Author: Jeremy Werner

Starring: Matt Damon, Anne Hathaway and Tom Holland
Directed by: Christopher Nolan
Rated: R
Running Time: 173 minutes
Universal Pictures

Our Score: 4.5 out of 5 Stars

For nearly 3,000 years, humanity has been telling “The Odyssey.” Around campfires. Through song and poetry. On stages. In paintings. In classrooms. Every generation has found its own way to tell Homer’s story. Christopher Nolan may have finally found ours.

Adapting “The Odyssey” isn’t simply a matter of condensing one of civilization’s greatest stories. It’s the cinematic equivalent of squeezing two seasons of “Game of Thrones” into three hours while somehow preserving the politics, mythology, family drama, warfare, philosophy, and humanity that made the original endure in the first place. Against all odds, Nolan largely succeeds.

Beginning with the Trojan Horse and stretching across Odysseus’ decade-plus journey home, Nolan’s adaptation isn’t interested in treating Greek mythology like a collection of disconnected adventures. Every island, every monster, every god, and every temptation becomes another examination of leadership, faith, governance, family, and the unavoidable consequences of human choice. This isn’t merely a story about getting home. It’s about what war costs the people fighting it, as well as the people waiting for them.

Matt Damon delivers one of the finest performances of his career. His Odysseus possesses the physical presence mythology demands, effortlessly commanding armies one moment and confronting impossible odds the next. Yet Damon wisely avoids playing him as an untouchable superhero. His Odysseus grows increasingly weathered by grief, regret, responsibility, and the weight of decisions that ripple far beyond the battlefield. Nolan doesn’t ask us to admire perfection. He asks us to consider whether greatness can exist alongside profound imperfection.

That burden isn’t Odysseus’ alone. Anne Hathaway’s Penelope quietly becomes the film’s emotional equal, fighting her own battle while trapped in Ithaca. Tom Holland’s Telemachus provides the coming-of-age perspective as a son forced to grow up beneath the shadow of a father who has become more legend than man. Even Zendaya’s Athena feels less like a mythical guide than a reminder that every generation searches for wisdom somewhere outside itself. Rather than existing solely to support Odysseus, each character reflects a different consequence of his absence.

Visually, “The Odyssey” is exactly the kind of spectacle audiences hoped Nolan would deliver. IMAX transforms vast oceans, towering landscapes, and ancient cities into something appropriately mythic while never losing sight of the intimacy between characters. The practical effects blend seamlessly with CGI, creating a world that feels tangible despite its gods and monsters. Nolan also slips in moments of unsettling body horror and genuine suspense that rival some of modern cinema’s most memorable sequences, though wisely never allowing spectacle to overshadow the story’s emotional core.

Perhaps Nolan’s greatest achievement is resisting the temptation to modernize Homer’s ideas while still making them feel modern. His narrative still plays with shifting perspectives and fractured chronology in familiar Nolan fashion, but those techniques serve the material instead of calling attention to themselves. You don’t need an encyclopedic knowledge of Greek mythology to follow the film because Nolan understands that mythology has always been less about monsters than people. The gods may shape events, but it is human pride, love, grief, loyalty, and ambition that determine their outcome.

If “Oppenheimer” examined the consequences of changing the world, “The Odyssey” explores the consequences of simply surviving it. Every victory leaves a scar. Every decision carries a cost. Every homecoming demands reconciliation with the person who left. That’s ultimately why this adaptation works. Christopher Nolan hasn’t simply made the biggest version of “The Odyssey.” He’s made one that understands why we’ve been telling it for nearly 3,000 years.

Starring: Seth Rogen, Olivia Wilde, Penelope Cruz and Edward Norton
Directed by: Olivia Wilde
Rated: R
Running Time: 107 minutes
A24

Our Score: 4 out of 5 Stars

Maybe Olivia Wilde should stick to comedy.

She absolutely crushed it with 2019’s “Booksmart,” so much so that audiences couldn’t wait to see what she did next. Unfortunately, “Don’t Worry, Darling” was such a misfire that many people seemed to lose interest in what a third film might look like. Fortunately, Wilde reminds us with “The Invite” that she may have quietly become one of the sharpest comedy directors working today. Like “Booksmart,” “The Invite” is hilarious on the surface, but underneath the laughs is a story built on emotional dissatisfaction, insecurity, and the slow erosion of adult relationships.

It’s just another evening of squabbling for middle-aged married couple Joe (Seth Rogen) and Angela (Olivia Wilde). Their arguments range from Joe’s foldable bike to Angela’s penchant for buying furniture they don’t need. But the real source of tension is the animalistic sounds their upstairs neighbors make whenever they’re having sex. Why obsess over an anonymous couple’s love life? Because Angela has invited those neighbors, Pina (Penelope Cruz) and Hawk (Edward Norton), over for dinner. What unfolds is one of the raunchiest and funniest comedies of the 2020s.

What makes “The Invite” work is that nobody is trying to out-funny anyone else. Rogen brings his effortless naturalism while Wilde weaponizes uncomfortable facial expressions, simmering resentment, and the frustrations of unemployment and loneliness. Norton delivers deadpan line after deadpan line as a retired firefighter searching for purpose through new hobbies, while Cruz effortlessly bounces between the other three, often turning their own jokes and insecurities back on them with fearless confidence. While Rogen is no stranger to comedy, he also reminds us how effective he can be as a dramatic actor when the story asks for something more beneath the laughs.

Much of “The Invite” succeeds because of its screenplay, which not only generates laugh after laugh but also draws us into the characters’ sexual insecurities and emotional baggage. Both couples carry scars they can only hide for so long. Beneath every joke, passive-aggressive remark, and uncomfortable silence, you can feel the tension quietly building. Conversations shift. Moods change. Characters splinter off into smaller interactions. Saying much more would spoil the carefully constructed surprises and emotional turns that make the film so rewarding.

The best comedies don’t simply make us laugh. They make us recognize ourselves somewhere between the punchlines. That’s where “The Invite” succeeds most.

At first, it feels content simply making the audience laugh, almost effortlessly. But once the jokes begin to fade and reality settles in, Olivia Wilde reveals she’s after something much more uncomfortable. This isn’t really a movie about sex, arguments, or awkward dinner parties. It’s about the quiet dissatisfaction that can settle into long-term relationships and the different ways people try to convince themselves they’re still happy.

The real trick isn’t making an audience laugh. It’s asking whether they still feel something after the laughter stops.

Starring: Kansas Bowling, Jessa Jupiter Flux and Julie Kashmanian
Directed by: Jason Zink
Rated: NR
Running Time: 80 minutes

Our Score: 3.5 out of 5 Stars

The found footage serial killer subgenre is surprisingly crowded with films like “Man Bites Dog,” “Maniac,” and the “Creep” franchise. So while it can be difficult to stand out, 2025’s “Looky-loo” and now “looky-loo: PART II” carve out their own identity by trapping us with very little dialogue and a killer who sees the camera as a creative tool rather than a simple recording device.

For the uninitiated (like I was a month ago), “Looky-loo” follows an aspiring filmmaker whose obsession with cameras evolves into voyeurism, stalking, and eventually murder. Not just one murder, either. He begins staging his victims like actors preparing for a scene, finding as much satisfaction in the production as the killing itself. That’s important because “PART II” picks up almost immediately afterward, with the killer seemingly releasing “Looky-loo” to the public like a drive-in snuff film. He even scrawls “PART II” in blood across a refrigerator, as if he’s proudly unveiling the title card for his next masterpiece.

My perspective may be slightly skewed because I watched both films within a 36-hour span. I never really had time to sit with the first film before diving into the sequel. While I think the original is a solid exercise in restraint, “PART II” noticeably improves on many of its quieter shortcomings. The first film feels a bit like “In a Violent Nature.” Instead of marinating in dense forests and ambient sound, “Looky-loo” lingers in sweaty breathing, uncomfortable silence, and victims blissfully unaware that a killer is standing in the closet. I think it works, but I can also understand why some viewers find it painfully slow.

“PART II” replaces much of that restraint with confidence. The killer stomps upstairs without hesitation, casually raids victims’ refrigerators, drinks their beverages, and only occasionally bothers wearing gloves, as if DNA evidence simply stopped existing. None of these moments feel like plot holes. They’re deliberate choices that suggest someone who either no longer fears getting caught or genuinely believes he’s untouchable. It’s difficult to know which because the film still reveals remarkably little about who he actually is.

What we do learn is perhaps the most interesting development of the sequel. I think our killer is creating incel art. The first film hints at it, but “PART II” pushes the idea much further. While he expands his victims to include men, the murders aren’t treated equally. The men often become victims of blunt rage. The women become productions. They’re staged, framed, and lingered upon with a disturbing artistic obsession. Even more revealing is his growing fixation on female artists. It’s almost as if he can’t tolerate the idea that women might be more creative, more fulfilled, or more talented than he is. The murders begin feeling less like random acts of violence and more like warped attempts to prove he’s the only true artist in the room.

That’s ultimately what elevates the “Looky-loo” series. Like “The Poughkeepsie Tapes,” it invites you to revisit it because so much of the story exists between the scenes rather than inside them. Every repeated viewing uncovers another clue about the psychology hiding behind the camera. Unlike charismatic fictional killers like Hannibal Lecter or Dexter Morgan, this murderer isn’t interested in charming us. He wants us to appreciate the process: the stalking, the waiting, the intrusion, and finally the kill. In his mind, we’re his audience. He believes we should admire his work just as much as he does. And if we don’t, we might as well become part of his next production.

“looky loo: PART II” will have its Midwest premiere at Hysteria Fest in St. Louis on Thursday July 9th.

Starring: Emily Blunt, Josh O’Connor and Colin Firth
Directed by: Steven Spielberg
Rated: PG-13
Running Time: 145 minutes
Universal Pictures

Our Score: 1.5 out of 5 Stars

It’s a grand return to the sci-fi genre for Steven Spielberg, the director that helped redefine the genre with “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” and “E.T.” However, “Disclosure Day” feels strangely disconnected from the sense of wonder that has made his work so compelling. Spielberg’s alien stories used to be fueled by curiosity. Here, curiosity is replaced by certainty. The film begins with the assumption that extraterrestrial life exists and that powerful interests have hidden that truth from the public. Fair enough. But then what?

That question kept following me throughout the film. If the government and corporations have been hiding the truth, why? What exactly are they protecting? What do the aliens want? Are they benevolent? Dangerous? Indifferent? What happens to religion, society, and everyday life when the greatest discovery in human history becomes public knowledge?

“Disclosure Day” raises all of these questions but rarely engages with them in a meaningful way. Instead, characters often react with awe and revelation while I found myself wondering what they were seeing that I wasn’t. I understood every plot beat, but I rarely felt them. The film somehow feels over-explained and underdeveloped at the same time, as if 40 minutes of crucial emotional and philosophical context were removed while all the unnecessary exposition remained.

To Spielberg’s credit, there are a few moments that work. Discussions about faith, humanity’s place in the universe, and our collective search for meaning hint at a more interesting movie buried beneath the surface. But the film never digs deep enough. “Close Encounters” told us to open our minds. We did. “Disclosure Day” tells us…nothing. It wants to explore truth, belief, and disclosure, yet it rarely moves beyond simply declaring that those things matter.

That’s ultimately where “Disclosure Day” lost me. The film spends more than two hours building toward a revelation, but it never fully explores why that revelation changes anything. A resistance movement forms because truth should be revealed. A conspiracy exists because truth should be hidden. Yet the film never convincingly explains the tension between those ideas. The “why” behind everything remains frustratingly out of reach even though it’s allegedly “Disclosure Day.”

Starring: Marshall Williams, Richard Harmon and Alex Essoe
Directed by: James Kondelik
Rated: NR
Running Time: 108 minutes

Our Score: 1.5 out of 5 Stars

Survival horror is the ultimate guilty pleasure because you can amplify any life-or-death situation into the paranormal, horrific, thrilling, or cruelly dramatic extremes it finds itself in. So why doesn’t “Pitfall” come close to tickling “The Ritual,” “The Blair Witch Project,” or “Wolf Creek” vibes?

Woods and grief feel like a ritualistic trope at this point as “Pitfall” opens on Scott (Marshall Williams) and Ashley (Alex Essoe) mourning the death of their parents. For reasons that may or may not be revealed later, they join three friends on an ominous trip that quickly introduces the titular pitfall, a massive trap designed to kill prey.

The movie constantly battles convention with unpredictability. The problem is that at more than 100 minutes long, there’s plenty of time to sit around and wonder where the story is heading. If “Pitfall” moved with the frantic pace of a Tuesday afternoon soap opera on meth, maybe I’d be swept up in the chaos. Instead, I found myself waiting for reveals that felt more eye-rolling than shocking.

I really wanted to like “Pitfall” because of how invested it is in physical violence, emotional trauma, and psychological brutality. Unfortunately, the movie never convinced me it knew what to do with those ideas. By the time it arrives at its revelations and ultimate purpose, “Pitfall” feels less like a title and more like a review.

Starring: Kevin Singh, Claire Theobald and Donovan Workun
Directed by: Simon Glassman
Rated: Unrated
Running Time: 99 minutes
Yellow Veil Pictures

Our Score: 3.5 out of 5 Stars

Having worked in local news, I’ve always appreciated the “can-do” spirit of local advertisers. Whether it’s pure DIY ingenuity by a tiny agency doing its best, or the awkward business owner subbing in for a slick national spot, there’s a charm to it. Enter “Buffet Infinity,” a VHS-style collage of local news, ads, and a story that feels easy to explain, yet strangely hard to fully convey.

As the film begins, we’re introduced to this unnamed town through a string of commercials. A pawn shop where the owners seem to enjoy filming more than selling, an insurance company with one of the dimmest spokespersons imaginable, a sandwich shop hyping its homemade sauce, and then there’s Buffet Infinity. At first glance, it’s just a buffet with a few items and low prices. Nothing suspicious…except for a monotone voiceover that feels more like bored improvisation than bored script reading.

But things begin to spiral as local news teasers and segments weave into the mix. It becomes clear that Buffet Infinity is more than a flashy new business. It’s an all-consuming presence that may be tied to strange disappearances, biblical shifts in nature, and possibly even a cult.

“Buffet Infinity” feels reminiscent of Panic Fest’s “VHYes,” but where that film leaned into a straightforward ghost story within the VHS chaos, this one uses sketch comedy to build something more layered. Absurdity reigns supreme as Buffet Infinity evolves from mundane burgers and salads to offering global cuisine and a sandwich that rivals the Tower of Babel. But underneath the jokes is a sharp critique of corporate expansion.

What makes the film work is how it forces you to piece together its story through seemingly trivial segments. Even the dull lawyer’s commercial plays a role. Slowly, the horror reveals itself: a force that enters a community, consumes it, overwhelms local competition, and then pretends it’s always belonged. Growing up, that force might have been Walmart. Today, it could be data centers, taxpayer-funded entertainment districts, or the endless spread of Amazon warehouses.

“Buffet Infinity” is an indie, anti-consumerist comedy that feels as old as Reaganomics but as current as Silicon Valley branding. It uses retro aesthetics for laughs while delivering a story about very real, very modern anxieties. Not every segment lands, and it can take a bit to find its rhythm, but its originality carries it. And when it hits, especially with the Buffet Infinity ads themselves, it’s an absolute riot.

Starring: Mercedes Mason, Rob Huebel and Barbara Crampton
Directed by: Ed Dougherty, Brea Grant and Chelsea Stardust
Rated: NR
Running Time: 104 minutes

Our Score: 4 out of 5 Stars

“Parasite,” “The Big Short,” “Sorry to Bother You,” “The Menu,” and “Glass Onion” all take aim at late-stage capitalism. Enter “Grind,” the first horror anthology built around the gig economy, one of the many aftershocks of that same system. As a former and current gig worker, I can say “Grind” is not only sharp in its critiques, but so inventive in its structure that it stands as one of the better original anthologies of this century.

Like some of the “V/H/S” entries and films such as “Scare Package,” there is clear connective tissue throughout. Every story links to the next or feeds the larger world, rather than settling for the lazy anthology formula of stitching together vaguely similar shorts. “Grind” creates a living, breathing universe for its stories to inhabit, allowing even the weaker entries to feel like added flavor rather than dead space.

Without walking through every segment beat by beat, “Grind” opens in an Amazon-style warehouse run by the sinister DRGN Corp. Workers whisper about an ominous punishment for anyone who falls behind schedule, setting up the film’s larger framing device. One employee lags while searching for a lamp for influencers, which segues into a story about social media influencing as the newest frontier of multi-level marketing, pyramid schemes, and general nonsense.

That eventually morphs into a DoorDash-style segment about a driver who simply cannot resist a rising payout. From there, the film shifts into one of its strongest chapters: a man desperate to break into DRGN’s corporate ranks, only to learn that a $175,000 salary means spending endless hours, days, and maybe years moderating grotesque social media content. It says a lot about what modern labor asks people to stomach. The movie then moves into a story about coffee shop workers unionizing under the DRGN umbrella before circling back to the warehouse and its mysterious punishment system.

At no point does “Grind” run out of steam. Each segment has its own spin on horror and comedy. Some lean darker, like the content moderation story, while others embrace absurdity, such as the delivery driver whose tip keeps rising as the requests become more deranged. Barbara Crampton shines in the MLM chapter, Rob Huebel is a blast as a DRGN liaison, and the supporting cast is stacked with memorable turns from Jessika Van, Vinny Thomas, and Christopher Marquette.

What makes “Grind” work is that it targets a labor system becoming deeply embedded in modern life. Instead of forcing horror onto these jobs, it uncovers the horror already inside them. With a game cast, sharp writing, and a rare talent for making an anthology feel cohesive, “Grind” has the potential to become a franchise in the spirit of “Creepshow.”

Starring: Brendan Kelly and Kaitlyn Boye
Directed by: Brendan Kelly and Kaitlyn Boye
Rated: NR
Running Time: 89 minutes

Our Score: 4 out of 5 Stars

Meta narratives are fertile ground in horror, from “Scream” to “Cabin in the Woods” to “One Cut of the Dead.” While “Break a Leg” is in strong company, it does something I haven’t really seen since “Birdman.” Its meta commentary is focused less on genre itself and more on acting, ambition, and the people chasing both.

Aspiring actor Patrick (Brendan Kelly) is thrilled to land an audition for a play directed by a legendary and infamous stage auteur. But when he arrives, the director is nowhere to be found. Instead, he’s greeted by Molly (Kaitlyn Boye), a disgraced former child star who is also auditioning for the same role. Their early awkward friendliness soon turns into distrust when they realize the director may not be coming at all. Even worse, they appear to be trapped inside the theater.

The film rests almost entirely on its two leads, which works because Kelly and Boye also wrote and directed the movie. Wearing multiple hats clearly benefits the project, allowing them to fully explore their ideas about performance, ego, insecurity, and the strange emotional warfare that can come with creative ambition. They dissect the craft through their characters’ clashing perspectives, while the structure of the story, the gradual revelations about the unseen director, and the escalating chaos all feel like a polished statement about their relationship with acting itself.

There are several scenes that feel drawn from real-world experience, whether it’s one character delivering a monologue, the two verbally sparring at high speed, or one pushing the other’s creative and mental limits. By placing all of this inside a horror framework, the film gets to play with reality in clever ways. Are they actually trapped in a theater? Is the director really there? Is some unseen force manipulating them? Is anyone ever truly in control? That final question becomes the film’s sharpest trick, especially as the last act pushes you to reflect on your own life, whether you’re an artist or not.

“Break a Leg” could have used a bit of trimming, but it makes strong use of its simple setting and premise, crafting a bloody, eerie, and imaginative bottle thriller. Kelly and Boye are not only the selling point, they’re the glue holding everything together. Their chemistry is immediate and infectious. You won’t mind being trapped in the room with them, though you may not like the skeletons they uncover.

Starring: Michael Johnston, Inde Havarette and Cooper Tomlinson
Directed by: Curry Barker
Rated: R
Running Time: 108 minutes
Focus Features

Our Score. 4.5 out of 5 Stars

Butterflies. It’s that feeling you get when you’re smitten. Maybe you find purpose, meaning, and reason. Maybe you find your partner in crime. Maybe you find your little food critic. Or maybe you find yourself trapped in a psycho-excessive, sleep paralysis nightmare of a toxic relationship that feels more like a 21st-century cautionary tale than hyper-realistic reality.

Well, that’s “Obsession,” a film that’s been stuck in my head like a fresh…well…obsession. Bear (Michael Johnston) is doing a pathetic man’s version of Nathan Fielder’s “The Rehearsal.” He’s practicing pickup lines with a waitress who is clearly hoping the tips outweigh the effort. Bear’s goal is winning over Nikki (Inde Havarrette), whom he believes is his soulmate, even though they’ve only bonded as co-workers and at half-hearted trivia nights with two other co-workers. He apparently thinks he’s collected enough platonic points to cash in for a real relationship.

He’s rehearsing because Nikki decides she needs a change, which means a new job that puts her platonically out of Bear’s range. So he tries to flirt…and it fails spectacularly. Like starting a diet on edibles at Golden Corral. But Bear happens to possess a magic willow wish that is every bit as hokey as it sounds. He picked it up while buying Nikki a small gift at a hippie shop. In a moment of desperation, he snaps it in half and wishes that she loves him more than anything else in the universe. Bear may not realize how big the universe is, or how horrific Nikki’s devotion is about to become.

“Obsession” isn’t breaking much new ground. At its core, it’s an old-fashioned monkey paw story built around the warning to be careful what you wish for. What elevates it are Johnston and Havarrette. Johnston is as pathetic as Bear sounds, writhing in every inch of uncomfortable sweat his character creates. Havarrette, meanwhile, makes Nikki almost supernaturally haunting. She lingers in dark corners watching Bear sleep, her silhouette slithering through rooms like something both wounded and predatory. She is absolutely iconic. As the film builds toward its climax, it keeps teasing that it’s about to go for the jugular, and eventually it does.

The other thing “Obsession” nails is how toxic relationships begin subtly before spinning into emotional violence. Through evolving set pieces, Nikki becomes more manipulative and controlling, while Bear refuses to take responsibility for the chaos he created, choosing emotional regression over growth. The film balances comedy and tension flawlessly, capturing the manic swings of a relationship on fire. One moment Bear seems willing to endure Nikki forever. The next, Nikki seems willing to stay with Bear only if he’s dead and festering.

There’s a reason Curry Barker is already being linked to a remake of “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” and it’s “Obsession.” This film is wild, vicious, and gripping. It puts you in the front row for the yin and yang of abuse and power. Heavy subject matter aside, it’s a roller coaster of emotions that absolutely kills with a midnight crowd.

Starring: Midori Francis, Madeleine Madden and Danielle Macdonald
Directed by: Natalie Erika James
Rated: R
Running Time: 112 minutes
IFC Films

Our Score: 3 out of 5 Stars

Medical student Hana (Midori Francis) is determined to get to 60 kilograms, or 132 pounds for us Americans. She basically starves herself, pushes through a grueling multi-week fitness program, and generally seems miserable on her weight-loss journey. We’re not quite sure what is driving her to these extremes when she runs into an old high school acquaintance. That former classmate used to be morbidly obese, but is now almost unrecognizable to Hana. Her former classmate’s secret? She basically claims it’s a magic pill.

And just like Jack and the Beanstalk, it works. Hana, now deeply curious, analyzes the pill and discovers it contains phosphates, chemicals … and human ashes. She knows what everything else is and its impact, but it’s the human ashes that have her questioning, not only if it’s the key ingredient, the consequences. But she also really, really wants to lose weight. If human ashes are the key, surely Hana won’t mind continuing this new weight-loss regimen as a med student. Especially when a whale-sized cadaver arrives and no one notices a few ribs missing.

As a mix of “The Substance” and “Thinner,” “Saccharine” swings from comical body horror to unnerving possession tropes. There’s a lot going on here, and the film never quite finds a delicate balance between its many ideas. As mentioned earlier, we never fully understand what drives Hana to such horrific extremes. Is it love? Social media? Parenting? Bullying? Societal pressure? It’s all piled onto the movie’s plate, but it never takes the time to savor the bites. That being said, Francis does a fantastic job of savoring every scene she’s in.

Francis fully commits to Hana’s shocking transformation alongside the increasingly spiritual and supernatural developments bubbling beneath the surface. The obese corpse haunts her from afar even; its presence ranges from uncomfortable chuckles to genuine winces. The overweight specter hangs over nearly every scene, though I wish I had a stronger grasp of the Eastern influences at play. There are clear Buddhist and other religious images throughout, but they often feel buried beneath the film’s many competing ideas.

In the age of GLP-1s, and with my own struggles with weight over the years, “Saccharine” feels timely even when it’s a bit of a mess. For a film inherently about excess, it could use some trimming. Still, Francis helps smooth over many of the rough spots, and when Hana is alone in her apartment after dark, the movie usually delivers a freaky good time.

Starring: Ryan Gosling, Sandra Huller and James Ortiz
Directed by: Phil Lord and Chris Miller
Rated: PG-13
Running Time: 156 minutes
Amazon MGM

Our Score: 4 out of 5 Stars

Sometimes you need a pick-me-up. My 2026 has begun with several funerals and a smattering of other bad news. I won’t bog you down with the details, but as I walked into “Project Hail Mary,” I expected something entertaining from Phil Lord and Chris Miller. What I didn’t expect was a film that would not only let me forget my personal hurdles, as well as the chaotic world outside the theater, but also give me something I haven’t felt in a while: genuine hope.

“Project Hail Mary,” based on the novel by Andy Weir (who also wrote “The Martian), follows science teacher turned humanity’s last hope Ryland Grace (Ryan Gosling). When we first meet Ryland, he wakes up aboard a spaceship called the Hail Mary with no memory of how he got there or why he’s millions of lightyears from Earth. Worse yet, his crew hasn’t survived the journey, leaving him alone to slowly piece together both his mission and whether he’s even capable of completing it. Through flashbacks we learn the stakes: a mysterious microbe is consuming stars across the galaxy and our sun is next on the menu.

Dystopia and science fiction usually go together like spaghetti and meatballs or Tommy Wiseau and cinematic disaster. That’s what makes “Project Hail Mary” feel refreshing. Even when it leans into familiar tropes, including the introduction of an alien that channels shades of Spielberg and “WALL-E,” or an AI system that’s sometimes more annoying than helpful, the film focuses on themes that feel surprisingly sincere.

At its core, the story explores chosen family and unlikely connection. On Earth, Ryland is portrayed as an introverted loner. In space, he becomes the only human for tens of millions of miles. When he encounters an alien trying to solve the same cosmic mystery, the film pivots toward something warmer: a partnership built on curiosity, communication and survival. Their friendship becomes the emotional engine of the story and a reminder (one that feels especially relevant right now) that collaboration with those we don’t understand often beats going it alone.

Those ideas fit neatly into the wheelhouse of Lord and Miller, whose past projects like “The LEGO Movie,” “21 Jump Street” and “Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs” balance comedy with surprising emotional depth. Here they bring that same lightness to what is technically an end-of-the-world scenario. The humor eases the tension while quietly setting up the emotional stakes that pay off in a third act full of action, twists and genuine heart.

“Project Hail Mary” has the scale of a big, bombastic sci-fi film, but its true strength is how intimate it feels. Like Ryland, we’re awed by the vastness of space, but the real spectacle isn’t the universe. It’s watching an unlikely hero overcome isolation, fear and self-doubt through curiosity and connection.

In the end, “Project Hail Mary” offers more than visual wonder. It delivers a surprisingly personal science-fiction story about cooperation, empathy and resilience. Ryland Grace may be flawed, but his curiosity and willingness to reach out lead to peaceful cosmic dialogue, a deeper understanding of existence and (as these things tend to go in movies like this) saving the world.

Starring: Sam Rockwell, Haley Lu Richardson and Michael Pena
Directed by: Gore Verbinski
Rated: R
Running Time: 133 minutes
Briarcliff Entertainment

Our Score: 3.5 out of 5 Stars

Imagine you’re sitting in a diner when a crazed man (unwashed for years but recently trimmed beard), wrapped in plastic with tubes dangling from his pants, storms in screaming, “I am from the future.” Thumb over a glowing button, ready to obliterate himself and everyone else, he announces that AI is about to rat-fuck the world and he needs a handful of strangers to help fix the future. You wouldn’t go. Right? “Good Luck, Have Fun, Don’t Die” asks what happens when half a dozen people in that LA diner go, “Sure.”

Since it’s Gore Verbinski directing and Sam Rockwell playing the lunatic, of course the man is from the future. What starts as a bleakly funny “Black Mirror” sketch slowly expands into a string of “Black Mirror” episodes, both past and present, explaining why these people join him and just how unhinged their mission becomes. The absurdist comedy is strong, and while the film is technically anti-AI, it’s not in the usual “technology run amok” way. Instead, it holds up a mirror to the ways we’ve voluntarily outsourced societal functions to technology because dealing with real issues would require effort, empathy, and other things we’ve collectively misplaced.

Without spoiling the future-gone-sideways gags, Verbinski’s thesis is blunt: for every problem, there’s a technological solution. But instead of ocean-cleaning robots or cancer-curing models, the solution here is to further normalize school shootings. It comes complete with tiered pricing and the ad-supported version for those who can’t afford dignity. It’s bleak, but it’s also very funny in that “we deserve this future” way.

Rockwell’s manic energy works in short bursts, so Juno Temple, Michael Peña, Haley Lu Richardson and others carry the emotional stakes as the volunteers on this bizarro adventure that may (or may not) involve killing a child who may (or may not) be one keyboard stroke removed from becoming an “Akira” creature. Describing it without sounding like a monster is hard; the dystopia is constantly undercut by zany dry wit.

A film like this keeps escalating, so sticking the landing matters. The finale half-sticks it as both a bit of a cop-out and an earned payoff. Social satire + time travel rarely behaves in the third act, but even when it wobbles, the ride is worth it. It’s the rare AI comedy that feels original in both messaging and execution, and while the flaws are visible, the ideas linger. I suspect a second viewing will reveal more.

“Good Luck, Have Fun, Don’t Die” is profound and silly at the same time. It’s an AI film arriving before a wave of bad “AI-gone-wrong” movies (looking at you “Mercy”) floods theaters. It’s unique, funny, and uncomfortably close to the world we’re already building, if not already living and breathing in.

Starring the Voices of: Roma Fay, Juliano Krue Valdi and Natalie Portman/Mark Ruffalo
Directed by: Ugo Bienvenu
Rated: PG
Running Time: 89 minutes
Neon

Our Score: 4 out of 5 Stars

There are a few things that make me suspicious of people: hating animals ranks high, and as a critic, hating kid-driven adventure stories is a red flag. It’s OK not to like some, but to not like all of them? Serial killer stuff. That’s because there’s an innate wanderlust baked into films like “The Goonies,” “E.T.” and “How to Train Your Dragon.” “Arco” doesn’t just stir that longing to explore the world, it reminds us of the world we’re actually living in.

Arco (Juliano Krue Valdi) is a 10-year-old boy living in 2932, an era where nature appears to have harmoniously reclaimed humanity in the clouds. It’s basically the Garden of Eden via sustainable urban planning. Instead of exploring the lush environment, Arco impatiently waits for his family to return from their time-travel expeditions. In this universe, people travel through time for holistic purposes. Arco’s father brings back plants from the dinosaur era to cultivate, not sports almanacs to gamble with. And nobody needs a DeLorean; they suit up and ride rainbows, as if a first-grade class designed time travel after parachute play. Arco steals his sister’s suit and rides the rainbow anyway.

In 2075, Iris (Romy Fay) lives in a household run entirely by a nanny-bot. Her parents are too busy to cook, clean, or tuck her in. When Iris discovers Arco unconscious in the woods, she drags him home and learns he’s from the future. They both learn…he might be stuck here. It’s the kind of child-like adventure you’d sketch on a notebook margin during a boring school day.

“Arco” gives us two dystopias. 2075 feels painfully plausible: suburban bubbles shield families from climate disasters, while robots and AI substitute for human connection. 2932 is gorgeous, but humanity lives on pillars above a flooded Earth. Adults in the audience will see the ecological alarm bells; the kids just see the magic. Yet both Arco and Iris seem to intuit the peril their worlds are in. Children often understand environmental stakes faster than adults. It echoes “C’mon C’mon,” where kids articulate climate fears more blatantly than the grown-ups interviewing them.

And still, “Arco” refuses to be bleak. It’s silly, adventurous, and sweet, with detours involving conspiracy-minded weirdos who know Arco is from the future and absolutely do not want to help him get back. All of it builds toward a third act that ups the peril, lands the themes, and might put a lump in your throat. Visually, the hand-drawn animation blends 1970s American aesthetics with Miyazaki. The artistry reinforces the film’s core belief that love, family, compassion, and simply talking to one another could fix more than we assume. It may even repair the damage we’ve already done.

Starring: Lee Byung-hun, Son Ye-jin and Park Hee-son
Directed by: Park Chan-wook
Rated: R
Running Time: 139 minutes
Neon

Our Score: 4 out of 5 Stars

Yoo Man-su (Lee Byung-hun) is living the good life, or at least the upper-middle-class representation of it. He has a roof over his head, his childhood home no less, a homemaker wife (Son Ye-jin), and two kids who have the freedom to explore their hobbies. His steady job at a paper company keeps everything humming. That’s why it stings when Man-su informs his family that the company has been bought out by Americans and he’s officially on the chopping block. But he’s determined. Determined to get another paper job. Determined to provide. Determined because, in his head, he’s the best at papermaking, almost like a South Korean Dwight Schrute.

A year later, that determination dissolves into humiliation. The family is pinching pennies. Hobbies are no longer affordable. And during an interview, Man-su is told bluntly and cruelly that he’s too old and too inferior to get back into the game. It’s here that Man-su decides to change tactics. The adaptation he chooses, however, involves murder.

What’s compelling is who Man-su decides needs to die for him to return to his former life. His choices reflect a broader working-class crisis: instead of blaming the systemic forces that push us down, we’re encouraged to blame each other, an eerie representation of our current climate where we second guess and distrust our neighbor, immigrant, or that slightly more valued coworker. “No Other Choice” is full of these digs at capitalism, and they land harder because they’re not delivered as sermons, but as survival logic.

Tonally, the film balances the bleakness with a surprising layer of absurd comedy. There’s a Looney Tunes quality to the murder attempts and the prior plotting. It’s inept, overcomplicated, and occasionally slapstick in a way that even Wile E. Coyote would diagnose as poor engineering. The misunderstandings and bursts of rage sometimes flirt with soap opera parody, but Park Chan-wook never lets the humor overwhelm the dread. It’s just enough to keep us breathing while Man-su makes things increasingly worse for himself.

Man-su lives by capitalism’s favorite rule: survival of the fittest. But in his mind, being “fit” means returning to the comfort he once reached. He craves the house, the status, the security, and the feeling that life finally makes sense. It’s not greed, exactly. He’s not looking to kill his way up the corporate ladder to become CEO. It’s the horror of losing something you were told you deserved, whether through indirect pressure, upbringing, societal standards, etc.

On the surface, “No Other Choice” feels predictable: the arc is clear, the anti-capitalist critique is worn openly, and the runtime lets you marinate in it a touch too long. But that roughness becomes sharper because of the comedy. Without the absurdity, the film’s obviousness would dull its knives. With it, the absurdity becomes the point. We’re looking in the mirror and wondering why we’ve allowed ourselves to reach this point.

Comparisons to “Parasite” are inevitable for American audiences, and while “No Other Choice” doesn’t reach those same highs, it distinguishes itself in what it finds tragic. “Parasite” is about clawing and scrounging upwards into the comfort zone, even if it’s fleeting and brief. “No Other Choice” is about what happens when you live and adapt to that comfort zone, only for a single economic decision to kick you back out. Where “Parasite” wastes no seconds, “No Other Choice” occasionally feels like it needs the runtime of a comedy. “No Other Choice” might have weasled its way into my favorite films of the year if it was shorter, punchier, meaner.

Even so, the film lingers. It’s funny, but it’s the kind of funny that gives the working-class viewer a pit in their stomach. It’s a pit that whispers, in a very real way, that absurd solutions begin with realistic scenarios. And that’s a feeling Americans, and apparently South Koreans, know all too well right now.