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Outtakes

Bullet the Blue Sky

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Ballistic

by Rachel Willis

A mother’s grief turns into a vengeful obsession in writer/director Chad Faust’s film Ballistic. After Nance Redfield (Lena Headey) learns of her son Jesse’s (Jordan Kronis) death in Afghanistan, she becomes obsessed with the idea that a bullet from the factory where she works was the cause.

Headey is a hell of an actress, and she does her damn finest to sell us on a mother’s grieving rage. Nance’s desire for vengeance unhinges her as she seeks someone to blame.

Unfortunately, despite Headey’s best efforts, she’s working with a character that’s never fully developed. We never fully feel Nance’s love for her son. Our introduction to their relationship is shown to us through a montage and a single video call. It’s not enough to flesh out either character.

It’s also hard to feel any sympathy for Nance despite her loss. Her anger leads her to target anyone she deems in any way responsible for Jesse’s death. It’s a broad metaphor for the ways in which anyone involved in munitions manufacturing is responsible for every death. It’s an idea that would make for an interesting documentary, but it doesn’t make much sense here. It’s too far-reaching and leaves you reflecting more on Nance’s state of mind than any broader commentary.

There are also several choices the character makes that defy logic. It’s hard to believe some of her actions in her quest for revenge. But again, a lot of this disbelief lies in the fact that we don’t really know Nance. If the film had taken more time in allowing us to know her, we would be more invested in following her wherever she leads. As it is, we’re left with a film with a muddy message, one powerful performance, and not much else.

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Walk Like an Egyptian

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Lee Cronin’s The Mummy

by Hope Madden

So, Lee Cronin’s The Mummy. You may be wondering, who is Lee Cronin? Do I even know that guy?

You probably do, if you saw 2023’sEvil Dead Rise, the story of a family trapped in their apartment as their mother turns Deadite and tries to murder them all.

You may have missed his 2019 Irish horror, The Hole in the Ground, where a changeling takes the shape of a woman’s young son, traps her in a house and tries to kill her.

Now Cronin takes on a mummy’s curse, trapping a family inside a house with their daughter, who is now a monster out to kill every one of them. By the third time, you have to think that the idea of an evil entity taking over the body of a loved one is a real fixation for the filmmaker. Lucky for us!

Jack Raynor and Laia Costa are the parents of three: little Maud (Billie Roy), tween Sebastian (Shylo Molina), and their oldest, Katie (Emily Mitchell, then Natalie Grace). Katie went missing in Cairo 8 years ago, but she’s been found and she’s ready to come home. It’ll just take some adjusting.

The trailer for the film gave it the look of a PG13 horror—quick cuts, jump scares, and black vomit. I’m pleased to report that this is not the film at all. Cronin mines the situation for grief and sorrow before descending into body horror. It’s a wild line he crosses, manipulating your emotions and then throwing gross-out body fluid horror all over the deviled eggs.

It’s nasty. Like almost early Peter Jackson nasty.

And Cronin is not afraid to take the film places you may not want to go. The darkest, sloppiest comedy butts up against emotional horror so moving you may want to look away. Or if that doesn’t make you divert your eyes, the pus, eyeballs, tongues, and unspecified body fluids will.

It’s a mixed bag, this one, and it gets a little tedious toward the end. Plus, Cronin doesn’t always balance the tone effectively. This is very much an R-rated horror, at times taking itself too seriously and at others, delivering some of the nastiest comic gags you’ve ever seen during a funeral.

I was unsettled at times and grossed out at others, but I must say, I was thoroughly entertained.

Outtakes

Wrapper’s Plight

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Balls Up

by George Wolf

Is it funny to see Mark Wahlberg and Paul Walter Hauser bust out a lightly choreographed karaoke version of Goyte’s “Someone That I Used to Know?”

It is. But are there enough solid laughs in the rest of the film to make Balls Up a thumbs up?

Not quite.

Wahlberg is Brad from sales, and Hauser is Elijah from design, both reporting to boss lady Burgess (welcome delight Molly Shannon) at the Regal Blue condom company.

Elijah has designed a revolutionary condom that extends far enough to wrap the testicles, and Brad just landed the pitch to make “Balls Up” the official condom of the 2025 World Cup in Brazil!

“Raw Dog? Nah Dawg!”

The..ahem… head of the World Cup committee (Benjamin Bratt) is impressed enough to set the guys up with VIP treatment at the tournament. But things go so wrong so fast that Brad and Elijah become branded as “The Stupids,” two American villains on the run from a drug cartel kingpin (Sacha Baron Cohen) and any number of Brazilians who’d love to see them dead.

Speaking of drugs, this entire premise sounds like something two guys thought was freaking hilarious while they were high.

I don’t know if that’s true, but I do know writers Paul Wernick and Rhett Reese have scripted funnier movies. Like Zombieland, or Deadpool, or Deadpool & Wolverine. In comparison this one feels like something that could have been abandoned when they sobered up.

Hauser has the dim-witted schlub act down cold, but as talented as he is, he’s not enough of a comic presence to offset Wahlberg’s struggles with timing and delivery. The Other Guys worked because Wahlberg’s contrast with the effortlessly funny Will Ferrell was instantly engaging. This pairing is constantly in search of real chemistry, and director Peter Farrelly seems helpless to uncover it.

Farrelly has certainly had success with below-the-belt comedy (Kingpin, Dumb and Dumber, There’s Something About Mary), but Balls Up becomes just the latest streaming effort to string together inane antics and hope for the best.

This one just gets worse as it is goes, and after an hour and forty minutes of unfunny, you give up that hope.

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Anything But

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Normal

by Hope Madden

Do you know what’s especially fun about watching Normal? It’s not seeing Bob Odenkirk crack heads and blow stuff up. I mean, that’s always fun, but it’s nothing new. Nor is it new to see what fresh fisticuffs and cutlery mayhem writer Derek Kolstad (John Wick [all four], Nobody [both], Ballerina) can dream up. We’ve seen his dreams. They’re somewhat similar.

What is especially fun about watching the star of Nobody and its writer team up again to drop a middle aged schmo into a sudden and unexpected explosion of violence is that Ben Wheatley is directing. We haven’t seen Ben Wheatley get really nuts in a bit.

Odenkirk, who co-writes the script with Kolstad, is Ulysses. He used to be a real sheriff, but now he takes interim sheriff gigs around the country and leaves rambling accounts of his days on his estranged wife Penny’s voicemail.

His latest assignment: Normal, Minnesota.

The town of about 1500 people and one moose looks…strangely prosperous. Not like the small towns shuttering due to a poor economy. When two good hearted, down-on-their-luck bank robbers roll into town, Ulysses gets a glimpse of the what’s really going on.

That leaves us with about 45 minutes of handguns, rifles, Tommy Guns, knives, fists, rocket launchers, chains, dynamite, and knitting needles. Plenty of time for Wheatley to help us remember what a blast he had directing 2016’s Freefire.

Odenkirk’s ideal as the begrudgingly heroic schlub, and Normal surrounds him with eclectic characters and solid comic performances. But there’s no question the relish Wheatley takes in wry, witty bursts of extreme violence, each gag its own punchline, is what delivers the film’s fun.

There’s a touch of Fargo, a smidge of Hot Fuzz, a bit of the filmmaker’s own Freefire, and maybe a hint of his Sightseers. These borrowed flavors blend favorably with the inescapable familiarity of the concept—Bob Odenkirk, badass—as well as Kolstad’s routine action beats.

Normal is a ton of bloody fun that you’ll kind of remember later but you’ll laugh and enjoy yourself now.

Outtakes

Shock without the Jock

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Screams from the Tower

by Brandon Thomas

When was the last time a teen comedy made a sizeable impact? Where’s Gen Z’s The Breakfast Club? Their American Pie? Their Superbad? Is Screams from the Tower the next teen classic? Well, no, but it is a sweet, charming entry into the genre.

Best friends Julien (Richie Fusco) and Cary (David Bloom) share a love of radio and a similar dream: to get their own show on the high school radio station. When that dream becomes a reality, the boys bring together friends both new and old and begin to challenge the limits of what two high school seniors can get away with on a high school radio station.

As a more character-focused film, Screams from the Tower isn’t interested in gross-out gags to keep the audience invested. There aren’t any larger-than-life set pieces that will have people rolling in the aisles (or on their living room floors). While writer-director Cory Wexler Grant does lean into a few instances of broader comedy, the majority of the laughs come from character interactions and relationships. 

Despite being sold as a dual lead film, the focus ultimately lands on Fusco’s Julien. At first glance, Julien comes off as a dime-a-dozen smartass slacker. As the film moves along, the layers of Julien’s character are peeled away, we see that this isn’t true at all. Sure, Julien is crass and abrasive, but he’s also sensitive and loyal. Fusco walks a delicate line – never allowing Julien to become the target of the audience’s ire while also not letting him off the hook for his behavior. 

At the same time, the film really sings when the ensemble – or parts of it anyway – are together, bringing the radio show to life. Grant is clearly inspired by the heyday of radio shockjocks from the ‘80s and ‘90s – most notably Howard Stern and Don Imus. The characters don’t go where Stern and Imus did with their schtick, but they certainly dabble in their own high school-level controversy. It’s also a hoot to see the boys and their show have a foil in the radio station’s overseeing teacher (Sara Sevigny). While a high school teacher might not wield the same power as the FCC, it does give the movie a sizeable jolt of drama 

Screams from the Tower may not bring the same level of notoriety or impact as a Hughes or Apatow film, but it does operate in its own lane of sweetness and charm.

The Screening Room

Screening Room: Faces of Death, You Me & Tuscany, Exit 8 and More!

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On this week’s Screening Room Podcast, Hope & George review Faces of Death, You Me and Tuscany, Exit 8, Beast, Hunting Matthew Nichols, ChaO, Hamlet, Outcome, and Newborn!

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A Fish Called ChaO

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ChaO

by Matt Weiner

If you’re boycotting a certain mustachioed plumber this weekend because he went to space instead of the underwater levels, you’re in luck. You can have your own lushly drawn animated movie where an everyman hero goes on an adventure with a princess.

ChaO takes place in a futuristic version of Shanghai where humans and mermaids coexist, but it’s an uneasy peace. Engineer Stephan (Ōji Suzuka) has a plan to create a safe alternative to the screw propeller on ships, which would save ocean life from harm and even death.

Higher-ups at his shipping company are skeptical until mermaid royalty Princess ChaO (Anna Yamada) appears out of the blue to insist that she and Stephan get married. Nobody is more surprised by this than Stephan, despite ChaO’s mysterious assurances that Stephan swore to her they would be married some day.

While Stephan has doubts about the whirlwind romance, the pair are buoyed along by executives at the shipping company—who see a chance to mend relations with the mermaid king—and the nosy public, titillated by the intricacies and logistics of a human-mermaid relationship.

These broad strokes of a story from writer Hanasaki Kino don’t get much more detailed than that. It’s a literal “fish out of water” tale that throws in the odd car chase and robot fight to pad out the runtime. These elements don’t add anything to the underlying mystery of Stephan’s genuinely moving backstory, but the detours are also brief.

Thankfully when ChaO sticks to the budding romance between Stephan and the princess, the film gets back its sea legs. And the real draw is the gorgeous animation from director Yasuhiro Aoki and Studio 4ºC.

This is Aoki’s first feature film, but his decades of experience in the animation industry turn this slight tale into a distinctive visual feast. Every scene is stuffed with witty details and stunning backdrops. There’s a fluidity to the characters as well, both human and merman, that gives everyone a natural expression and constant motion that complements the thorny human-aquatic relations. For all the film’s erratic plotting and odd digressions—including an HR nightmare of an office subplot, parents beware—the animation is so singular and captivating that it makes up for everything else.

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Generational Drama

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Jimpa

by Rachel Willis

Director Sohpie Hyde’s film, Jimpa, opens with a narrative that lays the groundwork for a family drama about what acceptance truly means.

Jimpa (John Lithgow) is an older gay man who left his family in Adelaide, Australia to move to Amsterdam during the height of the AIDS epidemic. There’s a recap of this history from two perspectives, Jimpa’s daughter, Hannah (Olivia Colman), and his nonbinary grandchild, Frances (Aud Mason-Hyde).

The film centers around Hannah and Frances spending time with Jimpa, as Hannah looks to make a film about her parents and their conflict-free partnership when Jimpa came out as gay.  

Colman and Hyde make it clear that Hannah is afraid of conflict, so much so, she rushes to mitigate everyone’s words. Her explanations for others may sound good, but in her urgency to avoid conflict, she steals their agency. And yet, there are times when Hannah fails to step in when it could most help her teenager.

Jimpa is disrespectful of Frances’s choice to identify themselves as non-binary. He introduces them as his “grandthing” and mocks their “sudden” lack of gender. Though grandthing is said with a certain amount of affection, it’s painful to watch because Frances looks up to their grandfather as a hero.

There’s also a collision of age. The older gay men have trouble understanding the younger generation’s motivations and language, fail to recognize the struggles of feeling like an outsider when things are (in their minds) so much better now.

Jimpa feels more like a lesson in gender and sexual politics than a cohesive narrative film. This can be done gracefully, but Hyde’s approach is too heavy handed.

Jimpa‘s second half takes an unexpected path that serves the film well. Hannah confronts and addresses her true feelings, allowing Coleman and Mason-Hyde to shine. Hyde finally gives Mason-Hyde the opportunity to be more than their gender identity.

Though the film’s opening act is defined by a kind of clunkiness, Jimpa’s final moments are handled with enough tenderness to make up for a lot of that.

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Downbound Train

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Exit 8

by Hope Madden

Horror video game movies are having a moment. And the simpler the video game, the more unsettling the film adaptation.

Though the unendurable Return to Silent Hill  might have sapped your will to live, both Iron Lung and The Mortuary Assistant honored their games’ uncomplicated storyline and reliance on viewer attention to generate dread and entertainment.

Perhaps the simplest and most unnerving is Genki Kawamura’s Exit 8, a captcha experiment in proving your humanity.

A minutes-long opening POV sequence announces the film as a video game, the first-person experience wearing thin just as Kawamura’s cinematic style alters. What has altered it?  Our hero, faced with a deeply human choice, enters the bowels of the metro and loses his phone signal.

Kazunari Ninomiya is “Lost Man.” Buds in his ears, his eyes on his phone, he’s almost entirely unconnected from humanity. Even with no reception, he’s so oblivious that it takes him quite a while in the underground passages to realize he’s walking in circles, forever finding himself back at the exact same spot in search of Exit 8.

Finally, he notices an information sign. If you see an anomaly, backtrack immediately. If there’s no anomaly, keep moving forward.

The monotony and claustrophobia build as white tiled, fluorescently lit hallway after hallway deliver oppressive tension. As the numbers ascend—Exit 1, Exit 2, Exit 3—you may find yourself yelling at the screen. Slow down! Don’t get sloppy now! Because if Lost Man misses one anomaly, one misplaced doorknob, one altered advertisement, it’s back to Exit 0 and the whole nightmare begins again.

And nightmare it is. Blackouts, crying babies, frozen smiles, giant hairless rats with human noses are some of the more obvious anomalies.

It would all become too monotonous to bear were it not for the chapter breaks, which allow us to shift perspective briefly. Yes, the other two characters—Walking Man (Yamato Kôchi) and The Boy (Naru Asanuma)—are likewise trapped in the labyrinthine underground. But their presence offers some clues beyond the surface level anomalies, some hint at the quest to find our humanity.

Kawamura doesn’t dig too deep for character development, but the spare setting and liminal hellscape bring it forth. Exit 8 seems not like a game you play again and again. Likewise, the film is unlikely to be one you revisit every spooky season. But it is a uniquely challenging effort and another surprising win for horror video game adaptations.

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When Sorrow Comes

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Hamlet

by Hope Madden

Filmmaker Aneil Karia concerns himself with the curious, sometimes questionable responses of individual men to escalating tensions. After 2020’s Surge followed a remarkable Ben Whishaw through a harrowing, disorienting descent, Karia won an Oscar for the short film The Long Goodbye. The live action short kept its eyes on Riz (RIz Ahmed) as the dystopian present came for him and his family.

If one man’s reaction to an overwhelming situation is Karia’s passion, Hamlet seems like a proper inspirational match.

Paired again with his Long Goodbye collaborator, Karia sets Shakespeare’s great tragedy in modern London. Hamlet returns from abroad for his father’s (Avidjit Dutt) funeral. The family’s ruthless development company, Elsinore, must now change hands to the patriarch’s brother, Claudius (Art Malik), who intends to marry his widowed sister-in-law, Gertrude (Sheeba Chaddha).

Though much streamlined, the Bard’s drama is not rewritten for the times. Karia’s instincts for visual storytelling provide enough imagery to understand the modernized context, and Shakespeare’s dialog proves timeless as ever.

Karia’s dizzying visual style gives Hamlet’s psychological descent an urban flavor, while graffiti and billboards provide cheeky reference points. The entire ensemble, especially Chaddha, excel. But you will not be able to look away from Riz Ahmed.

The role of Hamlet has been a make-or-break role for actors for four centuries. Ahmed makes it look effortless, so convincing is he in the grief of losing a father, the horror of a mother’s betrayal, and the pressure of tradition.

Joe Alwyn (Hamnet – guy likes this story, I guess!) as Laertes and Morfydd Clark (Saint Maud) as Ophelia bring depth and pathos to minimized characters.

Michael Lesslie adapts the tragedy. Though the writer’s gone on to blockbusters and superheroes, his first feature length script was Justin Kurzel’s impressive 2015 take on Macbeth. Once again, Lesslie proves adept at pruning what’s necessary only for the stage, giving his director room to tell the tale cinematically.

Reconsidering the cultural background within a South Asian culture doesn’t just freshen up the familiar. It impresses the universality and timelessness of the original work upon the viewer. The play within a play—Hamlet’s gift at the wedding—is the film’s showstopper. But Karia imaginatively stages some of the play’s most remembered scenes, adding vitality and action that takes advantage of the freedom from the stage while still amplifying the hero’s anxiety.