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Review by Sean Boelman
Olivia West Lloyd’s Somewhere Quiet is an impressively directed entry into the “things that go bump in the mind” brand of psychological horror, but as soon as you begin to dissect its script, it begins to fall entirely apart. Nonetheless, it’s clear that Lloyd is a talented director to watch — if only she writes something that’s a bit more logical.
The film follows a woman who, in an attempt to readjust to normalcy after a kidnapping, travels with her husband to his family’s compound where she begins to lose her grip on reality. If you’re like me, you may be wondering, “Well how does it make sense for someone to readjust to society by shutting themselves off from the world again?” Reader, it doesn’t. From the first few sequences, it seems as if Somewhere Quiet will be a rip-off on the Get Out formula: a Korean-American protagonist and her white husband are taking a trip to a secluded getaway… what could go wrong? While the racial commentary is there — such as one scene in which she questions why one of her hosts felt inclined to speak in Korean to her unprompted — it’s generally underdeveloped because it is a second priority. Instead, the true intentions of the movie are revealed a few minutes in, when news footage plays on a dated television in a roadside gas station (of the needlessly and inexplicably unsettling variety, of course), explaining that the protagonist had just recently resurfaced after surviving a kidnapping. The premise is certainly fertile ground for psychological horror, but what we get instead is a bland gaslighting thriller. 
The film is composed mostly of conversations with sinister undertones and weird noises happening in the background of otherwise normal activities. The goal seems to be to throw viewers into the protagonist’s world of disorientation and anxiety, and to that effect, it mostly succeeds. However, the fatal flaw of Somewhere Quiet is that it doesn’t build to anything, thus feeling extraordinarily anticlimactic by the end.
That being said, even though the movie is a bit short in the narrative department, it makes up for it in a killer atmosphere. The cinematography by Conor Murphy is exquisite — from the close-up shots of the protagonist’s anxious face to the wide (but somehow still claustrophobic) shots of the woods. And even though it is a bit conventional, there’s no denying that the soundscape and score are pretty effective. The actors also earn some praise, particularly Jennifer Kim, who plays the character in a very believable, nuanced way even though the ambiguity of the character does not serve her. On the opposite end of the spectrum, Marin Ireland is absolutely chewing the scenery up. She has so many diatribes that make very little sense, yet her delivery is so committed that it’s hard to deny their impact. It would be difficult to encapsulate Somewhere Quiet — or the rest of the horror genre, these days — any better than Jamie Lee Curtis said about her Laurie Strode character in the Halloween franchise: “It’s about TRAUMA.” And quite frankly, it’s getting old. Somewhere Quiet screens at the 2023 Tribeca Festival, which runs June 7-18 in NYC and June 19 through July 2 online. Rating: 2.5/5
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Review by Sean Boelman
It feels like the crime genre is filled with the efforts of first-time directors, and they start to blend together because they all share such similar influences. Shane Atkinson’s Fargo-esque crime Western LaRoy is consistently entertaining, even if it often lacks the substance it would have needed to become a standout in the genre.
The film follows a man who, with a plan to kill himself after discovering that his wife is having an affair, is mistaken for a contract killer, setting off an unlikely chain of events. The movie follows a crime-comedy formula we have seen dozens — if not hundreds — of times before, but Atkinson’s sharp script keeps things consistently enjoyable. It would be hard to find another movie that is as purely nihilistic as this, but Atkinson writes the story with such a tongue-in-cheek humor that it never feels oppressively bleak. Behind all the failed suicide attempts, adultery, and torture is a wicked sense of dark humor that creates some very funny moments throughout. If the film does struggle with one thing, it is deciding exactly what it wants to say. Unlike many crime movies, this is not really a tale of morality. Although many of the worst people get what they deserve, others who are deserving of scorn get away free, and more yet who are comparatively “innocent” are caught in the crossfire. 
This nihilistic approach also extends to the film’s character development. Rather than giving us a hero to root for, Atkinson gives us a protagonist that we pity. Yes, the character makes plenty of mistakes and stupid decisions over the course of the runtime, but the movie successfully asks us to forgive reason in favor of understanding his desperation and devastation.
John Magaro truly is one of the most underrated actors working today, but thankfully his slew of films in 2023 seems to ensure that he will receive the recognition he deserves. His performance, while comedic in nature, is also filled with sadness, providing the movie with a level of emotional groundedness. In the supporting cast, Steve Zahn is hilarious as ever in his role as the bumbling sidekick and Dylan Baker brings an effectively intimidating presence to the equation. From a stylistic standpoint, the film is exactly as one would expect from a neo-Western like this: plenty of aesthetically pleasing landscapes shot in a very formalistic manner, costume design that feels like it could have been pulled from a thrift store, and a soundtrack of country and Western music. Atkinson’s style might not be that unique, but it is certainly competent. LaRoy is well-written and well-made enough that it will divert viewers for its nearly two-hour runtime, but it doesn’t invent the wheel by any means. The most notable thing about the movie is its cast — especially lead John Magaro, who is given a perfect showcase for his talents here. LaRoy screens at the 2023 Tribeca Festival, which runs June 7-18 in NYC and June 19 through July 2 online. Rating: 4/5
Review by Sean Boelman
There are some social dramas that are clearly made with their issue in mind more than their story, and that is the case with Pier-Philippe Chevigny’s Temporaries (known in Canada by the title Richelieu, so named after its setting). Temporaries struggles with its writing — particularly in its first two acts that struggle to find the right perspective — but it eventually sticks the landing in a truly spectacular way.
The film follows a woman who gets a job as an interpreter for seasonal migrant workers, only to witness a series of workplace abuses and question whether she is willing — and able — to speak out about this injustice. This is an aspect of the immigration crisis that had largely not been discussed yet, and thus Chevigny’s movie is, if nothing else, notable for being an essential conversation starter. Something does have to be said about framing a narrative about this topic from the perspective of a translator rather than the workers themselves. It creates the feeling that we are watching the conflict from an outsider’s perspective looking in. Although the purpose of the film is to humanize this group of people and their occupation, this perspective has the unfortunate consequence of further other-izing them — at least initially. Thankfully, the movie largely manages to avoid the common mistake that films like this make of white saviorism. The protagonist does not feel like someone who is coming in to fix everything, but rather, someone who wants to make a difference and is completely helpless. It’s a very cynical approach, but one grounded in the bleak reality of the situation. For much of the first two acts, the movie is a somewhat grounded melodrama. The conflict comes from the protagonist’s culture shock, as she struggles to balance her heritage with her assimilated identity. However, something happens in the break to the third act that is so shocking and out of left field that it completely changes the tone of the rest of the film. The movie boasts a very grounded style, reminiscent of the works of such socially-minded realist filmmakers as Ken Loach, the Dardennes, and Cristian Mungiu. There are very few stylistic flourishes found throughout, with the focus instead being on inserting the viewer into the situation as forcefully as possible — a particular focus placed on heightening the anxiety in the third act. Ariane Castellanos’s performance in the leading role is strong, but it’s a performance that feels very quiet, internalistic, and unfussy, thus it is unlikely to make a particularly profound impression. Nelson Coronado’s performance is a bit more showy, particularly in the third act, in which he’s truly devastating to watch. Temporaries is a solid film with a lot of important things to say, and while it is largely carried by its harrowing and impactful third act. Some viewers will understandably be put off by the slow beginning, but this is nonetheless a provocative movie that explores issues that simply demand discussion. Temporaries screens at the 2023 Tribeca Festival, which runs June 7-18 in NYC and June 19 through July 2 online. Rating: 3.5/5
Review by Sean Boelman
Movies about journalism tend to be a double whammy because they generally focus on some of the most important topics our society faces at the time. Although Breaking the News is hardly breaking news in and of itself, its commitment to telling the story of its inspiring subjects is nothing short of admirable.
The film tells the story of the group of female and non-binary journalists behind The 19th, a revolutionary media startup which, in the past few years, has made a significant difference in the media industry by giving a platform to voices who are historically underrepresented in journalism. Something that sets Breaking the News apart from other documentaries about trailblazers is its relative sense of humility. Although directors Heather Courtney, Princess A. Hairston, and Chelsea Hernandez clearly understand the importance of these journalists and their story, they don’t make the mistake of adulation. Although the filmmakers had extraordinary access to their subjects, the footage they collect is admittedly not the most cinematic. Most of the movie is either recordings of Zoom meetings or shots of people working on their computers in home offices. While the things they are saying are interesting, the presentation is somewhat disengaging. 
The film succeeds in being both a criticism of the journalistic process and the topics that these journalists are reporting on. The 19th makes an effort to report on politically contentious topics from a unique but informed perspective, thus this documentary evaluates some of the most important issues that our society has faced in recent years from womens’ rights to racism and everything in between.
One of the unfortunate things about a movie that is about breaking news is that it is, by nature, automatically going to feel dated. Although the issues the film talks about maintain their importance, the examples used no longer feel as urgent, and thus feel less effective. For instance, the movie spends a great deal of time discussing the killing of Breonna Taylor, and it feels like there are much more recent events they should have talked about. Still, the film excels in the fact that it pulls no punches in its examination of the journalism industry that has caused institutions like The 19th to become an integral part of our society. For example, one non-binary journalist working for the publication frequently questions in the film the idea of “gender diversity” and how the organization’s focus primarily on women leaves those with other gender expressions unrepresented. Breaking the News is limited by the always-evolving nature of the news cycle, but the story remains inspiring and mostly impactful. Unfortunately, as is the case with many documentaries like this, chances are that this movie will be preaching to the choir, reinforcing the opinions of the people who see it rather than changing the minds of the people who truly need to hear this perspective. Breaking the News screens at the 2023 Tribeca Festival, which runs June 7-18 in NYC and June 19 through July 2 online. Rating: 3.5/5 [Tribeca 2023] THE SECRET ART OF HUMAN FLIGHT -- Wonderfully Quirky, Creative Indie Dramedy6/8/2023
Review by Sean Boelman
Recent years have seen quirky and peculiar indie films getting the chance to break out into the mainstream more than ever before. Hell, one even won Best Picture last year. Fans of indie cinema should certainly keep Tribeca premiere The Secret Art of Human Flight on their radars, because it is one of the most idiosyncratic movies to debut on this year’s festival circuit so far.
The film follows a grieving widower who turns to an eccentric self-help guru on the dark web making a unique promise: to help him unlock the power of flight. It’s a high-concept premise told in a very low-concept, character-centric way, but it’s hard to deny the wildly creative nature of the movie. At an hour and forty-seven minutes, the film does run a bit on the long side, suffering from many of the common indulgences of first-time scriptwriters. And while the movie is rarely laugh-out-loud funny, it consistently gets chuckles thanks to the sheer weirdness and quirkiness of some of the concepts and situational gags. The aspect of the film that may end up being a make-or-break factor for audiences will be the character’s personality. If you are not able to get on the same page as the character’s secluded weirdness, you may find him — and the movie as a whole — to be somewhat annoying. Yet, many audiences will relate to his desperate search for meaningful connection in the wake of an incomparable tragedy. 
Of course, the theme of grief is nothing new to cinema — particularly independent cinema — and Jesse Orenshein’s script doesn’t add any deeper insight to the topic. That being said, the movie remains beautifully poignant because of how universal its themes are. When you add in the creativity of the premise and approach, you have a film that feels refreshing despite its familiarity.
Although the movie’s lead is Grant Rosenmeyer, it is Paul Raci who steals the show as the quirky yet ineffably charming self-help guru Mealworm. Although Raci has been a character actor for decades, he became more widely known just a few years ago with his Oscar-nominated turn in Sound of Metal. His performance in The Secret Art of Human Flight couldn’t be more different, allowing him to show a much more comedic side of himself. The film does have a heavy indie sensibility to it, but this scrappiness almost serves it. Although the green screen and CGI-augmented sequences don’t look particularly good, the entire movie has a very faded, almost home video-esque aesthetic that makes the CGI be much less distracting than it would otherwise be. Mendoza’s score is also excellent, lending the film a very ethereal vibe. The Secret Art of Human Flight is not without its flaws, but director H.P. Mendoza and writer Jesse Orenshein exhibit so much creativity with their work that there’s a lovable indie charm to it. It will be exciting to see what both filmmakers do with the rest of their careers. The Secret Art of Human Flight screens at the 2023 Tribeca Festival, which runs June 7-18 in NYC and June 19 through July 2 online. Rating: 4/5
Review by Sean Boelman
There are several documentaries about the war in Ukraine in this year’s Tribeca Festival, and Rule of Two Walls seems to be the most unique. Taking a very different perspective from the one we might be used to seeing, David Gutnik’s film thrives in its uncommon — yet still extraordinarily empathetic — approach.
The movie tells the story of the artists who have remained in Ukraine through the Russian invasion of the country and continue to create their art despite the circumstances. What the film becomes is not only an interesting rumination on war, but also creativity, as we see the subjects’ art evolve over the course of the changing political discourse. While this is a poetic approach to these themes and events the likes of which we have not seen before, it has no shortage of harrowing, emotional moments. The scene in which the meaning of the title — the “rule of two walls” — is revealed is an absolutely devastating moment bringing us down to the harsh reality of the conflict happening in Ukraine. The most impressive thing that Gutnik does here is use juxtaposition extraordinarily well. We see the beauty of the art being created by the subjects against the war-torn landscape and the human aftermath of this conflict. It’s this contrast that makes the movie feel so starkly resonant and impactful. Yet the overall tone here is one of hopefulness, and that is what allows Rule of Two Walls to stand out within the realm of Ukraine documentaries. Although there is all of this devastation and destruction happening, these artists — like the rest of the people of Ukraine — continue to persevere and live on, and this is a message that the world needs to hear right now. The film boasts some very impressive cinematography from Gutnik alongside Volodymyr Ivanov. The art itself will likely be somewhat divisive for audiences — as much of it is an acquired taste, especially that of some of the musicians — but even if you’re not a personal fan, it’s hard not to admire what these artists are doing, and how wonderfully Ivanov and Gutnik captured it. If the movie does make one mistake, it is perhaps painting with too sweeping of a stroke. The runtime is only 76 minutes including credits, yet we meet several different groups of artists. Although Gutnik effectively makes a broad point, we don’t get to spend enough time with any one person for the film to feel as intimate as it arguably needed to be. Rule of Two Walls may not be as eye-opening as some of the documentaries about the conflict in Ukraine have been, but that does not make it any less essential. David Gutnik has created what might be the most hopeful movie about the subject yet — an important reminder of the humanity that unites us all in times of desolation. Rule of Two Walls screens at the 2023 Tribeca Festival, which runs June 7-18 in NYC and June 19 through July 2 online. Rating: 4/5
Review by Sean Boelman
Ben Kingsley and Chris Briney in DALILAND, a Magnolia Pictures release. Photo courtesy of Magnolia Pictures.
There have been plenty of movies about Dalí’s life, so one might be wondering… do we really need another? With a director like Mary Harron (American Psycho, The Notorious Bettie Page) and a star like Ben Kingsley, the answer seemed to be yes. Unfortunately, Dalíland does not live up to its potential, offering a generally unmoving — if mostly well-made — recollection of his later years.
The film follows a young gallery assistant in the 1970s who gets the chance of a lifetime to work alongside the legendary artist Salvador Dalí as he prepares for what ends up being one of his final shows. As is the case with many biopics, although the movie addresses some of Dalí’s flaws, it largely glosses over them in favor of adulation. As a result, John Walsh’s script fails to say anything particularly interesting about its subject, instead getting caught up in the “sex and drugs and rock ‘n’ roll” of the whole situation. There is so much unexplored potential in the film, from the theme of aging in a creative field to the growing counterculture movement of the time, and yet the movie seems content with being insubstantial. The continued debauchery in the film also grows somewhat wearisome after a while. Framing the story through the perspective of some boring white guy is also a detrimental choice. The portions of the movie in which the aging Dalí, whose life is beginning to slip away from him, reflects on his legacy and what he has done are far more interesting than anything the gallery assistant does. 
Ben Kingsley in DALILAND, a Magnolia Pictures release. Photo courtesy of Magnolia Pictures.
Given that the film is about one of the most iconic visual artists of all time, one would expect no less than a visually splendid movie from Dalíland. Thankfully, cinematographer Marcel Zyskind does an excellent job shooting the film, and the design team wonderfully recreates the off-kilter past for the movie to take place in.
The main reason to see this film, though, is Kingsley’s performance as the iconically eccentric artist. It definitely feels more as if Kingsley is doing an impersonation rather than truly playing the role, but he has such a command of the screen and his craft that it’s hard not to be fully entranced by his turn. That being said, the rest of the cast pales in comparison to Kingsley. Christopher Briney plays the audience surrogate and has the personality of wet cement. The talented Suki Waterhouse is absolutely wasted here. Perhaps most frustratingly, Ezra Miller also shows up in a brief role — their minimal screen time consisting entirely of flashbacks that easily could have been cut in their entirety. The talents of director Mary Harron and actor Ben Kingsley keep Dalíland watchable, even if John Walsh’s painfully dull script does it absolutely no favors. There are plenty of other movies to watch about the iconic artist, and your time would be better spent watching one of those. Dalíland hits theaters and VOD on June 9. Rating: 3/5
Review by Sean Boelman
Juliette Jouan, as seen in SCARLET, directed by Pietro Marcello. Courtesy of Kino Lorber.
Italian filmmaker Pietro Marcello’s work has been gaining more and more international recognition in recent years — and for good reason, as his films are consistently visually splendid. His newest movie, Scarlet, does not disappoint from an aesthetic standpoint, even if it does leave something to be desired narratively.
The film follows a young woman over a period of twenty years as she grows up and grows free, coming to a unique understanding of the world in an era bookended by war. Although the movie may seem like a coming-of-age tale on its surface, it’s actually something much more nuanced — although this nuance does give way to frustrating ambiguity at times. It seems to be common for Marcello that his films tend to be somewhat overindulgent when it comes to runtime, even though his movies are never that long. In Scarlet, there are several sequences that drag, lingering on the landscapes that have been left desolate by war, poverty, and famine. You get Marcello’s point early, and it eventually starts to feel like overkill. It also doesn’t help that the script — adapted from the novel by Alexander Grin — feels somewhat aimless. For much of the first act, it seems like this is going to be an anti-war film, as a father returns home from war, though in the second and third acts, it weaves its way into what seems to be intended as a feminist fable. There are a lot of fascinating elements in the movie, but they simply don’t come together as well as Marcello seems to think they did. 
Juliette Jouan and Louis Garrel, as seen in SCARLET, directed by Pietro Marcello. Courtesy of Kino Lorber.
For a film that follows the same set of characters over the span of a few decades, one would expect the character development to be stronger. Although it’s easy to sympathize with the characters, the movie lacks that strong emotional connection that could take it to the next level. More time spent on the father-daughter relationship could have provided this much-needed crux.
The film boasts a brilliant ensemble, with many wonderful actors all getting a chance to shine. Of course, the biggest highlight is Juliette Jouan, who is absolutely lovely as the eldest version of the protagonist. Other strong players include Raphaël Thiéry, who infuses a ton of humanity into his role as a loving but scarred father, and Louis Garrel, as restrained as always. The movie also boasts extraordinary cinematography, although that is no surprise. Marco Graziaplena’s eye is simply extraordinary, and the choice to give the film a worn, almost homey aesthetic does wonders. The music isn’t half bad either, some of that success owing to Jouan’s lovely voice. Scarlet is a bit underdeveloped and scattered in a narrative sense, but its strong performances and gorgeous visuals will keep the viewer engaged when the story doesn’t. Marcello continues to be more effective as a director than a writer — although this can be excused for someone whose work is so stunning to the eyes. Scarlet hits theaters on June 9. Rating: 3/5 Reviewed by Jonathan Berk  Aloners is an incredible debut film by director Hong Sung-eun that focuses on a Korean term "honjok," which is a phenomenon of young people who live alone and skirt social interaction. Interestingly, the film was conceived and shot at the end of 2019 — thus the isolation elements are not a reaction to the global lockdown — but will likely resonate even more with audiences having now lived through it. The "honjok" depicted in the film by Hong looks to understand why one may put up walls and choose to be alone. Gong Seung-yeon plays Jina, who is the best employee at a credit card call center thriving at following the manual for all of the customers' calls. Outside of her interaction with customers via her headset, Jina lives alone, eats alone, sleeps alone, and watches content on her cell phone. Her isolated way of living is threatened by three separate instances: her father (Park Jeong-hak) begins reaching out to her to cope with his own sense of loneliness; her boss (Kim Hae-na) assigns Sujin (Jeong Da-eun) to Jina for training; and a new neighbor (Seo Hyun-woo) insists on getting to know her. Isolation is inherently cinematic. Hong uses every frame and set to help emphasize this idea, as Jina is often in the center of the frame with the background slightly out of focus. Her apartment is small and organized in such a way that implies there are no plans for another person to ever be there. Even on the bus, her isolation is on display for us. We watch her voyeuristically as she watches a video on her phone, with her ever-present headphones snugly tucked into her ears to imply that even we aren’t being let into her world completely. No one knows exactly what Jina is going through — except Jina. Every aspect of the film is functional in telling this story, and its impact pays off exceptionally at its end.  Gong’s performance would be easy to overlook because of how understated much of it is. Yet, there is a complexity in her silence, and her inactions. We see her eating alone several times throughout the film. The way she eats changes subtly throughout the film, all building towards an emotional breakdown. It may seem imperceptible at first, but the moment Jina is finally ready to confront the reason for her isolation, the change in her eating will be clear. It’s also why Jeong’s performance as Sujin is also so impactful. The two seem to be polar opposites, as Sujin early declares how many friends she had back home, and would hate to eat alone as people may assume she has none. It is in this relationship that the film is able to explore Jina’s character and lifestyle more so than any other.
There is a straightforwardness to the major story that is easy to appreciate. However, it is the smaller pieces that really give the audience something to sink their teeth into. For example, one customer who calls a few times is listed as mentally ill. He believes he is a time traveler, and wants to use a credit card in his travels as paper money could become cumbersome. His story is far more complex than it needs to be, and the peeling back of its layers reveals much about the film's central message. Another element that would be easy to overlook is another bus rider’s The Secret Life of Walter Mitty cellphone case positioned directly behind Jina’s head. It is an odd film for a person in 2019 to have as a cellphone case until you remember how much Walter lived inside of his own head, and that film’s story is about him setting aside his fears to pursue the relationships he desired. There is no wasted space in this film, and Hong clearly demonstrates her understanding of the craft. Aloners was one of the most engaging quiet films I’ve ever had the pleasure of watching. As a self-proclaimed introvert, it wasn’t always easy seeing elements of my own life on screen. I never felt judged by the ideas in the film, but I did find myself frequently reflecting on my own interactions with people. Jina’s story unfolds in fascinating ways that never seem to say she is wrong for living alone but seeks to understand why she has chosen this lifestyle. Even while we are forced to watch Jina in Aloners from a distance at times, she too watches her world in a multitude of ways. It is an undeniable exploration that Hong offers her audience in an expertly crafted movie. Aloners is out on VOD on June 9. Rating: 5/5
Review by Sean Boelman
America has a strange and morbid obsession with true crime in shows, documentaries, and podcasts, and several comedies have come out poking fun at the phenomenon. Although Based on a True Story’s high concept premise may not revolutionize the genre, its sharp writing and strong cast manage to keep things consistently funny and — perhaps more importantly — thoroughly suspenseful.
The series follows a struggling married couple who decide to partner up with a serial killer to create a podcast capitalizing on the obsession people have with true crime. This isn’t the first true crime podcast comedy — Only Murders in the Building kicked off a movement of them — but this show’s uniquely edgy and dark take allows it to be memorable. Although the pilot episode is a bit weak, this can be excused given that much of its runtime is spent setting up the premise. Once the characters get up to their wacky hijinks in creating and promoting the podcast, the show becomes incredibly fun and addictively binge-worthy, with a pace that keeps you on the edge of your seat wanting to know what comes next. The show’s interrogation of the true crime genre isn’t as substantial or insightful as it clearly seems to think it is. Characters frequently ask whether what they are doing is the right thing, or if they are exploiting the victims of these brutal crimes. Ultimately, the question the writers need to ask is that, by capitalizing on the popularity of the true crime genre themselves, are they too just as culpable as the characters in the show? 
One of the best things about this show is how perfectly it captures the balance between hatable and charismatic. On the one hand, all three of the show’s leads are absolutely selfish, terrible people. Yet there is something somewhat charming about them that wins over. Even though the protagonists are a socialite married couple — an archetype that would usually be dislikable to a majority of audience members — and a serial killer, it’s shockingly fun to go on this adventure with them.
A large part of the show’s success can be owed to its three leads, all of whom are great. Kaley Cuoco and Chris Messina have such believable chemistry, really sealing the tension in their relationship. However, the scene-stealer is Tom Bateman who, apart from an American accent that is a bit off at times, is both incredibly funny and unsettling in the role. When the series falls back on CGI for some of its more violent scenes, it begins to look a little goofy. Still, there are a few incredibly creative sequences in the series, particularly toward the end of the series. Episode 5 is probably the peak of the show, containing both some of the most tense and funniest moments in the show. Based on a True Story is a super fun crime comedy with a great cast and a killer premise that it takes full advantage of. Like the podcasts that it satirizes, viewers of this show won’t be able to get enough, and will be waiting with bated breath to see what happens next in a hopeful season two. Based on a True Story streams on Peacock beginning June 8. All eight episodes reviewed. Rating: 4.5/5 |