The King of Staten Island

Who’s the King of Staten Island?

It can’t be Scott. He’s aimless; jobless; addicted. And this even though people love and support him. He just can’t seem to move on after his father died fighting a fire.

But his family is. Everyone else is. So something’s gotta change, for better or worse.

There are heavy themes here, but the movie is never heavy. It’s as smart, sweet, and funny as its characters. Perfect casting keeps Scott’s journey real but entertaining, and transports us to a place and mindset called Staten Island.

Da 5 Bloods

Da 5 Bloods are back at it.

Well, four are. Reuniting in Vietnam to recover the remains of their friend and leader. It’s all smiles and stories. But da Bloods have another, fantastically dangerous and exciting job to do, too. And so an epic story unfolds.

This jungle of a world will require their sacrifice once again. But they’re older and wiser now. They take time to call out the black (male) trailblazers who continue to inspire their lives. In these moments, the movie turns documentary, giving us real names. Real images. This chops the flow a bit, but is informative and powerful, reflective and celebratory.

It’s a complex movie in other ways, looking at pain across years and borders. Of how people pushed up against the wall can claw at each other. Paul’s journey is expertly played, and includes one of the most enveloping soliloquies you’ll see in movies.

Nobody Knows I’m Here

And that’s how Memo likes it.

As a child who tried to share his voice with the world, he found trauma. The hurt was so profound that even now, years later, he has trouble trusting people.

His secluded life seems peaceful. But every so often we glimpse conflict: Memo still yearns to perform. This conflict intensifies when somebody recognizes his promise—and listens to his pain.

The setting is beautiful, as is the movie’s study of how people manage uncomfortable emotions. Every scene is carefully sculpted to explore this theme.

The lead dazzles in portraying Memo’s mostly silent struggle. At a moment’s notice, his face and eyes become windows to deep pain; he transforms a lumbering recluse into a performer radiating energy.

Joan of Arc

Everything about Joan of Arc is different.

For starters, she’s a ten-year-old in charge of the French army. Oh, and she hears voices from heaven. Get the picture?

Some do. Others don’t care for unwavering piety. When Joan acts against the King, she’s put on trial. Its back-and-forth is engrossing: Each party tries to do right by the others, but whoever loses will lose big.

And yet, this movie is as much class clown as Sunday school. It pokes fun at the pomp and formality of the military, the church—prayer itself—in ways so strange and obvious that you’re transported out of the story, wondering if the movie itself is the ridiculous thing.

Mania aside, this is a serious story of human character. Scenes pop with rich colors and varied staging.

Tigertail

Tigertail takes time to unwind.

Pin-Jui has made sacrifices to build a better life. Years later, he replays them in his mind.

We’d never know it from his stone face. Even now, with his mother just having died alone in Taiwan, and with his daughter struggling to find happiness, does he set aside certain emotions to focus on the practical.

Only by piecing together closely-framed flashbacks can we understand why. Experiences of lost love and hard work show us a person who is anything but cold, who always tried to do the best by his poor mother.

Before these flashbacks, the movie is uncomfortable, even slow. Hyperrealistic editing and Pin-Jui’s stoicism create a boring melancholy, one that only hints at the feelings of a full life still being lived. But the tail does eventually unwind. In the end, we’ll know its curves, and watch as a new one forms. It is moving stuff.

El Hoyo (The Platform)

The Platform is a whole ’nother world.

We don’t know why it exists, who’s in charge . . . or how many people it tortures. Goreng doesn’t either, but he may be the first to explore enough to find out. As the only person to voluntarily enter this place, he’s either its savior or biggest stooge.

From the first moment, our world shrinks to the size of this vertical prison. Trapped with Goreng, his hopes and despairs become ours. Earworm music captures our unease, reminding us that truly, this very moment is all there is.

It is a thought-provoking, exciting, and twisted piece.

Troop Zero

Troop Zero is an embarrassment.

And Christmas is an outcast. This is partly because kids can be mean, and because Christmas pees her pants. But partly, it’s because she believes her deceased mom is up in the stars. Each night, she tunes in to the sky, waiting for a sign.

Maybe she’s found it. The winner of the local Birdie Scout competition will get to record a message for NASA to send into space. But first, Christmas needs to find herself a troop.

This movie means well—but it was written with a sledgehammer. Each scout is stranger than the next, with basically no character development in explanation. Their relationships are forced, and their rural Georgian community is whitewashed.

It tries desperately to create memorable moments, throwing out one-liners, slow-mo, and anything else that might stick. None of it does.

Blow the Man Down

Aye, it will.

It’s tough times in small town Maine, especially since Mary Beth and Priscilla’s mom died. Could their lives be over, before they really began?

The situation gets bleaker after Mary Beth is put in a compromising situation. From then on, each decision the sisters make seems to spiral things further out of control. Wise old townswomen offer to help. But not just the sisters have secrets.

This movie is a work of art: cheeky, haunting, beautiful. Sights and sounds hook you, the story reels you in, and the ending guts you good.

The Two Popes

It’s a miracle! Two Popes isn’t preachy.

The Catholic Church is losing followers. Joseph thinks the fix lies in tradition, the work of generations of thinkers. Jorge isn’t so sure, and likes to take the pulse of the people. So, they talk it out.

Their chats are funny, intimate, and deep—but never complicated. Turns out they’re just trying to make sense of things like the rest of us. But where Joseph is old school and intellectual, Jorge is a free spirit, open to new ideas, maybe a glass of wine. This disparity adds a delicious humor—and tension—to the movie.

Roman hillsides and Vatican art remind us of the power these men wield, and top notch acting reminds us of their humanity. Though peppered with symbolic imagery, this movie focuses on the real.

American Factory

American Factory ain’t just American.

It used to be, then it closed. Thousands lost their jobs. Now, a Chinese company is moving in, and looking to hire. Maybe things’ll be like how they were?

As we follow their new journeys, employees from each country recount their old ones. Their exchanges are about as unstaged as it gets, and reveal mutual respect and similar values.

But trouble brews. Management expects work done the Chinese way, which is faster, longer, and more difficult than the Americans are used to.

What we have here is a philosophical movie, in a setting anything but.

Jojo Rabbit

Jojo is a sweet little boy who loves his mom. He’s also a Nazi.

Or at least, he thinks he is. You see, Jojo is growing up in Germany during World War II. Nazi posters decorate his room, and Hitler is his imaginary friend. What else is a kid to do?

Attend Nazi youth camp, for starters. But there, it appears that Jojo may not be cut out for the Nazi life. His early-life crisis gets much worse when he learns his mom is hiding a Jewish girl from the authorities.

As Jojo grapples with these realities, he’s determined to get to the bottom of why Elsa and her fellow Jews are evil. In these sad, funny, and touching moments, the movie shines.

The context is horrific, and the movie tries hard to balance it out (even if it may overcompensate). In any case, with its goofy humor; its saturated and magnificent colors; its catchy and upbeat music, it seeks to remind us that even the worst pain is fleeting, and that there will always be beauty in this world.

Little Women

Little Women is astounding.

Jo seems especially smart and determined. Yet so do her three sisters. That they get along is a minor miracle, and seeing their tender childhood moments together is heartwarming.

But children grow up. Life bombards with responsibilities and expectations. These moments aren’t always heartwarming, but they’re just as important for Jo and her sisters to experience. The movie weaves it all together beautifully, past informing present, and present informing past.

There is an energy to this movie that is hard to describe. Thanks to brilliant acting and editing, each scene swells with life. This makes each feel intensely important, yet at the same time leaves us chomping at the bit for the next one.

In the end, Little Women is nothing less than a reminder of life’s possibilities: the good and the bad, the serendipitous and the hard-fought. It’s a reminder of the blank canvas that we all were, and still can be.

The Irishman

One way or another, the Irishman will make you cringe.

Frank worked hard and kept his head down. No complaints, even when the job was . . . unsavory. Once powerful men recognized this, Frank’s life changed forever.

Doing dirty work came to define his life, so the movie is mostly flashback to these moments.

It’s striking how Frank’s actions had lasting implications on labor and politics in the United States. But most striking, and at the heart of this movie, is heartlessness. Frank didn’t shed a tear for his victims. But will we? After seeing such actions again and again, they can begin to feel commonplace—even boring.

The Laundromat

The Laundromat will make your head spin.

Something terrible has happened. Ellen deserves compensation, but all she receives are cryptic documents and dodged phone calls. Her sadness turns to frustration—and her frustration to determination, as she realizes that someone is covering up something big.

Unfortunately, Ellen’s story gets lost in the wash. The movie is overloaded with narration and vignettes that try to explain the basics and the complexities of the financial system. All this does is interrupt a story of injustice that is clear enough on its own.

Joker

This Joker is the worst kind of wild card.

Gotham City is in decline. Most decent folk struggle just to get by. But decent folk are vanishing, as fear and anger infect the city.

Arthur Fleck is at the bottom of the deck, treated poorly by all. Many are too busy with their own problems to care. Others just see an easy target: a socially-awkward, mentally-unstable, failing-comedian street clown who still lives with his mother.

At some point, the soul-crushing monotony of mistreatment takes a toll, and Arthur lashes out. His abuse is heartbreaking to watch, and his indiscriminate, violent retaliation even more so.

Mesmerizing acting, scenery and music will disturb you from start to finish.

Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

Once Upon a Time in Hollywood is truly a fairy tale. But hints of lunacy make it better suited for adults.

Rick is a former TV-star. He’s now shooting for movie stardom, though worries it may be a star too far. Cliff, Rick’s tough right-hand man, tries his best to be a calming presence.

The movie follows the two through uneasy times. They are earnest and loyal, so it’s touching stuff. But thanks to imaginative storytelling, there is another level to the story, one that is eerie and sinister and that somehow fits perfectly with the sweet stuff.

In the end, this is a sentimental yet thrilling watch.

Ramen Shop

Ramen Shop lays it on a bit thick.

Masato lost his mom years ago. His father, though still alive, seems to have died along with her. It’s no surprise then when Masato yearns for happier times.

Taking matters into his own hands, Masato travels to China to reconnect with his mother’s family. Doing so elicits happy childhood memories, especially of meals shared with his chef parents.

The story and acting are as bland as unseasoned tofu. Too many flashbacks and cooking scenes drown the few tasty parts.

The Farewell

Nai Nai is dying. Her family won’t tell her.

You see, this Chinese family believes that telling grandma would only worsen her condition. Instead, the family plans a wedding: Now Nai Nai will get to see all her loved ones together again one last time.

Billi flies over from New York City. She left her grandma when she was five, and is now an American who wears her emotions on her sleeve. She finds it difficult to keep up the charade.

It is in these difficult moments that the movie shines. It is somehow funny and beautiful, even as it explores the painful (and varied) emotions of each family member. Because of superb acting and writing, you’ll find it hard to say goodbye to The Farewell.

The Souvenir

This Souvenir is forgettable.

Julie is a film student. She comes from wealth and privilege, and is interested in making movies about people outside of her bubble. She is naive, but she knows it.

Anthony comes along. He seems to know a lot more about the world than Julie does—and she loves it. But as Julie zooms in on Anthony, she loses focus on the rest of her life.

Unfortunately, The Souvenir is exactly the kind of artsy and disconnected movie that Julie is afraid of making. It’s slow, sad, and frustrating. Early scenes build up Julie as an intelligent woman aware of her own limits, but time and again she makes decisions that can only be explained by extreme naivete. The movie simply doesn’t ring true.

Mid90s

Staying home can hurt, so Stevie goes out a lot. He gets lucky when he finds a group of older, cooler skateboarders to pass the hours with. It’s all in good fun.

Over time, though, it becomes clear that each of the kids is dealing with their own issues. Skating only helps them forget for so long. When simmering emotions boil over, the kids make questionable decisions.

And yet throughout it all, Mid90s remains a sweet movie with a soft touch. It captures well that paradox of growing up: of seeking independence when one is powerless in many ways.