‘Smashing Machine’ Retires Johnson’s Rock Persona for Good

Dwayne Johnson’s transformation is complete,

Sure, the ex-wrestler known as The Rock has been anchoring films for more than a decade. He still carried the weight of his former gig on his massive shoulders.

He’s a very good actor … for a wrestler. That asterisk probably drove him mad.

He wanted more. He craved more. And he found it by teaming with writer/director Benny Safdie for “The Smashing Machine.”

The fact-based story of a UFC pioneer let Johnson show what he could do once we stopped gawking at his physique. Turns out there’s a real actor lurking beneath the brawn, something the film demands as it upends Hollywood tropes.

It’s the anti-“Rocky” … sans apology.

Johnson plays Mark Kerr, an undefeated UFC fighter who longs to dish out professional punishment. And, boy, is he good at doing that.

He’s surprisingly gentle outside the octagon, particularly when his main squeeze Dawn (Emily Blunt) is by his side. Their romance is complicated, even by cinematic standards, but they’re drawn to one another in ways that aren’t easily dismised.

Mark’s dedication to the sport is unrivaled, as his his bond with fellow MMA warrior Mark Coleman (real MMA fighter Ryan Bader). Together, they’re trying to raise the sport’s profile while battling age and the demons inherent in MMA fighting.

Yes, we’re talking steroids, but that isn’t the only chemical Johnson’s character craves.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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“The Smashing Machine” defies conventional plot summaries, and that’s by design. Safdie’s film eschews Hollywood formula at every turn.

We see the horrors of addiction, a dysfuctional romance, major MMA battles and more, but Safdie and co. aggressively deconstruct these tropes. The director treats the material like a documentary filmmaker might, giving us fly-on-the-wall access without spit polish.

That’s particularly effective early in the film, establishing a tone that Johnson and his cast mates honor.

That means “The Smashing Machine” doesn’t boost our seratonin levels like most sports movies. Every time we expect a training montage or climactic fight the film yanks us back into the real world.

Johnson, sporting seamless prosthetics to tweak his familiar mug, is so dialed in we never see the former wrestler rise to the surface. His Mark Kerr is a gentle giant, struggling to focus when life interferes with his dreams.

Safdie leans on professional athletes to flesh out his cast without sacrificing his film’s aesthetics. He lets the sport’s rhythms dictate the action, which means we’re left without signature scenes or mass appeal victories.

Ironically, “The Smashing Machine” never quite soars as a result. The narrative here isn’t addictive or revolutionary, and the cold, hard truth sometimes disappoints.  Kerr’s career doesn’t pack enough jaw-dropping elements to make a biopic pop, and Safdie refuses to pin the truth for our amusement.

Instead, the “Uncut Gems” director leans into Kerr’s humanity, showing what it means to be such a powerful figure in a sport the culture is still puzzling out.

An early, powerful scene finds Kerr trying to explain his profession to an older woman aghast at the violence in play. The sequence lingers through the movie, a signal that Kerr, for all his physical gifts, thrives when others bleed.

Johnson’s Kerr isn’t particularly charismatic. He doesn’t lean into boxing-style theatrics, the kind Don King once milked to his marketing advantage. He’s a regular Joe with an unusual talent, and he found a sport where it could make him a star.

To an extent.

Today, UFC-style fighting is all over ESPN and the culture at large. During Kerr’s reign, the sport seemed like a curiosity if not a freak show to some.

“The Smashing Machine” screams otherwise, even with a voice as quiet as a whisper.

HiT or Miss: “The Smashing Machine” is Dwayne Johnson’s foray into Serious Movie Acting, and he more than rises to the occasion.

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‘Strangers: Chapter 2’ Is Best Film in Slasher Franchise

Renny Harlin’s “The Strangers: Chapter 2” is the second in an already-shot trilogy, with the last installment scheduled for release sometime next year.

When we last met Maya (Madelaine Petsch), she had survived being terrorized by a trio of masked serial killers and lived through a long night of hiding in a cabin after witnessing the murder of her boyfriend (Froy Gutierrez). Now awake in a hospital with terrible security, Maya finds The Strangers are still after her.

Harlin made a name for himself in the 1980s by helming dynamically made horror films, before shooting to the top of the Hollywood A-list, with action classics like “Die Hard 2” (1990), “Cliffhanger” (1993) and the still-fantastic “The Long Kiss Goodnight” (1996).

After the notorious 1995 failure of “Cutthroat Island” (which is far better than its reputation), Harlin mostly made B-movies. The depressing thing about most of Harlin’s recent films wasn’t that they were bombs but that those movies, such as “The Covenant” (2006) and “12 Rounds” (2009), were made with no passion.

What I’m trying to say is that “The Strangers: Chapter 2” isn’t just the best “Strangers” movie yet, but it’s been made by the same Harlin who directed “A Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master” (1988). Helming a “Strangers” trilogy may be B-movie work, but Harlin has made this with wit and skill.

The story does the “Halloween II” (1981) thing for the first stretch and quite well, as far as hospital stalk n’ slash thrillers go (why are these hospitals always stylishly lit but almost completely empty?). Once the story leaves the Emergency Unit and the setting keeps changing, “The Strangers: Chapter 2” really takes off.

At the mid-point, there’s an out-of-left-field sequence so unexpected and beautifully staged that it elevates the entire film. I won’t describe it, and cinephiles will recognize the inspiration for the sequence right away, but it’s so good, I think I held my breath for the entire duration.

I don’t mean to imply that Harlin has made something classy and fresh. There are lazy jump scares and some especially brutal moments, though Harlin has the smarts to leave the most nauseating violence just out of camera view.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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It’s also laughable to see The Strangers stalk someone in the woods because A. their masks provide them no peripheral vision and B. since we and Maya don’t know what they look like unmasked, they’d be better off losing the masks, disguising themselves as forest rangers and trying to capture Maya by fooling her.

Some of this is routine slasher movie stuff, but Harlin gives us enough surprises to make this the best in this franchise (yes, it’s better than the 2008 original, which is well crafted and acted but has an ending that isn’t just vicious but self-defeating).

Harlin gives us flashbacks showing us The Strangers as children, which is a silly touch, but the Bad Seed origin scenes are still handled well.

With all the surrounding conspiracies building within the townsfolk, Petsch’s excellent performance carrying the film, and the intriguing plot threads set up in the conclusion, it seems Harlin is really going somewhere with this.

Petsch’s first-rate leading turn not only carries the film but gives us a protagonist whose fate I cared about.
Here’s hoping that the third and final chapter, when it arrives, is the best one and concludes this on a strong note.

“The Strangers: Chapter 2” may play a lot of horror movie hits, but it’s still atmospheric, well-staged and intriguing in its suggestion that no one, in this little town or anywhere, can really be trusted.

Two and a Half Stars

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Why ‘Wolf Man’ Deserves a Second Look

Leigh Whannell’s “Wolf Man” is one of those 2025 releases that was dismissed by most, though a few embraced it for the very reason it divides genre fans: it is a different kind of animal.

A fantastic prologue introduces us to Blake (Zac Chandler), a young boy living in Oregon with his no-nonsense father (Sam Jaeger) as the two leave their home in the woods for a morning of hunting. Both of them immediately sense that there’s something wrong in the woods.

A title card helpfully informs us of a belief of wolf-like behavior stemming from an outbreak of a fever spreading in the woods. The two take shelter in a hunting blind while…something climbs the ladder and slowly inches closer to them.

There is an elegance and precision to how good this sequence is.

The story jumps to 30 years later, where Blake is now played by Christopher Abbott, a loving father, a writer “in between jobs” and husband to a journalist named Charlotte (Julia Garner). Blake clearly adores his daughter, Ginger (Matilda Firth), though he sometimes catches himself in moments where he can be as harsh and overwhelming in the way his father once was to him.

When Blake discovers that his father has passed away, he takes a trip back to his childhood home in Oregon, to grow closer with his wife and get everyone out of their comfort zone.

Things immediately go bad, as a car accident, an attack by an unseen animal and a metamorphosis start taking place in Blake, occurring over the course of an evening (the entire second and third act is set in a single night).

I caught “Wolf Man” in early January, a famous “dumping ground” for movies that studios have little faith in, where they typically die while playing opposite holiday hits and Oscar darlings. The word of mouth on “Wolf Man” wasn’t good, as it was reportedly delayed and something of a “troubled” project.

More specifically, it was supposed to be a part of Universal’s “Dark Universe,” their attempt at a horror-themed take on the MCU, starting with the Tom Cruise led “The Mummy” (2017) and eventually leading to Johnny Depp as The Invisible Man, Javier Bardem as Frankenstein, Dwayne Johnson as The Wolf Man and on and on.

When “The Mummy” deservedly died a quick death, further plans for Dark Universe shut down, but not before Whannell retooled The Wolf Man into a lower-budget, intimate take of “Wolf Man.”

Whannell’s “The Invisible Man” was one of the best films of 2020 and demonstrated how you can take a dusty horror concept and alter it into something personal and different but still potent. That mirrors what David Cronenberg did with “The Fly” in 1986.

Whannell’s willingness to make the furry beast relevant in post-pandemic America seemed like a promising idea. The end result lives up to that promise, though the film is still a hard sell for anyone seeking easy popcorn entertainment.

The early scenes are essential, as Blake is constantly reminding his daughter how much he loves her, and how fragile life is. The gentle existentialism of “Wolf Man,” especially in the establishing scenes, are crucial to absorb, as we’re off and running once the setting changes back to Oregon.

There seems to be an unspoken but undeniable commentary on how our main characters can flourish in a city full of people but struggle once they’re alone in the woods. While Blake and Charlotte adjust to the demands of being out in the wild, the isolation feels like a trap, even as they’re in the midst of majestic vistas (which, of course, are just shadows at night).

It’s not hard to guess what the big twist is, regarding the presence in the forest that threatens the protagonists, though the reveal is still impactful. Likely the biggest complaint anyone can have about Whannell’s film is how the eventful finale isn’t thrilling but punishing.

Blake’s transformation has a single playful moment (a fun bit with a spider), but his inability to communicate with his wife and daughter is devastating and inventively depicted.

The story overall is tragic, even as it serves as a reminder to cherish every breath (inhale…exhale), every heartbeat, every moment we get to gaze at our loved ones, every joyful and stolen moment we don’t feel like we deserve. The final scenes are full circle for Blake and us, as we see how his life was, in a way, about the journey from boyhood to adulthood, but also about getting back to that one literal spot where everything was wonderful.

Movies like “Wolf Man” will hit hard for anyone who has struggled with their relationship with their father. Look, I know a lot of people who, without hesitation, call their father their “hero” and speak to what a perfect stand-up guy he is. That’s great, but for everyone else, whose relationship with their father is, to put it mildly, complex, this kind of parable will resonate.

Whannell’s “The Invisible Man” showcased a never-better performance from Elisabeth Moss in the lead and had a twisted crowd-pleaser of a finish. Here, the story gets increasingly more horrifying (the physical effects are as grueling as they are impressive) and leads to a finish that, while stunning, won’t leave anyone with a smile on their face.

No wonder this movie barely lasted a month in theaters.

Looking at it now, there are still a few problems (Garner is great in this, but she mostly gives Abbott the same look of disapproval for most of the running time. Having all of the events take place in one night, an admittedly ambitious concept, is a bit of a stretch.

However, seeing it removed from its dead man walking release date, it’s easy to see how this will most likely become a cult film. “Wolf Man” is not Lon Chaney or the American Werewolf you know, but it’s still powerful and worthy of rediscovery.

There comes a point where sons consider how much like their father they want to become and, whether they like it or not, how much like their dad they already are without trying. Here’s a film unafraid of exploring this tricky realization.

Yes, “Wolf Man” is about a guy who gets bitten by a monster and changes into a snarling beast, but it’s also about facing what you’re afraid of, and some of us are afraid of becoming our fathers.

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‘Gabby’s Dollhouse’ – Please, Make It Stop!

“Gabby’s Dollhouse: The Movie” is an experience akin to having glitter thrown into your face, over and over again.

It’s a capably animated and produced but chaotically written expansion of a Netflix animated children’s show that I mistakenly hoped my daughter had grown out of, but no such luck.

The plot: Gabby (played by the unfailingly enthusiastic Laila Lockhart Kraner) goes on a trip to Cat Francisco to visit her Grandma. She is played by Gloria Estefan, but bizarrely, her character never sings.

Cat Francisco, in addition to sporting a Golden Gate Bridge with cat ears, is home to a bizarre kitty litter mogul named Vera (Kristin Wiig).

Once Vera eyes Gabby’s dollhouse, which has rolled down the hill and in front of Vera’s car, the dollhouse is snatched, Vera places it on a mantel in her cat-obsessed domain. Gabby, in order to take action, must summon her superpower of transforming into a smaller, CGI version of herself.

How does she do this? She sings, “I pinch on my left, I pinch on my right….” This happens a lot.

Where to begin with what’s wrong with this movie?

‘Gabby’s Dollhouse: The Movie’ hits theaters today, featuring a new song “Dollhouse World” from #Kpop girl group #Aespa. THR has an exclusive first look at the four-member group recording the song in the official lyric video https://t.co/pA9kmowEok pic.twitter.com/8Vw8LY1OtD

— The Hollywood Reporter (@THR) September 26, 2025

How about the rushed quality to the screenplay, credited to four writers and full of incident but never allowing character or stakes to build. Gabby is always “on,” unbreakable in her cheeriness, and frequently breaks the fourth wall.

The last time I enjoyed an actor talking directly to me was Matthew Broderick, and that was in 1986. Gabby conspires with us so often, I wanted a fifth and sixth wall to be constructed immediately.

The story darts from the real world to CGI domains often, but never fully develops the dozens of new characters and locations that keep popping up. A subplot involving Chumsley, Vera’s former best friend and childhood toy, is a rehash of the “When She Loved Me” sequence from “Toy Story 2” (1999).

Lots of scenes feel lifted from other Pixar, DreamWorks and Blue Sky Studio CGI fests, though the movie this reminded me of the most is John Krasinski’s dreadful “IF” (2024) and the lousy “Harold and the Purple Crayon” that occupied this exact space in theaters a year ago.

The best character in the series, CatRat, is barely in this, while the awful DJ Catnip, who enters a room declaring “Wiggle-wiggle!” is in this far too much. I hate DJ Catnip. I hate him because his dialogue is always inane (lots of gems like “Get your meow on!”) and because the character is a DJ who demonstrates how crowded dance parties and clubbing are fun.

Remember, this is a show (and now a movie) for very small children.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Wiig’s initial entrance is promising, as she’s playing it in a knowingly campy key that is different from the rest of the film. I was hoping Wiig would save the film; instead, she does here what she provided for “Wonder Woman 1984” (2020), emerging as the best thing in a bad movie.

Vera has a Mr. Bigglesworth-like cat sidekick that should have gotten easy laughs, but the expression on the feline’s face mirrored my own. That cat appears so miserable to be in this.

The one funny scene is a TV ad demonstrating the effectiveness of Vera’s product, which is purple, sparkly kitty litter shaped like a turd. Actually, a turd made of sparkly kitty litter is my instant review of this movie.

Am I not the right audience for this? Nope, nice try. Some of my favorite movies weren’t for anyone remotely like me, but great movies go beyond demographics and can connect with anyone.

I may be a lot older than most of the audience for “Gabby’s Dollhouse: The Movie” but I used to watch that series every Saturday morning. I couldn’t wait for each cutesy-wootsy episode to end, so my little girl and I could watch the far better “Tru and the Rainbow Kingdom,” “Sheriff Calley” and “Puffin Rock” (why couldn’t one of those become a movie?!).

When it was over, I asked my ecstatic daughter how many stars she’d rate this, and she replied, “A Lot!” My assessment is below.

One and a half stars (out of four)

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‘One Battle After Another’ Is Masterfully Crafted, Morally Repugnant

You don’t have to agree with a film’s political or social point of view to praise it.

Movies open us up to new ideas, challenging preconceived notions in the process. Great art has a way of doing just that.

“One Battle After Another” isn’t great art. It’s an impeccably crafted polemic with a soul that’s as rotten as today’s far-Left ghouls. The film, loosely based on Thomas Pynchon’s novel “Vineland,” casts an Antifa-style group as its heroes, demonizing law enforcement at every conceivable turn.

Its biggest flaw? Too many plot gimmicks that wouldn’t pass muster in an ’80s slasher film. It’s stunning that writer/director Paul Thomas Anderson didn’t see them at any point in the creative process.

Did ideology dull his artistic senses? If so, they didn’t ding his sense of cinematic excitement.

“One Battle After Another” MOVES. The film’s running time might seem bloated, but there’s never a lull in the story. What a shame that Anderson inserted so many forehead-smacking scenes en route.

The film opens along the U.S.-Mexico border. A violent group known as the French 75 overruns an immigrant detention center, holds guards at gunpoint and sets off explosions to distract anyone who might stop their assault.

And they’re ostensibly the good guys.

The villains are everywhere in the form of U.S. government officials, immigration officers and a leering ghoul named Col. Steven J. Lockjaw (Sean Penn).

Yes, that’s actually his name.

Col. Lockjaw may be Penn’s most indelible screen performance, and that’s saying plenty. More on him in a moment.

An activist named Perfidia (Teyana Taylor, en fuego) is the French 75’s emotional leader, and she drags her inept beau Bob (DiCaprio) into the fray. He’s not a quick study, but he adores Perfidia and will do as told.

One absurd plot gimmick later, and Perfidia gives birth to a bouncing baby girl, but this sudden family can’t shake the long arm of the law.

Flash forward 16 or so years, and Bob is a single father to young Willa (Chase Infiniti). Perfidia is out of the picture, and Bob spends his days doting on their daughter and smoking copious amounts of weed. When Col. Lockjaw re-enters the picture, with Willa in his sights, Bob must become the father he never expected he could be.

That plot summary omits the heavy sermonizing built into this “Battle.” French 75 targets ICE-like centers and agents, and their methods never come under scrutiny.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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MILD SPOILER

There’s no “come to Jesus” moment to be found with the revolutionary characters. They blow up buildings, shoot innocents and praise violence at every turn.

They’re the heroes of the film. And, to this critic, it’s sickening, especially given recent headlines.

END OF SPOILER

The government officials depicted here, from Col. Lockjaw to lesser figures, are either racist, murderous, liars or all three.

Often all three.

A farcical subplot finds Col. Lockjaw vying to join a White Supremacy group. It’s like a Joy Reid fever dream, but less coherent. Penn’s character is monotonously one-dimensional. The best movie villains offer a few shades of gray, moments where their humanity peeks through the rage.

Nothing doing here.

What is Anderson trying to say? Better yet, why is he trying to say it?

DiCaprio delivers another impeccable performance. Bob is unlike any character we’ve seen before. He’s hot-headed and mild-mannered, an accidental hippie who delivers the film’s best comic beats.

He’s trying so hard to reconnect with his radical days of yore, but his pot-addled brain won’t cooperate. Anderson overplays the running gag, but for a while it’s blissful comic relief.

“One Battle After Another” may be visceral in every sense of the word, but it can be shockingly dumb. Plot coincidences pile up in the third act, which otherwise offers some enthralling car chases. 

How a master craftsman like Anderson could succumb to such silliness is a mystery. Then again, he may have been tripped up by his own messaging. It wouldn’t be the first time.

That’s a shame, because there’s a brilliant movie lurking within “One Battle After Another,” which also squanders Benicio del Toro by giving him a silly, anti-hero role. You can see it peering out of the shadows, combining the story’s bravura filmmaking with the kind of nuance that marks great filmmaking.

Anderson is too busy scrawling a furious message on screen to find it.

HiT or Miss: “One Battle After Another” is equal parts mesmerizing and moronic, an exhilarating experience that will make viewers scratch their heads in more ways than one.

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‘Night of the Reaper’ Gets Horror (Mostly) Right

Slasher films came of age in the Reagan era.

So it’s fitting that filmmakers take Doc Brown’s DeLorean back to the ’80s to tell new stories.

“Night of the Reaper” does just that, adding a VHS twist along the way. It’s smart and satisfying with a killer opening sequence, but like some modern films, it doesn’t know when to say, “enough.”

A young and spunky babysitter named Emily (Summer Howell) is living her best life, dancing to Pat Benatar and sneaking a cigarette break on the job.

What happens next is both predictable and chilling. Few recent horror films have opened better. It’s almost worth watching the whole film just for this sequence.

Co-writer/director Brandon Christensen immediately has our attention.

The action moves on to Emily’s sister, Deena (Jessica Clement), a sullen college student returning to her hometown. Deena reconnects with old friends and family. She also snags a babysitting gig when her friend gets sick.

The child in question is the son of Sheriff Rod (Ryan Robbins), still haunted by his wife’s passing.

Death is too common in this cozy hamlet, and matters are about to get much worse.

Everyone dances with the reaper.

NIGHT OF THE REAPER is streaming now on Shudder. pic.twitter.com/xPbl9DUKzz

— Shudder (@Shudder) September 19, 2025

 

Christensen (“The Puppetman”) doesn’t overdo the ’80s shout-outs, but the film isn’t as clear-eyed as needed. One late-movie death will have more than a few audience members scratching their heads.

Dueling storylines follow both Deena’s increasingly scary babysitting gig and Sheriff Rodney’s investigation, fueled by creepy VHS tapes. Christensen’s control on the narrative isn’t as tight as needed.

Otherwise, he marshals old-school horror tropes – creaking doors, chilling silences – in a crisp, efficient manner. 

The story pays keen attention to the main characters, giving them time to breathe and connect with us on a genuine level. Young Clement proves particularly adept at conveying a world-weary teen without seeming clichéd.

The sheriff’s growing rage offers another fascinating element, leavened by an office flirtation and inter-office politics. This “Reaper” pays attention to smaller details, and the results are rich and rewarding.

To a point.

Tone, pacing and atmosphere are all better than expected, and we’re eager to see where things may lead. The third act provides the answers, but it’s clearly a case of a too-smart-by-half script that stumbles rather than soars.

Third acts are routinely challenging for horror directors. It’s one reason the recent “Weapons” proved so satisfying. Still, even with the misdirection in play, “Night of the Reaper” is a cut above most indie shockers.

NOTE: “Night of the Reaper” is playing on AMC+ and Shudder

HiT or Miss: “Night of the Reaper” starts strong and proves slasher films don’t have to be brain-dead affairs. 

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‘The Senior’ Schools Viewers in Power of Second Acts

In football, one decisive change of direction can make the difference between a sack or a touchdown, a loss or a gain.

Life is like that in more ways than one. The destiny of Mike Flynt demonstrates this in the new movie, “The Senior.”

Produced by former pro athlete Mike Ciardi (“The Rookie,” “Secretariat”). “The Senior” is based on the true story of Mike Flynt, who, during the late summer and autumn of 2007 in West Texas, played college football at the age of 59.

Flynt is played by Michael Chiklis (“Fantastic Four”) who ironically was once the captain of his high school football team. Joining Flynt from the movie’s starting position until its goal line play is his wife, Eileen, sensitively and boldly played by Mary Stuart Masterson (“Some Kind of Wonderful“).

Furthermore, when a story about costly football stardom – and fatherhood redeemed through a crucial life pivot – is narrated by a son, Micah, movingly played by Brandon Flynn, expect the possibility of tears ahead.

In fact, from the old gridiron guys of remembered legend to the new teammates as young as Flynt’s children, “The Senior” weaves a powerful mosaic about imperfect parts that find ways to advance the entire team.
Growing up, Flynt used his brawn and toughness to become, in 1971, the captain of a winning Sul Ross State College football team.

With captainship of a team, though, comes real responsibility.

In a moment of error, Mike reared back into his pain and hurt someone one too many times. It cost him something he wouldn’t ever get back.

(O, for violence at colleges to be only that! In this age of lethal strife between generational peers on campus, the arc of “The Senior’s” lifetime redemptive story offers an exemplar for today’s shell-shocked Americans.)

Mike’s demotion from his ranks of football captain, team member and college student would ricochet through his life. Added poignancy pours in from the strain his own father had put him through.

“Not a day has gone by,” admits Flynt at a timely moment, when he hasn’t been haunted by the disappointment his actions inflicted on his teammates.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The negative urge from there was to egg out all over his community in egoic pride. Eileen plays a particularly loving role in providing healing, guidance and a glue for family, faith and life events.

Flynt’s career demonstrated a man in transformation. Year to year, he exhibited a type of focus and discipline seen more often these days in soldiers than civilians. Through this diligence, Flynt became a highly sought-after fitness and conditioning trainer in the sports world.

That alone would be the arc of a successful life story, but Flynt had ghosts and yearnings to address, and drew up another surprise move.

Nearly everyone walking into the theater for “The Senior” will know what comes next — it’s on the movie poster. Yet, there remains an air of the unexpected, nonetheless, because Flynt’s next turn in life challenges a presumed human limit.

As a 59-year-old man, Flynt was invited to a 35th-year college reunion by former peers, whom he had long assumed had disowned him. Touched not only by their real forgiveness (both sides having done the hard reflection) and their true feelings about him, Flynt also learns that he is legally eligible for one more season of playing–and pursuing graduation.

With soul searching and unexpected encouragement, Flynt decides to go for it. But can the ligaments and reflexes of a 59-year-old make a collegiate football team as a player in an open try-out?

With the try-out blitzing forward, the movie locks in. Audiences experience the rush of each play, the agony of each drill, and the surge towards the line along with Flynt and his hopeful team 2.0 (who have to reckon with the fact that their season could include this timeline–and take a spot from a younger player)!

How Flynt stutter-steps ahead in pursuit of the “impossible” is definitely one level at which to watch “The Senior.” After all, that’s what makes even a “Top Gun” or a “Rocky IV” work.

In football and combat movies alike, adversaries set up intrigue with their posturing and heavy training. Then at a certain point, bursts of death-defying action in the face of steep odds deliver the adrenaline you’ve come for.

In the heat of “The Senior’s” stride, we touch the hard-nosed abandon and situational social discernment that can be demanded for success, on and very much off the field.

Sul Ross State’s football coach Sam Weston (Rob Corddry) watches incredulously and carefully, being positioned to deliver laughs and a springboard for the ultimate aspirations of his players.

In Mike and Micah, the truism, “Like father, like son,” is taken further than its surface meaning. To again raise the “Rocky” franchise, Stallone could take a page out of “The Senior” for its realistic portrayal of what life looks like through the eyes of an athletic warrior’s son.

The grip that football has on many people comes partially through its beauty, poetry and symphony of concerted teamwork in motion. For a player, football at its best can provide a personal and communal venue for a pure, no messin’ ‘round attitude of facing your limits and living boldly into them.

For a player and a true story film to interweave football’s crude attractions with maturation, fatherhood, grandfatherhood, and more, is fascinating.

It’s no wonder Flynt’s path has drawn attention.

Can the heart and soul be renewed at any age and in any circumstance? That’s what one senior learned. 1971 and 2007 were “two different men,” says Flynt. Human adaptability is a marvel to behold, Flynt adding that he sees it “as my fate.”

Themes of strength, family, God and team loyalty unapologetically fill Angel Studios’ “The Senior.” Suit up for a field-side seat at the action.

Note: You might want to brush up on football movie classics to understand some of the film’s exquisitely dry humor.

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‘Him’ Is a Colossal Waste of Talent and Ingenuity

It’s hard to criticize a fiercely original film in this cultural moment.

Wait … it’s not a re-imagining, a reboot, a sequel or a prequel? Give me my ticket … now!

“Him,” a football-themed horror film, opens with all the goodwill we can muster. It’s a harrowing tale of a can’t-miss quarterback prospect who learns what he’ll have to sacrifice to make it to the NFL-like league.

Sorry, no sponsorship deals or partnerships here!

Until we realize the film has little interest in the sport, the culture at large or common sense. Maybe the inevitable remake will be better.

Young, dynamic Cameron Cade (a solid Tyriq Withers) is thisclose to his football dreams coming true. A shocking assault threatens his rise, leaving him with an ugly scar and susceptible to long-term brain damage.

Could the dream die before it even begins?

Enter Isaiah White (Marlon Wayans), the current football GOAT (the term GOAT is tossed around in the script as often as “Smurf” in that kiddie franchise). Isaiah wants to personally groom Cameron to be his successor, and everyone is eager to memory-hole the young man’s brain injury.

Heck, the screenplay plays out as if the authors (director Justin Tipping, Zack Akers and Skip Bronkie) had suffered a collective concussion.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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So Cameron, nicknamed “Him,” enters Isaiah’s creepy compound to learn the tricks of the trade. Right away, there’s something odd about the drills. Casual cruelty abounds. So does mental abuse.

Cameron, we’re told, is a good kid eager to do as he’s told. It still doesn’t explain how he doesn’t balk at what he witnesses.

And it’s only just begun.

Tipping shows a flair for unnerving images and claustrophobic framing. This looks every inch like a transformative horror film, only it quickly becomes dull despite its tight running time.

It’s not Wayans’ fault. The comic actor buries his glib side to create a portrait of a self-satisfied superstar. Is he a monster, or does he exhibit the skills necessary to rise to the top of his profession?

“Him” mesmerizes for a while until we realize there’s little underneath the surface. The stunning visuals grab you and, soon enough, you wanna glance at your watch rather than see what happens next.

But why?

There’s little insight here, either about the psychology of modern sports or the need to succeed at all costs. It’s all surface-level tics, hardly enough to sustain a thriller like this.

An effective Jim Jefferies plays against type as Isaiah’s medical guru, but he’s not on screen enough to elevate the story. Julia Fox’s brow-less character, ostensibly Isaiah’s wife but they’re barely seen together, also shows potential that never arrives.

The film eventually wilts under its ambiguous nature. It’s nearly impossible to determine what “Him” wants to do or say, so the film’s bloody finale lands with an earth-shattering thud. It’s more noise, albeit with enough gore to placate horror junkies.

Producer Jordan Peele’s attachment received plenty of pre-release attention, but his socially-charged shockers have far more to say and typically deserve our respect. (ix-nay on “Ope-nay”)

Tipping’s film falls on both fronts.

The screenplay delivers a few random nods to black victimhood, but even those elements don’t coalesce into something meaningful or deep.

Tipping’s biggest achievement? Taking an original premise, adding a career-changing turn by a comic actor and rendering it all as a regrettable bore.

HiT or Miss: “Him” offers strong visuals, powerful performances and a story that wears out its welcome.

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Stellar Cast Made ‘The Prophecy’ a Home Video Franchise

Gregory Widen’s “The Prophecy” (1995) is one of those genre sleepers that was dismissed by most critics, quickly found an appreciative audience as a rental option and garnered a cult following that led that a slew of sequels.

Widen, one of the creators of “Highlander” (1986), shapes “The Prophecy” as a more spiritual, good vs. evil spin on his Connor McCloud/“There Can Only Be One” formula. The results are both goofy and riveting.

Elias Koteas plays Thomas Dagget, a would-be man of the cloth turned police officer who finds his caseload is suddenly mirroring the theology and lessons he carried from his days as a seminary student dropout. Meanwhile, the angel Simon (Eric Stoltz) begins appearing, followed by the ruthless Gabriel (Christopher Walken), who leaves destruction wherever he goes.

Viggo Mortensen plays the Devil for good measure.

It’s all very “Highlander”-esque, in that the moments which are pretty awesome counter bits where the filmmakers may not have been aware how unintentionally funny some of this is.

Imagine John Travolta’s  “Michael” (1996) as a horror film, and it would play like this.

“The Prophecy” epitomizes a B-movie, in that it’s a bad movie with enough great scenes and go-for-broke performances to counter its shortcomings. I liked the angle that Dagget loses his faith because he sees too much and initially can’t handle the theological truth he faces.

FAST FACT: “The Prophecy” wasn’t a box office hit ($16 million global), but it still sparked four direct-to-video sequels: “The Prophecy II” (1998), “The Ascent” (2000), “Uprising” (2005) and “Forsaken” (2005).

The wacky finale includes a Wile E. Coyote-worthy truck crash, Native American rituals, Walken smashing through a door and, much later, exploding into a flock of doves.

Most importantly, we get a Viggo vs. Walken showdown.

Walken’s typically wild and stylish performance is one of the best reasons to see this. He has a Hall of Fame bit where he walks past a corpse, stops in front of the camera, makes a dramatic gesture and the body in the background bursts into flames.

The way Walken plays it, with the showmanship of his gesture and joy in his eyes, it’s like watching an evil circus ringleader.

Walken, like Nicolas Cage, has lots of B-movie gold in the midst of a respectable body of work on stage and film. In terms of finding his most enjoyably subtlety-free and unhinged, this is up there with the best of the lot.

Stoltz has scenes where he converses with a small child alone, and it’s creepy. Yes, we know he’s an angel, but it doesn’t make those bits any easier to watch. I wish Stoltz’s natural warmth as an actor was enough to sell those scenes but, whether intentional or not, I wanted his spooky, soft voiced intruder to exit the film quicker than he does.

In his last scene, Stoltz is once again covered head to toe in elaborate make-up, his third time after “Mask” (1985) and “The Fly II” (1989).

What a trooper.

Virginia Madsen, during her “Highlander II: The Quickening” (1991) and “Candyman” (1992) career period, is really good in this. So is Adam Goldberg, Amanda Plummer and especially Mortensen, chilling and fascinating in his take on the devil.

For a film with a limited budget, the entertainment value is generous.

The weekend “The Prophecy” opened in my local theater, the owners hedged their bets and made it the second bill on a double feature with the forgotten Tom Berenger drama, “Last of the Dogmen.”

What a bizarre double feature!

Overall, “The Prophecy” is an ambitious B-movie. It’s often stupid but man, does it deliver.

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‘Big Bold Beautiful Journey’ Boils Love Down to Its Core

Some films are as precious as their titles.

“Napoleon Dynamite” comes to mind. So does “Everything Everywhere All at Once.”

Add “A Big Bold Beautiful Journey” to that short list. The eclectic romance takes big, bold risks, aided by A-listers eager for an unconventional tale.

The result? A visually dazzling affair that balances quirk and raw sentiment. It’s twee at times, but its heart is always in the right place.

Yeah, that matters.

Margot Robbie and Colin Farrell play Sarah and David, attractive singletons who meet at a wedding. Right away, there’s something un-Rom-Com-y about their exchange. It’s like they were meant to meet and somehow knew each other from the jump.

That’s part of screenwriter Seth Reiss’s plan. He wants to upend expectations, deconstructing a now-tired formula to get to the heart of the matter.

Almost literally.

Sarah and David embark on a series of adventures, all ending with some sort of doorway or portal.  Each deposits them back into a pivotal moment in their lives.

Lost loved ones are suddenly very much alive. Old flames return to rekindle old romances … perhaps.

Confused? “A Big Bold Beautiful Journey” takes a challenging format and makes it surprisingly accessible, almost organic at times. It asks us some big, bold questions, along the way (sorry, we’ll drop that now…)

• Why do we fall in love?
• How do past relationships shape our future selves?
• Can we recover from trauma?
• Why would anyone risk falling in love when, chances are, it’ll end in heartbreak?

Robbie’s Sarah is a love ’em and leave ’em cynic who knows her flaws all too well. David is more optimistic, but his past includes breakups that left psychological scars.

Sounds brutal, right?

This “Journey” isn’t as crushing as it appears. Reiss’ script is replete with humorous asides, from nods to the characters’ awkward past to the masterminds behind the curious plot.

That’s Phoebe Waller-Bridge and Kevin Kline playing car rental employees who do more than push aging Saturns and old-school GPS systems. Both add a dash of humor and fantasy to the yarn, even if the film doesn’t fully exploit them.

Why hire ringers and leave them wallowing on the bench?

 

 

 

 

 

 

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“Journey” could use a trim or two, and a few detours prove depressingly bland. Robbie and Farrell flash second-tier chemistry, at best, but not for lack of hustle. The story’s quirks ensure they don’t share enough quality time to sell their attraction.

They still make the best of it, leaning back on movie star wattage.

Director Kogonada (“After Yang”) sports a puckish eye for color and composition, meaning there isn’t a dull visual in the film. The soundtrack boasts a steady drumbeat of quasi-hippie anthems that snuggle up to the material in question.

Not a bad choice for a post-screening nightcap. 

The third act doesn’t exactly seal the romantic deal, a problem for this sort of story. That doesn’t overshadow the film’s winning details and original flair. There’s nothing quite like it in the marketplace, and its ambitions are more than welcome in our cookie-cutter age.

“Journey” comes closer to affairs of the heart than most modern rom-coms.

Hit or Miss: “A Big Bold Beautiful Journey” deconstructs the movie romance and, in the process, explores just how tangled a “Happily Ever After” ending can be.

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MAHA-Friendly ‘Body Burden’ Takes ‘Super Size Me’ Approach

In January 2023, Harvard Health Publishing reported that 92 percent of Americans consider integrative health approaches beneficial, with over 67 percent of respondents over 50 years using some natural treatments to help with ailments.

For the last couple of years, documentary filmmaker Nick Pineault has been producing “Body Burden.” The documentary is a new attempt to set straight the bamboozlement in Americans over a large part of the integrative health market sector, detoxification and environmental medicine.

Pineault seeks to do this both by spotlighting the claims doctors make about which (if any) detox protocols work, and by using himself as a test subject.

“I’m a healthy 37 year old, and even then I have high concentrations of two known neurotoxins,” he says in the film.

One lab result turns out to show Pineault’s fluids have elevated levels of lead. He recounts that he tested at 34 times higher than the recommended concentration of lead, which was officially removed from gasoline and paint in the US in the 1970s, Pineault could be described, to use a term of millennial slang, as “shook.”

Enter the film’s selected experts in environmental medicine. A doctor from an environmental medicine clinic in South Carolina – a state having one of the largest per capita military presences that is pervaded by related environmental health concerns – says that elevated lead levels are typically found in individuals who have worked in metal, electronics, aviation, or similar industries for a career.

Pineault, a journalist by occupation, says to the cameras, “I have no idea where I’ve gotten it from.”

Thus highly motivated for his own well-being, Pineault’s film questions what’s known and unknown about toxins and health.

What if your brain fog, low energy, or gut issues are not just the result of “getting older”?

That’s the question explored in Body Burden: Hope for Deeper Healing, a powerful new documentary by The EMF Guy, Nick Pineault.

Register here for access: https://t.co/5u8bNXxRJh pic.twitter.com/mR3eQr80AC

— Juvent Health (@juventhealth) September 15, 2025

These ideas are not foreign to the large Make America Healthy Again (MAHA) electorate, regardless of political stripes. A driving concern to citizens is that too many sources of environmental pollution – not up in the atmosphere holding heat, melting Greenland, and making storms – but down here in the dirt, water, technosphere, and domestic settings may be having an effect on our life expectancy, well-being and fertility.

Yet, because these effects are molecular and unseen, confusion about their causes and solutions can reign supreme.

Advertisements to detox have become ubiquitous on social media, and the majority of them are scrolled past. Yet when a person mysteriously falls sick, is fatigued or foggy-minded, he or she may want answers.

The double-edged sword of detox messaging’s ubiquity is then unsheathed: what is the truth that would really help someone get better?

Pineault acknowledges the difficulty of understanding, let alone acting effectively in the maze of modern toxicity claims, putting it bluntly in Body Burden: “Is there hope” of sifting through and finding practical solutions for large numbers of Americans’ health issues that could be the detriment of toxic loads?

To its credit, “Body Burden” includes a walk through the lingo. In Pineault’s case, his lead level is 38 μg/g creatinine. That means his creatinine, a naturally present component in the body found especially in the elimination system, contained 38 micrograms of lead per gram of creatinine.

Theoretically, individuals who are unaffected by elevated lead would have lab results at just over 1 μg lead per g creatinine–but that’s if the norms and standards in medical toxicology can be trusted. “Body Burden” doesn’t take that as a given, though.

It voices skepticism that anyone in the U.S. could be found whose factual lead level is only 1.1 μg/g lead. Exploiting and making a buck off of fear would start there, with the supposed norms.

Then, “Body Burden” asks about what one might actually do if one decides that lowering their measured body toxins is for them. Pick up and relocate? Try cleanses? Teas? Fasting? Chelation? Lymph pressure? Diet change? Sweating? Hydrotherapy? Frequency saunas?

Things they teach you in school, right?

How can busy Americans sort through the options to tell fakery from authenticity, and distinguish the many brands and ventures within each type of protocol?

The environmental medicine doctors in “Body Burden” treat military workers on veterans health plans, where performance and effectiveness trackability are ostensibly valued. In the elusive world of detoxification accountability studies, clinics like South Carolina’s Deeper Healing, asserts Pineault in the film, at the least provide some solidity on which to base claims.

With his French accent and spectacles, Pineault presents an entertaining blend of investigative nerd and hardcore amateur athletic participant. He unhesitatingly delivers the analyses at which he’s methodically arrived, while you’re still asking, “Where did this guy come from?”

Pineault’s job is more specialized than “Super Size Me” star Morgan Spurlock’s was, because the audience knew what fast food was, while a smaller (but growing) sample of the population knows much about environmental medicine or detoxification.

The eclectic geeky delivery serves in helping the audience lend attention and even critique to the details. For “Body Burden’s” question is not merely whether to moderate one’s fast food intake as Spurlock asked 21 years ago, but whether and how one should navigate the changing and complex terrain of emerging forms of the health care industry.

For MAHA, the movement proper never was just about the Secretary of HHS Robert F. Kennedy. It is about uprooting graft in medicine, and embracing our responsibility and freedom to live well and pass on health to the next generation of Americans.

Graft indeed is present in environmental medicine and detoxification. “Body Burden” is a project on an expressed and personal mission to find it and expose it, while helping people go forward with an understanding of toxins and detoxification, as trust continues to break in various existing medical models.

“Body Burden” is now available for online screening.

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‘Pacific Heights’ Offered a Movie Villain for the Ages

John Schlesinger’s “Pacific Heights” (1990) opens with sex and violence, showing us that anyone who meets Carter Hayes, the film’s mesmerizing villain, will either be punished, wind up one of his victims or both.

Only wreckage and heartbreak come from this man, a sociopath with a slick façade and a self-destructive streak that is somewhere between gambling and sadism. Hayes is played by Michael Keaton, showcasing his first turn as a villain, in a remarkable performance that elevates Schlesinger’s expertly crafted but pulpy thriller.

Patty and Drake, played by Melanie Griffith and Matthew Modine, buy a massive Victorian home in San Francisco’s Pacific Heights neighborhood for $750,000.00 (this is the price in 1990 – today, the home would be valued around $1.8 million).

In addition to buying the place and paying for massive renovations, Patty and Drake become the landlords.

At first, we see some nice people and a sweet family becoming their tenants. Then, Hayes enters the picture – we know he’s no good but when Drake and Patty interview him, we get why they fall for his act. Hayes seems reliable, has deep pockets and comes across like a potentially ideal tenant.

Later, when constant hammering and sawing noises come from Hayes apartment late at night, they realize they’ve made a horrible mistake.

Michael Keaton in Pacific Heights specifically pic.twitter.com/X7FN3iVewF

— Belle (@belle_aec) September 6, 2024

The busy, exciting score by Hans Zimmer pulls us in, as does the prolog that not only sets up a film noir angle but gives us Beverly D’Angelo; normally cast in comedies during this era, D’Angelo is an ideal femme fatale and like Keaton, turns out to be perfect in darker material.

Keaton did this right after “Batman” (1989) and before the nice-try failure “Extreme Measures” (1998). The villainy of Hayes is especially intriguing in that, like Keaton’s take on Bruce Wayne. The madness is internal, and we only get glimpses of it coming to the surface.

Hayes is such a mystery; it’s worth noting that the childhood photos of him out in the open may not even be of him! Hayes is like Bruce Wayne without the Batsuit, Alfred Pennyworth or a sense of duty to defend the innocent in the night.

Hayes is Wayne with only the angst and inner rot.

“Pacific Heights” is not on the level of classic late 20th-century mainstream thrillers like “The Silence of the Lambs” (1991) or “Fatal Attraction” (1987), but is akin to smaller, deviously entertaining chair grabbers like “Single White Female” (1992) and especially “Malice” (1993).

A clever touch in Daniel Pyne’s screenplay is how Drake thinks a former applicant is trying to scam him but isn’t, while Hayes’ act initially sells Drake and Patty immediately.

When “Pacific Heights” was released, some critics went after the film for presenting sympathetic landlords (!). Perhaps few have had landlords as likable as Modine and Griffith come across, though its actually refreshing to see landlords depicted as something other than in the generic fashion of being mean and unlikable.

The details that actually don’t work for me are how Patty gives horse riding lessons and Drake’s company makes kites – whimsical touches, sure, but clearly not enough to pay for their home. I guess being a landlord and getting conned by the likes of Carter Hayes was inevitable?

Modine is especially forceful here, but he and Griffith’s characters still come across as innocent and naïve. When they are informed that Hayes’ power over them in legal matters (“if he’s in, he’s got rights”), their foolishness in not vetting their potential renters better comes across.

Great character actors make up the supporting cast, starting with a terrific Laurie Metcalfe as Drake and Patty’s lawyer. Dan Hedaya and Mako have memorable parts, though the crown jewel is a great, dialog-free but pitch-perfect cameo from Tippi Hendren.

Admittedly, Roman Polanski’s” “The Tenant” (1976) is far scarier and much stranger than “Pacific Heights.” Schlesinger also includes a silly dream sequence that wasn’t needed. Yet, it never stops moving and both Hayes and Keaton’s performance gets increasingly scarier as the film races forward.

Longtime fans of Keaton need to give this one a revisit, while homeowners thinking of becoming landlords should see this as a dire warning and essential cautionary tale.

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How ‘Space Cowboys’ Avoided the ‘Grumpy Old Men’ Curse

Clint Eastwood’s “Space Cowboys” (2000) was a comeback for the legendary filmmaker and a project that initially seemed like a guilty pleasure.

It emerged as a substantial and hugely enjoyable work.

When it was first announced that Eastwood was playing an astronaut, alongside Tommy Lee Jones, James Garner and Donald Sutherland, the response was, understandably, cynical. It sounded like Eastwood was making a broad comedy about the elderly, selling out in the way Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau had with their silly “Grumpy Old Men” (1993-1995) vehicles.

“Space Cowboys” isn’t a comedy but it’s not “Firefox” (1982) either. It avoids being akin to a Jack Lemmon/ Walter Matthau farce but is still intentionally funny enough to play like a motley and jovial variation on “The Right Stuff” (1983).

It begins in 1958 and introduces young lookalike actors playing the big names (Eastwood, Garner, etc.) but the dialog is dubbed with the voices of the actual stars. This proves to be an interesting but strange attempt to convert the no-name performers into younger versions of the actors.

Eastwood would have been better off getting lookalike actors (like the prologue of Phil Alden Robinson’s 1992 “Sneakers” or the beginning of Mike Flanagan’s 2019 “Doctor Sleep”).

The story introduces how “Team Daedalus” was established and needed to be regrouped decades later. We get Eastwood as Colonel Frank Corvin, Lee Jones as Col. Hawkins, Sutherland as Capt. O’Neill and Garner as Capt. Sullivan, all retired pilots and astronauts who are prepped for a mission to stop a satellite from crashing into Earth.

The plausible plot device to bring in the old guys: Corvin designed a guidance system that is so out of date, he’s the only one who can fix it.

Works for me!

I liked the angle the screenplay gives the characters – Garner’s Sullivan became a minister, Sutherland’s O’Neill builds roller coasters and Lee Jones’ Hawkins, in the best character intro, is a daredevil pilot for hire. The justification for getting these four into orbit is only slightly less ridiculous than why a squadron of oil drillers were selected to save Earth in “Armageddon” (1998).

The pacing is patient, without feeling slow or overlong, which is no small feat for an effects-heavy, sci-fi tale that is in no rush to blast into outer space.

“Space Cowboys” was another of Eastwood’s big comebacks in a decade where his big hits (like “Unforgiven” in ’92 and “The Bridges of Madison County” in ‘95) bailed him out when worthy, intriguing misses like “A Perfect World” (1993) and “Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil” (1997) found critical acclaim but baffled audiences.

The surprise box office success of “Space Cowboys” led to “Mystic River” (2003) and “Million Dollar Baby” (2004), as well as admirable stretches like “Hereafter” (2010) and “Sully” (2016).

Eastwood’s airtight tough-guy performance is everything you want it to be, though his best performance of the 1990s is still his fantastic, richer than expected lead turn in Wolfgang Peterson’s “In the Line of Fire” (1993).

RELATED: ‘JUROR No. 2’ PROVES EASTWOOD STILL HAS IT

Garner’s best performance during this era remains “The Notebook” (2004), though he’s game and very funny here. Sutherland, rather endearingly, grins shamelessly in the background of many scenes, as he appears to be having so much fun.

Rade Serbedzija, a terrific actor and so good in “Eyes Wide Shut” (199), is on hand to play a Russian quasi-villain, but far better is a livewire William Devane, unafraid to dig into his co-stars. The Eastwood v. James Cromwell scenes, in which they play old rivals, have bite, though it doesn’t match the crude joy of James Woods tearing into Eastwood in “True Crime” (1999).

Eastwood certainly knows how to entertain and even has the audacity to give all four of the big stars a nude scene. Yet the character humor stops short of going really broad with the jokes. On the other hand, Eastwood is clearly aware of his audience, as early on, someone actually says, “Put a sock in it, sonny!”

The use of the “Space Cowboy” N’Sync song, both in the trailer and during a hero strut, is amusing. Did Warner Bros. think they needed to go the extra mile to entice teens lining up for “Mission: Impossible II” the same summer?

Turns out they needn’t have bothered, as the crossover appeal kicked in. Turns out, quite surprisingly, that “Space Cowboys” hit big with the audience who grew up with the actors and also for my generation, who knew the leads from “Dirty Harry” (1971) and “The Fugitive” (1993).

After the amusing build-up and an extended training segment, it becomes a mission in peril adventure. Jack N. Green’s widescreen cinematography is excellent, as are the ample ILM effects in the third act.

Even for a film that is 25 years old, the spectacle of the grand finale is splendid.

“Gravity” (2013) and “Interstellar” (2014) are currently in pole position for best 21st-century film depicting space travel (though I wouldn’t count out James Gray’s 2019 “Ad Astra,” either). Still, “Space Cowboys” is fun, satisfying and sharper than expected.

Sure, it’s contrived, but still succeeds by leaning into character rather than the potential to make it an easy yuk-fest about aging in the space industry.

Leave it to Eastwood to make a better-than-expected popcorn movie. Like John Huston, Eastwood’s amazing directorial body of work showcases films made in every genre.

The wonderful closing shot is perfect. As a film about American mythmaking and the space program, that final image isn’t just a great thematic capper but a perfect way to end a story this big.

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