MOM 9000

Renner

by Daniel Baldwin

Artificial Intelligence has been a staple of science fiction cinema for decades. Particularly when it comes to depicting fear of A.I. gone rogue. From 2001: A Space Odyssey and The Terminator to The Matrix and Her, filmmakers have deeply explored numerous ways that A.I. can decide to make our lives miserable once it decides to have a life of its own. Robert Rippberger’s Renner is the latest addition to this subgenre.

The film centers around a man named – you guessed it (no, not Frank Stallone) – Renner, who has invented a sort of A.I. “life coach” for himself to help him navigate social interactions. Renner’s life is the cinematic equivalent of a bottle episode of television: stuck in a single location as he computer genius-es his way through life. He’s lonely, however. Enter Salenus, the aforementioned A.I. device.

Unfortunately for Renner, Salenus not only sounds like his mother, but is also just as overbearing as her. Talk about transporting one’s mommy issues into the digital era! This is not an ideal situation for the guy, but it’s certainly a welcome one for audiences, as Salenus is voiced by none other than the great Marcia Gay Harden.

Were this Renner’s only problem, he might be all right. But it’s not, as he is developing feelings for his neighbor Jamie (Violett Beane), who lives with her sketchy brother (Taylor Gray). Are Jamie’s interactions with Renner genuine or will she only serve to further upend his hermetic existence? Given that this is a thriller, you probably already know the answer.

The best parts of the film are the performances, particularly Frankie Muniz in the titular role and the ever-undervalued Beane as his chief supporting player. The sci-fi elements and themes, while interesting, are a bit too thin and undercooked. As a result, despite Renner only being 90 minutes in length, it might have been better served as a short rather than a feature. Still, if you’re in the mood for a low budget serving of sci-fi, this might just temporarily scratch that itch.

Shadow Dancing

The Woman in the Yard

by Hope Madden

Exciting news! There’s a new scary movie starring Danielle Deadwyler—you know, who should have  been Oscar nominated in 2024 for The Piano Lesson and in 2022 for Till? Well, the Academy may not appreciate her talent, but horror does. Deadwyler leads director Jaume Collet-Serra’s new Blumhouse PG-13 scarefest, The Woman in the Yard.

Deadwyler plays Ramona. Newly widowed and still badly battered from the wreck that took her husband, Ramona wakes up one morning to a power outage, sick dog, irritated children, and a creepy woman in her front yard. Give her strength.

Peyton Jackson impresses as the adolescent son, pushing boundaries partly because of his age, partly because of necessity. The authenticity of his interplay with Deadwyler rattles you, each act of rebellion ratcheting tension inside the farmhouse everyone is afraid to leave and not entirely sure why.

Okwui Okpokwasili cuts an impressive figure as the Woman—elegant, hypnotic, and terrifying. The film’s entire cast consists of five people, but you never tire of them and each pulls their weight.

The cast’s commitment, chemistry, and the anxiety they build help the film feel more robust than it really is. An obvious metaphor finely cloaked in veils, shadows, and leg braces, The Woman in the Yard sometimes feels a little slight.

Sam Stefanak’s script skirts awfully close to being an American remake of an Australian classic. So close that I won’t mention the title to avoid spoilers. But Collet-Serra has fun with shadows, and his off-kilter camera work draws attention to how tightly the story comes together.

And, of course, Deadwyler’s excellent. She mines the character for the depths necessary to pull off the horror. You feel for Ramona, but you may not like her, and you probably don’t trust her. It’s a fascinating performance and fearless in many ways.

The film around her is no masterpiece, but it is a solid piece of genre filmmaking enlivened by bright performances and dark, nasty shadows.

Me So Horny

Death of a Unicorn

by George Wolf

Man, what’s with all these “eat the rich” movies lately?

Cough, cough..it’s a mystery. But Death of a Unicorn treats the idea more literally than most. And though it ultimately pulls up too safely, the film does have some fun unleashing mythical mayhem and the bloodiest of comeuppances.

Elliot (Paul Rudd) and his daughter Ridley (Jenna Ortega) are driving through the mountains to the Leopold Wilderness Preserve, a sprawling compound named for the family that runs the big Pharma firm where Elliot is legal counsel.

Elliot and Ridley’s relationship is still fractured from the recent death of their respective wife and mother, and their front seat bickering takes Eliot’s eyes off the road long enough to strike what really looks like a unicorn.

Misplaced priorities leave Elliot too worried about blowing his big promotion, so they load the beast in the rental car (“I got the damage waiver!”) and head on up the road where cancer-stricken CEO Odell Leopold (Richard E. Grant), his wife Belinda (Téa Leoni) and their designer shorts-loving son Shepard (Will Poulter) are waiting.

But Unicorns are too magical to stay dead, and they have healing powers that can cure things like acne and cancer. Big Pharma families find those cures very attractive, while Big Uni is out to punish the greedy.

This is the feature debut for writer/director Alex Sharfman, and his high concept is always kept afloat by the underplayed commitment of this cast. Characters fall somewhere between the big eyebrows of Mickey 17 and the dark button pushing of Companion, with Leoni’s dry asides (“Not to be a size queen, but that horn was rather girthy”) and Poulter’s daft Dunning-Krugering scoring the most laughs.

Though the unicorns themselves could use more pixie dust in their CGI, Ortega sells her spiritual connection to them, and to the legend she uncovers that traces the “final girl” back much further than we knew. It’s a shame Sharfman doesn’t follow that thread long enough for a killer connection between peasants.

Instead, we get warm fuzzies, and the point of all this carnage ends up feeling muted. Even with literal rich-eating, Death of a Unicorn just won’t commit to the bit as giddily as something like Ready or Not, and a true lasting impression remains an elusive beast.

Dream Scenario

Shudderbugs

by Rachel Willis

The ability to dream of things that happened or will happen is part of the family mythology that permeates writer/director (and star), Johanna Putnam’s film, Shudderbugs.

As we learn from Sam (Putnam), shudderbugs was what her mother, Eliza, called the eerie premonitions and feelings that allowed her to know when something was going to happen. After Eliza’s death, Sam begins having these same feelings as she explores what happened to her mom.

Grief, and the whys that surround death, are the main focus of Putnam’s quiet, contemplative film. We learn through a slow unfolding that Eliza’s death was unexpected. A visit with Sam for her birthday was big on Eliza’s mind, as we see reminders throughout the house of the expected visit.

The first inkling that something isn’t quite right occurs when Sam can’t find her mother’s dog. Then, the neighbor acts very strangely. The results from her mother’s autopsy require further tests. Sam’s suspicions grow as she uncovers new pieces of information while spending several days in her mother’s rural house.

The setting of Putnam’s film, upstate New York, speaks to tranquility. The gorgeous surroundings make it hard to feel that something is amiss, but there are moments that unnerve: sounds from inside the creaky old house, dolls set up in cribs and highchairs around the garage attic, and the neighbor who is wonderfully “off.” It’s hard not to be sucked in to the mystery, especially as Sam starts to experience her own shudderbugs.

The film starts off very strong, but it never quite pulls off the sense of dread that’s expected with such unusual circumstance. Sam carries the vast majority of the film. Unfortunately, Putnam’s talents are far better behind the camera. Her acting is fine, but not the caliber needed for such a quiet character study.

However, for all the weaknesses, the film’s strengths are far more engaging. The writing is exceptional, and the unsettling questions that surround an unexpected death lend themselves well to the film. While there are some moments that stumble, the overall experience is worth the time.

Diamond Life

Eephus

by George Wolf

Any serious baseball fan knows what comes with that first chill of the fall. If you’re lucky, your favorite team may be playing for a few more weeks. But even so, it won’t be long before – as former MLB commissioner Bart Giamatti so eloquently put it – “the days are all twilight, when you need (baseball) the most, it stops.”

For the men at the heart of the wonderfully nostalgic Eephus, those twilight days have turned into years, and they suddenly find themselves desperately clinging to the last few moments of boyhood joy.

It’s mid-October in a small New Hampshire town, and rec league teams are assembling to wrap up the season at Soldiers Field. Some bellies are a bit larger, some fastballs are a bit slower, but the cracks are as wise as ever and the love of the game has never wavered. And though what bleachers there are will be nearly empty, Franny (Cliff Blake) will be keeping the scorebook as usual, and there may even be fireworks after the final out.

Because next year, local development will bulldoze the field, and these players may have to accept a future without that diamond life.

Director/co-writer (and veteran cinematographer) Carson Lund finds the emotional pull that exists in the space between an enduring game and the souls forced to let it move on without them. The ensemble cast (including legendary MLB free spirt Bill “Spaceman” Lee on hand to perfectly illustrate the titular type of pitch) is authentic and eccentric in equal measure, and anyone who has ever spent time around the ballfield will recognize these people, and the simpler way of life that may also be slipping away.

Lund’s writing is warm and witty, with a sense of pace that is unhurried, perfectly reflecting the one American team sport without a time clock. And at the end of the film’s single day, when the league’s last game goes into extra innings and darkness falls, the cool night air is heavy with metaphor and meaning.

Another great baseball movie reminded us that “This field, this game, is a part of our past.” Beautiful.

But what if you could hold on to those last minutes of the present just a little bit longer – even if you eat dirt just trying to beat out a weak grounder to third? Eephus conjures up enough romantic notions to spur a trip down to the basement looking for the old ball and glove.

Just be sure to warm up first. You’re not a kid anymore, you know.

Fish On

Tarpon

by George Wolf

So this documentary is about fishing? And writing? It’s set in 1970s Key West? And features original music by a pre-superstardom Jimmy Buffett?

Holy schnikes, Tarpon, where have you been hiding all my life?

It’s been out there like the titular trophy fish, never officially released but gaining a cult following among writers and fishing guides since its production in 1973. Then two years ago, the short film All That Is Sacred (available on YouTube) used Tarpon clips and more recent interviews with Buffett, writers Tom McGuane and Jim Harrison and others to dig into the Bohemian, artistic lifestyle of their youth.

Now, Tarpon finally gets its official release, and an absolutely beautiful restoration that serves as a pristine time capsule to a lost world.

In bewitching cinema vérité style, directors Guy de la Valdene and Christian Odasso take us to the boats, beaches, and bars that formed a local Keys lifeblood, and fueled a creative spirit that eventually brought Buffett, McGuane, Harrison, and Richard Brautigan both popularity and critical acclaim.

The Key West Conch Train driver serves as a wonderfully organic tour guide, popping in with bits of context as the film casually drifts among the local eccentrics, creatives and fishermen (word of warning: there are scenes of brutality to unwanted sharks in the day’s catch).

At only 53 minutes, Tarpon‘s intoxicating spell is one you’ll wish lasted a bit longer. But after all these years of waiting, even a little of this magic is enough.

Princess Problem Solver

Snow White

by George Wolf

Death, taxes…Disney live action remakes?

We may not be there quite yet, but the train keeps rolling with Snow White, an update that’s consistently appealing enough to rise above an unsteady opening and one unfortunate choice.

Much of that winning appeal comes from a terrific Rachel Zegler, who commands the title role with confidence and zest. Pairing Zegler with a well-cast Gal Gadot as the Evil Queen, the film dives into their royal power struggle and finds a nice sweet spot between honoring a classic and nudging it toward new sensibilities.

That new attitude starts right from the “Once Upon a Time” prologue, where we get a new inspiration for the name Show White, and a quick look inside a wholesome upbringing that focused on the common good.

Her stepmother’s attitude toward power is especially timely, and the Magic Mirror (in great voice thanks to Patrick Page) is quick to point out that beauty can be more than what’s seen in a simple reflection.

Once Snow White is grown, with her royal father out of sight and her wicked stepmother on the throne, Director Marc Webb (500 Days of Summer, The Amazing Spider-Man 1 and 2) and screenwriter Erin Cressida Wilson (Secretary, Chloe, The Girl on the Train) give us a princess who is still in peril, but is not content to wait around for a handsome prince to save her and her kingdom.

In fact, there’s no handsome prince in sight. Oh, sure, she’s attracted to the rouge-ish peasant Jonathan (Andrew Burnap), but this Snow White’s not about to stay home with the dwarfs while he does all the heroic adventuring.

We’ll get to those dwarfs in a minute.

Songwriters Benj Pasek and Justin Paul provide original tunes, and while the style they brought to The Greatest Showman, Spirited, and Dear Evan Hansen will be instantly familiar, the songs here showcase the talent, bolster the narrative, and add a little new Disney magic.

Zegler soars on “Waiting on a Wish,” and Gadot – in her best turn since Wonder Woman – seems positively giddy to vamp it up on “All Is Fair,” the Evil Queen’s defiant ode to evildoing. Burnap and Zegler both have fun with “Princess Problems,” a tongue-in-cheek framing of privilege and stereotypes, but their audience of dwarfs only calls more attention the film’s nagging question.

This is a live action remake, correct? So why are the dwarfs not played by live actors? The CGI results seem to point to an attempt at making them look as much like the original cartoon characters as possible, which is curious at best. Much of the film is committed to a new vision, how did this tired one get through?

The CGI animals I get – they’re cute – but man these dwarfs become such an albatross it’s even more impressive that Snow White manages to charm despite them, and the few too many opening minutes spent on exposition.

But it does, and Disney’s live action scorecard earns one in the ‘plus’ column.

Kids Are Great, Aren’t They?

The Assessment

by Hope Madden

Director Fleur Fortune’s feature debut delivers an effective gut punch of a sleight of hand. What feels for quite a while like a near-spoof on our collective unpreparedness for parenting morphs slowly into something entirely else. Something more sinister, more human, and alarmingly likely.

In a post-dystopian future where scientists have created an ageless but sterile dome world, it’s necessary to apply and be assessed for parenthood. Because, since no one dies anymore, and it was the strain on resources that caused the dystopia in the first place, children are not grown outside the uterus for just anybody.

But Mia (Elizabeth Olsen) and Aaryan (Himesh Patel) are ready, they’re sure of it. They just have to convince their assessor, Virginia (Alicia Vikander).

Fortune’s career up to now has involved a lot of music videos and perfume advertisements, work that’s sharpened her instincts for image. The shot making in The Assessment is often stunning, but it also informs the story. There are no voiceovers or news flashes to catch you up on the dystopia, who caused what, why we are where we are. But you don’t lose track of it because of how organically Fortune fits this story in this environment with these characters.

Everything serves a purpose—each costume, dinner guest, glance and line of dialog—but none of it feels forced or false. The delicate balance created in the early going, a balance the assessor destroys with manipulated childlike chaos, is thanks to meticulous direction and performances.

The three leads shine, none of them blameless and yet all forgivable. Because the chaos wrought in the film becomes more and more dire as the honest-to-god strain of this kind of world slowly, authentically reveals itself.

The Assessment’s resolution unfortunately feels less sincere, landing far more obviously than the preceding scenes. There’s a predetermined tidiness that flies in the face of the disarming chaos that came before.

It’s a small criticism of an insightful, frightening look at where our future may take us.