal appeal, a fact this movie solidly hits on, justifying what some have labeled a "paint by numbers" treatment of the legendary entertainer. But given the scope of his music, this traditionally straightforward approach feels right, especially since the essence of Michael's likability depended on a desire to reach as many people from different backgrounds as possible. So whether his idealistic goal to unite the world can be traced to arrested development or an abusive childhood, he believed it. And as a result, so did his fans.                                                           

Obsession

Director: Curry Barker
Starring: Michael Johnston, Inde Navarrette, Cooper Tomlinson, Megan Lawless, Andy Richter, Haley Fitzgerald, Darin Toonder, Curry Barker
Running Time: 109 min.
Rating: R

 **This Review Contains Major Plot Spoilers**

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★) 

The supernatural premise driving writer/director Curry Barker's mind blowing horror thriller Obsession is so simple that it's easy to overlook all it does well, aside from the obvious. But audiences have noticed, which is a credit to how certain scenes and sequences linger, inviting the repeated viewings that's given it an unrivaled staying power. But it's tough going into a movie like that, almost as if you're primed for disappointment before the opening credits have even rolled. So this somehow still being able to overcome all the surrounding hype and expectations almost feels like an achievement in itself. 

After this, we can at least hope those who routinely dismiss and dissect even the worthiest films for resembling The Twilight Zone will finally realize it's a compliment to earn comparisons to television's greatest anthology series. But this monkey's paw morality tale shares as much in common with the comedically twisted Tales From the Crypt, which also featured a similarly themed episode involving a mystical love curse. But here, Barker's tone, style and execution puts this in a different class, exploring issues of agency and autonomy that are sure to spark discussion as it builds toward its chillingly chaotic conclusion. 

Shy, socially awkward Baron "Bear" Bailey (Mike Johnston) has a secret unrequited crush on his friend Nikki (Inde Navarrette) he considers revealing to her despite the uncomfortable dynamic it could create with their friends and music store co-workers Ian (Cooper Tomlinson) and Sarah (Megan Lawless). Grieving the sudden death of his beloved cat Sandy, Bear takes a trip to the local crystal shop to buy a Nikki a necklace, but instead picks her up the "One Wish Willow," a vintage toy promising to grant one wish per person when broken in half. 

After driving Nikki home from the bar later that night, Bear nervously chickens out and misses a golden opportunity to reveal his feelings. After frustratingly breaking the Willow and wishing she "love him more than anyone in the world," Bear unleashes an unhinged, erratic Nikki who's immediately obsessed with him. Now prone to outrageous lies, screaming fits, self harm and violent outbursts, she smothers Bear with affection, causing Ian and Sarah to express serious concern for her mental state. But as Bear continues to date Nikki and frantically tries to curb her dangerous impulses, he'll find out the hard way to be careful what you wish for.

It's almost a relief to find a horror film with four characters who lack some kind of traumatic backstory, at least as far as we know. And though their ages are in question (with a minimum of two homeowners and another applying to schools), they're just normal friends and co-workers hanging out, which only heightens the impact of the curse that's about to upend their relatively mundane lives. Bear's the unassuming "nice guy," Nikki's an outgoing fun loving personality, Ian's an irritating frat boy while sympathetic tattoo artist Sarah seems the most grounded. She also harbors a crush of her own on Bear, who's too infatuated with Nikki to notice.  

While it's easy to question Ian's motives for discouraging Bear's intended confession to Nikki and belittling him, we're also forced to admit he has a point since it's clear Bear was friend zoned a while ago and should probably just move on. Regardless, he can't muster up the guts to shoot his shot and instead breaks the Willow, robbing Nikki of whatever choice she would have made. It's here where things start to get really interesting since Bear's selfish actions aren't yet recognizable as those of a crazed misogynist. But having no clue this gag gift would work is a viable excuse for only so long, or exactly until the girl of his dreams transforms into "Freaky Nikki."

If all the characters suffer to some extent, a possessed Nikki easily endures the worst, causing stressful uncertainty in viewers about what this entity inhabiting her will do or say next. And she hasn't a clue herself, which makes this experience all the more nerve wracking, as its story rides entirely on an incredible performance that walks a razor's edge between campy humor and unrestrained terror. Everything Navarrette does could have so easily been cringy or flown off the rails, causing the whole premise to collapse under the weight of its lofty ambitions. Instead, we're on the edge of our seats dreading how far Nikki will go, or more alarmingly, what it'll take to stop her. 

For all the justifiable praise Navarrette's gotten, an underappreciated Mike Johnston doesn't have it easy either, constantly reacting to the insanity and abuse his apathetic Bear unleashes, going along with this until Nikki's behavior forces him to take action. But he's weak, outing himself as a coward more interested in controlling Nikki's thoughts and feelings while she's relegated to helpless observer, trapped inside the mind and body of someone else. Of the three friends, only one seems to genuinely care about her well being, even if that concern comes at a deadly price.              

More than a few scenes stand out, such as Nikki menacingly lurking in the shadows of the bedroom, her uproarious and instantly memeable reaction to a seemingly harmless house party game or Bear's desperate phone call to "alter" rather than reverse a curse he'd gladly support if all this other stuff didn't accompany it. There's also an unforgettable jump scare in the third act we do see coming, but still manages to shock since Barker is so skillful at distracting us, expertly milking the scene until he's ready to pull trigger. And when he does, we're devastated by just how long and uncomfortably brutal it is. 

Consider that the final warning shot, leading to a cruelly karmic final act where Bear finally runs out of options and all hell breaks loose. Through all this, Navarrette consistently conveys fleeting glimpses of the old Nikki struggling to slip out and escape, waging a battle within herself she can't possibly win. The cruel victim of circumstance and hardly a survivor, she's now looking at a very bleak future once authorities arrive at the gruesome crime scene. And in wisely opting not to show any of it, Barker lets a single blood curdling scream tell us everything we need to know.                                  

How to Make a Killing

Director: John Patton Ford
Starring: Glen Powell, Margaret Qualley, Jessica Henwick, Bill Camp, Zach Woods, Topher Grace, Ed Harris, Bianca Amato, Raff Law, Alexander Hanson, Adrian Lukis, James Frecheville, Nell Williams, Grady Wilson, Maggie Toomey
Running Time: 105 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)     

Extending his streak of compelling, outside the box choices, a still very busy Glen Powell delivers another charismatic turn in writer/director John Patten Ford's unjustly overlooked How To Make a Killing. Seemingly popping up everywhere, Powell's been labeled as overexposed, this despite challenging himself in a variety of different roles where he's fared better than most. And having now recently proven his worth as an action and rom-com lead, he tackles a wicked, biting satire best described as Dexter meets American Psycho. It's also a real hoot, subverting expectations at nearly every turn.

As the narrative unpeels its numerous layers, it's easy to envision audiences complaining about an abundance of plot holes. But the script's tighter than you'd think, with Ford effectively covering his tracks by keeping the focus squarely on the antagonist's complicated and constantly evolving motivations. Skillfully mixing dark humor with social commentary, it aims higher than being the latest Hollywood outing obsessed with eating the rich, as there's actually a lot more happening beyond it. 

On death row for murder, Becket Redfellow (Powell) awaits his final meal while telling a priest (Adrian Lukis) the story of how he wound up in prison. It begins decades earlier when his mom Mary (Nell Williams) was disowned by her father and wealthy Redfellow patriarch Whitelaw (Ed Harris) after her unplanned teen pregnancy. With Mary trying to make ends meet as a single mother to young Becket, the boy's crush on wealthy friend Julia Steinway falls by the wayside after his mom's shocking death sends him through a series of foster homes.

Years later, Mary's final wish for Becket to "fight for the life he deserves" still echos in his mind as an adult selling luxury suits in New York City. But after uncovering a legal loophole that entitles the last living Redfellow heir to a $28 billion inheritance, he gets an idea. Just as a recently married Julia (Margaret Qualley) reenters his life, he formulates a plan to kill the remaining members and collect the money. Considering the suspicions those consecutive deaths would raise, this proves challenging, at least until he's welcomed into the family by his generous Uncle Warren (Bill Camp). Though Becket starts to obtain the acceptance he's longed searched for, the murder and subsequent guilt continues, threatening to unravel this new life he's built for himself.  

By bookending events with Becket's imminent execution, the film not only creates a sense of urgency, but enables Powell to establish this confident and relaxed character who strangely appears resigned to his own fate. And while the story he spins is far out there, we're left with the impression he isn't lying or fudging facts, allowing us to see how this cocky but superficially likable guy ends up on death row. It may be easy to assume he gets sloppy and his luck runs out, but what actually happens is a lot more complicated.    

The intriguing pre-credit flashback prologue crucially sets the stage for all that follows, giving resonance to the cruel ultimatum Becket's mom receives at the hands of her cold, dismissive father. And whatever meaning she intended with her last words give him the green light for revenge, providing in his mind a reason to take what he's owed.    

That whole section is enhanced by the brief but impactful performances of child actors Grady Wilson and Maggie Toomey, who play the respective younger versions of Becket and Julia. Not only do they physically resemble their older counterparts, but certain quirks and details of their personalities are later replicated by Powell and Qualley. For a change, it's actually not a stretch to believe both pairs of actors are portraying the same people, with only time and age separating them.

Once Becket commits to clipping the leaves off his family tree to become sole heir, hilarity ensues when he clumsily realizes he's good at this whole murder thing. Dimwitted, arrogant Stock broker Taylor (Raff Law) and pretentious artist Noah (Zach Woods) are his initial targets, but these hapless younger cousins are merely in Becket's way, standing between him and a huge payout. The plot then further thickens once he falls hard for Noah's girlfriend Ruth (Jessica Henwick), who hasn't a clue she's involved with a serial killer. 

To Ford's credit, he preemptively addresses issues with the premise by having the FBI trail Becket early, even if they're incredibly dense and struggle to find a shred of evidence linking him to unexplained deaths of multiple family members. But at least the script has them make enough of that connection for us to accept he can't outmaneuver authorities forever, always remaining a misstep away from being caught. 

Becket's bond with his uncle Warren might be the most genuine relationship he has, if only because he's the sole Redfellow sincerely apologetic about what happened to him and his mom. And in giving this long lost nephew a job and opportunity, he proves it, earning Becket's loyalty and presumably ending his killing spree, at least until he's tempted to finish off other slimy cousins like crooked pastor Steven J. Redfellow (hilariously played by Topher Grace).

When Becket keeps the murder train rolling long after he's accumulated enough money and status to stop, Powell's performance helps explain why. If maybe there's a sick, addictive rush that comes in getting away with it, everything still comes back to the quest to avenge his mother and fulfill her dying wish, however twisted that logic becomes.  

Some may think Powell should have gone darker, but he gets it just right by playing him more reluctantly, putting viewers in the awkward spot of examining his justification, perhaps even while condemning the selected methods. Amid a plethora of less redeemable characters, he's at least given somewhat of a conscience as the actor strong arms us into considering whether Becket's really some sort of anti-hero. 

Margaret Qualley electrifies as Julia, popping in and out to prey on her childhood bond with Becket. Every mannerism and line delivery help define the eccentricities of a quirky, unpredictable character you can't take your eyes off. And neither can Becket, whether he wants to or not. Inevitably, he's torn between Julia and loyal, pure hearted girlfriend Ruth, who Henwick effectively plays as nearly her polar opposite. In many ways she represents Becket's best life, if only he can let go of his obsession with the inheritance. Instead, the lies and games continue to pile up. 

All this leads to the heavily awaited showdown with grandfather Whitelaw, who's chillingly played by a quietly intense Harris. And while Becket's encounter with the Final Boss who kicked his mom to the curb doesn't disappoint, there's also that nagging issue of how he ends up on death row. It's not for the reason you'd think, resulting in a devilishly ironic third act twist that carries strains of a gender reversed Gone Girl. 

Loosely based on the 1949 British film Kind Hearts and Coronets, this is Ford's follow-up to his indie sleeper hit, Emily The Criminal. But save for a law breaking main character, it's a total 180, with the director using this bigger platform and budget to make a far different film featuring an exceptionally loaded cast of talent. Compelling from start to finish, it's just a lot of fun, as wild developments lead the story exactly where it needs to go, climaxing with a final act that solidifies this as a strange trip worth taking.

Hokum

Director: Damian McCarthy
Starring: Adam Scott, Peter Coonan, David Wilmot, Florence Ordesh, Michael Patric, Will O'Connell, Brendan Conroy, Austin Amelio, Mallory Adams, Sioux Carroll, Ezra Carlisle
Running Time: 107 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)     

It's rare when watching a horror film to have almost no idea where the story's going or how it'll get there. In writer/director Damian McCarthy's moody, atmospheric Hokum, this happens so often you have no choice but to give in while it explores unexpected corners of supernatural trauma. Classifying this as purely genre almost sells it short, if not for the fact it's genuinely scary, with spine tingling moments of suspense that confirm we're in highly capable hands. 

Equal parts folk horror and whodunnit, it's a haunted house throwback that could have easily aired on late night TV in the 70's or 80's, stopping viewers dead in their tracks and keeping them up for weeks. After a perplexing start, this seemingly low-key character study reveals its true ambitions when a creepy, unsettling feeling slowly builds, culminating in a chaotic and claustrophobic ordeal for an unlikably doomed protagonist. 

On the brink of completing his bleak "Conquistador" trilogy of novels, American author Ohm Bauman (Adam Scott) makes a trip to Ireland to spread his parents' ashes, staying at The Bilberry Woods Hotel where they spent their honeymoon. While there, he meets the hotel's staff, consisting of owner Cob (Brendan Conroy), his son-in-law and front desk clerk Mal (Peter Coonan), bartender Fiona (Florence Ordesh), gruff groundskeeper Fergal (Michael Patric) and bellhop Alby (Will O'Connell). He also encounters Jerry (David Wilmot), an eccentric local living out of his van who drinks goat milk laced with magic mushrooms. 

While the depressed, alcoholic Ohm cruelly belittles bellboy Alby's writing aspirations, he forms a brief bond with barkeep Fiona just before she goes missing following the hotel's Halloween party. And despite earlier dismissing her claims that the locked, long abandoned Honeymoon Suite is haunted, Ohm knows something's off, postponing his trip home to investigate as the staff closes up for the season. He also has demons to exorcise, specifically related to his mother's tragic accident and the rift it caused with his father. But as Ohm inches closer to the truth about Fiona, what lies in that mysteriously haunted suite forces him to confront the ghosts of his past.

Ohm's novel about the conquistador and young boy that bookend the film not only gives us valuable insight into the writer he is (a Stephen King type), but the bleakness that defines this work and life. Looking for a way out of the unusually cruel dilemma he's placed his characters in, he's drawn to the idea of visiting the hotel his late parents honeymooned at decades ago, perhaps even searching for a certain degree of closure, if not some relief from the emotional baggage he's carrying. 

Once it's revealed what happened with Ohm's parents as a child and the role he played in it, we realize he isn't just a rude, belligerent jerk to this hotel staff because he's a cranky minor celebrity wanting to be left alone. There's an element of that, but his wounds cut much deeper, with McCarthy earning credit for writing a protagonist who at least in the early going fails to display any redeeming qualities.  

Though the film contains quieter moments of subtle humor, some may still be surprised it's carried by an actor still better known for comedic roles, despite his undervalued dramatic range when playing smarmy, sarcastic know-it-alls like this. And Ohm's easily the most complex of these Scott's ever stepped into, resulting in his best big screen outing yet, altering any preconceptions to provide a grounded presence in the midst of pure insanity 

Despite aiming to make his stay at Bilberry Woods as quick and painless as possible, after a few drinks Ohm opens up to quick witted bartender Fiona, who doesn't suffer fools, reminding him of his late mom. What he can't subscribe to is her theory about the abandoned suite, dismissing any idea it's haunted as "hokum." He'll soon find out whether that's actually true.   

A secretive Mal and Fergal both forcefully wave off notions Fiona's somehow trapped in that locked suite while suspicions turn to crazy local Jerry, whose potentially violent past attracts interest from authorities. But Ohm doesn't buy it, forming an alliance with the old man that's one of the film's more rewarding developments, in large part due to David Wilmot's kooky, disarming banter with a deadpan Scott. But all roads lead to the infamous Honeymoon Suite, where getting inside proves easier than getting out. 

How Ohm ends up in the deadly suite is cleverly intricate in itself, though nothing compared to the terror that awaits, resulting in a karmic comeuppance he thinks he deserves. Presumably operating within the parameters of a modest budget, Til Frolich's set design is a sight to behold, as its maze-like construction, mechanical contraptions and darkened corridors visually heighten the impending doom. 

Whether evil lurks in the shadows or even directly in Ohm's face, there are genuinely frightening jump scares only bolstered by Colm Hogan's suffocating cinematography. We also get the menacing appearance of a children's TV host named Jack The Jackass, who supplies enough nightmare fuel in thirty seconds to make Pennywise look like Tinkerbell. Using a key and tape recorder as his entry point, McCarthy advances a carefully constructed plot that brings Ohm closer to solving the mystery and confronting the mistake he's spent his life trying to punish himself for. 

When the time comes to provide a reasonable resolution, McCarthy doesn't drop the ball, which is no easy task considering the nature of this material. And if watching a writer struggle within the supernatural confines of a remote inn conjures up thoughts of The Shining, you wouldn't be far off since so much of the film rests on similar feelings of isolation. But by exploiting the idea of a traveler in unfamiliar surroundings facing his worst fears, Hokum manages to stand out in what's become an increasingly crowded field.   

The Running Man (2025)

Director: Edgar Wright
Starring: Glen Powell, Josh Brolin, Colman Domingo, Lee Pace, Michael Cera, Emilia Jones, William H. Macy, Daniel Ezra, Jayme Lawson, Alyssa and Sienna Benn, Katy O' Brian, Karl Glusman, Martin Herlihy, Sean Hayes, David Zayas, Angelo Gray, Oluniké Adeliyi
Running Time: 133 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)     

Of the many Stephen King adaptations that hit screens in 2025, a new take on The Running Man always seemed the most logical on paper. That's mainly due to so much happening in the world since the author first published his 1982 novel about a dystopian reality show that sees its protagonist competing in a nationally televised battle for his life. But when the Arnold Schwarzenegger original hit theaters a few years later, it arrived as a cheesy guilty pleasure very much of its era, yet ripe for a potential revisiting down the road. 

Now, with the confluence of reality TV, the internet, smart phones, digital surveillance, artificial intelligence and socio-political conflicts, key aspects of King's eerily prophetic tale have come to pass, creating a wealth of new ideas from which co-writer/director Edgar Wright can draw. And does he ever, which only makes the chilly reception this received from critics and audiences even more perplexing. Unfolding at a breakneck pace, it's edited and constructed well enough to earn a lengthy run time, with much of its success attributable to Wright's world building, a smart script, its great cast and a handful of mind blowing action set pieces. 

In a near future, the United States is governed by an authoritarian media entity called the Network, which ensures the country's population lives in poverty with little access to affordable healthcare. Rearing the nation's viewers on a trashy diet of reality TV and violent game shows, ordinary citizens are given a chance to beat the odds in rigged televised competitions that offer substantial monetary rewards. The most popular is The Running Man, where three "runners" have a shot at winning $1 billion if they survive 30 days without being killed by the Network's five "hunters." But for recently unemployed blue collar worker Ben Richards (Glen Powell), it could be his only chance at affording medicine for he and wife Sheila's (Jayme Lawson) sick two-year-old daughter, Cathy (Alyssa and Sienna Benn).  

Despite Sheila's pleas, Ben auditions for the show, bringing him face-to-face with producer Dan Killian (Josh Brolin), who senses he might have a huge ratings draw on his hands. Ben signs on the dotted line, but when the hunt begins, he quickly realizes fans are being duped by Killian and bombastic show host Bobby Thompson (Colman Domingo) into viewing him as a cold, calculated criminal. But while Ben captivates the audience and outsmarts mysteriously masked lead hunter Evan McCone (Lee Pace), Killian orchestrates the ultimate finale, as the show's latest breakout star fights for his survival. 

Even before the film's title card appears, we see a desperate, quick tempered Ben pleading for his old job back, having risked standing up for co-workers in a society where selfless actions aren't just frowned upon, but punished. Now with a sick child and his wife pulling double duty waitressing at a shady establishment, desperation starts sinking in. It's also our first glimpse of this corporate media dictatorship that strikes just the right balance of hewing close enough to certain aspects of contemporary culture while also having a semi-futuristic feel firmly rooted in sci-fi.  

Wright and co-writer Michael Bacall are threading a thin needle here, but the execution is backed up by Andrew Whitehurst's VFX and some really impressive set design from Marcus Rowland that help move this far past the TV-centric plot of its 1987 cinematic predecessor. And though a certain cheese factor remains, it's considerably less, passing as an actual game show you'd watch, albeit one that serves the story's many thematic goals. 

This battle-to-the-death manhunt presided over by its sleazy, carnival barker of a host manipulates viewers into accepting whatever constantly changing "rules" Killian sees fit. But it also accomplishes a larger, more sinister goal in keeping the lower class subservient to the Network, who dangle the possibility of hope over helpless contestants who don't stand a chance at winning. They're aware how stacked the deck is, but don't have a say, knowing their only shot at escaping poverty is surviving to the end. Cunning, athletic and angry enough for that to seem attainable, Ben's in a different league than fellow contestants Jenni (Katy O' Brian) and Tim (Martin Herlihy), creating an intriguing dynamic with Killian, who sees dollar signs for at least as long as he can control him.

The show's presentation and format is concisely explained without slowing the momentum, but it's what happens once Ben leaves the studio that makes for such a thrilling ride. If the '87 film failed at opening up King's story, this better explores Ben (given some flimsy disguises by William H. Macy's store owner Molie) contending with a bloodthirsty public eager to give him up for a reward. As the hunters close in, the film cleverly incorporates social media and drone cameras, making it clear even the highly skilled Ben needs more help. This is evident when mandatory video testimonials he mails in to air on the program are edited and manipulated by Killian to push the Network's agenda and turn viewers against him.  

There's a relentless, brilliantly staged hotel action sequence that sees Ben attempting to escape the hunters' clutches that's somehow topped by a latter one that plays like a deranged and dangerous Home Alone reenactment. All of it eventually leads to a plane ride from hell that finds Ben in an explosive final showdown that'll determine his ultimate fate. Along the way we get some lively supporting turns from Daniel Ezra as a Running Man-obsessed streamer aiding Ben in his escape and a wildly entertaining Michael Cera, whose rebellious survivalist Elton will do anything to exact revenge on the Network that killed his father. 

Cera's brief, but incredibly memorable and eccentric performance strikes just the right tone while Emilia Jones appears late in the third act as Amelia, a highfalutin woman taken hostage by Ben. Yes, her character's a plot device, but you'd never know that considering all she brings to a role that serves an such an important function in Ben's quest to open the public's eyes to government crimes and corruption. 

Though Pace strikes an evil, imposing presence as masked vigilante McCone, it's Brolin's Svengali-like Killian who calls the shots, filtering instructions through Colman Domingo's flamboyant emcee. The latter puts his own unique spin on Richard Dawson's '87 outing while the ideally cast Brolin personifies this smarmy, manipulative mastermind with more than a few twists in store. He may respect Ben's will to win, but primarily sees him as a tool for further strengthen the Network's grip over society. 

Ben becomes a symbol, and whether he survives the ordeal or not, his impact could prove longer lasting by showing citizens their potential power to invoke change. Powell provides a worthy mix of anger, desperation, physical prowess and morality to the rebellious Ben, demonstrating again why he received all those early Tom Cruise comparisons. While he's not there yet, and his best work remains 2024's overlooked Hit Man, this project can't help but feel like another step forward in further showcasing that versatility.        

Aside from a pat, overexplanatory final few minutes that tells rather than shows, The Running Man flirts with perfection and may even be superior to King's similarly themed The Long Walk adaptation from the same year. Easily putting to shame the '87 version, it'll rattle Scott Pilgrim fans to hear it's a strong contender for Wright's best film, or at least his most focused and accessible. Free from any polarizing quirks, this looks and feels like a big deal, rarely letting up as it makes the most of its inspired premise. And by using time and technology to expand on the original's ideas, it enhances the potency of a message that's only grown in the decades since. 

Dead Man's Wire

Director: Gus Van Sant
Starring: Bill Skarsgård, Dacre Montgomery, Cary Elwes, Myha'la, Colman Domingo, Al Pacino, John Robinson, Kelly Lynch, Todd Gable
Running Time: 106 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)   

During Gus Van Sant's biographical crime thriller Dead Man's Wire, a voiceover declares that holding onto anger is the equivalent of drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. But by film's end, we're left wondering whether that's true or the real life antagonist actually did get the satisfaction he sought. Eerily prescient, it focuses on this man with a grudge and the extreme measures he takes against those he thinks wronged him. And though his intended victim isn't around for the consequences, he finds a suitable replacement, leading to an unusual standoff that sends the cops and media into a frenzy. 

Initially, the police want this abductor to feel as if he's receiving the attention he so desperately craves, hoping he'll drop his guard long enough for them to go in for the kill. But what happens when the public chooses to view him as a sympathetic figure screwed over by a soulless corporation? With a compelling tale like his, it's no surprise many can relate, enabling them to somehow see past whatever violence he's capable of, as scary as that seems.    

On Tuesday, February 8th, 1977 in Indianapolis, a high strung, mustachioed man named Tony Kiritsis (Bill Skarsgård) arrives at the Meridian Mortage Company building for an appointment with CEO M.L. Hall (Al Pacino). Entering with a sling on his arm and a long box, an agitated Tony makes a scene when informed M.L. is vacationing in Florida. His son and company President Richard (Dacre Montgomery) intervenes, agreeing to meet with him. But once inside the office, Tony removes a shotgun from the box, wiring it to Richard's neck and rigging it to fire should he attempt to escape. 

Believing the Halls cheated him out of money on a land development deal, Tony calls this abduction into the police himself, hoping to expose the Halls. With a wire wrapped around his neck, Richard's taken out of the building and onto the street by Tony, attracting the attention of Detective Michael Grable (Cary Elwes) and TV news reporter Linda Page (Myha'la), who's looking to raise her profile with a big story. As the FBI closes in and Richard's life hangs in the balance, Tony uses local radio DJ Fred Temple (Colman Domingo) to send his message to the masses. But with time running out, he wants money and an apology, or the shotgun goes off.

Aside from Skarsgård's genuinely unsettling performance and a remarkable sense of time and place, the film's greatest asset is how quickly it gets down to business, letting the smaller details pour out as this situation escalates. From the start, there's something off enough about this guy that the pressure's on to give him what he wants, or at least make him think he's getting it. It's also intriguing to watch these opening office scenes with the knowledge that Tony would have been immediately tackled at the front door if this occurred today. But it's the 70's, establishing him as just another irritated client on a Tuesday. 

Viewed through a pre-9/11 lens with no security cams, it's easier to see how Tony pulls this off, his unusual shotgun contraption throwing off authorities as they proceed with heightened caution. All of this gives Tony time to lay out his terms and milk the public's attention while a terrified Richard suffers through the ordeal, his life potentially ending with one sudden move in the wrong direction. 

Montgomery's performance conveys a thinly layered sense of guilt that Richard and his father really screwed this man out of his cash since that's what this company does. Pacino's big scene as M.L. confirms just how little respect he has for his own son, who's essentially a subservient hatchet man. Even with Richard's life on the line, the elder Hall proves too stubborn and entitled to give an inch, frustrating both Tony and the FBI. Pacino's subtle here, never hamming it up as his character comes across completely unaffected and incapable of relinquishing control. 

While Van Sant gets a little heavy handed as he flashes back and forth between TV broadcast recreations and the actual action, tension remains at a fever pitch throughout, delivered in a style intentionally reminiscent of Pacino's Serpico and Dog Day Afternoon. A menacing, unhinged Skarsgård exudes false bravado as the walls close in on Tony, who still plans to walk away scot-free. Domingo also impresses with a nuanced, charismatic turn as the radio DJ caught in the middle of these volatile negotiations. As the only person Tony trusts, if not flat-out idolizes, you'd think using him as a liaison would give the FBI an advantage. And for a while, it does.  

Logic dictates Tony can't get away with this, but his belief he will is what makes him dangerous. The closing title cards revealing the fates of those involved are legitimately surprising, as is the real news footage that appears over the credits. But by depicting the genesis of similar events we'll see play out over the following decades, Dead Man's Wire shows just how easily criminals become celebrities. And while they continue to bask in that adulation and exposure, it still still says as much about us as them.