Review by Jonathan Berk

Artificial intelligence in movies is not new, but it is likely to have a resurgence in the coming years. Director Brad Peyton's latest film, Atlas, is the most recent entry in the canon of films centering around the technology. While it often looks kind of bad, it manages to find an emotional core that audiences may be willing to invest in. That core — paired with a familiar, yet compelling, formula — makes it very easy to watch. 
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Atlas Shepherd (Jennifer Lopez) is a talented data analyst with deep trust in artificial intelligence. She joins a mission to capture Harlan (Simu Liu), a rogue robot, because of a mysterious connection from her past. It becomes clear that the only chance she has to save humanity from AI is to learn to trust it. 

There is no getting around how silly some of this film looks. The mechwarrior-esque design that Lopez spends most of her time inside of during the film makes it seem like she was in a closet performing many of the scenes. The action cuts from her inside to a CG jungle of robot mayhem. It doesn't look terrible, but it also doesn't look good. It is easy to tell that she doesn't always know how to sell the reactions or the drama. It would be almost intolerable if not for the relationship that is also encased in these moments. 

Lopez's character has an AI called Smith, voiced by Gregory James Cohan, inside the suit. Maybe it's because we live in a world where many of us talk to some form of AI to text our friends, play music, or turn the lights off, but this relationship feels familiar. It could also be that Cohan has a lot of personality in his performance and some genuine chemistry with Lopez. This dynamic helped to get me invested in the movie enough to care about all the nonsense that was present.

Mark Strong, Sterling K. Brown, and Liu don't quite get nearly enough screen time. However, each gets something to do and sells their moments enough to make an impact. While there are plenty of familiar tropes in this film, they manage to not lean into all of them too hard. The military aspects of several characters are actually downplayed a little, which was surprising given how many elements are a bit over-the-top. There is enough restraint in the screenplay that was kind of refreshing to see in a movie like this. 

The sci-fi elements here are on full display in this film. There are obvious Blade Runner references to the "bots" feeling like replicants. After the prologue that establishes the circumstances of this world, we follow a team as they try to apprehend Casca (Abraham Popoola). It's a bombastic action sequence that leads to an interrogation scene. The look of the city and the following interrogation definitely owe quite a bit to Ridley Scott's classic. After those moments, we see the mech suits and then space travel. It's a science fiction smorgasbord.

Atlas doesn't stray far from what is expected for a sci-fi movie focused on the dangers of artificial intelligence. The story is pretty predictable, but that relationship at the core of it all really does some heavy lifting. Of course, if you don't like Smith or Atlas, you probably won't care that much at all. Fortunately, it was enough to get me invested. ​

Atlas will be streaming on Netflix on May 25.

Rating: 3/5

Review by Adam Donato

The tone is overly dramatic and desperately tries to tug at your heartstrings. Terry Chen from Almost Famous stars as Dr. Wang and is unconvincingly stressing out during the present-day scenes. Kinnear has attempts at humor as well as Dr. Wang's brother, played by Garland Chang. The jokes are just lame and unfunny. The story is less controversial than Sound of Freedom, but it's just as dull. The movie runs for a hundred minutes but feels more like two hours. It's ironic because the director's last film was called The Blind, so this kind of subject matter is clearly in his wheelhouse. It's a chore to sit through for anyone who doesn't buy into what Angel Studios is selling. 

At the end of the day, it feels mean to diss an innocent little movie that's trying to inspire people. After all the crap that Angel Studios has pulled, it's easy to be cynical about their releases. The type of people who pay to see Angel Studios fans won't know the difference. They'll really enjoy being moved by this story about trying to save children from being blind. As long as people are buying tickets to the theater, then it's not the worst thing... whether or not people are actually sitting in those seats being purchased.

Sight hits theaters on May 24.​

Rating: 2/5

Review by Sean Boelman

Few franchises have had such a massive evolution as Mad Max, starting with low-budget Ozploitation flicks in the ‘70s before becoming a blockbuster franchise in the 21st century. Heading into the Fury Road prequel Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga, the only question many likely had for George Miller was, “Do you have it in ya to make it epic?” While the answer to that question might not be the resounding yes that fans clearly hoped for, Miller delivers an explosive action spectacle in the form of a beautifully demented fairytale.

Set years before the events of Mad Max: Fury Road, this prequel tells the story of Furiosa's journey from her childhood, when an evil marauder snatched her away from her idyllic home, to becoming an officer in Immortan Joe’s army. This has much more of a narrative than Fury Road, structured almost like a fable telling the story of a legendary heroine.

However, this increased focus on the story also causes the pacing to feel much more lax. There are certainly plenty of action sequences, but this is not the nonstop thrill ride that was Fury Road. Still, Miller does plenty to keep audiences engaged by fully diving into the world-building and immersing viewers into this surreal post-apocalyptic world. 

Part of what makes Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga stand out from other origin stories is that it isn’t entirely reliant on goodwill from the other entries. Sure, the film works better if you know who some of the side characters (namely Immortan Joe) are. Still, Furiosa has an incredibly well-developed arc contained in this movie that will get viewers invested, regardless of their familiarity with the franchise.

Anya Taylor-Joy’s performance in the lead role is very solid. That being said, she does feel a bit betrayed by the script. The character in this film and the character we see in Fury Road feel like two different people, and the script doesn’t do a good enough job of connecting the arcs. So, while Taylor-Joy is quite good in her own right, it’s impossible not to compare her to Theron, who is arguably much better.

The real scene-stealer in the cast is Chris Hemsworth, whose villainous performance reveals layers that many people probably didn’t know he had in him. It’s like his turn in Bad Times at the El Royale but dialed up to 11. He’s incredibly charismatic, as always, which makes the atrocities he commits all the more harrowing and impactful. Most of the dialogue also falls to him because Furiosa is mute for the majority of the runtime, so he gets some incredible line deliveries.

From a technical standpoint, Furiosa is simultaneously flashier and slightly less effective than Fury Road. Although the action set pieces are obviously excellent, as are the cinematography, production design, make-up, and Holkenborg score, the CGI doesn’t match the level of its predecessor’s Oscar-nominated visual effects, especially when it comes to the use of CGI for the backgrounds. The location work here is phenomenal — that they felt the need to accentuate it so heavily is frustrating.

Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga isn’t a near-flawless work of action cinema like George Miller’s previous return to the Wasteland, but it’s still a heck of a lot better than most of the blockbusters we see today. Enjoyable action sequences, compelling character arcs, and an unbelievably unhinged performance by Chris Hemsworth ensure that this prequel is a cinematic event you must witness.

Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga hits theaters on May 24.

Rating: 4.5/5

Review by Sean Boelman

Italian filmmaker Marco Bellocchio is considered by many to be one of the modern “greats,” but his prolific body of work has failed to resonate with international audiences as much as one would expect for a director of his esteem. His latest, Kidnapped: The Abduction of Edgardo Mortara, is unlikely to buck that trend, as it’s a formally impressive film dragged down by a lackluster screenplay.

The movie is based on the true story of Edgardo Mortara, a six-year-old boy who is taken from his Jewish family by the Catholic church after it is discovered that he was baptized. What results is a years-long battle between the church and the boy’s family about who should raise him and what religion he should be brought up in.

Unfortunately, Kidnapped: The Abduction of Edgardo Mortara fails to settle on a consistent tone for its retelling of this story. It’s not campy enough to be a compelling melodrama, but it’s also too unserious to work as a family drama or commentary on the brokenness of the church. Much of this can be attributed to the combined shortcomings of the mostly exaggerated performances, overly direct dialogue, and heightened musical score.

Another issue seems to be that Bellocchio and his co-writers are seemingly intent on showing this conflict from as many perspectives as possible. The script starts with the child's parents and, at a certain point, becomes more interested in the political goings-on of the church that caused this situation to arise. The one perspective that the writers seem mostly disinterested in is the child’s — well, at least until the final stretch of the film when he’s grown up enough.

Herein lies the primary issue of Kidnapped — for a movie that should be about giving a voice to the voiceless, it feels all too content relegating those people to the sidelines. The child who cannot speak for himself is merely a pawn in this massive scheme, and the Jewish people being oppressed by the Catholic church are portrayed in such an otherized light that it’s difficult to tell if Bellocchio’s sympathies lie with them.

This is an incredibly complicated story, and the approach that the writers take to telling it makes the narrative even more complex. As a result, it feels like something massive is happening in virtually every moment of the film’s two-plus hour runtime. Yet, despite this, viewers will have so little investment in what is happening that the movie drags anyway.

However, the film does have its merits. Paolo Pierobon delivers a compellingly duplicitous performance as the nefarious Pope, eliciting both disgust and disdain from the audience. The movie’s visual aspects, including the production design, costume design, and cinematography, are also impressive, working at a level beyond what the script deserves.

But even though Kidnapped: The Abduction of Edgardo Mortara is an accomplished film in a visual sense, its narrative shortcomings are too pronounced to overlook. There’s certainly a worthy movie to be found in the devastating Mortara case, but Bellocchio et al. take such an unfocused approach that it’s hard to admire much beyond the film’s surface.

Kidnapped: The Abduction of Edgardo Mortara hits theaters on May 24.

Rating: 2/5

Review by Sean Boelman

Icelandic filmmaker Rúnar Rúnarsson’s feature debut premiered in 2011 at the Cannes Film Festival at the Directors’ Fortnight sidebar, and he returns to the Croisette for his fourth feature as part of the main festival’s Un Certain Regard competition. That movie, When the Light Breaks, is an accomplished, poignant, and meditative work exploring its emotions with poise and empathy.

The film follows a young woman who experiences the whole spectrum of emotions in a single day — from love to sorrow — as she faces an unexpected tragedy that leaves her unable to cope with her grief. Although we will avoid going into any more details, as it’s best to enjoy the movie with minimal expectations, it’s refreshing to see Rúnarsson take a story that easily could have been melodramatic and make something restrained out of it.

The film is incredibly brief, clocking in at a mere 75 minutes before credits. The narrative structure is very episodic; however, Rúnarsson refrains from the temptation of only showing the audience the excitement. Rúnarsson balances the heightened emotions with the mundanity in a way that feels grounded and realistic without ever losing interest.

Despite this short runtime he is working with, Rúnarsson attempts to explore a wide swath of themes. His success is inconsistent but certainly admirable in its ambition. When the Light Breaks thrives in its more universal moments — the sections showing the protagonist’s grief and how she grieves differently from the rest of her friends and loved ones. When it attempts to dive into other themes like identity, it struggles to address them with sufficient depth.

However, Rúnarsson does such an effective job of developing the characters that it is incredibly easy to get invested in the story. Rúnarsson wastes no time getting to work, starting with an opening scene that lets the audience see the central relationship in medias res. It’s an effectively disarming introduction that brilliantly sets the scene for the emotional rollercoaster to come.

Elín Hall’s performance in the lead role is excellent, thriving in its quietest moments. The most impressive aspect of her turn is how much emotion she is able to convey with so little. Although her delivery of the dialogue is strong, Hall is even more astounding in the nonverbal moments, like a scene in the final act where her sadness and anger are wonderfully exhibited through movement.

Visually, Rúnarsson’s film is quite strong. Much like the narrative, the visuals of When the Light Breaks oscillate between grand and quietly powerful. Rúnarsson knows how to make an image stick out and be impactful, doing so in some of the most pivotal scenes, but he can also make a meal out of the close-ups of characters going through intense emotional devastation.

When the Light Breaks is not without its flaws, but Rúnar Rúnarsson’s intention with the movie was clearly to make a viscerally emotional experience, and he certainly succeeds in doing so. Rúnarsson’s film brings uncommon and refreshing nuance to common themes, making it a worthy exploration of the complexity of grief.

When the Light Breaks is screening at the 2024 Cannes Film Festival.

​Rating: 4/5

Review by Sean Boelman

Matthew Rankin burst onto the indie film scene when his directorial debut, the absurdist epic The Twentieth Century, amassed quite a cult following among the cinephile community. His second feature, Universal Language, seems less likely to achieve cult status with its more “refined” ambitions, although that formal prowess doesn’t create a satisfying watch.

The movie contains three storylines that become intertwined throughout the hour-and-a-half runtime: two kids discover and attempt to exhume a frozen banknote, a tour guide leads tourists through Winnipeg, and a low-level worker in the Quebecois government quits his job and sets out on a journey. Although what happens in this kaleidoscopic ensemble piece is pretty straightforward, the way they are sewn together is somewhat convoluted. Although convolution is not necessarily bad, the final product amounts to frustratingly little.

With these stories, Rankin and co-writers Pirouz Nemati and Ila Firouzabadi explore some intriguing themes, particularly with regard to the immigrant and multicultural experience. Clearly, Universal Language was an incredibly personal film to the filmmaker, but he fails to effectively connect these lived experiences with more widely poignant emotions and broad humor. It’s hard to tell how many of the symbols and jokes are culturally specific references lost in translation versus how many are just quirkiness.

Those fans of The Twentieth Century hoping that Rankin’s sophomore feature will share the same level of camp will be sorely disappointed. Universal Language is a more “serious” movie, using its absurdist tendencies to accentuate a dramatic storyline. It feels incredibly deliberate yet also so random, resulting in an experience that’s often frustrating and mostly unfulfilling.

One of the harder things to get through in the script is its character development’s lack of focus. This, unfortunately, is a natural consequence of the mosaic-esque structure of the narrative. The kids are by far the most compelling, both in terms of character and their story, but their quest is interrupted by the tour guide and bureaucrat’s journeys.

The ensemble is mostly strong. Young actresses Roma Esmaeili and Saba are the highlights, giving performances that capture the idyllic nature of their childhood obliviousness without ever getting annoying. Pirouz Nemati is also strong, with a few moments of quiet passion that really drive the film forward. Perhaps ironically, the weakest link is Rankin himself, as his performance feels just a bit too docile to resonate as it needs to.

However, what Rankin lacks in front of the camera, he makes up for with creativity behind the camera. The cinematography is excellent, as is the production design. Rankin straddles the line between surrealism and groundedness well in a visual sense, conveying the balance in a way the script struggles to match. The look merges minimalism and Iranian realism with a quirky aesthetic, creating an alluring and often enchanting world.

Still, for a movie called Universal Language to be so assertively esoteric, it must either be ironic or ineffective. Unfortunately for Matthew Rankin, his sophomore feature is not funny enough to be the former. The result is a technically adroit but often disengaging film that’s off-puttingly weird and quirky without the substance to back it up.

Universal Language is screening at the 2024 Cannes Film Festival.

Rating: 3/5

Review by Camden Ferrell

Coming hot off of an Oscar nomination for his short film, Ninety-Five Senses, Jared Hess has teamed up with co-director Lynn Wang on his first ever animated feature, Thelma the Unicorn. This is Hess’ first narrative feature since 2016’s Masterminds. Unfortunately, this film fails on almost every possible level, delivering a predictable and cheaply made story that squanders the talents and idiosyncrasies of its writer/director and well-known cast.
 
Thelma is a pony with big aspirations to become a musical sensation with her friends. Despite their best efforts, they can’t seem to catch a break with people constantly dismissing them and never giving them a shot. After a fateful encounter with some paint and sparkles, Thelma finds herself looking exactly like a unicorn. This sparks a chain of events that pushes Thelma into the global spotlight and finding the fame she so desperately craved. However, she soon learns this is more than she bargained for. It’s a very basic story of pitfalls of fame that you’ve likely seen a million times before, and this movie doesn’t tread any new ground in that regard.
 
This movie was written by Jared and Jerusha Hess, but one would have a difficult time deducing that based on the final product. For better or worse, they’re a very idiosyncratic and quirky duo, but their signature style and charm are entirely absent from their most recent effort. It feels like another lazy children’s movie that could have been AI generated as opposed to an eccentric yet original script that they’re known for. This is the same duo that made one of the most iconically original movies of the early 2000’s, and it’s a shame that this is the quality of output they’re putting out now. This is even more disappointing considering they both wrote and directed such a brilliant short film just last year. 

From an acting perspective, there’s not much to talk about. Brittany Howard (of Alabama Shakes fame) leads the film as Thelma. Her singing is obviously phenomenal, but everything else is so ordinary that it’s hard to say it’s particularly good or bad as a voice performance. The film is supported by names like Will Forte, Jon Heder, and Jemaine Clement, and while they’re all hugely entertaining and talented people in their own rights, I felt nothing hearing their recognizable voices. Not to say that they phoned it in, but the movie lacks the personality you’d expect from the cast it acquired.
 
Even as far as children’s entertainment goes, this movie feels like a nothing burger at best. At worst, it’s another overstimulating, eerily animated, and completely forgettable movie for all ages. Every single scene follows the same beats we’ve been seeing forever, and it doesn’t do anything interesting with its premise, so the entire experience is disappointing and unpleasant. It might be something to mindlessly throw on for the youngest of children if necessary, but it doesn’t have much else to offer.
 
Thelma the Unicorn may have a talented singer in the lead role. It may have a well-known director and writing duo who always put out some original and quirky films regardless of quality. Unfortunately, this is not enough to make this movie sing the way it wants to. It’s a bland and formulaic story that is at times miserable to watch. It has absolutely nothing original to say and even at its most barebones level, it’s not entertaining.
 
Thelma the Unicorn is on Netflix May 17.
 
Rating: 1/5 

Review by Joseph Fayed

Review by Daniel Lima

How much one gets out of In Our Day may depend as much on their relationship with the director’s body of work as their response to this film. Hong Sang-soo has been making films for the past three decades, and by all accounts, they have tackled many of the same themes in many of the same forms. As someone with only a cursory familiarity with his oeuvre, it’s not hard to see the appeal, but there’s only so much to be gleaned from what is presented here.
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Like most of his other works, the film follows artists: an older poet experiencing a late-career resurgence and a middle-aged actress who recently returned to Seoul after becoming disenchanted with her craft. The two narratives — though that is perhaps too lofty a phrase to describe them — never actually intersect, though there are common elements reflected in both. Through conversations with friends and admirers, the two reflect on art, life, and loss. Also, there is a cat.​

Formally, this is as bare bones and rudimentary as you can get. Shooting on what appears to be consumer-grade cameras, two locations for each story (one of which is just outside the door of each artist’s home), each scene just a single, continuous, locked-down shot, and heavily improvised dialogue. With no prior knowledge of the director, it’d be easy to mistake this for a student production; even having only seen his 2011 film The Day He Arrives, I was a bit taken aback by just how pared down this movie is. ​

While the conversations are meandering, with lots of repetitive small talk about the food they’re eating and games of Rock Paper Scissors, they both hit familiar beats. The poet has found some measure of success that had eluded him for so long, but he finds himself more preoccupied with everyday concerns. When pressed to offer some sage wisdom, he implores his audience to enjoy life’s simple pleasures. Similarly, while she struggles to offer a young fan any advice on breaking into the industry, the actress has a clear understanding of what convinced her to leave it behind, explaining the exact moment that she felt her art lost its luster. Both harbor regrets over misspent youths and pleasures that are now closed off to them, but they have an appreciation for the life they lead now.

The amateur quality of this film is impossible to ignore, particularly coming from a filmmaker who regularly shows up at big international film festivals and has been making movies since the 1990s. Though his work clearly resonates with many, and these themes are certainly self-reflective as he ages into his twilight years, there is something to be said about how much should be expected from an artist of his caliber. Considering how low rent this is, how vaguely these ideas are actually explored, and how often he explores them in this way, should it be judged more harshly? Should someone with his stature be expected to show more growth, to take more care, to offer… more?

There is something to be said for that. However personal this film might be, when you’re three minutes into just watching people eat dinner, repeating that they like the food in every possible permutation the improving actors can think of, staying within that moment can be difficult. A sharp, focused script could have lent this a more hand-crafted quality, a sense of intention that would make spending time with these characters more resonant and meaningful, even if they’re still just eating and enjoying each other’s company.

Yet, I can’t say that In Our Day is an unpleasant time. As tossed off as it may feel to some, there is something admirable about an experienced filmmaker who so commits to such an unobtrusive style, stripping away the craft to only the bare essentials and then going further still. It makes for a calming, serene experience, albeit one with a definite ceiling for how much it can actually achieve. Also, there is a cat.
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In Our Day hits theaters on May 17.

Rating: 3/5

Review by Sean Boelman

Danish filmmaker Ole Bornedal’s feature debut, Nightwatch, was the beginning of not only his own career but also that of now-Emmy-nominated actor Nikolaj Coster-Waldau (Game of Thrones). If it’s not obvious, Bornedal needs the thirty-years-later sequel Nightwatch: Demons Are Forever much more than his star, and this air of desperation drags the film down despite competent execution.

The movie picks up decades after the original and follows the daughter of Martin (Coster-Waldau) as she takes a night watch job, only to stir up trouble when she visits her father’s tormentor, Wörmer, in prison. Where the first film was a lean, effective crime thriller a la Silence of the Lambs, this sequel attempts to bite off much more — thematically and narratively — and falters as a result.

The other aspect of Nightwatch: Demons Are Forever that holds it back is its dialogue. The script gets strangely political, but not in a way that offers legitimate commentary on anything. Characters say things like, “Am I a boomer if I say men are more fit for this job?” or “Do I have your consent to have sex? It’s only our second time.” The intention behind these lines feels so mean-spirited and conservative — like the movie is insulting modern-day society for caring about things like gender equality and enthusiastic consent — that it’s impossible to overlook.

The film also frustratingly wastes most of its cast. The returners, namely Nikolaj Coster-Waldau and Kim Bodnia, are not given much to do. Of course, this blame lies mostly with the script and not with the actors, who do the best they can with the material, but even these talented actors can only do so much. Still, much as Nightwatch served as a launching pad for Coster-Waldau, this sequel could prove to be an auspicious breakout for Fanny Leander Bornedal, who gives a very compelling turn in the lead.

The actress Bornedal indeed deserves a lot of praise because her character’s motivations — much like everyone else’s in the movie — don’t make much sense. Not enough time is spent exploring her relationship with her father to justify some of her absurd actions in the first act. As for the villains, the attempts at mystery and red herrings feel incredibly anticlimactic and unearned. 

Demons Are Forever does live up to its predecessor in one key way, though: as a work of image-making and atmosphere. Even through all the ridiculous (yet predictable) twists and turns, it’s satisfyingly chilling. Bornedal has an uncanny sense of how to create claustrophobia through emptiness, and the result is a film that feels incredibly unsettling.

However, like so many legacy sequels, Nightwatch: Demons Are Forever is unable to escape the trappings of formula. Viewers who have seen the original movie recently will find themselves plagued by an overwhelming feeling of familiarity. You will know that any hint of supernatural horror is merely misdirection and likely have a good idea of who the “real bad guy” is. Even the film’s attempts to shock audiences and catch them off-guard fall closely in line with a precedent established by other horror franchises.

Because of this, among other reasons, Nightwatch: Demons Are Forever doesn’t feel like a necessary continuation of the original’s story. Instead, it comes off as a desperate attempt by a director who peaked thirty years ago to cash in on his prime. Oh well — if nothing else, its release serves as an excuse for Shudder to rerelease the excellent 1994 film. Take this opportunity to watch that much better thriller if you haven’t seen it before.

Nightwatch: Demons Are Forever streams on Shudder beginning May 17.

​Rating: 2.5/5