NEW THIS WEEK (9/26) IN THEATERS, VOD AND/OR ON HOME VIDEO
AIRPORT; AIRPOT '75--When George Seaton’s adaptation of Arthur Hailey's bestseller landed in 1970, it became an instant cultural phenomenon, single-handedly launching the disaster movie genre that would dominate theaters for much of the decade. Four years later, "Airport ’74" arrived--leaner in narrative, but splashier in execution--confirming both the appeal and limitations of the formula. Seen together (both have just been released separately on Blu-Ray by KL Studio Classics), they offer a fascinating look back at how Hollywood blended star power, melodrama and crisis management for popcorn entertainment. "Airport" is the sturdier of the two films. Anchored by Burt Lancaster as a weary airport manager juggling professional chaos and personal strife, it embraces a multi-tiered structure. Dean Martin plays a cocky pilot entangled in an affair with stewardess Jacqueline Bisset; Helen Hayes, who won a Best Supporting Actress Oscar for her performance, famously steals scenes as a wily stowaway; and Van Heflin gives tragic weight to a desperate man with a bomb in his briefcase. Seaton makes the snowy runway, overburdened terminal and claustrophobic interiors feel as tense as any thriller setpiece. Yet beneath the suspense lies a soapy charm, a mix of procedural detail and romantic entanglement that gives the movie its charm. By contrast, the 1974 sequel opts for pure spectacle. Charlton Heston is tasked with rescuing a Boeing 747 after a midair collision leaves Karen Black’s plucky stewardess in control of the plane. The sequel has less narrative complexity and thinner character development, but its central disaster--complete with a hole ripped in the cockpit and stunt-heavy midair transfers--remains a high-water mark for the series’ showmanship. Affection for both films is easy: they deliver glamour, tension and marquee names in abundance. Yet the differences highlight their strengths and flaws. "Airport "succeeds because it cares as much about human frailty as technical jeopardy and its drama feels rooted in recognizable anxieties. "Airport ’74" substitutes personality for pyrotechnics, entertaining in the moment but less resonant in the long run. Collectively they illustrate why the disaster cycle thrived: audiences wanted both the comfort of ensemble drama and the thrill of improbable survival. If "Airport" set the bar with craft and cohesion, "Airport ’74" proved the franchise could soar on sheer audacity, even if it sometimes loses altitude in credibility. "Airport" remains the blueprint of the genre: polished, patient (it runs 137 minutes) and surprisingly human. While less refined, "Airport ’74" entertains as a glossy, star-driven spectacle that embodies the excesses and pleasures of 1970's Hollywood disaster cinema. Both KL Blu-Rays come equipped with audio commentary tracks: Julie Kirgo and C. Courtney Joyner ("Airport"); and historians Nathaniel Thompson and Steve Mitchell ("Airport '75"), as well as their original theatrical trailers. AIRPORT (B PLUS); AIRPORT '74 (B MINUS.) https://youtu.be/PACKbKt8MOw?si=c-wDz5NKpcMPNWH-
DEAD OF WINTER--Unleashing her inner Marge Gunderson, Emma Thompson plays recently widowed Barb who's traveling into the Minnesota wilderness to scatter her husband’s ashes. That solitary journey shifts into something far more perilous when she discovers a captive young woman (Laurel Marsden) being held in a remote cabin by a menacing couple (Judy Greer and Marc Menchaca). Director Brian Kirk, who previously helmed episodes of "Game of Thrones" and 2019's Chadwick Boseman actioner "21 Bridges," brings a vivid sense of atmosphere to the proceedings. He makes excellent use of the frozen landscape, transforming it into both a visual metaphor for grief and an unforgiving stage for suspense. The cold itself becomes an antagonist, amplifying the danger Barb faces as she decides whether to intervene. Thompson's deeply empathetic performance balances world weariness with a growing determination to act. Greer, best known for more light-hearted fare, takes a darker turn as one half of the captor duo and Marsden adds raw vulnerability that ups the emotional stakes. While the screenplay occasionally leans into familiar genre tropes, Kirk sustains tension with deliberate pacing and a keen eye for silence and stillness. The result is a thriller that's both intimate and spellbinding, more interested in resilience and moral choice than jump scares. Besides showcasing Oscar winner Thompson’s thesping range, it confirms Kirk’s skill at blending character drama with suspense. (B.)
ELEANOR THE GREAT--Scarlett Johansson makes her directorial debut with this modest, bittersweet dramedy that finds warmth in the most unlikely places. The titular Eleanor (June Squibb) is a sharp-tongued 94-year-old widow living in Florida who, after the death of her closest friend Bessie (Rita Zohar), uproots her life and moves to Manhattan to be closer to her daughter Lisa (Jessica Hecht). Once there, Eleanor struggles to adjust, oscillating between independence and the realities of aging. Her loneliness leads her to a Jewish seniors’ support group for Holocaust survivors. In an impulsive moment, Eleanor borrows Bessie’s past as her own, setting into motion a lie that both comforts and unsettles her. The story gains traction after Eleanor befriends Nina (Erin Kellyman), a nineteen-year-old student navigating her own grief, and Nina’s father Roger (Chiwetel Ejiofor), a television journalist intrigued by her purported history. These new relationships force Eleanor to confront not only her deception, but also the deeper longing for connection that fueled it. Squibb, last seen in 2024's sleeper hit "Thelma," carries the movie with a performance that's equal parts prickly and tender, grounding Eleanor’s questionable choices in genuine pathos. Kellyman provides a spirited counterbalance, her youthful optimism colliding with Eleanor’s seasoned cynicism. Johansson helms with restraint, favoring quiet moments over big dramatic flourishes. While the tonal shifts between gentle comedy and moral drama can seem a tad jarring, the film retains a touching emotional center. Flawed but affecting, it's worth seeing for another late-career showcase by the indomitable Squib. (B.) https://youtu.be/wZ6l2ue--KA?si=xHrma2YDvEIIO0oW
GABBY'S DOLLHOUSE--The leap from streaming series to the big screen can be tricky, but director Ryan Crego manages the transition with charm and infectious energy. Returning to the role that made her a household name with preschoolers, Laila Lockhart Kraner plays Gabby who embarks on a road trip with her grandmother Gigi (Grammy winner Gloria Estefan). Their destination is the whimsical city of Cat Francisco, a fantastical expansion of the world hinted at in the Netflix mainstay. Troubles arise when Gabby’s beloved dollhouse falls into the hands of an eccentric, would-be collector ("Bridesmaids" star Kristen Wiig bringing just the right amount of mischief without ever becoming truly menacing). Determined not to lose her magical playhouse, Gabby shrinks herself to toy size and enlists the aid of her trusty Gabby Cats. The blend of live action and CGI animation is seamless with the dollhouse sequences bursting to life in bright, tactile detail. Although the pacing occasionally lags, the film mostly succeeds as a colorful, heart-centered adventure about the power of imagination. (B MINUS.)
ONE BATTLE AFTER ANOTHER--A ferocious, sprawling, profoundly moving epic that blends political satire, action spectacle and emotional intimacy into one of the most audacious films of director Paul Thomas Anderson's brilliant ("There Will Be Blood," "Boogie Nights," "Phantom Thread," et al) career. Ex-radical revolutionary Bob Ferguson (Leonardo DiCaprio) now lives off the grid with his teenage daughter, Willa (Chase Infiniti). Their placid existence shatters when Bob’s past finally catches up with him. Colonel Steven J. Lockjaw (Sean Penn), a former white supremacist cult leader turned militia commander, resurfaces with a vendetta that places Willa in grave danger. To protect his daughter, Bob is forced to reconnect with the remnants of his old activist circle including Willa’s mother Perfidia, (Teyana Taylor), and Deandra (Regina Hall), a former comrade who's become a moral anchor in the fractured movement. Adding to the mix is Benicio del Toro’s Sensei Sergio, a shadowy operator with ambiguous loyalties who helps guide Bob and Willa through perilous underground channels. Anderson orchestrates the (Robert) Altman-esque narrative canvas as a series of escalating chases and confrontations, but the movie never loses sight of its humanity. The action is visceral--car chases and explosive skirmishes are staged with breathtaking precision--yet it's the quieter exchanges between father and daughter that elevate the story. Willa’s growing awareness of her parents’ past misdeeds and sacrifices gives the film its aching heart. Anderson explores how ideals curdle into paranoia, how the weight of youthful conviction lingers into middle age and how love, whether romantic, political or familial, endures despite betrayal and violence. With its stunningly assured melding of spectacle, soul-piercing drama and impeccable performances, Anderson's masterpiece ranks among the decade's premier cinematic achievements. (A PLUS.)
THE STRANGERS: CHAPTER 2--Director Renny ("The Long Kiss Goodnight," "Die Hard 2") Harlin resumes his horror trilogy reboot with a bleak and harrowing follow-up that doubles down on the merciless terror of its 2024 predecessor. Picking up immediately where "Chapter 1" ended, it finds Maya (Madelaine Petsch) barely surviving a vicious home invasion. Traumatized but still alive, she soon discover that her relentless masked tormentors are still lurking in the shadows. Petsch's raw-nerved performance convincingly charts Maya’s unraveling psyche as paranoia and desperation take hold. Froy Gutierrez returns briefly as Maya’s ill-fated boyfriend whose absence haunts her journey. The killers, once again portrayed with chilling anonymity, remain silent embodiments of unstoppable evil, their motives left unexplained which only heightens the existential dread underpinning the film. Harlin crafts setpieces with ruthless precision, staging the violence with unsettling realism. Abandoned motels, shadowy woods and dimly lit small-town spaces provide the Strangers with plenty of hiding places, amplifying the sense that Maya is never beyond their reach. Unlike many sequels that lean into backstory, the bleak, brutal and relentless "Chapter 2" thrives on its refusal to explain, focusing instead on terror at its most primal. (B.)
NOW AVAILABLE IN THEATERS, ON HOME VIDEO AND/OR STREAMING CHANNELS:
A BIG, BOLD, BEAUTIFUL JOURNEY--The latest work by critics' darling Kogonada ("After Yang," "Columbus") is a romantic fantasy that aims for lyrical resonance but too often succumbs to sentimentality. Margot Robbie plays Sarah, a painter questioning her life choices, and Colin Farrell's Davis is a melancholy writer adrift after personal loss. The premise is certainly intriguing: when David takes out his vintage car, its peculiar GPS begins guiding him and Sarah through surreal detours. Each stop opens a literal door into moments from their pasts--weddings, childhood scenes, missed connections--forcing them to relive memories they thought long buried. Along the way, supporting characters, including Oscar winner Kevin Kline and "Fleabag" auteur Phoebe Waller-Bridge, push the couple toward reflection and, potentially, renewal. Farrell quietly embodies David's regret without slipping into self-pity, while Robbie brings warmth to Sarah even though her character occasionally drifts into archetype rather than flesh-and-blood person. Kogonada’s direction is visually arresting, layering muted color palettes with bursts of surreal imagery, yet the rhythm falters. The episodic structure quickly grows repetitive, and the central concept of revisiting the past begins to feel more like a gimmick than a revelation. While delivering moments of beauty, the film struggles to earn its emotional catharsis. Ambitious in scope, it gestures towards profundity without quite achieving it. (C.)
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.)
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 MINUS.)
HIM--Jordan ("Get Out," "Nope") Peele’s Monkeypaw production shingle expands its brand of bold, socially conscious horror flicks with this sharp, unsettling hybrid of sports drama and psychological terror. Directed by Justin Tipping, the movie trades the roar of the stadium for the eerie calm of an isolated compound where dreams of athletic greatness curdle into nightmare. The story follows Cameron “Cam” Cade (Tyriq Withers), a promising young quarterback whose bright future is suddenly derailed after a violent injury at the hands of an obsessed fan. Desperate to reclaim his career trajectory, Cam accepts an invitation from Isaiah White (Marlon Wayans), an eight-time championship legend, to train under his guidance. Relocating to Isaiah’s secluded estate, Cam encounters Isaiah’s glamorous wife, Elsie (Julia Fox), and soon discovers that the true game plan is less about his rehab than bending to Isaiah’s will. Wayans, best known for his comic roles, delivers a suitably menacing performance, embodying the mythic allure of a sports hero whose mentorship borders on cult leadership. Withers captures both the vulnerability and drive of a young athlete caught between ambition and survival while Fox brings an enigmatic quality to her portrayal of Isaiah’s partner whose complicity keeps the compound’s power structure intact. Tipping balances sports realism with mounting dread, gradually shifting the tone into genre territory. While not all of its supernatural elements are fully realized, it succeeds as a chilling parable that lingers long after the final whistle. (B MINUS.)
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.)
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.)
THE SENIOR--Inspired by a true story, this classic underdog sports drama balances sentimentality with grit. 59-year-old Mike Flynt (Michael Chiklis) returns to his alma mater to finish what was cut short his senior year: playing college football. What emerges is an exploration of regret, family and the physical and emotional costs of pursuing a dream most would deem ludicrous. Chiklis convincingly portrays Flynt’s stubbornness, vulnerability and enduring passion, and Mary Stuart Masterson somehow manages to bring emotional shading to the otherwise perfunctory role of Mike's wife. Director Rod ("The Outpost," "The Contender") Lurie invokes the familiar tropes of the genre--conflict, injury, emotional revelations, personal reconciliations--with enough sincerity to avoid making it feel entirely rote. Despite an overarching predictability, it should resonate for anyone drawn to stories of late bloomers and second chances. (C 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.)
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
