Jared Mobarak

For about three-quarters of the runtime, this dynamic works in creating effective drama and authentic situational humor.

It may use broad strokes at times, but it never loses its purpose to illuminate our double standards or naiveté towards them. Change really does start with something as simple as Tunde’s request to be heard.

The whole gets somewhat tiring, considering few (if any) scripts could sustain the level of insanity met when it’s at its best. Anything not dialed to eleven becomes noticeably dull by comparison.

I wouldn’t say Cullari and Raite necessarily give us anything we haven’t already experienced with the genre or themes, but they utilize them with deft hands to keep us invested in the characters and, by extension, the mystery connecting them.

Thankfully the performances try to elevate the plot since each character seems catered to the actor cast.

Pearce and Barton set up this heavy emotional narrative dealing with mental illness, PTSD, and familial love only to undercut it with loud overtures of systemic violence devoid of textual basis.

What’s really great about Archenemy is that Mortimer never shies away from that darkness. By toeing the line of mental illness, he can expose the cost of comic book heroics and the evil being fought against.

So while the whole is less than the sum of its parts, there is a lot to like. The cast is unique, the visuals mesmerizing, and the music ready to get your toes tapping in the theater.

If there’s one thing to take from watching Tony engage with his own past, it’s the gleeful delight he shows when talking about rejection. He wore every instance that viewers didn’t like what he made as a badge of honor.

Since each one of these cousins has led such a distinct life from the others despite coming from the same place, everyone watching will be able to see a bit of themselves in one or more of them too. That’s why culturally relevant stories like Cousins are so crucial to understanding our world. They show us how alike we are no matter our religion, history, or skin color. To see their struggle is to sometimes know your role in its creation. To see their courage is to be inspired.

If some things could perhaps be narratively tightened, you always get the gist of what Fessenden is going for while knowing those moments which might be lacking aren’t a product of intent. And if you somehow find yourself unable to get past them, it’s impossible not to enjoy the stellar cast of supporting players.

August’s script deserves much credit––a lot needs to be made known during preparations for what occurs to make sense. That none of it feels forced is no small feat.

Willer’s essay film is obviously a cathartic experience, her documenting a family history that transcends the personal towards the universal

The thing about withholding plot information is that you must generally divulge that which you’ve held back at some point. To simply ignore that your audience is in the dark as far as the big picture is concerned is a sure-fire way to lose interest.

Where the narrative’s bookends highlight the psychological and emotional toll of what happens (along with the whys), the bulk of the runtime is spent pretending as though the survival aspect of the journey is as captivating.

Don’t expect to find yourself on track to the usual happy ending—or usual sad one for that matter. Many of the stops will seem familiar, but the ways in which they’re experienced are authentic and perhaps even surprising.

[Satrapi] does what she can to give some life to Thorne’s rather staid screenplay, but even that can’t stop the film from risking its audience’s attention with by-the-numbers plotting.

The (un)reality of what’s happening beneath the surface is hardly unique or secretive, but the way Veach writes its revelations and McKee films its visual labyrinth spanning past, present, and purgatory ensure the drama unfolding is never without intrigue.

Loro has a ton of style and effective performances across the board.

Chavez and Rodriguez deliver authentic performances in first-time roles that shine a light on harrowing circumstances, but the script they’re beholden to won’t let us embrace them outside the construct that all professionals are irrefutably out to prey upon the less fortunate.

Connery does well with the period aesthetic while Cook/Marin find the captivating vein running through the Morris family for optimal emotional success.

A violent lark playing fast and loose with its science fiction so Grillo can have a blast.

We aren’t given this glorious journey of a genius plucked from obscurity as much as we are the trials and tribulations of success. Brown’s film is all about the hardships thrust upon Ramanujan.

It’s like we’re watching a self-serious episode of whatever random police procedural CBS airs each week with an impossibly odd perpetrator rather than the opposite. That’s why the start can feel boringly redundant despite what Chip’s ass is doing throughout. It’s also why flipping the switch so depravity can reign late still entertains.

Credit is due to Marson for staying objective in how she tells Hurwitz’s story so it can transcend his individual experience within this complicated landscape.

Hudlin has this thing firing on all cylinders to be the tearjerker, against all odds crowd-pleaser Oprah fans love (the McElrathbey episode plays during the credits). It’s highly effective. Just don’t ignore that it’s also highly manipulated.

Kroll is very good in a role that allows him to pivot away from his usual comic relief persona to be sweet and funny and complicated, but Pappas is even better as a woman unsure of her very identity outside of the sport to which she’s dedicated her entire life.

Maybe it doesn’t stimulate your intellect as much as other recent genre fare, but it definitely offers an engrossing setting through which to travel for 80 minutes.