Film Review

Tree People

Chet Kozlowski — Fri, 28 Nov 2025 17:01:57 +0000

Tree People Chet Kozlowski November 28, 2025 - 12:01

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We see them all over Manhattan just after Thanksgiving. They come in, set up impromptu villages, and are gone in 35 days. Their mission: they're the folks who want to sell you a Christmas tree, and they are the subject of the sweet and exuberant new documentary The Merchants of Joy.

Think about it: you pass by them in the joyous Christmas season but rarely consider what drives them. Director Celia Aniskovich and writer Owen Long profile five families—Greg Nash and his son Little Greg, Heather Neville, Ciree Nash, George Smith, and Jane Waterman and George Nash–and follow them from planting to harvesting to sales on the street. We're with them as they transport goods, negotiate, and seal the deal. Selling trees is not an easy gig: the big stores (i.e., Whole Foods) underprice them ("We have to make four times what we paid for our tree to break even"), yet they keep coming as reliably as the holiday season.

Greg Walsh of Greg's Trees—who resembles Santa with his full white beard (and who plays that role to the hilt)—anticipates his son, little Greg (over six feet tall and camera-shy), taking over the business while diversifying into selling roses during the rest of the year. "You'll never make it just selling trees," Greg contends. George Smith shares the story of finding his soulmate. Tough-as-nails Heather Nevelle holds firm and takes names. Ciree Nash is the information center of the operation. George Nash and Jane Waterman run a family business from which George, at least, is about to retire.

We spend time with them on the lots, making deliveries, and at home. What emerges is a look at a subculture of folks who resemble vagabonds but are, at heart, serious businesspeople. The Merchants of Joy shows them off to great advantage: We see squabbles over turf when a rival tree company sets up across the street, and are given a window into interpersonal relationships. Each of them has a particular area of expertise. Ciree is especially proud of hiring the "the unhireables," folks who have been in jail, offering them the unique opportunity to make an honest return to society on terms they can live with.

The Merchants of Joy's pacing is jaunty. We move quickly from one issue to the next. It's a measure of the documentarians' skill that we get to know these people quickly, so when one is felled by a cancer diagnosis, it gives us pause. Discussion of long-term goals as well as criminal records keep things lively in the brisk 90-minute runtime.

The Merchants of Joy ends up being a celebration not only of Christmas but of New York City as well. "You're only as happy as you choose to be," one of the sellers asserts. The film trusts that adage, as well as the philosophy that there's "a person for every tree."

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The Merchants of Joy. Directed by Celia Aniskovich. An Amazon Prime Original. Runtime 90 minutes. On Prime Video.

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Awkward in the Heart

Chet Kozlowski — Wed, 26 Nov 2025 22:21:19 +0000

Awkward in the Heart Chet Kozlowski November 26, 2025 - 17:21

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We lost John Prine to COVID in 2020, the final stop on a long journey of ill health. He’d suffered bouts of cancer that left him stooped and crooked, a mere shadow of his former self. But, except for a brief respite, he never stopped writing songs and singing them.

The new film You Got Gold documents the time in Nashville, TN, on the occasion of what would have been his 76th birthday, a weeklong celebration that culminated in an all-star concert at Ryman Auditorium, his favorite venue. The party/memorial was put together by his wife, Fiona, and his son, Tommy, who sings “Paradise” with Dwight Yokum.

It’s a joyous tribute that befits his influence. Brandi Carlile, Steve Earle, Bonnie Raitt, and Jason Isbell are amongst the artists who took time out of their schedules to sing his songs and share anecdotes. Good feelings abound. The show includes many standout performances, as Bob Weir and Ramblin’ Jack Elliott, The Milk Carton Kids doing “Storm Windows,” Swamp Dogg’s version of “Sam Stone,” and a rave up of "Knockin’ on Your Screen Door" by The War and Treaty.

The show is bookended with filmed performances by Mr. Prine himself, the first from 1978’s Austin City Limits, in which he is a young, scruffy troubadour doing "Six O’clock News," and later from 2019, with his family.

For those of us old enough to remember his debut album, promoted by Kris Kristofferson, it’s a reminder of the subtle, sensitive lyrics for which he’s known (Bonnie Raitt calls him Country music’s Hemingway: no word wasted).

Stars too numerous to mention pay tribute with Mr. Prine’s songs and, as in Lucinda Williams’ "What Could Go Wrong" and Kacey Musgraves’s "Walk in Peace," songs written about or dedicated to him. The film made of the event is fresh and lively, well-directed by Michael John Warren, and full of good cheer. It’s well worth the time spent to remember one of the most exuberant and prolific talents in folk and country music.

The title of this review comes from a story about Kurt Vile meeting Mr. Paine for the first time. His wife, knowing how much he admired him, expressed his discomfort with that turn of phrase.

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You Got Gold. Directed by Michael John Warren. 2025. Runtime 90 minutes.

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Justice For The Living And The Dead

Chet Kozlowski — Fri, 21 Nov 2025 00:55:48 +0000

Justice For The Living And The Dead Chet Kozlowski November 20, 2025 - 19:55

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Time is running out for the girls — now women — of the Magdelene Laundries scandal. Over 10,000 women and girls were confined in the Irish institutions between 1922 and 1996. There they were pressed into slavish work, incarcerated and tortured by the Roman Catholic nuns who ran the places. Since these homes were exposed as a cottage industry of trafficking, the survivors have grown old and infirm. Many have died. If they are to attain justice, it has to be soon.

There’s a desperation to the story of the Magdalene Laundries, which are now in danger of vanishing into history. The remaining survivors of this abuse are ageing, elderly, and vulnerable women who see this as a last chance for redress. Identities have been obliterated, searches have been undertaken, and the statistics are astounding_:one count contends that 57,000 children were separated from their mothers and trafficked to adoption.

The film Testimony uses as its starting point a small cemetery that stands in the way of the sale of High Park, one of the ”Mother and Baby homes” recently sold by the order. Exhumation revealed more bodies than documented, many unknown remains of women and children, marking the site as a clandestine mass burial ground. The incident opened new investigations, primarily by an intrepid group of academics, archivists, and activists. “Time was the one commodity these women did not have,” says Jim Smith of Boston University, who wrote a book about the “architecture of containment,” and never imagined it would launch a cause.

Testimony is more than just a document. It is a call to action, part of a campaign to recruit more women and bring justice to all. Many survivors tell their heartbreaking stories here on the premise that stories = testimony = evidence to counter the unwavering stubbornness of the Irish government to accept accountability.

Testimony follows an intrepid band of lawyers, academics, and volunteers known as Justice for Magdalenes. Mr. Smith is joined in these efforts by archivist Catriona Crowe, legal advocate Maeve O’Rourke, and activists Philomena Lee (about whom the 2013 film Philomena was made) and Mari Steed, one of the survivors, to name a few. Midway through the film, a busload of survivors is cheered by protestors, stigmas shaken off, in an exhilarating display that implies something has been won. But it’s only being acknowledged. Long overdue. Proverbial other shoes fall at a rapid rate from there, accompanied by new revelations and shocking statistics, one of which contends that 57,000 children were separated from their mothers and trafficked to adoption during the reign.

Testimony is directed by Aoife Kelleher, who deftly weaves interviews, news footage, and home movies into a damning indictment and vividly displays the frustration that the Magdalene matter has yet to be resolved. Ms. Kelleher has Irish TV series and movies to her credit, and feature films like One Million Dubliners (2014). Testimony is co-written by Ms. Kelleher and Rachel Lysaght.

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Testimony. Directed by Aoife Kelleher. 2025. Runtime 105 minutes.

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If inspired by Mr. Kozlowski's solid review . . .

you should also check out several stirring fictional films on this topic, such as Small Things Like These and Philomena.

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Nicolas Cage is Jesus’s “Daddy” in The Carpenter’s Son

Brandon Judell — Mon, 17 Nov 2025 15:56:44 +0000

Nicolas Cage is Jesus’s “Daddy” in The Carpenter’s Son Brandon Judell November 17, 2025 - 10:56

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Making a film is seldom easy. Ask any director. You have to work with or against studio heads, screenwriters, agents, vegan actors, unsympathetic caterers, and those Porta Potty folks. Then, if you're hitched up, at the end of the day, you're obligated to go home and make believe you're interested in what your spouse and kids and their Lububus did all day.

Director/writer Lotfy Nathan, best known for his 2013 documentary on West Baltimore's illegal dirt bikers, had most of that to contend with, plus the Lord, in The Carpenter's Son. Shooting in Greece because Egypt was not welcoming to the subject matter, he and his crew had to reckon with more plagues than a Passover dinner. Thankfully, firstborn sons were spared, but according to press notes:

"Swarms of relentless flies took over the set, followed by an infestation of lice and fleas. To avoid the insects, the film began night shoots, plunging the set into darkness. Fierce storms disrupted filming, closing roads, flooding locations, and killing local wildlife. Frogs arrived en masse and suddenly died . . . . [Then] the day of a major shoot in the leper colony, thousands of wasps descended on the site. Nicolas Cage was surrounded, and multiple crew members were stung. The set had to be evacuated and ultimately abandoned." Almost makes Terry Gilliam's Don Quixote shooting sound like a picnic.

So what got the Lord into such a tizzy?

Well, the film, inspired by the Infancy Gospel of Thomas, opens with rather disconcerting groans. Apparently, Christ's virgin birth was a painful one. Shortly thereafter, his foster dad, Joseph (Nicolas Cage), and his genuine mom, Mary (FKA Twigs), atop a donkey with baby Jesus hidden, escape from the vicinity of Bethlehem. Why? Because King Herod had ordered the slaughter of all boys aged two and under. Known as the "Massacre of the Innocents," Giovanni Boccaccio, centuries later, took a break from writing The Decameron to swear that 140,000 tykes were slaughtered. Wikipedia notes that "most scholars reject the historicity" of the extermination. Ah, there those historians go again. Needless to say, Mr. Nathan showcases one bundled tot torn from his mother's arms and thrown onto a flaming pyre.

[An aside: While researching this review, I came across a discussion concerning whether Jesus burped as a baby and could have suffered from colic. Intrigued, I phoned the noted literary scholar Felicia Bonaparte, author of Will and Destiny: Morality and Tragedy in George Eliot's Novels. The good professor replied, the answer was definitely "Yes!!!" Christ was both completely man and completely God and thus exhibited normal tot behavior.]

With crickets a-chirping and goats a-bleating, years pass by. Wary of their son's identity being discovered, the nomadic family is constantly on the move until Joseph lands a job carving idols.

Well, Jesus (Noah Jupe), now a hormonally charged, strapping adolescent, one day in his new home, ganders through a window hole to witness his neighbor, a mute, lovely lass named Lilith, cleansing herself in the open completely nude. Guiltily awestruck, yet clearly enjoying what he views, he gazes on and on. But at that point, Jesus doesn't know who he is or how he came to be. That will be remedied shortly.

After the above-mentioned ogle, the teen begins teaching Torah classes with a menacing rabbi; brings a crushed bug back to life; is pushed onto a sleeping leper whom he cures to his own surprise; and is almost seduced into evil by a young Satanic temptress (Isla Johnston) who likes to hang from tree branches. Evenings aren't more peaceful. The teen dreams nightly of his own future crucifixion and learns that his real father is not the one he's been sending Father's Day cards to.

If that isn't enough for one Biblical epic, there are peaches poisoned by live scorpions; hills stirring with Satanic whisperings; the breaking of an idol; horror scenes that will freak out viewers suffering from ophidiophobia; and a sightseeing trek to view those already being crucified. Most enjoyable, though, is the feverish confrontation between Joseph and Mary, where she is asked whether Jesus was fathered by a Roman.

Truly, the reason most of us skedaddle nowadays to a Nicolas Cage film is that we're hoping to view another episode worthy of being added to his already top-heavy collection of absurd thespian moments. Or as Ben Walsh titled his Independent review of Season of the Witch (2011), "Nicolas Cage: From the sublime to the ridiculous."

May I here cite the too-oft-requoted Cage evaluation of his own career that opens Walsh's article: "I am not a demon. I am a lizard, a shark, a heat-seeking panther. I want to be Bob Denver on acid playing the accordion."? Mae West might have responded: “That's the right attitude, boy! Mmmmmm. Be like me. When I'm good, I'm very good, but when I'm bad, I'm better." With scraggly tresses, an untrimmed beard, mournful eyes, and a mouth besieged by woe, Cage's Joseph, attired in a ratty toga, does let loose several times. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" he screams on learning Jesus has committed a miracle in public. "Without my protection, you would be dead." The screenplay even has Joseph explaining to the questioning Jesus why he's pouring some dirt in front of his hut: "If an evil spirit were to enter the house at night . . . the footprint of a rooster will appear in the sand." And one does.

Now, how you react to all of this depends possibly on how many films you've seen over the past 12 months. For example, the Metro's Tori Brazier shouts: "Nicolas Cage's Jesus horror movie is the most profound film I've seen in 2025." She's probably seen too few. If you are a devout Christian, you might scream, “blasphemous!" or be totally intrigued by this at-times bloody fantasy of Jesus' formative years. If you are a bit cynical, you might just chuckle a bit or look at the carryings-on with disdain. Is The Carpenter's Son too campy or too sincere? It's probably both.

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“Tigers Can Be Seen in the Rain” But My Sister?

Brandon Judell — Tue, 04 Nov 2025 02:37:29 +0000

“Tigers Can Be Seen in the Rain” But My Sister? Brandon Judell November 3, 2025 - 21:37

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“What can I say?” asks Vittoria (Monica Vitti) of her lover in Michelangelo Antonioni L’Eclisse (1962). “There are times when holding a needle and thread, or a book, or a man, it’s all the same to me.”

After DVD-ing five of the maestro’s offerings in a rather brief period, I can confidently note that no one can surpass Antonioni when it comes to celebrating romantic and social dislocation in world that might just end when you turn the corner. As for loving, supportive families, gondola elsewhere,

But if the latter is your need, try out writer/director Oscar Ruiz Navia’s unexpectedly comforting 15-minute docu-short, “Tigers Can Be Seen in the Rain”(“Va Se Ven Los Tigres En La Luvia”) that was showcased at this year’s New York Film Festival. Dealing with different sorts of dislocations . . . those of space. . . of time . . . of possibilities, the film bears up to numberless viewings, on each occasion rewarding you with new interpretations, often those intended by the director and others sired by your psyche. Consider “Tigers” a visual poem of sorts. Or a cinematic Rorschach test.

The short is comprised of discovered home movies shot over decades in Columbia, scenes now intercut with current Montreal locales where Navia relocated to write and study film. There are also voiceovers including one supplied by a Canadian spirit guide and there’s some piano tinkling by children letting loose on the ivories.

Please note that “Tigers” is a memorial to the director’s sister, Ana Maria Ruiz Navia, who died in 2023 at the age of 37.

“Ana Maria Ruiz Navia (whose nickname was Anita) used to be not only my sister but my producer,” Oscar emailed me. “We were partners at Contravía Films, our company, even as she got cancer and struggled with this illness. At the end, after she unfortunately passed away, I decided to make a movie about my loss and my new arrival in Montreal, where I moved to start a new chapter of my life. I had collected many WhatsApp voice messages in the last two years. This is how I started to create this film.”

“Tigers” opens with various static shots of barren railroad tracks in Montreal, although we hear the rumble of ghost trains going by. (Are those the disembodied sounds of past journeys?) Then appear various ill-kempt streets also devoid of the living.

“I shot all the places surrounding my current apartment, literally places in my neighborhood,” Oscar recalls “The juxtaposition [with the footage of my family and the audio] is because I moved to Montreal when Anita passed. So I had to deal with deep grief when I just arrived in a new country. I wanted to show my present throughout with image . . . and my past-memory throughout with sound.”

Cinematographer Charles Duquet, who along with Pablo Álvarez-Mesa, shot Tigers, added in a separate email: “The concept behind the location choices was simple. Since the beginning of his stay in Montreal, Oscar paid attention to the places he'd walk by every day. Since the passing of his sister, these public places also became spaces of mourning. Our initial goal was to portray these places with delicate and fixed images, gathering material that would allow him the freedom to find further meaning with his sound recordings and archives. During the shoot, Oscar and I would walk the city together and get to know each other through discussions about family, filmmaking and Montreal seasons. It was somewhat close to what we call in French a déambulation, a walk without a precise goal, or in this case a fixed shot list. Oscar had places he wanted to film, but the way we would film them was decided in the moment, depending on the weather, the time of day or whether there would be people (or not).”

Over one such shot taken when the grounded autumn leaves already had lost their colors, we hear Anita for the first time: “Well, my pretties. I’m gonna sleep now. I’m here with my mum. She is already asleep. I love you all very much and have a good rest.”

We afterward find ourselves at the Le Jardin de Sculptures Crépuscule (the Twilight Sculpture Garden). Rusted artwork atop a dozen or so concrete bases are easily mistakable at first glance to be tombstones for the creatively dead.

Back to the past: the 14-year-old Anita is playing joyfully with a movie camera. She shoots herself in the mirror and swerves past the toilet into another room with family photos and paintings. Next it’s into her father’s office where Oscar is sitting at the desk.

She’s asked to shoot a closeup. “What’s a closeup?” Anita quickly learns and begins filming Oscar’s shoes and the mole on his arm and a dog with ticks. Great careers have often begun with home movies. Ask Spielberg.

Minutes later or earlier, the linear is forsaken here, the adult Anita’s leaves a tear-filled chat on Oscar’s phone, calling him by his nickname: “Hey, Papeto, today I got my medical results. The disease is progressing negatively . . . However, the good thing is that I have full faith and I will do my best to recover. Let’s go for it.”

Skip to an amusement park, where all the siblings are together chatting about roller coasters. Older sister Carmen is at that moment behind the camera when she asks her sister who is then decades away from cancer: “Anita, what do you want to say for posterity?”

Oscar chimes in: “Everything is for posterity.”

Finally, Marie-France, the aforementioned medium, arrives in voice only at the end of “Tigers.”. “This is a real recording of when I visited her when I just arrived in Montreal,” Oscar wrote. “We spoke in English because at the time my French was not the best. Marie-France unfortunately also passed away two months ago. She connected me with Anita when reading the tarot.”

Anita had not deserted Oscar, Marie-France discovered: “Anita says, ‘I will come during your sleep and will help your heart to be more happy. . . Why did Anita leave so early? Thirty is not a very old age. Actually, she has another reincarnation ready so she had to leave early to rest. She will rest most probably thirty to forty years which is nothing there.”

Then Anita will come back and wouldn’t it be something if she in her new persona gets to view hers former self in “Tigers.” Oscar should have chimed in, “Everything is for posterity, especially the gift of film.”

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That Face And Its Consequences

Chet Kozlowski — Mon, 27 Oct 2025 17:25:01 +0000

That Face And Its Consequences Chet Kozlowski October 27, 2025 - 13:25

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Before we see Hedda’s face, we see her in her surroundings. Under the shadows of night, she emerges from a dark lake, shedding rocks from her pockets. From a distance, we watch her run into a magnificent mansion. Inside, dwarfed by the size of the rooms, she darts up the stairs to her boudoir, dresses for a ball, then stalks through the various rooms. Preparations are underway for a grand party, and she’s making sure everything is right. We see her in a long shot, then through frosted glass. Finally, she settles down, and we see her face in a mirror. And what a face it is.

Hedda is played by Tessa Thompson, an actress best known as Valkyrie in the Thor movies and Avengers: Endgame. And that’s quite a face she has: big eyes, eyebrows like knives, high cheekbones—the beautiful face of sheer malevolence.

Let’s pause here to praise Ms. Thompson for having the cajónes to play Hedda. Hedda is based on Henrik Ibsen’s 1891 play Hedda Gabler. Ibsen is known as the Father of Realism, portraying the cruelties of striving and privilege in the wake of the Industrial Revolution. He wrote complex female figures (see also Nora in A Doll’s House), which presaged a new social order. Hedda Gabler is one of the most coveted roles in theater. The part requires range, and Ms. Thompson has that. She makes Hedda headstrong, conniving, with a finger in every pot.

The plot in a nutshell: Hedda (Tessa Thompson) has married George (Tom Bateman), whom she doesn’t love, for his social status. To maintain that status, George must get a professorship at a prestigious university; otherwise lose everything. Hedda throws a lavish party to lure Professor Greenwood (Finbar Lynch) to hire her husband. George’s chief competition is his former colleague Eilert, who, newly sober, has written a book that will tip the scales. He has a muse and savior in Mousey Thea (Imogen Poots), who is also in attendance. Turns out Eilert, besides being George’s former colleague, is also Hedda’s former lover. And so, busy Hedda contrives to a) relieve Elbert of his sobriety and b) steal the prized manuscript and destroy it.

While we’re talking cajónes, let’s praise Nia Costa, the director, also of the MCU (The Marvels). She approaches this material with ferocity and mixes us a primal stew of psychological conflict.

Ms. Costa dutifully credits Ibsen as the primary writer, herself as the second, and has made some radical revisions to the story. First, Hedda is a woman of color, her exoticism scandalous yet arousing to her guests. She conducts a not-so-secret affair with Judge Brack (Nicolas Pinnock), the only person of African descent in attendance, under her husband’s nose.

The second change: Elert, George’s rival, is now Eileen, a lesbian and former lover of Hedda’s, played expertly by Nina Hoss, memorable as Cate Blanchett’s lesbian lover in the film Tår. Eileen is stately and reserved. She wavers between domesticity and the wild mind under which she wrote the book (the scene in which she crashes an all-boys meeting in the library is amazing). Thea (Imogen Poots), her confidante and keeper, has left her husband for this woman, this artist. She becomes aware of and resolves to foil Hedda’s plan of destruction. Thea calls her out, and Hedda cattily counters: “Do you resent fun, you miserable creature?”

My notes call Hedda a “hip-hop Downton Abbey,” even though no hip-hop is heard (more about the soundtrack in a minute). The film has hip-hop’s energy: the camera swoops and careens amongst the guests at the party. Composer Hildur Guonadóttir punctuates the action and Hedda’s scheming with an insistent drum tattoo. The kinetic choreography of Steadicam and actor blocking really should be seen on the big screen to appreciate. That’s by cinematographer Sean Bobbit and editor Jacob Schulsinger under Ms. Costa’s direction. A dance sequence, with Hedda initiating couplings, comes close to the one in Sinners, a riveting tableau of figures in motion.

Hedda’s psychology goes deep. The theme of identity runs under everything. She proclaims when cornered, “Sometimes I can’t help myself. I just do things.” Who is this Hedda? Who is Eileen, and what do they mean to each other? What happens to Hedda once she seeks to fuck things up? “Before you were domesticated, you were like fire.” Mirrors are everywhere, and much is made of dressing and disrobing, constant costume changes, switching selves (Costume designer Lindsay Pugh keeps things ornate but not ostentatious).

But that face. So much of it is about that face. It’s not a spoiler to tell you we end with a stunning closeup of Hedda’s amazing face. And then... the screen goes black. And up over the closing credits comes the disco beat of Roxy Music’s Love is the Drug. Say what? Ending with such an overused song is easy irony. It’s the one discordant note in a whirlwind of a movie. Why does Ms. Costa give us an intelligent and absorbing film, then wink at us, telling us not to take it seriously?

Hedda. Directed by Nia Costa. 2025. From Amazon MGM Studios. Runtime 107 minutes. In theaters and on Prime Video.

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Counting Laughs Coming Out

Chet Kozlowski — Tue, 21 Oct 2025 01:18:00 +0000

Counting Laughs Coming Out Chet Kozlowski October 20, 2025 - 21:18

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LGQBT

Everett Blunck as Griffin in Griffin in Summer

Two new teen comedies with LGBTQ+ themes are available on digital platforms. They are both breezy, witty, and both feature a strong character actor as its anchor.

Griffin in Summer

Directed by Nicolas Colia

2024. Runtime 90 minutes

Fourteen-year-old Griffin is precocious, mature beyond his years, and testy with those who aren’t. We first meet him at his high school talent show where he introduces the play he’s written, a cross between Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolff and American Beauty. He performs both parts in a domestic scene — “They weren’t miscarriages, Walter. They were abortions. They were abortions!!” — to the stunned silence of his middle school peers.

Griffin is home for the summer with his mom. Dad’s away and we learn that’s the basis for Griffin’s new play “Regrets of Autumn.” He’s disgruntled to be rehearsing with kids who would rather be at the beach, until he meets the new handyman, and falls in love. The guy’s a delinquent who uses Griffin to get at the family booze but has artistic aspirations of his own. Griffin casts him in the play and he utterly Brandoes the kids in the cast, to hilarious effect.

Everett Blunck as Griffin is a real find. He’s small and slight but uses that for great comic effect — imagine a medicated Pee Wee Herman — though much more debonair. Everett’s comic delivery and timing are sharp beyond his years. You’ll recognize Owen Teague, who plays Brad the handyman, from his work in Netflix’s Bloodline, HBO’s Task, as well as films like You Hurt My Feelings. The film’s secret weapon is Melanie Lynskey of TV’s Yellowjackets and Candy, and I suspect whose participation helped get the film made. She’s heartbreaking and endearing as Griffin’s unmoored mother Helen.

Griffin in Summer is conventionally structured and takes for granted its subtexts. It’s director Nicolas Colia’s first feature. He goes for simple setups, lets his stars shine, and has a great way with a reaction shot. His script is smart and funny and even poignant when it’s made clear the vitriol in Griffin’s plays is from tirades he’s heard at home.

She’s the He

Directed by Siobhan McCarthy

2025. Runtime 81 minutes

Compared to Griffin in Summer, She’s the He is pure chaos. And that’s the way writer/director Siobhan McCarthy likes it. Feather boas, attitudes and (gulp) tampons are flying. Lifelong pals Ethan and Alex pretend to be trans women to get into the girl’s locker. It’s all in fun and foolery until Ethan realizes he really is trans. Will their friendship survive or are new feelings awakened?

Nico Carney as Alex has a wide-eyed, scrappy charm; he’s a comedian whose standup has appeared on Netflix. Misha Osherovich is an engaging foil who as Ethan is conflicted about her own leanings; she’s been in The Goldfinch and the TV series The Girl in the Woods. Both actors are fun to watch and play off the complications of gender confusion in unexpected ways.

She’s the He is fun, conceived in disorder and awash in laughs. It’s pure punk, a glorious mess: smash cuts, truncated scenes, cringey situations, and rampant hand-drawn captions that burst in on the action. It’s coded to youth and the better for it, by and for Gen Z (you know, for kids…) and introduces an array of young talent, Malia Pyles, Tatiana Ringsby, and Emmett Preciado among them. Familiar character actor Suzanne Cryer of the Silicon Valley, Seinfeld, and Lucky Hank TV series gets to show her stuff as Ethan’s single mother, sexy and maternal at the same time.

Director Siobhan McCarthy is known for shorts and music videos. This is her first feature.

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An Oversized Gun, a Prick of a Needle

Angel Barber — Thu, 16 Oct 2025 00:34:17 +0000

An Oversized Gun, a Prick of a Needle Angel Barber October 15, 2025 - 20:34

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horror

Director Zachary Cregger has solidified his place in the canon of affectionately (if not pretentiously) named “elevated horror.” He inverts horror conventions, rejecting linearity by using multiple perspectives, timelines, and tonal registers to craft stories. Barbarian (2022) stages its horrors in one location: a rundown house in Detroit, Michigan. The standard horror of the first act escalates into sequences of grotesque lactation and multi-generational incest. Cregger’s expertise is pacing; he uses shocking moments of violence and humor to make chaos orderly. The cohesion of his debut is owed at least in part to the rigid spine of a central location.

With his follow-up, Cregger’s worldwide hit Weapons (over $266 million at the box office), his ambitions have expanded beyond the four walls of a single house to the psychological architecture of an entire town. The film begins with the disembodied narration of a little girl. She vocalizes the inciting incident: At 2:17 AM, a class of seventeen schoolchildren got out of their beds and ran outside into the darkness, never to be seen again. Cregger focuses on the uniformity of each child's actions, soundtracked to “Beware of Darkness” by George Harrison.

The first thirty minutes of the film evoke Lynne Ramsay's We Need To Talk About Kevin (2011), an icy thriller, where the residents of a town forgo the maxim “innocent until proven guilty.” In Weapons, the character at the mercy of these pitchforks is Justine, played by Julia Garner (Ozark). Justine is a flawed character who suffers from a pervasive lack of boundaries. Garner’s charisma and Cregger's ability to write fully dimensional characters prevent Justine from being totally insufferable.

Justine is only one of the deeply flawed characters whose perspectives Cregger gives us access to. We cycle through a neglectful father, a violent cop, a raving vagrant, and a dispassionate principal. The lone child who did not vanish from the classroom hovers at the center, and may know more than he lets on about the disappearance. There is fault to go around in this town; Cregger is much more interested in collective guilt than solving the mystery.

So… why exactly do these children disappear? While Cregger does a good job at linking these disparate stories into a satisfying narrative, if your only concern is solving the central mystery, you will be disappointed in the film. The most vibrant moments come from the characters and how their distinct lives intertwine – completely separate from the supposed A-plot of the story. The dispassioned principal eats an entire row of hotdogs with his husband while wearing matching Disney shirts. Justine makes a beeline for the vodka aisle, only to be violently confronted by an ex's girlfriend she intentionally homewrecked. After being pricked by a heroin needle, the cop asks the raving vagrant, “Do you have AIDS?” It’s moments like these–rife with humor and horror–that define the film, confirmed by the irreverence with which Cregger treats the ending.

For the first 100 minutes, Cregger is a surgeon who treats the balance between absurd comedy and terrifying horror with utmost precision. The balls-to-the-wall ending sequence reads as the punchline in an overlong Adult Swim television skit. It works. Ending Weapons on such an irreverent note may be one of the most inventive choices of Cregger’s career.

Weapons is about the texture of the town. Cregger dedicates time to exploring addiction, infidelity, homelessness, and the overarching idea that at some specific point in time, something went terribly wrong. Weapons is about real and imagined fears of degeneracy.

The largest weapon is seen in a dream sequence. A man follows his child into a house. Above them is an impossibly large gun that reads “2:17 AM.” It is the only gun in the film. This remains central to understanding the film. It is about Weapons. The instruments used to inflict harm on others. The instruments that lead to the decay of a society. The instruments that make the ending feel disturbingly comedic and painfully appropriate.

Cregger has succeeded at balancing lofty ideas, shifting tones, and breakneck pacing into an enjoyable film. It’s the second time he’s climbed this mountain; he’s proven he is not a fluke. - Angel Barber

Mr. Barber is a writer and filmmaker based in New York City interested in the relationship between tone, structure, and collapse in modern cinema.

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Zombies and Ghost Dogs and Sirens, Oh My

Chet Kozlowski — Thu, 16 Oct 2025 00:13:50 +0000

Zombies and Ghost Dogs and Sirens, Oh My Chet Kozlowski October 15, 2025 - 20:13

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These new thrillers straddle the horror genre and are now available on VOD and other digital platforms.

Forgive Us All

Directed by Jordana Stott

2025. Runtime 93 minutes.

Forgive Us All is being marketed as a post-apocalyptic zombie picture, but it’s a western at heart, substituting the Undead for Injuns.

In the remote New Zealand mountains, self-reliant Rory (Lily Sullivan) and her cantankerous dad Otto (Richard Roxburgh) live in seclusion and work their farm, fully aware that the world outside has gone to shit. Two years earlier, Rory lost her young daughter to a virus that has ravaged the world, turning normies into flesh-eating cannibals. “We’re surviving,” Otto tells Rory. “What are we surviving for?” comes the reply.

The arrival of mysterious stranger Noah (Lance Giles), pursued by bad guys led by Logan (Callan Mulvey), sets the drama in motion. Who’s been infected, who’s righteous, who lays claim to the last bastion of civilization becomes the issue, all aware that on the fringes stalk the insensate scourge of man’s destruction.

Forgive Us All is an actor’s production: the principals wear two hats, in front of the camera and as producers. This is a DIY trend; every movie is an actors’ reel. In some cases, it affords a route for filmmakers, now that the studios are collapsing.

Forgive Us All’s budget is low, evidenced by how clean everything is, a condition DP Peter McCaffrey tries to muddle with somber digital tints. The mournful mountain music score is provided by Brandon Roberts. The movie adds nothing to the zombie mythos; it plays by the rules established by other movies. The walkers are always on the fringes, but the action is so sloooow you often forget they’re even there.

The pleasure comes from the performances. Lily Sullivan is rugged and sexy as Rory, and Callan Mulvey imbues Logan with a suitable creepiness. It’s especially good to see Richard Roxburgh, memorable from the TV series Rake, apply his calm, emotive presence. He’s perfect as the coot. He even knows the proper way to take off a cowboy hat, by the brim and not the crown.

The Drowned

Directed by Samuel Clemens

2025. Runtime 90 minutes.

Three men arrive at a remote seaside house to retrieve a priceless painting they’ve heisted. We, the viewers, arrive in medias res, after the robbery, and after a cohort of theirs has delivered the painting, rolled in a canister, and possibly suffered a terrible fate. The house is empty, there’s a bucket of blood in the closet, and the beach is strewn with body parts, which may or may not belong to their accomplice.

The three can’t agree on how to proceed, and tensions boil when three beautiful women inexplicably wash up on the shore. One must be CPR’d after drowning, and they are all brought into the house. Mind games ensue, the women circling and seducing the criminals. The thieves speak in code and non sequiturs—a language only they know, because they’re the only ones who know what they’re doing there.

The Drowned sports good acting all around, the thieves played by Alan Calton, Michelangelo Fortuzzi, and Dominic Vulliamy, and the sirens played by Lily Catalifo, Lara Lemon, and Sandrine Salyéres.

Fun fact: the director, Samuel Clemens, is the son of Brian Clemens—who wrote and produced the 1960s TV series The Avengers—and is the great-great-great-nephew of Mark Twain.

The Drowned has literary ambitions, woven with references to Greek mythology, most notably The Odyssey. The allusions are subtle but, cumulatively, make for an interesting, trance-like drama. Put logic aside and just let it wash over you, and The Drowned is an offbeat, hallucinatory entertainment.

Last Stop Rocafort St.

Directed by Luis Prieto

2024. Runtime 89 minutes.

Rocafort Station is a stop on the Barcelona subway, notorious as a suicide site. Young Laura (Natalia Azahara) has been assigned to manage it and immediately encounters a ghost who launches her on a quest to solve its riddle. She enlists an alcoholic ex-cop (Javier Gutiérrez) who has written about his experience with the Yellow Line Killer, a case that he worked twenty years earlier, had tragic consequences, and which sent him around the bend. Now he reluctantly looks back at it with Laura’s urging, uncovering shades of occultism, and a warning that if or when you encounter the specter of The Ghost Dog, you join the ranks of the damned.

Last Stop Rocafort St. is a suspenseful procedural, making the most of that creepy underworld that exists between stations in any subway system. Ms. Azahara and Mr. Gutiérrez make an unlikely yet compelling team, piling up clues that lead to a dramatic climax. They are joined in the cast by Valéria Sorolla as Laura’s incidental lesbian lover, Cris.

Luis Prieto is becoming an impresario of horror-based thrillers. Trained in the USA, Mr. Prieto returned to Spain and has since racked up an impressive resumé of feature films there and in the States, including a remake of Refn’s Pusher (2012), Kidnap (2017) with Halle Berry, White Lines (2020), plus TV series and Netflix originals. Last Stop Rocafort St. is his latest.

Confident storytelling by Mr. Prieto, clever staging, engrossing characters, and thoughtful scares distinguish Last Stop Rocafort St. as an entertainment. In Spanish with English subtitles.

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The Story So Far…

Chet Kozlowski — Wed, 01 Oct 2025 19:30:22 +0000

The Story So Far… Chet Kozlowski October 1, 2025 - 15:30

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Jimmy Skinford is a wisecracking petty thief who has run afoul of the mob. We join his story in medias res, him being forced by gangstas to dig his own grave. He accidentally unearths a woman buried in the ground (!), still alive (such as she is). She’s Zophia, who has been interred for being a witch. She has the power of immortality, which turns out to be handy to get Jimmy out of his fix. This leaves our hapless protagonist and his beautiful companion naked and bravely venturing forward.

That’s how Part One starts.

Jimmy is in the petty thief business because his father, himself a crime kingpin, is dying of cancer and in need of expensive care. This will lead Jimmy on adventures that are proudly in the pulp mold, featuring gangland figures, demonic children, traps, seductions, fancy dancers, and faces blown off and rebuilt. Jimmy will be brutalized, drowned, hung, spun, and left out to dry while Zophia pursues a mission of her own.

The action of Skinford Part 1: Death Sentence is mostly earthbound, concerned not least with a bevy of women kept in cages, tortured, and trafficked.

Part Two, otherwise known as Skinford: The Curse, goes down fresh horror-thriller avenues, pushing immortality — the having and bestowing of it — into supernatural territory. It introduces new characters and stretches the pulp concept into the underground club scene.

Skinford is a walking, talking, blood-spattered comic book (or, pardon me, “graphic novel”) of a movie, and, surprisingly, it isn’t based on one. It’s reminiscent of Frank Miller’s Sin City (and Robert Rodriguez’s film of it) in its lurid edge. Skinford springs cinematically full-blown from the imagination of Nik Kacevski, who proudly lists his creds as director, writer, and visual effects. He has several shorts to his credit; the Skinford saga is his first feature-length vision.

Where do you start with Jimmy Skinford? The Curse (2018) is the sequel to Skinford: Death Sentence (2017), and it too ends on a cliffhanger, suggesting a Chapter 3 which, seven years on, has yet to be made. COVID-19 intervened, judging from the dates, and the distributor says funding glitches followed. But scripts are written, waiting for the green light.

The 2025 re-release is to new markets, including the US, that have not yet experienced Skinford’s crazy grandeur. It’s Australian in origin and features young Aussie actors who keep things interesting. Joshua Brennan plays Jimmy with scruffy charm. Charlotte Best makes a sexy and surprisingly demure Zophia. Ric Herbert is Jimmy’s father, Guy, grizzled and irrepressible, and while ill, still very much in the gangster game. Jess Bush plays Helen, whose friend-or-foe role has yet to be determined.

As ambitious as the series is, however, it often settles into TV blocking and soap opera plotting. Some scenes go on for too long. Sets suffer from underdressing and undercooked effects.

Are the two parts of Skinford worth watching, even as you’re aware that the story is short-sheeted? Sure. The action is high velocity, the people are pretty, and if bloody, occult fantasy is your thing, it more than fills the bill.

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Skinford: The Curse, Chapter Two. Directed by Nik Kacevski. 2018, released in the US in 2025. On Tubi and Amazon Prime. Runtime 86 minutes.