Category Archives: Drama

01.10.25
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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.

12.27.24
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The Fire Inside

Rachel Morrison impresses in her touching and exciting directorial debut. The film focuses on Claressa Shields, the only American boxer to win a gold medal at the Olympics — let alone at age 16!

Morrison’s energetic style and the vibrant soundtrack give a Creed-like energy to The Fire Inside, a film that portrays the city of Flint as the ultimate underdog and gives the audience characters we can really interact with and understand, even if we don’t always agree with them, such as Claressa’s parents. Ryan Destiny shines in her first major role, giving Claressa Shields a titular fire and rageful drive to win that makes her fascinating and lovable.

What makes the film worth the price of admission is watching Brian Tyree Henry work his magic in an awards-worthy powerhouse of a performance. As Claressa’s coach Jason, Henry not only extends an enduring tough love that anchors the film, but makes the audience fall in love with the character and wish for him to be our coach and grounding force. Henry’s one-of-a-kind humanity and charm makes Jason lovable and riveting, and we as an audience deeply care for him and understand his decisions even when Claressa might not.

As for the film as a whole, there are many familiar beats to other sports and boxing films that it touches on, but it never loses its heart and engagement and even subverts the typical uplifting sports film structure to show that its true soul was in this coach-student relationship that feels like so much more to us. It’s not going to rank among the greatest boxing pictures, but surely is worth a watch for a feel-good story.

12.25.24
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Babygirl

It’s so easy for erotic thrillers to fall too far into camp, or take themselves too seriously, which has caused many, such as Unfaithful or Basic Instinct, to fall into either melodrama or laughability. Babygirl not only succeeds because of its layered themes, but also because of its irony. It feels like a film that has to be made today. Only Halina Reijn behind the camera could’ve made Babygirl feel as audacious as it is without the moral discomfort taking over. The direction, cinematography, editing, and score pack surprises and evolve with the film as the story descends into murkiness and the situation gets increasingly out of hand. 

Nicole Kidman gives her most daring performance in years, a character that on the page seems like many others she’s played, but is ultimately anything but. The script explores Romy’s inability to recognize her freedom to choose after an awful decision, as she throws herself into a situation she suddenly can’t escape. The film dives into power and gender dynamics, workplace standards, and the murky idea of submission. Is power the ability to lie? To be reckless? To screw up, or even give that power up? Are those powers and luxuries different for women, even today?

While Kidman is incredible, Harris Dickinson is equally magnetic. He’s equal parts silly and brutish, and the tough masculinity bursts out of his awkward softness, indicating a desire to pin down and control. Their dynamic is fascinating, but the movie brilliantly leans into camp humor during some of the more cringey scenes, without it overshadowing the mature undertones. Antonio Banderas also has plenty of strong moments, playing Kidman’s husband, a complex, empathetic character in his own right. Sophie Wilde shines as well, and her scenes are brilliantly played and key to the film’s themes.

The film’s thrills come in this fusion of feelings we have towards these characters, and how easily it all escalates. Reijn is clearly having fun with it all, whether the shots of corporate Manhattan, the mirror she holds to these characters, or the remarkable soundtrack choices. The runtime is enticing and you never quite know what you’re about to get. There’s nuance to unpack and never provides easy answers to its questions about its workplace and familial settings, but it all feels so effortless that you never feel like the movie’s working too hard to make you think, laugh, or have fun.

Babygirl - Wikipedia
12.17.24
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The Brutalist

There’s no shortage of incredible films covering the dark chapter of humanity that is the Holocaust, not to mention one starring The Brutalist’s Adrien Brody. That said, no film has asked in this fashion what comes after a film like The Pianist, or even The Zone of Interest — life after the war ended for survivors of one of humanity’s great atrocities, including mass immigration to America, was no “fairy tale” happy ending. Instead, The Brutalist portrays mere life for a Holocaust survivor as what it really must have been: an endless waking nightmare. An early shot sets the tone perfectly: our main character Lazlo Toth, is on a boat arriving in New York, only the camera frames the Statue of Liberty sideways and shakily — a look into Lazlo’s hidden perspective of the world ahead of him.

Brody’s performance is integral to our journey with the film. The unlocking of Lazlo’s ambitions is gripping for the audiences, but even more so is his struggles with his surroundings and his outlook on his sense of self, which has been fractured after the war, as for every survivor. Brody’s chronicling of a fictional man’s journey, who is brought to life with such pain and understanding that some viewers may be surprised this isn’t a biopic, is a tremendous performance and some of the decade’s most remarkable acting. When Lazlo is cold, angry, or hard to read, we still understand and care about him because he’s incredibly delicate and empathetic. Felicity Jones is heartbreaking and vulnerable as Lazlo’s wife, whose tenderness anchors him, while she goes against odds to stand up for him when even he can’t. Guy Pearce is riveting and unforgettable as a larger-than-life man who starts an almost angel in Lazlo’s life, sweeping him from the poverty of immigrant life and giving him a canvas for glory and success. What’s key to the intrigue is that Pearce’s character isn’t so easy to read. He’s elegant, but also temperamental and has a sick idea of power and control.

The film captures a chapter in history in its grandeur, powerfully covering Jewish assimilation in America, and how willing America is to truly let others. There’s a sense of hopelessness to the struggles they endure, as the promises of immigration prove more difficult than meets the eye, but not just that. There’s a feeling of horror underneath, even when there isn’t a moment of violence, and you’re simply witnessing the towering cinematography and hearing the booming score. Brady Corbet brilliantly hides discomfort and terror that’s itching to break out of this historical drama about architecture, and it seeps deep into its audience while never quite making it to the surface in a literal sense. Still, the gorgeous shots, magnificent production design, and undertones of every scene grip us throughout the long time it depicts.


The ending is delivered in a way that’s tonally unexpected and polarizing compared to the rest of the film and hits you like an emotional sledgehammer. It makes the entire experience more heart-shattering and important and is impossible to forget. The Brutalist is a devastating and sweeping epic like we’ve rarely gotten in recent decades, with a look and feel that stuns as much as it quietly terrifies, capturing an entire era with a long but mostly earned runtime. Like the big epic films like Lawrence of Arabia and Schindler’s List, The Brutalist is massive and transformative and is one of those films that’ll stay with you forever.

12.08.24
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Nickel Boys

Nickel Boys tells of the powerful friendship between two young black men navigating the harrowing trials of a notoriously abusive reform school together in Florida. From that description alone, this may not sound like such a radical work of cinema quite yet, until you learn the key piece that defines it all: the movie is filmed completely from the first-person point-of-view of the teen friends and protagonists Elwood and Turner. Through this effect, you feel like you’re living a lifetime with them, traveling back to the 1960s, particularly into some of the deepest, darkest holes dug by America’s foundations that ruthlessly and systemically discriminated against people of color. It’s an invisible feat to get your audience to immediately care about a character whose face you barely see, but through Elwood’s perspective, we’re pulled and immersed into a heart-stopping time capsule. This experience may feel jarring at first, and the editing does occasionally break the gimmick’s own rules, the approach enhances the film’s thematic weight. From the cast, Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor is in particular brilliant in a small but unforgettable performance as Elwood’s grandmother.

RaMell Ross brings us into the sensory experiences of the characters with convincing production value, showing us subtly a world that ignores and persecutes teenagers of color, with a system built to see black men as guilty before charged and unworthy of the same chances. It’s also a film about how trauma can root itself into the soul and reshape a person’s being and outlook. The final act in particular is unforgettable and will stick with you for a long, long time after the credits roll. Nickel Boys is important, daring, and affecting in a deeply haunting way, and is a must-watch essential film of the year.

10.30.24
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Emilia Pérez

Lawyer Rita receives an unusual offer from cartel leader Manitas — to help him evade the authorities and disappear by becoming Emilia Pérez, the woman she always was meant to be inside.

There hasn’t quite been a film remotely like Emilia Pérez, at least not in recent memory. One that so effortlessly blends seemingly alien genres and stories together, and utilizes its story, themes, and cast in such a surprising way. Zoe Saldaña shines in her most electric role yet, in an entrancing narcotics thriller meets rock opera musical where all the show-stopping elements create a magical experience you can’t look away from. Karla Sofia Gascon gives the character an identity defined by envy and a desire for redemption that’s also reflected in Saldaña’s character. Selena Gomez rounds out the poignant cast, getting to balance her great star power with a more rageful side to her acting we haven’t seen before. 

The journey of watching the film is one that gleefully navigates its way through tones and genres that wouldn’t have meshed so beautifully in other films. The musical numbers give the characters a voice that they otherwise lack or are searching for at the start. Every character, from the main ones to the background singers, is looking for validation, redemption, or recognition, and that binds the themes of the film together. There’s a scene about halfway in where I leaned forward in my seat, and never quite leaned back because I was so entranced by the mood the film created with its music and style. It’s director Jacques Audiard taking an exciting leap to create a really special and breathtaking experience; an outlandish, wonderfully performed film that dares to challenge but wow it’s viewers.

10.22.24
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Conclave

Cardinal Lawrence is tasked with overseeing Conclave, the selection of a new pope. Soon, secrets reveal themselves that could shake the very foundation of the Roman Catholic Church and bring Lawrence’s faith in his colleagues into question.

Edward Berger’s drama transcends conversations about faith and asks about men and values. The idea that selfishness and lies prevail in any space of remote competition or power is about so much more than the Catholic Church, but there are genuine stakes and universal truths to the story here. Ralph Fiennes gives one of his best performances ever as Cardinal Lawrence, a man trying to guide his belief in his Church and his peers while grappling with his understanding of faith and his place there. His character does what he feels is necessary but there’s a prevalent goodness and softness to Fiennes’ performance that beautifully accompanies his wisdom and elegance. Fiennes gives a breathtaking monologue about the coexistence of doubt and faith that took the air out of the theater — and that’s only half an hour in. I could’ve watched Fiennes embody this character for hours. Stanley Tucci is also exceptional as another one of the more moral members of the Church.

The cinematography is stunning, with colors that always stand out, and symbolism in items or actions. Even a light entering a room represents so much more for the characters and their path ahead. The action movie-like orchestral score by Volker Bertelmann is enticing and helps define the pace, which never wastes a minute of its 2-hour runtime that flies by. Though a twist at the end feels unnecessary, the idea that men flock to accusations, deception, and harm when they need to cover for themselves is delivered with heft. Fiennes’ performance gives the film the identity it needs to connect, and the writing dissects the flaws of humanity and absolution with fascination and conviction. Berger’s outstanding film invites you to continue guessing, indulging, and marveling.

10.18.24
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The Apprentice

The Apprentice envisions the rise of billionaire tycoon and megalomaniac Donald Trump as a teacher-student relationship between Trump and his cutthroat attorney Roy Cohn, the acolyte of many evildoers in American history such as Nixon and McCarthy. It takes a serious approach with only a dash of irreverence in its script and style, showing the true scope of the values America represents and the ones it claims to but fails. Sebastian Stan isn’t doing a comedic impersonation of the man like many we’ve seen on Saturday Night Live, rather he transcends that and embodies Trump’s skin, becoming more and more like the Trump we’re used to seeing and hearing as the runtime progresses. Donald in the film is chronicled in his journey from a spoiled brat living off his dad’s achievements, to the narcissistic bully obsessed with greed and demonizing others. Much of what he seems to learn is attributed to his mentor, attorney Roy Cohn. Jeremy Strong is incredible in the role, giving a massive performance as a man who dominates every room yet evidently has a small sense of self. Cohn is played by Strong with immense physicality and a fragile fearfulness to his appearance. Even when the film’s pacing occasionally slows down or falters, the film is entirely worth it for those two principal performances.

Director Ali Abassi is fascinated with the American ambitions and values that surfaced in the 1980s, including Cohn’s “kill or be killed” mentality that many big American wealth giants lived by, or splitting the world into “winners and losers”. The use of various vintage cameras to immerse the audience in its 80s period can come off as indulgent and even distracting when too rushed, but the production value looks uncanny to how the Trumps at that time and their “achievements” really looked. Most importantly, it shows the normalization of bigotry and corruption in the American system, and how it’s rigged to enable the wealthy to get richer, and continuously toss the needs of the people aside. Trump comes of age in the film, but perhaps for the worst. His wishes are all granted, but at what cost? The spread of his ambitions to conquer the world and rub it in everyone else’s faces seem never-ending, but we see his infamous persona here originating from a desire to always be strong and win no matter the cost. The Apprentice isn’t just an origin story of modern evil, but a tale of the delusional men who roam at the top of society, capturing the essence of how a force of destruction and its hunger for power was activated and enabled by forces not so unlike him.

10.14.24
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Anora

Anora, a young exotic dancer and call girl, meets the son of a wealthy Russian oligarch, and they soon spark up a fairytale romance. But that soon is threatened once his family gets word and sets out to break them up.

Sean Baker’s latest film is his biggest, utilizing more settings than his other films yet still addressing issues related to the working class. However, this one isn’t as grounded as his other films about America’s divisions — and flourishes because of it. The movie effortlessly balances fairy tale romance, screwball comedy, and tense drama, even becoming a hostage thriller of sorts at one point. Mikey Madison delivers a star-making performance as the titular character of Ani. She may be looking for love, control, validation, security, glamour, or respect — it varies every moment and that’s what makes Ani so unpredictable. She owns the screen with her every move and line. We meet her at her job as an escort, a role that doesn’t normally constitute a movie protagonist, but Mikey is immediately lovable despite her being from a world new to us. All the supporting characters are also expertly utilized, and the look and soundtrack make Anora feel like a lovely adventure… until things soon spiral out of control into a very different mood, yet equally fascinating and out there. 

There may be parts later on that are drawn out, but it never lets go of your attention for a moment as the stakes rise. The ending changed my entire outlook on what the film was really about all along. There’s so much depth to uncover and your expectations are completely flipped in a ruthless, heartbreaking, and unforgettable final act. But Baker’s love for his characters, even the smallest parts, breathes a human life through them and winds up making Anora a beautiful, resonant, and truly one-of-a-kind experience that juggles so much without ever compromising its nature or grasp on the audience.

10.10.24
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We Live in Time

Oscar nominees Andrew Garfield and Florence Pugh star in a film about more than just romance, but about making the best of our time and deciding what we want to leave behind for ourselves. As a couple faced with difficult decisions, the two leads shine, although it takes some time to buy them as a grounded couple rather than two A-list stars in a major pairing. Pugh in particular is the film’s heart: she’s a woman faced with a sadly universal and terrifying circumstance, working to preserve herself, her future, and her image for her loved ones and finding out that she doesn’t have to choose between them. Garfield is also vulnerable and works well when his character is lovingly caring for Pugh yet standing up in their relationship. 

Though the score and the pace are meditative, the unfolding of the story suffers from the unnecessary decision to present the events in a non-linear fashion, which accounts for more confusion than revelation. The film doesn’t quite live up to the high bar set by its talented leads and John Crowley’s incredible romance Brooklyn (2015), but also ends up finding its footing in a final act that follows through on the empowering promise it sets up for Pugh’s character. It also doesn’t overstay its welcome and allows things to be open to the audience’s interpretation, as is the passage of time and the future as we view it from the present. It’s a solid and human film that takes time to end up resonating, but is lifted by impressive performances and an inconsistent but ultimately heartfelt and meditative runtime.