Death of a Unicorn

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

★★½ (out of ★★★★)  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sinners

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

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)    

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Companion

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

★★★ (out of ★★★★)  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Drop

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

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Old Ass

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

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)   

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.