NEW THIS WEEK (9/12) IN THEATERS, VOD AND/OR ON HOME VIDEO
THE BALTIMORONS--Indie stalwart Jay Duplass' quietly affecting romantic dramedy unfolds over a single Christmas Eve in Baltimore. Cliff (Michael Strassner), a recovering alcoholic and former improv comic, begins the day still reeling from a recent suicide attempt. He’s sober and trying to give up both drinking and comedy for the sake of his fiancée (Olivia Luccardi) who keeps tabs on him with a tracking app. Things take a turn when Cliff chips his tooth crashing into a door on his way to Brittany’s family holiday gathering. With most dental offices closed, he ends up in the care of Dr. Didi Daw (Liz Larsen), a weary, divorced dentist grappling with her own heartbreak (her ex-husband just got remarried). Their initial encounter is awkward--Cliff’s nervous chatter meets Didi’s stoic professionalism--but the spark between them is undeniable. Upon discovering that his car has been towed, Didi reluctantly offers Cliff a ride. What begins as a simple errand turns into a heartfelt nocturnal odyssey through the streets of Baltimore. Along the way they confront personal failures, familial disappointments and the quiet yearning for connection that underpins their lives. The city’s textured streets, festive neighborhoods and local color become an atmospheric backdrop for their emotional journey. Duplass co-wrote the screenplay with Strassner and directs with gentle restraint, letting the chemistry between Strassner and Larsen breathe. Working within a modest runtime (around 100 minutes) and grounded aesthetic, Duplass honors his mumblecore roots but updated with depth and polish. More than just a quirky rom-com, it’s a small, luminous study of two imperfect people finding solace in each other’s company on a night when everything (and nothing) goes according to plan. (A MINUS.) https://youtu.be/F6t-h68UuhI?si=HAXSkm_FKwSrGhni
CODE 3--Tasked with training newbie Jessica (Aimee Carrero) during his final 24-hour shift, veteran paramedic Randy (Rainn Wilson) fights career burnout amidst chaos, combative patients and gallows-humor mayhem. Directed by Christopher Leone and co-written by former EMT worker Patrick Pianezza, the film maintains a relentless pace while balancing gritty realism with absurdist comedy. A world-weary, deadpan Wilson makes an unexpectedly sympathetic mentor figure to Carrero who brings a sprightly optimism to her role. ("Get Out" breakout Lil Rel Howery helps punctuate the tension with his trademark roughneck charm as a fellow paramedic.) More "Mother, Jugs and Speed" than "Bringing Out the Dead" or "Asphalt City," "Code 3" carries surprising emotional heft with its theme of camaraderie under pressure. Pulsing with authenticity and manic energy, this irreverent dispatch from the frontlines is equal parts laugh-out-loud funny and poignant emergency-room dramedy. (B.) https://youtu.be/1wshn2hTT0o?si=u6AAbQG0OOY4Gxtd
DEMON SLAYER: KIMETSU NO TAIBA--INFINITY CASTLE--The long-awaited final chapter of the anime franchise arrives with the weight of enormous expectations. As the climactic installment, it carries the responsibility of resolving arcs that have built steadily over previous seasons and films. The result is a visually dazzling movie that struggles under the weight of its own ambition. The story plunges Tanjiro Kamado and his allies into the sprawling, shifting labyrinth of the Infinity Castle to face Muzan Kibutsuji in the final battle between Demon Slayers and demons. Nezuko, Inosuke and Zenitsu are all given major moments as are the surviving Hashira, each confronting both external foes and internal conflicts. Director Haruo Sotozaki keeps the pace relentless, ensuring few dull stretches despite a near three-hour runtime. The animation once again sets a high bar for spectacle with gravity-defying swordplay, fluid transformations and kaleidoscopic lighting effects that feel tailor-made for the big screen. Yet weaknesses emerge in the structure. With so many characters demanding screen time, arcs that should land with devastating impact sometimes feel rushed. The emotional resonance of Tanjiro’s journey is diluted by frenetic pacing and an overreliance on spectacle. Some narrative threads resolve neatly, but others feel underdeveloped making it less cohesive than earlier entries. While delivering enough spectacle and catharsis to satisfy fans, as a piece of storytelling it feels uneven, caught between serving as a finale and as a nonstop showcase of animation bravura. (C PLUS.)
DOWNTON ABBEY: THE GRAND FINALE--There’s a gentle, bittersweet quality to "The Grand Finale" that resonates like a fond farewell whispered through polished silverware and twilight corridors. Set in the early 1930's, this concluding chapter of the long-running BBC/PBS series navigates the Crawley household through shifting social tides with grace, humor and an elegant awareness of the passage of time. At its heart is Lady Mary Crawley (Michelle Dockery) whose recent divorce ignites both public scandal and personal evolution. She must step into the role of estate matriarch; not just managing Downton, but redefining it for a changing world. Her parents, Lord Robert Grantham (Hugh Bonneville) and Cora, Countess of Grantham (Elizabeth McGovern), face financial strain while confronting their own personal transitions. Meanwhile, the downstairs staff--Carson (Jim Carter), Anna (Joanne Froggatt), Bates (Brendan Coyle), Mrs. Hughes (Phyllis Logan), Mrs. Patmore (Lesley Nicol), Daisy (Sophie McShera) and Isobel (Penelope Wilton)--bring warmth and wit, tending to Downton’s spirit even as traditions shift. Writer Julian Fellowes and director Simon Curtis have once again collaborated to frame the movie not as a grand spectacle, but a poignant, intimate denouement. Their stewardship ensures that every family dinner, whispered secret and lingering glance honors the past even while bowing to the future. The absence of Dowager Countess Violet (Dame Maggie Smith) is deeply felt throughout without being overstated: her portrait looms over Downton with a spectral smile, and a roll-of-credits tribute cements her presence in spirit. Closing the door on a beloved saga with genuine affection, it offers one last swoon of elegance, familial resilience and the poignant joy of an era saying goodbye. (A.) https://youtu.be/P_30wFRxlnA?si=EnK2jDJWCjVCRJT0
THE LONG WALK---Set in a near-future authoritarian America, director Francis ("I Am Legend," multiple "Hunger Games" entries) Lawrence's stark, gripping adaptation of Stephen King's early dystopian tale centers on an annual contest in which fifty boys must keep walking without pause. Falling behind earns warnings; three mistakes mean instant execution. The last survivor wins freedom and material wealth, but at the cost of witnessing his comrades fall one by one. At the film’s heart is Cooper Hoffman as Ray Garraty, a Maine teenager whose mixture of determination and fragility makes him a sympathetic anchor. Hoffman conveys the weariness of body and soul as the walk drags on while David Jonsson’s Peter McVries emerges as his closest ally, lending warmth and moral conscience to the bleak journey. Garrett Wareing plays Stebbins, the enigmatic loner with a hidden agenda, and Tut Nyuot gives Arthur Baker a quiet dignity. Ben Wang as Hank Olson captures the desperation of a boy pushed beyond his limits while Charlie Plummer, Roman Griffin Davis, Jordan Gonzalez and Joshua Odjick all leave vivid impressions in smaller but affecting turns. The adult cast also leaves indelible impressions. As Ray's parents, Judy Greer and Josh Hamilton ground the movie in personal stakes while Mark Hamill is positively chilling as the ruthless Major, the public face of state power who presides over the competition with unwavering detachment. Lawrence brings a sure hand to the material, balancing the relentless tension of the march with moments of aching humanity. The result is a harrowing, deeply affecting survival drama that ranks among his most impressive achievements. (B PLUS.) https://youtu.be/vAtUHeMQ1F8?si=Zib7dztqZp6nPigr
SOMNIUM--Writer-director Racheal Cain's intriguing if uneven feature debut is a "Mulholland Drive" homage that melds psychological drama, noir and Hollywood cautionary tale. The movie follows Gemma (Chloë Levine), a small-town Georgia girl who moves to Los Angeles in pursuit of her thespian dreams. To pay the rent, Gemma takes the "sleep sitter" graveyard shift job at Somnium, an experimental clinic that literally injects dreams into patients’ minds. While juggleing dwindling hope, failed auditions and mounting bills, she begins to sense that something far darker lurks behind Somnium’s seemingly therapeutic façade. Shadowy figures, rogue hallucinations and a creeping sense of paranoia blur the boundaries between her ambitions and nightmares. Levine gives a quietly compelling performance, grounding Gemma’s wide-eyed optimism and innocence with a slow descent into terror. Cain thrives on mood: neon-tinged color palettes, a dreamy, 80s-tinged synth score and restrained creature design help create an atmosphere that's spooky and immersive. Her ambitions sometimes outpace the film's cohesion, though, with genre strands and subplots--especially involving Hollywood intrigue--not always seamlessly integrated. Visually striking and rich with promise, it's a dream-state experience that offers copious rewards for viewers willing to linger in its shadowy edges. AVAILABLE TO RENT ON MOST STREAMING PLATFORMS. (B.) https://youtu.be/HnmON8R87ZI?si=4EWyirMn2kvnN5UU
SPINAL TAP 2: THE END CONTINUES--More than four decades after "This Is Spinal Tap," David St. Hubbins (McKean), Nigel Tufnel (Guest) and Derek Smalls (Shearer) strap their guitars back on to reluctantly reunite for what’s billed as a final tour. Naturally everything that can go wrong does: from contractual disputes to baffling stage malfunctions to a revolving door of drummers who meet increasingly ridiculous fates. Time may have passed, but the absurd misadventures of England’s loudest band remain as timeless and endearingly foolish as ever. Rob Reiner once again directs in the guise of documentarian Marty DiBergi, and his steady hand ensures that the humor lands with both satiric bite and affectionate nostalgia. The mock interviews--featuring old bandmates, baffled industry figures and an array of celebrity cameos--deliver consistent laughs, but it’s the chemistry between McKean, Guest and Shearer that gives the movie its heart. Their comic rhythm hasn’t dulled a whit, and Reiner's ability to lampoon the pomposity of rock while embracing its spirit remains unmatched. "The End Continues" may not reinvent the mockumentary genre, but it doesn’t need to. It’s a joyous encore that honors the past while reminding us that stupidity, when delivered with conviction, can still be brilliant. (B PLUS.)
TIN SOLDIER--What could have been a taut psychological action thriller squanders an intriguing premise under a fog of incoherence and superficial execution. The story centers on Nash Cavanaugh (Scott Eastwood), a former special-forces operative suffering from PTSD who is recruited by military operative Ashburn (Robert De Niro in the film's sole decent performance) to infiltrate a dangerous, isolated fortress. Inside he confronts a cult-like community led by The Bokushi (Jamie Foxx), a charismatic and menacing figure who has manipulated disillusioned vets into forming a paramilitary enclave. Ashburn hopes Nash--once a Bokushi disciple himself--can leverage his insider knowledge to dismantle the threat from within and avenge the love of his life (Nora Arnezeder). Flashbacks intended to ground Nash’s trauma instead muddle the timeline and undermine narrative coherence. The action sequences and editing feel murky and misguided, failing to generate excitement or clarity. There’s little insight into The Bokushi’s motives or the government’s urgency which leaves the stakes frustratingly vague. A disjointed jumble of underwritten characters and fragmented ideas, it feels less like a polished feature and more like an undercooked first draft. Inexplicably directed by Brad Furman who, once upon a time, made some pretty good movies, including "The Lincoln Lawyer" and "Runner, Runner." AVAILABLE TO RENT ON MOST STREAMING PLATFORMS. (D MINUS.) https://youtu.be/7To77DrOWDM?si=4y1Wj3JYonqmmXRx
WE STRANGERS—Director Anu Valia’s feature debut unfolds in Gary, Indiana and follows Rayelle “Ray” Martin (Kirby Howell-Baptiste), a quick-witted African-American maid who blithely maneuvers between the homes of affluent suburban clients and her own precarious domestic life. Tasked with high-paying housekeeping gigs, Ray gradually becomes entangled in the lives of her employers. At one job site, she impulsively claims that she can communicate with the dead. That harmless fabrication quickly spirals, from an eccentric middle-class couple (Maria Dizzia and Paul Adelstein) to a more reserved family (Sarah Goldberg, Hari Dhillon and Mischa Reddy as their daughter). With Ray's clairvoyant claims soon growing legs, she becomes ensnared in delicate, emotionally fraught familial dynamics. Valia constructs a quietly unsettling tone, using Ray’s chameleon-like survival skills to probe class and race with nuance and irony. Yet it also exposes the story’s limitations: at 80-something minutes, the narrative often feels thin and some plot threads, e.g. Ray's psychic charade, never truly coalesce. Fortunately, Kirby Howell-Baptiste’s layered performance helps anchor the drama, conveying warmth, cunning and weariness in equal measure. A visually compelling, emotionally perceptive drama whose power resides in small gestures and simmering tension, it's an auspicious debut that signals the arrival of a distinctive new filmmaking voice. (B.)
NOW AVAILABLE IN THEATERS, ON HOME VIDEO AND/OR STREAMING CHANNELS:
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.)
CARNAL KNOWLEDGE--Mike Nichols' searing, stylish and unflinching examination of masculinity, sexual politics and emotional alienation is crafted with razor-sharp precision and anchored by bravura performances. Written by legendary Village Voice cartoonist Jules Feiffer, this wildly provocative 1971 masterwork strips the romantic veneer from sex and relationships, laying bare the toxic entanglements
and emotional paralysis that often lie beneath. Unfolding over two decades, it traces the lives of two college roommates—Jonathan (Jack Nicholson) and Sandy (Art Garfunkel)—as they navigate their romantic and sexual entanglements from youth into middle age. Jonathan, all smirking bravado and cynical detachment, emerges as the movie's bruised and brutal heart. Nicholson is electrifying, charting Jonathan’s arc from glib womanizer to emotionally hollow predator with chilling nuance. Garfunkel plays Sandy as a more passive and idealistic counterpart, one who cloaks his desires in sensitivity but ultimately proves just as self-serving and deluded. Candice Bergen is stunning in an early role as the woman both men pursue in college. Bergen's Susan hints at the emotional dislocation experienced by women who find themselves trapped in male fantasies and contradictions. Yet it’s Ann-Margret who delivers the most devastating turn as Bobbie, Jonathan’s later lover and live-in girlfriend. She infuses the role with a potent mix of vulnerability and volatility, capturing the deep emotional toll of being tethered to a man incapable of genuine intimacy. Her scenes with Nicholson simmer with tension and heartbreak, and her unraveling gives the film its most wrenching moments. Nichols’ direction is spare but incisive with long takes, tight framing and stark compositions heightening the emotional claustrophobia. Every shot feels purposeful, emphasizing both the erotic charge and the emptiness that define the characters’ relationships. The temporal jumps are handled with remarkable fluidity, conveying how little these men truly change even as the world around them evolves. Visual motifs (mirrors, empty beds, dim apartments) recur throughout, reinforcing the theme of loneliness and spiritual isolation. Unlike traditional romantic dramas of the era (its antithesis, "Love Story," opened a mere six months earlier), "Carnal Knowledge" refuses sentimentality or redemption. Its brilliance lies in its honesty: harsh, at times bitter, but never less than riveting. Nichols and Feiffer dissect male insecurity and entitlement with unflinching clarity, and its commentary on how men use sex as a weapon or shield remains startlingly relevant, retaining its power both as a fearless character study and cultural artifact of shifting gender dynamics. Through its unrelenting gaze and unforgettable performances, it continues to provoke, disturb and resonate. This is one of Nichols’ boldest, most enduring works. The Criterion Collection Blu-Ray includes an audio commentary with director Neil ("In the Company of Men," "Your Friends and Neighbors") LaBute; a conversation between Nichols biographer Mark Harris and critic Dana Stevens; an interview with film-editing historian Bobbie O'Steen (daughter of frequent Nichols editor Sam O'Steen); a 2011 chat between Nichols and director Jason ("Up in the Air," "Juno") Reitman; a Q&A with screenwriter Jules Feiffer; an essay by Harvard literature professor Moira Weigel; and a 1971 "American Cinematographer" article about the look of the film.
(A PLUS.)
THE CONJURING: LAST RITES--In what's purportedly the final chapter of the horror series launched in 2013, retired paranormal investigators Ed and Lorraine Warren (Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga reprising their signature roles) are pulled back into the fray to investigate the haunting of Pennsylvania's Smurl family.
Director Michael ("The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It," "The Nun 2") Chaves attempts a more grounded approach this time, but fails to elevate the material beyond mere window-dressing for gore. A committee-written screenplay meanders for 135 interminable minutes offering predictability instead of depth or surprises.
Deprived of any meaningful character arcs, Farmiga and Wilson are merely deployed as haunted house tropes minus any true emotional stakes. The tech credits are polished, but slick visuals and jump scares are unable to compensate for a hollow narrative. While it may satisfy fans craving superficial shocks and/or franchise closure, this underwhelming farewell to the Warrens ultimately rings hollow and fails to live up to its legacy. (C MINUS.)
THE FANTASTIC FOUR: FIRST STEPS--Set in an alternate retro-futuristic timeline, this latest attempt to build a cinematic franchise out of the comic book introduced in 1961 establishes the origin of Marvel’s “first family” with stylized flair, practical effects and laudable ambition. Pedro Pascal brings a cerebral energy to the role of Reed Richards/Mr. Fantastic, but there’s a slight emotional distance that keeps his performance from truly connecting. Vanessa Kirby conveys quiet strength and layered intelligence as the team’s moral center, Sue Storm/Invisible Woman; Joseph Quinn’s Johnny Storm/Human Torch) offers a jolt of charisma and youthful energy; and Ebon Moss-Bachrach’s Ben Grimm/The Thing delivers grounded pathos beneath his rock-solid exterior. Julia Garner is a striking presence as Shalla-Bal, a reimagined Silver Surfer, and Ralph Ineson’s deep-voiced Galactus lends the final act an operatic sense of grandeur even though his role feels more setup than payoff. Director Matt Shakman’s decision to lean into a '60s-inspired sci-fi aesthetic (complete with retro space suits and analog gadgetry) gives it a unique personality within the MCU. Unfortunately, the pacing lags in the second half and the stakes seem oddly muted for a film involving a world-devouring cosmic entity. While the character dynamics are promising, they don’t always cohere dramatically. An ambitious reset that takes a bold aesthetic swing with visual invention and an impressive cast, it ultimately feels more like a place-setter than a fully satisfying standalone adventure. (B.)
FREAKIER FRIDAY--With its smart blend of nostalgia and generational comedy, this spirited return to body-swap hijinks reunites Jamie Lee Curtis and Lindsay Lohan two decades-plus after their 2003 reboot of the 1977 Disney hit which starred Jodie Foster and the wonderful Barbara Harris. Director Nisha Ganatra's sequel adds a fresh twist by upping the ante: not just one body switch, but multiple swaps across generations of the same family. Thestory picks up with Anna (Lohan) who's now a single mom and struggling musician raising a rebellious teenage daughter ("Once Upon a Time in...Hollywood" scene-stealer Julia Butters' Harper). Tess (Curtis), semi-retired and recently remarried, is trying to bond with her granddaughter when a mysterious heirloom causes all three to switch bodies. As Anna ends up in her daughter’s body, Harper lands in her grandmother’s and Tess finds herself back in Anna’s skin, the misunderstandings and chaos that ensue are frequently hilarious and surprisingly heartwarming. The movie wisely plays to Oscar winner Curtis’s well-honed comic chops while giving Lohan the opportunity to revisit Anna from a more mature, layered perspective. Butters impressively holds her own, balancing teen angst with grown-up confusion. The multi-swap format keeps the momentum brisk, ensuring that each performer gets a chance to shine. While the premise is familiar, Ganatra updates its themes with elan resulting in a winning comedy about empathy, identity, and the strange beauty of walking a mile in someone else’s shoes. (B)
MISHIMA--A singular cinematic achievement, Paul Schrader's audacious 1985 blend of biography, psychological portraiture and formal experimentation remains unlike anything else in American or international cinema. More than a biopic, "Mishima" is a stylized meditation on art, identity and the fatal convergence of beauty and violence, filtered through the life and work of Japanese author Yukio Mishima. Schrader, best known for writing gritty character studies like "Taxi Driver" and "Raging Bull," approaches Mishima’s story with both reverence and bold invention. Rather than follow a traditional chronological format, he structures the film in four thematic chapters (“Beauty,” “Art,” “Action” and “Harmony of Pen and Sword”), weaving together three interlaced strands: dramatizations of Mishima’s novels, episodes from his personal life and the final day leading up to his ritual suicide in 1970. This triptych structure creates a layered, prismatic portrait that captures not just what Mishima did, but what he believed, imagined and struggled against. The results are visually breathtaking. Schrader enlisted production designer Eiko Ishioka and cinematographer John Bailey to help create a work of immense formal beauty. The sections depicting Mishima’s fiction, drawn from "The Temple of the Golden Pavilion," "Kyoko’s House" and "Runaway Horses," are staged on lavish, expressionistic sets bursting with color and stylization, while the biographical sequences are shot in a starkly realistic, almost documentary-like style. This interplay heightens the central theme: the tension between the world as it is and the world as it ought to be according to aesthetic or moral ideals. Central to the movie’s power is Philip Glass’s hypnotic, minimalist score. The music helps give it an operatic propulsion, driving the narrative with rhythmic insistence and emotional grandeur. It's one of Glass’s most iconic cinematic compositions, perfectly attuned to the inner turbulence of its subject. Ken Ogata’s performance as Mishima is another essential ingredient. Ogata doesn’t try to make the author sympathetic or palatable; instead, he inhabits his contradictions—his narcissism and discipline, his devotion to beauty and obsession with death—with quiet intensity. He gives voice to a man who demanded absolute control over his body, his writing and his legacy. What makes "Mishima" so remarkable is its refusal to resolve the paradoxes it presents. Schrader doesn’t simplify or judge Mishima’s nationalist zeal, his theatrical final act or his complex sexuality. Instead, he renders a portrait of a man wrestling with the limits of art and the corruptibility of the physical world. The film confronts uncomfortable questions about politics, masculinity and the role of the artist in society, questions that resonate far beyond Mishima himself.Despite being produced by George Lucas and Francis Ford Coppola, "Mishima" was barely released in Japan and struggled to find an audience in the U.S. due to its challenging subject matter and hybrid form. But in the ensuing decades, it ultimately gained recognition as a masterpiece. Intellectually rigorous and emotionally stirring, it's a triumph of cinematic form that honors the complexity of its subject while offering a profound reflection on the relationship between life and art. The new Criterion Collection box set includes both 4K and Blu-Ray copies of the film as well as a treasure trove of tantalizing extras. There are two alternate English narrations (one by "Jaws"/"All That Jazz" star Roy Scheider); Schrader and producer Alan Poul's audio commentary; a making-of featurette with Bailey, producers Tom Luddy and Mata Yamamoto, Glass and Eshioka; an audio interview with coscreenwriter Chieko Schrader; excerpts from a 1966 interview with Mishima; the 1985 documentary, "The Strange Case of Yukio Mishima;" a featurette on Mishima with his biographer John Nathan and Japanese film maven Donald Richie; an essay by critic Kevin Jackson; an article about the movie's censorship difficulties in Japan; and remarkably tactile photographs of Ishioka's sets. (A.)
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.)
WEAPONS--Writer-director Zach Cregger's chilling, ambitious follow-up to his 2022 sleeper "Barbarian" is an ambitious horror flick that takes a deep dive into suburban paranoia and communal grief. Eschewing cheap jump scares for a non-linear, intricately layered narrative, Cregger tells the story of a small town rocked by the unexplained disappearance of an entire elementary school class, an event that triggers a psychological and emotional breakdown among the residents. Julia ("The Fantastic Four: First Steps") Garner anchors the film with a restrained but haunting performance as the soft-spoken schoolteacher whose students vanished without a trace. Local cop Alden Ehrenreich's investigation leads him into increasingly surreal territory, intersecting with several parallel story threads that contribute a different piece to the eerie puzzle. Also very good are Josh Brolin (a reclusive contractor with a troubled past whose isolated existence is disrupted as the town's crisis deepens), Benedict Wong (the school principal under growing suspicion) and Austin Abrams (a disturbed teen who may know more than he lets on). Cregger slowly builds dread as timelines and perspectives shift, generating suspense from the slow collapse of normalcy and the unseen forces that lie behind it. An unsettling, layered and confident piece of filmmaking, it confirms Cregger’s evolution into a leading genre auteur. (A MINUS.)
YOU CAN COUNT ON ME--A masterclass in character-driven storytelling, playwright Kenneth Lonergan's 2000 filmmaking debut is a quietly devastating, richly human portrait of familial bonds, emotional fragility and the complexities of adulthood that ranks among the most affecting American dramas of the early aughts. Anchored by two extraordinary performances from Laura Linney and Mark Ruffalo, it's a small film that continues to resonate with amazing emotional depth. Set in a sleepy Catskills town, the story revolves around Sammy Prescott (Linney), a single mother and bank employee trying to maintain stability for her young son Rudy (Rory Culkin). Sammy's controlled life is disrupted by the return of her estranged brother, Terry (Ruffalo), a drifter with a penchant for self-destruction and a heart that’s too gentle for this world. Their reunion sparks both tenderness and turmoil as they wrestle with shared childhood trauma, diverging life paths and the struggle to truly understand one another. What makes "You Can Count on Me" so remarkable is Lonergan’s refusal to indulge in melodrama. His screenplay is layered with nuance, humor and a deep sense of empathy. The dialogue feels unforced and the emotional beats land with a natural, uncontrived power. As a director, Lonergan favors simplicity, letting his actors’ expressions and silences speak volumes. Linney’s Oscar-nominated performance is revelatory, capturing Sammy’s strength and vulnerability with clarity and grace. Her portrayal of a woman trying to do the right thing—even when she’s unsure what that is—remains one of the finest of her career. In a breakout role, Ruffalo brings a wounded charisma to Terry, creating a character who is infuriating and lovable in equal measure. Their chemistry is undeniable, imbuing their sibling dynamic with history, affection and deep emotional conflict. The supporting cast brings additonalrichness without detracting from the core brother/sister relationship. Matthew Broderick is hilarious as Sammy’s neurotic boss and Culkin gives a tender, unaffected performance that deepens the emotional stakes. With wit, honesty and compassion, Lonergan captures the messiness of real life, how love coexists with frustration and how connection, albeit imperfect, remains a lifeline. It’s that rare drama that feels both specific and universal. Included on the Criterion Collection's Blu-Ray are Lonergan's audio commentary; new interviews with Lonergan, Linney, Ruffalo and Broderick; an essay by playwright Rebecca (Pulitzer finalist "The Glory of Living") Gilman; and the script of the original one-act play the film was based on. (A.)
---Milan Paurich
