Since becoming an undisputed acting heavyweight, Stewart’s moved on to a new challenge: filmmaker. Her leap to the big screen feature format is an adaptation of Lidia Yuknavitch’s memoir, The Chronology of Water.
Imogen Poots plays Lidia. It’s the kind of a role that would simultaneously entice and worry an actor—survivor of abuse who numbs her trauma with self-destructive behavior. And for Stewart, Lidia’s is a tale told in close-up. The filmmaker has apparently never met a wide shot she liked. Her approach creates a wild intimacy, taking a story told in flashback and requiring us to see every second’s urgent immediacy.
It’s also a choice that disallows any kind of acting cheat. No matter, because Poots is no cheat. The actor has impressed in a wide range of characters but never has she brought such raw agony to the screen.
Stewart’s made a punishing film, and in Poots’s more ferocious moments, it’s difficult to watch. The actor externalizes pain as rage brilliantly, making her moments of vulnerability that much more heartbreaking.
A supporting cast goes often nameless, existing as fragments of Lidia’s reality. Still, Stewart draws wonderful performances from everyone. Thora Birch is understated excellence, a perfect counterpoint to Poots’s explosive passion. And Jim Belushi offers an affable, caring turn as Ken Kesey.
Together, cast and filmmaker find beauty in Yuknavitch’s tale, though at times The Chronolog of Water feels like it’s wallowing. Still, Stewart’s touch is lyrical, offsetting the brutality of the film’s content with images that are delicately wondrous, contradictorily peaceful, sometimes even lightly but discordantly funny.
Back when Bradley Cooper forgot stealing Mike Tyson’s tiger, few would have guessed that he would go on to collect a dozen Oscar nominations for writing, directing, producing, and acting. His first two adventures behind the camera, 2019’s A Star Is Born and 2024’s Maestro, each earned him nominations for picture, screenplay, and performance. They also showcased a director of real power.
So obviously his latest is a comedy.
Cooper co-writes and directs Is This Thing On?, a midlife crisis disguised as a rom-com.
Alex (Will Arnett, who co-writes) and Tess (the ever-incandescent Laura Dern) are ending their 20-year marriage. No hard feelings, no infidelities, both just decided it was time to call it.
On his first night out of the house, in need of a beer and lacking the $15 cash to pay the cover, Alex puts his name on “the list” for a comedy club’s open mic night. He doesn’t bomb, gets some stuff off his chest, and finds that he kind of loves stand-up.
Because men will do anything to avoid therapy.
A supporting cast keeps things chaotic. Cooper plays Alex’s dumbass stoner actor brother whose wife (Andra Day) needs to stay high just to tolerate him. His parents (an inspired Christine Ebersol and Ciarán Hinds) mean well, Cooper directing their cacophony of advice, dismay, rebukes, and requests for juice boxes for giddy, exhausting mayhem.
Dern is characteristically wonderous, crafting a character who’s raw and on-edge and absolutely never the clichéd put-upon supportive partner. Her chemistry with Arnett breathes, bristles, and laughs as easily as a lived-in relationship rooted somewhere or other in love.
To Arnett’s credit, he goes head-to-head with the veteran Oscar winner and charms. Muddled but earnest and effortlessly likeable, Alex is the dad you want kids to know and the floundering ex you root for, if not to get back together, at least to just get it together.
Aside from one or two convenient plot beats, Is This Thing On? benefits immeasurably from authenticity. That emotional honesty drives the laughter and the tension, and elevates the relatively light film (given Cooper’s previous two efforts) above easy comedy or indie dramedy. The film is a unique beast, natural and messy but still totally sold on love.
My working theory is that Johannes Roberts saw Nope and thought, when does Gordy get his own movie? IP being what it is, Primate is likely the closest the co-writer/director could come.
The film follows Lucy (Johnny Sequoyah) home from college. She’s summering with family—dad (Troy Kotsur, CODA), little sister (Gia Hunter), and Ben, the family’s beloved chimpanzee in their incredibly impressive compound on the side of a cliff in Hawaii.
But Dad’s off to a work event Lucy’s first weekend home, so friends crash to drink beer, smoke weed, eat pizza, and get picked off one by one when Ben turns super feral.
Roberts (47 Meters Down, 47 Meters Down: Uncaged, Strangers: Prey at Night, Resident Evil: Welcome to Raccoon City) has not built a career on nuance. He makes fun, obvious monster movies. The telegraphed scares are at least goretastic, and what he lacks in subtlety he makes up for with macabre humor.
Like any monster movie worth its chlorine, Primate is a survival tale. Quickly, the partiers assess the danger and jump into the pool because chimps can’t swim. Did you know that? I didn’t know it. Is it even true?
Google says it’s true.
There you go. Johannes Roberts taught me something today.
Superficial character development feeds into teen horror cliche as Sequoyah and her supporting players, including Jess Alexander (A Banquet) and Victoria Wyant, struggle with insipid dialog. The writing is pretty awful, and aside from jumping into the pool, the kids’ behavior is consistently dumb.
Some of the gore is inspired, though, particularly one jaw-related injury. The creature design is a little more touch and go. At times Ben’s look is passably realistic, but not always. But Kudos to Roberts for going practical, and Miguel Torres Umba inside the suit moves with menace.
There’s also an effective device made of Lucy’s dad’s deafness, handled with minimal manipulation and landing some authentic tension.
In the end, Gordy Meets Cujo delivers exactly what you should expect: jump scares, cliché, young adults behaving stupidly, and plenty of blood. Is it a great movie? It is not. Nope, definitely not. But it might be what you’re in the mood for.
We Bury the Dead is an intriguing title, particularly for a zombie movie. Writer/director Zak Hilditch’s latest mixes familiar with fresh, focused less on scares than on contemplative action.
Daisy Ridley is Ava, a young woman determined to find her husband (Matt Whelan) after a US chemical weapons mishap wipes out every living thing in Tasmania. She volunteers with a group who will find, catalog, and bury the dead. As a Yank, she’s not too welcome, but her ulterior motive is to get to the heart of the catastrophe, to the resort where her husband had gone for a conference. To find him, she’ll have to risk exposure to the smoke, the military, rogue sharp shooters, and the dead who come “back online”.
Ridley has made a series of fascinating choices since being catapulted into merciless Star Wars fandom with her career-making turns as Rey. She has gravitated mainly toward quietly complicated characters in mid-budget independent films, as well as voice work in animation and documentary.
While not every project has been a winner, Ridley’s flexed a range of muscles. From dark, dry, awkward comedy (Sometimes I Think About Dying) to meditative, spooky thriller (The Marsh King’s Daughter) to inspirational, true life-adventure (Young Woman and the Sea), Ridley brings an introspective magnetism to projects. The same can be said for her work in Hilditch’s Tasmanian zombie drama.
Ava develops a frenemy situation with her volunteer partner, Clay (Brenton Thwaites), a bad boy who smokes a lot, shows no respect for the dead, and just might be criminal enough to help Ava get through the restricted areas of the country. Thwaites’s performance is better than the script, but it’s still tough to buy the burgeoning friendship.
A late side story with Riley (Mark Coles Smith) edges the film closer to horror, but Hilditch’s interests lie in drama. The heart of the story has to be the reason Ava risks so much to find Mitch. Much credit goes to Hilditch for some of the surprises he has in store, but he writes himself into a corner he can’t quite escape.
And though he crafts a few truly memorable sequences and injects zombie lore with a few new ideas, he unfortunately leans back on one of the most tiresome and suddenly popular cliches, a choice meant to wrap Ava’s arc up in a tidy bow when dystopia calls for messes.
But Ridley and Thwaites carve a compelling odd couple and Tasmania offers a handful of fascinating new details for the genre.
Damn fine year, 2025. Well, for movies it was. Magnificent original films, like Ryan Coogler’s breathtaking Sinners, as well as blistering new work from Park Chan-wook and Yorgos Lanthimos. Gorgeous literary adaptations, including Chloé Zhao’s heartbreaking Hamnet, Clint Bentley’s lonesome Train Dreams, and GDT’s wondrous Frankenstein. Breathtaking stage-to-screen visions from Paul Thomas Anderson and Thomas Kail. Incredible documentaries, the best superhero film in years, remarkable horror, unusual comedies—if you couldn’t find a movie to love this year, you were not looking. But, we had to narrow it down, so here are our 25 favorites.
One Battle After Another
Though the massive cast is characteristically littered with incredible talents crackling with the electricity of writer/director Paul Thomas Anderson’s script, Benicio del Toro stands out. He brings a laidback humor to the film that draws out Leonardo DiCaprio’s infectious silliness. While much of One Battle After Another is a nail-biting political thriller turned action flick, thanks to these two, it’s also one of Anderson’s funniest movies.
It may also be his most relevant. Certainly, the most of-the-moment. A master of the period piece, with this film Anderson reaches back to clarify present. By contrasting Bob’s paranoid, bumbling earnestness with the farcical evil of the Christmastime Adventurer’s Club, he satirizes exactly where we are today and why it looks so much like where we’ve been during every revolution.
But it is the filmmaker’s magical ability to populate each moment of his 2-hour-41-minute run time with authentic, understated, human detail that grounds the film in our lived-in reality and positions it as another masterpiece.
2. 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.
3. Train Dreams
Beautiful, lush, and quietly meditative, Clint Bentley’s Train Dreams is the kind of movie you just don’t ever get to see. It’s a wonderous, melancholy character study set against the rapidly changing America of the early 20th Century, and it is shouldered by the best performance of Joel Edgerton’s career.
Edgerton has yet to turn in a bad performance, nor even a mediocre one, but he seems custom built for this introspective figure, a witness, haunted but open and admirably vulnerable. Bentley surrounds him with so many marvelous performances, sometimes leaving an astonishing mark—on audience and protagonist alike—in only a single scene. Edgerton will no doubt be remembered this awards season, as should the film itself.
4. Hamnet
Chloé 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.
5. Frankenstein
Lush and gorgeous, even when it is running with blood, the world del Toro creates for his gods and monsters is breathtaking. The choices are fresh and odd, allowing for a rich image of creator and creation, the natural versus the magnificent.
Oscar Isaac is a marvel of angry arrogance made humble. As his creature, the long and limby Jacob Elordi offers a monster who’s more sensitive son than wounded manchild.
Mia Goth delivers the same uncanny grace that sets so many of her characters apart, and del Toro’s script allows Elizabeth an arc unlike any previous adaptation. You don’t wander into a Guillermo del Toro film expecting less anything than glorious excess—another reason why Frankenstein and he were meant for one another.
6. No Other Choice
Park Chan-wook’s crafted a seething satire on capitalism but manages to edge the biting farce with strange moments of deep empathy—just one example of the tonal tightrope Park doesn’t just walk, he prances across.
No Other Choice is complicated but never convoluted, constantly compelling and almost alarmingly funny. Between the intricate detail of the thriller and the gallows humor of the comedy, Park crafts a wondrously entertaining film.
7. It Was Just an Accident
This is the first film for Jafar Panahi (No Bears, Taxi, Closed Curtain) since Iran lifted his decade-long filmmaking and travel ban, and while he’s no longer filming himself in secret, Panahi’s storytelling still bursts with intimacy and courage. It Was Just an Accident is more proof that he is one of the true modern-day masters, with a clear and distinctive voice that demands attention.
8. Sentimental Value
Joachim Trier’s rich, quiet, masterfully performed film is about the places we keep our memories rather than dealing with them directly. It could be a house, like the one patriarch Gustav Borg (never-better Stellan Skarsgård) turns into a movie set. It could be the movies, or any art where the artist attempts to address conflicting emotion and memory without the interference of others’ interpretations or responses. But at the heart of these repositories is the family that fosters these memories. In this case, among others, Gustav’s daughters (Renate Reinsve, magnificent, and Inga Ibsdottter Lilleaas, also wonderful).
Sentimental Value is a gorgeously crafted family drama brimming with visual flourishes, comedic moments, heartbreak and honesty. It also boasts one of the finest ensembles of 2025.
9. Hamilton
(Released in theaters for the first time this year) The difference between seeing something live and feeling the energy exchange between cast and audience, as opposed to watching it on a screen where you’re removed from the human element of it, is often hard to overcome. (Remember Cats?) But Thomas Kail – who also directed the 2016 Broadway shows that were recorded for this film – has crafted a near perfect mix of spatial movement and character intimacy.
10. Bugonia
The script from Will Tracy and Jang Joon-hwan offers director Yorgos Lanthimos and his small but savvy (including Emma Stone and Jesse Plemmons, brazenly magnificent) cast fertile ground for the bleak absurdism the filmmaker does so well. Bugonia treads tonal shifts magnificently, slipping from comedy to thriller to horror and back with precision. Lanthimos’s control over audience emotion has never been tighter.
11. Superman
12. Pee-wee Herman as Himself
13. Springsteen: Deliver Me from Nowhere
14. The Ugly Stepsister
15. Black Bag
16. Eddington
17. Hedda
18. Weapons
19. Zootopia 2
20. Friendship
21. Marty Supreme
22. Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery
23. A House of Dynamite
24. The Secret Agent
25. Baltimorons
Honorable mentions: Sirat, Nouvelle Vague, Warfare, Eephus
Upon first seeing the trailer for Anaconda, the Jack Black/Paul Rudd spiritual sequel to the 1997 JLo vehicle, my husband George said, “This will either be incredibly funny or unwatchable.”
I banked on the first. How could this lose?! Not only because of the upbeat comedy gold of Black and Rudd, but forever favorite Steve Zahn, plus Thandiwe Newton classing up the joint. With Tom Gormican, the madman behind The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent, co-writing and directing, it seemed like Anaconda couldn’t go wrong.
Anyway, I wouldn’t call it unwatchable.
Black, Rudd, Zahn and Newton were high school besties, brought together again by a dream: to make a reboot/sequel/reimagining of the giant snake movie they’d watched dozens of times when they were young and idealistic.
It’s a funny premise!
One script, a lead on a snake handler, and 42 grand later, the friends head to Brazil to shoot this thing and salvage something of what they’d hoped to be when they grew up.
There are some funny bits. Selton Mello is joyously weird as Santiago, the snake handler. Cameos, descriptions, and bits of dialog from the original Anaconda inject a bit of mischievous fun. I will be using the term “Buffalo sober” in my future.
But as inarguably charming as this cast is, it can’t elevate the many stretches of film without a joke. Though lots of scenes are humorous, very few are laugh-out-loud funny. Both Rudd and Black fall back on schtick and timing to make up for the spare comedy of the script, and Newton is given nothing at all to do for 99 minutes.
Every scene goes on a beat or two too long, it takes the film forever to get to the jungle, and too little happens once we’re there. The fact that the film owes almost as much to a classic Black comedy Tropic Thunder as the original Anaconda only leaves you longing for something funnier to happen.
It’s watchable. It’s even mildly entertaining. But it felt like it could have been more.
What an incredible year for horror! Two unquestionable Oscar contenders, great international fare, great reboots and sequels, amazing original material, great independent horror, great studio horror—remarkably spooky stuff!
The year held so much great stuff that we were forced to leave incredible films off our final top 10 list. Our apologies to Companion and Animale, Hood Witch and Dead Mail, Final Destination: Bloodlines and 40 Acres and a lot of other really quality films. But that’s just how strong the competition was this year!
10. The Toxic Avenger
On Prime
Though the story’s changed, much remains the same in writer/director Macon Blair’s reboot in all its goopy, corrosive, violent, hilarious glory.
Peter Dinklage is one of the most talented actors working today, and as Winston he is effortlessly heartbreaking and tender. He’s also really funny, and this is not necessarily the kind of humor every serious actor can pull off.
Blair’s vision for this film couldn’t be more spot-on. Joyous, silly, juvenile, insanely violent, hateful of the bully, in love with the underdog—Blair’s Toxic Avenger retains the best of Troma, rejects the worst, and crafts something delirious and wonderful.
9. Chain Reactions
On Prime
Not everyone believes Tobe Hooper’s The Texas Chain Saw Massacre is a masterpiece of American filmmaking. I find those people suspicious. Luckily, those are not the people filmmaker Alexandre O. Philippe (Memory: The Origins of Alien, 78/52) talks to for his latest documentary, Chain Reactions.
The film is a celebration of 50 years of TCM. The celebrants are five of the film’s biggest fans: Patton Oswalt, Takashi Miike, Alexandra Heller-Nicholas, Stephen King, and Karyn Kusama. It’s a good group. Each share intimate and individual reminiscences and theories about the film, its impact on them as artists, and its relevance as a piece of American cinema. What their ruminations have in common is just as fascinating as the ways in which their thoughts differ.
Each of these artists came to the film from a different perspective—some having seen it early enough in their youth to have been left scarred, others having taken it in as adults and still being left scarred. But each one sees layers and importance—poetry, even—in Hooper’s slice of savage cinema.
8. Invader
On Shudder & Prime
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.
7. Bring Her Back
On Prime, HBO, Hulu, and Disney+
Filmmakers Danny and Michael Philippou drew attention in 2022 for their wildly popular feature debut, Talk to Me. Before releasing the sequel, due out this August, the pair changes the game up with a different, but at least equally disturbing, look at grief.
It’s a slow burn, a movie that communicates dread brilliantly with its cinematography and pacing. But when Bring Her Back hits the gas, dude! Nastiness not for the squeamish! Especially if you have a thing about teeth, be warned. But the body horror always serves the narrative, deepening your sympathies even as it has you hiding your eyes.
Australia has a great habit of sending unsettling horror our way. The latest package from Down Under doesn’t disappoint.
6. The Monkey
On Prime, HBO, Hulu, and Disney+
Why is it that so many kids’ toys are creepy? Not that you should call The Monkey a toy. You should not, ever. Because this windup organ grinder monkey, with its red eyes and horrifyingly realistic teeth, is more of a furry, murder happy nightmare.
The film itself is a match made in horror heaven. Osgood Perkins (Longlegs, Gretel & Hansel, The Blackcoat’s Daughter) adapts and directs the short story by Stephen King about sibling rivalry and the unpredictability of death.
Perkins surrounds deliberately low energy leads with bizarre, colorful characters—even more colorful when they catch fire, explode, are disemboweled, etcetera. The film is laced with wonderful bursts of Final Destination-like bloodletting, as the Monkey’s executions are carried out via Rube Goldberg chain reactions that quickly become fun to anticipate.
Yes, fun. And funny.
5. Dust Bunny
In theaters
Imagine Guillermo del Toro meets Wes Anderson. Equal parts fanciful and gruesome, the film tells the tale of a precocious youth named Aurora (Sophie Sloan), who hires the neighbor in 5B (Mads Mikkelsen) to kill the monster that lives under her bed.
Sloan delivers Roald Dahl’s Matilda by way of Wednesday Addams, braids and all. Mikkelsen’s adorably gruff, and the great Sigourney Weaver is having a blast playing gleefully against type and shoplifting every second of screentime.
Writer/director Bryan Fuller wastes not a frame of his feature film debut. The saturated colors and intricate patterns and textures of the set design, the ballet of horror that is his shadow imagery, the boldly whimsical costuming—all of it conjuring an amplified fairy tale. It’s tough to believe this remarkably confident feature is his first foray behind the camera.
4. Weapons
On Prime, HBO, Hulu, and Disney+
Weapons delivers an elaborate mystery slowly revealing itself, ratcheting tension, and leading to a bloody satisfying climax. Unspooling as an epilogue followed by character-specific chapters, the film builds around a single event, developing dread as it delivers character studies of a town of hapless, fractured, flawed individuals in over their heads.
This is smartly crafted, beautifully acted horror. Those who worry Cregger’s left nasty genre work behind for something more elevated need not fear. Weapons is here to work your nerves, make you gasp, and shed some blood. It does it pretty well.
3. The Ugly Stepsister
On Prime, HBO, Hulu, Disney+, and Shudder
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. Frankenstein
On Netflix
Lush and gorgeous, even when it is running with blood, the world del Toro creates for his gods and monsters is breathtaking. The choices are fresh and odd, allowing for a rich image of creator and creation, the natural versus the magnificent.
Oscar Isaac is a marvel of angry arrogance made humble. As his creature, the long and limby Jacob Elordi offers a monster who’s more sensitive son than wounded manchild.
Mia Goth delivers the same uncanny grace that sets so many of her characters apart, and del Toro’s script allows Elizabeth an arc unlike any previous adaptation. You don’t wander into a Guillermo del Toro film expecting less anything than glorious excess—another reason why Frankenstein and he were meant for one another.
1. Sinners
On Prime, HBO, Hulu, and Disney+
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.
Few directors working today wield the craft as masterfully as Park Chan-wook. He combines genres and slides from tone to tone effortlessly, mingling humor and tension, satire and tenderness, mystery and pathos and blood like no one else. Though his style is unmistakable, somehow each Park film is wildly original, entirely its own.
No Other Choice may, in fact, be more unusual than the others, although there’s something familiar in its opening. Man-su (Lee Byung-hun) celebrates a gift from his paper company’s American owners with a barbeque in the back yard. He loves his home, he loves his family, his dogs, the greenhouse where he tinkers, the dance lessons he takes with his wife, Miri (Son Ye-jin). Man-su is happy.
This being a movie, and this scene being its opening, we know Man-su will not be happy for long. The filmmaker does nothing to hide the cinematic artifice of his prelude, introducing the buoyant corporate satire of reinvention, or the refusal to reinvent.
That gift of expensive eel was a going away present, and Man-su is about to be out of work, along with a lot of other local middle aged middle managers in the paper business.
There’s not a weakness in this cast, but both Lee and Son are flawless. Each character takes a proactive yet romantic approach to navigating this setback, both guided by their own internal logic. Her logic looks a little more logical: cut back on luxuries like Netflix and dance classes, sell the house, carpool.
Man-su’s plan is a little bigger: create an opening that fits his skills and eliminate all competition for that job. So, murder.
Park’s crafted a seething satire on capitalism but manages to edge the biting farce with strange moments of deep empathy—just one example of the tonal tightrope Park doesn’t just walk, he prances across.
No Other Choice is complicated but never convoluted, constantly compelling and almost alarmingly funny. Between the intricate detail of the thriller and the gallows humor of the comedy, Park crafts a wondrously entertaining film.
I am generally down for a pulpy thriller where unreasonably attractive humans behave like lunatics. The Housemaid is one such film, and though I was somewhat skeptical, seeing Paul Feig at the helm instilled optimism.
Feig’s 2011 comedy Bridesmaids is an all-time great, but it was his 2018 twisty comedy/thriller A Simple Favor that gave me hope. Sure, The Housemaid’s trailer seemed boilerplate enough. A stunning thirty-something (Amanda Seyfried), wealthy beyond reason, wants to hire a down-on-her-luck twenty-something (Sydney Sweeney) for a live-in housemaid. A gorgeous husband (Brandon Sklenar) looks on. An equally gorgeous groundskeeper (Michele Morrone) looks on, just from out in the lawn.
The fact that both women are gorgeous, curvy blondes with enormous eyes suggests something doppelganger-y afoot, but beyond that, there are really only a few directions this can take. With Feig on board, I felt confident it wouldn’t be misogyny masquerading as a cat fight.
Seyfried’s always reliable, and the trailer put me in the headspace of her star turn in Atom Agoyan’s 2009 thriller, Chloe. Except now Seyfried’s in Julieanne Moore’s place, and Sweeney’s in Seyfried’s.
Or is she? Maybe I was assuming too much.
Rebecca Sonnenshine (who co-wrote one of my favorite zombie films, American Zombie) adapts Freida McFadden’s novel with enough sly scene craft to keep you interested. Every scene is a sleight of hand, and Feig’s assured direction flirts with potboiler so often that you’re seduced away from confident guesswork.
It’s a long game Feig is playing, but still, The Housekeeper takes too long getting there. Act 3, which is a ton of fun, feels too abrupt given the lead time to get to it. And everything post-climax is anything but airtight.
The Housemaid is an enjoyable thriller, a savvy reimagining of a tired plot we’ve seen dozens of times. The cast is solid, performers delivering sharp drama while Feig delivers pulp, the balance off kilter enough to be fun.
