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Survivor: Boss Level

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Send Help

by George Wolf

As much as Send Help feels like the Sam Raimi film that it is, the writing credits seem a bit unfinished. With a premise taken more from Triangle of Sadness than Castaway, and two pivotal plot points lifted from films I won’t mention for fear of spoilers, you’d expect at least an inspired by or story elements citation of the previous works.

No? Alrighty then. Raimi works from a script by the team of Damian Shannon and Mark Swift (Baywatch, 2009’s Friday the 13th, Freddy vs. Jason), providing the requisite dark humor, blood splatter and body fluids for a fun, root-for-the-underdog romp.

Linda Liddle (Rachel McAdams) is that underdog. Linda puts in long, committed hours in the strategy and planning department of a big firm. She’d been promised a major promotion from the founder (nice Bruce Campbell portrait on the wall!), but now he’s passed on and the d-bag son Bradley (Dylan O’Brien) has taken over.

And Bradley’s gonna give Linda’s promotion to his frat buddy instead.

Linda sticks up for herself, so Bradley gives her the chance to prove her worth at a big merger meeting in Bangkok. But when their plane crashes, Linda and Bradley end up as the only ones left alive on a deserted island. And right away, Linda’s skills are very valuable indeed.

Turns out, she’s a survivalist junkie who has auditioned for Survivor. Linda knows her way around the dangers of an uninhabited locale, while Bradley doesn’t know much beyond silver spoon-fed privilege. So Linda will not take kindly to being ordered around like the under-appreciated underling she was back in the office.

Bradley eventually becomes contrite, but can he be trusted? Linda appears ever helpful, but can she be trusted? Their castaway days become an increasingly bloody game of cat, mouse and wild boar, with some wonderfully competitive chemistry between McAdams and O’Brien.

She makes Linda’s transition to alpha female a crowd-pleasing hoot, and he crafts Bradley with a perfectly obnoxious mix of misguided mansplainer and smug elitist.

Yes, it’s over the top, just like you expect a Sam Raimi deserted island playground to be. What an unspoiled canvas for some blood spray, projectile vomiting, and a little survival of the deadliest. Game on!

Send Help delivers the R-rated fun, and it’s instantly relatable to the countless souls who’ve secretly dreamed of doing bodily harm to an insufferable boss. But it’s a comeuppance fantasy that still remains easily forgettable…unless you’ve seen the couple films it repeatedly recalls.

Then we’ll have something to talk about.

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The Healing Skies

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H Is for Hawk

by George Wolf

“I don’t have a hobby, I have a hawk.”

“Mabel” became much, much more than a hobby for Helen Macdonald, and H Is for Hawk adapts their award-winning memoir with nearly equal amounts of the magical and the mundane.

Claire Foy is understated and touching as Helen, who was teaching English at a university in Cambridge when their beloved father Alisdair (Brendan Gleeson, characteristically splendid) suddenly collapsed and died in 2007.

Leaning on memories of exploring nature and birding with their father, and their years of experience in falconry, Helen channelled feelings of grief into the adoption and training of a Eurasian goshawk.

Just the fact that the emotional vessel here is a notoriously stubborn bird of prey instead of a dog, a horse, or a wayward teen is enough to stir your interest. Director and co-writer Philippa Lowthorpe rewards it early. Foy and Gleeson shine in some bittersweet flashbacks, and Helen’s cautious bonding with Mabel is in turns emotional and educational.

As Mabel hones her hunting instincts, the wildlife framing from cinematographers Charlotte Bruus Christiansen and Mark Payne-Gill can be beautifully majestic. Eventually, though, the lack of firmer hands from Lowthorpe and editor Nico Leunen begins to take a toll.

The pace of the film becomes laborious and plodding, enough to even overshadow the introspective and touching work from Foy. There is never a doubt we believe the healing journey Helen and Mabel are sharing, but the excessive documentary-ready wildlife footage eventually increases our detachment while it bloats the run time.

Despite the similarities with 1969’s Kes, Lowthorpe isn’t trying for a Ken Loach-style social critique. At the heart of this film is an intensely personal story of “an honest encounter with death.” It is a unique and well-crafted film, but the honesty of H Is for Hawk is just spread too thin for a truly memorable flight.

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Voices of Experience

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The Choral

by George Wolf

In case you need a reminder about the versatility of Ralph Fiennes, here it is. In the same week we find him trying to outsmart a psychotic gang leader while working to cure a rage virus in 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple, he’s also looking to assemble a suitable group of singers in the midst of WW1 for The Choral.

The man has range, and he’s wonderful as Dr. Henry Guthrie, who has returned to Yorkshire in 1919 after a career in Germany. Those ties draw suspicious catcalls of “Fritz!’ from the locals, but with many of the best male voices leaving for the army, the choral committee feels he’s the best choice to move the group forward as chorus master.

The blunt and uncompromising Dr. Guthrie isn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect, which is evident right from the auditions. Fiennes gives him some delightfully pained expressions when notes are mangled, but glorious looks of enlightenment when true talent hits his ears.

Director Nicholas Hytner and writer Alan Bennett set a pleasing enough hook, but end up getting bogged down in a marsh of routine subplots and surface-level messaging.

Hytner (The Madness Of King George, The History Boys) gives the wartime period details a sheen that seems too glossy for an effective contrast between the boys who’ll soon go to the front and those coming home. It begins to resemble a more musical riff on Dead Poets Society, but the boys’ wartime bravado and impatience for sexual experience just distract from the more engaging conflict with Dr. Guthrie.

Due to the young age of his best male voice, Dr. Guthrie has to make some story changes to the Choral’s performance piece, “The Dream of Gerontius” by Edward Elgar – without telling Elgar himself.

And then guess who shows up.

If the themes of wartime loss and sacrifice cut deeper, the performance tension would play an understandable supporting role. But little outside of Fiennes’s orbit holds your attention, and The Choral settles into its place as a perfectly generic period drama.

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Trigger Unhappy

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Dead Man’s Wire

by George Wolf

Even without the cameo from Al Pacino, Dead Man’s Wire has the gritty, absurdist vibe of legendary 70s thriller Dog Day Afternoon. Also based on true crime events, the latest from director Gus Van Sant leans on a timely, anti-hero tone and some stellar performances for a look into the desperate edges of the American dream.

Bill Skarsgård is utterly manic and completely magnetic as Tony Kiritsis, who held an Indianapolis mortgage company executive hostage in February of 1977. Kiritsis, who hoped to build a shopping center on his 17 acres of land, became convinced that Meridian Mortgage president M.L. Hall (Pacino) was sabotaging the project. Finding M.L. out of town, Kiritis settled on son Richard Hall (Dacre Montgomery from Stranger Things) for his plan of revenge.

Armed with a sawed-off shotgun and a “dead man’s wire” running from the trigger to Richard’s neck, Tony demanded media access, immunity, compensation and a personal apology from M.L. himself.

Tony’s mood swings with wild abandon, but he’s downright starstruck when telling his story to WCYD deejay Fred Temple, the “voice of Indianapolis.” The great Colman Domingo plays Temple with a grounded mix of caution and curiosity, as the confused local celeb is reluctantly pulled into a life-or- death drama where a potential murderer is a gushing fanboy.

Writer Austin Kolodney comes from a comedy background, and Van Sant weaves some darkly comedic layers through terrific period details that only enhance the through line from 1977 to today’s breaking news.

Just two years ago, we saw how a communal feeling of hopelessness can turn a fugitive into a heroic man of the people. Dead Man’s Wire reminds us this feeling of simmering resentment is as old as the art of stacking decks. And while his narrative approach ultimately carries more polish than bite, Van Sant and a terrific ensemble never fail to make this history lesson an engaging high wire act of sadness, surprise and bittersweet delight.

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Bob’s Your Uncle

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Father Mother Sister Brother

by George Wolf

January is often regarded as a dumping ground for throwaway theater releases, featuring films not good enough to make into the holiday/award season push.

But this month is the perfect time to catch Father Mother Sister Brother, a richly human big screen triptych that explores the type of strained family get- togethers many of us experienced just weeks ago.

Writer/director Jim Jarmusch reportedly began writing the film as a way to cast Tom Waits as Adam Driver’s dad, and the opening “Father” sequence gives us just that. Jeff (Driver) and sister Emily (Mayim Bialik) don’t exactly seemed thrilled about visiting their father (Waits) at his place in very rural New Jersey. As the siblings converse in the car, we learn some things about Dad. But it isn’t long into their strained family reunion that we begin to doubt every one of these things.

The “Mother” chapter takes us to Dublin, Ireland, where Mom (Charlotte Rampling) is awaiting daughters Lilith (Vicky Krieps) and Timothea (Cate Blanchett) for their annual visit. Though life updates are spilled around a beautiful array of tea and cakes, only a few crumbs of truth actually get shared.

And in Paris for the “Sister Brother” finale, twins Skye (Indya Moore) and Billy (Luka Sabbat) meet after the recent plane crash that killed their parents. From a small cafe to an empty apartment, sister and brother sort through mementos and memories as they take a small step toward moving on.

Though Jarmusch films can sometimes be glacially paced (The Limits of Control) or deadpan enough (The Dead Don’t Die) to frustrate the uninitiated, FMSB finds him at perhaps his most tender and warmly funny.

The segments aren’t connected through these characters, but instead via beverages, watches, skateboarders and the old English phrase “Bob’s your uncle.” The camera lingers on old frames, photographs and empty rooms, making a subtle call to all that caused these recent moments to be less worthy of commemorating. Ultimately, what we don’t see happen begins to weigh as heavily as the things we do.

The cast – full of Jarmusch favorites old and new – is uniformly terrific. Each character is weary with obligations and regrets that seem as authentic as they are relatable, and each reacts to breaks of humor in ways that are different yet still feel very much like family.

And those people you were with over the holidays – would you have hung out even if they weren’t your family? Father Mother Sister Brother might make you consider the answer a bit longer.

Just find a screening, and you know, Bob’s your uncle.

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Shark Infested Waters

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The Plague

by George Wolf

2025 was yet another year with an impressive list of great performances from young film actors. Ana Sophia Heger (She Rides Shotgun), Cary Christopher (Weapons), and Nina Ye (Left-Handed Girl) were among those seasoned beyond their years. Now, The Plague‘s Everett Blunck leads a terrific ensemble of youngsters to join this group of standout turns.

Blunck (last year’s Griffin in Summer) is 12 year-old Ben, one of the young athletes spending the summer at a boys’ water polo camp in New England. A bit shy and awkward, Ben still finds a way to be accepted at the cool kids’ table.

And led by the smug, sarcastic Jake (Kayo Martin, also stellar), those kids target Eli (Kenny Rasmussen, just wonderful) – the weird kid with the rash – for taunts and bullying. Dubbing Eli’s skin condition as a “plague” that’s contagious, the boys are not shy about the finger pointing and mocking laughter.

Ben goes along to get along. But when he dares to show Eli some sympathy, he crosses an unpopular line. Jake and the King Bees decide it is Ben who now has the plague and must be cast out.

Writer/director Charlie Polinger’s feature debut bursts with vision and craftsmanship. He wanders the confines of the swimming pool, locker room and the campus buildings with a probing, studious eye, unveiling some gorgeously shot sequences with a cold detachment that fuels the mood of alienation.

Polinger’s writing is also urgent enough to make this more than just a chlorinated Lord of the Flies. Joel Edgerton’s coach character is aware of some of what’s going on in camp, but he’s purposely kept on the fringes, as Polinger explores how the boys navigate their cruelty around the adults’ anti-bullying sit downs.

Working equally as a microcosm and a singular coming-of-age narrative, The Plague is fascinating, heartbreaking and often quite beautiful. It’s a major debut for a gifted filmmaker, and an emotional showcase for a talented group of young performers.

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The Mouse That Roared

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Marty Supreme

by George Wolf

It’s been six years now, have we recovered from the panic and palpitations brought on by Josh Safdie’s Uncut Gems?

Better towel off and grab hold of something, because Marty Supreme serves up another harried drama set at a breakneck pace.

Served up, see what I did there? Marty “The Mouse” Mauser is a table tennis phenom looking to cement his name as the best in the world.

But when we first meet him, Marty (an absolutely electric Timothée Chalamet) is working in a shoe store in 1950s New York. He’s a born salesman, but makes it clear he’s only there to make enough money to finance his next trip to a big tournament. And in that opening few minutes, Safdie and Chalamet gives us a clear glimpse into the Marty Mauser worldview that will grab us by the throat for the next two and a half hours.

Everyone and everything is a means to an end. And Marty is relentless.

It could be an adoring young woman who’s already married (Odessa A’zion), a rich ink pen tycoon (Shark Tank‘s Kevin O’Leary in another bit of Safdie stunt casting) or his bored actress wife (a terrific Gwyneth Paltrow), or even a man out to find his lost dog. It doesn’t matter, Marty will size you up and instantly start working the angle he thinks is most likely to make you an asset.

The entire film, loosely based on Jewish-American table tennis champ Marty Reisman, is a fascinating character study and Chalamet is in mesmerizing, career-best form. Safdie (co-writing again with Ronald Bronstein) might as well just shoot Marty out of a cannon when he leaves that shoe store, and Chalamet makes you afraid to miss anything by looking away.

Like everything else here, the table tennis action is fast, furious and intense, and after an early loss to an unknown, Marty’s singular mission becomes avenging that upset and proving his greatness. But Marty Supreme could be about any type of American unafraid to dream big. It’s another intoxicating ride from Josh Safdie, with an award-worthy Chalamet digging soul deep into a man’s journey toward finding something he values more than himself.

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Forever in Sequins

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Song Sung Blue

by George Wolf

I admit it, I didn’t pay enough attention to the trailer and I really thought Song Sung Blue was a Neil Diamond biopic. And from what I did notice from the trailer, it looked like a pretty bad Neil Diamond biopic.

Wrong on all counts.

The latest from writer/director Craig Brewer leans on terrific performances from Hugh Jackman and Kate Hudson for an unabashed feel good salute to the dreamers who won’t be derailed from following their joy.

Jackman and Hudson are Mike and Claire Scardina, a Milwaukee couple who built up quite a following in the 80s and 90s as Lightning and Thunder, a Neil Diamond “tribute experience.” Starting out playing restaurants and small clubs, they worked their way up to bigger venues around the Midwest – even opening for Pearl Jam! – before a terrible accident put the future in doubt.

Brewer (Hustle and Flow, Black Snake Moan, Dolemite is My Name, Coming 2 America) adapts Greg Koh’s 2008 documentary with committed earnestness. There isn’t a cynical note to be found about the Scardinas, the nostalgia circuit they love or the ways any of these people measure success. The moments of joy, pain and perseverance are proudly displayed on all their sleeves, and the film is able to pull you in pretty quickly.

Expect plenty of Neil Diamond music, and a reminder that the man has a ton of hits. Yes, the rehearsal and performance set pieces are too perfectly polished, but even that fuels the vibe of dreams-coming-true that the Scardinas are living. And also yes, Jackman and Hudson do their own singing and both sound terrific, while the ensemble cast (including Jim Belushi, Fisher Stevens, Michael Imperioli and Ella Anderson) carves out some unique support characters.

The leads also make Mike and Claire two people that are easy to root for. Off stage, the two bring hardscrabble pasts and children of various ages to their new relationship. They come to believe they were truly meant for each other, and the blended family dynamic offers many relatable beats that run from tender to tragic.

And ironically, it’s those narrative successes that make the missteps in Act III more disappointing. Brewer ends up veering from true events pretty dramatically, adding twists of high melodrama that land as overly contrived.

They also feel unnecessary for a film so committed to the worth of these people and their journey. Song Sung Blue is unapologetic feel-good filmmaking. It plays the heartstrings, the greatest hits and even the cheesy gimmicks so earnestly that the whole show becomes pretty damn hard to resist, even if sequins aren’t exactly your thing.

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Fire Woman

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Avatar: Fire and Ash

by George Wolf

I saw someone post a question recently, asking when Avatar: Fire and Ash would hit streaming.

He might as well have been asking when he could plan to unload some time and money, because seeing this anywhere else but the big screen is a waste of both.

Right from the opening sequence, writer/director James Cameron pushes us one notch closer to a VR experience. The film’s sensory phaser is set to stun, even as Avatar installment number three suffers from the same narrative misfires that hampered the first two.

The timeline has moved ahead one year, with Jake (Sam Worthington) and Neytiri (Zoe Saldaña) settling in as members of the Metkayina clan. Neteyam’s death has left Neytiri grief-stricken and bitter, particularly toward Spider (Jack Champion), who is a constant reminder of the humans who killed her son.

The clone of Colonel Quaritch (Stephen Lang) is still out for revenge on Jake and his family, only this time he has some hot-tempered help.

Varang (Oona Chaplin) is the leader of the volcano-dwelling Mangkwan clan (aka the “Ash People”), a battle-tested warrior who not only gives Quaritch a valuable ally, she alone makes the film more interesting than The Way of Water.

Chaplin digs into Verang’s talents as a Black Magic Woman, and thanks to her, the film’s complete lack of humor is offset by layers of voodoo, dark arts and the conjuring of fire. Cool.

And again, the 3D IMAX whizbangery is pretty spectacular. The human and avatar worlds blend as seamlessly as the land-to-water transitions, with battle sequences that are more detailed and thrilling than ever.

But also again, Cameron and his writing team can’t hold themselves back from bland excess. Cameron borrows from his own films (The Abyss, especially), story beats are repeated and repeated again while dialog is often awkward and sometimes unintentionally funny – unless he was trying to recall Anchorman?

More than anything, Fire and Ash is out to just batter you with its sheer experience-ness. The running time bloats to an unnecessary three hours and fifteen minutes with unrelenting attempts at crescendo moments that rarely allow any time to breathe.

I mean, come on, if every day was like Christmas, then Christmas Day wouldn’t mean that much, would it? Fire and Ash brings over all the best new toys and throws them at you until you’re feeling both exhilarated and wondering what just happened.

Unless you wait until it streams. Then you’re just watching while your neighbor rides his sweet new bike past your house.

Shudder Premiere

Anti Social

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Influencers

by George Wolf

If you saw Influencer three years ago, no doubt you noticed that little smile from CW (Cassandra Naud) in the final shot. If, like me, you were hoping that meant she’d find a way to stir up more social media mischief, it’s a merry Christmas for both of us.

CW has quieted down a bit since we left her on that island, settling down enough with girlfriend Diane (Lisa Delamar) to let her guard down and actually pose for photos. But an encounter with a travel influencer (Georgina Campbell) lures CW back to her old ways, and it isn’t long before she has more bloody tracks to cover.

Again, writer/director Kurtis David Harder has good instincts for knowing what questions we’re asking as this world wide web gets more tangled, and for keeping the beats relevant to the changing landscape of social media.

The introduction of toxic bro blogger Jacob (Jonathan Whitesell) feels right on time, as does the re-introduction of Madison (Emily Tennant), who now has even more scores to settle with old frenemy CW.

Naud gives another terrific performance, as CW remains a smart, slippery and ever intriguing mystery girl. Dancing in and around more gorgeously framed locales, CW makes it fun to try and guess what she’ll do next. What’s even more fun? The fact that we’re not prepared for just how batshit things get in act three.

Harder’s observational nature about social media never feels like finger-wagging, and the continually rising stakes of mystery, mayhem and fun land Influencers as another lethal blast of engagement.

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