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Wicked: For Good (2025)
To paraphrase a famous debate line, I knew Wicked, Wicked was one of my top films of 2024, and you, Wicked: For Good, are no Wicked. Obviously that’s not completely true as For Good is the second half of the adaptation of the popular Broadway musical, of which only the first act compromised the prior movie released a year ago. The problem was that the first Wicked movie felt complete, and had there never been another second after, it would have served as a fitting and even moving portrait of the unknown back-story to the Wicked Witch of the West and the implied propaganda that would taint the perception of the citizens of Oz. The movie was two hours and forty minutes but it felt extremely well-paced and developed. It felt, more or less, complete, even though I know it was only adapting half the musical. In short, it did too good of a job, and now Wicked: For Good suffers as a sequel because what’s left to tell just isn’t as compelling or as emotionally or thematically coherent as its charming predecessor. Plus, all the banger songs were clearly in the first movie.
After the events of the first movie, Elphaba (Cynthia Erivio) has assumed the mantle of the Wicked Witch of the West and is sabotaging the Wizard of Oz’s (Jeff Goldblum) plans at expansion and animal abuse. Glinda (Ariana Grande) is the Wizard’s public ambassador and the “good witch” to inspire the masses, even though she doesn’t possess actual magical abilities. Glinda wishes dearly that Elphaba will change her mind and decide to work with her and the Wizard. However, Elphaba wants to expose corruption, and the Wizard is at the top of her list of the corrupt and powerful needing to be toppled for good.
For Good suffers from the adaptation struggles the 2024 Wicked film was able to avoid. The first movie was an effervescent treat built upon a poignant friendship and some killer songs given the full showstopper visual treatment. It was a vibrant adaptation, and while it expanded upon the stage show significantly, the extra time with the characters felt like breathing space, and it all contributed to what felt to me like an extremely well paced and well developed and arguably complete movie experience. Now the second act of a musical is almost always the shorter of the two, and For Good is about 30 minutes shorter than its predecessor. The filmmakers even added two new songs for Oscar eligibility and further padding, neither of which are winners (more on the songs later in the review). That sense of care is not present in For Good, as characters are frustratingly repeating beats they already worked through. Take for instance Glinda, who begins the first movie as an entitled popular girl used to getting her own way, and by the end of the movie, she’s grown to see the world differently and through her sisterly friendship with Elphaba, she has a more empathetic and grounded perspective. She has already changed for the better, and yet in For Good it feels like the movie kicks her character growth backwards. She has to again learn that maybe the Wizard and others are not the best people in charge just because they are. Wicked is a victim of its own success. The character development and arc was so well realized in the first movie that Glinda feels like she’s repeating lessons she’s already learned. I also don’t buy Elphaba being seriously tempted by the Wizard’s offer of collaboration after all she experienced and learned earlier. It’s irksome to have the characters seem curiously different from where we left them in 2024’s Wicked. There is also a character relationship revelation that I and many others had figured out FROM THE OPENING SCENE of the first movie. Behold, dear reader, For Good doesn’t even address this until the last twenty minutes of the movie and it does absolutely nothing with this revelation. I was flabbergasted.
The biggest time-waster and padding is when Wicked drags The Wizard of Oz characters and plot incidents awkwardly into its own universe. Granted, the entire enterprise is supposed to be the unknown back-story for the villain of The Wizard of Oz which gives it its identity. Except Dorothy and her lot are not essential at all to telling this story, as evident with the sense that the 2024 Wicked could feel complete. Dorothy and her motley crew of locals, some of whom are made up of previously established characters, are given the Rosencrantz and Gildenstern treatment, meaning they’re primarily kept off-screen and incidental. You don’t even see Dorothy’s face once. These characters feel annoyingly tacked-on and inconsequential to the story we’ve already spent three hours with. They’re knowing nods for the audience and they’re also making efforts to better pad out the running time. I don’t fully comprehend their importance in this new retelling. The treacherous Madame Morrible (Michelle Yeoh) sees the presence of Dorothy as an advantageous development, like she can use her as a Chosen One to thwart Elphaba. It’s never remotely explained why this makes sense. Why this person versus any other Oz citizen? Dorothy possesses special shoes but we’ve seen what can be accomplished with them. They’re not really some superpower or a weapon, more an item of personal attachment for Elphaba she would like returned. In this retelling, the entire inclusion of Dorothy and her friends is a means to an end for a public ruse. It might seem odd to say this Wizard of Oz back-story would have been better minus Dorothy but there it is.
Now it’s time to discuss the actual songs for this movie musical. The best known and most popular tunes were all in the first act and thus the first movie. The songs for For Good are a combination of middling ballads and continuation of the leitmotifs and themes of the previous one. There’s perhaps a bigger emotional current when characters bring back melodies and lyrics from the first movie to expand or contrast, like “I’m Not That Girl.” Did you want another song with Goldblum singing? The biggest number is “For Good” where Elphaba and Glinda face off and admit their shared sisterly love for one another, but again this was already established by the end of 2024’s Wicked. It’s more explicitly stated through song but the sentiment was evident to me already. Adding further disappointment, returning director John M. Chu (Into the Heights, Crazy Rich Asians) lacks the same thoughtful staging of the musical numbers in this edition. He is a filmmaker who innately knows how to adapt stage musicals into the medium of film, and he did so splendidly with 2024’s Wicked. With For Good, the staging lacks a real immersion and visual dynamism, often murky or overly saturated, like “No Good Deed” being performed almost entirely with intrusive sunsetting silhouettes dominating the screen. The less engaging songs, added with less engaging visual staging, make the movie feel longer and less jubilant. I don’t know if “For Good” has the intended emotional crescendo simply because this movie isn’t nearly as good.
As a personal note, the 2024 Wicked was the last movie I saw in theaters with my father while he was alive. We were supposed to see Gladiator II together as a family after Thanksgiving but he wasn’t feeling up to it, and then a little more than two weeks later he was unresponsive. I’m happy Wicked was such a pleasant and enjoyable experience for him, but as we left the theater, he asked me, “Wasn’t there supposed to be more?” We had seen the stage show when it toured through our city many years ago, and I remarked that there was going to be a whole second movie adapting the second act of the musical and it was going to be released in a year. He nodded and I felt the silent acknowledgement shared between us: he would not be around to see the conclusion, that it was a future unavailable to him. So it’s hard for me to not have some melancholy feelings with For Good, and I’ll admit maybe that’s influencing my critique.
Wicked: For Good is a frustrating, disappointing extension of what had been a sterling and magical original movie. It doesn’t outright ruin what came before it but confirms for me that 2024’s Wicked could stand on its own. The songs aren’t as good. The staging and visuals aren’t as good. The character development feels repeated and occasionally confounding. The plotting is stretched and unsatisfying. The inclusion of the more direct Wizard of Oz characters feels arbitrary and unnecessary. The actors are still charming and affecting and sing wonderfully, but they’re also unable to defy the gravity of the material they’re stuck with. If you’re a super fan of the source material, albeit the original story by L. Frank Baum, the 1939 Wizard of Oz movie, the Gregory Maguire book, the 2000s stage musical, or even the first movie, you will probably find enough to sing along to and walk away fairly happy. I loved the 2024 Wicked and was left mostly cold at the concluding half but I realize I very well may be a curmudgeonly minority here. My advice would be to consider the 2024 Wicked a complete movie and skip For Good.
Nate’s Grade: C+
One Battle After Another (2025)
Over his thirty-year career, writer/ director Paul Thomas Anderson (PTA) has developed a mystique and reputation like few other auteurs working in cinema. He’s a visionary filmmaker whose first few movies count among my favorites of all time (Boogie Nights, Magnolia) and whose latter output can leave me shrugging and sighing (Licorice Pizza, Inherent Vice, The Master). My decade-plus-long observational bon mot has been that Anderson decided to make amends for his plot-heavy early movies with more airy, far less plotted vibes-movies. One Battle After Another is something far different from Anderson. He’s making his own version of a $150-million studio action movie, with big ideas and Leonardo DiCaprio as lead (DiCaprio has long regretted passing on Dirk Diggler, still Mark Wahlberg’s acting high-point, so thanks Leo). PTA is using the big-budget storytelling of action cinema to tell something new and personal and politically relevant behind all the gunfire and daring car chases. It’s been dubbed the movie of the moment and perhaps the one to beat for the 2025 Academy Awards. Now that I’ve finally watched all 150 minutes of Anderson’s opus, I’m not as high on it as others but do acknowledge it is a thrilling, engrossing, and occasionally frustrating work from a visionary artist.
Bob (DiCaprio) used to run with a leftist military group known as the French 75. He fell in love with Perfidia (Teyana Taylor), one of the leaders of the group, and together they had a baby, little Willa. Perfidia runs off, unable to settle down, leaving Bob to raise their daughter under a different identity. Sixteen years later, that old life comes back to Bob. It so happens Colonel Steven J. Lockjaw (Sean Penn) had an ongoing sexual tryst with Perfidia during one of their stings. There’s a chance that Willa (Chase Infiniti), now a teenager wanting to live a normal life, is actually his biological daughter. He needs to capture her under any circumstance and possibly dispose of her in order to be admitted to an exclusive white supremacist cabal within the U.S. government. Bob is forced back to action to find and protect Willa but he’s not exactly in the best shape. He’s been a burnout for so long. Can he now be a hero?
While the movie was filmed throughout 2024, and supposedly has been in the works for over twenty years by Anderson, One Battle After Another feels extremely timely and relatable in these troubled political days of ours (even the title expresses what it’s like to get up and try and process the daily barrage of horrifying news in this Trump Administration 2.0 Era). Anderson’s screenplay, loosely adapted from Thomas Pynchon’s 1990 novel Vineland, proposes a right-wing U.S. government swept up in fascist impulses that is highly militarized and declares war on immigration, rounding up primarily Hispanic men, women, and children and locking them away in camps. It’s also a law enforcement unit that pose as protestors to create a rationale for enacting physical violence and intimidation against peaceful protestors. At the core is a secret society of white supremacists running the show. Short of a concurrent documentary, it will be harder to find a movie more politically topical to the status of life in 2025, especially for the many shaking their heads and wondering how exactly we got here. Pynchon’s original novel was about the transformation of 1960s America to the 1980s, and it feels highly relevant to our 2025 times where there yet again seems to be great upheaval and conflict over those in power operating said power against the governed. It’s impossible to watch One Battle After Another and not think about the headlines. It’s not exactly the escapism many might be seeking. There’s never been a leftist paramilitary group as organized and as successful as the French 75 (they have their own affiliated convent – nuns with guns). The movie isn’t leftist wish-fulfillment to take down the current administration. It’s more a father-daughter battle to reunite in the face of state terror. It certainly has its fiery political commentary, but it’s more a family striving to stay together.
I did quite enjoy that the movie undercuts Bob as our hero, using him more as an entry point into other characters in this story, others who have a much larger impact and prove more capable. The character of Bob serves as a gateway for the other characters to really take over and shine, and it’s smart to use the familiar archetype of the old gunslinger being called back into action past his prime to atone for the sins of the past. We’ve seen this kind of character before, but Bob is kind of hapless and far out of his depth, and it makes the movie so much more entertaining. The rest of the movie exists in a more familiar action-thriller setting, albeit with some fun house mirror edges for pointed satire, but Bob is this bumbling, stumbling dope from a stoner comedy whose been copy-pasted into a different genre. He provided explosives for the French 75 but that doesn’t mean he’s got a wealth of clandestine knowledge and cunning at his disposal, especially since he’s normally inebriated. Now sixteen years later, the archetype would typically have to pull out their old skills that have calcified over a long hibernation, but Bob doesn’t have those skills. When he has an opportunity to take the big heroic shot, he misses. When he has the opportunity to make a daring escape, he falls off the side of a building. When he has to remember the coded exchanges of old, he can’t remember all of the parts. The climax doesn’t really even involve him as he’s playing catch-up for most of the extended conclusion. He’s more like the Big Lebowski waking up in, say, No Country for Old Men and desperately seeking shelter.
However, Anderson’s empathy for his characters of all stripes shines through, and while Bob is presented as diminished or bumbling, he’s not a complete moron without any redeeming qualities. His most resounding positive quality is his complete dedication and love for his daughter. We’ve seen this kind of story before, the overbearing parental figure trying to drill their child to be prepared for when danger inevitably arises, and the child growing resentful and distant to the parent because of that demanding and limiting home life. Then trouble strikes and the child has to rely upon those seasoned skills they practiced while that paranoid and obsessive adult was ultimately proven right for their unorthodox parenting. Bob’s love for Willa is what has shaped his life for these past sixteen years. He’s the parent who stayed, the one who settled from his old life to take on the responsibility of raising a child as a new life. He’s the one who changed her diapers, the one who shows up for parent-teacher conferences even if it’s to lecture the teachers about the curriculum while lighting up a joint. His love for his daughter is the thing that drives him forward and keeps him going. You feel that love between them, and in the climax of the movie, it becomes something poignant about the connection between these two over such extreme circumstances. There’s an ongoing question over the paternity of Willa but this never for a second changes Bob’s view of his daughter or his willingness to do anything to save her. If he was a Liam Neeson-styled master spy with a particular set of skills, the journey wouldn’t feel as rewarding. With Bob being punched down by the universe again and again but still going, it makes us root for him more.
Penn is completely enthralling as Lockjaw. His danger is never downplayed, and he’s frequently shown as a man who will use his considerable means of power to get what he wants, but Anderson also finds interesting ways to lampoon him and complicate him. I loved that the secret white supremacist society Lockjaw is so eager to join is called the Christmas Adventurers Club. It’s so stupidly anodyne that it sounds like a rejected title for a Boxcar Children novel. The members even pledge, “Merry Christmas. Hail Saint Nick.” It’s so stupid but so are many of the associative slogans of these right-wing groups (I learned the Proud Boys are named after a cut song from Disney’s animated Aladdin, “Proud of Your Boy,” and no I am not kidding). These men are indeed dangerous but they’re also not insurmountable, and I think that’s an important distinction. They’re small, angry, racist men trying to forcibly reshape the world but they are a minority of a minority clinging to power to reject progressive reforms. Lockjaw’s big problem is that he has a tremendous attraction to African-American women, the type of people he should see as inferior. The movie’s momentum is kicked into gear all because Lockjaw wants to be accepted in this special club. Penn is incredible in how he brings to life the snarling contradictions of this man, someone so aggressively challenging but who is also given to gnawing insecurities. Even the way Penn holds his body and walks is an indication of who this man is, with stick firmly planted in rear. He’s scary but he is also stupid, a fine encapsulation of our present political quandary. I’d expect him to be the current front-runner for Best Supporting Actor at the Oscars but it is still plenty early for predictions.
I do wish those engaging supporting characters had more to do besides Lockjaw. Even at 150 minutes, there isn’t much development for Willa to really grow as a character. She’s the target for the chase, and she’s the one trying to understand what is happening as it happens. It would make sense for her to have been the protagonist as she has the most to learn. For far too much of the movie she’s just a passive passenger, being shipped from one location to another. I wish we had more moments to really grapple with her perspective and her shifting opinion about her father and his past. I do enjoy that she’s the real star of the climax but at that point I wished we had seen far more of her resilience and determination and making use of what her father had been teaching her, not simply trading coded conversations. If she is the future, the possibility of turning this world around as someone declares by film’s end, then maybe let’s spend a little more time with her being active and reflective and taking more ownership of her survival. It’s as much her movie as it is Bob’s but he gets far more generous screen time over those 150 minutes.
The same can be said for Willa’s mother, Perfidia. I never found her that interesting as a character. She’s a true-born revolutionary from a family of revolutionaries, but some part of her is drawn back to Lockjaw, whether it’s simply the transactional exchange of sex for protection and assurances, or maybe something more, perhaps the power play of dominance over the very kind of bad men in power she wanted to control. She runs away from a domestic life with baby Willa because she knows she’s ill-suited for it. From there, she gets captured and turns on her former comrades to enter Witness Protection, which she runs away from. I kept waiting for her to resurface in a meaningful way in the story since we’re shown that she escapes into Mexico (Lockjaw lies that he killed her rather than admit she ran off). However, Anderson only utilizes the character as a catalyst, a means of entangling the two men into a paternal showdown. It’s disappointing that Perfidia is reduced to such a nothing of a character when there was much to explore.
And now comes the part of the review where we talk about Anderson’s bold leap into action filmmaking. He’s not the first prestige indie darling to make a grand genre jump into action-thriller bravado. One thinks of Sam Mendes tackling Skyfall with aplomb, Paul Greengrass with the Bourne series, Patty Jenkins going from Monster to Wonder Woman, Lee Issac Chung going from Minari to Twisters, and of course the big man himself, Christopher Nolan. It can be done with the right filmmaker understanding the key tenets of action, in particular how to connect the various set pieces and conflicts with the characters and their emotional state and chain of needs and priorities. I was impressed with Anderson’s sense of scope and his ability to wring tension. There aren’t really many strict action scenes. Much ink has been spilled on the climactic chase that utilizes a series of rolling hills as the focal point of this battle, and it’s immersive and exciting and different. I’d also be lying if I said I wasn’t a little disappointed by it. This is because this sequence, up until the very very end, is all about one car tailing another. It’s taut and extremely well photographed, but ultimately it amounts to two cars following one another until one clever conclusion. It’s not really a sequence that changes and finds organic complications. It has the makings of a great action sequence but stalls. I thought back to 2014’s Snowpiercer and the sniper shooting match at two different points in the train, where each participant was waiting for the train to curve just so to better facilitate their shot. That was geography as advantage. Overall, Anderson is definitely making his version of an action movie but I don’t feel like he’s fully committed to the planning and development of those sequences. It feels more like ironic subversion when the genuine article would have been more appealing and impactful and just novel.
While One Battle After Another doesn’t rise to the capital-M masterpiece that so many of my critical brethren are falling over themselves to proclaim, it is a good movie with bold artistic swings. It thrums with energy and empathy. It’s probably PTA’s most accessible movie since There Will Be Blood or arguably Boogie Nights. I enjoyed the different characters and the brimming conflict and how much of the movie is grounded on the character relationships and their perspectives. There is a clear command of craft here like every PTA movie. He’s definitely passionate about bringing this world to life, which is eerily relevant to our own politically tumultuous times, but he still finds room for satirical mockery that doesn’t diminish the tension of the villains. It’s a universe I wanted more explanation and exploration, and the most interesting character by far is Benicio del Toro as a humble town sensei who is at the forefront of an immigrant underground railroad. I was never bored and often quite entertained but I stepped away wanting more, and maybe that’s greedy of me or an entitlement of the viewer. One Battle After Another flashes such terrific intrigue and personality that I wanted more refinement and development to better accentuate its mighty potential.
Nate’s Grade: B
Saturday Night (2024)/ September 5 (2024)
Recently two ensemble dramas were thought to have awards potential that never materialized, and I think I might know at least one reason why: they are both undone by decisions of scope to focus on either a single day or a 90-minute period to encapsulate their drama.
With Saturday Night, we follow show creator Loren Michaels (Gabriel LaBelle) the night before the premiere episode of the iconic sketch TV series, Saturday Night Live. The story is told in relative real time covering the last 90 minutes before its initial 11:30 PM EST debut in 1975. We watch Michaels try and deal with squabbling cast members, striking union members, failing technology, his ex-wife (Rachel Sennot) who also happens to be a primary producer of the show, muppets, and studio bosses that are doubtful whether this project will ever make it to air. I understand in essence why the real-time setting is here to provide more pressure and urgency as Michaels is literally running out of time. The problem is that we know the show will be a success, so inventing doubtful older TV execs to add extra antagonists feels like maybe the framing by itself was lacking. Think about Air but you added a fictional exec whose only purpose was to say, “I don’t think this Michael Jordan guy will ever succeed.” There are interesting conflicts and subplots, especially with the different groups that Michaels has to manage, but when it’s all stuffed in such a tight time frame, rather than making the movie feel more chaotic and anxious, it makes those problems and subplots feel underdeveloped or arbitrary. I would relish a behind-the-scenes movie about SNL history but the best version of that would be season 11, the “lost season,” when Michaels came back to save the show and there were legitimate discussions over whether to cancel the show. Admittedly, we would already know the show survives, but does the public know what happened to people like Terry Sweeney and Danitra Vance? Does the public know what kind of sacrifices Michaels had to make? That’s the SNL movie we deserve. Alas, Saturday Night is an amiable movie with fun actors playing famous faces, but even the cast conflicts have to be consolidated to the confined time frame. This is a clear-cut example where the setting sabotages much of what this SNL movie could have offered for its fans.
With September 5, we remain almost entirely in the control room of ABC Sports as they cover the fateful 1972 Munich Olympics after the Israeli athletes are taken hostage by terrorists. It’s a subject covered in plenty of other movies, including Steven Spielberg’s Munich and the 1999 Oscar-winning documentary One Day in September, but now we’re watching it from the perspective of the journalists thrust into the spotlight to try and cover an important and tragic incident as it plays out by the hour. It’s an interesting perspective and gives voice to several thorny ethical issues, like when the news team is live broadcasting an oncoming police assault, which the terrorists can watch and prepare for as well. The movie is filmed in a suitable docu-drama style and the pacing is as swift as the editing, and that’s ultimately what holds me back from celebrating the movie more. It’s an interesting anecdote about media history, but September 5 fails to feel like a truly insightful addition to the history and understanding of this tragedy. It’s so focused on the people in the studio and restrained to this one day that it doesn’t allow for us to really dwell or develop in the consequences of this day as well as the consequences of their choices on this fateful day. The movie feels like a dramatization of a select batch of interviews from a larger, more informative documentary on the same subject. It’s well-acted and generally well-written, though I challenge people to recall any significant detail of characters besides things like “German translator” and “Jewish guy.” It’s a worthy story but one that made me wish I could get a fuller picture of its impact and meaning. Instead, we get a procedural about a ragtag group of sports journalists thrust into a global political spotlight. There’s just larger things at stake, including the inherent drama of the lives at risk, than if they’ll get the shot.
Nate’s Grades:
Saturday Night: C+
September 5: B
A Real Pain (2024)
A funny, poignant, and surprisingly gentle movie about two cousins going on a journey to retrace their family history and honor that legacy while trying to reconcile their privileged connection to that past. Written and directed by Jesse Eisenberg, who also stars as David, a generally normal family man traveling with his much more jubilant and troubled cousin, Benji (Kieran Culkin). They’re on a tour through Poland and visiting infamous Holocaust historical sites, ultimately finding their grandmother’s home she fled so many decades ago. The cousins are dramatically different; David is timid and anxiety-ridden, and Benji is the life of any party, an impulsive yet charming people-person. The tour is meant to draw them closer together, to each other, to their shared historical roots, but it might also make them realize what cannot be reconciled. This is an unassuming little movie about a couple characters chafing and growing through their interactions, getting a better understanding of one another and what makes them tick. It’s really the Benji show, and Culkin is terrific, effortlessly charming and funny but with a real tinge of sadness underlying his garrulous energy. There’s real pain behind the surface of this character that he’s trying so hard to mask, though it appears in fleeting moments of vulnerability. Benji causes the various characters along the tour to think differently about their own situations, their own connections to the past, including his cousin, and ultimately makes the journey feel worthwhile. At a tight 90 minutes, A Real Pain is a small movie about big things, and Eisenberg has a nimble touch as writer/director to make he time spent with strangers feel insightful and rewarding.
Nate’s Grade: B+
Nickel Boys (2024)
This might be the most immersive and biggest directorial swing of the year. Director/co-writer RaMell Ross adapts the Pulitzer Prize-winning novel by Colson Whitehead about a reform school for juveniles more like a prison during the Civil Rights era. Ostensibly, the Nickel Academy is an institution that is meant to teach moral lessons and responsibility through outdoor labor. In reality, it’s a school that benefits from labor exploitation and has no intention of fulfilling its promise that students can possibly leave before they turn eighteen. This is even worse for African-Americans, as the school is also segregated and the students have to endure the racism of the administrators and other white juvenile delinquents who still want to feel superior to somebody. It’s a cruel setting destined to spark risable outrage, especially knowing that our main character, Elwood Curtis, is a victim of profiling and being in the wrong place at the wrong time, a star student selected to take college classes at an HBCU. The big artistic swing of Nickel Boys is the choice to tell the entire movie through first-person perspective, with the camera functioning as our protagonist’s eyes and ears. As the camera moves, it is us moving. It makes the movie intensively immersive, but I had some misgivings about this storytelling gimmick. It limits the resonance of the central performance as we can’t see the actor and his expressions and emotions, which I found frustrating. Ross also decides to do this same trick twice with a second character who befriends Elwood. Now we can see more of our main character, through this other person’s eyes occasionally, but it’s also like having to re-learn the visual vocabulary, and switching from viewpoints was distracting for the immersion and to recall whose eyes were whose at any moment. There’s also flash-forwards to adult Elwood that only served to muddle the tension. There’s enough genuine drama in this setting that I wish Nickel Boys might have been a more traditionally-made drama. Still, it’s a fine movie, but the aspect that will make it stand out the most is also what I feel that holds it back for me from being more profoundly affecting.
Nate’s Grade: B
The Brutalist (2024)
The indie sensation of the season is an ambitious throwback to meaty movie-going of the auteur 1970s, telling an immigrant’s expansive tale, and at an epic length of 3 hours and 30 minutes, and an attempt to tell The Immigrant Story, and by that we mean The American Story. It’s a lot for any movie to do, and while The Brutalist didn’t quite rise to the capital-M “masterpiece” experience so many of my critical brethren have been singing, it’s still a very handsomely made, thoughtfully reflective, and extremely well-acted movie following one man trying to start his life over. Adrien Brody plays Laszlo Toth, A Jewish-Hungarian survivor of the Holocaust who relocates to Pennsylvania in 1947. He starts work delivering furniture before getting a big break redesigning a rich man’s library as a surprise birthday gift that doesn’t go over well. Years later, that same rich man, Harrison Lee (Guy Pearce), wants to seek out Laszlo because his library has become a celebrated example of modern architecture. He proposes Laszlo design a grandiose assembly that will serve as a community center, chapel, library, gymnasium, and everything to everyone, standing atop a hill like a beacon of twentieth-century civilization. Everything I’ve just written is merely the first half of this massive movie, complete with an old-fashioned fifteen-minute intermission.
The second half is about crises professional and personal for Laszlo; the meddling and compromises and shortfalls of his big architectural project under the thumb of Harrison, and finding and bringing his estranged wife (Felicity Jones) to America and dealing with the aftermath of their mutual trauma. I was never bored with writer/director Brady Crobett’s (Vox Lux) movie, which is saying something considering its significant length. The scenes just breathe at a relaxed pace that feels more like real life captured on film. The confidence and vision of the movie becomes very clear, as Corbett painstakingly takes his time to tell his sprawling story on his terms. I can appreciate that go-for-broke spirit, and The Brutalist has an equal number of moments that are despairing as they are enlightening. I was more interested in Laszlo’s relationship with his wife, now confined to a wheelchair. There are clear emotional chasms between them to work through, having been separated at a concentration camp, but there is a real desire to reconnect, to heal, and to confront one another’s challenges. It’s touching and the real heart of the movie, and it easily could have been the whole movie. The rest, with Laszlo butting heads against moneymen to secure the integrity of his vision, is an obvious allegory for filmmaking or really any artist attempt to realize a dream amidst the naysayers. The acting is terrific across the board, with Brody returning to a form he hasn’t met in decades. Maybe his career struggles since winning the Best Actor Oscar in 2003 have only helped imbue this performance with a lived-in quality of a soul-searching artist. Pearce is commanding and infuriating as the symbol of America’s ego and sense of superiority. The musical score is unorthodox but picks up a real sense of momentum like a locomotive, thrumming along at a building pace of progress. The only real misstep is an unnecessary epilogue that spells out exactly how you should feel about the movie rather than continuing the same respect and trust for its patient audience. The Brutalist is an intimidating movie and one best to chew over or debate its portrayal of the American Dream, and while not all of its artistic swings connect, the sheer ambition, fortitude, and confident execution of the personal and the grandiose is worth celebrating and elevating.
Nate’s Grade: B
Sing Sing (2024)
An uplifting ode to the power of the arts, Sing Sing follows the men of a prison arts program and it’s easily one of the finest films of 2024. We follow the men of the New York prison of the title, lead by Divine G Whitfield (Colman Domingo), a thespian that relishes the dramatic spotlight and the deserved lead of every production. When the next show is suggested as a comedy, Divine G has to accept ceding the spotlight and mentoring a promising but struggling new member (Clarence Maclin) with talent and potential. It’s effectively a “let’s put on a show” formula of old, however, the setting and the weary reflections are what provide the movie its power. All of these men have made mistakes in their respective lives to wind up here, though Divine G maintains his innocence and is preparing his case for a parole board hearing. This program allows them an escape, an opportunity as one puts it to “become human again” While some may scoff at the acting games and costumes, this is sacred ground, a precious oasis for them to discover more about themselves. The sincerity of Sing Sing is wince-inducing. It is beautiful, tender, compassionate, and deeply personal while being very universal. The lived-in details are fantastic and give great authenticity to these men and their stories, wonderfully portrayed by several non-actors making the most of their own spotlights. Domingo (Rustin) is amazing as the proud and generous leader who is ably trying to lift his fellow men up even higher. The film concludes with real footage from the Rehabilitation Through the Arts (RTA) program, and it’s the fitting culmination for a movie that readily reminds us how restorative and needed the arts are for a fuller sense of who we are.
Nate’s Grade: A
Anora (2024)
The critically-anointed Anora is the indie of the year, winning top prize at the Cannes Film Festival, the first for an English-speaking movie in over a dozen years, and poised to be a major awards player down the stretch, some might even say front-runner for top prizes. It starts like a deconstruction of Pretty Woman, with Mikey Madison (Scream 5) playing Anora, a stripper who recognizes the advantageous possibilities flirting with a young rich Russian scion, Vanya. He wants her to be his girlfriend, and over a sex-fueled week, he’s so smitten that he wants to make Anora his wife. This whirlwind relationship hits the wall, however, once Vanya’s family inserts themself into his life, determined to annul the hasty marriage at all costs.
The movie becomes infinitely better at the hour mark when the exasperated extended Russian family comes into the picture. You worry they might be menacing, as they don’t want this stranger with access to the family wealth, but they’re far more bumbling, and Anora transforms into an unexpected comedy. It certainly wasn’t an authentic romance. Clearly Vanya was a meal ticket more than a three-dimensional romantic interest. The kid is an immature, annoying dolt, so we know Anora isn’t legitimately falling in love with him. The scenes of them building a “relationship” could have been cut in half because we already understood the nature of the two of them using one another. The last hour makes for a greatly entertaining turn of events as the unlikely and bickering posse searches New York City for a runaway Vanya. The movie feels propulsive and chaotic and blissfully alive. Ultimately, I don’t know what it all adds up to. Anora isn’t really a sharply drawn character, but none of the characters are particularly well developed. The pseudo-romantic fantasy of its premise, becoming a “princess” of luxury, isn’t really deconstructed with precision. It’s an unexpectedly funny ensemble comedy at its best, but I’m left indifferent to what other value I can take away. It’s well-acted and surprising, but it’s a vacuous side excursion made into a full movie that somehow has bewitched movie critics into seeing more. Perhaps they too have become overly smitten with Anora’s surface-level charms.
Nate’s Grade: B-





















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