The following films are nominated for Best Picture this year. I hope that Train Dreams wins, and that it's re-released in theaters so that I get a chance to see it as it was intended. I expect One Battle After Another to walk away with the top prize. If you want to see the actual best film that I've seen in the last year, I suggest you bypass the list altogether, and check out To Kill A Mockingbird or Braveheart.
Sunday, March 15, 2026
Train Dreams
I ended up watching two of the ten films nominated for Best Picture at home this year. I watched Bugonia at home, and wished that I had a smaller screen to watch it on (can you watch movies on an Apple Watch?), and I also watched Train Dreams at home, and wished that I could have seen it on the big screen. Train Dreams is what I think a Terrence Malick film would be like, if I had the attention span to watch a Terrence Malick film. This film is not so much about what happens or why; rather, it's how it feels, it's the experience of being there with the main character, and whether something is real or is a dream, doesn't really matter. This is the film's strength, since it has such a rich and beautiful visual presentation. This could also be considered the film's weakness, it's natural to want answers, and closure, neither of which this film is willing to provide. I liked that the director, Clint Bentley, shows us beauty, lingers on the loving relationship between husband and wife, shares the goodness of a father teaching his child, and explores the complicated nature of friendship between men. What I didn't like was the hopeless sadness that followed the loss of everything good, and that there was no relief from the emptiness. It's good to finish a film like Train Dreams, turn off the television, and look around at all the things that God has given us that give hope, even when we encounter times of loss and sadness.
The Secret Agent
I saw The Secret Agent in Orlando this past Friday, and in contrast to my recent review of Sinners, the details of this film are fresh in my mind. I thought for sure that I'd seen the lead actor in something else, but I couldn't place him at the time of watching the movie. A quick search just now of IMDb reminds me that I saw Wagner Moura in Alex Garland's Civil War from back in late 2024. I'm glad that I didn't associate Moura with that movie, since I likely would have held it against him. Instead, I was able to watch The Secret Agent with impartiality, which was heightened by the fact that The Secret Agent is a foreign-language film, made in Brazil, by a director that prior to this film was unknown to me. All that to say that going into a movie-watching experience fresh, without any preconceptions or expectations, is a wonderful thing... if you end up liking the film. In this case I was not disappointed. The Secret Agent does exactly what it sets out to do, tell an interesting story about a unique individual, where the events that unfold happen in a way that is compelling, and propels the story. The writer/director, Kleber Mendonça Filho, has a very distinct vision, and while the action was reminiscent of Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs and felt like an homage (if you pay homage to someone whose style itself is an homage, who are you actually paying homage to?), but that's OK, because it hit all the right notes*. The film was imperfect, as it was slow at points, had a weak ending, and unnecessarily had a thread involving college students doing research on the main character, but overall, this was an entertaining and well-made film.
*There was a surreal reenactment in the 3rd act, which felt out of place, but it's better to try something new than recycle old material.
Sinners
As I sit here on Sunday, March 15, 2026, it's been 5 ½ months since I saw Ryan Coogler's Sinners at the local movie theater. In that time, my memory of the film has faded, and I'm left primarily with my overall impression, and specific moments that burned themselves into my long-term memory. Some of the best films ever made take place in the South: To Kill A Mockingbird, O Brother, Where Art Thou?, The Help, and Black Snake Moan. These films don't simply use the South as a location, rather the history, the culture, the sound of cicadas, and the spanish moss draped from a cypress tree, all work together to add depth and texture to each film. And, it doesn't matter whether the film is a period piece or contemporary, there's the persistent weight that is a consequence of the sin of enslavement; even in the Coen brothers' lighthearted retelling of Homer's The Odyssey, there is an oppressive heaviness intrinsic to the Southern setting. I mention these facts only to establish that Sinners finds itself in good company, and continues the tradition of great films that came before. Sinners doesn't have the poignant power of To Kill A Mockingbird, but it does have something to say, so it's more in line with Black Snake Moan. In a similar way, Michael B. Jordan doesn't quite rise to Nicolas Cage's portrayal of the Kaufman brothers in Adaptation, but Jordan's dual role is interesting and nuanced in its own way. Likewise, Delroy Lindo is at the top of his game, and is representative of how good the casting and performances are; Coogler understands that all the pieces are important, from the acting, to the cinematography, the color palette, and the special effects - this film is masterfully assembled. Did you notice that I didn't even mention anything about vampires? That's because this would have been just as good of a film if it weren't for the vampires, which brings me to a point that I've made many times before: Vampire movies should not be about vampires. Vampires are dumb. Vampires are an allegory for evil in society that is parasitic and infectious, so a good vampire movie must know that. Coogler knows.
Saturday, March 14, 2026
Sentimental Value
Just a few film reviews ago I wrote about the movie F1, which is nominated for Best Picture this year, and now I find myself writing about another nice little film, which is also nominated for Best Picture, called Sentimental Value, directed by Joachim Trier, only this time there's no F1 racing to keep my mind from wandering, so hold on to your butts! What if instead of just being a philandering, detached father, the character played by Stellan Skarsgård turns out to be the same guy he plays in The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo? And what if Daniel Craig's reporter character from 'Dragon Tattoo showed up in the third act to write an article on the play that Stellan Skarsgård's character has written, and when he discovers Skarsgård's dark secret past, the surprise ending is revealed... James Bond has returned. What I just described is the opposite of Sentimental Value. If you're interested in a film where the house is introduced as a central character, then Sentimental Value is for you. If you're interested in my random movie idea, let's discuss financing my next project, and what producing credit you think is fair.
One Battle After Another
I wanted so much to like One Battle After Another, but there is one major issue, and a few minor issues that not only lead me to dislike the film overall, but keep it from perfection. Let me explain the last statement; I think that there could be such a thing as a perfect film that I just don't like, but it just so happens that in the case of One Battle After Another, the things that I don't like are also its cinematic sins.
Let's start with the minor issues:
1) The number of hills in the finale chase scene was too many. Would one hill have been enough? Probably not. Would two hills have been enough? Maybe. Is there any reason to have more than three hills? Absolutely not.
2) What did the protagonists believe in? Is it enough to simply oppose the antagonist to qualify as a protagonist? Perhaps, but that's shallow, and feels like a cop-out.
3) Leonardo DiCaprio plays a blundering pothead in the film, which unwisely disregards what Paul Schrader said about DiCaprio's last role in a Scorsese film:
I would have preferred Leonardo DiCaprio to play the role of the cop in Killers of the Flower Moon rather than the role of the idiot. Spending three-and-a-half hours in the company of an idiot is a long time.
The major issue:
The antagonist played by Sean Penn, sporting a high-and-tight haircut, as the Christian right-wing white supremacist Colonel Lockjaw, is a cartoon, and his group of secret society "Christmas Adventurers Club" cohorts are something straight out of an Austin Powers movie. The director, Paul Thomas Anderson, knows how to create a compelling antagonist: Paul Dano as Paul/Eli Sunday in There Will Be Blood, and Vicky Krieps as Alma in The Phantom Thread - both (or all three, depending on your point of view) are powerful and complex characters, that are so wonderfully matched with their respective protagonist counterparts. So why are the sympathetic domestic terrorists at the center of this film having to fight a bunch of MAGA buffoons? It diminishes the position of the protagonist when the antagonist is depicted with such simplistic disregard. Of course I realize that my position on this subject may not be in line with the Hollywood elite, so don't be surprised if Sean Penn gets Best Supporting Actor for his performance... On second thought, be surprised if he doesn't.
Marty Supreme
Josh Safdie's Marty Supreme is filled to the brim with energy, charisma, and enough ping-pong to make Forrest Gump lose interest and move to running back-and-forth across the country. To top things off, the main character, played by Timothée Chalamet, meets a very burned-out Gwyneth Paltrow (I think that she was playing a character); their relationship isn't exactly something that they write fairy tales about. While the film does contain a Rocky-esque pursue-your-passions-but-don't-lose-yourself-in-the-process story, for the most part the story only exists to provide a vehicle for all the crazy things that happen to Chalamet's character Marty, in what seems to be a few wild nights. And that is the main problem with the movie, everything is so contrived that it ceases to be interesting. By the time Marty's bathtub crashes through the floor, crushing the elder gangster's arm, who just so happens to be bathing his dog in the floor below, I had already checked-out. If Safdie wanted to feature his screenwriters so prominently, he should have just made them the subject of the film, since it felt like each scene in the movie was simply one writer trying to out-do whatever happened in the previous scene. Before Safdie makes his next movie, he should order a 4k Blu-ray copy of The Wolf of Wall Street from Amazon, watch it in the comfort of his living room, and then think about his life choices. I'm not sure whether this will have an effect on his directing, but it couldn't hurt.
Hamnet
Chloé Zhao's Hamnet is one of those films that draws the viewer so close to its characters that we find ourselves captive to the emotional waves; from the butterfly highs of new love, to the despair and heartbreak of loss, the tempest of anger, and finally peace and hope that can only be truly appreciated after weathering the storm together. Zhao doesn't shelter us from any of those emotions, instead she moves us in closer, quite literally getting the camera as close to the subject as possible. This technique is most obvious in the final act, where the boundary between the stage and the audience is shattered. In a certain sense, the means and methods employed by Zhao are quite obvious, and she isn't subtle in her approach; nevertheless, I found the film to be incredibly effective.
Frankenstein
I believe that Guillermo del Toro's Frankenstein should be considered the quintessential film adaptation, as it is true to the source material, captures the essence of the Mary Shelley's novel, and brings to bear the full force of del Toro's cinematic arsenal. Even if I hadn't heard an interview with del Toro, in which he proclaimed that Shelley's Frankenstein is his Bible, it would have been obvious that he has a great admiration for the book, and his filmography is in the same vein as Shelley's classic. While I could talk extensively about the effects, sets, cinematography, and all the other technical elements, instead I'd like to focus on the narrative progression: Just like my recollection of the book, the two main characters develop over the course of the film, in a surprising cross-over that is almost shocking, even if you already know that it's coming. The performance by Oscar Isaac as Dr. Victor Frankenstein (please see proper pronunciation here), and Jacob Elordi as Frankenstein's creation, are spot on, with the build-up to the cross-over moment building slowly, and then in a moment our perspective is forced to change. And, while we are surprised at first, it's not because of any narrative trick, or information that has been withheld, rather it's the preconceived notions that we brought to the theater, that we are now forced to face when presented with the facts. I was expecting del Toro to get the grotesque visuals, and gothic atmosphere of Frankenstein right (which of course he does), but I assumed that he would take more liberties with the story; to his credit, del Toro recognizes the importance of how the visuals depend on the story, and vice versa, which has resulted in an amazing cinematic realization of Shelly's masterpiece.
F1
I don't have much to say about F1. It's a nice, unassuming little movie, with some technically impressive Formula One (F1) race sequences. Brad Pitt plays a nice guy, who you can feel good rooting for, but you'd also be OK if he doesn't win, because this is one of those movies where everyone learns that there's more to life than winning F1 races. In no way do I mean to be dismissive of F1, it makes me happy to know that there are nice movies in the world, that don't hurt anybody's feelings, or challenge anyone's perspective, they're just nice to watch. That said, there just isn't much to discuss after watching a movie like F1, so my mind wanders to other things... Like, does it matter if they used practical effects for 84% of the film's visual effects, if I can't tell the difference between what is real, and what is computer generated? Why not bump it up to an even 90%, or was 84% the sweet spot? Then I start thinking about that Brad Pitt / Tom Cruise fight video from a few weeks ago, and wonder why Hollywood hates the idea of other people using computers to make movies, but the somehow are OK with 16% computer generated effects in F1 - isn't that a little hypocritical? What if Youtubers promise to only use 16% fake Brad Pitt / Tom Cruise fights in their movies, would that be acceptable? Then I think of Hollywood's adoration for Tarantino's Once Upon A Time in Hollywood, which featured Brad Pitt fighting Bruce Lee, and I wonder why Hollywood is OK with fake Brad Pitt / Bruce Lee fight scenes, but doesn't like Brad Pitt / Tom Cruise fight scenes? I just established that it can't be only the computer generated element, so Hollywood must just have something against Tom Cruise - it's probably because he was in Eyes Wide Shut, and they don't like the attention that film has been getting as part of the broader Epstein dialogue. And then I wonder, is perhaps Brad Pitt's character in F1 the same character that he plays in Once Upon A Time in Hollywood, just later in life? Perhaps F1 is worth a re-watch, to see if that hypothesis carries any water.
Bugonia
I dislike Yorgos Lanthimos' Bugonia less than his previous films. The Favourite, and Poor Things, were each atrocious, conflating ideas of beauty and goodness with reprehensible behavior and perversion. Lanthimos dials things back a little for Bugonia, and by comparison to his previous work, this film feels tame.
Bugonia is basically a post-modernist allegory; since we hurtled with reckless abandon past the point-of-no-return back in 2016, Lanthimos isn't sounding the alarm on climate change, rather he's letting us know what to expect. But don't worry, everything will be ok, because the world will be better off without us.
Unsurprisingly, Emma Stone and Jesse Plemons both give great performances, playing their characters with serious intensity that would be perfect for a solid suspense film. Unfortunately, the final few minutes that each actor have onscreen effectively disregard the preceding film, and we're left with a final impression that squanders all the work that the actors put in up to that point.
If this had been my first Lanthimos film, I probably would forgive the goofy final act, but his past films tell us that this wasn't a misstep, rather he has contempt for his audience, and is a pessimist, so he believes that this is the ending that we deserve. The question is, why do so many people seem to enjoy this type of film? - and perhaps a better question is, why do I keep watching them?
Sunday, March 02, 2025
Best Picture 2025
The following films are nominated for Best Picture this year. I hope that Dune: Part Two wins, but I'm pretty sure that The Brutalist will walk away with the top prize. If you want to see the actual best film from last year, I suggest you bypass the list altogether, and check out Cillian Murphy in Small Things Like These.
The Brutalist
I'll let you in on a secret - there were two movies that I really hated this year; I knew before seeing them that I would hate them, and after seeing them I really didn't want to write about them at all. To spare myself the discomfort of writing an extended review for each movie, I came up with a plan; I would write two (2) things I liked, and limit myself to one (1) thing that I didn't like for each movie. Those two movies were The Substance, and The Brutalist. Adrien Brody is a great actor, and with that distinction comes the ability to play characters that are completely reprehensible. I'm not sure whether I'd consider Guy Pearce a great actor, but he also can play a reprehensible character. Maybe I can cut some time here, and just say that all the actors in this movie prove that they are capable of playing reprehensible characters, it's almost a competition to see who can do it best. Are there two things that I liked about The Brutalist? There was one scene in a remote Italian village, where Brody and Pearce's characters meet at a café before heading to the nearby quarry. The view from the café is of the Italian Alps, and it was starkly beautiful in a film that is otherwise oppressive. That one of the darkest and most disturbing scenes took place moments later is par for the course in a movie that just won't let you enjoy anything. I did like the folding bookcases that Brody's character, László Tóth created - I'm not sure that they quite match the aesthetic of his other designs in the film, but I'd definitely like to get my hands on a set of those blueprints. And now, to my surprise I find out that László Tóth isn't a historical character, which means that the writer/director Brady Corbet invented this entire depressing production - that's just horrible.
Nickel Boys
Nickel Boys is the last of the Best Picture nominees that I watched this year, and definitely falls into the category of a movie that I wouldn't have watched if it hadn't been nominated. Now that I've seen it, I understand why it was nominated, it's visual jazz. Personally, I like a bit more organization to my movies, i.e. I like to have a chance to understand what's going on, and not be inundated by imagery that's meant to provoke certain feelings. Even though visual jazz isn't my cup of tea, I did like certain elements, and I can see how different images, scenes, and situations would have different meanings for different people. Personally, I like the scene where two boys have found a lizard (a Green Anole to be specific), and they're gently passing it to each other. I liked how this scene told me something about the boys' characters, that they were inquisitive, and kind. I also like the color palette of the film, as someone who currently resides in Florida, I can vouch to the accuracy of the greens, browns, and... no those are the colors. I didn't like, and can't think of an example (other than video games) where the first person perspective if appropriate for such long stretches of time. I found the technique to be distracting. I understand that the director RaMell Ross likely was trying to capture the perspective of each character (as it switched between the two main characters), to match the book upon which the film is based, but it simply doesn't work.
Emilia Pérez
For those of you keeping score at home, Emilia Pérez is the third, and last of the movies that I thought was centered around a transgender character, and this one was the winner. Much to my surprise, the movie also happens to be the most "typical" Hollywood movie, in that it doesn't come across as art-housey as the other contenders for Best Picture this year. At its core, Emilia Pérez is a standard 3-act movie about a Mexican drug lord who hires an American lawyer to help him change his identity, and start a new life. As the movie progresses, it is revealed that the drug lord's main motivation for changing is that he's always felt like he's in the wrong body, and living the wrong life, and wants to become a woman who isn't a drug lord. Of course, past iterations of this story, such as Steve Martin in My Blue Heaven played the fish-out-of-water angle more, and dealt less with a series of procedures with "plasty" in the name. That being said, I liked that the director, Jacques Audiard didn't get preachy with the movie, rather he told an interesting story with unique characters. At its most basic, isn't that why we watch movies? I haven't mentioned it yet, but there were also musical elements to the film, i.e. the characters would sporadically start singing from time to time, as the mood struck them. As I write this, I know that some of you are thinking that I've completely lost it, since I previously said that this wasn't an "art-housey" movie. In my defense, overall I really liked the use of singing as a technique to convey the characters' thoughts and emotions, and the transitions between speaking parts and singing were well done. I didn't like the movie for a number of reasons, but the one that I'll mention here is the ending; as with the recently reviewed I'm Still Here, I sense that the filmmakers didn't have an exit plan; the problem with Emilia Pérez is that they just ended the movie without taking the time to create a satisfying conclusion.
I'm Still Here
I went to see I'm Still Here last night, at a mostly packed theater in Orlando, filled with people who I assume, like me, were trying to catch the one movie that you can't stream that is nominated for Best Picture this year. I liked the casting for this film, as the story revolved around a family, and each of the actors played their parts well, from the youngest of five children (10 year old daughter Babiu played by Cora Mora), to the parents played by Fernanda Torres and Selton Mello. Perhaps it's because I was unfamiliar with the actors, but I found each of their performances to be far more compelling than those in other films nominated for Best Picture this year. Since I have no point of reference, and I am not comparing them to other roles they've played, perhaps it is easier for me to accept them in the parts they're playing here, but I also think that they are each good actors, and were well cast in this film. I also liked the sound design, especially as it pertains to the ambient sound of the waves breaking on the beach. I liked that times of stillness between the moments of chaos in the family's house were punctuated by the consistency of the sounds of the ocean. I didn't like how the film dragged-on for the last 30 minutes. It seems clear that the filmmakers didn't have an exit strategy; they told a compelling story, but it's one without a satisfying conclusion. They should have just accepted that fact, and ended the film once the story had been told.
Nosferatu
Some of you may remember from my review of The Northman, that I walked into that film under the false impression that it was rated PG-13, and was somewhat shocked by the graphic violence and brutality. I was under no such allusions when I went to see Nosferatu, but that doesn't mean that I knew what to expect. Robert Eggers, who directed both of these films, has a unique storytelling style, which is more interested in exploring how the minor details impact the overall story, and is less interested in the overall story arc. I like that the film was in black and white - or was it? I like that Lily-Rose Depp's character understood the depth of obsession that Count Orlok (played by Bill Skarsgård) had for her, and that she was able to flip the script. If Goth wasn't already a thing, then Eggers would have invented it with this movie. I didn't like that there was no happiness or joy anywhere to be found in this movie, it was definitely a heavy-handed slog through darkness and despair.
A Complete Unknown
My brother Nate and I discussed A Complete Unknown a few days ago, and he pointed out that the film isn't meant to be a biography, rather it's another contribution to patchwork of mystique that enshrouds Bob Dylan. It would be futile to make a movie with the goal of explaining Dylan, since he is a singular character in history, who we as regular people, could never fully comprehend. If you can accept the film based on this premise, then I believe that it's possible to enjoy the experience. I liked that so much screentime was devoted to Dylan's music; it was fun to see the range of Dylan's moods, from the self-loathing indignation while playing at a dinner party, to the quiet heart-felt sense of discovery during the solitude of song writing. It was enjoyable to see Dylan making music, since that's what I was there for. I also liked the amount of effort that Timothée Chalamet devoted to his depiction of Dylan; while Chalamet didn't become Dylan in the same way that Val Kilmer became Jim Morrison in The Doors, the fact that Chalamet sang so many songs is impressive on its own. I didn't like the guy who played Johnny Cash, not that there was necessarily anything wrong with his performance, but this was clearly the biggest lost opportunity in modern cinema; I would argue that a prerequisite to making this movie would be having Joaquin Phoenix reprise his role as Cash. It's really a shame that they didn't make this happen.
Anora
I knew that there was one movie this year that centered on a transgender character, but I really didn't remember whether it was Anora, Emilia Pérez, or I'm Still Here. With Anora being the first of these three movies that I watched, I kept on thinking to myself, I wonder which of these characters is transgender, or when will the transition take place? Long story short, Anora wasn't the movie to feature a transgender character, but it definitely does make for a different viewing experience when you expect a certain subject to be addressed, but you can't imagine how it will tie-in with the movie that you're currently watching. Anora it turns out is a movie about an American girl, who works as an exotic dancer in New York City, who gets into a relationship with a young man, who is the son of a Russian oligarch. In the middle of the movie there was a scene that I liked, that qualifies as the two things that I liked about this movie: 1) As a group of Russian bodyguards try to hold the title character, Anora, against her will, she fights back, seriously injuring the bodyguards and causing significant damage inside the house. I liked the raw energy Mikey Madison as Anora exuded during this scene, it had intensity and was crazy funny. 2) I liked that the Russian bodyguard played by Yuriy Borisov, was unwilling to hit Anora, and instead sat on her to subdue her; the body language of this scene, the contrast between the violence and the gentleness was extremely well done. All-in-all the movie was about an ambitious exotic dancer and a snot-nosed Russian rich kid; while there were moments of humor and intensity, overall this was a shallow jaunt through a seedy world that I'm not that interested in. Perhaps in Anora Part II, the Russian rich kid will return to America as an exotic dancer too.
Conclave (aka The Crying Game Part II)
I'm going to do this review in reverse, because it wouldn't be fair to you the reader, to put you through the same bait/switch routine that the filmmakers pulled on me. The last 5 minutes of this movie are outrageously disingenuous, and completely undermine the serious and thoughtful tone established in the rest of the movie. For approximately 1 hour and 55 minutes, Ralph Fiennes, Stanley Tucci, and John Lithgow spar over subjects as serious as determining the will of God, and whether it is ever acceptable to choose the lesser of two evils. The setting of a Conclave, wherein the Roman Catholic Bishops must vote for the new Pope, is a compelling backdrop for discussions on faith, politics, and man's fallen state. And then, just like Tyler Durden splicing a single frame into a children's movie, it's revealed that the new Pope has a uterus. It's the "please return your seat backs to their full upright and locked position" scene, without the satisfying payoff.
So, what did I like? I did like the first 1 hour and 55 minutes, as I took the movie at face value, and honestly enjoyed the various subjects that were explored. I like the look and feel of the film; the Vatican is clearly a rich and historic location, and I found it interesting how the filmmakers were able to create a warm and intimate feeling within such an imposing setting. At the risk of mentioning a third element that I liked, I was intrigued by the combination of genres, there were elements reminiscent of the mystery genre, à la Agatha Christie, as Ralph Fiennes' character was attempting to investigate the backgrounds of the candidates. That being said, sometimes finding out how someone's garden grows isn't as satisfying as you hoped.
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