NEW THIS WEEK (1/9) IN THEATERS, VOD AND/OR ON HOME VIDEO
GREENLAND 2: MIGRATION--This follow-up to the surprisingly effective 2020 disaster flick opts for spectacle over substance. While largely delivering on the former, it misses the mojo of what made the original work. Once again directed by Ric Roman Waugh, the sequel places familiar faces into an expanded post-apocalyptic world, but the expansion feels more generic than organic. Accompanied by former cast mates Morena Baccarin and Roman Griffin Davis, the indefatigable Gerard Butler returns as John Garrity to save what's left of the world. Their journey takes them out of the relative safety of the Greenland bunker and into the shattered remains of Europe where a mass-migration unfolds under endless bleak skies and nondescript action setpieces. While the cast does what they can with a malnourished screenplay, the characters feel more like sketches than people and their emotional beats are either rushed or overshadowed by larger environmental threats. Waugh leans heavily on familiar disaster movie tropes, favoring bleak panoramas over narrative coherence or character development. The expanded budget shows in sweeping vistas and sequences of mass destruction, but devoid of tension or emotional stakes they're essentially meaningless. "Greenland 2" feels less like a necessary sequel than an obligatory retread content to recycle familiar faces and perils without any meaningful innovation. (C MINUS.)
IS THIS THING ON?--Bradley Cooper's third outing as director--two Best Picture Oscar nominees ("A Star is Born" and "Maestro") preceded it--is a trenchant, unexpectedly tender dramedy that finds humor in the small humiliations and fragile hopes that follow the end of a marriage. Eschewing flashy theatrics, Cooper directs with a light, confident touch, crafting a movie that feels lived-in, emotionally precise and deeply humane. Will ("Arrested Development") Arnett delivers a career-best turn as an aspiring stand-up comedian whose career takes off just as his personal life implodes. Arnett’s natural comic rhythm is put to smart use, but the film is most interested in what happens after the punchline lands (or doesn’t). Arnett captures the awkwardness of middle-aged reinvention with grace, letting insecurity seep through his seeming bravado. Laura Dern is quietly devastating as his wife, grounding their interactions with emotional clarity and intelligence. Her performance resists easy sentimentality, portraying a woman moving forward while still battling unresolved wounds. Cooper’s direction emphasizes restraint with scenes unfolding in unadorned spaces--clubs, apartments, offices--where the focus remains squarely on behavior and conversation. The pacing mirrors the rhythms of stand-up building through pauses, repetitions and subtle variations rather than obvious dramatic beats. This allows the comedy and drama to coexist seamlessly, never undercutting each other. What's most impressive is the generosity accorded all of the characters. Divorce is depicted not as a battlefield with winners and losers, but as a painful realignment of two lives that once fit together. Cooper and Arnett’s screenplay treats failure with empathy, finding meaning in persistence rather than redemption. Funny, observant and emotionally resonant, "Is This Thing On?" stands as Bradley Cooper’s most assured directorial effort to date, a mature, compassionate work that understands how laughter often arrives hand-in-hand with loss. (A.) https://youtu.be/x4jx0Xgc_Pc?si=BRghTC89NxxDh7hj
MY NEIGHBOR ADOLF--A sly, unsettling character study that finds unexpected humor and pathos in the long shadows cast by history. Directed by Leon Prudovsky, it hinges on a bravura central performance by the late Udo Kier who once again proves his singular ability to suggest entire inner lives with a glance or a pause. Set in a sleepy South American neighborhood in the years following World War II, the story follows Marek (David Hayman), a Holocaust survivor whose fragile routines are disrupted by the arrival of a new German neighbor (Kier). Convinced that this reclusive man may in fact be Adolf Hitler, Marek becomes consumed by suspicion. What unfolds is less a thriller than a psychological duel that probes trauma, paranoia and the corrosive power of obsession. Prudovsky resists easy melodrama, favoring a restrained, almost theatrical approach that allows tension to build through small gestures and charged silences. The modest scale works to its advantage, keeping the focus squarely on the evolving dynamic between the two men. Hayman brings warmth and quiet dignity to Marek, grounding the film emotionally and preventing its premise from tipping into absurdity. Kier's performance is the dark gravitational center. He plays ambiguity masterfully, oscillating between frailty and menace, charm and opacity. Whether his character is truly Hitler becomes almost superfluous; what matters is what the possibility represents to a man who has never escaped the past. A thoughtful, darkly funny movie, it's a meditation on memory and identity that asks uncomfortable questions about justice, survival and the human need for certainty. (B PLUS.) https://youtu.be/dx6pQo0TwzE?si=AqFfB7WGJ4cyWEfw
OBEX--Albert Birney’s inventive, surprisingly tender film blends lo-fi science fiction with character-driven melancholy. Written, directed by and starring Birney, it's set in 1987 Baltimore and centers on a reclusive man whose fragile sense of order is shattered when his beloved dog disappears, pushing him toward an improbable digital odyssey. Birney's Conor is a withdrawn office worker who lives alone in a small apartment, finding comfort in routines, analog technology and early home computing. When his dog is seemingly lost to a mysterious phenomenon tied to an experimental video game, Conor becomes convinced that the only way to rescue his companion is to enter the game’s strange, abstract world. What follows is less a conventional adventure than a surreal descent into an interior landscape shaped by grief, guilt and longing. The video game sequences are deliberately primitive, evoking the blocky visuals and limited palettes of late-'80s graphics while the real-world scenes are shot with a muted, lived-in texture that captures Baltimore as a city of quiet corners and isolation. This gives the movie a distinctive rhythm, oscillating between tactile realism and dreamlike abstraction. Conor isn't just a quirky eccentric, but a man barely holding it together who uses logic and fantasy to avoid confronting loss. His physical stillness and soft, hesitant delivery ground the stranger elements in universal truths. "Obex" unfolds patiently, allowing its unusual premise to serve a deeply human story about attachment and escape. A handmade, imaginative work that uses genre as a vessel for vulnerability, it marks Birney as a filmmaker with that rare ability to turn modest means into emotional resonance. (B PLUS.)
PRIMATE--Directed by genre veteran Johannes ("Strangers: Prey at Night," the "47 Meters" franchise) Roberts, this marks a lively if uneven start to 2026's horror movie sweepstakes. Known for his white knuckle survival thrillers, Roberts' taut pacing and practical effects help ground the scares in visceral tension rather than superfluous exposition. The premise is refreshingly straightforward. A tropical vacation devolves into chaos when the family’s pet chimpanzee becomes infected with rabies and turns homicidal. Within its brisk 89-minute runtime, Roberts leans heavily into claustrophobic setpieces, often confining the action to a pool area that becomes both refuge and trap. As Lucy, whose emotional arc helps anchor the mayhem, Johnny Sequoyah provides a relatable emotional center even when the focus shifts largely towards simian mayhem. In his first horror outing, Oscar-winner Troy ("CODA") Kotsur brings welcome gravitas to scenes that might otherwise feel disposable and generic. Even though the story treads familiar ground and tips into tonal inconsistency, fans of old-school creature features will dig the lean, mean thrills. (B MINUS.) https://youtu.be/I0kRT5wr1Jk?si=m3wBMn2AuxYwHezS
31 CANDLES--A heartfelt indie romantic comedy that breathes new life into familiar beats with a fresh blend of ethnic specificity and universal charm. Written, directed and starring Jonah Feingold, the film centers on Leo Kadner (Feingold), a 30-year-old New Yorker who never had a bar mitzvah. After a chance reunion with his childhood summer camp crush, Eva Shapiro (Sarah Coffey), Leo impulsively decides to finally hold the ritual he skipped, setting in motion a quirky, warm-hearted quest for identity, connection and hopefully love. Multi-hyphenate Feingold brings a grounded charm to Leo: he isn't a caricature of rom-com awkwardness but a recognizably flustered, sincere protagonist navigating adulthood’s messier emotional terrain. Coffey’s Eva is an ideal foil whose own aspirations and vulnerabilities complicate Leo’s plans in ways that feel lived-in rather than contrived. Feingold leans into the rhythms of New York City life--particularly its autumnal and holiday-tinged backdrops--and uses the setting to enhance the story’s themes of tradition and reinvention. While respecting the genre’s classical structure, it adds contemporary fillips about dating, cultural identity and the fact that “coming of age” doesn’t necessarily have an expiration date attached. (B.)
ZODIAC KILLER PROJECT--A riveting act of cinematic deconstruction that interrogates not just one of America’s most mythologized true-crime cases, but the cultural machinery that kept it alive for decades. Rather than promising new answers or sensational revelations, director Charlie Shackleton takes a more intellectually bracing route, examining the obsessive processes, dead ends and ethical gray zones that underpin the very act of investigating the Zodiac Killer. Structured less like a conventional documentary than a self-aware inquiry, the film methodically peels back the layers of research, speculation and narrative construction that surround the case. Shackleton positions himself not as an omniscient guide, but as a director grappling with the limits of evidence and the seduction of pattern-making. This reflexive approach proves to be the movie's greatest strength, transforming familiar Zodiac iconography into a treatise on uncertainty, failure and the human need for closure.
Restrained and precise, Shackleton favors clean compositions, deliberate pacing and a sparse sound design that keeps the focus on process. Archival materials and investigative threads are presented with clarity, but never fetishized, allowing us to feel the weight of time, repetition and diminishing returns. The absence of reenactments feels intentional, reinforcing its skepticism of true-crime cliches. What ultimately distinguishes the doc is its moral clarity. Shackleton consistently questions the value of continuing to mine real-world violence for narrative gratification, especially when certainty remains elusive. In doing so, the film becomes as much about the psychology of obsession--on the part of investigators, filmmakers and audiences--as the Zodiac case itself. Thoughtful, rigorous and unexpectedly moving, "Zodiac Killer Project" stands as one of the most intelligent true-crime documentaries in recent memory, offering reflection instead of resolution and insight rather than easy answers. (A MINUS.) AVAILABLE TO RENT OR BUY ON VARIOUS STREAMING PLATFORMS.
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ANACONDA--Less a reboot than deconstruction of the campy 1997 Ice Cube/Jennifer Lopez cult flick, this meta iteration leans heavily into laughs and mostly delivers. As a potential cure for their midlife crisis, longtime pals Doug and Griff (Jack Black and Paul Rudd) decide to remake their all‑time favorite killer snake movie (guess which one?) in the Amazon. Naturally things quickly go south when a real giant anaconda shows up, turning the DIY passion‑project into a battle for survival. Black brings his patented chaotic energy to wedding videographer/ aspiring filmmaker Doug while Rudd provides ballast as Griff, the disillusioned "background actor" still chasing elusive stardom. Director Tom ("The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent") Gormican plays with genre tropes while fully embracing the absurdity of the “movie‑within‑a‑movie” premise. An affectionate, tongue in cheek homage to over the top creature features, it deftly melds nostalgia, horror and broad comedy into an amusing divertissement. (B.)
AVATAR: FIRE AND ASH--In a saga that has grown increasingly ambitious, visually extravagant and thematically dense, "Fire and Ash" pivots from physiological explorations of ecosystems to a more mythic framing of its conflicts. Where "Avatar" (2009) introduced the lush alien wonder of Pandora and 2022's "The Way of Water" immersed viewers in its maritime cultures, this iteration pushes the narrative toward darker, more volatile terrain. The result is a mixed but fitfully engaging continuation: grand in intention, occasionally overwrought in execution and undeniably shaped by the legacy of the previous entries. Jake Sully (Sam Worthington) and Neytiri (Zoe Saldana) remain central, but the story increasingly focuses on their children whose competing instincts of loyalty, rebellion and self-discovery mirror Pandora’s own shifting tensions. This generational expansion succeeds in theory, yet the film sometimes struggles to distribute its weight emotionally. Some character arcs resonate, especially those tied to grief and responsibility, while others feel truncated amid the sprawling structure. Visually, director James Cameron continues to set technical benchmarks. The volcanic regions introduced are stunningly realized, contrasting sharply with the aquatic serenity of the previous installment. Action sequences are suitably massive, intricately choreographed and frequently overwhelming although the sensory overload sometimes overshadows character arcs that needed more room to breathe. One of the movie’s strengths is how it reframes the trilogy’s ongoing conflict between the Na’vi and human invaders. Rather than repeating earlier dynamics, "Fire and Ash" complicates them by emphasizing the fractures within both societies. However, some thematic threads--particularly those relating to spiritual communion and ecological trauma--repeat ideas the first two chapters handled with greater clarity. The cumulative effect is a sense of narrative transition that feels less like a standalone chapter and more like connective tissue toward the franchise’s endgame. Still, there's a compelling through-line anchored by the cast’s motion-captured performances and Cameron’s unwavering sincerity. Without matching the elegant simplicity of "Avatar" or the immersive novelty of "The Way of Water," it pushes the series into new emotional and visual terrain. (B.)
THE BREAKFAST CLUB--With 1985's "The Breakfast Club," John Hughes wasn’t merely chronicling the woes of high school detention; he was defining the emotional terrain of adolescence for an entire generation. Nearly four decades later, the film endures not just as an artifact of Reagan-era teen culture, but as a strikingly perceptive human study: funny, tender and unflinchingly honest about the fragile boundaries between identity and stereotype. Set almost entirely within the sterile walls of a suburban high school library, the story follows five students sentenced to spend a Saturday in detention. Each represents a familiar high school archetype: the brain (Anthony Michael Hall’s Brian), the athlete (Emilio Estevez’s Andrew), the princess (Molly Ringwald’s Claire), the criminal (Judd Nelson’s Bender), and the basket case (Ally Sheedy’s Allison). Under the watchful but indifferent eye of assistant principal Richard Vernon (Paul Gleason), these kids are expected to sit silently and “think about what they’ve done.” Instead, they slowly dismantle the labels that confine them and, in doing so, discover unexpected truths about themselves and one another. The movie’s genius lies in its simplicity. Hughes confines his characters to a single location, allowing the drama to unfold through talk rather than action. The setup, deceptively straightforward, becomes a pressure cooker in which defenses erode and emotions rise. The dialogue feels spontaneous and raw, yet it is meticulously crafted to reveal layers of fear, insecurity and longing beneath the surface bravado. Hughes captures the rhythms of adolescent speech without resorting to caricature, and his actors respond with performances that feel lived-in. Nelson, with Bender's swaggering defiance and glimpses of wounded pride, anchors the emotional center while Ringwald’s Claire brings poise and vulnerability to a role that could have been one-note. Hall delivers a quietly devastating portrait of intellectual anxiety and Sheedy’s Allison, initially mute and inscrutable, blossoms into the film’s biggest surprise. Estevez gives token jock Andrew an earnestness that makes his own reckoning with expectation and masculinity particularly affecting. Their chemistry feels organic as a group of disparate souls learn how listen to each other over the course of one long afternoon. Hughes’s direction is invisible in the best sense. He lets the camera linger, observes his characters in moments of awkward silence and trusts the audience to engage with their vulnerabilities. The soundtrack, anchored by Simple Minds’ now-iconic “Don’t You (Forget About Me),” captures the movie’s spirit of yearning and defiance. The music isn’t just background, it’s a statement of connection between viewer and character; a plea not to let adolescence, in all its confusion and hope, fade into irrelevance. A master class in empathy, its power comes from Hughes' refusal to trivialize teenage pain or to offer neat resolutions. When the characters leave the library, they do so changed, though perhaps only slightly, and that modest transformation feels utterly real. Hughes reminds us that the struggle to be understood, to escape the boxes others build around us, never truly ends. The film’s enduring resonance lies in that recognition: that every adult, however far removed from high school, carries within them the echo of that long Saturday spent trying to figure out who they are. The new Criterion Collection release includes both 4K and Blu-Ray copies of the movie as well as myriad bonus features. There's an audio commentary track with Nelson and Hall; standalone interviews featuring cast/crew members including Ringwald and Sheedy; a video essay featuring Hughes' production notes read by Nelson; fifty minutes of deleted and extended scenes; promotional/archival interviews; excerpts from a 1985 American Film Institute seminar with Hughes; Ringwald's audio interview from an episode of "This American Life;" a Hughes radio interview; and author/critic David Kamp's essay, "Smells Like Teen Realness." (A.)
DAVID--A stirring animated musical that brings the timeless Biblical story of Israel’s shepherd-king to vivid life. With its sweeping musical score, expressive animation and heartfelt vocal performances, this retelling captures the audacity of youthful faith and the gravity of destiny in an unexpectedly fresh and engaging manner. Directors Phil Cunningham and Brent Dawes' laudable passion for their source material shapes the film as a character-driven journey rooted in curiosity, courage and conviction. The narrative balances familiar Old Testament milestones with an emotional depth that allows us to experience David’s growth from humble shepherd to inspirational leader with sincerity and vibrancy. Seamlessly woven into the story, the original songs amplify character development while celebrating themes of faith, identity and hope. (B.)
FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY'S 2--Returning writer/director Emma Tammi builds on her 2023 predecessor with a darker, more ambitious follow-up that expands upon the source material's video game origins while heightening the scares. Set one year later, the story revisits Mike Schmidt (Josh Hutcherson) and his sister Abby (Piper Rubio) as they confront deeper, more terrifying secrets about Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza. One of the strongest aspects of this bloodier, more intense sequel is its expanded animatronic roster which introduces more sophisticated “toy”-style robots courtesy of Jim Henson’s Creature Shop. These new additions help evoke the whimsy of the game while also being eerily realistic, a design choice that pays off in tension and visual flair. Rather than relying solely on jump scares, Tammi builds suspense through Abby’s reconnection with the animatronic creatures which triggers a chain of events both personal and unsettling. The film also leans into its foundational mythos--there are Easter eggs galore--that longtime fans will appreciate without alienating newbies. Hutcherson and Rubio's sibling rapport brings an emotional gravitas that keeps the supernatural horror from becoming too rote. While Tammi occasionally juggles too many subplots and character threads, this is a solid entry in a nascent horror franchise that's scarier and more emotionally resonant than the first outing. (B MINUS.)
THE HOUSEMAID--This glossy adaptation of Freida McFadden's best-selling novel marks an assured segue into psychological thrillers for director Paul Feig. Known primarily for raucous comedies (including "Bridesmaids" and "Spy"), Feig shows an assured grasp of mood, favoring restraint and atmosphere over easy shocks while letting the story's simmering tensions and sense of dread percolate. Sydney Sweeney plays Millie, a young woman who accepts a live-in housekeeping position at an upscale home that quickly proves too good to be true. Sweeney confidently balances vulnerability and watchfulness, making Millie’s cautious optimism feel earned rather than naïve. Amanda Seyfried delivers another knockout turn as Nina, her wealthy employer whose brittle charm and erratic behavior keep both Millie and the audience constantly off balance. Their dynamic is the movie's engine, a carefully calibrated push-and-pull of power, class and unspoken resentment. Rounding out the central trio is Nina's husband Andrew (Brandon Sklenar from "It Ends With Us" and "1923") whose genial exterior masks an unsettling ambiguity. Sklenar brings just enough warmth to remain plausible while subtle shifts in tone hint at deeper, er, complications. Sweeney, Seyfried and Sklenar expertly create a triangle of suspicion that neatly mirrors the novel’s slow-burn construction. The pacing allows unease to accumulate scene by scene, smartly preserving McFadden’s key plot reversals without tipping its hand too early. While it may not be reinventing the domestic thriller, Feig and his superb cast execute its familiar elements with laudable flair and conviction. (A MINUS.)
I KNOW WHERE I'M GOING--Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger’s 1945 masterpiece occupies a singular position within their extraordinary oeuvre, a film seemingly modest in scale yet profound in emotional resonance. Nestled chronologically between the wartime grandeur of "A Canterbury Tale" and the operatic intensity of "Black Narcissus," it stands as a transitional work that shows the filmmaking duo at their most playful, humane and deceptively daring. What begins as a romantic fable becomes a meditation on fate, desire and the subtle magic of place. The Archers were always fascinated by the interplay between inner longing and external environment, and "I Know" distills that theme with exquisite clarity. Rather than the stylization they'd later embrace, Powell and Pressburger craft a narrative built on wind, sea, mist and the rugged rhythms of the Hebrides. Yet their stylistic signatures--unexpected moments of fantasy, symbolic visual motifs and wry humor--appear in fully formed miniature. Both grounded and enchanted, it confirms that their artistry derived from the acute sensitivity with which they observed human nature. At the center of this enchantment stands Wendy Hiller whose performance is essential to the magic of the film. Playing Joan Webster, a fiercely determined young woman convinced she knows exactly what she wants, Hiller brings not only fierce intelligence but an emotional transparency that allows us to see Joan’s inner shift long before she consciously senses it herself. Hiller’s radiant presence anchors the movie’s spiritual and romantic journey. Her Joan is not merely an archetype of modern ambition, she's a woman discovering that certainty can be a trap and that deeper forms of happiness require vulnerability, humility and an openness to forces beyond one’s control. Hiller’s chemistry with Roger Livesey helps enrich this transformation, but it's her gradual surrender to the allure of landscape and community that gives the film its beating heart. Powell’s camera regards Hiller with admiration, never objectifying her but instead capturing the quick flashes of doubt and wonder that mark Joan’s awakening. In the broader context of Powell and Pressburger’s collaborations, this is a crucial work precisely because of its hushed intimacy. It demonstrates their ability to craft movies as emotionally expansive as their more visually lavish efforts while encapsulating the thematic concerns (romantic destiny, cultural collision, the mystical property of locations) that would echo throughout their latter pairings. Effortlessly charming yet deeply affecting, this remains one of The Archers’ most enduring achievements, a testament to their storytelling brilliance and to Wendy Hiller’s unforgettable luminosity. The Criterion Collection set features both 4K UHD and Blu-Ray copies as well as myriad extras including a demonstration of the painstaking restoration process by Powell enthusiast Martin Scorsese; an audio commentary featuring historian Ian Christie; Mark ("The History of Film") Cousins' 1994 documentary, "'I Know Where I'm Going' Revisited;" behind the scenes stills narrated by Powell's widow, editor Thelma Schoonmaker; Nancy Franklin's photo essay exploring locations used in the film; home movies from one of Powell's Scottish expeditions; and an essay by author/critic Imogen Sara Smith. (A PLUS.)
ISLE OF DOGS--Both a culmination and playful reinvention within his singular body of work, Wes Anderson's stop-motion animated marvel takes the auteur’s long-standing fascination with meticulous design, ensemble storytelling and bittersweet humor into new cultural and narrative terrain. What emerges is a movie that feels quintessentially Anderson yet freshly expansive, a fable with political bite wrapped
in a tender tale of survival. The film is set in a near-future Japan where an outbreak of canine flu prompts the authoritarian Mayor Kobayashi (voiced by Kunichi Nomura) to banish all dogs to Trash Island. At the heart of the tale is Atari (Koyu Rankin), a boy determined to rescue his beloved guard dog Spots (Liev Schreiber). On the island, Atari is aided by a ragged band of exiled pups: Rex (Edward Norton), King (Bob Balaban), Boss (Bill Murray), Duke (Jeff Goldblum) and cynical stray Chief (Bryan Cranston). Their odyssey across mountains of garbage and decaying industry provides the adventure framework where Anderson gently explores the theme of the deep bond between humans and animals. Visually, this is one of Anderson’s most extraordinary achievements. The animation allows him to exert his trademark precision and every tuft of fur, speck of dust and even symmetrical frame bursts with detail. Yet there’s also a tactile grit absent from the gleaming dollhouses of 'The Grand Budapest Hotel" or The Fantastic Mr. Fox." Trash Island is a place of ruin and the textures underscore both the bleakness of exile and the resilience of companionship. Anderson’s oeuvre often circles around outsiders yearning for belonging (the precocious children of "Moonrise Kingdom;" Max Fischer in "Rushmore;" the eccentric family of "The Royal Tenenbaums"). Here that theme is literalized: dogs cast out of society form their own fragile community, their survival tied to trust and cooperation. The movie is also among his most overtly political works raising topical questions about scapegoating, propaganda and the ease with which fear can be weaponized. (Sound familiar?) Yet for all of its darker shadings, it still manages to retain Anderson’s warmth. The voice cast delivers a perfect balance of wit and melancholy with Cranston’s Chief providing the emotional ballast as a creature who has never known devotion until Atari’s quiet persistence breaks through his defenses. The final act, in which friendship and courage triumph over corruption, feels both satisfyingly Andersonian and unexpectedly moving. "Isle of Dogs" affirms Anderson as a director who can evolve while remaining true to his sensibility, melding deadpan humor, heartbreak and visual invention into a masterpiece that's both personal and universal. It may be the Anderson film that most fully marries form and feeling, crafting an ode to loyalty and love from the scraps of exile. The Criterion Collection release includes both 4K UHD and Blu-Ray copies with numerous bonus features. Among them are an audio commentary with Anderson and Goldblum; storyboard animatic; a making-of featurette with animators, puppet makers, modelers, sculptors, set dressers, illustrators and production designers; "Jupiter in the Studio" featuring costar F. Murray Abraham touring the magical set; a video essay by Tony Zhou and Taylor Ramos; animation tests, visual-effects breakdowns and behind-the-scenes and time-lapse footage; an essay by critic Moeko Fujii; and a framable poster by cover artist Katsuhiro Otomo. (A PLUS.)
MARTY SUPREME--A dizzying, electrifying joy ride throbbing with ambition, madness and unexpected poignancy, Josh ("Uncut Gems," "Good Time") Safdie's staggering achievement is nothing short of a full-throttle masterpiece. From its very first frame, Safdie throws you into a world out of time: a 1950's New York City that feels mythic, vaguely surreal and charged with possibility and desperation. The film’s stylistically heightened aesthetic is blazingly original, gritty and immersive, making the period setting seem both familiar and vaguely haunted. Playing Marty Mauser, a down‑on‑his‑luck shoe store clerk turned obsessive ping‑pong hustler, Timothee Chalamet delivers what may be the defining performance of his career: raw, unfiltered ambition and desperation wrapped in nervous energy and hubristic bravado. Marty is magnetic precisely because he’s so damn infuriating. He believes he’s destined for greatness even while sabotaging relationships, dreams and maybe even himself in the process. His journey is simultaneously wrenching, hilarious, tragic and absurd. As retired movie star Kay Stone whose elegance and fading glamour make her as fascinating as she is touchingly vulnerable, Gwyneth Paltrow radiates longing and a messy tenderness. The wonderful Odessa A'zion brings heart and a touching vulnerability to the unhappily married housewife Marty unwittingly impregnates. Her fealty to Marty is rooted not just in attraction, but in memory (they were childhood sweethearts), disillusionment and fragile loyalty. Indelible supporting turns from, among others, "Shark Tank"'s Kevin O'Leary, Tyler the Creator, indie auteur Abel Ferrara, and Fran Drescher bring added textures to the madcap, unpredictable world that Marty inhabits. Darius Khondji's cinematography practically vibrates with nervous energy; the editing jangles with urgency; and the deliberately anachronistic musical choices--at times dissonant, at times elegiac--
root you in Marty’s inner turbulence. As the narrative hurtles towards its climax--a ping‑pong match, yes, but also a moral reckoning--you understand that Marty’s real opponent is himself. More than just a sports dramedy, it’s a blistering portrait of ambition, self‑destruction and the warped, destructive allure of "The American Dream." Marty Mauser is an unforgettable protagonist, and so is the world Safdie has crafted around him. A marvel of controlled chaos crackling with danger, defiance, desire and despair, it shows what it's like to desperately want to win--even when the cost is, well, pretty much everything. (A PLUS.)
MISERICORDIA--Set in the sun-dappled countryside of southern France, this unsettling, oddly tender examination of guilt and the uneasy bonds within small communities unfolds with cult director Alain ("Stranger by the Lake") Guiraudie’s signature blend of mystery, dark comedy and sensual unease. The story follows Jérémie (Félix Kysyl), a young man who returns to his hometown for the funeral of his former employer. Planning only a brief stay, Jérémie impulsively accepts the hospitality of the widow Martine (Catherine Frot) whose quiet warmth both comforts and unsettles him. Her son Vincent (Jean-Baptiste Durand), bristling with suspicion, resents Jérémie’s presence. Their fraught dynamic escalates to a shocking confrontation in the woods where Vincent is killed. In the aftermath, Jérémie finds an unlikely protector in Father Pierre (Jacques Develay), the parish priest, who offers him an alibi in exchange for sexual favors. This morally ambiguous bargain entangles Jérémie further in the town’s web of secrets where desire and suspicion uneasily coexist. The performances help ground the strangeness in emotional truth. Kysyl brings a restless, opaque quality to Jérémie; Frot conveys Martine’s grief and resilience with understated power; Durand makes Vincent’s jealousy both pitiable and threatening; and Develay invests the priest wit anh unsettling gentleness. Cinematographer Claire Mathon frames the village and its surrounding woods with a lyrical menace, turning the pastoral into something charged with hidden danger. Guiraudie uses silence, sudden bursts of violence and sly humor to keep viewers off balance. A richly atmospheric, thought-provoking film, it thrives on ambiguity, asking what mercy means in a world where love, violence and survival are inextricably bound. The Criterion Premieres Blu-Ray features an interview with Guiraudie, the theatrical trailer and notes by critic Imogen Sara Smith. (A.)
SONG SUNG BLUE--Skillfully balancing nostalgia with genuine heart, Craig ("Hustle and Flow") Brewer's warm, emotionally resonant biopic tells the true-life story of Mike and Claire Sardina, a working-class Milwaukee couple who channelled their hopes, heartbreaks and resilience into a Neil Diamond cover band. Hugh Jackman brings vulnerability and charisma to Mike, a middle-aged mechanic with a complicated past and an undying passion for performing. Hudson’s Claire balances joy, heartache and perseverance in a way that makes her character seem fully dimensional. Watching them grow together personally and professionally is the emotional core of the movie. Brewer’s unfussy direction allows the story to breathe, giving space for quieter, introspective moments without sacrificing the energy of the musical setpieces. Even when shifting into darker territory--addiction, loss and setbacks--it never feels hokey or manipulative. The soundtrack is predictably
layered with iconic Diamond songs, but the musical performances are more respectful than reverent. Grounded and warm, the cinematography evokes the small-town venues, smoky bars and road-weary life of traveling musicians in a way that feels lived-in. More than just a Diamond tribute, it's a film about perseverance, love and the power of music to both heal and connect. (B PLUS.)
THE SPONGEBOB MOVIE: SEARCH FOR SQUAREPANTS--The fourth big screen outing for the inhabitants of Bikini Bottom sends SpongeBob (Tom Kenny reprising his trademark role) on a deep-sea quest to prove his bravery by trailing a legendary ghost pirate (Mark Hamill's Flying Dutchman) into uncharted ocean depths. By leaning into a boilerplate "Prove you're brave!" narrative, the emotional stakes feel thin. Compared to the original 2004 theatrical film which balanced adventure and satire with unexpected emotional depth, "Search for SquarePants" rarely surprises. For longtime fans used to the more creative and absurd edges of the series and earlier features, this feels more like treading water. "Sponge Bob" has always thrived on weirdness, absurd humor and bizarre turns, but this iteration seems content to merely coast on safe laughs and lazy nostalgia. (C.)
TWIN PEAKS: FIRE WALK WITH ME--When "Fire Walk With Me" hit theaters in 1992, audiences expecting a return to the quirky rhythms of the cult television series were instead met with a descent into anguish and darkness. David Lynch’s prequel to the short-lived ABC show defied all conventional expectations of narrative closure or nostalgia. More than three decades later, it stands as one of Lynch’s most audacious and emotionally harrowing achievements. A cryptic prologue follows FBI agents investigating the death of Teresa Banks in the small town of Deer Meadow (a grim mirror image of Twin Peaks itself). These scenes, surreal and jagged, prepare us for the central narrative: the final seven days in the life of Laura Palmer (Sheryl Lee), the homecoming queen whose death haunted the town that idolized her. Lynch strips away the folksy eccentricities that characterized the series, leaving only dread, sorrow and flickering hope. In Laura’s world, high school dances and cozy diners are overshadowed by demonic visitations and domestic horror. Sheryl Lee delivers an extraordinary performance, one that feels both raw and transcendent. Her portrayal of Laura as victim, survivor and self-destructive martyr remains one of the greatest thesping turns in Lynch’s canon. Ray Wise, as Laura's father, matches her with a performance of unbearable tension, shifting between manic affection and terrifying violence. Cinematographer Ron Garcia bathes the movie in saturated reds and bruised shadows while Angelo Badalamenti’s score alternates between dreamy jazz and dirge-like lamentations. Together they summon an atmosphere that feels simultaneously supernatural and achingly human. Every frame seems alive with unease: the flicker of a ceiling fan, the hum of electricity, the whisper of wind in the trees. Lynch’s fascination with the boundary between dream and nightmare has rarely felt so intimate or devastating. What distinguishes the film from other horror-inflected dramas is its empathy. Beneath the shrieking surrealism lies a profound compassion for Laura, a recognition of her suffering, her isolation and her desperate attempts to reclaim control of her body and soul. The final moments, widely misunderstood at the time of its release, now read as an act of transcendence, the transformation of tragedy into something luminous and deeply spiritual. Viewed today, it feels less like a franchise extension than a cinematic exorcism. It's Lynch’s most personal and painful work, a masterpiece of emotional exposure disguised as a genre flick. By bringing Laura Palmer to life in all her torment and resilience, Lynch restores dignity to a figure once defined by her death. The result is not merely a prequel, but a requiem: blazing, haunted and unforgettable. The Criterion Collection release includes both a 4K UHD disc as well as a Blu-Ray copy of the film. Extras include "The Missing Pieces," ninety minutes of deleted scenes and alternate takes personally supervised by Lynch; interviews with Lee and composer Angelo Badalamenti; Lynch interviewing Lee, Wise and Grace Zabriskie (Laura Palmer's excitable mom); and excerpts from "Lynch on Lynch," a 1997 book edited by filmmaker/writer Chris Rodley. (A PLUS.)
WICKED FOR GOOD--Jon M. Chu brings the second half of his ambitious screen adaptation of the beloved Broadway musical to an emotionally rich, visually resplendent conclusion. While the first movie set the stage for the friendship--and eventual rupture--between Elphaba and Glinda, this chapter dives deeper into the moral consequences of power, prejudice and redemption while delivering the same show-stopping spectacle and heartfelt performances. Cynthia Erivo once again commands the screen as Elphaba, the misunderstood “Wicked Witch” whose integrity and pain fuel the dramatic core. Her performance, full of both fury and fragility, grounds the fantasy in raw human emotion. As Glinda, Ariana Grande evolves beautifully from wide-eyed ingénue to a figure of compassion and regret. Their chemistry gives the film its pulse, turning what could have been a simple tale of good vs. evil into something far more complex and affecting. Chu directs with a confident, theatrical flair, balancing sweeping musical sequences with quiet, character-driven moments. The production design continues to dazzle: Emerald City shimmers in shades of decadence and decay while the darker corners of Oz evoke a Gothic melancholy that suits Elphaba’s inner turmoil. Supporting turns from Michelle Yeoh, Jeff Goldblum and Jonathan Banks add texture, but it’s the visual and emotional duet between Erivo and Grande that truly defines the franchise. By the time the story reaches its poignant resolution, "Wicked for Good" has more than earned its emotional crescendo. (A MINUS.)
ZOOTOPIA 2--Nearly a decade after the original Disney blockbuster, "Zootopia 2" arrives with ambition, heart and a brand new mystery that lives up to its predecessor's legacy. Directors Jared Bush and Byron Howard--who also helmed the first movie--reunite the iconic duo of Judy Hopps (Ginnifer Goodwin) and Nick Wilde (Jason Bateman) for a layered, emotionally resonant sequel that delivers both laughs and substance. The story revolves around a new character (sly, enigmatic snake Gary voiced by Ke Huy Quan) whose arrival in Zootopia disrupts the status quo, sending Judy and Nick in uncharted parts of the city. This set-up allows Bush and Howard to explore new terrain, literally and thematically, introducing reptilian districts that expand the world-building of the 2016 incarnation. Along the way, the movie challenges its protagonists’ relationship and forces them to confront not only external danger but internal doubts. The humor is playful and fast-paced, leaning into clever wordplay and animal puns while never undercutting the gravity of its deeper themes. Yet Bush and Howard don’t shy away from social commentary either, offering reflections on inclusion, prejudice and community in a way that feels organic without being preachy. Vibrant, richly detailed animation helps immerse us in the sprawling metropolis of Zootopia as well as some exotic new settings. The emotional payoff satisfies by tying together character growth and thematic arcs in a way that reaffirms the values of partnership, trust and acceptance. Entertaining, thoughtful and bold in its expansion of a beloved franchise, it stands as a worthy sequel that should have no trouble appealing to fans and novitiates alike. (B PLUS.)
---Milan Paurich