June Squibb And Erin Kellyman Excel In Scarlett Johansson’s Shaky Feature Debut ‘Eleanor the Great’

June Squibb And Erin Kellyman Excel In Scarlett Johansson’s Shaky Feature Debut ‘Eleanor the Great’

By Alex McPherson

Even a top form June Squibb can’t quite save director Scarlett Johansson’s “Eleanor the Great,” a dramedy that can’t reconcile its disparate tones.

Johannson’s directorial debut stars the 94-year-old Squibb as Eleanor Morgenstein, a snarky Jewish widow sharing an apartment in a Florida retirement complex with her best friend, Bessie (Rita Zohar). The two are happy together, with Eleanor finding particular enjoyment in nagging the neighborhood “youths” with her bubbly-faced, acerbic wit.

In quieter moments, though, Bessie battles inner demons and trauma. Bessie, also a widow, is haunted by her experience during the Holocaust, sometimes sharing harrowing stories of death and survival with Eleanor that she has never told anyone else. This delayed “catharsis” clearly eats away at her.

When Bessie dies unexpectedly, Eleanor is, understandably, deeply shaken. She moves back in with her divorced, perpetually stressed daughter Lisa (Jessica Hecht) and grandson Max (Will Price) in their small New York apartment.

Besides mercilessly judging Lisa from the get-go, Eleanor’s loneliness rapidly creeps in, and she feels adrift without Bessie by her side. Lisa signs Eleanor up for a senior’s social group at the local Jewish community center, hoping to get her out of the apartment and help her make new connections. 

Things get wonky when Eleanor accidentally wanders into a support group for Holocaust survivors and, impulsively, decides to claim Bessie’s experiences as her own. Eleanor gets the attention of NYU journalism student Nina (Erin Kellyman), who sits in on the support group hoping to write a story for class and connect with her own Jewish roots. She quickly decides that Eleanor would be the perfect person to center for her article. 

Nina is also grieving her mother who recently passed away. She’s currently living in an apartment with her news reporter father, Roger (a typically excellent Chiwetel Ejiofor), who has grown increasingly distant since the loss. 

Despite some initial reluctance, Eleanor sparks up a friendship with Nina, and the two grow close. Eleanor’s lie gives Nina the chance to grapple with her own grief, and find solidarity with a pseudo-parental figure.

But as Eleanor continues this falsehood of being a Holocaust survivor, it’s only a matter of time until the truth is revealed. Eleanor’s connections and newfound sense of belonging are in serious jeopardy.

But not all that much jeopardy. As it turns out, Johansson’s film is content to bring up thorny topics of truth, love, aging, and trauma without fully exploring them, awkwardly positioning its “‘Dear Evan Hansen’ for the Holocaust” thread alongside a lighthearted story of intergenerational friendship.

The former almost seems too much for Johansson and screenwriter Tory Kamen to handle; they refuse to reckon with the darker implications of Eleanor’s lie and the effects it has on those who believe her. “Eleanor the Great” ultimately eschews true introspection for a schmaltzy resolution that sands down ambiguity for the sake of convenience. Still, there’s enough impactful performances and wry humor to hold mild interest.

Squibb, coming off the heels of last year’s sleeper hit “Thelma,” carries most of Johansson’s film, punchily delivering Eleanor’s barbed insults and judgy asides in another strong late-career performance. She also embodies how Eleanor’s lie gradually eats away at her and her gradual recognition of how it represents her own grief.

Squibb’s commanding, confident screen presence, “innocence” belying impulsion and cynicism, anchors even the most over-explanatory dialogue from Kamen’s screenplay — if only “Eleanor the Great” had trusted Squibb further to convey Eleanor’s inner concerns in a more subtle fashion rather than having both Eleanor and other characters bluntly spell them out for us.

Kellyman holds her own alongside Squibb, bringing fresh-faced energy and deep wells of grief, with Johansson’s unobtrusive, albeit bland direction and Kamen’s gentle screenplay believably selling the characters’ friendship.

It’s in these moments — where Eleanor imparts worldly wisdom to Nina, and the two of them explore New York City together — where “Eleanor the Great” shines as the uplifting film it could have been without the baggage of its darker elements.

It’s not that Johansson and Kamen shouldn’t be commended for attempting to explore such a weighty topic as the Holocaust, but “Eleanor the Great” too often remains stuck in an inter-genre limbo that never figures out what it wants to be.

Yes, it’s admirable that Johansson cast real-life survivors of the Holocaust for Bessie and the support group. Yes, scenes where Zohar recounts Bessie’s history (through flashback) are raw and gripping, particularly in the film’s final stretch.

But “Eleanor the Great” lets Eleanor herself off the hook too easily, particularly in its predictable generalizations about grief’s many different forms, leaving the more ambiguous consequences of Eleanor’s decisions to viewers’ imaginations.

The tonal whiplash is striking, prompting off-kilter vibes that “Eleanor the Great” can’t shake. Squibb and Kellyman make a dynamic pair, though, and the film’s rickety yet ultimately familiar shape makes it a passable enough, not “great,” time at the movies.

“Eleanor the Great” is a 2025 drama film directed by Scarlett Johansson and starring June Squibb, Erin Kellyman, Rita Zohar, and Chiwetel Ejiofor. It is 1 hour, 38 minutes, and rated PG-13 for thematic elements, some language, and suggestive references. It opens in theatres Sept. 26. Alex’s grade: B-.

Sports Horror Film ‘Him’ Is a Half-Hearted Tackle

Sports Horror Film ‘Him’ Is a Half-Hearted Tackle

By Alex McPherson

Alternately goofy and self-serious, director Justin Tipping’s “HIM” fumbles intriguing ideas and crash lands into a barren field of mediocrity.

Executive produced by Jordan Peele — but, crucially, not directed by Peele — “HIM” follows rising football quarterback star (and emotionally stunted hunk) Cameron “Cam” Caid (Tyriq Withers). Cam is entering the pro draft, hoping to be recruited by his favorite team, the San Antonio Saviors.

Cam has worshiped the Saviors since he was a child, particularly their star quarterback Isaiah White (Marlon Wayans). Isaiah suffered a gruesome injury on live television years ago yet recovered enough to play another 14 years and rack up eight championship rings. Cam’s demanding, masculine father reproached young Cam from looking away when Isaiah’s injury happened, instilling in him a twisted idea of what a “real man’s sacrifice” looks like and a drive to become the next GOAT.

In the present day, Cam is close to achieving that goal, but his father has passed away. He’s supported by a doting team including his mother, high-school-sweetheart girlfriend, and slippery manager (a somewhat out-of-place Tim Heidecker). There’s even rumors that White might be stepping down, giving Cam a prime opportunity to replace him.

One night, as Cam trains to take part in a pre-draft scouting “combine,” he’s surprise-attacked by a samurai-costumed being wielding a giant hammer, giving Cam some good ol’ CTE and apparently dashing his chances of joining the big leagues.

All is not lost (yet), as Cam suddenly receives an invitation from the all-powerful Isaiah himself to join him for a week-long training/rehab program at his off-putting New Mexico compound. Cam is thrilled and filled like childlike glee, but soon finds himself out of his depth. Suffice it to say, it’s not a particularly great sign when he’s jump-scared by freaky-looking fans en route to the compound in the middle of the desert. Cam doesn’t think too much of it, or much of anything, for that matter.

Isaiah swiftly takes Cam under his wing with persuasive philosophizing, homoerotic tension, and demanding, increasingly bloody training exercises under the guise of “becoming the best,” all while his devoted assistant Marco (Jim Jefferies) jabs Cam with syringes full of unknown substances and Cam loses touch with the outside world. The situation gets crazier by the minute. Will Cam come to his senses, or is the allure of becoming “Him” worth the sacrifice?

The notion of exploring the dehumanizing horrors of America’s favorite pastime is rich, if not particularly novel, and “HIM,” with its unbridled maximalism, runs into its themes head on. It’s a mélange of excess, though, that often resembles a prolonged, gory, “edgy” music video — abandoning earned emotion for bludgeoning and cliché-ridden horror that quickly wears thin.

Indeed, “HIM” is a mixed bag. Each instance of visual creativity and trippily impressive scene-setting is offset by wooden dialogue and emotionally-leaden performances (with the exception of an enjoyably off-his-rocker Wayans) that rapidly chip away at the worthy topics that Tipping and co-screenwriters Skip Bronkie and Zachary Akers have on their minds. It’s all style, stitched together with hyperactive editing by Taylor Joy Mason that resorts to convenient, rushed montage with a heavy background of hip hop as Cam’s bootcamp progresses. 

The film’s “experiential” qualities are still sometimes arresting; giallo-inflected freakouts and X-ray bone-breakage in a brutalist, alien-like setting that Tipping and production designer Jordan Ferrer clearly had fun with concocting. Cam never quite gets his footing, and, perhaps fittingly, neither do we, caught up in a swirl of weirdness that’s intoxicating for Cam, yet tiresome for everyone else involved.

Management of tone, or the lack thereof, is perhaps the film’s most glaring flaw, oscillating back and forth between broadly satirical and deadly serious, frequently taking pains to revel in shock imagery and inserts that grow repetitive while losing any fear-inducing impact along the way. 

Withers’ uneven performance adequately sells the gradual “loss” of who Cam used to be, even as the script resorts to exposition dumps and familiar trauma-dependent backstory as a last-ditch effort to pump some pathos into the narrative by the third act. On the other side of the spectrum, Wayans, plus Julia Fox as Isaiah’s unstable wife Elsie, fully lean into the narrative’s absurdity with intermittently amusing results; too bad the screenplay lacks any real character of its own.

There’s admittedly fun to be found in how “HIM” explores football as a suffocating, pseudo-religious experience where the gods of capitalism manipulate the vulnerable while fighter jets zoom overhead spouting red, white, and blue smoke.

No spoilers, but the final scene is quite a spectacle, bringing together the film’s heavy-handed metaphors for a glorious display of incendiary violence that’s fully self-aware. But Tipping, as of now, is no Peele, and “HIM” is most assuredly no touchdown.

“Him” is a 2025 sports horror film directed by Justin Tipping and starring Marlon Wayans, Tyriq Withers, Julia Fox, Tim Hedecker. It is 1 hour, 36 minutes, and rated R for strong bloody violence, language throughout, sexual material, nudity and some drug use. It opens in theatres Sept. 19. Alex’s grade: C-.

PopLifeSTL Picks Weekly: Sept. 1 – 7

PopLifeSTL Picks Weekly: Sept. 1 – 7

Dateline: Sept. 1
By Lynn Venhaus, Alex McPherson, C.B. Adams and Carl “The Intern” Middleman

Are we ready to cross into the spooky season? And no, I don’t mean the pumpkin-spice aisle at the grocery store. (And besides, aren’t you stockpiling Halloween candy like sensible adults?). In the pop culture universe, we’re buzzing about film festivals, new television season, live theatre coming our way, and outdoor fall activities.

Here’s Round 3 of our new endeavor — our curated weekly round-up guaranteed fresh every Monday on our website and in your inbox. (Or in case of holidays, Tuesday. We hope you not only enjoy but spread the word – we’d like to reach as many fellow Popsters as we can.

This newsletter features links to our recent online works, in other publications, and heads’ up tips on what’s ahead, is meant to serve as a guide for you navigating an extensive ‘what to watch, go, see, do” that the universe is beckoning us to check out.

Now Showing:
Our timely film reviews so you can decide what’s worth your time and money.

Caught Stealing: Austin Butler’s star charisma enlivens a scruffy, grungy, brutal chase through late 90s New York. Mayhem ensues in a bloody treasure hunt.

Zoomer and Boomer Takes:

Alex review: https://poplifestl.com/darren-aronofsky-takes-a-detour-in-hyperviolent-crime-thriller-caught-stealing/
Lynn review: https://poplifestl.com/austin-butler-drives-dark-comedy-action-thriller-caught-stealing/

Hamilton: To celebrate its 10th anniversary on Broadway, the filmed version of the musical, which premiered on Disney + during the pandemic on July 1, 2020, will be available in local theatres, and will feature a cast reunion special feature.

I consider :“Hamilton,” which I’ve now seen three times, to be the greatest live theatrical experience of my lifetime. Here is my review of the 2020 movie: https://poplifestl.com/hamilton-the-movie-meets-the-moment/

“This view has new opportunities for discovery, to marvel at Miranda’s attention to detail and his nimble storytelling. The recurring themes and repetitive nature of the score add texture to the rhythms and harmonies, and the cast’s enunciation and verbal dexterity is remarkable.” – Lynn

New to Streaming:

“The Thursday Murder Club” — charming -2-hour comedy-mystery with an all-star British cast on Netflix, including Helen Mirren, Pierce Brosnan, Ben Kingsley, Celia Imrie, Jonathan Pryce, David Tennant, Naomi Ackie and Think “Knives Out” meets “The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel.”

Here’s Lynn’s review on KTRS Aug. 29: (My segment starts at 34:30 and ends at 49:30)

The mystery may be by the book,  but the team in the retirement home solving cases is a delight to watch — Helen Mirren, Pierce Brosnan, Ben Kingsley and Celia Imrie (you know her from The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel movies and Bridget Jones).

The great Jonathan Pryce plays Helen Mirren’s husband who has dementia and Naomi Ackie plays a local police officer who is investigating a real murder.

I had fun watching them all play together on the playground (in this case, a grand old senior living center).

Also on streaming beginning Sept. 5 on Apple TV+:– “Highest 2 Lowest,” the latest collaboration between Spike Lee and Denzel Washington, filmed energetically in the streets of New York. Here’s Lynn’s review in the Webster-Kirkwood TImes.
https://www.timesnewspapers.com/webster-kirkwoodtimes/arts_and_entertainment/reel_world/highest-2-lowest/article_44478a18-0e77-4ec4-b13d-92c76833c4b5.html

On Stage:Sublime voices, staging so-so. CB Adams review of Union Avenue Opera’s “Salome.” https://poplifestl.com/union-avenue-operas-salome-delivers-power-and-uneven-spectacle/

PopLifeSTL Presents Podcast: Chas Adams joined Lynn this week as Carl the Intern Middleman is on an epic hero’s journey on the Mother Road with his family, and we had a swell time talking with promoter Greg Hagglund of Steve Litman Productions about a Napoleon Dynamite Bash at the District in Chesterfield on Sept. 3.The Napoleon Dynamite Bash is a teaser in preparation for showing the movie on Oct. 9 at The Factory, with cast members Jon Heder (title character), Jon Gries (Uncle Rico) and Efren Ramirez (Pedro) in attendance for a Q&A.

We also enjoyed talking with Eric Dundon from the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra and talk about an epic journey! Their upcoming events this month — unveiling Powell Hall’s additions, the free community concert in Forest Park Sept. 17, and release of their new album with composer in residence Kevin Puts. They have many things going on!

Here’s our jam-packed podcast! https://soundcloud.com/lynn-zipfel-venhaus/august-31st-2025-with-greg-hagglund-slsos-eric-dundon?si=beac0cb47d034e3b9f66ec74673b0eee&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharin

Our Playlist:
We recommend —
Chas: My playlist has been a continuous shuffle of my 200+ song playlist called The Road — tunes with traveling, driving and getting away as the theme or vibe.

Alex: The soundtrack/score for “Inglourious Basterds.”

Carl: Part 2 of the “WKRP in Cincinnati” double feature – this time with Venus Flytrap  https://www.awphooey.com/venus

Lynn: After certifiable musical genius Jon Batiste rocked the Muny Thursday, exuding goodness and light, I’ve been listening to different cuts from several albums. I love the vast scope of his music, but I’ll share his Grammy-nominated song “Butterfly” from his 2024 “World Music” album, live from “Late Show with Stephen Colbert”: https://youtu.be/CR115pxSjWM?si=czO2tsGn51myAWjg

And if you haven’t seen the heart-tugging documentary about Jon and his wife, writer Suleika Jaouad, “American Symphony,” it’s streaming on Netflix. Here is my review: https://poplifestl.com/american-symphony-triumphs-as-tender-look-at-art-life-and-love/

Good Eats and Fun Treats: Fans of “Napoleon Dynamite” can try “Tot Dogs” at Steve’s Hot Dogs in The District at Chesterfield, plus take their photo with a llama on site, enter a look-a-like contest, play trivia and win tickets to the upcoming movie event, and more to celebrate the 2004 cult classic film on Wednesday, Sept. 3, from 5 to 7 p.m.
The Napoleon Dynamite Bash is a teaser in preparation for showing the movie on Oct. 9 at The Factory, with cast members Jon Heder (title character), Jon Gries (Uncle Rico) and Efren Ramirez (Pedro) in attendance for a Q&A.

Rear Window with Jimmy Stewart and Grace Kelly.

The Vault:
Special anniversaries this week –

Sept. 1, 1984: Tina Turner’s single “What’s Love Got to Do with It,” shot to no. 1, his first as a solo artist. Turner, who attended Sumner High School in St. Louis, launched her music career here, singing with Ike Turner’s band.

Sept. 2, 1954: Alfred Hitchcock’s classic thriller Rear Window was released in American theaters. Often imitated. A luminous Grace Kelly takes your breath away.

Sept. 3, 1972: Everybody, sing along! “It was the 3rd of September, that day I’ll always remember.” That’s the first line of The Temptations’ iconic cover “Papa Was a Rollin’ Stone,” which won a Grammy and went to no. 1 on the Billboard Top 100.

Sept. 4, 2002: Kelly Clarkson was crowned winner of the first “American Idol” singing competition show.

Sept. 5, 1976: Jim Henson’s “The Muppet Show” premiered on TV and Mia Farrow was the first guest star.

Sept. 6, 1997: The funeral of Diana, Princess of Wales, was watched by an estimated 2.5 billion people globally. She had died a week earlier, at age 36, in a car accident in Paris on Aug. 31.

Sept. 7, 2008: Jonathan Larson’s Tony and Pulitzer Prize winning musical “Rent” closed after 12 years on Broadway, and 5,123 performances.

The company of ‘The Cottage.’ Photo by Jon Gitchoff.

On Our Radar: What we’re excited about this week.

Chas: I’m looking forward to this week’s return of the Two Reps – The Black Rep and St. Louis Repertory Theatre!

On my radar is the upcoming “Art Work: On the Creative Life” by Sally Mann, one of my top five photographers. Not only is she a stellar artist, but she can also write beautifully. I’ve pre-ordered a hardcover on its Sept. 9 release.

Alex: “Sanatorium Under the Sign of the Hourglass” at the Webster Film Series next weekend (Sept. 5-7).

Carl the Intern: Finishing the last 302 miles of the Route 66 trip from Santa Monica to Chicago.

Lynn: The fall theatrical season kicks off with the farce “The Cottage” at The Rep and the musical “Raisin” at the Black Rep, and I’m excited to see both productions.

“The Paper” starts Thursday on Peacock, and it may become my new favorite show. It’s the new spin-off of “The Office,” and it’s the same documentary crew now at a struggling small-town newspaper in Ohio – the Toledo Truth-Teller. Domhnall Gleeson, plays the new editor-in-chief. After 50 years in news, I may either laugh or cry, or both.Chas:

Where Can You Find Us?

Chas: St. Louis Arts Scene, PopLifeSTL.com, STL Stage Snaps on YouTube and IG, and the socials.

Alex: https://bsky.app/profile/gdogmcp.bsky.social and https://letterboxd.com/gdogmcp/

Carl the Intern: Find me@_CarlTheIntern on IG, X & Threads and on the Big 550 KTRS M-F 5a-10a.

Lynn: KTRS, “The Frank and Jill Show,” every Friday at 11:08 a.m., PopLifeSTL.com, Webster-Kirkwood Times, Alliance of Women Film Journalists (awfj.org), plus Belleville News-Democrat for news and features, St. Louis Magazine for dining contributions, and all the socials.

Darren Aronofsky Takes a Detour in Hyperviolent ‘Caught Stealing’

Darren Aronofsky Takes a Detour in Hyperviolent ‘Caught Stealing’

By Alex McPherson

As it descends further into chaos, director Darren Aronofsky’s crime thriller “Caught Stealing” becomes increasingly muddled; it’s a grimy, mean-spirited film that’s effective in spurts but remains dazed by (literal) hit-or-miss sensibilities.

Based on the book of the same name by Charlie Huston (who also wrote the screenplay), “Caught Stealing” follows 20-something Hank Thompson (Austin Butler), an aimless, alcoholic man tending bar in New York City’s Lower East Side circa 1998.

Hank grew up in a small town in California hoping to become a major league baseball player. At one point years ago, he was close to achieving that dream — but the possibility was shattered when Hank was in a drunk driving accident that resulted in a career-ending knee injury and the death of his teammate.

Cool and sociable, but remaining wracked by a past that he’s too scared to address, Hank carries on well enough in the Big Apple, finding some purpose amid the eccentric clientele of his dive bar, his friends-with-benefits relationship with EMT Yvonne (Zoë Kravitz), and his continued passion for the San Francisco Giants.

Hank’s tenuous stability is threatened by his mohawked, punk-rock neighbor Russ (Matt Smith), who entrusts Hank with caring for his feisty cat, “Bud” (Tonic the Cat), while he visits his ailing father in London. Hank confronts two unhinged Russian mobsters trying to break into Russ’s apartment, and they insist that Russ gave Hank something they want.

Hank is subsequently beaten to a pulp, losing a kidney in the process, along with any hope of peace and safety. Turns out Russ is involved in some shady business with the Russian mob and, more troublingly, the cutthroat Hasidic Drucker brothers (Liev Schreiber and Vincent D’Onofrio), who — as sympathetic but shady narcotics detective Roman (Regina King) informs him — he does not want to encounter if he wants to make it out alive.

Thus begins a blood-soaked comedy of errors with a high body count, as Hank encounters various idiosyncratic people throughout NYC who could quickly end his life.

When the stakes are tragically raised and a large sum of money comes into the picture, Hank must stand up for himself and fight for those he cares about, in a nihilistic crime thriller that also finds room to be resolutely pro-cat in between the grisly violence and frequent bursts of smugly anarchic humor.

“Caught Stealing” represents a departure from Aronofsky, who previously directed such films as “Black Swan,” “Mother!,” and, most recently, the emotionally cruel “The Whale.”

This film, on the other hand, takes a more traditionally entertaining approach, albeit not shying away from brutal beatdowns, crossfire casualties, and traumatic flashbacks.

Aronofsky maintains a tongue-in-cheek tone throughout the carnage, whisking us along to new, high-stakes scenarios as Hank fumbles his way through an increasingly convoluted story that prioritizes momentum over depth, becoming a compulsively watchable crime genre pastiche with little actual meaning.

Fortunately, the film’s ensemble and tactile stylings lift it above the story’s limitations. Butler is a near-perfect lead here, bringing a swagger belying palpable hurt that lends pathos to a character whose traumas are hammered home with obvious force.

Aronofsky and cinematographer Matthew Libatique keep the camera close to Butler, his facial expressions highlighting Hank’s “evolution” in a richer way than the screenplay affords.

Butler’s raw physicality and vulnerability suit the character well, making Hank’s repeated near-death escapes and ability to withstand gratuitous punishment easier to buy into, if only just.

Butler and Kravitz also have red-hot chemistry, particularly in the beginning when Aronofsky lets us sit with these characters for a bit before things spiral out of control. Smith gets time to shine as the perpetually disoriented, live-wire Russ, who slings a near-constant stream of obscenities and has a rather jumpy trigger finger.

Other turns from King, rapper-turned-actor Bad Bunny, and, especially Schreiber and D’Onofrio (clearly relishing their roles) help keep energy high and the film intermittently amusing through its twists and turns. 

“Caught Stealing” doesn’t have the patience to flesh out these characters organically, though; they’re fairly well-drawn but are quickly subsumed into the convoluted machinations of a plot that refuses to slow down once the first punch is thrown.

That’s not necessarily a negative — Aronofsky ensures the film always has some harsh spectacle waiting around the next corner, framed with a gnarly eye and complemented by production value that convincingly transports us back in time to the squalid city streets and dingy locales (although the setting is used more as a backdrop than a key part of the narrative). 

What the film can’t escape is a prevailing sense of pointlessness beyond in-the-moment thrills. “Caught Stealing” becomes rather generic by the end, neatly tying up its threads and rushing through a typically far-fetched climax.

For all its gruesome violence, self-satisfied humor, and sporadic moments of strange earnestness, Aronofsky’s film lacks a true “standout” element, eventually blending together and fading away once the credits roll (the credits are depicted with more eye-catching visual flair than most of the film itself).

But at least Aronofsky is trying something new, even if “Caught Stealing” is far from a clean getaway.

“Caught Stealing” is a 2025 darkly comedic action thriller directed by Darren Aronofsky and starring Austin Butler, Regina King, Zoë Kravitz, Matt Smith, Liev Schreiber, Vincent D’Onofrio, Benito Martínez Ocasio, Griffin Dunne and Carol Kane. It’s rated R for strong violent content, pervasive language, some sexuality/nudity and brief drug use, and the run time is 1 hour, 47 minutes. It opens in theatres on Aug. 29.Alex’s Grade: C+

Spike Lee and Denzel Washington Reunite in Bumpy, Vibrant Crime Thriller ‘Highest 2 Lowest’

Spike Lee and Denzel Washington Reunite in Bumpy, Vibrant Crime Thriller ‘Highest 2 Lowest’

By Alex McPherson

Although initially coasting along at a remove and not possessing the urgency of his other recent work, director Spike Lee’s  “Highest 2 Lowest” is a lively experience, featuring first-rate performances from Denzel Washington and Jeffrey Wright.

A “reimagining” of Akira Kurosawa’s masterful 1963 film “High and Low,” the film follows David King (Denzel Washington), an uber-successful music mogul living in a lavish penthouse in Brooklyn with his wife, Pam (Ilfenesh Hadera), and their teen-aged son, Trey (Aubrey Joseph).

David’s label Stackin’ Hits Records is at risk of being subsumed, via an impending corporate merger, into a compromised world of “soulless,” AI-composed music. David wants to preserve the art-focused Black identity of the company that he’s cultivated over the years and plans to buy back the majority of the label’s shares, although he quietly ignores new talent and is growing increasingly distant from his family.

He’s also drifting further away from the passion that drove him to the music business to begin with, even as music-star-hopefuls line up to show him what they’re capable of.

Denzel Washington and Ilfenesh Hadera

David’s plans to counteract the merger are foiled by a kidnapping — not of Trey, but, per a mix-up on the kidnappers’ part, the son of his chauffeur Paul (Wright), who has essentially become a member of the King family. Thus, David is at a crossroads: pay a $17.5 million dollar ransom to rescue Paul’s son from a potentially grisly fate, or save Stackin’ Hits. 

It’s a crisis of conscience that David is forced to reckon with in various capacities, re-discovering what he ultimately stands for in the process as the plot twists and turns in characteristically pointed, but somewhat mild directions.

Indeed, “Highest 2 Lowest” represents a lesser effort from Lee both stylistically and thematically, largely due to a sluggish first act that lacks dramatic urgency and almost feels like the work of a different director entirely.

The film is oddly restrained until we break out of the opulent confines of the King residence and hit the New York City streets — it’s here where “Highest 2 Lowest” sings as a tribute to the Big Apple, and as a cautionary tale about the allure of fame and wealth at the expense of morals in today’s parasocial world.

Washington, in his fifth Lee collaboration, brings the gravitas we expect from such a legendary performer, imbuing David with a sense of warmth belying vanity, the cracks in his facade of wealth and confidence being chipped away at as he breaks down and gradually rebuilds himself again, contemplating what he truly values.

Jeffrey Wright as Paul.

Wright’s Paul, even more so than David, provides the emotional core of the film. Wright (as usual) steals every scene he’s in, delivering Lee’s signature eclectic, lyrical dialogue with delicious flair while subtly illustrating the economic and power divide that separates him from David despite their years of closeness.

Supported by a strong-enough ensemble — including turns from “Mayhem” himself Dean Winters as a shady cop and, more notably, A$AP Rocky as main kidnapper “Yung Felon” — “Highest 2 Lowest” has all the ingredients for compelling, edge-of-your-seat drama, but Lee takes a more subdued approach, at least for the first 40 minutes or so. 

Washington’s performance, in particular, is hamstrung by direction, editing, and cinematography in the first act that doesn’t fully capitalize on the volatile situation David is in — creating a glossy, distancing effect. Pivotal character moments are almost drowned out by Howard Drossin’s score which, while strong on its own merits, furthers a sensation of drifting through scenes without getting fully immersed.

Lee holds back on his characteristic verve while David remains in his penthouse (decorated with Lee’s own art collection), disguising his fiery directorial instincts behind a too-pristine veneer that gradually morphs into a different, far more entertaining beast entirely as both David, and the film itself, move towards a sense of self-actualization.

Denzel delivering the ransom.

There remains no excuse for such a slow start and, even when things start to click into place at the halfway point, “Highest 2 Lowest” never fully recovers.

Still, once David and company hit the streets in an energizing chase sequence — intercut with a vibrant Puerto Rican parade — “Highest 2 Lowest” pulses with colorful Lee flair and confrontational, at times experimental, filmmaking that stands in stark contrast to the “safe” presentation of David’s life of privilege leading up to it.

David’s world is turned upside-down, and so is, eventually, “Highest 2 Lowest,” incorporating David’s eroding cynicism and paradigm shift into the storytelling itself in thrilling fashion. 

Like most of the film’s elements, though, there’s a caveat, and the themes ultimately don’t hit home with much force. Lee is less interested in interrogating the nature of wealth and wealth inequity than emphasizing the (obvious) moral and artistic responsibility of those who possess it, in this case a prominent Black family, and the ways that our interconnected world breeds hatred between strivers and those who have already “made it.”

The sons – Aubrey Joseph and Elijah Wright.

Lee misses an opportunity to dig deeper into David and, especially, Paul — veering into predictability and sanding down the more complex aspects of their characters in the service of a morality tale that impresses more in its telling than the messages contained therein.

“Highest 2 Lowest,” then, is far from Lee’s strongest effort, but there’s still nobody quite like him working today. It’s worth watching on the big screen for Washington and Wright’s performances alone, and the select moments where it becomes the savory Spike Lee Joint we need right now.

“Highest 2 Lowest” is a 2025 crime thriller directed by Spike Lee and starring Denzel Washington, Jeffrey Wright, (Ilfenesh Hadera), A$AP Rocky, Aubrey Joseph, Elijah Wright, LaChanze, Fred Weller, Dean Winters, Michael Potts, and John Douglas Thompson, It is rated: R for language throughout and brief drug use and run time is 2 hours, 9 minutes. Opened in theatres Aug. 15, streaming on Apple TV+ on Sept. 5. Alex’s Grade; B+.

A$AP Rocky as Yung Felon.

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‘Afternoons of Solitude’ Is a Fascinating, Unnerving Look at the Abyss

‘Afternoons of Solitude’ Is a Fascinating, Unnerving Look at the Abyss

By Alex McPherson

Utterly mesmerizing, acclaimed director Albert Serra’s “Afternoons of Solitude” showcases beauty and bravery walking hand-in-hand with barbarism — forging a complicated portrait of bullfighting as a tradition of spectacle and destructive consequence. 

Serra’s film, his first documentary, eschews narration, onscreen text, and talking-heads interviews to immerse us into the world of celebrity matador Andrés Roca Rey over the course of three years across Spain. Serra’s focus is selective; we don’t actually learn much about Roca outside of bullfighting, observing him solely from the context of his day-to-day, high-stakes occupation.

Trimmed down from nearly 600 hours of footage, Serra mainly presents Roca in three contained environments: the packed stadiums where he faces off against his bovine adversaries; the high-class hotels he stays in; and the van (packed with hype men who wax pseudo-poetic about the size of his testicles while giving his exploits soulful importance) that shuttles him between the two. We also sometimes concentrate on the bulls raised for slaughter in these arenas of death. The opening scene, in fact, forces us to stare directly into their eyes in a way that conveys both their raw power and ultimate powerlessness.

Serra underlines the repetition of Roca’s day-to-day life — cleaning up his injuries, meticulously donning his flamboyant clothing (occasionally being hoisted into them), saying his prayers, and risking his life for roaring crowds against a dazed and hypnotized creature stripped of agency. We also witness his later reflections on the experience as his team smooths over his sporadic self-doubt over his success and masculinity in preparation for the next go around. 

It’s hypnotic and deeply disturbing — presented at a remove that separates the “entertainment” from Roca’s performances in the arena and from behind closed doors, capturing the allure and repulsion of a controversial practice.

Indeed, the ironically titled “Afternoons of Solitude” is a participatory viewing experience, urging us to come to our own conclusions, yet always making us aware of the inherent absurdity and toll of the sport. Bringing to mind a more conventionally cinematic Frederick Wiseman, Serra’s approach draws special attention to form, specifically what is centered in the frame and what isn’t, building a gradually comprehensive picture of the dangers and perverse thrill of bullfighting.

Time and time again, we observe Roca’s stoicism and pangs of nervousness, his bravery risking his life, and the bulls’ heartbreaking final moments in which light drains from their eyes and their carcasses are unceremoniously dragged off into the shadows, soundtracked to a roaring, unseen crowd. 

Serra presents this cycle of events as routine, but the violence and the subjects’ detachment from said violence never loses its shock value, particularly in the attention Serra pays to the bulls themselves, and in the almost cartoonish conversations Roca has with his entourage afterwards. The deadly stakes at play (brought up in reference to Roca’s retired colleagues and fellow competitors) only momentarily break through in their discussions as Roca prepares to face the next challenge, and their worries are discussed in private. 

Serra effectively puts us in the arena with Roca, but from an audience perspective and heavily zoomed-in. We’re simultaneously in the thick of it while still being at a remove. This works to showcase the elaborate performance that Roca puts on — almost transforming into a different being himself — and giving Serra the ability to navigate the space and subtly guide our attention through his camera, whether it be on Roca’s athleticism and endurance, the bulls’ anger and suffering, or the weirdly banal repetition of Roca’s movements, punctuated by startling jolts when his “control” slips away and the captor becomes the attacked.

Stripped of the “fun” that the crowds are drawn to, what we’re left with is monstrousness disguised as entertainment: a thousand-year-plus practice that’s likely here to stay. Roca, too, drawn to stardom and attention but still vulnerable to fear (his hypemen have to train him mentally like an animal in some instances), is clearly devoted to the craft, and has no intention of stepping down. Serra posits that bullfighting is the essence of who Roca is, having given himself over fully, and potentially fatally, to his art.

Marc Verdaguer’s score notably weaves together dread and strange lightness, eventually resolving in a sense of melancholic acceptance as Roca bows to the audience and walks “off-stage” into the darkness.

It’s all deeply bizarre and unsettling, but above all else ridiculous: acceptance of the abominable in the service of bloody tradition. But that’s just my takeaway — “Afternoons of Solitude” leaves the door open for viewers to make their own meaning. And that’s a large part of its absorbing, horrifying brilliance.

“Afternoons of Solitude” is a 2024 documentary directed by Albert Serra about bullfighting. Its runtime is 2 hours, 5 minutes and it screens at the Webster Film Series July 25-27. In Spanish. Alex’s Grade: A+

Eva Victor’s ‘Sorry, Baby’ Is A Powerful Meditation on Pain and Healing

Eva Victor’s ‘Sorry, Baby’ Is A Powerful Meditation on Pain and Healing

By Alex McPherson

Exploring sensitive subject matter with grace and humor, director Eva Victor’s “Sorry, Baby” vividly captures the aftermath of trauma while underlining human resilience and small, unexpected joys that pave the way to hope — largely eschewing melodrama for tenderly observed truth that achieves universality despite the story’s specificity.

Victor’s film, their feature debut, is told in several chapters presented non-chronologically, each devoted to a year. The wry, warm, and precocious Agnes (Victor) is a junior English professor working at a small New England university. Agnes is well-liked by their students but feels stuck physically and emotionally as the world changes around them.

They still live in the same house they shared in grad school with their best friend Lydie (a radiant Naomi Ackie), who has since moved to New York and is now expecting a baby with her partner. 

When Lydie visits Agnes, it’s almost as if she never left. They share a deep friendship built on years of trust and camaraderie, yet there’s a reluctance to discuss the past. Melancholy seeps in among each lingering pause and soft inquiry into how Agnes is really doing. A dinner party with former classmates brings painful memories to the surface, specifically a reference to their former thesis mentor, Preston Decker (Louis Cancelmi). 

In the next chapter, set four years earlier, we learn what happened. While Victor positions the event as a surprise, it’s fairly easy to deduce from the opening scenes. Preston, lavishing praise on Agnes’s writing, later sexually assaulted her at his house, profoundly changing how Agnes engages with the world and with herself.

The rest of “Sorry, Baby,” essentially told as a series of vignettes, charts their painful, raw, but also life-affirming path to healing. 

With bursts of unexpected humor, Victor illustrates fluctuations of empathy and apathy in a world that often refuses to listen, showing Agnes’s resilience each step of the way in a manner that’s not sensationalized or manipulative for the sake of easy resolution.

Indeed, “Sorry, Baby” thrives on its naturalism, capturing both a visceral void and unexpected levity that reflect the unpredictable rhythms of reality. Victor’s film is also a call to consider the different ways each of us experiences the world, and the weight that listening — both to others and to ourselves — carries as we navigate uncertain times.

Victor is remarkable in their portrayal of Agnes, radiating warmth and awkward likability while subtly showing the sadness, anxiety, and fear bubbling beneath the image Agnes displays to the world.

This is revealed in quieter moments where they exist in surroundings both familiar and rendered foreign by the past. It’s an exceptional performance that balances droll comedy with heartbreaking vulnerability, often within the same scene. 

Agnes uses humor to cope and navigate the subtle and not-so-subtle triggers they encounter as the days pass, and Victor’s performance layers tragedy with quiet bravery; Agnes, emotionally damaged though they are, still exists, aware of the emotional minefield that lies before them every day, but persisting regardless.

They hold onto small serendipities — like finding a stray kitten on the street or bonding with a gruff yet wise sandwich shop owner after a panic attack — that bring some light, a recognition that they are capable of being understood.

For all of the sadness at the core of “Sorry, Baby,” it’s worth emphasizing that the film is often funny, as Victor acerbically points out the absurdities and hypocrisies over how society treats Agnes after her assault — from detached doctors and school administrators to the more subtle pressures placed on her by her neighbor-turned-friend-with-benefits Gavin (Lucas Hedges).

The humor is often uncomfortable and near-satirical at points, as Victor encourages us to laugh but also to recognize the deeper injustices at play. They never let these laughs, irreverent though they sometimes are, distract from the drama and themes at the film’s core.

Victor’s filmmaking, too, is remarkably accomplished, bringing us into Agnes’s world without showing us happenings we don’t need to see, and gradually building its own visual vocabulary for expressing Agnes’s trauma.

Eva Victor appears in Sorry, Baby by Eva Victor, an official selection of the 2025 Sundance Film Festival. Courtesy of Sundance Institute | photo by Mia Cioffy Henry.

Mia Cioffi’s cinematography emphasizes empty space as Agnes goes about her days, sometimes patiently, nerve-wrackingly drifting over her surroundings as if there’s some unknown presence nearby, watching and judging them.

Victor doesn’t show the assault itself either, thankfully. Rather, we wait outside Preston’s house as the time of day changes, following Agnes as they drive home and eventually explain what happened in detail to Lydie, who stays by their side as all good friends should. Victor trusts us to believe Agnes and to appreciate her struggles without talking down to us, and the film is all the more powerful for it.

“Sorry, Baby,” then, with its sobering story and tonal swerves, is quite an experience. Victor weaves conflicting emotions together in a far more lifelike way than most films in recent memory.

The few spare scenes where they go slightly off-track into exaggeration and exposition-reliant storytelling stick out, but this ranks among the most essential films of the year thus far, and a much-needed reminder of compassion and the ways we should listen to each other as we battle our own demons.

:”Sorry, Baby” is a 2025 dark comedy-drama written and directed by Eva Victor, produced by Oscar-winning filmmaker Barry Jenkins, and starring Victor, Naomi Ackie, Lucas Hedges and Louis Cancelmi. Rated R for sexual content and language, the film is 1 hour, 43 minutes, and is in theatres July 25. Alex’s Grade: A.

Ari Aster’s Latest ‘Eddington’ Is a Frenzied, Absorbing Nightmare

Ari Aster’s Latest ‘Eddington’ Is a Frenzied, Absorbing Nightmare

By Alex McPherson

Supremely uncomfortable yet ever-watchable, director Ari Aster’s “Eddington” looks back at the chaos of 2020 with a savagely enjoyable microscope.

Our story unfolds within the fictional, sleepy town of Eddington, New Mexico, during May 2020. The COVID-19 pandemic is in full swing, and Eddington residents struggle to navigate this new reality. Some succumb to conspiracy theories, others give into coronavirus paranoia, and everyone is glued to their smartphones.

The sickly allure of echo chambers is impossible to resist amid the cultural and social rifts exposed by an invisible enemy that’s infecting the world. There’s talk of a resource-hogging data center being constructed on the edge of town, the building of which Eddington’s incumbent, left-leaning mayor Ted Garcia (Pedro Pascal) makes a core (positive!) feature of his campaign. 

Ted has also instituted a mask mandate for the area. This greatly frustrates the insecure, right-leaning, and asthmatic police chief Joe Cross (Joaquin Phoenix). Joe struggles at his job and endures a home life where a sense of “control” has all but slipped away.

His wife, Louise (a haunted Emma Stone), refuses intimacy because of past trauma and has been drawn into the world of influencers, specifically a cultish, self-help guru named Vernon Jefferson Peak (Austin Butler). 

Joe and Louise share their house with Louise’s mother, Dawn (Deirdre O’Connell), who has fully given into “Plandemic” lunacy and is encouraging Louise to go further down the rabbit hole of online BS. Joe is nearing the end of his rope — he believes that something needs to be done to “save the soul” of Eddington or, more importantly, give his unstable self a feeling of power and so-called masculine purpose. 

After Joe has a tense debate with Ted over mask-wearing at a grocery store — an elderly man was just kicked out for not wearing a mask — he’s inspired to run for mayor himself, on a platform that demonizes Ted in darkly humorous fashion.

It’s all about “restoring the kindness of Eddington” after all, no matter the exaggerated political signage (complete with misspellings) and inflamed rhetoric. Joe’s anger at Ted extends beyond his politics, though: Ted once dated Louise, and rumors say their relationship did not end well.

Then George Floyd is killed, and everything is thrown further off its axis. Small protests grip Eddington, and Joe can barely keep things under control. Well-meaning but half-informed youths stand up for racial justice, and their eyes are on Michael (Micheal Ward), Eddington’s only Black police officer and perhaps one of the only Black people in Eddington, period. 

The pandemic, Black Lives Matter, fear-mongering media, anarchists, predators, and the warring campaigns of two egotistical men are all a lot for the town to handle. It’s only a matter of time before things go wildly off the rails.

This is an Aster joint after all, the mad lad who concocted such trippily unsettling works as “Midsommar” and the stylistically envelope-pushing “Beau is Afraid.” 

“Eddington” aims closer to home than those films — dramatizing a time whose trauma we’re still grappling with today in heightened, sometimes inflammatory (and polarizing) fashion.

But despite structural and pacing issues resulting from Aster tackling so many hot-button topics, the film, on the whole, accurately reflects our ostensibly doomed present. 

Aster captures a society overflowing with misinformation, emphasizing the pursuit of power, direction, and attention (under the guise of being noble) at the expense of self. Extremes on all sides will collide in train-wreck-catastrophe if, Aster warns, we continue down the same connected-but-isolated path as these characters.

A jolly view of humanity, to be sure, but one that’s rooted in truth despite Aster’s absurdist proclivities and resolute lack of subtlety.

Aster might not be the most psychologically incisive filmmaker out there to tackle the horrors of 2020, retaining a preference for madness over deeper reflection. “Eddington” can be uneven in its shock-value humor and sometimes broad characterization, with Aster throwing everything at the wall to see what sticks.

The film eschews emotional attachment for blunt-force social commentary that condemns our terminally online existence and our propensity for hate — ramming home the ways in which malleable minds can become warped; personal drama rendered violently political. 

Phoenix, yet again, gives a compelling performance that’s equal parts darkly amusing and disturbing. “Eddington” centers its focus on Joe and his de-evolution to baser, reactionary instincts.

Aster takes pains to illustrate how each facet of Joe’s life is breaking down, emphasizing his pitiful attempts at reconciling with Louise and carrying out his job as sheriff and would-be mayor, each slight building upon the other as Joe takes all the wrong lessons.

He makes his personal vengeance against society become larger than himself. As he becomes increasingly monstrous, though, Joe also becomes more recognizable on an instinctive level. Aster just takes his actions, and the actions of those around him, to extremes within this doomed microcosm.

Almost everyone is put in the crosshairs of Aster’s satire. Teens loudly but in a half-assed way deal with their White guilt (some virtue signaling for the sake of getting laid). Ted’s performative politicking masks a certain darkness, and people like Louise, become swept up into the world of cults masked as self-improvement.

That “Eddington” puts these characters next to antivaxxers and other right-wing conspiracy theorists might imply conflation, but the film primarily spotlights the technologies that drive them.

Indeed, social media infects these characters’ daily lives to an extent that they’re not aware of, taking control of their impulses while innocent parties are frequently caught in the middle.

Darius Khondji’s crisp cinematography finds moments of stark beauty amid the arid surroundings, positioning smartphones as a blunt, unnatural intrusion into the frame. Bobby Krlic and Daniel Pemberton’s score furthers a sense of dread punctuated by atonal jolts, reflecting the volatile nature of the story itself.

“Eddington” is most effective in the big picture, sacrificing digging deeper into any one topic for building a swirling, chaotic mélange of everything happening at once, eventually reaching a near-fever-dream pitch of violence and cinder-black comedy.

The film’s free-flow structure can drag in places as it assembles the pieces. This is largely due to the inherent unlikability of most of the characters and a screenplay that, for all its shrewd effectiveness, is hit-or-miss with its “provocative” humor. 

Flaws aside, “Eddington is still a valiantly unhinged effort from Aster that’s willing to take real risks. Some will hate it, some will love it, and while its more haphazard elements are distracting, the experience is never less than interesting — a modern western with no savior, just a steady march towards Armageddon.

“Eddington” is a 2025 dark comedy – contemporary western directed by Ari Aster and starring Joaquin Phoenix, Pedro Pascal, Emma Stone, Austin Butler, Deirdre O’Connell, Luke Grimes, Micheal Ward, Cameron Mann and Matt Gomez Hidaka. It is rated R for strong violence, some grisly images, language, and graphic nudity. Its run time is 2 hours, 28 minutes. It opened in theatres July 18. Alex‘s Grade: Rating: B+