Movies to Watch From United States of America (Page 2)
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Duster isn’t doing anything new by taking on organized crime and cloaking it in vibrant retro garb. But it does spin something familiar into something enjoyable to watch. The period drama is reminiscent of 1970s exploitation films—it’s funny, fast-paced, and stylish—but it never feels like a caricature of the genre. Holloway and Hilson inject their characters with plenty of heart, so whether you’re following his rugged anti-hero or her rule-breaking FBI agent, it still makes for a thrilling ride.
Stick is Apple TV+’s blatant attempt to follow up on Ted Lasso’s success. Like it, Stick is a sports dramedy that follows a washed-up, middle-aged, well-meaning man in pursuit of collective greatness. But despite their obvious similarities, Stick finds its footing and quickly becomes its own funny, moving, and irresistibly charming thing. This has a lot to do with the core characters, a group of people who can’t be any more different, and yet who connect in meaningful ways as they spend time on the road and on the course. Their chemistry and character arcs more than make up for the lack of an original story. The entire ensemble cast is great, but it’s the adults of the group—Wilson, Marc Maron, and Mariana Treviño—who give the show depth as they explore loss and grief in relatable ways. Stick sometimes feels too optimistic, but never too weepy.
The most surprising thing about Overcompensating is that, underneath the sexual romps and irreverent humor, there exists something sweet in the form of Benny and Carmen’s friendship. Yes, the show is largely about college and exploring the boundaries of freedom. It’s also about the different performances we put on in an awkward attempt to fit in and realize Who We Are. But it can also feel like it’s tackling too much at times, without a lot of novelty. College-set films and shows like Undeclared, The Sex Lives of College Girls, and even Neighbors have already treaded similar ground in sharper and funnier ways. But Overcompensating is still worth the watch, if only to see how Benny and Carmen grow and find platonic comfort in each other. Campy characters like Hallie (Holmes) and Esther (Kaia Gerber) also provide plenty of laughs and elevate it into something truly memorable.
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In the 1970s, at the height of the women’s liberation movement, there emerged a publication that sought to bridge the gap between activists and everyday women. Led by Gloria Steinem, Ms. magazine brought the revolution to women’s doorsteps—it reminded them of their rights, empowered them to stand up for themselves, and encouraged them to live full, independent lives. Dear Ms. is a beautiful tribute to the magazine, as well as a timely reminder of how powerful women’s voices can be. The documentary is divided into three parts, each of which discusses iconic issues Ms. magazine has released over the years. The first part tackles race and intersectionality; the second, sexual harassment; and the third, pornography. The film welcomes both praise and backlash, celebration and criticism—there is nuance, yet it still feels incomplete at times. Dear Ms. sometimes feels like a visualized Wikipedia page, repeating what has already been said in the past. But its messages are so potent and relevant to today’s atmosphere, it’s quite easy to look past those gaps and just enjoy the documentary for what it is.
In many ways, the NBA is the face of basketball. They don’t just develop athletes, they create superstars—idols that people turn to for hope and inspiration. But even though the NBA is technically American, it’s never been more populated with international players than today. When it comes to the Olympics, that means fierce and exciting global competition. It’s hard to capture the enormity of all that, but Court of Gold succeeds with flying colors. The show strays from run-of-the-mill narration and generic footage. Instead, it gives us what we want: inside access into what goes down behind the scenes. We follow the top four teams in the games—USA, France, Serbia, and Canada—and hear from the athletes themselves. Kevin Durant, Victor Wembanyama, Nikola Jokić, and Shai Gilgeous-Alexander are some of the representatives who stand out the most. Some of these interviews and fly-on-the-wall moments prove to be even just as (if not more) exciting than the showdown on the court. But the latter is undeniably thrilling. It doesn’t matter that you know who takes the gold, or even that you care enough about the game. Court of Gold is a well-made example of showmanship and athleticism, as well as a wonderful attempt at humanizing larger-than-life stars.
Not everybody holds a good relationship with their sisters, but ideally, we get to reunite and repair things in a good time. Unfortunately, for some families, the only time they reunite is due to a parent nearly dying. This is the case in His Three Daughters, where the three sisters meet after years living apart. It’s a common plotline, mostly depicted in the feel-good, family friendly variation, but writer-director Azazel Jacobs makes the three sisters distinct by taking the easy assumptions many people would make about them, and naturally push them to reveal the opposite. Carrie Coon, Natasha Lyonne, and Elizabeth Olsen form a great trio, delivering equally excellent performances under the same roof.
The Residence is a treat for fans of whodunnit mysteries, primarily because it plays homage to the genre more than anything. Each episode is titled after a well-known mystery, like “Dial M for Murder” and “Knives Out,” which speaks to its self-awareness. But the show is more than just a Sherlock knock-off. It boasts a colorful cast of characters, many of whom are given enough backstory and depth for us to empathize with. Most striking of all is Detective Cupp herself, who is eccentric, confident, and very easy to like. She whizzes through The White House’s hundreds of rooms equipped with quirky one-liners and a jazzy score, so it never feels like she overstays her welcome. As far as murder mysteries go, The Residence may not present the trickiest puzzle nor the most cerebral dialogue, but it’s smart, funny, and likable. By the end of the finale, you’ll wish to see more of the cast.
Romantic comedies used to be a dime a dozen in the 2000s, but now it seems like a dying genre, filled with mere shadows of what once was. That’s why when a good one comes along, you recognize it immediately: a good romcom revitalizes our ideas of love and life. It’s injected with a freshness that makes old feelings seem brand new. You get that in the British film Rye Lane, the Apple TV+ series Platonic series, and the Aussie gem Colin from Accounts, to name some recent examples. You can also find that same spark in Nobody Wants This, a breezy and effortlessly funny romantic comedy about two star-crossed adults trying to make their relationship work despite family disapproval, work demands, and that nagging fear of being hurt once more. The series is helmed by an impressive roster of writers and directors including Greg Mottola (Adventureland, Superbad), Karen Maine (Obvious Child), and Oz Rodriguez (The Last Man on Earth). It’s reminiscent of the indie romcoms of the last decade while shedding some much-needed spotlight on middle-aged dating. My only gripe is that this would’ve worked so much better as a punchy feature film. Instead, it’s dragged to the typical Netflix length of 10 episodes, but at least each runs only for a breezy 30 minutes.
With the gorgeous period costumes, the romance, and the familial dynamics, you would think that Like Water for Chocolate’s latest screen adaptation would be just the same as the film, albeit with a Bridgerton-esque style. To a certain extent, this is true, as the essence of the novel still remains intact and the production is greatly upgraded, however, the added runtime allows this latest adaptation to expand on the novel’s commentary on race and class, and how this played out within the Mexican revolution that was mostly glossed over in the film. Como Agua Para Chocolate captures the novel’s much more rich and layered flavors, in much more fulfilling and scrumptious ways.
Is there anything more lovely than hearing Martin Scorsese talk about cinema? Maybe it’s just the film nerds in us– we are, after all, always on the hunt for A Good Movie to Watch– but it’s just wonderful to hear Scorsese talk about movies, especially from directors he loves and are inspired by. Made in England: The Films of Powell and Pressburger is about the influence of The Archers, and while it’s mostly a straightforward documentary, director David Hinton makes it something like a cohesive film course on the directors, with Scorsese as lecturer. Oftentimes letting the directors’ shots and music speak for themselves, with Scorsese adding needed context, it won’t be a surprise that Made In England would be a treat for film nerds, but it also would be a great introduction for casual viewers, or viewers that want to start watching classic films, like those of The Archers.
You’d be forgiven for assuming Celtics City would be like most sports documentaries on TV—unremarkable and over-the-top. But in this case, Celtics City deserves to be over the top. The NBA team, perhaps more than any in the league, has such a rich history, filled with wins and losses, joys and failures, shame and impact, that it makes sense to tell their story in multiple episodes. It’s not indulgent or forced, it’s deserved. The first part alone is an expertly woven argument about how race and sports, at least in America, are inextricable. You can’t talk about the Boston Celtics without recognizing the incredible things Bill Russell has done for the team, and yet that’s what happened in the ‘50s. This smart discourse, along with the thrilling footage of past games and the exclusive interviews with Celtics members past and present make Celtics City stand out among the many, many sports docs out there.
For the longest time, television seemed to be the antithesis to reading– part of that belief still lingers to this day. However, just before the turn of the millennium, there was a show that didn’t find itself opposite to it, instead, it wanted to be its ally. That show was Reading Rainbow. Butterfly in the Sky tells its story. It’s quite nostalgic, as the show’s former cast and crew recall what it was like, and the way the film structured its sequences captures not just the show itself, but the cultural weight it represented, as it encouraged reading not just as a skill you need to learn, but as a way to interact with the wider world around us, which is worth protecting. Butterfly in the Sky believes in stories, and believes in the story that it wants to tell about Reading Rainbow.
Before this documentary, I didn’t have the faintest clue that the formative films of my childhood—Star Wars, Superman, Indiana Jones, ET, and Harry Potter, to name a few—were scored by one man: John Williams. This film is a loving tribute to Williams, who at 92, is still as lively as ever as he shares how he stumbled into Hollywood and found his calling as the definitive movie composer. It features interviews with frequent collaborators like Steven Spielberg and Yoyo Ma and fans like Chris Martin and Seth MacFarlane, but it’s truly Williams’ music that makes watching this a special experience. As soon as you hear the chilling first notes of Jaws, the brash opening of Star Wars, and the melodic strings of Jurassic Park, you’re hooked. Then Williams, often along with the directors, go on and recount how those came to be, and you find yourself seated, eyes wide with wonder.
After the only war the Americans have lost, American post-Vietnam war portrayals tend to lean as patriotic revenge fantasies or romanticized disillusionment, but rarely do they portray the people caught in between. HBO’s The Sympathizer is an adaptation of the Pulitzer winning novel of the same name, and while it’s mainly an American production, Park Chan-wook and Robert Downey Jr.’s collaboration sticks to the Captain’s perspective, as the unnamed mole protagonist writes his confession years after from a jail in Vietnam. Chan-wook excellently mirrors his approach to Viet Thanh Nguyen’s agile storytelling, shifting time periods and languages the same way the Captain shifts perspectives, though Nguyen’s dry humor sometimes wavers when translated to the screen. Still, it’s certainly a well-crafted, ambitious depiction coming from a unique perspective.
The first things that grab your attention in Nickel Boys are its beauty and technicality. Director RaMell Ross, a large-format photographer, ensures every frame relays something deep, intimate, and moving. Then there’s how he takes these shots: we see things unfold through the POV of Elwood and Turner, students at an abusive reform school in Tallahassee, Florida. The year is 1962, and even though the civil rights movement inspires Elwood and his peers to stand up for themselves, the political climate is as skewed and violent as ever. Nickel Boys tells the unfortunately common story of how Black men, in particular, had to endure unimaginable abuse during the Jim Crow era in the South. What is uncommon, though, is the sensitivity and boundless inventiveness with which Ross tells this story. Yes, violence is unavoidable in a story like this, but Ross swaps trauma porn with something more effective and chilling—a mixture of silence, archival photographs, time jumps, and that immersive POV, which forces you to be in Elwood and Turner’s shoes. The world before them may be brutal, but inside, they hold space for beauty, fun, relationships, and wonder, manifested in the film in dreamy visual sequences. What Ross does is art in the highest form, an unforgettable balance between style and substance.
Set in Tulsa, The Lowdown follows Lee Raybon (Ethan Hawke), a bookstore owner by day and investigative journalist by night. When he uncovers secrets harbored by the powers-that-be in Oklahoma, he finds himself in tricky situations, which he navigates with an amusing mix of awkwardness and finesse. The premise is nothing new, but Hawke delivers a hell of a performance: he’s electric, never stagnant, and dials up the general tone without ever being too much. The script is sharp and funny enough, but it’s Hawke and his peers’ performances that solidify The Lowdown as a must-watch, especially for fans of noir.
Untamed moves slowly at first, but the pace pays off once you realize how Turner’s story is as much of a mystery as the case he’s solving, and how people can turn out to be as savage as the wild. It’s this balance between inner turmoil and outer chaos, bolstered by A-plus performances from the cast, that elevates Untamed from your typical murder mystery. Untamed is also a picturesque show. Even in its wildest and goriest moments (and even if most of it was filmed in Canada, not Yosemite), it remains stunning to look at.
Set in a high-crime neighborhood in Philadelphia, the series follows Mickey (Seyfried), a cop in search of her missing sister Kacey (Ashleigh Cummings), a struggling addict. Mickey believes her disappearance is connected to the strange series of deaths among female addicts in the city, but because her department would rather keep a blind eye, she has to investigate both cases in secret. All the while, she’s raising a child on her own and battling personal demons that trace back to her childhood. The premise, admittedly, is nothing you haven’t seen before. It even looks like the many other police thrillers out there, what with its grayed coloring and serious demeanors. It’s also paced similarly: slowly and surely. But what the series lacks in originality and speed, it more than makes up for in heart. It reframes common narratives about addicts—do they deserve help?—and urges us to sympathize with them, instead of ignoring or altogether ostracizing them.
Will and Harper’s premise is simple: two friends journey from one end of the States to another and, amid pit stops and bar hops, sunsets and beers, they talk about life, from its biggest concepts down to its tiniest details. The only difference in this case is that Will and Harper are navigating their friendship as well as the roads; since Harper has only recently transitioned (formerly, she was the comedy screenwriter Andrew Steele), she and Will feel the need to settle more than a few questions. When did this all start? What kept Harper from coming out? Will the friendship still be the same? Does Harper still like bad beer? Will, for his part, is earnest and curious, and though he fumbles along the way—at one point, he inadvertently exposes Harper to a transphobic crowd—he’s quick to recognize his mistakes, learn from them, and recenter our attention to Harper, who is the real star of this film. We learn about her childhood and how she grappled with identity throughout her life. We even visit her home in Iowa and get to know her family. The film keeps it light by smartly relying on their naturally funny tandem and the beautiful American country backdrop. It’s been said that to know the real American pulse, you’d have to go to the Midwest, and that’s exactly what they do. It’s not always pretty, but there are bubbles of joy there that present hope not just to Harper but to the many transpeople out there waiting to know if it’s finally time to head out (it is).
It’s hard not to be swept away by the epicness of Masters of the Air. Produced by Steven Spielberg and Tom Hanks, with the first four episodes directed by Cary Joji Fukunaga (No Time to Die, True Detective), it’s made sure to flex its massive $250-million budget. Everything is accounted for here, from the sweeping and historically accurate production design to the stacked cast of rising male stars (Oscar nominees Austin Butler and Barry Keoghan easily steal the show). Even the rousing score and sound design, while bordering on melodrama at times, build up tension and add a premium air to it. It’s a visual and sonic feast bolstered by upstanding performances and an endearing show of brotherhood. Whenever it risks being propagandistic or misguidedly patriotic, it’s the believable relationship between the boys and their grave understanding of war that ground it and give it heart. And of course, the air combats are edge-of-your-seat thrilling. Like Band of Brothers and The Pacific before it, it’s a visceral entry in the genre of World War II must-sees.
If you combined the family business shenanigans of Arrested Development with the behind-the-scenes league drama of Ted Lasso, then you’d have Running Point, which is less funny than those two sitcoms, but just as watchable and full of heart. The half-hour comedy series is co-created by Mindy Kaling (The Office, The Sex Lives of College Girls) so you can expect the same feminist-streaked brand of humor here, which amusingly tempers with the athletes’ (initial) machoness. Along with being funny, it’s often informational, like when it takes us into the gritty business of trading and dealing within the league, or when it reveals the pressure—financial, societal, or otherwise—athletes have to go through. Its satire of rich people isn’t as sharp as it could be, but it’s still an enjoyable series nonetheless. Hudson and Chet Hanks, who plays the hardheaded star player Travis Bugg, are charming standouts.
Mountain Queen isn’t just a movie about a professional mountain climber, although Lhakpa Sherpa is certainly impressive as she trudges through the deathly terrain of Everest (and at 50 years old at that!). It’s also the heartbreaking story of a broken family in repair. Sherpa reveals shocking details about her abusive husband, fellow climber Gheorghe Dijmărescu, and we see how it’s affected her two daughters, one of which is so hurt, she can’t bring herself to speak to her mother. The main thread of the movie is her 10th attempt to scale the tallest peak in the world, but Director Lucy Walker smartly intercuts this with tales of Sherpa’s own life—a laborious obstacle on its own—rightfully framing Sherpa as the strong woman that she is.
Only a few people in Dita’s house are related by blood, but you wouldn’t know that by how they move. They’re tight-knit but argumentative, loving at times but spiteful in other instances. In other words, they’re complicated just like any other family. Housekeeping for Beginners makes a compelling case for the validity—and at times necessity—of found families like Dita’s, who all found each other after being shunned by their race and sexuality. As in his previous works, Director Goran Stolevski paints a realistic and relevant portrait here, one tinted with striking pain and poignancy, bound to leave your heart aching long after the credits roll.
Those unfamiliar with James Hamilton would be forgiven for asking “Why him?” Why does he get a documentary? What makes this photographer so special? But a few minutes in, those questions are immediately replaced with the more appropriate, “Well, why not him?” Hamilton’s work spans decades, and they capture in rich detail a New York that’s long gone, as well as an alternative form of journalism that used to thrive back then (in print no less!), but can now only be found few and far between. It’s enough to see his work, sectioned here in order of their appearance in iconic publications like Harper’s Bazaar, The Village Voice, and New York Observer. Still, they’re complemented by moving images and illuminating interviews beautifully shot in 35mm. Uncropped is reminiscent of other documentaries that also capture New York in its heyday, a distinguished roster that includes films like All The Beauty and the Bloodshed, Paris is Burning, and The Automat. But Uncropped, like Hamilton, has a distinctive edge that marks it as an instant classic. By the end, you can’t help but think, what a rich life Hamilton’s lived, and how lucky we are to see through his vivid, imaginative lens.
Continuing her fight to tell the world the truth about her sexual assault case, journalist Shiori Ito released Black Box Diaries. Like her book, it’s a powerful documentary. Filmed with actual CCTV evidence, with some witness accounts, and with recordings she made while investigating her case, Ito’s first foray into film is personal, vulnerable, and intimate, going through the events as it naturally unfolds. While it is depressing to witness the ways investigators, lawyers, politicians and other people have failed her, Black Box Diaries immediately reveals Ito’s resolve for the truth, and how taxing the toll was for survivors that chose to take the same path.
In an interview, Conan compared Conan O’Brien Must Go to a travel documentary, except, he said, you don’t learn anything new or interesting. After watching the show, I can safely say that that couldn’t be further from the truth, though it is indicative of the kind of self-deprecating humor he employs throughout the show. What you learn from watching Conan hop from one country to another, improvising and befriending people from different parts of the world, is that it is possible to be both ridiculously funny and genuinely kind. Many comedians joke at the expense of other people—they’re willing to humiliate them, not themselves—but Conan is the opposite. He is always the butt of a joke. Even when he’s pointing out something inane, it’s his incredulity that we’re laughing at. Upon watching this four-parter, you also learn that no one can match, much less top, what Conan does.
In the Dead Talents Society, ghosts haunting humans are less of a scare, and more a performance that can grant fame and fortune in the underworld. It makes for incredibly charming comedy. It affectionately satirizes East Asian horror in such a fresh way, comparing a ghost being remembered to today’s social media influencers, with views and validation directly tied to survival. However, as these ghosts scramble to scare unwitting humans, writer-director John Hsu resolves their need to be seen through the familiar path of fun and friendship, an approach that works with its offbeat humor and incredible performances. Dead Talents Society is very goofy, but it’s a unique horror comedy that won’t easily be forgotten.
After the cool partnerships Titmouse and Netflix had, their next work was bound to be something to look forward to. Jentry Chau vs. The Underworld starts with a slow start, but the supernatural horror comedy is fun and entertaining, taking inspiration from Asian mythology and classic teen comedies, but writing these tropes and themes in exciting ways, weaving them into a cute, compelling coming-of-age story that reckons with intergenerational conflict, parental control, and self-acceptance. The story works really well, and it’s matched with bold, colorful animation, catchy K-pop soundtrack, and stunning sequences we’d love to watch more of. The lead might have trouble fitting in, but Jentry Chau stands out with its unique storytelling.
Right off the bat, Number One on the Call Sheet is impressive because of the sheer number of stars it has onscreen. Eddie Murphy, Whoopi Goldberg, Morgan Freeman, Denzel Washington, Will Smith, Viola Davis, and so much more sit down for a candid interview about who their idols were, what their journeys were like as Black artists, and what they think of the future generation of actors (here represented by the likes of Daniel Kaluuya, Tessa Thompson, and Jurnee Smollett). It’s a joyful celebration of success as well as a sobering reminder of a painful, racist past. Ocassionally, director Reginald Hudlin spends too long on the careers of certain actors and loses sight of the documentary’s purpose—is this a tribute to Black actors or a tabloid celebrity biography? But, ultimately, it gets back on its feet and leaves you with a stirring and hopeful message about the impact and potential of Black Hollywood.
It’s hard not to be enchanted by Henson’s furtively creative world, which here is charmingly sectioned into nostalgic archival footage, stop motion art, and clips of Henson’s own experimental films early in his career. Those unfamiliar with Henson might think his story is simply the history of the Muppets and Sesame Street (though even then it would be a full one), but Henson has plenty of other creations too. He’s part of a line of chronically dissatisfied artists who are constantly reinventing and restlessly one-upping themselves, which is why his work evolved into early CGI, as well as The Dark Crystal franchise and films like Labyrinth. This lovingly told documentary tries to match Henson’s heart and creativity, while also showing the darker aspects of his life, such as the effect his nonstop artistry had on his family and health.
Is it possible to make a workplace comedy set in a hospital emergency room, of all places? St. Denis Medical proves that it is. Like The Office and Parks and Rec before it, St. Denis is a mockumentary that follows an eclectic ensemble who are well-meaning but not always professional, which gives way to funny scenes, pairings, and hijinks. Because of the show’s bleak setting, it risks jarring audiences with a mismatch in tone (there are literally people who are dying around them), but St. Denis is able to be both earnest and funny. The characters are all likable, but the show’s big beating heart is Alex (Allison Tolman), the designated straight-woman, the level-headed foil against her more absurd colleagues. More than anyone, she genuinely cares for the patients and her workmates’ well-being. Issues like understaffed hospitals, expensive healthcare, and medical bias are highlighted in humorous ways. And it works! Laughter is, after all, the best medicine.
If you’re expecting the sleek, playful, and totally over-the-top spy shenanigans of 2005’s Mr. & Mrs. Smith, you’re not going to find it in this 2024 version, not that it’s a bad thing. In fact, this show stands on its own, reinventing the spy couple into a professional partnership rather than an immediate spark that leads to marriage. This decision makes the show feel like the film’s opposite– as the longer runtime and naturalistic aura enables more focus on the incomparable Donald Glover and Maya Erskine rather than the explosions– but it makes the danger feel more unpredictable and not just action set pieces. Mr. & Mrs. Smith may not be the star-powered, guns-blazing action comedy we’re familiar with, but it’s certainly a more thoughtful, fresh take that improves on the concept.
Some people can get totally desperate when it comes to their love life, but rarely does this desperation end up with summoning an ancient warrior princess spirit. My Undead Yokai Girlfriend plays on this desperation, hilariously juxtaposing modern day love troubles with an ancient demonic revenge plot, and the mix plays out in a fun and cutesy way, with Hachi understandably over-the-top stressed out over the fact he accidentally summoned and bonded with a yokai spirit that can drain his life force. As Hachi tries to solve this through smartphone technology and research, Izzy learns more about modern day Japan, all while they both evade Hachi’s police father assigned to investigate Izzy’s victims. It’s silly, but it’s fun, and surprisingly introduces Japanese mythology in an engaging way.
The premise of The Bondsman is fun enough. In a small Southern town, Bacon plays a bad-ass bounty hunter who sends demons back to hell. And the episodes are easy to watch, too. Each runs for about 30 minutes, featuring a new monster for Bacon to slay. Inexplicably, the show is also, occasionally, a musical. But for the most part, The Bondsman is a straightforward horror thriller with comedic inflections. It’s most reminiscent of Supernatural, but somehow less charming. It’s nothing new or noteworthy, but it is an enjoyable way to spend some time, especially if you’ve been missing Bacon on screen. It’s Bacon and Beth Grant, who plays his mother and unlikely demon-hunting partner (cutely nicknamed “Momma Bear”), who elevate the series into a worthwhile watch.
Coming-of-age shows are practically Netflix’s bread-and-butter, but the working class side of Brisbane in the 80’s is a suburb we didn’t expect the international streamer to visit. Based on the semi-autobiographical novel with the same name, Boy Swallows Universe is centered on the precocious Eli Bell, whose age and curiosity naturally pushes him to try and figure out how he fits in the world. There are some magic realist elements, and the crimes escalate as we go further and further into the miniseries, but the show shines best when depicting the slow, day-to-day moments in Bell’s family. The show never judges them, nor does it totally excuse their actions. Instead, Boy Swallows Universe depicts a certain nostalgic compassion one could only have for their hometown, regardless of how downtrodden it is.
With a film version that didn’t live up to the hype of the original novel, Netflix’s adaptation of One Day released just in time to wreck the fans’ hearts all over again, but this time, it’s a good thing. The expanded runtime allowed Netflix to delve more into the moments in the novel, with each episode dedicated to a day in the year in Emma’s and Dexter’s lives, contrasting their respective worlds and opportunities available to them as different members of London society. And the couple is played beautifully by Leo Woodall and Ambika Mod, with a believable chemistry that isn’t formed in a single spark, but made in multiple moments. If you’re needing a good cry just right before Valentine’s Day, One Day is a superb slow burn romance to let those tears out.
Man on the Inside may be a detective show, but at its core, it’s a series about the beauty and pain of aging. It follows recently widowed Charles as he befriends the residents at a nursing home he’s secretly investigating for thievery. Despite himself, Charles opens up, which complicates the case but gives the story all of its heart. Not a lot of shows are willing to sift through the realities of old age, and even when they do they tend to focus (understandably) on the painful aspects of it–death, grief, sickness. Man on the Inside is a welcome reminder that there’s more to it too. There’s the freedom to be who you are, and family and friendships to strengthen. Man on the Inside won’t be the sharpest mystery you’ll see anytime soon, but it just might be one of the most poignant and heartwarming ones you’ll watch. It might also get you to call up an elderly loved one and check in on them, finally.
Starring the Cate Blanchett and directed by Alfonso Cuaron, Disclaimer is every bit as cinematic and enjoyable as you’d imagine it to be. It’s juicy and well-performed (Hoyeon’s unnatural acting notwithstanding), filled with enough twists and turns to keep you seated despite the occasionally melodramatic plot. It’s designed to make you crave more: more rich acting, more pulpy mystery, more explosive secrets, and more emotional breakdowns, which Blanchett has certainly mastered. It’s not as deep as it thinks itself to be, and the script can be overwrought at times (do we really need every single movement narrated?) but the fun twists, great performances, and beautiful cinematography more than makes up for them.
Before the documentary, I knew very little about Dr. Ann Burgess, and as I watched it, I realized it’s not because her contributions to history were so little (just the opposite, they’re incredibly important and far-reaching) but because Burgess doesn’t like to promote herself all that much. “There are too many things to do to be bothered by all that,” she says with impressive urgency at 87. Thankfully, Mastermind director Abigail Fuller distills Burgess’ storied career into three deeply engaging episodes for all to witness and enjoy. Here, you see Burgess standardize criminal profiling and help agents capture serial killers like the notorious Ski-Mask Rapist. You also see other sides to Burgess—the nurse, mother, mentor, professor, and advocate—and you start to feel frustrated on her behalf, because she should get way more credit than what she’s been given thus far.
Before she captivated the film world with her performance in Scorcese’s crime drama Killers of the Flower Moon, Lily Gladstone starred in Erica Tremblay’s feature film debut Fancy Dance, earlier in 2023. It’s a tragic drama, wherein Gladstone portrays Jax, a lesbian woman dealing with the government that failed to find her sister, and that currently seeks to transfer her niece’s custody to her white father. But it’s also an uplifting drama, one that celebrates the connection between Jax and her niece Roki, the Cayuga culture and language, and the connection with their community and tribe that continues to persist despite state disenfranchisement. Pacing issues do make the film a tad rushed, but nevertheless, Fancy Dance is a subtle and poignant debut, made much more grounded with the excellent lead performances.
When adapting a novel, television showrunners have to transform the text into video, so sometimes, things get cut, lines get shortened, and sometimes what you and the author imagine from the book doesn’t match up on screen. Luckily, for Interior Chinatown, that’s not the case– the novel is already in a screenplay format, and the mini-series is being handled by the very same guy who wrote it, Charles Wu. The satire novel was pretty experimental, so it’s no surprise that the series holds the same playful energy as the book, but this time, playing with stylistic expectations (see: every time the faux leads enters a room) and genre expectations to create a meta levelling up quest for a background character to finally shine through. And with a stacked cast (Jimmy O. Yang, Ronny Chieng, and Chloe Bennet), the humorous plot cleverly challenges the ways Hollywood has excluded and stereotyped Asian Americans, and the way this plays out in real life.
We Are the World is a charity single created for African famine relief. It was a smash success– it inspired plenty of other charity singles and already has a TV documentary about it. But The Greatest Night in Pop reveals new behind-the-scenes footage with a home video flair, intercut with interviews from those who were in the booth on that fateful day. The anecdotes about that night might have already been said elsewhere, but director Bao Nguyen manages to capture the energy in the room, peeking into the emotions of the various personalities that helped shape the song. It’s an intriguing, if straightforward documentary, and it’s certainly a treat watching the decade’s best voices collaborate to make this one track.
We’re familiar with dick jokes from stand-up comedians, especially male stand-up, but Jacqueline Novak’s 90-minute show about the blow job feels completely new. Get on Your Knees feels like casual storytelling from someone experienced yet distant enough to be a cool authority on it (say, your best friend’s older sister’s best friend), but funnier. It’s like a gossip session about a first experience, except the breathless, dizzying stream of thought is peppered with philosophical thought and points out the absurdity around the language and common attitudes about sex. And as she does so, and as she talks about self-conscious fumbling and unanswered questions, she strides back and forth, in an easy, self-assured way, the way we’d like to feel going into the act.
Just based off its title, Mutt is already a film that tackles a state of in-between, and perhaps what makes it already precious is how honest and personal it can get, while remaining a good fictional story. This striking debut took Chilean-Serbian filmmaker Vuk Lungulov-Klotz more than six years to make, at least from the initial stages of the script as he was working through his own transition, how that felt and how he dealt with it in life and art. That said, Mutt is a film that stands on its own feet, without the need for any such context: the script, the performances, the frantic pacing of it, they are all top-level stuff. A generous, open film that has its trans protagonist be who they are, whatever that may be, and gives as much insight as it allows for curiosity and empathy. If Mutt is educational in any way, it is through it’s apt storytelling and truthfulness that bleeds through the screen; its significance for trans cinema cannot be overstated, but it is also once of the most accomplished debuts of 2023.
At the peak of his fame in the 80s, Christopher Reeve was constantly seen as his onscreen character, Superman. Like him, Reeve could fly (planes). He was full of charm and stood for what was right. But in this revealing documentary, we learn the whole truth about Reeve; his troubled childhood, his initial struggles with commitment, his physical talents, his love for family, and—as many a superhero star will sympathize with—his deep yearning for a creative career outside of the comic book character who made him famous. Of course, a significant chunk of the documentary also deals with Reeve’s unfortunate paralysis. We witness, through home movies and narrated biographies, how he coped with the tragedy. Making the film even more special is the input of his three children, who look back at the time with generous honesty and vulnerability. This film is made for fans of the actor, but it’s also a great example of the power of advocacy (Reeve became a disability rights activist after the accident), love (his wife Dana is a superhero on her own), and legacy (his children run his foundation to this day).
High Potential isn’t the smartest thing out there, despite Morgan’s impressive 160 IQ. It’s also not the quirkiest of its kind (hello, Elsbeth!). But it’s undeniably enjoyable, thanks in large part to Olson, who injects her character with so much wit, charm, and tenderness. Played wrong, Morgan could’ve been yet another annoying Sherlock-type, but in Olson’s capable hands, she’s anything but. It’s still too early to tell whether the surrounding characters will match her infectious energy, but I am seated and excited for more to come.
Frida Kahlo is an iconic Mexican painter, not just because of her outstanding art, but also because of her outlook in life, despite her ill health and tragic accident. Because of this, she has been talked about in multiple books, movies, and exhibitions, but a new documentary has popped up, this time from her own words. Carla Gutierrez’s directorial debut is a revelation, voiced primarily in Frida’s native Spanish and paired with key archival footage, vivid animations of her paintings, and an excellent acoustic score plucked from classical guitar. Being a biographical documentary, fans of the artist would, of course, be familiar with her life events, but Gutierrez’s approach is still worth watching, mostly because it’s Frida’s own words driving the film.
In what is only his second feature, Greek director Christos Nikou crafts a singular universe that is orderly and enticing. The dystopian premise that you can now scientifically test for love may be bizarre, but it answers to one of the biggest anxieties humans share. That said, this particular world feels so close to ours today, that you want to dive right in it, weirdness and all. Even the topos of the love clinic, where couples get evaluated and take on exercises before they take the test is framed as a space for hope. There’s no underlying cynicism in Nikou’s film, which is perhaps the most surprising fact about it; on the contrary, longing—however painful it may be—abounds and seeps through the carefully composed images of shared doubt and suspect intimacy. Last, but not least, the chemistry shared by Buckley-Ahmed-White is nothing short of explosive.
Exhibiting Forgiveness does what it says in the title. The plot moves when a repentant family member returns to the protagonist’s life to reconcile with them, and in doing so, there’s hope that things would work out between them. Many a depiction would often treat this moment as a simple hurdle to jump over, but like what he does in other mediums, writer-director Titus Kaphar reconfigures this moment with a lived-in understanding of what other depictions gloss over. Through contrasting the present day actions of Tarrell with harrowing flashbacks of the past, and through an incredible cast, Exhibiting Forgiveness paints a more honest, heartwrenching depiction of what it means to truly forgive a parent.
At two hours and nearly 30 minutes, Stonewalling is quite long. The third film from spouses Ryuji Otsuka and Huang Ji takes place in slow, slice-of-life moments, centered around a female lead that mostly doesn’t actively make choices for her own life, so it can feel frustrating to watch. But as the film unfolds, Lynn’s passivity turns out to be the tragically familiar surrender of today’s working class. Lynn tries to make choices to pay out her mother’s debt, to ensure that she’s not indebted herself, through jobs that commodify her youth, her beauty, and even her body, but each move consequently limits her next options. She tries to bargain for other solutions, but it turns out these solutions were never there in the first place. All she can do is quietly adapt, with each failed promise culminating into a baby’s cry.
If you are a historian, a communist, a capitalist, a Russian or American citizen, you would likely already have opinions about the Cold War. But regardless of your knowledge on the topic, there’s no denying that Netflix docuseries Turning Point: The Bomb and the Cold War is such an ambitious documentary, dedicating a whopping 9 hours to explain the Cold War and its ramifications in such a comprehensive, well-paced way, trying to balance between various perspectives from all over the world. Of course, being from an American production company, it does slightly lean towards the American perspective, with some of the Netflix flair that you can see in their other documentaries. Nonetheless, The Bomb and the Cold War is a handy explainer to the history that still shapes many of today’s conflicts.
Partially due to the surviving Norse myths, as well as certain modernized cinematic depictions, most people think of the Norse gods as fairly benevolent, if a bit violent, entities. With Zack Synder at the helm, it’s unsurprising that he would take an edgier approach to the Twilight of the Gods, but this time, it works well, transforming these arbitrarily powerful beings as the villains they would actually be, at least in the perspective of the humans trampled by their thoughtlessness. It’s beautifully depicted, with lovely character designs and great voice performances, and it’s an interesting depiction of a mythology not often depicted.