Black Bag

Intelligence agent George Woodhouse is enlisted in investigating his wife, agent Kathryn Woodhouse, for treason, uncovering a web of secrets and deception.

Steven Soderbergh’s cleverest film in years, Black Bag boasts an entertaining cast, an exciting aesthetic, and a story that’s inviting though occasionally overwhelmingly complicated. Michael Fassbender and Cate Blanchett have great chemistry together as a couple with a complex love. Fassbender’s character in particular has an interesting manner to him, and every decision reveals more about the lengths he’s willing to go to. Marisa Abela, Tom Burke, Naomie Harris, and Rege-Jean Page all round out a great ensemble cast, each of whom has unique and intriguing characteristics and flaws.

Soderbergh has tested the limits of filmmaking with a number of his films recently. Though he takes a more traditional approach here, the writing and aesthetic still feel large and thoughtful, with the pace flying by and the turns the story takes becoming more and more exciting. With perfectly cast characters and a smart story, Black Bag definitely ranks high for the director’s more recent efforts.

Mickey 17

Mickey is an Expendable on a expedition to the space colony Niflheim — meaning a new copy of him is printed out every time he dies, which is more often than others. Soon, trouble ensues as Mickey finds himself in a dangerous situation and a fight to survive.

Bong Joon-ho’s likely largest production in sheer scale isn’t subtle in its themes, whether of human nature, fascism, or the arrogant abuse of technology, but it’s still clever, vibrant, and so full of heart, more than enough so to serve as an absolute blast of a film. The look and feel of the sci-fi settings feels original and Pattinson’s delivery of the titular character is likable. Mickey 17 is an insecure man/clone who’s somewhat at peace with the bleakness of his situation, but is fun to follow along and has the sudden urge to stay alive and fight for what’s right. He also has great chemistry with himself as Mickey 18, who’s only a few hours older than 17 but almost the polar opposite — hardened and occasionally ruthless. Naomi Ackie gives the film its soul; she’s so lively and wonderful as Nasha, who elevates Mickey as much as she’s on her own meaningful journey. Steven Yeun also shines as a sleazy and unrealiable but multi-dimensional frenemy of Mickey’s. The parallels between Mark Ruffalo’s character and certain powerful men in our reality aren’t hard to decipher, but he and Toni Collette entertain, even when their performances occasionally threaten to fall into caricature.

Mickey 17‘s magic is finding the humor and gentleness within the darkness. Mickey always sees his situation with a sense of irony, but Bong also finds care and soul within side characters who usually would feel disposable in other films. He never loses sight of the absurdity at hand but keeps elevating the stakes and with it, his signature expert eye. The film packs charm, exceptional world-building, irreverence, and characters we love, not despite but especially for their messiest parts.

Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy

Renee Zellweger’s iconic British protagonist has become something of a cinematic treasure across four films now. But her films haven’t made us just laugh along at her missteps, but watch her develop, and even come of age, you could say. This final film has a somewhat more bittersweet tone, though, as Bridget’s lover, Mark Darcy, is no longer in the picture. Four years after his loss, she is finally ready to move on and find love again. The film maturely tackles coming to terms with grief, finding joy again while coexisting with the memory of those who have passed on. But it’s also still irreverent, charming, and romantic. It tackles some of the basics that the first film gave a go at, but Zellweger not only shows Bridget’s goofy side, but her struggles with being a single mother of two, and the absence of her husband.

Joining the mix are Chiwetel Ejiofor and Leo Woodall, who both charm in different ways, but Ejiofor in particular has great chemistry with Zellweger. Though it does retread familiar rom-com territory, or that of comedies about parents raising children, and it’s not the sharpest or smartest of the franchise over Bridget Jones’s Baby, it still offers a good time and a heartwarming conclusion to a lovable, messy delight of a character.

Captain America: Brave New World

Sam Wilson has fully accepted and embodied the role of Captain America in a post-Blip world, but comes into conflict with President Thaddeus “Thunderbolt” Ross after an international incident that unveils a deadly conspiracy.

The latest Marvel Studios film, which tries its very best to pay tribute to political conspiracy thrillers such as In the Line of Fire and The Pelican Brief, occasionally entertains but ends up retreading too much familiar ground and feeling too flat. Though it’s great to see Mackie donning the titular suit and in the leading role on the big screen, his character isn’t given real meaningful impact besides what he already went through before and represents for others. Harrison Ford brings a deeper gravitas to Ross than we did in William Hurt’s portrayal of the character, but other characters leave much to be desired, particularly those played by Shira Haas, Giancarlo Esposito, and Tim Blake Nelson. The antagonist has an intriguing backstory but hardly feels plausible in his strategies and dialogue. Though Danny Ramirez gives a fun performance, Carl Lumbly is the only one giving real soul to the film as the fascinating Isaiah Bradley.

The film stumbles in its attempts to show the political consequences of some of the past MCU films, which is interesting but doesn’t deliver anything powerful besides a cool action backdrop. The script as a whole starts off much better as it ends, but even then is mostly rehashing ideas from The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, such as dangerous super soldier villains and the political and national representations of Captain America. Even compared to that miniseries, this film has far less soul, wit, or intrigue, with a half-baked villain plot that doesn’t lead to much. It also feels somewhat implausible compared to the rules that past MCU projects have set, but sadly, the film ultimately feels empty because it’s devoid of real thematic weight. Any attempt at such felt lousy and recycled, particularly the third act, in which the CGI is distracting and the resolution is rather underwhelming. Attempts to set up what’s to come in the MCU feel forced, and though this may feel serviceable enough as a big action film, it’s underwhelming as a Captain America film (considering how stellar the action and themes were in the first three) and ultimately forgettable, which is not what a film with Sam Wilson as its protagonist should be.

A Complete Unknown

Bob Dylan as a person has always seemed to be an enigma, as this film’s title hints. But his art has captured, moved, and inspired generations. A Complete Unknown isn’t as interested in cracking Bob’s code, rather portraying him as a complicated man searching to evolve through his music and art, while Timothee Chalamet, over the course of the film, becomes Dylan through his musical commitment and showing both his more grand and uglier sides. He channels Dylan’s layered voice beautifully, while also portraying him as a wild card, who was occasionally destructive towards others on his journey towards fully realizing himself.

Though the film will absolutely make you want to learn more about Dylan’s impact and accomplishments, it’ll definitely have you as eager to discover more about another folk singer as well: Joan Baez. Every time Monica Barbaro graces the screen in A Complete Unknown, she brings an enchantment and captivation in the role, with a singing voice so transfixing you wouldn’t believe she only first learned to sing to play Baez here. Edward Norton shines as the optimistic if fixated and unapologetic Pete Seeger, as does Elle Fanning as Dylan’s love interest Sylvie. James Mangold’s direction, including the shot-on-film look, the production value, and the musical scenes all demand a theatrical watch to experience the folk music being performed with such powerful sound design and aesthetic. Even as someone who was never quite pulled to the genre before, the film makes you feel the power of music in inspiring, changing, and moving others.

Though the first half is rather fantastic, the second half gets so caught up in the stunning musical sequences that the story does unnecessarily slow down, and though the ending is satisfying, there is a little more impact to be wished for. But it still succeeds due to its incredible look and the commitment of its actors, with Mangold yet again proving himself an expert storyteller and filmmaker. The film takes you throughout a moment in time, history, and culture, and makes a strong case for its resonance, and for the awards buzz for Chalamet’s remarkable work as the renowned musician.

I’m Still Here

I’m Still Here takes place during the tightening grip of a military dictatorship in Brazil, 1971, focusing on a real family that suffered a horrific injustice at the hands of their corrupt government. However, Eunice Paiva emerged stronger than ever from the most unimaginable of tragedies and suffering — as a woman and a mother. Fernanda Torres gives a subtle ferocity to Paiva and the film: a ferocity to both her love and her agony. The film does too good of a job making you connect with the beautiful family of Eunice, Rubens and their children, before their reality is shaken forever. When the film takes this dark turn, you feel the anguish and horror with Eunice, and the impact of this part in the film never quite leaves you, even as the film continues throughout time in her life. Throughout this time afterwards, Eunice’s love preservers throughout grief, and she makes unthinkable choices, that make you think about their unexpected nature.

The film is a reflection of fascism throughout history and its deep-seated ripples on an individual, a family, and a society. The aesthetic evolves throughout the different tones of the film, and though it goes on for five minutes too long at the end, it hits hard with its devastating themes and moving story. It’s a deeply powerful and heart-wrenching film about loss, grief, and the barbarity of fascism made unforgettable by Torres’ leading performance and the difficult yet remarkable subject material.

September 5

During the 1972 Summer Olympics in Munich, Germany, an American sports broadcasting team must adapt to live coverage the Israeli athletes being held hostage by a terrorist group.

September 5 is an expertly crafted, tense docudrama set only in the ABC control room, and it’s this restraint, or visual distance from the actual violence, that makes the unfolding of events and revealing of information so much more impactful. Peter Sarsgaard gets to let out an unfiltered side to his character which is fun to watch, while John Magaro gives a wonderful performance in the lead, as the character who serves as the audience’s gateway into this situation and makes us ask what we would do when presented with such dilemmas. The film is so gripping not just because it focuses on a real-life historical tragedy, but because it’s rooted in the human soul of its characters. September 5 is about when humanity and journalism cross, and asks questions about journalistic ethics, and why people are so attracted to such spectacle and horror on the news. Each character’s decisions comes from a place of humanity and conflict, and we understand every perspective, even when they differ.

Most importantly, September 5 feels like it’s not only bringing you into a horrific event from 50 years ago, but heavily mirroring the present, especially viewing the film as a Jew and Israeli. It’s a riveting and urgent film about the role of broadcasting and storytelling in our lives, well making its audience reflect on the ripples of such violent and provocative images captured and shown to the world. It’s a tightly paced, gripping, and emotional film about the dangerous responsibility for the truth that’s a thoughtful and powerful experience, whether or not you’re already familiar with the tragic events of that day.

Companion

Companion might fall apart if you think too much about plausibility, but that’s not the whole point. It starts out as a “getaway” thriller like any other, but soon things go, well, incredibly south. There isn’t much I can say beyond that because the story and its unfolding take so many unexpected directions that elevate the enjoyment of watching the film. Not to mention, it’s incredibly funny. Sophie Thatcher continues breaking into the thriller genre amazingly, giving her all to what the character needs. Jack Quaid is also fittingly cast as a seemingly “nice guy” with more insecurity under the surface. Rounding out the great supporting cast are Harvey Guillen and Lukas Cage, who nail the comedic timing and pitiful complexities of their characters.

The editing, comedic timing, music choices, and thrills elevate Companion above a few minor writing missteps towards the end. It’s entertaining while smart, with some outrageous dialogue and very well-filmed sequences and production value. It’s not the first modern film to try the satirical horror-thriller approach to issues of masculinity and toxic relationships, even in the last few months, but does it cleverly and with so much fun, including the humor and twisted violence, that it wins you over from start to finish.

Better Man

Better Man chronicles the rise, fall, and resurgence of popstar Robbie Williams, with a twist: Williams himself as depicted as a CGI monkey. This odd approach threatens to distract at times, and works better conceptually than in execution. However, this musical biopic rises among the crowd of forgettable tellings of famous musician’s lives through its vivacious musical sequences and booming soul. Williams, who narrates the film himself, doesn’t let himself off the hook, inviting us into genuine introspection of his ugliest parts: his insecurities, self-destructiveness, addiction, and depression. Michael Gracey’s direction puts everything in his last grand musical film The Greatest Showman to shame within minutes — the lively numbers, dynamic camerawork and choreography make the visual style bombastic while remaining intimate with Williams’ core as a man, not just his journey as a famous singer.

The effect the main character being a CGI chimpanzee has is occasionally jarring and even laughable at worst, but at best, creates an interesting visual experience compared to films with similar plots, and brings you into Williams’ imposter syndrome and self-perception. However, one can’t help but think the gimmick would’ve worked stronger if it had only lasted for one scene. Still, the film is such a breath of fresh air in that it tackles familiar points and themes from the genre on a far more up-close manner, such as feeling trapped by fame, or being numbed by addiction. Non-fans will want to learn much more about Robbie Williams’s story and learn more about his story. Fans will greatly enjoy Williams’s songs being elevated by such beautiful sequences and appreciate a bold and eccentric yet humble, emotional, and entertaining biopic.

A Real Pain

A Real Pain beautifully balances the heartbreaking and hysterical through the dynamic of Jesse Eisenberg and Kieran Culkin as cousins David and Benji, who travel from New York to Poland together on a tour in memory of their deceased grandmother, a Polish Holocaust survivor. It’s about so many things, whether big or small. From a Jewish perspective, the film powerfully touches on complicated feelings of nationality towards countries in which one’s family lived but suffered horrific atrocities, as well as generational trauma. As someone who has embarked on this tour myself, the film captures not only the visceral nature of walking into places where such evil was committed eight decades ago (which both I and the characters here came to feel, wasn’t even that long ago), but the deep emotional connection towards one’s ancestors, community, and people it invokes.

From a personal perspective, the film is also very much about empathy — the idea of feeling others’ pain, and sadness, to better understand and connect with oneself. Kieran Culkin in particular brings such harsh complexity to his character. Benji is fascinated with human connection and constantly in pursuit of embracing living life with all his senses, but doesn’t always know how to feel, or express himself to others. Even when he pushes others away and embarrasses himself, the audiences can’t help but hold him close to their heart and feel deeply for him in every moment, because of his desire to grieve for his grandmother, and true yet misguided desire for the best. Eisenberg, in one of his most substantial and beautiful performances, wonderfully conveys David’s pull to and from Benji — his responsibility yet resentment towards the way Benji feels, which comes from a distance and envy from him, yet a dear love for him. Their bond is as moving as it is poignant, and even irreverent, and best of all, it’s easy to connect with them both as an audience member, despite how wildly different they are. Eisenberg’s script is devoted to his love for his Jewish heritage and culture, and exploration of the human condition that may even make you reflect on how you live your life. He and Culkin together make for a wonderful pair in a film that’ll take you on an emotional journey filled with weight and resonance.