OSCARS 2026: Mr. Nobody Against Putin (2025)

The Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Science must fucking hate Vladimir Putin. I mean, I get it. He seems like a real prick. If you're going to pick a current world leader to vilify, he's an understandable choice. However, it does strike me as mildly interesting that, since 2017, six documentaries critical of the Russian president have been nominated for an Oscar, three of them winning. One of those was before the war in the Ukraine started, back when Putin was only moderately more evil than your average president. There's lots of atrocities in the world. America probably did some more since last night but I guess Putin is a suitably despicable figurehead for the Hollywood set to focus their hate on. This year's anti-Putin doc puts his name in the title too. “Mr. Nobody Against Putin,” it's called, and it's the latest film to remind us why this guy sucks. 

The Mr. Nobody spoken of in the title is neither Jared Leto nor the leader of the Brotherhood of Dada. Instead, it is Pavel “Pasha” Talakin. He is a teacher and videographer at a primary school in Karabash, Russia. His job is fairly mundane at first. With the Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022, however, orders come down from on high that their will be a change in school curriculum. The government now requires public education to include regular displays of patriotic fervor and the faculty to teach material focused on glorifying Russia's military and demonizing the Ukrainians. Part of Pasha's job is to upload videos of these demonstrations and lessons to an online archive, to show that schools are doing their national duty. Dismayed by the mandated turn towards hardcore propaganda, Talakin intends to resign... Before filmmaker David Borenstein reaches out to him to make a film on this topic. Using the footage he's already legally required to record, Talakin begins to document what he's seeing. 

“Mr. Nobody Against Putin” gives us a front row seat to the Russian propaganda machine. It is not an altogether unfamiliar sight. The kids are forced to march through the halls while waving Russian flags and singing the national anthem. Soldiers arrive to educate the young boys on land mines and let them pick up guns with emptied out magazines. When I was in high school, the army had recruitment booths in the cafeteria during lunch time. A daily march down the hallways is only slightly weirder than doing the Pledge of Allegiance every morning. The material the teachers have to read off to their students, about how Putin is “de-Nazifying” the Ukraine or how Crimea actually loves Russia, is dismaying. News programs broadcasting the message that Russia has to “kill people” in Ukraine for the love of their children is depressing. But so is watching Fox News for more than a minute. A Russian rock star sings a patriotic song over footage of missiles launching, which is basically what the entire country music industry became circa 2001. I don't think the directors of “Mr. Nobody Against Putin” set out to make the point that Putin's ramped up propaganda machine is barely a rung above what the U.S. has been doing for the last twenty years but the implication struck me anyway. 

If my tone seems a bit glib given the subject matter, I'm merely following the lead of “Mr. Nobody Against Putin.” Mr. Talakin is a bit of a smart-ass. He introduces his home town by highlighting how ugly and industrial it is. It's pointed out that Karabash is home to a copper smeltery that, since 1994 at least, has led to a notable increase in birth defects and stunted growth among the town's youth. Multiple Youtube videos referring to it as Russia's most miserable town are briefly featured. Pasha seems quite happy to antagonize some of his coworkers and the government in the early scenes of “Mr. Nobody.” Such as when he plays the Lady Gaga version of “The Star Spangled Banner” when he's supposed to be honoring Mother Russia. At one point, he interviews one of the school teachers and asks him what Russian historical figures he admires. All his answers, we are quickly informed, are brutal enforcers during the Soviet years. This is played as a grim punchline of sorts.

I certainly can't object to anyone depending on gallows' humor in the face of propaganda and war crimes. I'm also not surprised that a Russian's sense of humor veers towards the dry and sarcastic. “Mr. Nobody Against Putin” does get notably more down-beat as it goes on. A friend of Pasha's is deployed and ends up dead, the sorrowful wails of his mother at the funeral. Some of his students or their siblings end up in the army. The doc's final moments are resigned and mournful. This feels like a major tonal shift after the more snide first half. It almost feels like the film is two docs in one, the first far more sarcastic than the ultimately bummed out mood it settles into.

Another unavoidable issue I had with “Mr. Nobody Against Putin” is that Talakin comes across as kind of unlikable. He is not the most charismatic of documentary host and his voice-overs are sometimes grating in their smugness. Any time a filmmaker centers themselves in what is otherwise a documentary about activism, it quickly starts to feel self-indulgent. Still, I do think “Mr Nobody” makes some good points, if a few probably by accident. I'm sure glad I don't live in an imperialistic nation run by a bloviating ogre that pumps its schools and air waves full of mindless support for the militaristic regime! [6/10]

 

OSCARS 2026: Little Amélie or the Character of Rain (2025)

The world of animation can be a delightful, unexpected place once you step outside the shallow frame work of big budget American stuff. Internationally, an animated feature can capture all sorts of tones and stories. Unless you are especially plugged into the world of French cartooning, "Little Amélie or the Character of Rain" was probably not on your radar at the start of last year. It is an independent production from Maïlys Vallade, the director of short "The Lighthouse Keeper," and Liane-Cho Han, a storyboard artist and animator who has worked on "The Illusionist" and "The Little Prince." Not big names, in other words. After getting picked up domestically by GKIDS, who have really established themselves as the face of quirky overseas animation in this country, the previously overlooked film suddenly became a serious contender for a Best Animated Feature Oscar. Maybe not quite the insane, out-of-nowhere success story of last year's "Flow" but pretty dang cool anyway. 

An intelligent consciousness emerges out of the universe and claims to be God. It incarnates in the body of Amélie, an infant recently born to a Belgian family living in 1960s Japan. After "thousands of years" of silently observing the world from within an invisible bubble, Amélie begins to cry and interact with her parents and siblings. Frustrated with being treated like a baby, it's only after her grandmother gives her a white chocolate bar that Amélie reveals her unusual intelligence to her family. Now talking eloquently and running around, she begins to learn a lot about the world. That her older brother is a brat, that rain is fabulous but water can be dangerous, that a carp is an ugly fish. That people do not live forever. In particular, she bonds with Nishio-san, the family's live-in Japanese housekeeper. As their friendship grows closer, Amélie and Nishio are tested by the boundaries of physical space and Kashima-san, the landowner who still holds onto resentment of outsiders from the war.

The central metaphor of "Little Amélie" is both highly amusing and grounded. When a child is first born and has no understanding of other people or the outside world, they truly do believe themselves to be the center of the universe. When Amélie describes herself as God, it's an unavoidable expression of a mind that is new to existing. Despite her claimed omniscience and immortality, she doesn't understand concepts like death, national boundaries, or the division between reality and fantasy. She is, in other words, a baby: Utterly self-centered but completely new to the world existing around her. The contrast between what Amélie thinks about herself and what she sees with how she actually acts provides both humor and pathos. "The Character of Rain" is a story about her learning about life, like a hundred coming-of-age stories before it. By assuming the perspective of this unusually precocious child, the film approaches its premise of a newborn realizing she isn't the most important thing in the world but that she matters nevertheless in a fresh, funny, interesting way. 

Maybe I'm giving the French too much credit but, if an American had made "Little Amélie," you can imagine its premise being played in a more grounded way. Amélie would think herself a God but she would still be a newborn, with all the physical and mental limitations that come with that. Europeans have more whimsy in their heart than that. This means Amélie is both just a child and also possessed of a cosmic intelligence. She stands up and addresses all her family members by name, something that both surprises them and doesn't seem worthy of further comment. The child has surreal visions of the world, the effects of which on those around her seem to vary from scene to scene. The film happily operates with a degree of magical realism, existing in more-or-less the real world but with unpredictable interventions of fantasy. 

The film is based on a partially autobiographical novel by a French-speaking Belgian woman who grew up in Asia. Personal details on co-director Liane-Cho Han are scarce but we know he lived and worked in France, currently resides in Denmark, and has a Chinese name. The cross-cultural elements of this story are very personal to its creators, clearly. Nishio teaches Amélie about Japanese folklore, about the meaning of her name in the local language, and the Obon ritual of floating a lantern down a river to honor the dead. When the child is told that her family isn't actually Japanese, and will return to Belgium some day, it confuses and frustrates her. Kashima-san, meanwhile, is stern towards the immigrants, still haunted by memories of World War II. She certainly doesn't consider Amélie Japanese. This is resolved in a quiet, touching way later on but it points towards a more interesting idea. Cultural identities are not set by borders. We are more the results of the people we know and the world around us than our nationality or race, boundaries that can easily be crossed by love and understanding. 

“Little Amélie” also shows a clear multi-cultural element in its animation. Studio Ghibli and Rémi Chayéhas have both been mentioned as influences, both of which are evident. The characters often have the big, expressive eyes of anime characters which are combined with the rich colors and painterly appearances of various European studios. Regardless of who inspired what, “The Character of Water” is gorgeous. The surreal flights of fantasy feature Amélie turning into a downpour of water, parting the sea, or the faces of her and her brother intermingling with cods breaking the surface of the water. Considering the important role rain and water play in the story, the film seeks similarly fluid and free-moving visuals. The blending of expressionistic colors and beautifully smooth movements makes the film a sight to behold, almost overwhelming in its loveliness at times. 

I'm glad international animation like this gets the Academy's spotlight. It would be nice if films like these won Oscars more often too. Still, Vallade and Han are surely comforted by the fact that they made a wonderful film. “Little Amélie or the Character of Rain” is amazing to look at, funny, insightful, and fascinating. [9/10]

OSCARS 2026: The Voice of Hind Rajab (2025)

Something I've been thinking about a lot lately is the limits of documentary film making and cinema in general. What responsibility does a director have to his subject? The point at which journalism becomes exploitation, dramatization turns into a perversion of the truth, is hard to find sometimes. The question of whether it's appropriate to use real footage or audio within the context of a commercial film usually depends on this nebulous thing we call “good taste.” “The Voice of Hind Rajab” unavoidably brings this question to mind. It straddles the line between an adaptation of real events and a documentation of it, by using the actual audio from something tragic that is still fresh in the global consciousness. The ethics of all this are clearly something worth discussing. Whatever qualms you might have with the idea, it did not bother the Academy. They nominated “The Voice of Hind Rajab” for Best International Film. 

The day was January 29th, 2024. The invasion of Gaza by the Israel Defense Forces is on-going. The social workers and organizers of the Palestine Red Crescent Society take calls, texts, and e-mails from those endangered in the war, trying to do what they can to help. They receive a call from the 15 year old Layan Hamadeh. Her family was escaping the chaos when their vehicle was shelled by Israeli forces. Her aunt, uncle and all but one other cousin were killed. As the workers inside the Red Crescent office attempt to receive clearance for the safe passage of paramedics, Layan is killed. This leaves six year old Hind Rajab as the sole living person in the car. The operators Rana, Omar, Mahdi, and Nisreen stay on the line with the little girl as they do everything they can to get assistance to her before it's too late.

The moment from “The Voice of Hind Rajab” that sticks the most in my mind is among its more mundane. All throughout the film, Rana expresses anger and frustration with his supervisor, Mahdi. The latter is usually on the line with government officials, to approve safe passage for the paramedics into the war zone. While waiting for the call back they are seeking, both men retreat to the bathroom. Each sit on either side of a stall, on the floor, and pull out their cell phones. They begin to play some sort of game together. This scene, to me, captures so accurately the feeling of powerlessness in the face of a crisis. Both men have done everything they can in this awful situation. This does not bring them any comfort or solace, not when a child's life is in danger. All they can do for their own mental health is try and find a distraction for a few minutes. Anybody who has spent time in a waiting room while a loved one was in surgery or something similar can relate to this feeling. It's the same feeling we have any time history altering events are playing out a world away, something many of us have been experiencing lately. 

The inclusion of such a moment, seemingly unimportant, is a testament to the realism captured on “The Voice of Hind Rajab.” The opening titles of the film confirms what those who might not be familiar with these events can probably guess. Hind Rajab was killed by Israeli military forces that day, along with six family members and two paramedics. There's no doubt about what the heartbreaking conclusion to this story will be. Despite that, writer/director Kaouther Ben Hania manages to capture the sense of sickening uncertainty the people in the office that day felt. As they communicate with Hind, they try to get crucial information out of a panicking little girl. When that doesn't work, they attempt to calm her however they can. While it feels disrespectful to use this term about real events, “The Voice of Hind Rajab” operates very much like a thriller. You are on edge, almost feeling sick with tension, watching this play out. 

Part of this is achieved by the extremely concise cinematography and editing. D.P. Juan Sarmiento G. keeps the camera tightly on the actors' faces. The common place setting feels more and more like a prison as the wall seems to close in, speaking to the unbearable tension the characters are feeling. The actors also deserves a huge amount of the credit. Their faces become landscapes as they panic and worry. Saja Kilani is a raw nerve of desperation, crying, sweating, his face in agony. Clara Khoury is at the center of a heartbreaking moment, trying to get Hind to recite the Islamic prayer simply to keep her calm and quiet. Amer Hlehel has one of the harder job, playing a man who has to navigate the labyrinth of bureaucracy when time is very much of the matter. 

“The Voice of Hind Rajab” is certainly an extremely well made film, with fantastic performances and strong craft on display. This proves that the producers could have created a convincing re-creation of Hind's phone calls that day. The decision to use the actual voice of this dead little girl is presumably a choice of activism. The filmmakers want us to hear and feel what Hind went through, to remove any doubt in our minds about the genocide going on in Gaza. Of course, anyone likely to watch the film already know that. And this is when I begin to wonder, once again, if film making is actually effective activism. It's a powerful, distressing film and, perhaps, a tribute to those who work for Red Crescent. But it doesn't bring Hind back, help the children just like her, or stop the crimes being committed. So donate to aid in Gaza, please. [8/10]

 

OSCARS 2026: Come See Me in the Good Light (2025)

 

A couple years back, those awful Instagram poems started to go viral. I think someone published a book. Many people more in-tune with the literary world than myself were aghast by this. I suppose I was happy to see that the kids still like poetry at all, even if it's not very good poetry. Apparently, I was way off and the art of using elegant, rhyming, or stylized prose to describes thoughts and feelings is more alive in the modern age than I previously realized. You'll have to excuse my ignorance but, before watching the Oscar-nominated documentary “Come See Me in the Good Light,” that the “rock star of poetry” was a thing that could be said to exist. However, that exact sequence of words is used to describe its main subject, poet laureate of Colorado Andrea Gibson. The film makes a convincing argument that Gibson was, indeed, a rock star poet. See, watching all the Oscar nominees every year is educational!

Excuse my glibness, as “Come See Me in the Good Light” is no less heavy than the other films nominated for Best Documentary Feature. Gibson, well known for their slam poetry about gender, sexuality, and many other topics, was diagnosed with ovarian cancer in 2021. Gibson would undergo chemo treatment for the cancer, see it go into remission, only for it re-emerge again. Well aware that they will likely die in the near future, Gibson decides to focus on the important things in life. Such as their relationship with wife Megan Falley and a desire to perform on-stage one more time before the end. The film reflects on Gibson's life and history at the same time, tracking Falley's attempt to write a memoir, and witnesses the couple as Gibson undergoes new treatment, finds hope, loses it, and struggles and survives. 

As I said previously, I was not familiar with Andrea Gibson or their poetry before this film. I suppose I am out of the loop on queer and sapphic slam poetry. Throughout “Come See Me in the Good Light,” Gibson reads a number of their poems. They reflect on their gender and sexual identity, past experiences, memories, and the inevitable death they are moving towards. What I am about to write might strike some as insensitive but I didn't really care for what I heard. My knowledge of modern poetry goes no further than the Beats but I don't object to the topics, lack of traditional structure, or word work within Gibson's poetry. During the peak of their popularity, Gibson literally did perform in rock clubs. Their highly expressive, very pointedly read performances of their own words strike me as kind of corny. I feel that way about all so-called “slam poetry.” It's not my thing. Gibson repeatedly states that they only use “five words” in their writing and do not consider their work especially literary. To any sapphic poetry enthusiast that might be reading, I am sorry. Please forgive my gonadal bias. 

In spite of Gibson's writing not being particular to my ear, I still got a lot out of “Come See Me in the Good Light.” On paper, the premise of the documentary sounds depressing. We are watching somebody slowly die of cancer, right? The film does touch on Gibson's feelings about the swiftly incoming end of their life, of course. Many tears are shed. Each of their doctor's visit carry a sense of exhaustion, Andrea clearly burnt out from the unending treatments. A few times, Andrea and Megan read new reports concerning how the cancer has advanced. At one point, a new medication leads to improvement before, at the end, Andrea learns that the malignancy has spread to other parts of their body. While the film does not cover Gibson's death, as they passed away in July of last year, a few weeks after the documentary was released, the truth is unavoidable: They aren't getting better. 

Dying is a difficult time for anyone, maybe the most difficult time we'll all deal with. What most struck me about “Come See Me in the Good Light” is, despite the grim prognosis, the amount of joy Andrea and Megan still have. The two are still clearly so in love. Megan shares recollections of how they met, how Andrea was the first person to make her feel accepted and adored in her own body. We see footage of the couple cuddling on the floor with their dog, laying in bed, laughing. They joke around, talk about their sex life, consider each others' writing. When Andrea makes the decision to go on tour again, they re-learn their own poems, Megan reading along. It shows something important. We're all going to die. Some of us sooner than later, more suddenly than others, but it will happen. That doesn't mean we can't have joy, happiness, excitement, or love anymore. Andrea describes it as dancing through sorrow. 

This makes “Come See Me in the Good Light” a poignant but surprisingly upbeat watch. You can tell that director Ryan White was perhaps hoping for a happier ending. After Andrea gets the news that their cancer has spread all over their body, a resolution about being grateful for the time they have left and a pleasant car ride must be quickly assembled so the film doesn't end on a totally downbeat note. Despite its sadness, I found the film's reflections on how love and joy can persists even during dark times touching. The film covers a lot of ground. Gibson reflects on coming out as queer, realizing their gender identity and choosing their pronouns, struggles with fitting in among the traditional feminine roles they were assigned. Their writing is covered extensively too and the film even touches a little on their early basketball career. Interesting stuff and well worth seeing, no matter how dorky slam poetry is. [8/10]

OSCARS 2026: The Oscar Nominated 2026 Animated Shorts

Butterfly (2024)

“Butterfly” is inspired by the life of Alfred Nakache, an Algerian-born, Jewish Olympic swimmer who lived in France in the thirties. It depicts an elderly man swimming out in the ocean. As he weaves in and out of the waves, he is flooded with memories of his life: Of learning to swim as a boy, of becoming an athlete and competing in the 1936 Berlin Olympic Games, where he came in ahead of the swimmers from Nazi Germany. He recalls meeting his wife and the birth of their daughter. He also remembers seeing the rise of fascism in Europe at the time. By the time the Occupation begins, he has been denied the option of swimming in public pools and soon is captured and sent to a prison camp. He is separated from his wife and daughter and never sees them again. The memories still haunt him to this day.

The first thing you'll notice about “Butterfly – so named because Nakache was a butterfly style swimmer – is its art style. The fifteen minute film was, like “Loving Vincent” and “The Peasants” before it, done entirely with hand-painted animation cells. The result is a film that seems to be in constant movie, the colors and locations blending in and out of each other much like the running water that surrounds the main character. I'll admit, I did find the simplistic character designs of the film a bit distracting. A moment when Nakache gets literal stars in his eyes upon seeing his future wife for the first time struck me as a bit corny. However, the painted animation does create an interesting, unique look for the film. 

Unfortunately, I wish “Butterfly's” narrative was as striking as its visuals. The use of shifting and flowing animation is fitting for a story about both memory and swimming. However, I felt like I never got an emotional bead on the characters. The dream-like elements, places and people shifting together or changing form, is an extra layer of artifice between the viewer and the characters. The scene where Nakache is called slurs and denied entrance into the pool are effecting but feel like the only time we see him experiencing prejudice before being shipped off to the camps. The abrupt ending also means the film concludes without much in the way of a feeling of finality. This is probably intentional. Nothing can heal the pain of losing his wife and child in so horrible a condition. However, it does make the film feel vaguer than it needs to be. [6/10]

Forevergreen (2025)

“Forevergreen” comes to us from Nathan Engelhardt and Jeremy Spears, an animator and storyboard artist who have worked on a laundry list of high-profile Disney and Blue Sky films. Unsurprisingly, the short is very much in that style. It concerns an abandoned or orphaned brown bear cub, wandering through a snowy forest. After stumbling over a cliff edge, the bear is rescued by a near-by towering pine tree. The ever green raises the cub, providing it with pine cones to eat and teaching it to foster a budding sapling. After getting a taste of some potato chips, via an almost empty bag blowing into the tree, the now adolescent bear decides it is tired of pine cones. The ursine teenager finds an abandoned campsite and begins to eat the improperly disposed of trash, unwittingly starting a fire in the process. His old pine tree friend/surrogate parent arrives to protect and save him again, in the only way it can. Everyone learns an important lesson. 

The Disney/Pixar influence on "Forevergreen" is extremely obvious in its somewhat mawkish and heavy-handed story. It clearly functions as both a metaphor for parenting, much in "The Giving Tree" vein, and a story about environmental responsibility. And I guess about how junk food is bad for you. While the final title card uses a quote about friendship, the relationship between the bear and the tree is clearly meant to be a child/parent one. A young adult wanting independence and eventually fucking up, needing their parent to swoop in and save them despite it all being the child's fault, is a fairly standard narrative. A tree being a stationary thing does bring an interesting physical dimension to the final act but what follows is clearly another stand-in for how a parent will sacrifice everything for the kid they love. Like I said, it's not the least bit subtle. 

Despite having the sappiness and commitment to tugging heart strings that you see in the worst Pixar shorts, I still kind of liked "Forevergreen." Mostly because the animation is neat. This is a digitally animated film but the character models are designed to have a weighted, rough, wooden look. Once again, CGI animators are figuring out that intentionally invoking puppetry or stop-motion animation is actually more appealing than hyper-realism. "Forevergreen" also plays out in a higher frame rate than animation usually does, adding to the intentionally stylized movements of the characters. I wish this interesting animation was attached to a less maudlin story but, at only eleven minutes long, I can handle it. [6/10]

 

The Girl Who Cried Pearls (2025)

“The Girl Who Cried Pearls” is another short that offers a lot on the surface but never quite comes together for me as a whole. It begins with a young girl, within an opulent mansion, searching through her grandfather's office. She uncovers a pearl in a keepsake box. He explains the story behind it. When he was a lad, he was homeless. To stay warm at night, he begins hiding outside the apartment of a family of three. From his spot, he can see the mother within beating her stepdaughter. When the girl is sad, she cries a perfect white pearl. The boy attempts to trade the pearl for cash at a pawn shop and the broker, after some haggling, agrees to give him a single dollar. He doesn't believe the boy's story but, when a jeweler confirms the pearl's excellent condition, the broker is eager to buy more. The boy quickly realizes that, in order to gain more pearls, he would have to make the girl within the apartment cry more. Which he doesn't want to do because he's falling in love with her. 

While “Forevergreen” attempts to emulate the look of stop motion animation, “The Girl Who Cried Pearls” actually is. The animation is excellent, the characters moving with a surprising fluidity. The models have an intentional uncanny quality to them, giving an interesting feel of eeriness to the short. This is more apparent in the flashback sequence. During these moments, the characters are depicted with unmoving puppet faces, presumably because the grandfather is telling this tale and moving the characters like a puppeteer. The figures move within hyper-detailed settings that are impressively grimy. The amount of work and attention to detail that went into “The Girl Who Cried Pearls” is evident every minute of its runtime. 

The story within is an interesting fable. This would seem to be about how, in order to make money in this world, we must compromise our ethics. The jeweler informs the broker of the story of Eve crying pearls upon exiting the garden of Eden, saying a pearl of sorrow is priceless. The broker sure is eager to put a price on it though. His cutthroat cheating of the lad, giving him dollars for something worth far more, points to what a untrustworthy character he is. His actions teach the lad to be similarly ruthless, apparent in the hard bargain he gives at the end. This is before a twist in the narrative that changes everything that came before. However, the short still ends on a sudden note of ambiguity. I feel like if another minute or two had been allowed to expand on some of these ideas to a fuller degree, I would like this one more. Still, pretty interesting and fantastic to look at. [7/10]

 

Retirement Plan (2024)
 

Probably the most understated of this year's animated short films, in both animation and content, is “Retirement Plan.” It is, simply, the recently retired Ray going down a list of all the things he plans to do now that he's no longer working. His long list of proposed activities vary wildly. He hopes to take better care of his body, organize his desk top, clean out his e-mails, read more, play more video games. He hopes to expand his horizons into new activities, like hiking and paragliding becoming knowledgeable about wine and attending an orgy. The grandiose plans the man has for his future are contrasted often with the reality of how these things will play out, often going less well than he expected. “Retirement Plan” goes further too, showing the man reaching the end of his life and beyond as well. 

“Retirement Plan” nicely balances a quietly absurd sense of humor with some more pathos. Humor arises from both the specificity of the man's plans and how he often seems to revise his decisions. Whether he's actually making these choices in real time or simply imagining how they'll go is hard to say. Either way, the cuts from his plans to, say, enjoy hiking or get a pet to how that might actually play out are well timed. Domhnall Gleeson's voice over is quiet but pointed, especially in the choices of how the man specifies his plans. Such as becoming a wine expert but “not in an annoying way.” 

At first, I wondered if even a seven minute long short could sustain a structure built entirely around listing activities. However, you notice that, after a while, the imagined version of the man begins to noticeably age. He's in a retirement home, soon enough. His announcement of “wanting to take better care of his body” contrasts grimly with his decaying physical form. Quietly, “Retirement Plan” comments on how what we plan for our futures and what we actually get are sometimes at odds. How what we think we want often is not what we expect. And how the little events in life sometimes become more meaningful when placed in a larger context. This is easily my favorite of 2026's crop of animated shorts. [9/10]

The Three Sisters (2024)
 

From Konstantin Bronzit, the director of 2014 nominee “We Can't Live Without Cosmos,” comes “The Three Sisters.” It concerns a trio of women, each one slightly taller than the other, that live on an isolated island. During a delivery of supplies, their bag of money tumbles into the ocean. With no other option for income, they decide to open up the fourth room in their home to a renter. A burly sailor soon arrives to take up the residence. Each of the sisters develop a crush on the man, all three competing to earn his attention. And he seems quite willing to give each of them the same treatment. This leads to conflict, both between the sisters and between what they all seem to want.

“The Three Sisters” is visually orientated almost like a comic strip. The camera usually looks onward on the small island and its inhabitants in profile. The film zooms in on events as they happen but largely maintains the far-off perspective. Also much like a comic strip, this progresses in a largely episodic fashion. Taking place over the course of a week, we see a different sister have an interaction with the sailor every night, usually with an amusing punchline at the end of the encounter. Such as the shortest sister passing out from apparent lust upon getting a whiff of the sailor's manly musk. 

Ultimately, the intentional distance the short keeps between the viewer and the cast of characters makes it a little harder to get into its world. We never learn why exactly all three sisters are attracted to this man, other than presumably his machismo being that overwhelming. All we can really do is react to the sight gags on display. Some of those fairly amusing, such as the reaction to the tallest sister trying to make herself attractive. At the beginning of the short, a seagull grabs a big fish. By the end, it has been reduced to a skeleton. That was a nice touch. This certainly lacks the pathos of “We Can't Live Without Cosmos” and there was a chance for some deeper emotion too, in the story's conclusion. At least there is a happy ending, of sorts. Definitely the odd ball of this year's animated short nominees. [6/10]

 

OSCARS 2026: The Alabama Solution (2025)

I knew a guy who was a prison guard. Any time he would tell me stories from his job, it always sounded like a real fucked-up gig to me. From my view on the outside, it sounded like the entire system was designed to breed animosity between the guards and the inmates. That violence was inevitably chosen to be the first and only solution to most problems. He got the shit beat out of him all the time too, so the entire system was fucked. I said to him once that I thought corruption was present in every layer of American justice and that the prison system needed to be completely overhauled, with a focus towards rehabilitation and not “punishment.” He agreed with me and this guy never agreed with me on anything, so that should tell you something about the self-evident flaws in the corrections industry. I don't know where my state ranks country-wide in terms of prison shittiness but I was also not surprised to hear that Alabama's prisons are especially bad. This is the starting point of “The Alabama Solution,” another Oscar-nominated documentary about clear and evident injustices in this country of mine.

Cell phones are strictly forbidden among the inmates in U.S. prison. This has not stopped them from becoming among the most common of contraband behind bars. The proliferation of cell phones has allowed prisoners to record an unfiltered and honest documentation of what their lives are like. “The Alabama Solution” began to take shape when, while filming an outdoor barbecue at Easterling Correctional Facility in Barbour County, Alabama, prisoners covertly approached directors Andrew Jarecki and Charlotte Kaufman with accounts of abuse from staff and unsanitary conditions. The murder of Steven Davis, beaten to death by guards, and the movement from his mother, Sandy Ray, to find the truth is also a prominent bullet note in the film. Eventually, the focus turns to the Free Alabama Movement, a peaceful activism group driven by inmates to call attention to their own mistreatment and lead to proper government oversight of Alabama's prisons. Naturally, those in power – including governor Kay Ivey, who gives the film its title by insisting that “Alabama problems require Alabama solutions” – do what they can to dismantle the protests. 

The backbone of “The Alabama Solution” is that cell phone footage of life inside the prisons. Jarecki and Kaufman maintain all the video errors, the skips in audio and footage, leaving little doubt about what we are seeing is largely unedited.  The film doesn't show me much of anything I couldn't have guessed about prison life. That doesn't mean some of these images aren't shocking. We see people sleeping on floors. Drug addicted inmates collapse in public spaces, their arms blacken and rotted with injection wounds. Blood is left splattered from beatings. We see Steven Davis' body in the immediate aftermath of his murder, his face so bruised from the brutal beating that nearly his entire face is blackened. Weirdly, that's not the moment that grossed me out the most. Instead, it was when a scene where an inmate says that he can't leave any food in his cell for fear of rats eating it... Before revealing a home-made mouse trap made of a water bottle with two live rats squirming around inside it. I mean, Jesus. 

Not that things would have to be any worst than that to make “The Alabama Solution” upsetting. However, the film prepares more than enough material beyond the violent abuse and filthy conditions to prove how fucked-up Alabama's prisons – and, by extension, all American prisons – are. Once again, the fact of the matter that inmates are used as essentially slave labor by both the state and major corporations is examined. A notable moment sees a man working in a laundry department, saying he's been in prison for thirty years, has worked every day, and never gotten a single dollar in all that time. A pointed statement has the state's governor saying she doesn't want to be around prisoners before it's casually dropped that inmates being paid two dollars a day built her fuckin' mansion. 

Proving that all of justice bends towards workers' rights, the Free Alabama Movement uses a workers' strike to demand change. The system's response is to cut the amount of food the inmates are fed, literally starving the movement to death. This is such a disgustingly immoral response that my brain immediately goes “why isn't that illegal?” before remembering that laws don't apply to social institutions that get to make the laws. We hear talk radio house make demeaning, dehumanizing comments about prisoners. Governor Ivey's solution is to consolidate Alabama's prisons into three mega-facilities, saying that it'll save the state money. Guess what project ends up going wildly over-budget before the end? It's always the same thing. When the repressed class realize they actually have the numbers on their side, those in power resort to systematically starving them of options and distracting the public with a bunch of stupid bullshit. 

Sorry, I know this wasn't my most coherent review. I don't have a lot of deeper thoughts about “The Alabama Solution” other than to say, over and over again, how much this kind of stuff pisses me off. I suppose the film's ability to prompt such a viscerally emotional reaction to these social injustices is an example of its success. Simply pointing a cell phone camera at these horrible abuses of power and bringing them to light makes it so evident how wrong this shit is. So I'll just wrap this up by once again asking the two people reading this to please donate to the Free Alabama Movement, or whatever the closest local equivalent is for, if you can. I don't know how to fix any of this shit but, if I can buy a striking inmate lunch for a day, that's better than nothing. [7/10]

 

OSCARS 2026: The Smashing Machine (2025)

Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson's journey from popular pro-wrestler to the biggest movie star in the world didn't happen based on the size of his biceps or how many reps he could do. Johnson has a megawatt smile, an irrepressible charm, an ability to command the screen, to make himself the center of attention no matter what is going on around him. For a brief period, all of that was enough to carry him from one blockbuster hit to another. However, sometime around 2018 or so, the shine started to come off that diamond. Maybe it was overexposure. Johnson was a key part of massive worldwide franchises like “Fast & Furious” and Disney. He had a successful TV show and multiple brand spokesman gigs. Maybe it was just because the movies weren't there. Films like “Skyscraper,” “Central Intelligence,” and “Jungle Cruise” started to feel more generic, more forgettable. Some would suggest that ego – including a supposed contractual clause that he never loses a fight on-screen – plays a role. Either way, by the time Johnson was attempting to brute-force “Black Adam” into a world-wide popular character, there was a stink of desperation about his career. Suddenly, Dwayne's desire to make audiences love him went from likable to off-putting. 

Since he could no longer be counted on to make a movie a hit with his charm alone, it was time to pursue another avenue: To prove he was a real actor, a true thespian. Yes, it was time for the Oscar bid. An inspiring true story still within Johnson's wheelhouse was found: The documentary “The Smashing Machine,” about the career of embattled Mixed Martial Arts star Mark Kerr. That movie was directed by John Hyams, a maker of reliably intense B-movies that hasn't broken through into the mainstream much. Hyams doesn't have awards season shine though. Benny Safdie, freed from his partnership with his brother and presumably eager to prove his solo talent, was an established critical darling. A24, the hippest of hip distributors and production companies, then came on-board the film. As the tone of the trailers made increasingly clear, Safdie's "The Smashing Machine" represented Johnson trying to manifest himself an Oscar the same way he tried to manifest a superhero franchise with “Black Adam.” Once again, it did not work. Despite aggressive campaigning, it received one nomination, in the decidedly less prestigious category of Best Hair and Make-Up. What of the film itself?

Mark Kerr would begin his athletic career as an amateur wrestler. (Actual wrestling, not the "sports entertainment" kind.) After beating more famous people like Randy Couture and Kurt Angle, Kerr would move into mixed martial arts. During the nineties, Kerr would become a repeated champion in the world of a sport that was slowly catching on all over the world. Kerr would soon begin an undefeated streak for Pride Fighting Championship. This is when “The Smashing Machine” comes in. Developing an addiction to painkillers, his relationship with girlfriend Dawn becomes more tense. After losing a Pride fight for the first time, Kerr's self esteem spirals. After having a heart attack, he endeavors to get clean and compete in the 2000 Pride Grand Prix. At the same time, his close friend and sparring partner Mark Coleman also seems to have a clear shot at the championship, leading to the inevitable conclusion that the two buddies might have to fight each.

“The Smashing Machine” is clearly an attempt by Johnson to shed his movie star persona and become absorbed in a performance. He adapts Kerr's particular speech pattern, a result of missing several teeth from fights. He refers to his “tummy” multiple times. He bleeds, gets stitches, shoots up drugs, screams, gasps for breath, and sweats. I think a third of “The Smashing Machine's” budget must have been spent on fake sweat. Though his pectorals are as impressive and arms as vein-y as ever, Johnson carries himself throughout “The Smashing Machine” as a man barely holding it together. He is always stiff, shoulders back, arms to his side. Whenever chatting with his manly friends or the press, he adopts a friendly bro-like persona that reads as blatantly performative. This is a guy desperate not to look like a failure. Naturally, when he does lose a fight, he spirals into drug addiction and messy arguments with Dawn. The arc of “The Smashing Machine” is of a man afraid of being perceived as a loser learning that it's okay to fail, to be vulnerable.  

That is a compelling character arc. It is also a good subversion of Johnson's tough guy image, deliberately showing that there is a sad, struggling human being behind all that rippling sinew. However, something feels off. The Oscar clip moment occurs when Kerr is in the hospital, recovering from that heart attack. Coleman tries to talk with him, Kerr assuming his usual laid-back demeanor... Before he suddenly drops it, bursting into tears. It feels as calculated as the expertly timed cocked eyebrows or elbow drops he did in the ring. There's the foundation of a good performance here. Johnson has the skills to make Kerr's feelings genuine, to make his pain and triumph palatable. Despite looking like the Rock, he makes Kerr seem like a regular guy a few times. 

Throughout the film, however, I repeatedly found myself wondering something: Why is Mark like this? What happened in his life to make him so guarded about his feelings? Why does he feel an intense drive to succeed all the time, taking a single loss as a devastating blow that he nearly dies over? The script does not specify. The film also does not go into details about Mark's painkiller addiction, only hinting at the ever-present pain he must feel from countless blows to the head and body that pushes him to shoot up. We see very little of Mark struggling with drug addiction after his promise to get clean. The film does not explore his childhood, his backstory, or any of the psychological impulse that make him act this way. There's a scene, where Mark stands outside a carnival ride while Dawn is inside. He stares to the side, the camera focusing on his face and physical demeanor as he waits. Instead of me feeling a sense of his detachment from Dawn or being left out of his own life, I simply found myself with no idea what this guy was thinking at all.

Part of this is because of the decisions Safdie, cinematographer Maceo Bishop, and composer Nata Sinephro make. “The Smashing Machine” seeks to replicate the documentary-like visuals from its source film. There's a sheen of unpolished grit to the images, looser camera movements. This also means pulling back from the characters. In “The Smashing Machine,” we always feel like we are watching the characters, not apart of their lives. There's a noticeable distance between the cast and the camera placement. This makes sense for the fight scene, to copy the sensation of watching from the audience. When applied to the rest of the movie, it makes us feel detached from Mark and his struggles. When paired with a musical score that is discordant and inexplicably jazzy at times, the result is a movie that feels nearly as closed-up to the viewer as its protagonist is to his girlfriend. 

And about that romantic subplot. Emily Blunt gives a good performance as Dawn. She accurately plays a woman who is frustrated with a man who won't let her get any closer. Their arguments seem plausible and not melodramatic, clearly born out an inability for these two to communicate. Unfortunately, part of that lack of communication means Dawn doesn't take Mark's concerns seriously. While he's getting sober, she goes out drinking with friends. She mocks him calling his sponsor at one point. She outright admits she preferred Mark when he was high, so she could take care of him. She also picks the night before a big fight or during a tense training session to start an argument. Her most dramatic moment occurs when Dawn puts a gun to her head at the climax of another argument. This does not make me want to root for these two kids to work it out. These two need to break up. They are not healthy for each other. The script seems to take it for granted that the couple need to be together for their own good, when all the evidence suggests otherwise. 

When Johnson is a producer on “The Smashing Machine,” it is easy to blame him for the failure of the film. (Which includes commercially, as the movie flopped.) However, I think he was up to the task of giving an Oscar-winning performance. Instead, as always, it's the script, stupid. “The Smashing Machine” feels half-formed, unable to take us inside the head of a character we are clearly meant to connect to. It must have been a deliberate choice, as every aspect of the film keeps us from figuring out makes Mark tick. The film follows all the beats of a inspiring arc, in its final scene where Kerr finally accepts that it's okay to lose. It rings hollow. Hopefully, Johnson keeps trying to prove his actorly chops, as I do think he has a great performance in him. But “The Smashing Machine” doesn't have what it takes to be a champion. [6/10]

 

OSCARS 2026: The Perfect Neighbor (2025)

True crime media is undeniably an industry now. If you are interested in real life stories of murder, disappearances, or other criminal activities, there's more hours of content about it than one human could ever hope to consume over their entire lifetime. Every streamer service under the sun, it would seem, has to crank out a new documentary or mini-series on some serial killer, missing person case, or bizarre story. Most of these are not worthy of much comment. To learn that Netflix used generative A.I. in some of their recent true crime docs is not at all surprising. However, occasionally, one will rise to the top of the pack. I started to hear buzz around “The Perfect Neighbor” sometime last year, as a better-than-most example of its genre. Now, the film has been extra validated by picking up an Oscar nomination for Best Documentary Feature, the Academy rarely recognizing flicks of this nature. Let's dive deeper, shall we? 

In a small neighborhood in Ocala, Florida, Ajike “AJ” Owens lived with her four sons. The kids would often play in the street and various yards near-by, in the rowdy way kids do. This was greatly offensive to Owens' neighbor, an elderly white woman named Susan Lorincz. Susan would often chastise the kids for being on her property, despite the contested strip of land not even belonging to her. She was seen spewing profanity, and using racial slurs, against the boys from time to time. She would often call and report the supposed trespasses to the police, who were obligated to investigate. Each time, Susan's version of events were usually more dramatic and violent than what others recalled. On June 2nd of 2023, Susan would take a tablet away from one of Owens' sons after another incident of her harassing the children. When Ajike knocked on her door, angrily asking the tablet be returned, Lorincz shot her through the locked entrance. Owens would later die from her injuries. The police would be slow to prosecute Lorincz as they were uncertain if she acted within Florida's controversial – to say the least – Stand Your Ground laws.

I think the main reason “The Perfect Neighbor” proves to be such a compelling documentary is simple enough: We've all known a Susan. Before the woman's aggression turn violent, the kids accurately identify her as a “Karen.” The smallest, most innocent infractions seem to her to be great injustices. She is quick to anger and quick to demand a legal response for these “crimes.” Most pressingly, she is always the victim in her own eyes. When she apparently drives her pick-up truck through a gate, and the cops confront her about this, she brings up an unrelated incident of being sexually assaulted years before. Susan knows her reactions are unreasonable. This is why she exaggerates the events to be more outrageous, claiming a tiny child tried to put a large dog into her truck or that Owens was threatening to kill her. This is what makes women like Susan so infuriating: They refuse to budge on any disagreement and must always be observed as the victimized party. When the police tell the woman that she's been charged with manslaughter, she refuses to move from her seat. She simply doesn't want to obey because, in her mind, how could she ever possibly be the offender? 

Susan Lorincz is clearly a mentally unwell person. Sometimes she seems scatterbrained when questioned, though one suspect this might be an act. Her history of repeated anti-social behavior suggests something is wrong with her wiring. At the same time, I also think Susan knew exactly what she was doing. After firing the shots that killed Owens, she called the police, sobbing and saying she feared for her life... Before her voice goes smug and calm as she mentions that the kids were “always leaving their shit in” her yard. When the cops ask if she had researched Florida's Stand Your Ground laws at all, she unconvincingly flip-flops in her answer. When questioned about using a racial slur against the boys, she half-asses a response that she might have said that but, surely, she had a good cause to. I think Lorincz' intense fixation on the Owens' kids wronging her points to some degree of mental illness. 

However, one truly has to wonder: Would she had reacted so violently if the Owens had been a white family? This is another aspect that is so infuriating about Susan and people like her. There is an undeniable element of racial entitlement to their petty grievances. The reasons white people see any person of color innately as a threat or a potential criminal are varied and complex. Regardless, the sheer amount of anger and outrage people like Susan Lorincz and George Zimmerman reserve for anyone with darker skin color than them is an unavoidable factor. White kids merely existing on the same street as her seem unlikely to have inspired Lorincz to the same level of violent reaction. She must not merely be "protected" from other races. The fact that they live in the same neighborhood as her at all is offensive enough. 

“The Perfect Neighbor” is composed largely out of footage recorded from police body-cams, with little additional footage or voice-over narration guiding the story. This creates a sense that we are witnesses to these events as they play out. It sets up the mundane quality of the location. Susan's first interactions with the Owens family are almost comical. She's such a ridiculous figure, her anger so obviously unreasonable, that one can't take her seriously. The cops don't either, laughing about how often she calls them. Once the shots are fired, however, “The Perfect Neighbor's” approach gives us a heartbreaking front row seat to the aftermath. To see her kids panic and cry as their mother is injured or to hear their father grimly admit that mama won't be coming home, it causes an ache in your chest. To hear the eldest son blame himself, because his tablet was the one stolen, makes you wish you were there to comfort the child. 

It's difficult not to be wrapped up in emotions when watching “The Perfect Neighbor.” Susan Lorincz is such a despicable villain, the motivations for her actions so common and familiar, her refusal to admit responsibility or recognize her own prejudices so enraging. Seeing four young kids separated from their beloved mother so senselessly produces such an immediate emotional response. What truly elevates “The Perfect Neighbor” is the uncomfortable questions it forces you to ask. The film treats the police fairly neutrally yet their inability to recognize the clear mental imbalances in Lorincz means they hold some responsibility. So do the vile lack of gun control laws in this country, where something with Lorincz' history would have access to a firearm in the first place. Before the credits role, the film acknowledges that an overwhelming majority of shooters in Stand Your Ground cases in Florida have been light-skinned and their victims usually a darker color. To look at the facts of this sad, distressing case is to look at the number of factors that lead up to it. As long as we have a lack of easily accessed mental health resources, an excess of guns, and a deeply ingrained racism in this culture, crimes like these will continue to happen. 

Susan Lorincz ultimately went to jail for killing Ajika Owens. As “The Perfect Neighbor” wraps up, we see the trial playing out in quick snippets. When the verdict is read, Lorincz' facial expression is one of anger and snideness. As if even the weight of going to prison for 25 years, likely the rest of her life, still isn't enough for her to realize that some kids being on her lawn doesn't vindicate her actions. I hope the Owens family are able to heal from their mental wounds in time. I hope, some day, events such as these no longer occur. I even hope that Susan Lorincz realizes the gravity of what she's done eventually. What is most upsetting about “The Perfect Neighbor” is how difficult that last scenario is to imagine. It's a well assembled film that prompts big questions and big feelings and bring. [8/10]

OSCARS 2026: Jurassic World Rebirth (2025)

Let us consider the following. "Jurassic World" made one billion and 671 million dollars at the worldwide box office, suggesting it was an extremely popular film. Critically, it holds a 72% "Fresh" rating on Rotten Tomatoes. Rotten Tomatoes is a broken website for many reasons but we can presume that the general consensus on "World" is that it was generally well received. The sequel was also a box office bonanza, making one billion and 308 million dollars. However, the press was much harsher towards "Fallen Kingdom," which currently resides at only 47% positive. The trend continued with "Jurassic World Dominion," which cracked a paltry one billion dollars worldwide while receiving the worst reviews yet, topping out at a putrid 29% on Rotten Tomatoes. 

 

People say these movies are critic proof and perhaps they are. However, I can't imagine that Universal execs didn't notice that the more negative reviews seemed to correlate to slightly less massive box office. Perhaps seeking a fresh perspective, a new director would board the series for the fourth or seventh entry. Gareth Edwards, already experienced with saurian CGI mayhem from directing 2014's "Godzilla," would take the wheel with "Jurassic World Rebirth." The generically subtitled follow-up wouldn't truly change much, reaction wise. "Rebirth" fell just short of making Universal another billy but still grossed a Dreadnoughtus sized amount of money. Critical reception, meanwhile, concluded this is merely the least shitty follow-up. I've enjoyed all the "Jurassic World" movies, presumably because I have no taste, so I went into "Rebirth" with few ideas as to what my reaction might be. 

It turns out Earth's current climate and the hyper-industrial era are hostile to dinosaurs. "Rebirth" sees all the thunder lizards unleashed on the world in "Dominion" mostly going extinct again. The prehistoric creatures only survive in the balmiest areas of the globe, human travel outlawed in these regions. Pharmaceutical corporation ParkerGenix needs genetic material from three of the biggest dinosaur species – the aquatic Mosasaur, the land-dwelling Titanosaurus, and the airborne Quetzalcoatlus – to perfect a heart disease killing drug. Mercenary Zora Bennett is promised an absurd amount of money to lead the extremely dangerous mission to retrieve these resources. Paleontologist Henry Loomis and old friend Duncan Kincad accompany Zora on this journey. They travel to Île Saint-Hubert, the now abandoned Caribbean island where InGen kept the mutated dinosaurs too ugly to display in the main park. Along the way, the team picks up a family – fisherman Reuben, his daughters Teresa and Isabella, and Teresa's boyfriend Xavier – stranded by a Mosasaur attack. The boat is taken out by hostile dinos as they approach the island, making an already perilous adventure riskier. Zora and the others try to survive, grab what they need, and make a last minute escape as the island reveals more deadly dino secrets. 

Universal invited David Koepp, writer of the original and most beloved film in this franchise, back to pen "Jurassic World Rebirth." He is given sole credit for the script but it's fairly obvious that "Rebirth" was actually written by committee. On-screen titles explain the current state of this dinosaur-infested world, before the cast repeats this information in laborious expositionary dialogue. The main dramatic conflict of each principal character is also explained in broad conversations early on in the film. Zora is traumatized by the death of her partner and missing the funeral of her mom. Duncan reveals a ruined marriage and deceased child in his back story during the same talk. Reuban is unimpressed with Xavier, who will prove his worthiness throughout this journey. There's never any doubt about which members of the party will become dinosaur chow. Do you think the overly confident big game hunter, Ruby Rose-like crew member, French speaking mechanic, and cartoonishly evil Big Pharma stooge have much chance of making it to the end? 

Scarlett Johansson smiles big and looks pretty in a role that otherwise asks very little of her. The rest of the cast play their roles with the cartoon simplicity demanded of the meager script. Likewise, the origin story of the latest biggest, baddest threat to grace the series feels like something that would appear in a low-effort cartoon series. Koepp attempts to cook a bigger theme into the story, about personal responsibility in making the world a better place when profit-hungry mega-corps rule everything. This results in a handful of dialogue exchanges, the most climatic of which being the most flatly and obviously stated. Every element of "Jurassic World Rebirth's" narrative was designed so that even the most clueless rubes in the audience – or folks dispassionately watching while scrolling TikTok – can follow what is happening. 

"Rebirth" does deserve credit for not going out of its way to remind viewers of the original film. This is not a "legacy sequel" burdened with shout-outs to the older, better movies. In fact, the latest "Jurassic World" most reminds me of something else entirely: Video games, specifically classic survival-horror titles. There's a clear check list of objectives for the heroes to achieve, gathering DNA from three of the dinosaur species. The successfully filled capsules float down towards the characters like power-ups falling from the sky. The cast progresses through different settings and scenarios, as if they are playing through levels. Each location contains their own environmental gimmicks: Shooting a monster from the deck of a speeding boat, repelling down a mountain side, crawling through subterranean tunnels. Different threats are found in each location, with the T-Rex wading through the river area and the massive pterosaur occupying the cliff side. Locations like an ancient temple, a rickety gas station, and an abandoned lab filled with tubes occupied by deformed fetuses are the kind of areas you'd expect to navigate with a controller. There are puzzles for the heroes to unravel too, such as freeing a vessel from an elevated wench or opening a locked gate. A box of flares might as well have a green arrow floating overtop it. Scarlett Johansson crawling around and shooting dinosaurs truly reminded me of playing "Dino Crisis," while the last act features a monstrous final boss worthy of a "Resident Evil" title. 

The impression "Jurassic World Rebirth" gives is of a risks-free blockbuster rushed through production by a studio needing to fill a summer release slot. Gareth Edwards has already proven he can make a movie like this and is fine with producer-mandated reshoots too. The execs wanted a cute, Baby Yoda-like mascot character they could sell toys of and so an adorable dinosaur sidekick meets up with the cast's youngest member. The script was written not to express a natural story but to get thrill-hungry viewers from one exciting set piece to the next. It is the definition of what Martin Scorsese called "theme park" movies. 

Maybe that is the lowest goal film can aspire to as an artform but I, for one, enjoy a good theme park ride. And "Jurassic World Rebirth" does provide those kinds of thrills. The family trying to escape the mosasaurs as their boat is wrecked is an intense thriller. The race with the same sea monsters, as ScarJo hangs perilously off the side of the boat, is extremely well engineered. The Quetzalcoatlus is a formidable and unique threat, the mountainside location making for a dynamically executed sequence. Hiding from the snapping, winged raptors in a grungy convenience store presses all the right buttons to engineer suspense. The highlight of the film involves the T-Rex stalking the Delgados through a riverbed, including a fantastic shot of the massive predator's jaws pressing through the material of an inflatable raft or squeezing its head between gaps in a rock wall. Edwards manages to bring along some of the grandeur he showed-up off in "Godzilla" too. The sequence devoted to the enormous Titanosaurs, with their coiling and whip-like tails, is a properly sweet moment of peace in the middle of the film. The Distortis Rex – the latest example of the Hollywood kaiju phenotype – shows the same fantastic sense of scale and misty awe-and-terror Edwards displayed in his previous monster movies. 

I must conclude that "Jurassic World Rebirth" is, unquestionably a corporate product. It is designed to raise shareholders' stock value, to do nothing but distract audiences enough that they go to the theater and pay for tickets. It is meant to further the value of the "Jurassic" brand in the public consciousness and to keep fans flocking to the merchandise and theme parks. Whether that means the definition of whatever the internet has decided is "slop" today is up to debate, I suppose. I prefer the term "schlock," which is far more affectionate. "Rebirth" is definitely schlock and, as far as the value of what I paid for my ticket goes, I believe it is schlock that gave me money's worth. Maybe I truly do have no taste. Perhaps I am but a simple soul that only needs to see some dinosaurs ripping shit up on-screen to be satisfied. The script is weak and the characters are flat but the special effects are excellent, the thrills come fast, and it is all delivered in a smooth package that keeps the dino-action coming at a fast enough clip. [6/10]