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  • A Simple Favor | The Cinema Dispatch

    A Simple Favor October 1, 2018 By: Button Hunter Friesen Stephanie Smothers is a young woman who absolutely loves her job as a single mother to her son. Her life consists of caring for him, volunteering at school, and running a popular parenting vlog. At school, she meets Emily Nelson, the mother of her son’s best friend. Emily works a high-end job in the city and is powerful, mysterious, and glamorous, all the things Stephanie isn’t. The two of them quickly become best friends, or so Stephanie thinks. One day she gets a call from Emily, asking for “a simple favor”. The favor quickly gets out of hand, flipping Stephanie's clean life upside down. A twisted game starts to take shape, one that threatens to uncover layers of hidden secrets and dark desires. A Simple Favor comes as the first drama for director Paul Feig, who’s best known for comedies such as Spy and Ghostbusters . Feig directs the first act impeccably. He sets up the plot with confidence by introducing us to the main characters. We are given their personalities and background, but not in their entirety. Some details are left out intentionally in order to build suspense, which works very well at keeping us on the edge of our seats. Unfortunately, the next two acts don’t work as well. Feig starts to lose control over his film and things get messy. The pacing slows way down and important plot points are thrown at us left and right until we can’t keep things straight. The film doesn’t want to be taken too seriously as it mixes elements of both drama and comedy. The only problem is that the flipping between tones doesn’t feel as natural as it should. The third act especially suffers from this as we don’t know what to be feeling when the climax arrives. Adapted from the 2017 novel of the same name, the writing for A Simple Favor fares just as well as the directing. The first act introduces a strong premise with interesting characters. The conversations between Stephanie and Emily are whip-smart as each character tries to understand the other. The next two acts aren’t able to sustain the same level of mystery as the first. Things start to get a little too preposterous too quickly. The characters lose their edge and become carbon copies of what we’ve seen before in previous films. There is also an overabundance of clichés in the latter half of the film that undermines all the good material that had been set up in the beginning. None of them will be listed for the sake of spoilers. It’s just very underwhelming because each one has been done before and comes off as predictable and disappointing. Anna Kendrick does pretty solid work as Stephanie Smothers. She plays the young mom type quite well and provides a lot of great material for the comedic tone. The one struggle she has is when the film starts to get darker as she’s just not entirely believable as a character with a bad side. Blake Lively, sharing the same fate as Kendrick, plays Emily Nelson. Lively excels early on as her confidence brings an aura of mystery to her character. By the end, however, she loses what made her so good and her performance becomes more one-note. Fresh off his breakout role as Nick Young in Crazy Rich Asians , Henry Golding stars as Sean Townsend, Emily’s husband. Golding brings the same charm from his previous role but with more edge to it. He fairs alright but constantly gets overshadowed by the two leading ladies. A Simple Favor can be loosely branded as a campier and lower-quality version of Gone Girl . It boasts one of the best opening acts of the year, but also some of the biggest mistakes that lead to a lot of missed potential. Overall, A Simple Favor is an average film that serves up enough mystery and thrills to warrant a viewing. More Reviews Wicked: For Good November 19, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Rental Family September 7, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Jay Kelly November 20, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Train Dreams November 21, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Hunter Friesen

  • The Taste of Things | The Cinema Dispatch

    The Taste of Things October 29, 2023 By: Button Hunter Friesen The Taste of Things screened at the 2023 Twin Cities Film Fest. IFC Films will release it for an Oscar-qualifying run in December, followed by a limited release on February 09, 2024. Is there a more perfect way to wake up in the morning than to the smell of sizzling eggs, crackling bacon, and onions soaked in butter? It’s what Dodin (Benoît Magimel) has awoken to every day over the past twenty years, the aroma of the fresh ingredients crawling its way from the kitchen all the way to his grand bedroom within the vast manor. “This is the best moment of the day,” he thinks as he flies down the stairs, ready to be embraced by the food and woman that he loves. Eugénie (Juliette Binoche) has always been the head of her kitchen domain, crafting famous meals with quiet determination. She too is in love with Dodin, yet she always refuses his proposals for marriage on the grounds that matrimony will only complicate the good thing they have going for them. He’s always disappointed in her rejections, and yet he also slightly agrees with her. Together they are unstoppable; him the mastermind of intricate recipes and menus, and her the hands-on artist who brings those ideas to life. If you were to eliminate all the scenes of cooking within The Taste of Things , you would be left with maybe thirty minutes of “plot.” I put that last word in quotations because those extended sequences of cooking tell just as much, if not more, of the story as the scenes filled with dialogue. Cooking is an intimate process for the central pair, a time when they communicate without saying a word. A scene early on sees Dodin entertaining guests with Eugénie preparing all the courses downstairs. Once it is over, all the men congratulate Eugénie and ask her to dine with them next time. She happily says that would be redundant as “what I say is already in the food.” Writer/director Tran Anh Hung (winner of the Best Director prize at this year’s Cannes Film Festival) entrances you in this process of creation. There’s a sweet harmony in witnessing the journey of the garden to the plate. The camera swerves around the kitchen, capturing the in-process cookery with sumptuous detail. Meat sizzles, water boils, spoons clank against the brass pots, the doors of the woodfire oven creak open, and the bread cracks when cut open. It’s a total ASMR experience, one that fully earns the simplistic description of “food porn” that has lovingly been bestowed upon it. There’s little drama or stakes within The Taste of Things , which is one of its best features. There are plenty of movies ( Burnt ) and television shows ( The Bear ) that showcase the anxiety-inducing highwire act that cooking can be. There is great skill under pressure here, but Anh Hung is more interested in the slowly drawn method and how it all comes together when you are comfortable in your element. Time seems to stand still, your body and mind totally connected as one. It’s like a conductor guiding a symphony, every note being hit perfectly with reassuring calmness. The scenes outside the kitchen are just as sumptuous as the food itself. The warm cinematography makes the gardens and fields feel like Eden. The seasons are picturesque in their beauty, leaves turning from vibrant green to bright orange, replaced by a freckling of snow. Binoche and Magimel are an electric pair within their surroundings. They project a consistent feeling of serenity, both of them aware that their love for each other is intertwined with their craft. You know what they say, the quickest way to a person’s heart is through their stomach. There continues to be a need for stories that reflect the increasing bleakness of this world. But that means there’s more room for projects that remind us of the beauty in the timeless things we all experience and often take for granted. The Taste of Things is one of those films as it illustrates both the simplicity and complexity of sustaining ourselves through food. Just make sure to plan your meals carefully before and after seeing it. You owe your stomach (and other senses) that much. More Reviews Wicked: For Good November 19, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Rental Family September 7, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Jay Kelly November 20, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Train Dreams November 21, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Hunter Friesen

  • The Woman in Cabin 10 | The Cinema Dispatch

    The Woman in Cabin 10 October 10, 2025 By: Button Hunter Friesen Keira Knightley stars in The Woman in Cabin 10 , not to be confused with Emily Blunt in The Girl on the Train , Amy Adams in The Woman in the Window , Danielle Deadwyler in The Woman in the Yard , or Kristen Bell in The Woman in the House Across the Street from the Girl in the Window . It might be a worrying sign that studios are still producing entries into this female-driven modern Rear Window subgenre, even after it has reached the point of self-parody. The Woman in Cabin 10 isn't here to be a change of pace, or even to be the sharpest knife in the drawer. That would require it to be positively memorable, which it most certainly isn't. Apart from the occasional statements of red, much of this whodunnit mystery is enveloped in a sea of sleek grey. It's meant to represent the cold indifference that has permeated the modern world, of which investigative reporter Laura Blacklock (Knightley) knows all too well. Her latest piece about Kurdish female freedom fighters caused her source to be drowned in retaliation, and her uncovering of a misappropriation of funds at a well-known NGO didn't make a dent in the headlines. An opportunity for a change of pace comes her way in the form of an invitation to attend the sailing of billionaire Richard Bullmer's (Guy Pearce) mega yacht in remembrance of his wife Anne, who is nearing the end of her terminal cancer diagnosis. The journey will be attended by a group of wealthy elites, and end with a gala celebration where everyone will make exorbitant pledges to Anne's foundation. It's charity filtered through the biggest egos on the planet. This scenario means that The Woman in Cabin 10 is another movie where the normal main character arrives at a swanky destination under routine pretenses, only to learn that not everything is what it seems. You've probably seen this trope played out multiple times before over the last few years in stuff like Opus , Shell, Blink Twice , The Menu , etc. This movie even has a similar scene where Laura must swap out her shoes to comply with the dress code, and is notified that cell phone services are restricted while on board. This takes place in the third scene, and, if you've seen any of the films already mentioned in this review, you can very accurately guess where the rest of this story is going to go. The ensemble of guests is rich assholes, although they're all extremely generic and uninteresting. Hannah Waddingham is an art dealer, Daniel Ings is an alpha bro, Kaya Scodelario is his fake influencer girlfriend, and Paul Kaye is a vague drug-addled rockstar. Honestly, it doesn't matter, as their entire personalities are devoted to shaming Laura for ruining their weekend when she claims to have witnessed the woman in Cabin 10 being thrown overboard. However, the ship's captain insists that the room was never occupied, and no one else on board has been reported missing. Laura knows what she saw, and only has a few days to prove it before these people disembark and return to their consequence-free empires. "Tell the truth" is a phrase repeatedly used, with writers Simon Stone, Joe Shrapnel, and Anna Waterhouse rallying the everyman against the elites who believe that their wealth and power place them above the law. It's a mission statement inundated with modern culture (I'll spare you from another list of movies that have already done this), almost as if it's become gauche for a movie to simply be a piece of entertainment. The Woman in Cabin 10 is too shallow and ludicrous to be taken seriously, and too dull to have fun with. The less said about the ending, the better, in which the film thinks that all wrongs have been righted (hint: they most certainly haven't). The boat at least looks pretty, giving me another small nudge to finally book that Scandinavian cruise I've always wanted to go on. And Knightley is a very capable lead, effortlessly making the material seem much more elevated than it really is. Her presence has been sorely missed on the silver screen, with only two other films - Boston Strangler and Silent Night - to her name in the last five years. Someone needs to come along with a script worthy of her talents, because we're currently letting one of our best actors languish in mediocrity. More Reviews Wicked: For Good November 19, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Rental Family September 7, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Jay Kelly November 20, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Train Dreams November 21, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Hunter Friesen

  • Nightbitch | The Cinema Dispatch

    Nightbitch September 8, 2024 By: Button Hunter Friesen Nightbitch had its World Premiere at the 2024 Toronto International Film Festival. Searchlight Pictures will release it in theaters on December 06. “Motherhood is a bitch” reads the tagline for Nightbitch , the feature film adaptation of author Rachel Yoder’s much-raved 2021 novel. It comes as a warning to us all, but not in the form the overzealous marketing (including an incredibly divisive trailer ) would have led us to believe. Motherhood can be a trapdoor for some people, with the promises of the beauty of fertility and providing for others being switched out for restless nights, little appreciation, and the slipping sense that you are your own person. It turns women into a primordial version of themselves, a state where self-preservation triumphs over self-actualization. And in the case of Nightbitch (both the novel and the film), motherhood being a bitch is also a warning that there may be a slight chance you start turning into a dog after having children. Only slight! It first starts with patches of fur and a heightened sense of smell for our unnamed Mother (Amy Adams). Her newborn boy is now a two-year-old, and those very long two years have worn her down. When she sees a friend in the supermarket, they ask her if she loves being a mother. In one of several instances of writer/director Marielle Heller’s comically-intuned editing, Mother goes into a long tirade about its pitfalls akin to America Ferrera’s speech in Barbie . But once she’s gotten that off her chest, we cut back to reality and at the start of the initial question, only for Mother to answer with a simple “I love it!” This exchange represents the heart that Heller is digging for in the next 90-ish minutes. There is so much about motherhood that cannot be discovered until it is experienced, with society not allowing women to talk about what they have to go through every day. Or, if someone does lend an ear, it’s usually in the form of her husband (Scoot McNairy), who, while always having a loving interest, never gives the full attention and consideration required. Both of them just float through their existence, one shouting into the void and the other turning the other way. Once the breaking point is reached for Mother, that’s when her animal instincts come out. In a page out of the Animorphs book series, Mother transforms into a red husky at night, running with a pack of dogs doing all sorts of canine things. She comes back to the human world covered in leaves and smelling of blood, and also with a sense of freedom that could only be achieved by fully cutting loose. Is this transformation literal, or just a metaphorical representation of postpartum depression and body changes? The clues lead to it being literal, but Heller never dives enough into the deep end for it to be conclusive. There are more than a few moments of kookiness (the ones promised in the trailer) where this movie could distance itself from the many other stories about womanhood and maternity, but there’s a refusal from Heller to really through us for a loop. Her intentions and emotions are authentic, something that shouldn’t be a surprise considering her filmography which includes Can You Ever Forgive Me? and A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood . Someone who does cut loose is Adams, devouring the meat of this performance with gusto. Her character fears becoming invisible, but it’s impossible not to see what Adams is bringing to the table, which ranges from soulfully teary monologues to devouring rabbits on the front lawn. Backing her up is an enigmatic performance from Jessica Harper as the local librarian and a trio of neighborly moms (Zoe Chao, Mary Holland, and Archana Ryan) that provide some excellent moments of comic relief. They often say less is more, but in the case of Nightbitch , more would have been more. A little more zaniness here and a little more directness there would have lifted this well-meaning story out of the crowded category labeled “just fine.” A woman turning into a dog isn’t exactly doing just fine, and neither should a film with such promise as this. More Reviews Wicked: For Good November 19, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Rental Family September 7, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Jay Kelly November 20, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Train Dreams November 21, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Hunter Friesen

  • Run Rabbit Run | The Cinema Dispatch

    Run Rabbit Run February 7, 2023 By: Button Hunter Friesen Run Rabbit Run had its World Premiere at the 2023 Sundance Film Festival. Netflix will release it on its streaming platform on June 28. Two things are entirely predictable within Run Rabbit Run , debuting at this year's Sundance Film Festival as part of the Midnight Madness section. The first is that Sarah Snook is terrific in the lead role, stripping away her ultra-rich American vibe from Succession and donning her native accent and a plain demeanor. The second predictable thing is the entire plot, right down to character motivations and specific moments where we're supposed to feel scared. It's nearly impossible to feel an authentic level of terror when those elements are so transparent, so all we end up doing is staring blankly at the screen waiting for what we expect to happen to actually happen. Snook plays Sarah (why make things more complicated?), a single-mother fertility doctor in Southern Australia. She appears to be on decent terms with her ex-husband, who pops in to help celebrate their daughter Mia's seventh birthday. But just as one life is being celebrated, another is being mourned. Sarah's father recently passed away, leaving her in charge of the medical care for her senile mother, who is housed in a care facility. Mia has an odd fascination with Sarah's parents, even though she's never met them. She's constantly asking questions about them and decides to take on the persona of Alice to be closer to them. Things continually get darker from there, with Mia’s (or now Alice’s) actions becoming unexplainable, including creepy drawings and claiming to have memories of past lives. Run Rabbit Run is a film littered with symbolism, with the title providing a preview of what animal will be used to conjure up creepy imagery. Director Daina Reid and cinematographer Bonnie Elliot produce some interesting shots, with the white fluffiness of the titular animal providing a stark contrast to the gloomy shadows within Sarah's home and psyche. There's also a decent score provided by the duo of Mark Bradshaw and Marcus Whale, who's semi-regularly partnered with some of Australia and New Zealand's top filmmakers, such as Jane Campion on Bright Star and Top of the Lake . The low strings cut deep to the bone, with occasional pop whenever the terror becomes more in-your-face. "In-your-face" would also be an accurate way to describe Hannah Kent's script, which reveals so many clues early on that it takes little effort to figure out the "twist" ending by the midway mark. Sarah doesn't like to talk about her past, with her mother dropping hints along the way on account of her dementia. A few all too obvious glances at pictures and emphasis on words by the mother tell you all you need to know about what the name Alice means. And if that wasn't obvious enough, the final thirty minutes hammer it home with the same intensity as a nineteenth-century gold miner. It's almost a surface-level cliché at this point to compare this film to The Babadook , but the parallels are so on-the-nose that I feel like I wouldn't be fulfilling my professional duties if I didn't. Plenty of good horror movies have been copies of those that came before them, but they had to earn their keep through inventive ideas surrounding well-worn topics. Run Rabbit Run doesn't do any of that, pedaling the same "elevated" scares that we've partially become numb to at this point. More Reviews Wicked: For Good November 19, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Rental Family September 7, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Jay Kelly November 20, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Train Dreams November 21, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Hunter Friesen

  • Parthenope | The Cinema Dispatch

    Parthenope February 7, 2025 By: Button Hunter Friesen It may only be February, but Paolo Sorrentino’s Parthenope could very well take the cake as the most beautiful film of 2025. Early on in the famed Italian auteur’s newest film, the streets of Naples circa 1968 are basked in the golden sunlight reflected off the water of the Mediterranean Sea. Men, women, and children populate every corner and avenue, all dressed in the works of Anthony Vaccarello, creative director of the luxury fashion house Yves Saint Laurent. At this moment, you understand exactly what Kate Hudson was singing and dancing about in Rob Marshall’s film adaptation of Nine . In those same waters eighteen years earlier, the titular Parthenope was born. Her godfather, the shipping tycoon boss of her father, gifted her a chariot from Versailles as a crib so that she could travel the world as she slept. He also insisted that the family name her after the mythological name of coastal Naples, bestowing her with thousands of years of blessings and curses. Like the streets in that opening, one of those blessings is her unparalleled beauty. Men start drooling like cartoon characters before going into a catatonic state just at the sight of her, and women understand that she puts them all to shame just by comparison. One of those slobbering dogs is Sandrino (Dario Aita), the son of her family’s maid. He’s fawned over her his entire life, even succumbing to sniffing her drying bathing suit just to get closer to a goddess. Despite Parthenope being aware of the power her beauty possesses, she isn’t sure how to best wield it. She keeps those ogling men at bay, all of them treating her as a trophy to acquire. They all ask her what she’s thinking, but they never listen to her response. When she rejects the advances of a rich man who makes inquiries from his helicopter, he lashes by saying “You’re not a big deal.” Film acting initially seems to be the best use of her talent, although the fate of every actress is never pretty. She eventually lands in academia, specifically anthropology, a natural fit considering her voracious reading habits and need to always have a ready answer for those inquisitive men. Academia is where Sorrentino steadies the sights of his screenplay for the rest of the runtime, ruminating on the complexities of love, youth, and beauty. As evidenced by his previous works of Youth and The Great Beauty , these are not newfound themes for Sorrentino. What’s new for the director is centering his epic tale on a woman, specifically in a time and place when women were rarely given the chance to do so. When Parthenope asks her father what would help lift him of his depression, he selfishly looks her up and down and responds that a grandchild might help. While all of its ideas are communicated through the utmost sensuality in both the setting and performances, much of Sorrentino’s dialogue gets lost in its flowery translation. Their prettiness is what also makes them vapid, a contradiction to the ultimate goal of this story. It’s why the more direct conversations between Parthenope and author John Cheever (Gary Oldman), soaking his new novel in alcohol and repressed homosexuality, leave a more lasting impression despite their brevity. There is also the dichotomy between a writer/director insisting that a woman is more than just her beauty, only to indulgently lens her as if she’s beckoning you to buy the newest line of perfume. Newcomer Celeste Dalla Porta is radiantly beautiful and intriguing in the lead role, imbuing Parthenope with much more depth than the script reluctantly presents. Even if this amounts to style over substance, the performances and overwhelming seductiveness are temptingly attractive. For Sorrentino, the style is just as much the substance as the substance itself. More Reviews Wicked: For Good November 19, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Rental Family September 7, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Jay Kelly November 20, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Train Dreams November 21, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Hunter Friesen

  • One Battle After Another | The Cinema Dispatch

    One Battle After Another September 24, 2025 By: Button Hunter Friesen One Battle After Another is a film chock-full of unexpected occurrences. It’s unexpected that it would contain the most thrilling car chase of the past few years. It’s unexpected that it would have a scene where a group of middle-aged white men would start their meeting by exchanging Christmas pleasantries, only to then be so disgusted by the existence of the mixed-race child they put a bounty on. It’s unexpected for a place called the “Chicken Licken Frozen Food Farm” to be the pivotal location for the film’s middle act. It’s unexpected that Leonardo DiCaprio would play such a burnout dirtbag after years as the most suave man in the world, a choice that allows him to once again flex his status as cinema’s most unconventionally funniest performer. And yet, being that this is the year 2025, nothing should really surprise us anymore. One Battle After Another is the apex of a string of 2025 films directly about the 2025 experience. This story involves themes of immigration, liberation, radicalization, and revolution, all seemingly ripped straight from the headlines and gloriously projected onto IMAX screens. The National Guard is dispatched to sanctuary cities, ICE encampments are crammed with unattended children, and marginalization is performed in the open without any remorse. But by also being a loose adaptation (“inspiration” is the label used in the credits) of the 1990 Thomas Pynchon novel Vineland , writer/director Paul Thomas Anderson illustrates that none of these issues are brand new to the American political landscape. It’s an endless cycle of progress and pushback, with each side digging its heels a little deeper with each subsequent turn. Case in point: The French 75 militant group, and its most outspoken comrade, Perfidia Beverly Hills (Teyana Taylor). The letters and protests weren’t getting the job done, so they’ve been substituted with raids and bombings. The liberation of an immigration detention center is where it all starts, with Perfidia initiating a dangerous dominant/submissive relationship with Col. Steven J. Lockjaw (Sean Penn), and Pat (Leonardo DiCaprio) impressing her with his fireworks display. The blood of battle runs hot, and so does the passion between Perfidia and Pat. A baby girl is born, the next generation to carry the revolutionary flame. But before the light can even be passed, it’s extinguished when Lockjaw seizes the upper hand and picks off the group’s members one by one. Pat is renamed to Bob Ferguson, taking the baby (now named Willa) on the run to the backwoods of Baktan Cross. Fifteen quiet years go by, with Bob and Willa (Chase Infiniti) living a secluded life for reasons she doesn’t totally understand. Lockjaw’s mission eventually gets unpaused, with his pursuit of these two fugitives plunging the town into a hotbed of political turmoil. One Battle After Another is the outlier in Anderson’s filmography. It’s his first film in over twenty years to take place in the present day (assumedly, since a specific date isn’t given here). It’s also his costliest production by a wide margin, with a reported budget between $130 and $175 million. Anderson fully embraces both of those facts, reminding us why the artist responsible for Boogie Nights , There Will Be Blood , and The Master deserves to have a canvas just as expensive as Jurassic World: Rebirth . Catch me on a good day, and I’ll proclaim Magnolia to be the greatest film ever made. This is a frantic story for a frantic time, furiously rushing from one location to the next. Like Magnolia , Anderson just keeps pushing us along, never allowing for a moment for wrist watches to be checked. 161 minutes fly by, all of it subsumed by Jonny Greenwood’s score that might as well have been recorded as the piano was falling down the stairs. For all its serious earnestness, this is also a deeply silly and funny story. Lockjaw may as well be a description of the character rather than a surname. Penn walks around with the same mobility as a sunglass carousel, full of pent-up anger and jealousy. He’s the reason the Grindr Dating App always reports a massive increase in traffic at major Republican events. He desperately wants to be a member of the Christmas Adventurers Club, a group of wealthy white men who declare themselves superior solely because they deem it so. It’s easy to laugh at this ludicrousness, but we all know there probably is such a thing in our world. DiCaprio is also wonderfully buffoonish as a retired activist who can no longer remember secret passwords and see himself within the big picture. It might seem crass to talk about award prospects so soon after the film’s debut and so far from this year’s Academy Awards. But like Oppenheimer , a movie of this size and relevance doesn’t come around all that often, and that rarity needs to be celebrated. Anderson is one of the biggest losers in Oscar history, going 0-11 over a span of nearly thirty years. The time is now for a revolution within his film, and so it is for him to walk up that gilded stage, receiving one honor after another. More Reviews Wicked: For Good November 19, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Rental Family September 7, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Jay Kelly November 20, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Train Dreams November 21, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Hunter Friesen

  • The Bikeriders | The Cinema Dispatch

    The Bikeriders June 20, 2024 By: Button Hunter Friesen “Do I really talk like that?” was a phrase I thought to myself several times throughout The Bikeriders ; its actors laying on their Midwestern accents so thick that I suspect this was secretly directed by the Coen brothers. Of course, you never really know how you sound until you hear a recording of yourself, so maybe this is writer/director Jeff Nichols’ way of playing back the tape. Jodie Comer plunges so deep into self-parody that her all-capital-letters “Chi-CAH-go” way of speaking eventually starts to work. Fellow Brit Tom Hardy tries to mine something from a combination of Al Capone, which he played in a gladly forgotten 2020 film , and his Southern bootlegging character from Lawless . It’s a formula for distraction rather than introspection, with us always on the outside focusing on the actor rather than the character. Johnny (Hardy) wasn’t born with a fascination for motorcycles, it came to him as a “literally me” styled epiphany when he sat down with a TV dinner in his Chicago home and caught a few minutes of The Wild One . The sight of Marlon Brando donned in leather and uttering the phrase “Whaddya got?” when asked what he’s rebelling against lit a fuse in Johnny’s head. He started The Vandals, your typical Harley-Davidson riding, leather and jeans-wearing club of grown men just looking to feel the wind in their hair and drink enough beer to forget about their daily lives. For a while it was paradise, and then it wasn’t. The narrative structure of the rise and fall of a group of people has been done several times before, most notably in the crime films of Martin Scorsese ( Goodfellas , Casino , The Wolf of Wall Street ) and those he influenced (early Paul Thomas Anderson, David O. Russell). Nichols has never been known to dabble in that type of commerciality, often opting for a more poetic lens to capture the subcultures of the southern-fried United States. That lyricism is diluted quite a bit for The Bikeriders , but there’s still just enough of an effect to keep this from totally being another by-the-numbers crime movie. Nichols has a humanistic curiosity about why these bums who hate rules would form a club that charges dues. One of its more senior members, Brucie (Damon Herriman), explains that he just likes to be a part of something, and all these people who used to have nobody now have people looking out for them. One of those members who couldn’t care less about others is Benny (Austin Butler). If Johnny took inspiration from Brando, then Benny comes from James Dean. He gets not one, but two movie star entrances, the first with his back to the camera as he gets into a brawl with some irritable locals, and the second where he’s hunched over at a pool table and locks eyes with Kathy (Comer) from across the room. He’s a smoldering drifter, which explains his lack of an accent and disregard for being tied down to one place. It also makes him a pretty uninteresting character, with Butler’s looks doing almost all the heavy lifting. Kathy’s love for Benny plays into the dynamic that we want what we can’t have. Her explanation for why she stuck around with him and the gang for almost a decade comes through the framing of a photographer named Danny (inspired by the true story of Danny Lyons, played here by Mike Faist) who is documenting the journey of The Vandals. Their conversations serve more as a workaround to get Comer to narrate the movie, with her dynamic with Danny never coming to mean much else. The Vandal's supporting players are also kicked a bit to the curb, consisting of veteran players like Micahel Shannon (appearing in his fifth of Nichols’ six feature films), Boyd Holbrook, Norman Reedus, and Emory Cohen. A few scenes pop up here and there to give them some flavor, such as Shannon opening up about not serving in Vietnam, but, for the most part, they’re less interesting cogs in this machine. Nichols does keep that engine running at all times, the period-accurate needle drops and roaring of the bikes creating a testosterone-fueled symphony. It’s all good and fun on the surface, there’s just not enough under the hood to make it into the beast it strives to be. More Reviews Wicked: For Good November 19, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Rental Family September 7, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Jay Kelly November 20, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Train Dreams November 21, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Hunter Friesen

  • Sometimes I Think About Dying | The Cinema Dispatch

    Sometimes I Think About Dying January 26, 2023 By: Button Hunter Friesen Sometimes I Think About Dying had its World Premiere at the 2023 Sundance Film Festival. Oscilloscope will release the film in theaters on January 26, 2024. Those who have worked in an office setting will find plenty to admire and shudder about in Sometimes I Think About Dying , director Rachel Lambert’s adaptation of the 2019 short film of the same name. Lambert essentially sticks a camera within a small-sized office on the Oregon coast, acting as a fly on the wall as a group of strangers fills their ho-hum days with small talk and routine socializing. Except there’s one person in the office who seems incapable of engaging in that sort of mindless thing. Fran (Daisy Ridley), always dressed in plain clothes and found sitting at her desk adjusting spreadsheets, can go for days without talking to anyone. This prolonged silence isn’t because she dislikes her coworkers, but more of a defense mechanism to keep people from finding out what’s underneath. Things change suddenly when a new employee, Robert, comes to town. He seems to be a translator between Fran and the rest of the world, slowly pulling her out of her shell. One of the things revealed early on comes from the name of the film, which is that Fran sometimes drifts off into space during the day. But she doesn’t fantasize about romantic endeavors or if they forget to turn the stove off. No, she thinks about all the different ways she could die, such as hanging from the large crane outside her office window or being consumed by insects in the nearby forest. Lambert, collaborating with cinematographer Dustin Lane and production designer Robert Brekco, stages these fantasies with surreal beauty. They may only be brief glimpses, but they stick with you long after. Lane’s camera never moves, often keeping the background out of focus as Fran eavesdrops on her coworkers. These moments can go on for extended periods, acting as a way to slowly enter the world of Fran. But it also feels like there’s not a ton on the page like it needs to be stretched in order to fit within the required feature runtime. Ridley does deliver one of her best performances as Fran, ditching the movie star swagger of the Star Wars films in favor of an extremely stripped-down inhabitation of a character. She speaks maybe five lines within the first thirty minutes, yet you’re endlessly fascinated with learning more about her. It is unfortunate later on when those simple questions aren’t answered, leaving you just as unsatisfied as when you started. Sometimes I Think About Dying is a small movie with a small scope, buoyed by some intriguing visuals and a standout performance from an actress who looks ready to take on this new side of her career. As a twelve-minute short film, it’s a bit too short. And as a ninety-minute feature film, it's a bit too long. Somewhere out there is a perfect 45-60 minute version of this story. But it’s not here right now, which is a shame. More Reviews Wicked: For Good November 19, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Rental Family September 7, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Jay Kelly November 20, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Train Dreams November 21, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Hunter Friesen

  • Showing Up | The Cinema Dispatch

    Showing Up July 17, 2022 By: Button Hunter Friesen Showing Up had its World Premiere at the 2022 Cannes Film Festival. A24 will release it in theaters on April 07, 2023. As Woody Allen once said: “80% of success is just showing up.” But for the character of Lizzy (Michelle Williams) in Kelly Reichardt’s Showing Up , which premiered in competition recently at this year’s Cannes Film Festival, showing up doesn’t seem to be leading to much. She has a sort-of career at a small arts college in Portland, complete with her mother as her boss and Andre 3000 as the flirty pottery expert. Her cat owns her personal life with around-the-clock needs for attention, and her neighbor/landlord, Jo (Hong Chau), still hasn’t fixed her water heater after two weeks of constant requests. Is Woody Allen wrong, or is this all her life is cracked up to be? Either way, it’s not a comforting thought. Reichardt’s work has been infrequent, yet always well-reviewed. 2008’s Wendy and Lucy marked the first of many collaborations between the director and Williams, followed by Meek’s Cutoff and Certain Women . But even with those great reviews, Reichardt’s films have never lit the box office on fire. First Cow , seemingly an epic in comparison to her other work, was prevented from having a chance due to its unlucky release during the origin of the COVID-19 pandemic. Maybe as an act of self-commentary, all of that can also be said of Lizzy in Showing Up . Sculpting intimate creations, Lizzy’s work has always been appreciated but never put on the same pedestal as her contemporaries, such as Jo and her unwieldy creations. Lizzy is struggling to meet the deadline for her new exhibit, and questions whether she should even attempt to show up. In its low-key nature, Showing Up can be a comforting ode to small artists persevering to put their creations into the world. Just as Reichardt often sleeps on people’s couches and teaches at Bard College (all of which was revealed by Michelle Williams), Lizzy has to put up with no hot water and a never-ending litany of problems to finish her work. And taking the connecting through-line of the bond between humans and animals from First Cow , Reichardt finds a way for Lizzy’s life to be upended, and ultimately transformed, by a pigeon that injures itself by crashing into her window. Both sides of the debate will correctly say that not much happens in Showing Up . But for those that are familiar with Reichardt's work, is that much of a surprise? Plot has never been on the priority list. Ditto to pacing, as Reichardt, serving as her editor as always, lets the credits roll in extended fashion across the first several minutes, and makes time for Williams to meticulously craft the arms to one of her sculptures in an unbroken take. With that slow pacing, Reichardt has often been able to mine deep and expose the hidden feelings that faster-paced works can’t. Not many could carefully tell the uplifting and heartbreaking friendship within First Cow . Showing Up tries to find a similar vein but doesn’t deliver the same refined fulfilling message about the way unforeseen people and circumstances shape our lives. Unlike Lizzy’s clay creations that start as wet messes and end up as fully formed creations, Reichardt’s work stops just short of the kiln and ends up feeling more like a shallow puddle of good ideas. Showing Up won’t win Reichardt any new fans, but it could potentially offer another helping of what her supporters love so much. For them, Reichart has supplied the goods, now it’s time for them to show up. More Reviews Wicked: For Good November 19, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Rental Family September 7, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Jay Kelly November 20, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Train Dreams November 21, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Hunter Friesen

  • 28 Years Later | The Cinema Dispatch

    28 Years Later June 19, 2025 By: Button Hunter Friesen The only moment that could be considered “light” in 28 Years Later , the third fittingly titled entry in the famed zombie franchise after 28 Days Later and 28 Weeks Later , is the logo treatment for Columbia Pictures. Even the opening image features the Teletubbies, the little devils that simultaneously entertain and steal people’s souls. After that, it’s a non-stop train down to hell. But there’s still a melody to the morbidity, much of it coming through the strong performances and delicate tonal balancing from returning director Danny Boyle. That shouldn’t be a surprise for the revered British auteur, considering he’s already performed this trick with the electrifying provactivness of the original Trainspotting , which turned into the wiser, sadder T2 Trainspotting . Time was a valuable asset for that series, and so is it here. No longer is agonizingly immediate dismemberment the top-of-mind threat, but the slow, trodden wait for time to outpace mortality. The ending of 28 Weeks Later , with the zombies now spreading through mainland Europe, has been retconned back to the British Isles. The world’s governments aren’t going to make the same mistake twice, so the United Kingdom has been permanently sealed off, leaving any and all human survivors to fend for themselves. Even for the people of Holy Island, who have formed a quiet, secluded community away from the infected, there’s a lingering feeling that everyone else on the planet is just waiting for them to die off and for all this to be done. As the title alludes, enough time has passed since the rage virus first appeared. There are now generations that don’t know what the world was like before all this. iPhones, the internet, plastic surgery, and pizza delivery. Those are all foreign concepts to twelve-year-old Spike, played by the brilliant newcomer Alfie Williams. His lifestyle has reverted several hundred years, his dad (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) and he being the hunter-gatherers of the community. There are now variations of the infected, some slower and others brawnier and more intelligent, known as “Alphas.” A natural plot would create an antagonistic relationship between Spike and the Alpha, with his coming-of-age reaching its climax by slaying the beast. Screenwriter Alex Garland (recently helming the A24 military duo of Civil War and Warfare ) and Boyle have different ideas. As opposed to his worn-down traditional father, Spike’s concept of masculinity comes from his devotion to his sick mother (Jodie Comer), with the only hope for a cure being from a supposed insane doctor housed deep in the forbidden mainland. Like all promises of relief in this franchise, the answer is never what you want to hear. But instead of being a blunt beating, Spike’s realization about the natural order of things comes with precise catharsis. A bald and red-painted Ralph Fiennes plays the mad doctor, offering sobering wisdom from someone who sees past the us vs. them division of the living and the dead. His appearance is greatly welcomed, and his work with Williams and Comer tugs at the heart, a surprising occurrence from a franchise whose first instinct with organs is to violently rip them out. This is also a franchise where every terrible happening is caused by unbelievable stupidity, so the higher-minded philosophy still has a pretty low ceiling. The thematically correct sloppiness of the previous entry’s cinematography is replicated here through wide-angled and anamorphic iPhone cameras. At times, there’s a jarring beauty to it, providing an unvarnished view of the world. In other moments, it’s an uncanny valley, my mind instinctively rejecting cell phone cameras from the silver screen. That unfiltered view also prevents the unsightly CGI from being masked. A highly questionable ending, certainly a teaser for the already-shot sequel, 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple , dampens a lot of the goodwill built up to that moment. This is only supposed to be the start of a new trilogy, with original cast member Cillian Murphy expected to return. The brief sample has me questioning what the full course is going to be, but there are still enough unique ideas ready for us to sink our teeth into. More Reviews Wicked: For Good November 19, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Rental Family September 7, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Jay Kelly November 20, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Train Dreams November 21, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Hunter Friesen

  • The Wild Robot | The Cinema Dispatch

    The Wild Robot September 25, 2024 By: Button Tyler Banark Rarely does a movie establish itself as an awards season contender with its first trailer. But The Wild Robot did just that by establishing its stunning animation and the fitting cover of Louis Armstrong’s "What a Wonderful World." Through this trailer, viewers got a feeling that DreamWorks would be taking a page from prime Pixar by having The Wild Robot be a risk-taking effort with the animation and mature tone. Better yet, it came across like this could be DreamWorks’ most mature movie in years. To top it off, the titular character Roz says, “Sometimes, to survive, we must become more than we were programmed to be,” a line that resonates with the overarching themes on display in the movie. Just as strong as the line is, The Wild Robot uplifts DreamWorks back from the speed bump the studio endured this past spring with Kung Fu Panda 4 . What distinguishes The Wild Robo t from other DreamWorks movies is how serious it’s advertised. This aspect includes the How to Train Your Dragon trilogy and 2022’s Puss in Boots: The Last Wish . The animation contributes to it as the island and setting it inhabits are stunning; meanwhile, the film’s climax uses bright colors to ominously represent fire and other harsh elements of the island’s nature. Now, the movie has a comedic element, this is a family movie after all. The humor works just as much as the darker tone, with the jokes consistently landing and lending a stable heart. Furthermore, lush, detailed landscapes, vibrant colors, and carefully crafted wildlife bring the island setting to life. Every leaf, wave, and animal is rendered with realism and beauty, immersing the viewer in the film’s natural environment. A moment where this truly shines is when Roz helps Brightbill take off with the rest of the flock. She helps give him a running start before he gets himself in the air, then runs to the edge of a cliff to see hundreds of geese flying amongst a pink and blue sky. Thanks to the animation and Kris Bowers’ score, it's a gorgeous scene and one of the best of the year. Roz’s character design is also a key highlight worth mentioning. Her robotic stiffness contrasts with the fluid movement of the animals, but over time, as she learns to adapt to the wild, her movements become more organic. This subtle shift in her animation mirrors her emotional and psychological journey, making her transformation from machine to caregiver all the more powerful. The development vastly grows in a montage where she’s teaching Brightbill to fly, accompanied by the soulful original song “Kiss the Sky,” by country singer Maren Morris. Environmental stewardship and the interconnectedness of life are also handled with care as the film encourages viewers, especially younger audiences, to reflect on their relationship with nature and technology. It does so without being overly preachy, blending these ideas into Roz’s story naturally and organically. The film’s voice cast brings a lot of emotional depth to the characters. Roz is voiced with a calm, almost detached tone at the beginning, which slowly softens as she connects with the island’s inhabitants. Lupita Nyong’o’s portrayal of her gradual emotional awakening is subtle yet powerful, making Roz a genuinely empathetic and relatable character. The supporting cast is equally vital. Pedro Pascal and Kit Connor do brilliant work as Roz’s fox friends, Fink, and Brightbill, respectively. Pascal gives a nuanced performance that sees him donning a character unlike anything we’ve seen so far from him. Meanwhile, Connor gives his first film performance since breaking out in 2019’s Rocketman and looks promising. While The Wild Robot is visually stunning and emotionally engaging, its plot is straightforward. The movie closely follows the book's narrative, which is both a strength and a limitation. The story follows a familiar arc of survival, acceptance, and transformation, which sometimes feels a bit formulaic. However, this predictability doesn’t detract from the film’s overall appeal, particularly for younger audiences. The journey of Roz, from an outsider to a valued member of the island’s ecosystem is compelling and filled with enough emotional depth to keep viewers invested in her story. The film could have delved deeper into Roz's origins and the technology that created her. This backstory is touched upon but not fully explored, leaving some interesting questions about the larger world unanswered. The Wild Robot is a visually stunning, emotionally resonant adaptation of Peter Brown’s novel that skillfully blends survival, empathy, and environmental stewardship themes. While its plot may sometimes feel predictable, the film’s strong voice acting, beautiful animation, soaring music, and heartfelt exploration of nature and technology make it a standout family film. Director Chris Sanders has spent decades playing a part in various successful animated movies, and The Wild Robot is looking to be another addition to his already impressive resume. DreamWorks makes another case for itself here in a day and age where animation hierarchy is up for grabs. The film will captivate younger viewers and leave older ones reflecting on the delicate balance between the human (and mechanical) and natural worlds. You can follow Tyler and hear more of his thoughts on Twitter , Instagram , and Letterboxd . More Reviews Wicked: For Good November 19, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Rental Family September 7, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Jay Kelly November 20, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Train Dreams November 21, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Hunter Friesen

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