M3GAN 2.0

Director: Gerard Johnstone
Starring: Allison Williams, Violet McGraw, Aimee Donald, Jenna Davis, Brian Jordan Alvarez, Jen Van Epps, Ivanna Sakhno, Aristotle Athari, Jemaine Clement, Timm Sharp
Running Time: 120 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★)   

When the smart, wickedly funny horror satire M3GAN was released in 2022, the film was already a bona fide hit before a single person actually saw it. Much of this had to do with some clever viral marketing that featured the title android awkwardly dancing as she slaughtered unsuspecting victims. With her vacant eyes, creepily cherubic facial expressions, Jenna Davis's incredible voice work and Aimee Donald's physicality, she came across as a bizarre hybrid of Chucky and an American Girl doll. But director Gerard Johnstone still had to make it all work, which he did, resulting in a huge creative and commercial success for Blumhouse.

If the original concept's appeal rested on simplicity and how relatable the robot seemed in an era where technology parents kids, Johnstone knew not to take things too seriously, preparing us for even crazier, more hilarious hijinx in M3GAN 2.0. But rather than keeping the focus narrow, this aims higher, with a plot entirely focused on cyber-terrorism and the government's regulation of AI. And in doing that he delivers a sequel that bares little resemblance to its predecessor, perplexing audiences in the process. Not content to play it safe and merely repeat story beats from the original, he instead resurrects the iconic doll for purposes other than causing additional death and destruction. 

Two years after M3GAN's rampage, Gemma (Allison Williams) is now an author advocating for the regulation of AI and testing a new robotic exoskeleton with cybersecurity expert Christian (Aristotle Athari) and former team members Cole (Brian Jordan Alvarez) and Tess (Jen Van Epps). Her work catches the interest of greedy, eccentric tech billionaire Alton Appleton (Jemaine Clement, parodying Elon Musk), who Gemma refuses a lucrative offer to work for on moral grounds.  

Operating out of her smart home basement, Gemma has little time to spend with now 12-year-old niece Cady (Violet McGraw), who's handled the trauma of M3GAN's violent betrayal by taking up martial arts and computer science. But everything changes when a secret branch of the Pentagon headed by U.S. Army Colonel Sattler (Timm Sharp) develops AMELIA (Ivanna Sakhno), a high functioning android copied from M3GAN's original design. After unexpectedly escaping, the newly self-aware machine goes on a killing spree and only one robot can stop her. With a backup of M3GAN's mind stored, Gemma must now decide whether an upgraded version can be trusted to thwart an imminent AI takeover. 

This second chapter shouldn't be duplicating the first film's blueprint since these characters are in an entirely different headspace two years later. Now, Cady's older and Gemma's attempts to warn the public of technology's dangers has fallen on deaf ears, causing a fracture in their relationship. And with few guardrails regulating the abuse of AI, the M3GAN disaster has caused government agencies to realize the potential of androids as controlled weapons, pouring gasoline on a capitalistic climate clamoring for its use. 

Enter AMELIA, a ruthless cyborg assassin that not only makes M3GAN look like a Cabbage Patch Kid, but plows through its victims in an effort to reach the secluded Motherboard, which grants access to any and all technology. It can all really be traced back to Gemma's inability to grasp the dangerous magnitude of her initial creation until it was too late, unintentionally giving those in more powerful positions the green light to abuse it. And while her fear and anxiety over rebuilding M3GAN is justified, she also knows the robot's actions weren't the result of free will, but her own programming mistakes.

After a big buildup, M3GAN returns taller, stronger and more dangerous than before. Thankfully though, she still possesses the same comedic timing, dry humor and killer dance moves. One of her best scenes involves a heart-to-heart with Cady, during which she expresses what appears to be genuine remorse and regret for her previous actions. Now with the forgiveness and trust of her best friend, she'll have the opportunity to step up and help. And not just because she's programmed to.   

An inevitable consequence of such a busy plot is that Williams lacks the big acting moments she had in the first film where she was carrying a story that revolved around about parental responsibility and guilt. There's still a bit of that here, but it's mainly action oriented as Gemma reluctantly leads the other characters in a quest to prevent impending doom. Violet McGraw gives this sequel its soul as a maturing Cady struggles to process her conflicted feelings toward M3GAN while Ukranian actress (and Elizabeth Olsen lookalike) Sakhno plays the Terminator-like AMELIA to chilling, wide eyed perfection. 

The film's final act set within a secret guarded facility may be an ambitious mess full of twists and turns, but it's also deliriously entertaining, especially as we approach the climactic showdown between M3GAN and AMELIA. And though there's still plenty of humor and mayhem in this installment, it's also far larger in scope, more closely echoing sci-fi actioners like TRON: Legacy or Blade Runner 2049 than Child's Play. 

Viewed through this prism, it's not surprising audiences haven't respond favorably to such a jarring departure from the original. But aside from an admittedly convoluted plot and overlong run time, Johnstone skillfully navigates familiar material that's been beaten into the ground by similarly themed thrillers of late. While it may have suffered a quick and undeserved box office death, there's reason to hope this doesn't spell the end of M3GAN, who proves she still has more than a few lives left. 

Karate Kid: Legends

Director: Jonathan Entwistle
Starring: Jackie Chan, Ralph Macchio, Ben Wang, Joshua Jackson, Sadie Stanley, Ming Na-Wen, Aramis Knight, Wyatt Oleff, Shaunette Renée Wilson, Tim Rozon, Oscar Ge
Running Time: 94 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★)  

Coming off the recent conclusion of Netflix's enormously successful Cobra Kai, you'd see why greenlighting a new Karate Kid spin-off feature would be too great a temptation to resist, enabling the filmmakers to ride that series' coattails while laying the groundwork for what's next in the Miyagi-Verse. Except the challenge facing Karate Kid: Legends isn't just the unenviable task of following a franchise defining show, but the lingering nostalgia of an original trilogy that hangs over its head. 

After trailers and commercials heavily hinted at an effort more closely resembling 2010's reviled remake starring Jaden Smith and Jackie Chan (who returns here), we knew this wouldn't be easy. That's why director Jonathan Entwistle deserves a lot of credit for delivering an effective underdog story that holds its own, standing independently from what's preceded it. Of course, that doesn't mean it isn't still trying to fit into the overall mythology and serve a few masters at once, namely Mr. Myagi. Or at least his teachings, which continues to provide the foundation on which this entire saga is built. 

It's 1985 when Mr. Myagi explains the connection between his family and the Hans to young pupil Daniel LaRusso before we flash to present day and meet teenager Li Fong (Ben Wang). While studying kung fu in Beijing under the tutelage of his great uncle and wuguan master Mr. Han (Chan), Li's physician mother (Ming-Na Wen) reveals they're moving to New York City where she's accepted a new job. Before leaving, she reiterates her objections to Li practicing martial arts, a decision stemming from the tragic murder of his older brother Bo (Oscar Ge) following a tournament.

Upon arriving in the city, Li struggles to adjust at school before meeting classmate Mia Lipani (Sadie Stanley), the daughter of Victor (Joshua Jackson), a former boxing champion who owns the local pizzeria. Unfortunately, he also owes money to loan shark O' Shea (Tim Rozon), who runs the Demolition Dojo where Mia's ex-boyfriend and defending Five Boroughs karate champion Conor Day (Aramis Knight) trains. None too happy about Mia's new relationship, Conor targets Li, prompting the teen to break the promise to his mom and enter the tournament. But he'll need help from Han, who recruits a reluctant Daniel (Macchio) to teach the boy karate in only a week.

It comes as a relief that Ron Lieber's script doesn't exactly repeat the formula of what came before, or at least when it does, takes enough narrative detours to keep it fresh. Rather than depicting Li as a weakling being shoved into lockers or getting his head flushed down the toilet, he's an experienced fighter more than capable of defending himself. This isn't just a welcome show of restraint, but a display of trust that Wang's likability will win us over, which it almost immediately does. The real issue revolves around him facing a bigger, stronger and more experienced opponent he'll need additional training to defeat. 

Li's mom isn't portrayed as some nagging shrew, but a strict, loving parent whose reasons for forbidding her son to fight are justified based on what they've endured. It's apparent Li's own guilt and sadness over his brother's death fuels that urge to compete, even as memories of it frequently freeze him with fear at the worst possible moments. And while Li's and Mia's burgeoning romance is sweet and well handled with Sadie Stanley lighting up the screen, it's actually the bond he forms with her dad Victor that steals the movie. 

The dynamic between Li and Victor recalls that of Johnny and Miguel in Cobra Kai, only now with the teen in a mentor role as he trains washed up boxer Victor for a return to the ring to save his pizzeria. And Jackson's terrific as this somewhat cocky, overprotective dad in way over his head, prepared to put it all on the line for his daughter and business. There's definitely a lot of Johnny in Victor, with the chief difference being that he's a bit more willing to admit fault and accept help, however it comes.  

When the story takes a turn, Li prepares for his own battle, as two senseis with opposing methods have to co-exist if he's to have any chance against the ruthless Conor, who Aramis Knight does almost too good a job playing. Channeling a young Terry Silver, he comes across as such a psycho that Sadie brushing off her relationship with him as a minor, immature mistake is a bit of a head scratcher. Either way, this gets right what the 2010 remake didn't in making the characters an appropriate age for the story being told and transporting the action to New York, regardless of the fact it clearly wasn't shot there.  

Though Macchio and Chan's presence is welcome, there's a slight drop-off in quality when they enter the mix. But most of that can be attributed to an onslaught of musically backed training montages, comedic bickering and some frenetic editing choices from Entwistle. There are also distracting graphics that appear over the action during the somewhat rushed Five Boroughs tourney. Thankfully, that's discarded before an exciting, well shot final fight and a clever post-credits scene no fan will object to. 

While the Myagi-inspired concept of "two branches, one tree" lays at the heart of this installment, Legends works better when focusing on what's new rather than the franchise's mandated iconography. This could be why the first half plays better, immediately quelling fears it would clumsily retrace the blueprint of previous films. Instead, it's a solid entry that subverts expectations by proving legacy characters don't have to carry every story on their own. 

Mickey 17

Director: Bong Joon Ho
Starring: Robert Pattinson, Naomi Ackie, Steven Yeun, Patsy Ferran, Cameron Britton, Daniel Henshall, Stephen Park, Anamaria Vartolomei, Toni Collette, Mark Ruffalo, Holiday Grainger
Running Time: 137 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★) 

Sometimes a movie just lands with a thud, any initial curiosity factor wearing off as it fades into obscurity following its release. And while flopping at the box office isn't a new phenomenon, the turnaround has gotten progressively faster, with even high quality projects struggling to find a foothold. But when it's a film from the Oscar winning director of one of the more popular and deserving Best Picture winners in years, that's bigger news. Especially since Bong Joon Ho's unfairly overlooked sci-fi satire Mickey 17 seems like the kind of visionary achievement audiences would get behind. 

That mainstream moviegoers passed on it could be viewed as a compliment, or at least proof Bong can still paint on a canvas this large without sacrificing the uniqueness and complexity he brought to his previous work. Based on Edward Ashton's 2022 novel Mickey7, the filmmaker's highly anticipated follow up to Parasite throws a lot at the wall, but much of its philosophical absurdity sticks, with some of its better elements recalling Star Wars, Catch-22, Brazil and Southland Tales. But as chaotic and trippy as this ride is, it never feels disjointed or patched together, its few flaws resulting from a lengthy, overambitious final act that still manages to succeed on its own terms. 

It's 2050 and an awkward, down-on-his luck Mickey Barnes (Robert Pattinson) and his friend Timo (Steven Yeun) find themselves at the mercy of a murderous loan shark who vows to travel the ends of the Earth to exact revenge. So their solution is to leave the planet, joining a shuttle expedition spearheaded by slimy, ex-politician Kenneth Marshall (Mark Ruffalo) and his wife Ylfa (Toni Collette). While Timo becomes a pilot, Mickey volunteers as an "Expendable," sacrificing his life in treacherous jobs, only to be continuously cloned in a reprinting machine to do it all again, memory intact. 

During Mickey's four year trip, he develops a romance with security officer Nasha (Naomie Ackie) as the crew eventually arrive on ice-planet Niflheim to prepare for colonization. But when Mickey's seventeenth incarnation is sent out to capture a native life form known as a "Creeper" for testing, he survives, returning to discover a Mickey 18 has already replaced him. Violating Marshall's rules against "Multiples," Mickey 17 forms a strained alliance with his wilder, more aggressive doppelganger so both can avoid permanent extermination.  

As the colony's guinea pig and literal crash test dummy, an impressionable Mickey begins his journey believing he's escaped the turmoil and oppression on Earth to serve a greater purpose with this assignment. Instead, he'll discover the hand he's been dealt is far worse, occupying the bottom rung of a cruel caste system wherein he's sacrificed to the whims of Marshall's insatiable greed.

Hauled up in claustrophobic living quarters and regularly fed slop for meals, Mickey's been manipulated into accepting his lot without a second thought, much like the rest of the lower class. In a society ruled by an oafish king there's no room for individual thought or resistance, at least until an unexpected turn of events challenges that. An easy target for those who wish to mock him, even Mickey's one supposed friend is indifferent to his suffering, which is creatively depicted in a darkly humorous montage that ends with his latest version being spit out of a giant printer. 

Resigned to the physical and emotional trauma of each demise, Mickey consoles himself with the fact each demise isn't really the end. But in many ways it's worse in that he's a human science experiment, ogled at with a mixture of pity and callous curiosity by his peers. The lone exception is his no-nonsense, resourceful girlfriend Nasha, who sticks by whichever version of him she gets next. 

When number 17 doesn't perish as expected, his interactions with the cynical and rebellious 18 results in crazy, often hilarious shenanigans involving recreational drugs and a compellingly complicated love quadrangle involving Nasha and fellow security agent Kai (Anamaria Vartolomei). There's also an incredible scene where Marshall invites Mickey to a dinner that's not only emblematic of the film's themes, but a turning point for him in truly comprehending his place in this zealot's capitalistic food chain. And since it takes the power of the masses to rise up against tyrannical oppression, much of the third act involves that battle to thwart the clownish dictator's dominance.

Adopting a strangely high-pitched voice, unkempt hair and shy, clumsy body language, the versatile Pattinson is astonishing as this odd outcast we can't help but root for. Carefully skirting the line between comedy and drama, he hits all the right notes in giving what has to be the most intriguing turn of his career. Naomi Ackie is a force as Nasha, injecting heart, loyalty and determination into an unresistant character willing to do anything for Mickey, even if it means jeopardizing her own life. A far less loyal Timo is played to squirrely, double crossing perfection by Yeun while Vartolomei impresses as the good hearted but compliant Kai, torn between her feelings for Mickey and an allegiance to the system. 

Ruffalo's brilliantly off-the-wall performance as this failed politician turned smarmy authoritarian is a riot, with the actor very clearly incorporating Trump-like mannerisms into Marshall's personality and demeanor. Under normal circumstances that could come across as a stunt, but in this sociopolitical farce, it completely works. And Ruffalo doesn't hold back, devouring every scene as this laughably incompetent man child who's just delusional enough to be dangerous. This idea is only bolstered by Marshall's bootlicking minions and conniving wife, portrayed with sarcastic flair by a devilish Collette.

The film's finale is bolstered by Fiona Crombie's production design and some surprisingly strong visual effects for the Creepers, who play an enormously important role in the central plot. Part sci-fi, part scathing social critique, Bong manages to create a wholly original universe that has us both laughing and cringing at the circumstances befalling our hapless, sympathetic hero. But what resonates most is Bong's timely examination of how unchecked technology gives those in power another dangerous tool to control the masses.                       

The Last Showgirl

Director: Gia Coppola

Starring:  Pamela Anderson, Kiernan Shipka, Brenda Song, Billie Lourd, Jason Schwartzman, Dave Bautista, Jamie Lee Curtis
Running Time: 89 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)   

Despite covering somewhat familiar thematic terrain, Gia Coppola's The Last Showgirl manages to stand out as the ideal acting vehicle for 90's pop culture icon Pamela Anderson. And while this casting provides a hook for viewers, it's really her surprisingly moving dramatic performance that leaves the biggest impression. In it, she plays a hopefully optimistic and carefree woman at a crossroads whose past mistakes resurface as she processes shattering news, prompting the reexamination of a life she always considered ideal.

While it's hard to avoid passing judgment on how misaligned this protagonist's priorities have been, she made those choices and begrudgingly defends them from the criticism of those closest to her. The film doesn't tap dance around that fact and neither does Anderson, subtly hinting the character's issues are  rooted in serious regret. Flawed but immensely likable, she pulls us in as we root for her to turn the corner and begin taking real steps toward making amends. 

57-year-old Vegas showgirl Shelly Gardner (Anderson) has been performing for thirty years in Le Razzle Dazzle, a French style revue co-starring younger co-stars Mary-Anne (Brenda Song) and Sue (Kiernan Shipka) and overseen by producer Eddie (Dave Bautista). But when he breaks the news the show's being permanently replaced in two weeks by a burlesque circus, Shelly's devastated. 

While Shelly's complaints about the circus's trashy content fails to land with Mary-Anne and Sue, she finds a sympathetic ear in best friend Annette (Jamie Lee Curtis), an ousted fellow showgirl now working as a cocktail waitress. Financially strapped and seeing few options for future employment, Shelly also struggles to connect with estranged adult daughter Hannah (Billie Lourd), a college senior and aspiring photographer resentful of her mom's absence growing up. Now as Shelly's world crumbles around her, she'll attempt a fresh start, as emotionally painful and challenging as that may be.

It's immediately clear that the women in the soon to be cancelled Le Razzle Dazzle form a small, tight knit family that's common for co-workers spending countless hours together. That's why describing their bond as dysfunctional isn't quite accurate, at least early on. You can tell from the first few scenes they personally and professionally support each other, with Shelly acting as kind of a surrogate mother to Mary-Anne and Sue, regardless of whether they want to admit it. 

With the curtain closing on this revue, we realize Shelly's orbiting a planet that's all her own, as none of her friends seem as heavily impacted by this as she. Much of this has to do with age, but there are other factors both within her control and beyond it that makes the upheaval so traumatizing. Mary-Anne and Sue will quickly land on their feet because they're young, a supposedly less replaceable Eddie already has a gig lined up and the blunt, gambling addicted Annette is done with it all, having been booted from the show years ago. 

Though each of these characters deeply care for Shelly, there is a certain rift that forms between them, especially when she's romanticizing Le Razzle Dazzle's importance. And never envisioning the need to do any other job, she unravels at the mere thought, a fear only compounded by her mistakes as an absent single parent. One of the film's more powerful moments comes when daughter Hannah finally gets to see the show but walks away disgusted her mom somehow chose this over her. 

The girls may look at the self rationalizing Shelly as a mentor, but a generational gap persists, particularly when Song's cynical Mary-Anne clashes with Shelly's rose colored idealism or when Shipka's Sue gets a taste of the aging performer's casual cruelty. Both actresses are really strong in smallish supporting roles, as is an unrecognizable Jamie Lee Curtis, who under garish orange spray tan and a hideous wig masks the pain beneath Annette's tough exterior. As Eddie, Bautista gives yet another quietly understated turn that finds his character delicately balancing the role of producer and ex-boyfriend, awkwardly attempting to help the only way he knows how. 

Any hesitation in framing this as Anderson's "comeback," probably stems from just how infrequently she's been tested before. A far cry from Baywatch or Barb Wire, you can easily draw parallels between this and Mickey Rourke's role in The Wrestler, with both containing elements that mirror the actors' own careers. The ending is ambiguously bittersweet since what follows remains entirely in the main character's hands.  But working from Kate Gersten's script, Coppola molds this into a hypnotizing character study anchored by Anderson's warmth and vulnerability. Like the title showgirl, she's been boxed in as a sex symbol for years, only to now see herself afforded an opportunity at changing that perception.                                         

Death of a Unicorn

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

★★½ (out of ★★★★)  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sinners

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

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)    

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Companion

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

★★★ (out of ★★★★)  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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