“I ate these in France when I was a kid. I said they tasted like the future.”

Anthony Bourdain. A name recognized by millions all over the world. So much so that the original marketing concept for Tony was to never mention that the film was about Bourdain; a task so herculean that it was ultimately scrapped. Instead, the film opens with a quote from Bourdain himself, “I was - to be frank - a spoiled, miserable, narcissistic, self-destructive and thoughtless young lout, badly in need of a good ass-kicking.” And it is here, that Matt Johnson sets the tone for Tony.

Most biopics of today attempt to give you an all-encompassing look at someone’s life. Just earlier this year, we had Michael, which gave us half of Michael Jackson’s life with a sequel on the way. Films like these are big, loud, and flashy as they’re given 2 hours to fly through an iconic person’s life. Tony, thankfully, takes the other route. Instead of a 2 hour breeze through Anthony Bourdain’s life and his many great accomplishments, the film instead focuses on one transcendent summer in his life in Cape Cod. Tony is a frenetic, often sensual, and earnest exploration of Bourdain wrapped in a systematic coming-of-age story.

The film opens with Anthony Bourdain lying to college admissions professors, followed by him going home and lying to his parents that he got the writing fellowship. Johnson immediately lays the groundwork for who Tony is at this stage in his life, what he wants, and what he will do to get it. Much of the film following this opening plays out like your traditional coming-of-age film. A young, lost boy who abandons all he knows in pursuit of a girl and a goal. And it’s not until we arrive in Cape Cod’s small home-owned diner “The Flagship” that we really see where Johnson wants this story to go.

Down on his luck and poor, Tony seeks out a job in Cape Cod. This is where he meets Antonio Banderas’ “Chef” and Leo Woodall’s “Sal”. Both characters serve as Tony’s center point throughout the film and work as a dichotomy of one another. Chef, a reserved, religious man who lives a simple, modest life. And Sal, the charming, energetic worker who only shucks oysters and parties hard at night. Together, all three of these characters form the center of the film. And with Matt Johnson, Todd Bartels, and Lou Howe’s immaculate screenplay and writing, Tony is allowed to lean into pure character-building and storytelling.

As we spend a good third of the film watching Tony and Sal hang out, party, and show off for girls, we see exactly the type of friendship this is. It’s Sal who gets Tony into drugs and is one half of the moral compass of this film. Much like any coming-of-age story, Tony is as much about the loss of innocence in a young person as it is about becoming who they are meant to be. This moment is fully realized when Tony horrifyingly watches Sal shoot up on a Cape Cod beach. The first moment in the film where Tony realizes he might be in too deep. The camera holds steady on Tony as he watches Sal slink deeper into the despair and hole he’s dug himself.

To balance the chaos out, Banderas delivers a stoic, reverent performance as Chef. When Tony comes to grips with the real person Sal is, and the untimely loss of innocence he receives on that beach, he decides to make a change. As Tony gets more familiar with Chef and his lifestyle, they bond over cooking. Tony’s interest in the art form is small, yet growing. It starts with taking over Sal’s job as the oyster shucker when Sal starts a fight with Chef. It then expands even further as they, one Monday morning, prepare salt shakers with fresh diluted salt water and ketchup bottles with fresh-squeezed tomatoes. And yet, interestingly enough, Matt Johnson is able to demonstrate immense restraint during these moments in the kitchen. As most films and filmmakers would create a “Eureka” moment for Tony where he creates a dish or eloquently surmises a taste, Tony never reaches that.

Instead, the film is so sharply focused on exploring Tony’s thoughts on himself. A struggling young man failing to find his way in the world and see the possibilities of his future. Through his countless lies and irresponsibility, we are shown that sometimes, we can’t talk our way in and out of things. It is in this masterclass of tonality and pacing that Matt Johnson excels and propels this film forward. Tony is funny when it wants to be, but heartfelt and sincere when it needs to be. The writing of this film is otherworldly; Banderas and Woodall’s characters would ordinarily be relatively paper-thin. Both are archetypal characters on the page, but their performances boost them into some of the most crowd-pleasing characters I’ve seen on screen.

And it doesn’t just stop there; Emilia Jones is riveting to watch on screen as our titular love interest. Stavros and Michael Jibrin are magnificent screen presences alongside Banderas in the kitchen. It is a culmination of phenomenal performances alongside the patience of Matt Johnson in trusting his screenplay and actors to deliver that drastically sets Tony apart from the other biopics of our time. And not to mention, Dominic Sessa as the iconic Anthony Bourdain is a “knock your socks off” type of performance. While never being a complete parody, or copy, of Bourdain himself, it’s the essence of who and what he was that makes it so magical to watch.

I would be remiss to not mention the music supervision and score of this film as well. As Johnson blends tones and intricately weaves themes inside it all, Jay McCarrol’s elegant piano score ripples throughout. And when necessary, Johnson and team deploy some of the best needle drops of 70s and 80s rock in any movie. Just as Johnson seems to balance the comedy and drama of it all, the music holds its weight in propelling the story forward with music moments that I think Anthony Bourdain himself would smile at.

Tony is the rare biopic that captures the magic and energy of the person it so desperately wants to memorialize. In a world of biopics that feel like highlights and a showcase of artists and icons’ greatest hits, Tony reminds us that these films can be more than that; they can teach you something about life, about yourself, and who and what you can be. Matt Johnson, for the second time this year, proves that he has the goods. A directing masterclass in a pitch-perfect film about one of America’s most famed chefs and writers.

Grade: B

“If it gets too real, you can always turn it off.”

For decades, horror, and more specifically slasher, films have centered their stories around “final girls”. Originating in the 70s and 80s with a myriad of different girls: Diane Adams in Silent Night, Bloody Night, Laurie Strode in Halloween, Ginny Field in Friday the 13th, Sidney Prescott in Scream, and even Maxine Minx from X. It’s a trope that has stood the test of time and gone through a number of unique evolutions as the decades pass. Yet, the characteristics and qualities of a final girl have always remained the same. These girls are typically intelligent, curious, sober, and virgins. It’s this “innocence” that leads them to survive the haunting events of the night and often overcome the killer by the end. A cliche that has been passed from film to film. Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma by Jane Schoenbrun is clearly inspired by and evoking the same narrative beats and tropes of films prior but does so with a knowing, winking, intelligence at every corner.

Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma is the third film by Jane Schoenbrun in what feels like a solid conclusion to the trilogy of films they’ve made over the past decade. 2021 saw their debut of We’re All Going To The World’s Fair; a claustrophobic exploration of horror amongst Gen Z and the creepypasta craze. 2024 felt like a natural step up from their debut with I Saw The TV Glow. An extremely smart dissection of self-identity and accepting oneself and how TV, media, and the culture can affect and define you. Each film a step closer to the inception of slasher horror and a unique look at how media, films, or TV define and shape you as a person. Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma might be Schoenbrun’s most metatextual film to date, but it’s one that does so sleekly and winkingly at the audience.

Schoenbrun’s newest film is likely their most accessible. Its self-referentiality and knowingness allow the viewer to be transported to that time and place. And if the silly, heavy-handedness of its display of old-school slashers isn’t enough, its exploration of its deeper themes and messaging also follow the same playbook. Where Schoenbrun used to layer their messaging within numerous allegories and metaphors, still deeply present in this film, much of Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma feels like an obvious reflection of themself. If it’s not obvious enough, the film opens with Hannah Einbinder’s Kris, an up-and-coming queer filmmaker tasked with reviving a classic horror franchise, superimposed on the screen with “Directed By Jane Schoenbrun”. It’s in these little moments where Schoenbrun lays it all out on the floor for you.

Schoenbrun’s little witty narrative writing moments are where the film really starts to shine. At face value, Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma can be enjoyed as just a romantic romp on the horror genre and the tropes of 70s and 80s slashers. It’s sleek, witty, and sexually tense when it needs to be. But amidst its many laughs, the film is a visceral exploration of love, desire, lust, and identity. Just as Einbinder’s Kris is constantly surrounded by sweet gummy candy, Schoenbrun’s film can be unwrapped and further enjoyed by a sweet center.

Much of the film is centered around Einbinder’s Kris as she embarks on a trip to meet with Gillian Anderson’s, Billy; the iconic star of the first Camp Miasma film who, following the massive success of the first film, declined to ever appear in a sequel and subjected herself to a life of seclusion living on the summer camp grounds where the first film was shot. These two have sparks fly when they first meet shared over a tasty gourmet KFC dinner. And if it’s not obvious that Schoenbrun has interests that far exceed the sexual nature of old school slashers, it should be when the titular villain of the Camp Miasma franchise is known as “Little Death”.

The film really picks up as Kris and Billy explore each other’s relationship to one another; one, a director desperately seeking for inspiration on how to reboot a dead franchise and the other, a recluse iconic actor reliving some of her best, and worst, moments in a legendary film franchise. Every moment following their first meeting is fueled by sexual tension and intrigue. Stolen glances as they smoke weed on the porch, deeply intimate moments as they confide in one another next to the fireplace, and shared emotional trauma all expertly helmed by Schoenbrun’s screenplay breathe life into the film.

In particular, Kris and Billy share a foundational moment together watching a screening of the original Camp Miasma film. Seated next to each other, we watch the events of the film unfold. Billy’s character in the film is a stand-in for the “final girl”. Sober, intelligent, slightly socially awkward, and virginal as she’s coerced by your classic male jock to go to the bedroom. It’s from here that Schoenbrun takes a firm grasp of the narrative and story that she wants to tell. The scene unfolds like you would expect as Billy’s younger self in the film shares her feelings of anxiousness and fear of this new experience through her eyes, and Schoenbrun, in a stroke of storytelling genius, portrays it all from the eyes and POV of our killer, “Little Death”.

It’s these directorial flairs that keep the film moving at a delicious pace. The power to the camp cuts out soon after, and our leads are forced to return to a dark, cold cabin lit only by the fire. It’s here that they share a moment, a pivotal scene, in which Einbinder’s Kris intimately shares that she’s never been “good at sex”. She admits that she only gets off when she is “transported far away”. She goes on to state that she often has to imagine herself as one of the characters in the Camp Miasma franchise. A young girl, scared, anxious, excited, and wrapped up in the moment but being watched and hunted by the killer. It’s the thrill of the unknown and the excitement of danger.

In this moment, Schoenbrun’s work all starts to come together. As Kris and Billy start to get intimate, Billy tells her “if it gets too real, you can always turn it off”. A lever to escape the world around you and enter into a new world. All so symbolic and representative of the voyeurism of early slasher films. The stalking, the lurking, and the desire that reads deep within these stories. Just as the final girls have been pinnacles of innocence, slashers have been known and regarded for always killing those who have sex. It’s in this duality that Schoenbrun explores the deeper connection between these two characters. Two women, deeply repressed, innocent, and looking for more; Both had to fully give themself over to someone to experience true pleasure.

Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma’s multi-layered and metatextual storytelling make it truly difficult to explain all that Schoenbrun demonstrates here. It’s a story littered with depth and meaning for those who truly seek it out. And it culminates in a bloody, bombastic conclusion that ties it all together. In the final moments, Schoenbrun shows their true colors. Kris and Billy reunited, blood soaked, and barely clothed. A remnant of their encounter with Little Death and a testament to the power of unapologetically giving yourself over to someone. They meander the aisles of a gas station collecting as much candy as possible as a nearby male worker shakes his head in disapproval.

Moments like these are scattered throughout the film where Schoenbrun displays their own personal experiences mixed in. And much like the ending of all of our favorite slashers where the villain “never dies” and is resurrected for the sequel, Kris states that “Little Death isn’t dead… he’s just waiting.” Another stroke of screenplay genius further reinstating the ideas and conventions of slashers into Schoenbrun’s deeply personal and relatable coming-of-age story.

Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma is Jane Schoenbrun’s greatest film to date. It’s visually distinct and stunning to look at as they play with perspective, painterly backgrounds, and stunning colors throughout. In an age where many films look and feel the same, this cannot be said for this film. Schoenbrun’s work on the screenplay is otherworldly and feels like a culmination of their filmography to this point. A stepping stone, and acceptance, of where they are in time and how far they’ve made it.

This is a film written from Schoenbrun’s heart. Deeply indebted to the narrative beats of the slasher genre but a film that expounds upon the ideas always seen, but never truly talked about in those movies. If you’re looking for a pure slasher, you’ll most likely be disappointed by what you find here. Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma is exactly the kind of referential, thematically rich story that I go to the movies for. A film that will undoubtedly resonate with thousands and upset many more. It’s earnest, sincere, and heartfelt amidst its soaring blood and violent, often silly, slasher sequences.

Grade: A-

“I think that our neighborhood has moved…”

A question I posed recently was, “Why are there not more live-action dinosaur movies?” Since the massive critical and financial success of Jurassic Park in 1993, there have been an extremely low number of dinosaur films bar the continuation of the Jurassic franchise. In the past 20 years, we’ve received numerous Jurassic World films and 65, an unsuccessful Adam Driver-led film about a man traveling 65 million years back. Dinosaurs are one of the most fascinating creatures, and when put on the big screen, feel theatrical and thrilling as is their nature. The End of Oak Street feels like a capitalization on a type of story that not only hardly gets made anymore, but was never really a big driver in modern Hollywood.

The film opens with a neighborhood get-together and barbecue. We’re introduced to our friendly family starring Ewan McGregor, Anne Hathaway, Maisy Stella, and Christian Convery. It’s your typical happy-go-lucky 80s neighborhood filled with rambunctious kids, smiling parents, and cordial interactions all the way around. It’s in the quieter moments between the parents and the kids, where we see things start to slowly unravel. McGregor’s and Hathaway’s relationship is on the fritz, with constant bickering and disagreements leaving the children hollow. Convery’s character even asks early on, “Are mom and dad going to get a divorce?” It may feel a little heavy-handed off the bat, but it’s neat and effective screenplay work from David Robert Mitchell to set the internal stakes right away.

It’s from this moment on that the film takes off. Strange events start to occur with bright, loud flashes of white light going off in the middle of the night, neighbors seeing massive piles of manure in the yard, capping off with the power unexpectedly going off one night. A picture-perfect setup for the chaos that will ensue. Thankfully, Mitchell takes his time fully unraveling the mystery and suspense of everything around us. The dinosaurs are slowly revealed, first with their tails, or the bristling of leaves way up in the trees, until finally, each of our characters is faced with their own unique interaction.

It’s this patience and directorial expertise from Mitchell that keeps the film on pace. He ensures we, the viewer, are always on guard, waiting for the next attack or loud noise to happen. As The Hollywood Reporter stated in their review, with which I wholeheartedly agree, the set-up and execution play out like an 80’s Amblin film. The premise and narrative structure alone are fascinatingly Spielbergian at heart, and at times, I wondered if he himself was ever involved. A struggling family, directionless children amidst the noise of their family life, and dinosaurs to tie it all together feels almost like a copy of Jurassic Park; but it’s Mitchell’s ability to craft tense, horrifying sequences combined with the shocking amount of emotional depth that defines it and sets it apart.

Mitchell, most notably known for 2014’s It Follows, is extremely adept at crafting engaging action set pieces. His horror sensibilities on full display here as he gets to play around with all different types of dinosaurs. In particular, there’s a sequence with a long-snake-like dinosaur that slithers into a house through an upstairs window, narrowly avoiding our characters, that plays like a serial killer hunting its prey. Spoilers Below: And again, in a moment later in the film, Ewan McGregor’s character has his leg eaten by a dinosaur and is then furiously eaten alive, which had my jaw drop to the floor. Perhaps it’s a testament to the lackluster and safe filmmaking displayed in blockbusters today, but a moment so genuinely jarring that I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

The End of Oak Street takes chances; a feat that I can rarely say for much of the blockbuster filmmaking done today. Amidst its dinosaur chaos and electrifying chase sequences, Mitchell allows the film to breathe. Our characters are given moments of respite, moments to grieve, and to feel the gravity of the situation at hand. It’s the dyadic ethos and pathos of Mitchell’s work behind the camera and on the screenplay that elevates the film. The End of Oak Street is so emotionally charged that I found myself roused by its familial dynamic and conflicts.

All of this, of course, is mostly handled by the elegant Anne Hathaway, who is having herself quite a year. She is the emotional and thematic crux of the film and manages it all with grace. In a moment in the back half of the film, she sharply turns to scold her concerned child in a moment of anguish and grief that felt so violently real I found myself captivated by it all. A testament to her talent that even surrounded by dinosaurs and violence, Hathaway can bring the viewer back into the film emotionally. McGregor is great alongside her, and Stella and Convery, who play the two children, are convincing. As they watch their parents’ marriage fall into despair, they too are faced with their own internal struggles of trying to uncover who they are and what they want to be.

Mitchell’s ability to balance both the heart-pounding action set pieces with the quieter, more sensitive moments between characters is a quality that few directors possess. And I would be remiss to not mention the technical marvel and craftsmanship that made this film possible. Shot by Mike Gioulakis, The End of Oak Street has that special chutzpah that every film so desperately wants. Split diopter shots are littered throughout, culminating in a true artistic vision. The score from Michael Giacchino is undeniable in its presence as it builds tension and wallows in the emotion when it needs to.

The End of Oak Street is the dinosaur movie that we as movie viewers have been clamoring for for years. In what was promised to us years ago in Jurassic World as “the dinosaurs get into the real world” was never fulfilled; David Robert Mitchell makes good on that promise with a film as entertaining as it is emotionally rollicking. The film may be slightly undercut by its tight runtime pushing you from one heartfelt scene to a dinosaur chase, but it ends on an absolute bang. Mitchell flexes his screenwriting muscles with a twist that has an added layer of depth for those who pay attention. A sensational work of art that delivers on its promise with moments sure to be talked about in the genre for years to come.

Grade: B

“We need to protect the American people.”

July 4th weekend at the box office saw Angel’s Young Washington; a commercially successful retelling of George Washington’s life in the British army and his struggle to become a leader and the man he wanted to be. While that film wasn’t completely successful in my eyes, it found an audience. Here with The Brink of War, Angel attempts to again tap into the historical drama genre once more; this time starring Jeff Daniels as Ronald Reagan and Jared Harris as Mikhail Gorbachev as they meet in Iceland to discuss the arms race and broker a deal at the height of the Cold War.

The film opens with Daniels’ Reagan staring out into the stormy sea following a prologue that sets the scene for us. Reagan is immediately approached by JK Simmons, playing George Shultz, who tells him that it is “all over”. A narrative trope that allows the film to set the stakes for what’s about to happen before it unfolds. Funnily enough, the film uses that exact moment later in the film to recontextualize everything we’ve seen, much like Nolan’s The Odyssey earlier this year, which used the Battle of Troy to similar effect.

It’s from here that Daniels’ Reagan first meets Harris’ Gorbachev at the front steps of this small home in Iceland. The film kicks off and sets the stage for the many dramatic discussions and negotiations we’re to see. Thankfully, Daniels and Harris are at the top of their game here. In what could have been a phoned-in performance, both are genuinely captivating when they’re on-screen together. Their chemistry shines through and is perhaps the best part of the film.

Where The Brink of War falters is when the film transitions from the presidential negotiations of the Cold War and Arms Race to our side characters. The screenplay, written by Michael Russell Gunn, does little to build up the supporting cast of characters. In particular, J.K. Simmons ’ George Schultz, is little more than an expository narrative propeller with dialogue that adds nothing to his character or those around him. Simmons is an underutilized talent in this film that becomes even more muddled as the film continues to shift focus to other side characters like random reporters and the wives of both Presidents. The film insists that both wives have an external conflict brewing between each other, but the screenplay doesn’t put in the effort, nor time, to expound upon all these characters.

As a catalyst, The Brink of War suffers from extreme pacing and tonal issues. The presidential negotiations are enthralling to watch, centered around two phenomenal performances, but when mixed with comedic relief side characters, it becomes a bit of narrative and thematic whiplash. In a similar vein, the score from Austin Wintory brings the same tonal clash that the screenplay struggles with. When needed, the score never ups the tension and stakes enough. While it’s often unfair to compare films, it’s hard not to when a film like Oppenheimer, about men talking about weapons and war around a table, managed to be riveting to watch for 3 hours. The Brink of War never quite hits that level, and the tonal mismatch throughout plays a key role in that.

Thankfully, amidst the messy delivery, The Brink of War deploys a number of neat visual tricks throughout that keep the film engaging. Thanks to director Michael Russell Gunn’s visual storytelling, there’s a moment quite early on where the screen splits into two distinct parts showing the divide between Reagan and Gorbachev. Sadly, the film doesn’t fully commit to this bit, and while it was effective, never commits to it throughout the film. A rather striking visual storytelling moment appears near the end of the film as well, where the table Reagan and Gorbachev are sitting at appears to be shortening, getting smaller and smaller, as discussions continue and agreements are made. A stroke of movie-making magic that elevates the film but is too little, too late.

The Brink of War is a relatively fascinating exploration of an under-discussed historical event, but thematically never resonates with a screenplay that fails to keep us engaged in the central conflict. The film lives in a politically grey area as it makes jokes at Democrats while also having a surprising amount of empathy for Gorbachev and his communist beliefs. It never quite fully grasps what it wants to be and say, which is further reinforced by its countless side characters.

When Jeff Daniels and Jared Harris are on screen debating politics and policies, the film moves at a rip-roaring pace. When it moves away from our titular characters, it feels sluggish and tonally inconsistent. It plays like a classic dad movie that would play on TNT for better or for worse. With a tighter screenplay and more committed visual storytelling, The Brink of War could have been an exceptional time at the movies, but just falls short of the mark.

Grade: C-

“Choice itself is romantic.”

In the year 2013, a number of modern horror staples were released. Most of these films spawned franchises soon after: The Conjuring, Insidious, and most importantly, The Purge. The premise of The Purge was a utopian America where one day a year, all crime became legal. 13 years later, Will Gluck has taken this narrative and twisted it for a romantic comedy. One Night Only, starring Callum Turner and Monica Barbaro, is about a similar utopian America. In this one, single people are not allowed to have sex until the one night a year when it becomes legal for everyone.

What’s most interesting about One Night Only is the dyadic combination of Gluck attempting to create an engaging rom-com alongside an absurdist premise. Gluck, perhaps most commonly renowned for his work on 2023’s Anyone But You starring Sydney Sweeney and Glen Powell, has been a force of nature in creating memorable and fun romantic comedies. His resume is extensive, with films like Easy A, Friends With Benefits, Anyone But You, and more. In a genre that has struggled in recent years, I’ve always found Gluck to be a master at his craft. He has a knack for infusing stories with romance, tension, and creating characters that we root for; but he has never attempted to create a romantic comedy with a premise as crazy as this.

One Night Only’s biggest flaw is its inability to balance the romantic nature of the story and the expository sequences detailing this American utopia. Not only does Gluck’s absurd premise not completely make sense, but his insistence on keeping it in the story, set in a modern New York City, only bleeds more questions than answers. This leads to Travis Braun’s screenplay having to do a lot of heavy lifting and expositional work in the first third of this film, explaining why the “No Sex” mandate was set, who set it, who agrees with it, and all the complex rules behind it. It’s a storytelling nightmare, and one that only detracts from what we really care about, along with bringing some serious thematic baggage with it.

But when the film decides to center on our two leads, Monica Barbaro and Callum Turner, the film is undeniably engaging. Both are exceptionally charismatic and demand your attention when on the screen. Sadly, the screenplay forces them to be separated and battle their own crazy nights away from each other for well over half of the film. When they’re together, alongside Gluck’s incredible romantic sensibilities as a filmmaker, One Night Only is exactly the type of romantic comedy we all know and love.

However, while I think Will Gluck is adept at creating romantic tension and exciting sequences, I often find his comedy to fall flat, and that is no different in One Night Only. Perhaps it’s the jam-packed screenplay that attempts to bite more than it can chew, but the film has too many side characters and quippy lines that I found myself rolling my eyes. In particular, there’s a boy being babysat in an apartment that I just cannot believe had as many lines as he did.

And that brings me to my second, and biggest, complaint of the film. Braun’s screenplay was already riddled with pacing issues and flaws, but thematically, it is one of the most bizarre choices I’ve seen in some time. One Night Only is not only a cute romantic comedy, but also a somewhat searing political commentary. Characters throughout state that “We live in a fascist state” in relation to the No Sex mandate and constantly berate the so-called politicians that let this law be passed. Yet, when it comes down to it, in the climactic swell between our two leads, they both decide that they would rather not have sex…

A shocking turn of events as the R-rated sex comedy portrays…. no sex. Not only is it an unbelievable decision, but an admission that what the government has mandated in the film was correct. Perhaps an inadvertent admission, but the consequence remains the same. One Night Only swiftly turns into a somewhat Conservative Christian display of ideals as it’s decided that sex before marriage is never the right option. In a world where no single people or unmarried couples are allowed to have sex, both of our leads determine that they should follow this “fascist” mandate. It’s even further reinforced when we flash forward to one year later and our leads, somewhat timidly and unexcitedly, prepare for the “One Night A Year” again. An absolutely ludicrous decision that leads to far more questions than it does answers.

In a world where major news outlets have already reported that Gen Z and newer generations don’t like to see sex on screen and Gluck himself admitted in a Variety article this week that he cut sex scenes due to test screenings, it begs you to ask why? Why in an R-rated rom-com about single people having sex once a year, displayed quite crazily in the opening act, I might add, do our leads not have any kind of sexual display? An alarming showcase that films and filmmakers are afraid to show intimate acts on screen and may be condemned if they do so. Reinforced further by the climactic decision of our two leads to not express themselves this way but to wait; however, I digress.

Will Gluck’s One Night Only operates in this fine line of trying to balance a high-concept idea with a classical rom-com, and it never quite lands the plane. Gluck’s filmmaking sensibilities are on full display here, for better or for worse, with fantastic emotional romantic chemistry but also jam-packed with numerous pop songs and myriad unfunny jokes. In a film promised to me to be “sexy” and about sex, I expected more heat. I would have liked to see more of Barbaro and Turner on-screen together lighting up the screen than reporting news outlets and absurdist situations. One Night Only is enjoyable but struggles to deliver on its central promise and a lot of the fun that so often comes from a raunchy rom-com.

Grade: C

“Just because we've lost someone... It doesn't mean we have to do this alone. I mean we can't. Trust me, I've been trying. It doesn't work.”

In an age where superheroes no longer control the mass public domain and surrounding pop culture, Spider-Man sure feels like an exception to the rule. Following the pandemic in 2020, Tom Holland’s third Spider-Man film, Spider-Man: No Way Home, surged to almost 2 billion dollars in the global box office while becoming a mass cultural hit. It’s been nearly 5 years since that film came out, countless superhero films have flopped, and yet, Spider-Man: Brand New Day feels just as relevant and popular as it was half a decade ago. Brand New Day features all of the characters and actors we know and love; Tom Holland, Zendaya, Jacob Batalon, and a number of new exciting additions including Jon Bernthal, Mark Ruffalo,
Sadie Sink, and Trammell Tilman.

No Way Home saw our titular hero pleading with Doctor Strange to have Peter Parker’s memory erased from everyone’s existence to save the multiverse. Brand New Day picks up a few years later where Peter has descended into solemn loneliness with Peter Parker’s social life being non-existent, and the Spider-Man persona being his entire life. It’s with this unhealthy work life balance where director Destin Daniel Cretton drops us in. In a quite literal sense with a scene towards the beginning of the film, Spider-Man plunges from the heights of a skyscraper, the wind rippling his suit, and a stunning directorial flourish as the camera sits inside his mask and we take a look at his eyes.

Cretton’s visual flair is smothered across this film with stunning action set pieces, beautiful vistas, and swinging scenes that reminded me of why I love Spider-Man so much. From the very first set piece, Cretton’s film is immediately distinct from the prior Jon Watts three installments. This film was captured on location during a number of scenes and the energy of the city is felt. Ordinary citizens and people litter the streets running to and from replacing what we had previously seen as CGI and/or the Volume backgrounds of supposed New York streets. My main gripe with shooting on location in this film is the visual identity of New York.

Many of the sequences were shot in Glasgow, Scotland which, while it does somewhat look like New York from time to time, is often recognizably different from the New York City that I have seen and love. This is not a massive issue throughout the film, but noticeable especially when mixed with the murky color grading. With that being said, Cretton’s insistence on shooting action set pieces on location is noticeable and a vast upgrade. Not only is the directorial vision and execution better in Brand New Day, but the entire screenplay is a major advance in Spider-Man’s arc.

The previous trilogy of Tom Holland films featured him in high school, overcoming daily teenager challenges, while also struggling to find his place in the world amongst friends, loved ones, and that mighty Avengers roster. Brand New Day takes us back to what we all loved so much about Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man adaptations with a Peter Parker who is unsure how to balance his life and struggles at almost every turn. It’s such a relatable arc that almost anyone regardless of age can buy into it. The screenplay written by Chris McKenna and Erik Sommers feeds into this more mature Spider-Man theme that we watch a Peter who is lost at every turn with no one to go to. The first half of the film reminded me a lot of Raimi’s iconic Spider-Man 2 with a Peter Parker who almost has absolutely nothing go right. It’s in the second half of this film where things really start to take a turn.

Of course, Spider-Man: Brand New Day is a Marvel film. It’s another notch in the historic Marvel Cinematic Universe and with Avengers: Doomsday right around the corner, it ultimately serves as somewhat of a preliminary set-up to that film. Yet, Destin Daniel Cretton has shown that he has what it takes to feature multiple MCU characters in one film. Shang-Chi infamously has a sequence where we see The Abomination and, spoiler warning, Spider-Man: Brand New Day has our first introduction to the X-Men with Jean Grey. It’s a hidden talent of his but Cretton creates worlds that feel real and lived in allowing us to be introduced or mixed in with other MCU characters that doesn’t feel like nostalgic clappy moments (yes I’m looking at you No Way Home).

Spider-Man: Brand New Day features moments from Yelena, The Hulk, The Punisher, and more, and yet, it is never forced. The film remains centered around Peter Parker and his central struggle. It’s a testament to the quality of filmmaking and writing centered on this film. And Tom Holland has maybe never been better as Peter Parker/Spider-Man. He delivers a performance as enthusiastic and energetic as it is gut-wrenching and heartfelt when it needs to be. He’s a man who acts a lot with his eyes and body language, and it shows. Zendaya is magnificent alongside him and Sadie Sink gives a genuinely fantastic performance as the emotional crescendo to this film. In particular, a sequence featuring a return of Aunt May that ties Peter Parker’s three film arc all together alongside Sink’s character as a way forward. It’s an all-star cast giving their best to a film that earned it.

Spider-Man: Brand New Day is the film that fans have been clamoring for for years. It may not reach the heights of Raimi’s Spider-Man 2 as it feels slightly overstuffed at times and struggles with its pacing because of this; but, when the film is focused on Holland’s Peter Parker and his emotional dilemma’s it is riveting to watch. The creative filmmaking on display here hasn’t been seen in a Spider-Man film for some time, let alone an MCU film. Brand New Day is exactly the type of fresh start Tom Holland’s iteration needed. If you’re a fan of the character, you won’t leave the theater disappointed.

Grade: B