Review by Chadd Clubine

With more than 50 theatrical and made-for-TV adaptations of Robin Hood, it's rare for a new film to bring something truly fresh to the legendary outlaw. The Death of Robin Hood accomplishes exactly that by focusing on a chapter of the character's life that has largely been unexplored on screen: his final act. In many ways, you could watch nearly any previous Robin Hood adaptation beforehand and have it serve as a fitting prelude to this story. Writer-director Michael Sarnoski is an inspired choice to tell it. Through films like Pig and A Quiet Place: Day One, he has demonstrated a talent for crafting deeply human stories centered on complex characters. That sensibility allows him to reveal a side of Robin Hood audiences rarely see—one that is thoughtful, vulnerable, and every bit as compelling as the legendary hero they already know.

A24 appears to be embracing a more ambitious spending strategy lately, and The Death of Robin Hood is no exception. With a reported $20 million budget and a summer release window, it may face an uphill battle at the box office. Given the crowded marketplace, it wouldn't be surprising if the film struggles to turn a profit theatrically or has a relatively short run in theaters. That said, A24 clearly believes in the project, and it's encouraging to see the studio continue investing in distinctive, filmmaker-driven stories. The tagline, "He was no hero," suggests a more unconventional and morally complex take on the legendary outlaw—one that could challenge audience expectations and prove divisive among viewers. Even so, that same willingness to take risks may ultimately be what allows the film to develop a passionate following and achieve cult-classic status in the years to come.

While The Death of Robin Hood may be marketed primarily as a drama, don't let that label give you the wrong impression about its opening act. The film begins with a startling level of intensity, delivering violence that feels visceral and deeply immersive through both its striking visuals and unsettling sound design. The cinematography captures the harshness and brutality of its world in a way that recalls The Northman, making for an opening that is difficult to shake. After that explosive start, the film deliberately shifts gears and settles into a slower, more reflective pace. Viewers expecting the relentless intensity of the first act throughout may find themselves disappointed. However, those willing to embrace the film's measured storytelling and exercise some patience will be rewarded with a character-driven journey that builds toward a satisfying and emotionally resonant conclusion.

Michael Sarnoski draws remarkable emotional depth from his cast, resulting in performances that feel authentic and deeply lived-in. It may be difficult to definitively call this Hugh Jackman's finest work, but it unquestionably ranks among his strongest. Since Logan, Jackman has consistently gravitated toward roles that challenge expectations and highlight the breadth of his talent, and The Death of Robin Hood is another compelling example of that versatility. Bill Skarsgård is equally impressive, delivering a performance that is both memorable and nearly unrecognizable. His transformation speaks to his commitment as an actor and adds another layer of intrigue to the film. Jodie Comer is effective in her role, but the character itself feels somewhat underdeveloped. Given Comer's stature and proven range, the screenplay could have provided more opportunities for her to leave a lasting impression. One minor drawback is the film's dialogue mix. At times, it can be difficult to clearly understand what characters are saying or fully grasp certain narrative details on a first viewing. As a result, this may be a film that benefits from a second watch—particularly with subtitles—to better appreciate its nuances and fully absorb everything it has to offer.

It's best to approach The Death of Robin Hood with a clear understanding of what kind of film it wants to be. Between A24's reputation for character-driven storytelling and Michael Sarnoski's track record of crafting intimate, human narratives, this is a film that will likely resonate most with viewers who embrace its deliberate pace and reflective nature. In many ways, the film unfolds like a novel told from Robin Hood's perspective. This approach provides a deeper understanding of the man behind the legend, allowing audiences to connect with his flaws, regrets, and inner conflicts in a way that few adaptations have attempted. The result is a portrayal that makes Robin feel more complex and human than the larger-than-life figure audiences are accustomed to seeing.

Visually, the film is stunning. The cinematography frequently lingers on expansive landscapes, encouraging viewers to absorb the atmosphere and immerse themselves in the world around Robin. Combined with the restrained sound design, the experience often feels remarkably intimate, as if you're accompanying him on his final journey rather than simply observing it from a distance. The score is equally effective, arriving only when necessary and enhancing the film's most emotional moments without overwhelming them. Its careful placement gives those scenes additional weight, creating a lasting impact that lingers well after the credits roll. Much like the use of "On the Nature of Daylight" in Hamnet, the music understands precisely when to step forward and elevate the emotion of the story.

Overall, The Death of Robin Hood challenges long-held perceptions of the legendary character while ultimately rewarding viewers with a fresh interpretation unlike anything we’ve seen before. Hugh Jackman delivers one of the strongest performances of his career, further proving the range and depth he continues to bring to his work. The cinematography, sound design, and direction combine to create a world that feels immersive and fully lived-in, pulling the audience directly into Robin’s journey. It builds toward a final act that lands with real emotional weight—one that lingers well after the credits roll.

The Death of Robin Hood releases in theaters June 19th!

Review by Chadd Clubine

Ever since Toy Story 3, it has felt as though audiences have shared the same sentiment: “You stuck the landing—now please don’t do it again.” Pixar has no shortage of films that could receive sequels if the studio truly wanted to revisit familiar worlds. Yet Toy Story remains its safest commercial bet, a reliable success that helps fund the original projects that may not perform as strongly at the box office. Recent reports have claimed that Toy Story 5 is the best Pixar film in two decades. Don’t let that hype mislead you. While it may not quite reach those heights, it comes remarkably close with its remarkable animation and an emotional story. More importantly, it serves as a reminder that even when Pixar stumbles from time to time, the studio hasn’t lost the magic that made audiences fall in love with its films in the first place.

Looking at the future of the Toy Story franchise, it’s hard to imagine we’ll ever reach Toy Story 10. Ironically, the series has started to resemble Fast & Furious in one key way: every time it appears to have found the perfect ending, it keeps finding reasons to continue. Rather than expanding through spin-offs—which might serve both franchises better—it seems determined to keep the Toy Story name attached to new installments for as long as possible. What makes this latest entry particularly interesting is that it is, above all else, Jessie’s story. She receives significantly more focus than either Woody or Buzz, despite those two having long been the faces of the franchise. After Toy Story 4 provided Woody with what felt like a definitive farewell, Toy Story 5 finds a surprisingly convincing reason to bring him back. In doing so, it offers a blueprint for how the series can move forward: introducing a new generation of central characters while still keeping Woody and Buzz present as beloved parts of the larger story.

At 102 minutes, Toy Story 5 is officially the longest installment in the franchise to date. The film juggles three storylines simultaneously. Two of them were heavily featured in the marketing campaign, but the third comes as a welcome surprise, capturing the playful charm and humor that have always defined the series. When this subplot is first introduced, it may seem like an odd detour, leaving you wondering why it matters at all. Before long, however, it reveals itself to be a crucial piece of the larger narrative, culminating in a payoff that becomes especially meaningful during the mid-credits scene. While Toy Story 5 may not be the funniest entry in the series, the wit, heart, and comedic sensibilities that helped make the franchise iconic are still very much intact.

The film takes exactly the right approach in exploring Jessie’s story. With Woody’s character arc already brought to a satisfying close, he is able to return in a supporting role that enhances the narrative without undermining the ending that came before. Buzz, meanwhile, plays a more significant role than expected, as the film develops an engaging dynamic between him and Jessie that adds new depth to both characters. Although audiences have learned about Jessie’s past before, this installment revisits her story from a fresh perspective, delivering some of the franchise’s most emotionally powerful moments. By further exploring her backstory, the film strikes a deeply heartfelt chord, resulting in one of the most moving scenes in the entire Toy Story series.

While Pixar has another winner on its hands and further cements Toy Story as one of the greatest franchises ever made, the fifth installment is arguably the series’ weakest entry—though only by a narrow margin. Its shortcomings stem from a handful of missteps rather than any major flaws. Jessie’s story is undeniably compelling and provides the film with much of its emotional weight, but the lack of the classic Woody-and-Buzz dynamic is impossible to ignore. Their relationship has long been the heart of the franchise, and its reduced presence leaves a noticeable void. Additionally, several fan-favorite characters introduced in the previous film receive surprisingly little attention, contributing little beyond a few comedic moments and leaving less of an impact on the overall story than audiences might have hoped.

Overall, Toy Story 5 continues Pixar’s remarkable track record with a franchise that balances heart and humor as effortlessly as ever. The animation is stunning, the storytelling feels purposeful, and the film never loses sight of the emotional core that has defined the series for more than three decades. More than 30 years after the original film, Toy Story still delivers the charm, wit, and trademark humor that made audiences fall in love with these characters in the first place. While the reduced focus on Buzz and Woody’s iconic dynamic is certainly felt, the film succeeds by broadening its perspective and giving other toys—particularly Jessie—the opportunity to take center stage. In doing so, it proves that this beloved franchise can continue to evolve while staying true to what made it special from the very beginning.

Toy Story 5 releases in theaters June 19th!

Review by Chadd Clubine

Carolina Caroline already has three compelling reasons to put it on your radar: Samara Weaving, Kyle Gallner, and Adam Carter Rehmeier. Weaving and Gallner lead the cast, while Rehmeier directs from a screenplay by William Thomas Dean IV. The film first premiered at last year’s Toronto International Film Festival, where it earned strong reviews and considerable acclaim. Now arriving in limited release, Carolina Caroline stands out in an especially crowded weekend at the movies. If you're looking for a new release that genuinely rewards your time, make every effort to seek this one out—it’s arguably the strongest film opening this weekend.

The premise initially feels familiar in its Bonnie and Clyde-inspired setup, but what ultimately sets Carolina Caroline apart is the electric chemistry between Weaving and Gallner, as well as the deeply personal circumstances that send their characters on this journey. At a brisk 106 minutes, the film wastes little time immersing viewers in its story and characters. Both leads are given substantial development, grounding them in a sense of humanity that makes their increasingly criminal actions more compelling and understandable. By centering Weaving’s character on a search for her long-lost mother, the film also provides meaningful insight into her motivations, revealing the emotional wounds and personal history that shape who she is.
​
Releasing Carolina Caroline at the start of the summer feels like a smart choice. Its sun-drenched cinematography captures the heat and freedom of the season, while the film’s energetic pacing gives it the momentum of a high-octane thriller. Yet some of its best moments come when the action slows down. When the couple isn't on the run or committing crimes, their interactions feel authentic and deeply affectionate, thanks largely to the undeniable chemistry between Weaving and Gallner and Rehmeier’s confident direction. The two actors complement each other so naturally that it's difficult to imagine anyone else in these roles. It's also refreshing to see two recognizable stars commit to a smaller-scale production, lending the film a sense of sincerity and purpose that makes its emotional beats resonate even more strongly.

Rehmeier’s involvement as director is especially noteworthy given the impressive body of work he has quietly built in recent years. He previously directed the fan-favorite Dinner in America (2020) and followed it with Snack Shack (2024), another film that quickly developed a passionate following. Across his work, Rehmeier demonstrates a remarkable ability to make relationships feel authentic and emotionally grounded, even when the circumstances surrounding them are messy, chaotic, or unconventional. While he also served as a writer on those earlier films, Carolina Caroline marks an opportunity for him to direct a screenplay written by someone else. Even so, the film still feels deeply personal, carrying the same sincerity, empathy, and emotional truth that have become hallmarks of his filmmaking. With each project, Rehmeier further establishes himself as one of the most distinctive and underappreciated voices working in independent cinema today.

There is something particularly compelling about the way Carolina Caroline chooses to open and close its story. Flash-forward openings often undermine suspense by making the destination feel inevitable, but that never becomes an issue here. The film cleverly guides viewers toward one set of expectations, only to gradually reveal that the story is headed somewhere far different. Just when it seems like the pieces are falling into place, it pulls the rug out from under you with devastating precision, delivering an emotional payoff that lands with tremendous force. The ending may initially feel abrupt, but the more it lingers in your mind, the more apparent it becomes that it is exactly the conclusion the story needs. Rather than overstaying its welcome or overexplaining its ideas, the film trusts its audience to sit with the weight of its final moments. In doing so, it reinforces its themes of capitalism, addiction, and self-destruction with remarkable effectiveness, leaving a lasting impression long after the credits roll.
​
Overall, Carolina Caroline is a remarkable achievement from everyone involved. While its premise evokes familiar outlaw-romance narratives, the film carves out its own identity through sharp characterization, emotional depth, and an unexpected narrative trajectory. From the magnetic chemistry between Weaving and Gallner to the thoughtful way the story unfolds, the film proves consistently engaging and emotionally resonant. It's the kind of experience that lingers long after it ends, transforming a familiar setup into something genuinely memorable. More importantly, it serves as further evidence that Rehmeier is one of the most exciting voices working in independent cinema today and a filmmaker whose profile should continue to rise with each new project.

Carolina Caroline is now playing in theaters!

Review by Chadd Clubine

It’s easy to understand what Masters of the Universe is from the toys that seemed to be everywhere growing up, even without ever watching the cartoons. The latest film assumes audiences already know what they’re walking into, presenting itself as a faithful adaptation of the source material. However, its two-hour-and-twenty-minute runtime prioritizes atmosphere and spectacle over meaningful world-building. Whenever the film begins to excel—whether through its visuals or thematic ideas—it often undercuts itself with uneven pacing and inconsistent execution.

The film’s opening twenty minutes feel strikingly similar to the beginning of Man of Steel. The key difference is that, while that film takes the time to establish who its characters are and how they fit into its world, Masters of the Universe never fully does. We gain a broad understanding of these characters and their roles, but despite its already lengthy runtime, the film rarely digs deeper into how they became the people we see on screen. As a result, there’s little meaningful character development to build on should the film prove successful enough for Amazon MGM Studios to launch a larger franchise. To its credit, the film captures the tone fans would expect and delivers enough cinematic wonder to attract a new generation. Yet for viewers unfamiliar with the property, the experience can feel surprisingly isolating.

It’s difficult not to compare this to something like Iron Man, which launched an entire franchise, even though that seems to be the ambition here. Where Iron Man felt grounded and self-contained, this film attempts a similar approach, but repeatedly drifts back into 80s nostalgia. That wouldn’t be an issue on its own, but it needs to commit fully to that identity for it to work. The strongest moments come when it embraces that aesthetic—particularly when 80s rock tracks kick in—but those moments are quickly undercut by a more generic, symphonic score. The result is a tonal inconsistency that never quite settles, leaving the film feeling pulled in competing directions rather than unified.

Where the film truly succeeds is in its central theme of aspiring to something greater than an ordinary life. There’s a genuine relatability to Adam, played by Nicholas Galitzine, who deftly balances the line between an awkward, everyday outsider and a hero destined for a larger purpose. The film strikes gold with his performance, grounding the story whenever it threatens to drift. Regardless of how the film ultimately fares, this could be the role that elevates Galitzine to a new level of mainstream recognition. The rest of the cast is clearly committed as well, doing the best they can with material that occasionally saddles them with some truly clunky dialogue. Yet the biggest surprise may be Jared Leto, whose performance stands out in ways few might expect.

When the film first opens, it’s easy to be impressed by its visual language and swept into its world. The cinematography, especially during the action sequences, is often striking and effective, but that sense of immersion doesn’t last long. By the midpoint, the heavy reliance on green screen becomes increasingly apparent. Instead of feeling transported into fully realized environments, the performances often look like they’re unfolding in front of an artificial backdrop the actors are clearly aware of. With a reported production budget of around $200 million—and marketing costs potentially pushing the total far higher—the film would likely need to clear $400 million globally to be considered a success. Against that scale, it’s hard to justify a visual presentation that so frequently feels stage-bound and digitally constructed, undermining the spectacle it’s aiming to deliver.
​
Overall, Masters of the Universe will likely satisfy longtime fans of the source material, but it ultimately falls short of its potential. The cast does what it can to bring their characters to life, even when constrained by uneven world-building and some particularly clunky dialogue. At two hours and twenty minutes, the action remains lively and engaging, but the heavy reliance on green screen frequently breaks the immersion, serving as a constant reminder that you’re watching a constructed spectacle rather than being fully transported into a new world.

Masters of the Universe releases in theaters June 5th!

Review by Chadd Clubine

If you grew up on action-packed martial arts movies in the 2010s, chances are you came across The Raid: Redemption and its acclaimed sequel, The Raid 2—two films that remain modern love letters to the genre. Fortunately, two actors from that franchise headline The Furious, making comparisons to The Raid almost inevitable. It has been 12 years since the last Raid film was released, and since then, many standout martial arts movies have flown under the radar, whether buried on streaming services or denied a proper U.S. theatrical release. The Furious breathes new life into the genre, finding a clever way to appeal to American audiences, even if some of its choices can feel a little tacky.

The story is arguably the film’s weakest element, but it’s easy to forgive when such an exhilarating action spectacle unfolds on screen. In many ways, the premise feels like something straight out of a Jason Statham vehicle, though it also serves as a reminder of how films in that mold can be elevated with the right execution. There are plenty of narrative beats that don’t entirely hold up under scrutiny, particularly when certain character motivations lack the development needed to make them convincing. What ultimately carries the film, however, is not just its expertly crafted action, but its larger-than-life sense of cheesy fun—a quality that embraces and honors the genre traditions that came before it.

While many viewers may be more familiar with the supporting character played by Joe Taslim, Xie Miao firmly takes center stage as the film’s protagonist. Despite never speaking a single word throughout the entire film, his character remains compelling and expressive. Whether his silence stems from a disability or a personal choice is never explicitly explained, but that ambiguity ultimately matters less than the emotional weight Xie brings to the role. Through his physical performance and dramatic presence, he becomes an effortlessly sympathetic hero and an easy character to root for. Paired with Joe Taslim, the two form a dynamic duo whose chemistry and combat prowess make them feel like an unstoppable force whenever they share the screen.

The action is the primary reason to see a film like this, and The Furious delivers in spectacular fashion. Few American action movies can match the impact, intensity, or creativity on display here, with every fight feeling visceral and every set piece designed to leave an impression. Just when it seems like the film has exhausted its arsenal, it finds inventive new ways to escalate the chaos, culminating in a wildly unpredictable third act. While some sequences can feel a bit excessive or repetitive, the relentless energy and adrenaline-fueled pacing make it nearly impossible to look away. The film maintains a genuine sense of danger throughout, as no character ever feels truly safe and the brutality of the carnage is felt in every blow.

For a film like this to succeed, it needs to immerse the audience in the action, and the camerawork does exactly that. The camera feels like a character in its own right, weaving through the chaos and placing viewers directly alongside the fighters. Combined with sharp sound design that emphasizes every impact, crack, and painful blow, the film effectively conveys the physical toll endured by its characters. The score, however, is less successful. While the rock-infused riffs occasionally enhance the film’s energy, they can also make certain sequences feel more like a video game than a cinematic experience. More importantly, the music lacks the distinctive identity that helped define films like The Raid and The Raid 2. Rather than elevating the action or reinforcing the film’s personality, the score often feels generic and, at times, leans too heavily into the onscreen absurdity instead of grounding it.

The film also takes an interesting approach to its dialogue. Despite being an international production, much of the spoken dialogue is presented in English, a choice that appears designed to make the film more accessible to U.S. audiences. It’s an understandable decision, but one that can occasionally feel distracting. The lip-syncing is seamless, and even elements such as newspapers and on-screen headlines are presented in English, creating the impression that the entire world of the film naturally operates in the language. At times, however, the presentation is so polished that it almost feels as though the film has been expertly dubbed rather than performed in English from the outset. While the approach undoubtedly broadens the film’s appeal, its commitment to English-language accessibility can sometimes come across as more conspicuous and over-the-top than necessary.
​
Overall, The Furious is a nonstop thrill ride packed with bone-crunching fights and relentlessly entertaining action. While its story often plays things safe, the film more than compensates with its willingness to embrace larger-than-life spectacle and unapologetic absurdity. As the chaos escalates, many of the narrative shortcomings fade into the background, overshadowed by the sheer excitement unfolding on screen. For fans of martial arts cinema, The Furious is not to be missed. It feels like a genuine resurgence for the genre—a reminder of how exhilarating these films can be, especially when experienced on the big screen.

The Furious releases in theaters June 12th!