Sinners

Twin brothers Smoke and Stack return to their hometown to open a blues club for a fresh start, only to discover that an even greater evil is waiting to welcome them back.

Ryan Coogler, one of the most impactful filmmakers to come out of the last decade, creates his most original, commanding, and dazzling film, a kind many have been waiting to see for a long time. Coogler gets free reign to blend genres with unique storytelling on a larger scale than we’ve seen before. The characters leap off the page and screen with their wonderful portrayals from Michael B. Jordan, Hailee Steinfeld, Wunmi Mosaku, and Delroy Lindo, as well as a more menacing turn from Jack O’Connell. As both Smoke and Stack, Jordan plays characters who aren’t free of moral question marks but still worth rooting for, and have excellent romances with Mosaku and Steinfeld, while Lindo has brilliant moments of reflection, strength, and humor.

The film portrays America in the 1930s as a place of difficulty and strive, with a system built to oppress black Americans, but in the main characters’ blues club, a dazzling, one-of-a-kind portrayal of black culture and music in a safe space of untouched, booming joy. The music is a language of its own in the film, not just another magnificent score by Ludwig Goransson, but the way music inspires and drives the characters across generations of their history. Music in the film is its own plane of sacred storytelling and unity, and it’s brought to life with roaring energy that the audience can enjoy yet by moved by. The cinematography by Autumn Durald Arkapaw, who also collaborated with Coogler on Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, also takes the film to another level, with distance between objects, characters, and backgrounds — or mere darkness — creating a weight in its shock. The film develops its characters in a world that’s breathing and moving around them in unexpected and exciting ways, even before the blues kicks in, and far before the horror action elevates the film to yet another level of mastery. The bloody violence is unpredictable and riveting to look at, and balances the line between horrific and irresistibly fun.

Though an ending scene stretches out and explains the themes too excessively, Sinners brings together genres and a remarkable cast full of life and heart that spreads to the audience. The visionary cinematography, music, and costume design compliment a story that’s filled with as much adoration for the immersive settings it creates as it is deeply hinting at themes of the system’s attempts to appropriate and erase black culture and history, and much more beneath the surface. Not only does it work for action, horror, or thriller fans, but it’s a beautiful piece of storytelling that only comes every few years. Not quite like any blockbuster we’ve seen, Sinners is a journey of pride, terror, and legend that needs to be experience on the big screen, solidifying Ryan Coogler as one of our great modern filmmakers who deserves all the more creative freedom and spotlight that’s coming his way.

A Minecraft Movie

A Minecraft Movie may prove a treat for younger audiences and fans of the beloved game. It’s got charm, thanks to its main stars, particularly Jack Black. He gleefully gives his playful and extravagant energy to Steve, even throwing in his musical comedy talents. Jason Momoa entertains but his dialogue threatens to miss almost as much as it’ll make you laugh. Danielle Brooks is splendid as a very unexpected companion on this journey, and gives the runtime lots of heart. Emma Myers does a solid job playing an unlikely heroic character, whose storyline with her brother avoids some cliches while falling head first into others.

Though this is a Minecraft movie first, director Jared Hess’ love for misfits and outcasts is written all over the film. What brings the film down is the aesthetic, that fails to get you to suspend your disbelief strongly enough to overlook the unconvincing green screen and weirdly uncanny CGI of some of the Minecraft characters/species. The live-action parts carry the film well if you ignore some of the backdrops, but sometimes you’ll wish that the scenes inside the Overworld were completely animated. It also doesn’t help that the idea of an unlikely team of social outsiders from the real world trying to navigate a fantastical world they’ve been suddenly pulled into is nothing new. Even the Jumanji films, also starring Black, had much more to offer the formula.

Still, the film has just enough charm to delight children and families, embracing the essence of the game with a positive message about creativity. And Black proves that he’ll continue to entertain generations of viewers with his ability to let loose. It’s a film that embraces exactly what it is, even if when you think about the film or look too long at the visual details, the building blocks starts to fall apart.

Snow White (2025)

Some remakes get a chance to breathe new life into their stories and worlds, while others, like Disney’s new Snow White, feel like a film from 90 years ago was frozen in carbonate for decades and then unnecessarily turned into a different medium. In this case, Snow White feels like 30% that, while the other 70% feels like sprinkles of modern flare that feels out of place. Oscar winners Benj Pasek and Justin Paul add songs that feel to derivative and cliche, hitting all the same “Welcome to our lovely kingdom”, “I want a better life”, “Look how evil I am”, and “Maybe we’re attracted to each other” beats that are in nearly every other musical. In some instances, the songs even sound too much like the duo’s Dear Evan Hansen soundtrack.

Rachel Zegler tries her best to entertain in a sweet but one-dimensional role elevated by her charisma and strong singing voice. However, all the other elements around her distract, including the unconvincing and at times hideous CGI of the animals, surroundings, and let’s not even talk about those dwarves, who seem almost nightmarish. But a painfully glaring weak link is the miscasting of Gal Gadot as the Evil Queen. Her line delivery feels unnatural, and the character just gets more irritating as the film goes along.

Most sadly, Snow White is inconsistent and deeply hollow as a film. It has almost no charm that feels organic, and can’t decide between elements that feel nostalgic or new, like the very modern-sounding soundtrack. Nothing of importance is ever quite explained or given meaning to, things just happen because the point that we’ve gotten in the story needs that thing to happen. For younger children, being unconditionally kind is an important message, but even Disney has delivered this theme in a way that’s so much more tangible and heartfelt; take even their live-action 2015 Cinderella remake for example. This remake doesn’t expand on or reinvigorate its source material, simply morphs it into weird images that look colorful but never have any real sense of life.

The Alto Knights

Two of New York City’s most notorious organized crime bosses vie for control of the city’s streets. Once best friends, petty jealousies and a series of betrayals set them on a deadly collision course.

Robert De Niro playing an infamous mobster is nothing new. But De Niro playing TWO mobsters? Throw in legendary director Barry Levinson of Bugsy, Rain Man, and Good Morning, Vietnam, now that’s something worth writing home about, right? Unfortunately, The Alto Knights is anything but; a film with maybe some potential on set that was completely butchered in the editing room. De Niro’s dual performance is supposed to fascinate the audience but instead distracts. Frank Costello and Vito Genovese are not presented in the film as being two sides of the same coin, as were the mobster twin brothers Kray, played by Tom Hardy in Legend. In this film, the two mobsters are depicted as not just of different families and mannerisms but of different ages, experiences, and motivations. When De Niro finally shares the screen with himself, it’s impossible to buy these disparities as the script depicts them, rather we buy them more like equals under different heaps of makeup, which was not the intention. As Costello, De Niro is giving something between a less soulful version of his turn in The Irishman, a less extravagant version of his turn in The Untouchables, and a less funny version of his turn in Analyze This. He’s interesting as Genovese, but casting another actor to oppose him would’ve worked better to show that one of these gangsters is actually much more frightening than the other.

The film recycles tired tropes of past popular mob films, and as I’ve alluded to here, many of them already star the great De Niro. Though some scenes are at least mediocre in their execution, the editing is horrendous and makes some scenes unwatchable. The film insists on blasting through most scenes like a documentary montage rather than letting scenes breathe and feel like a thrilling drama. The constant narration and barrages of exposition are condescending to its audience of a normally intelligent genre, but insists on feeding us information we could’ve learned through context clues within scenes. The poor dialogue can’t be salvaged by lacking performances from Debra Messing and Cosmo Jarvis, the latter of whose promising transformation never quite gets to shine. Moreover, there never feels like an escalation of tension or events when there feels like we should be building towards something, rather a lack of setup that also leads to a lack of reward. The Alto Knights starts on a bad foot, and never even hints at a chance to redeem itself. Even De Niro and crime film fans need not waste their time, in theaters or at home.

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.

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.

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.

Mufasa: The Lion King

Rafiki tells Simba and Nala’s daughter Kiara the story of her grandfather Mufasa, the once king of Pride Rock, and his upbringing with his brother Scar.

Mufasa boasts a beautiful cinematic experience that’s best experienced in 3D. The visuals are transporting with their photorealism and colorful sceneries of the wild world, and get to develop new settings without behind held back by recreating scenes from another movie the way 2019’s The Lion King was. That alone warrants the theatrical experience here, and not much else. Though Mufasa isn’t remaking another beloved movie anymore, it’s still restrained by the same lack of characterization that made the photorealistic animals feel emotionally distant in its predecessor. The animals can’t quite emote like they can in other animated films, and this creates a tonal dissonance between what the original 1994 film set for the franchise and the photoreal road the filmmakers are going down now. Aaron Pierre’s gravitas gives Mufasa just the right profundity, but Kelvin Harrison Jr., who’s a wonderful actor, feels rather miscast as Scar, a character who feels inconsistent both performance and character-wise. The problem with the rest of the characters is that save for Mads Mikkelsen’s villain, who’s basically Scar from the original minus the intrigue, everyone is a younger version of a Lion King character, and are stuck doing impersonations of the actors that came before them. There feels like there is nothing to discover emotionally, and the backstory behind the characters doesn’t really enrich what came before rather than just filling in some logistical gaps, all of which form a very cliche story. Not to mention, Billy Eichner and Seth Rogen as Timon and Pumbaa’s gags have been done to death and annoy more than they charm.

Though this one isn’t following the same story of another film beat for beat the way The Lion King was, that movie at least had the advantage of inheriting phenomenal songs from the original film. Lin-Manuel Miranda’s music here is incredibly lacking, with every song feeling derivative of a song from its predecessor, or even more recent Disney films. The worst part is, despite some of the action being visually stunning, the musical sequences are weakened because of a lack of connection to the animal characters who are less animated when they’re made to look real. If this made the 2019 film feel cold to you, this one won’t feel any more energetic. The film opens with a powerful tribute to James Earl Jones, the original voice of Mufasa — the fact that that’s the most (and maybe only) emotionally touching part of the film is very telling. Despite stunning visuals, including some beautiful sequences of the animals in the snow, Mufasa doesn’t offer much originality from a thematic, character, or musical point of view, and everything underneath the breathtaking aesthetic is easy to forget after watching.