Don't Worry Darling

Don’t Worry Darling is extraordinary. Sumptuous; heart-pounding; layered.

In this one we follow Alice, a (young, vivacious) wife who keeps house for her husband. Each morning, smiles are wide and true. Each night, the dinner table’s perfection is outmatched only by the couple’s sexual chemistry. Indeed the entire community seems similar, with zesty, neat families filling picture-perfect houses in the middle of the desert. What gives?

Gossip holds that the men might be making weapons for their employer—and therefore, big money. One resident whispers of something even more sinister, though. Something about “they”. Alice, for some reason, is the only one who listens.

When strange things now happen to Alice—and to Alice alone—the dreamworld we’ve all been experiencing turns nightmarish. How did nobody else see that? Why aren’t they listening to her? Hmm, maybe she’s losing her mind. Or maybe the nefariousness of this place is just that intoxicating to everyone else.

From its very first moments, the movie’s astonishingly detailed production design and joyous music plug us into the dreamlife. Dang, I wanna live here! As the story continues, eery sound-design and darker metaphoric imagery take over. Hm, maybe there’s a reason why everything seems too good to be true. Powerful portrayals—most fantastically, by the actor who plays Alice—have us salivating for resolution.

Don’t worry if the synopsis lacks detail and sounds like nothing special; the mystery here is. Don’t Worry Darling both illustrates and was written with that most human of traits, imagination. It is entertaining and meaningful at the same time.

Have a great day!

Lapsis

D’you ever think about what the world was like before you were born? How people accomplished things without computers, or telephones? Lapsis puts us in this thoughtful mindset—while maintaining a compelling story. It blends old-school thriller with new-school looks, and the result is a slow-burn, down-to-earth sci-fi that you don’t want to miss.

Its world is very much like ours. Tech companies monopolize profits while traffic cops sneak tickets onto your car. New Yorkers speak with unmistakably New York-accents. The only difference is, the computers are quantum.

Don’t worry, you don’t need to know what that means. Ray, our lead, certainly doesn’t. He won’t risk bringing untested tech home while his grown but sickly step-brother still struggles to get through each day. What the family needs is a cure, not faster internet.

It’s a fair point. But for Ray, it’s a losing one. This charmingly polite, rough around the edges everyman—played wonderfully by Dean Imperial—can’t pay the bills with his odd jobs anymore. The quantum bandwagon is beginning to look golden.

And so, picture Tony Soprano with a rucksack, dragging a lawnmower behind, and you’ll have a good idea of Ray at his next gig. As a cabler, he’ll hike through the wilderness and lay down cable for the quantum computer overlords. The job pays well. Really well, actually . . .

How? And why does Ray’s trail name make his fellow cablers shudder? Why does his employer hire humans to do work that its robots can do better?

With each footstep, Ray creates more money, more enemies, and more questions. The tone is uneasy from beginning to end, really; unfolding, refolding mysteries spook and entice us at the same time. It is a treat to watch.

And top notch moviemaking makes it so. Lapsis appears to be the baby of Noah Hutton: He wrote, directed, edited, and composed its music. This is an impressive workload, but especially so given how subtle and powerful each of those aspects is. Erica A. Hart has picked a wonderfully realistic and talented cast (with Madeline Wise standing out as the reserved but piercingly intelligent foil to Ray). And Mike Gomes’s cinematography gives us grains and hues and symmetry that make us see the cables in trees and the vines in computers.

This is a movie to watch, and these are moviemakers to follow.

Promising Young Woman

That girl is absolutely GONE right now. And look at that outfit, I mean . . . she’s BEGGING for it, isn’t she?

We’ve all heard this kind of talk before. We may even have debated its merits. But in real life, at night at the bar, things happen faster than philosophers can discuss them. And this is why Cassie’s plan is so intriguing.

She’s that girl, head rolling around, eye shadow running. She doesn’t say much when a man (inevitably) swoops in. And she continues not to say much when they’re at his place and he’s even more brazen about taking advantage of her. Then, when things are about to get very, very bad, Cassie sobers up instantly. What do you think you’re doing?

Their stunned, contorted faces—what a pleasure to witness. Yassss Cass, let the predator squirm under the weight of his own inadequacy; longer, longer!

And yet, stop Cass, please stop. Your behavior isn’t changing any minds in a meaningful way. You’re still depressed; still not over what happened to your friend back in med school. Why do you still do this?

And why would we watch something so uncomfortable?

Because we remember our mothers. Because we recognize those lines up top. And because this movie is catharsis itself. A treasure.

After seeing Cassie malaise through days at the coffee shop and nights at the bar, we get the picture. Then a real man enters it and gives us all some hope. He’s socially awkward still, but in an endearing way. Not out to take advantage, but around because he cares about that girl from his med school class who was so smart, so wonderful. The plot thickens.

I certainly had my guesses about where it would go. And they were all wrong. The movie takes everyday interactions and lays them out before us in an original, devastatingly illuminating way. Fairy tale blends with horror, mystery with thriller. The end product is a nauseating, tear-jerking, and triumphant work of art.

Special recognition must go to writer and director Emerald Fennell. Though the story speaks for itself, so many moviemaking techniques amplify it. Take the camerawork for example. It’s almost brazenly different than the usual. In many of the early scenes, the bottom of the picture falls just above foot-height. It’s not noticeable at first, but it’s a brilliant technique to freak out our subconscious: we’re on edge partly because we can’t get grounded, and we can’t get grounded partly because we can’t see the ground. With techniques like this or an asymmetrical or wide-angle shot, it can feel like we’re floating with the characters through a bad dream.

But dream it is not. Promising Young Woman confronts us with reality.

Squid Game (오징어 게임)

How did you fare on the playground? Be honest with yourself.

OK, good. Now that you have an answer, it doesn’t matter. Squid Game will chew you up and spit you out regardless.

It’s a jarring, violent story—but one so inventive and compelling that you’ll see yourself in the characters even as you’re repulsed by them.

Gi-hun introduces us to it all ever so innocently. He appears to be a degenerate gambler like any other, stealing from his elderly mother here, letting down his daughter there. But then a strange thing happens.

The man is given an offer: play on a grand scale. Play a game that, with debts like yours, it would be foolish to turn down . . .

To those of us with impulse control, this would appear too good to be true. And it is.

After Gi-hun accepts, a complex mystery is presented. This game has severe rules, in a severe setting. And Gi-hun is not alone. Not at all alone.

Each episode illustrates a bit more about the game’s players and creators, but devilishly leaves us wanting more. And the game itself? Disturbingly compelling. Our playground pastimes, adultified. Nine episodes of binge-worthy, nail-biting entertainment await you.

The winner will take home a prize that does something to our animal brains. All of them. Even us viewers safely watching outside the screen know this is crazy; we know this is unfair and violent and impractical, and yet we ponder it anyway. Watch it anyway.

It’s the kind of show you desperately want to talk about with someone else. Not necessarily because it’s good, but because it taps into something universal, illustrating and examining our human strategies to this game of life.

I watched every episode of Squid Game like an addict: always high, never satisfied. Am I happy about it?

I Am All Girls

I Am All Girls will confront you. You have been warned.

Ntombi is an adult now, capable and strong, working in police forensics to hold sexual criminals accountable. Jodie is her lover—and a detective with the same goal. With a tender romance amidst difficult work, it’s dang easy to root for our heroes.

But the plot thickens. Ntombi’s methods do not always follow police protocol. And Jodie has no idea about that—or Ntombi’s past as a child sex slave. For now.

The production value is top quality, though the writing has flaws. Jodie’s character is unbelievably dedicated, Ntombi’s psyche is barely explored, and for a movie about an uphill battle against evil, the ending comes all too easy.

That said, this thriller is about remembering real lives that were taken—and that continue to be taken, each day. There can be few better reasons to base a movie on a true story, and for this reason alone, it is worth a watch.

I Care a Lot

r e v i e w

What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? Well, who cares? These days, we can chomp on popcorn and watch superhero movies, comfortably knowing that the good guys will win. Forces and objects are gonna clash in flashy ways. Awesome. But the methods come second to the outcome. Second to the good guys winning.

Again and again, we go into superhero movies assuming this ending, and yet we still have an exciting, fun, even exhilarating time. How?

One reason is that these stories contain conflicts so difficult that we truly question whether the good guys will win. We start thinking about how we would win. About each character’s approach to winning. In other words, good writing makes us think about the process as much as the outcome. Makes us question what those unstoppable forces and immovable objects really are, and whether it would be OK to use them, or be them.

So it turns out we do care about the winner of that clash. I Care a Lot is a savage, delicious study on this. It moves our burning question out of superhero space and into the real world, and adds a twist: What happens when there are no good guys?

It’s subtle about it, and it’s not. Our lead, Marla, asks us the question as soon as the movie begins. As a legal guardian unashamed of taking advantage of her elderly wards, she has no qualms putting it all out there.

Watching Marla string a web to catch her prey, slowly tying up their living situation, their finances—their life—is a deeply disturbing and interesting watch. Costume design, editing, camerawork, and acting of the highest level highlight how high this makes Marla feel, and how confusing and terrifying it is for the people she traps. It is compelling watching on its own, but it is just the half of things.

At some point, it becomes clear Marla shouldn’t be messing with one of her wards. A powerful, dangerous person is connected with this ward, and will do whatever it takes to save the ward. Marla becomes our immovable object; the most determined, stubborn, capable being. The dangerous person is our unstoppable force; no single entity could possibly withstand its attack. So who wins?

We do. This movie is beautifully paced, shot, acted, directed, edited, sound-tracked, costumed, cast, set, color-schemed. Sure we’re watching bad guys, but clever writing makes it impossible not to empathize with them. It creates a tug of war in our hearts, as we constantly change who we want to win; who we think deserves what treatment; who we hate or admire.

This is not an easy thing to do to us. Many movies have tried, but many have glamorized the bad guy as much as demonized. (Looking at you, Scorsese, anche se ti rispetto tanto.) I Care a Lot does no such thing. With a heart-pounding, realistic story, it makes us grapple with what we are willing to do to get ahead, and reminds us how to think about others who use different methods—but share our very same goal.

It makes clear that taking advantage of others is, at no point along the line, glamorous. It is simply delusion. But it happens. This makes the movie ambitious and important, scary and real.

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s t a n d o u t s — **spoiler alert**

Some things will catch your eye here.

(1) c o l o r

The movie uses color in beautiful ways. Yes, color can be pretty on its own, but it can also be a tool that carries meaning.

One example of color as meaning here is Marla’s outfits.

When we meet her, she is in her prime. Capable, determined, and winning. Her outfits do business in striking primary colors. Solid reds and yellows.

As she is introduced to dilemmas, the colors become darker, less flashy. Maybe she is less sure of herself. Less OK with being loud. Or maybe, the darkness means she is more serious. Stepping up her game.

So what would black mean? Or white?

(2) a l l e g o r y

The movie preaches, but is only outwardly preachy for a few seconds over its two-hour runtime. Most of the time, it relies on allegory.

(a) n u t s h e l l

The opening scene blends the two. It is an introduction to, and summary of, the movie.

“Look at you. Sitting there. You think you’re good people. You’re not good people . . . there’s no such thing as good people . . . Playing fair is a joke invented by rich people to keep the rest of us poor.” How many movies begin by calling the viewer out as a bad person? A stooge? This is as preachy as it gets.

As Marla preaches to us over a grungy, minor-chord riff, we watch elderly people being fed pills. They swallow it; we swallow it. That lie we tell ourselves about doing the right thing, as we languish, as Marla and others get rich off of us.

Gulp.

(b) ’m u r i c a

Marla also lets us know that she was once like us, and that she didn’t enjoy it. She doesn’t dwell on this as the story continues, but we do see glimpses of her motivations and life-choices in movie imagery.

We come to realize that Marla actually appreciates this conception of the world, of predator and prey, because it empowers her. If there are only two choices, then she can choose to be a predator. A simple enough path to leave a life of fear, no? We also learn that Marla believes the United States is a blessing, because it provides fair ground to become a predator—if one works hard enough and plays by the rules.

As stretched a conception as that may be, play by the rules Marla does. She takes advantage of the elderly by the books. See below where she fights for what she thinks is right, appealing to justice, and the American flag? (This makes the conflict of the movie even more interesting, as she believes herself better than her antagonist, who doesn’t follow the American legal playbook, but who is trying to prevent a wrong.)

Much later, when Marla is in the depths, losing ground to the unstoppable force, she clings to this American promise. And it saves her. When her tooth is knocked loose, a gas station and its cheap milk rescue it. When Marla is cold, a hot dog machine provides a hearth to warm up on. Red ketchup and yellow mustard sit like a dog by her side; reminders of the comfort and stability the United States has to offer. As long as she and this country are alive, she can do anything. It is no surprise that Marla finds a new resolve after this scene.

I'm Your Woman

The way Jean’s treated is antiquated and sexist—and it just might save her life.

Y’see, her husband rolls with a bad crowd. Tucking Jean at home keeps the danger away . . . until hubby goes missing, that is.

So Jean is next. We don’t know why, and neither does she. But she better do something—and fast. This makes a good portion of the movie heart-poundingly scary.

You could even say that the story is built around adrenaline. But adrenaline wears off. And when it does, scenes of Jean sitting in silence, trapped in her own fear, become repetitive.

That may be a natural reaction—especially in a world where men continue to keep Jean in the dark. But together with performances that can be so understated as to feel emotionless, it does not make for fun watching. More empty lighter than slow burn, any sparks you get won’t last.

Tenet

Tenet spelled backward is Tenet. But Tenet spelled forward is Tenet . . . So which way is which? And what if the fate of the world depended on your answering correctly?

For our lead, this problem is too real. Not only does he need to find the bad guys, he needs to fight their new weapon. Think apple falling up the tree. Or bullet speeding into the gun.

Confused? You’re not the only one. But our lead has a knack for asking the right questions—and throwing the right punches.

This movie is complicated, sprawling, exhausting—but exciting and impressive. It’s a globe-trotting, mind-bending, action-packed dream, and our brains can’t keep up.

The Burnt Orange Heresy

James loves art; talking about it, writing about it. He’s perceptive and calculating, and so, a good storyteller. When the opportunity to meet an art great knocks, he’s ready at the door.

Then it opens. What’s inside might be too much for James to handle. As he struggles with reality, we begin to grasp just how good a storyteller he can be. Scary good.

This is a sleek thriller. It blends the cushy, removed feel of high art with the sharp, clinging emotions of real life. Smooth writing and acting are somehow jarring, while the picture itself skews our perceptions. Sunset grays, blues, and oranges set each scene—for good reason.

Project Power

Project Power is quite the experiment.

Power now comes in a pill. There’s money to be made here—and people to be exploited.

As the drug makes its way through the city, the lives of three very different people will intersect. Their relationships and motivations, their fear and abilities, draw you in.

So is the experiment a success? Prepare for some eye-rolls. But the story, lead acting, music, sound mix, pace, and camerawork—they’re the work of experts.

Green Room

Green Room is where you wait. The anticipation kills.

Aint Rights is on tour, and is so underground, it seems, that nobody will attend their shows. Desperate, the band accepts a gig in a remote location. The crowd is . . . a bit rawer than the usual.

The band’s lyrics are hard, but its members are soft. This becomes painfully clear after one of them witnesses a crime. Aint Rights is now too real a name.

Every element of this movie maintains a terrific tension. It’s so good, and so prolonged, that you’ll almost beg for the spark. But fair warning, it’s more lightning than static.

Meru

Meru is a story of adventure and resilience.

Three professional climbers decide to try their luck on an unconquered peak. This is a bad idea: Meru has never been summited because it’s both technically challenging and very dangerous. Suffice it to say, the climbers encounter several obstacles.

This movie captures well the life of a climber: the day-to-day; the internal dialogue; how some messages remain unspoken when life is on a razor’s edge.

Destroyer

Destroyer is a murder mystery, and then some.

Detective Erin Bell has issues. She’s fixated and angry, and it’s not healthy. But she doesn’t seem to care: There’s another case to solve.

Be patient with this movie. Its alternating timeline adds minutes, but it also adds to the anticipation—and a brilliant payoff.

Ocean's Eight

Ocean’s Eight is an outfit of professional thieves. Each on her own possesses great skill, but to steal from what is arguably the most exclusive party on the planet, combined skills are needed.

This movie has a couple of twists, though they might not be enough to keep you from guessing the ending.

Train to Busan

The Train to Busan might be the only way to hide from the zombies.

Workaholic Seok-woo has neglected his daughter for the last time. Soo-an is fed up, and demands to see her mother in Busan. Dad obliges, buying two train tickets. Why, then, is Soo-an still so upset? A zombie infection tearing through the population might have something to do with it.

This is a good, exciting story. And the movie doesn’t rely on jump scares or manipulative music.

Free Solo

Free Solo may be the most heart-pounding movie you’ll ever see.

Alex Honnold is a quiet, unassuming man; thoughtful and practical. But what he does for a living is rock-climb thousands of feet into the air without any safety gear. By following Honnold on his latest quest, and through interviews with family and friends, this movie responds to some of the burning questions that such behavior elicits.

Psychological study aside, this movie is a must-watch simply because seeing Honnold in his element is such a unique, exhilarating experience.

The Hateful Eight

A cast of characters meets in chance encounters to create The Hateful Eight. 

A deadly blizzard fast approaches. The only viable shelter begins to fill with strangers, each more intriguing and secretive than the next. Things heat up inside. 

The acting is excellent, with two consequences. First, the movie sparkles when the characters size each other up. Second, the (many) scenes of violence can be difficult to watch.

Only God Forgives

Only God Forgives is a violent drama about retribution.

Julian will avenge his brother Billy, who has been punished for committing a terrible crime. How far Julian must go depends on the whim of his drug-dealer mother, with whom Julian has a disturbing relationship. A ruthless police captain complicates things. 

Strange pacing and lighting add to the uneasy atmosphere. Long scenes may be as boring for some as the violence is jarring for others.

Icarus

Icarus tells a wild story about drug doping in competitive sports. It's a movie in two parts.

In the first part, the director quests to see how drug doping would affect his amateur cycling. The second part focuses on the doping mastermind, Grigory Rodchenkov. It's here the film kicks into high gear. Whilst helping the amateur, this head of Russia’s national anti-doping laboratory becomes embroiled in the investigation of Russia's state-sponsored doping program.

The timeline is sometimes difficult to follow. And the movie is a bit long. But these faults don't undercut an otherwise electrifying flick.