OSCARS 2026: Marty Supreme (2025)

I hope the following admission doesn't get me kick out of the Film Bros Association of America: I've never seen a Safdie Brothers film before. “Good Time” managed to pass by my attention before it started to pick up acclaim as a modern classic. I witnessed people losing their minds over “Uncut Gems” but... I don't know, man. I just never got around to it. There's so many trashy horror movies I need to see first, you guys! And it's all a moot point now, of course, as the Safdie Brothers are no more. At least the formal duo has split up for the time being. While Benny's attempt at a solo outing barely caught the Academy's attention – review of that one coming soon enough – Josh's “Marty Supreme” is one of the big titles at this year's Oscars ceremony. This is my first stop into Safdie-ville so the question remains to be answered. Have I actually been missing out?

Loosely inspired by the life of a real table tennis pro, the film follows Marty Mauser, a Jewish young man living in fifties New York City. By day, he works in his uncle Murray's shoe shop and fucks his married girlfriend, Rachel. By night, he's a rising name in the world of table tennis, an internationally popular sport that still hasn't caught on in America. He needs 700 dollars to travel to London and compete in the British Open. When Murray won't give him the cash, Marty steals it from the store's vault. In London, he meets and seduces washed-up actress Kay Stone and draws the attention of her husband, the rich CEO of a pen corporation. Marty also loses the final match against a Japanese player, Koto Endo. Upon returning home, he's arrested for robbing the shoe store and receives a letter from the Table Tennis Association that says he can't compete again until he pays a $1500 fine. Also, Rachel is pregnant and claims the baby is Marty's. Marty does everything possible to raise enough money to pay the fine and fly to Japan for a rematch against Koto. Orange ping pong balls, a stolen dog, a gangster with an arm crushed by a falling bathtub, the Harlem Globetrotters, a shootout, an exploding gas station, and another fling with Kay follow. 

From a narrative perspective, “Marty Supreme” acts mostly as a series of chain reactions. I went in expecting the “Timothee Chalamet table tennis movie” but there's actually not much ping pong action in the film. Instead, the movie is more about the various insane schemes Marty attempts to raise the necessary funds, each one spiraling wildly out of control very quickly. A good example is a sequence that begins with the simple idea of hustling some guys in a bowling alley, challenging them to a match they can't win with funds that are already secured. In a way that seems amusingly, horrifyingly plausible, this somehow escalates to an entire gas station going up in flames. Keep in mind, this is after a bathtub smashes through the floor and into the apartment below. “Marty Supreme” is probably the only Oscar-nominated inspiration sports drama that features multiple shoot-outs. The entire film manages to capture the feeling of a machine that is always merely seconds away from spinning out of control.

Often, that sense of barely controlled chaos is darkly amusing. Such as when an argument in an apartment is repeatedly forced to occur at a lower volume, least the other tenets be awoken. Once the mysteriously rich gangster – played by, of all people, Abel Ferrara with the exact level of gravelly, mush-mouthed street smarts you'd expect – an unavoidable sense of danger is present in the story. This leads to an increasing uneasy feeling, Marty and Rachel flung into the middle of a violent situation that they have zero control over. Frantic but precise editing creates a visible momentum throughout the film, furthering the atmosphere of uncertainty. When cops interrupt Marty and Kay's park date, how sure are we that this isn't going to get much worst? Daniel Lopatin's vibrating electronic score and a production design that seems to delight in the dingy, filthy squalor of the various locations the story takes place in. This confirms “Marty Supreme” as both a darkly hilarious comedy of errors and a slow-mo car crash of piling-up mistakes that is impossible to look away from.

It's a film of undeniably bold decisions. The opening credits occur over close-up footage of Marty's sperm fertilizing Rachel's egg, which then dissolves to a ping pong ball. Despite the fifties setting, the soundtrack prominently features several eighties New Wave songs, like two separate Tears for Fears' needle drops and Public Image Ltd.'s “The Order of Death.” (Suggesting the possibility that Josh Safdie has seen “Hardware.”) This is the kind of shit that easily invites mockery unless the film around it is properly confident. Marty Mauser is certainly very sure of his own abilities. At least, this is the image of himself he presents at first. He's a nobody in a sport few people on this shore take seriously but he acts like a superstar, bragging to reporters, proclaiming his own greatness, successfully seducing movie stars. The reason Marty commits numerous crimes is because he's so certain his ultimate plan will be successful. It's the kind of character that might have come across as insufferable, if the film didn't make it so abundantly clear that this is an invented persona. Marty Mauser has nothing but his dream of being the greatest table tennis player of all time. If his dream fails, he's dead. Every thing that happens in the film is his attempt to manifest a seemingly impossible ambition into reality through sheer brute force.

It's a narrative that resembles star Timothee Chalamet's award season story, of proclaiming himself the best and willing that recognition into being. He supposedly has been training in table tennis for the last six years to assure realism in this performance. Again, this would be very annoying if Chalamet and the film around him wasn't very careful. Despite his apparent, partially put-on self-confidence, Marty screws up a lot and in huge ways. The script repeatedly sees him thrown to the ground, his possessions destroyed, his plans going awry. A key sequence has one of the film's primary antagonist, a man with all the power Marty lacks, ritualistically humiliate him in public. The question floats throughout, over whether this is the athlete being punished for his hubris or if Marty's life is merely one indignity after another. It creates an interesting push and pull, between the audience feeling like this guy is a jerk who probably needs to be humbled and ultimately rooting for him to succeed despite how cocky he was at the start. It's a balance that Chalamet, with his ability to appear both deeply vulnerable and obnoxiously self-aggrandizing, is uniquely gifted to walk. 

That brings another interesting idea to mind. Marty Mauser is very Jewish. He's so Jewish that he's got an actual Uncle Murray. He's so Jewish that Fran Drescher plays his guilting, pressuring mother. “Marty Supreme” is a film so deeply invested in the cultural archetype of the hard-boiled, Jewish youth growing up in the big city that its protagonist can't help but emerge as symbolic of the entire East Coast Jewish identity. Marty Mauser is a perpetual underdog, a frequent target of harassment from a world that hates him because of his genes. One of his few close friends is Wally, a black man who faces similar prejudice every day. At the same time, most of the bad shit that happens to Marty is his own fault. He wouldn't become the target of a gun-totting asshole farmer or a petty mobster if he hadn't tried to extort both parties earlier. A moment in “Marty Supreme” that has attracted some minor controversy is when Marty brings his mother a piece of the Great Pyramid of Gaza, saying that “we built that.” (I hope this doesn't need saying but: We did not.) This, when paired to an earlier sequence concerning another player being a Holocaust survivor, has led some to assume a Zionist undertone to the film. If we are to take Marty as something of a stand-in for the Jewish condition, at least how it exists in the United States in the 20th century, his debatable unearned sense of self-importance and being the source of much of his own misery makes “Marty Supreme” a self-reflective perception on a cultural identity that is simultaneously God's Chosen People and the whipping boy of a hundred other kingdoms. If nothing else, that suggests a point of view more complicated than blind support for Israel. 

Honestly, I wasn't sure I totally loved “Marty Supreme” throughout. The performances are great, the cinematography and sets are fantastic, the soundtrack drew me in. I wasn't sure if the piling up of misadventures that composes the story was going to come together in a satisfying manner. However, by the time the climax arrives, of Marty's rematch in Japan with the champ that bested him in the first act, I realized I was totally hooked and couldn't look away from the screen. That's a good indication that a movie is a masterful piece of filmmaking that has truly succeeded. From what I've read, it sounds like a lot of the Safdies' previous work walks a similar fine line of anxious filmmaking as this one does. Yes, I am forced to conclude, this is my type of thing and I'm annoyed I didn't check them out sooner. Far from a typical sports biopic, “Marty Supreme” is a wilder, more intense, and more interesting picture than its log line suggests. [9/10]

OSCARS 2026: F1 (2025)

Let us consider the career of screenwriter Ehren Kruger. If you ignore an obscure TV movie and a random Rutger Hauer vehicle, Kruger would first gain fame for writing well-liked thriller “Arlington Road.” Two years after that, he penned “The Ring,” which is still regarded as the best of American J-horror remake trend. Otherwise, Kruger's credits are a line-up of disheartening blockbuster schlock. He did an uncredited polish on the worst “Scream” movie. He put his name on the worst Philip K. Dick adaptation, the movie that ended John Frankenheimer's theatrical career, the Terry Gilliam joint nobody defends, an anime adaptation most famous for whitewashing its heroine, three of the Michael Bay “Transformer” sequels, and Tim Burton's “Dumbo” remake. I don't think Kruger deserves sole blame for any of these features. Maybe the original scripts were really good and got fucked-up during troubled productions or by apathetic filmmakers. Nevertheless, Kruger being associated with so many films that range from deeply mediocre to some of the most annoying big budget movies I've ever seen has not endeared him to me. 

Likewise, let us look at the career of Joseph Kosinski. He first gained attention for elaborate, special effects heavy commercials for video games. This lead to an elaborate, special effects heavy sequel about video games and the least memorable Tom Cruise sci-fi vehicle. It's not that “Tron: Legacy” or “Oblivion” are dreadful movies but they are ones that made little impression on me. Mostly, I associate Kosinski as one of those guys who, for years, gets attached to any number of uninspiring I.P.-driven reboots or sequels before inevitably moving onto something else. But powerful friends can take you places in Hollywood. Clearly Tom Cruise liked working with Kosinski and he eventually got the job to helm the long-in-development “Top Gun” sequel.  That movie become both a surprise box office and critical hit, earning six Academy Award nominations. Kruger wrote that one too and his screenplay got an Oscar nomination, which is pretty funny in light of the rest of his career. 

Now, it would seem, Kosinski and Kruger are hoping to spring off “Top Gun: Maverick's” critical acclaim to change the direction of both of their careers. The director and screenwriter would next re-team not for another forgettable CGI action fest nor a lame reboot of an old cartoon. Instead, they collabed on “F1.” (Advertised on most of the posters as “F1: The Movie,” presumably to differentiate it form “F1: The Sport” or “F1: The Commemorative Dishware.”) Since Tom Cruise had already made his race car movie, another mega-star – Brad Pitt – would be tapped to star. I don't know anybody who saw “F1” but I guess a lot of people did, as it became the ninth highest grossing movie of 2025.  While the movie honestly isn't that different from the work Kosinski and Kruger have made in the past, an aura of prestige was around “F1” all throughout its release. That the film has gone on to be nominated for four Academy Awards, including Best Picture, suggest that Kosinski and Kruger have indeed successfully reinvented themselves as critical darlings. 

Sonny Hayes self-describes not as a has-been in the world of Formula One racing so much as a never-was. His potential has never paid off and he's spent his career as a second stringer. After a successful run at the 24 Hours of Daytona competition, old friend Ruben Cervantes arrives with a proposition. The F1 team Cervantes owns is on the verge being sold unless they start to win some races. Sonny is talked into being the team's second driver. He quickly begins to butt heads with Joshua Pearce, the team's rookie driver, and Kate, the technical director. Sonny helps Kate upgrade the team's car to new heights. His on-going rivalry with Joshua – who is looking to sign with another team – and his own medical problems derail any further wins. It all comes to a head at the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix. 

After “Maverick” became such a hit, there was a brief conversation about Tom Cruise returning to his other Tony Scott directed drama about a cocky asshole who pilots fast-moving vehicles. I'm doubtful if “More Days of Thunder” will ever come to theaters but “F1” gives us a decent idea of what it might look like anyway. In his youth, Sonny was probably a lot like Cole Trickle. Over the last thirty years, he's acquired plenty of injuries and emotional burn-out but not much in the way of achievement. He is, in other words, an overgrown cocky kid, still with a lot to prove but quickly running out of time to prove it. It's a familiar character and “familiar” is the exact mold “F1” is operating in. The archetypal roles here are that of young rival, down-on-his-luck mentor, a sleazy corporate antagonist willing to sell everyone out, and a female technician the hero naturally shares a will-they-won't-they? romance with. It's extremely easy to guess where all of this is headed. The hero is going to learn about humility and friendship on his way to securing his legacy, the rival will learn to respect his elders, and the girl is certainly going home in Brad Pitt's arms. The protagonist being an old screw-up rather than a young screw-up does provide some degree of novelty but, otherwise, “F1” makes no effort to resist inspirational sports movie cliches. 

“F1” being so – if you'll excuse the inevitable pun – formulaic raises the question of why the Academy felt the need to acknowledge it all. There is a degree of real world subtext at work in the film. Much as there was in “Top Gun: Maverick,” a movie as much about Tom Cruise attempting to mold the next generation of mega-watt movie stars as it is about a retirement age pilot fostering a new team. Brad Pitt is Cruise's former “Interview with the Vampire” co-star and of the same generation of nineties idols. He's one of the few “true” movie stars we have left, able to open a motion picture based strictly on his charisma alone. But he's getting older and he knows it too. “F1” sees Brad Pitt do all the Brad Pitt things you'd expect. He has satisfying romantic chemistry with Kerry Condon, the two's relationship being one of the better elements of the film. He smiles cockily, chuckles, does dangerous stunts, and somehow paints the image of being kind of a washed-up mess despite obviously looking like Brad Pitt. I felt “Maverick” was a fairly half-assed attempt to pass the baton on Cruise's behalf. “F1” doesn't even pretend, as co-star Damson Idris is a wilting forgettable presence in Pitt's shadow. However, the tension the movie industry feels these days over individual talent being eclipsed by corporate I.P. does run throughout “F1.” 

Another reason “F1” scored points with Academy voters is that it's an impressive technical exercise. As Kosinski did with “Maverick,” CGI spectacle has given way to more grounded, practical effects. The film often puts the camera right into the cockpit with its racers. Sparks fly along the track and against the fences around the road. The speed of the vehicles and the spur-of-the-moment decisions the drivers have to make in these races is conveyed to the audience. Claudio Miranda's cinematography is gritty and fast-moving, while Stephen Mirrione's editing cuts quickly but coherently between multiple perspectives. Naturally, this is most apparent during the multiple crash scenes, the moments when the film most comes to life. The cars spinning through the air, the twisted metal being tossed around, the impact on the drivers, the risk to their lives: All are successfully felt by the audience. If motion pictures were judged strictly by the way they look, sound, and move, “F1” would be a masterpiece.

There's a problem here, however. It's strictly my problem alone but it's one I cannot emphasize enough: I do not care about auto-racing. I do not care about the technical specs of the cars. I do not care about the number of wins or conditions necessary to head towards one championship or another. “F1” is deeply invested in both of these things, multiple long scenes dedicated to the various changes and alterations needed to be made to the car to turn it into a proper winner. While “Days of Thunder” at least made NASCAR a coherent experience, at no point during “F1” did I understand how the hell these races actually operate. The script is full of the minutia regarding the rules, which Sonny and his enemies and friends exploit at various points. Getting a car from point-A to point-B faster than all the other cars should be a simple thing to understand. Instead, I spent much of “F1” completely baffled as to what the fuck any of this meant. What is a safety car? What do the letters APXGP mean? How are slick tires different from regular tires? How is a points finish secured? I do not know. Much more pressingly, I do not care. 

My indifference towards all sporting events is the biggest roadblock to me getting much of anything out of “F1.” As the title indicates, the film is essentially one long advertisement for the sport, featuring actual racers and extensive real world branding. I want to say something pithy like “Even if I did understand Formula 1 racing, the stock-parts script would still leave me unsatisfied.” But the over-reliance on the obscurities of race car regulations is a feature, not a bug, for this one. I can admire the professional, ambitious filmmaking on display here in terms of the shooting, editing, sound engineering, and special effects. However, there's simply no in – emotional or narrative – to the story for anyone outside its world. [5/10]

 

Director Report Card: Guillermo del Toro (2025)

13. Frankenstein

 

Like many a young monster kid, Guillermo del Toro had his life changed by James Whale's 1931 version of “Frankenstein.” He has described Boris Karloff's performance as his equavelent to witnessing a saint. Like many a monster kid who has managed to transfer into a successful film making career, del Toro also dreamed about making his own version of the often told tale. Since at least 2007, he's been talking up his epic “Miltonian tragedy” take on Mary Shelley's iconic story. (Which he has also called “his favorite novel of all time.”) Bernie Wrightson's beloved illustrated edition of the book was cited as an inspiration for what the creature might look like with del Toro's regular monster man, Doug Jones, being cast in the part. As with del Toro's adaptations of “At the Mountains of Madness” or “The Hobbit,” it also looked like his “Frankenstein” was destined to remain unfilmed.

That all changed when Guillermo got his Academy Awards for “The Shape of Water” and Netflix stepped up with the offer to fund his dreamiest dream projects. After making his equally long-discussed “Pinocchio” movie, del Toro's “Frankenstein” was on the docket next. As another life-long “Frankenstein” obsessive who also considers the Whale's film his favorite movie of all time, the idea of what del Toro might do with the material tickled my brain. What would an adaptation of the greatest monster story from our greatest modern lover of monsters look like? The director himself has talked about the pressure of adapting such a beloved, frequently filmed story. About whether he could live up to his ambition of making the greatest “Frankenstein” of all time. Well, now the film is done and available for all to see. Reactions have been divided. What do I, as simply another classic horror nerd on the internet, have to say? 

Unlike many past cinematic “Frankensteins,” del Toro's film follows the general outline of Shelley's novel relatively closely. A Danish ship captain attempts to lead his crew on a perilous journey through the frozen Northern corners of the globe. Their journey is interrupted by two figures on the ice. The first is the eccentric Victor Frankenstein, nearly consumed by the cold. The second is an inhuman creation with monstrous strength who pursues the doctor endlessly. Within the bowels of the ship, Victor relates his tale. Of his quest to conquer death by assembling a man from pieces of the dead and reanimating it. Of how he succeeded in his goals but created a monster in the process. Finally, how he and his creation devoted themselves to destroying each other. The Creature tells his version of events too, of how he was brought into this world, how he learned to read and interact, and learned about cruelty and being feared. 

Of all the many films to feature the name “Frankenstein,” only a few have earnestly attempted to adapt Shelley's words. The general concept of the novel has spread through pop culture so far and so wide that the “Frankenstein” legacy is both almost insurmountable seeming and also potentially worthless. Everybody thinks they know what “Frankenstein” is about, even if they actually don't, to the point that there's little novelty to doing it again. At the same time, every meaningful reinvention or run-through of the material must contend with those preconceived notions about the story. For whatever my opinion is worth, I believe del Toro does a decent job of synthesizing Shelley's book with his own ideas and the more iconic elements of what “Frankenstein” is that have emerged over the decades. The narrative is a rough approximation of the book while the director also incorporates lightning animating the monster, a stone tower reaching to the sky, and a Dr. Pretorius-like mentor to Victor into the story. Visuals like the creature crouching among a mill's massive turning gears or being shot very specifically in the eye seem like deliberate homages to the Universal and Hammer versions. 

Of course, the reason why “Frankenstein” has proven so endlessly adaptable for so long is that the themes of the tale are extremely mutable. Purists argue that “Frankenstein” is a reflection of Mary Shelley's specific thoughts and feelings as a young woman and mother to a dead child. At the same time, “Frankenstein's” ideas about creating and being created are as universal as they come. Every adapter zeroes in on the element that speaks the most to them. To del Toro, “Frankenstein” is a story about fathers and sons. Victor's foundational trauma is the death of his mother and being raised by a cruel, perfectionist father. Like many boys before and since, he is doomed to inherit the tendencies of his asshole dad when rearing his own offspring. Just like his dad whipped him with a switch when he was anything less than ideal, Victor smacks the creature around when it disappoints him.  Father and son grimly mirror each other in their quest for mutually assured destruction, on the path towards a resolution of sorts. 

This, to me, is as valid an interpretation of the text as any other. Not the least of which becomes these earthly themes have cosmic ramifications too. Del Toro's lapsed Catholicism often informs his work and its presence is unmissable in his “Frankenstein.” Victor prays to a grand statue of an archangel, which becomes a foreboding symbol throughout. The creature is raised into a crucifix pose as it is brought to life. Adam and Eve are mentioned and a purloined fruit is presented as a symbol of plucked innocence. As Colin Clive observed nearly a century ago, bringing a body to life makes Dr. Frankenstein a lot like God himself. As a hundred dissertations about the references to “Paradise Lost” within the novel have discussed, the Monster is rejected by his creator like Lucifer was rejected by his. He did not request his Maker to mould his clay nor solicit to be promoted from darkness. Neither did any of us. If Victor is God and we are all the Monsters, that means we are all the abandoned children of a father that brought us into this world without ever asking our opinion about it. This is how del Toro grafts his themes of Daddy Issues to Shelley's grander ideas about making and being made. It is an interesting take.
 

Classically, Victor Frankenstein is classified as a Byronic hero, a proud and brooding protagonist whose passions are so great that they inevitably seal his own fate. Frankenstein's quest to create life ensures the end of his own. Del Toro visualizes the irony of Victor and his Creation's link. As he stitched together a man from different body parts, the doctor slowly looses more and more of his own pieces throughout the narrative. This is also a rather heavy-handed visual metaphor for Frankenstein's dwindling humanity. The creature, meanwhile, is given a Wolverine-style healing factor that sees him recovering from any wound, no matter how fatal. In other words, the monster can take any and all abuse Victor dishes out but Victor is inevitably going to break. 

Adaptations of “Frankenstein” have often zeroed in on the homoerotic undercurrents of a story about man trying to remove the feminine from the procreative process. Of two males becoming obsessed with each other. Del Toro's rendition sees Victor actually attempting to rear his offspring, who acts like a giant ripped toddler in a swaddled diaper. He keeps him chained up in the bowels of the phallic castle before ejecting him from the stone womb into the cruel world via an orgasmic explosion. As the two become fixated on punishing one another and destroying each others' bodies, the rivalry takes on a sadomasochistic energy. In its earliest form, the creature is introduced in a kneeling posture. By the end, he refuses to be submissive and punishes his master instead, the power transition being fulfilled. Is “Frankenstein” not a weird incestuous gay BDSM fable? Is Victor Frankenstein not literature's first Dom Daddy? Maybe not but I don't think del Toro is ignorant of some of the images he invokes here. 

How much of that was intended by del Toro is debatable. However, other reoccurring themes of his are certainly present in his “Frankenstein.” Christoph Waltz appears as Harlander, the Dr. Pretorius-like figure that appears to fund Victor's unorthodox experiments. He is an arms manufacturer, a war profiteer, who sees Frankenstein's work as a way to heal his own ailing, syphilitic body. (Another image of flesh falling apart.) The monster is partially stitched together from bodies dug out of a war zone while other parts come from prisoners about to go to the gallows. In other words, this Frankenstein monster is rather literally an offspring of the military industrial complex. Whether than embed with free will by a God above, he is the result of the rich exploiting the poor and the senseless destruction of life on the battlefield. This ties into war as a wasteful, only destructive exercise as depicted in del Toro's “Pan's Labyrinth” and “The Devil's Backbone.” 

This idea also points to how the creature is destined to be an outsider, assembled from pieces of underclassmen who have already been discarded and destroyed. That leads to a characterization of the offspring as more victimized than victimizer. The observation that Frankenstein's creation is not born a monster but rather made one by a cruel and unaccepting world is the most surface level reading of Shelley's material as possible. Del Toro's telling is so laser-focused on this idea that it almost totally takes the monster out of Frankenstein's monster all together. The creature's bond with a blind man and his subsequent rejection by the other people in the cabin are maintained. Almost every other interaction the creature has with the outside world is excised. The creature's quest to take away everything his creator loves is almost entirely neutered, as Victor's bond with his family is very different here. Frankenstein's monster should be misunderstood. However, del Toro is so determined to make the creature an innocent that is a victim of others' cruelty – mostly his dad's – that it takes a lot of the blood out of the story. 

This represents the film's biggest weakness. Del Toro talks often of his love for the gothic romance as a literary genre. If “Crimson Peak” already bordered on a parody of the style, his “Frankenstein” is an even deeper embracing of baroque melodrama. The climax of Shelley's novel, of Victor's creation being with him on his wedding night, is greatly altered for this telling. The exact machinations of how that plays out border on the improbable and then ends with someone looking at the doctor and literally telling him he's the real monster. This proceeds an ending which is unsightly in its sappiness. To tell you the truth, I've always felt that Shelley's book had an abrupt and somewhat unsatisfying ending. Victor dies, the Creature ruminates on the nature of this relationship, and then he walks out onto the ice. Del Toro attempts to come up with a more fulfilling conclusion than this but layers on the weepy emotions instead. It takes a movie otherwise tailor-made to appeal to me out on a disappointing note. 

And what of Elizabeth, traditionally Victor's bride-to-be? Del Toro's reshuffling makes her the intended of Victor's younger brother, her relationship with the doctor more flirtatious and unrequited. In a move all too aware of its Freudian implications, Mia Goth is cast in both this role and as Victor's not-long-for-this-world mother. Much as Victor's mom is a perfect beacon of love and acceptance, whose death leads her son down a path of heartlessness, Elizabeth is a symbol of pure accepting love. She immediately sees the creation as the innocent he is. Bringing the promise of Goth's dual role to fruition, Elizabeth emerges as both a motherly figure and a romantic one to the monster. (Also robbing the movie of a purer example of a Bride of Frankenstein character, which is mildly disappointing.) A lot of very angry people have already pointed out how this treatment under-serves both Elizabeth's role in the story and the Monster's own sexism, in favor of a cuddlier reading. Accusations of sexism have been tossed around but I rather see it simply as making the story a lot flatter, less nuanced and complex than it could have been.
 

This “Frankenstein” is, undeniably, a handsome production. The costumes are gorgeous. Goth, in particular, gets to sweep through her scenes in a succession of colorful, intricately designed gowns. The production design is gorgeous. The elaborately carved caskets that Victor's parents are put to rest in are unforgettable. The sets, especially that towering lab with its vein-like tunnels and ventricular chambers, are impressive. Some have criticized the cinematography as murky or too digital. I think it looks pretty damn good, especially the use of light cutting through dark rooms. The make-up effects are subtle, the creature looking seamless in his undead assemblage but also like something that could actually exist. The performances are strong all around. Oscar Isaac is the right level of blustering ego and bruised desperation as the doctor. Jacob Elordi is extraordinary as the gentle golem of flesh and blood, the actor totally absorbed in the role of an outsider possessed of an animal rage. Christoph Waltz does exactly what you pay him for as the scheming but poetic Harlander. This is a lovingly assembled and acted film.

Ultimately, I have my qualms about this “Frankenstein.” I wish del Toro was willing to make his monster as much of a terror as he is a misunderstood victim. I was looking forward to seeing the director's take on the more alchemic origins for the creature presented in Shelley's writing, something that is reduced to a passing mention here. As grand as the ambitions are, the film ends up feeling rather cloistered instead, trapped so much within the interior worlds of its protagonists and their spurned feelings. One can't help but wonder if this would've been a stronger film if its director had made it twenty years ago, when his work was meaner. However, I also think there's a lot of good work on display here and plenty of interesting ideas. There's going to be many more “Frankenstein” movies made after this one. Another big budget studio take is scheduled to come out in a few weeks already. There's plenty of room for del Toro's interpretation of this age-old tale. For all its flaws, it is still uniquely his version. [Grade: B]

 

OSCARS 2026: Sinners (2025)

 

(In an unlikely turn of events, the bloody vampire movie I reviewed last September has become the most nominated movie in Academy Award history. Please don't held it against me if I reuse my review I wrote last fall during this Oscars season, as my opinion is unlikely to have changed much since then.) 

 

Perhaps I was the last movie nerd in the world to underestimate Ryan Coogler. Establishing himself in 2013 with ripped-from-the-headlines indie drama "Fruitvale Station," Coogler would bring that same level of grit and sincerity to franchise filmmaking with "Creed." "Black Panther" would launch him into the stratosphere but, I felt anyway, at the sacrifice of a lot of his more intimate style. This was truer still of the superhero blockbuster's inevitable sequel, which wasn't all that distinguishable from any other mid-tier Marvel movie. A lot of smaller directors have signed up for massive studio projects with the understanding that this will give them a blank check to fund their weird, personal efforts from now on, an agreement that is increasingly unfulfilled. It seemed like Coogler was going down this same path but, actually, I'm a wrong idiot who is wrong. Coogler came back with "Sinners," a personal, gritty, weird genre hybrid that became a big hit earlier this year. It's also the best new release I've seen in theaters in a while and looks unlikely to be dethroned as my favorite film of 2025. Here, let me ramble about it some more. 

In Prohibition-era Mississippi, twins Elijah and Elias – nicknamed Smoke and Stack – return to their home town. Using money and booze stolen from the Chicago mob, they purchase an old sawmill with the intention of turning it into a juke joint. They recruit several locals to run it, including their cousin and aspiring bluesman Sammie, experienced musician Delta Slim, Smoke's ex-wife and Hoodoo practitioner Annie, and a pair of Chinese immigrant shop owners. The club attracts a crowd, including Stack's white passing ex-girlfriend Mary and Pearline, a singer Sammie takes a liking to. Sammie's soulful playing also draws the attention of Remmick, a white vampire recently chased into the area. Unable to enter the joint without an invitation, he begins to transform anyone who ventures outside into undead bloodsuckers. A tense standout ensues through the night that will change the lives of everyone involved. 

“Sinners” is a movie of great texture and I mean that almost literally. Cinematographer Autumn Durald Arkapaw shot the film on 65mm, ensuring a depth to the film's look that seems much more difficult to achieve with digital technology. Every shot of the film is filled with details, from the extremely precise period costumes to the production design that makes every setting seem like a real, lived-in location. This sense of specificity extends all throughout “Sinners.” The characters' backstories and pasts are discussed naturally through dialogue, suggesting a whole world existed before the viewer sees the events of the film. Whether its the fate of Smoke and Annie's unborn child, the brothers' history as World War I veterans or time working with the mob, or the personal recollections of Mary or Delta Slim's lives, it all adds up to create a world that feels utterly fully formed. The film embraces the shared histories of blues music, the lives of the black community in the American south, how Hoodoo grew out of African mysticism, and a vampire mythology all its own. This pairs extremely well with the Mississippi setting, where everyone is always glistening with a layer of sweat and dirt. 

Honestly, the first act of “Sinners,” devoted entirely to introducing this cast of extremely well realized characters and the world they inhabit, could have gone on longer than it did. However, “Sinners” is also a hard-hitting monster movie/action flick mash-up. A sequence in which the established cast stand in a circle and eat garlic cloves in order to determine if any of them are vampires is clearly inspired by the blood test scene in “The Thing.” It's a logical homage, as “Sinners” captures that same Carpenter-style mixture of anticipation and catharsis. Once the vampires outside become a known factor to the humans inside, “Sinners” turns into a tense stand-off. The undead taunt and interrogate the people inside, attempting to draw them out. This is broken up with some expertly crafted action sequences, of brilliantly devised gun fights, extremely physical close-quarters fights, and lots of spurting blood. When the vampires do make it inside the juke joint, it results in one of the most exciting climax in recent history. And “Sinners” isn't afraid of its status as a low-down horror flick either. These bloodsuckers flash their fangs, have eyes that glint in the darkness, leap eerily through the air, and grow increasingly more grotesque looking as the film goes on. 

By inserting its story into such a layered world, “Sinners” touches on about a dozen fascinating observations about America's racial history. Perhaps the most important idea present in the film is the power of music. Blues and black roots music is depicted as spiritually transcendent, melodies filled with so much emotion and power that they pierce spectral boundaries, time and space. This is fantastically depicted in a jaw-dropping sequence where Sammie's performance causes spectres from the past and present to appear throughout the juke joint. It's almost like a crash-course in the history of African-American music, its relevance as a spiritual and cultural force, all in one spellbinding scene. Coogler's film innately understands how music creates a ritual space and doesn't limit that power to any one culture or race. As wicked as the film's vampires are, they were once human too. Remmick is Irish, implied to be as old as the Roman invasion of the British isles. Him and his trope of vampires play bluegrass and dance jigs, equally driven into an almost religious frenzy by the sense of community created by this music. Their music is good too, the film acknowledging that all traditional folk music has the power to bring people together and create an otherworldly connection. 

Music also represents an escape from the troubles of daily life, of which people of color in the thirties south had more than their share of. The undead creatures pressing down on the juke joint feels, at times, like a metaphor for the pressures of existing as a black person in a racist, white-dominated society. The extended epilogue of “Sinners” establishes that, for a brief moment, they all had a taste of true freedom. Throughout the rest of the film, the white vampires – chased by Native American hunters in their introduction and, later, explicitly aligned with the Klu Klux Klan – attempt to force their way into this space. Remmick uses a need for money, a necessity to exist in a capitalistic culture, to try and worm in. At a key moment, a white authority figure similarly attempts to temps Smoke with an offer of money. Throughout the film, the evils of white Americans are aligned with greed and money. Some have read “Sinners” as arguing for racial essentialism when it seems much more critical of the cash-driven systems of repression than anything else. 

“Sinners” is an all-around work of infectious brilliance. The cast is excellent, lead by two extraordinary performances from Michael B. Jordan, who makes both brothers totally distinctive characters in their own right. Jack O'Connell and Miles Caton, as the villain and Sammie, should become stars based off this. Delroy Lindo, meanwhile, once again proves himself as one of Hollywood's most underappreciated character actors, turning Delta Slim into such a fully realized, funny, tragic character. After being a damn good ensemble piece and vampire thriller for most of its runtime, “Sinners” then turns into a bad-ass action film in its final act, featuring a shoot-out set piece for the ages. Nobody needs me to heap more praise on this one. Plenty of other folks have pinpointed it as the stand-out horror fusion of the year. On the big screen, it played out like a magnificent rush and proves just as thrilling, exciting, and touching upon re-watch. [9/10]

 

OSCARS 2026: Sentimental Value (2025)

This is not a hard and fast rule, for nothing ever is, but: Once a director gets the Academy's attention, they tend to notice you again. The logic is sound as an Oscar nomination tends to make someone a lot more recognized. Norwegian writer/director Joachim Trier made a name for himself in his home country, and the international art house scene, with his earlier features. 2006's “Reprise” and “Thelma” were submitted to the Academy as Norway's official selection for Best Foreign Language Film with no success.  However, 2021's “The Worst Person in the World” finally got voters' attention, not only scoring an International Feature nomination but also one in Best Original Screenplay. His latest, “Sentimental Value,” signals Trier truly arriving at last, at least among the American awards show set. It's grabbed nine nominations, including one for Trier in Best Director, which is impressive for a movie mostly in another language. 

And all it took was Trier making a movie about the film industry's favorite topic: The film industry. Norwegian filmmaker Gustav Borg largely walked away from his wife and two daughters, Nora and Agnes, and the family home in Oslo. After his wife's death, he returns to the house with an idea: His latest script is inspired by his mother, a former prisoner-of-war who committed suicide in the home when he was seven, and he wants Nora to play the part. Though Nora is a successful stage actress, she refuses to do so. A chance encounter leads to an American movie star, Rachel Kemp, being cast in the role. This results in Netflix agreeing to fund the film, in contrast to the previous difficulty Borg has had getting budgets for his work. After spending time with Agnes, Gustav decides to cast his grandson in the film as well, straining his relationship with his other daughter. Rachel feels insecure about playing a role so clearly intended for Nora, pushing Gustav to reconnect with his estranged daughters. Overcoming all that baggage will not be easy.

The opening scene of “Sentimental Value,” overseen by an omniscient narrator, is not devoted to introducing any of the film's principal characters so much. Instead, it presents us with the family's home. Much of “Sentimental Value” takes place in this house, a handsome if plain two-story residence. It is where Gustav grew up, where his mother died, where Agnes resides, and where her son is growing up too. A few times, the film flashes back to a prior decade in this building, showing the little details of the home that have revealed themselves to the family over the years. Such as how the kids would ease drop on their mother's therapy session through a vent that runs from the second floor down to the first. These are like quirks to a human being's personality, distinguishing features that make a person and a place unique. If homes can be said to have personalities, they can also be said to have memories. And those memories are long. In its best moments, “Sentimental Value” shows how places stand as quiet observers of their own history. How arguments and exchanges would echo through these walls or how small incidents, like a dropped glass, can make an impression as much as the big events. Saying “the house is also a main character” is a cliché but “Sentimental Value” happens to use it well. 

To use another much abused literary cliché: If these walls could talk, they would surely have a lot to say about the overlapping generations that have made its rooms their home. Gustav and Nora do not get along. As parent and children often are, this might be because they have a lot in common. Both are stubborn and a bit self-centered but also overcome with doubts. Gustav fears that his industry has passed him by, that all his friends are dying, and that he's lost his insight. He suppresses these concerns with alcohol. Nora, despite her success, still has paralyzing bouts of stage fright and is currently involved in an affair with a married colleague. They are, in a sense, shadows and reflections of each other. Gustav's script is inspired by his late mother but he hopes to cast his daughter in the part, later casting his own grandson to play a role inspired by himself. Much of the central drama of “Sentimental Value” revolves around Gustav deciding to cast a movie star in the lead role instead, a person from outside the family having trouble integrating themselves into this web of relations and connections. A key dream sequence in “Sentimental Value” depicts Gustav's face morphing into his daughters and mother's face, back and forth, as shadows pass over them. Yes, if a house a memory, it would notice the way patterns tend to repeat themselves, how people can assume malleable roles back and forth across their own histories.  

Unfortunately, “Sentimental Value” is not a movie solely about the contrasting, and contradicting, ways parents and children and grandparents tend to mirror each other or how places connect different generations. We do not learn too much about the script Gustav has written that motivates much of the plot, aside from its inspiration in his own past. This is Trier hedging his bet: If a piece of writing is suppose to be moving art, that puts a lot of expectations on it. If the resulting script isn't as good as all the characters say it is, the entire emotional center of the narrative falls apart. This, however, becomes a problem when “Sentimental Value's” entire resolution hinges on someone being so moved by the writing. The meaningful climax of the film is a knowing, understanding nod between two people. Keeping the emotions subtle and understated is fine. However, it does make “Sentimental Value” feel a bit contrived during its most important stage. As if the screenwriter is saying “This script is brilliant, brilliant enough to change someone's mind, but, uh, I can't show it to you.” 

It is evident very early on that this project is Gustav's way to process the grief and guilt he feels over his own mother's suicide and his distant bond with his daughters. How grief can be transformed into art – also the topic of another 2026 Best Picture nominee – is a worthy subject. How a piece of fiction can be about multiple things at once is too. However, Trier's film falls a little short in exploring the complexities of that. The last act of “Sentimental Value” is disappointing, in the flat way it shows how the unspoken pain of a parent can strain any bond their child will develop with their own off-spring. Joachim Trier is twenty years older than me but “The Worst Person in the World” showed a keen understanding of the neurosis of the millennial generation. And if everyone else my age is a little like me too, that means their thirties have also included a lot of learning to understand their own parents. You learn more about yourself and realize Mom and Dad surely dealt with that too, likely with the fewer tools their time and place provided. “Sentimental Value” clearly touches on that but I wish it did so with more depth, instead of pushing the thorny business of forgiveness and reconciliation that comes after that realization in-between scenes. 

As far as a drama about one generation's Mommy Issues leading to Daddy Issues for the next and so on, “Sentimental Value” is keenly acted. You need an actor like Stellan Skarsgård in a role like Gustav Borg. You need someone who has lived more than a bit and can accurately convey the feeling of carrying a lifetime of regrets around behind sad but quiet eyes. He accurately brings to life the dynamic of a man who still hasn't figured out how not to piss people off by being himself but is desperately trying to get better. Renate Reinsve and Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas are both very good as Nora and Agnes, saying much with an eye roll or nod. “Sentimental Value” is a film of emotions more understated than shouted, a mode both Reinsve and Illeaas excel at. As the outsider in the story, Elle Fanning has an interesting arc as someone floundering to insert themselves into a familial drama that previously existed without them. Fanning is wonderful, resisting making Kemp a spoiled Hollywood brat in favor of someone who chose acting genuinely out of a wish to understand other people. A scene where an interview disparages her latest movie, Skarsgård coming to her aide, shows Fanning can suggest a lot with only her eyes and face too. 

For a handful of moments, “Sentimental Value” becomes a quiet comedy about a clueless grandfather trying to connect with his iPad kid grandson, which ultimately has a rather sweet conclusion. That is a much more charming depiction of how art can bring people together than the resolution. I wish the film mined that element more, playing the weird tension that can only exist between parent and child for uncomfortable but honest laughs. Nevertheless, “Sentimental Value” is an expertly acted film that contains many interesting and fine ideas within. An artier movie told from the house's perspective – think something like Sodenberg's “Presence,” also from last year – probably would've been more my style but take out the film industry angle and I don't know if the Academy would have liked this one as much. [710]

OSCARS 2026: Train Dreams (2025)

Ah, is there any prize in the literary world more treasured than the Pulitzer? I mean, probably. But is there any literary prize with more name recognition than the Pulitzer? The Newbery Medal might be close but I’m going to say “no.” No Pulitzer for Fiction was not awarded in 2012, presumably on account of the world ending, but among the nominees was Denis Johnson’s novella “Train Dreams.” Being able to slap “Almost won a Pulitzer” on the cover of your book surely improved Johnson’s sales. Now, more than a decade later, the prestige film adaptation of Johnson’s work has arrived. After being nominated for an Oscar for his screenplay for “Sing Sing,” Clint Bentley has both written and directed the cinematic “Train Dreams.” It has also caught the Academy’s attention, earning nods for Best Picture, Adapted Screenplay, and Original Song in this year’s line-up. 

In the early years of the 20th century, Robert Grainier arrives in Bonners Ferry, Idaho. He grows up into a quiet, average man. In time, he meets a woman named Gladys, believing he’s finally found his purpose in life with her. They marry, build a cabin, and have a daughter named Kate. Robert is often away from Gladys and Kate for long stretches of time, at his job clearing the forest for the in-coming railway lines. He meets many interesting and odd men in this time, including the observant eccentric Arn Peeples, and witnesses the changing tide of history. Like when a Chinese rail worker is thrown from a bridge by racist coworkers, an incident that haunts Robert. After the end of the economic boom period of World War I, Robert and Gladys attempt to restart before a wild fire destroys the cabin and seemingly takes the man’s wife and daughter from him. He persists in the woods, often living as a hermit, wrestling with his ever-present grief and continuing to watch the natural world and the changing society around it.

Bentley – whose work also includes an overlooked indie drama about the decadent and depraved lifestyles of jockeys – has sighted Terrence Malick as an influence on “Train Dreams.” Which is about as obvious a connection as can be noted. Much like Malick’s most well known work, “Train Dreams” is a quiet story about observing human life amid a vast and beautiful but pitiless natural world. The sprawling woods of Idaho in the early 1900s is made of towering trees that seemingly stretch on in all direction. Robert and his family, friends, and co-workers often appear as small figures amid these colossuses. Sometimes, a random tree limb falling from above or some other accident will take a man’s life. Because work must always continue, nothing but a quick burial, a short sermon, and a pair of boots nailed to a tree can follow. While the natural world is seemingly indifferent to the lives of those who come and go from this place, small signs of their existence remain. Such as Robert’s memories of them. This depicts “Train Dreams’” quiet but hard-to-resist insistence on one of the great contradictions of being but a frail mortal human. Our little lives do not matter, in the massive stretch of history, and yet they are also somehow the most important things to exist. 

I honestly think “Train Dreams” invokes this idea a little better than the last few Malick movies I’ve seen. Primarily because it never forgets the little insignificant bug at the center of the story, who contains a universe within. “Train Dreams’” story stretches on for a period of eighty years, tracking its protagonist’s entire life. You wouldn’t expect a hermit living out in the woods to have much of a perspective on history. Despite that, “Train Dreams” does quietly track the way industrial development completely altered human life. After the death of his wife and daughter, Robert attempts to return to logging, only to see that rougher men with chainsaws have taken over the job. During the climatic montage, he observes an airplane, a movie theater, and a televised report on the man going into outer space. A key line has one of Robert’s elders, the kind of role he ages into in time, point out that the logging industry will eventually run out of trees to cut down if they keep up at this pace. Others dismiss this observation but it is, of course, inevitably true. 

Robert’s position as a simple man in a rapidly changing time gives him perspectives on other things too. Early on in the film, he recalls the incident of a Chinese worker being seemingly murdered by a group of his coworkers. (In the book, he participates in this act, making his guilt over it much more understandable.) This is a symptom of the anti-Asian sentiment common in the decades after the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882. Robert doesn’t even know if the man who was probably killed was Chinese exactly. During his time in the woods, he also sees a fellow logger shot to death by a black man, avenging the murder of his brother but the same white worker. All of this seems to suggest that racism was still very much a part of the American landscape despite all the technological progress being made during this time. A potent and sad fact about this country. 

While you can argue about how important or thoughtful any of the things “Train Dreams” is doing exactly are, I was wrapped up in the film for possibly a far more shallow reason. There’s something very irresistibly cozy about this motion picture. Robert’s life is one full of hardship and sorrow, especially once those he loves are taken from him. However, those years with Gladys and Kate are joyous ones, of peaceful understanding that only comes around once in a life time. Later, Robert adopts a stray wolf-dog that wanders into his cabin. There is something to be said for the experience of being a forest hermit, hanging out in the middle of nowhere with your love or your dogs. “Train Dreams” goes out of its way to make this as absorbing an experience as possible. Adolpho Veloso’s cinematography is gorgeous, sweeping and large and also as intimate and candle-lit as the material demands. Will Patton’s quiet narration, some of which taken directly from the page, lulls you into a peaceful state of mind. Joel Edgerton’s performance is one of interiority, a man who holds his stormy emotions within. And, hey, here’s William H. Macy as a folksy, wisdom spewing logger who wanders into the story briefly. Excellent use of Mr. Macy. 

In fact, “Train Dreams” had me asking some interesting questions about myself. Such as what I would have ended up doing if I was alive during this point in time. Maybe I liked the movie so much primarily because I saw something of myself in Robert Grainier, an unassuming fella with a lot of thoughts in his head. If born into the same time and place as him, I suspect I would have ended up as a naturalist too, cataloging all the different types of mushrooms or caterpillars or some such thing within the woods. That’s the kind of thing a dork like me would’ve done before computers or comic books were invented. Anyway, I liked this one. Needed more of the wolf man imagery from the book, of howling in defiance against the shadows consuming everything, which is weirdly sidelined for the most part. It remains an expertly made film that worms its way into your mind. [8/10]

Director Report Card: Paul Thomas Anderson (2025)

 

10. One Battle After Another

 

The hardcore movie lover crowd have had nothing but bad things to say about David Zaslav, the much loathed president of Warner Bros. Discovery, and none of it was exactly unearned. However, I'll give the ignorant asshole this much: Probably out of a desire for some award season glamour, he did sign off on big budgets on not the most commercial projects from beloved filmmakers. At the end of the day, all the studio bullshit and behind-the-scenes drama doesn't matter. It's the movies that last. And Paul Thomas Anderson's next movie was always likely to last. He is a highly lauded auteur. When news broke that he would be making a movie with Leonardo DiCaprio, much mystery surrounded it. There were some reports that it was an adaptation of Thomas Pynchon's novel, “Vineland.” When the title was finally revealed as “One Battle After Another,” it was finally understood to be more inspired by the book than directly adapting it. After much scrutiny from the folks who treat movies like it's sport betting, “one Battle After Another” was ultimately deemed a box office flop. But who cares, because the movie is there forever now and a lot of people sure seem to love it. 

“Ghetto” Pat was once a member of French 75, a group of underground revolutionaries who pulled stunts like freeing detainees from a prison camp or blowing up cop cars. Pat was the explosive guy and Perfidia, his partner and lover, was a woman of action. They were doggedly pursued by Colonel Lockjaw who, despite his racist beliefs, was sexually obsessed with Perfidia. Pat and Perfidia would attempt to settle down, raising the child she gave birth to together, but she eventually went back on the run. Sixteen years later, Pat – now living under the name Bob Fergusen – is a burn-out who seems widely disliked by Willa, his mixed race daughter. She heads out to a concert with some friends. They don't know that Lockjaw is attempting to join a secret order of white supremacists. That Willa is his daughter, from a forced sexual encounter with Perfidia. That his membership in the Christmas Adventurers Club is threatened by him having a mixed race daughter, that he's leading a police raid into the city to find the girl. Soon, Pat is attempting to locate where the girl has been taken and find her before Lockjaw does. 

I wasn't a big fan of Anderson's previous Pynchon adaptation, “Inherent Vice,” finding it to be too shaggy and stoned-out in its humor to appeal to me. Comes with the territory with that, I know. Whatever you think about Pynchon, I think you can agree that the author has an ear for cool sounding code names. I haven't read “Vineland” and can't attest to how much of “One Battle After Another” is taken from it. However, the various code names and underground jargon in the film – Rocket Man, Junglepussy, Mae West, Lady Champagne – have that Pynchon-esque quality of being both absurd and... Kind of cool. The same is true of the film's preoccupation with the secret codes the French 75 members used to contact each other, which include a shout-out to the Hooterville trilogy. “One Battle After Another” is a movie with nuns firing machine guns, nun-chucks, skateboards, a dojo, bombs. This shit is, you could say, rad. It's all kind of silly and funny but it's also cool as fuck. 

But do you know what's definitely not cool as fuck? In “One Battle After Another,” the police and the government they work for are depicted as openly racist institutions. The authority figures are obsessed with punishing anyone darker skinned than them, every official action they make merely a flimsy justification to enforce their racist ideology. Ya know, like in real life. Immigrants are depicted as persecuted innocents, simply trying to live, a scapegoat totally outmatched by an infinitely powerful system. And violence against the government who enforces these rules is shown as never less than justified. I'm not smart enough to know if this actually means anything but a 130 million dollar studio movie starring A-listers preaching an openly pro-direct action message like that is surprising, at the very least. 

Like I said, the racist organizations in “One Battle After Another” don't pretend to have any deeper motivation for their relentless persecution of non-white people than preserving their own racial purity. And this is, it almost goes without saying, bullshit. When we meet Lockjaw, he's already lusting after Perfidia. Everything he ultimately does in the second half is motivated by his desire to cover up the fact that he has a mixed race child. In other words, this guy clearly doesn't actually believe the things he's saying. At least not so much that it overwhelms the horniness he feels for a black woman. It's also notable that the white supremacist cabal Lockjaw tries to join is called the Christmas Adventurers Club and says shit like “All hail Saint Nicholas!” This group is depicted as powerful. They have tentacles in all sectors of the government and are able to organize armed responses in minutes. They are a force to be reckoned with... But they are still fucking goofy losers. The film is simply reflecting reality here, as the grotesque absurdities of the Trump era have made it very clear how the most monstrously evil people often tend to also be clownish buffoons.

Lockjaw's uncontrollable lust for a woman of color does not seem to be an especially unusual status for an otherwise highly racist man. I suppose there is something in human nature, where we inevitably eroticize that which we have deemed forbidden. Lockjaw presents himself as a proud macho warrior man, wearing a tight shirt that shows off his guns. When he's around Perfidia, however, he seems to become sexually submissive. In the bedroom is the only place where the racist is willing to give up power. This is not the only example in the film. After Willa is born, Perfidia grows tired of motherhood, of being nothing but a parent now, and leaves. The parallels between the power imbalances and attempts to correct them in the characters' personal lives are impossible to untangle from their struggles for political power too. Maybe that's all it has ever been about. I don't know what that means exactly but it's an interesting observation. 
 

“One Battle After Another” presents Pat/Bob and Colonel Lockjaw as opposites, in many ways. One is a revolutionary, one is a cop and military officer, on opposite sides of the system as two people can be. They also have some things in common. Not only that they both have feelings for the same woman. Pat's relationship with his daughter is stressed. Willa has a nonbinary friend and her dad awkwardly struggles to understand the pronoun situation there. Later, while on the phone with another member of French 75, he expresses exasperation at terms like “safe space.” He is, in other words, an old man who is being left behind by a quickly changing world. As “woke” as an anti-government revolutionary is, he's still out of his depth among today's youth. Statements like these are not too dissimilar with the dismissive comments you'd expect a piece of shit like Lockjaw to say either. It's an interesting parallel, in how these enemies are united in their mutual old white guy-ness. 

One suspects that this is a very self-aware move on Paul Thomas Anderson's behalf. Pat is the story's protagonist. His perspective is the one the audience is aligned with. While you never can say for certain, one assumes that Anderson put a bit of himself into this guy. He's an old white guy too. That the film's hero is repeatedly mocked and humiliated for his own out-of-touch qualities shows that the director has no illusions about this behavior being admirable. Similarly, the younger characters in “One Battle After Another” have an energy and spirit beyond their elders. They are always racing around on skateboards, always energized to speak truth to power and to stand up for what is right. As the title indicates, and the ending further proves, the fight goes on. It never ends. Their parents fucked it up, they couldn't fix things, but maybe the kids will be alright. As bad as things are, maybe there's hope for the future after all. 

Ultimately though, it is intriguing that Pat is both the film's hero and a figure of mockery. Leonardo DiCaprio, once again, happily embraces a schlubby, dad-like image here that defies his years as a sex symbol. He spends almost the entire film in a bathrobe, with scraggly facial hair. He's perpetually stoned out of his mind and frequently frustrated with everything happening around him. It's really funny, DiCaprio having no problem playing the clown. He tumbles, falls, gets tossed around, and seems constantly annoyed by the serious questions being asked of him. “One Battle After Another” is not like “Inherent Vice,” where almost everyone in the story are stoned out of their gourds the whole time. Pat is the fool in a cast full of straight men, Benicio del Toro and Sean Penn act like distinctively in-control and cool minded individuals in comparison to Leo's stumbling around. It's an amusing set-up for a film, a guy forced back into action after spending thirty years smoking and drinking his brains away.

At the same time, “One Battle After Another” is regularly powered by Johnny Greenwood's high-strung score. It's made up of escalating notes. Scenes of Pat arguing on a pay phone with someone or fumbling around a dojo are obviously funny. At the same time, a mixture of his own incompetence and the pressure mounting around him means he could get caught. There's a feeling all throughout the film of the walls closing in, of the powerful forces at work in the government zeroing in on the radical heroes. The film explodes into violence frequently in the last third, which actually does little to alleviate this tension. It feels like another set of screws being put to the viewer. The film honestly made me feel rather anxious at times, Anderson and his team doing a great job of making the viewer feel the same jittery uncertainty that the hero is feeling.

It's not an unexpected tone from the director of “There Will Be Blood” or “Boogie Nights.” At the same time, you can almost see why – beyond the award season glamour – a profits-obsessed CEO would sign off on this movie. Is “One Battle After Another,” in fact, Anderson's go at making a proper action movie? From the inciting incident on, the film is in almost constant movement. DiCaprio spends most of the run time in literal pursuit of his daughter, often from the seat of a car. The last third features multiple shoot-outs, an explosion, an acrobatic car crash. The camera is often attached to the front of a moving vehicle as it spends along desert highways. In other words, there's a lot of what you'd call “action” in this movie and it's all very well executed. I don't think this is the director auditioning for a “Mission: Impossible” movie or anything but it's definitely somewhat, kind of abreast with that type of film making. 

As you'd probably expect from a Paul Thomas Anderson production, “One Battle After Another” is simply an excellent looking film. Michael Bauman is back as cinematographer, after gifting “Licorice Pizza” with its textured, deep look. He creates something similarly rich here. Individual shots stick in the mind. Kids on skateboards leaping across roof tops in the golden moonlight, fog behind them. A nun with a gun firing away in the dark. An erection bulging at the forefront of the frame. The editing, from Andy Jurgensen, is similarly precise. A shot of Willa sitting at a table, moments before a heavily armed squad marches into the room, is so perfectly constructed. The comedic timing and anxious mood are both created by cuts that are ideally arranged.
 

I don't think I liked the film quite as much as others did. While not on the level of grand cinematic shit-posting that “Inherent Vice” was at, “One Battle After Another” shares some of that shaggy-dog vibes with the other Pynchon adaptation. The ideas in the film are serious, the performances are very well done, the writing and construction are carefully place. But the silliness on the surface often suggests a looseness. For a film that's 164 minutes long, it certainly moves quickly though. Maybe if Anderson finally gets an Oscar for this one, he'll have another chance to make a film of this scale. If not, this is pretty damn good for his first strike at directing a big budget action flick. And, hey, maybe it'll radicalize some kids or at least teach young people to hate the fucking cops. Maybe there's hope for the future in the real world too, no matter if life is but one struggle after another, on and on until the end of time. [Grade: B+]