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Spy vs. Spy

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Black Bag

by George Wolf

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.

Could Kathryn really be the mole who has stolen a lethal malware program and is shopping it to Soviet extremists? And can George be trusted with the job of investigating his own wife? The agency director (Pierce Brosnan) doesn’t hold back his distaste for the predicament.

While hosting a dinner party for two other couples who also mix business and pleasure – Freddie (Tom Burke)/Clarissa (Marisa Abela, so good as Amy Winehouse in Back to Black) and James (Regé-Jean Page)/Zoe (Naomie Harris) – George spots the first clue that Kathyrn’s allegiances may be compromised.

So the game is on.

Veteran screenwriter David Koepp follows his minimalist winner Presence with a smart and twisty throwback drama, relying less on action and more on dialog and plot, often staying a step ahead of your questions about internal logic. There’s a good bit of dry British humor here, too, which these stellar performers dig into with understandable relish.

From the opening prologue – an extended take that winds through the cityscape with purpose – Soderbergh seems perfectly at home with this self-assured style . The aesthetic is lush and sometimes showy, but in a relaxed manner of somebody who knows his audience is going to appreciate it.

They should. Black Bag is an adult-centric drama that offers bona fide movie stars, glamour and romance, challenges, surprises and humor. And it gets it all done in 90 minutes. 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.

Don’t waste it.

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Feeling No Pain

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Novocaine

by Hope Madden

So, this mild-mannered bank manager (Jack Quaid) has a rare medical condition, and he can’t feel pain. He spends his entire life extremely cautious because with even a minor injury, he could bleed to death without knowing he’s even injured.  But then the girl of his dreams is kidnapped by bank robbers, and he decides to risk everything, use the condition to his advantage and save her.

Yes, that does sound like the most contrived movie ever—no doubt good for a handful of action gags but ultimately superficial and dopey.

Don’t sell Novocaine short.

The film is a smart rom com loaded with action and laughs, tenderness and badassery. Amber Midthunder (Prey) plays Sherry, the flirtatious extrovert who finally nudges Nate (Quaid) toward the real, scary, injury-friendly world. Their chemistry is sweet and authentic. You get why Nate decides to risk it all.

Ray Nicholson is a lot of fun as the gleefully sadistic bank robber, and Spider-Man’s bestie Jacob Batalon delivers reliably enjoyable goofy best friend vibes. A bright, engaging ensemble including Betty Gabriel and Matt Walsh elevates every scene with subtle comic instincts that strengthen both the action and the draw of human relationships.

Directors Ben Berkand and Robert Olsen (The Body, Villains) invest in the comedic possibilities of every action set up without overpowering the action itself. Car chases, fisticuffs, shoot outs and more are choreographed for thrill, performed for laughs. It’s a delightful mix.

None of it would work if Quaid couldn’t effortlessly sell the sad sack loverboy, but he does. Never does this feel like a fella with a particular set of skills. The lanky actor does lovestruck and low confidence equal justice.

One of the reasons the film succeeds the way it does is that Lars Jacobson’s script does not hate Nate as he is. The film wants him to take some risks, sure, but nothing about Novocaine believes what Nate needs is to man up and kick some ass. He’s a romantic, as awe struck by Midthunder as the audience is, and we’re all just rooting for their happily ever after. And some Neosporin.

Outtakes

Wrestling with the Past

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Raging Midlife

by Adam Barney

If you were the right age in the late 80s, professional wrestling was an unavoidable cultural monolith with larger-than-life stars like Hulk Hogan, Andre the Giant, Macho Man, and many more.  In Raging Midlife, Alex (co-writer Nic Costa) and Mark (Matt Zak) were the biggest fans of “Raging Abraham Lincoln” when they were kids. (Ragin’ Abe is so much in the mold of the Macho Man that he’s played by an actual impersonator who is credited as “Motch O Mann”. )

At a wrestling event, their idol tears off his iconic purple tank top and tosses it to the two boys, but they can only hang on to it for a moment before Alex’s younger sister Mindy (Emily Sweet) causes it to be lost amongst the frenzied crowd.

Flash forward to the present and Alex and Mark are now in their 40s and stilling searching for the tank top from Ragin’ Abe, believing it will somehow fill the void in their lives. Alex has dreams about how much better his life would be if he could walk around wearing that shirt. They get sniped at the last second on an eBay auction and spend the rest of the film pursuing Tyler (Darielle Mason), the woman who won the auction, so they can take back the tank top.

Raging Midlife is a comedy that leans HARD on being silly. As an example, as an adult, Alex’s sister Mindy is basically a cartoon character of a villain. At one point she wears a hunting outfit with tiger hide shoulder pads and drives a four-wheeler covered in animal bones that happens to have a harpoon cannon. It’s so out of left field and inconsistent with the film’s otherwise grounded universe that I can only compare it to Nickelodeon shows like The Adventures of Pete & Pete or Salute Your Shorts that were unafraid to suddenly swerve to the absurd.

The movie bounces between hijinks as Alex and Mark continue to try and steal the tank top from Tyler. It briefly swings into romcom territory as Alex sets himself up to go on a blind date with Tyler and then he predictably develops feelings for her, but this really doesn’t go anywhere with so little time given to the subplot and the lack of chemistry between the actors.

Raging Midlife is propped up by some notable cameos—Paula Abdul, Eddie Griffin, and Walter Koenig. Koenig, with his real life Judy Levitt, helps deliver the funniest scene in the movie as dry cleaners who have strange costumes and impressive sex toys in their shop.

Director/co-writer Rob Tyler also earns some laughs by playing Rob the eccentric tech support/hacker friend who will accept payment in puppies.

In the end, the film delivers more groans and cringe-worthy moments than laughs. Nostalgia can be a funny thing; I just wish Raging Midlife was funnier.

Outtakes

A Gamble Not Worth Taking

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High Rollers

by Daniel Baldwin

Word-class thief Mason (John Travolta) is in a bit of a pickle. His girlfriend Amelia (Gina Gershon) has been kidnapped by his archrival, Salazar (Danny Pardo), as a means to force Mason into robbing a casino. Of course, Salazar has no interest in making good on a trade once the heist is complete and – given Mason’s past and present endeavors – the FBI is biting at the heels of everyone involved. Poor Mason. Can’t a master thief just exist in peace?

If the story sounds super tropey, that’s because it is, although there’s nothing wrong with that. As Roger Ebert used to say, “It’s not what a movie is about but how it’s about it.” That’s a nice way of saying that the execution matters more than the originality of the story. He’s right.

Unfortunately, High Rollers – a sequel to 2024’s Cash Out – comes up incredibly short on the execution front. Between a very thin script and deeply uninspired direction, the only thing that really holds it all together is its cast. Still, even they aren’t enough to save it.

High Rollers is the latest film from producer/director/low budget mogul Randall Emmett. If that name sounds familiar, it’s because it is one wrapped in controversy, detailed in the 2023 documentary The Randall Scandal. Long story short, Emmett has an alleged history of fostering an abusive work environment and underpaying his employees. He is also one of the driving forces behind the modern “geezer teaser” movement, where name actors are paid a nice sum for a day or two of work to cameo in an indie genre picture. The film is then be marketed on their (fading) star power, despite them barely being in it.

The good news is that unlike the numerous films Emmett made with Mel Gibson and a deteriorating Bruce Willis, High Rollers is not actually a geezer teaser. John Travolta is very much the lead of this movie, as he was in the equally-disappointing Cash Out.

While the film around him here might be notably lesser in quality than his previous classics, Travolta is still putting forth the effort. His effortless charm remains intact. It is on this front and this front alone that High Rollers can be recommended. If you’re a big Travolta fan and simply want to see your favorite actor in something new, this might give you a temporary fix. Everyone else, however, is better off steering clear.

Outtakes

Made from Scratch

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Control Freak

by Hope Madden

When writer/director Shal Ngo’s Control Freak opens, we watch Val (Kelly Marie Tran)—in front of a backdrop of clouds, all Tony Robbins like—tell a rapt audience that they alone control their destiny.

Tran is compelling, but it’s an obvious way to open a horror film (or a comedy). Pride goeth before the fall. Within the first three minutes of the film, we can be pretty certain what Val is going to learn, where the big reveal will come, who will witness it, and how bad it’s going to be for her career.

Ngo doesn’t leave you hanging, but the way he works around the cliches is both the film’s strength and weakness.

Why did Val become a motivational speaker? Because of her own tough life, at one point waiting tables and living in her Toyota while chain smoking and eating gummy worms. But look at her now: loving husband (Miles Robbins), great house, new book, global speaking tour about to kick off. All she needs is her birth certificate, which means a visit to her dad, rekindling old trauma. Plus, there’s this incessant scalp itch…

There’s a larger metaphor at work here concerning the way generational trauma works like a parasite sucking your will to live. Ngo weaves complicated family dynamics and backstories in and around obvious horror set pieces, turning the familiar on its side in often fascinating ways.

Tran’s supporting cast also wiggles out of cliché in effective ways. Kieu Chinh’s droll comic timing as Val’s auntie also efficiently delivers needed information. Callie Johnson’s single-minded characterization as Val’s PR exec offers even more biting wit.

The monster metaphor is less compelling, as if Ngo can’t quite bring himself to get really uncomfortable with his viewers. In fact, the film steers clear of any real parasitic nightmare images—a serious misstep, if Ngo was hoping to create horror from the monsters in his monster movie .

There’s an untidiness in the whole narrative that, at times, feels welcome. No character is entirely good or bad. Most are a somewhat imbalanced mix of both. This choice brings with it a refreshing complexity and sense of surprise. But it all becomes muddy, no specific layer of the film ever entirely satisfying, all of it obscured by a metaphor that doesn’t quite fit.

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Stinking, Thinking and Saving Lives

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The Day the Earth Blew Up: A Looney Tunes Movie

by Hope Madden

I am not what you would call a Looney Tunes fan. Writer/director Peter Browngardt and co-writers Kevin Costello and Alex Kirwan (along with a writing team of at least a dozen) clearly are. Their animated feature The Day the Earth Blew Up: A Looney Tunes Movie delivers looney adventures that are hard to deny.

Essentially an odd couple buddy picture, the film follows Porky Pig and Daffy Duck as their live progress from youngsters with their beloved Farmer Jim, to adults with a problem. On the one hand, the problem is the hole that alien space pod left in their roof.

On the other hand: ALIEN SPACE POD?!!!

Though a bizarre tone and a wild variety of animation styles entertains, the film’s a tad slow moving at first. But once the bubblegum monster shows up, things get pretty fun.

Eric Bauza voices both Daffy and Porky without losing any of the character that made the two popular in the early going. Daffy, that chaos agent, is delivered with the love and lunacy necessary not only to do justice to his long history of animated disruption, but to serve a real narrative purpose. Because Porky, upon meeting the weird but efficient Petunia Pig (Candi Milo), begins to crave the kind of life you can have without a buddy who uses an oversized mallet to solve problems.

Browngardt makes sure you’re emotionally conflicted. That’s pretty impressive, really.

But mainly, he and his animation team make sure you’re entertained with clever sight gags, surprising humor, fascinating animation, and a fun B-movie vibe.

It gets weird, this one. But when the chips are down and the gum zombies are chewin’, these two will rise to the occasion.

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It’s Guys Like You

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Mickey 17

by Hope Madden

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. Hoping to get away from some pretty bad fellas on Earth, Mickey signs up for a flight of space pioneers, but there’s a lot of competition to make the voyage and he has no skills so he signs on as an expendable: a clone who, for the betterment of science, subjects himself daily to every conceivable new threat so science can better prepare the non-expendables.

Chief among the unexpendable on this colonizing mission are the commander, vainglorious attention whore Kenneth Marshall (Mark Ruffalo), and Lady to his Macbeth, Ylfa (Toni Collette).

Joining Mickey onboard are his best friend, con-man extraordinaire Timo (Steven Yeun, playing delightfully against type) and the love of his many, many lives, Nasha (Naomi Ackie, Blink Twice).

Pattinson’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.

There’s great tenderness in this film, though it competes with sharp satire and fun action. But what fuels every scene, however lunatic or sweet or absurd, is the heat of Bong’s rage. His more than capable ensemble—from the sycophant scientist (Cameron Britton) to the ego-stroking puppet master (Daniel Henshall) to the guy forever dressed as a mascot (Tim Key) and on and on—brings every enraged idea to vivid, remarkable, too-close-to-home life.

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.

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Art Imitating Life Imitating Opera

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Seven Veils

by George Wolf

Real-life creative roadblocks pushed filmmaker Atom Egoyan to channel his frustrations into a new project. Seven Veils is the result, an impressively crafted and consistently compelling psychological drama of life imitating art imitating opera.

A few years back, Egoyan was set to re-mount his vision of Richard Strauss’s Salome with the Canadian Opera Company. Producers blocked some of Egoyan’s proposed changes, which led him to create the character of Jeanine.

Jeanine (Amanda Seyfried) is a young theatre director given the reins to a re-mount of Salome, which was the crown jewel in the resume of her mentor, Charles. Producers would no doubt prefer someone more seasoned at the helm, but it was Charles’s dying wish for Jeanine to direct, and she dives into the project with earnest ambition and a complicated past.

Repressed trauma begins to influence Jeanine’s edits to the production, and her ideas are met with a resistance that leads to mockery.

Egoyan (Chloe, The Sweet Hereafter) was able to incorporate the set of his own staging of Salome into the Seven Veils production, giving the film’s fictional opera a sumptuous, authentic visual pull that helps to seamlessly blur the narrative lines.

Because whether these characters are on stage or off, Egoyan funnels every thread through the act of spectating. Jeanine watches rehearsals. Cast and crew watch Jeanine. Jeanine has face-time conversations with her mother and her estranged husband, while production artist Clea’s (Rebecca Liddiard, an ensemble standout) BTS vlogs fuel some desperate backstage deal-making.

And as Jeanine complains about the effect of an intimacy coordinator on her plans for more overt sexuality onstage, persistent flashbacks foreshadow the film’s third act turn toward melodrama. It’s Seyfried’s committed performance that keeps the series of reveals from collapsing under pulpy self-indulgence.

Jeanine is clearly working through some things, and Seyfried makes it worthwhile to labor along with her. Instead of overwrought hysterics, Seyfried brings a slowly unraveling intensity to Jeanine, allowing the unease that inspired Egoyan’s Seven Veils to play out as a fascinating peek behind the creative curtain.

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Grow Old Along With Me

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The Rule of Jenny Pen

by Hope Madden

In 2021, Kiwi filmmaker James Ashcroft made his feature debut with the lean and unforgiving thriller Coming Home in the Dark. While his follow up discards the taut terror of a road picture in favor of lunacy and a hand puppet, The Rule of Jenny Pen mines similar tensions. Vulnerability, institutional ignorance, helplessness, bullying—Jenny Pen comes at it from a different angle, but the damage done bears a tragic resemblance.

The great Geoffrey Rush is Judge Stefan Mortensen, a self-righteous ass who finds himself institutionalized after a stroke. But as soon as he’s better, he’ll be out of there. In the meantime, he will berate and belittle staff and patients alike—even his kind roommate, Sonny (Nathaniel Lees).

But Dave Creely (John Lithgow, never creepier) doesn’t think the judge is going anywhere. He doesn’t think he’s such a much, if you want to know the truth, and he looks forward to pressing every vulnerability the judge has, terrorizing him until he breaks him. Just as Dave has broken every other patient at the home—with the help of his bald little hand puppet, Jenny Pen.

Back in the Sixties, hagsploitation (or psycho-biddie films) featured middle aged women with likely mental health concerns that led to various kinds of horror: What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?; Hush, Hush Sweet Charlotte; Strait-Jacket. The women’s age was what made them suspect, the films reveling in the grotesquerie of their images.

Lately, though, filmmakers are realizing that the more powerful horror mines our own fears by empathizing with the aged characters, forcing us to see through their eyes. Relic, Bingo Hell, The Taking of Deborah Logan, The Demon Disorder and Bubba Ho-Tep all focus on the inevitable and terrifying vulnerabilities of aging.

The Rule of Jenny Pen fits neatly into this real estate. Ashcroft’s direction situates the sadistic within the well-meaning. Hospital staff, visiting musicians, family members—all genuinely hope to make the world better for these patients. But this is a world Dave knows well, and he exploits every opportunity to wield his and Jenny’s sadistic power.

Lithgow’s a maniac, making the most of his substantial physical presence among the fragile patients and delivering the most unseemly moments with relish. And Rush is his absolute equal. The veteran broadcasts pomposity with rigid authenticity that only lends power to the judge’s most helpless moments.

Hope Madden and George Wolf … get it?