NEW THIS WEEK (11/21) IN THEATERS, VOD AND/OR ON HOME VIDEO
HOWARD'S END--A work of rare intelligence, grace and emotional precision, James Ivory's 1992 magnum opus remains a towering feat of literary adaptation and one of the defining films of its era. Adapted from E.M. Forster’s 1910 novel, it distills the author’s themes of class division, gender constraint and moral connection into a luminous cinematic experience that continues to resonate more than thirty years later. Ivory, working in perfect harmony with producer Ismail Merchant and screenwriter Ruth Prawer Jhabvala, captures the elegance and contradictions of Edwardian England with a depth that transcends mere period detail. The story centers on the Schlegel sisters--Margaret (Emma Thompson) and Helen (Helena Bonham Carter)--cultivated, idealistic women whose lives become entangled with the wealthy, pragmatic Wilcox family. In an Oscar-winning turn, Thompson delivers one of her most exquisite performances, radiating intelligence, warmth and compassion in every gesture. As Henry Wilcox, Anthony Hopkins is superb as a man of power and reserve whose emotional rigidity gradually softens under Margaret’s influence. Their dynamic provides the movie with its moral and emotional spine, showing the uneasy yet profound intersection between passion and propriety. In the brief but unforgettable role of Ruth Wilcox, Vanessa Redgrave lends the film its spiritual center. Her portrayal (graceful, fragile and quietly transcendent) embodies the soul of "Howards End" itself: a belief in the endurance of goodness amid the machinery of social hierarchy. Redgrave’s presence lingers long after she leaves the screen as a ghostly reminder of the world Forster mourned and Ivory resurrects. Tony Pierce-Roberts’ cinematography bathes the English countryside in a gentle, golden light, while Richard Robbins’ score underscores its wistful grandeur. Ivory’s direction is measured but never static; he allows emotion and thought to coexist in perfect harmony. Ultimately, it's about connection: between people, between past and present and between moral conviction and compassion. Timeless and deeply humane, it stands as a masterpiece of storytelling and craft. Few works of cinema have ever achieved such grace or emotional clarity. The new Cohen Film Collection/Kino Lorber box set is truly Criterion-worthy with a bounty of extras including both 4K and Blu-Ray discs; an audio commentary with critics Lael Lowenstein and Wade Major; standalone interviews with Ivory and Redgrave; a behind-the-scenes featurette; a conversation ("Returning to 'Howards End'") between Ivory and Lawrence Kardish; two making-of docs ("Building 'Howards End'" and "The Design of 'Howards End'"); and the original and 2016 re-release trailers. (A PLUS.) https://youtu.be/hXdE9bf4Z4s?si=Jo8P8cL0weDac6y7
PAUL--Wrapped in science fiction silliness and affectionate pop culture homages, Greg Mottola’s raucous, big-hearted road movie takes a familiar "alien on the run" premise and turns it into something disarmingly warm, funny and, yes, human. Once again proving that their comic chemistry is among the most endearing in modern cinema, Simon Pegg and Nick Frost play Graeme and Clive, two British sci-fi enthusiasts touring America’s UFO hotspots. Their geeky dream vacation takes a wild detour when they literally run into Paul (voiced with laid-back charm by Seth Rogen), a wisecracking extraterrestrial who has just escaped a top-secret government facility. What follows is a gleefully anarchic chase across the American Southwest involving federal agents, a gun-toting fundamentalist father and a growing trail of chaos, all anchored by the trio’s budding friendship. Mottola, whose previous films (Superbad," "Adventureland") excelled at balancing raunch and tenderness, directs with a steady hand and a generous heart. He maintains a rollicking pace throughout, but what makes "Paul" linger is its sense of camaraderie. Beneath the jokes lies a story about acceptance, belief and the joy of finding "your" people--no matter how strange they might be. Pegg and Frost are as delightful as ever, blending deadpan wit with genuine affection. Rogen’s Paul, rendered through seamless digital effects, is both hilarious and surprisingly moving. He's a slacker E.T. who teaches his human companions as much about empathy as telekinesis. While not as sharp-edged as Pegg and Frost's previous Edgar Wright collaborations ("Shaun of the Dead" and "Hot Fuzz"), it’s every bit as sincere: a love letter to outsiders, nerds and believers that earns its laughs with heart rather than punchlines. The KL Studio Classics' Blu Ray includes a jam-packed audio commentary with Mottola, Pegg, Frost, Bill Hader and producer Nira Park; an unrated version of the film; a making-of documentary ("Behind the Lightning Strikes"); four standalone featurettes; and TV spots/theatrical trailers. (A MINUS.)
RIENFENSTAHL--A spellbinding documentary that revisits one of the most polarizing figures in film history: Leni Riefenstahl, the visionary German director whose artistic brilliance was shadowed by her collaboration with the Nazi regime. Rather than approaching the subject with knee-jerk outrage or uncritical admiration, director Andres Veiel constructs a nuanced, visually striking portrait of an artist both shaped and undone by the turbulent century she lived through. Known for his psychologically astute, politically engaged docs ("Black Box BRD," "Beuys"), Veiel brings the same probing curiosity here. Drawing from newly discovered diaries, behind-the-scenes footage and extensive interviews with historians, artists and people who knew Riefenstahl in her later years, he creates a layered portrait of ambition, denial and legacy. The movie unfolds with the precision of a biographical mosaic, alternating between archival footage and contemplative present-day sequences filmed in the same mountain landscapes Riefenstahl once captured with such fervor. Remastered clips from "Triumph of the Will" and "Olympia" are contextualized within an elegant yet unsettling framework, highlighting the aesthetic innovations that would forever change the grammar of cinema even as they served the most destructive ideology of the twentieth century. Veiel neither glamorizes or demonizes his subject. Instead he treats Riefenstahl’s contradictions as central to understanding the dangers of aestheticizing power. Max Richter's score adds a mournful undercurrent, bridging the gap between the historical and modern. His music lends gravity and empathy to a work that might otherwise risk emotional detachment. The editing is fluid and lyrical, allowing the documentary to breathe, giving audiences space to reflect rather than react. Ultimately, "Riefenstahl" is less about redemption than reckoning. Veiel challenges us to confront the uneasy intersection of art, morality and history, and to recognize how seductive images can sometimes conceal devastating truths. It’s a quietly devastating, beautifully crafted work that stands as both a cautionary tale and a testament to film's enduring, troubling power. No extras on the Kino-Lorbr Blu-Ray. (A.) https://youtu.be/qAbUeqpjSD4?si=QK2Ala6CLcZM71nM
RENTAL FAMILY-- Oscar winner Brendan Fraser plays Phillip, a down on his luck American actor adrift in Tokyo who takes a job with an agency that literally rents out “family” members. Director Hikari uses this quirky set-up to explore loneliness, identity and the meaning of connection in a world where relationships can sometimes feel transactional. Fraser’s performance is quietly affecting: he brings warmth, self-doubt and a gentle gravitas to the role, making Phillip's journey--from reluctant gig-worker to someone who actually cares about his clients--utterly convincing. The Tokyo settings are beautifully captured from neon-lit streets to intimate interiors, giving the movie a richly atmospheric sense of place. Hikari lingers on small, telling gestures (silent car rides, awkward introductions, etc.) that help build an affecting emotional arc. Some thematic strands (e.g., the moral implications of pretending to be someone’s family member) are more hinted at than fully explored, however. Despite earning its moments of tenderness, the film never digs as deeply into the complexities of its premise as one might hope. (B.) https://youtu.be/n0pqP6ClcE8?si=3ucqHbU3RQ2ZT0LK
SECRET MALL APARTMENT--Director Jeremy ("The World Beneath Your Feet," "Lily Topples the World") Workman's documentary begins as a curiosity and ends as a quietly profound meditation on modern life. Based on the real-life story of a group of artists who secretly lived for several years in a hidden apartment inside a Rhode Island shopping mall, it balances humor, pathos and social observation with Workman’s trademark blend of vérité realism and lyrical reflection. The film centers on artist Michael Townsend whose idea of carving out a livable space within a mall’s forgotten utility area in the early 2000s was at once a creative act and a social experiment. Through newly shot interviews, archival footage and reenactments staged with Townsend’s collaborators, Workman traces how what began as a whimsical protest against consumer culture evolved into a commentary on belonging, creativity and the absurd contradictions of urban life. What distinguishes it from a typical “quirky human-interest” doc is its refusal to mock or romanticize its subjects. Workman approaches Townsend and his fellow “residents” with sensitivity, allowing their motivations and regrets to emerge naturally. The mall itself--once a beacon of American consumer optimism, now half-empty and repurposed--becomes a metaphor for the decline of communal spaces. Through patient observation, Workman reveals how architecture, commerce and art collide in unexpected ways. The movie captures the eerie beauty of deserted corridors, blending warm, nostalgic lighting with stark realism. The score adds a haunting dimension, its pulsing woodwinds and horns echoing the ghosts of consumerism past. Editing keeps the pacing measured but compelling, interweaving humor and melancholy with deceptive ease. "Secret Mall Apartment" isn’t just about an act of urban squatting; it’s about the human need to find meaning and shelter, even in the most unlikely places. With his reflections on impermanence, creativity and the fragile boundaries between public and private space, Workman has turned a forgotten footnote of mall culture into an intimate study of imagination, rebellion and the passage of time. The Music Box Blu-Ray includes Q&As with Workman and executive producer Jesse Eisenberg; "The Mall and the Movie" mini-doc; "On the Marquee" photo montage; deleted and bonus scenes; Eisenberg reading Letterboxd reviews of the film; a conversation between Townsend and Eisenberg; a Townsend tape art featurette; recreation set timelapse; and the theatrical trailer/promo materials. (A MINUS.)
SISU: ROAD TO REVENGE--In a sequel to his 2023 cult movie, director Jalmari Helander plunges viewers into a baleful, high-octane journey of vengeance. Jorma Tommila returns as Aatami Korpi, a former Finnish soldier whose family was murdered by Soviet troops and takes extraordinary measures to reclaim what was lost. Bleak Nordic landscapes serve as backdrop to a truck-and-motorcycle chase across war-scarred terrain, and Helander layers the action with a muscular, in-your-face style. For all of its visceral thrills, the narrative doesn’t always hold together. The emotional grounding of Korpi’s grief and revenge feels underbaked at times, and the pace can be so relentless that quieter moments have little room to breathe. Yet with its inventive kills, vivid production design and Tomilla's commanding lead performance, fans of the previous "Sisu" should be happily sated. (B MINUS.)
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.) https://youtu.be/R2Xubj7lazE?si=GEr3Zd_ARaPj30a6
NOW AVAILABLE IN THEATERS, ON HOME VIDEO AND/OR STREAMING CHANNELS:
BLACK PHONE 2--Returning to the eerie world he created in his 2021 sleeper, director Scott ("Doctor Strange") Derrickson's follow-up deepens the mythology of the Grabber with greater emotional stakes and a more expansive sense of the supernatural. Rather than merely recycle the original's abduction narrative, this unexpectedly thoughtful sequel examines the lingering effects of trauma and the spectral echoes that refuse to fade. Set four years later, the story finds (Mason Thames) still struggling to move on. His younger sister Gwen (Madeleine McGraw), now entering adolescence, begins to experience vivid dreams and new psychic abilities connected to a series of disappearances at a remote Colorado camp. When the siblings uncover evidence that The Grabber’s malevolent spirit has returned, their search leads them into a wintry nightmare where past and present collide and the black phone once again becomes a conduit between worlds. Working with cinematographer Pär M. Ekberg, Derrickson drapes the film in cold light and shadow and uses the snowbound setting to evoke isolation and unease. The pacing is deliberate, building dread through atmosphere rather than cheesy jump scares. "Black Phone 2" stands as an impressive, often chilling continuation that respects its origins while daring to explore the ghosts left behind. (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.)
THE BURMESE HARP--One of the most luminous achievements in postwar Japanese cinema, Ken Ichikawa's 1956 masterwork is a work of such grace, moral clarity and emotional resonance that it transcends the confines of its wartime setting. Adapted from Michio Takeyama’s novel, the film unfolds in the waning days of World War II as a Japanese unit in Burma, led by the gentle Captain Inouye (Rentarō Mikuni), faces imminent surrender. Among the soldiers is Private Mizushima (Shoji Yasui), a skilled harp player whose delicate melodies serve as a balm for his weary comrades and a bridge between cultures, even in the midst of war’s devastation. After the official surrender, Mizushima is sent to persuade a group of holdout soldiers to lay down their arms. The mission fails, ending in bloodshed and Mizushima—presumed dead—undergoes a profound transformation. Rescued and nursed back to health by Burmese monks, he dons their saffron robes and embarks on a solitary pilgrimage, dedicating himself to burying the countless unclaimed dead strewn across the battle-scarred countryside. His decision creates a haunting absence for Inouye and the others who long to reunite with their friend before returning to Japan. Ichikawa’s direction is quietly impactful, blending the spare lyricism of Kenji Mizoguchi with the humanist tenderness of Yasujiro Ozu. Minoru Yokoyama’s cinematography captures both the lush, rain-soaked beauty of Burma and the spectral stillness of war’s aftermath while Akira Ifukube’s score--interwoven with the recurring folk song “Home! Sweet Home!”--becomes an aching refrain for a homeland lost and perhaps forever changed.What elevates the movie to the realm of the sublime is its refusal to sensationalize conflict. Instead it dwells on compassion, moral duty and the possibility of reconciliation: both with others and within oneself. Mizushima’s journey from soldier to monk is not framed as an escape from responsibility, but as a deepened embrace of it, his devotion to the war dead a quiet act of resistance against the erasure of human lives. By its final, devastating scene when the departing soldiers glimpse Mizushima in his monk’s robes separated by a river they cannot cross, Ichikawa delivers a meditation on loss, memory and spiritual awakening that lingers like a half-remembered prayer. Nearly seven decades later, "The Burmese Harp" still sings, its notes clear and timeless, offering not just a requiem for the dead, but a prayer for the living.The Criterion Collection's 4K digitally restored Blu-Ray includes archival interviews with Ichikawa and Mikuni and an essay by critic/Asian cinema specialist Tony Rayns. (A.)
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.)
KEEPER--"Longlegs"/"The Monkey" auteur Osgood Perkins returns with a taut, unsettling exploration of relationship anxiety and supernatural dread. Tatiana Maslany and Rossif Sutherland play Liz and Malcolm, a couple celebrating their anniversary at a secluded woodland cabin. The outing initially appears idyllic, but takes an abrupt turn when Malcolm is called back to the city, leaving his partner alone and vulnerable in a house with a malign legacy. As Liz's isolation grows and the cabin’s dark past begins to leak into her consciousness, Maslany's performance oscillates between weary intimacy and mounting dread. Though physically absent for much of the second half, Sutherland's Malcolm serves as the trigger point for Liz’s unraveling. His departure becomes more than a plot device, mirroring the unspoken tensions in their marriage. Rather than a conventional jump-scare thriller, it's more subtle, thoughtful and deliberate. The single-location setting and skeletal cast help intensify the sense of claustrophobia as the cabin becomes less sanctuary than trap. Nick Lepard's screenplay allows stillness to build unease while the otherworldly elements emerge almost imperceptibly. It's less about what lurks in the shadows and more about what hides in plain sight: in relationships, memory and the empty space between words. (B.)
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.)
NOW YOU SEE ME, NOW YOU DON'T--After nearly a decade-long hiatus, director Ruben ("Zombieland") Fleischer reunites the original “Four Horsemen”--Jesse Eisenberg, Woody Harrelson, Dave Franco and Isla Fisher--for another
stylishly inventive heist flick. As the film opens, the Horsemen have all moved on and gone their separate ways. But when Atlas (Eisenberg) recruits a trio of young illusionists--Dominic Sessa, Justice Smith and Ariana Greenblatt--the old pros are pulled back into the field for one last adventure. Their target: the priceless “Heart Diamond” stolen by Veronika Vanderberg (Rosamund Pike), ruthless leader of a nefarious global crime syndicate. The Horsemen's mission becomes as much about legacy and reinvention as it is about theft. Fleischer leans into the series' signature blend of legerdemain and heist movie tropes: sleek transitions, globe-trotting setpieces and the underlying "Is this a magic trick or an actual robbery?" tension. At times the movie seems more enamored with its own cleverness, though, and the twist-heavy climax feels overly programmed with emotional resonance taking a back seat to the mechanics of misdirection. While not reaching the heights of its predecessors, it's a roguishly entertaining lark with just enough sleight of hand to keep the magic-heist franchise alive and kicking. (B.)
PREDATOR: BADLANDS--Merging high-octane action with unexpectedly nuanced science fiction themes, Dan ("10 Cloverfield Lane," 2022 "Predator" prequel "Prey") Trachtenberg’s film marks a striking evolution in the 38-year-old franchise, bringing a kinetic energy while still providing room for introspection. As Thia, an android navigating the titular Badlands, Elle Fanning deftly balances the character's mechanical precision with an emergent humanity, making her both a formidable presence and capable of surprising emotional depth. Moments of vulnerability coexist seamlessly with explosive action sequences, giving the movie an inner tension that rarely lets up. Cinematographer Jeff Cutter captures the stark, unforgiving landscapes with sweeping wide shots that juxtapose nature’s forbidding vastness against Thia's intimate, deadly encounters with the Predator (an imposing Dimitrius Schuster-Kolomatangi). The practical and digital effects work create action sequences and creatures that feel tactile and immediate, honoring the series' legacy while pushing it into more sophisticated visual territory. Thanks to Trachtenberg's assured direction and Fanning’s impressive performance, "Badlands" revitalizes a familiar template by offering both adrenaline-fueled spectacle and thoughtful sci-fi storytelling. It's an engaging, visually arresting addition to the canon that stands as one of the franchise's most ambitious installments. (B PLUS.)
REGRETTING YOU--Josh ("The Fault in Our Stars") Boone’s adaptation of Collen Hoover's best-selling 2019 novel opens with a car accident that claims the lives of Chris (Scott Eastwood) and Jenny (Willa Fitzgerald) which forces Chris' widow Morgan (Allison Williams) and daughter Clara (McKenna Grace) to reconfigure the pieces of their fractured lives. From that rupture, the film charts shifting loyalties, hidden truths and attempts at reconciliation. Along the way, Clara’s burgeoning romance with classmate Miller (Mason Thames) and Morgan’s unexpected bond with Chris' best friend Jonah (Dave Franco) complicate the narrative. Boone is unafraid to tilt into melodrama, and many scenes carry genuine pathos. Williams handles Morgan’s guilt and anguish with a steady hand while Grace effortlessly captures Clara’s restlessness and ambivalence. The chemistry between Grace and Thames positively crackles, giving their arc real emotional weight. In flashbacks, Eastwood and Fitzgerald add texture to the story's layered past. Unfortunately, some plot turns feel overly schematic as conflicts arrive and resolve with minimal friction. There are stretches, particularly in the second half, where the pacing lags and multiple threads compete without providing a satisfying conclusion. The ending, while emotionally gratifying, wraps up tensions faster than they emerged. Yet Boone still manages to deliver moments of real poignancy, especially in the scenes where mother and daughter confront their deepest, darkest fears. (B MINUS.)
THE RUNNING MAN--Previously adapted as a 1987 Arnold Schwarzenegger vehicle, Stephen King's dystopian classic has been reimagined by fanboy favorite Edgar ("Baby Driver," "Shaun of the Dead") with exhilarating energy and a distinctly human touch. Trading the previous film's camp for something leaner and more propulsive, Wright has crafted a kinetic, darkly funny action thriller that feels both timely and timeless. In a charismatic, refreshingly layered lead performance, Glen ("Top Gun Maverick," "Anyone but You") Powell plays Ben Richards, a famly man forced to compete in a brutal televised death game. His charm and vulnerability confidently anchor the chaos surrounding him. Josh Brolin delivers a gruff, magnetic turn as the show’s manipulative producer, balancing menace with a world-weary cynicism that feels ripped from MAGA headlines. The movie practically bursts with Wright's signature visual wit: crisp edits, rhythmic pacing and a neon-lit aesthetic that fuses satire with pulse-pounding tension. Yet beneath the glittery surface lies a scathing critique of Instagram culture and how entertainment consumes empathy. The action sequences are both brutal and balletic, propelled by an electrifying score and shot with fluid confidence by cinematographer Chun-hoo Chung. Wright balances adrenaline and intelligence in equal measure, transforming what could have been a simple survival story into a potent, character-driven social fable that reminds us what's truly at stake when real life and social media collide.
(B PLUS.)
SHOESHINE--One of the earliest and most luminous achievements of Italian neorealism, Vittorio De Sica's classic radiates compassion while never flinching from the stark realities of postwar life. Shot in the rubble-strewn streets and cramped interiors of Rome, it tells the story of two inseparable boys--Giuseppe (Rinaldo Smordoni) and Pasquale (Franco Interlenghi)--whose modest dream of buying a horse is derailed by a chain of petty crimes, bad luck and the grinding machinery of institutional neglect. From its opening moments, "Shoeshine" pulses with an almost documentary immediacy. De Sica’s camera finds poetry in the smallest gestures: the boys’ exuberant rides on their horse, the glint of sun on cobblestones, the fragile laughter that survives amid ignominy. Yet this warmth is always in tension with the encroaching coldness of a society more interested in punishment than compassion. When Giuseppe and Pasquale are sent to a juvenile detention center, the movie shifts into a heartbreaking study of friendship under siege: how mistrust, manipulation and desperation can corrode even the strongest bond.The performances drawn from nonprofessional actors are nothing short of miraculous. Smordoni’s mischievous energy and Interlenghi’s quiet dignity create a dynamic so authentic it feels lived rather than acted. De Sica and screenwriter Cesare Zavattini infuse the narrative with a profound humanism. There are no villains here, only people caught in the grip of poverty, bureaucracy and moral compromise. Technically the film is remarkable for its understated beauty. Anchored by Anchise Brizzi’s fluid cinematography, the visuals balance gritty realism with moments of lyrical grace. De Sica avoids sentimentality, allowing the tragedy to emerge organically from circumstance rather than contrivance. Even the smallest supporting roles feel vivid, their individuality painstakingly etched. When "Shoeshine" premiered, it resonated far beyond Italy, earning a special Academy Award for its “high spiritual quality” and helped introduce neorealism to the world. Nearly eight decades later, its emotional power remains undiminished. The final scenes, devastating in their simplicity, remind us that the cost of injustice is not measured only in lost lives, but in broken trust, squandered youth and dreams that dissolve into dust. Tender,unblinking and unforgettable, this is cinema as moral witness, a timeless work of empathy that speaks as urgently today as it did in the ashes of postwar 1946. Extras on the Criterion Collection's digitally restored 4K Blu-Ray include "Sciuscia," Mimmo Verdesca's 2016 documentary celebrating the film's 70th anniversary; a featurette on "Shoeshine" and Italian neorealism with scholars Catherine O'Rawe and Paola Bonifazio; a 1946 radio broadcast with De Sica; an essay by N.Y.U. Contemporary Italian Studies professor David Forgacs; and De Sica's 1945 photo-documentary, "Shoeshine, Joe?" (A PLUS.)
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.)
---Milan Paurich