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  • Bring Her Back review – Sally Hawkins is…

    Bring Her Back review – Sally Hawkins is…



    Grief manifests in many ways, which is something Australian twin brothers Danny and Michael Philippou have explored in their horror films by conjuring up exceptionally disturbing images of terror and violence. In their first film and A24 box office smash, Talk to Me, they explored loss from an adolescent perspective through the supernatural. In their atmospheric follow-up they ramp up the brutality with a dysfunctional domestic set-up where a mother still grieving the loss of her daughter fosters two siblings reeling from the sudden death of their father. 

    From the very opening scene, which shows grainy VHS footage of a gross occult ceremony to the suspicious behaviour of foster mum Laura (Sally Hawkins) towards the visually impaired Piper (Sora Wong) and her older step-brother Andy (Billy Barratt), the Philippous let the audience in on where Bring Her Back is headed early on. It’s clear something nasty is bubbling under the surface and Laura is intentionally gaslighting Andy in order to get closer to Piper, but the filmmakers do deliver mystery surrounding another child, Oliver (Jonah Wren Phillips), who is also under Laura’s supervision and is selectively mute. 

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    The Philippou brothers have name checked What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? as a touchstone for Laura’s narrative and Hawkins brings a nervous, desperate energy to her performance. The casting of Hawkins against type is a canny move – many may be fond of her bubbly turn in Mike Leigh’s Happy-Go-Lucky or as the caring and creative Mrs. Brown in the first two Paddington films, and it’s her ability to channel that warmth and kindness into something malicious that makes this change of pace so nastily effective. 

    In fact, the entire ensemble cast does great work. Impressive newcomer Sora Wong, who in real life also has limited vision, fully inhabits the role of a determined yet naïve character who looks up to her older brother, while Billy Barratt’s is a performance of pure vulnerability shot through with a palpable sense of unspoken regret. He is super attentive to his sister, and the sibling dynamic is nicely shaded, so when things take a tragic turn, you feel their pain and heartbreak. The Philippous have a real knack of writing credible relationships and there is a piercing melancholy quality to the picture that permeates every inch of the frame. The saucer-eyed Jonah Wren Phillips gets some of the bloodiest scenes to act out, and his dedicated turn provides indelible and horrific images. It’s at once wince-inducing and mesmerising to watch. 

    The creeping dread, water symbolism and visuals of circles throughout brings to mind classic J‑horror. Andy is haunted by trauma, which is shown in fragmented jump-scare apparitions and flashbacks – Hideo Nakata’s Dark Water and Ring used similar methods to express the worsening of a fragile state of mind. The finale is a comparable feat of precise composition and rasping sound design where characters are drenched in heavy rain and deep confusion. Nearly every character in Bring Her Back is drowning in the depths of despair and desperately clinging on for dear life. Some flail and give into their worst instincts, some sink into oblivion, and others break the waves of grief and cruelty, albeit emerging with terrible scars. 





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  • Savages review – direct action education, for…

    Savages review – direct action education, for…



    As chainsaws annihilate trees and animal chatter in the opening of Savages, Claude Barras makes clear the target of his new feature film’s title: the drivers of deforestation in the name of ​“civilisation”, as the title treatment drops over a plantation. While plantation worker Mutang’s additional muttering of ​“savages” in response to the plantation’s armed guards shooting an orangutan in cold blood feels heavy-handed, it doesn’t take away from the power of the film’s stop-motion craft. Mutang and his young daughter Keria adopt the surviving baby ape, a casualty and representative of the casual barbarity of deforestation. 

    The film is set in Borneo, told from the perspective of Keria, who lives with Mutang on the edge of the city, in a village between the urban spires and the dense rainforest in which Keria’s extended family live. Her family is part of the Penan people – nomadic hunter-gatherers who are one of the hundreds of indigenous groups on the island – and Barras follows Keria as she embraces that part of her family and heritage. It’s a hard-won journey – Keria is skeptical of that tradition and downright horrible to her younger cousin Selaï when he comes to stay with them, even joining in with her friend’s racist taunts. The eventual healing of their familial relationship as it blossoms is the film’s strongest hook, and Barras and screenwriter Catherine Paillé tie this together with Keria learning the connection between her family’s freedom and environmental destruction, as the government attempt to drive them off their land, annihilate their hunting spots and tie them up in bureaucracy. As Keria unlearns her selfishness and materialism, we see it manifest in the companies laying claim to land that doesn’t belong to them. ​“The world does not belong to us… we borrow it from our children,” as an opening epigraph says, but capitalism isn’t built for the future. 

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    The writers may be obvious in their allegory in places, but that doesn’t mean they don’t trust their young audience with harsher material, and not just in the bursts of violence. Savages talks frankly about ​“hope dying slowly” in the forest as the Penan fight the encroaching government off their land but expect the worst anyway. Between the cute gags, there’s also an interest in observation: not in an anthropological sense towards the Penan, but in a contentedness with noticing the patterns of the natural world. 

    The handmade qualities of this world amplify the sense of devastation. The characters, whose designs resemble Barras’s work on My Life as a Courgette, each have distinct personality in their design as well as a visible human touch on their surface which creates a level of immersion. Adding to this is the dense foliage of Savages’ tactile forest sets, as well as its interest in animated natural life, the sounds of which are often prioritised over a musical score. It makes the barrenness of quarries and logging sites feel downright apocalyptic: the notes for the film highlight the Penan concept of Tana Pengurip – the living forest – not just as the home and livelihood of the Penan, but as the carrier of their stories.

    Barras builds the film not just so that annihilation feels tangible, but also so that sense of history and spirituality can be felt as well as told: the natural lighting of the daylight hours gives way to an ethereal glow in the forest at night as Keria encounters a panther that might also carry her mother’s spirit. The fantastical, meticulous nature of Barras’ animation illustrates by contrast the scourge of AI: lifeless, eerily smooth digital simulacrum which is actually hastening environmental destruction rather than encouraging its protection.

    Perhaps the most fantastical moment is saved for last, as Savages sees capitalist and governmental power acquiescing to the will of the people, particularly to the passion and ingenuity of youth. But it’s also fitting: why preach cynicism and the belief that stepping outside doesn’t work to younger audiences? It’s hard to fault Barras for making a film which is open-eyed about the destruction of the natural world, but also quietly insistent that it – and we – can be saved. 





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  • The Naked Gun review – not just more rebooted IP…

    The Naked Gun review – not just more rebooted IP…



    A good comedy must be funny; this shouldn’t be a debatable statement, and yet it would seem that as of late, too many studio efforts in the genre are making an effortful case for the contrary. Consider the earners of recent vintage: even in determinedly labeled comedies, humor is the pleasant diversion that greases the proceedings while we behold the CGI-laden stunts of Dwayne Johnson and Kevin Hart, gape at the immaculate visages of Glen Powell and Sydney Sweeney, or ponder the confining roles of womanhood with our pal Barbie. The platonic ideal of a comedy as a machine that extracts laughter — and that the best comedy would necessarily be the one that operates at maximum capacity along these lines on a minute-to-minute basis — is not pursued nearly as doggedly as it should be. 

    Luckily, for Earth and its people and everyone who will live in the future, Detective Frank Drebin Jr. stops for nothing when he’s in hot pursuit. Not pedestrians. Not unfortunately placed beehives or clutches of helium balloons. Nothing.

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    In keeping with the tradition of the Zucker-Abrahams-Zucker brain trust’s original cop-on-the-edge spoofs, the rebooted Naked Gun condenses a staggering volume of jokes into a svelte sub-hour-and-a-half length, to the point that the question of whether any one gag works on you becomes immaterial. In about five seconds, there will be more daffy wordplay, more pratfalls, more left-field pop-culture references proudly long past their expiry date. The by-any-means-necessary bit barrage crams sight gags into the corners of frames, the credits, the infinitesimal space within edits. In a film that nobly aspires to everything being funny at all times, anything can be, the chief benefit of director Akiva Schaffer’s attention to and appreciation for the elements of cinematic form. You’ve got to be smart to be this stupid.

    The virtuosic schtick construction meets a worthy match in the leads, two exemplary instances of unexpected yet inspired casting that play on the actors’ preexisting screen personae just as the original tapped hard-nosed Leslie Nielsen for deadpan self-parody. As Drebin the Younger, Liam Neeson is god’s perfect boob, fully locked into the sweet spot between unearned confidence and bone-deep idiocy where comedy flourishes. (As is essential for any performer trafficking in levity, he jumps at the chance to make himself look like a fool, not least in the profoundly satisfying line of dialogue that lays out the gerontocratic subtext of the rampaging-oldster pictures on which he built his career’s second act.) And as his femme fatale/right-hand gal Beth – known also by her undercover moniker, Ms. Spaghetti – a resurgent Pamela Anderson reveals unforeseen reserves of brilliant comic acumen, the depth of her commitment undeniable in an exquisitely silly musical interlude or a minute-long tangent involving dark magic, a snowman, and a samurai sword that gives this film its successor to Popstar​’s immortal ​“offscreen bees” flight of absurd fancy.

    When the opening minutes introduce a doohickey labeled ​“P.L.O.T. Device,” it’s an announcement that the actual case at hand is little more than occasion for bountiful setups and punch lines, though the timely edge is hard to miss in a tech-visionary villain (Danny Huston) pushing shoddy electric vehicles. But like many of the Elon Musk stand-ins peopling Hollywood productions in the years since Iron Man, any overtures to satirical critique fall flat due to the difficulty of replicating Musk’s weird combination of awkwardness, spitefulness, and neediness. Ultimately, Huston’s nefarious Richard Cane is just another megalomaniacal billionaire; in spite of this, it’s still pretty refreshing to see him punched in the gut.

    Perhaps this one aspect sticks out because the rest of the film is so markedly not yoked to its moment, at once unfashionable and eternal in its evocation of a century of madcap Jewish yuks, from the Borscht Belt to MAD Magazine to Mel Brooks. The imperative is simple, unchanging, and absolute: make ​‘em laugh, make ​‘em laugh, make ​‘em laugh. The Naked Gun is a volume business, and it succeeds by seriously heeding the sentiment presented sarcastically when applied to Drebin and his greying-badass ilk. Sometimes, the old ways really are best; a good pun is forever.





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  • Elio review – a touching treaty on the search for…

    Elio review – a touching treaty on the search for…



    We first meet Elio Solis (Yonas Kibreab) curled up beneath a booth table of a diner inside a museum. He’s a bit younger than he will be for most of the film, painfully shy and still reeling from the recent loss of his parents. His Aunt Olga (Zoe Saldaña), recently and unexpectedly appointed as his guardian, is struggling to adjust to her new role. While she’s momentarily distracted by a colleague, Elio slips away and stumbles into an immersive exhibition on the vastness of space – an otherworldly encounter that will alter the course of his life forever.

    What follows is a deep obsession with the existence of alien life. Though Elio is no longer shy per se, he remains socially awkward and has difficulty forming friendships, not necessarily because his peers dislike him, but because he unintentionally distances himself from them. He harbors the belief that one day aliens will abduct him, but he’s reluctant to share. Several reasons underlie Elio’s intense longing to leave Earth: a desire to escape the painful memories of being orphaned; a hope to encounter beings who defy conventional norms, and a yearning to discover a life beyond the ordinary limitations of Earth.

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    After getting into a fight, Elio is picked up by his Aunt Olga and reluctantly brought along to the military base where she works. Curious and defiant, he follows her into a restricted meeting, only to discover that aliens have sent a message to Earth. Hiding in a nearby rubbish bin until the room clears out, Elio seizes the moment. In a burst of desperation and hope, he records a message of his own, pleading to the life forms on the other end and sharing his dream of one day joining their world.

    Not only do the extraterrestrials receive Elio’s message, but they also respond. Fulfilling his wildest dreams, they abduct him and bring him to the Communiverse, a vast interplanetary alliance home to countless intelligent species. But here’s the catch: because Elio was the one to answer their signal, they mistakenly believe he is the ruler of Earth. Eager to impress the council of ambassadors who govern the Communiverse, Elio assumes the role and does his best to live up to the title. When Lord Grigon (Brad Garrett), a warlord of the planet Hylurg, threatens the very existence of the Communiverse and no one else dares to negotiate, Elio rises to the challenge, determined to protect the one place he finally hopes to call home.

    It’s no surprise that as a literal child, Elio would fumble the negotiations, only managing to further enrage Lord Grigon. While secretly plotting his escape, he encounters Glordon (Remy Edgerly), the silk-worm-like prince of Hylurg and Grigon’s son. Adorable, naïve, and impossibly sweet, Glordon is the polar opposite of his father. He agrees to return to the Communiverse, initially as a pawn in the larger diplomatic game that Elio refuses to back down from, but what unfolds instead is a heartwarming friendship between two young outsiders who, for the first time, begin to feel at home, by each other’s side.

    There are moments when the film feels slightly clunky, as if certain story elements either needed more time to develop or should have been simplified. This is most evident in the middle act, where the concept of the Communiverse, while imaginative, begins to feel overcomplicated. The same applies to its visual design – sometimes less truly is more. The abundance of colors and shapes, though ambitious, ends up blending into a stylistic blur. That said, the animation remains as technically impressive as audiences have come to expect from Pixar.

    The first act of the film is exceptional and joyous to watch. Just as compelling is anything involving the friendship between Elio and Glordon, which ultimately becomes the emotional core of the story. What truly makes the film special is the remarkable voice work from young actors Yonas Kibreab and Remy Edgerly, who bring their characters to life with striking authenticity. Their performances are rich with passion, vulnerability, and emotional nuance, conveying everything from childlike curiosity to profound longing. It’s through their voices that the film’s heart beats strongest, grounding its fantastical world in something deeply human and moving.

    There’s an undeniable charm to this film that makes it easy to be dazzled by. From its deeply lovable lead characters, who you can’t help but root for, to delightful surprises like a perfectly timed Talking Heads needle drop and effortless moments of humor. But what makes it truly special is its heartfelt exploration of universal themes like grief, loneliness, and the deep human desire to belong. It’s the kind of story that stays with you, gently reminding us that no matter where we come from, we’re all just searching for connection.

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  • FANTASTIC FOUR: FIRST STEPS Review: Third Time’s A Charm


    Introduction

    I know you’re worried about The Fantastic Four: First Steps. You remember the aggressively mediocre first two Fantastic Four movies featuring Jessica Alba and Chris Evans. You’ve tried to forget the atrocious reboot featuring Miles Teller and Michael B. Jordan. And you still don’t trust that the MCU has truly turned the corner back into must-watch territory. But if you saw Thunderbolts*, you’ll have more confidence that Marvel has corrected itself. You did see Thunderbolts*, right?

    Honest Trailers once joked that a good Fantastic Four movie did exist – Pixar’s The Incredibles (2004). If that’s funny, it’s because it’s true. However, now, The Incredibles has competition with an official Fantastic Four film. The Fantastic Four: First Steps finally gives us a film that might just be fantastic.

    The Fantastic Four: First Steps
    Pedro Pascal stars in “The Fantastic Four: First Steps. Photo courtesy of Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures.

    Synopsis

    The Fantastic Four: First Steps starts exactly how it should – by not showing us a thirty-minute first act featuring how the Fantastic Four got their powers. Thank you, director Matt Shakman. Instead, we’re thrust into a world where the Fantastic Four are beloved and considered Earth-828’s protectors. That number is important because the primary MCU Earth is 616. Don’t worry, the multiverse isn’t a focus in this movie. Because of that, bonus, you don’t have to know anything about the rest of the MCU for this movie. You’re welcome.

    In New York City on Earth-828, it’s the 1960s and looks like if Disneyland’s Tomorrowland was right. The Fantastic Four live together in their very own tower in the city, and everyone knows them by their actual names. Their superhero names are never mentioned during the film.

    Reed Richards (Pedro Pascal) and his wife, Sue Storm (Vanessa Kirby), have learned that Sue is pregnant. They share this news with Sue’s brother, Johnny (Joseph Quinn), and their family friend Ben Grimm (Ebon Moss-Bachrach) over their weekly Sunday dinner. If this sounds a lot like Disney’s Carousel of Progress ride to you, you’ll know what I mean by – like the ride – this idyllic scene is interrupted.

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pAsmrKyMqaA

    Near the end of Sue’s pregnancy, a cosmic being called the Silver Surfer (Julia Garner) arrives at Earth to inform humanity that her master, Galactus (Ralph Ineson), is on his way to eat Earth. Yes, I said eat Earth. In an attempt to save Earth, the Fantastic Four locate Galactus’ current location in the galaxy, then fly there to negotiate with him. Galactus demands Sue’s baby in exchange for not eating Earth. They politely decline. Just kidding – fight scene.

    Analysis

    What I love about this plot is that it’s a form of the famous Trolley Problem. Doom one life to save everyone else or doom everyone else to save one? Because the film focuses much more on family and community than on punching bad guys, the dilemma has real heft. And not just for the four superheroes, but for the people initially angry at what they perceive as the obvious choice.

    Once Sue explains to them why they couldn’t just sacrifice their child, they actually listen. I know, right? After living on our Earth these past few years, especially these last few months, the idea of people listening to reason sounds utterly preposterous.

    There’s a lot more to like about this film than just the moral dilemma. After the casting and writing disaster of 2015’s Fantastic Four, Marvel Studios did what they do best: creating a bunch of well-written characters and finding quite possibly the best possible choices of actors for all of the main characters (and even the minor ones).

    The Cast

    Ineson portrays a very menacing Galactus, even sprinkling in some nuance that has us feeling the tiniest bit of sympathy for him. Garner is even better as the Silver Surfer, powering her emotions and expressions throughout Surfer’s character arc, as well as through the CGI liquid metal covering her entire body.

    The Fantastic Four: First Steps

    Quinn and Moss-Bachrach both tone down the cartoonishness of their characters and play up qualities not emphasized in previous film versions of their characters. Ben isn’t just a rock-covered strongman. He’s caring and soft-hearted to friends and strangers alike. Johnny is no longer a cocky, dumb playboy, but a mildly subdued, intelligent man eager to help out.

    Then there are Kirby and Pascal, shining much more as the heads of the family than the heads of a superhero team. Reed is still the familiar scientific genius, but he’s also every dad trying to figure out fatherhood on the fly. He just uses checklists and robots to help. Sue is still the familiar protector and loving wife, but with an undertone of don’t-fuck-with me-now-that-I’m- a-mom. You all know what I’m talking about.

    Conclusion

    So, breathe a sigh of relief. The Fantastic Four: First Steps is the Fantastic Four movie we’ve been demanding for decades. You can finally forgive 20th Century Fox Studios for mangling the franchise. You can also forgive Marvel Studios for the flood of forgettable and subpar content they fire-hosed at us after Avengers: Endgame (2019).

    Now, you can look forward to the next MCU movie, since that trust has once again been restored. And you can also go watch Thunderbolts* because the box office sure looks like many of you didn’t see it.

    Rating: Worth every penny, even if you’re still mad at Carousel of Progress always breaking down.

    More from Cinema Scholars

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  • 28 Years Later review – Danny Boyle is finally…

    28 Years Later review – Danny Boyle is finally…



    Like a rabid zombie with a wanton desire to gorge mindlessly on its prey, filmmaker Danny Boyle has got a bloody sweet tooth for nostalgia lately. From publicly despoiling a copper-bottomed cult classic for cringey call-back kicks (Trainspotting 2), to appeasing the ​“gold” radio crowd (Yesterday) and reframing the punk era as a dressing-up box farrago (TV series Pistol), he’s drawn heedlessly to the amber glow of youth and happier, more fruitful times of days yonder.

    You might deduce a hint of autobiography, then, in his new film 28 Years Later, which introduces a closed society of Northumbrian island dwellers who have experienced no technological or social evolution since the initial outbreak of the Rage virus that was documented in 2002’s frisky genre hit, 28 Days Later. A benign form of socialism has taken over, and this close-knit group of survivors have been able to subsist and persist via collective endeavour and unselfconscious empathy, sharing food and supplies and embracing a level of full-tilt social equality that would have a Tory grandee scoffing into his kedgeree. 

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    The British mainland, meanwhile, has been left to fester, now a global no-go territory and under strict quarantine from Europe (sound familiar?). While many of the infected have also succumbed to the ravages of time, some have also evolved into a supercharged breed that, with their non-verbal yowling and distaste for clothing, resemble a new iteration of pre-historic man. And leading the packs are the dangerous new ​“alpha” variants, immune to the slings and arrows of the islanders and apparently the product of steroids present in the original strain.

    Where the original film leached on the bleeding edge aesthetics of the Dogme 95 movement, with its use of consumer grade digital cameras to immerse us in all the blood-vomiting detail of the urban apocalypse, this new one opts for a mix of classical high definition vistas as best to emphasise the bucolic splendor of northern England. Yet there’s still great glee taken in having us monitor the explosive exit wounds caused by arrows hitting their targets directly in the face.

    The story follows 12-year-old Spike (Alfie Williams) whose loving, burley pops Jamie (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) is making him an extra large fry-up this morning, as he’s heading to the mainland for his first foraging mission. Upstairs, his ailing mum Isla (Jodie Comer) writhes around in bed, suffering from an illness that no-one can diagnose or assist with, as there is no-one with medical training on the island. 

    Without going into too much detail, the film is as fervent in its love for the NHS and socialised medical provision as was Boyle’s 2012 Olympic opening ceremony, praising the presence of doctors even when they don’t have the tools to help those who are suffering. And it also offers a stinging critique of all those who actively yearn for the halt of progress, and what we see here is the horrible upshot of what a country would look like if indeed the clocks were to grind to a halt. 

    The first half of the film sees Spike and Jamie tooled up and ready to do battle with the infected, while the second focuses on the son’s attempts to find some relief for his mother. There are a number of references and influences at play, including fantasy franchise building like The Hunger Games movies, and some of the more outré modern folk horror offerings, such as those by Ben Wheatley. Screenwriter Alex Garland is someone who has been vocal in his love and respect for modern video games, and the dynamic here, with the insistently paternal father clashing with the rebellious son, feels like an homage to the 2018 title God of War.

    There are little suggestions of allegory and satire in the mix, but Garland has this time managed to find a nice sweet spot where meaning and message don’t choke the story as a whole. Boyle, meanwhile, shows us some of the old magic in the various action set pieces, especially the ones where the alpha and its mighty, swinging member become involved. Tonally, the film is all over the shop, but never to the point where things don’t feel fluid or coherent. Anachronism is used for humour, particularly in a climactic scene which, for this viewer, might be considered one of the most jaw-dropping and bold in recent memory. A mic-drop moment par excellence. 

    It’s a film which manages to have its daft thrills and convincingly pivot to wistful philosophical introspection, and while there are certainly some rough edges and unexplored plot avenues, it probably counts as one of Boyle’s strongest works this century. This one needs to do numbers to ensure that the entire trilogy comes to fruition (Nia DaCosta’s second instalment is in the can and arriving early 2026), and we can honestly say something now that we haven’t been able to say for a long time: Danny deserves your dosh.

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  • The Bad Guys 2 review – an absolute hoot

    The Bad Guys 2 review – an absolute hoot



    We’re guessing that there’s a spreadsheet somewhere on an old company laptop in Hollywood whose rows and columns made the compelling financial case for the sequel to 2022’s mid-tier animated feature, The Bad Guys. As, on a purely vibes-based deduction, it’s not a film that too many people were either hankering for or expecting. Indeed, a review embargo for the film set for the day of release is, in the majority of cases, a red flag accompanied by a small, panicked firework display. So the odds were not in our favour.

    The surprising news, then, is that Pierre Perifel’s film – like The Godfather, Toy Story and the first Bourne sequel – joins that rarified club of film franchises where the second film is arguably superior to the first. With The Godfather and Toy Story it’s a coin toss, but in this case, The Bad Guys 2 wipes the floor with the original which, in hindsight, looks like a scrappy work in progress.

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    Mr Wolf (Sam Rockwell) is the immaculately-attired, smart-alecky leader of an inter-species wrecking crew whose skills perfectly align to make them maestros of the heist(ros). They are the archetypal, self-styled baddies, forced in the first film to go good, but now finding the job market and domestic drudgery of the strait-arrow life to be frustrating and dull. 

    All of the gang – Mr Snake (Marc Maron), Mr Shark (Craig Robinson), Mr Piranha (Anthony Ramos) and Ms Tarantula (Awkwafina) – are hankering for a cheeky bit of recidivism, when their transgressive prayers are answered as they learn of a master thief who is taking down joints and nabbing everything they can find made from the rare metal, McGuffinite. The cops are baffled, and so Mr Wolf lends his insider insight to spin the dictum, ​“It takes a thief to catch a thief.”

    It’s a confident and spry film that actually manages to get better and better as it goes along. Perifel channels the limb-stretching physics and Picasso-esque landscape aesthetics of vintage-era Loony Tunes, while Rockwell’s voicework equals the louche, quippy charms of George Clooney in full Danny Ocean mode. 

    It’s a story about criminals who have reached a point where they do things purely for the thrill of it, desiring excess for no reason other than to have achieved a feat of thievery that exceeds all others. Which speaks directly to our modern oligarch culture. There’s a bumbling idiot character based on Elon Musk who, at a wedding of gaudy, Bezos-esque lavishness, uses an AI to identify his richest guests. And there’s also something quite subversive in how it deals with the notion of modern Robin Hoods, and how their ideals about distribution of wealth still leaves them with excessive and perhaps unearned levels of power.

    But this is, in the main, a rolicking good time at the pictures, and its interstellar finale mocks the OTT stunt work of the Mission: Impossible films as we see the Bad Guys leap on to a space rocket from a moving helicopter. Never thought we’d ever be saying this, but roll on The Bad Guys 3.





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  • Late Shift – Review

    Late Shift – Review


    A hospital is a 24 hour facility. Death, illness and, indeed, recovery do not keep office hours. The (inevitably white) walls are home to questions, tears, frustrations and goodbyes. Powerful emotions are an hourly occurrence. In Late Shift, Swiss writer / director Petra Volpe crafts a taut, powerful drama that unfolds over the course of a single shift in a hospital. With a powerhouse performance from Leonie Benesch at its core, the film is a sobering yet deeply human exploration of the modern healthcare crisis, told through the exhausted eyes of one overworked nurse. It’s a film that doesn’t just depict stress, it immerses you in it.

    The story follows Floria Lind (Benesch), a dedicated and compassionate nurse working in a Swiss surgical ward. From the moment her shift begins, it’s clear that the hospital is understaffed and overwhelmed. Patients pile up, emergencies escalate and Floria is pulled in every direction, by doctors, patients, colleagues and her own conscience. As the hours tick by, the pressure mounts, and what begins as a routine day spirals into a tense, near-thriller-like race against time.

    Late Shift Leonie Benesch Vertigo Releasing

    There’s no external villain here. The antagonist is the system itself: a healthcare infrastructure stretched to its breaking point and the emotional toll it exacts on those who keep it running. The film’s climax isn’t a dramatic twist, but a quiet, devastating moment of emotional collapse that feels all too real.

    Late Shift is a searing indictment of the global nursing crisis, but it’s also a deeply empathetic character study. Volpe uses Floria’s shift as a microcosm for broader systemic issues: burnout, emotional labor and the invisibility of care work. The film doesn’t preach, it shows. Through Floria’s eyes, we experience the impossible balancing act of triaging patients, managing bureaucracy, and maintaining a shred of humanity in a system that demands constant sacrifice.

    Thematically, the film explores the erosion of boundaries between professional and personal; between care and self-neglect. Floria’s quiet resilience is both her strength and her undoing. She internalises every failure, every missed call, every patient she can’t save. The film also touches on gender dynamics, subtly highlighting how emotional labor is disproportionately expected of women in caregiving roles.

    Leonie Benesch delivers a career-defining performance as Floria. Known for her roles in The Teachers’ Lounge and Babylon Berlin, Benesch brings a raw, lived-in authenticity to the role. Her portrayal is remarkably physical: every movement, every glance, every sigh feels earned. She doesn’t need grand monologues; her exhaustion, compassion and quiet despair are etched into her face. It’s a performance that feels less like acting and more like witnessing.

    Late Shift Leonie Benesch Vertigo Releasing

    The supporting cast, including Sonja Riesen and Alireza Bayram, provide strong, grounded performances that flesh out the hospital’s ecosystem. But the film belongs to Benesch, whose presence anchors every frame. We fully understand her sense of routine and experience; she knows exactly which drawer to open, which room to attend and which tests to run. Although, given the frenetic pacing of her shift, you cannot help but feel on edge that mistakes might be made along the way.

    Petra Volpe’s direction is intimate and immersive. She eschews melodrama in favour of realism, capturing the chaos and claustrophobia of the hospital with documentary-like precision. The camera, handled masterfully by Judith Kaufmann, often follows Floria in long, unbroken takes, creating a sense of urgency and immediacy. The hospital corridors become a labyrinth, both physical and emotional, through which Floria navigates with increasing difficulty.

    Kaufmann’s cinematography is both beautiful and brutal. The sterile whites and harsh fluorescents of the hospital are contrasted with fleeting moments of warmth: sunlight through a window, a patient’s smile, a rare moment of stillness. These visual choices underscore the emotional highs and lows of Floria’s journey.

    Late Shift Leonie Benesch Vertigo Releasing

    The film’s sound design is a standout element. The constant beeping of monitors, the buzz of intercoms, the hurried footsteps all contribute to a soundscape that mirrors Floria’s fraying nerves. The score, used sparingly, is composed of ambient tones and subtle piano motifs that swell into a pulse like staccato only when absolutely necessary.

    Late Shift is not an easy watch, but it’s an essential one. It’s a film that demands empathy, not just for its protagonist, but for the countless real-life nurses she represents. Writer / director Petra Volpe presents a cinematic call to action, but also a deeply personal story of one woman trying to hold it all together in a world that keeps asking for more.

    Late Shift is in UK and Irish cinemas from August 1.

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D8xRa1u9KE4

    Mary Munoz
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  • The Fantastic Four: First Steps review – hard not…

    The Fantastic Four: First Steps review – hard not…



    In 1968’s ​‘Fantastic Four Annual #6’, Reed Richards and Sue Storm await the birth of their first child, Franklin, but the issue takes Reed away from the hospital on a desperate trip across dimensions to rescue his wife and child from a complicated birth. Stan Lee and Jack Kirby lay out an exciting and visually dazzling adventure outside of space and time with the most human stakes possible: a man moving heaven and earth for the love of his family. 

    The Fantastic Four: First Steps similarly foregrounds approaching parenthood against a background of cosmic wonder, and runs with it in a loose adaptation of Lee & Kirby’s Galactus Trilogy – first touched on Tim Story’s (awful) 2007 sequel Rise of the Silver Surfer. Shakman’s effort compresses the Four’s origin story into a TV documentary, recapping the story of four brave astronauts who were forever changed by cosmic rays, then became celebrities and ambassadors as well as scientists and superheroes. A quick and snappy montage through battles with classic foes brushes aside the Saturday Morning Cartoon villains for one more insurmountable: Galactus, a gigantic being who has to feed on planets to satisfy his insatiable hunger. To its credit, even amidst this cosmic scale, family is at the forefront of The Fantastic Four: First Steps, from its understated opening to the film’s MacGuffin being the arrival of Reed and Sue’s firstborn.

    Get more Little White Lies

    Not to mention this it’s the first Marvel film in a while that seems to actually strive for an individual visual identity. Particularly at home in the Baxter Building, the retrofuturistic production design is an easy highlight. It’s perhaps more Jetsons than Jack Kirby, full of beautiful analogue gizmos set amidst bold mid-century décor; the robot housekeeper H.E.R.B.I.E. with his tape deck face is one example of space age imagination. 

    Even the costume designs feel like a refreshing alternative to what’s become the norm: instead of leathery militaristic getup, the Four dress in what looks like the inner layer of an astronaut suit — a visual reminder that these are explorers and even ambassadors, not super cops. Just as the production design begins to lift First Steps out of Marvel Studios anonymity, Michael Giacchino’s score also feels full of character – appropriately grandiose in its choral refrain, lifting the action up with it.

    But as pretty as this design looks and as good as the score sounds, Shakman’s direction at times seems like it’s shying away from the pulpy sci-fi style which it apparently wants to embody. It’s hard not to think about Down With Love director Peyton Reed, who had suggested a retro take in a now decades-old pitch for a Fantastic Four adaptation. (His Ant-Man films felt like a layup for an eventual crack at this, too). Down With Love crackled with life in every aspect, an emulation of Rock Hudson flicks which both fully embraced the tone of its inspirations, leaning into whimsical visual tricks and playful banter characteristic of the time. First Steps by comparison feels like it’s missing that extra step: while the world The Fantastic Four inhabit is bright and tactile, the camerawork which captures it is decidedly less adventurous, the performances within are muted.

    Classically weird and colourful characters like Mole Man are rendered with disappointing normalcy (he’s just a guy in a suit and tie!), even if Paul Walter Hauser breathes cartoonish life into the minor role. The big bad Galactus’s design work fits in a little too neatly with the presentation of Marvel’s cosmic side as seen so far, better than the anonymous cloud of other adaptations but still not popping off the screen like he does on the page (that said, Ineson’s growling voice performance does well to carry the apocalyptic dread). Even Ebon Moss-Bachrach’s performance as The Thing feels a bit too reigned in, even if it conceptually makes sense that Shakman wishes to present his characters as a completely regular family.

    Even in the best moments of First Steps, it’s hard to feel hopeful or even positive about the Marvel movies when even their creative successes herald the arrival of more creatively bankrupt money-making exercises: we’re duly reminded that ​“The Fantastic Four will return in Avengers: Doomsday”. You could almost extrapolate Galactus as a stand in for the encroachments of the Marvel Cinematic Universe – aware of what it’s doing and yet constantly caving to its hunger, a force which can only be delayed rather than destroyed. In this case, it’s at least put off until the post credits, the story here standing on its own until it’s time to be called up for Avengers duty.

    In isolation, First Steps is a pretty good time, even if it feels as though it could push its aesthetic into more daring territory. This makes that inevitable interference all the more frustrating: when Marvel even shows a glimpse of any kind of visual ambition, we’re told not to expect that from these characters again. Two steps forward, one step back. 





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  • I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER (2025) Review

    I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER (2025) Review


    Introduction

    With the success (I use this term loosely) of the Scream franchise’s reboot and the profitability of scary movies in general, it was inevitable that another bygone horror franchise would be brought back from the dead. After all, horror movies are almost always inexpensive to make. People rarely develop horror movie fatigue. And nostalgia is a powerful box office force. Or so I’m told.

    I’m sure that’s what the studio executives were thinking when they assigned a random intern to go dumpster diving in their subterranean landfill of DVD cases. That intern stumbled across a battered copy of I Know What You Did Last Summer. Said intern excitedly ran to the executive suite, threw the DVD at the leather chair facing the window, and then Ubered to their college campus to change majors. And that is how reboots get made. Or so I’m told.

    I Know What You Did Last Summer
    Jonah Hauer-King, Sarah Pidgeon, Chase Sui-Wonders, Madelyn Cline, and Tyriq Withers in “I Know What You Did Last Summer” (2025). Photo courtesy of Sony Pictures Releasing.

    The Resurrection

    I Know What You Did Last Summer is an obvious choice to resurrect if the target audience is people who were teenagers in the 1990s who still have bad taste in movies. The original film was not particularly well-liked by critics (43% positive rating) and grossed only $125 million. Its sequel plummeted to a 10% critical rating and $84 million box office. Thus, effectively killing the franchise. A direct-to-DVD sequel in 2006 and a short-lived Amazon Prime series in 2021 served only to prove that people didn’t like the franchise. Yet, here we are in 2025 with another requel (I will always hate the writers of Scream 5 for coining that term).

    Rebooting a 1990s horror franchise isn’t the only lesson I Know What You Did Last Summer took from the Scream reboot. Like Scream 5, I Know What You Did Last Summer is very much a remake of the original. Yet it’s also a sequel. In this case, a sequel to the second film (I Still Know What You Did Last Summer), which brings back the original survivors, and all but puts a nametag on the killer early in the film, and isn’t scary at all.

    In case you weren’t a teenager in the 1990s and never saw it, the original film’s plot was that a group of young people accidentally ran over a guy with their car, tried to cover it up, then were systematically murdered a year later by a killer seeking revenge who knew what they had done. This remake has the same plot but dumbs down the setup so much that even The Fast and Furious writers are shaking their heads in incredulity.

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IceTkSOSNJI

    Synopsis

    This time, reunited friends Danica (Madelyn Cline), Ava (Chase Sui Wonders), Milo (Jonah Hauer-King), Teddy (Tyriq Withers), and Stevie (Sarah Pidgeon) are watching fireworks from the side of a road on a cliff with a blind curve. A car comes speeding around the bend, swerves to avoid hitting Teddy, crashes into the guard rail, and plummets to the ground below. Teddy calls 9-1-1, then convinces the group that they need to leave before the cops and paramedics show up. But why?

    Even if they were worried they could be blamed, the obvious lie is to just tell the cops the car was speeding around the curve and lost control, simply leaving out the part where Teddy was standing in the road. They even tried to stop the car from falling when it was teetering on the cliff’s edge. Not only is this a scenario where fleeing the scene and keeping it a secret makes no sense, but talking to the cops and fibbing would have strengthened the killer’s motivation.

    Discussion

    Speaking of the killer, wow, was it obvious early on who the killer was? I won’t tell you why or how, but it’s nearly impossible to miss. The only real question is whether there is just one killer or multiple killers. Scratch that, two questions. The other question is, why does I Know What You Did Last Summer feature exactly no scary scenes whatsoever?

    I Know What You Did Last Summer
    Jennifer Love Hewitt in “I Know What You Did Last Summer” (2025). Photo courtesy of Sony Pictures Releasing.

    The original film was a straight slasher flick. It went for scares. The remake tries to reinvent itself more as a comedy horror, but forgets to tell most of the actors about the comedy part, and forgets to add elements that make horror movies frightening. The result is a very non-scary contrast of Wonders, Pidgeon, and Freddie Prinze Jr., all taking the movie way too seriously, and Hauer-King and Jennifer Love Hewitt phoning it in. Cline and Withers steal every scene because they got the memo about the comedy part.

    Yes, Hewitt and Prinze Jr. return in their original roles. Sarah Michelle Gellar returns as well, but only in a dream sequence. Which is a shame because she also nailed the comedy part in her one scene. By the time the credits rolled – including a very predictable mid-credit scene – the only question I had was how much of the movie’s entertainment value was intentional. Many in the audience had fun watching it, but I think it’s because they saw it in a packed theater.

    Conclusion

    Given the bad screenplay, laughably stupid dialogue, lack of frights or thrills, and mostly bad performances, I Know What You Did Last Summer is the kind of movie that typically leaves audiences grumbling. I think Cline was so fun to watch that she lifted an otherwise lackluster movie to the kind of movie you watch with a bunch of friends, a bunch of alcohol, and a bunch of running commentary. Which is how the entire franchise should be watched. Still.

    Rating: Ask for sixteen dollars back. Or so I’m told.

    More from Cinema Scholars:

    MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE – DEAD RECKONING PART ONE – Judgement Day

    MAD HEIDI: A Review Of The Modern Grindhouse Epic

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