Your Honor

Creator: Peter Moffat
Starring: Bryan Cranston, Hunter Doohan, Hope Davis, Sofia Black-D'Elia, Isiah Whitlock Jr., Michael Stuhlbarg, Carmen Ejogo, Lilli Kay, Amy Landecker, Tony Curran, Lamar Johnson, Benjamin Flores Jr., Jimi Stanton, Chet Hanks, Andrene Ward-Hammond, David Maldonado, Melanie Nicholls-King, Lorraine Toussaint, Margo Martindale, Maura Tierney
Original Airdate: 2020

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

When Breaking Bad ended its run in 2013, all this speculation followed as to what Bryan Cranston would do next. Or, in other words, how do you top THAT? Of course, the answer is that you can't, nor is it necessary to. The freedom and clout to do whatever he wanted led him to dabble in a little bit of everything, resulting in a successful case study in how to build off an enormous once-in-a-lifetime  career juggernaut. A character actor long before that series came along, he'd pick up where he left off, albeit with much better projects and collaborators from which to choose. Having done some TV, feature films and Broadway, even winning a Tony for playing LBJ in All the Way (a role he'd reprise in the HBO adaptation), he definitely hasn't been hurting for quality work, enjoying the benefits of  effortlessly slipping in and out of supporting and lead roles without viewers thinking twice, even now. 

While Cranston would probably be the first to say there are far worse things than forever being linked to one of the greatest roles ever written for an actor, his inspired, ecelectic choices since have strayed pretty far from it. Until Now. Showtime's limited series Your Honor (loosely adapted from the Israeli series, Kvodo) not only marks Cranston's return to long-form episodic TV drama, but the first part since his seminal series wrapped that screams, "WALTER WHITE." If the similarities between the chemistry teacher turned drug kingpin and this put-upon judicial protagonist are undeniable, Cranston (also sharing executive producing credits and directing the finale) and showrunner Peter Moffat wisely don't avoid them, ironically helping to cement the character and series as uniquely its own despite a "parent covers kid's crime" plot that's kind of become a television trope of late.

Though Cranston's big screen work as a desserting husband in 2017's unfairly overlooked Wakefield still ranks way up there, this is arguably his strongest post-Breaking Bad project and performance, returning him to the kind of desperate, flailing do-gooder he's a master at playing. Like his most famous role, the character begins with noble intentions and as an upstanding citizen attempting to do the right thing. Then something happens and a single lie turns into a bigger one, and into an even bigger one still, and before long, he's breaking the very law he took an oath to uphold. You could actually argue he's relatively well-intentioned until about half-way through these ten episodes, when the lies start becoming more elaborate and immoral, affecting lives far beyond those directly involved. 

Even with all its dizzying twists and turns, this remains Cranston's show and we get the feeling his character's actions could easily enter Walt territory if the series continued past its limited number of episodes. By the end, he's almost already there, stuck squarely in the middle of a dangerous cat-and-mouse game where his survival depends on staying multiple steps ahead as the walls close in. And that alone should make many Breaking Bad fans feel right at home.     

On the one year anniversary of his wife's murder, respected New Orleans judge Michael Desiato (Cranston) is placed in an impossible situation when his 17 year-old college-bound son Adam (Hunter Doohan) accidentally runs down and kills another teen in a hit-and-run. Panicked and in the throes of a full-blown asthma attack, he initially tries to resucitate him, attempting to call to 911 before fleeing the scene in shock and fear. After confessing to his father, Michael's plans to have Adam turn himself in are derailed when it becomes apparent the victim is Rocco Baxter (Benjamin Wadsworth), son of organized crime kingpin, Jimmy Baxter (Michael Stuhlbarg) and his cutthroat wife Gina (Hope Davis). 

Fearing certain retaliation if Adam's crime is exposed, Michael's priorities shift to covering up his son's actions by calling in some favors and covering their tracks. He starts with best friend and politician Charlie (Isiah Whitlock Jr.), whose crime connections could help make the vehicle disappear.  He'll also have to control and manipulate the involvement of suspicious detective Nancy Costello (Amy Landecker) and former protégé and lawyer, Lee Delamere (Carmen Ejogo), both of whom Michael called immediately following the accident, much to his regret. 

With Michael's cover-up triggering consequences devastating enough to escalate an already raging gang war within the city, the Baxters reign over the corrupt NOPD with every resource at their disposal, ensuring it isn't long before they find out what really happened to Rocco. Further fueling their vengeance is that their eldest son, Carlo (Jimi Stanton) is incarcerated while spunky teen daughter Fia (Lilli Kay) is rebelling against her Catholic upbringing in the wake of their brother's tragic death. 

The biggest hole in Michael's convoluted plans just might be the moroseful, introspective Adam, who hasn't yet recovered from his mother's death long enough to truly process what he's done. While an ongoing illicit affair with his photography teacher, Frannie (Sofia Black-D'Elia) only compounds this anxiety, it's the overwhelming guilt surrounding the accident that's breaking him, and may unintentionally unravel his dad's schemes to prevent Jimmy Baxter from uncovering the truth, and killing them both. 

Everything keeps coming back to the car, as Michael either directly or indirectly involves nearly half of New Orleans' population in his plans to dispose of the vehicle, only to have it come right back and bite him at the worst possible moments. But what's so impressive about Cranston's performance is that we believe this is a man who overthinks every detail to the point that he's almost outthinking himself in a frantic bid to make sure every base is covered. As a result, he gets sloppy, overcovering his tracks to the point of micromanagement, too often drawing unecessary attention in all the wrong ways. 

Michael's decision to go through all these channels to have the car "taken care of" temporarily gets Adam off the hook, but causes a chain reaction that essentially destroys the lives of Kofi Jones (Lamar Johnson) and his little brother Eugene Jones (Benjamin Flores Jr.), two young black kids running in the wrong circles. In a series full of senseless tragedies, what ends up happening with them is easily the most senseless and undeserved. And unfortunately for Adam, he'll never truly be off the hook.

What Michael has most in common with Walter White is his inventive responses to each new impossible obstacle put in his way, in turn opening the floodgates for another calamity that's usually twice as damaging. In some ways it's the toughest kind of episodic storytelling to write because there has to be an escalating tension based off events and actions that require a certain degree of sloppiness to get the story where it needs to go. Creative risks often accompany the manufacturing of these messy scenarios, and as far as over-the-top legal thrillers go, this does snuggly fit within that wheelhouse. 

The amount of sympathy and understanding we have for the Desiatos start at a high point, gradually descending the further their big lie extends, even while acknowledging few would have the courage to do what's most obviously the right thing from the start and confess. But is it? Michael's clearly correct in assessing the ruthless Jimmy Baxter wouldn't hesitate to off Adam if he ever found out he killed his son, however accidental it was. As viewers, we're instinctively protective of a kid who made a snap bad judgment in a scary scenario while having an asthma attack. So even while conceding that both his immediate and long-term actions afterward are wrong, the criminal threat of the victim's family muddies already murky ethical waters. 

We reach a point where the mildly justifiable becomes indefensible, most especially as it relates to Michael. Adam, on the other hand, seems to be behaving in such a way that he wants to get caught. Either that, or the writing has holes big enough to drive a truck through. There's just no other way to explain him returning to the scene of the crime, hanging around courts and prisons, blabbing to people in such a way that implicates himself, attending a public memorial for his victim, and in the grandaddy of them all, getting involved with Fia Baxter, a move that subsequently raises the stakes and tension. If the deck isn't already stacked enough against Adam, his affair with Frannie (which doesn't seem to come exclusively from a place of lust, ranking as almost tame compared to other illegalities on the show) could make the teacher more vulnerable than she even knows. The same could be said for his grandmother, and Michael's mother-in-law, Elizabeth (the great Margo Martindale), whose political position as a senator is yet another hurdle Michael must clear.

Jimmy Baxter hardly needs an excuse to commit heinous crimes, but now with something resembling an actual excuse to, and the means, the threat he poses is frighteningly real. Frequently unrecognizable from role to role, Michael Stuhlbarg is able to go incognito again with this subtly powerful performance, made all the more impactful that it's opposite Cranston. 

Just seeing these two acting titans go face-to-face is really what we're really here for and it doesn't disappoint, with Stuhlbarg playing the grieving Jimmy with a quiet sensitivity that's interspersed with sporadically violent fits of rage. It's inevitable he'll find out what Michael's up to as we wait for the other shoe to drop, but how that happens, and the adjustments he must make, is where all the surprises are found. 

The wildcard is Carlo, the eldest Baxter son who's doing time, but still a massive amount of damage from within his prison cell. Michael and Adam's very survival could depend on whether his dad can wield his judicial influence to help the thuggish, drug-dealing, murdering brute, and in the process potentially betraying everything and everyone he holds dear. This is where Cranston's performance kicks into the highest gear possible as Michael frantically scrambles to come up with solutions that could spare him and his son's life, if only even for just another day.

With a trial as its closing arc, this series disproves the theory that all legal thrillers need to be spend an inordinate amount of time in the courtroom bogged down by procedure and expository dialogue. Presiding over a case that has to go a certain way, Michael's in a position where he can't so obviously tip the scales as to draw attention to his own impropriety. Playing in a chess game rather than overseeing a trial, every single move counts and even the slightest ruling the wrong way could be catastrophic. He can control a lot, but not everything, and it becomes torturous fun watching all the curve balls thrown his way and how Cranston conveys Michael's flummoxed reactions. 

Fitting into a far larger discussion in how popular entertainment is choosing or not choosing to incorporate the pandemic into storylines, the assumption that these events were taking place prior to that are shattered when masks start showing up in the last quarter of the series. Well, kind of. There doesn't seem to be much consistency in their depiction, but give the writers credit for ingenuity and comic relief as Michael actually uses "social distancing" as an excuse to pull off one of his manipulative tactics during the trial.

Much like HBO's Treme, this dives far into the atmosphere of New Orleans, framing the city as important a character as the rogues gallery of corrupt law enforcement, nefarious politicians, lawmakers, family and gang members that put our protagonist in the worst of company. And there's still yet another side that exposes a sense of bustling community in the streets and an underlying and overriding sense of loyalty amongst its people to protect their own, making the betrayals that occur especially heartbreaking. 

The broken system Michael attempts to navigate proves impenetrable, even for someone with his standing. Its ending has been accurately compared to a Shakespearian tragedy, concluding on a note depressing enough to make Better Call Saul feel like a trip to Disney World. There's a mad dash to wrap it all up with many dangling threads, but it's an appropriately straightforward closer considering what got us there. It's easy to believe this was only intended as a limited series with no plans to go further. But if we've learned anything, it's always possible to continue, no matter how creatively inadvisable that may seem. The bigger question is why you'd bother when within its ten episodes Your Honor manages to jam more in than most series have in their entire extended runs.                                   

Promising Young Woman

Director: Emerald Fennell
Starring: Carey Mulligan, Bo Burnham, Alison Brie, Clancy Brown, Jennifer Coolidge, Laverne Cox, Chris Lowell, Connie Britton, Adam Brody, Max Greenfield, Christopher Mintz-Plasse, Sam Richardson, Alfred Molina, Molly Shannon
Running Time: 113 min.
Rating: R 

★★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

To say that Emerald Fennell's revenge thriller Promising Young Woman is about someone who does bad things for the right reasons would feel like engaging in the same double talk excuse-making that plagues the "nice guy" would-be rapists its title character terrorizes. A more accurate assessment of one the year's absolute best and most thought-provoking films would describe it as being about accountability. It scares us to death into being better, holding its mirror up to a society assuming they've done enough and can't be bothered by the fact that they really haven't done anything at all. 

Squashing any preconceived notions about an issue we thought we've examined every facet of over the past two years, it throws those prejudices back in our faces with nihilistic, venomous glee. A surface-level reading the film's antagonistic protagonist would have some mistaking her for kind of a female Dexter, replacing retribution for serial killers with rapists. And yet this tramples over that buzzy oversimplification to deliver a story that cuts much deeper, complete with a pitch black satirical slant. 

While damaged, this isn't a character who murders or maims, with all questions concerning her potentially fragile mental state circling back to a single trauma from the past that feeds an obsessive motivation. Despite a plot built around such an explosive character, the film's greatest trick is that this isn't necessarily a study in her behavior, but rather those she targets. It's all about them, and ultimately us. Or really anyone who, if maybe not directly the perpetrator, could have found themselves in a situation where laughing things off or ignoring them altogether proved to be an escape hatch from its actual ramifications. 

If complicity comes in many different forms, the scariest realization is that we may never truly know anyone. That's not news, but how writer, actress and first-time feature director Fennell's script meticulously builds her case twist-by-twist before knocking the wind out of you in its closing minutes is. Like the mesmerizing lead performance carrying it, the film's fearless in refusing to pull any punches before arriving at a complex destination that's far from inevitable considering what came before. Stylish and beautifully constructed, it doesn't only give you something to think about following the credits, but provokes genuine discomfort and even outrage at having such thoughts. Whatever they may be.

Cassandra "Cassie" Thomas (Carey Mulligan) is 30-year-old woman living with her parents (Clancy Brown and Jennifer Coolidge) in Ohio after having dropped out of medical school years earlier due to an incident involving her best friend Nina. Now working at a coffee shop, she spends her nights at clubs pretending to be drunk to bait guys into taking her home, where they inevitably try to take advantage of the situation before she reveals her sobriety. 

As the reasoning behind Cassie's dangerous game starts to come into focus, her insulated world is temporarily turned upside down after a chance encounter with former classmate and pediatric surgeon Ryan Cooper (Bo Burnham), whom she eventually starts dating. Cassie's emerging feelings for him seem to conflict with news that a hated ex-classmate, Alexander "Al" Monroe (Chris Lowell) is recently engaged to be married. 

The mere mention of Al's name is an immediate trigger for Cassie, prompting her to embark on an intricate revenge plan involving multiple people entwined in a morally corrupt, misogynistic system that failed Nina and sent both fleeing from med school. As Cassie exacts revenge on those who wronged them, the idea of having actually met a good guy in Ryan could present the possibility of a future she gave up on having years ago. To embrace that, she'll need to let go of these revenge fantasies and an anger that's consumed her since the incident. But given the full nature of what happened and its lingering long-term impact, that could prove impossible. 

The film announces what it is right away, as a seemingly drunk Cassie lures her first victim in, if only he were actually a "victim" or even "lured." The young, outwardly affable businessman (played by Adam Brody) could be better categorized as the victimizer, or worse. He's just one of the unsuspecting marks Fennell brilliantly manipulates us into hanging our hats on by reconceptualizing the "nice guy" facade they've adopted to define themselves. Lulling us into considering they wouldn't dare take advantage of a barely conscious young woman without a ride home, how surprised or disappointed viewers are with the results goes a long way in confirming a certain level of pre-existing cynicism and awareness. Already an old pro at this, Cassie's ten steps ahead, complete with a personal scorecard that consistently yields a similar, if not identical, outcome each time. 

Never doubting that these guys have any other intention but to rape her, she's often alarmingly right, with one creep (played by Superbad's Christopher Mintz Plasse) going so far as to premptively victim-shame her before he can even get started. What they all have in common is the terrified looks on their faces when she reveals the con and exposes them for who they really are. Once confronted with her sobriety, they back off immediately, cowering in fear, suggesting she's really in this for that moment, knowing her actions could have just prevented it from happening again. Some want to run, others throw out excuses, but the upper hand is now hers in a power dynamic that's jarringly shifted.  

The script doesn't glide over Cassie's obvious issues, but the deeper understanding we get of the event that drove her here makes it easier for us to wrap our heads around the behavior. But it's still wrecklessly dangerous as she continuously places herself in harm's way to avenge a crime that can never be adjudicated or erased, having already caused irrecovable trauma. The arrival of Ryan into her orbit is when the material effortlessly alternates between some darker elements and a courtship that's enormously entertaining enough to stand on its own as a romantic comedy.

Fennell is so good at handling everything involving this relationship, as Cassie's walls gradually and believably start to crumble to the point that we think she may finally be able to turn the page on the grief that's emotionally paralyzed her. And we're rooting hard for it, while nervously dreading that a few potentially devastating scenarios could play out to derail it. Among them is the possibility Ryan ucovers her nightime hobby, isn't the true "nice guy" he seems or she's secretly targeting him next, playing some kind of long con in the hopes of exposing something.

While all of this adds an undercurrent of tension to every interaction, the chemistry between Mulligan and Burnham is such that we actually don't want any of these unsettling scenarios to come to fruition. The latter, better known as a comedian and director of 2018's critically acclaimed Eighth Grade, is especially good, conveying a geeky, self-depricating sense of humor that chips away at Cassie's defenses.

The idea that those who harm in the past rarely go away and are frequently incapable of significant change makes Cassie's work easier than it should be. Al's the ultimate end game in terms of her vengeance, but as she moves down the list, the enablers come off just as badly. Alison Brie as a stuck-up former classmate and Connie Britton as the University Dean are such realistically written and performed characters in terms of their normalized obliviousness. Exhibiting familar, if hypocritical behavior, they haven't a care in the world unless they're pushed, and something's on the line. For them, of course. 

Cassie exposes all their malfeasances and self-deception in a manner mirroring what she does with the aspiring rapists, refusing to draw the line between the actual act and those who stand by facilitating it. Given the stakes, even those wrestling with the morality of her methods would likely agree it's a message that badly needed to be delivered. Her encounter with a damaged lawyer (played by Alfred Molina) plays far differently, Cassie's reaction suggest she's playing with a fuller deck than initially suspected and there are certain lines that won't be be crosssed.

Despite the silly controversy that's arisen involving Carey Mulligan's looks as it relates to her qualifications for the role, the fact she's playing so agressively against her perceived screen persona only works to the material's favor. Usually more associated with period dramas, she enters the story as underestimated as her wild character, frequently framed in and surrounded by bright rainbow colors by cinematographer Benjamin Kračun as to contrast sharply with the story's inherent darkness. There are a lot of creative landmines for Mulligan to navigate to in terms of tone and intent, but she responds with her strongest ever work, reflecting in Cassie someone that's borne from tragedy, but cemented in a sadness and anger overlooked by those to whom she's closest, which are few. Alternating between observant girl-next-door and extroverted vixen, she carries the character's messy history on her shoulders, and as a result, the entire film.

When it's time to enter the lion's den and come face-to-face with the toxic jock bro she's been waiting years to destroy, Cassie comes prepared. Everything that happens in this movie's polarizing last act is shocking, but with an accompanying method to its madness. While the numbers game puts her in as serious danger, it's gone too far for her to turn back now, not that she'd even consider that. What actually goes down at the cabin bachelor party is jaw-dropping, but it's the fallout that gives Fennell's film its poisonous aftertaste, connecting all its dots in the most sensational of ways. All of it culminates in a revelatory closing sequence where you can almost literally hear the sound of a book closing or the last knot being tightly tied as the camera pans out.

All the praise heaped upon these final few minutes should extend past the editing and performances to also include the soundtrack. Often, the mark of truly great uses of popular songs in movies can be defined by a feeling that you've just heard it for the first time regardless of how frequently it's previously been played elsewhere. We get such a needle drop here, with a throwback tune that perfectly and ironically caps the moment, further enhancing the action it's juxtaposed against. It's such an ideal fit you'd figure it was written exactly for this scene, and unlikely to be heard the same way again. There's another more recent mainstream pop selection that makes a memorable karaoke cameo earlier on, but the closer is in a class by itself, marking one of many elements Fennell seamlessly harnesses to establish this nasty, confrontational experience as so much more than the mere sum of its parts.   

This would make for a great double feature with 2020's other provocative #MeToo drama, The Assistant, which could have easily been mistaken for a documentary given how raw and emotionlessly it depicted a similarly abusive environment. Tone-wise, they definitely don't match, but categorizing both under the same hashtag might be selling each short, reducing them to a very specific movement. It's never explicitly stated when the events here take place, and while the technology heavily implies present day, there's a timelessness to the proceedings and surroundings that force you to do a double take, speculating how a similar concept could have played out in the 80's or 90's. Or more pertinently, what the reaction would have been. Too full of jagged edges and black humor to be preaching anything, Promising Young Woman lets its scenario, and all the despicably flawed figures involved, speak for itself. And in doing that it becomes an outlier amongst socially concious thrillers by transcending the era for which it's made to become a stinging indictment on humanity as a whole.     

Freaky

Director: Christopher Landon
Starring: Vince Vaughn, Kathryn Newton, Katie Finneran, Dana Drori, Celeste O' Connor, Misha Osherovich, Uriah Shelton, Alan Ruck, Melissa Collazo
Running Time: 101 min.
Rating: R 

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

The body swap movie has always been a popular Hollywood standby, going all the way back to such titles as 18 Again!, Vice Versa and even the more contemporarily popular 13 Going on 30. Christopher Landon's Freaky has a unique take on this, adding comedic horror elements and a wildly effective gender flip to the equation. That it comes from the director of the underpraised, Groundhog Day-inspired Happy Death Day is of little surprise, with the two slashers sharing very similar sensibilities.This isn't quite as successful, but after an awkward start where the tone seems to be all over the place, it quickly settles into a groove, emerging more as a standout in a sub-genre where it seems as if everything's already been tried. 

It opens as the Scream sequel we never needed in going so over-the-top and self-referential to start that I half-expected the camera to pull back and reveal a theater full of cheering moviegoers. And when a giant title card reading "Wednesday the 11th" appears on screen, I figured it was only a matter of time. But no, this is all literally occurring, complete with a lanky, hulking figure who resembles Vince Vaughn offing teenagers in an intentionally cheap-looking monster mask stitched together from Leatherface and Michael Myers' leftovers. 

That this is a Blumhouse production makes perfect sense considering Blum himself has been trying obtain the remake rights to Friday the 13th, for which this opening sequence could be considered a trial run. The sequence ends with a clever tennis court kill that would immediately win any skeptic over. So  while still enagaging in a few familar tropes, this at least knows what it is and breaks free in a big way, thanks in no small part to a well-conceived scenario, lots of laughs and two opposing stars who literally and figuratively slay their roles. 

When four teenagers are murdered by the masked Blissfield Butcher (Vaughn), he's able to get his hands on an ancient dagger known as La Dola, the community goes on high alert. Bullied, insecure high school student Millie Kessler (Kathryn Newton) is still reeling from her father's sudden death a year ago, caring for her emotionally dependent, alcoholic mom, Coral (Katie Finneran) while older sister Charlene (Dana Drori), a police officer, dives into her work. After performing as the school mascot at the homecoming game, Millie's cornered alone by the Butcher, as he stabs her in the arm with the mystical dagger. 

With both waking up the next day realizing they've switched bodies, the Butcher now occupies Millie as she finds herself inhabiting the body of this serial killer. Conversely taking full advantage of his 17 year-old girl disguise, the Butcher goes to school and wreaks havoc as Millie, simultaneously shocking and exciting her peers with a dangerous new attitude. Meanwhile, the real Millie attempts to adjust to being stuck in a man's body, while trying to convince best friends Nyla (Celeste O' Connor) and Josh (Misha Osherovich) and crush Booker (Uriah Shelton) what's happened. But she'll need to take possession of the dagger and stab the Butcher by midnight to reverse the curse, or they'll be permanently trapped in the other's body. 

It's kind of a tradition in these movies that the two characters switch bodies due to some magical object they're exposed to, and as much as this film does differently, the script very much sticks to this. Even by those standards, the La Dola dagger that incites the switch is no more or less ridiculous than previous examples of this type of plot device. And no teen slasher could be complete without a central female character who's bullied for being either a "freak," or "loser," deemed undateable for no discernable reason other than they think they are, or maybe simply because it's high school. This can be challenging since the qualities they're looking for when casting an actress for that can sometimes oppose what's required when the cameras start rolling. She'll not only have to be popular and an outcast all at once, but pretend to inhabit the body of a killer more than twice her age and a different gender. 

Kathryn Newton deftly handles all of this as well as anyone could, marking it as a big, star-making outing for her after some rebellious teen turns on TV (Big Little Lies, Halt and Catch Fire) and the big screen (Blockers). While the movie lays it on pretty thick in the beginning to set everything up, it requires massive shifts in attitude and personality at the drop of a hat, providing a great showcase for a rapidly rising actress we'll definitely be seeing a lot more of. Once she does her slo-mo walk through the school's doors as Butcher it's game on, with the results being just as funny and thrilling as its wacky premise suggests. It also opens the floodgates for Millie's antagonists getting theirs, including Ferris Bueller's Alan Ruck, whose brief, but memorable work as an angry, abusive shop teacher is one of the movie's biggest treats, providing a textbook example of how to properly riff on a cult actor's reputation in a modern slasher.

You're initially sort of perplexed at Vince Vaughn's mannerisms as a teen girl, until the manhunt kicks in and he goes on the run, attempting to convince everyone he (or she) isn't what he appears to be. In this regard there are some great physical comedy scenes that revolve around the actor's size, more easily enabling the script to find ways for Millie to unlock the inner and outer strength residing in her, playing on the movie's themes. Because of its genre, and Vaughn's capabilities, this goes further you'd expect, with some highlights including a kitchen brawl with her friends and a great gag involving him bumbling around town in a creepy Aaron Rodgers mask. The height of Vaughn's portrayal comes in a department store fitting room conversation with Millie's mom who's completely unaware she's finally opening up to her own daughter, albeit while stuck in the body of a fugitive killer.   

Much of the third act revolves around comedic misunderstandings and mistaken identity scenarios, as it becomes a race to obtain the dagger and sell Millie's cop sister on the outrageous conceit that the murderer in her crosshairs is actually Millie. The ending is kind of a mixed bag in that it engages in something all slashers do, if rarely so blatantly. Given this is a parody of sorts, Landon gets away with it, even if you can't help but think there's an excised scene somewhere that clarifies a huge logic leap in the film's final few minutes. If it plays fast and loose with the rules even by horror comedy standards, Landon and co-writer Michael Kennedy earn points for a closing line that's memorable enough for them to deservedly be fist-bumping everyone in sight.

Freaky picks up steam and doesn't relent, exhausting every available plot avenue with its admittedly inspired twist on a familiar concept. You have to respect its willingness to go all the way with it, daring us to cringe and laugh in discomfort at its absurdity, which is exactly the point. Even if it all makes for a better body swap comedy than self-aware teen horror entry, we already have more than enough of the latter that it shouldn't matter one bit. It's easy to see what sets this apart, and there's little mystery in why fans of any genre would be raving about it.

Sound of Metal

Director: Darius Marder
Starring: Riz Ahmed, Olivia Cooke, Paul Raci, Lauren Ridloff, Mathieu Amalric
Running Time: 120 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★) 

In director/co-writer Darius Marder's Sound of Metal, we meet a drummer on the verge of going deaf. He's also a recovering addict, though that doesn't factor into the story how you'd even guess or expect. Whatever rock bottom is, he's about to hit it, his mindset existing somewhere between extreme denial, anger and delusion. In some strange sense, you could force yourself into admiring his stubborness and refusal to give up in a battle he little chance at winning because he's fighting the wrong problem in the wrong way.

Unknowlingly his own worst enemy, this character is someone who clearly views seeking help as a weakness when it's so much more obviously the braver choice to be made. But that's so easy to say from the outside looking in, and what's most engrossing about this intimately sharp, painful character study is how Marder never pushes too hard, just letting this all unfold. Far from a comeback or inspiring redemption tale despite fleeting moments where it seems headed that way, it also somehow avoids being a depressingly hopeless indie about a damaged man destroying everything and everyone around him.

This road is more realistically bumpy than that, with ups and downs that move at a rhythm  fittingly matching the protagonist's occupation and obsession. And just when we think that he's making a major breakthrough, self-sabotage kicks in, revealing the true scope of his predicament. Featuring two of the year's best performances, it also employs some inventive sound techniques that places us in the literal head space of a character losing his hearing, making for a discomforting but fully immersive and memorable experience. 

Recovering drug addict and drummer Ruben Stone (Riz Ahmed) and one half of the popular metal group, Blackgammon, along with his girlfriend and lead singer, Lou (Olivia Cooke). Together, they travel cross country in an RV performing gigs, until Ruben notices he's losing his hearing. After an audiologist confirms it, he's warned to focus on preserving the little hearing he has left, which is  rapidly deteriorating. Despite the warning, he continues to play, further exposing himself to loud music that worsens his condition When the surgical possibility of cochlear implants is brought up, its hefty price tag and the fact it isn't covered by insurance make that option a seemingly insurmountable challenge.

With concerns about Ruben's sobriety and refusal to give up performing, Lou talks to his sponsor, who sends him to a community home for deaf addicts run by Joe (Paul Raci), a recovering alcoholic who lost his hearing in Vietnam. After initially resisting, Ruben returns and Joe takes him under his wing, with the community helping him learn sign language and adjust to his new life as a deaf person. But that itch to return to his former life remains, still hoping to reunite with Lou and pick up where they left off with the band and their relationship. If he can get the money, surgery remains a tempting prospect, even as Joe offers him the opportunity to make his temporary stay at the home more permanent. 

With static, uintelligible voices and faint muffled noises, the sound design lets the viewer into Ruben's hearing loss as he experiences it, and it's a punishingly empty vacuum, closing off by the second. Now suddenly cut-off and disconnected from the rest of the world, his ability to effectively communicate seems to go within days and that he's also an addict serves to make any potential adjustment even more traumatizing. As someone who always had to keep moving, playing and performing to maintain his sanity and sobriety, when it all goes away, that silence puts him in a dangerous place. Lou senses this before he pushes her away too, eventually agreeing to seek help, while still refusing to fully acknowledge what that assistance is actually for. 

Much as been made about all the preparations an unrecognizably tatttooed Riz Ahmed undertook for the role, including learning drumming and American sign language. While that brings the authenticity, the lasting imprint he leaves with this complex, intense performance is that of an individual whose music had replaced the drugs. With the possibility of that now going away, he's completely exposed, unsure if there's any more to him beneath that. Well-traveled character actor Paul Raci plays Joe as a man who's been around the block and sees right through him, knowing Ruben's only path to salvation lies with him being comfortable in the stillness and silence that comes from settling into his new skin as a deaf person. 

The film's middle section focuses on what we believe will be Ruben's breakthrough, as he sits in with Diane's (Lauren Ridloff) class of deaf children, learning the ropes as he teaches them a little something about music in return. But he views this a lot differently than they do and we'd want him to, almost as a vehicle to somehow triumphantly regain his old life, which is an impossibility at best. 

At the film's heart is this philosophical showdown revolving around what constitutes a "disability." Ruben's refusal to envision any type of scenario where his hearing isn't "cured" goes against everything Joe believes in and works toward in this home. From Joe's standpoint, Ruben most definitely needs to be fixed, but his problem has less to do with deafness than an inability to accept the reality of his situation. 

This all comes to a head in a powerful masterclass of acting between Ahmed and Raci, a fight of wills between two people who do really respect one another, even if it can only end in one way. For Joe, continuing to help Ruben and keep him there is a toxic betrayal of the people he helps, just as the latter views Joe's philosophy as the equivalent of throwing in the towel. Just the very idea of a deaf person potentially being shunned by the deaf community for wanting to hear again is controversial in itself, but the script excellently presents these two opposing ethical stances.  

Some may find themselves impatient with the film's deliberate pacing as the story takes a dramatic detour in its prolonged final third, but it's an unexpected and necessary one. Ruben's attempt to reconnect with Lou and the the life he was forced to leave behind brings with it some painful, eye-opening realizations about his condition, hearing and otherwise. What he thought he always wanted, he may not, at least not in its current state. That there's any kind of realization from him at all is where the ending's potency comes from, subtly indicating that he could be headed in a more productive direction. But given his demons, it's still hard to discount the chance he's not. 

If blindness or sight loss is a condition frequently covered in dramas, comedies and even action or mystery thrillers, deafness has rarely been handled on screen as often, especially in such an honest, confrontational manner. Sound of Metal succeeds by putting a laser-like focus on the diagnosis itself and exploring its ramifications in real-world terms, resulting in a painful examination of our capacity to adapt to change. Should Ruben eventually accept what constitutes a new life, we get the impression it may only be the first in a long line of battles he'll now be better equipped to handle.