NOW AVAILABLE IN THEATERS, ON HOME VIDEO AND/OR STREAMING CHANNELS:

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 BRUTALIST--Visionary director Brady ("Vox Lux") Corbet's intimate epic comes equipped with a 15-minute intermission which is a good thing since it has a luxurious 200-minute run time. It's precisely the type of film  nobody dares make anymore:  a glorious throwback (albeit a hard "R"-rated one) to the roadshow presentations that practically defined Hollywood in the 1960's. Beginning at the end of WW II and spanning several decades, the lead character, (Adrien Brody's Laszlo Toth), is a Jewish-Hungarian architect and Holocaust survivor who arrives in Philadelphia where a cousin (Alessandro Nivola) promises to set him up. It takes awhile for Laszlo to find his footing which he ultimately does in the form a wealthy patron, Harrison Lee Van Buren (Guy Pearce), after being hired by the industrialist's adult children (Joe Alwyn and Stacy Martin) to redesign their dad's study. Soon Laszlo is working on Van Buren's dream project, a utopian community where residents can "gather, reflect and learn." Complications ensue when Laszlo's crippled wife (a compelling Felicity Jones) and niece (Raffey Cassidy) are finally allowed to enter the country, moving in with him at Van Buren's sprawling estate. Corbet's bold, muscular vision is immediately signaled in the opening scene with an upside-down shot of the Statue of Liberty that serves as a poetic harbinger of Laszlo's journey. The story of one Eastern European immigrant's path--from the old world to the new, from fascism to echt capitalism--brilliantly encapsulates 20th century American life in a single movie. Shot in VistaVision, Corbet's masterpiece demands to be seen on the biggest screen possible. (A.)

COMPANION--The, er, complexities of human-robot relationships and the nature of control are explored in writer-director Drew Hancock's smart, twisted comedic thriller. A "meet cute" between Iris and Josh (Sophie Thatcher and Jack Quaid) at a grocery store eventually leads to a romantic weekend getaway where things take an unexpected turn after Iris kills their host (Rupert Friend) in self-defense. Although she's an "emotional support robot" designed to be Josh's perfect partner, Iris truly believes she's human. Her evolution from ignorance (of her robotic nature) to self-awareness and ultimately bloody revenge is both immensely gratifying and wickedly funny. Hancock wittily critiques themes of male entitlement, technology and self-determination while deftly incorporating elements of romance, horror and even social commentary. (B PLUS.) 

DEN OF THIEVES 2:  PANERA--As one of the rare Gerard Butler actioners that didn't suck, 2018's "Den of Thieves" probably seemed a breath of fresh air at the time. Since Butler had toplined such all-time stinkers as "Geostorm" and the "Fallen" movies ("London" and "Olympus"), the relative competence of director Christian Gudegast's neo-noir was a pleasant surprise for critics and audiences. While no one was exactly clamoring for a sequel, Butler, "Thieves" costar O'Shea Jackson Jr. and Gudegast have reteamed for this belated follow-up anyway. The overly complicated plot involves a Marseilles (yes, passports were stamped) diamond heist in which L.A. gangsta Donnie (Jackson) recruits "Big Nick" O'Brien, Butler's morally compromised cop, to participate in the larceny. Naturally a local mafia outfit (the Panthers) also wants a piece of the action. For a January throwaway, it's mildly watchable but not quite worth leaving the house for in this Arctic winter. (C.)

A COMPLETE UNKNOWN--Historical accuracy is less important in biopics than how well the film captures emotional and psychological truths about the real-life protagonist, and how accurately it captures the period setting. Judged on those terms, James ("Walk the Line," "Ford v Ferrari") Mangold's Bob Dylan movie is an unqualified triumph. Tracking Dylan's career trajectory from the 19-year-old Minnesota native hitchhiking to New York City in 1961 to the 1965 Newport Folk Festival where he scandalized purists by going electric, Mangold and co-writer Jay ("Gangs of New York," "The Age of Innocence") Cocks' screenplay keep the action briskly streamlined and unstintingly authentic. As the young Bob, Timothee Chalamet gives the sort of transformative performance--he brilliantly, and seemingly effortlessly, captures the Dylan ethos, and even does his own singing--that deserves to become legendary. But the entire cast is pretty much flawless:  Edward Norton (as saintly folk icon Pete Seeger), Elle Fanning (playing a thinly veiled version of Dylan's creative and political muse Suze Rotolo), Monica Barbaro (positively incendiary as Joan Baez), Scoot McNairy (an ailing Woody Guthrie), Dan Fogler (longtime Dylan manager Albert Grossman), Boyd Holbrook (Dylan penpal Johnny Cash) and Norbert Leo Butz (ethnomusicologist and Newport Festival major domo Alan Lomax who took great personal offense at Dylan veering off the folkie course by wading into rock and roll waters). It makes the perfect companion piece to Martin Scorsese's transcendent four-hour 2005 Dylan documentary, "No Direction Home," which covered the exact same frame in Dylan's biography. (A.) 

DOG MAN-- When Officer Knight and his faithful police dog Greg are injured in the line of duty, a crackpot surgeon fuses their bodies together and creates the titular super-hero with the head of a pooch and body of a man. Desperate to impress his Chief (Lil Rel Howery), Dog Man makes it his mission to take down feline supervillain Petey the Cat (Pete Davidson). But after a common foe (Ricky Gervais' Flippy) kidnaps Petey's clone Lil Petey (adorably voiced by Lucas Hopkins Calderon), the former arch nemeses team up to rescue the kitty and save the day. Adapted from Dav Pilkey's best-selling graphic novels--which began life as a spin-off of Pilkey's "Captain Underpants" series--director Peter Hastings' CGI DreamWorks Animation 'toon is crammed with occasionally laugh-out-loud visual gags and cannily fuses humor with heart. (B). 

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.)    

EVIL DOES NOT EXIST--To describe Academy Award-winning director Ryusuke Hamaguchi's mesmerizing follow-up to 2021's "Drive My Car" as a quasi mystical Japanese eco fable probably makes it sound like a Hayao Miyazaki anime which this decidedly isn't. Takumi (Hitoshi Omika), Hamaguchi's widowed protagonist, raises his young daughter Hana (Ryo Nishikawa) in a bucolic rural village where he makes a comfortable-enough living as a handyman. Among Takumi's numerous gig economy jobs is picking wild wasabi for a friend's celebrated udon restaurant; local spring water is another key ingredient. Things take a dramatic turn when two glad-handling Tokyo corporate reps Takahashi and Mayuzummi (Ryuji Kosaka and Ayaka Shibutani) show up one day with plans to build a glamping resort so monied city slickers can luxuriate in the pristine hamlet's natural beauty. The irony, of course, is that construction will negatively impact the community's delicate ecosystem, including the removal of a neighboring deer trail. Despite the general disapproval of the locals, Takumi allows himself to be seduced into quasi-agreeing to take the job of on-site caretaker for the future tourist hot spot. Takumi and Takahashi eventually come to blows in a wintry sylvan setting, and Hana--who has a preternatural connection to nature--seemingly vanishes into the ether. (Or did she?) Unexpectedly for a film and filmmaker whose defining characteristic is unadorned naturalism, it inexorably builds to the sort of breathtakingly cryptic, "What did I just see?" ending that will make you want to rewatch it immediately for possible clues to unlocking its central enigma. The Janus Contemporaries Blu-Ray includes a new interview with Hamaguchi and the theatrical trailer (A.)

FLIGHT RISK--With its ridiculously pulpy high-concept premise and expedited run time (91 minutes including end credits), Mel Gibson's first directorial outing since 2016's Oscar-nominated "Hacksaw Ridge" feels a lot closer to the straight-to-VOD or streaming "B" movies ("On the Line," "Hot Seat," etc.) he's been relegated to as an actor in recent years than any of his previous helming gigs. In a rare villainous turn, Mark Wahlberg plays hired goon Daryl who's tasked with eliminating the key government witness (Topher Grace's Winston) at an upcoming high-profile mob trial. After killing the small-engine pilot hired to transport Winston and his Air Marshall escort (Michelle Dockery, a long way from "Downton Abbey") across the Alaskan wilderness, Daryl takes over the plane's navigation. But when Winston catches wind of the ruse en route, it becomes a fight to the death as the crafty whistleblower and steely female cop square off with an increasingly unhinged Daryl. While the script may not be first (or even second) rate, old pro Gibson directs the hell out of it and the three leads are all much better than the material deserves. 

(C PLUS.) 

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.)

THE MOTHER AND THE WHORE--Despite winning two major awards--the Grand Jury and FIPRESCI (International Federation of Film Critics) prizes--at the 1973 Cannes Film Festival, Jean Eustache's protean masterpiece struggled to find U.S. distribution. Even a warm reception from audiences at the New York Film Festival where it had its North American premiere that fall didn't entice any buyers. Of course, a notoriously clueless New York Times review by stringer Nora Sayre didn't help its commercial prospects. The situation was so dire that the Times actually published an article by James Monaco in December '73 in which he chided the majority of New York critics whose condescending or contemptuous (e.g., Sayre's) reviews seemingly frightened away  prospective distributers. In closing he added despairingly, "I hope you get a chance to see it." Dan Talbot's New Yorker Films ultimately took Monaco's bait and gave "The Mother and the Whore" an early spring release the following year at one of Manhattan's premier arthouses, the Little Carnegie on 57th Street. But the combination of mixed reviews and a three-hour thirty-eight minute run time doomed it commercially. Like so many films that wouldn't achieve "Classic" status until years later (Michael Cimino's "Heaven's Gate" and Elaine May's "Mikey and Nicky" among them), "TM&TW" slipped through a distribution rights limbo and was nearly impossible to see for decades. (I didn't see it until someone thoughtfully posted a copy of New Yorker's original VHS print a few years ago.). Accordingly, the Criterion Collection's release of a new 4K digital restoration of Eustache's cause celebre ranks as the first major film event of 2025. The ultimate statement about disillusioned-by-the-late-'60s young adults who found the Sexual Revolution as abortive as their political forays, it strikes at the gut of personal relationships a la Bernardo Bertolucci's "Last Tango in Paris" while also probing the nub of intellectual rapport previously celebrated in Eric Rohmer talkathons like "My Night at Maud's" with Proust rather than Pascal being the guiding literary muse. There's stark beauty in Eustache's b&w mise-en-scene, the verite-influenced pacing, the unvarnished close-ups and the authenticity of its lived-in locations. The three leads--moon-calf moocher Alexandre (Truffaut and Godard muse Jean-Pierre Leaud); Marie (Bernadette Lafont), a slightly older woman who "keeps" him; and Veronika (Francoise Lebrun in her screen debut), the younger woman who pursues him--are impeccable in their revelation of self. So penetrating is Eustache's recreation of time and place that it remains one of the few films that accurately displayed the social and cultural sensibilities of the '70s. With its myriad monologues, confessions and conversations, language becomes a major character in this veritable "orgy of words." And unlike "Last Tango" which has retroactively been attacked for perceived misogyny, Eustache shows tremendous respect, understanding and love for his female characters. Marie and Veronika truly hold the balance of power in the film, and Alexandre is more puppet than puppetmaster. Eustache would go on to make a mere handful of subsequent works (only one, 1974's gentle coming-of-age movie "My Little Loves," was distributed in the U.S.) before committing suicide in 1981. Among the bonus features on Criterion's Blu Ray are a contemporary interview with Lebrun; a segment from the French TV series "Pour le cinema" with Eustache, Leaud, Lafont and Lebrun; a conversation between director Jean-Pierre Gorin and writer Rachel Kushner about the film's artistic and historical legacy; a featurette about the restoration process; an essay by Lucy Sante; and Eustache's written "introduction" to the film. (A PLUS.)                

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.)     

ONE OF THEM DAYS-- L.A. roomies Alyssa (Grammy-winning recording artist SZA) and Dreux (Keke Palmer from "Nope") have 24 hours to scrounge up the rent money Alyssa's ne'er do well boyfriend (Joshua David Neal) blew on his latest get rich quick scheme in first time feature director Lawrence Lamont's agreeably raunchy shaggy dog story. At its best, this female buddy comedy has some of the wit and grit of producer Issa Rae's late, great HBO sitcom "Insecure." (It also shares that series' wonderfully vivid sense of place:  the city of Los Angeles is as much a lead character as Dreux or Alyssa.) Reliable cut-ups Ll Rel Howery and Katt Williams provide their share of laughs, and "Girls" alumnus Maude Apatow totally kills it as a clueless white girl neighbor. (B.)

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.)

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.)

VALIANT ONE--Director Steve Barnett's taut military procedural depicts the perilous aftermath of a U.S. Army helicopter crash deep within North Korean territory. Inspired by true events, the movie follows Captain Edward Brockman (Chase Stokes) and Specialist Selby (Lana Condor from Netflix's "To All the Boys..." franchise) as they lead a team of non-combat tech specialists through hostile terrain, striving to evade enemy forces and reach safety. Stokes delivers a compelling performance, embodying Brockman's resilience and determination in the face of insurmountable odds, and Condor provides a nuanced counterbalance by emphasizing Selby's vulnerability and courage. Cinematographer Dan Stilling beautifully captures the stark beauty and danger of the North Korean wilderness while the film's sound design amplifies the tension, making every rustle in the foliage a potential danger. (B.)

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.)   

WOLF MAN--Universal's latest bid to revive their OG monsters is certainly better than some previous attempts, including 2010's "The Wolf Man" starring Benicio del Toro and (gasp) Tom Cruise's dreadfull 2017 "Mummy." Handing the directorial reins to Leigh Whannell who helmed their stellar "Invisible Man" reboot was a smart choice as is some inspired casting. As Blake Lovell, a San Francisco husband/father who inherits his rural Oregon childhood home after his long MIA dad has been declared dead, the consistently interesting Christopher ("Poor Things," "It Comes at Night") makes his transformation into a lycanthrope both terrifying and improbably moving. Almost immediately upon arrival at the spookily isolated house, accompanied by wife Charlotte ("Ozark" Emmy winner Julie Garner, very good) and tween daughter Ginger (Matilda Firth), Blake is attacked by an unseen beastie. After barricading themselves in the house while the monster rages outside, Blake begins morphing into something...not quite human. Uncertain of where their greatest threat lies--inside or outside the domicile--Charlotte escalates into Mother Courage mode to protect Ginger and herself from the dual menaces afoot. While not quite in the same league as Whannell's previous foray into Universal's "Dark Universe" (Elisabeth Moss' brilliantly layered performance helped catapult 2020's "The Invisible Man" into another dimension), it's a decent enough fright flick and considerably less pretentious than last month's fussy "Nosferatu" remake. 

(B MINUS.) 

 ---Milan Paurich