There’s plenty to spoof about horror movies.

The dumb decisions. The endless tropes. The heroes who leave the almost-dead killer breathing to slay again.

Been there, “Scream’d” that.

“Heart Eyes” isn’t content to mock just one genre. It takes aim at rom-coms, too, delivering a dual-edge spoof that will make you jump out or your seat.

How efficient. How entertaining.

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The Heart Eyes killer (or HEK) has turned Valentine’s Day into a white-knuckled affair. The fiend moves from city to city, slashing love birds every Feb. 14.

That hardly applies to Ally (Olivia Holt). She’s still nursing wounds from a recent breakup and has soured on Valentine’s Day. She has a proto-typical Meet Cute moment with a handsome stranger named Jay (Mason Gooding), who ends up being her fierce competitor at work.

Coincidence? Yeah, and that’s the point. “Heart Eyes” mocks movie cliches across genres but saves its best shots for horror and rom-coms.

Turns out Heart Eyes is stalking Ally’s neighborhood, and a fake kiss leads the fiend in her direction.

“Heart Eyes” opens with a hilarious pair of kills. Sure, it’s grisly, but it’s deliciously funny, too. We’re off to a strong start, and director Josh Ruben is just getting started.

We’re soon introduced to Ally’s best pal (Gigi Zumbado) who swipes a few scenes. Fellow scene-stealer Michaela Watkins takes a few more as Ally’s silver-maned boss.

Both actresses get killer lines and swat them out of the park.

There’s still a killer afoot, and Ruben makes the stalking scenes crackle with danger. One set piece, set in Ally’s home, yields a clutch-your-armrest squeal.

 

 
 
 
 
 
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Both Holt and Gooding are appealing and grounded, dabbling in dating woes between fleeing for their lives. The laugh quotient is remarkably high for much of the story, although the third act puts the emphasis on horror.

It’s always funny when the pair stops everything to work through their feelings. Hey, Heart Eyes killer, you’ll have to wait for us to sort things out.

Thanks, Mmkay!

The subtle nods to the “Scream” franchise help and hurt the movie. A third-act confrontation should have gotten a hearty edit and echo the worst parts of that Wes Craven-spawned franchise.

It’s hard to hold anything against “Heart Eyes.” The musical choices rock, the script is wise and witty and even the weaker jokes bring a smile.

Naming the cops investigating the murder spree “Hobbs” and “Shaw” (Devon Sawa, Jordana Brewster) is Exhibit A. Groan all you want. The film’s giddy tone makes it click.

It’s hard to keep up the film’s dizzying pace at times, something rarely said about most films today. There’s enough creative spark to spread across a trio of films.

When was the last time a horror-comedy hybrid over-delivered as much as “Heart Eyes?” Darned if we can remember.

HiT or Miss: “Heart Eyes” is the laugh-out-loud horror comedy we needed.

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The heartland doesn’t get much love on the big screen.

The vast region isn’t slick or sassy, irreverent or cutting edge. It speaks to simple truths, the kind that give modern storytellers fits.

Go too soft, and it’s Hallmark-lite. Push too hard, and it’s a lecture from Red State USA.

“Green and Gold” threads that cultural needle. It’s inspired by true events but brims with the details that make the best stories pop. It’s also a unicorn in the pop culture landscape, a story with no easy answers or pat solutions.

And it features a pair of powerful performances from unexpected places.

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Craig T. Nelson stars as Buck, a cranky soul who refuses to adapt to modern farming practices. He works on instinct, not science. And he’s about to lose his Wisconsin dairy farm, likely for some of those reasons.

His headstrong granddaughter (Madison Lawlor) has had enough of his old-school approach. She’s an aspiring singer and pines for a life away from musty barns and birthing calves.

It’s hard to blame her.

She reconsiders when a callous banker (is there any other kind in films?) plans to take over the family farm. She’s torn between finding a new way forward and saving the farm at any cost.

The beloved Green Bay Packers could be the answer to the family’s prayers via a most unconventional bet. Can they pull off a gridiron miracle in time?

Add rising singer/songwriter (Brandon Sklenar) who could give Jenny’s career the boost it needs. But at what cost?

“Green and Gold” wouldn’t work without its commanding lead performances. Nelson refuses to soften Buck’s crusty exterior. He’s impatient and stubborn, and it isn’t framed in a cutesy fashion.

He can be a jerk.

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Buck’s relationship with Jenny plays out as organically as his farming methods. The actors find many truthful moments together, some told with just a glance. That rhythm powers the film’s critical mid-section.

The film’s finale finds some unexpected wrinkles, even if it rolls out more rushed than needed.

“Green and Gold” feels authentic and lived in. The characters aren’t exaggerated or wallowing in rural cliches. The sights and sounds ring true, as do the supporting players who flesh out the story.

The great character actor M. Emmett Walsh gives his final performance here, and he delivers a few grace notes just when the story needs them.

It’s what he did for decades.

Some of the plot developments smack of Hollywood formula, from an out-of-the-blue assault to a character falling ill at the most convenient time, at least for dramatic purposes. Still, the film’s gritty nature makes these moments register.

It’s a film with dirt under its fingernails, and it shows.

“Green and Gold” is unfussy and raw, and it wouldn’t be the same without Nelson and Lawlor leading the way.

HiT or Miss: “Green and Gold” falls for a few formulaic tics, but it’s a sweet and sincere drama with some narrative surprises up its sleeve.

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The creative team behind the “Dog Man” series knew they’d stare down an angry pre-teen mob if they tinkered with their furry hero.

Dav Pilkey’s creation helped many kiddos fall in love with reading.

That means then “Dog Man” movie channels the books’ look, feel and temperament as well as any film might. The adaptation skimps heavily on plot, a point likely lost on youngsters. Their parents and guardians will laugh far more than they expect.

And, if you have to ask, “why,” you haven’t cracked a “Dog Man” adventure yourself.

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“Dog Man” starts with a brief origin story. A cop and his best canine friend suffer severe injuries in an explosion. Doctors must salvage what they can from their damaged bodies.

Voila, Dog Man is born!

Yes, it’s a bit gross, but let’s not dwell on the “RoboCop” comparisons. 

We soon learn that Dog Man’s police work is the talk of the town, and that draws the ire of the city’s chief villain, Petey the Cat. He’s voiced in underwhelming fashion by Pete Davidson (does he have any other mode?).

What a missed opportunity for a lip-smacking turn from a fellow A-lister.

Petey is Lex Luthor to Dog Man’s Superman, and we’ve just shared most, if not all of the plot. Dog Man spends his screen trying to corral Petey, whose ability to break out of prison is crucial to the barely-there story.

Add Petey’s clone, an adorable cat named Li’l Petey (Lucas Hopkins) who steals every scene with his cute voice and soulful demeanor. Awwww.

We’re also introduced to Flippy (Ricky Gervais), a fish-like creature who factors into the film’s frantic third act.

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“Dog Man” boasts a palette and style that brings the books’ to glorious life. The effect is impressive and never distracting, at times akin to a Claymation affair. That style meshes with the film’s unabashed anarchy. It’s smart and silly, sometimes doubling or tripling down on the latter.

Nothing is meant to be taken seriously, but writer/director Peter Hastings serves up a surprising number of laugh-out-loud moments for young and old.

It’s family friendly, too, despite an edge that suggests it might veer into PG:13 territory. Nothing doing.

We do get one quick fart-like gag and a vehicle dubbed the “butt sniffer,” but that’s as far as the outrage goes. The rest is clean and easily digested.

Too bad that third act lacks anything resembling focus. It’s a battle royale that doesn’t know when to quit. This is “Dog Man,” people, not the next “Avengers” saga.

FAST FACT: Dav Pilkey was diagnosed with ADHD and dyslexia as a child. Undetterred, he grew up to become a best-selling author. His “Dog Man” series has more than 40 million copies in print.

Lil Rel Howery delivers the best performance as Chief, Dog Man’s exasperated boss. Chief’s flirtation with the local news reporter (Isla Fisher) is so delicately teased it could have been left behind entirely. Lean in, and maybe we’d have a subplot to break up the comic chaos.

Gervias is fine as Flippy but given his comic genius you hoped he’d make the role his own in the Robin Williams mold. Then again, what could anyone do with a semi-mechanical fish with supernatural powers? It’s a tough sell, no matter how you slice it.

Not so with “Dog Man,” a romp through Pilkey’s imaginative hero that should please loyal readers and their patient parents.

HiT or Miss: “Dog Man” faithfully brings the silly superhero of sorts to the big screen, along with its crude character design and lite ambitions.

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Wedding planners know all the best decisions in the world aren’t always enough.

Planning matters, of course, but life sometimes gets in the way. “You’re Cordially Invited” echoes that hard truth.

The creator of “Forgetting Sarah Marshall” assembles a killer cast, from charming leads to scene-stealing sidekicks, and sets them against a can’t-miss premise. What if a wedding destination double-booked the big day?

And, for a spell, the Prime Video original doesn’t miss. There’s still plenty of story to be told, and writer/director Nicholas Stoller (“Bros“) shows his planning came up woefully short.

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Will Ferrell stars as Jim, a widower trying to give his now-adult daughter Jenni (a grating Geraldine Viswanathan, “Drive-Away Dolls”) the wedding of her dreams. His plan backfires when the island retreat fails to mark his reservation down on the calendar (don’t ask…).

Another wedding party snags the same date.

That’s led by Reese Witherspoon’s Margot, a hard-charging TV producer who wants her kid sister to have her own dream wedding.

The parties quickly resolve the conflict. They’ll split the island’s resources and make the best of a sorry situation. Problem solved, but that wouldn’t yield wacky high jinks, would it?

Tensions flare. Jim’s overprotective ways get the better of him. The canvas expands to include Margot’s family, including a stern matriarch (Celia Weston) and a horny relative (a fitfully funny Leanne Morgan).

So far, so engaging. We don’t quite know where the plot will go, but we’ll happily hang around these characters until we find out.

Turns out even Stoller isn’t sure where to steer the story.

“You’re Cordially Invited” leans into cringe comedy one moment, then heart-tugging asides the next. The script is littered with profanity but lacks the giddy chaos of the best R-rated comedies.

Weston’s character is the embodiment of Southern hospitality at its worst.

At first. The script can’t make up its mind about her. The same is true for our main characters.

Jim is sweet and then vindictive, and the personality shifts don’t gel. Jenni is worse, dressing down Daddy for using the wrong term for a woman. Who knew “Lady” was so offensive?

That woke rant stops the film cold. Exhausting.

The film’s tone keeps on shifting, and the modest laughs soon dry up. 

Comedies rarely draw attention to their scores, but “You’re Cordially Invited” makes the very most of its musical accompaniment. It’s beautiful, then bombastic, goosing the better comic scenes and papering over the worst.

Can’t blame composer Michael Andrews for the film’s flaws. We still could use less of strained comic bits like the Jim/Jenni “Islands in the Stream” duet.

 

 
 
 
 
 
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The third act features a romance that literally comes out of the blue, makes no sense and feels like a sop to the laziest rom-com tropes. And the film’s signature sight gag, Jim wrestling an alligator, is so aggressively dumb that it undercuts any comic potential.

The end credits find Ferrell and Witherspoon singing, flirting and dancing in ways that make us wish the clips made it into the actual film.

We’d love an invite to that comedy, not the one preceding it.

HiT or Miss: “You’re Cordially Invited” starts with promise but ends up squandering the talents of all involved.

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Inspirational teacher stories never get old.

They still can be cloying, predictable or downright manipulative. The fact-based “Brave the Dark” dodges those pitfalls, mostly thanks to its leading men.

Character actor Jared Harris hits all the right notes as the teacher in question. Young Nicholas Hamilton does the same as the tortured teen, balancing an inner rage with the potential looming just out of reach.

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Young Nate Williams (Hamilton) is your prototypical ’80s jock. He’s got the pretty gal on his arm, plenty of unearned attitude and a wobbly moral compass.

He makes it hard for anyone, including the audience, to root for him. One of his school’s teachers, a hopelessly square soul dubbed Mr. D (Harris), sees beyond Nate’s surface.

It’s what Stan Deen does, and it’s why he’s an institution in his Pennsylvania community. A gentle running joke has him being recognized wherever he goes.

Ah, small town life!

Nate’s personal life explains, in part, why he’s a train wreck. His mother died when he was a child, and his grandparents offered little in the way of warmth or love. Heck, they couldn’t wait to cut ties with him.

It’ll take everything in Stan’s heart to turn this lad’s life around, assuming he’s capable of ever doing just that.

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Hamilton, who conveys a young Kevin Bacon, delivers in unexpected ways. He’s never a monster, but every time an opportunity arises he can’t wait to swat it away. The actor makes each side of Nate’s character credible.

Stan isn’t ready to give up on him, though. He’s just as stubborn in his own way.

“Brave the Dark” isn’t revelatory about the power of redemption or the challenges met along the way. It’s a sturdy tale that speaks to our better angels. And that’s more than enough.

Stan seems almost too good to be true, but Harris gives him a sadness just below the surface. Stan cared for his sickly ma for years, and that effort took its toll. He’s self aware enough to accept the love of his students while realizing they think he’s hopelessly square.

And he is.

Harris’ performance is a thing of quiet beauty, full of gentle asides that enhance the screenplay. Stan is learning on the fly how to care for a deeply disturbed teenager, a journey that gives the film its dramatic heft.

FAST FACT: The real Nate Deen, who co-wrote the screenplay, says Harris wore some of the real Stan Deen’s ties and glasses in the film.

Harris consistently delivers on screen, but he had an extra incentive for “Brave the Dark.” The film’s director and co-writer is Damian Harris, the veteran actor’s younger brother. Another sibling, Jamie Harris, also appears as Nate’s probation officer.

Nate’s arc isn’t neat and tidy, nor do we get speeches about Life Lessons or A Greater Purpose. The Angel Studios production is light on the spiritual realm.

That screenplay shares glimpses of Nate’s horrific past, waiting until just the right moment for the full reveal. That may seem manipulative on the surface but it plays out powerfully on screen. We’d still love to see more of Stan’s past, and his bond with a fellow teacher feels undernourished.

Nate questions Stan about his endless supply of support. It’s a question that lingers over the film, and at times it feels like it deserves a richer exploration.

That might be our inner cynic talking. Sometimes good people are just … good. The true-life tale of Stan and Nate offers one such example, and the film capturing their bond proves worthy of it.

HiT or Miss: “Brave the Dark” offers an absorbing look at a young man on the brink of disaster.

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We’ve tried cremes, powders and ointments, but we can’t get wolf men out of our hair.

Everyone from Jack Nicholson to Benicio del Toro have taken a crack at the classic monster, so an update was inevitable. It’s what Hollywood does.

Reboot, Rinse, Repeat.

“Wolf Man” understands that on an elemental level. It’s time for something different, to shake the character like an Etch-A-Sketch and deliver a fresh take on the classic monster.

“Wolf Man” succeeds before it fails.

The Blumhouse original isn’t eager to clone past efforts, but its attempt to reframe the saga comes up short when its imagination runs dry.

Powder-keg dry.

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Christopher Abbott stars as Blake, a dedicated father caring for his young daughter at all costs. It’s what his pappy taught him, and his passion for the task has left him conflicted.

It’s one of many intriguing angles introduced and later ignored. Even the film’s opening text crawl does the heavy lifting when the subsequent events should matter more.

Blake decides to take his wife and daughter back to his old home in the woods. He hopes the family can reboot in a rural environment, and he can rededicate himself to his wife, Charlotte (Julia Garner).

Their rental truck crashes along the way, depositing them near the family home but stranded in the wild. It’s where they first catch a glimpse of a man-like beast stalking the grounds.

Now, it’s survival time.

“Wolf Man’s” prologue is perfectly creepy. We see a young Blake tutored in hunting 101 by his dad, but the sequence builds to a terrifying encounter on a duck blind.

Director/co-writer Leigh Wannell (“Saw”) knows horror better than most of his peers, and he proves it during the opening scenes. He can’t maintain that intensity.

His superior “Invisible Man” reboot had better thrills, richer characters and more intriguing developments. “Wolf Man” shrinks as the story hurtles toward its busy conclusion.

 

 
 
 
 
 
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“Wolf Man” feels like an indie film you might stumble onto via streaming. The film’s focus stays mostly on the rural home in the woods, and the time span is mere hours in length. That’s a claustrophobic framing that could work to the film’s advantage had the story offered depth, nasty twists or better dialogue. 

That’s a hearty “no” on all counts.

The friction teased in the first act never materializes. The story takes sizable liberties with wolf man movie lore, which is fine assuming they’ve replaced it with something substantial. Not even close.

The “wolf man” vision gimmick adds little to the film, nor does it goose tension. It’s still better than the “new” wolf man look introduced by the film. “Wolf Man’s’ FX team strain to deviate from past creatures, but the results are dispiriting to say the least.

It looks like a deformed man with oozing skin sores, not a wolf-like threat.

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Garner proved her worth in “Ozark,” but she’s been struggling to find work that mirrors that show’s intensity. Here, she’s given so little to do any competent actress could have nailed the part.

She’s far above “competent.”

Abbott captures Blake’s haunted past and wobbly present, but his character’s arc proves too restrictive to matter. Infection has its limitations.

“Wolf Man” runs out of creative steam half way through, leaving us with competently arranged action scenes and family strife, but there’s no emotional payoff to be savored.

The best wolf features end on a melancholy note. Here, the story just … ends.

Maybe it’s time for a reboot of the reboot.

HiT or Miss: “Wolf Man” starts strong and offers an original take on a shopworn character, but the film has little to do or say in its second half.

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Critics of “gender-affirming care” have no voice in pop culture. Nor do detransitioners, those who underwent the gender-reassignment surgery but regret it.

“Identity Crisis” changes that.

The documentary, a joint effort between Turning Point USA and DailyWire+, questions the progressive narratives around trans youth. What emerges is a shocking account of medical misdirection, social programming and children caught in the crossfire.

It’s as one-sided as a Michael Moore documentary, but its power is in voices too often ignored.

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Meet Adam Vena. He’s a father who “lost” his son at the age of 2. The child is being transitioned to a girl by his ex-partner. There’s nothing he can do about it. He can’t even see his child, and it’s killing him.

The law stands against him. So does much of the culture.

“All I wanna do is hold my son.”

Adam’s story is the heart of “Identity Crisis,” putting a face on the struggles faced by parents who don’t agree with gender-affirming treatment. That some cases involve shockingly young children is one of many alarming elements shared in the documentary.

  • Why is this happening?
  • How do doctors financially benefit from creating life-long patients?
  • And why do detransitioners say they receive lesser care than their pre-transition selves?

The documentary drills down on these core issues. We see a rush to judgment combined with social media engineering on a grand scale. The current battle over TikTok’s future comes into sharp focus.

What are our kids watching?

Meanwhile, the detransition movement can’t be heard through the media din. Or are they being purposely ignored?

Those voices speak in “Identity Crisis,” and what they say is heartbreaking. Take Laura Becker. She transitioned in her teens and deeply regrets it. Her pain is palpable. 

“We are the canary in the coal mine,” she warns.

The film’s most intriguing voice belongs to Buck Angel. He’s a trans man and former porn star who speaks out against gender-affirming care for children. For some, his appearance cuts the “bigotry” argument off at the knees.

“Identity Crisis” could be a bit more wonky. Some segments are powered by media personalities like Chaya Raichik (Libs of TikTok) when we want more doctors, and more hard research.

It’s possible experts flinched at appearing in the film, chilling context behind this project. Merely disagreeing with the Left’s trans youth narrative invites trouble, be it professional or personal.

Just ask J.K. Rowling.

The pop culture component in “Identity Crisis” still matters. Consider James Lindsay, author and critic who has been tracking this movement for some time and offers cogent analysis. He’s not a medical doctor, but his observations leave a mark.

Trigger warnings greet scenes showing how teens are physically transitioned to the opposite sex. These warnings are typically unnecessary, punitive or downright silly.

Not here.

The surgical images are hard to watch and, sadly, necessary. We can’t turn away. Nor should we.

“Identity Crisis” works best as a cry for more debate on a subject that impacts the lives of our children. That we needed a documentary to have those voices heard is a sorry statement all its own.

HiT or Miss: “Identity Crisis” lets gender-affirming care critics speak at long last. Their voices deserve to be heard.

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Paul Schrader’s “Oh, Canada” is a morose, strange and only partially engaging drama that represents a rare misstep in the prolific filmmaker’s career.

While Schrader’s films can be hit or miss, he’s been on a roll, with the success of his wild, provocative “First Reformed” and the surprisingly potent “The Card Dealer.”

With Schrader, you always wait to be hit with an ice-cold plot twist that sends his characters tumbling down the rabbit hole. As a prolific film artist, Schrader’s best films are classics and his worst films are, nevertheless, fascinating and full of intriguing elements.

Now in his late 70s and still making movies that generate shock and fascinating discussions, it’s impossible for me to count Schrader out, even when he makes something like “Oh, Canada.”

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Richard Gere stars as Leo Fife, an elderly, celebrated filmmaker who agrees to an extensive interview for a documentary on his life. Michael Imperioli plays the documentary’s director, while Uma Thurman co-stars as Fife’s wife, who sits at his side.

As extensive flashbacks take up the majority of the running time, Gere’s character is also played by Jacob Elordi (a good choice to portray a youthful Leo). We see that in his younger days, Fife was a draft dodger who created a whole new life for himself in another country.

That’s about it for the plot.

There’s a brief montage of the movies Fife made but otherwise, we’re drifting through the mental mists of Fife’s ailing psyche. Schrader has made many films that are disturbing and confrontational but never this dull.

A bizarre touch is how, in addition to Elordi and Gere playing the same character at varying times of his life, sometimes the flashback will begin with Elordi, then switch to Gere playing the part and taking over the scene and vice versa.

Likewise, Thurman sometimes plays her younger self against Elordi as Fife’s younger self. There are two practical reasons why Schrader decided to do this: it conveys how we view the past, despite what age we are presently and immerse ourselves in our fading memories.

Also, it’s a way to keep Gere in the movie, as he would otherwise be confined to a wheelchair and only doing scenes where he appears haggard and struggling to recall his life. Either way, seeing Gere in bed with a much younger actress playing the younger version of his wife, or Thurman sharing an erotic moment with Elordi, is just bizarre.

It reminds me of Todd Solondz’ bizarre experimental film “Palindromes” (2004), where the main character was played by a shifting collection of actors. Here, it’s meant to be provocative and connect with the ageless quality of our memories, but the efforts result in a creative misstep. Nevertheless, it’s also the only truly daring thing about the film.

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Gere is very good at playing an accomplished artist who, at the end of his life, reflects on his regrets and mistakes. Yet, since the focus fades from him to Elordi and back again without much sustained interest, the whole thing feels random and detached.

Elordi continues to be a captivating actor and “Oh, Canada” is beautifully shot. I liked how the film stock establishes the shifting eras and realities, and the sets and period details are vivid. Yet, I kept waiting for Schrader to really unleash something shocking and it never happens.

Actually, not much happens in “Oh, Canada.”

Schrader’s best films, which are unmissable, include “Blue Collar” (1978), “Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters” (1985), “The Comfort of Strangers” (1990) and “Adam Resurrected” (2008). In addition to his acclaimed screenplays for Martin Scorsese, Schrader consistently crafts original works that explore matters of faith, identity and the human psyche.

His films are meditations on loss, destiny and fractured identity. I was excited to see Gere and Thurman (reunited for the first time since the 1992 thriller “Final Analysis”) and what they’d bring to a Schrader film but their efforts are wasted in one of the few Schrader films I’d hesitate to call compelling.

Two Stars

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Some casting decisions seem almost too perfect.

Hiring former “Baywatch” beauty Pamela Anderson to play an aging showgirl clinging to her sex appeal certainly applies.

Anderson, 57, no longer rules pop culture with her celebrated curves. She’s reinventing herself on her terms, with the upcoming “Naked Gun” remake to this inspired, slice-of-life drama.

“Showgirl” can be hard to watch, what with its blue-collar indignities and the pain of an estranged child. Anderson brings something personal to the story, holding her head high through a series of obstacles that might bring down a lesser soul.

She’s earned this redemption story.

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Anderson plays Shelly, a showgirl whose long-running production is on its last legs. It’s a museum piece of sorts, a kitschy collage of beautiful women and lackluster choreography. The show is aimed at bored tourists and lonely men, and in an age of Internet porn it barely draws a crowd.

The gig is all Shelly has known for years, putting a modest roof over her head and allowing her to raise now-adult daughter Hannah (Billie Lourd). She’s proud of the show and her career, but not everyone agrees.

Especially Hannah.

At least Shelly has Annette (Jamie Lee Curtis, terrific) in her corner. She’s a fellow survivor squeaking out a living at a nearby casino. It’s humiliating work, serving drinks in an outfit better suited for a 20-something figure.

It’s a living, but barely. Sometimes it’s not even that.

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“The Last Showgirl” has plenty to say, saluting the hustle of these hard-working women in an industry that recoils at the aging process. It reveals cultural cruelties and the benefits from traditional beauty standards.

Shelly wasn’t raising hell against the system when she benefited from it, something implied but never stated.

Director Gia Coppola isn’t raising a fist against reality. She’s documenting it for our inspection. It’s heartbreaking from start to finish, including Shelly’s complicated ties to her former lover (Dave Bautista, proving anew how grounded he can be away from his fellow “Guardians”).

He seems like the answer to some of Shelly’s prayers, but their tortured history keeps getting in the way. Bautista may be a hulking screen presence, but there’s something tender about him that makes the performance stick.

Shelly’s lack of awareness can be galling, but making her perfect wouldn’t serve the character or the story. Her willingness to push past a younger colleague (Kiernan Shipka) in a time of need is a brutal scene that other filmmakers might have pulled their punches on.

Not here, and the story is all the better for it.

“The Last Showgirl” is too smart to add a “yasss, queen” third act, unlike the overrated “Babygirl” with Nicole Kidman.

Instead, it’s a series of body blows and uppercuts, and we wonder if Shelly can leave the film still standing. Anderson, while still no A-list talent, proves she deserves meatier fare moving forward.

“The Last Showgirl” all but shouts it.

HiT or Miss: “The Last Showgirl” offers a grim look at beauty, aging and the realities of a life staring down Father Time.

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Gia Coppola’s “The Last Showgirl” is a tribute to old Las Vegasentertainers who made a living as the top-billed acts, their names shining in neon.

Specifically, it’s Las Vegas post-Benjamin Siegal, during the Wayne Newton/Tom Jones era. Pop stars singing oldies in a shiny suit, surrounded by dancers adorning glitter and feathers (for starters) and pushing the envelope of grown-up entertainment were the big acts of their day.

Of course, an aspect of this has survived, though much of today’s Vegas entertainment offerings are larger-than-life events (Cirque Du Solei! Celine Dion! That giant orb!!), less the kind of sleazy stage show attended by gangsters.

This distinction between vintage and new Vegas is made early in Coppola’s film, in which one of those creaky old acts, ostensibly a show with erotic dancing and peek-a-boo nudity, is about to close.

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The cast of the long-in-the-tooth production are mortified, from the behind-the-scenes showrunner (Dave Bautista), Annette, the seen-it-all former big deal dancer (Jamie Lee Curtis), a variety of young talents who know the show is a dead end and the dancer who remained the face of the show and treats it as her shining showcase.

This character is Shelly, played by Pamela Anderson.

The former “Baywatch” star’s leading turn is the prime reason why Coppola’s likable but slight drama is getting an awards-season push. Anderson may relate to Shelly’s being used for her looks and becoming popular for her sexuality, as well as the way women in the entertainment industry are largely treated.

Yet – and I don’t mean to be unkind but I’m not going to sugarcoat it – Anderson may feel this character deeply but that doesn’t mean she should or could play it. To be even more blunt: Anderson has moments here that reveal a willingness to be vulnerable and stretch, but she’s still not an actress.

I wanted to root for Anderson and her highly-touted comeback, but she can’t carry this. The good news is that she’s surrounded by co-stars who can.

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Curtis is excellent, which is no surprise at this point. Billie Lourd is wonderful at evoking the lifetime of disappointment, bitterness and fading hope of Shelly’s daughter. Their scenes together are some of Anderson’s and the film’s best.

“The Last Showgirl” gives us yet another soulful, surprising character turn from Bautista. Co-star Kiernan Shipka has some of the best moments as a member of the troupe. As for Anderson, she has some effective moments here but also some embarrassing ones.

This oddly feels like a part of a new film subgenre, starting with “The Wrestler” (2009) and “The Whale” (2023). The projects star former movie stars cast as washouts in unflattering close-ups. The main characters have angry, disappointed daughters, suffer at least one public humiliation, attempt to regain their former selves and past glories and reflect on the self-destructive journeys that led them to their present misery.

“The Last Showgirl” is a more upbeat film than the prior two but, even with stellar co-stars, it stalls.

The notion of Las Vegas getting rid of dated shows but still maintaining its tackiness is worth exploring. So is the definition of fame that a showgirl would feel by having her face on a flyer for 30 years.

Weird but true: the similar “Dancing at the Blue Iguana” (2000) is a superior work but so is, in its own way, “Showgirls” (1995). The latter, in addition to oodles of camp value, is also ruthless in its depiction of the life of a Las Vegas dancer.

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The moments Anderson shares with Lourd demonstrate that she’s willing to take a chance. Anderson’s performance in this isn’t on par with Mae West’s mega-embarrassment, “Sextette” (1978) but declaring this as her arrival as an actress is just hype.

I hope Anderson stays in the indie world and seeks out more roles that resonate with her.

Anderson’s prior film roles often used her as a punchline. Her next big film is co-starring with Liam Neeson in a remake of “The Naked Gun.” I’m unsure if that will be an easy pick for the worst movie of 2025 or if the movie and Anderson can surprise us.

For now, I can halfheartedly recommend “The Last Showgirl,” and close with admitting that, for me, the biggest surprise of the film isn’t that the former “Barb Wire” (1996) star is attempting to stretch in a drama, but that I spent most of this review considering the film work of Pamela Anderson.

Perhaps that’s something. Maybe she will, indeed, surprise us. For now, there’s “The Last Showgirl.”

Two and a Half Stars

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Former and future First Lady Melania Trump remains a mystery for many Americans.

The ex-model has kept a relatively low profile, for starters. It doesn’t help that women’s magazines refused to profile her during her husband’s first four years in office. Expect the same media blackout during his next presidential term.

Even her memoir kept many personal details out of reach.

This explains why Amazon announced an official documentary focusing on Melania Trump. Directed by canceled filmmaker Brett Rather, the untitled film should hit theaters in the second half of the year, according to press reports.

It’s not the first documentary on the subject, though.

The 2020 film “Looking for Melania Trump” peers behind her pristine public face. On paper, at least. In reality, the documentary reveals more about the filmmakers and their embarrassing dearth of research.

The film is available for Prime Video subscribers and via YouTube at the Hipstr channel.

Paper thin barely describes a film that limps to near, but not past, the hour-long mark. Filler abounds, and for every objective observation, there are dozens that are either cruel or petty.

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The journey starts in Slovenia, Melania Trump’s homeland. We spend little time here, quickly moving to New York where the young model found some success.

How much? The documentary doesn’t sweat such details. Go Google it, perhaps?

We get endless talk of beautiful women and the cynical nature of modeling, a revelation that’s on par with the sun coming up every morning.

We’re told Melania Trump disappeared for three years, with the narrator musing where she could have went. Yes, Russia is an imagined destination.

Of course.

The former model “gradually becomes the perfect trophy wife,” we’re told, part of the film’s endless commentary based on file footage and grievances.

Interviews are sparse. We briefly meet an old boyfriend, a real estate agent who works the Palm Beach region and a photographer who dubs the young Melania programmed and purposeful.

Later, we get a protracted profile of The Trumpettes, MAGA super fans who adore all things Trump.

Like the First Lady.

RELATED: JEFFERIES TRASHES MELANIA TRUMP ‘WOODEN, DIRTY’

Director Laura Haim insinuates this is Melania Trump’s fate, to be old and rattling around tacky Florida parties once Donald Trump has left this mortal coil.

The real Melania Trump may, indeed, be an empty-ish vessel. Or, she’s more wise and winning than anyone expects. The film doesn’t come close to solving its central mystery.

Instead, we meet a 40-something woman who embraces plastic surgery to look more like Melania Trump. Stop, please! We’re learning way too much.

The few interesting moments come when the filmmakers ask Trump supporters why they embrace the future First Lady. These voters-to-be project plenty upon her.

Graceful. Elegant. Kind. Patient.

It’s all true, to some extent, but it’s more wish casting than anything else.

RELATED: KIMMEL, BORAT SEXUALIZE MELANIA TRUMP

The tone here is oddly respectful, even if the narration rarely is. An out-of-left-field segue involving former State Rep. Christina Hagan, allegedly inspired by Melania Trump’s impact on the GOP is sympathetic at times.

It might have worked better if “Looking” had leaned into its tawdry premise. Go big or go home. Ask Michael Moore how that works.

Ka-ching!

Instead, the staid presentation clashes with the uppercuts in motion.

The film hyper-focuses on minor moments in the first Trump term, like the First Lady brushing her husband’s hand away at a public event and a jacket that put the far-Left media in its place.

Scandals, all. At least, according to the narration.

The funniest commentary comes from a reporter from the far-Left Daily Beast. The journalist reads exactly what you expect her to read into both the First Lady and women in the GOP circle. Does anyone have a grain of salt?

The indie film’s production values aren’t slipshod. The musical choices are similarly engaging, even playful at times. This doesn’t look like a rush job, even though the lack of details is jarring.

You may know less about the First Lady after watching “Looking for Melania Trump.”

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Nick Park and Merlin Crossingham’s “Wallace and Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl” is the second “Wallace and Gromit” movie from Aardman Animations, the brilliant factory that creates wonderful comedies by utilizing stop-motion, clay-animated figures.

The other distringuishing feature of Aardman Animations is that they’re absolutely hilarious.

I knew their new movie was off to a great start when it introduces its mega-villain, Feathers McGraw, by doing a parody of the prison scenes from Martin Scorsese’ “Cape Fear” (1991). Any children’s film that manages to justify a Scorsese spoof is fine with me.

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The story opens with McGraw’s twisted incarceration (it’s more than just a prison sentence), the result of him being thwarted by the kindly inventor Wallace and his silent but keen canine Gromit. While McGraw plots his revenge behind bars, a strange new development enters Wallace and Gromit’s home: a robot garden gnome named Norbot, who aides in household chores and garden pruning.

Gromit quickly realizes that Norbot is trouble, while Wallace is grateful to have an efficient worker and ignores Gromit’s warnings that Norbot is up to no good.

Norbot is such a funny character (a sort of cross between C-3P0 and a Gremlin), I never grew tired of it, nor all the facial expressions Gromit shares with Norbot that establishes their growing unease with each other. By the way, this movie is rated PG: the reason is stated as “Rude Humor,” but especially young audiences may find the eerie close-ups of Norbot to be kind of scary.

The timing couldn’t be better, with the rise in films portraying contemporary fears of artificial intelligence garnering sinister personas and agendas. In the wake of “Imaginary” and “AfrAId,” both from this year, as well as the just-warming-up “M3GAN” franchise, the depiction here of distrust and outright terror towards convenient home technology feels very “of the moment.”

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There’s a sequence early on where Gromit witnesses how Norbot can “charge” itself overnight, a gag that is the only laugh-until-you-cry bit of movie hilarity I’ve had all year. A close second is the use of Matt Monro’s “Born Free” at a perfect moment.

The grand finale is a boat chase down a canal, which is not only inventive and hilarious, but quite exciting. This remarkable set piece manages to parody large scale action movies (a moment from “Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning- Part 1” is given a nutty spin) and works as a proper climax.

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One of the joys of being on the movie beat was getting to meet Peter Lord, one of the Aardman founders; Lord was doing press for “The Pirates! Band of Misfits” (2012) and agreed to an interview.

I got to tell him how I had recently dealt with a family tragedy and that watching “Shaun the Sheep” with my wife and laughing hysterically had been a shared comfort for us. Lord then opened his rucksack, pulled out a figurine and showed me one of the characters used in the Pirate movie: seeing it up close was dazzling, as it didn’t resemble an action figure as much as a pint-sized character, with immaculate detail in the costume and close-up details.

That level of care and quality has always been visible in their work. Moments in “Wallace and Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl” that take place in an ornate garden are worth watching closely, as tiny insects or birds in the background are easy to miss.

There’s a lot here that is stunning in its creative richness, as well as the kind of inspired silliness we’d get from Monty Python. In terms of relevant satire, there’s enough here to make you laugh and appreciate both new and old technology.

Yes, this is a comedy for both technophiles and technophobes.

Where does the film fall on the Aardman film legacy? It’s as funny and dazzling as “Chicken Run” and “Shaun the Sheep Movie,” and better than “Flushed Away,” “Early Man” and “The Pirates!” (2012). I loved the first “Wallace and Gromit” movie, “The Curse of the Were-Rabbit” but this one is so much funnier.

I’m writing this review on December 1st but I’m going to call it: this is the best comedy of 2024.

Four Stars

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I was hesitant to see “Moana 2,” as the response I kept hearing is that the story and songs are subpar and that its another sequel that doesn’t measure up to what proceeded it.

After a month of discovering every screening was sold out, this wound up being my last theatergoing experience of 2024, along with my little girl.

It turns out the lowered expectations were unnecessary. “Moana 2” is imperfect, but still a robust, charming sequel that honors and extends the legacy of the original.

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We see how Moana’s newfound fame has affected her. The newly christened master wayfinder is entrusted by her people to face a looming threat. The plot is somehow complex, as it involves uniting an island chain and overcoming an unseen super-villain. It’s also simple, as everyone in the main cast aware of what is expected of them.

While Moana (Auli’i Cravalho) assembles a new team, as well as her veteran sidekicks (aka, Maui’s “boat snacks”), her best friend and magic hook-sporting demigod is held captive by a bizarre sea creature.

Reports that “Moana 2” began as a made for Disney+ movie (the modern day equivalent of “The Return of Jafar” or “Cinderella II” going “straight to video”) made me unsure if I wanted to see this in the theater. It’s worth noting that “Toy Story 2” (1999) also started off with small-screen origins before it was also reshaped into a theatrical film.

Here, the biggest narrative tell that this was once intended for the smaller screen is that almost all of the essential scenes are a little too long. It appears that the decision was to make this bigger by extending the majority of the sequences.

The best scenes are enchanting and play as fully as one would hope, but the same can be said of the busy-work exposition moments. It takes Moana longer than expected to go on her big journey and longer than needed for her to have the expected pep talk to push her over adversity.

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If there’s a problem with a story like this, it’s that any major hurdle Moana and Maui encounter can be fixed by magic, a plot device that undermines the suspense. I doubt the intended audience knows (or cares) what a deus ex machina is.

Yes, the new tunes lack the snap of Lin-Manuel Miranda’s original song score or, worse, they audibly try too hard to match his approach. Thankfully, “Moana 2” is more of a comedy than a musical.

For all the expected moving pieces at play here (the Disney Princess journey, the villain aiming for domination, cute animal sidekicks, zany episodic pit stops, etc.) the best scenes offer fresh approaches. I love the return of the Kakamora and the new, “T2”-like angle of the coconut warrior who becomes an asset.

A sequence where the Kakamora use coconuts to explain their ultimate plans isn’t just funny but also brilliantly conceived. An extended first-act emphasis of the people Motunui allows for more comedy (Kele the grumpy farmer steals a lot of this movie) and welcome character development.

It’s worth noting that the demigod Maui isn’t in much of the first act, but the movie is still cooking with gas without him. Once Johnson’s vocal performance takes center stage of the second and third act, he shines as he did in the first film.

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Johnson has been on bro-dude autopilot for years on most of his movies, but the work he does here is heartfelt, even soulful at times. I’m looking forward to seeing Johnson do something vastly different and give a real dramatic stretch in the 2025 Benny Safdie drama, “The Smashing Machine.”

On the other hand, I never complained when Clint Eastwood basically played his Dirty Harry persona again and again, so I don’t know why I want Johnson to return to drama (oh wait, I remember – because I saw “Red One”!).

The massive box office intake suggests that vast amounts of moviegoers saw this in theaters and didn’t wait for the inevitable Disney+ release. That’s encouraging, as the visuals are a must for the big screen.

It’s easy to compare “Moana 2” to another recent mega-hyped Disney holiday hit sequel, “Frozen 2” (2019) – I’m happy to report that the second chapter of Moana and Maui is leaps and bounds better than “Frozen 2” (which features “Into the Unknown,” one of the most screeching, earsplitting showtunes in the entire Disney library).

The last scene in “Moana 2” is an ambitious set-up for a third chapter and it’s a refreshing change of pace from most of the last-minute easter eggs I’ve seen. The concluding scene feels like a witty, promising, well-constructed pitch for the next movie instead of a tired commercial.

That’s a nice change of pace!

Three Stars

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