Conclave

Director: Edward Berger
Starring: Ralph Fiennes, Stanley Tucci, John Lithgow, Sergio Castellitto, Isabella Rossellini, Lucian Msamati, Carlos Diehz, Brían F. O'Byrne, Merab Ninidze, Balkissa Maiga
Running Time: 120 min.
Rating: PG

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)     

Adapted from Robert Harris' 2016 novel, Conclave centers around an election that somehow feels both very real and fictitious all at once. When a pope passes away an organized conclave of Cardinals do convene to vote on a successor, but director Edward Berger's heightened interpretation of events benefits from the process having never really been examined or dramatized on film before. That results in an eye opening watch for anyone curious about what such an event could entail, even under these craziest of circumstances.

The cerebral thriller is as much a reflection of the current political climate as the inner workings of the Roman Catholic Church, with Berger's methodical setup giving way to an intelligently made adult drama that gathers momentum with each plot turn. The results are gripping, as an uncomplicated endeavor gets muddled by lies and corruption, threatening to further tarnish the institution's already shaky reputation.

When Pope Gregory XVII dies of a heart attack, Cardinal-Dean Thomas Lawrence (Ralph Fiennes) gathers his colleagues in seclusion for a papal conclave to elect the new pontiff. Candidates include the very liberal Aldo Bellini (Stanley Tucci) from the United States, Nigeria's Joshua Adeyemi (Lucian Msamati), conservative Canadian Joseph Tremblay (John Lithgow), and far right leaning Italian traditionalist Goffredo Tedesco (Sergio Castellitto). But when Lawrence is informed of an incriminating meeting that took place between Tremblay and the late pope directly before his death, the election is thrown into disarray.

As ballots are counted, more revelations surface, including a tryst from Adeyemi's past that rattles a concerned Sister Agnes (Isabella Rossellini) and the last-minute arrival of  secretly appointed Archbishop of Kabul, Vincent Benitez (Carlos Diehz). Presiding over numerous rounds of voting but expressing little interest in holding the position himself, Lawrence doubts the other candidates can capably fill it, knowing only that someone will have to.

With all the power and responsibility being pope brings, it only makes sense certain nominees wouldn't want it, lie about not wanting it, or stop at nothing to ensure they're elected. If not for the fact he's a good man, our protagonist would probably rather cover his ears, shielding himself and others from all these alleged misdeeds. Instead, he investigates each allegation as if the Church's future depended on it. And that's largely because it does. 

To say Lawrence suffers a crisis of faith isn't accurate since he hasn't lost belief in the Church so much as a process itself that constantly forces him to choose between the lesser of multiple evils. Then again, he also realizes his colleagues are human, prone to the same errors in moral judgment as anyone. This only makes coming to a just, favorable outcome that much harder, especially considering the number of skeletons top candidates are hiding in their closets.

Set to resign only hours earlier, it's clear why the deceased pope needed Lawrence to stay on, recognizing in him the qualities necessary to lead this College of Cardinals through difficult stretches like this. But it's also easy to see how Lawrence has no interest in an admittedly thankless position he feels unsuited for. Ironically, that stance only solidifies his worthiness, doing what few can by putting the Church's needs ahead of personal ambition. 

Waging war with his own conscience as a string of damaging details emerge, Fiennes transfixes as Lawrence, internalizing the stress and anguish as this election drags on. But he doesn't waiver, thoroughly deliberating each move with the knowledge there's only one chance to get it right. As the Cardinals split into opposing voting blocks, Bellini becomes Lawrence's trusted sounding board, with Tucci incredibly effective as a confidante who won't hold back, helping Lawrence wade through the deception. 

The other Cardinals sneakily whisper and conspire, while Lithgow steals scenes as the stubbornly ambitious Tremblay, who may or may not be pulling strings to ensure himself victory. Rossellini's role is small, but impactful, letting Sister Agnes' views be known with looks of disapproval and disdain before speaking out, whether the men want to hear it or not. It's to Lawrence's credit that he doesn't necessarily want input from everyone, yet remains open minded enough to listen just the same.

In the third act, another sane, rational voice speaks up at just the right moment, cutting through conflicting ideologies to remind these Cardinals of the bigger problems raging just outside their walls. It's only when we think it's all finally figured out that the big twist arrives, coming out of left field, but tying into the film's central thematic conflict between tradition and progress. The perfect candidate never existed and won't, so it's almost fitting that amidst all the dissension an enormous detail would slip under the radar, causing Lawrence to stumble headfirst into a change no one imagined.

The question of whether it's acceptable to elect the least compromised among an assembly line of flawed, dishonest candidates becomes the foundation on which the story's built. Bringing a refined precision to the proceedings, Berger and screenwriter Peter Straughan craft the rare prestige film that could play in any era, but still seems specifically suited to now. Carefully constructed and featuring powerful performances from a formidable cast, it squeezes a surprising amount of suspense from a scenario few expected to induce such excitement.             

Smile 2

Director: Parker Finn
Starring: Naomi Scott, Rosemarie DeWitt, Lukas Gage, Miles Gutierrez-Riley, Peter Jacobson, Ray Nicholson, Dylan Gelula, Raúl Castillo, Kyle Gallner
Running Time: 127 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)  

At the very least, Smile 2 deserves credit for not taking the predictable route in sequeling 2022's sleeper horror hit. And even while going through the paces required in continuing its concept, writer/director Parker Finn still crafts an ambitious follow-up uninterested in rehashing familiar ground. That the same filmmaker is attached comes as a surprise since this is a far slower burn, more absorbed in exploring the psychological ramifications of its premise. But maybe the bigger question is how an admittedly tremendous lead performance would be received if this wasn't a horror sequel, or at least not marketed as one.

Playing a major celebrity pushed into the public eye like a money making wind-up doll as she battles addiction and PTSD, Charlie's Angels and Aladdin actress Naomi Scott is the reason to see this. In humanizing a singer who should seem out of reach to even her most obsessed fans, the character's fractured psyche becomes a disturbingly uncomfortable place to reside, with Finn visually and narratively upping his game with this entry. There's still this feeling that if the first film didn't exist and certain supernatural tropes were discarded, it might play better, but not by much. Once we get past its wild and messy third act, even the prospect of a third installment suddenly doesn't seem like such a bad idea.

Six days after being infected by the Smile curse by a now deceased Rose Cotter (Sosie Bacon), police officer Joel (Kyle Gallner) frantically tries to pass it on, targeting a lowlife criminal. But when drug dealer Lewis Fregoli (Lukas Gage) unexpectedly bares witness to the murder, he's infected with the Entity before getting a visit from pop star Skye Riley (Scott). In search of Vicodin for lingering pain caused by a car crash that killed her actor boyfriend Paul Hudson (Ray Nicholson, channeling his dad's iconic grin), she finds a violently uncontrollable Lewis, from whom she contracts the parasite.

Skye's infected just as she embarks on a comeback tour orchestrated by her controlling manager mom Elizabeth (Rosemarie DeWitt). Struggling to stay sober after a very public battle with substance abuse, her mental health further spirals as she's plagued by nightmarish visions, sinisterly smiling strangers and an inability to distinguish dreams from reality. With only estranged friend Gemma (Dylan Gelula) to rely on, Skye's running out of time, until a mysterious man contacts her claiming he has a plan to stop the curse. The problem is whether she can survive it. 

After a gripping opening that picks up directly where the last film left off and shares some stylistic similarities with this year's Longlegs, we're immersed in Skye's troubled world, which is about to be turned upside down. But not before the first entry's central premise of passing the curse is reinforced with devastating results. That she's at her dealer's apartment is bad enough, but what she catches there is worse, especially since her mental stability is shaky enough that those closest to her can easily write these scary symptoms off as another relapse. 

Still harboring guilt over her boyfriend's death and coming off surgery and a stint in rehab, Skye's run into the ground by domineering, money hungry mom Elizabeth, who refuses to cancel the tour regardless of the harm it's causing. In early scenes, we see the mental and physical toll this takes on Skye as she soldiers through the pain during rehearsal, constantly guzzling bottles of Voss water to calm her nerves. It barely works, especially when creepy looking fans start showing up and hallucinations take over, the most unnerving of which involves a stalker who invades her apartment. 

Skye's fragile state prevents her from distinguishing reality from illusion, and after a while, neither can we. It's a clever approach, raising the stakes of the original, but feeling different enough to bare little resemblance at all. Scott carries this, shatteringly believable as both a huge star and recovering addict at the end of her rope. There's just an authenticity to how she acts, looks, sings and even moves that's layers beyond what we usually get from actors portraying fictitious celebrities. 

With the Entity taking hold and outside pressure on Skye ramping up, Scott's grueling performance really shifts into overdrive. Her character's appearance at a charity event stands as the film's centerpiece, resulting in the parasite's most damaging, publicly humiliating takeover yet. When it becomes clear her frigid stage mom's primary concern will always be dollar signs, Skye turns to ex-friend Gemma, but even that relationship isn't what it seems anymore.

The final act flies off the rails in ways both good and bad since Finn can only blur reality for so long until repetitiveness kicks in. Skye must confront her own past head-on, taking part in a dangerous, last ditch effort to rid herself of the curse. That the closing sequence draws comparisons to the vastly superior The Substance is just unfortunate timing, but Smile 2 earns its stripes by giving us an intriguing character study to accompany the thrills. And despite an unfair tendency to dismiss genre turns like these, it's hard to ignore Naomi Scott's emotionally exhausting turn as a pop star on the brink of a breakdown.                                                    

A Man on the Inside

Creator: Michael Schur
Starring: Ted Danson, Mary Elizabeth Ellis, Lilah Richcreek Estrada, Stephanie Beatriz, Eugene Cordero, Sally Struthers, Marc Evan Jackson, Kerry O' Malley, Margaret Avery, John Getz, Susan Ruttan, Veronica Cartwright, Clyde Kusatsu, Stephen McKinley Henderson, Lori Tan Chinn, Jama Williamson
Original Airdate: 2024

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)  

Having built his fifty year career on such eclectic roles as Cheers' Sam Malone, Damages' Arthur Frobisher and Bored to Death's George Christopher, Ted Danson reunites with The Good Place creator Michael Schur for a part that's custom made for his talents. All the trailers for Netflix's immensely satisfying new series A Man on the Inside suggests a spy spoof with about a bumbling senior going undercover to solve a crime, but that thin description does it a major disservice, at least compared to what we actually get.

While very much a palette cleanser in the vein of  traditional network sitcoms, it's surprisingly moving in how it explores heavier, emotionally resonant themes with an ideal mix of comedy and drama. And if Netflix often catches heat for haphazardly churning out an inconsistent buffet of content to boost subscriptions, this is a reminder that when they want to get it right, they can. 

With just eight episodes at a half hour each, it's a breezy, effortless watch that prominently features an ensemble of actors in their sixties and seventies, which is rare in itself. But rarer still is how someone of any age could watch and be able to appreciate the material from a different perspective. 

Whether it's an elderly individual facing similar issues as the show's protagonist or a middle-aged parent serving as caregiver to their own aging relative, the premise carries a universality that somehow avoids coming across as overly sentimental or maudlin. And if much of that can be attributed to Danson's lived in portrayal of a retired widower at a crossroads, it's also due to Schur maintaining a steady, consistent tone. Resisting any urge to raise the stakes too high, he instead tells a compact, humanistic story from start to finish, keeping its focus on these realistically fleshed out characters.

Retired San Francisco engineering professor Charles Nieuwendyk (Danson) is lonely and isolated following the recent death of his wife Victoria from Alzheimer's. Secluded from the outside world, he spends his free time cutting out newspaper articles and sending them to concerned daughter Emily (Mary Elizabeth Ellis), who's hands are full with work and three teen boys. 

When Emily suggests her father get a job or hobby of some sort, Charles answers an ad from private investigator Julie Kovalenko (Lilah Richcreek Estrada) seeking an assistant to go undercover at the Pacific View Retirement Community, where a priceless ruby necklace was recently stolen. 

Looking for an applicant in their 70's or 80's with a passable tech skills, Julie thinks she's found her guy, until realizing this could be a steep learning curve for Charles, who immediately draws attention to himself at Pacific View. While the facility is run by the caring but overworked Didi Santos Cordero (Stephanie Beatriz), her loyalty and keen sense of observation threatens to jeopardize his cover. But as befriends this quirky group of residents and realizes the value of their companionship, the case becomes a pathway for Charles in coming to terms with Victoria's death and reconnecting with his daughter.

After an effective prologue featuring a digitally de-aged Danson as Charles giving the toast at his wedding, we're given a glimpse into how much purpose he's lost without the love of his life. And as the series progresses and more details are revealed about her passing, it's revealed that he still harbors a lot of relatable guilt and regret over those final days, much of which he had very little control over. 

Describing Victoria as the glue that held his relationship with Emily together, Charles is understandably drowning in grief while she's frustrated at his refusal to talk about it. And none of those elements are forgotten when the plot seamlessly shifts into comedic mode, as going undercover was hardly what Emily had in mind for his recreational hobby.

There are some really inspired gags revolving around just how bad Charles' sleuthing skills are, like when he obviously questions residents, blindly trusts key suspects or hilariously fancies himself a Bond-like super spy. Subtlety isn't his strong suit, and while his no-nonsense boss Julie thinks she's made a catastrophic mistake hiring him, he does start making friends, all of whom are entertainingly quirky in their own way, but also dealing with various issues. 

Among others, Charles will spend time with fun loving, energetic best friends Virginia (a great Sally Struthers) and Florence (Margaret Avery), former Broadway costume designer Gladys (Susan Ruttan), new backgammon buddy Calbert (Stephen McKinley Henderson) and a cranky, jealous Elliott (Jon Getz), who sees Charles as a threat to him winning back ex-fiancee Virginia. And you can see why since their newest resident is pretty much Mr. Popularity right off the bat, which isn't ideal for undercover work, but is helping him heal his soul.

If Danson is the show's star then this setting comes in a close second, with Charles accurately observing how the environment more closely resembles high school than a retirement home with all its petty drama. But along the way he slowly gets a lot better at spying, to the point that he's legitimately on the brink of solving this mystery, though possibly at the expense of his friends finding out he isn't who he says. The theft itself is low stakes, but anything more involved would be at odds with not only the show's tone, but overall purpose. 

Smaller details and character moments resonate most, like Virginia's insistence on Florence getting massage chair, Elliot's sarcastic one-liners, or Cal's fractured relationship with his son. The always impressive McKinley-Henderson brings a restrained dignity to Cal, who also comes into his own through the bond he forms with Charles, culminating with a meaningful day out in San Francisco where both open up about their pasts and fears. 

Maybe the most poignant sub-plot involves Charles' attempts to help Gladys, who's suffering from dementia and about to enter the community's memory care ward. Attempting to assist her as he did his late wife, he's shocked how even those closest to this woman pull away out of fear, even while eventually recognizing his well-intentioned approach could be going a bit overboard. That this all doesn't come off as hopelessly triggering is a testament to the deft writing and Danson's skill in organically shifting between the spy hijinx and quieter, more human moments.

If there's a turning point in the series, it comes in the sixth episode, "Our Man from Sacramento," which follows Didi through her day and charts the enormous challenges she faces in running Pacific View as a possible promotion looms. Brooklyn Nine-Nine's Beatriz plays her as tough, fair, and empathetic, but the performance really hits its stride here, revealing why Didi does this and just how difficult it is to leave with so many depending on her. The whole arc is a reminder of how professional caregivers make sacrifices that go above and beyond, often helpless as the residents' needs get tangled up in bureaucratic red tape, unrecognized by corporate higher-ups more concerned with the bottom line.

While Didi fights every day for these people, Charles and Emily attempt to meet each other halfway and reconnect. Schur gets it right with that dynamic, including even Emily's three teen boys, who provide a surprising amount of laughs as she exasperatingly tries to contain their rambunctiousness. Ironically enough, they seem more receptive to their grandfather, which feels plausible since nearly everyone else does too. 

Initially hesitant about Charles' undercover assignment, Emily starts coming around after recognizing how it's helped, landing both at a place where they can finally talk honestly about about their loss. Even the hard to please Julie starts appreciating his skills, letting her softer side seep through while attempting to keep Charles on the task.

Of course we know Charles has to solve this case, but the other shoe also has to drop when everyone finds out why he was really there. Both these elements are tied up magnificently, as Danson's nuanced turn charts the journey of a man who gradually learns to move to the next stage of his life, slowly letting go of his grief and guilt day-by-day. 

If there's any drawback to the series, it's that the inevitable second season could have a challenge matching it with a new case and setting. But for a show far more interested in exploring characters than manufacturing plot devices, none of it works without Danson, who you may as well pencil in for an Emmy nod right now. Playing to his strengths in a way even some of his best roles haven't, it only solidifies his reputation as one of our most overlooked and underappreciated actors. 

Saturday Night

Director: Jason Reitman
Starring: Gabriel LaBelle, Rachel Sennott, Cory Michael Smith, Ella Hunt, Dylan O' Brien, Emily Fairn, Matt Wood, Lamore Morris, Kim Matula, Finn Wolfhard, Nicholas Braun, Cooper Hoffman, Andrew Barth Feldman, Taylor Gray, Nicholas Podany, Kaia Gerber, Robert Wuhl, Tommy Dewey, Catherine Curtin, Jon Batiste, Willem Dafoe, Paul Rust, Tracy Letts, Matthew Rhys, J. K. Simmons, Brad Garrett, Josh Brener
Running Time: 109 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★) 

While certain obstacles accompany making a film about the 1975 premiere of Saturday Night Live, few compare to the challenges faced by the original cast and crew who got the show onto NBC, where it's resided for the past 50 years. Saturday Night co-writer/director Jason Reitman had to know this when committing to recreate a special brand of backstage chaos filled with actors chosen to pass as the most respected comedians of all-time. But they didn't start out on top. It was SNL that made them household names.

That's why it's so fitting Reitman stacks his cast full of young unknowns on the cusp of stardom, attempting to replicate the backstory of this bizarre show that didn't quiet resemble anything else on television. The running gag is how its frazzled but determined creator Lorne Michaels can't explain to executives something no one's seen yet. And he's right. But that doesn't mean what eventually airs in the midst of walkouts, firings, fires, threats and other production mishaps will even resemble the vision he has in mind. Flying by the seat of his pants, he'll be lucky if the network even lets him go through with it at all. 

For decades, critics and audiences would label each new SNL season and cast as its worst while overlooking how many huge talents it spawned. And this ensemble has the unenviable job of stepping into their shoes for one ridiculously stressful, debaucherous, profanity filled night that launches all their careers. But despite moving at a breakneck pace, certain faces do stand out long enough to make an impression as Reitman constructs one of his best recent efforts, and maybe the first that seems addictively rewatchable.  

It's October 11, 1975 and producer and creator Lorne Michaels (Gabriel LaBelle) arrives at NBC's New York City studio to prepare for the live airing of his new variety program, Saturday Night, which has the reluctant backing of increasingly nervous network boss Dick Ebersol (Cooper Hoffman). But disingenuous executive David Tebet (Willem Dafoe) is less optimistic, threatening to pull the plug and replace it with a rerun of The Tonight Show With Johnny Carson. 

The dysfunction Tebet witnesses does little to change his mind, as Michaels, comedy writer wife Rosie Shuster (Rachel Sennott) and head writer/actor Michael O' Donoghue (Tommy Dewey) try to wrangle their ambitiously makeshift cast of Chevy Chase (Cory Michael Smith), Gilda Radner (Ella Hunt), Dan Aykroyd (Dylan O' Brien), Laraine Newman (Emily Fairn), John Belushi (Matt Wood), Garrett Morris (Lamorne Morris) and Jane Curtin (Kim Matula). As show time rapidly approaches, everything that can go wrong does, putting the pressure on Michaels to prevent his dream from being shattered before it even airs.

Clocking in a tight 109 minutes, Reitman keeps things moving so fast it feels like twenty, letting viewers experience the crunch of how little time remains before the show goes live. And with relentless editing and rapid Sorkin-style dialogue, we're fully immersed inside this tumultuous backstage atmosphere with hardly a moment to breathe. On top of its impeccable, era specific production design, the whole film almost plays like a single continuous tracking shot, traveling from the street into the studio's halls, through the dressing rooms and onto the sound stage. Around every corner is another problem for Michaels to navigate, whether that's cutting sketches and performers with minutes to go, placating the stringent network censor (Catherine Curtin), or dealing with dissatisfied, coked up host George Carlin (Matthew Rhys). 

Michaels has to massage a lot of egos, and while history counts Chevy Chase as the most contentious cast member, it's actually Matt Wood's catatonic Belushi who proves completely uncontrollable, straddling the line between addict and eccentric genius. Wood, along with Cory Michael Smith's Chase and Dylan O' Brien's mustachioed Dan Akyroyd leave the biggest impressions of the main players, shunning any attempt at imitation to instead capture the freewheeling attitudes of super talented party animals who already consider themselves stars. 

Smith is particularly strong as Chase, establishing himself as the glue that holds this show together, impressing executives even while rubbing certain guests and castmates the wrong way. He'll get his comeuppance in a memorable confrontation with the gruff, ornery Milton Berle (a movie stealing J.K. Simmons) who humiliatingly cuts the cocky Chase down to size in front of girlfriend Jacqueline Carlin (Kaia Gerber). None of this likely happened, but the idea it could have is where the fun's at, as Reitman and co-writer Gil Kenan send up the stars' controversial reputations.

There are also other small moments in the midst of all this pandemonium that really click, like Garrett Morris's insecurity over his big break or actor Nicholas Braun's depiction of an ignored Jim Henson, who's captured with eerie specificity. And in a clever parallel to the spontaneous nature of SNL itself, Braun pulls double duty as Andy Kaufman, whose ubiquitous presence leads to a big payoff that doesn't disappoint. Gilda Radner, Laraine Newman and Jane Curtin aren't given much face time, at least in relation to how their contributions are viewed. But given the sheer amount of ground covered, it's inevitable certain players are shortchanged, which is also an accurate reflection of this show over the years. 

The casting of Dickinson actress Ella Hunt as Radner might be Reitman's only questionable call since those expecting the outsized personality of the comedic legend will be taken for a loop by Hunt's sweeter, more tender take. This isn't to say Radner didn't also possess those qualities, but it's easier  imagining co-star Rachel Sennott knocking that role out of the park. Instead, she proves invaluable as show den mother Rosie, who protects Michaels and the rest of the cast from their own worst instincts. Still, Reitman deserves praise for a a touchingly prophetic scene between Radner and Belushi that resonates in all the right ways as all these characters head into the final stretch.

Having already played a variation on another iconic creator in Steven Spielberg's The Fabelmans, Gabriel Labelle carries this picture on his back, leading the charge as Michaels wards off the constant stream of bad luck and a network itching to see him fail. He's always been described as generally low-key so it's interesting to watch how LaBelle's performance doesn't really contradict those accounts, even under the craziest of circumstances. A human punching bag who absorbs each successive blow, he'll soldier on, determined to see the show judged on its own merits. He knows what he has, even if putting it into words for the suits can get a little tricky. 

That NBC had no interest in ever airing this endeavor makes the film's closing scene hit that much harder, as everyone anxiously waits for a reaction signifying they've somehow pulled it off. Michaels is frequently warned against referring to the show as a "revolution," but after hearing late night's most famous intro for the first time, it's impossible not to understand what he meant. By capturing this in all its chaotic glory, Saturday Night shows how the most effective comedy can't just merely be described. When you see it, you'll know.                                                        

Emilia Pérez

Director: Jacques Audiard
Starring: Zoe Saldaña, Karla Sofia Gascón, Selena Gomez, Adriana Paz, Edgar Ramírez, Mark Ivanir
Running Time: 132 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

Say what you will about Jacques Audiard's Emilia Pérez, but it's definitely in a category all by itself, at points straddling the lines between drama, musical, comedy, and action thriller. And while it isn't exactly common to see an elaborately choreographed musical number about a drug lord's gender reassignment surgery, Audiard's out of the box approach is easy to embrace, shattering any preconceptions viewers may have going in. 

Adapting his own opera into a unconventional feature, Audiard's technique becomes more about the "how" than "what," pushing the plot in a direction that at times seems impossible to predict. He walks the thinnest of tightropes by mixing disparate genres in a blender to earn a payoff that hits surprisingly hard, thanks largely to the pair of brilliant performances that anchor this ambitious spectacle.

Rita Mora Castro (Zoe Saldaña) is an overworked, undervalued defense attorney in Mexico assisting in a prominent murder case when she gets an anonymous phone call requesting her presence for a mysterious meeting. After being offered a life-altering sum of money for her services, she discovers the prospective client is notorious drug cartel kingpin Juan "Manitas" Del Monte (Karla Sofia Gascón). Informing Rita of his desire to get out of the business and start a new life as a woman, he tasks her with finding a surgeon to perform the surgery and relocate his wife Jessi (Selena Gomez) and two children to Switzerland for their safety. 

Upon faking his own death, Juan becomes "Emilia Pérez" and Rita gets paid, assuming her work is done. And it is until she encounters a now unrecognizable Emilia four years later, who has one more important assignment for the lawyer. But it's a big one that could potentially destroy Emilia's cover, putting those she cares most about at risk. As Rita and Emilia professionally joining forces to run a Mexican nonprofit, the former will soon discover the true danger of her client attempting to exert the same level of control in this life as she did in her criminal one.

There's a reversal of expectations since Audiard could have taken the easy road of former enemies uncovering Emilia's identity and returning to extract revenge. What occurs instead is far more complex, as Juan's transformation into Emilia initially goes off without a hitch, extricating her from a violent past to experience this new life as a woman. But once Emilia retains Rita's services again, we suspect  trouble lurks on the horizon. Unfortunately, the danger ends up being Emilia herself, who proves that old habits die hard. 

Jessi and the kids believing Juan is gone won't deter Emilia from reconnecting with her family, even if they have no idea who she really is. Nor will Jessi's volatile relationship with boyfriend Gustavo (Edgar Ramírez), a problem she'll poorly try to handle using her old tactics. Rita knows Emilia's involvement is a terrible idea, but as the two friends start changing lives in the community, we see a charitable, remorseful side of Emilia that suggests she's desperate to make amends for a life of crime. But even as she's immersed in a solid relationship with girlfriend Epifanía (Adriana Paz), the walls around her are crumbling down.

Even with Emilia raising her public profile enough to become a folk hero of sorts, it's still credible that no one in law enforcement or the criminal underworld would recognize her since we have to do a triple take ourselves in identifying her as Juan. And if there's been some debate surrounding who the film's lead actually is, what Gascón pulls off is miraculous either way, charting Emilia's journey from drug boss to flawed saint with a wide range of motivation and regret. 

Gascón excels as both the silently suffering Juan and more extroverted, self-assured Emilia, who's struggling to reconnect with her family. From scene-to-scene the actress manages to swing between charismatic caregiver and domineering monster, making viewers wonder who will win in the end. And yet the film's first half belongs entirely to Saldaña, who earns a showcase for unexplored facets of her talent previously hidden by giant franchise roles. 

The tirelessly loyal Rita is simultaneously inspired and frustrated by Emilia, who's new beginning marks an entirely different start for her as well. And Saldaña puts her trained dance background to good use by impressively carrying the musical numbers, many of which are not only catchy, but advance the story's plot with humorously clever lyrics sprung from spoken conversations. While the Spanish film's subtitled, it's a credit to Saldaña that the translation rarely feels necessary because she sells so much of the story through her voice, mannerisms and body language. Gomez's performance peaks later, but she emerges as a formidable presence as Jessi flies further off the rails when escalating events reach their climax.

Like its title character, the picture itself undergoes a transition when the script abruptly changes course, going down an alternate road that ends up being even more explosive. Throughout, Audiard remains fully committed to the notion that someone can physically change who they are, but trying to erase everything else is much harder. The story doesn't really begin until the title character gets what she wants, realizing the reward of living an authentic life can still come at an extremely high cost.                

The Substance

Director: Coralie Fargeat
Starring: Demi Moore, Margaret Qualley, Dennis Quaid, Edward Hamilton Clark, Gore Abrams, Oscar Lesage, Christian Erickson, Robin Greer, Hugo Diego Garcia
Running Time: 141 min.
Rating: R

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)  

Gripping, disgusting and hilarious, French filmmaker Coralie Fargeat's wicked horror satire The Substance is a cautionary tale the great Rod Serling probably would have appreciated. And that's obvious from the very first scene, which shows a star on Hollywood's Walk of Fame gradually deteriorating over the decades. If receiving one can be a source of pride and validation in an industry where respect is scarce, it's also fleeting. Especially for entertainers encouraged to measure their self-worth with superficial accolades.

Recognition may be nice, but what happens when you're kicked to the curb for a younger model? That's the question the film's aging actress faces and her male colleagues rarely need to consider, at least to this extent. While plastic surgery, collagen injections and various pills provide viable options for women to turn back the clock and enhance their appearance, it's tougher finding a sufficient explanation as to why that's now a prerequisite. 

In providing users an unusual black market drug, this mysterious company at the film's center seems to have it all down to a science. Our protagonist takes the bait because she's desperate, but the underlying implication is that many others already gave in and will continue to. And like most medical breakthroughs, there are few safe guards against misuse or addiction, a detail that serves as a compelling launch pad for the craziness that'll unfold.

When fading movie star Elisabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore) turns 50, she's fired from her Jane Fonda inspired TV aerobics show by the network's greedy, boisterous producer Harvey (Dennis Quaid), who's looking for a younger replacement. But when Elisabeth's admitted to the hospital after a car accident, she's given a flash drive by a nurse that advertises a cell-replicating serum called "The Substance," which promises a "younger, more beautiful, more perfect" version of herself. After picking up the supply, Elisabeth injects the "single-use activator," causing her body to generate Sue (Margaret Qualley), who emerges from a slit in her back. 

Every seven days the two must switch consciousness, with the inactive, unconscious body being fed intravenously. But when the wild, hard partying Sue becomes an overnight sensation as Elisabeth's replacement on the show, the latter falls into deep despair, unable to face the world as an older woman. Breaking protocol to extend her time and permanently bench Elisabeth, Sue's selfishness causes catastrophic side effects as the two consciousnesses head for a collision course, ignoring the fact they'll need each other to survive. 

Fountain of youth concepts aren't new to film, but the originality behind this particular process and its ramifications definitely are. Early on, the plot recalls elements of 1966's Seconds, in which a middle-aged banker utilizes the services of a clandestine agency to surgically transforms himself into a younger man played by Rock Hudson. Here, Fargeat takes that general idea to a different place by focusing on an actress whose age and appearance has always been her calling card. 

To say Elisabeth's insecurities apply strictly to this profession ignores how this premise casts a much wider net, independent of social status or wealth. Because she's an Oscar winner and fitness guru who isn't financially hurting, it's a credit to the script and Moore's performance that we don't roll our eyes at her unhappiness or dismiss the plot as a rich woman's Hollywood problem. The handwriting's on the wall as she's cruelly and casually cast aside, making it easy to see how she'd be drawn to "The Substance," which promises to rescue this increasingly invisible woman from certain obscurity. 

Retrieving her starter package from this sterile white medical storage facility in a dilapidated warehouse, it's amazing just how idiot proof the kit is. With clearly marked bags notating the steps so plainly you'd believe someone could perform this procedure without detailed instructions, despite how grossly absurd it looks. But none of that accounts for how Elisabeth psychologically handles taking a backseat to her younger, more desirable counterpart as she lies unconscious on the bathroom floor for a week.

Since Elisabeth and Sue share a consciousness, it stands to reason what one does should benefit the other, curtailing any potential pitfalls. Instead, Elisabeth wakes from her slumber even more depressed and invisible, binge eating all day and night. It's Sue who basks in the adulation that comes with being the hot, young ingenue, soon growing disgusted by the mere thought of her older version even existing. So it isn't long before she violates protocol to extend her time, resulting in crippling side effects for Elisabeth. Sue doesn't get off so easily either, having to inject herself with a "stabilizer fluid" to avoid a similar physical deterioration. 

This battle for supremacy is contested entirely inside Elisabeth's mind, as strange as that seems for a story so firmly situated in the body horror genre. She's the one person who can stop this, if only the pressure to remain young and desired wasn't so great. Hating Sue out of jealousy while still desperately needing her counterpart to maintain any semblance of self esteem, she becomes trapped in a prison of her own making.

With a willingness to spoof her public image while inhabiting the headspace of a character defined as old and washed up, a never more vulnerable Moore is literally and emotionally naked for much of this meta role. She also endures an absurd amount of prosthetics and physicality in an insane third act, conveying the complicated trauma of a woman who will do anything to retain her youth, not realizing the true cost of that deal. But her most pointed scene comes when she can't leave her apartment for a date, constantly altering her appearance in the mirror before collapsing in a pile of tears, shaking and unable to function.

As Sue, Qualley's job is tougher than it first appears, playing the vainest, most selfish version of a woman unwilling to squander her second chance at any cost. The character initially comes across as a cipher who smiles and looks pretty enough to please the ratings hungry Harvey, until all the attention goes to her head. Viewing Elisabeth as a loathsome burden that needs disposing of, the only thing more jarring than Sue's self absorbedness is how good Qualley is at portraying it, her iciness setting the stage for a showdown where neither can possibly walk away the winner.

Dennis Quaid's scenery devouring turn as this slimy producer isn't intended to be multi-dimensional, but he entertains every minute he's on screen as you eagerly anticipating his next appearance. Diabolically sleazy with his sinister smile and passive aggressive misogyny, Fargeat films him in these uncomfortably extreme close-ups that make the character look like the grossest person on Earth, especially when he's sloppily inhaling a plate of seafood. Comically repulsive, Quaid knows what movie he's in, even if his showy work will unfairly fly under the radar amidst justifiable praise for Moore and Qualley.

In addition to cinematographer Benjamin Kračun eye-popping, immersive visuals, production designer Pierre Olivier-Persin creates this unforgettable look for a bizarre time vacuum that looks and feels like the 1980's, but isn't quite. It also contains a windfall of cleverly coded cinematic references that range from The Shining to 2001: A Space Odyssey, The Elephant Man, Basket Case and Carrie. 

Elisabeth and Sue do eventually find a way to coexist in a blood soaked New Year's climax, though not at all how either expected, as both hold their funhouse mirror up to the ugly society that's rejected them. Filmed in a hyper realistic style that comes right out of Cronenberg's playbook, there's a deliberate build to the chaos that makes its gruesome payoff even more satisfying and thematically relevant. Lacking all pretense of restraint, Fargeat gleefully beats us into submission with sickening thrills and a fearless Demi Moore, who gives a performance unlike anything else in her career.

Joker: Folie à Deux

Director: Todd Phillips
Starring: Joaquin Phoenix, Lady Gaga, Brendan Gleeson, Catherine Keener, Zazie Beetz, Steve Coogan, Harry Lawtey, Leigh Gill, Ken Leung, Jacob Lofland, Bill Smitrovich
Running Time: 138 min.
Rating: R

★★½ (out of ★★★★)  

It seems fitting how all these post-mortems are being done on the critical and commercial failure of Todd Phillips' Joker: Folie à Deux since the film itself can almost be viewed as an autopsy of its brilliant predecessor.That this sequel feels made by someone who dislikes the idea of sequels isn't necessarily a negative, but Phillips creates a sprawling, audaciously ambitious mess that manages to tests viewers' patience as much as it subverts expectations. It's a huge, frustrating swing for the fences, revolving entirely around 2019's Joker while simultaneously having very little to do with it. 

Relitigating the previous film's events in painstaking detail, it focuses on the motivations behind Arthur Fleck's crimes and his own fractured state of mind as he faces trial. By this point, the character's mental illness and violent tendencies aren't exactly well guarded secrets, leaving the question as to whether a deeper psychological dive justifies another entry. And now with his perplexing follow-up, Phillips takes extremely bold measures to ensure it does. Some of those work, but others don't.  

Now in custody at Arkham State Hospital, party clown and failed stand-up comedian Arthur Fleck (Joaquin Phoenix) awaits trial for the murders he committed two years earlier, including his live on-air killing of TV host Murray Franklin (Robert De Niro). As Arthur's lawyer Maryanne Stewart (Catherine Keener) builds an insanity defense arguing the Joker persona is responsible, Arkham guard Jackie (an excellent Brendan Gleeson) gets him into a music therapy class. It's here where Arthur meets and falls for Harleen "Lee" Quinzel (Lady Gaga), an obsessive Joker superfan who was committed for allegedly burning down her parents' apartment. 

After Lee's plan for them to escape and start a new life together is thwarted, an increasingly unhinged Arthur must prepare for court while his legions of Joker fans root him on. With Gotham's Assistant D.A. Harvey Dent (Harry Lawtey) hellbent on a death penalty conviction, witnesses like former neighbor Sophie Drummond (Zazie Beetz) and co-worker Gary Puddles (Leigh Gill) take the stand to testify. Continuing to lean on Lee for support, Arthur's grip on reality slips as Joker reemerges, transforming the trial into a circus sideshow.

Given the heavy influence of Scorsese's Taxi Driver and The King of Comedy on the first film, it wasn't the worst idea for Phillips to pair Joker up with Harley Quinn for a jukebox musical in the vein of New York, New York. But after a promising start, the dark, twisted love story loses its way when scattershot execution and repetitive scenes fail to move the story forward. Clocking in at two hours and eighteen minutes, it feels longer, accompanied by a trial of the century you worry may never end. What nearly saves it are two phenomenal performances and the impressive visuals, both of which are occasionally lost amidst a package that just doesn't come together like it should.   

A cleverly conceived animated opening where Joker is impersonated by his shadow prior to a live TV performance provides a more revealing glimpse into the film's themes than you'd suspect, as the Looney Tunes-style short conveys that ongoing tug of war between Arthur's two identities. And many of the musical sequences do succeed as a manifestation of his insanity, particularly an Arkham rooftop dance and a Sonny and Cher inspired variety show spoof. But even with the presence of old school songbook standards like "That's Entertainment," "When You're Smiling" and "I've Got the World on a String," these excursions become increasingly uneven, resulting in diminishing returns the more Phillips tries to squeeze in.

Of all the picture's issues, Phoenix and Gaga aren't among them, with the former giving another complex, compelling performance that alternates between dark humor and unimaginable despair as Arthur's vulnerability is put on full display for everyone to see. And despite skepticism surrounding her casting, Gaga's work is one of the best things in this, and not just because of her singing during the musical interludes. In capturing the dangerously compulsive infatuation Lee has with Joker, her true motivations remain constantly in question. Their bond not only reflects his narcissistic need for love and affection, but ties into themes of media obsession prevalent in the first film. 

Midway through, the narrative becomes disjointed when scenes drag and action awkwardly shifts between the hospital and courtroom. Musical sequences are either piled on or disappear before returning to relay the same idea in a different song or setting. But while Arthur's trial is entirely too long, it's still entertaining to watch Joker represent himself with a Grisham inspired Southern drawl as the supposedly no-nonsense judge (Life Goes On's Bill Smitrovich!) indulges his craziest whims. By the time returning characters take the stand, what unfolds feels like a bizarre cross between the Seinfeld finale and Colin Ferguson's 1993 shooting trial. Harvey Dent's inclusion makes sense, even if the character leaves so little an impression you'll have to remind yourself he's there, until a late development jolts us into recalling why.

While there's understandable disdain for what Phillips attempts, this approaches the material from an entirely different angle than the first film, far more invested in exploring whether Arthur and Joker really are one in the same. A potentially intriguing thesis on it comes toward the end, but even that's marred by some confusing, if well shot theatrics. Its final minutes feel more deflating than tragic, likely to leave viewers shaking their heads at the infuriating denouement, as if the joke's on them. And in a way, it is. But despite its many problems, this still could be worth revisiting down the road, if only to further examine how a Joker sequel turned out like this.       

The Apprentice

Director: Ali Abbasi 
Starring: Sebastian Stan, Jeremy Stron, Maria Bakalova, Martin Donovan, Catherine McNally, Charlie Carrick, Ben Sullivan, Jason Blicker, Mark Rendell, Bruce Beaton, Ian D. Clark, Tom Barnett, Stuart Hughes
Running Time: 123 min.
Rating: R

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Depending on your perspective, Ali Abbasi's Donald Trump origin story The Apprentice can be viewed as either a grotesque hit job or an accurate biographical examination of one of the most fascinating and controversial figures in American history. Or maybe, it's just a little of both. In most biopics, lines between fact and fiction blur to a point where the truth rarely matters, which is a wicked irony its subject would likely appreciate, if the movie were about anyone but him.

It revolves around a young, aspiring real estate mogul out to prove his father wrong, hustling to make a mark long before becoming a TV star or being twice elected President of the United States. With studios unwilling to take the legal risk of releasing this and everyone getting their fill of the real thing 24/7, Abbasi gives us the only Trump movie we'll probably ever need. Its title refers not to his wildly popular reality show of the 00's, but a stint decades earlier under the learning tree of cutthroat attorney Roy Cohn, who takes the eager, inexperienced businessman under his wing. A decision he'll later regret.

It's 1973 and a young Donald Trump (Sebastian Stan) is trying to get the federal government off the back of his real estate tycoon father Fred (Martin Donovan) who's being investigated for discrimination against African-American tenants. Trump meets with combative New York lawyer Cohn (Jeremy Strong), who agrees to help, in the process showing his new protégé how to make media connections and dress for the part. He also assists Trump in his quest to turn the dilapidated midtown Commodore Hotel into a Hyatt, blackmailing government officials to obtain a tax abatement.

Gaining fame and notoriety, Trump marries Czech model Ivana (Maria Bakalova) while his troubled airline pilot brother Fred Jr. (Charlie Carrick) sinks deeper into alcoholism. As his ego inflates by the day, he stops listening to Cohn and invests in rash, money losing ventures like the Trump Taj Mahal in Atlantic City. Pushing everyone away, the marriage to Ivana implodes, as does his friendship with Cohn, whom he betrays during the crooked prosecutor's time of dire need.

It's pretty wild to finally see on screen what we've only read or heard about Trump's formative years in New York prior to him becoming as a household name. And while Abbasi lays that groundwork magnificently, the switch isn't flipped by a single event or even two. This evolution was brewing from the start, informed by both his strict upbringing and professional association with Cohn. There's an inevitability to it while still suggesting this could have gone another way for Trump if just a few things fell differently. But it didn't and Cohn lights a fuse he'll get to see explode before his 1986 death.

The film fittingly opens with the nation's jaded skepticism surrounding Watergate's immediate aftermath before seguing into the Reagan years, when Trump experiences his greatest success as the living embodiment of Gordon Gekko's "greed is good" philosophy. But it's Cohn who gives his pupil the three rules all winners live by: "attack, attack, attack," never admit wrongdoing and always claim victory, even in defeat. 

Trump will later claim those eerily prophetic rules as his in the bestselling "The Art of the Deal," but when he first encounters Cohn he's impressionable and clueless, struggling to escape the grip of his controlling dad. And what's most surreal about watching this interpretation of Trump in the late 70's is that he sort of comes across as likable and ambitious enough for us to see the same untapped potential Cohn does.

Cohn is depicted as a monster not above using blackmail, threats and intimidation against his adversaries. He's also a closeted gay Jew prone to hurling homophobic, antisemitic and misogynistic slurs when he feels it'll give him an edge, perceived or actual. Only at his lowest point do we get a small glimpse into why, though the script is careful not to frame that as some kind of mea culpa. He is who he is, with Abbasi and writer Gabriel Sherman wisely opting not to sugarcoat it.

With his piercing gaze and a robotically rapid fire delivery, an unrecognizable Jeremy Strong pulls off the ultimate disappearing act as Cohn. Conveying complete control at all times, the most powerful part of his performance comes when the teacher realizes he's done too good a job training Trump, as the prized student absorbs all of Cohn's heartless lessons, only to eventually use them against his mentor. But even when the crooked prosecutor's braggadocious bluster is stripped away by AIDS, Strong keeps us guessing as to whether he actually changes or was just overtaken by someone more ruthless.

That an ailing Cohn continues telling lies on his deathbed out of self preservation seems on brand for him, as if concealing his illness and homosexuality would somehow rescue an already shattered reputation. Strong doesn't play this for empathy or press the issue, instead subtly hinting that maybe the tiniest shred of humanity seeps through at the end.

Trump's uncomfortably disgusted reaction to Cohn's health nearly mirrors his feelings about Fred Jr.'s alcoholism. While he's initially supports his big brother and famously still doesn't drink because of this, their father looms large, insultingly calling his TWA pilot son a "bus driver with wings." And although Fred complains about how much of screw up Donald is also, it won't be long before the latter replicates his father's attitude, writing Fred Jr. off as a loser before his death shakes him in a way we don't quite expect. 

Well played with condescending cruelty by Martin Donovan, family patriarch Fred Trump is often pointed to as the central motivator for Donald's obsession with power and success. This portrayal doesn't refute that, but more noteworthy is how their relationship changes once Fred's grip slips and he's surpassed by his son, who seeks a validation he'll never get. 

Fred's not just incapable of telling Donald he's proud of him, even his backhanded compliments seem cloaked in jealousy and disappointment. If Trump Tower's opening is the closest a clearly declining Fred comes to congratulating him, it's a pathetically half-hearted endorsement that comes too late to matter. By now, young Trump's already off to the races and isn't looking back.

Once Trump ascends, he stops listening and hates being told "no," whether it's from Cohn, Mayor Ed Koch (Ian D. Clark), his own mother Mary Anne (Catherine McNally), or in a particularly disturbing scene, Ivana. Amidst these futile attempts to push back is a strangely memorable moment where a doctor tries to convey the benefits of exercise to the appearance obsessed, amphetamine popping Trump. This leads to a surprisingly graphic but powerful montage involving liposuction and scalp removal surgery.

In a role no one thought could be believably filled, Sebastian Stan is a revelation, finding just the right balance in preventing the portrayal from sliding into parody or caricature. Less an attempt at mimicry than the effort to capture Trump from the inside out, he projects the steadiest of transformations. It isn't obvious right away, but as events accumulate and the tide shifts, Stan resembles him more and more, both physically and in his mannerisms. By the time we get to the third act that resemblance is downright scary, making good on the film's promise of being an "American Horror Story."

Despite immersing us in the grit and glitz of 80's New York with offbeat soundtrack choices and stripped down cinematography from Kasper Nuxen that's indistinguishable from period footage, there are key moments of foreshadowing. Whether it comes in a revealing TV interview where Trump's asked about a possible Presidential run, Cohn's legal machinations or an exchange with confidante Roger Stone that reveals the possible genesis for MAGA, the film masterfully hints how seeds may have been planted far earlier than anyone thought.

This could have gone wrong in so many different ways or come across as a feature length SNL skit, but Abassi instead delivers a compelling account that will now fall on time and distance to judge. As the pre-credit disclaimer reminds us, issues of accuracy and exaggeration will follow any biopic, but what's more noticeable here is how every minute succeeds in capturing the perception of Trump's bombastic public persona. And by zeroing in on this very specific era, we get further into the headspace of a man we've lately struggled to picture in an incarnation other than his current one.  

Terrifier 3

Director: Damien Leone
Starring: David Howard Thornton, Lauren LaVera, Elliott Fullam, Samantha Scaffidi, Margaret Anne Florence, Bryce Johnson, Antonella Rose, Chris Jericho, Daniel Roebuck, Tom Savini, Jason Patric, Krsy Fox, Alexa Blair Robertson, Mason Mecartea, Clint Howard
Running Time: 125 min.
Rating: Unrated

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

For many, the biggest surprise about the Terrifier series is its overnight rise from the humblest of beginnings into this widely popular franchise that has fans eagerly anticipating each new installment. The extremely low budgeted first film came and went but writer/director Damien Leone knew he had a potentially iconic villain in Art the Clown. Then came the 2022 sequel, which featured a more cohesive story, better acting and a noticeable production upgrade. But what really captured everyone's attention was graphic gore on a level rarely seen in mainstream horror.

With reports of moviegoers passing out and vomiting in theaters, being able to make it through one of these from start to finish sort of became a badge of honor. Now we've passed that point, as every entry comes with an advertised promise to go further than the last. And Leone holds up his end of the deal with Terrifier 3, continuing what's proven to be a very effective formula.

It's been five years since Sienna Shaw (Lauren LaVera) decapitated and presumably killed sadistic serial killer Art the Clown (David Howard Thornton), but as Christmas arrives, she's released from a mental health facility to stay with her aunt Jess (Margaret Anne Florence), Jess's husband Greg (Bryce Johnson) and their young daughter Gabbie (Antonella Rose). But as Sienna struggles with PTSD while experiencing nightmares and hallucinations of Art, her younger brother Jonathan (Elliott Fullam) is now in college, attempting to move on in his own way.

It turns out Sienna's visions are frighteningly real, as Art isn't only alive, but has recruited previous survivor Victoria Heyes (Samantha Scaffidi) to join him in his latest killing spree. Possessed by the spirit of the "Little Pale Girl" after giving birth to Art's new head, they set their sights on an emotionally fragile Sienna, who must prepare for another traumatic encounter with the demonic clown. Only this time, the lives of her remaining family members also hang in the balance.

Revealing a five-year time jump right out of the gate, one of the big differences here is that action revolves around a holiday other than Halloween, with Leone really leaning into the yuletide theme. As a result, we get an abundance of Christmas related sequences that take full advantage of Thornton's physical and comedic timing. Or more accurately, it's just a great excuse to get Art in a Santa costume, creating a disturbingly stark contrast between his jovial demeanor and gruesome brutality.

While nothing here tops the incredible "Clown Cafe" musical sequence from the last film, there are some nods to that as a scarred Sienna attempts to control the justifiable anxiety plaguing her. Aunt Jess is patient, Greg is skeptical and young Gabbie idolizes her older cousin, but realizes something's very wrong. We also get a deeper dive into Sienna's past with flashbacks involving her late father (Jason Patric) and the origin of the infamous sword. 

Jonathan fares only slightly better than his sister by burying his pain and trauma at school, until roommate Cole's (Mason Mecartea) Miles County Massacre obsessed girlfriend Mia (Alexa Blair Robertson) starts badgering him about appearing on her true crime podcast. All this buildup is more than sufficient, but as always, the spotlight's on Art, with the multi-year break doing little to suppress his bloodthirsty urges and sadistic sense of humor. 

Even by Terrifier standards, the opening home invasion is disturbingly over-the-top as Art masquerades as jolly St. Nick to slaughter an unsuspecting family. We also get this hilarious bar encounter with a Santa impersonator (Daniel Roebuck) and a particularly gory shower scene that ups the ante, highlighting Thornton's mime work and facial mugging from beneath the makeup. And despite Art seemingly getting annoyed by new accomplice Victoria early on, Samantha Scaffidi skillfully fills the "Little Pale Girl" void, delivering on the prior sequel's closing tease.

LaVera again proves to be the not so secret weapon of the series, portraying a Sienna who now fights to convince her family of Art's reemergence. Instead, her legitimate fears are chalked up to mental issues by everyone except Gabbie. Well played by Antonella Rose, the bond her character shares with Sienna adds a surprising amount of tension to an admittedly gross but thrilling final act that easily competes with the previous entry. And this time there's no attempt to even hide the fact we're getting a follow-up, as Leone leaves a dangling thread just begging to be tied up.

We fear not just for Sienna, but Gabbie, since the threat of Art is made more palpable by the film controversially establishing he won't hesitate in targeting children. And if anything seems destined to leave audiences with a bad taste in their mouths, it's that. Assuming there's still such a thing as going "too far," this definitely pushes the envelope, breaking one of the last unwritten rules in the genre. But by now viewers know exactly what they're getting into.    

Thanks to Thornton's continued brilliance as Art and some jaw dropping practical effect sequences, the series still manages to enthrall in its third outing. Moving forward, the real challenge will be in finding creative ways to keep it going once the shock value wears off. While hardly an improvement over the last, there's still a feeling Leone has places left to go with this concept. And considering how the Saw franchise recently produced its best sequel twenty years in, anything's possible.

Woman of the Hour

Director: Anna Kendrick
Starring: Anna Kendrick, Daniel Zovatto, Tony Hale, Nicolette Robinson, Pete Holmes, Autumn Best, Kathryn Gallagher, Kelley Jakle, Matt Visser, Jedidiah Goodacre
Running Time: 94 min.
Rating: R

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Zodiac meets Promising Young Woman and Late Night with the Devil in Anna Kendrick's directorial debut, Woman of the Hour, a gripping dramatization of a true crime case almost too impossibly bizarre to believe. While the basic details are out there, accompanying ones remain a bit of a mystery, making this an ideal story for deeper exploration. What most know is that in 1978 a serial killer appeared on TV's The Dating Game, but it turns out this frightening fact only scratches the surface, eventually revealing as much about the era's cultural attitudes as it does the perpetrator himself. 

If not for actual existing footage, it's easy to imagine this being written off as some kind of urban legend. Was he still committing murders at the time? Couldn't someone watching the show identify him? Did he win? Was there a date? What happened on it? Since many of those questions have gone publicly unanswered, Kendrick is afforded the opportunity to squeeze considerable suspense from real events. She and writer Ian McDonald fascinatingly suggest the killer is both everyone and no one, unexceptional enough to easily slip through the cracks. Lots of alarms should have gone off, but back then, the onus fell on women to be careful and nice, no matter how deadly the situation. 

It's 1978 Los Angeles and aspiring actress Cheryl Bradshaw (Kendrick) is striking out on auditions when she gets a call from her agent about potentially going on The Dating Game. Banking that this valuable exposure in front of a national television audience could result in a big break, Cheryl's excited but nervously skeptical, despite encouragement from irritating friend and neighbor Terry (Pete Holmes). 

On the day of the taping, Cheryl's prepped backstage before appearing on camera to question her mystery suitors, including "Bachelor #3," Rodney Alcala (Daniel Zovatto), a long haired photographer from Texas. But what Cheryl, producers and even the authorities don't know is that he's a prolific serial killer whose ongoing murders date back to the early seventies. 

Jumping between the episode and Rodney's brutal homicides, a portrait is painted of a violent psychopath in the vein of Ted Bundy or Ed Gein. But on the show he charms the studio audience and Cheryl, raising the likelihood she could actually end up picking this guy as her date. That is unless someone can come forward and connect him to these crimes.

Kendrick inventively uses the show as a framing device by surrounding it with flashbacks and flashforwards of Rodney targeting random young women. And while unconfirmed reports put his victim count at over a hundred, it stands to reason he encountered others who lived to see another day. Because of this, these scenes carry even more weight since we're unclear whether anyone survives until they fully play out. Some of his murders take place years before he appears on the show, while others, including an extremely pivotal one, occurs after. As a result, the film's structure and timeline becomes crucial in tracing the trajectory that lands him on stage with Cheryl.

The quiet, withdrawn Rodney methodically entraps his victims, making small talk and showering them with compliments before eventually convincing them to pose for him. And his photography becomes a major theme, tying into the natural human instinct to feel and be noticed, a vulnerability he preys on before the world sees those tactics in action on TV.  

The full scope of Rodney's depravity is displayed in the film's haunting desert opening while  photographing a woman named Sarah (Kelley Jakle) who opens up to him about a painful breakup. Zovatto's performance is scary in how he plays Rodney as weirdly off, but initially harmless until his tone, facial expressions and body language betray that, exposing his true intentions. Unfortunately, by then, it's too late. He earns their trust before going in for the kill, attempting to repeat this pattern with flight attendant Charlie (Kathryn Gallagher) and most memorably, young runaway Amy (Autumn Best). 

The constant misogyny and sexism Cheryl deals with is really what leads her to appear on a show so clearly beneath her, even as she comes to it well-armed from those terrible experiences. Whether being grilled about nudity on an audition or guilted into succumbing to her annoying neighbor's advances. Kendrick doesn't overplay her hand, presenting Cheryl's plight as business as usual for the period, trusting audiences to reach their own conclusions. 

Instructed by the show's pompous host Ed Burke (a brilliant Tony Hale channeling Richard Dawson) to just smile, laugh and look pretty so she doesn't seem smarter than the bachelors, Cheryl flips the script to take the upper hand. Much to his and the bachelors' chagrin, she milks those 15 minutes of fame by simply being authentic, even as two of the three suitors prove awful in different ways. Only one is sharp enough to keep up with her. And it's a shame who that is. 

Kendrick's quick, snappy, matter-of-factness has rarely been utilized as well on screen, as she plays Cheryl in a constant state of self awareness. She has no false illusions about this program's quality and what it could do for her career, bringing that same level-headed pragmatism to the eventual encounter with Rodney. There's also great unsung work from Nicollette Robinson as a woman with a past connection to him who's paralyzed by fear and judgment from others. How her character's mistreated and dismissed by the men around her goes a long way in explaining how Rodney not only evaded capture for years, but was cast on widely popular television show without a second thought.

The last thirty minutes (and particularly one parking lot scene) are terrifyingly tension filled, threatening just how bad things can possibly get. Since Kendrick spends much of the film establishing Rodney's M.O., it's only that much more impactful when he's finally thrown off course and needs to improvise. After meeting his match in a woman who knows how to turn the tables, she reads and manipulates him well enough to deserve a criminal psychology degree. And we believe it, mainly because these serial killers always have traumatic baggage to be exploited, but only if their potential victims can somehow stay alive long enough to find the trigger. 

As a director, Kendrick visually and thematically links the game show to these murders, all while delivering a lead performance equally effective in conveying that. Smart, shrewd and extremely lucky compared to the other women, Cheryl can't see herself as any of this when falsely defined by the superficial, condescending terms society ascribes to her. What starts as a last ditch effort to be "seen" on a program that's spawned hundreds like it instead reflects a systemic malignancy still resonating to this day. It all provides chilling context for a TV episode now very much remembered, though not for reasons anyone had originally intended.  

Speak No Evil

Director: James Watkins
Starring: James McAvoy, Mackenzie Davis, Scoot McNairy, Aisling Francioso, Alix West Lefler, Dan Hough, Kris Hitchen, Motaz Malhees
Running Time: 110 min.
Rating: R

**The Following Review Contains Plot Spoilers For 'Speak No Evil' **

★★★½ (out of ★★★★)

Proving how the distance between a foreign feature's release and its eventual American remake continues to shrink, writer/director James Watkins' take on the Danish horror film Speak No Evil arrives only a couple of years after the original's release. Blumhouse likely set the gears in motion for an update a while ago, as viewers accustomed to disappointing adaptations prepared themselves for the worst. But this one's different.   

Yes, these characters sometimes make decisions that have us yelling at the screen, but they're not contrivances since it's believable based on their behavior and personalities. They see the red flags, yet keep feeding themselves excuses while walking right into the trap. But besides being surprisingly complex, it also features the onscreen reunion of two stars from one of TV's most underappreciated dramas of the past decade. And watching them play off each other again under drastically different circumstances is a real thrill, displaying their versatility opposite another performance that's downright maniacal. 

Married American couple Louise (Mackenzie Davis) and Ben Dalton (Scoot McNairy) are vacationing in Italy with their 12-year-old daughter Agnes (Alix West Lefler) when they befriend Paddy (James McAvoy) and Ciara (Aisling Francioso), a carefree British couple traveling with mute young son Ant (Dan Hough). As Louise and Ben's marriage remains fractured over his recent unemployment and her infidelity, they return home, later receiving an invite from Paddy and Ciara to stay at their farmhouse in Devon. 

Louise and Ben reluctantly accept the offer from these people they just met, but after arriving at their desolate, filthy residence, the unpredictable Paddy exhibits disturbingly passive aggressive behavior. Louise wants to leave while Ben urges her to stick it out as the two kids form a close bond. But when Paddy's unpredictable outbursts grow scarier and more volatile, any opportunity for the Daltons to get out shrinks upon discovering the real reason for this invite, drawing them into a fight for their lives.  

Watkins lets the situation breathe, spending about three quarters of the running length building tension between the hosts and their guests. Each cringeworthy scene becomes a "what would you do?" scenario wherein Paddy intentionally provokes the Daltons, creating a dynamic uncomfortable enough that the couple looks ready to crawl under the table. And it only gets worse, but in recognizably realistic ways heightened by a sinister McAvoy turn loaded with microaggressions and escalating manipulation. 

Whether he's mocking Louise's vegatarianism or simulating sex acts with Ciara in a restaurant to humiliate Ben, Paddy knows exactly which buttons to push, frequently punctuating his antics with an apology intended to coax both into blaming themselves for wanting to leave. And since the emasculated, unemployed Ben is much more willing to stand up to his wife than a sadistic Paddy, the latter's plan works even better than expected. 

Anyone who saw how brilliant Davis and McNairy were on AMC's late, great Halt and Catch Fire are in for a real treat here, as they seamlessly channel the platonic chemistry they shared on that show over to this unhappily married couple. What Davis does with Louise is particularly special since her character knows from the jump that the trip was a huge mistake and is constantly looking for a way out, if only for the sake of daughter Agnes, who clutches her stuffed rabbit "Hoppy" for dear life. 

Davis's facial expressions and body language really tell the tale, as you can see the unease all over Louise whenever she's talking to the wildly unhinged Paddy. If that wasn't bad enough, Ben tries to talk convince her into staying, both out of fear and a sadly misguided effort to prove he's man enough to put up with Paddy's abuse. Still sore over his wife's extra-marital affair, he may as well pin a scarlet letter to her chest for that indiscretion, dismissing her feelings at every turn. He may be a hapless cuck, but McNairy earns twinges of sympathy by not overplaying it, somehow managing to make the character relatably human. 

The film also creates a believable bond between the young kids, thanks to excellent child actors in Lefler and Hough. While the trailers falsely hinted at a supernatural component involving Ant's inability to speak, what actually happens is considerably more intriguing and well handled. It's rare in this genre for kids to be this intelligently written, but when critical information is shared in the third act it's even more impressive just how logical their actions seem.

Hints are dropped well before the big revelation, but it's still a relief to see the knowledge presented in a clean, straightforward manner. In other words, there's no scene with a cackling villain spouting off expository dialogue about how their evil plan came together. The true breaking point comes with Paddy's abuse of Ant, but by the time the Daltons can summon the will to leave and get help, it's too late. More force is now required to make them stay, culminating in a spectacularly staged finale that couldn't have been easy to film in such a tight, confined space.

Watkins uses every corner and crevice of this old farmhouse to great effect, as the claustrophobic setting provides an ideal layout for a thrilling cat-and-mouse chase that has the desperate Daltons scrambling for every household item and tool at their disposal to take down Paddy. True to form, Louise emerges as the badass we suspected, utilizing another weapon in Davis's acting arsenal previously present in Terminator: Dark Fate and Blade Runner 2049. Watching her here, it becomes even more perplexing she isn't already a massive star, action or otherwise.  

It's only natural fans would be up in arms over any deviation from the Danish original, but Watkins is in no way obligated to adopt that film's nihilistic ending. And while recognizing the potential shock of a mainstream release doing it, what worked the first time doesn't necessarily guarantee the same result for a different version. Watkins' conclusion feels like the better fit for his story, regardless of how far it deviates from the source. 

Trailers tried to sell Speak No Evil as horror, but this is a full blown psychological thriller, solidly grasping a thematic concept similar efforts have failed to completely capture. If anything, it shares more in common with 1971's Straw Dogs than its many inferior imitators, skillfully shaping its plot until it boils over in the final thirty minutes.                                                                               

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice

Director: Tim Burton
Starring: Michael Keaton, Winona Ryder, Catherine O' Hara, Jenna Ortega, Justin Theroux, Monica Bellucci, Willem Dafoe, Arthur Conti, Santiago Cabrera, Danny DeVito, Nick Kellington
Running Time: 104 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

There's always this tendency to assume the worst when a beloved property like Beetlejuice is resurrected decades after the original's release. Years of rumors and false starts weigh on fans who can only hope it's not just a cash grab and some creative thought went into continuing the original's legacy. This concern is especially real with Tim Burton's intended sequel, which seemed perpetually stuck in pre-production since the early 90's. 

As time passes, expectations fall, which is why it comes as such a relief that Beetlejuice Beetlejuice resembles the kind of follow-up audiences wanted but didn't think they'd ever get. Signaling a welcome return to form for Burton, it rekindles flickers of his former glory throughout, while still looking and feeling like the Beetlejuice we know. The director's recent work on Netflix's Wednesday, could almost be seen as a prelude to this in that his twisted imagination is once again freed up to run amok with fewer boundaries.

It's 2024 and Lydia Deetz (Winona Ryder) is now a psychic medium hosting her own supernatural talk show, Ghost House, where she contacts the dead. But her sullenly skeptical teen daughter Astrid (Jenna Ortega) isn't interested, still harboring grief and resentment over the death of Lydia's husband and her father, Richard (Santiago Cabrera). And as Lydia's slimy TV producer boyfriend Rory (Justin Theroux) prepares to take their relationship to another level, professional artist and Deetz matriarch Delia (Catherine O' Hara) breaks the news to Lydia that her father Charles (played by Jeffrey Jones in the original) just died in a horrific accident. 

With the family reconvening in Winter River for Charles' funeral and preparing to sell their old home, Astrid falls for local teen Jeremy Frazier (Arthur Conti) while Lydia finds out the hard way that Beetlejuice (Michael Keaton) isn't done with her yet. Now working as an "Afterlife Manager" on the other side, he's being stalked by ex-wife Dolores (Monica Belucci), a murderous soul sucking cult member being hunted by action star turned ghost detective Wolf Jackson (Willem Dafoe). But when Lydia realizes Astrid's in danger and only Beetlejuice can help, she's reminded that any deal with this mischievous demon comes at a high price.

Recognizing there's such a thing as overkill, Burton strategically uses the Beetlejuice character, both in terms of screen time and his overall purpose. Of course, we all know he's keeping Keaton in his back pocket until the ghoul's ready to unleash his goofy madness, or more accurately, has a reason to. And writers Alfred Gough and Miles Millar come up with a good one, putting the now middle-aged Lydia at a place in life that makes sense given her past and tumultuous connection to Beetlejuice. 

Now a famous TV star, Lydia's addicted to pills, dating a creep and unable to connect with daughter Astrid on any level, particularly when it comes to discussing the latter's deceased dad. And if there's a benefit to have waited this long for a sequel, it's that Ryder's now old enough for her character to struggle parenting a version of her rebellious younger self. That she's played by a perfectly cast Ortega is only icing on the cake. 

While Keaton and Ryder have publicly expressed their desire to reprise these roles for a while, it's no secret the addition of Ortega is what finally got this greenlit. As strong a match for Astrid as Ryder originally was for Lydia, the pair's natural chemistry consistently shines through in every scene they share as mother and daughter. And though this iteration mostly plays it safe, Ortega's Astrid is given the film's bleakest, most compelling subplot, serving as the primary catalyst for Lydia and her stripe suited nemesis's reunion. 

Catherine O' Hara delightfully hams it up as Delia, spending most of the running length in hysterics over Charles' death, while also remaining strangely unfazed by it, keeping with Burton's quirky, bemused take on the macabre that's punctuated much of his previous work. And while there was no chance of Jeffrey Jones returning as Charles, it's a treat watching how brilliantly Burton works around it, using photos, paintings and an extremely clever animated stop-motion sequence to help make him an even bigger presence dead than alive.

Once Beetlejuice is fully involved, Keaton runs with it, and if family drama justifiably monopolizes the film's early goings, he dictates the rest by recapturing Juice's brand of sarcastic quips and physical comedy. The plot involving his murderous ex Dolores is probably the script's weakest, but it's still well executed, notable for a brief but memorable black-and-white flashback depicting the couples' sordid history. And when the action shifts into the Afterlife and takes all the characters along, it picks up steam before arriving at a wacky, divisive ending that really flies off the rails without veering far from the franchise's roots. 

This doesn't approach prime Beetlejuice or Edward Scissorhands territory, but it's fun seeing everyone slide back into their roles as we revisit a universe that hasn't changed much at all. Between Danny Elfman's score, the similar production design and a continued emphasis on practical effects, Burton clears the toughest hurdle by recognizing any legacy sequel's biggest competition is its own nostalgia. By effectively tailoring the story to present day, he forgoes cheap fan service, instead crafting a worthy successor that will leave viewers wanting even more.