Roofman

Director: Derek Cianfrance
Starring: Channing Tatum, Kirsten Dunst, LaKeith Stanfield, Juno Temple, Peter Dinklage, Ben Mendelsohn, Uzo Aduba, Emory Cohen, Melonie Diaz, Molly Price, Lily Collias, Kennedy Moyer, Alissa Marie Pearson, Tony Revolori
Running Time: 126 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)   

In Derek Cianfrance's Roofman, we get a nostalgic glimpse inside a Toys "R" Us as it existed in the early to mid 2000's, filled with aisles of DVDs, video games and stuffed animals as far as the eye can see. And it's a safe bet even younger viewers unfamiliar with the store will still be equally amazed and perplexed by this unusual setting for a film. So it only stands to reason that the idea of actually living in one for six months would fulfill the wishes of a certain generation of kids who all identified with the company's philosophy of never growing up.

Unfortunately, that doesn't work as well as an adult, especially if you're scouring the shelves for junk food, relying on a Spider-Man sleeping bag for comfort and lacking a shower or any meaningful human contact. And there's nothing like being slapped with the harsh reality that even our most beloved stores employ incompetent managers handcuffed (or zip tied) by crippling corporate policies. While it beats being homeless, a wanted fugitive can't stay in one place for long, making this extremely likable protagonist's dilemma a sort of karmic comeuppance for years' worth of irreversible mistakes.

It's 1998 and divorced U.S. Army veteran Jeffrey Manchester (Tatum) is resented by ex-wife Talana (Melonie Diaz) and struggling to provide for his three kids, seemingly hitting a dead end in life. But after extracting the wrong message from a conversation with friend and former sergeant Steve's (LaKeith Stanfield), Jeffrey utilizes his military skills to rob multiple McDonald's restaurants by breaking through the roof overnight. Unusually apologetic and polite to the morning crew of employees, he garners national media attention as the "Roofman" before eventually being caught and sentenced to 45 years.

Seamlessly escaping prison in 2004, but with a manhunt underway, Jeffrey finds refuge inside a Charlotte Toys "R" Us, disabling security cameras, ransacking shelves for candy and finding an inconspicuous spot to sleep. After noticing employee and single mom Leigh (Kirsten Dunst) having problems with inflexible store manager Mitch (Peter Dinklage), he secretly intervenes before stealing toys for her church's toy drive. Dating Leigh under the guise of New Yorker "John Zoran" he even connects with her daughters Lindsay (Lily Collias) and Dee (Kennedy Moyer). But the closer Jeffrey gets, the more likely he's caught, ending this relationship for good.      

The real kicker is how Jeffrey doesn't exactly fit the profile of your typical armed robber, even when he superficially seems to. He's failed as a husband, fears he's disappointing his kids and probably has a story similar to other incarcerated individuals who took up crime as a last resort. But the key difference lies in how acutely aware he is of his shortcomings, never losing the desire to prove he's someone his family can rely on. 

Even clad in black clothes and a ski mask, Jeffrey's guilty conscience betrays him by how well he treats his petrified McDonald's hostages. And when the police do catch up with him, all he can think about in prison is getting out, naively hanging on to the hope he can just return home and start over, despite his young daughter watching him get tackled and arrested on her birthday. And it's that motivation pushing him to orchestrate a prison break smooth enough for The Shawshank Redemption's Andy Dufresne to wonder where he went wrong. 

Some of the most entertaining scenes involve Jeffrey's tricks to avoid detection inside the Toys "R" Us, at least for a while. He even starts to have fun, until the temptation to get involved becomes too great, unconventionally affording him a second chance built on one giant lie. But his feelings for Leigh and her kids are genuine, even as he continues to put them in danger, hoping they won't get hurt when the fallout comes. 

In one of the best performances of his career, Tatum plays to his understated everyman strengths, projecting a charm and harmless sincerity that immediately puts viewers in the palm of his hand as he  juggles lightweight comedy with more emotional drama. While we understand why strangers would embrace this guy without question, Tatum's biggest feat is in getting us to empathize with Jeffrey regardless of his criminal indiscretions. We dread his eventual capture not for the consequences he'll inevitably face, but all that lost potential.

Sharing an effortless chemistry with Tatum, Dunst completely gives herself over as the trusting, feisty Leigh, who's trying to recover from her own failed marriage, if only for the sake of her two daughters, the eldest of which couldn't be moodier. For Leigh, "John" is too good to be true, mostly because she's only seen what he's shown her, however real those feelings are. As Mitch, Dinklage gives one of the more eerily accurate portrayals of a prickly retail manager, right down to his sarcastic asides and passive-aggressive criticisms. It's kind of scary just how well he nails this character, who only shows his true vulnerabilities when the going gets tough. 

Nearly every sub-plot works, whether it's Jeffrey's interactions at the church, his wild attempts to bond with Leigh's daughters or a side story involving hapless Toys "R" Us employee Otis' (Emory Cohen) inability to stand up for himself. If there's a head scratching character, it's Stanfield's Steve, who's constantly passing judgment on his friend, which would fine if he wasn't hypocritically running a criminal enterprise himself. Even worse, all his advice only leads to more trouble for Jeffrey and a coincidentally huge bill for help. 

All of this can only end one way, with Jeffrey pulling off a final heist to earn the kind of freedom he's not sure he wants or deserves. It also brings him face-to-face with some of the messier consequences his choices cause, as Cianfrance and co-writer Kirt Gunn flip this unbelievably true story on its head to mine thematic gold. But much of that can be attributed to Tatum, who has us rooting for his affable character to somehow turn things around, as increasingly unlikely as that may seem.                                       

Dexter: Resurrection (Season 1)

Creator: Clyde Phillips
Starring: Michael C. Hall, Uma Thurman, Jack Alcott, David Zayas, Ntare Guma Mbaho Mwine, Kadia Saraf, Dominic Fumusa, Emilia Suárez, James Remar, Peter Dinklage, Eric Stonestreet, Steve Schirripa, John Lithgow, Erik King, Jimmy Smits, Marc Menchaca, C.S. Lee, Desmond Harrington, Neil Patrick Harris, Krysten Ritter, David Dastmalchian, Christian Camargo
Original Airdate: 2025

**The Following Review Contains Major Plot Spoilers**

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Having last seen former Miami Metro forensics expert and vigilante killer Dexter Morgan lying lifeless in the snow after being shot by his own son, the anti-hero got about as conclusive a finish as we've seen since Walter White's demise in Breaking Bad. But in one of the more shocking TV developments in recent years, Dexter returns with its best iteration yet after seemingly concluding for good after 2022's underappreciated New Blood finale. 

For those still upset how the original series signed off in 2013, that ending should have been their antidote, as Dexter's crimes weren't only exposed, but he accepted his fate, willingly facing consequences at the hands of the person he hurt most. Instead, fans proved they're still tough to please, even when given what they've claimed to want all along. But no matter how anyone feels about creator and showrunner Clyde Phillips' creative decisions, the announcement of three new impending Dexter shows (including the now cancelled prequel Original Sin) prompted justifiable skepticism.  

The idea of picking up where New Blood left off may have caused jaws to drop, but whatever ideas remained from its hypothetical second season now morphs into the brilliant Dexter: Resurrection, which isn't just a huge departure from the formula, but sets a new bar for the franchise as a whole. Armed with a fresh setting, top notch writing and acting, a dream cast and possibly its most potent villain yet, these ten thrilling episodes find a physically and psychologically spent Dexter at the end of his rope. Reckoning with his past while facing the reality he's brought more harm than good to those closest to him, he'll try not to squander a second chance at being the father he couldn't before. 

This is a different, more determined Dexter, intent on controlling his dark side to protect the only person who still matters. But after finding a safe space where his worst impulses are accepted and encouraged, he finds dangerous strings attached, just as a familiar face from his past reemerges to take him down. Full of mind blowing developments, this season finds the show firing on all cylinders, finally giving fans something they can unanimously agree on. 

Dexter Morgan (Michael C. Hall) has awakened from a ten week coma after suffering a near-fatal gunshot wound at the hands of his son Harrison (Jack Alcott), who's since fled Iron Lake for New York City. Still believing his father died, he works as a bellhop at the Empire Hotel while Dexter continues to recover. But when Harrison snaps, killing a sexual predator to prevent the rape of a hotel guest, the crime immediately grabs the attention of meticulously wired NYPD homicide detective Claudette Wallace (Kadia Saraf) and her skeptical partner Oliva (Dominic Fumusa). 

Upon hearing of the killer's familiar body disposal method, Dexter heads to NYC to help Harrison. Unfortunately, former Miami Metro police captain, colleague and friend Angel Batista (David Zayas) trails behind, more determined than ever to prove Dexter's guilt. But as deceased adoptive father Harry (James Remar) reappearing as his inner consciousness, Dexter watches Harrison from afar, forging a friendship with kindly rideshare driver and new landlord Blessing (Ntare Guma Mbaho Mwine). 

It's only when serial killer Ron "Red" Schmidt (Marc Menchaca) is branded with Dexter's own "Dark Passenger" moniker for murdering the city's drivers that his vengeful yearnings take hold, leading him to a secret society of serial killers funded by billionaire philanthropist Leon Prater (Peter Dinklage). But as Batista closes in on Dexter, an impressed Prater takes a real liking to his newest recruit, despite suspicions from icy, loyal head of security Charley (Uma Thurman). Now Dexter not only needs to protect his cover, but also Harrison, who he's on the cusp of reconnecting with. 

You'd figure it would be impossible to explain away Dexter surviving that apparently fatal gunshot wound at the end of New Blood, but the writers cleverly manage to do this logically. And while there are still minor plot holes, it's surprising just how cleverly they account for him not being booked on murder charges, clearing the table for a next crucial chapter. 

As Dexter fights for his life, some of the show's most pivotal figures reappear to him in a vision, offering valuable insight into his past and potential future. It plays as kind of a series highlight reel, with John Lithgow's Trinity Killer, Jimmy Smits' Miguel Prado and even Erik King's Sgt. Doakes returning to remind him that Harrison needs his best. Of course, the most important voice occupying Dexter's mind is his Dark Passenger, conveyed through the hallucinatory presence of late father Harry. 

Remar's role as Harry only gains greater significance after seeing how Christian Slater's take on the elder Morgan in Original Sin shed additional light on the impetus of he and Dexter's complicated bond. And it's also why this season functions as a closer companion to the prequel than original series, with the two trading barbs back-and-forth throughout. Ghost Harry may be hilariously sarcastic and disapproving, but Dexter gives it right back as he expresses serious hesitancy at the notion of reentering Harrison's life.

Moonlighting as a rideshare driver shortly after arriving in NYC, an emotionally paralyzed Dexter knows Harrison needs help but has no idea how to approach a son who still thinks he killed him. And while Jack Alcott impressed in New Blood, many didn't count on him getting the chance to reprise this role again, much less add so many new wrinkles to a character who's endured a lot. 

Though Dexter and Harry are both responsible for the deaths of their son's mothers, Harrison isn't necessarily destined to follow in their flawed footsteps despite also being "born in blood." Like Dexter, Harrison has the ability to fit in anywhere, finding a job and a place to temporarily crash, even managing to easily make friends without the social awkwardness that defines his dad. Where he differs is in feeling remorse for a crime committed not out of an uncontrollable urge, but a desire to help someone. It's his very fear of becoming Dexter that stands as the most conclusive proof he isn't.  

Harrison just goes too far in the moment, recognizing this in a self reflective way Dexter never could when his reckless behavior harmed those he loved most, like Rita and Deb. It's a moral distinction that more closely aligns Harrison with his late mom than a dad who continues to view himself as a "Dark Avenger." In actuality, he'd be better off taking lessons on being a superhero from his own son. 

Much of Harrison's story revolves around Dexter realizing he can't be the father Harry was for him since the youngest Morgan lacks that Dark Passenger gene. The kid just needs his dad, which doesn't mean Harrison isn't still shaped by Dexter's past, whether he's being drawn to rescuing co-worker and single mom Elsa (Emilia Suárez) or potentially pursuing a career in law enforcement. 

True to his character, Harrison's also a bad liar who finds himself in the crosshairs of neurodivergent, Bee Gee's loving homicide detective Wallace. Fittingly played by Law and Order alum Saraf as the smartest, most observant cop either Morgan could encounter, she quickly puts the pieces together, zeroing in on the nervous bellhop as her prime suspect. Watching Harrison clumsily try to cover his tracks before stammering under the pressure of Wallace's questioning, we're reminded of young Dexter's mistakes in Original Sin, minus the eager enthusiasm. 

Harrison hates himself for pulling the trigger, but also despises his dad for asking him to, even as Dexter rightly accepts the blame. It won't be until he saves his son from a growing mountain of circumstantial evidence that the ice between them starts thawing. But while everyone's new favorite UrCar driver shows promising signs of selflessness in his conversations with Harrison and bond with Blessing and his family, the darkness persists. Having already eliminated Dark Passenger knock-off Red, Dexter can't pass on joining an exclusive serial killers club, regardless of whether he was officially invited. And though his best lies always contain an abundance of truth, he's really playing with fire this time. 

Surreal as it is to see Uma Thurman in the Dexter universe, her introductory scene goes quite a distance in establishing the badass Charley as a cold, calculated fixer who doesn't suffer fools. Clad in tactical gear, she slyly maneuvers herself into Red's apartment, leaving the gift and dinner invitation Dexter claims as his own, making it that much easier to speculate just how dangerous her boss is. 

While Dinklage's Leon Prater is a serious threat, he's not your usual Dexter adversary, giving the newest member of his secret society an enthusiastically warm welcome. But with each word, expression and mannerism, Dinklage subtly hints at a god complex bubbling beneath, suggesting much more to this wealthy collector with a mysterious past. 

Dexter may be Prater's latest prize, but he's hardly the first, as confirmed by a trophy room filled with personally obtained effects and evidence from infamous serial killers such as John Wayne Gacy, Ted Bundy, Son of Sam, Jeffrey Dahmer and the fictitious "New York Ripper" Detective Wallace has devoted her career to catching. 

Of course, that elaborate display that wouldn't be complete without souvenirs from Trinity, Dexter's Ice Truck Killer brother Brian Moser (Christian Camargo) and the legendary Bay Harbor Butcher, who Prater has now unknowingly let into his inner sanctum.

The reveal of this vault might be the season's creepiest scene but what stands out more is Dexter's reaction to seeing his infamous blood slides or the gurney on which he ended Brian's life. And any lie he tells as Red reveals more than a bit of truth about himself, his mask dropping at many points, much to the delight of a giddy, starstruck Prater. 

Joining Dinklage and Thurman is a stacked supporting ensemble comprising of Krysten Ritter, David Dastmalchian, Neil Patrick Harris and Eric Stonestreet as the various killers, each of whom have their own twisted methodology. Ritter's "Lady Vengeance" and Dastmalchian's "Gemini" leave the largest impressions, not just due to their chilling performances, but how their characters are written and played to reflect different aspects of Dexter, who adheres to a code neither could possibly understand or abide by. 

All of these members have a loose, preconceived sets of rules, but they're really no different than Dexter's many other cold blooded victims, regardless of how closely their past traumas resemble his. With Ritter's Mia, it's a dysfunctional family history while Dastmalchian's Gareth dredges up Dexter's unresolved baggage with his own brother. 

Despite her penchant for offing sexual predators, Mia isn't the heroic vigilante the media or Dexter assumed, even if she still proves valuable in his quest to protect Harrison. Unsure whether to befriend or murder these killers, Dexter treads carefully at first, calculating the risk of everyone disappearing immediately after he's joined the group. 

Impressed and deliriously pleased by his newest recruit, we get the impression serial killer fanboy Prater might be ecstatic after uncovering Dexter's true identity, especially since most everything else Dexter reveals about his tortured soul is true. And the more we learn about Prater's Bruce Wayne-like backstory, the clearer it becomes why he's so intrigued by his favorite pupil's unusual "share" with the group. 

But whatever childhood commonalities he may share with Dexter, Prater thrives on manipulation and control, getting his kicks from others needing him to survive. Expertly conveying both sides of this meglomaniac, an Emmy-worthy Dinklage inhabits a greedy monster who wields superficial generosity as a weapon, his wealth merely a means to own people for personal amusement. 

While Prater exhibits uncontainable excitement at the members' various kills and methods, Charley acts as his loyal soldier, particularly suspicious of Dexter from day one. But even her allegiance to the boss extends only so far as we gradually learn the true nature of their arrangement, leading to some intense, vulnerable work from Thurman in the home stretch. 

With Batista continuing to close in on a united Dexter and Harrison, it's only a matter of time before it all lands on Prater's lap. If Dexter fails again in keeping Harrison safe, much of that can be traced to his own past haunting him in the form of Batista. Now that the co-worker and friend he bonded with for over twenty years knows he's the  Bay Harbor Butcher, every Batista memory is tainted by the totality of Dexter's crimes. Most especially the deaths of ex-wife Maria and Sgt. Doakes.

All of this provides David Zayas with the chance to play an obsessive, unhinged version of his beloved character who'll stop at nothing for justice, despite being recently retired. The problem lies in him having only vaguely circumstantial evidence of Dexter's guilt,along with the fact he's impersonating an active law enforcement officer. 

While we know Batista's right about everything, it's understandable why he'd start looking like a crazed madman to Wallace or just about anyone else, including promoted former colleague and friend Lieutenant Quinn (a returning Desmond Harrington).  

Though Batista's attempt to catch the Butcher in action backfires spectacularly and destroys his case, Dexter's respect for him doesn't waver. His warnings to back off aren't threats, but pleas, knowing it always ends badly for those who choose this path. And that's exactly what happens to Batista once he meets Prater, who's predictably wowed to be in the same room as the notorious Bay Harbor Butcher. Only we know Dexter could never bring himself to kill Batista, or at least not for the sole purpose of indulging Prater's sick thrills. 

It's ultimately Batista's hatred and sense of justice that consumes him, angrily sacrificing his own life to destroy Dexter, who underestimated just how much pain and damage he caused. Even without literally killing Deb, Maria, Doakes or Rita, he remains unquestionably responsible for their deaths, causing any apologies to ring hollow. 

Dexter probably knew Batista aligning with him was a long shot, and unlike in his earlier fallout with Blessing, doesn't receive the forgiveness he genuinely seeks. So hurt and rattled by Batista's dying words, all he can do now is let out an anguished, primal scream.

Dexter's relationship with Harrison is the one he ends up salvaging, simply by being somewhat transparent and accepting that his son isn't him. Prater's machinations seal his own fate once Charley realizes she's also had enough, paving the way for Dexter to deny him a dignity even his most depraved victims receive. Categorizing Prater as irrelevant and unmemorable, Dexter uses the puppet master's own words against him, spitefully foregoing the minimal attention a blood slide could provide.  

Where this resembles the original series is in a lack of cliffhangers or loose ends, with the book closing until a new season, whether that's in NYC or possibly somewhere else. Just about the only lingering thread is the question of Batista's body being found in the vault, which glaringly links Dexter and Prater. It'll be interesting to see if this raises any red flags, assuming the writers choose to go there. 

The closing image of Dexter on a yacht as he disposes of Prater is the scene we didn't know we needed, calling back to his days in Miami. And with unfortunate cancellation of Original Sin, it might be the closest we'll get, at least for now. With Dexter wrestling with the reality of who he is, this season was all about Harrison helping him learn how to better control and accept it. And while we all know Michael C. Hall's versatile enough to tackle any other project right now, this showcased exactly why he shouldn't. Much like the actor who plays him, Dexter's back where he belongs, even if it'll be an excruciating wait to see what comes next.                                                                                                                          

Wicked

Director: Jon M. Chu
Starring: Cynthia Erivo, Ariana Grande, Jonathan Bailey, Ethan Slater, Bowen Yang, Peter Dinklage, Michelle Yeoh, Jeff Goldblum, Marissa Bode, Andy Nyman, Courtney Mae-Briggs, Keala Settle
Running Time: 160 min.
Rating: PG

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★) 

While the feature adaptation of Wicked reaps all the benefits of having a Tony Award-winning musical as its blueprint, just a glance at how many other equally successful productions failed on the big screen indicated it could be an uphill climb director Jon M. Chu. Part of this stems from The Wizard of Oz being such a respected property that remakes, reboots, and prequels are rarely attempted, even in an era where everything's fair game. 

With his wildly popular 1995 novel, author Gregory Mcguire managed to clear one of the biggest hurdles by writing a speculative origin story that functioned more as a companion piece to L. Frank Baum's books and the classic 1939 film, making it ripe material for the stage. So to pull this off, Chu would need to balance all the spectacle with heavier political themes that aren't often found in family entertainment. And yet against those odds he somehow conjures the ideal tone to deliver one of the genre's better efforts in years, disproving the theory that Hollywood can't seem to get musicals right anymore.

In the Land of Oz, citizens of Munchkinland celebrate the Wicked Witch of the West's death as Glinda The Good (Ariana Grande) tells them of the friendship she shared with the Witch, Elphaba Thropp (Cynthia Erivo) while both attended Shiz University. Shunned at birth by father Governor Thropp (Andy Nyman) due to her green skin and magical abilities, Elphaba will accompany paraplegic younger sister Nessarose (Marissa Bode) to Shiz. But her uncontrollable powers lead Dean of Sorcery Madame Morrible (Michelle Yeoh) to take notice, enrolling and privately mentoring her at the school. 

Immediately ostracized by fellow students, Elphaba's forced to board with perky, self absorbed Glinda, who couldn't be more her opposite. The two constantly clash while Elphaba fights for the rights of Dr. Dillamond (voiced by Peter Dinklage), a talking goat facing discrimination as one of the last remaining animal professors. With the arrival of rebellious prince Fiyero Tigelaar (Jonathan Bailey) leaving Glinda smitten, she and Elphaba surprisingly start to forge a bond. But when the Wizard (Jeff Goldblum) hears of the latter's skills, the pair's trip to meet him at the Emerald City changes everything.

A heavy emphasis is placed on the prejudice green skinned Elphaba faces from basically everyone, though some more blatantly than others. Between her peers' inability to look beyond appearance and the frustration she feels toward her own unloving father, we assume she'll soon be on the Yellow Brick Road to evil. But it's more complicated than that, with some turns in Winnie Holzman and Dana Fox's script that establish this as more of a story about injustice and oppression. In this case, what's right just so happens to be whatever the majority decides, which is bad news for Elphaba, who can only make temporary progress in challenging that. 

Madame Morrible is the first to recognize that Elphaba's otherness doesn't make her a freak, but a prodigy whose powers can be properly channeled to make a difference in Oz, whatever that might entail. And while the universally admired Glinda initially attempts to befriend Elphaba in the emptiest, showiest manner possible, a surprising development occurs that sees these mismatched personalities click, resulting in the film's most audacious musical number, "Popular." Dealing with the awesome responsibility of her powers, Elphaba's elated by the acceptance that comes from this new friendship with Glinda, even if it's compromised by her growing feelings for Fiyero.

Elphaba's path from disrespected social outcast to the Land of Oz's greatest hope is full of all sorts of emotional detours that Erivo fills through these musical numbers and the smaller moments in between. At one point Glinda pushes back on the notion Elphaba doesn't care what people think, correctly assessing that she definitely does, but chooses to hide it. That's also an accurate a description of what Erivo brings to a character who's struggling every minute to contain her resentment. 

Grande's comic timing, facial expressions and delivery are a delight in channeling this prissy do- gooder who falls somewhere between Legally Blonde's Elle Woods and a Kewpie doll, Unpeeling the layers of an initially superficial character, Grande makes Glinda likably endearing even at her most selfish, and especially when she goes against the grain to help her new friend, guiding everyone else to follow. Unfortunately, this victory is short-lived once the pair arrive in the Emerald City to meet the all powerful Wizard, eccentrically played by a brilliant Jeff Goldblum.

With at least another installment left to go, the big reveal gives both diehards and those unfamiliar with the musical a fascinating lens through which to view Oz, stretching preconceived notions of these iconic characters. With citizens gaslighted into compliance by an authoritarian regime, a scapegoated Elphaba is again forced to fight the system, "defying gravity" in more ways than one. Glinda faces no such pushback, blessed with the popularity to blind and insulate her from this fascist fallout for reasons not yet completely clear.

Insanely catchy songs, elaborate production and costume design,and two revelatory performances negate any drawback to reaching the end of a nearly three hour film before being told to stay tuned. Wicked's messaging isn't subtle but shouldn't be since it springs from material that strikes a sharper chord now than when the Broadway musical premiered in 2003. But more importantly, it works as a fun, intriguing adventure by subverting all expectations of what a fantasy can be. 

Unfrosted

Director: Jerry Seinfeld
Starring: Jerry Seinfeld, Melissa McCarthy, Jim Gaffigan, Max Greenfield, Hugh Grant, Amy Schumer, Peter Dinklage, Christian Slater, Bill Burr, Dan Levy, James Marsden, Jack McBrayer, Thomas Lennon, Bobby Moynihan, Adrian Martinez, Sarah Cooper, Mikey Day, Kyle Mooney, Drew Tarver, Tony Hale, Felix Solis, Maria Bakalova, Dean Norris, Kyle Dunnigan, Sebastian Maniscalco, Cedric the Entertainer, Fred Armisen, Jon Hamm, John Slattery, Andy Daly
Running Time: 93 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

While it's almost impossible to believe it took Jerry Seinfeld until now to write, star in and direct his own feature film, he gives us Unfrosted, a comedy about the creation of Pop-Tarts. And in doing it he's unfortunately become sort of the critics' punching bag, as if attempting to tackle a biopic of America's most famous pastry treat were a crime.

Hardly anyone's typical dream project on paper, you can still see how the comedian famous for a "show about nothing" would be drawn to material this unapologetically silly. But even in falling considerably short of his TV benchmark, there's a refreshing simplicity to the premise that grows more humorous and absurd with each passing development.

In spinning nonfictional details into his own goofy version of events, Seinfeld even bookends the movie with a scene that shows him doing exactly that. Though the biggest surprise is how he's practically an afterthought amidst a packed cast of big name comedy stars. Anchored by vibrant, colorfully retro production design and some standout supporting turns, he actually does a lot right in his first outing behind the camera, or at least more than he's gotten credit for. 

After encountering  a young runaway ordering Pop-Tarts at a diner, Kellogg's head of development, Bob Cardona (Seinfeld) tells him the true story of how America's favorite breakfast snack came to be. It's 1963 when CEO Edsel Kellogg (Jim Gaffigan) and his corporate rival and ex-lover Marjorie Post (Amy Schumer) fight for brand supremacy in Battle Creek, Michigan, with Kellogg's again sweeping all competition at the annual Bowl and Spoon Awards. With Edsel basking in victory, Bob accidentally discovers that Marjorie's team is working on a new product initially created by his former colleague Donna "Stan" Stankowski (Melissa McCarthy).

As the conniving Marjorie makes plans to develop this treat and launch it into stores, Bob and Edsel bring Stan back to Kellogg's to help develop their own version, recruiting eccentric business innovators Jack LaLanne (James Marsden), Steve Schwinn (Jack McBrayer), Harold von Braunhut (Thomas Lennon), Chef Boy Ardee (Bobby Moynihan) and Tom Carvel (Adrian Martinez) to serve as "taste pilots." With both companies' tactics getting uglier and the feud soon carrying political ramifications, this big showdown will ultimately be decided by hungry customers when both products hit supermarket shelves.

Most of the pleasure comes in these speculative sub-plots involving real life public figures, some of whom probably had only tangential involvement in the actual founding of Pop-Tarts. But working with morsels of truth and a few obscure facts, co-writer Seinfeld is smart enough to know a script about the discovery of this famous treat will have to take extensive liberties in order to entertain. 

Under normal circumstances, the mere suggestion this material is even loosely based on historical events would induce groans, but Seinfeld's pretty upfront with what he's trying to do. It's an ongoing a game of "spot the star" until the wacky origin story kicks in and these cameos start taking shape, with many well known comic actors proving their worth with the screen time they're given. 

Whether it's Max Greenfield's hapless, abused Post assistant, Christian Slater's diabolical milkman, Bill Burr as JFK, or Kyle Dunnigan playing both Walter Kronkite and Johnny Carson, most of the appearances are cleverly incorporated into the narrative. And this doesn't even cover half of them, including a really memorable scene involving Jon Hamm and John Slattery as two very familiar fictional ad execs of the era. 

All this rests on Seinfeld's acting performance about as much as his sitcom did, which is to say not at all. Hardly known as a master thespian, he's rarely needed to be since the writing and supporting players always carried much of the load throughout that series. Now he's again playing the straight man who mugs for the camera and it works just fine, especially with McCarthy's timing and droll line deliveries selling even the corniest of jokes alongside an equally effective Gaffigan.

Amy Schumer also understands the assignment as Marjorie Post, losing herself in the film's hammiest, most over-the-top character. And you can't really come down too hard on any film featuring Hugh Grant as a snobby, disgruntled Shakespearean actor playing Tony the Tiger and leading a January 6th-like mascot mob through Kellogg's headquarters. Or a funeral where Snap, Crackle and Pop honor the deceased by pouring cereal and milk onto their casket. 

Much like recent product biopics Air, Tetris, The Beanie Bubble and Flamin' Hot, this does seem on the joke, taking twice as much creative license when reimagining material originally based on some semblance of reality. In this sense, the decidingly uncontroversial Seinfeld acquits himself well in a tough spot, delivering the type of fun, throwback comedy that's gone missing of late.