Category: 2025

K-POP DEMON HUNTERS (2025)

by Miguel E. Rodriguez

DIRECTORS: Chris Appelhans, Maggie Kang
CAST: Arden Cho, May Hong, Ji-young Yoo, Ayn Hyo-seop, Ken Jeong, Lee Byung-hun
MY RATING: 8/10
ROTTEN TOMATOMETER: 91% Certified Fresh [plus a resounding 99% on the new “Popcornmeter”, but who’s counting…]

PLOT: A world-renowned K-Pop girl group balance their lives in the spotlight with their secret identities as demon hunters.


For those living under a rock, K-Pop Demon Hunters is the movie that accomplished what no other movie has ever done: have four of its original songs in Billboard’s Top 10 rankings simultaneously.  (Even Saturday Night Fever had only three.)  Three hundred twenty-five million views on Netflix within 91 days.  The first Netflix film to open at #1 at the box office.  Recent winner of the Oscar for Best Animated Film.  Clearly, this is a movie with its finger on the pulse of the enormous global K-pop mania, and despite my general apathy towards K-pop in general (I can’t name one song by BTS, let alone a member – but I do know one of them was in Ready Player One), I figured it was time to give this phenomenon a day in court.

While it has not turned me into a K-pop “deokhu” – I had to look that up – K-Pop Demon Hunters was still great fun.  There were some questions that remained unanswered when the credits rolled, but I’m betting those will be addressed in the inevitable sequel.

The plot sounds preposterous because, well, it kind of is.  Rumi, Mira, and Zoey are members of a wildly successful K-pop girl group called Huntr/x…when they’re not busy hunting and killing the demons that constantly prowl the city’s population looking for souls to capture for their dark master, Gwi-ma, an amorphous soul-devouring demon voiced by Lee Byung-hun, star of No Other Choice and G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra, which I actually liked, but moving on.

The story, interrupted only occasionally, but effectively, by musical numbers, involves a shield – I’m just going to call it a “demon shield” – that blankets the city, protecting its inhabitants from the nefarious demons as long as the girls of Huntr/x can use their voices to strengthen/power it.  If some demon butt-kicking is needed, they have that covered, too, showing off some cool-ass weapons and moves that would make certain radioactive reptiles green, or green-ER, with envy.  Jinu, an enterprising and musically-oriented demon in the underworld, comes up with a plan to defeat Huntr/x indirectly…through their fans.  And how do you sway fans of a kick-ass K-pop girl group?  Why, with an even more kick-ass K-pop BOY group, obviously.

But really, this is all just a clothesline from which to hang some truly creative visual stylings that owe their existence to the success of the recent Spider-Verse animated films.  Demon Hunters builds on that already-unique style by bringing in some even more unique Korean aeni (the Korean version of “anime”) flourishes.  The girls’ faces reflect intense emotions by turning into almost literal emojis.  When angry, their faces turn into something out of Dragon Ball Z.  When sad, their eyes turn huge and watery, the ultimate puppy-dog eyes.  When they see a hunky guy, their eyes first turn into cartoon hearts, then into, ahem, ears of corn when they behold the hunk’s washboard abs.  (The corn later turns into popcorn.)

Out of context (such as it is), this must all sound absurdly infantile, but, after a few minutes of culture shock, I found myself caving in to the absurdity.  And there is a deeper message to be found here, concerning concepts of self-worth vs. self-deprecation, and how self-doubt only wins when you cut yourself off from people who love you.  (I’m simplifying; the movie does a much better job of fleshing it out.)  While it’s not really a movie made for my generation, I nevertheless had a lot of fun with it.

And…yes, dammit, the songs are really catchy.  Even the “Soda Pop” one.

That’s right.  I said it.

THE SECRET AGENT (PORTUGUESE, 2025)

By Marc S. Sanders

I’m not going to pretend I understand all of the dynamics of the Portuguese film The Secret Agent.  Most of the events occur in Brazil, dating back to 1977 – apparently a time of “mischief,” as the opening text describes.  Mischief is not the term I would use, but perhaps it is how a totalitarian regime dismisses their fearful and harsh dominance over its people.  Writer/director Kleber Mendonça Filho drives home the message that it is unwise to rebel against the government.  Still, it may be a necessary evil to welcome an independent future, unchained from a fascist government.

Celebrated Brazilian star and Oscar nominee Wagner Moura is Armando Alves.  The story begins as he pulls into a gas station only to see a corpse covered by cardboard lying a few yards away in the dirt.  Rabid dogs are wanting to sniff and feed off the remains.  Seeing a dead body may alarm any of one of us, but Armando seems personally concerned at that random sight.  Filho’s story will eventually make us understand why his protagonist returns to his hometown of Recife with an enormous amount of dread.

Elsewhere, back where he worked as a technology expert, there’s a gruesome and unforgettable discovery.  A severed human leg is wedged within the maw of a dead shark resting upon an operating table.  The local constable, Euclides (Robério Diógenes) and his sons have been summoned to investigate.  It’s gruesome but the Sheriff and his cohorts find amusement in this gore.

The Secret Agent is hardly anything of what its title implies, but it’s biting with suspense.  Kleber Mendonça Filho constructs scenes that honor American classics like Goodfellas, The Bourne Ultimatum, another actual film called Secret Agent, and especially The Godfather and Jaws.  The latter operating as a driving element that bonds Armando to his young son Fernando (Enzo Nunes).  The story operates like a chase film, though there’s not much running to be had.  It’s all about how this man can remain hidden with only his deceased wife’s parents knowing specifically why he’s in town.  

By the way, rhetorically speaking, why is his wife deceased?  

Armando is hiding along with others considered to be rebellious against the government.  Go against the doctrine and risk being apprehended or executed.  The best that this man can do is hide in plain sight as someone else under a different identity.  He’s now known as Marcelo.

As I noted earlier, I have no knowledge of Brazilian history.  So initially it was challenging to understand the circumstances of the time and setting.  Portraits of Brazil’s President are hung everywhere.  Kleber Mendonça Filho makes sure to get push in shots repeatedly of this imposing, uniformed figurehead.  So, wherever you go, you will be found.  It’s interesting to see the big bad of this piece limited to a photograph that repeatedly appears.  Otherwise, the antagonists consist of a pair of smart and ruthless father/son assassins, the wealthy industrialist with a personal vendetta who hires these men to hunt down Armando, and a local corrupt police captain, Euclides. 

The Secret Agent requires an aggressive exercise in reading the English subtitles of this fast-talking Portuguese film.  There are also moments that weigh down the pace of the film.  For example, when Armando arrives at his hideaway, the seventy-seven year old woman who keeps the domicile has to introduce the other refugees he will be living with, while walking us through the vast labyrinth of this apartment building.  It’s a drawn out scene that mostly feels pointless as many of these characters have no major significance to the story.  

Kleber Mendonça Filho’s technique often reminded me of Quentin Tarantino.  It’s clear he is a lover of movies by drawing inspiration from favorite sequences in other celebrated films.  There’s even an incredibly odd sort of nightmare involving a terrorizing—well…I’m not going to spoil that.  See for yourself what comes out of nowhere.  

Still, many scenes occur in the back room of a local cinema adjacent to the projection booth where Armando’s father-in-law works.  What’s playing? The Omen.  A resistance leader, named Elza (Maria Fernanda Cândido) archives recordings of Armando’s testimonies but admits she and her partner nearly shit themselves watching the horror piece.  Imagine the power of film.  Amid all of this real life, bloody turmoil, and still The Omen and Jaws can scare the living crap out of you.

The Secret Agent surprised me with its tension.  I believe I am typically challenged to connect with films and characters that speak a language that I’m unfamiliar with while occupying a locale I have little knowledge of.  It’s often frustrating.  Yet, I feel wiser for having watched Kleber Mendonça Filho’s film.  An interesting dimension presents itself midway through as suddenly we see laptops and cell phones enter the piece.  Like the film taught me, archived recordings of Armando and other refugees are played on cassette to lend a first person point of view to what was happening fifty years earlier.  The need to know more and uncover what ultimately happened to Armando is absorbed by a young student named Flavia (Laura Lufési) who is motivated to explore beyond the recordings and go out into the modern world of Recife.

This story recollects a frightening time in Brazil’s late twentieth century history with dangerous threats coming from all sides.  It’s fascinating to see this man, Armando, try to uphold a sense of normalcy for the sake of his young son.  From Fernando’s perspective, his father and grandparents try to shelter him from seeing the scary movie phenomenon, Jaws.  At his age, it’s better he only knows how terrifying Jaws is compared to what’s occurring on the streets of his hometown and within his country.  

The Secret Agent is an excellent film.  One of the best of 2025’s Oscar nominated pictures.

IF I HAD LEGS, I’D KICK YOU

By Marc S. Sanders

“Stretched too thin” is a phrase I’ve always equated to having too much on your plate.  (Sorry for using one cliche to explain another.) At the opening of Writer/Director Mary Bronstein’s film, If I Had Legs, I’d Kick You, the voice of Linda’s young daughter describes mom as being stretchy when she is upset.  Bronstein’s lens is in close up of Rose Byrne’s weary complexion as she hardly convinces anyone that she is happy, while never getting upset.  Over the next two hours, viewers will know the truth and perhaps empathize or grow just as exhausted with Linda.

With her husband (the voice of Christian Slater) away on Navy leave, Linda is left to her own devices to care for her clingy daughter (Delaney Quinn) with a hyperactive personality and an ailment of being underweight for her age.  A feeding tube must remain inserted in the girl’s belly until she reaches at least a weight of over fifty pounds.  That requires Linda to take her daughter to a special facility for education and careful monitoring.  Joint sessions with a health care professional are also required, but Linda does not have enough hours in a day to attend. At night she has to fill the IV feeding bag periodically.  Because of her unfairly described “neglect” the girl will not be able attend the facility much longer while Linda balances her overindulgent career as mental health counselor.  

On top of all of this responsibility, a leak above her apartment has turned into a deluge and a gaping hole of mildew and mold is infesting their home.  Mom and daughter have no choice but to relocate to a crummy beach side motel.  It seems they’ll be staying there indefinitely as the repairs are not getting mended with any kind of urgency.

Linda has a troubled patient too; a new mom named Caroline (Danielle Macdonald) with a paranoia of what could happen to her infant child under any kind of circumstance.  How can Linda lend professional guidance if she’s losing control of her own well being?  

Linda’s only outlet is a psychologist that she leases an office from.  The most unexpected of all people plays this uncaring and uptight douchebag.  It’s Conan O’Brien and he is so far removed from his comedic and sophomoric personality that it took me a second to recognize him.  He’s not psychotic or sociopathic, but he is disturbing.  Yet this is the guy that poor Linda has to vent her frustrations towards.  

There’s also a parking attendant who’s a consistent, nonnegotiable dick.  

Linda just can’t get a break.  She has no support system.  She can’t find help anywhere and as the days pass so does her lack of emotion and care appear to amplify.  

It did not surprise me to learn that If I Had Legs, I’d Kick You is produced by one of studio A24’s Safdie brothers (Uncut Gems, Marty Supreme).  What is it with these guys?  They love the stressful extremes that can uphold a motion picture.  The achievements found in Mary Bronstein’s film are well done in a unique way.  Nevertheless, this is no fun time at the movies.  

Bronstein’s strategy is to pound the unbearable weight of her entire script on Rose Byrne’s character.  Following a prologue, the music blares, and the title appears in giant red block letters on your screen. A few minutes later, in the dumpy hotel room, Linda has a B-horror movie on. Linda’s situation is so much worse than a horror movie.

You never see Christian Slater or Delaney Quinn on screen.  You hear Linda’s husband through her cell phone with his unfair treatment and responses to what she shares with him, and you only hear the whiney voice of a preteen’s exaggerated fears of food and brief separation from mom.  Everyone that inhabits the world of this film have their own respective aggravations, but it’s Linda’s that matters.  As additional triggers unfold, it is Linda we focus on as she drinks and gorges herself on junk food and appears more and more disheveled with her hair, clothes, complexion and body posture.

I’ll never be a mom, but I’ve been a parent for nearly two decades and I could recognize the warning signs that Linda is encountering.  Let’s talk about how hard it is to be a parent and a full time working one with a child that needs maintenance all twenty-four hours of a day.  Too often all forms of media present an idyllic way of family life, even in those heartbreaking dramas like Ordinary People or Kramer Vs Kramer.  Try doing it by yourself when no one is listening to you, while at the same time insisting you are doing it all wrong.

Once the film began, I suspected that we would not see Linda’s daughter or husband.  We’d only hear them.  Simply put, her family cannot see the agony that we see for poor Linda.  It reminded me of Charles Schultz’ Peanuts cartoons.  You’d hear the adults, like the teacher or mom and dad, in a drowned out and incomprehensible voice but you’d never see them or understand what they’re saying.  You only saw the children and what was regularly ailing them, like Lucy calling Charlie Brown a blockhead when he couldn’t kick the football, or Linus’ dependence on his security blanket.  Feels like the reverse happens in If I Had Legs, I’d Kick You.  If anyone in Linda’s current state could recognize what she’s enduring, then maybe they’d help.  At best there is only a drug user (A$AP Rocky) who offers to lend some kind of hand, but Linda recognizes a threat from his presence and only relies on him for the worst thing for her under these circumstances.

Even with Mary Bronstein’s choice to have Linda hallucinate into the depths of that giant hole in her apartment ceiling, her film is entirely relatable and absolutely unpleasant.  However, it is also fiction.  Because of that, I wish the script did not turn to the main character having the insatiable need to drink and do drugs.  I’m at a point where I ask if that is all there is for people under duress.  They can’t have gone far enough unless they’re alcoholic or addicts?  I’m not a drinker, but I’ve encountered terrible depths in my life. I insist as a dad, I experienced a kind of postpartum depression following the birth of my child. It was awful. Yet I did not turn towards alcohol and drugs. Junk food and temper tantrums are what weakened me. In movies, drugs and alcohol are too often the go to device for the poison of choice. Can’t we see something else for a change when our protagonists experience dire straits?

Before chemical substances are ever introduced in this film, I felt Linda’s aggravated plight and the weight on top of her.  Midway through, the trope of downing a bottle of cheap wine and going back for more crutches the film too often.  I’ve seen this kind of story enough already.  Not everyone who is suffering the challenges of life are chemically dependent.  If I Had Legs, I’d Kick You didn’t need to go here like every other movie in that crowded fraternity of drug use and alcoholism.  

A beyond stretched Rose Byrne with a strong promise of winning a much deserving Oscar is more than enough.

BLUE MOON

By Marc S. Sanders

Ever hear of a guy named Lorenz Hart?  He was a lyricist.  I’ll bet a few of you know some of the songs he was responsible for like My Funny Valentine and Blue Moon.  Yup!  That guy, Larry Hart, wrote hundreds of songs that might have established an ongoing pop culture lexicon.  His partner was Richard Rogers.  Surely you know him.  Of Rogers & Hammerstein fame.   After a twenty-year partnership, Rogers distanced himself from Larry Hart’s substance abuse and procrastination, and went on to collaborate with Oscar Hammerstein II.  On March 31, 1943, their first effort together premiered on Broadway, receiving endless critical praise.  That production was Oklahoma! (Yes. To poor Larry’s chagrin the exclamation point was included in the title.)

On this celebratory evening, the producers, cast, crew and theatrical big wigs are planning to catch up at Sardi’s after the curtain call.  Larry, played with shrimpy, raspy, hyperactive, bitterness by a sensational Ethan Hawke, left the performance early to saddle up at the bar and regale the tolerant bartender, Eddie (Bobby Cannavale), with his bygone accomplishments and resentment towards his friend Richard (Andrew Scott) and now the replacement, Oscar (Simon Delaney).  He insists Eddie bring him a shot of whiskey-only to gaze upon, not consume.  We’ll see how far that goes. Wouldn’t you know it, but trying to keep to himself, in the corner, is E.B. White (Patrick Kennedy), the writer who’s working on a children’s book about a mouse.  

Writer/Director Richard Linklater once again partners up with his go to leading man, Ethan Hawke.  Together, they’ve done several films, some of which occur primarily over the course of one night (Before Sunrise, Dazed And Confused, and now Blue Moon).  This loose boxed-in, and theorized biography relies so much on the individual performance of Hawke.  

Nearly the whole script of dialogue belongs to the actor. As expected from most resentful and bitter artistes, Larry does not shut up.  Eddie and the piano player and later E.B. White may be his designated listeners, but schlubby Larry, with his balding combover and squat height is only talking to himself.  I read that Linklater had to modify his cameras and set design to more accurately capture the real subject of this film.  Ethan Hawke has a much taller height than Larry Hart. I think the actor and director pull off the illusion quite well.  Compared to everyone else in black tie evening wear, Larry looks like a reject from Middle Earth Hobbit-town in an old blue suit.

Like any good writer of such adored classic numbers, little Larry has a muse. She’s a twenty-year-old blond bombshell named Elizabeth, played with alluring exquisiteness by Margaret Qualley.  I must compliment the actress’ hairstylist for getting the blond coiffed hair to perfectly cover Qualley’s left eye, while the green right one draws us in, complimented by an hourglass hugging, glittery white evening gown.  

Larry is plagued.  Elizabeth is grateful for all of his attention and his guidance with getting her into the limelight. However, is he in love with her, or is his suspected penchant for men a reason why he lives through this young adult’s recent sexual conquests?  There’s a magnificent scene when Larry and Elizabeth hide in the restaurant’s cloak room, crouching down on the floor.  In a series of great talkie scenes for Ethan Hawke, his best moment might be when he’s squatting down on his haunches like a child, with little to say, and absorbing the whispered narrative delivered by Qualley.  It almost doesn’t matter what she’s describing.  It’s more about how she tells the story and how her acting partner responds with his hands clenched together under his chin.

Larry Hart was a real artist with a magnificent talent that in no way reflects his image, personality or physique.  His song lyrics are ALIVE and timeless, adoring too.  On the other hand, he’s stand offish and exhausting to be around, even if everyone at Sardi’s finds a moment to express what an inspiration he’s personally been.  A guy named George Hill looks up to Larry and is advised to make films about friendship (you know, like The Sting or Butch Cassidy And The Sundance Kid).  Then again, there’s also a snot nosed, know-it-all kid named Stephen who thinks Larry’s lyrics are pedantic at best.  This brat named Sondheim will probably go nowhere.

I knew nothing about Lorenz Hart.  Never heard of the guy.  Wouldn’t recognize his picture if I saw it on Sardi’s wall.  Don’t remember seeing it the last time I was there.  He’s a Saliere to Richard Rogers’ Mozart.  This poor guy had demons that ended his life at a young age.  

The best that can be said is that he provided so much cheer to the world during is forty three years on this planet.  It’s sad, but interesting to capture Richard Linklater’s one evening in this sap’s life that can sum up who he was and how he was regarded only to be quickly dismissed.

Larry Hart put everything in the spotlight but never had the opportunity to stand there himself.

TRAIN DREAMS

By Marc S. Sanders

Clint Bentley directs a script he co-wrote with Greg Kwedar, based on Denis Johnson’s novella, Train Dreams.  It’s a gorgeous looking picture that covers an early 20th century logger and railroad worker within the dense woods of Washington state.

Joel Edgerton is Robert Grenier, a bearded logger with an unknown background. The soothing voiceover narration from Will Patton tells us that Robert never knew his parents and is unsure of his exact age.  

Unexpectedly, he quickly falls in love with Gladys (Felicity Jones).  They envision an idyllic life together in a log cabin next to a peaceful lakeside.  They have a daughter and could not be happier.  Yet, during logging season, Robert must leave his family behind to cut down trees for industry supply of a quickly evolving western civilization.  He takes other jobs laying down railroad tracks that lend to the conveniences of transportation and shipping (before the reliance of air travel), including the logs he cuts down. His purpose is circular to a thriving country.

His committed work is not always pleasant.  As a means of revenge, a friend is gunned down right in front of him.  The casualness of the act is the most shocking element of this moment.  Still, there is no time to grieve.  

When he’s working on the railroad, he bears witness to the cruel treatment that others deliver to a Chinese immigrant.  He can not stand up to these behaviors.  He has money that needs to be earned.  So the work takes precedence.

A mentor and demolition expert (William H Macy) meets an unfortunate fate, as well.

Tragedy personally befalls Robert upon his return home following a job. Now, the man is left to resort to isolation where little human interaction exists among the wooded areas.

It’s hard to take your eyes off Train Dreams, now playing on Netflix, and one of ten films Oscar nominated for Best Picture.  The screenplay speaks like a Robert Frost poem.  That’s a compliment and a shortcoming for me.  Will Patton says so much when there’s not much to be said.  Rather, Bentley’s film works visually as you watch a concentrated Edgerton focus on his character’s hallucinations and especially the loneliness he endures in the second part of the film.  

Regrettably, this movie is also a little boring.  Sometimes it feels like I’m watching one of those short nature films you look at while in a museum that a documentarian provided.  When I’m a tourist, a ten minute film like this can show the trees getting chopped as they make their slow tumble to ground.  Frankly, when it’s too hot outside is when I go into these theaters to get some air conditioning and a quick snooze.  Train Dreams teeters on that experience.  

There’s no denying how solid the film is considering the subject matter.  Technically it’s very impressive with expansive forest fires and artificial trees masked as tall pines to demonstrate the sawing of hundreds year old barks.  When the camera is pointing up through the green leafed branches into the wide blue expanse of sky, you want to freeze frame and perhaps paint a scenic skyline.  Adolpho Voleso’s cinematography is rich in color.  Definitely worthy of recognition.

I found it interesting how much I took Robert’s perspective for granted.  He uses a floppy aluminum saw that is pulled and pushed to cut through the wood.  As he gets older, a fellow woodsman relies on an battery powered chainsaw, thus making Robert’s skills more obsolete.  

Later, he meets a woman (Kerry Condon) who has been recruited to oversee the treatment of the forests from a high-rise lookout post; she just might the coming of the forest rangers.  Robert only knew of trees from what was way over his head.  Now he can look down upon them.  The ending goes even further and demonstrates how Robert’s self-absorbed isolation held him back from keeping up with a developing age of technology like automobiles and airplanes, far beyond the trains that had been the faster way to travel along the tracks that he built.

Train Dreams is an interesting issue of a National Geographic that I’d never have picked up had the Oscars not given it some recognition.  Now that I’ve seen it, it’ll go back on top of the tall stacks of magazines in my grandmother’s basement.

ONE BATTLE AFTER ANOTHER

By Marc S. Sanders

Not one of Paul Thomas Anderson’s films are alike.  In each picture, the characters speak differently.  They specialize in areas completely separate from anything else.  The porn industry is a far cry from oil drilling for example, and neither has any commonality with that of independent American revolutionaries, as featured in One Battle After Another.

Leonardo DiCaprio plays Pat Calhoun, a determined underling of a revolutionary band known as the French 75. Their will is to free illegal immigrants from a California fenced lock up, or plant mild explosives in government buildings or rob banks as modern day Robin Hoods.  It’s all one battle after another. Each mission seems to be executed more for the excitement and thrill, rather than any kind of just cause.

Together with Perfidia Beverly Hills (Teyana Taylor, and yes, that is the character’s name, Perfidia Beverly Hills) he bears a daughter named Charlene (Chase Infinity).  Though Pat wants to assume a new identity and settle down, Perfidia opts to continue with her purpose.  When she is apprehended, she is persuaded to disclose the whereabouts of her fellow comrades.  In exchange, Perfidia is granted witness protection. Exactly, who and what did the figurehead of one Perfidia Beverly Hills stand for?

One Battle After Another carries a long prologue that sets up all of these characters.  Once they go in different directions, Anderson’s film jumps forward sixteen years later when Charlene is an optimistic teenager yearning to be a regular student at public school.  The school dance is on her mind. Her father Pat is paranoid of her being out and does not take kindly to the kids she’s hanging with. Despite the weird makeup and piercings, there’s really nothing wrong with them. At least Charlene is not so apt to take any of her dad’s paranoia seriously.

Colonel Stephen J Lockjaw (a great character name for an antagonist), played by Sean Penn, carries an intimidating, militant focus.  He leads the charge against the French 75.  He ensures capture or death in the field to halt their activities.  His vice, though, is specifically his obsession with Perfidia.  Yet, the tryst he shared with her can never be revealed if he is to pass the recruitment test for entry into the very exclusive, white supremacist organization known as The Christmas Adventurers Club.  

Pat has trained his daughter to respond to certain codes, and to be alert if a pocket device should ever light up as an emergency.  Ironically, Pat, now known as Bob, can’t even remember all of the code speak.  Too much pot smoking and laziness has numbed his senses.  Lockjaw has zeroed in on Pat, and particularly Charlene who actually may be his daughter.  It’s important he locate her because her skin color could compromise his reputation and his chances of joining the Club.

I was eager to see One Battle After Another when it was first released in theaters.  It had been getting very good word of mouth, and other than a few exceptions, I’ve been a big admirer of Anderson’s work.  Regrettably, in a comfortable Dolby theatre with the best sound system available, I could not help but fall asleep.  When I watched the film on HBO MAX, a few months later though I was exhilarated.

The film seems to start in the middle of an already long-winded story.  The prologue hops around from one mission of the French 75 to another and there is minimal character development.  None of the dialogue is special either. On a first viewing I think it’s challenging to piece together who is who, what they stand for, what they mean to one another, and what becomes of them.

When the script jumps sixteen years later, the picture serves like a straight out chase story with a callously cold “Javert” seeking out his “Jean Valjean” who hides with his adopted “Cosette.” The last two thirds of One Battle After Another seem to start an entirely new movie.  

A common tactic of Anderson is to rapidly swing his camera with a kinetic and urgent pace; minimal cuts.  This especially drives his film as the pursuit is depicted with fear, desperation and unintended comedy.  Poor Pat, or “Bob” cannot recall how to accurately reply to the code speak on the other end of a telephone line.  He’s separated from Charlene, and Lockjaw is figuring everything out beginning with discovering underground tunnels located in the rendezvous town that many former members of the French 75 have taken up shelter. Benicio Del Toro, as a karate instructor, is one of the people. He’s a mentor for young Charlene.

I’m not sure if Paul Thomas Anderson is trying to deliver any kind of thought-provoking message.  Though he associates Sean Penn’s character with white supremacists, I cannot naturally accept that Anderson is saying this gang of powerful, tuxedoed men of a wealthy one percent adhere to any political party or agenda.  As well, Anderson does not seem to be applauding the actions of Perfidia, Pat, or the French 75, whose mantra especially falls apart when an innocent casualty is killed by one member’s hand.  

One Battle After Another could simply be a blender mix of ideas with blind missionary work from all of these different sects.  None of these soldiers serve a greater good.  Their arguments only work to hammer back at whoever has disdain for the other.  No one is inspiring anything that will promise a better future for America.

As I write this review, it occurs to me that perhaps Paul Thomas Anderson demonstrates that whatever action people like Pat and Perfidia or Lockjaw commit, it’s all but defeatist. Eventually, the cause wisps away, but the battle must persist. The battle is all these people have and live to serve, not a resolution or even a conquest. Fight, accomplish, and now what’s next?

One Battle After Another is not Paul Thomas Anderson’s best work, though it is exciting to watch with outstanding editing as a car chase arrives near the end of the story. I cannot say I was taken with any of the performances. Penn and DiCaprio are living up to the demands of their characters but there’s nothing outwardly sensational in what they are doing here. I’m also perplexed by the raves that Del Toro is getting for this film. It’s a small role with little to do. I do not recall one moment of acting greatness, nor a memorable line from his part.

Teyana Taylor and Chase Infiniti deliver breakout performances, however. Infiniti, in the role of the daughter, shows vulnerability, and later strength, when the story calls for it. Watch the fear and drive when she reunites with DiCaprio’s character on a barren road in the desert. She’s got a real intensity in her eyes and expressions. Taylor seems like she’s a heroine yanked from a Tarantino picture. A really impactful performance whose biggest contribution is in the beginning of the film. Sean Penn is a good scene partner for her.

Released in 2025, One Battle After Another seems like it would be ripped from the everyday headlines of ICE activities, government protests, and the revolts against those missions. I feel like Anderson’s film only gives a small glimpse into these very complex worlds, though. Other pictures like Boogie Nights, Magnolia and Phantom Thread are much more expansive with their universes of unusual industries like pornography, Hollywood social stature and the demands of dress making artistry.

I guess I’m saying I really didn’t learn much from One Battle After Another. So, forgive for saying that I’m underwhelmed.

SONG SUNG BLUE

By Marc S. Sanders

Films that are based on true stories will always take theatrical liberties with the storytelling.  Look at Oliver Stone’s JFK.  Sometimes, if it is so skewed you absolutely should not approve of it.  Consider Bowling For Columbine which starts out with an offensive, bold-faced lie to draw you in.  

On other occasions, the alterations made justifiably serve the picture to obtain an emotional reach from the audience.  Craig Brewer wrote and directed Song Sung Blue, which he calls an incredible true story.  The set ups seem too perfect to convince me some of these events actually happened.  However, the major highlights ring absolutely authentic and with an entertaining pair like Hugh Jackman and Kate Hudson leading the picture, this is a magnificent experience.  The audience I saw it with on Christmas Day was so wrapped in what was put on screen, with organic comedy, tragic setbacks and toe tapping harmonized energy from the two actors doing outstanding “impressionism” of Grammy winning singer Neil Diamond.  

Mike and Claire Sardina (Jackman and Hudson) meet while working as tribute performers at a local fair.  She’s doing Patsy Cline.  He’s refusing to be Don Ho.  They quickly fall in love, like literally on the next night after they meet, and brainstorm with his guitar and her piano how they can become a musical act on their own.  Mike wants to emulate someone that lives up to his energy and persona. He declares to an AA group that he’s a “superhero of music.”  He’s Lightning.  She’s Thunder.  Claire thinks Neil Diamond is the perfect facade.  Mike agrees so long as the unfavorable “Suleman” opens their shows, and they resort to other numbers besides “Sweet Caroline.”

Soon they are married while his daughter Angelina (King Princess) befriends her daughter Rachel (Ella Anderson).  Her son Dana (Hudson Henley) takes to video recording their performances.  One happy, blended family.  

Like most musician biographies, Lightning and Thunder get off to a rocky start performing in seedy venues with audiences who would rather they play Lynyrd Skynyrd.  Naturally, a following and a stride eventually build, and the act is somehow opening for a popular grunge band from the 1990s.  I won’t spoil who it is because Mike and Claire never heard of this headliner. This delivers a great gag.

Song Sung Blue is a warm comfortable journey through its first act.  It’s hard not to love anyone occupying this picture, including supporting turns from Michael Imperioli, Fisher Stevens and an unrecognizable Jim Belushi.  Once you’re settled into the story the dramatic weight of the piece enters, and it becomes heartbreaking for Lightning and Thunder.  Only after this unexpected change is introduced does the need for triumph work as the story’s conflict, and there is a lot to contend with for the couple, and particularly Rachel.

These characters are so likable that you’re apt to feel proud of them and Brewer does good work at showing the struggle.  Kate Hudson, with a Midwest accent, is especially effective.  She goes from offering a welcome personality to being cold, bitter and angry.  I wouldn’t object if she got an Oscar nomination.

Hugh Jackman is a magnificent entertainer.  Unlike his Wolverine films, his real age with wrinkles and grey hair deliver a twenty-year sober alcoholic living with a chronic health issue. However, Mike has an unstoppable drive of positivity through music with a microphone, a strumming guitar, and his flowing hair to compliment his colorful and sparkled stage outfits.  Brewer allows room for Lightning’s weaknesses, both physically and mentally.  

There’s a nice balance of both characters at the top of their game as well as far beneath the bottom rung of the ladder.

Song Sung Blue is very absorbing in the moment.  Only after I walked out did I question some of the set ups and wonder if certain events truly happened as assembled into the final edit.  I’m skeptical if the conclusion for one character truly played out like it did.  It’s just too neatly wrapped up like a Hallmark film or a soap opera episode.  That being said, the manipulations worked on me and the audience.  So, why should it bother us?

A twisted irony also happens though, which I had no choice but to believe.  It’s just simply too outrageous that Craig Brewer would work it into this story if it wasn’t true.  My wife exclaimed “No way!  You’ve got to be kidding me!”  Without knowing anything about the real Mike and Claire or seeing the documentary film this picture is based on, my gut insists this has got to be true and a reason why Song Sung Blue merits a movie presentation featuring two Oscar nominated actors.

When you see Song Sung Blue I urge not to frown on the film if you notice some of the truths are stretched a little.  Instead, absorb the outstanding performances of Hugh Jackman and Kate Hudson doing electrifying interpretations of Neil Diamond’s collection of hit songs including “Better In Blue Jeans” and of course “Sweet Caroline.”

Song Sung Blue is marvelous entertainment.

WAKE UP DEAD MAN

By Marc S. Sanders

Benoit Blanc is back with a new mystery to solve in Wake Up Dead Man.  With three films, all directed by Rian Johnson (Knives Out, Glass Onion), Daniel Craig’s eccentric detective now belongs in the ranks of Sherlock Holmes and Hercule Poirot.  He’s a pleasure to watch with a smirk on your face.  Ironically, he doesn’t make his entrance until at least a third of the picture is complete.

Josh O’Connor is Father Jud Duplenticy who first reveals a wide berth of exposition ahead of the murder mystery that awaits us.  He’s a catholic priest who works hard to contain his temper that might resort to raising his fists.  He’s been assigned as the assistant minister to a church in a small New England town where everyone knows one another, especially repulsive Monsignor Jefferson Wicks (Josh Brolin).

Whodunit mysteries should never be spoiled.  I certainly wouldn’t imply how this film wraps up.  I also do not want to reveal who the victim(s) is/are.  I urge you to see Wake Up The Dead Man because this puzzler of a story is as gleeful as the title itself.

Like the Agatha Christie film adaptations from the 1970s, Rian Johnson does his best to provide a lineup of suspects with celebrity familiarity including Brolin, O’Connor, Mila Kunis, Kerry Washington, Thomas Hayden Church, Cailee Spaeny, Jeremy Renner and a standout performance from Glenn Close who steals much of the film away from the rest of the cast.  After seven nominations spanning over forty years, give her the Oscar already.  She’s eerie and needling, spooky and fun.  As Detective Blanc continues his investigation, a character tells him this all seems like something straight out of Scooby Doo.  Glenn Close, donned in black with an elderly bleached facade certainly feels like she’d come in contact with the animated pup and those meddling kids.

Rian Johnson writes with that classic narrative that Agatha Christie or Arthur Conan Doyle adopted, only it’s modernized.  The director of The Last Jedi even throws in a Star Wars reference and the joke soars.  The writer/director crafted this script as an invitation for hair raising merriment with his design.  If you can’t be a part of a mystery dinner theater party, he ensures that you can participate in this one.

An old church, priests who curse, habitually pleasure themselves and confess to an abundance of sins, a gothic tomb, a dark basement with a repulsive bathtub, a bar with a photograph of clues, startling entrances, unconventional dialogue and a quizzical murder weapon function like page turning literature.  Even better is to understand how impossible the first murder can be under the limitations of a locked door mystery.  How can someone be killed right in front of our eyes when no one else is in room?  The answers await and thankfully the revelations are not far-fetched.

Wake Up Dead Man is a fun time at the movies.  It’s coming to Netflix on December 12, 2025.  Nevertheless, I encourage you to go your local cinema.  The crowd we saw it with was responding consistently with us, and that only enhances the experience.

TAPAWINGO

By Marc S. Sanders

It’s amusing to say that Jon Heder (Napolean Dynamite) becomes a bodyguard in Tapawingo.  He plays a weirdo who headlines a cast of familiar faces, who also portray weirdos.  Yet, come what may, he is in fact a bodyguard named Nate Skoog (a weirdo with a weirdo’s name) who lives with his mom (Amanda Bearse) and her boyfriend (John Ratzenberger).  By day, he works in the mailroom for Amalgamated Insurance.  Nate has not hit the ranks of earning a shirt that bears the company name.  His boss gives him hope though as he assigns Nate the lofty responsibility of picking up his nerdy son, Oswalt (Sawyer Williams), from school.  Nate uses his dune buggy to handle the task.

The city of Tapawingo is notorious for its family of bullies known as the Tarwaters.  Nate is given a warning.  He’s to stop giving Oswalt rides to his tutoring sessions for their sister Gretchen (Kim Matula).  Let me be clear.  Young teen Oswalt tutors Gretchen, a twenty-something tough chick, dressed in black who moves with an attitude and a strut.  When Nate witnesses two Tarwater heavies beating up on Oswalt, he runs into action with his own technique of martial arts. Suddenly, he becomes protective of the kid.  It doesn’t help that Nate’s dune buggy runs over Gretchen’s Doberman.  Well, the Tarwaters move up the food chain and bring in their bruiser brother Stoney (Billy Zane) to make sure their policy stays in line.

Tapawingo is proudly oddball, strange, stupid, silly, slapsticky and really, really, out there.  Following the surprise response of the cult hit Napolean Dynamite Jon Heder moved into more mainstream fair and became a marquee name of sorts.  It’s fortunate he returns to his roots.  He’s on a very short list of comedians who could pull off this material.  Tapawingo is funny.  Very funny at times.  The blessing is that it does not overstay its welcome because of the stupidity of it all; how the actors portray the characters, how writer/director Dylan K Narang shoots his setups and close ups and how the absurdity of the script never stops to think.  Comedy like this only has so much fuel to drive a certain distance.  This gonzo kind of writing that lacks any kind of insight or symbolism operates like another kind of Abbott & Costello routine.  Eventually, you’ll want to move on.  In the moment, it’s a lot of fun though.

Jon Heder invents his own kind of character brand with a stoned kind of look on his face.  Nate Skoog doesn’t so much move.  Rather, the world around this nincompoop circulates around him.  With his buddy Will Luna (Jay Pichardo, playing a different flavor of weird with a Rambo wardrobe on his bearded scrawny physique) these dorks spend their time answering ads to serve as hired mercenaries.  They are marksmen at launching firework sparklers from a distance. Believe me when I say though that Nate and Will are the poster boys for gun prevention.  Maybe even butter knife prevention if there is such a thing.  Otherwise, they are playing bingo at the rec center or maybe wrestling by way of whatever they think wrestling should be.  A pair of overweight, goateed twins (George and Paul Psarras) demonstrate what the contact sport should look like in the foreground. 

Even Gina Gershon invests herself by hiding her signature glamour.  Caked in colorful makeup with a hairsprayed zig zag formation of dirty blond locks, I did not even recognize the actress who made big splashes in movies like Bound, Face/Off and Showgirls.  Her character’s name is Dot and I’d love to know if she took inspiration from Pee Wee Herman’s girlfriend, Dottie, in Pee Wee’s Big Adventure.  Dot resides in the background of Nate’s meandering life.  She’s seductive…I guess.  It’s another oddball within Nate’s world where stimuli is not so much a priority.  Nevertheless, Gershon is hysterical in a clownish, buffoon like role.

Billy Zane is the villain of this silly picture.  Bald, clean shaven, husky and dressed in black, I don’t think the guy has more than ten lines.  It’s his presence that says it all as he sits behind the wheel of an emerald, green Mustang.  I’m glad he’s here.  He headlined Waltzing With Brando (which I loved), while Heder played the supporting role.  Now the pair switch positions.  Newman and Redford, Lemmon and Matthau, Zane and Heder.  It works.  By appearance, method, and physique, these guys are so unlikely to work together, and yet that generates inventive comedy.

Tapawingo operates like one of those B-movie 1980s comedies (Better Off Dead, Real Genius) that you’d rent when The Goonies or Gremlins was checked out at the video store.  It carries no charm.  No sensitivity.  No romance.  The adventure is pratfallish and deliberately lethargic.  It’s strength comes from its characters that leap out of a comic book or a Saturday morning cartoon.  Jon Heder’s approach to live action animation is a winner.  He’ll make you bust a gut.  He doesn’t have to say a word.  Simply a close up of him staring into a void will generate the laughs. 

The brains lie in the bravery to do something as zany as Tapawingo.  Go into it with an open mind.  Better yet, take your thinking cap off and just observe.  It’s a lot of fun.

Oh yeah.  The soundtrack is killer with the help of Pat Benatar and Quiet Riot.

WICKED FOR GOOD

By Marc S. Sanders

Wicked For Good is a crowning achievement in fantasy and musical wonder.  It soars across a wide expanse of never-ending settings within the wonderful world of Oz and delivers a series of messages to walk away with.  Try not to think about Wicked the next time you turn on CNN or FOX News.

Jon M Chu directs again after Wicked Part One.  Both films were actually shot as one large project but then divided.  I was suspect when I heard this was how the Broadway musical was going to be done for film.  Was there that much material, interesting enough for two full-length movies?  With a pair of new numbers drafted by original composition writer Stephen Schwartz, the answer is a profound yes.  This may be Act II of the musical but it does operate as a sequel. The new film leaps in time from when our host of characters were young students at Shiz Academy.  All are adults now with respective responsibilities and therefore they’ve grown and changed.  Sadly, but wisely, the film moves in directions that are parallel to many current events happening today. 

The wise animals of Oz are being oppressed.  The first film hinted that animals should be seen not heard.  The second part of the story executes that mantra all too realistically as they lose their power of speech and are destined not to be free but rather caged like in internment camps.  Those that have not been taken are performing mass exodus under the newly constructed yellow brick road. 

Untrue propaganda sweeps through Oz as Madame Morrible (Michelle Yeoh) uses the false influence of The Wizard (Jeff Goldblum) to unite the kingdom into believing the empathetic green skinned Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo) is the Wicked Witch of The West, on mission of terror.  Citizens of Munchkinland and the Emerald City believe the lies and live in fear of her presence.  Glinda (Ariana Grande), decked in beautiful pinks with a sparkly wand and a convenient flying bubble craft, serves as a poster girl for hope with the illusion of having enchanting powers to protect.  Elphaba’s sister Nessarose (Marissa Bode) succeeds as the governor of Oz following the death of the girls’ father.  Nessarose has grown coldhearted, particularly to her one true love Bok (Ethan Slater), who by decree must remain held captive under her authority.  He’s literally forbidden to immigrate by train. These are not the students of Shiz that we grew up with. 

I hate to use Wicked For Good as a metaphor for political purposes, but that’s exactly where my mind went to, and I’m grateful for it.  I believe there is much wrong occurring each day in the United States and throughout the world. I’m at least thankful that artistry like cinema and stage prevents us from burying our heads in the sand.  Conveniently, there’s a triggering and emotionally engaging storyline to hold on to.

Wicked was spawned off of L Frank Baum’s classic fairy tales. Part of the fun is seeing how these new stories are threaded towards his classic story of a girl from Kansas who arrives in Oz and befriends three unusual charmers while on her journey to meet The Wizard.  I’d argue that more people are familiar with the classic Warner Brothers film from 1939 than Baum’s series of books, and this Universal picture seems to adhere to the original production especially.  Elpheba delivers a new song called “There’s No Place Like Home” that’s woven beautifully into the picture.  Glinda sings about “The Girl In The Bubble” to emulate her personal conflict with how she is meant to serve.  Classic lines like “I’m off to see The Wizard” are provided.  Hints at a lion (voiced by Coleman Domingo) being fearful, along with a character’s heart becoming too small are referenced with weighty importance.  Another character is asked if he’s lost his mind.  It’s satisfying how original the Wicked properties are while being comfortably familiar.

The cast is sensational.  Cynthia Erivo is a wonderful performer who hides in her role with an American accent and her Broadway voice to belt.  She performs so convincingly that it becomes easy to look past the green skin and watch the woman who is challenged.  Michelle Yeoh and Jeff Goldblum have those unusual appearances and distinct personalities that serve a fantasy world like Oz.  Marissa Bode demonstrates tremendous strength as the disabled character who probably traverses through the biggest change of the whole cast.  Ariana Grande is a terrific actor and a lovely singer.  As I noted about the prior film, her Glinda is not my favorite, though.  The three others I saw on stage performed with a bubblier delivery and did not rely so much on Grande’s hair flip.  Jonathan Bailey is a dashing and charming hero, carved out for the prince of fantasy.  Ethan Slater’s Bok suffers through unwinnable oppression, and thus his character is more tragic this time.  It’s crushing to see, but his performance is completely relatable.

I watched the first film as a refresher ahead of seeing For Good and it occurs to me how triumphant these films are.  This whole story could have been contained in a ninety-minute Disney blueprint.  Yet, Jon M Chu, along with Stephen Schwartz want to entertain the audience through the narrative. So, it will stop where we are reading the movie, allowing us ample time to witness the world around us and what these characters of fantasy endure.  It’s odd sometimes to see the street toughs of West Side Story break into song as they are trying to knife one another in the streets.  In Wicked, it is never strange to see a witch or a munchkin or a prince break out into harmony to express their happiness, anger, sadness or wickedness.  The music and vocalizing build the vivid textures of the sets into grander designs. 

I can be told what happens next in the further adventures of Elphaba and Glinda and just move to the next chapter until they live happily ever after.  It’s better if the characters take their time to share as many thoughts and emotions as they can through song, dance, visual effects and action.  That’s what sets musicals apart from other fares of drama and comedy.

The Wicked films, and more importantly the musical, will remain timeless as much as Star Wars, Star Trek and Harry Potter.  They will never be dated.  They will only capture the hearts, laughs, tears and harmony of further generations to come decked in their favorite shades of green and pink.