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The Smashing Machine September 29, 2025 By: Button Hunter Friesen The Smashing Machine had its North American Premiere at the 2025 Toronto International Film Festival. A24 will release it in theaters on October 03. The Smashing Machine could have had it all. It's got an interesting premise about the life story of Mark Kerr, the former UFC Heavyweight Champion, whose blood, sweat, and tears laid the groundwork for all the glitz and glamour that current fighters have the privilege to bask in. It's got a headline performance from Dwayne Johnson, the world's biggest wrestling and movie star, hungry to sink his teeth into something meatier after years of work on stuff like Red Notice , Red One , and Red Alert (I'll let you figure out which one of those titles is fake). It's helmed by writer/director Benny Safdie, one-half of the Safdie brother duo with his elder brother Josh. Before their break-up, the pair got down and dirty with Good Time and Uncut Gems , offering a jittery look inside the psyches of those who like to go off the deep end. And above all of them in the hierarchy is distributor/producer A24, recently specializing in merging blockbuster talent with arthouse sensibilities. But instead of getting the best of all worlds, we get the middle of it. This is still a standard sports biopic, filled with the ups and downs brought upon by drugs, alcohol, and redemption. No amount of rough-around-the-edges production can mask that DNA, which begs the question of why Safdie and Johnson wanted to tell this story when there's already a 2002 documentary with the same name and scope. The answers are money, fame, and ego, the three most potent qualities in both the movie and wrestling industries. Where there's a scrappy indie that fills a niche, there needs to be a glossier Hollywood version that raises the viewership ceiling. There's also the fact that Johnson is probably the only person in history who could play Kerr without subjecting themselves to Bane's Venom Serum. Standing 6'3" and weighing 250 lbs, Kerr was a mountain of muscle, proportioned almost like an upside-down triangle. The fifty-three-year-old Johnson turns back the clock twenty years to replicate that physique, complete with bulging neck muscles and tree trunk arms. Kazu Hiro, the renowned makeup designer for transformative performances such as Gary Oldman as Winston Churchill in Darkest Hour , Bradley Cooper as Leonard Bernstein in Maestro , and Charlize Theron as Megyn Kelly in Bombshell , adds a crinkled hairpiece and some facial prosthetics to complete the look. Johnson talks the talk as much as he walks the walk, using his professional wrestling background to lend insight into why someone would subject themselves to so much torture. Lest we forget, the early days of the UFC didn't promise million-dollar-plus purses and entourages. Kerr emerges from a fight covered in blood and bruises, only to be handed a check for $3000. He lived in a modest house in Phoenix, flew commercial to all his fights, maintained memberships at commercial gyms, and dealt with the hassle of insurance for all his pain medications. This is where the incentive to become "The Smashing Machine" comes into play, with fast knockouts keeping the door to his career open just a bit longer. He wears just as many scars as victories, each one a reminder of just how committed he is to being the best. It's the greatest feeling in the world because losing costs so much. Safdie plunges us right into the action, applying a docudrama approach through handheld camerawork and plenty of zooms. We follow along in a long take as Mark goes from the locker room to the ring, everyone in the halls gawking at his enormous frame. There are probably more moments within those confined spaces than on the stage, with introspection being more difficult than taking a knee to the head. Real-life mixed martial artist Ryan Bader plays Kerr's best friend and fellow fighter Mark Coleman. His wooden line delivery is an intentionally smart choice, illustrating how a bond born through combat can't be expressed with words. Emily Blunt doesn't get the same treatment as Mark's girlfriend, Dawn. She's given the stereotypical role of "suffering partner," battling with Mark as he gets progressively buried by addiction and the threat of losing. It's hard to blame Safdie or Blunt for capturing the reality of the situation, but they go about it with the same rote scenarios we've seen time and time again. Little remarks become blow-ups, which eventually lead to reconciliations. If you're going to treat someone's story the same as everyone else's, then how am I supposed to perceive what was so special about them? More Reviews A House of Dynamite October 9, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Tron: Ares October 8, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen After the Hunt October 7, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Roofman October 6, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Hunter Friesen

No Other Choice September 6, 2025 By: Button Hunter Friesen No Other Choice had its North American Premiere at the 2025 Toronto International Film Festival. Neon will release it in theaters on December 25. Man-soo has it all. A beautiful wife whom he can shower with expensive gifts, such as dance lessons and imported shoes. Two kids, one of whom is a cello prodigy. Two golden retrievers, each named after one of the kids. A nice house, the one he grew up in and poured his blood, sweat, and tears into when he rebought it once he had the money to do so. His company sends over an expensive eel for his family to eat, a thank-you present for the many years of loyal servitude. If this were a Christmas movie, the obviously impending bad times would be a wake-up call for Man-soo to take a step back and appreciate all that he has. But No Other Choice isn’t that type of film, and Man-soo is already very appreciative of the material and emotional wealth that he has. It’s what makes the words “no other choice” sting just a little bit more, and why he twists them into a comically sadistic motivational phrase for getting his life back on track. Those words are first used by an American businessman visiting Man-soo’s paper mill, a forewarning of upcoming layoffs. It turns out that the expensive eel was part of his severance package, a faceless and empty gesture to soften the blow. His self-imposed three-month unemployment period quickly becomes thirteen months, plunging the family into dire financial straits. The job he’s perfectly suited for at a different mill is currently filled by a yuppie, a resentful fact that leads Man-soo to seriously ponder killing him. But Man-soo is only one of several in an identical situation, with a few possibly even more qualified. So he pivots to the next best option: create a fake job posting to attract all his rivals, use that information to kill them off, kill the yuppie, and waltz into the open position. This darkly comedic scenario is lifted from the 1997 American thriller novel The Ax by Donald E. Westlake, first adapted into a feature film by Costa-Gavras in 2005. Director Park Chan-wook has been a lifelong fan of the novel, an adaptation perpetually teased as his next project since he first publicly announced his intent back in 2009. Coupled with his staggeringly immense filmography, which includes international hits such as Oldboy , The Handmaiden , and Decision to Leave , Park’s further statement that it is a "lifetime project" elevated the bar just that much higher. Luckily, this is one of those circumstances where the right filmmaker meets the right story. Those decades of pent-up giddiness are evident in Park’s visuals. Crisp digital cinematography is punctuated by fluid camera movements, many of which astounded me in how they were able to pull it off. Even the opening of a mortgage default letter gets a camera swoop and zoom. And in a time when most filmmakers have a phobia of cell phones (looking at you, Robert Eggers…), Park embraces them with open arms. You can bring a surprising amount of characterization to the surface through the jolt of a sudden phone call or the tiny expressions during FaceTime. Although he’s attempting to circumvent the job market grind, Man-soo’s plan just perpetuates the cycle of rejection. The people that he’s killing are under the impression that they’re applying for a respected position, another glimmer of hope in a long series of misery. Park grants these men just as much compassion as he has for Man-soo, making the farce of these violent acts all the more tragic. The rich get richer, all while the poor literally kill each other for the ever-shrinking scraps. Korean superstar Lee Byung-hun reunites with Park a quarter century after their initial breakthrough in Joint Security Area . He continues Park’s trend of totally emasculating the desperately pathetic male lead, while also earning the pathos. Son Ye-jin rises as Mi-ri, the matriarch of the family, who, unlike everyone else, is allowed to be very conscious about choosing what path she wants to take. The pendulum between comedy and drama may swing a little too leniently towards the former, keeping the ball from fully leaving the park. Still, this is a stand-up triple from one of our best working directors, someone who continues to find more passion in his craft. You should always cherish someone who consistently makes movies with this caliber of entertainment and intelligence. More Reviews Tron: Ares October 8, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen After the Hunt October 7, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Roofman October 6, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen The Smashing Machine September 29, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Hunter Friesen

The Lost Bus October 3, 2025 By: Button Hunter Friesen The Lost Bus had its World Premiere at the 2025 Toronto International Film Festival. Apple TV+ will release it in theaters on September 19, followed by its streaming premiere on October 03. A sad truth came to light the other day when I was having dinner with a friend. I was recounting my recent trip to the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF), divulging the good, the bad, and the ugly. I eventually got to the part of my schedule that included The Lost Bus , which I described as the new Matthew McConaughey film about the California wildfires. "Which one?" my friend asked, a question that immediately contextualized the climate situation we're increasingly facing. According to the California Department of Forestry and Fire Protection, nine of the ten largest wildfires in California history have occurred within the last ten years. As I'm writing this review on September 24th, three new wildfires have been reported in the state. The most destructive and deadliest wildfire in California history was the 2018 Camp Fire. This is where The Lost Bus gets its story from, beginning one day earlier on November 07, 2018. McConaughey plays Kevin McKay, a down-on-his-luck school bus driver in the town of Paradise. He's been divorced from his wife for a few years, his teenage son doesn't like him, his mom requires increased medical care, and he just had to put his dog down due to old age. He's begging for extra shifts at work to help with financial problems. The roads can be windy as he takes the kids to and from school, and his bus is in dire need of maintenance. In short, everything is already hanging on by a thread. A faulty utility tower sets off a spark among some brush. A passerby on the highway calls in the small fire, and the trucks are on their way. By the time they get there, the dry conditions and gusty winds have already made this nuisance into a problem. From there, the area of danger keeps getting bigger... and bigger... and bigger. The situation eventually got so bad that the strategy shifted from fighting the fire to saving lives, as doing both became mutually exclusive. By the end, eighty-five were killed and tens of thousands of homes were destroyed. Co-writer/director Paul Greengrass is the perfect person to helm this harrowing story on a macroeconomic level, having previously explored the matter-of-fact horrors of modern history with United 93 , Captain Phillips , and 22 July . Multiple scenes are dedicated to the logistics of fighting a fire of this size. How big is the area of containment right now, and where will it be in a few hours? When should the public be alerted, and what roads need to be cleared for a safe evacuation? How many trucks need to be requested as backup from the neighboring districts? The list goes on and on, and the time crunch gets progressively more severe. It's propulsively taut, with a no-nonsense lesson about how these situations have been dangerously exacerbated by a lack of accountability and preparation by our country's leaders and corporations. Once the microscope is zoomed in on Kevin, things get a lot more Hollywood-ized. Greengrass and co-writer Brad Ingelsby hammer home Kevin's status as an underdog and reluctant hero. He's just trying to get back home as the alerts start going out, and is the only bus within the vicinity of an elementary school with a class of twenty-two children whose parents couldn't pick them up. America Ferrera plays their teacher, essentially herding cats as everyone starts to sense that things are about to get much worse. The bus plows through smoke and debris as the rendezvous point constantly changes, with communication getting increasingly difficult. Greengrass overplays his hand during these moments. The camera snakes through a very digital fire, treating it like the shark from Jaws on its way to eat the children. All of them are just statistics for the plot, blankly reacting in fear to what's going on around them. McConaughey and Ferrera do decent work as their characters trade stories about their hopes and dreams. It's the same beats we've seen in every inspirational story "based on true events," ending on a small note of positivity about overcoming this tragedy. A decision was probably made at the pre-production stage to commit more to that angle than the docudrama about how hope is getting thinner by the day. I'd say they made the wrong choice, as Mother Nature continually proves that we're well past the point of wrapping these horrors with neat little bows. More Reviews Tron: Ares October 8, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen After the Hunt October 7, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Roofman October 6, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Double click the dataset icon to add your own content. 1/1/2035 By: Author Name Hunter Friesen

Good Boy October 1, 2025 By: Button Tyler Banark The horror genre has long found inspiration in pets—those loyal companions who offer comfort in the darkest moments. In Good Boy , director Ben Leonberg takes this idea and tilts it toward the supernatural, exploring what happens when a dog’s devotion becomes the last line of defense against forces we can’t understand. It’s an intriguing premise, and at times Leonberg leans into it with sincerity and flair. But more often than not, Good Boy struggles to balance its heartfelt core with its messy horror mechanics, resulting in a film that is equal parts touching, frustrating, and hollow. Good Boy makes for another film in the recent trend of horror movies being told from a unique perspective. Last year’s In a Violent Nature was a slasher film viewed from the killer’s perspective. Now, it’s Good Boy ’s turn, a film that follows Indy (a Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever) as himself, a dog living with his owner, Todd. When a string of inexplicable events begins to plague his grandfather’s home after recently moving there, it becomes clear that Todd has attracted something sinister. Luckily for him, Indy senses the danger long before he does, stepping into the role of protector with a loyalty that pushes the boundaries of reality itself. At its core, Good Boy is about companionship: the unconditional love that exists between human and animal, and the lengths to which that bond can stretch. Leonberg makes sure the early moments make it clear that this is Indy’s story. Rarely does the audience see any human faces, even in moments when they’re the ones carrying the scene, and Indy isn’t given much to do. When the supernatural encroaches, you genuinely want Indy to succeed, because by then he feels like more than a pet. He feels like a character. The trouble begins when the horror elements start competing with the domestic drama. Leonberg builds the first act with patience, letting small, unsettling details accumulate. But instead of escalating tension in a measured way, the film lurches into small-scale set pieces that rely on noisy jump scares and long shots of darkness. One sequence involving a swarm of shadowy figures chasing Indy is initially chilling, until the effects crumble into digital murkiness that robs the scene of its menace. The pacing throughout the second act is similarly uneven, oscillating between quiet stretches of grief-driven drama and abrupt bursts of chaos that feel poorly timed altogether. As the marketing hasn’t shied away from, the real star, unsurprisingly, is Indy. Played by a well-trained canine actor, Indy is a commanding presence. His growls, stares, barks, and sudden bursts of protective aggression give the film its most visceral moments. There’s one terrific sequence in which Indy escapes the house via jumping out of a two-story window. It’s a daring stunt to see anyone do, let alone a dog. The movie pulls it off without making it look tacky and knows how to make it work safely for Indy. For a brief moment, the film achieves the primal fear it’s aiming for. Still, Good Boy struggles to commit to a clear identity. On one hand, it wants to be a sentimental story about how dogs truly are man’s best friend. On the other hand, it wants to be a supernatural thrill ride filled with sinister apparitions and violent encounters. The blending of these tones is possible—movies like Cujo and The Babadook show how horror can coexist with allegory—but Leonberg never fully reconciles them. Instead, the tonal shifts create a film that feels disjointed, with each half undermining the other. There are thematic threads worth pulling on—particularly the idea that grief makes us vulnerable to forces beyond our control, and that love (even from a dog) can be a shield against darkness. But these remain half-baked. By the time the third act arrives, the film has abandoned subtle metaphor for spectacle. Indy engages in what amounts to a supernatural brawl with a demon in a tornado bunker, complete with muddy terrain. The climax is loud, frantic, and overly dramatic, leaving behind the grounded emotional beats that worked best. That’s not to say Good Boy is without merit. Leonberg shows flashes of promise as a horror stylist, particularly in his framing of domestic spaces and his use of silence to unsettle. The bond between Todd and Indy is well-drawn, even if Todd isn’t the greatest human, and audiences who are dog lovers will find themselves emotionally invested despite the uneven execution. But overall, the film can’t quite shake the sense that it’s torn between two instincts: to be heartfelt and to be horrifying. Good Boy is a film with its heart in the right place, but its claws are dulled by an uneven tone and clumsy technical aspects. Indy the dog is genuinely compelling, but Leonberg’s direction can’t decide whether to embrace sincerity or go for the scare. A watchable curiosity, but not the faithful horror companion it could have been. You can follow Tyler and hear more of his thoughts on Twitter , Instagram , and Letterboxd . More Reviews After the Hunt October 7, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Roofman October 6, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen The Smashing Machine September 29, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen The Lost Bus October 3, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Hunter Friesen

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 Roofman October 6, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen The Smashing Machine September 29, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen The Lost Bus October 3, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Good Boy October 1, 2025 By: Tyler Banark Hunter Friesen

Eternity September 10, 2025 By: Button Tyler Banark Eternity had its World Premiere at the 2025 Toronto International Film Festival. A24 will release it in theaters on November 26. Some movies entertain, others provoke, and a rare few leave you at peace, still thinking about them days later. David Freyne’s Eternity is one of those films. At once a love story, a fantasy comedy, and a philosophical exploration of what it means to live, it’s a film that takes a high-concept premise and turns it into something achingly human. It’s rare to find a piece of speculative fiction that feels this grounded, this relatable, and this moving. Set in a not-too-distant future, Eternity imagines a society where purgatory is a hotel offering different forms of the afterlife. The catch, of course, is once you pick your afterlife, there’s no going back. At the center of it all are Larry (Miles Teller) and Joan (Elizabeth Olsen), a couple who died old. When Joan reunites with her first husband, Luke (Callum Turner), who was killed during a war, she faces a dilemma about who she should spend the rest of eternity with. It’s the kind of setup that could have veered into the purely cerebral, but Freyne smartly keeps the focus squarely on the love triangle at its center. The story isn’t really about the afterlife—it’s about love, fear, and the fragile beauty of life after death. That’s where Teller and Olsen shine. Olsen, long one of the most compelling actors working today, brings a raw, searching quality to Joan. She makes us feel every hesitation, every flicker of desire, every pang of guilt as she’s torn over her two loves. Teller, meanwhile, grounds the movie with warmth and conviction. His Larry is empathetic, morally firm, but never preachy. Together, they share a chemistry that makes the stakes of their choices feel devastatingly real. Turner is charming as ever and captures Luke’s mindset flawlessly: waiting decades to reunite with his long-lost love. Visually, the film is a knockout. Freyne and cinematographer Ruairí O’Brien balance sleek, colorful spaces with tender domestic intimacy. It reminds us what’s at risk, what might be lost in the pursuit of forever. There are moments of spectacle—one of which is Joan reuniting with her loves—but the film’s most powerful images are often its quietest: Joan seeing her memories through a carnival tunnel. The screenplay, written by Pat Cunnane, is sharp and surprisingly lean. Instead of bogging us down with fantastical jargon or endless world-building, it lets the dramedy emerge naturally from character choices. Issues of choice, privilege, and mortality arise naturally, never feeling forced. The dialogue is often understated, which makes the big beats, comedic and dramatic, land all the harder. The ending is the kind that hits you in the chest and lingers long after the lights come up. That’s not to say the movie is flawless. The final 30 minutes overstay the movie’s welcome. The direction the movie takes and the decisions Joan makes prolong the movie longer than it should have. But even when the pacing dips, the performances and the atmosphere keep things engrossing. The pacing of the final act doesn’t drown the movie, luckily, as it wins its audience with a satisfying resolution. What makes Eternity so special is its refusal to give easy answers. Plenty of sci-fi movies have tackled the allure of immortality, but few have done it with this level of nuance and empathy. Freyne isn’t interested in villains or heroes; he’s interested in longing, in the very human desire to hold on to what we love and the heartbreak of knowing we can’t. The film suggests that eternity might not be the gift we imagine—that our limited time is what makes life precious. In a year filled with big-budget spectacles, Eternity feels like a breath of fresh air: original, emotionally resonant, and thought-provoking without ever being pretentious. It’s the kind of film that sparks conversation as soon as you leave the theater. Who would you want to spend eternity with? Would you rather be with your first love and see what could’ve been or someone you spent your life with? David Freyne has crafted something rare: a fantastical romantic dramedy that’s both brainy and heartfelt, anchored by two extraordinary performances. You can follow Tyler and hear more of his thoughts on Twitter , Instagram , and Letterboxd . More Reviews The Smashing Machine September 29, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen The Lost Bus October 3, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Good Boy October 1, 2025 By: Tyler Banark One Battle After Another September 24, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Hunter Friesen

Poetic License September 8, 2025 By: Button Tyler Banark Poetic License had its World Premiere at the 2025 Toronto International Film Festival. Row K Entertainment will release it at a later date. Every once in a while, a debut film arrives that feels like it already knows exactly what it wants to be. Maude Apatow’s Poetic License is one of those rare first features — assured, moving, and refreshingly human. Known for her acting and being the daughter of comedy filmmaker Judd Apatow and actress Leslie Mann, Maude steps behind the camera, delivering a film that feels both intimate and inviting, a story about finding your voice that never resorts to clichés. Led by a talented trio of Mann, Cooper Hoffman, and Andrew Barth Feldman (with the former two giving the best performances of TIFF), Poetic License is a fun comedy that is sure to bring back the kind that made the Apatow name a household one. The movie follows Liz (Mann in a career-best performance), a once-promising therapist who’s drifted into a new city with her husband and daughter, Dora (Method Man and Nico Parker, respectively). She’s uncertain about Dora’s future, as she’s preparing to be an empty nester. Looking to reinvigorate her life in her new setting, Liz joins a poetry college course and befriends Ari and Sam (Hoffman and Feldman, respectively), two boys also enrolled in the class. What unfolds is a lighthearted comedy about relationships and reinventing oneself. What makes Poetic License click is its welcoming tone. Apatow never pushes too hard for laughs or tears; instead, she lets Raffi Donatich’s script breathe. Scenes are allowed to feel quippy, characters are given space to have fun, and the film finds weight in the little details: the sentimentality a parent has for their grown child, or the awkward pause that follows after someone reads a piece that cuts too close to home. The result is a film that feels lived-in, one that understands life is as much about hesitation and failure as it is about triumph. Mann gives a beautifully restrained performance. Liz is shy, yet tries too hard to appeal to Dora and spend as much time with her as possible. Her interactions with the entire cast are wonderful, and Mann knows when to go for a laugh or execute a funny moment. She captures that hesitation without ever turning the character into a cliché of a lost soul. Her dynamics with Hoffman and Feldman are equally great, as they make for a dynamic duo. The supporting cast fills out the workshop with warmth and personality. Hoffman, in particular, is hilarious and proves how talented a thespian he is. Like Maude Apatow, he’s labeled as a nepo-baby with his father being the late great Philip Seymour Hoffman. However, not once since his breakthrough in 2021’s Licorice Pizza has Hoffman's talent been doubted by audiences. He adopts his father's dramatic approach while also developing his own method for comedic work. In other words, he fits right into an Apatow comedy that Maude picks up on no problem. Feldman also steals laughs as Sam, whose dorkiness is charming as ever. Together, our three main characters create a believable, mismatched trio, the kind of oddball group that feels instantly recognizable to anyone who has ever joined a class hoping to find a new direction/change. That’s not to say the film is perfect. The story may seem odd as it delves into territories similar to those of The Graduate or any other movie centered on a relationship between a young man and a much older woman. Don’t get it twisted, as Poetic License is no rom-com. Rather, it’s a movie about friendships in the unlikeliest places with dashes of romantic tension. But this is a minor bump in an otherwise remarkably strong debut. In a day and age where movies of that nature are often frowned upon by audiences, Apatow and company ensure that Poetic License doesn’t go down that dark alley. What makes Poetic License stand out from other coming-of-age or unlikely-friendship comedies is its refusal to wrap everything up neatly. There’s no big contest, no sudden discovery of genius, no soaring finale. Instead, the film closes on a note of quiet persistence, suggesting that the act of sharing life and embracing the unknown is, in itself, a victory. It’s a refreshingly grounded approach, one that feels truer to life than a tidy ending to a raunchy 2000s comedy. With Poetic License , Maude Apatow has made the leap from performer to filmmaker with surprising ease. The movie is tender without being sentimental, funny without undercutting the drama, and deeply moving without ever resorting to sentimentality. More than anything, it feels honest. In a crowded movie landscape, that’s no small achievement. You can follow Tyler and hear more of his thoughts on Twitter , Instagram , and Letterboxd . More Reviews The Smashing Machine September 29, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen The Lost Bus October 3, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Good Boy October 1, 2025 By: Tyler Banark One Battle After Another September 24, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Hunter Friesen

The Testament of Ann Lee September 6, 2025 By: Button Hunter Friesen The Testament of Ann Lee had its North American Premiere at the 2025 Toronto International Film Festival. Searchlight Pictures will release it in theaters on December 25. The TIFF press gods might smite me for mentioning this right off the bat, but early in the Press and Industry screening for The Testament of Ann Lee , the 70mm projection sputtered for a moment, only to then fully cut to a black void. An ironic wave of applause and cheering came over the audience of critics, with many (including myself) lining up hours prior in the crisp morning air. The distraction lasted less than a minute, with the heavenly image of Amanda Seyfried’s titular character and her devout followers reappearing on the screen in a rush of rhythmic dance. This hiccup was just another reminder of the tightrope that director Mona Fastvold and her co-writer/partner Brady Corbet must traverse to get their art made and presented in the purest way possible. The pair were at the prior edition of the festival with The Brutalist , their efforts finally rewarded after years of toiling with financing, recasting, and distribution. The fact that a movie of that scale and intelligence could be crafted for a mere sum of $10 million calls into question the ethics of modern moviemaking. Fastvold and Corbet went unpaid for their efforts, and much of their crew labored for a fraction of their usual fees. But just as László Tóth and Ann Lee were unshakeable in their creed, so are Fastvold and Corbet in their artistic integrity. The Testament of Ann Lee arrives at the festival under a similar scenario to The Brutalist : undistributed, a laundry list of producers and foreign subsidiaries, and an eagerness to ward off any spineless suit with the premise of a quasi-musical about a female-led religious movement set during the years before the American Revolution. Unlike Tóth, Ann Lee was a real person. She was born in Manchester, England, and received no formal education, remaining illiterate throughout her life. The ecstasy of religion mitigated the agony of daily life. Her shepherds were James and Jane Wardley, who preached the value of cleansing oneself from sin through chanting and dancing. The unconditioned eye may judge these people as crazed zealots, flailing about with the same rhythm of a seizure. Fastvold lowers our guard by burying the camera deep within their movements, each contortion an act of pure faith. The Brutalist composer Daniel Blumberg returns with a rich soundscape that focuses on the repetition of words and phrases. The songs “Beautiful Treasures” and “Hunger and Thirst” bring together all facets of the production into a harmonious expression of resilience. None of these tunes will be climbing up the Spotify charts, and they’re probably better off because of that. Ann’s devotion is not rewarded with the gifts of children, all four of them dying before their first birthday. These costs of lust, along with Ann’s mother being sexually assaulted when she was a child, lead her to swear off any physical bodily pleasures. Her followers obliged, which is probably why their numbers have dwindled down to just two in 2025. It’s from here that the movement transplanted to America, a land of religious tolerance (cue the ironic slide whistle). Seyfried is unshakeable in her commitment, grabbing hold of this golden opportunity to fully flex her musical talent. It might be her best work yet, a remarkable achievement in this Renaissance period that includes turns in Mank and The Dropout . The supporting players - Lewis Pullman, Thomasin McKenzie, Christopher Abbott, Tim Blake Nelson - all have their moments to shine, although not in the usual form of musical solos or dance numbers. They share a glance or a steadfast prayer in defense of the persecution they receive from the conservative leaders. I’d say that Fastvold and Corbet deserve more than the pennies they receive to make their films, but it doesn’t seem like they need it. The pair obviously sees themselves in their subjects, willing to put everything on the line for what they believe in. Lest we forget that history was never made by the meek. You probably won’t become a Shaker after seeing The Testament of Ann Lee , but you’ll be a believer in their convictions and the overwhelming power of their story. More Reviews The Smashing Machine September 29, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen The Lost Bus October 3, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Good Boy October 1, 2025 By: Tyler Banark One Battle After Another September 24, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Hunter Friesen

A Christmas Party September 23, 2025 By: Button Tyler Banark Alex Helmer marks his feature film directorial debut with A Christmas Party , an ensemble piece that reminds us of the peaks and valleys of the titular occasion. At just twenty-three years old, Helmer already knows what kind of filmmaker he aspires to be, which is a testament to his maturity, as most directors still find their footing at such a young age. Speaking highly of his cast and crew, he’s got convictions that he’s got all the right pieces to his first puzzle. The result? A mostly spectacular effort capturing the agony and ecstasy of the most wonderful time of the year. Shot in Helmer’s hometown of Washington, D.C., A Christmas Party is not only a personal film. The D.C. backdrop adds another layer to a powder keg waiting to be lit and exploded. No matter how we feel about the holiday, one inevitable topic of conversation that’ll come up via your conservative uncle or liberal cousin is politics. While D.C. isn’t prominently featured in the film, there is a presence of a congressman arriving unannounced at the dinner and a partygoer who has just quit her job working for said congressman. After he shows up, disrupts the dinner, and storms out, chaos ensues. Helmer penned the script with longtime friend and comedian Guy Knoll, and the execution of this idiosyncrasy is daring. Amidst the partygoers, we meet many eccentric characters. In particular, there’s CJ (Joe Rashbaum), a man trying to sniff out whether his wife is cheating on him or not. While Rashbaum isn’t the leading man of the movie, he easily steals the show. Every interaction he has with another that involves him asking them if they know someone who possibly slept with his wife is genius, particularly one with Jack Wielar’s Danny, as the latter makes the clever choice to dart his eyes anywhere but directly at Rashbaum. Aside from him, another supporting highlight of the cast is Richard Sexton as Shaun, the godfather of our leading man, Adam (more on him in a bit). Sexton provides the moral compass Adam needs as he navigates his first family gathering since coming home from college. On the one hand, Shaun is written to be a character who knows how to light up a room. On the other hand, he’s a soul looking for help. Shaun is also a thespian looking to execute the perfect line in a play he’s about to be in. Every time he asks for input on how to say his one-liner, he receives various pieces of feedback. Then there’s our leading man, Adam Hartman, played by Jaxon Keller. Viewers see him navigate his way through every conversation like it’s a chore to eventually get one-on-one time with childhood friend Ally (Sarah-Grace Donelly). Keller fits right into Helmer’s style as the actor and director make a tight-knit duo. His chemistry with Donelly is wonderful, but what Helmer and Knoll do with the characters feels a bit forced and cheeky. Adam catches Ally at a bad time to profess his feelings for her as she brings home a new boyfriend from the UK, and while that love triangle finds resolution, it’s how it got there that should’ve been written better. As for Adam himself, he’s written one-dimensionally, never seeming to fulfill a true arc. This may partially be because of how ensemble-oriented A Christmas Party is. Still, even if there’s a central protagonist in a sea of characters, no viewer wants to see them be one-note. What A Christmas Party lacks the most is its script. Not only is Adam a thinly written lead, but subplots ran amok. Some become developed and resolved, while others get audiences wanting more. But the benefit of the doubt should be given to Helmer and Knoll. This is their first feature-length script together, and while their intentions as writers have the same end goal, they seem to still be working out the kinks in terms of finding which ideas to go with. On the plus side, they know exactly how to capture the in-your-face nature of holiday parties and all the cliches that could come with one. The approach feels earnest, and took a lot of effort to translate under one roof, as it not only knows what kinds of people you will find at one, but also the cultural mindsets of each character. Whether it’s having certain characters speak Czech or introducing what an American Christmas looks like for new faces at the party, Helmer and Knoll tie it all together. A Christmas Party is, through and through, a fitting holiday movie. It may not be on the same level as the greats like Elf , A Christmas Story , or National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation , but it has the heart and soul of what makes that time of the year what it is. Helmer has proven to be a man of great character, and what he has achieved here is courageous. I certainly hope he will be a name to look out for in the near future, as his next task with this movie will be distribution. I doubt anyone will be slow to grab it, but as long as it falls into the right hands, it’ll be a pleasant gift for us all. You can follow Tyler and hear more of his thoughts on Twitter , Instagram , and Letterboxd . More Reviews The Smashing Machine September 29, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen The Lost Bus October 3, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Good Boy October 1, 2025 By: Tyler Banark One Battle After Another September 24, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Hunter Friesen

Swiped September 19, 2025 By: Button Tyler Banark Swiped had its World Premiere at the 2025 Toronto International Film Festival. 20th Century Studios will release it on Hulu on September 19. Tech-world biopics have become a reliable Hollywood trend in the last 15 years, with films like The Social Network and Steve Jobs offering sharp, stylish portraits of ambition, betrayal, and innovation. Swiped , the new film from director Rachel Lee Goldenberg ( Unpregnant) , attempts to add another chapter to that lineage by telling the story of Whitney Wolfe Herd, a co-founder of Tinder who left the company in controversy and went on to create Bumble. On paper, Wolfe Herd’s story is tailor-made for the screen: a young woman navigating how to revolutionize the dating world in a male-dominant environment, confronting harassment and public scrutiny, and ultimately building a billion-dollar empire with a feminist twist. Unfortunately, while the material is rich, the execution is uneven, resulting in a film that struggles to find its rhythm or point of view. Lily James stars as Wolfe Herd, and she is without question the movie’s strongest asset. James throws herself into the role with a mix of charisma and vulnerability, capturing both Herd’s polished confidence as a tech entrepreneur and her quieter moments of exhaustion and doubt. Whether pitching investors, fending off aggressive colleagues, or facing down a hostile press, James grounds the performance in a relatable humanity. It’s the kind of work that could have elevated a sharper, more disciplined movie. The film traces Herd’s journey from her early days helping shape Tinder into a cultural phenomenon, through the tumultuous fallout with her male co-founders, and finally to the creation of Bumble, the app where women make the first move. Where The Social Network succeeded by marrying Aaron Sorkin’s razor-sharp dialogue to David Fincher’s icy precision, Swiped falters because it can’t decide on a tone. Sometimes it aims for satirical bite, skewering tech-bro culture with montages of vapid brainstorming sessions and hollow corporate pep talks. Other times, it veers into inspirational biopic territory, complete with swelling music and neat proclamations about empowerment. The shifts are jarring, leaving the film feeling like two competing movies stitched together. It further doesn’t help that the way the movie is shot and edited makes it seem like a Lifetime movie. Visually, Goldenberg attempts to bring flair to the material, employing fast-paced editing and aiming to envelop audiences in the aesthetic of the early to mid-2010s. At times, these choices help underline the omnipresence of technology in Herd’s world. But more often, they feel gimmicky, distracting from the drama rather than deepening it. The slickness doesn’t always serve a story that is fundamentally about personal resilience in the face of toxic structures. The early sequences, set in the chaotic world of startups, are among the film’s most engaging. Goldenberg and the writer’s room capture the intoxicating blend of idealism and ego that defines tech startups. There’s a nervy energy to these scenes, as Herd pitches her ideas to skeptical men who underestimate her, then watches as her contributions are absorbed into the brand without credit. There are, however, moments when the film’s potential shines through. James has a terrific late scene where Herd, introducing Bumble for Friends, pitches investors with quiet but unshakable resolve, flipping the narrative that once silenced her. Similarly, the film’s exploration of how Bumble marketed itself as a feminist alternative to Tinder offers glimpses of something fresher and more incisive. Unfortunately, these beats feel like the script is checking boxes off a list, and it rarely delves deeper into Wolfe Herd’s internal struggles as a character or the ethical complexities of building another dating empire within the same profit-driven ecosystem. Supporting performances are largely underwritten. Myha’la plays Tisha, Herd’s friend who helps her with her start at Tinder, then ultimately joins her at Bumble. Although she’s a supporting character, I did wish the movie had explored more of her side of the story once Herd left Tinder. Dan Stevens is a welcome presence, but he doesn’t help viewers look past the character and his caricature-esque Russian accent. The film could have benefited from fleshing out these dynamics, giving Herd’s journey a richer sense of community and conflict rather than framing it almost exclusively through her clashes with toxic men. In the end, Swiped feels like a missed opportunity. Whitney Wolfe Herd’s story is a fascinating and timely one—about gender, power, and innovation in an industry that remains stubbornly male-dominated. But the film too often simplifies rather than complicates, sanding down the rough edges into a familiar rise-fall-rise arc. Lily James makes it worth watching, but even she can’t overcome the script’s thinness or the tonal confusion of the direction. What could have been a bold, pointed portrait of ambition and resilience instead plays like a glossy, digestible recap, the kind you might expect in a streaming documentary rather than a theatrical drama. For a story that should have left audiences stirred and inspired, Swiped ultimately feels oddly disposable, offering just enough style and star power to hold attention but not enough depth to make audiences swipe right on it. You can follow Tyler and hear more of his thoughts on Twitter , Instagram , and Letterboxd . More Reviews The Smashing Machine September 29, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Good Boy October 1, 2025 By: Tyler Banark One Battle After Another September 24, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen A Christmas Party September 23, 2025 By: Tyler Banark Hunter Friesen

Him September 18, 2025 By: Button Hunter Friesen At this point, should Jordan Peele bear some of the blame for the countless bad films he’s inspired in the years since Get Out ? Based on the recurring delay of his next film, it feels like even he’s starting to feel the pressure of comparison. Then again, should Quentin Tarantino have been blamed for all the Pulp Fiction rip-offs of the ‘90s and early 2000s? Should Steven Spielberg be blamed for every movie centered around sharks or dinosaurs? It’s the mark of a true master, someone who makes it look so effortless that it deludes people into thinking that they can just as easily pull it off. 99% of them try and fail, with that one special person perfectly threading the needle between homage and distinctiveness, restarting the cycle all over again. Much as it really wants to be in that 1% club, Him is most certainly an imitator, flaunting sights and sounds as if it were some deep and insightful piece of filmmaking. In actuality, it's just noise, an irritating string of moments that increasingly pushed me to pack up and go home. But instead of doing that, I stayed in my seat, recounting all the productive things I could have done with the ninety-six minutes I just burned. I could have read a few more chapters in that book I should have already finished, cherished these final few summer days by going on a walk, or just stared blankly at a wall. Those corny workout videos that football teams post on social media during the offseason have been brought to the silver screen, only this time with more explanatory narration and opportunities for athletes to repeatedly take off their shirts. Cameron Cade (Tyriq Withers) is one of those shirtless hunks, the next great football quarterback. Unfortunately, that path of success is derailed when he’s struck in the head by a random attacker, an event that’s never mentioned again until much later in the film. As an act of redemption, Cameron takes an offer to spend a week training at the compound of Isaiah White (Marlon Wayans), the recipient of eight championship rings and the undisputed status of The GOAT (Greatest Of All Time). You could say he’s the Daniel Day-Lewis of football, reaching his status through uncompromising dedication to his craft and a willingness to sacrifice everything. That even extends to the health and safety of his employees, all of them with a cult-like devotion to put their bodies on the line. There were several moments throughout that reminded me of Opus from earlier this year, which has been rightfully banished to the realm of obscurity. Both films try to expose our obsession with celebrity culture through a mixture of dark comedy and brutal horror. But the lameness of their ideas and ineffective scares make it a tedious snoozefest. The only benefit of the totally predictable jump scares is to jolt you back awake. But that’s only a startle, as it takes actual talent to scare someone. And just like Opus , Him ends with a baffling sequence of reveals that invite dozens of questions about the logic and ultimate goal of this whole operation. Why does every Julia Fox scene end with her having to leave? Why are there a bunch of rabid fans living on the outskirts of the compound as if it’s Area 51? Why does Isaiah drink alcohol and smoke cigars when it’s already been established that he follows an extremely regimented diet? Why does Cameron always preach about the importance of family, only for all those characters to be extremely annoying? The more I ask these questions, the less I actually want the answer. Him isn’t meant for fans of football, horror movies, or life in general. It’s meant to be used as a repellent, pushing people towards better movies. I’d like to consider this review as an act of public service, but I fear that the stench is going to stick with me for a while. More Reviews The Smashing Machine September 29, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen One Battle After Another September 24, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen A Christmas Party September 23, 2025 By: Tyler Banark Swiped September 19, 2025 By: Tyler Banark Hunter Friesen

Tyler's Takes: 'Ghost Protocol' is the Pinnacle of the M:I Franchise May 16, 2025 By: Tyler Banark Since its inception in 1996, the Mission: Impossible film franchise has become one of Hollywood’s most enduring and thrilling action series. Featuring Tom Cruise as the relentless Ethan Hunt, each installment raises the stakes with daring stunts, globe-trotting intrigue, and elaborate espionage plots. With The Final Reckoning coming to theaters on May 23rd, I’d like to spend this month’s entry in my essay series discussing how Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol stands out as the pinnacle of the franchise. Directed by Brad Bird in his live-action debut, Ghost Protocol reinvigorated the series after the lukewarm reception of Mission: Impossible III , which is severely underrated, if I might add, and established the modern tone and scale that would define subsequent installments. Its masterful balance of jaw-dropping action, cohesive storytelling, ensemble dynamics, and tonal clarity cements it as the best in the series. One of the defining characteristics of Ghost Protocol is its seamless blend of practical action and suspense. Nowhere is this more evident than in the film’s most iconic sequence: Ethan Hunt scaling the Burj Khalifa, the tallest building in the world, using only high-tech suction gloves. This scene is a breathtaking visual marvel and a testament to Tom Cruise’s commitment to authenticity, as he performed the stunt himself. Yes, he had done a few stunning stunts before this, such as the vault drop scene from the first movie to the rock-climbing sequence in the sequel. The visceral realism of the sequence, combined with the narrative tension—where a sandstorm looms and time is against the team—epitomizes what makes Mission: Impossible unique: high-stakes set pieces grounded in physical performance rather than over-reliance on CGI. Because of the Burj Khalifa scene, fans have witnessed Cruise do crazier stunts, from hanging out the side of a plane taking off, doing a halo jump, and riding a motorcycle off a cliff, then parachuting to the ground. Moreover, Bird brings the franchise a fresh visual flair and pacing. Known for his animated work, he successfully converts his storytelling instincts into the live-action realm. The film is tightly constructed, moving briskly from Moscow to Dubai to Mumbai, each location not just a backdrop but integral to the plot’s development. Bird’s direction imbues the movie with a sense of rhythm and clarity often lacking in action films. The viewer is never lost, even during chaotic moments, like the Kremlin explosion or the automated car park finale. The action sequences are not only thrilling but also serve the narrative and emotional arcs of the characters. In addition to technical prowess, Ghost Protocol distinguishes itself through its ensemble cast. While Tom Cruise’s Ethan Hunt remains the anchor, the supporting characters play a more prominent and meaningful role than in earlier entries. Simon Pegg’s Benji Dunn transitions from comic relief to a full-fledged field agent, offering levity and resourcefulness. Jeremy Renner as William Brandt introduces a layered character with a mysterious past and personal guilt, adding emotional depth to the team dynamic. Paula Patton’s Jane Carter brings determination and pathos, particularly in her subplot involving the death of a fellow agent. The chemistry among the team members feels organic, and for the first time, the franchise genuinely emphasizes teamwork over the lone-hero trope. Tonally, Ghost Protocol strikes the perfect balance between seriousness and humor. It acknowledges the absurdity of some of its spy tropes without undermining them. For its seriousness, it’s the first time we see Ethan and company alone without the IMF’s help. This tonal precision prevents the film from veering into self-parody or taking itself too seriously. Beforehand, the Mission: Impossible franchise was seen as another textbook, slightly formulaic action franchise with the tone of every other one coming out in the late 90s and 2000s. However, Ghost Protocol helped the series find a new tone and voice as it carried into the subsequent entries. Because of this, Christopher McQuarrie, who has helmed every entry since, owes a debt to Bird and what he did with Ghost Protocol . Furthermore, Ghost Protocol successfully resets the franchise’s mythology without overburdening the viewer with exposition. After the lukewarm commercial performance of Mission: Impossible III , which leaned heavily into Ethan Hunt’s personal life, Ghost Protocol smartly refocuses the story on the mission itself. The film jettisons the emotional baggage while hinting at deeper character layers, such as Hunt’s mysterious past and the fate of his wife. This approach makes the film more accessible to new viewers while rewarding longtime fans with subtle continuity. In many ways, Ghost Protocol laid the groundwork for the more cohesive narrative arc seen in Rogue Nation and Fallout , but it did so with a lighter touch. While later entries like Fallout may offer more elaborate stunts and darker storytelling, Ghost Protocol remains the most complete and balanced. It redefined the tone, reintroduced the ensemble approach, and demonstrated that blockbuster action could still be intelligent, stylish, and exhilarating. It also played a key role in reestablishing Tom Cruise as a bankable action star in the 2010s, proving that practical filmmaking and charismatic storytelling could thrive in a CGI-heavy industry. Mission: Impossible—Ghost Protocol is the franchise's high-water mark because it combines all the series’ strengths into a near-perfect package. With inventive action, a well-developed team dynamic, pitch-perfect direction, and an invigorating tone, the film not only saved the franchise but elevated it to new heights—literally and figuratively. You can follow Tyler and hear more of his thoughts on Twitter , Instagram , and Letterboxd . More Reviews One Battle After Another September 24, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen A Christmas Party September 23, 2025 By: Tyler Banark Him September 18, 2025 By: Hunter Friesen Swiped September 19, 2025 By: Tyler Banark Hunter Friesen