Who needs good acting when you know where the Colleen Hoover formula plot is going. Maika Monroe is easy on the eyes, but the premise she embodies is wobbly: who sends a young woman with no record to jail for seven years when the car she’s driving hits a rock, rolls over and her fiance in the shotgun seat is killed? And why is her five-year-old daughter portrayed as a three-year-old?
Sometimes you just long for an old-fashioned movie with a linear plot, dialogue you can understand, a satisfying story arc and a character or two you can like or even connect with emotionally. Instead, Kristen Stewart’s first directorial effort seemed designed to establish her bona fides as an artsy auteur with the portrait of an abused, sex-crazed, irresponsible poet of no discernible talent who somehow survived to write the memoir on which the film was loosely based. Imogen Poots remarkably kept the film, and her head, above water.
If a comedy, not funny. If a drama, not dramatic. If social commentary, no comment. After an hour we looked at each other, mouthed the word “stupid,” and departed. The culture gap between us and this Korean Oscar submission must have been too wide.
A one-note dramatization of a real call from besieged Gaza was short on modulation, and how one responds to the lead character’s conduct will depend on the viewer, but any film that humanizes Palestinians deserves celebration.
What a feel this movie gives for Brazil in 1977 – its people, its culture – in just its first 40 minutes! In the hands of a master filmmaker, I sat back, eager for the ride, with Wagner Moura as the easygoing lead. Then the plot happens and muddies the picture. People are enemies of the state for reasons unknown, a hairy leg attacks people enjoying commercial sex, heads get blown off, and researchers 45 years in the future piece together the puzzle for, again, reasons unknown. Perhaps familiarity with Brazilian history and politics would have kept us better glued for the following two hours.
Remarkably filmed sub rosa in Iran, Accident told a story of torture and revenge with compelling directness and lots of close-ups. Some of the set pieces went on too long, which drained some suspense, but that may have been Jafar Panahi’s intention. (Would the Golden Globes consider this a comedy?) A bit threadbare for Best Picture, but politically daring and in every way commendable.
Music can make you happy, and this film did, over and over. Good songs, sung with joy to enthusiastic audiences, were played to the end but smartly intercut with snippets of the characters’ daily lives, so they never outstayed their welcome. The characters were all people you rooted for (cf. Marty Supreme) and enjoyed being with, even the teenage girls. Hugh Jackman and Kate Hudson were wonderful, as was the supporting cast, featuring good old Michael Imperioli. The plot may have been based on a true story, but it doled out excessive tragedies in a Hollywood-hokey way that erased any thought of authenticity. But that music!
A somewhat aimless documentary about our era’s most famous investigative reporter, Seymour Hersh. It wanders among clips of stories he covered, a current non-revealing interview and historic shots of him walking, like the directors had trouble coming up with visuals to fill the frame. The film gave me a face and a personality to go with the byline, but not much insight or follow-through on the title.
A Scandinavian psychodrama that brings back memories of Ingmar Bergman. Renate Reinsve joins Jessie Buckley, Rose Byrne and Zoey Deutch in the Actress-I-Enjoy-Watching category for 2025, while Stellan Skarsgard and Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas are worthy Golden Globe supporting actor nominees. There’s disappointingly less to the story and landscape than in Joachim Trier’s earlier The Worst Person in the World, just some great acting.
Unwatchable. From the opening frantic sex scene to the discordantly beatific ending, the movie charges ahead with a frenzy and high volume that is unrelieved and wearing. The plot toggles between absurd and ridiculous. The repetitive table tennis scenes are fakey and the music is unusually bad. Timothee Chalamet succeeds in creating the most unpleasant character of the year, but who wants to watch that? I can’t think of a single moment I enjoyed, aside from Pico Iyer’s astonishing performance.
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