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THE BEAST--A dazzlingly ambitious, remarkably accomplished omnibus film freely adapted from the Henry James novella, "The Beast in the Jungle," director Bertrand ("Saint Laurent," "House of Pleasures") Bonello's well-nigh uncategorizable coup de maitre is one of 2024's most sublime cinematic achievements. Lea Seydoux and George MacKay play (sort of) lovers in three separate timelines, all of whom are named Gabrielle and Louis:  Paris circa 1910; 2010's Los Angeles; and 2044 Paris. The belle epoque section's Gabrielle and Louis are the most classically Jamesian characters, flitting about high society and toying with each other's hearts without ever consummating their repressed ardor. (When they both perish in a freak flood, I was reminded of the drowned newlyweds at the bottom of a lake in Ken Russell's "Women in Love.") In the David Lynch-ian L.A. chapter, Gabrielle is house-sitting in a glass mansion when she encounters a mopey incel (Louis) who becomes erotically fixated on her. Lynch's "Mulholland Drive" (Seydoux is amusingly coiffed to resemble that film's Naomi Watts) is a key stylistic reference point, and there's even a red-curtain climax and Roy Orbison needle drop (recalling even earlier Lynch Hall of Famers, 1992's "Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me" and 1986's "Blue Velvet"). The most disturbing strand is the futuristic one in which artificial intelligence has essentially overtaken the world. At an employment agency, a disembodied voice informs Gabrielle that human emotions make her unemployable and suggests that she undergo a cleansing process that effectively erases people's feelings. When the first incarnation of Louis confesses to Gabrielle that he believes his life will be defined by tragedy, it sets up an existentialist domino effect that crosses over into each dimension of Bonello's multi-strand narrative. Ghostly and gorgeous, the movie casts an enigmatic spell that lingers long after the haunting ending. The newly issued Janus Contemporaries Blu Ray includes an interview with Bonello as well as the theatrical trailer. (A.)    

THE BEST CHRISTMAS PAGEANT EVER--When dithering housewife Grace (Judy Greer) volunteers to helm the local church's 75th anniversary Christmas pageant after the regular director is sidelined with a broken leg, she suffers the wrath of the community for casting the hard luck Herdmans ("absolutely the worst kids in the history of the world" according to Grace's bratty tween daughter played by an obnoxious Mary Belle Wright) as the leads. Because the film's director (Dallas Jenkins) is the ham-fisted auteur behind "The Chosen" franchise, it's inevitable that the experience of playing Mary, Joseph, et al will somehow "redeem" the heathen Herdmans. The most offensive thing about the film is its utter lack of curiosity about the Herdman kids themselves. We never once venture into their crumbling shack of a house, learn how they survive (eat, have clothes to wear, etc.) or whether there's even a parent or adult guardian in their lives. It's like they only exist to serve as repositories for heavy-handed Christian proselytizing. While I frequently complain about how overdone multi-culturalism is in contemporary movies, Jenkins' tone-deaf adaptation of Barbara Robinson's beloved 1972 kid-lit favorite takes things so far in the opposite direction you'd swear it was made in 1952. It's the whitest movie I've seen in years, and preachy/pandering to boot. Even Greer, usually a refreshingly sardonic screen presence, is disappointingly bland-vapid here. (D.)    

8 1/2--"'8 1/2' is to me the film that captures what it actually is like to be a film director making a movie," Terry Gilliam enthuses in his introduction to the Criterion Collection Blu-Ray of Federico Fellini's 1963 magnum opus. So titled because it was Fellini's seventh feature (he contributed three "half" contributions to omnibus films), "8 1/2" ranks among the most dazzlingly cinematic works of all time, an intellectual and artistic exercise of the first rank. Of its importance there can be no question: it's a masterwork by one of the greatest filmmakers, his definitive personal statement about the creative process. Marcello Mastroianni (who else?) plays Fellini alter ego Guido Anselmi, a director whose life and art become hopelessly intertwined in his three-ring imagination of sexual fantasies as he ponders his next film. Equal parts quasi-autobiography and cinematic celebration, it's as magical and quintessentially Fellini-esque as ever. Despite--or maybe because of--the world-weary pose, sexist romps and self-serving portrayal of the artist as a man above the petty concerns of mere mortals, it's a delightful piece of filmmaking ripe with imaginative flights of creative delirium and accomplished with wit, grace and a tongue-in-cheek joy. Fellini keeps winking at us, as if not to take it all too seriously. Dazzled by the technique, we watch and listen with fascination, captives for the duration. It's only at the end are we struck with the realization that the heart has not been touched or the spirit moved. The final message, embodied in the dance and little circus boy, makes one remember the angel girl at the end of "La Dolce Vita:" was she the virtue Marcello could no longer recognize in himself, or another temptation for the jaded paparazzi? That child in the vast mosaic embodied in "La Dolce Vita" still lingers in the memory memory; it is Fellini's technique and intellect that most impress in "8 1/2." For the record, this was the second Fellini movie to inspire a Broadway musical, Maury Yestin and Arthur Kopit's "Nine." "Sweet Charity," based on Fellini's "Nights of Cabiria," preceded it by 16 years. Besides Gilliam's effusive introduction, the Criterion package includes a 4K disc and Blu-Ray copy of the film with generous bonus features. There's an erudite commentary track with critics Antonio Monda and Gideon Bachmann; "Fellini: A Director's Notebook," a short film by Fellini; interviews with director Lina Wertmuller, cinematographer Vittorio Storaro and actress Sandra Milo; "The Last Sequence," a documentary on Fellini's lost alternate ending for "8 1/2;" "Nino Rota: Between Cinema and Concert," a profile of Fellini's longtime composer; behind-the-scenes and production photos; an essay by Time Magazine critic Stephanie Zacharek; and rare photographs from Bachmann's private collection. (A PLUS.)        

GLADIATOR 2--Bigger, noisier and replete with all the frequently dodgy CGI a 2024 mega-production can afford, Ridley Scott's "legacy" sequel to his Oscar-winning sword-and-sandal blockbuster inevitably pales in comparison with the Russell Crowe original. Set 16 years after the original film ended, the story picks up when Maximus and Lucilla's now-grown son Lucius (Paul Mescal) is captured by General Marcus Acacius (Pedro Pascal) and brought to Rome as a gladiator-in-training. The fact that Acacius is now married to Lucilla (Connie Nielsen reprising her role from the 2000 movie) adds a potentially interesting Oedipal dimension to the plot that screenwriter David Scarpa stubbornly refuses to develop. Under the tutelage of Macrinus (Denzel Washington), the Don King of Ancient Rome, Lucius becomes the most fearsome gladiator on the block. The Colosseum is flooded for full-scale sea battles (yes, there are sharks) and even rhinos are enlisted to battle the combatants. Despite amusing support from Fred Hechinger and Joseph Quinn as mincing twin emperors Caracella and Geta, the movie is largely devoid of humor. Washington does his usual pro job and Pascal impresses in an underwritten role, but the biggest problem is the miscasting of Mescal. One of those interchangeable British pretty boys who, for some unfathomable reason, has become Hollywood's latest flavor du jour, Mescal lacks both the gravitas, musculature and thesping chops to make Lucius a compelling screen presence. It's hard to believe this neurasthenic wimp could ever rise to become the savior of Rome. Since every movie is a trilogy these days, the ending feels like the set-up for yet another sequel. If that happens, I hope the powers-that-be have the foresight to recast Lucius with another actor who could make a more convincing gladiator supreme. (C.)           

I WALKED WITH A ZOMBIE; THE SEVENTH VICTIM--After immigrating to the U.S. from his native Russia in 1911 (he was seven at the time), Val Lewton attended Columbia University before landing a job as editorial assistant to uber-producer David O. Selznick in the early 1930's. By the time he entered films, Lewton was already a published author of ten novels, six non-fiction books and a book of poetry, sometimes under pseudonyms. In 1942, he was put in charge of a special RKO production unit specializing in low-budget horror movies. The films bear Lewton's personal stamp more than that of their individual directors, and their influence has been formidable. Accordingly, the Criterion Collection has just released a box set featuring two of Lewton's most celebrated and iconic films. "Zombie," director Jacques Tourneur and Lewton's follow-up to the previous year's "Cat People," ranks among the most poetic horror movies ever made. As Canadian nurse Betsy Connell who goes to Haiti to work as the live-in caretaker for Jessica (Christine Gordon), ailing wife of wealthy planter Paul Holland (Tom Conway), Frances Dee takes her place among Lewton's many proto-feminist heroines. The natives believe Jessica is one of the walking dead, and her lifeless appearance confirms their suspicions. Is she merely insane as her husband insists, or is her zombie-like appearance the result of a voodoo curse placed on her by Paul's mother (Edith Barrett) for having an affair with her brother-in-law (James Ellison)? We never know for sure, but the film places as much validity in voodoo as in a belief in "God." Pretty transgressive for 1943, right?  Refreshingly, the native islanders aren't mocked for their beliefs and religious practices. In fact, they're the only ones who understand what forces reign supreme while the hapless whites wallow in confusion and terror. Since Lewton was an avowed Bronte superfan, it's not surprising that the movie reads at times as "Jane Eyre in the West Indies." The narrative is set up like a Greek tragedy with a homestead ravaged by infidelity, sibling rivalry and meddling in-laws. There's even a one-man Greek chorus (Black Calypso singer Sir Lancelot) to explain the plot in song. Because this is arguably the most visually striking of Lewton's productions, the lyrical quality of the long silent passages, sepulchral lighting, shadows, music and exotic settings all contribute to making this one of the masterpieces of the horror genre. Lewton, Tourneur and cinematographer J. Roy Hunt truly created the ultimate "beautiful nightmare."  In her screen debut, Kim ("A Streetcar Named Desire") Hunter plays Mary Gibson in "Victim," a young woman who leaves college to search for her missing older sister, Jacqueline (Jean Brooks), in Greenwich Village. It turns out that Jacqueline has fallen under the spell of devil-worshippers who are trying to force her to commit suicide for having disclosed their existence to a psychiatrist (Tom Conway again). Hunter falls in love with Brooks' husband, Gregory (future Ward Cleaver Hugh Beaumont), but he won't leave his wife because he thinks she needs his help and loyalty. Stylishly directed by Mark ("Valley of the Dolls") Robson, this spooky noir horror film features delectably sinister creatures (e.g., a one-armed, piano-playing female devil-worshipper) and smart, strong-willed women. A shower scene--albeit bloodless--is shot and edited in a manner that anticipates "Psycho." The double suicide that ends the movie is perhaps the most depressing moment in the history of screen horror. Lewton aficionados will appreciate its existentialist nature as well as smart dialogue scenes about free will vs. fate (a familiar Lewton motif). The John Donne quote that begins and ends the film ("I run to death and death meets me as fast, and all my pleasures are like yesterday") could be interpreted as the thematic inspiration for Lewton's entire horror cycle. The Criterion set includes 4K and Blu Ray copies of both titles as well as a plethora of extras including commentary tracks; the 2005 documentary, "Shadows in the Dark: The Val Lewton Legacy" with, among others, director-fanboys William Friedkin, Guillermo del Toro, John Landis George A. Romero; an interview with historian Sara Smith; audio essays from Adam Roche's "The Secret History of Hollywood" podcast with pertinent info about the casts, crews and production history of both movies; excerpts from "The Origins of the Zombie, From Haiti to the U.S.," an episode of PBS' "Monstrum" series; the original theatrical trailers; and essays by critics Lucy Sante and Chris Fujiwara. (A.)   

KRAVEN THE HUNTER--Part of Sony's Spider-Man multiverse that previously brought us "Morbius," "Madame Web" and three (count 'em) "Venom" movies, Sony's latest attempt to build yet another Marvel franchise serves up the origin story of iconic villain Sergei Kravinoff (aka the titular "Kraven"). Directed by the estimable J.C. ("A Most Violent Year," "Margin Call") Chandor, this iteration at least features a creditable corps of actors and wholeheartedly embraces its hard "R" rating. Sergei (Aaron Taylor Johnson) has a complicated relationship with his Russian oligarch dad (Russell Crowe, deliciously chewing scenery) and a fiendish arch nemesis in "Rhino" (Alessandro Nivola), the victim of a lap experiment (shades of The Hulk) gone awry. The supporting cast--including Fred Hechinger (dependably strong as Sergei's kid brother), Christopher Abbott and "West Side Story" Oscar winner Ariana DeBose--is infinitely better than the pulpy material, but Chandor does a pro job orchestrating the ultra-violent "John Wick"-ian action setpieces and Taylor Johnson fully commits to the nonsense surrounding him. Is it a "good" movie? Maybe not, but at least it's easier to sit through than any recent Marvel Corp. film product.  (C PLUS.)   

THE LORD OF THE RINGS: THE WAR OF THE ROHIRRIM--A better-than-expected anime prequel to J.R.R. Tolkien's Middle Earth saga that's set 183 years before the events chronicled in Peter Jackson's "Hobbit" trilogy. It's also vastly superior to any of the previous animated Tolkien adaptations (Ralph Bakshi's ghastly 1978 "Lord of the Rings" was the worst offender). Directed by Kenji ("Blade Runner: Black Lotus") Kamiyame, "Rohirrim" has the same fine-lined, adult-friendly vibe that's made cult icons out of directors like Hayao Miyazaki. The story involves the attempts of Helm Hammerhand (voiced by Brian Cox in full "Succession" mode) to hold onto his kingdom when the son of a competing lord (Luke Pasqualino's Wulf) makes a play to usurp him. The fact that Wulf's marriage proposal to Helm's red-haired daughter Hera (Gaia Wise) was rebuffed only makes him angrier and more determined to emerge victorious. But Hera--a proto Eowyn--is also kith and kin to Merida (the distaff warrior from Pixar's "Brave"), and she nobly rises to the challenge of defending dad's kingdom in a battle set against the scenic backdrop of what would become Helm's Deep in future Tolkien adventures. Narrated by "LOTR" heroine Eowyn (Miranda Otto, who played the role in Jackson's movies, does the voiceover narration), it's a suitably rousing feminist adventure flick that should appeal to anyone who loves the previous live-action Tolkien adaptations. And it also serves as an apt bridge to Jackson's upcoming "The Hunt for Gollum." (B.)    

MOANA 2--This cash-grab sequel to Disney's 2016 animated hit began life as a Disney+ spin-off series and looks it. The trio of directors (David G. Derrick Jr., Dana Leydoux Miller and Jason Hand) desperately try recapturing the magic of the original, but fall short in nearly every department. Tasked with finding the lost island of Motufetu, Polynesian pixie Moana (Auli'i Cravalho) and heavily tatted demi god Maui (Dwayne Johnson) sail across the uncharted waters of Oceania. And did I mention that multi-tasker Moana must also battle the demon Nabo to remove her family curse? Despite its narrative busyness, the film lacks both suspense and wit. None of the new, not-written-by-Lin-Manuel-Miranda songs are remotely memorable (let alone hummable) either. Young kids who grew up on the "Moana" DVD probably won't mind the blandness and predictability, but it's unlikely to engender the sort of passion that helped make its predecessor the most-watched movie of the past five years. (C MINUS.)

MUFASA:  THE LION KING--Sadly, this prequel to Disney's 1994 masterpiece isn't an animated film. Instead it's faux live action in the same way Jon Favreau's gratuitous 2019 reboot was. In other words, so slavishly dependent on CGI trickery that it seems more cartoonishly unreal than any actual 'toon. Inexplicably directed by the prodigiously gifted Barry ("Moonlight," "The Underground Railroad") Jenkins--I guess he was looking for a quick payday to help finance future indie productions--it chronicles the origins of King Mufasa (memorably voiced in previous incarnations by the late James Earl Jones who the movie is dedicated to) as a bedtime story to lion cub Kiara (Blue Ivy Carter), the daughter of Simba (Donald Glover) and Nala (Beyonce). Providing unneeded support are Timon and Pumbaa (Billy Eichner and Seth Rogen) whose vaudeville act is replete with wink-wink, nudge-nudge meta jokes that will soar over the heads of most kiddies. Most of the action involves ferocious white lion Kiros (Mads Mikkelsen, the film's designated Scar surrogate, stalking orphan cub Mufasa (Aaron Pierre) and protector pal Taka (Kelvin Harrison Jr.). There are several new Lin-Manuel Miranda songs, too, but none can hold a candle to "Can You Feel the Love Tonight?," "Circle of Life" or any of the original "King" tunes. While superior to Disney's other 2024 releases ("Moana 2," "Inside Out 2," "Deadpool + Wolverine," etc.), it's further proof that the 21st century Mouse House is seemingly incapable of coming up with a single original thought in its ginormous corporate head. (C.)

PAPER MOON--The third perfect movie in Peter Bogdanovich's amazing string of early 1970's critical and box-office smashes ("The Last Picture Show" and "What's Up, Doc?" preceded it), "Paper Moon" was infinitely superior to the other 1973 period con man movie (George Roy Hill's "The Sting"). Yet Bogdanovich's masterpiece didn't even rate a Best Picture or Director nomination from AMPAS while Hill's year-end blockbuster swept the field. The film, did, however win 9-year-old Tatum O'Neal a Best Supporting Actress Oscar--she remains the youngest competitive Academy Award-winner--for her astonishing thesping debut. As Addie, an orphaned tomboy in Dust Bowl Oklahoma who latches onto smooth-talking Bible salesman Moses Pray (Tatum's real-life father, Ryan) and won't let go, Ms. O'Neal so thoroughly dominates the movie that it's easy to overlook the wonderful performances surrounding her. Besides O'Neal pere (never better), there's fantastic support from Madeline Kahn (also Oscar-nominated as Trixie Delight, the hoity-toity floozy Moses becomes briefly infatuated with), P.J. Johnson (hysterically funny as Trixie's deadpan Black maid, Imogene) and Bogdanovich rep player John Hillerman in a fun dual role as a scurrilous bootlegger and his crooked sheriff brother. Shot in luminous black and white by ace New Hollywood cinematographer Laszlo ("Easy Rider," "Five Easy Pieces") Kovacs, "Moon" is that rare period film that seems to get even the tiniest details right. And two-time Oscar winner Alvin ("Ordinary People," Julia") Sargent's screenplay does a superb job of compressing/condensing Joe David Brown's 1971 source novel, "Addie Pray." Trivia note:  it was Bogdanovich compadre Orson Welles who first suggested retitling the screen adaptation "Paper Moon," inspired by the 1933 song co-written by Harold Arlen and Yip Harburg. ("That title is so good, you shouldn't even make the picture, just release the title," Welles legendarily opined.) Besides Bogdanovich's audio commentary, the Criterion Collection Blu-Ray includes an introduction to the film by Bogdanovich; a new video essay by Bogdanovich biographer Peter Tonguette; a three-part making-of documentary with Bogdanovich, cinematographer Laszlo Kovacs, production designer Polly Platt and associate producer Frank Marshall; an archival interview with Platt; excerpts from a 1973 episode of Johnny Carson's "Tonight Show" with Bogdanovich and Ryan and Tatum O'Neal; location-scouting footage with Marshall's audio commentary; and an essay by Mark ("Pictures at a Revolution") Harris that's only spoiled by his bonkers, albeit fashionably revisionist claim that Platt was a co-equal auteur of Bogdanovich's early hits. Balderdash. (A PLUS.)   

RED ONE--When Santa Claus (Oscar winner J.K. Simmons) is kidnapped days before Christmas, the North Pole's Security Head (Dwayne Johnson) forcibly recruits hacker extraordinaire Jack (Chris Evans) to help rescue "Red One" (Mr. Claus' too-cute nickname). The culprits turn out to be Santa's grievance-ridden adopted half-brother Krampus (Kristofer Hivyu) and snarky 900-year old shapeshifter Gryla (Kiernan Shipka) who uses lethal giant snowmen to do her evil bidding. This $250-million misfire by director Jake Kasdan--whose two recent, infinitely superior "Jumanji" movies also starred Johnson--is so ugly, loud and cheesy/synthetic looking that even the human actors start resembling not-very-good CGI after awhile. The third act detour into maudlin sentimentality is even more obnoxious than the groan-inducing action setpieces that look like they were sensibly excised from a middling Marvel Corp. film product. The overall effect is like finding a dookie in your Xmas stocking. (D.)   

SONIC THE HEDGEHOG 3--The "Sonic" kidflicks have basically turned into "sign of life" messages from the otherwise MIA Jim Carrey. In the latest edition of the Paramount/Nickelodeon franchise based on SEGA's video game behemoth, Carrey's reliably amusing scene-stealer Dr. Robotnik turns into an unexpected ally of Sonic, Tails and Knuckles when a new villain (Shadow the Hedgehog) enters the fray with a dastardly plot to destroy the world. Once again directed by Jeff Fowler (who also helmed the 2020 and 2022 entries), it's no great shakes but should have no trouble satisfying its target demo of Hedgehog-loving grade-schoolers. And Carrey's go for broke Commedia dell'arte performance will prove fitfully amusing for any grown-up hoodwinked into chaperoning the wee bairns. (C PLUS.)

WICKED--The most iconic and beloved Broadway musical since "Phantom of the Opera," Stephen Schwartz and Winnie Holzman's 2003 Broadway smash has finally made its (long-delayed) transfer to the big screen. Directed by "Crazy Rich Asians" auteur John M. Chu who proved his movie musical bona fides with 2021's "In the Heights," the only puzzling aspect is that it's actually a "Part One" (something conspicuously absent from the marketing campaign:  the concluding chapter arrives same time next year). Putting aside the fact that it's somewhat baffling how one-half of the screen version can be a half hour longer than the original stage production, Chu serves up a veritable smorgasbord of riches with his "Wizard of Oz" prequel. Mostly set at Shiz University where future Wicked and Good Witches Elphaba ("Harriet" Oscar nominee Cynthia Erivo) and Galinda (pop star Ariana Grande) are reluctant roommates who become BFFs despite their surface differences (Elphaba is green-complexioned and slightly dorky while the almost illegally blonde Galinda is the original Mean Girl, but nicer). Naturally there's a boy involved--Jonathan Bailey's Prince Fiyero--who sets up a nascent love triangle. Groomed as her protege by Dean of Sorcery Studies Madame Morrible (Michelle Yeoh, the sole weak-ish link in an otherwise nonpareil cast), Elphaba quickly becomes a thorn in the side of Oz's preening Wizard (Jeff Goldblum, perfectly cast) for protesting his nascent fascistic tendencies (the kingdom's talking animals are treated like second-class citizens and effectively stifled). Thanks to Nathan Crowley's fantastic art deco production design, the film is as visually dazzling as it is timely in the wake of this year's presidential election where division and fear of "the other" ruled the day. Rather than feeling bloated, the luxurious 160-minute run time instead provides ample room to establish Oz's rich mythology. It also works beautifully as a standalone movie:  no one will leave unsatisfied despite the lack of a conventional "ending."  (A MINUS.)       

---Milan Paurich