Review by Sean Boelman
After the success of their first Neil Gaiman adaptation, The Sandman, it only makes sense that Netflix would want to get all-in on the Gaiman business. Based on characters introduced in the aforementioned comics before being spun off into their own series, Dead Boy Detectives brings a flawed but fun macabre noir to the streaming service’s library that will surely be the next obsession of young subscribers everywhere.
Dead Boy Detectives follows two ghosts who decide not to enter the afterlife, opting instead to stay on Earth and investigate supernatural crimes. If you split the difference between a spookier Sherlock Holmes and a campier X-Files, that’s about where Dead Boy Detectives falls. It’s dark and mature enough to entertain adults but not so edgy as to be too much for a pre-teen/teen audience. (It is TV-MA for some f-bombs, but it’s pretty tame as far as streaming series go.) The show presents a series of interesting cases, and while some are more exciting than others, the duller episodes are nicely padded with other conflicts, like romance or an overarching supernatural threat. In this way, the show does an excellent job of capturing the anthology-esque nature of a comic adaptation while still giving us plenty to care about in the grand scheme of things. Of course, a series like this is only as good as its leads, and the actors who play the eponymous duo are tremendous discoveries. George Rexstrew is a complete newcomer, with only a short film credit to his name, and Jayden Revri has only a few more. However, they bring charm and confidence to their roles that would rival the young leads of any major franchise. They are funny, likable, and have excellent chemistry with one another.
This is also the rare show that doesn’t pad its supporting cast with big names to steal the show — a wise decision considering how talented Rexstrew and Revri are. The most recognizable recurring star is Lukas Gage, who’s admittedly delicious as one of the show’s secondary antagonists. But the rest of the ensemble, including Kassius Nelson, Yuyu Kitamura, and Michael Beach, among others, all do a great job of infusing personality into their characters.
However, this large ensemble is also where the show begins to falter. Ultimately, Dead Boy Detectives juggles too many storylines. Between the leading trio’s overall arcs, the individual cases, and the arcs of several characters they meet along the way (from the butcher that rents our heroes their space to their dealer of magical antiques), there’s so much happening in the story that it feels hyperactive within the confines of an eight-episode season. The series's below-the-line aspects also sometimes let it down. The world of any Neil Gaiman creation is incredibly rich, and show creator Steve Yockey and his staff of writers take some big swings with Dead Boy Detectives. Unfortunately, a few of those swings are held back by budget. Some of the set pieces have flagship-level ambition, but since this is the first season of an “untested” IP, they don’t get quite the scale they seemed to hope for, drawing viewers out of the world. Nevertheless, Dead Boy Detectives manages to be a genuinely good time throughout the entirety of its eight-episode run. It has its fair share of cheese, but its world is so vibrant that viewers will be clamoring to spend more time with these characters. Hopefully, this will inspire Netflix to put even more behind the next season and future Gaiman adaptations. Dead Boy Detectives is now streaming on Netflix. All eight episodes reviewed. Rating: 4/5
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Review by Sean Boelman
A movie with the pedigree of the Cronenberg name should really be making a bigger splash than Caitlin Cronenberg’s feature debut, Humane. Thus, with its relatively low-key release, it will come as little surprise to cinephiles that Humane is, frankly, not very good, suffering from wildly uneven writing by Michael Sparaga, who wastes the potential of his premise.
The film is set in a near future, where humanity is on the brink of a collapse due to an environmental catastrophe, and a program has begun where people can be voluntarily euthanized in exchange for a substantial payment to a beneficiary. A family finds itself at a difficult crossroads when their father announces he plans to enlist in the program. While this premise is incredibly intriguing, the novelty of the idea wears off after the first act, leading to a remaining two-thirds that’s extremely contrived — sometimes even laughably so. Although the antics are mostly entertaining, they’re so ridiculous that it’s hard to take the movie seriously. At a certain point, the lines between the intentional dark humor and the laughter it elicits from ham-fisted writing become indistinguishably blurred. Humane is the type of movie that wears its message on its sleeve. No audience member will walk away remotely confused about the film’s environmentalist and anti-capitalist messages. While this horror-tinged sci-fi premise could have been a thought-provoking way to explore these themes, Sparaga’s script seems far less interested in provoking thought in viewers than telling them how they should think and behave.
However, the main area where Sparaga’s script falters is that it does not give the audience any characters to care about. There have been plenty of satires about rich, unsympathetic a**holes that have worked quite well, but Humane does not join those ranks. The intention is clearly to remind the audience of our need to reconnect with our humanity by showing us characters who are so egregiously severed from it, but it’s hard to really resonate with this decision if you’re rooting for most of the characters to die.
Still, despite the utterly flat archetypes of characters they are given, the talented cast manages to make the most of their roles. Jay Baruchel and Emily Hampshire are both gleefully over the top, and Sebastian Chacon is the most grounded of the cast. However, it’s the supporting cast that shines the brightest. Peter Gallagher’s turn is utterly commanding, carrying the first act (that ends up being the strongest portion of the movie), and character actor Enrico Colantoni is the only reason viewers will remain invested in the back two-thirds. Apart from a few graphics — like fake newscasts and public service announcements — whose quality does begin to show the film’s budget, the below-the-line aspects of Humane are mostly solid. It’s not a particularly gruesome picture, with only a few short (but effective and impactful) bursts of violence. Instead, Cronenberg opts to build tension through claustrophobia and does so quite well within the confined setting. It’s a shame that Humane is Caitlin Cronenberg’s feature directorial debut because she’ll be blamed for many of the movie’s problems that really lie with Michael Sparaga’s script. It’s really not possible to tell if she has the same juice as her brother (or her father, for that matter) until she gets her hands on a better script. As for the movie itself, it’s torn down by tedium and heavy-handedness. Humane hits theaters on April 26. Rating: 2.5/5
Review by Sean Boelman
After his widely acclaimed Have a Nice Day made a splash there in 2017, animator Liu Jian returned to Berlinale with his third directorial outing, Art College 1994. Although there is much to admire about Liu’s artistic style, his latest outing is far too meandering in a narrative sense to appeal beyond an extremely niche core of cinephiles.
Inspired partly by the director’s own experiences, the film follows a group of art students on a Chinese art school campus in the mid-1990s as they wander through life in pursuit of purpose and the hope of creating something meaningful. As is often the case with semi-autobiographical movies, it feels like Liu really struggled to narrow down what the audience needs to see and what they won’t care about. From the moment it begins with a quote from James Joyce’s A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, it’s clear what level of pretension Art College 1994 is functioning on. It’s a movie about a bunch of kids talking about things that are well beyond their wisdom. If you are willing to suspend your disbelief that every conversation these art students have is some profound meditation on art or life, you might get something of value out of this. However, for most, this slice-of-life film will feel more like an impersonation of life than a capture of life. Because all of the characters in the movie are constantly regurgitating dialogue meant to be “deep,” there’s no variance in the ensemble. The characters all feel like vessels for the writers’ observations, lacking distinct personalities of their own. As a result, it’s difficult to buy into the friendship dynamic — the key element missing for the success of this as a hangout film.
Of course, as is the case with virtually every movie in the genre, the pacing of Art College 1994 is incredibly relaxed. The hour and fifty-odd minutes go down easy, even if they aren’t particularly challenging or entertaining. Shan Lin and Jian Liu’s script certainly has some moments that are charming or funny, but few are likely to stick with viewers after the film ends.
It also doesn’t help that the voice performances are incredibly monotonous. For most of the runtime, everyone in the movie speaks in a very cool, controlled voice. In a way, it makes sense, considering there’s not a ton of escalation in the conflict, but it doesn’t lend itself to a particularly engaging or cinematic watch. Indeed, the only aspect of Art College 1994 that is likely to make a big impression on viewers is the animation. The general character design and settings are fine, but the movie really shines when it replicates different art styles. As the characters explore different movements and styles of art, the film begins to incorporate some of these elements — whether through the work they are creating or entire sequences of the movie, infusing it with much-needed personality. Art College 1994 boasts some impressive animation, but its story and script are nowhere near as deep as they perceive themselves to be. Although it’s hardly a bad movie, and nothing is offensive or particularly off-putting about it, audiences are likelier to walk away from this film feeling indifferent than they are to be moved. Art College 1994 hits theaters on April 26. Rating: 2.5/5 Review by Daniel Lima Those unfortunate souls suffering through the aggravating throes of insomnia need suffer no more; Dancing Village: The Curse Begins is here to cure you. An Indonesian horror prequel helmed by Kimo Stamboel (half of the Mo Brothers directing duo with Timo Tjahjanto), this follows in the ignoble tradition of both the director’s previous work and the original film by being ugly, slow, dull, and generally bereft of all the qualities one would want in a story. KKN, Curse of the Dancing Village was based on a Twitter thread that went viral in Indonesia — a story about a group of college kids doing community service in a remote village inhabited by a variety of strange spirits, most notably, a woman draped in ornate clothes who compels people to sin and to enter her nefarious court to entertain her forever. While that film was a huge commercial success within its home country, it failed to generate any tension, horror, atmosphere, or empathy for its characters. Not much is different here. Though set decades before the events of the first, it follows the same general template: a group of young people enters the village, a series of strange encounters occur, and two hours later, the movie ends. The group only includes four people rather than the six in the original, but they receive even less characterization. They are not entirely unaware of the threats that dwell within this distant outpost, yet they still foolishly blunder about from terror to terror without ever naturally reacting to the lunacy happening around them. The hamlet is almost identical to how it looks forty years later, squandering the opportunity to cast it in a new light. It’s almost surprising how little this film adds to the world. One would hope a notable director would at least deliver on genre thrills. That would mean one has not seen any of Kimo Stamboel’s work; if DreadOut and his The Queen of Black Magic remake are any indication, he lacks the imagination and command of the craft to deliver a genuinely frightening or disturbing horror film (he also is the director of Sewu Dino, the second film in the series, but there are only so many hours in the day). With the exception of one moment of grisly practical effects work, every sequence meant to evoke terror instead inspires boredom: lots of screaming in reaction to a figure suddenly appearing — in full view, with no attempt at building suspense — and shot-reverse shots attempting to string out what was already a lame attempt at a scare. Add to this a bland visual language only occasionally spiced up with some color, and you end up with a horror film that lurches forward at an agonizing pace.
If there’s any defense to offer the film, it’s that there might be aspects that simply do not translate. In the first film, the antagonist is referred to as a djinn by a devout Muslim; no one calls her that here. Perhaps something is being explored in the relationship between Islam and Indonesian folk beliefs. Of course, they are still photographed in a way that robs them of any weight, and all the fantastic elements of this film were imported from the previous works. It is possible, however, that some of this material will go over the heads of international audiences. Absent that possible context, however, Dancing Village: The Curse Begins is almost wholly without merit. If one is not lulled to sleep from the sheer level of inactivity, this is bound to be an interminable chore of a watch. For those interested in contemporary Indonesian horror, I would respectfully recommend the Tjahjanto’s May the Devil Take You films, as it seems that half is where the talent of the Mo Brothers lies. Dancing Village: The Curse Begins hits theaters April 26. Rating: 1.5/5 TURTLES ALL THE WAY DOWN -- Isabela Merced Shines in Another Less Than Perfect John Green Adaptation4/20/2024 Review by Camden Ferrell After writing The Fault in Our Stars, which sold 23 million copies and was adapted into a hugely successful movie, young adult author John Green followed this up with his next novel Turtles All the Way Down in 2017. This adaptation is being helmed by director Hannah Marks and written by the duo behind movies like Love, Simon and I Want You Back among several television credits. This teen movie features a stellar lead performance and interesting creative choices that can often elevate it past the common pitfalls of the young adult genre. Aza is a high school girl struggling with severe OCD that causes issues with living in her daily life. Alongside her best friend Daisy, Aza finds herself trying to navigate friendship, love, and happiness all while dealing with her mental health. This coincides with Aza reconnecting with her childhood crush after his billionaire father goes missing. This is a simple story of adolescence that tries to tell a familiar story through the eyes of a protagonist we may not be used to seeing in media. There’s not much that stands out about the premise of the movie, it does have room to uniquely explore the main character’s mental health issues. Elizabeth Berger and Isaac Aptaker have proven to be strong writers of romantic comedy, and that comedic touch is present in this film as well. Some of the jokes may be forced, but the characters do have their own distinct personality that comes out through their interactions. I’d say the biggest problem is when they try and pivot to the more serious aspects of this story. When the movie goes into dramatic territory, it can be hit or miss. Some moments feel emotional, earned, and warranted while others can feel clunky. This typically seems to be the problem when adapting John Green’s source material. He occasionally makes great observations about adolescence, but in digging beneath the surface, he can often come off as pretentious and unnatural at times. This is a characteristic that is present throughout the movie and somewhat sticks out. In trying to be a more thought-provoking young adult film, it sometimes backfires as it makes big swings at many central themes and doesn’t always hit. The most impressive part of this movie is the leading performance from Isabela Merced who plays Aza. She is one of the more interesting teen protagonists I’ve seen in the last few years, and Merced is able to take on that burden wonderfully. Her moments of stress, indifference, and paranoia come across clearly, and she definitely fits nicely in both the comedic and serious moments of the movie. Cree (formerly known as Cree Cicchino) co-stars alongside Merced as Daisy. Her character isn’t nearly as three-dimensional, but she still brings plenty of life and personality to the role. It’s a nice contrast to Aza, and she brings a naturally vibrant and effortless energy to the role that is exciting to watch. For such young actresses, both Merced and Cree have demonstrated great talent that shines even when the material isn’t the best.
In my experience, I have always been a bigger fan of Hannah Marks as a writer as opposed to a director, but this is probably the best she has ever been as a director. There are some interesting creative choices that she makes regarding how to best recreate the feeling of Aza’s mental illness for the audience, and it’s quite interesting. Like the script, she can occasionally struggle in her attempt to transcend typical young adult fare. While it’s refreshing to see writers and directors make earnest attempts to make young adult stories more mature, it just doesn’t always work out. Regardless, there are plenty of moments where Marks’ direction and vision shine and should be commended. Turtles All the Way Down has some great moments supported by its talented cast and entertaining writers. It doesn’t always land, and it still has the John Green brand of Tumblr-esque quotes that probably work better on a younger audience. Despite its flaws, this movie is more entertaining than not and feels mostly unique in the young adult genre and should be commended for its exploration of teenage mental health. Turtles All the Way Down is streaming on Max on May 2. Rating: 3.5/5
Review by Sean Boelman
The first film of Zack Snyder's would-be franchise-starter sci-fi epic, Rebel Moon, was released in December to very little fanfare. Many were frustrated by its dependence on formula and generic tropes. Rebel Moon - Part Two: The Scargiver, shot simultaneously with the first one, isn't much less generic, but it is much more fun to watch.
This continuation picks up after the first movie, with Kora (Sofia Boutella) having killed the admiral Atticus Noble, and she and her band of warriors returning to the village, thinking they have avoided the oncoming conflict. However, as we know, Noble is not dead, and he is coming to siege the village. What comes is two hours of action ripped straight out of Akira Kurosawa’s films — it's about as blatant of a knockoff of Seven Samurai as you can find. (Worse yet, you can't even call it “Seven Samurai in Space” because so little of it actually has the sci-fi element.) One of the more surprising things about The Scargiver is that it clocks in a full 10 minutes shorter than the first movie and moves so much faster. The entirety of Part One is rendered meaningless by the opening narration of this sequel. The first film essentially functions as a feature-length version of a Star Wars opening credits scroll to this movie’s conflict. Part Two has a lot more happening, but that doesn’t make it any less generic. The area in which Rebel Moon’s generic nature becomes most evident is its character development. This sequel gives us more reason to care about and buy into these warriors’ stories, but each of their motivations against the villainous "Motherworld" (the “Empire” stand-in) is very bland. In the middle of the film, we hear the stories of each of the warriors and why they came to this fight, and they’re a rehash of every tragic backstory you’ve ever heard. While it’s incredibly easy to root for a band of peasants sticking it to the man, you might have a hard time remembering their names by the time the credits roll.
If audiences take one thing away from Rebel Moon - Part Two, it should be that Skrein is a much better actor than we give him credit for. Although his role is ridiculous, he acts the hell out of it. His inspired, menacing turn as the antagonist is the main thing that keeps the movie entertaining.
Unfortunately, the rest of the cast does not fare the same way. Boutella is not a compelling lead. Any of the allure she has shown in previous films is absent here in a role that is essentially a blank slate, and she is not able to paint on it. Djimon Hounsou is fine, but nothing particularly spectacular. He does the same thing here as he does in every other movie. Anthony Hopkins is humorously wasted. The rest of the cast makes little impression. Of course, most people are watching Rebel Moon for its visuals and action. Although the film has many of Zack Snyder’s stylistic flourishes, it's much less inspired than a lot of his work. The world isn't very distinctive, feeling far too Earth-like for its own good. From a below-the-line standpoint, the CGI, score, and sound design are all solid but not astounding. Rebel Moon - Part Two: The Scargiver is certainly more movie than its predecessor. There's more story, more action, more slow motion, more cheese, and more of everything else you would expect from late-stage Zack Snyder. Whether that's a good or a bad thing to you depends on whether you're a fan of the filmmaker. But do we need four more of these? Probably not. Rebel Moon - Part Two: The Scargiver hits Netflix on April 19. Rating: 3/5 Review by Daniel Lima The first part of the latest adaptation of Alexandre Dumas's classic book The Three Musketeers was a surprising amount of fun, a lavish production filled with intrigue, romance, and action. That remains true in The Three Musketeers - Part 2: Milady, yet it feels like the spark has gone from the back end of this diptych. Where the previous film flies by, like the rousing adventure novel that inspired it, this ambles along without a clear sense of direction. As impressive as the production value is, it cannot cover for a lack of narrative momentum. Picking up right where the last one ended, the fresh-faced musketeer D'Artagnan wakes up imprisoned by an unknown adversary, having just witnessed his paramour being abducted by yet another unknown foe. From there springs yet another tale of convenient alliances, double-crosses, love, and brotherhood. Hopefully, you remember a good deal of what happened in part one; personally, the "previously on" segment at the start was insufficient, and it took a good amount of time before I was on the same page as the characters. The two halves were shot at the same time, so many of the observations about the first can be ported over to the second. The performances are all fine, with Eva Green being a particular standout here, lending her character a vulnerability previously unseen. The film's scale is impressive, though occasionally undercut by the drab palette and perfunctory compositions. The action is again a series of faked long takes, robbing the fights of any rhythm and doing no favors for the leads, none of whom seem particularly skilled at fight choreography. That is not where this entry falters. Where there were multiple narrative threads in the previous film that depended on the direct actions of its protagonists pushing the story forward — romantic interests being pursued, conspiracies being untangled, bonds being forged — all the characters here are relegated to reacting to circumstances that arise arbitrarily. It's a change that leaves the protagonists idling about, confoundingly inert, and passive even when one would assume their goals are time-sensitive. Combined with a comparatively sprawling story, one that sees most of the ensemble uprooted from the Parisian splendor that was their home, the result is a lack of focus that makes it hard to remain engaged with what is happening.
While I am only vaguely acquainted with the source material, it does seem like the adaptation is unduly constrained by it. Changes to the narrative and characterization — particularly of Eva Green's character, who christens this installment — that are meant to modernize a two-hundred-year-old story ultimately must still conform to its beats, leading to a work at odds with itself. Moral ambiguity is certainly not a storytelling flaw, but the clouded portrait the script paints feels less like a conscious choice and more the result of contradictory motifs and themes. This culminates in a finale that feels mean-spirited, rushed, and incomplete, a far cry from the clean ending of the previous movie. It is a sour note for The Three Musketeers - Part 2: Milady to end on, but that isn't to say it's a wholly unpleasant experience. The attention paid to craft is true for the entire production, and though there is no clear sense of purpose to anything that occurs, it at least does so at a decent pace. As clumsy as this landing is, it still leaves me interested in actually picking up the book to see whether this speaks to a weakness in the foundation or in the building. The Three Musketeers - Part 2: Milady hits theaters on April 19. Rating: 3/5 Review by Daniel Lima Mourning in Lod opens with text informing the audience that the city of Lod — Lydda to the Arab residents — is one of the "mixed cities" of Israel, with a large population of both Jewish and Arab Israelis. Absent from this context is why this is the case: while the city had an Arab majority for over a millennium and was included in the original UN plan for the state of Palestine, the city was annexed by Israeli forces in 1948, killing hundreds and expelling tens of thousands of Arabs from their homes. Whatever the intentions of director Hilla Medalia, this sets the tone for the rest of the documentary, a human-interest story that ultimately reveals more in what it omits than what it shows. The film charts the story of three families brought together by civil unrest in May 2021 during a period of intense conflict between Israel and Palestine. Musa Hassuna was an Arab Muslim citizen who was killed while walking home by an Israeli settler; Yigal Yehoshua was a Jewish Israeli citizen who was killed while driving home by an Arab protestor. Yehoshua's organs were donated, and his kidneys went to Randa Oweis, an Arab Christian citizen. Through interviews with the families and following them in the wake of these tragedies, the film explores the emotionally charged atmosphere of Lod/Lydda and laments the pain it takes to bring people together. While the film positions itself as an exploration of the city through this unique microcosm, it is first and foremost about these three families that found themselves connected by chance or fate. Their testimonies are indeed moving, a mix of anger, sorrow, and appreciation for the people in their lives and their community, as volatile as it might be. These moments are when the film is at its best, capturing the void that the death of these two men has left, as well as the new lease on life afforded to another. To give credit where it's due, Medalia doesn't shy away from the disparate realities that the Arab and Jewish families experience in Israel. Most of the scenes with the Hassuna's family center on the protests led in the aftermath of Musa's murder, with his killer's plea of self-defense accepted by Israeli authorities. Meanwhile, the entire Arab community feels the pressure in the aftermath of Yigel's murder, and the accused are quickly rounded up and held awaiting trial for years. There is a clear empathy for the struggles of Israeli Arabs. When Musa's father furiously attests to how little the government cares for people like him, it feels every bit the unvarnished truth as the moments where he cries over a son taken from him far too young. It's a commendable thing to include in a documentary such as this. That being said, in rooting its own perspective on the conflict within the experience of these families, Mourning in Lod creates natural limitations in how much insight it actually has to offer. As marred by tumult and tragedy as this story is, it still ultimately is portrayed as something of a silver lining. There are scenes of the various members of the Hassuna, Yehoshua, and Oweis families interacting with each other, expressing their dismay at the state of their city, being genuinely appreciative of each other's company, and joining each other in their grief. Though the film is frank about the systemic discrimination faced by Arab Israelis, it stops short of giving voice to any solutions or even simply singling out an ultimate culprit for the discrimination. The plight of these people is acknowledged, but only as part of a larger cycle of violence, a heinous evil with no perpetrator. If the film was actually an impartial observation of these people and the lives they led — or at least adopted the veneer of impartiality — this could be excused as a consequence of adhering to the subjects' worldview, that they themselves see the conflict as something bigger than them and impossible to seek an end to or redress for. Putting aside that this does not seem to be the outlook of at least one of the families, this is a movie that uses the cinematic form to create a certain vision of reality. This is a slickly produced doc, clearly shot with an intention that goes beyond the capabilities of merely capturing candid moments. The images are skillfully composed, attention is paid to lighting and how people are positioned within the frame, and the score loudly announces to the audience what they should be feeling at any moment. Most egregious, however, are the scenes that are clearly staged. When the Oweis family shows up to Yigal's sloshim, they do not immediately leave their vehicle and must be coaxed out by his brother. It's a moment that might be heartwarming if one doesn't stop to think about how the camera crew had the foresight to set up both in the car and outside it for a proper shot/reverse shot. When Musa's widow visits his grave with their daughter and tearfully tells the child to speak to her father and promise to become a doctor, it's hard not to look at the tight, carefully composed shot of their faces together and wonder if they've been coached on what to say by the filmmakers for a scene that would be perfect for the movie. Similar scenes litter the entire runtime. Perhaps these moments were completely natural, with absolutely zero input from the production team. The point is that they don't feel natural; instead, they come across like the filmmakers utilizing the language of cinema to present a heightened version of reality. It's certainly no crime for the director to make something cinematic. Still, the manufactured quality of these moments calls attention to the role of a director in a project such as this. This begs the question: Why this heightened version of reality?
Why, in a city whose violent and forceful annexation by a colonial power is still within living memory, with a history of systemic discrimination and far worse against citizens within borders both disputed and undisputed, would one choose to tell a story with no ultimate sense of resolution or justice? Why is that oppression the backdrop to a personal story of unity, a borderline feel-good narrative that does not reflect the environment that it sprung from? With so many stories that speak to the struggle of the citizens of Lod/Lydda, why tell this one? Mourning in Lod is a film that genuinely seems to have its heart in the right place, full of empathy and a genuine love for these people who were able to transcend division and find some small measure of peace among each other. That said, it fails to provide a broader critique of the conditions that so dramatically affected the lives of its subjects, nor does it ever articulate a thesis for what this story has to say about those conditions. If we are to accept that there is a real power in documentary filmmaking to expose the truth and say something of substance about the world, then a film that so studiously avoids taking a stand can only be seen as a disappointment. Mourning in Lod premieres in theaters April 19, and arrives on Paramount+ May 17. Rating: 2.5/5 Review by Joseph Fayed Egoist doesn't ask its audience how one should process grief, but instead how you live with it when it is all you have known. This heartbreaking Japanese queer drama puts emphasis on personal tragedies. But with its depressing themes comes a great challenge, a script that deserves to be more mellowed out, and with certain rushed plot points, it feels the opposite was happening. Mr. Kosuke (Ryohei Suzuki) is now an openly gay fashion magazine editor in Tokyo. Growing up, he lived in fear of his true identity and lost his mother, too. He meets Ryuta (Hio Miyazawa), his new personal trainer, and the two grow very close. He soon meets Ryuta's mom and feels a connection to her, just like he had with his mother. Then, one day, Mr. Kosuke receives news no one expected that puts deeper meaning on the relationships he has. One of the best things the film offers is the romance between its two leads. The strong chemistry between Suzuki and Miyazawa is present throughout. Opposites, especially in social classes, rarely attract, contrary to what popular culture has taught you. However, there is sincerity presented between the two main characters that causes sparks to fly and doesn't feel cheesy. Mr. Kosuke's sheer generosity towards Ryuta is not met with any third-party opposition. I could see how one would find this boring, but those scenes of them being cute together carry you through most of their relationship and the best parts of the film. What the film doesn't properly address is its mommy issues. Everything centered around Ryuta's mother unleashes chaos — and not the fun, campy kind. Her introduction serves as the moment when the pacing of this queer romance becomes too rushed for enjoyment. Her character as a whole feels shooed in almost. The little buildup in anticipation of her on-screen arrival contributes to this feeling. Her introduction, set over a homemade dinner, needed to happen before the end of the first act as her son's key characteristic, that he had a mom he was very close to, remained an afterthought for far too long.
Death is another topic this film has absolutely no idea to approach. It's implied Mr. Kosuke has been through hell and back in his life, so when another death occurs in the climax, we begin to see him crack. This film takes the title from most horror films for a most unexpected death. But it's unintentionally hilarious how melodramatic Ryohei Suzuki's acting becomes from this point forward. His reaction to this untimely loss doesn't feel like the cathartic release he's been waiting for. It comes across as constipation with two tears — one from each eye — for dramatic effect. Still struggling to keep up with the pace in the latter half, the grim reaper decides to make a more drawn-out departure for another character. At least this one could be blamed on illness, but Mr. Kosuke and his kiss of death illicit heartbreak one last time. Egoist is a film that is held back by grief and family. Its romance had strong promises but intertwined with plot devices that are too rushed, everything falls apart. This being a queer romance doesn't mean it's entitled to have a happy ending, but its major shift wasn't even becoming too bleak. It was just too weepy to function — a true ego death. Egoist is now in theaters. Rating: 2.5/5 Review by Camden Ferrell Making a purchase you later regret is a universal experience. However, one can only hope that the events of The Coffee Table, which transpire after such a purchase, are as far from universal as possible. This is the second feature length film from director Caye Casas and has been played at multiple festivals since its premiere in November 2022. This horror movie is an anxiety-inducing experience that keeps you engaged from start to finish. Jesus and Maria are new parents who are dealing with the struggles of marriage and parenthood. One day, in an attempt to make their place look nicer, the couple goes furniture shopping. On this trip, Jesus finds a tacky coffee table that he buys despite Maria’s hatred of it. Soon, this purchase becomes the biggest mistake of this couple’s lives, and it changes their world forever. It’s a purposefully vague premise just because saying anything more might ruin one’s experience watching this movie. Suffice it to say, there’s an entire can of worms awaiting viewers who choose to embark on this experience. Written by Casas and Cristina Borobia, this movie is mostly dialogue driven after its opening act, and it works on multiple levels. It’s strong conversational dialogue, but it also doesn’t undermine or overpower the underlying feeling of dread and anxiety that plague the movie. The writers reveal their hand incredibly early in the movie but manage to still maintain engagement and intrigue until its final moments. The performances are another strong aspect of this movie. Led by David Pareja and Estefanía de los Santos as Jesus and Maria, they both bring a lot to the table. They have strong chemistry as disenchanted lovers combined with the stress of being new parents. Pareja especially gets a lot to work with throughout the movie, and he is the driving force of the anxiety that defines the film. They work well with the conversational dialogue and the conflicts big and small that they find themselves faced with.
This is such a difficult movie to talk about just because of how important it is for the viewer to go into it blind. While the movie still works even with crucial details revealed, I think shock factor plays an important part in the perception of the film. Regardless, it’s hard to find a horror movie more disturbing than this, and it does so while keeping making most graphic imagery implied or minimal. It’s no small feat, and it’s one that requires prowess from all departments. The only main flaw is that sometimes it feels like it’s aiming for pitch black comedy, and this doesn’t always land because of how straight the execution is. It’s a subtly confusing juggling of genres that is noticeable but doesn’t take away from how impressive the movie is as a whole. The Coffee Table is a unique movie that is distressing, disturbing, and dreadful in all the right ways. It’s tragic and tense, and its brief runtime never gives the audience a chance to breathe. It’s an impressive calling card for Casas as a director, and this movie will likely find a strong niche in the horror community. There are some small tonal problems, but it’s not enough to detract from how darkly entertaining the final product is. The Coffee Table is in theaters April 19. Rating: 4/5 |
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