Category Archives: New In Theaters

Reviews of what’s out now

New In Theaters

Naughty

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Silent Night, Deadly Night

by Hope Madden

Not every bad, low-budget, unreasonably beloved Eighties horror movie needs to be rebooted. Do I rewatch Charles Sellier’s 1984 holiday slash fest Silent Night, Deadly Night every holiday season? Maybe.

I don’t rewatch its 1987 sequel every single year. I’m not a masochist. Nor have I watched SNDN 3, 4, or 5 (starring Mickey Rooney!) more than once apiece. Anyway, I’m obviously if begrudgingly the audience for Mike P. Nelson’s new update on the old Santa suit, Silent Night, Deadly Night.

And maybe it benefits from low expectations, but I liked it.

Nelson, who writes and directs, revisits the important beats of the ’84 original but he’s smart about it. Billy (Halloween Ends and The Monkey’s Rohan Campbell) listens to the voice in his head. That voice belongs to the Santa who murdered Billy’s parents when he was 8.

That’s an added layer to the triggered homicidal lunatic that populates every previous installment. It’s a welcome change that the filmmaker, Campbell, and Mark Acheson—as the voice of Shotgun Santa—maneuver for creepy fun.

Nelson does have a good time with the franchise, tossing Easter eggs around like a holiday crossover. But these moments feel more like communal celebration than pandering, a wink from one fan to another.

The casting is on point, even eerie, as Nelson’s tale feels like a Yuletide merging of SNDN and Halloween Ends, once gift store owner Pamela (Ruby Modine) gets involved—again, an inside joke that works better than it has a right to.

The carnage is often quite fun—one party scene, in particular. But even with the humor, Nelson never stoops to camp or spoof. He’s a little hemmed in by the limitations of the franchise itself, breaking no remarkably new ground. But Silent Night, Deadly Night is often clever fun. There are creepy moments, funny moments, bloody moments, but his film hangs together as a solid holiday horror.

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Know Who Your Friends Are

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Five Nights at Freddy’s 2

by Hope Madden

In 2023, Five Nights at Freddy’s—a predictable PG-13 horror built on a video game—delivered a bit of gimmicky fun for fans of the game and little to nothing for the rest of us. So, hooray! There’s a sequel.

Director Emma Tammi returns, with video game creator Scott Cawthon handling the sole screenplay credit this go-round. His script sees Mike (Josh Hutcherson) still avoiding therapy for himself or his disturbingly naïve 11-year-old sister Abby (Piper Rubio). And Vanessa (Elizabeth Lail) is so bad off she’s taking psychological advice from Mike.

Naturally, all of them are suffering the trauma of the bloodthirsty animatronics that came to life on night security Mike’s watch last time around, possessed by Vanessa’s evil dad’s. But Mike’s painting a house and Abby’s into robotics, so I’m sure they’re fine!

Wait, they’re not. And through a fairly convoluted storyline that sees one of Seinfeld’s neighbors get The Story of Ricky treatment, the trio not only brings the Country Bear Murder Spree back to life, they set them free to roam the town.

Scenes are slapped together with a gleeful disregard to continuity, and again, the macabre sense of humor that might have kept the film afloat is entirely missing.

Freddy Carter is a fun addition as the villainous Michael. (Who, honestly, names one character Mike and another one Michael?) And there is a Skeet Ulrich sighting. Plus, a new animatronic—kind of a goth Miyazaki styles marionette—is cool. And though I’d predicted McKenna Grace to be a kind of cold open kill, instead she gets a bit of a creepy, if small, character arc.

I realize the film is aimed at a young audience, but Tammi and team could at least pretend to respect them as viewers.

Hutcherson can act, and I’m confident someday he’ll get another film that lets him do that. Until then, Five Nights at Freddy’s 2 ends with a clear path to a third installment. Hooray.

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Like It Was

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Merrily We Roll Along

by George Wolf

Stephen Sondheim’s Merrily We Rolling Along may have taken a while to attain beloved musical status, but it’s certainly getting the flowers now.

Closing just 16 performances after its 1981 Broadway premiere, the show got various rewrites and new stagings over the years, a 2016 documentary on the original production, and finally a Tony award-winning revival in 2023.

And while fans wait for Richard Linklater’s adaptation, which is being filmed over the course of twenty years, director Maria Friedman delivers a film pro shot of a June 2024 performance at New York’s Hudson Theatre.

Tony winners Jonathan Groff and Daniel Radcliffe are songwriters Franklin Shepard and Charley Kringas. When we meet them in 1976, the friendship is strained over Frank’s decision to “go Hollywood” and produce movies. Writer Mary Flynn (Lindsay Mendez, 2018 Tony winner for Carousel) – their third musketeer – tries to make peace but is often drunkenly sarcastic about the cost of their quest for success.

Frank’s self absorption and philandering ways have taken their toll on his family and friends, and as Frank confronts the lowest point in his life, the show begins a series of “Transitions” that gradually roll back to the beginning of the three long friendships.

It’s easy to see why musical theatre fans love this show. It’s a salute to dreamers everywhere – Broadway dreamers especially – sporting several Sondheim tunes (“Opening Doors,” “Old Friends,” “Our Time”) that have become favorites.

The ensemble is fantastic, starting right at the top with the three leads. Of course, Groff (Hamilton‘s original King George) and Mendez are longtime musical theatre powerhouses, so it’s Radcliffe’s absolutely charming turn that will be the biggest surprise.

It is Merrily‘s direction that ends up hampering its effectiveness on screen, with a cramped approach that often yearns for room to breathe. Just earlier this year, Hamilton‘s film pro shot achieved a near perfect balance of intimacy and movement. Friedman leans too heavily on quick cuts and close ups, which tends to neuter the live feeling that is essential to the pro shot experience.

Still, this is one that musical fans should make time for, even if it can’t blend stage and screen quite as merrily as we’ve seen before. But for holding us over for the next couple decades? It’ll do.

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Passing Through Nature to Eternity

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Hamnet

by Hope Madden

It’s been five years since Chloé Zhao took home two Oscars, one for directing and one for adapting the screenplay for Nomadland. She returns to form in both respects with Hamnet, the cinematic adaptation of Maggie O’Farrell’s novel that imagines the way grief may have shaped Shakespeare’s greatest tragedy.

Zhao’s film opens stunningly on Jessie Buckley, nestled womblike among the roots of a massive tree, her face and hands dirty, her hair tangled with leaves. Buckley is Agnes, believed by those in town to be the daughter of a forest witch. Agnes comes from what is.

Will (Paul Mescal) imagines what can be. The hyper real poetry of Zhao’s camera perfectly articulates their yin/yang balance.

It’s with Will that we first see Agnes’s nurturing side applied to humanity rather than the wild. It’s a trait that will become the backbone of their story. Her love is powerful, messy, and unforgiving, and Buckley’s more than up to the task. Her performance, as is so often the case, feels dangerous and uncensored. And gazing adoringly at her, inspired and nurtured, is Will. If there is a better face in cinema than Mescal’s for earnest yet doomed longing, I don’t know whose it could be.

The young cast more than keeps pace. Jacobi Jupe is particularly amazing and utterly heartbreaking as Will and Agnes’s boy, Hamnet. (His older brother Noah Jupe also impresses later in the film as the actor portraying the great Dane in the first ever stage production.)

By the time the most famous lines in theatre are uttered, it takes restraint and rawness. The slightest hint of artifice and the previous ninety minutes are ruined, the film a gimmick. But Zhao never skirts artifice, not even when she makes a Marvel movie, and Mescal delivers lines we know by heart as if they were freshly pulled from an open wound.

Zhao has crafted, aided by magnificent performances and hauntingly stunning cinematography from Lukasz Zal (The Zone of Interest, Cold War), a film that is shattering in its articulation that it is the depth of love that deepens and amplifies the pain of grief.

People make movies about grief all the time. We can expect one every Oscar season. But what Chloé Zhao does with Hamnet is ask us to experience that grief, not just witness it, and in experiencing it we understand the power and vital importance of art.

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Get a (After) Life

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Eternity

by George Wolf

Early on, Eternity may feel like a Hallmark Channel movie that made it to the big leagues. But thanks to a great cast and some easygoing humor, the whiffs of schmaltzy contrivance at its core are gone before that first commercial would have kicked in.

Elizabeth Olsen and Miles Teller play Joan and Larry. Married for 65 years, they drag their bickering selves to a family gender reveal party where Larry promptly chokes to death.

Once Larry accepts his fate, his helpful Afterlife Coordinator, Anna (Da’Vine Joy Randolph) gives him the scoop. Larry has one week to browse a very theme park-like showroom for all the eternity options available, and then make his choice.

But while he’s mulling, Larry meets Luke (Callum Tuner), who took a job as the showroom bartender rather than make an eternity choice at all.

Why would he do that? Because Luke is Joan’s first husband, who died in the Korean War and has been waiting 67 years for Joan to arrive.

And right on cue, the cancer that Joan and Larry had been hiding from their family sends Joan to her own Afterlife Coordinator, Ryan (John Early), who explains the obvious.

Joan’s Heavenly table only seats two, and she has one week to decide.

Director/co-writer David Freyne starts winning us over early with the Disneyfied weigh station. Various booths offer some well-played sight gags (“Choose Wine World!” “Man Free World Sold Out!”) while Anna and Ryan begin increasingly competitive campaigns for their clients’ futures.

It’s all good, high concept fun, but the three leads make the film a charmer that’s pretty hard to resist. Turner leans into Luke’s reputation as a perfect war hero too handsome even for Joan (I’m sorry, what? That’s Elizabeth Olsen!), while Teller is a perfect goofball trying to compete with Luke’s pristine memory.

And Olsen is the sweet, harried soul at the center, flush with the return of the young love fighting to drown out decades of memories.

In lesser hands, all three of these characters would become ridiculous posers, but the terrific ensemble and a deceptively smart script end up working wonders. Yes, you can probably guess how some of this plays out, but even that can’t spoil the film’s winning flight of fantasy.

Character-based with bits of nifty visual flair, Eternity delivers some warm fuzzies perfect for the season, even without any time spent in an afterlife Holiday World.

Maybe they don’t want to give Hallmark any ideas.

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Happy Holidays, Ya Filthy Animals

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Zootopia 2

by Hope Madden

It’s been a decade since Disney rewrote their longstanding history of rocking no boats when the delightfully fearless Zootopia asked its audience to confront our own biases and recognize the way we are programmed to fear the weak to benefit the powerful.

Animators Jared Bush and Byron Howard maybe looked around and noticed certain themes trending again. Zootopia 2, which both direct and Bush writes solo this time, benefits from the same fantastic casting, same visual splendor, same wit as their 2016 Oscar winner. But Bush’s writing burns a little more brightly with anger this time, however charmingly packaged.

Bunny cop Judy Hopps (Ginnifer Goodwin) and her fox partner, Nick Wilde (Jason Batemen), will not content themselves to sitting on the sidelines as rookies when there are real crimes to investigate. Judy believes the weird material she found at the scene of a smuggling crime is actually the shed skin of a snake—and reptiles are banned from Zootopia! They’re weird and dangerous! Just ask the powerful land baron heirs of generational wealth, the Lynxleys!

Do you know how to immediately convince children and adults alike that Gary the heat-sensitive pit viper is, indeed, no threat all? Besides naming him Gary? Cast Ke Huy Quan, whose performance, even when it’s only vocal, sings of harmlessness.

Is Gary being framed? Can conspiracy-seeking podcasting beaver Nibbles Maplestick (Fortune Feimster, hilarious) help in the investigation? Can Judy and Nick’s friendship survive another big case? Is any of this worth dying for?

Boy, that last one’s a big question for a kid’s movie, but Zootopia 2 is committed to asking big questions. It’s equally committed to hilarious sight gags (Hungry Hungry Hippo and Ratatoullie were battling for my favorite, but then they brought out the hedge maze). So it’s a good balance.

Bush’s plot is a little complicated for the youngest viewers, and the film takes a while to really find its groove. But it’s also shockingly relevant and sometimes powerfully emotional. Plus, Patrick Warburton as a vainglorious blond show horse movie star turned mayor is a hoot.

It’s great to see a family film that reminds kids (and adults) that bullies are often the people with the most money, and that the bully is always the problem. Zootopia 2 may not be the utter revelation of the original, but it is an excellent sequel and a tale worth telling.

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Bully Pulpit

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Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery

by George Wolf

We may be early in awards season, but the slam dunk winner for Best Use of a Church Organ in an Ensemble Whodunnit has arrived.

Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery brings that LOL moment and many other deadly delights, as writer/director Rian Johnson again shows a wonderful grasp on giving the Agatha Christie blueprint his own wickedly fun stamp.

There’s been a murder at a small Catholic church in upstate New York. Just as young priest Jud Duplenticy (Josh O’Connor) is learning his way around Monsignor Jefferson Wick’s (Josh Brolin) iron-fisted control of his flock at Our Lady of Perpetual Fortitude, Wicks turns up with a literal knife in his back.

Jud has some violence in his checkered past – and he found the body – but the pews are filled with suspects. There’s lawyer Vera (Kerry Washington), her adopted son Cy (Daryl McCormack), writer Lee (Andrew Scott), Dr. Nat (Jeremy Renner), newcomer Simone (Cailee Spaeny), groundskeeper Samson (Thomas Haden Church) or maybe even devoted church secretary Martha (Glenn Close).

That much sleuthing is a bit overwhelming for Chief Scott (Mila Kunis) and her officers, so WGD (World’s Great Detective) Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig) is on the case, albeit reluctantly.

In fact, Blanc is loath to even set foot inside a church, a feeling detailed in his breathtaking introductory speech, the opening salvo in Johnson’s assault on demagoguery and the quest for power via radicalization.

That assault is far from subtle, but man it’s a treat to get caught up in.

Brolin continues his stellar year with a masterclass of egotistic bullying, and O’Connor is the perfect counterpoint. Fresh-faced and mop-haired, Father Jud is committed to being a force for good in the world, and to honoring Christ’s mission to heal the world. That mission seems lost amid Wick and his parishioners, and each member of this sublime ensemble understands Johnson’s assignment to skewer such commonplace self-righteous hypocrisy.

Craig is letter-perfect once again, dialing back the giddy flamboyance that drove 2022’s Glass Onion with darker shades in line with the film’s tone. Blanc is troubled and stumped about more than just the facts of the case, and Craig continues to craft him as an endlessly fascinating figure.

Wake Up Dead Man is less of an outright comedy than the last mystery, though some solid laughs do land (like the church organ gag). And just like last time, it will not be hard to guess who Johnson has his knives out for. What you won’t guess is who done it, or how they done it.

But it sure is a kick to try.

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A Murder of Crows

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The Thing with Feathers

by Hope Madden

Novelist Max Porter puts readers into headspaces we might just as well not want to visit, but he creates a territory that’s slyly hopeful. In Shy, beautifully adapted as Steve for Netflix by Tim Mielants with Cillian Murphy, Porter explores form to help us think as a troubled boy.

Porter’s first novel, 2015’s Grief Is a Thing with Feathers, likewise experiments to mimic the overwhelming despair of grief as it visits a man (Benedict Cumberbatch) and his two young sons (Richard and Henry Boxall) in the form of a huge, unsympathetic crow (voice by David Thewlis with Eric Lampaert inside the suit).

That’s right, there is a suit. It’s designed with menacing beauty by Nicola Hicks, and the physical presence, along with the echoing caw and inky shadows in the art design, heighten the chaotic despair haunting writer/director Dylan Southern’s film.

Dad is unable to get past his wife’s sudden death. In fact, he doesn’t want to “come to terms” with anything, can’t even imagine what the terms in this situation could be. He wants her back, and in the face of that impossibility, he just wants to feel the absence as keenly and entirely as possible. Which is wildly irresponsible and selfish for a dad.

So, Crow—terrifying, comforting, confrontational, riotous—settles in with the family to make things worse. Or better. Depends who you ask.

The always reliable Cumberbatch digs deep for this one, offering an unadorned performance that aches with authenticity. A film so darkly fanciful needed this level of unvarnished vulnerability at its core, and what Cumberbatch delivers is fearless and beautiful.

Both boys are likewise beautiful, and Southerland’s dreamy direction waltzes easily in perspective from child to man to crow without losing the melancholy music the film develops.

The plot lacks structure, though, and Cumberbatch’s performance is not anchor enough. In place of beats and form, Southerland inserts poetic analogy, some of which border on cliché.

It’s a funny balance, not dark enough to be folk horror, not story-driven enough to be a satisfying drama. But The Thing with Feathers boasts a darkly beautiful imagination and enough transfixing performances to make it worth a look.

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Best Supporting Actor

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Rental Family

by George Wolf

For the first few minutes of Rental Family, you’re not quite sure what it’s trying to be. Phillip, an American actor, is living and working in Japan, wearing funny suits in commercials to get by.

So, maybe fish-out-of-culture screwball comedy.

But then Phillip (Brendan Fraser) starts working at a company that “rents” whoever you need to make you feel better in a certain situation. The “Rental Family” firm needs a token white guy, and Phillip’s first assignment is playing a sad American at a funeral that results in a good laugh.

Still, maybe goofy comedy?

But at twenty minutes in, director and co-writer Hikari puts Phillip in an absolutely lovely human moment. As Phillip sees how good his work can make people feel, a possible warm drama of human connection comes into focus.

Hikari (Beef) and her writing partner Stephan Blahut base the film on real services for hire in Japan. To combat the stigma of mental health, the Japanese can “rent emotion” through actors playing roles in manufactured situations that make the clients seem more contented.

That is a sad necessity, for sure, and Fraser’s caring eyes and frequently furrowed brow speak loudly through various assignments. But as Phillip plays the father of a young girl trying to ace a school entrance exam, and then a reporter interviewing an aging actor who worries he’s been forgotten, the lines of fantasy and reality begin to blur.

Boundaries are crossed, secrets come to light and Phillip’s employer (the renowned Takehiro Hira) finds his entire business suddenly in jeopardy.

Hikari’s big heart is certainly in the right place here, but the film hits its highpoint with that early twenty minute moment. From there, the Oscar-winning Fraser is mainly held to one mopey note, and the emotional tone of the movie begins to feel a bit manipulative.

Mainly, Rental Family lands as a missed opportunity. There is potential here to spotlight a fascinating cultural commodity that parallels the manufactured reality of our social media age. What we get isn’t bad – in fact, it’s very nice – as long as you’re content with broad brushes and greeting card sentiments.

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Historical Portrait

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Peter Hujar’s Day

by Hope Madden

Linda Rosenkranz blurred lines between fiction and nonfiction, turning conversation into a microcosm of Chelsea Hotel-orbiting 1970s society. Peter Hujar—one artist in that orbit—provided photographic evidence of the same.

Writer/director Ira Sachs attempts to trap that same lightning on screen with Peter Hujar’s Day. Sachs adapts a transcript, part of a planned book by Rosenkrantz in which her artist friends simply dictated, in detail, every event of the previous day. We catch Peter Hujar on December 18, 1974.

Ben Whishaw is Hujar, dutifully detailing his previous day to a prodding, intimate Rosenkranz (Rebecca Hall). Theirs are the only faces you see, the only voices you hear, for the film’s brisk 75-minute run time.

The two fall into a delightfully familiar chemistry, Linda a little protective, Peter a tad vulnerable, but certainly committed. Every detail—from sleeping through his alarm and being awakened by a phone call, through all the phone calls, naps, liverwurst sandwiches, right up until being awakened in the middle of the night by the prostitutes talking business under his window—is recounted.

Faithful to the tone of Rosenkranz’s body of work, Sachs spotlights the fiction structuring the nonfiction, blurring lines while drawing attention to them. The banality of the exercise—forcing himself to remember every forgettable detail of a day—strips the conversation of ego or pretention, unveiling introspection and struggle.

Whishaw is exceptional, the rote and self-consciousness at the beginning of the conversation evolving into self-effacing humor and, eventually, raw bursts of personal reflection touched by lilting melancholy.

Hall is a gift in this role, the personification of the absolute joy in simply giving your attention, listening and being with a person.

Set design and cinematography befit not just the time period but the portraiture Hujar is known for. Sachs captures kindship and camaraderie among artists.

Peter Hujar’s Day is a peek inside a lost and treasured time, an era of punk rock artistic and literary revolution. It’s also a bittersweet dance with an artist underappreciated in his time, whose work and words pack a punch 50 years on.