‘I Love Boosters’ – Weird, Wonderful and Fearlessly Original

Boots Riley’s “I Love Boosters” is a work of pure creative freedom, mainstream cinema at its most unhinged.

This is what happens when a filmmaker allows their imagination to go wherever it wants at the screenplay level, then makes a film that doesn’t hold back but actually propels the imagination to fire off into the stratosphere.

What I’m trying to say is that a cult following is guaranteed down the road. For now, this will put off audiences wanting something easier to define. For the rest of us, particularly those who loved “Everything Everywhere All at Once” (2022), here is a worthy counterpart.

We meet a trio of “boosters,” led by Corvette (an excellent Keke Palmer), Mariah (a livewire Taylour Paige) and Sade (the wonderful Naomi Ackie), who identify as someone who “steals from a store and sells it as an affordable price.”

Another early reference to boosters pops up in a store they’re robbing, which touts a “Boosters Get Busted” sign. Most of the locations getting robbed are Metro Designer, an expensive and popular brand from mega mogul Christy Smith (Demi Moore, in a witty turn).

There’s also a guru named Dr. Jack (an unrecognizable Don Cheadle), and a handsome supporting character (LaKeith Stanfield) who seems like he’s positioned to be the love interest. Nothing goes as expected, not for the characters, nor the audience witnessing this bonkers and consistently funny treat.

From the very beginning, there is an unceasing joy in the filmmaking and vibrancy in the colors visible on screen. The key is to embrace how nutty this is from the start and stick with it when it gets unapologetically wacky.

Palmer has never been better, while Paige (a scene stealer in every movie she appears) and Ackie (another solid performer who takes on consistently interesting roles) have some great moments and a way with Riley’s one-liners.

Moore isn’t playing a caricature and brings surprising depth to a designer with a guru-like pull and Will Poulter is hilarious as the insufferable manager of a posh Metro Designer outlet, who blasts techno music over the store speakers.

Stanfield, who was the lead of Riley’s endearingly odd “Sorry to Bother You” (2018), has a supporting role here that plays like a parody of a handsome leading man. In case you’re wondering, this is a far crazier, riskier juggling act than “Sorry to Bother You.”

Some bits either don’t work or are better upon reflection, when one can consider the cleverness of a gag that went by too quickly to land as hard as it should have.

There’s also a graphic sex scene that takes a bizarre, horror movie-worthy turn, then is brushed off entirely with a funny punchline. A character is visibly reading Salmon Rushdie’s 1981 novel “Midnight’s Children,” noted for its magical realism, a quality that Riley also generously applies here.

By the second act, a sci-fi plot twist fuels the story and Riley, rather than making it a non sequitur, runs with it until the very end. The jarring tonal change that commands the latter half of the film is even battier than the one in “Sorry to Bother You” and is an out-there but welcome touch.

Something I loved about Riley’s film, as well as David Lowery’s recent “Mother Mary”: for a reasonable budget, these filmmakers have given us wildly entertaining and personal films that are neither timid nor predictable.

As a spoof of consumerism, particularly a landscape where those who would even want to buy Smith’s hideous products can’t afford it, Riley gets some digs in, but this isn’t as malicious as “Zoolander” (2001) or “Ready to Wear” (1994).

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Nevertheless, this is the antidote to “The Devil Wears Prada 2,” which aims solely to celebrate and worship both the materialism and self-absorbed figures of this world.

Riley is celebrating artistic freedom, not those who seek to control it and aim to make it inaccessible. It seems that Riley’s goal is mostly to allow his storytelling instincts and joy of filmmaking to take him where he wants to go. Smith declares early that “reality is unchangeable, but we can change how we see reality,” a line of dialogue that also sounds like Riley’s approach to his narrative.

There’s never a dull moment, as the two-hour running time flies by. Sometimes it’s too much but I have a weakness for something this original and presented with the eye of an artist.

Riley has created a film with so visually and tonally in synch with his imagination, it deserves comparison to the works of Wes Anderson. Some will take that as a final warning, while others know that means they should see this immediately, on the big screen and in a packed theater.

Three Stars (out of four)

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‘Mandalorian and Grogu’ Sinks ‘Star Wars’ to Kiddie-Level Lows

If you can’t say something nice, say nothing at all.

In that spirit, the puppet dubbed “Baby Yoda” is still adorable in “The Mandalorian and Grogu.”

The rest of the film? Mum’s the word. Except this if a film review, so proceed we must, hmmm?

The first new “Star Wars” film in seven years is messy, an adjective several characters say in this bloated blockbuster. Messy covers a lot of sins, and this TV show extension commits more than a few.

“The Last Jedi” broke plenty of franchise fans with its woke detours and canon-crushing twists. “The Acolyte” insulted more with its feminist blather.

“The Mandalorian and Grogu” might tell any remaining fans to find another franchise. This one is creatively spent.

The setup here is simple, allowing for plenty of interesting detours that never arrive.

Our hero Din Djarin, or Mando, (Pedro Pascal) is tasked with finding rogue Imperial Warlords hoping to resurrect the Empire. He’s a bounty hunter, but as we’ve seen in three “Mandalorian” seasons, his heart is more or less in the right place.

That means he’s team New Republic, AKA the good guys. Just don’t expect any complexity or nuance to his character. This film has all the shadings of a Benjamin Moore color sample.

So off he goes, along with his trusty sidekick Grogu (still an analog puppet) to track down a mysterious figure known as Janu (Jonny Coyne). Mando’s only clue? He’s given a blank card from a deck of missing Imperial Warlords.

Really.

Mando must make a deal with members of the Hutt family to find Janu, which brings Rotta the Hutt (Jeremy Allen White) into the picture. Hey, that’s Jabba’s son, and the resemblance is striking.

Rotta has been kidnapped, and his family members want him back at any price. Except it’s a little more complicated than that.

The rest is a blur of nonstop action, tin-eared dialogue that moves the story forward in jerky fashion and no sense that adults were considered as the film’s audience.

This is kiddie entertainment from start to finish, a parade of new creatures, mediocre CGI and cuddly characters who would make the Minions blush.

The fact that Jon Favreau (“Swingers!” “Elf!” “Iron Man!”) co-wrote and directed this slop is tragic. He gets little out of his cast. Pascal, who previously made his presence felt while behind a mask, has zero arc or character to play.

He’s Protagonist 101. That’s it.

Sigourney Weaver walks through her role as a New Republic commander. She’d be Razzie worthy if she had more screen time.

The new villains barely have a pulse, from Coyne to a crimelord (Hemky Madera) who couldn’t threaten a toddler with his theatrics.

“The Mandalorian and Grogu” overdoses on action, barely taking a moment to breathe. The sequences are competently shot but never memorable, and the lack of stakes is startling. On more than a few occasions, Mando rushes into battle essentially alone, squaring off against literal armies without fearing he could get killed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Plot inconsistencies abound. Newer creatures appear and leave no mark, including Mando’s quasi-partner Garazeb “Zeb” Orrelios (Steve Blum). Cutesy cameos prove distracting, nothing more, including a vocal turn from Martin Scorsese.

There’s no talk of The Force, Skywalkers or other “Star Wars” essentials. The story overlaps with other, more recent “Star Wars” content to little satisfaction.

The movie literally stalls midway through, and you expect a Netflix-style button on the bottom right of the screen to say, “Next Episode.”

Ludwig Göransson’s score, like everything else, is trying too hard to make us think this is epic storytelling. And whenever there’s a lull in the action, which is rare, we get a new CGI creature thrust into our face.

That Mando-Grogu bond endures, and it’s as endearing as it was in the past. So what? There’s no growth here, no sense of a story evolving in any meaningful way.

Why was this made again? What’s the point beyond more content for Disney+ in a few months?

“The Mandalorian and Grogu” exists as a placeholder, a way to say the franchise still belongs on the big screen.

You sure about that? You sure ’bout that?

HiT or Miss: Children will enjoy the breezy new “Star Wars” adventure, “The Mandalorian and Grogu.” Die-hard fans will wonder how far the franchise can possibly sink after this.

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‘Wizard of the Kremlin’ – Year’s Biggest Disappointment So Far?

Olivier Assayas’ “The Wizard of the Kremlin” is a disappointment on its own but even more so when you compare it to the filmmaker’s earlier works.

Despite the talent involved and the lure of the subject matter, this won’t be a project anyone involved cites as a career highlight.

Assayas’ film portrays how Vadim Baranov (Paul Dano) went from a young Russian artist to a political mover and shaker during the late 20th century. Baranov has his brushes with history making, particularly when he meets the ambitious Vladimir Putin (Jude Law).

A theater visionary who changed politics, the story of Baranov seems like it can’t miss at the start, but the result is a film with too many scenes of actors on lush couches having conversations about moments in Russian history that we should be seeing.

The opening scenes are stiff and mannered, immediately making me wonder if Assayas was the right filmmaker for this story. Things get wild once the flashback structure kicks in, as we see Baranov emerge in both 1980s excess and USSR espionage.

Based on the 2022 book by Giuliano da Empoli, it shapes an imagined encounter between Baranov and Jeffrey Wright’s fictitious author, whose opening narration I prefer to Dano’s. Baranov is based on the real Vladislav Surkov, whose life should at least merit a compelling non-fiction film.

Baranov proclaims early, “My pain only augmented her boredom.” I know how she felt, as Dano spits out every line in the same whispery British accent. If there’s a way to make this bureaucrat interesting, Dano hasn’t found it.

There’s a mannered, one-note quality to his work here, a major letdown, considering how great he is elsewhere.

To address the obvious – I don’t agree with Quentin Tarantino’s public and unfortunately dismissive assessment of Dano’s acting abilities (nor what he declared regarding Owen Wilson). Dano’s performances in “The Batman” (2022), “Prisoners” (2013) and especially “Love & Mercy” (2015) are Oscar-worthy.

Also, in addition to his canny direction and quotable, unpredictable screenplays, Tarantino has a steady knack for taking underrated actors and casting them in offbeat parts, which showcase their willingness to take on offbeat material.

Dano is wrong for Baranov, but he’s a better actor than Tarantino has stated and can shine in the right role, and the director should know that.

The Batman star Paul Dano opens up about the harsh criticism he received from filmmaker Quentin Tarantino and the stars who came to his defense. https://t.co/Yfc2k7nOP5

— CBR (@CBR) February 25, 2026

“The Wizard of the Kremlin” often cuts to real-life clips and news footage so compelling that this clearly should have been made as a documentary.

The whole thing is too on-again, off-again for 136 minutes and the accents are all over the place. It would have been better with a cast of Russians speaking in subtitles to the what-is-that dialects that are used inconsistently or not at all.

Each narrative section comes with chapter headings, which don’t help. The Law-less sections are dull, which is a major problem, as his performance is, at best, an extended cameo role and he’s barely in the movie.

There are moments to savor, such as the sight of Yeltsin literally being propped up to give a speech. Likewise, I loved hearing Baranov having to explain to Putin who Daft Punk is.

Law has an uncanny resemblance to Putin, but this is undermined by his lack of a Russian accent. With his normal voice and the Putin cut, Law looks a lot more like Martin Freeman. Law is a terrific actor, but his real voice doesn’t match the appearance.

At one point, Law’s Putin declares, “we’re fighting to keep Russia from disintegrating,” suggesting a far more exciting film. Likewise, when Baranov announces in narration, “That day, Putin became a czar.” If only this would take up the focus and not be a passing moment, akin to Forrest Gump meeting JFK. We needed more of the Pygmalion angle on the making of Putin, a subject worth exploring.

Alicia Vikander steals all of her scenes as Ksenia and, like Law, isn’t in the movie nearly enough. There’s a weird cameo appearance from Matthew Baunsgard, unconvincing as Larry King.

Most cinephiles cite Assayas’ “Irma Vep” (1996) and the controversial “Demonlover” (2002) as high points but I think his best was ahead- the 2008 “Summer Hours” (2008), “Clouds of Sils Maria (2014) and the 2018 “Non-Fiction” (which has made me re-think the contemporary definition of a writer).

“Personal Shopper” (2016) remains my favorite Assayas film, a slice of life drama and supernatural thriller that stars Kristen Stewart, a sharp and original film I revisit often.

Assayas’ films aren’t like most others, as they lean into moments and character choices more than cleanly laid out narrative possibilities. The dialogue in his films is a pleasure to listen to. His latest isn’t lacking in ambition but, at best, this is cable TV movie worthy.

The boldest is the very last shot – it’s memorable but comes too late.

Two Stars

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Anne Hathaway’s Pop Star Pose Powers Polarizing ‘Mother Mary’

David Lowery’s “Mother Mary” is exactly the kind film I love to see in the theater, as it’s made for the big screen and an experience that is guaranteed to polarize just about everyone.

I get it, as Lowery’s latest is bizarre, challenging and, on a scene-to-scene basis, risks falling on its face.

All I knew of the film going in is that it’s “the Anne Hathaway movie where she embodies Lady Gaga.” Not an unreasonable synopsis, but there’s much, much more.

Hathaway stars as Mother Mary, a pop singer super star whose awesome stage performances suggest the elaborate production values of Lady Gaga, Madonna, that time Britney Spears danced with a snake and anything from Cirque De Solei. Mary’s music and persona are on fire with the public, while her private life is a different matter.

Mary takes a trip to a secluded countryside and reconnects with Sam, an acclaimed fashion designer (Michaela Coel) who was never given enough credit for the iconic designs she provided Mary on her tour. Sam expresses animosity and distance towards Mary, until the two come to a strange common ground: lately, they’re both haunted by the same ghost, which appears as a massive floating red silk cloth with a glowing red ball.

Long scenes of dialogue exchanges between Hathaway and Coel are broken up by Hathaway’s stage performances, which are knockout set pieces. From the widescreen cinematography, which captures the musical numbers in the most you-are-there, immersive manner possible, to the songs themselves, which are good and performed well by Hathaway, these scenes are the biggest mainstream draw the film has.

The rest of the film is take-it-or-leave-it weird and even plays that way before the supernatural elements surface. Lowery seems to be making a comment on how Mary’s stage and personal life are all, in one way or another, a performance, which explains why even the quiet scenes with only two characters are presented in a theatrical manner.

Some scene transitions are even conveyed with large doors opening into another setting, as though this were all a filmed theater piece.

To answer an obvious question – yes, “Mother Mary” could work well as a play and presumably would be an event on Broadway. As a film, even for those who love theater, heady art movies, pop music and Hathaway, will be a challenge to absorb, especially on the first viewing.

Some moments are silly and are just asking for mockery, such as when a character declares they’re about to sing “the greatest song ever written,” which we never hear (maybe Lowery knew this was too big a feat to pull off, unless Hathaway started singing “Baby Got Back.” I’m kidding).

Lowery previously wrote and directed the 2021 masterpiece, “The Green Knight,” the best blend of magical realism and grandiose storytelling from him yet. The 2016 remake of “Pete’s Dragon” is also from Lowery and easily one of the best, most refreshingly different of the live action Disney remakes, which retells the tale without simply xeroxing the original scene-for-scene (like most of the other live action Mouse House remakes).

The closest film Lowery has made to “Mother Mary” is his “A Ghost Story” (2017), which matches this film for its audacity, character-driven narratives and staging that straddles the possibilities of theater and cinema.
If Lowery keeps making movies like this, he’ll likely end up recognized as an artist making distinctive and personal works.

For now, he’s a visionary with a cult following that should be larger.

Hathaway is electric in this, on stage and in her dramatic scenes, but she’s matched by a towering performance by Coel.

The songs were written by Charli XCX, Jack Antonoff and FKA Twigs, and they’re all good enough to start popping up on an FM station. If Hathaway decides to perform on tour as Mother Mary, it wouldn’t be a bad idea.

Many will understandably hate it, a few (including me) will defend it and the rest will likely call it a future camp classic…and they’d be right.

If anything, I’m excited that something this wild is playing in mainstream theaters, though most of Hathaway’s fanbase is clearly more willing to turn up for the middle-of-the-road “The Devil Wears Prada 2.”

I applaud A24 for continuing to distribute risk-taking art movies, especially when they’re as untamed as this one.

Three Stars (out of four)

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‘My Dinner with Andre’ Made Conversation Cinematic

Louis Malle’s “My Dinner with Andre” (1981) begins with the line, “The life of a playwright is tough.”

It’s uttered by Wallace Shawn, playing himself, as his narration follows him as he scrambles down a New York street. Shawn is off to meet his friend Andre Gregory, the actor/director who had been gone for some time and is reuniting with Shawn.

The two meet for dinner in a posh restaurant, the chatter begins and we’re off into a movie unlike any other.

Malle’s film steps inside the creative process. Describing the film, which is mostly an extended conversation between two people and has mostly one location, sounds drier than toast. I avoided the film when I was young, discovered it in college and now recognize how special and one-of-a-kind it is.

Shawn, who is now known worldwide for his performances in “The Princess Bride” (1987) and as Rex in the “Toy Story” franchise (1995-present day), was 36 when he made this.

The opening narration fills us in on where these artists stood at this point in their careers (though both have subsequently noted that, despite the reality of who they are/were, the film is based on reality but not a documentary).

From the very first words uttered, their exchanges are not dull.

Shawn’s narration makes it feel less like a cinematic stunt and more like a filmed play. Once the clever narration ceases, we get into their extensive conversation, which takes some wild turns.

It helps that Gregory has a hypnotic voice and that he and Shawn are such a fascinating contrast. Topics like Chappaquiddick, Bulgakov’s “The Master and the Margarita,” fawns, Gregory’s metaphysical experience and theater’s ability to make a difference all come in and out of focus.

This isn’t claustrophobic, as reflective surfaces and reaction shots make us feel like we’re there, up close and fully engaged. Malle’s film is, of course, not for everyone but not a bore fest, either.

By the time Andre and Wallace (yes, the first Pixar short, “The Adventures of Andre and Wally B” in 1984 is named after them) get to dessert, we arrive at the core element of the discussion. A verbal crossroad is met with Shawn’s skepticism in Gregory’s recollections and Gregory’s embrace of wonder, as Shawn’s response hits upon logical vs spiritual, faith vs the scientific.

Rather than either patron resorting to histrionics or feeling a definitive conclusion on the matter must be met, they both allow the possibilities to dance in our subconscious.

As a film, “My Dinner with Andre” is alive, as the performances, cinematography and editing are at a master-class level.

For diehard fans of “The Princess Bride”: At one point, Shawn does utter the word “inconceivable.” Another fun tidbit is that the production services were provided by none other than Troma, Inc.- Thank you, Uncle Lloydie!
When the two friends bring up AI, the talk it inspires sounds relevant to right now, amazing for a film that is now 45-years old.

A decade ago, I was teaching a Films of the 1980s course at University of Colorado Springs (UCCS) and showed Malle’s film. When it ended, the response from the students was divided, with the ones who loved it admitted to appreciating it more than ever, wanting to sit through it again.

The naysayers couldn’t believe they just sat through a movie about people talking. The class shuffled out and one last student, named John, waited to talk to me. I knew that John was in a band and had a hip sense of humor, but I had no idea what he thought of the film and was not expecting what happened next.

John told me that he thought “My Dinner with Andre” was “the best movie I’ve ever seen.” I laughed, because I assumed he was kidding. He assured me the film was about things he had been thinking about, spoke to where he wanted to go in his life and was deeply connected with him.

On the last day of the class, he reminded his classmates and me that the film was still the best he had ever experienced.

Not every word of Andre and Wallace’s conversation will grab you, but the juiciest parts will stay with you. “My Dinner with Andre” is a film in love with language, people and the experience of being human.

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‘Clash of the Titans’: Medusa, Kraken and Ray Harryhausen Magic

Desmond Davis’ “Clash of the Titans” (1981) reveals that mankind is a mere plaything for Greek gods, who watch us from above, adorned in robes and using action figures to keep track of where we are.

Did I say action figures? I meant to write dolls, but a movie that includes a winged horse, a lady with a head full of snakes and a mechanical owl has me wondering why my childhood shelf was adorned with Jedis and Ewoks but never a line of Greek monsters?

Perseus (Harry Hamlin) is understandably in love with Andromeda (Judi Bowker), who is due to be sacrificed to the Kraken, a massive, goofy sea monster. Thankfully, Perseus has both the guidance of Ammon (the always welcome Burgess Meredith) and the whinnying Pegasus to guide him on his journey.

“Clash of the Titans,’ a surprise hit in 1981 and a beloved favorite for fantasy fans, is still so much fun and charming – the latter quality is especially unexpected when the film begins with a mother and child being sealed in a coffin, which is tossed into the ocean (!).

For a film to begin that way, you wouldn’t expect what follows to be so joyous, goofy and overstuffed with delightful visions.

As producer and supervisor of the stop motion animation effects and characters, the film’s real MVP was Ray Harryhausen. The creatures here are still so wondrous, it doesn’t matter that they’re not life-like or match CGI precision.

What Harryhausen’s work here demonstrates is how a personal touch (both in the creatures designs and the movement of stop motion creatures) can astound an audience in a different manner than contemporary special effects. The latter aims for realism and often seems cold and hollow by comparison.

The blend of live action and animation isn’t always seamless, but the creatures have texture and character that still beat any CGI upgrade, including the actual remake of this movie (more on that later).

There are two showstoppers: the Medusa encounter (which made me turn my eyes away in fright when I first viewed this on HBO as a child) and the moment where the Kraken is unleashed; these sequences energize the third act.

As a child, nothing beats Bubo the mechanical owl, who is to this movie what R2-D2 is to “Star Wars” (1977).

It’s amusing to see Zeus, the Greek God, using dolls to position humankind, since no less than Laurence Olivier is playing him. I’d argue that Olivier’s last truly great performances were in “The Boys from Brazil” (1978) and “Marathon Man” (1976) but there is still passion and proper theatricality in how he presents his take on Zeus.

Hamlin is game in the lead role, but the movie really needed Olivier, Meredith and especially Maggie Smith to put over how silly this plays.

Harryhausen’s showmanship, the delight in the best scenes, and a total lack of a heavy hand in tone and storytelling make this such a fun trip, even 45 years later.

About the 2010 remake, I’ll say this – most will remember how it was the first post-“Avatar” (2009) film released in 3-D that infamously was not shot in the format, converted later and looked like junk to most filmgoers. It slowed down the enthusiasm of early 20th century 3-D films at the time, which were getting a newfound interest because of James Cameron’s planet Pandora.

With or without the 3-D, the visual effects are decent, but the movie bites. Bubo the owl makes a single scene cameo, then is literally tossed aside, which is all you need to know about it.

The sequel, “Wrath of the Titans” (2012) and the similar “Immortals” (2011) are actually better, but why bother? They’re not as fun as the original “Clash of the Titans,” which has Bubo, a terrifying Medusa and is neither Kraken-lacking nor short on golden moments, like Olivier playing with dolls.

Harryhausen retired from filmmaking after “Clash of the Titans.” If you’ve never seen the work of this master film magician, I recommend “Mighty Joe Young” (1949), “Jason and the Argonauts” (1963) and this one.

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Charlize Theron’s ‘Apex’ – Why Wasn’t This in Theaters?

Many Netflix originals feel like made-for-streaming content.

That’s not remotely a compliment.

Yes, they have recognizable stars and movie-level budgets. They still leave something to be desired, and that’s being kind. Even the better titles, like “Nonnas,” leave a pleasant aftertaste more than must-see energy.

And then there’s “Apex.”

The thriller stars Charlize Theron as Sasha, an adventure junkie working through a major personal loss. So she sets out to explore the Australian Outback, eager to spend time alone with her thoughts.

It might be good for her soul, and perhaps her sanity. She gets some unexpected company from randy locals eager to get to know her better.

Yech.

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Another stranger seems more promising. He’s clean cut and refined, and he offers some neighborly advice sans the creep factor.

He’s played by Taron Egerton, all buff and bald and ready to embrace the outdoors in every way possible. He’s the kind of guy you want when you’re alone in the big, bad Australian Outback, right?

Right?

A quick peek at the trailer suggests otherwise.

Director Baltasar Kormákur (“Beast”) opens the film with bravura shots of Sasha and her climbing partner defying gravity with every inch up a formidable mountain. The camera work is unsettling, making even pedestrian moves feel dangerous.

Deadly, even.

Kormákur’s camera moves are equally slick later in the film, as Sasha navigates an unforgiving river and scrambles over the challenging terrain. This film feels like a Jillian Michaels’ workout.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Theron doesn’t have much to work with – the storyline is purposely lean and mean. She still evokes a woman at an emotional crossroads, and one whose physicality could be her only way out of certain doom.

No Girlbossery here, just a middle-aged survivor who knows how far to push her body. The Oscar winner is increasingly adept at these kinds of physical roles, from “Atomic Blonde” to this punishing affair.

Egerton has never been so lethal, and his character carries a secret that makes the cat-and-mouse storyline even more frightening.

Chomp, chomp.

“Apex” offers a few wrinkles in its third act, another sign that everyone involved acknowledged the formula at work but refused to connect the usual dots. That results in some wild jolts and a finale that proves even more satisfying than we hoped.

Now, why did this movie skip theaters again? Netflix and chilling should be “Apex’s” second act, not its first.

HiT or Miss: “Apex” doesn’t reinvent the “woman stalked in the wilderness” template. It’s just a first-class variation on it.

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