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Spider-Man: Brand New Day (2026)
Despite being arguably the most beloved superhero of our era, once again proven by its vaunted box-office performance, it sure does seem like it sucks to be Spider-Man. The fourth film with Tom Holland as your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man examines the fallout from 2021’s No Way Home, with the whole world having forgotten about poor Peter Parker. He’s lost his friends, he’s lost his love, and he’s lost his Avengers allies, but he keeps on plugging along, working alongside the police and the Department of Damage Control, tasked with housing super threats that prisons cannot contain. There’s a mysterious new threat, a person with the powers to control minds through proximity but has to leap from person to person like psychic tag. The movie excels at the action-adventure shenanigans, with new director Destin Daniel Cretton (Shang-Chi) providing the visual fireworks, including slow-mo splash page imagery taken from the pages of Spider-Man’s famous comic covers. There’s fun to be had as Hulk and the Punisher (Jon Bernthal) are mixed into the story, especially when they have to battle each other. You don’t introduce a ninja clan in Act One without knowing there will be a ninja fight in Act Three (I think Chekhov said that once). The best parts of this movie are not the Spider-Man heroics and action but the Peter Parker moments, which are somber, sincere, and nicely felt by the young cast that has grown into their characters over a decade. There’s a rich emotional investment built up, and Brand New Day takes its time to dwell in Peter’s downturn before setting him on a better path. There’s one moment with Mary Jane (Zendaya) that caused me to gasp out loud. I really enjoyed how there isn’t a sleight-of-hand secondary antagonist; it’s who we follow, and they have an interesting connection/parallel to Peter, and I especially liked that the climax of the movie is about a division over mercy and forgiveness rather than punching an army of faceless robots or stopping a giant sky beam of world annihilation. These modern Spider-Man movies are consistently very entertaining but also emotionally engrossing, and they do something unique with their villains, providing more surprises and nuance and perspective-shifts than just about any other superhero franchise. Spider-Man: Brand New Day is not so much a reinvention of the character or the series but further confirmation that we have the right people making these movies matter.
Nate’s Grade: A-
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Toy Story 5 (2026)
Every time Pixar resuscitates the storied Toy Story franchise, going on three decades now, I get a little wary of them upending the good will. The series had a perfect ending in the third edition in 2010, but being Pixar’s golden and most bankable franchise, it wasn’t allowed to remain an ending. I quite enjoyed the fourth edition in 2019 and consider it a fitting and poignant sendoff for Woody, if, of course, they could accept this as his settled ending. Now in 2026, here comes a fifth Toy Story, and my emotions are decidedly mixed, excited for the creative possibilities of another entry in Pixar’s flagship series and girding myself in anticipation of whether or not these fitting and earned endings are disturbed. Perhaps I’ve been overly protective of these endings, or perhaps it’s just a reflection of our modern IP-revivial cycles that studios cannot accept anything that makes money having finite story endings. Well, while I believe Toy Story 5 to be likely the weakest of the five films, it’s still a marvelous movie that elicited tears from my grown-up eyes on more than one occasion.
Now that Woody (voiced by Tom Hanks) has settled into a new life, the plucky leader of Bonnie’s toys has become the next cowgirl in line, Jessie (voiced by Joan Cusack). Life is good until Bonnie’s parents introduce an educational tablet device, Lilypad or “Lily” (voiced by Greta Lee). They want Bonnie to socialize more and make friends with the neighbors, something she’s having difficulty achieving. Bonnie becomes enthralled with her first smart screen, spending hours upon hours with it inches away from her unblinking face. Jessie sees the new tech as an enemy to traditional play time, as Bonnie’s toys have been chiefly neglected as she devotes all of her attention to this new shiny device. She plots to remove the Lilypad; however, Lily has her own ideas about what Bonnie needs, and it involves getting rid of the outdated toys of childhood so she can be better accepted by her more tech-adopting peers.
Right away, Toy Story 5 provides a meaningful reason for its own existence, examining the immersion of technology and in particular screen time into the development and maturation of children. It’s a substantial issue today for millions of parents, and a genuine worry about whether or not these magical electronic devices are helping or hindering childhood development. Are we building synapses with these games and social media apps or are we building a dependency and despondency when un-synched? It’s an age-old question over whether technology is facilitating growth or substituting for it, an especially pertinent question in the realm of education that ruling parties go back and forth with. This is a fabulous and thorny issue to explore in the Toy Story universe, and with co-writer/co-director Andrew Stanton (WALL-E, Finding Nemo) at the helm, there’s an assurance that all will be handled with wit and warmth (Stanton has co-written all five Toy Story movies, though this is his first directing credit). I actually think this movie utilizes its central premise better than Toy Story 4 did with the murky existential questions with Forky over what constituted play and thus was granted existence and consideration. Now, that movie transformed into a different and more emotionally resonant theme about broken toys still having purpose and dignity after being cast off from their owners, a disability empowerment message that was beautifully handled, so much so that I forgave the dropped exploration of thorny prior themes. With Toy Story 5, the question over the role of tech is front and center throughout.
At the core of this movie is the question of growing up and the malignancy of time. Lily wants Bonnie to be accepted and thus happy, and her reasoning is that these other toys are a detriment to this goal. In her view, they are dragging Bonnie down and imprisoning her in a juvenile state that her peers have already graduated from. For Lily, growing up is a process to be hurried, to become more like a “grown kid,” and thus more like everyone else on the block who has adopted tech and screens earlier in their lives. For Lily, Bonnie, even only at a mere eight years old, is already behind in her maturation process and she’s desperate to get her caught up. For Jessie, it’s about holding onto the status quo as long as possible. For three sequels now the movies have explored the nature of change, acceptance, and identity, and it’s still a wellspring of insight and emotional and intellectual relevance. Having Jessie be the primary protagonist of this sequel was a brilliant choice because she’s the toy who has been defined by abandonment issues. She’s been left behind by two other kids, first Emily and then Andy, and she’s afraid history is repeating with Bonnie’s dwindling attention now that tech has entered the home. There’s a clear parallel with the original Toy Story when Woody became jealous and insecure about the shiny new toy of Andy’s fascination, Buzz Lightyear (voiced by Tim Allen). Oh, and thanks to 2022’s Lightyear, we now know all these toys were the discount knockoffs of Chris Evans’ voice and that this original movie that Andy declared his favorite was not quite worthy of his adoration. Anchoring the major theme onto Jessie’s existing emotional attachment issues is smart, and it allows the fifth film to serve as a means of long-delayed closure for the cowgirl much as Toy Story 4 was a means of closure for Woody. It’s about confirmation that these relationships they build with their kids are not one-way, and that even after they end, and everything has an ending whether we like it or not, we know that they have mattered. No one, not even toys, wants to feel disposable.
I especially loved the imaginary play sequences in the film, highlighted by a different animation style. It’s painterly and with pastel colors, and it’s a great artistic choice to visually code the imaginary sequences from the standard reality. I loved how chaotic and silly these sequences were, converging escalating threats, dramatic twists, and ridiculous double crosses and resolutions, perfectly embodying the wild mind of a child in the midst of imaginary play. These little interludes were welcomed at every turn.
I did say Toy Story 5 was the weakest entry in the franchise, again no shame being a bronze medalist at the Olympics, so to speak, as you’ve gotten ahead of so many others to attain this honor. I enjoyed the lowered stakes of simply trying to tell a story about two factions fighting over what they felt was best for the mental well-being of a child. There’s something inherently sweet about a movie whose big goal is to just help a shy little girl make some friends. I do wish there was more persistent commentary on what screen-addiction has done to a generation of kids at an important time besides turn the neighborhood girls catty and mean. Bonnie, you are not the “weird kid” just because you prefer playing outdoors. At no point is Jessie really threatened with annihilation, and even as she’s lost she still finds a new and nurturing owner that could possibly even replace Bonnie. Because of those lowered stakes, the script can feel a little like an expanded TV episode where a character learns a valuable lesson. The supporting characters are sidelined with few exceptions. This is the second movie in a row that merely gives Buzz a jokey storyline, this time working up the courage to ask Jessie to be his wife. It’s more a recurring joke at his fumbling awkwardness. It feels like Pixar knew it was giving the character such a short shrift, which is why they also included an ongoing subplot of a group of Buzz Lightyear action figures bandying together to go searching for “star command.” Until finally tied into the action at the very climax, they’re a diversion that is never really as funny as it could have been. I will also firmly proclaim my stance that Woody should not have returned for this sequel. He offers little to the story, beyond to once again reflect upon how old he has gotten, which itself is just turned into a repeating joke. Woody’s involvement is wasted and his perspective isn’t different enough that some other toy, perhaps Buzz, could have fulfilled his role and left the former sheriff in retirement with Bo Peep.
Does Toy Story 5 upend the cherished endings of its predecessors? No, not really. Those endings still have meaning because the audience has invested relationships with these characters over thirty years. The latter sequels, in my mind, have served as closure vehicles for individual characters, and I think that’s a smart way to handle the franchise. Of course, I also think just telling original stories with new characters in this universe would be even more appealing, but the likelihood of that seems slim when Disney wants to sell another billion dollars in merch with their established and beloved characters. It’s probably naive to think this movie will ultimately be the franchise’s last, so instead I’ll just hold out hope that its ongoing quality will persist, and as long as Stanton and other Pixar brain-trust remember its innate and lasting appeal, I have a buoyant sense of hope that newer editions can still capture that initial magic that began in 1995.
At the conclusion of Toy Story 3, which I still gauge as the best in the series, it made me reflective and want to break out my old neglected toys, giving them one more hurrah of play. At the conclusion of Toy Story 5, it made me reflective, but I didn’t want to reach for any old toys and give them an extra dose of affection; it made me want to grab my toddler and soak up the time I have available with him, now, in this moment, while there’s a childhood to relish before it too vanishes at the mercy of time. This movie is all about the struggle over childhood, one side hoping to elongate it and the other hoping to rush through. From a different perspective, like a parent, it’s inevitably a losing battle, but it makes me reflect more on cherishing those moments while they are available. That’s pretty deep for a movie with a talking electronic poop assistant voiced by Conan O’Brien. Not too shabby, Pixar. Here’s your billion dollars.
Nate’s Grade: B+
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28 Years Later (2025)/ The Bone Temple (2026)
While not officially 28 years after its release in 2003, you’ll have to settle for only 23, comes a sequel to the zombie outbreak that kicked off a resurgence in zombie media in the 2000s. 28 Years Later is a far more experimental and meditative and genuinely surprising and surprisingly poignant sequel than I think many fans were expecting. They thought it was going to be more like a father/son (Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Alfie Williams) coming-of-age zombie hunt and weekend of survival. It is that, but it’s also a meditation on life, death, family, nature, and how we respond to grief. Director Danny Boyle returns, for his first film since 2019’s Yesterday, and screenwriter Alex Garland (Ex Machina, Civil War) returns, and together they provide a sequel that attempts to answer what society might be like growing up in this new dystopian world. The movie can get weird, with old movies and archival footage thematically mixed into scenes, Boyle’s camera in constant nervous anticipation, an active member of the hunt, and the use of an iPhone rig to provide Matrix-esque bullet time effects for zombie head shot splatter. Garland has also come up with some interesting zombie evolution over those ensuing three decades of development (granted I thought since the “zombies” were infected living people that you just had to wait them all out to die from dehydration). It seems like a father/son adventure thriller, and it’s quite good at being that, but then it transforms into something unexpected, giving mom (Jodie Comer) the spotlight as she confronts the reality of her physical and mental maladies. From there, the movie becomes this beguiling and thoughtful examination on grace and grief, on processing loss and finding a sense of stability in an unstable world. Ralph Fiennes appears late as a former doctor who seems a little crazy, the grave-keeper to an impressive monument built from thousands of human bones. It’s such a welcomed surprise for a movie replete with them, a movie that refuses easy categorization and wants to do something meaningful than just being a zombie action/thriller.
Even more unexpected was an immediate sequel and continuation a mere six months removed from 28 Years Later‘s wide release. The Bone Temple is divided into two stories, both holdovers from the prior film. Spike (Alfie Williams), the son going on his own journey of self, has been conscripted into a weird and violent gang, The Jimmies, lead by Sir Lord Jimmy (Jack O’Connell), the twisted grown-up version of the child seen in the harrowing prologue to 28 Years Later. He’s a sadistic leader who also tells his followers he’s the son of Satan. Then there’s Dr. Kelson (Ralph Fiennes) who we initially thought of as menacing but becomes the most humane caretaker in this post-apocalyptic landscape. The two male figures serve as competing responses to unmitigated tragedy, one retreating to religion as a tool for meaning but it’s really exploitation and manipulation through violence and fear, and the other devoting himself to science and making the world just a little more liveable through empathy and trial and error. Dr. Kelson develops an unexpected friendship with one of the big Alpha zombies, “Samson” (Chi Lewis-Parry), after he discovers this behemoth, who was ripping spines out in rage fits in the previous movie, is seeking out relief through the doc’s morphine darts. Dr. Kelson ponders whether or not there is a chemical compound that could bring back the humanity to the infected. The difficulties with communication do not deter the good doctor, and these paths cross in a climax where the Jimmies come to think of Dr. Kelson as the Dark Lord himself. The movie is consistently interesting, further building out this new damaged world began in 28 Years Later. Nia DaCosta (Candyman, The Marvels) takes over as director and offers a more patient camera, forcing us to dwell in the moments, both horrific and moving. There are torture sequences, long demented monologuing, and questions over the tenacity of human connection despite incredible obstacles, and yet the movie is both more a straightforward horror-thriller than its predecessor and a more focused human drama about loss and holding onto one’s sense of dignity and empathy. It lacks the visual fireworks of Boyle’s style, and I found Sir Lord Jimmy to be more tiresome than interesting, but The Bone Temple is an effectively engrossing lateral sequel that slowly builds Garland’s world a little wider. Now I’ll actually have a third 28 Years movie to look forward to that hopefully won’t take 28 (or 23) years..
Nate’s Grades:
28 Years Later: B+
The Bone Temple: B
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Mortal Kombat II (2026)
The 2021 Mortal Kombat movie was a mostly successful kick-start for the franchise to, at long last, stretch its legs on the big screen as a reverent representation of the appeal of the popular video game series. It was the first R-rated movie that showcased the inventively disgusting gore that is the hallmark of the bone-crunching series. It wasn’t a huge hit at the box-office so soon after the COVID shutdowns but it proved to be popular on HBO Max’s streaming network, and so now we have Mortal Kombat II, not strictly a straight adaptation of the game Mortal Kombat II, which was my favorite as a 90s kid when I had all the fighter moves and fatalities memorized. This time there is an actual fighting tournament germane to the story, and we’ve got the inclusion of movie star-turned-Kombatant Johnny Cage (Karl Urban). Can it escape the doomed fate of other Kombat movie adaptations and actually be good?
Early on, there’s an extended clip from one of Cage’s cheesy 90s action movies. It’s bad, goofy, and unintentionally funny as Cage fights his way through a warehouse of goons and does a jumping split kick over an incoming RPG. It’s a fitting send-up of the bombastic excesses of 90s action movies while demonstrating Cage’s limited real-life martial arts application. I wasn’t expecting Mortal Kombat II to essentially transform into that self-parody of 90s action movies. Watching the movie and trying to make sense of its runaway plot and throwaway explanations, I was reminded of the story modes in the newer games, how convoluted and ridiculous they are, bridging timelines and reincarnations and multiple iterations of characters and how it lacks excitement and engagement. For a fighting game, an okay story can be enough to connect between the different playable matches because the point is the hands-on fighting. This feels more like I’m watching someone else play the lousy story mode of the video game. It doesn’t feel like a movie to the point that I’m re-evaluating the 2021 movie on a higher level.
That at least felt like an adaptation that intended to exist as a film story, streamlining certain elements and making others accessible. This movie feels like it’s just made for diehard Kombat fans, not because it’s heavy in lore complexity and intrigue but because the fans will be the most easily forgiving. With Cage being the fish out of water, you would think his arc would take center stage. He’s the washed-up actor living off his fading reputation. He’s seen by the Outworld as a tremendous and worthy fighter but he’s just an actor. This misconception from his movies could have provided a more intriguing, grounded, and funny story along the lines of Galaxy Quest, where an actor has to keep up the ruse. This plays into the best scene of the movie, where Cage has to challenge the dentally-challenged blade-armed Baraka (CJ Bloomfield) among his community of angler fish-mouthed working class monster-people. Cage has to lean into his persona to become intimidating and then to escape the threat of his opponent. It’s the best fight in the movie because it has more setup and makes actual use of its geography. There’s also a fun dynamic of Cage having to live up to the reputation his running mouth has presented. This could have been the whole movie. Cage’s character arc is a dull zero-to-hero transformation, where I guess he has to believe in himself enough and then he’ll become a legendary fighter. Why this makes sense I do not know. It would make better sense if he was tapping into the muscle memory of his old fighting routines, like we watched him mirror those moves we saw in that introductory film clip. That would produce a setup and payoff. Instead, Cage becomes a deus ex machina fighter through his unshaken belief he can kick real good. His protagonist status is split evenly with Kitana (Adeline Rudolph), who is a familiar and boring archetype of the overthrown princess training to avenge her fallen father and restore her kingdom. For a supposed double agent, it never feels like Kitana is in any danger, especially as she travels back and forth between secret bases in broad daylight without bothering to cover her tracks beyond obscuring her special magic necklace. Because her character arc is so stock, we could have pared down her screen-time considerably and gotten the same effect, giving those precious minutes over to Cage for a fuller arc.
Not that you were coming to Mortal Kombat II for a story, but it’s plenty bad. We have a second entry point character to learn the ways of inter-dimensional combat between gods and monsters, after the 2021 movie gave us… an entry point character. Seems rather redundant to go through this again, right? Do you even remember that character’s name? Do you remember what his special power was once he became fully self-actualized? I didn’t either, so when he appeared briefly in this sequel, it wasn’t until it was long over that I thought to myself, “Oh wait, that was that guy?” Even the protagonist of the first movie is a discarded afterthought. The story elements from the first movie are tacked on like calling upon support at the last moment, akin to hailing Godzilla to come out and fight the big monster terrorizing Japan for the first two acts of the movie. “Hey, remember the spirit of the Scorpion warrior? Well now he’s back to once again kill the spirit of Sub-Zero who is now Smoke with different powers, I think.” The entire universe-defining inter-galactic tournament feels so underrepresented and insignificant. There’s a culminating fight that requires not one energy beam blast, not two energy beam blasts, but three different energy beam blasts and a very special kick, and every moment feels as arbitrary and airless as the last. Even if you’re not expecting much from a movie that spells “combat” with a K, it should still follow the expectations of a movie, namely that the characters are meaningful and there’s an internal connectivity. Once you start introducing the mechanic that we can bring fighters back from the dead, or just stroll into the Netherworld to hang out with the dead and ask them favors, the stakes lessen dramatically. If death in the fight-to-the-death tournament is just a transitory phase, then why even stress about the tournament?
I know this sequel has a bigger budget than its 2021 predecessor but it looks so much worse visually. The increased number of special effects look dodgier and all of the sets look like big empty green screen stages. Too much of this world looks dim and fake. The fighting stages (acid pit, spike pit) are faithfully recreated from the video games but at a cost. There’s so little that feels tactile or even interactive with the actors onscreen. The environments feel empty and vast and often visually unfinished. There’s one stage surrounded by what looks like a screen saver of old with glowing stars moving like in Star Wars hyperspace. It’s not just that it looks phony, it’s that it doesn’t even appear to look otherwise. There are some gruesome deaths but even they are limited by the range of attacks from the primary villains. Having a big guy wield a big hammer limits what can be done. Often people are just being impaled, and I hate to sound like a jaded Spanish Inquisition flunkey, but you see one bloody impaling, you’ve seen most. Even by the standards of its memorable gore and intensity of its brawls, Mortal Kombat II falls flat. It’s too goofy to be as serious as it is, and it’s too serious to really generate a passing sense of fun.
By most accounts, Mortal Kombat II is going to be a movie that most viewers have a sliding scale of expectations for because it’s based on a fighting video game, because it’s a sequel, and because it’s populated with silly characters in colorful regalia. Is it my fault that I was expecting better? I don’t think so. The results of the 2021 movie show what could be possible, especially with its thoughtful and terrifying opening flashback to 1600s Japan establishing the deadly prowess of Sub-Zero. That’s what a Kombat movie could be like, elevated and cinematic and devastating. It doesn’t have to be junk. Mortal Kombat II doesn’t aspire to be anything other than tasty, disposable junk, and it’s not even good at that.
Nate’s Grade: C-
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Ready or Not 2: Here I Come (2026)/ They Will Kill You (2026)
It’s not uncommon for Hollywood to have similar movies. It’s not even that uncommon for them to be released months apart, like the great 1998 dualities of Antz/A Bug’s Life and Deep Impact/Armageddon. However, I don’t know if I’ve ever witnessed two movies with such similar plots and tones being released on the exact same day. Well, if you’re a diehard fan of Satanic cults hunting down a rebellious sacrifice who is trying to save her sister amid locked-in locations and lots of explosions of ruby-red blood, then you’ll be in luck with a splatterific double-feature of Ready or Not 2 and They Will Kill You.
2019’s eat-the-rich predecessor, Ready or Not, was one of the best movies that year with one of the most joyously memorable endings. It didn’t need a sequel because it felt complete and satisfying. Even with the same returning directors and writers, it can’t help but feel like a contrived retread. Instead of one family hunting down a target over the course of one night now we have five families hunting down the same target over the course of a day. There are new rules like only one hunter from each family at a time, and they’re not allowed to kill the other hunters lest they and their entire bloodline explode as punishment. The extra rules and moving pieces cannot hide the fact that it feels more of the same. This time it’s not just Samara Weaving as our bloodied bride Grace but now Kathryn Newton as her reluctant and estranged sister, Faith. Their bickering dynamic never really evolves into something more interesting or genuine. It feels like the filmmakers roped the sister into the plot but then didn’t know what to do with her besides as someone Grace could talk to throughout the ordeal. I wish more was done to reveal their history than the old staples, “You were never there. You run when things get tough. You’re selfish.” The nature of the family-versus-family competition could have been sharply satirical in so many different aims, from intra-class warfare to generational relatability difficulties to even demented summer camps. I wanted to know how and why each family got into this pact with the Devil, but alas. Due to the rules, you know each family rep is only going to be onscreen for so long, which means we’re briskly running members of this cast into a meat grinder. It admittedly keeps things fresh but also means few if any of these supporting characters are going to leave an impression (beyond a stain on the wall). The best part of the sequel is Elijah Wood as a hilariously nonplussed keeper of the arcane bylaws and rules. Too often Ready or Not 2 feels like a less developed, less thoughtful, less entertaining knockoff of its original. If there is a Ready or Not 3, I hope it breaks free from the franchise constraints stifling its ongoing creative longevity.
The sensationally stylized and enormously entertaining They Will Kill You is certainly not subtle about its genre influences, from Rosemary’s Baby to Kill Bill and even Wes Anderson’s formalized dollhouse presentation. It’s about a co-op building filled with Satanists who make human sacrifices to their “boss,” and Zazie Beetz (Deadpool 2) just so happens to be a newly hired maid they’ve set their sights on. Too bad for them that this underestimated maid is a scrapper fresh out of prison. The first big fight sets the stage for the glorious entertainment that follows, with Beetz taking on a team of over-confident garbage bag-slicker-wearing cultists. The limbs go flying, the blood spurts in gallons, and the fight choreography is fun and demented even before a supernatural twist complicates later bouts. They Will Kill You doesn’t offer much on characterization or themes. Its story is spare. It doesn’t offer much on world-building (the building is designed so each floor caters to a different vice, though this gets unfortunately forgotten after the orgy floor). What the movie offers is copious bloodshed, inventive violence, and a celebration of carnage and spectacle. Its fiendish mayhem and superb choreography are the primary selling points, like the John Wick franchise. The results can be exhilarating when executed at such high levels of craft. There’s a standout sequence where Beetz is attacking multiple people in a dark dining room. She wields a flaming axe and every vicious strike ignites the victims, accumulating more light in the dim room. I was grinning and cackling so hard (then I unexpectedly teared up because I knew, deep in my soul, that my father would have loved this). Beetz is terrific as our ferocious fighting force, and the long takes and creative ingenuity allow us to appreciate her efforts even more. She deserves more action roles. I don’t know if the final boss is worth the buildup but it is different, and the climax follows the established rules in clever fashion. The un-reality of the movie, which often feels like a stage, becomes yet another charm in a movie that feels beholden to absurd style. It never takes itself too seriously and delivers the goods when it comes to fun, funny, ridiculous, and ridiculously cool action.
Grades:
Ready or Not 2: Here I Come: C+
They Will Kill You: B+
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Avatar: Fire and Ash (2025)
When Avatar: The Way of Water was released in 2022, it had been 13 years since a new Avatar movie, so the return to Pandora was a reminder about how immersive and captivating this world could be, and another reminder that writer/director James Cameron can deliver blockbusters of scale like few others. Now it’s been three years in between Avatar movies and the novelty is definitely missing. Fire and Ash feels in many ways like Avatar 2.5, a direct holdover of characters and plots languishing from the second film. Some of this continuity is a given considering it’s an ongoing series, but each movie should feel like it’s own complete story. Too many of the characters feel stuck in the same place we left them by the end of the second movie, which means it’s another sequel where Zoe Saldana’s Neytiri spends most of those three hours bereft and crying before getting into fighting mode in that last climactic hour. There’s a general sense of same-ness to this story, extending conflicts and character arcs from the second but forgetting to give them more to do. The Na’Vi teens feel disconnected from the larger storyline, off assembling aquatic allies. Primarily, Fire and Ash is the story of Spider (Jack Champion), the son of dead Quaritch (Stephen Lang), raised by stepdad Jake Sully (Sam Worthington), and pursued by the Na’vi clone of his biological father (also Lang). He undergoes a physical transformation that makes him the object of desire for the greedy humans exploiting the natural resources of Pandora. I just didn’t care about Sully child #5 (a.k.a. Spider) when he felt like a tag-along to the group anyhow. To base the majority of the emotional arc of the movie around him is a bold and unfortunately unsuccessful gambit. There’s also a flamboyant and unstable Na’vi antagonist played with magnetic allure by Oona Chaplin (Game of Thrones, Taboo). The character isn’t particularly interesting but the brash commitment of Chaplin and her high energy, especially in a movie where so many other characters are morose and dull, makes you draw a little closer every time she’s onscreen. Bringing the same villain back for a third movie in a row, while failing to explore the more existentially compelling questions of identity of a clone, is just boring. The visual spectacle of the world, the special effects, the different elements all mixing together into a stunning photo-realistic tapestry is still world-class and state-of-the-art. The plots of the Avatar movies have never been as groundbreaking as their special effects but they were serviceable, reliable, and sincere, and they followed plot formulas that worked. This time Fire and Ash feels too much like the cobbled together leftovers of the second movie, and with the longest running time of the series yet, the whole experience feels bloated and overburdened with tying up storylines and threads that felt mostly completed with Way of Water. This movie probably could have been condensed down into 45 minutes of additional footage for the second movie. Sorry, James, but this one was more listless than transporting.
Nate’s Grade: C+
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Five Nights at Freddy’s 2 (2025)
I wasn’t a fan of the original 2023 movie based upon the insanely popular video game series that serves as an entry point into horror for kids. It didn’t work for me but I thought fans of the series would have fun watching the characters come to life in live-action. Now with the sequel, I don’t know anyone that could enjoy this dreck except for the most diehard of the Freddy’s fanbase. I’ve watched the movie and I couldn’t understand it. I read the Wikipedia summary and that didn’t clear it up. So much hinges on so many characters having peculiar responses and relationships to what are… killer animatronics powered by the spirits and literal corpses of murdered children. Why is this pizza parlor even still standing? These robots went on a killing spree in the first movie, and yet this lonely little girl misses her “friends” and runs away to see them again. This isn’t E.T. here, it’s a weird killer robot horror movie that seems to be making up its lore and rules as it goes, like one unending “yes and?’ improv game you’re desperate to tap out from. I guess there’s more killer robots this time, and some unintelligible distinction between the good bad robots and the really bad robots. I don’t know. I gave up trying to comprehend what was happening and felt like maybe I could just try and enjoy the minimal PG-13 scares and tension. The animatronic designs are solid. Wayne Knight (Seinfeld) appears as a villainous robotics teacher. There’s a marionette character that’s kind of sinister to watch. That’s about it, folks. It’s a fairly nonsensical waste of 100 minutes, and unless you’re steeped in the lore and history of the series, you too will wish that this town would just set fire to the whole parlor.
Nate’s Grade: D+
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Wake Up Dead Man (2025)
Being the third in its franchise, we now have a familiar idea of what to expect from a Knives Out murder mystery. Writer/director Rian Johnson has a clear love for the whodunit mystery genre but he loves even more turning the genre on its head, finding something new in a staid and traditional style of storytelling. The original 2019 hit movie let us in on the “murderer” early, and it became more of a game of out-thinking the world-class detective, Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig). With the 2022 sequel Glass Onion, the first of Netflix’s two commissioned sequels for a whopping $400 million, Johnson reinvented the unexpected twin trope and let us investigate a den of tech bro vipers with added juicy dramatic irony. With his latest, Wake Up Dead Man, Johnson is trying something thematically different. Rather than adding a meta twist to ages-old detective tropes, Johnson is putting his film’s emphasis on building out the themes of faith. This is a movie more interested in the questions and value of faith in our modern world. It still has its canny charms and surprises, including some wonderfully daffy physical humor, but Wake Up Dead Man is the most serious and soul-searching of the trilogy thus far, and a movie that hit me where it counts.
In upstate New York, Pastor Jud (Josh O’Connor) has been assigned to a church to help the domineering Jefferson Wicks (Josh Brolin). The congregation is dwindling with the exception of a few diehards holding onto Wicks’ message of exclusion and division. The two pastors are ideologically in opposition, with Pastor Jud favoring a more nurturing and welcoming approach for the Christian church. Then after one fiery sermon, Wicks retires to an antechamber and winds up dead, with the primary suspect with the most motivation being Pastor Jud. Enter famous detective extraordinaire Benoit Blanc to solve the riddle.
I appreciated how the movie is also an examination on the different voices fighting for control of the direction of the larger Christian church. Wicks is your traditional fire-and-brimstone preacher, a man who sees the world as a nightmarish carnival of temptations waiting to drag down souls. He sees faith as a cudgel against the horrors of the world, and for him the church is about banding together and fighting against those outside forces no matter how few of you remain to uphold the crusade. Pastor Jud rejects this worldview, arguing that if you think of the church as a pugilist in a battle then you’ll start seeing enemies and fights to come to all places. He’s a man desperate to escape his violent past and to see the church as a resource of peace and resolution but Wicks lusts for the fight and the sense of superiority granted by his position. He relishes imposing his wrath onto others, and his small posse of his most true believers consider themselves hallowed because they’re on the inside of a special club. For Pastor Jud, he’s rejecting hatred in his heart and looks at the teachings of Jesus as an act of love and empathy. It’s not meant to draw lines and exclude but to make connections. These two philosophical differences are in direct conflict for the first half of the movie, one viewing the church as an open hand and the other as a fist. It’s not hard to see where Johnson casts his lot since Pastor Jud is our main character, after all. I also appreciated the satirical tweaks of the church’s connections to dubious conservative political dogma, like Wicks’ disciples trying to convince themselves the church needs a bully of its own to settle scores (“What is truth anyway?” one incredulously asks after some upsetting news about their patriarch). It’s not hard to make a small leap to the self-serving rationalizations of supporting a brazenly ungodly figure like Trump. At its core, this movie is about people wrestling with big ideas, and Johnson has the interest to provide space for these ideas and themes while also keeping his whodunit running along pace-for-pace.
There is a moment of clarification that is so sudden, so unexpectedly beautiful that it literally had me welling up in tears and dumbstruck at Johnson’s capabilities as a precise storyteller. It’s late into Act Two, and Blanc and Pastor Jud are in the thick of trying to gather all the evidence they can and chase down those leads to come to a conclusive answer as to how Pastor Jud is innocent. The scene begins with Pastor Jud talking on the phone trying to ascertain when a forklift order was placed. The woman on the other side of the line, Louise (Bridget Everett, Somebody Somewhere), is a chatty woman who is talking in circles rather than getting to the point, delaying the retrieval of desired information and causing nervous agitation for Pastor Jud. It’s a familiar comedy scenario of a person being denied what they want and getting frustrated from the oblivious individual causing that annoying delay. Then, all of a sudden, as the frustration is reaching a breaking point, she quietly asks if she can ask Pastor Jud a personal question. This takes him off guard but he accepts, and from there she becomes so much more of a real person, not just an annoyance over the phone. She mentions her parent has cancer and is in a bad way and she’s unsure how to repair their relationship while they still have such precious time left. The movie goes still and lingers, giving this woman and her heartfelt vulnerability the floor, and Pastor Jud reverts back to those instincts to serve. He goes into another room to provide her privacy and counsels her, leading her in a prayer.
The entire scene is magnificent and serves two purposes. This refocuses Pastor Jud on what is most important, not chasing this shaggy investigation with his new buddy Blanc but being a shepherd to others. It re-calibrates the character’s priorities and perspective. It also, subtlety, does the same for the audience. The wacky whodunit nature of the locked-door mystery is intended as the draw, the game of determining who and when are responsible for this latest murder. It’s the appeal of these kinds of movies, and yet, Johnson is also re-calibrating our priorities to better align with Pastor Jud. Because ultimately the circumstances of the case will be uncovered, as well as the who or whom’s responsible, and you’ll get your answers, but will they be just as important once you have them? Or will the themes under-girding this whole movie be the real takeaway, the real emotionally potent memory of the film? As a mystery, Wake Up Dead Man is probably dead-last, no pun intended, in the Knives Out franchise, but each movie is trying to do something radical. With this third film, it’s less focused on the twists and turns of its mystery and its secrets. It’s more focused on the challenging nature of faith as well as the empathetic power that it can afford others when they choose to be vulnerable and open.
Blanc doesn’t even show up for the first forty or so minutes, giving the narration duties to Pastor Jud setting the scene of his own. Craig (Queer) is a bit more subdued in this movie, both given the thematic nature of it as well as ceding the spotlight to his co-star. Blanc is meant to be the more stubborn realist of the picture, an atheist who views organized religion as exploitative claptrap (he seems the kind of guy who says “malarkey” regularly). His character’s journey isn’t about becoming a true believer by the end. It’s about recognizing and accepting how faith can affect others for good, specifically the need for redemption. Minor spoilers ahead. His final grand moment, the sermonizing we expect from our Great Detectives when they finally line up all the suspects and clues and knock them down in a rousing monologue, is cast aside, as Blanc recognizes his own ego could be willfully harmful and in direct opposition to Pastor Jud’s mission. It’s a performance that asks more of Craig than to mug for the camera and escape the molasses pit of his cartoonish Southern drawl. He’s still effortlessly enjoyable in the role, and may he continue this series forever, but Wake Up Dead Man proves he’s also just as enjoyable as the second banana in a story.
O’Connor (Challengers, The Crown) is our lead and what a terrific performance he delivers. The character is exactly who you would want a pastor to be: humble, empathetic, honest, and striving to do better. It’s perhaps a little too cute to call O’Connor’s performance “soulful” but I kept coming back to that word because this character is such a vital beating heart for others, so hopeful to make an impact. It’s wrapped up in his own hopes of turning his life around, turning his personal tragedy into meaning, devoting himself to others as a means of repentance. He’s a man in over his head but he’s also an easy underdog to root for, just like Ana de Armas’ character was in the original Knives Out. You want this man to persevere because he has a good moral center and because our world could use more characters like this. O’Connor has such a brimming sense of earnestness throughout that doesn’t grow maudlin thanks to Johnson’s deft touch and mature exploration of his themes. O’Connor is such a winning presence, and when he’s teamed with Blanc, the two form an enjoyable buddy comedy, each getting caught up in the other’s enthusiasm.
Johnson has assembled yet another all-star collection of actors eager to have fun in his genre retooling. Some of these roles are a little more thankless than others (Sorry Mila Kunis and Thomas Haden Church, but it was nice of you to come down and play dress-up with the rest of the cast). The clear standout is Glenn Close (Hillbilly Elegy) as Martha, the real glue behind Wicks’ church as well as an ardent supporter of his worldview of the damned and the righteous. She has a poignant character arc coming to terms with how poisonous that divisive, holier-than-thou perspective can be. Close is fantastic and really funny at certain parts, giving Martha an otherworldly presence as a woman always within earshot. Brolin (Weapons) is equally fun as the pugnacious Wicks, a man given to hypocrisy but also resentful of others who would reduce his position of influence. The issue with Wake Up Dead Man is that elevating Pastor Jud to co-star level only leaves so much room for others, and so the suspect list is under-served, arguably wasted, especially Andrew Scott (All of Us Strangers) as a red-pilled sci-fi writer looking for a comeback. The best of the bunch is Daryl McCormack (Good Luck to You, Leo Grande) as a conniving wannabe in Republican politics trying to position himself for a pricey media platform and Cailee Spaeny (Alien: Romulus) as a cellist who suffers from deliberating pain and was desperate for a miracle delivered by Wicks. He’s the least genuine person, she’s hoping for miraculous acts, and both will be disappointed from what they seek.
Wake Up Dead Man (no comma in that title, so no direct command intended) is an equally fun movie with silly jokes and a reverent exploration of the power of faith and its positive impact, not even from a formal religious standpoint but in the simple act of connecting to another human being in need. This is the richest thematically of the three Knives Out movies but it also might be the weakest of the mysteries. The particulars of the case just aren’t as clever or as engaging as the others, but then again not every Agatha Christie mystery novel could be an absolute all-time ripper. That’s why the movie’s subtle shifts toward its themes and character arcs as being more important is the right track, and it makes for a more emotionally resonant and reflective experience, one that has replay value even after you know the exact particulars of the case. If you’re a fan of the Knives Out series, there should be enough here to keep you enraptured for more. Because of that added thematic richness, Wake Up Dead Man has an argument as the best sequel (yet).
Nate’s Grade: A-
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Predator: Badlands (2025)
This movie plain rules. I was a nominal Predator fan beforehand but these last two movies, both directed by Dan Trachtenberg (10 Cloverfield Lane) and written by Patrick Aison, have taken the concept of a badass alien bounty hunter and made it so much more interesting than its killing prowess. Badlands is the first movie told entirely from a Predator’s perspective, also known as the Yautja. We’re set on an alien world, a proving ground that has claimed many who attempted to make their mark, and we’re following a “little brother” Yautja named Dek who wants to make big brother proud and stick it to dad. There’s also just the general struggle for survival in a hostile world where even the grass can kill you. That’s what I loved about Badlands, how seamlessly it drops you into its perspective and the fascinating sense of discovery along the way. Every ten or so minutes introduces another obstacle, character, or environmental detail that creates such a more vivid picture of this planet, and those details will almost all come back in important and satisfying ways for our climax, proving Dek has learned many lessons. Where the movie goes from great to amazing is when Thia (Elle Fanning) is introduced as a legless android from a Weyalnd-Yutani corporate expedition. It’s a perfect buddy pairing: he’s stoic and inflexible and quiet, and she’s chatty and goofy and friendly. The way the two of them genuinely bond and grow to become allies is surprisingly satisfying on an emotional level, which is not something I thought I’d ever say about a Predator movie. The action is immersive and clever and quite creative with its various details, but the real winning formula is just how structurally sound and engaging it is from the character dynamics. I cared. I celebrated their victories. I celebrated their rewarded faith in one another. Badlands is badass as delightful sci-fi/action but it’s also badass as a funky found family movie that felt like magic. Even if you’ve never enjoyed a Predator movie, or seen one, give Predator: Badlands a well-served trip.
Nate’s Grade: A
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Zootopia 2 (2025)
I’m genuinely shocked it took nine years for Disney to drum up a sequel to their billion-dollar “woke” allegorical hit, Zootopia. It used anthropomorphic animals living in a modern metropolis to analyze prejudice, racism, and segregation through the dichotomy of predators (untrustworthy animals beholden to vicious nature) and prey (docile animals). Specifically, it was about plucky police officer Judy Hopps (voiced by Ginnifer Goodwin) learning to work with con artist-turned-ally Nick Wilde (voiced by Justin Bateman). Now the partners are back and on another wild case uncovering yet another long-standing mystery of the city’s history entrenched in blame and suspicion of a “kind of people,” namely serpents/reptiles, who were driven out of town generations ago. There is a slight repetition in the message about looking beyond staid stereotypes and accepting other animals as equals (will Zootopia 3 be about finally accepting insects?), but when the tolerance message is essential to what made the 2016 original movie so much more thoughtful and relevant and satisfying, then keep it. The movie rises on the bickering but engaging buddy dynamic between Judy and Nick, who obviously love one another but don’t know how to admit it (consider me a shipper). The mystery tackles themes of gentrification, forced relocation, on top of its anti-prejudice and pro-tolerance foundation, so there’s plenty to unpack thematically while also taking in the visual whimsy and action slapstick. I laughed heartily at several points, including a very unexpected but transparent reference to a classic horror film complete with heavy music cues. It’s not as fresh or as finely developed as its predecessor but Zootopia 2 is further proof that this universe and its creativity can house many adventures, even if some of those plots and themes get repetitive.
Nate’s Grade: B
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