‘Testament of Ann Lee’ is Cinematic Test Worth Taking

Mona Fastvold’s “The Testament of Ann Lee” is a history lesson on the creation of the Shaker religious movement, and a period drama/musical on the level with Ken Russell’s most out-there works.

Take that as a warning.

Here’s another – the first 25 minutes will root out those who won’t put up with something this challenging.

It’s written by Fastvold and Brady Corbett, whose prior film, “The Brutalist” (2024), became a critic favorite last year. (I liked “The Brutalist” but, tellingly, I have yet to meet anyone willing to watch it twice.)

“The Testament of Ann Lee” begins in 1736 and depicts the title character’s painful journey as she discovers the Shaker movement and finds a profound connection.

Thomasin McKenzie (so good here and in Edgar Wright’s “Last Night in SOHO”) provides the narration, informing us that “true religion comes from inward experience.” Also, we learn that the Shakers are called that because “shaking and dancing characterized this worship.”

Like “Equus” (both the stage play and the 1977 Sidney Lumet film), this depicts how a steady stream of religious imagery, and a sharp contrast to it, creates an inner disturbance. Fastvold’s film isn’t anti-religious, but it deals seriously with the difference between personal faith and religious organizations.

There are some lulls, and it’s harder to take than necessary (there’s imagery in the first half strong enough to make the most hardened horror movie fan swear off their popcorn). Yet, Fastvold doesn’t linger on the brutality and shows only enough to make us wince before mercifully cutting away.

Amanda Seyfried cries as ‘The Testament of Ann Lee’ scores 15-minute Venice standing ovationhttps://t.co/CyUW8NC8vX pic.twitter.com/Uo1kBh348z

— Variety (@Variety) September 1, 2025

At its best, the film matches the fire and fearlessness of Amanda Seyfried’s lead performance. I respond strongly to a film like “The Testament of Ann Lee” for three big reasons:

1. I couldn’t guess where it was going and was never able to get ahead of it.
2. There is a what, me-worry attitude here regarding the blending of genres (the religious history lesson and movie musical)
3. Fastvold and her cast push this far enough without it capsizing over the top or becoming unbearable.

No question, the early portion and a violent sequence near the end will push some buttons but overall, the film dazzles the senses as much as the imagination. Like the works of Julie Taymor, the whole thing is bold and nutty, but I’d prefer something this brazen over a straightforward historical biopic.

Like “Dancer in the Dark” (2000), it’s not interested in the musical genre as escapism but as an emotional immersion, means of expression for cracked personalities and a discomforting experience. The last time I reviewed a film like this, for this very site, it was “Joker: Folie à Deux” (2024), which I also loved.

Yes, loved.

Adventurous filmgoers who want an entirely new experience while watching a movie musical, look no further. For everyone else, maybe “Wicked: For Good” is still playing in your neighborhood theater.

Three and a half stars (out of four)

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‘Sirāt’ Is Beautiful to Look at But Empty Inside

Oliver Laxe’s “Sirāt” begins with a father (Sergei Lopez) and his son arriving in the desert to attend a massive rave party.

The pair is searching for a family member who has been missing, and they find themselves in with a group of nomadic rave enthusiasts who take them in like family. The initial search becomes a trek across the desert, with initial bonding becoming an existential nightmare.

Sublime cinematography and an intriguing start are all there is to this silly existential drama. Full of bad, repetitive techno (blasted from an imposing speaker into the desert) and fails, beyond the optics, to create rave culture and the neo-bohemian lifestyle, which is something even “Point Break” (1991) was able to accomplish.

I was ready to give up on this strange, off-putting art movie exercise long before it finally, mercifully faded to black. For a film that was acclaimed on the festival circuit and is somehow a Best Foreign Language Film Oscar nominee, I went in with high hopes and emerged feeling duped.

How is it that this film and not “It Was Just An Accident” is up for an Oscar?

I recognize that I’m among the few who aren’t showering this with acclaim but, of the many late 2025 films that carried awards buzz, this one especially ran out of steam by the end, particularly when compared to how promising the first act is.

A horrifying, unexpected tragedy provides a real second act shock, but this cruel twist of fate literally and figuratively stops the movie.

The third act is ridiculous, losing all the goodwill of the buildup. I won’t describe it and spoil the surprise, but the final obstacle that our vanload of survivalists must face isn’t something you wouldn’t see in an ’80s-era Stallone or Schwarzenegger vehicle; whereas this set piece could work in a gleefully cheesy action movie, it struck me as unintendedly hilarious here.

“Sirāt” tries to incorporate elements of “The Bicycle Thief” (1948), “Sorcerer” (1977), “Groove” (2000) and others, but mostly duplicates the nonsensical arrogance and unpleasant feel of “The Bad Batch” (2016).

Actually, “The Bad Batch” at least offers the once-in-a-lifetime spectacle of having Jason Momoa, Keanu Reeves and Jim Carrey in the same movie.

Lopez, the wonderful actor and star of Dominick Moll’s 2001 masterpiece “With a Friend Like Harry…” and the villain of Guillermo del Toro’s “Pan’s Labyrinth” (2006), gives his character so much soul and lived-in realism, that he bravely carries the movie on his back for most of the way.

The visuals are cool, but I stopped caring whether the missing daughter would be found by the midpoint, let alone if anyone survives, long before explosions and a last-minute drug trip are introduced.

For all the life-or-death struggles that challenge the protagonists, “Sirāt” fails to work as well as it should, because it never overcomes how dumb these travelers are. For all the man vs. nature themes on hand, the film gets literally lost in the desert.

Two Stars

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‘Good Luck, Have Fun, Don’t Die’ Hurts Its Own Cause

Sam Rockwell stars as The Man From the Future, a bizarrely dressed homeless person who enters a diner one night, ranting about needing soldiers for a future battle and waits for recruits to step forward.

When Rockwell’s character knows the names of every diner customer, it dawns on everyone that he may not be insane.

Gore Verbinski’s “Good Luck, Have Fun, Don’t Die” is a comeback for the multifaceted filmmaker, who early works include one of the best live-action Disney comedies (“Mouse Hunt” from 1997), the best American remake of an Asian horror classic (“The Ring” from 2002) and the blockbuster “Pirates of the Caribbean” trilogy.

Most filmmakers whose formerly red-hot career was frosted by a couple of flops would pick a sure thing for a comeback vehicle. Verbinski went in the opposite direction – his latest is as amusing but hard to peg down as the title and, like his best films, likely for a cult following and not mainstream acceptance.

As inventive as this always is, not everything in the story connects. The first act, after the bravura opening in the restaurant, stops and starts and isn’t always engaging.

A subplot emerges involving the collective response to school shootings, a decidedly dark topic to emerge as fodder for satire. School shootings are referenced here as a springboard for the topic of cloning, but the bad taste remains.

“Heathers” (1989) earned the right to satirize the unthinkable occurring in high school but not this movie. Instead of coming across as bold and edgy, as intended, this portion of the movie is a what-were-they-thinking near dealbreaker for me.

The third act, full of arresting visuals and truly grand twists, finally won me over. The film, at 136 minutes and at the mercy of an anything-goes screenplay by Matthew Robinson, is always bold and totally undisciplined.

There was a simpler and far less heavy-handed way to tell this story, but Verbinksi indulges in every one of Robinson’s outsized gestures.

Verbinski’s prior film, “A Cure For Wellness” (2016), was an expensive flop that, like this one, combined genres and overextended its welcome with a running time nearing three hours. I love that film.

With “Good Luck, Have Fun, Don’t Die,” Verbinski demonstrates that his status as a visionary filmmaker who takes on difficult projects is still surmountable, but his latest works great in parts but never as a whole.

Unlike the films of Terry Gilliam, Verbinksi piles on the overkill but can’t fully engage with our emotions. Everyone onscreen is a caricature or target for broad satire – it’s like a film-length version of a fake “Saturday Night Live” commercial.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Rockwell’s central character is a lot like Perry, the homeless man suffering terrifying hallucinations in Gilliam’s “The Fisher King” (1991), but that film succeeded not only as a fantasy but as a love story, buddy comedy and contemporary retelling of Arthurian legend.

This movie seems, above everything else, determined to find a niche in the midnight movie circuit, playing in a double feature with either “Everything Everywhere All At Once” (2022) or “John Dies At The End” (2012), both of which are similarly ambitious, overloaded with crazy subplots and totally superior to this.

Whereas Gilliam’s films exude the impish glee of a youthful prankster (as much as a master of anything-goes cinema), “Good Luck, Have Fun, Don’t Die” mostly comes across like an angry rant. I share the screenwriter’s uneasy feelings regarding artificial intelligence but painting all teenagers as literal cell phone-brandishing zombie jerks is fine for a political cartoon, but, as portrayed at feature length, feels downright hostile.

In addition to AI and the contemporary public high school system, this also exudes a contempt for Gen-Y teens overall. If anyone accuses this of being an old man’s movie that expresses distrust for the generation in front of it, they’d be right.

Rockwell still possesses an ability with one-liners that makes him a highlight of any film he’s in. Verbinski and Rockwell work hard to keep us entertained, but the best scenes are surrounded by too much of everything.

Two Stars (out of four)

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‘Dead Man’s Wire’ Does ’70s Era Filmmaking Proud

Gus Van Sant’s “Dead Man’s Wire” is the true story of the “Indianapolis Hostage Crisis” that occurred in February of 1977.

Bill Skarsgård stars as Tony Kiritsis, the Indianapolis citizen who entered his bank one morning, placed a shotgun to the back of loan officer Richard O. Hall’s head and took him hostage.

A chilling detail is that Kiritsis had a wire wrapped around Hall’s neck that was attached to the trigger of his shotgun, a “dead man’s wire” to ensure that Kiritsis could pull the trigger anytime he wanted. Kiritsis exited the bank with Hall on foot, established a back-and-forth with authorities and managed to reach out to the one person he considered an ally.

That’s local DJ (Coleman Domingo) who Kiritsis had never met before.

As in “IT” (as well as the recent triumph of the HBO series “IT: Welcome to Derry”) and “Nosferatu” (2024), only his eyes give Skarsgård away and the only actor with a scarier gaze than him is Michael Shannon. This is unlike anything we’ve seen Skarsgård play before; the actor manages the impossible, as he makes Kiritsis manic, uncomfortable and, against all odds, sympathetic.

Playing Kiritsis’s hostage, Dacres Montgomery has a tough role and plays it well. Al Pacino pops up in a key supporting role, a nice nod to his starring in “Dog Day Afternoon” 50 years ago. Pacino only has three scenes, but they’re juicy and he makes an interesting vocal choice for his role.

Skarsgård dominates but Domingo, playing the DJ who Kiritsis bizarrely felt connected to, is a pro scene stealer.

While Pacino and John Cazale’s characters in “Dog Day Afternoon” were easier to root for, especially as their scenario grew more dire and out of hand, Kiritsis, as depicted here, is the kind of anti-authority oddball who you can’t help but sort-of admire, because his plan took guts to carry out.

It’s interesting to see how movies from the 1970s went from being a cluster of standout examples of cinema to an actual genre itself, as we now have ’70s-set stories being portrayed in a manner that aims to mimic the look and feel, not just of the era but of the cinema of the period.

David Fincher’s “Zodiac” (2007) remains the best of the lot, but I enjoyed this one, too.

The editing suggests the looseness of a 1970s-era film. In some scenes, still photos are interspersed with the action. A detail I can’t help but be nitpicky about: a photo shopped picture prop of Pacino’s character doesn’t convince.

Otherwise, Van Sant does an excellent job at recreating the stakes and feel of this awful incident and injects it with his wit and visual playfulness where appropriate.

“Dead Man’s Wire” is gripping and funny. While the milieu and subject matter are familiar, as nothing here matches or tops Sidney Lumet’s “Dog Day Afternoon” (1975), but at least Van Sant doesn’t play it safe. Van Sant is aiming for the rising tension and extreme mania of Lumet’s film and manages to keep things entertaining, even as we’ve seen this type of story before.

The conclusion is extremely satisfying, especially if you don’t know this real ending. Van Sant has always excelled at making films about outsiders who infiltrate the system – his “Drugstore Cowboy” (1989) and “Good Will Hunting” (1997) come to mind.

Or, his characters remain on the outskirts as rebels with a cause, such as “My Own Private Idaho” (1991), “Gerry” (2003), “To Die For” (1995) and “Milk” (2008), his best films.

Kiritsis may be unhinged and possibly crazy, but the way Skarsgård plays him suggests a bruised ego pushing against utter bureaucratic favortism.

I’m not saying I sympathize with Kiritsis and neither does the film, but Van Sant captures how feeling sorry for himself was all the push Kiritsis needed to disrupt an entire city. “Dead Man’s Wire” won’t turn Kiritsis into a folk hero any more than the media did in 1977, but it captures what it was like to be in the presence of someone so driven and dangerous.

Three Stars (out of four)

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Hollywood’s It Actor Knows ‘How to Make a Killing’

John Patton Ford’s “How to Make a Killing” begins as many crime comedies do, with an inmate awaiting execution and a witness arriving as an audience surrogate.

That lets us hear how this scoundrel confesses behind bars as to how he got to this unfortunate place.

Here, the prisoner is Becket Redfellow (Glen Powell), who is apparently incarcerated for murder. The feature-length flashback that follows shows us how Becket’s journey to oblivion couldn’t have been predicted.

To avoid spoiling anything specific, Becket immerses himself in his family history, as he is entitled to an enormous inheritance from the patriarch of the Redfellow family (Ed Harris). At first, Becket is simply trying to get to know his extended family members, who are all insanely wealthy, colorful and, on some level, rotten to the core.

The further he goes in engaging himself with the wealthy is when he decides to stop being an observer and take matters into his own hands.

Powell, whose prior film was Edgar Wright’s unloved remake of “The Running Man” (2025), is back in a darkly comic vehicle not unlike his 2023 triumph, Richard Linklater’s “Hit Man.” He also played a kind of con artist in that Netflix romp.

While Powell is not in danger of being typecast, it’s fitting that he’s so good here. Becket Redfellow is exactly the kind of juicy role that fits him, with verbal and character dynamics that suit his strengths. Ford’s witty screenplay would be impossible for any great actor to turn down, as the ensemble indicates.

The problem with “How to Make a Killing” is ultimately that it hasn’t been directed with the kind of showmanship it deserves.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Ford, whose prior work was as writer/director of the Aubrey Plaza vehicle, “Emily the Criminal” (2022), is a stronger writer than filmmaker. Some early moments have a roving camera and clever edits. The film could have used so much more of that, as the screenplay crackles, but the filmmaking is functional, and the look overall is bland.

I’m not saying this needed to be as wild as a Coen Brothers thriller to succeed, but the wild twists in the story go a long way to making this crackle more than it should.

“How to Make a Killing” is ultimately a movie of moments. Margaret Qualley’s key supporting character is more of an extended plot device than someone the narrative needed (the more I think about it, the less I believe her presence in the story and how it connects with Becket’s journey).

On the other hand, Topher Grace has a killer, single-scene cameo appearance. Zach Woods is hilarious as just one of Becket’s spoiled, empty-headed relatives, Jessica Henwick is excellent as the only kind figure in Becket’s life and Bill Camp is terrific as a Redfellow who becomes Becket’s mentor.

As expected, Harris is sensational. He’s a big reason why the third act is such a crowd-pleaser.

I liked “How to Make a Killing” a lot, laughed often and was taken aback by the growing complications of the finale. Even the ending, which doesn’t go where you think it would, is satisfying and just right.

I wish Ford had given this the kind of filmmaking finesse that made Danny DeVito’s “The War of the Roses” (1989) such a great dark comedy (in fact, one of the best). Still, as another ideal vehicle for Powell and a welcome sleeper in a season that typically doesn’t provide audiences with a real gem, it’s worth seeking out.

Three Stars (out of four)

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Why ‘Midwinter Break’ Is Unlike Most Faith-Based Films

Lesley Manville and Ciarán Hinds are so convincing as a married couple in “Midwinter Break” that you’ll swear they left the set each day holding hands.

The late-middle-aged couple in the story isn’t as cozy as we initially think. Director Polly Findlay’s film is a gentle look at a decades-old marriage in crisis, and the reasons why are both subtle and deeply ingrained.

The film demands patience, but the joy of watching two stellar performers give their all is more than enough of a reward. 

Stella and Gerry (Manville, Hinds) look like a perfectly contented couple plotting a trip to Amsterdam. They function like a well-oiled machine, aware of each other’s minor faults and foibles, but understanding it’s part of their imperfect love story.

Awww.

The trip starts well, but a trauma from Stella’s past resurfaces. No details here, but the event is tied to a spiritual promise that went unfulfilled all these years later. The trip, which started with such promise, pushes the couple to the breaking point.

Findlay spoon feeds us flashbacks to that earlier event in Stella’s life. What seems like Character Foundation 101 proves far more consequential, even life changing. That incident looms larger as the story progresses, shading Stella’s decisions and the chasm between the two.

It isn’t the only surprise in store for us. Gerry has his own baggage he lugs around the streets of Amsterdam, one camouflaged by his gregarious spirit.

Can this marriage be saved? Should it?

No one would dub “Midwinter Break” a faith-based film, at least at first blush. Religion still plays a powerful role in the story, peeking out in ways that many can understand. It could save this older couple or convince them they’re better off seeking someone new.

The screenplay treats faith with respect and reverence, adding to a sense of urgency to a story that takes all the time necessary to draw out the conflict.

That’s a kind way of saying “Midwinter Break” will test modern audiences. The revelations come at us slowly, allowing the stars to dig into their roles and the marriage in question.

Subtle. Gentle. And, ultimately, engaging.

None of this works unless the stars capture marriage in all its unflattering shades. What these screen veterans do is allow us to buy into their connection. Sure, it lacks the passion of youth, but not the endurance of time, which can be far more expressive.

Some scenes, which seem unnecessary at first blush, take on a larger meaning in the third act. Your patience will be rewarded, and heartstrings will be tugged in unexpected ways.

The cinematography is never flashy, but it’s lush enough to convey both the Amsterdam scenery and the beauty of everyday life. This love story is complicated, layered, and longtime couples will see those minor tells and bond with the material.

It’s unavoidable.

Others will relish the poignancy of marriage and the joy of watching two stars performing at the peak of their powers.

HiT or Miss: “Midwinter Break” is quiet and pensive, a marital X-ray with a powerful dose of faith.

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‘I Can Only Imagine 2’ Debunks Our Worst Expectations

Some films may be hits, but the very notion of a sequel seems bizarre, or even desperate.

At first blush, another “I Can Only Imagine” film fits in that category. The 2018 drama made serious cash for Lionsgate, but the tale of a son coming to grips with his difficult childhood and the dawn of his music career seemed like the ultimate one-and-done story.

Not so fast.

“I Can Only Imagine 2” expands on Bart Millard’s story, digging deeper into that father-son dynamic to include his troubled teen. Plus, a key musician in MercyMe’s orbit brings something fresh and haunting to a franchise that we didn’t know we needed.

Looks, as always, can deceive.

Bart (John Michael Finley) appears to have it all as the sequel opens. Music career? Check? Lovely, loyal wife (Sophie Skelton)? You betcha? Adorable kids? Yeah … hey, where’s the dramatic tension?

Try a musical dry spell, a shrinking fan base and a blockbuster single (the film’s title) that’s gathering dust. Plus, Bart’s teen son Sam (Sammy Dell) comes down with a chronic illness that upends everything the family has established.

And there’s more heartache on the horizon. It takes a while for the latter to bubble up, and at times we wonder if there’s enough conflict to sustain a sequel.

Directors Andrew Erwin and Brent McCorkle once again prove modestly budgeted faith-based stories can look world class and deliver acting that matters. Finley didn’t break out as a film star following the first “Imagine,” but once again, he’s relatable and dutifully tortured.

Country star Trace Adkins lends his grumbly baritone as the band’s no-nonsense manager. And young Dell is surprisingly effective, not just as a wannabe musician but a teen torn between adolescent angst and a fractured love of family.

Some faith-based story tics may make some groan – one bucket-list item is mentioned early in the film and comes to pass later, for example. And watching Bart stare at a mostly blank notepad while trying to come up with another hit song is equally bland.

Still, the insider’s glimpse of life on the road is intriguing and the addition of a key character sells the sequel, full stop.

That’s Milo Ventimiglia as Tim Timmons, another key part of the MercyMe saga. He plays the band’s opening act, a quirky soul who makes Bart’s life more complicated. Tim is the very opposite of a pop star, and Ventimiglia plays him like an eccentric you might keep at a distance.

Sure, he means well, but …

It’s either a defensive mechanism or a sign that not all musicians are ripped from Central Casting. Either way, the actor’s performance is both peculiar and vital to disproving a cynical theory behind the film’s existence.

One downside?

The sequel feels like it has two focal points, given Ventimiglia’s dominating turn. It’s easy to see the sequel transformed into a limited series, where that kind of imbalance would be easier to digest.

Fathers will especially connect with the themes in play, and the brief return of Dennis Quaid as Bart’s supremely flawed father pays off handsomely.

Redemption. A concert sequence at Colorado’s famed Red Rocks Amphitheatre. And a real-life story that continues to inspire.

Yeah, we’re on board with a second helping of “Imagine.”

HiT or Miss: “I Can Only Imagine 2” shakes free from most sequel skepticism by digging deeper into key father-son dynamics.

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