Sing Sing

Sing Sing takes place in the titular New York prison and focuses on inmates involved in the Rehabilitation Through the Arts (RTA) program, as they work through their traumas to find redemption through acting.

Colman Domingo beautifully leads this film as one of the only actors not starring as themselves, opening us to a completely different side of him from his turn in Rustin, but equally moving and majestic. His charisma and soul commands the screen like not many actors can, balancing authority in his efforts to strengthen camaraderie throughout the RTA’s production at Sing Sing, and a longing to leave his imprisonment and prove his innocence from a crime he’s doing time for that he didn’t commit. He makes us deeply care for Divine G’s struggle but his “performance within a performance” scenes are also impossible to look away from. Paul Raci is also lovely as the RTA director encouraging the inmates to open up and unlock their deepest feelings through the process of acting and imagination. Besides those two Oscar nominees, almost everyone else is a veteran of the RTA program playing themselves, unlocking a naturalistic sincerity in not just the characters but the experience (similar to watching Frances McDormand interact with real-life nomads in Nomadland).

As these inmates find the hidden parts of themselves and get in touch with their most vulnerable sides, the experience of watching Sing Sing becomes just that for the audience. We’re left reflecting on our own livelihoods we’ve taken for granted, and the times we may have felt trapped and longed to escape from realities of our own. Acting is not just redemption for these characters we grow to feel deeply for — it reinvigorates their love for being alive, and reminds them of something to fight for, including their brothers on the stage with them. The film frames this rehabilitative process as a reclamation of the self, even behind bars where people are often treated as, well, less than people. It’s a rare experience that breaks down barriers and makes us feel close to characters that would often frighten us from the outside in any other film. Beyond those discussions about empathy it may stir within us, the film is kind-hearted and funny even amidst the most difficult of settings. In this mix of Oscar-nominated actors alongside a number of men playing themselves, the real often blends with the scripted, both for the characters and the art, that invites audiences for a complex but loving and extraordinary drama of raw and beautiful storytelling.

Fly Me to the Moon

Marketing specialist Kelly Jones and launch director Cole Davis cross paths at the Kennedy Space Center and sell America the race to put a man on the moon. But things get truly complicated when NASA orders Jones to come up with a contingency plan to mankind’s greatest achievement.

Scarlett Johansson and Channing Tatum shine in this romantic star vehicle set in the backdrop of the space race, but the film flourishes most when focused on its playful interactions with history and period mood. Tatum is particularly strong as a character whose authority is thrown into messy situations, and Jim Rash is a hilarious standout as a director friend of Johansson’s character. Ray Romano also gives potentially his most delightful performance since The Big Sick as a NASA scientist who gets some of the film’s most touching dialogue. The $100 million budget also pays off as you feel the grand scale of NASA’s sites and activity, as well as the gravity (no pun intended) of this place and its happenings for the world and human possibility. Some scenes may fall into the shadow of First Man due to some of the same events being covered, but it’s not really fair to compare any film to that one technically. The film work’s best when embracing this ambition alongside it’s bright, comedic tone, and this energy creates an engaging watch, even when the film is low on substance — or the substance to the lead characters just isn’t that memorable. Still, Johansson and Tatum’s performances are enough to entice the audience and though the editing is a bit aggressive at times, and the film doesn’t leave you with as much food for that as it does toying around with history, it brings its 60s time period — and the wonder that came with NASA at the time — to life with enough flare to induce smiles, laughs, and a nice trip to the movies for all.

The Bikeriders

After a chance encounter, headstrong Kathy is drawn to Benny, member of Midwestern motorcycle club the Vandals. As the club transforms into a dangerous underworld of violence, Benny must choose between Kathy and his loyalty to the club.

The Bikeriders may be trying to capture that star-powered crime film that Scorsese’s Mean Streets and Goodfellas may have popularized, but it’s also got director Jeff Nichols doing what he does best — intimate, mid-budget character dramas with a rougher edge. The movie’s also very much focused on its stars, with Austin Butler attempting to induce as much swoon as usual, but also delivering a soft shame underneath his stoicism. Though Jodie Comer’s accent takes a scene or two to get used to, she’s an excellent lead here, continuing to prove her range and likability across genres. Tom Hardy is in particular brilliant — even without the appealing 60s aesthetic and dynamics between said “macho men”, the film would still work as a showcase for his talent. Though his character is a bad man and often uses violence and intimidation to get what he wants, he’s not a full-on antagonist to the audience like you’d say about his character in The Revenant. Hardy gives the character of Johnny an outcast side, a man who’s built everything he knows to run from the dejection that used to surround him, and deep down longs for brotherhood beneath all the motorbike gang dynamics. It’s so inviting to see Hardy completely throw himself into the most subtle, sympathetic, and gruesome parts of the character.

Though the style and cast often elevate this film into a great one, the story may prove predictable for some. However, Nichols’ approach to its characters and setting feels attractive and gritty, and what it lacks in emotional punch, it certainly makes up for with performance, as well as the production value, sound editing, and development of the gang culture that surrounds the film.

Challengers

Tashi, a former tennis prodigy turned coach, turned her husband Art into a champion. But to overcome a losing streak, he needs to face his ex-best friend, Patrick, who’s also Tashi’s ex-boyfriend.

One thing that’s thrilling about Challengers is that it never gives you easy answers. Is it about devotion? Manipulation? Triumph? Doom? All of them? One thing’s for sure: it’s a film about passion. Raw physical and emotional passion between humans for one another, and for the kick they get doing the one thing they can’t live without — in this case, playing tennis. And for all the right reasons, Luca Guadagnino is at his most maximalist stylistically to convey this raw passion these characters feel and bring us into the world, from exciting editing and some experimental cinematography to the synth, almost Run Lola Run-esque score from Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross. It’s the polar opposite to his more naturalistic, minimalist approach to the intimacy of Call Me By Your Name, and an upping of the ante of the wilder style of Bones and All. Zendaya gives one of her heaviest performance, portraying Tashi perfectly over a long span of time, through fascination, ambition, longing, control, and deceit. Josh O’Connor and Mike Faist are also great, particularly Faist, whose charm entrances the screen. The West Side Story star announces himself as a powerhouse whose apparent harmlessness you can’t help but feel for. Their friendship established in the opening minutes of the film sets the stage for everything to come, and makes you care for how the rest may unfold or fall apart.

Challengers is the rare film that transports you into its world in a case where there are only 3 characters who really bear any significance. There’s a scene between the three main characters that happens early on chronologically that enchants you and sucks you into the close, complicated intimacy they inhabit in this space, and the film never lets you go once this scene happens until the credits roll. It’s an experience that’s dynamic, unpredictable, and darkly human, with three riveting leading performances at its center, and sets the bar the rest of what’s to come in Guadagnino’s directorial career.

Back to Black

Back to Black chronicles the life and music of Amy Winehouse, through the journey of adolescence to adulthood and the creation of one of the best-selling albums of our time.

It may feel like a step up from recent music biopics like Elvis and I Wanna Dance with Somebody, and may be on par with something like Respect and not quite at the glory of Rocketman. Marisa Abela is great as Winehouse, bringing the young music-loving girl to the screen in the start and the mess of an unstable addict she becomes later in life. But what’s most unbelievable is Abela’s singing which completely captures the one-of-a-kind grandeur of Amy’s voice. There are times when Abela completely disappears and you simply feel the singer alive in front of you. Eddie Marsan gives one of his most memorable performances to date as Amy’s father, while Lesley Manville also brings a lot to the movie as her grandmother. When Jack O’Connell comes in, however, as Amy’s love interest and eventual husband, the film falls into messy melodrama that sinks the runtime and falls into the same traps that many of these biopics suffer from when channeling the artist’s pain and troubles. Winehouse’s journey through love and addiction is filled with cliches, but is empathetic enough for us to forgive her shortcomings. The film also does a great job of incorporating her songs into the film, and best of all, it manages to have its audience actually interact with the subject as a tangible person, rather than just a larger-than-life legend. The more minimalistic approach to the musical biopic gives Back to Black a strong start, but you’ll also have a few too many instances of deja vu, though we’ve certainly seen it done worse. It’s watchable enough for non-fans of the late singer, but for some, it might not stand out among similar films with similar beats that have come out far too recently.

Ferrari

Ferrari is legendary director Michael Mann’s latest outing, telling the titular racing driver and entrepreneur’s family life and his entering of his racing team into the 1957 Mille Miglia cup in an attempt to solidify Ferrari as the greatest auto name in Italy — and maybe even the world.

Adam Driver gives a great performance as a figure whose determination for glory and pushing the limits as to what’s possible are front and center — but not necessarily depicted in the most interesting way. His character’s decisions don’t have a lot to say, neither does the story of his relationship with his wife, played by Penelope Cruz; rather it’s the performances that elevate the material. Shailene Woodley is also strong in the film, as is Patrick Dempsey, but again, their characters are more fun to see due to the actors’ work than what they give the film. Like with Ali, Michael Mann seems to be in control of the era he’s depicting through the racing scenes and the production of the scenery. The shots of the cars zooming through the Italian countryside are nice, and everything around Ferrari’s preparation for the race is engaging. However, Ferrari doesn’t have anything as momentous to say as its titular brand and its portrayal of the thrill of the sport of racing by the end of its runtime, which occasionally slows down. The third act is especially noteworthy and there’s a devastating event that hits hard at the end of the film. It’s always a pleasure to see Driver commit himself to a great role, but there’s certainly more resonant racing true stories such as Ford v Ferrari and Rush.

The Color Purple (2023)

The Color Purple is the second film adaptation of Alice Walker’s beloved novel, this one based on the Broadway musical adaptation as well, about a young woman named Celie who faces many hardships living in the South in the 1900s, but ultimately finds extraordinary strength and hope in the unbreakable bonds of sisterhood.

Though everyone in this new cinematic rendition The Color Purple is one of the best at what they do, the idea of making this a musical doesn’t always fit with the tone of all the rough things going on in the characters’ world, and the very clean cinematography removes the grit that Steven Spielberg’s version had that showed you the weight of the hardships and abuse Celie endured. Here, the most earned moments for Celie’s character aren’t necessarily her musical numbers but rather moments where Fantasia Barrino gets to shine just based on her interactions with other actors or set pieces that inform Celie’s character. Barrino is very strong in the role, but Taraji P. Henson runs away with the movie every time she shares a scene with her, or anyone for that matter. Henson portrays blues singer and “loose woman” Shug Avery with a power to her that commands every other character in both a loving and wise way, not to mention her show-stopping musical number in a tavern. Danielle Brooks is the other highlight as Sofia, whose characters shamelessness and courage shine through in both her songs and her incredible physical acting. Colman Domingo is simply incredible as Mister, inhabiting the character in not an inch less of meanness and disgust as Danny Glover did so brilliantly in the 1985 film, but also giving the abusive man a quietly human edge to him that Domingo finds even when the audience doesn’t want to see it. Corey Hawkins, Halle Bailey, and H.E.R. also give strong turns due to their potent screen presences and musical talents, and even Louis Gossett Jr. shows up for an excellent short appearance.

There’s no denying how amazing their singing and dancing is. However, it’s the songs themselves that don’t blend in with the material this story is telling. Save for a song or two, the lyrics aren’t quite memorable, either. This imagination of the story clearly works much better as a stage musical, where the audience can interact with the actors in real space as they sing and dance. For a film that gets cruelly serious at times, though the more uplifting song breaks don’t compliment the more hard-hitting scenes as much as the film would like to think, even though the actresses are always killing it. And although the costume design is award-worthy, the digital cinematography may have given it more of a music video edge that director Blitz Bazawule is used to, that could’ve benefitted from longer shots and a more period-like look. In short, come for the spectacular cast and a timeless story, but there’s no promising audiences won’t prefer the rougher and more dramatically coherent film that Spielberg led back in 1985 with Whoopi Goldberg and Oprah Winfrey.

The Zone of Interest

The Zone of Interest is not quite like any film-watching experience you’ve had before it, telling its story through the perspective of the commandant of Auschwitz, Rudolf Höss, and his wife Hedwig, as they strive to build a dream life for their family in a house and garden next to the camp. The film doesn’t focus on the horrors that family name caused, but rather the “ordinary” life they set out to lead — all as the unspeakable was unfolding on the other side of the wall. Jonathan Glazer creates an experience that feels like being sucked out of your seat and thrown into a time capsule. The cinematography is some of the best I’ve ever seen, especially with a film in which what you don’t see is the true thematic weight of the film.

Christian Friedel and Sandra Huller lead the film but are captured almost entirely through wide shots, as to not quite allow you to get close to these historical figures of evil and rather portray them in their seemingly cold and mundane lives. The sound editing is faint yet visceral, and sickening as a result. This is a film where the smallest of details are what create the true big picture — perhaps the echoing of a scream in the background that is never addressed by the characters as they go about the scene, or something small a character finds in the frame that he then hides from his children. This is how Glazer brings about the attitudes of people believing they deserve the best through hard work and a picturesque lifestyle, all while their lives are entangled in systems of evil. In addition, the metaphorical framing of objects in the house or stories and poems told create the most chilling of images in the most seemingly “innocent”. Mica Levi’s musical score isn’t ever-present in the film, but when it’s there, it sums up the film’s dark tone with an almost hellish omen of sin and sorrow. Though we’ve seen disturbing films about the evils of the Holocaust such as Schindler’s List and The Pianist, what this film dares to do is show the delusional ignorance of a wicked, bigoted people that was completely normalized to genocide. It’s a difficult yet haunting and essential watch that’s not only sadly relevant, but expertly told through the conjunction of sound, cinematography, and editing through Glazer’s singular vision.

American Fiction

Thelonious “Monk” Ellison, a writer frustrated with his struggles to gain fame and publish a book, is fed up with the establishment profiting from black trauma in entertainment, so he writes a book under a pen name that purposely feeds off the black stereotypes and exploitations he resents. Ironically, his book soon becomes a hit and propels him to the heart of hypocrisy and the madness he claims to disdain.

First-time director Cord Jefferson has created a laugh-out-loud satire that mirrors the world of entertainment we live in, but also balances the family drama elements strongly. Jeffrey Wright gives a career-best performance in a project that feels like it’s finally utilizing and exercising the beloved character actor’s talents to their full extent. Wright leans into the script’s “straight comedy” elements of Monk adopting an alias and putting up with his frustrations with the industry, but he also gives the film a lot of emotional gravitas that’s needed to feel for Monk as a human being. Sterling K. Brown is hysterical as Monk’s goofier younger brother who steals the scene just by being there and acting so out there, while Issa Rae and Erika Alexander also give strong supporting performances, not to mention the entertaining dynamic between Monk and his agent played by John Ortiz.

The film cleverly takes a meta approach to modern-day media consumption and the idea that the public will eat up any story about minority communities as long as they bathe in trauma and suffering. Jefferson’s script takes on the popularity of films like Boyz n the Hood, Precious, and many others in the idea that limiting black voices to black pain or pitiful stereotypes may make the culture overlook stories from black artists that don’t delve into such melodrama. The film jabs at the fact that for years, many black roles were slaves, gang member, or citizens of poor neighbors, and that there’s so much more to black characters and stories — and especially the idea of “woke” whites taking offense or defining the societal norms on behalf of minorities on such matters. There’s plenty of food for thought in the clever approach the film takes to its satire, but also laughs that sometimes come at you at a lighting speed, and nuanced characters who aren’t defined by their race, as Jefferson proves, all while showing frustration at the way things are. It’s as great of an audacious comedy as it is a character drama that offers a unique satirical voice with memorable performances from Wright and Brown.

Poor Things

Bella Baxter is a young woman brought back from the dead by the brilliant and unorthodox scientist Dr. Godwin Baxter. Under Baxter’s protection, Bella is eager to learn. Hungry for the worldliness she is lacking, Bella runs off with Duncan Wedderburn, a slick and debauched lawyer, on a whirlwind adventure across the continents.

Trigger warnings are a no-brainer with Yorgos Lanthimos, as his films are often filled with sadistic, violent, and hypersexualized power games where nobody is quite a pleasant person. These tropes as well as Lanthimos’ trademark cringe humor are just the baseline to describing Poor Things, a sickening yet grandiose movie that transcends categorization. It’s hysterical but not quite a comedy; it’s poetic but not quite a drama. Emma Stone gives a performance so demanding and so audacious yet it never breaks the illusion of being acting. You completely buy her character in the context of the story and are taken aback by her character’s abnormal physicality and wonder with being alive. Mark Ruffalo is also throwing himself into this role that could’ve easily fallen into unbelievability, but he perfectly balances an exaggerated, almost theatrical edge to his role with a vile, pitiful nature to it. Willem Dafoe plays a scientist under heaps of makeup whose motives may provide an emotional anchor to Stone’s character but also unpeels itself to be uncomfortably pathetic due to his background, and Ramy Youssef also does a great job here.

Poor Things may owe some of its inspiration to classic monster movies, but really isn’t like anything audiences have seen before. The production design creates an eye-popping, fantastical version of the Victorian Era and a world with a completely fresh aesthetic, as well as dynamic cinematography with color, B&W, and even a few fish-eye lens shots to invoke Bella’s warped worldview. Bella’s curiosity is devoid of prejudice and preconceived notions on the world’s structures, and she finds herself appalled by those around her trying to control her, and fascinated by anything she gets to choose to do. The humor is ridiculously honest and ballsy, and therefore, not for everyone — not to mention the exaggeratedly comic sex scenes and the uncompromising and even disgusting violence. Its audacity will certainly find its pleasurers, especially those who already love the director’s filmography. This bold tour de force isn’t for the faint of heart and may leave you at a loss for words. The writing and execution are exhilarating in the best way; the more disturbing and out-of-this world it gets, the less you’ll feel you want to look away. You’ll simply want to witness the bizarre yet fascinating unfold in front of you when it’s through Yorgos’ eye and so irresistibly played by Stone as this woman with the literal brain of an infant in her head, eager to experience being alive for all its peculiarities..