American Fiction

Director: Cord Jefferson
Starring: Jeffrey Wright, Tracee Ellis Ross, Issa Rae, Sterling K. Brown, John Ortiz, Erika Alexander, Leslie Uggams, Adam Brody, Keith David, Okieriete Onaodowan, Myra Lucretia Taylor, Raymond Anthony Thomas, Michael Cyril Creighton
Running Time: 117 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)   

American Fiction revolves around a thought provoking premise that tackles issues of race, art and hypocrisy head on, as writer/director Cord Jefferson strikes a different kind of chord in adapting Percival Everett's 2001 novel, Erasure. His script handles a potentially controversial topic with brutal honesty, uncomfortably intersecting with the fictitious book it spoofs to examine the current cultural climate. It's far from perfect, but even with an overabundance of family drama and a bizarre ending, much of this works. 

A brilliant Jeffrey Wright plays a misunderstood genius too smart for his own good, going to extreme lengths to prove his point to a society he no longer recognizes. The plan works both better and worse than expected, but for a protagonist so hard on himself, unexpected success only magnifies his own insecurities and biting criticisms about a system too broken to fix. It's delightfully ironic watching this stubborn intellectual embraced for what he most detests, with Jefferson not only exploring themes of diversity, but how this idea of "selling out" complicates the already shaky balance between art and commerce. 

Los Angeles based African-American writer and professor Thelonious "Monk" Ellison (Wright) has just been put on temporary leave by his university for offending students during racially sensitive discussions. Per the board's request, he reluctantly returns to Boston to spend time with his family and attend a literary seminar. But his panel is overshadowed by popular author Sintara Golden's (Issa Rae) newest bestseller, We's Lives in Da Ghetto, which pedals in Black stereotypes such as gang violence, drugs and incarceration. It also stands in stark contrast to Monk's output, which his agent Arthur (John Ortiz) describes as not being "Black enough" to sell. 

Resented by his physician sister Lisa (Tracie Ellis Ross) for being the favorite son, Monk clashes with hard partying plastic surgeon brother Cliff (Sterling K. Brown), as they consider admitting their Alzheimer's afflicted mother Agnes (Leslie Uggams) into a care facility. But after dating lawyer Coraline (Erika Alexander), Monk begins writing My Pafology, a satirical novel exaggerating and spoofing the most offensive Black stereotypes. 

After mockingly submitting this book, the publishers are blown away, giving Monk a huge monetary advance as he adopts the fake persona of fugitive author "Stagg R. Leigh" for authenticity's sake. But while intentionally trying to sabotage the deal by demanding its title be changed to Fuck, hotshot Hollywood producer Wiley Valdespino (Adam Brody) expresses interest in adapting it into a feature film. Now, a mortified Monk must decide whether to reveal himself as being behind this literary masterpiece he intended as a big joke.

Even if many of Monk's viewpoints are on target, what ends up plaguing him is the self-destructive ways he goes about proving it. You can't help but feel a little empathy for someone who wants to be published for all the right reasons and create art of lasting significance. But his definition of quality differs greatly from the public, who he feels are being dishonest with themselves by celebrating the "poverty porn" in Sintara's book. 

Besides finding Sintara to be cashing in on racist tropes, Monk's astounded at the stupidity of anyone impressed by literature so transparently exploitive. For him it cuts deeper than just a mere difference in taste, but even when he pushes the envelope too far, Wright depicts this character with a dignity that still makes him seem like the smartest, most rational person in the room. There's a particularly humorous scene where Sintara reads embarrassing excerpts from her acclaimed novel and you can see the exasperation on Wright's face that the audience is somehow eating this all up. 

Whether Monk's correctly assessing trash is almost beside the point once we realize most of his anger is rooted in unresolved family turmoil. This does creates a bit of a dilemma for the film since that plot pales in comparison to the hijinks surrounding his novel. Jefferson may not completely succeed in tying both together, but Sterling K. Brown gives a breakout performance as Cliff, whose reckless persona buries a history of repressed pain. Leslie Uggams is subtly heartbreaking as the matriarch in mental decline, Tracee Ellis Ross makes maximum impact with her limited screen time, while Erika Alexander's Coraline has the patience of a saint. That is until Monk totally implodes, causing her to draw a line in the sand when it comes to his erratic behavior. 

It takes almost an hour for Jefferson to get to the meat of this story, but when he does there's plenty of insightful commentary about institutional bias. Monk's invitation to be a Literary Award judge backfires spectacularly, leading to an argument with Sintara that cuts to the core of the script's best ideas. There's no telling how high the film's ceiling could have been with more scenes like this. Instead, we get a tantalizing meta development in the vein of Stranger Than Fiction or Adaptation, teeing up a tease that flies off the rails without any clear resolution.

Whether Monk does turn some kind of a corner is definitely up for debate and analysis, like much of what occurs. It's also one of the few recent cinematic efforts dealing with race that takes real risks and could continue provoking discussions long after the credits roll. Frustrating and rewarding, it's ultimately about a writer banging his head against the wall, consumed by how everyone fails to see what's right in front of their faces.   

The Beekeeper

Director: David Ayer
Starring: Jason Statham, Emmy Raver-Lampman, Josh Hutcherson, Bobby Naderi, Minnie Driver, David Witts, Michael Epp, Jemma Redgrave, Phylicia Rashad, Jeremy Irons
Running Time: 105 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

Those complaining we don't get nearly enough movies about beekeepers will be pleased that director David Ayer delivers an entertainingly over-the-top action thriller starring Jason Statham as its title character. An open invitation to check your brain at the door, this finds the ass kicking actor again stepping into that heroic vigilante role he's mastered throughout his career. The plot couldn't be simpler, as our quiet but deadly protagonist plows through armies of criminals, FBI agents, local law enforcement and anyone else preventing him from administering some John Wick-style justice.

The protagonist's occupational duties go a bit further than you'd expect, also working as another type of beekeeper who's tasked with "protecting the hive" that is the United States. And like 007, this isn't exactly the type of job you just retire or walk away from. Initially content to call it a career by leaving the violence and adventure behind, a ruthless scam brings him back to get even. But this time it's personal, with this enforcer dirtying his hands to do what the law can't or won't.

Adam Clay (Statham) leads a quiet life as a beekeeper, renting space in a barn owned by retired school teacher and philanthropist Eloise Parker (Phylicia Rashad), who commits suicide after falling victim to an online phishing scam that drains over $2 million from her bank account. After discovering Eloise's body, Adam is questioned by her daughter, FBI agent Verona Parker (Emmy Raver-Lampman) who tells him the bureau is attempting to track down the company that did it. Instead, Adam takes matters into his own hands by destroying a call center and using his ties with a shadow organization called the Beekeepers to locate the data company's vice president, Derek Danforth (Josh Hutcherson). 

As Adam closes in, the whiny Derek begs for help from security head and former CIA director Wallace Westwyld (Jeremy Irons). But despite his many connections and access to hired mercenaries, an extremely dangerous Adam proves unstoppable, in the process exposing a massive cover-up with far reaching implications. It's up to Verona and FBI partner Agent Wiley (Bobby Naderi) to somehow stop his rampage, even as her very personal connection to the case indicates she may not want to.

This scam itself is commonplace, but it's still gripping to watch each step of the process unfold on screen in such detail. A key strength of Kurt Wimmer's script is its focus on this vulnerable senior being taken for a ride by a slimy, obnoxious call center manager (David Witts) and his boiler room of heartless minions. An effective hook that helps audiences sympathize with the victim, it simultaneously gives Adam even greater motivation to restore what he calls a sense of "balance" to society.  

Eloise not immediately contacting her FBI agent daughter after being scammed can be chalked up to the emotional trauma of the moment, but the bureau's of little help anyway. That's the purpose of beekeepers like Adam, even as we wonder why the government doesn't just dedicate an eighth of the resources they throw at him toward cracking down on these crimes. It's an idea not lost on the film every time this commando vanquishes an obstacle standing between him and Hutchinson's spoiled nepo baby character. As Westwyld, Jeremy Irons brings some welcome gravitas, knowing the hole Derek's dug himself into and wanting no part of it. But in the end, he really has little choice.

At this point, Statham could probably play this part in his sleep, with Adam donning disguises, sneaking in and out of secured buildings and using guns, knives, bombs, martial arts to casually clobber everyone in sight. Existing on the periphery of these thrillingly staged and sometimes unintentionally hilarious action scenes is the notion Verona's chasing the man avenging her mother's death, making her job that much harder. And Raver-Lampman conveys that inner conflict subtly in a movie where restraint isn't the top priority. 

Just based on the insanely high body count and how early the beekeeper enacts revenge, you'd think this could end within the first thirty minutes. In actuality, the mission's just beginning, with Adam's quest eventually reaching the highest level of government. Those in his path will find out the hard way that it's never a good idea to kick a hornet's nest, especially one belonging to a wrecking machine dead set on exterminating the queen of the hive. Taking a straightforward, apolitical stance against agencies that leave the most helpless without recourse, The Beekeeper implies someone like Statham could come in handy. Or better yet, it reminds us that the system should never be broken enough for us to need him.     

I Saw the TV Glow

Director: Jane Schoenbrun
Starring: Justice Smith, Brigette Lundy-Paine, Helena Howard, Lindsey Jordan, Danielle Deadwyler, Fred Durst, Conner O' Malley, Emma Portner, Phoebe Bridgers
Running Time: 100 min.
Rating: PG-13

**The Following Review Contains Plot Spoilers For 'I Saw The TV Glow' **

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★) 

Destined for cult status, writer/director Jane Schoenbrun's horror/sci-fi parable I Saw the TV Glow is a lot of things at once, at least to audiences willing and able to connect with it. Ambitious and beguiling, it's a surrealistic trip that utilizes its modest budget to craft a work of art that feels twice its size. Exploring the most uncomfortable corners of the soul, it's also a strangely moving exploration of loneliness, isolation, the passage of time and our complicated relationship with pop culture.

Centering around a reluctant friendship between two teen misfits, this starts as a strangely muted coming-of-age story until eventually evolving into this creepy, hypnotic tone poem that carries echoes of David Lynch and Donnie Darko. Buoyed by two startling performances, it's been described by Schoenbrun as a trans or queer allegory, but its themes are broad enough that viewers can interpret what they wish. Suffocated and suppressed by their "normal" suburban lives, both characters will take different paths to diverging destinations, their journeys flashing by in what seems like an instant.

It's 1996 when shy, withdrawn seventh grader Owen (Ian Foreman) meets ninth grade outsider Maddy (Brigette Lundy-Paine) on election night and she introduces him to the young adult television series, The Pink Opaque. A bizarre, supernatural cross between The X-Files, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Are You Afraid of the Dark?, the show centers around teen girls Isabel (Helena Howard) and Tara (Lindsey Jordan) who discover a shared psychic connection while fighting monsters each week. 

When Owen sneaks out at night to watch the show at Maddy's house, a strict bedtime curfew set by his overprotective parents Brenda (Danielle Deadwyler) and Frank (Fred Durst) quickly puts an end to that. Flash forward a couple of years and an older Owen (now played by Justice Smith) is getting episode tapes from Maddy as each continue watching to escape their miserable home lives. But when Maddy suddenly disappears, only to reemerge almost a decade later, she reveals shocking details about the program that heavily blur the lines between fiction and reality.          

Owen and Maddy have an almost immediate pull as characters the moment we meet them, but the two year age gap between a ninth grade girl and seventh grade boy may as well be an eternity for anyone this age. That's why the casting of two different actors as Owen is such a brilliant detail, with Foreman and Smith's anguished takes functioning as mirrored reflections of each other, never leaving the slightest shred of doubt they're one in the same. Smith's lumbering walk, sad eyes and crackling, exasperated voice that sounds as if it pains Owen to even speak. It's only when he meets the dry, cynical Maddy that he opens up a little, finding a connection with someone experiencing similar angst.

That Owen and Maddy's bond is forged through this show will resonate with those who knows how much more a piece of entertainment means when shared with a friend rather than discovered on your own. But besides The Pink Opaque functioning as a comment on our messy attachment with media and nostalgia, Schoenbrun really makes it looks like something straight out of the mid 90's, cheaply produced but with an unmistakable creative flair. The show can be viewed as either terrible or intriguing, which is exactly the point when Owen rewatches it decades later, deflated by the realization of how "cheesy" something he once loved now looks through his older eyes. 

The barrier separating this film from the series within it becomes invisible, and for those scoffing at its horror classification, the show's terrifying, moon faced antagonist, "Mr. Melancholy" and his "luna juice" will settle any doubts. Like any beloved show of the moment, it'll face cancellation, and with that comes Maddy's curiously timed disappearance. It's surprising is just how many years the film manages to span, sweeping us along with Owen as he processes the ramifications of her sudden return. Why she left their small town isn't a mystery. The real question involves what happened to her since. 

Alex G's mesmerizing score and Eric K. Yue's purplish, neon drenched cinematography only bolster an indescribable third act that heads into trippy Twin Peaks territory, complete with a nightclub scene (featuring Phoebe Bridgers and Sloppy Jane) where we learn how the show infiltrated their psyches in ways only one can decipher or admit to. For Maddy, it's her salvation, and while the script contains some meta observations about TV finales and reboots, the true challenge is in getting Owen to summon the strength to also break through. Lundy-Paine, who already impressed in both Neflix's Atypical and Bill & Ted Face the Music provides Maddy with just the right mix of cynicism and vulnerability, especially while somehow conveying the impossible to her friend.

Owen has more than one opportunity to cross over, but can't quite find a way out of his own personal hell. The last scene is agonizing to watch, as his screams of anguish go unheard and the art he consumed decades earlier proves a more accurate reflection of his true self than what passes as reality. All that's left are memories built on a lie, and the declaration that "It's Not Too Late." But is it? Only in the beautifully tragic final minutes do we fully understand the frustrating irony behind that phrase, even if our challenge wrestling with the film's many ideas has seemingly just begun.  

Thanksgiving

Director: Eli Roth
Starring: Patrick Dempsey, Nell Verlaque, Addison Rae, Jalen Thomas Brooks, Milo Manheim, Tomaso Sanelli, Gabriel Davenport, Jenna Warren, Ty Victor Olsson, Karen Cliche, Rick Hoffman, Gina Gershon
Running Time: 106 min.
Rating: R

 

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

When Eli Roth's 70's-inspired trailer for the fictitious horror film Thanksgiving appeared during Quentin Tarantino's Grindhouse in 2007, many assumed a feature would be right around the corner. Nearly seventeen years later, it came, even as clips hinted at a project far different from the grainy, low budget VHS homage most anticipated. But in appearing to invoke 2000's era remakes like Black Christmas, My Bloody Valentine or even Rob Zombie's Halloween, Roth still goes old school, with his movie sharing similarities with both those titles and the originals that inspired them.

Aside from the unimpeachable classics any entry in this genre is judged against, horror constantly lifts ideas, themes and even specific shots from other works, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. It's what you do with it that matters, and longtime slasher fanatic Roth again goes to his grab bag of influences, incorporating a variety of different elements. Rather than break new ground, this instead accomplishes all that's needed by being a well made, ridiculously entertaining ride that cleverly mixes gore and humor.

In Plymouth, Massachusetts, a crowd of anxious, unruly shoppers are gathered outside RightMart for the annual Black Friday sale. But when they notice the store owner's daughter, Jessica (Nell Verlaque) her boyfriend Bobby (Jalen Thomas Brooks) and classmates Gaby (Addison Rae), Evan (Tomaso Sanelli), Scuba (Gabriel Davenport) and Yulia (Jenna Warren) sneak in early, the mob breaks through the doors. After trampling a security guard and rushing past Sheriff Newlon (Patrick Dempsey) and store manager Mitch (Ty Victor Olsson), a full blown riot breaks out, with tragic results. 

The next year RightMart callously prepares for another sale when a mysterious killer wearing a John Carver mask goes on a killing spree, targeting those responsible for the Black Friday massacre. As Jessica and the gang realize they're next, Bobby's sudden reappearance in town only complicates matters, with suspects and bodies continuing to pile up. Everyone's in danger of being picked off by Carver, who's in no mood for any leftovers this Thanksgiving.

Setting the bar high with a graphic, wickedly satirical opening sequence that terrifies in spots, Roth immediately makes his goal clear. It may not be the full-fledged throwback most expected, but the blueprint and execution of those retro slashers are prevalent, especially as rabid customers kill each other for discounted waffle irons, transforming this big box superstore into a human slaughterhouse. 

Jeff Rendall's script gets a lot out of the thrillingly staged RightMart catastrophe and its ramifications for everyone directly or indirectly involved, with only a tension filled parade scene and Carver's third act feast coming close to equaling it. That everyone truly is a suspect gives Carver more than enough opportunities to get creatively gruesome in ways that'll have viewers wincing in disgust and rolling with laughter. Roth also makes good use of social media as both a tracking device and an indictment on our obsession with going viral.

Nearly every character could be affixed a backstory or motivation that qualifies them as the murderous pilgrim in retrospect. But Roth does a better job than most playing that game and the enormous cast makes sense once you realize Carver needs enough heads at the table to host dinner. If there's a Final Girl, it's Jessica, played by relative newcomer Nell Verlaque, who makes for a likable, charismatic presence as the group member with the most guilt to bare. 

As Jessica's dad and store owner Thomas Wright, the great Rick Hoffman gives another masterclass in corporate sleaze, with Patrick Dempsey covering the same law enforcement territory he did in Scream 3, but faring even better. The rest of the cast deliver exactly what's called for, even if the real star is Carver himself, (voiced by Adam McDonald and physically portrayed by stuntman Adam Armbruster), who's very much patterned after iconic horror villains like Michael, Jason and Ghostface, complete with that memorably creepy mask.

A whodunnit horror plot loaded with suspects will always invite Scream comparisons, but if that franchise takes an entirely meta approach, Roth allows the content serve as its own self referential wink. And while it's easy to argue this doesn't exactly stand out from the pack, there's really little need. Thanksgiving is what a film like this should be, earning its inevitable sequel and a place alongside the seasonal slashers it pays homage to.

Back to Black

Director: Sam-Taylor-Johnson
Starring: Marisa Abela, Jack O' Connell, Eddie Marsan, Lesley Manville, Juliet Cowan, Sam Buchanan, Pete Lee-Wilson, Thelma Ruby, Matilda Thorpe
Running Time: 122 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)   

In Sam Taylor-Johnson's Amy Winehouse biopic Back to Black, everything clicks into place for the film's lead, who reminds us just how little we do know about the late English singer-songwriter's beginnings. Putting aside what was covered in 2015's acclaimed documentary, Amy, there's a strangeness to initially seeing her without the beehive hair and tattoos that shaped a unique persona matched only by the talent itself. And much of this is found in Marisa Abela's performance, even well before Winehouse skyrockets to worldwide fame. 

The most perplexing aspect of Matthew Greenhalgh's script is how it avoids casting blame for the singer's death, almost hoping we're absorbed enough in her highs and lows to overlook it. Of course, they'll always be skeptics nursing Dewey Cox hangovers and refusing to give any musical biopic the time of day. But as a respectable entry in that detested and mocked genre, this at least focuses on a more contemporary artist whose legacy hasn't yet been exhausted by a myriad of screen dramatizations. And while it's odd referring to an artist whose breakthrough album was released nearly two decades ago as "contemporary," it's at least a designation Winehouse easily earns. 

Raised in a Jewish, musically inclined home by father Mitch (Eddie Marsan) and grandmother Cynthia (Lesley Manville), Amy Winehouse (Abela) is performing at local pubs when her vocal talents catch the attention of manager Nick Shymansky (Sam Buchanan), leading to a contract with Island Records. But prior to her debut album's 2003 release, Amy takes a step back after creatively clashing with the label, soon meeting and falling for charismatic video producer Blake Fielder-Civil (Jack O' Connell). 

Between Amy's alcoholism, bulimia and violent outbursts and Blake's cocaine addiction, their rocky relationship seems doomed from the start. That and an unexpected tragedy provides the groundwork for Amy's universally acclaimed sophomore album, "Back to Black," which catapults her to critical and commercial success. With it come unpleasant consequences, as she spirals into full blown drug addiction that even a stint in rehab and a period of sobriety can't rescue her from.

While this follows a strict chronological trajectory that might provide further ammo for those tired of the format, it's also an effective snapshot of a relatively brief, unexplored flicker in time. Due to this, it avoids coming across as a history lesson that crams decades of a person's life into two hours, skipping years and events to fit a regimented framework. More disciplined in staying the course, this rarely feels like an exploitive collection of her lowest points.

Because Amy's brief but memorable ascent feels as if it occurred yesterday, there's an immediacy to the story that's more culturally relevant than usual. Having paved the way for Adele and the many other British soul singers who've emerged since, the experience of watching becomes oddly inseparable from the hypothetical question of how the rest of her career would have turned out.

Abela is tremendous in the role, all the way from the opening scene of Amy reminiscing with her grandmother to when she eventually implodes later on. The huge surprise is that the actress does her own singing, faring unusually well given the insurmountable challenge of replicating Winehouse's unmistakable vocal stylings and stage presence. The elephant in the room is how the film handles Amy's addiction, contradicting much of what's been reported. If her substance abuse issues have long been tied to Blake's toxic influence, this paints a far different picture, with him even controversially painted as a victim at various points. 

The pair's initial meeting might be the film's best sequence with O'Connell's finding just the right blend of dangerous sleaze and charm, as we wait for Blake to emerge as the monstrous, abusive instigator we've heard so much about. And though he's far from a positive influence and destructive in his own right, that doesn't really materialize here. Instead, Amy just can't seem to quit him, and while a refusal to go to rehab results in her most iconic hit, by the time she actually gets there, it's too late. Eddie Marsen's Mitch is a constant presence as her dad/manager, in denial and overwhelmed by the harsh reality of his daughter's situation.

Given the family's involvement in this production, it is one of the more sympathetic portrayals of an artist lost to addiction, sidestepping the same tawdry treatment Amy received from the media while she was alive. That the movie captures a certain authenticity can be attributed to an actress who foregoes outright impersonation to embody an insecure family girl with a giving heart who briefly became the biggest pop star on the planet. The hows and whys are sometimes frustratingly murky, but Taylor-Johnson gets a lot right in exploring the gap that separated who Amy was from what the public perceived her to be.                     

Dune: Part Two

Director: Denis Villeneuve
Starring: Timothée Chalamet, Zendaya, Rebecca Ferguson, Josh Brolin, Austin Butler, Florence Pugh, Dave Bautista, Christopher Walken, Lea Seydoux, Souheila Yacoub, Stellan Skarsgård, Charlotte Rampling, Javier Bardem 
Running Time: 166 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)     

Denis Villeneuve's adaptation of Frank Herbert's seminal sci-fi novel Dune always seemed intended as a giant, visually impressive spectacle that doesn't primarily rely on its story to succeed. You could even argue it benefits the viewer not to think too hard about the details for risk of ruining the experience. That definitely holds true for its 2021 predecessor, where Velleneuve overcame the challenges of introducing a world populated by characters who needed to hold our interest through two or more sequels. 

Most of that first film felt like setup, abruptly ending before the main course arrived. Now, after what felt far longer than a two and a half year wait, the sequel arrives. Only this dark, heady, somewhat odd property isn't your usual franchise tentpole, carrying the risk that some fans may find themselves playing catch up with the story. But with its mind boggling vistas, astonishing effects and flawless sound and production design, it does qualify as "epic" in every sense of the word, noticeably bigger and more ambitious than what came before.

Picking up almost immediately where the last film left off, Paul Atreides (Timothée Chalamet) aligns with the Fremen following the destruction of House Atreides by House Harkonnen. Against his pregnant mother Jessica's (Rebecca Ferguson) wishes, Paul is taken in by tribal leader Stilgar (Javier Bardem) as "the chosen one," forming a close bond with Fremen warrior Chani (Zendaya). Now with friend and mentor Gurney Halleck (Josh Brolin) back by his side, Paul aims to avenge his father's death while the Harkonnens escalate their attacks to gain control of Arrakis. 

Meanwhile, the incompetent hothead Rabban (Dave Bautista) proves himself a failed leader of the Harkonnens, prompting his Jabba-like uncle Baron (Stellan Skarsgård) to transfer the reigns to ruthless younger sibling Feyd-Rautha (Austin Butler). And as Paul settles into his new role with the Fremen, Emperor Shaddam IV (Christopher Walken), daughter Irulan (Florence Pugh) and the Reverend Mother (Charlotte Rampling) brace themselves for retribution. With fighting between the two factions reaching its boiling point, only a showdown remains in determining Paul's final destiny.

Overflowing with plot and characters, you'd think this follow-up would lend credence to all the skeptics who still consider Dune one of those notoriously unfilmable novels. So it's to Villeneuve and co-writer Jordan Spaihts' credit that they manage to balance it all out and wrangle the themes into a straightforward, digestible package. If someone bypassed the 2021 entry and came into this cold they may not be completely lost, especially since the world itself is as much a draw as the actual narrative.

Paul's journey takes detours and excursions, but all roads leads to his gradual transformation. While we're given some voiceover from Pugh's Irulan, the opening hour mostly consists of his assimilation into the Freman, the burgeoning relationship with Chani and a handful of spectacular battle sequences. Originally, Chalamet was considered a divisive choice for the role, but everything about the character's arc in this sequel lends more credibility to his that casting, as the actor quietly builds on the groundwork laid out in the last film, paving Paul's path from insecure, reluctant outsider to burgeoning leader, despite Chani's legitimate reservations.

Zendaya further extends her 2024 on screen winning streak with her extended take on Chani, conveying just the right mix of stubborn skepticism and practicality opposite Chalamet. We detect her character's unease over what's to come and it won't be long before discovering just how right she is. And as the dangerous consequences of mixing politics and religion remain constant, Rebecca Ferguson's hooded, face tattooed Reverend Mother Jessica (who telepathically communicates with her unborn daughter) will come to represent the inflection point for that conflict.  

As everything converges in Empire Strikes Back style by its end, so too does the rise of the ruthless Feyd-Rautha, terrifyingly played by a pale, unrecognizably demonic Austin Butler. Tasked with stepping into the role originally filled by Sting in David Lynch's '84 attempt, he definitely makes it his own, especially during a black and white coliseum showdown stunningly shot by cinematographer Greig Fraser. 

The more our "hero" avoids fulfilling his prophecy the closer he gets, with that ongoing sense of inevitability hovering over every scene. By the time he eventually reaches his perceived goal, it won't come without major sacrifices he'll continue to weigh as this saga continues. Some of the metaphysical elements are a bit much, but at almost 3 hours, Joe Walker's masterful editing ensures there's no extra fat on the bone, as everything at least feels important and unmissable. Once pulled into this expansive, oddly hypnotizing universe, any uninitiated viewers' concerns should wash away, replaced with anticipation for where Villeneuve plans to go next.