At 19, Mckenna Grace has racked up 71 TV and film acting credits, with 11 more movies currently in post-production. That’s insane. Naturally not every project was a winner. But from her earliest film work, like Marc Webb’s 2017 drama Gifted, Grace’s control and authenticity make her memorable, even when the projects are not.
Writer/director Dan Kay’s streamer What We Hide benefits immeasurably from Grace’s presence. She plays Spider, 15-year-old daughter of an addict. With her younger sister Jessie (Jojo Regina), Spider discovers the overdosed corpse of her mother in the opening moments of the film.
Recognizing that foster care would almost certainly mean splitting her from her sister, Spider decides to hide the body and say nothing. Now all the girls have to do is steer clear of their mom’s volatile dealer (Dacre Montgomery), the town’s goodhearted sheriff (Jesse Williams), and the latest case worker, whom they not-so-affectionately call “Baby Thief” (Tamara Austin).
Grace is terrific, and the chemistry she shares with Regina buoys some otherwise clunky dialog. The cast around them does admirable work with even more obvious characters. The always welcome Forrest Goodluck (Revenant, Blood Quantum, How to Blow Up a Pipeline) carries love interest Cody with a naturalism that gives his scenes an indie vibe that comes close to offsetting the after school special tenor delivered by the rest of the effort.
Commendable performances from a solid cast don’t make up for Kay’s uninspired direction. Bland framing marries banal plotting to leech some of the vibrance this cast injects into scenes.
It doesn’t help that the story veers so rarely from the obvious that the occasional flash of originality—the couple from the motel, the case worker’s phone calls—stand out as opportunities left unexplored.
Had Kay been able to situate his tale from the opioid epidemic in a recognizable place, given the community some personality, or found a less by-the-book way to complicate What We Hide, he might have had something. Instead, the film is a well-intentioned waste of a good cast.
Remember how great Cleveland looked in Superman? Writer/director Shawn Simmons takes us back to The Land, as well as to Toledo, for his thriller set among Ohio’s low rent criminal underbelly, Eenie Meanie.
It’s not exactly as tourism friendly as Superman.
Samara Weaving is Edie, and when we meet her, she’s really struggling to make something of her life. A day job as a bank clerk, night classes, maxed out credit cards, bleary nights studying. And then her one mistake—she stops by to share some news with her ex, John (Karl Glusman, The Bikeriders, Watcher).
But John’s gotten himself into some trouble. And try as she might to leave him and his trouble behind, the semi-fatherly crime lord she used to work for (Andy Garcia, delightful) will kill John unless Edie saves him. And to do that, she falls back on some old skills as a getaway driver in a big score.
Simmons has crafted a fun, twisty, funny thriller full of sharp turns. Weaving effortlessly carries the film as the tenderhearted badass who knows better. Glusman is infuriatingly excellent as that epic dumbass you want to smack but can’t help but hug. And maybe also smack.
Solid support from Garcia, Steve Zahn, Mike O’Malley, and Randall Park fills every scene with laughs, pathos, violence, and fun. But it’s the sly way Simmons braids together tales of co-dependence, trauma, loyalty, and resilience that gives Eenie Meanie unexpected heft.
Weaving has proven her genre moxie again and again (Ready or Not, Mayhem, The Babysitter, Guns Akimbo, Azrael), so it comes as no surprise that she brings the goods as the lead in an action comedy thriller. What’s impressive is the honesty and the genuine emotional conflict she expresses within this relationship.
She and Glusman revel in the dysfunction, played for exasperated laughs in the early going. But as Simmons tale develops, unveiling more of their relationship and backstory, that same chemistry takes on a relevance and power that allows Eenie Meanie to deliver a climax more powerful than you might expect.
The nightmarish images and unsettling sound design of writer/director Solomon Gray’s We’re Not Safe Here more than make up for its narrative stumbles.
A lot of films open on a scene of horror to be contextualized later in the movie. Likewise, Solomon sets the stage early with a swift, troubling little gem of a horror show. But interestingly, the tale he builds around it taps into a terror more subconscious and dreamlike than what you might expect.
Sharmita Bhattacharya is Neeta, a schoolteacher by day/artist by night who’s been unable to get started on her latest painting. Frustrated at the easel one night, she’s surprised by a visit from Rachel (Hayley McFarland), another teacher who’s been missing. Frantic and increasingly panicked, Rachel spills a story that began in her childhood. Something she thought she’d lost has found her again.
Aside from some very intimidating figures wearing bloody pillowcases over their heads (creepy!), We’re Not Safe Here is primarily a two-person show. McFarland is masterful, her paranoid madness tipped with a teacher’s command of the room. She’s mesmerizing.
Bhattacharya struggles a bit. Neeta is also troubled, and the performance feels stiff and unsure until the character gives into her demons. But there are moments between the two of them that are deeply upsetting. I mean that in a good way.
Gray’s use of setting—Neeta’s home, every wall cluttered with her sketches and paintings, every surface littered with books—creates a busy, fascinating space rich with potentially spookiness. A meandering camera and effective sound design capitalizes on what the set design has crafted: a lovingly lived-in space turned suddenly suspicious. The filmmaker evokes a kind of paranoia that feeds the perfect atmosphere for his film.
There’s a looseness to the script that often serves the film’s maniacal undercurrent. What’s delusion? What’s really happening? And is it contagious?
Gray refuses to fit all the pieces together, a choice that mostly pays off. The act structure and finale are rigid enough to give the tale a feel of completion. While a lingering vagueness in the backstory is frustrating, it also allows the imagination to veer into its own halls of madness.
Director Antonio Negret and writer Daniel Negret have something interesting to say. Unfortunately, they can’t find a consistently interesting way to say it with their latest film, Shaman.
The film shadows an American Catholic missionary family working with an Ecuadorian priest in a mountain village. Candice (Sara Canning) teaches catechism and English, and she and husband Joel (Daniel Gillies) help Father Meyer (Alejandro Fajardo) with baptisms, school and church maintenance, and they serve meals to the community.
Out playing with his friends, preadolescent son Elliot (Jett Klyne) enters a cave, though warned by the two locals he hangs out with. He comes home carrying something much older than Jesus.
Candice notices immediately and blames the shaman who lives in the mountains, while Joel scolds her to stop giving them power they don’t have. Meantime, with something afflicting her own family, Candice finds that her own faith may be more of a false front, a façade of superiority and benevolence.
What is weird about Shaman is that both Klyne and Canning co-starred in Brandon Christensen’s 2019 possession horror Z, a film where a mother watches helpless as something ugly takes hold of her innocent son (Klyne).
At times, the atmosphere Negret creates offers a subtle but worthwhile change in the missionary horror of the past, which told of either a white savior discovering primitive evil, or in more recent years, a white savior who is, in fact, the evil. Negret combines the two tropes in ways that are sometimes provocative, sometimes predictable, sometimes tone deaf.
Solid performances all around, plus gorgeous locations and some genuine surprises elevate the proceedings, but the pace is slow, the FX are weak, and the story too often falls prey to the cliché it’s trying to expose. (They also don’t get any of the Catholic stuff right. There, I said it.)
Weary of the nightly chase for a meal, a vampire begins picking drunks off at last call in a neighborhood pub. Though it makes it easier to acquire a meal, eventually the blood alcohol content gets to him.
Clare (Bella Thorne, The Babysitter) is a college student who believes she is on a mission from God. Blessed with visions, she hunts down the men who prey on the women in her small town. Detective Timmons (Ryan Phillippe, Cruel Intentions, MacGruber) grows suspicious of her extra-curricular activities as she keeps turning up in the wrong places.
Guided by the ghost of Mailman Bob (Frank Whaley, Pulp Fiction), the first man she inadvertently killed, Clare begins to connect the dots on who’s behind the growing number of local women who have gone missing. Bob is a messenger from the beyond and he seeks to keep Clare centered on her righteous path of vengeance.
Saint Clare is based on the YA novel Clare at Sixteen by Don Ruff. A quick search yields book reviews that frequently compare the Clare Bleecker series to Dexter, the popular show that is still churning out sequel and spin-off seasons. It’s easy to see why – Clare is a serial killer who only pursues other killers and she has conversations with a dead person from her past who acts as her conscious.
Thorne delivers a solid performance as the melancholy Clare, but the rest of the film around her is tonal mess. It really feels like a pilot episode with the season finale tacked on as the final fifteen minutes. There are a lot of story threads and elements, like a goofy school play, that are introduced but dumped quickly in favor of rushing toward the ending. The film is uninterested in exploring its own central mystery of the missing women, Clare is simply propelled to the wrong doers by convenience.
Co-writer and director Mitzi Peirone (Braid) provides a few moments that visually pop as the world around Clare becomes more colorful and otherworldly, but they are too few and far in between.
Saint Clare never quite picks a lane. It’s a revenge tale without a strong motive, it’s a mystery that isn’t remotely interested in the investigation, and it’s a supernatural fable that is too grounded and serious for its own good.
You may have heard Jaws celebrated its fiftieth anniversary last month. The celebrations and remembrances, the memes and mementos have been joyous fun, reminding us of a landmark film that changed the landscape of the movies.
And now, like the fashionably late party guest everyone was waiting for, comes Jaws @ 50: The Definitive Inside Story. Streaming concurrently on Hulu, Disney + and the National Geographic channel, the film serves up a boatload of BTS goodness that fans will wish was twice as big as the 88-minute running time.
At the heart of director Laurent Bouzereau’s deep dive is the time spent with director Steven Spielberg. His approach to adapting the book for the screen, his tales of how the shoot went months behind schedule, how there was real doubt that it could even be completed, and the PTSD that followed him into his filmmaking future are all completely captivating. Looking back, he still seems amazed that they pulled it off, and Bouzereau finds an effective contrast between Spielberg remembering what went wrong and famous fans such as Quentin Tarantino, Jordan Peele, Guillermo del Toro, Steven Soderbergh and more lavishing praise about what went right.
The Martha’s Vineyard location and its unique citizenry become characters themselves, but of course its Bruce the mechanical shark that always steals the show – for better or worse. Fifty years later, you’re glad that CGI wasn’t around in the summer of 1974, as Bruce’s “less is more” performance still holds up every time.
From the cast members to the score to the USS Indianapolis monolog to the film’s effect on studio production, marketing and even shark conservation, Jaws @ 50: The Definitive Inside Story covers just about every angle you’re hoping for. It is the perfect exclamation point to this month long birthday celebration.
I just wonder why the “fin” in Definitive isn’t capitalized.
I don’t find that funny. I don’t find that funny at all.
Look, it’s just science. You get a glimpse of Uma Thurman and Charlize Theron in a sword fight, you get your hopes up. I did, hopeful that The Old Guard 2 on Netflix could match – or maybe even exceed the fun of the original.
But while it is a blast to see those two bad asses in a blade battle, it’s too little too late in a sequel that gets bogged down in speeches, heavy meaningful glances, and plans for the future of this group of immortals.
It also really helps to have seen part one, or at least be familiar with the graphic novels by Greg Rucka and Leandro Fernández. They’re both back as co-writers, with director Victoria Mahoney taking over for Gina Prince-Bythewood. They put the now-mortal Andy (Theron) and her crew (including Kiki Layne, Chiwetel Ejiofor and Matthias Schoenaerts) on a collision course with the long-lost Quynh (Veronica Neo) – who returned at the close of part one after centuries locked in an Iron Maiden.
Andy also has a new friend, Tuah (Henry Golding) who speaks a lot about legends, lore, and the power of Discord (Uma), the original immortal who rescued Quynh as part of a nefarious plan.
This veteran cast looks a bit lost amid the bright neon palettes, plodding dialog and awkwardly choreographed fight sequences. Mahoney never really lets the fun in, returning to tired blocking and exposition dialog every time you think we’re finally gonna get cooking.
And just when you’re wondering what the point of this sequel is…you find out.
Mild spoiler ahead.
This is a just a bridge to the next chapter. And when that works in a film series, it’s because the bridge also supports its own story arc, one that leaves you satisfied while still wanting to follow these characters into the future.
The Old Guard 2 just leaves you frustrated on all counts, with nothin’ mister but boring stories of the glory days.
If the heat doesn’t get under your skin, maybe this will: 2025 is half over! What? I guess we should get those Christmas decorations down. But it has been quite a year already in terms of movies. From Ryan Coogler’s masterpiece to a grown up spy movie, incredible indie horror to revelatory documentary, awkward buddy comedies to beautiful dramas, the year already has it all. So much, in fact, that we couldn’t stop at 10!
11. Eephus
It’s mid-October in a small New Hampshire town, and rec league teams are assembling to wrap up the season at Soldiers Field. Some bellies are a bit larger, some fastballs are a bit slower, but the cracks are as wise as ever and the love of the game has never wavered. And though what bleachers there are will be nearly empty, Franny (Cliff Blake) will be keeping the scorebook as usual, and there may even be fireworks after the final out.
Because next year, local development will bulldoze the field, and these players may have to accept a future without that diamond life.
Director/co-writer (and veteran cinematographer) Carson Lund finds the emotional pull that exists in the space between an enduring game and the souls forced to let it move on without them. The ensemble cast (including legendary MLB free spirt Bill “Spaceman” Lee on hand to perfectly illustrate the titular type of pitch) is authentic and eccentric in equal measure, and anyone who has ever spent time around the ballfield will recognize these people, and the simpler way of life that may also be slipping away.
10. My Dead Friend Zoe
Filmmaker Kyle Hausmann-Stokes impresses with his feature debut, My Dead Friend Zoe. Based on his 2022 short Merit x Zoe, the film follows Army veteran Merit (Sonequa Martin-Green, Star Trek: Discovery) as she tries to overcome some post-Afghanistan trauma.
While the title and premise may sound a tad flippant, My Dead Friend Zoe turns out to be a rewarding and earnest drama. Natalie Morales delivers a boldly funny and equally vulnerable turn, and love interest Alex (Utkarsh Ambudkar) injects the film with charming, self-deprecating humor. But the levity tends to enrich the film’s truly human quality rather than distract from its underlying tensions.
9. Mickey 17
People mainly familiar with filmmaker Bong Joon Ho’s Oscar-sweeping masterpiece Parasite may not know of his remarkable skill with a SciFi creature feature. Mickey 17, then, will be an excellent primer.
Robert Pattinson is the titular Mickey. Well, he’s a bunch of Mickeys, all 17 of them. He’s a hilarious, self-deprecating charmer, a man who believes he somehow deserves his fate. Fates. Through him the filmmaker employs absurd, sometimes even slapstick humor to satirize our own current fate. Beautifully (and characteristically), all of this is in favor of the reminder that our humanity requires us to be humane.
Weaving sensibilities and ideas present in Snowpiercer,Okja, The Host as well as any number of clone movies, Mickey 17 could feel borrowed. It doesn’t. Like the best science fiction, it feels close enough to reality to be a bit nightmarish.
8. Surviving Ohio State
A searing takedown of abuse, power and heartbreaking betrayal, HBO’s Surviving Ohio State deconstructs the decades of alleged abuse of athletes by Ohio State University physician Richard Strauss. Based on the reporting of Sports Illustrated writer Jon Wertheim and directed with a patient hand by Eva Orner, the film features first-person interviews with victims that reveal the timeline of a calculating predator and shatter a pervasive myth.
Amid a backdrop of social media posts that doubt how big, strong athletes could become easy prey, the men detail just how and why they felt powerless to stop the atrocities. The only thing more heartbreaking is how the coaches they looked up to (yes, including Congressman Jim Jordan) and the university they still love refused to support them once the whispers became screams and the accusations grew too big to ignore.
The one or two occasions where the film tries to connect dots for us are the exceptions in a measured and precise exposé. Surviving Ohio State is no joy to watch, but it’s too important to ignore.
7.Sacramento
Michael Anganaro’s instincts are sharp in Sacramento, only his second feature as writer/director after decades of acting gigs. He co-stars wth Michael Cera as two men with differing challenges facing adult life who take a weird road trip down memory lane. It’s a witty combination of finely-drawn characters, consistently boasting a dry self-awareness that earns the LOLs.
Sacramento haș plenty of fun with arrested development – Cera’s desperate phone calls to one of his old buddies are awkwardly hilarious. But the film’s heart comes from those moments when boys (and girls, too) start accepting the responsibilities of adulthood. It’s far from a new story, but these characters make it one worth revisiting.
6. Friendship
Writer/director Andrew DeYoung harnesses the essence of Tim Robinson’s socially awkward comedic stylings, attached it to Paul Rudd’s impeccable comic delivery, and crafted the most profoundly uncomfortable and endlessly watchable bromance in film.
Friendship is a bizarro-world I Love You, Man, and it is so much more than what that tantalizing trailer promises. Unpredictable, absurd, cringy, perfectly cast and that coat! How priceless is that coat?!
It’s maybe the funniest film of 2025.
5. Invader
Lean, mean and affecting, Mickey Keating’s take on the home invasion film wastes no time. In a wordless—though not soundless—opening, the filmmaker introduces an unhinged presence.
Immediately Keating sets our eyes and ears against us. His soundtrack frequently blares death metal, a tactic that emphasizes a chaotic, menacing mood the film never shakes. Using primarily handheld cameras from the unnerving opening throughout the entire film, the filmmaker maintains an anarchic energy, a sense of the characters’ frenzy and the endless possibility of violence.
Joe Swanberg, with limited screentime and even more limited dialog, crafts a terrifying image of havoc. His presence is perversely menacing, an explosion of rage and horror. Invader delivers a spare, nasty, memorable piece of horror in just over an hour. It will stick with you a while longer.
4. Black Bag
What is more diabolical: enacting a global plan for widespread destruction, or pursuing a selfish agenda in your relationship, ready to twist the knife precisely where it hurts your partner the most?
Black Bag has a satchel full of fun weighing the two options, as director Steven Soderbergh and a crackling ensemble contrast the power plays in both love connections and spy games.
Michael Fassbender and Cate Blanchett (already sounds good, right?) are downright delicious as Londoners George Woodhouse and Kathryn St. Jean, master spies and devoted spouses. He’s emotionless and tidy, an expert cook, and a dogged sleuth with a hatred of dishonesty. She’s cool, calculating and seductive, with a wry sense of humor, a prescription for anxiety meds and a sudden cloud of suspicion around her.
Throw in a fine meal beforehand, and you’ve got a damn fine date night that just might put you in a pretty friendly mood when you get home.
3. The Ugly Stepsister
Writer/director Emilie Blichfeldt infuses her feature debut with an impossible-to-ignore blast of sharp wit, subdued rage, and grotesque bodily horrors.
The Ugly Stepsister(Den stygge stesøsteren) is the latest new angle to a classic tale, but don’t expect it follow the trend of humanizing misunderstood villains. Blichfeldt makes sure there are plenty of bad guys and girls throughout this Norwegian Cinderella story, punctuated by grisly violence surprisingly close to what’s in the 17th Century French version of the fairy tale penned by Charles Perrault.
It is fierce, funny, gross and subversively defiant. But is one feature film enough to immediately put Blichfeldt on the watch list of cinema’s feminist hell raisers?
Yes. The shoe fits.
2. Pee-wee as Himself
If there’s one thing Matt Wolf’s 2-part documentary Pee-wee as Himself does, it reminds you what a cultural phenomenon Pee-wee Herman was in the 80s. Movies to TV to MTV to toys to talk shows, he was everywhere and he was beloved by children, college kids, and adults alike.
Charmingly acerbic but often candid, Paul Reubens is openly reluctant to hand over control of his image after so many years of calculating every detail of his public life. Part of what makes the film so electric is how early and often the two butt heads over which of them ought to be in control of the documentary. This conflict itself paints a portrait of the artist more authentic than any amount of historical data ever could.
1. Sinners
Ryan Coogler reteams with longtime creative partner Michael B. Jordan to sing a song of a 1932 Mississippi juke joint. The Smoke Stack twins (Jordan) are back from Chicago, a truckload of ill-gotten liquor and a satchel full of cash along with them. They intend to open a club “for us, by us” and can hardly believe their eyes when three hillbillies come calling.
Jack O’Connell (an amazing actor in everything he’s done since Eden Lake) has a brogue and a banjo. He and his two friends would love to come on in, sing, dance, and spend some money, if only Smoke would invite them.
It’s scary. It’s sexy. The action slaps. It’s funny when it needs to be, sad just as often. It looks and sounds incredible. And there’s a cameo from Buddy F. Guy, in case you needed a little authenticity. When Ryan Coogler writes and directs a vampire movie, he gives you reason to believe there is yet new life for the old monster.
I love Max’s unapologetic nature. Writer/director James Villeneuve’s spare feature Pins & Needles shares an adventure with a biology major and insulin-dependent diabetic who has no Fs to give. The result is a nice change of pace from “likable female leads.”
Max (Chelsea Clark) is leaving her biology field trip early, mainly because she’s not about to ride several hours back to campus with her “don’t be mad” lab partner, John. Because she is mad. And she’s not thrilled with Harold (Daniel Gravelle), even though he’s volunteered to give her a lift. She’s especially irritated when he picks up a buddy along the way, chooses an off-the-map route to avoid drug sniffing police, and gets a flat.
What Pins & Needles does in Act 1 is slightly revise the traditional road trip horror story in that it gives us a lead who doesn’t care if anyone—audience included—likes her. Everything else, from the medical frailty to the isolated home to the suspiciously friendly homeowners, is straight out of the genre playbook, though.
For the film to proceed, you need a reason that Max doesn’t just bolt while she can. Well, it’s that pesky insulin, an obstacle that certainly feels convenient and telegraphed, but honest enough.
What matters is that Clark and the homeowners, Emily (Kate Corbett) and Frank (Ryan McDonald) keep it interesting and sometimes wickedly funny back at the house.
Villeneuve’s medical horror contrasts the genuine needs of ordinary people (Max’s insulin) with the diabolical excess of obscene wealth (what’s going on in that basement). The commentary might feel heavy handed were it not for the sharp comic instincts of both Corbett and McDonald. The film itself is by no means a comedy, but the absurdity the actors bring to this glibly privileged pair of villains gives Pins & Needles a bright tension rather than the grimy feel a movie this gory might carry.
The plots needed some complications. This feels like a short film padded to feature length, and a couple of the lengthening pieces (particularly a dream sequence) don’t fit well. A solid b-story would have added needed depth, but there are some tense and satisfying moments to be had.
