Available for home viewing: Double Lover ★★★

This review contains spoilers. I try to be discreet about them but they are there.

No one can dance through genres as blithely as Francois Ozon. From the comedic drama of Water Drops on Burning Rocks to the mystery of Under the Sand to the eccentricity of the musical 8 Women and the slow-burn suspense of Swimming Pool, Ozon has consistently refused to be pigeonholed. His films vary from serious, art-house pieces to borderline-exploitation. Double Lover comes closer to the latter than the former as the director establishes himself in a territory adjacent to Hitchcock on one side and Cronenberg on the other. Thematically, the movie touches on issues of duality and psychology but often uses shock tactics (such as the kind of close-up you rarely see outside of porn or a gynecologist’s office) to shake things up. Double Lover may not represent Ozon in peak form but it’s too weirdly entertaining to dismiss out-of-hand.

For his leads, Ozon has turned to Marine Bacth (with whom he previously worked on 2013’s Young & Beautiful) and Jeremie Renier (not to be confused with the American actor Jeremy Renner). Renier has the plum role, being asked to play twins with different personalities — one who seems earnest, hard-working, and solicitous and the other who is Type A, arrogant, and domineering. It’s enjoyable to see Renier explore the part (reminiscent of what Jeremy Irons did in Cronenberg’s Dead Ringers). Bacth, who physically resembles a cross between Natalie Portman and Rooney Mara, is no less compelling because of the way her personality shifts as the story progresses.

When the movie opens, Chloe (Vacth) is paying a visit to her gynecologist. She’s experiencing stomach pains but there doesn’t seem to be anything physically wrong. The doctor suggests a psychologist and she’s soon seeing Paul Meyer (Renier), whose calm demeanor puts her at ease. Their sessions develop an almost uncomfortable intimacy with Chloe confessing highly sexual dreams and Paul straining not to become emotionally invested. Ozon films these scenes using a split-screen style that makes it appear as if they are face to face with only inches separating them and, even when not using this technique, he ensures both are in every shot.

The inevitable happens — erotic transference and counter-transference. This ends the therapist/patient relationship but opens up a romance that results in Chloe and Paul moving in together. For a while, the benefits to Chloe are obvious — she’s happy and upbeat, she smiles, she gets a new job (as a museum guard), and the pain in her belly goes away. Then, perhaps in the wrong place at the wrong time, she sees something disturbing: Paul speaking intimately to a woman. When she confronts him, he denies even having been in the vicinity of where the incident took place. Chloe goes there the next day and meets Paul’s doppelganger, Louis Delourd — also a psychologist, not to mention Paul’s estranged brother. Chloe enters into therapy with Louis but, despite looking like her lover, he has a different personality and his approach to their sessions is to act on the sexual tension rather than talk about it. However, even though Paul denies having a brother, there are deeper secrets yet to be revealed.

The trick of employing an unreliable narrator is keeping the audience in the dark for as long as possible. Ozon does an excellent job in that. There are times when the imagery becomes so distorted that it’s impossible to accept scenes as being anything other than dreams or fantasy (such as one moment that appears to have been influenced by the most gruesome sequence in Ridley Scott’s Alien) but Ozon keeps us unsure. For much of the movie, we teeter back and forth between accepting what we’re seeing and wondering whether we’re being led astray. The final reveal is twisted and forces a re-evaluation of the entire movie.

I can see some viewers hating where the movie goes and thinking that the change-up is a cheat. It may be, but it’s thematically logical and the groundwork for the revelation is carefully seeded throughout (watching Double Lover a second time is a different experience). Ozon doubles down on the theme of duality not only as it applies to Paul/Louis but as it applies to Chloe in a less obvious fashion. The ending re-aligns how we think about the characters while keeping the twins/doubles motifs in the forefront.

Double Lover unfolds in three acts. The first is a relatively sedate love story. The second is erotically charged with copious nudity and graphic sex. The movie was released theatrically in the United States on the same weekend as Fifty Shades Freed and Ozon shows what the E.L. James movie series is missing when it comes to sex, chemistry, and heat. Naked bodies aren’t enough — there needs to be electricity, which there is between Chloe and Louis. Finally, the third act enters the psychological thriller rabbit hole where things become contorted before being explained.

Ozon’s artistry is perhaps the only thing to keep this from B-grade thriller territory. There’s a lot of talking but some of the pretentious dialogue seems like an attempt to make Double Lover more intellectual than it is. The movie appeals strongly to our basic instincts and is enjoyable on that level. I don’t think this is for everyone — the home viewer needs to be willing to be liberal in terms of screen sex and not intimidated by a plot that doesn’t play by conventional rules. It’s quite a ride.

Available for home viewing: Mudbound ★★★½

At the heart of Mudbound, director Dee Rees’ adaptation of Hillary Jordan’s novel, is the relationship that forms (and the consequences of that relationship) between two World War 2 veterans — one white and one black — in the deeply segregated rural areas of Mississippi during the 1940s. These two men, Jamie McAllan (Garrett Hedlund) and Ronsel Jackson (Jason Mitchell), have much in common except the color of their skin. In reaching deep into the ugliness of a racist South, Mudbound strips away the romanticism sometimes associated with it and shows that, while friendships were possible between white and black people, the pernicious aspects of Jim Crow made such things fleeting and furtive. The movie, like the book, takes a long, hard look at the system of racial inequality that defined this time and place, and reminds viewers of the price to be paid for surrendering to our base instincts.

Mudbound tells its story primarily through flashbacks of two interconnected families. The (white) McAllans come to Mississippi to fulfill the life-long dream of Henry (Jason Clarke) to farm the land. Swindled out of renting an ideal house, he is forced to bring his family — wife Laura (Carey Mulligan) and two young daughters — to a leaky shack with no plumbing or electricity. Accompanying them is Pappy (Jonathan Banks), an unrepentant racist who sees everything through a lens dirty from decades of bile and hatred. Henry’s dashing younger brother, Jamie, is currently off to war, earning a captain’s rank as he flies bomber runs over Germany.

The Jacksons live as tenant farmers on the McAllans’ land. Hard-working and deeply devoted, they have lived and worked there since the slave days. The patriarch, Hap (Rob Morgan), dreams of bright future for his children. His wife, Florence (Mary J. Blige), cares for her family and works the fields while keeping her distance from the new white folk, whom life’s lessons have taught her not to trust. The eldest Jackson son, Ronsel, is serving his country in Europe as a tank commander in General Patton’s army.

The end of the war brings about changes when Jamie and Ronsel come home. Both men are subtly altered by their experiences. Jamie suffers from severe PTSD and uses heavy drinking for self-medication. Neither Henry nor Pappy is sympathetic to him, although Laura offers him a kind ear (and perhaps a little more). Ronsel’s suffering is more internalized but he finds himself angry and adrift, missing a woman he left behind in Germany and disgusted that, despite having served his country with distinction, he is regarded at home as a second-class citizen. He and Jamie are drawn together by their common experiences and develop a friendship that ultimately has profound consequences for them both.

Mudbound turns a clear gaze on racism in many of its forms and guises, both large and small. There are the obvious aspects, like the constant threats of violence, the segregation of buses and store entrances, and the white hoods of the Ku Klux Klan. And there are the subtle ones, like the entitlement of some whites who, although seemingly respectful, expect subservience from blacks, or the way sharecropping is rigged to force many black farmers into states of near-slavery. The film also shows the contrast between how black soldiers are treated overseas and what awaits them on their return.

The characters are as carefully developed as the setting. With one exception, every member of the ensemble boasts a three-dimensional personality with a discernable arc. To enhance this, six of the seven primary individuals are given voiceover monologues that provide the viewer not only with valuable background information but with a window into their thinking. The exception, Pappy, is less a person than an embodiment of the worst of racial hatred. Pappy has no redeeming qualities. He is vitriol personified. The real villain of Mudbound is racism but, since it can be difficult to effectively dramatize the struggle against an ideal, no matter how heinous, Pappy provides an effective stand-in.

There is a tendency of movies made about the pre-Civil Rights era South to depict it as an idyllic place forced into decline by the cycles of poverty and deprivation resulting from the failed secession. Mudbound strips away the faux nobility germinated by misplaced nostalgia. The land upon which so much depends for the McAllans and the Jacksons is a quagmire or, as Laura states in her opening monologue: "When I think of the farm, I think of mud … There was no defeating it. The mud coated everything." The production design takes these words and gives them visual life. I can’t think of a less appealing place to spend my life than the plantation where the McAllans have settled.

Strong performances abound but the three that stand out are those of Hedlund, whose tortured charisma embodies a once-proud, confidant man eviscerated by experience he relives every night; Mitchell, whose quiet dignity gives testimony to the strength of his character’s soul; and Banks, whose portrayal of unvarnished evil is chilling. Mulligan, Clarke, Morgan, and Blige are all solid but none resonate as forcefully as the other three.

Mudbound makes few missteps. One arguable flaw is the inclusion of a family of poverty-stricken white farmers who are turned away by Henry because of the father’s poor work habits. Although likely intended to provide a contrast to the Jacksons and perhaps even an indication of the thing Henry fears becoming, these characters are thinly sketched and their story is inconsistently presented.

Rees has chosen to remain faithful to the ending of the book while, at the same time, injecting a hopeful note. Jordan wrote the final passages of Mudbound as a series of speculative, "what if?" moments. While maintaining the text of those sentences, Rees takes away the question marks and replaces them with exclamation points. It’s the perfect way to conclude the saga, making it an affirmation of human determination and dignity.

Note: Mudbound was released by Netflix in a limited theatrical distribution. It is not yet available on Blu-Ray/DVD, but can be viewed at home via Netflix’s streaming services.

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A piece of trivia concerning a Babe Ruth no-hitter

An apology and a denial. First, I apologize missing the 101^st anniversary of this historic, albeit somewhat trivial, event by two days, but I must admit I spent too much time celebrating the Mavericks draft. Second, there is absolutely no truth to the rumor I actually witnessed this event. Sure, I’m up there in years, but I’m still younger than a number of trees you could find among the giant redwoods of Northern California.

Babe Ruth (you might have heard of him) was the starting pitcher for the Boston Red Sox on June 23, 1917, in a game at Fenway Park against the Washington Senators. The first batter he faced was Ray Morgan and Ruth walked Morgan on four straight pitches. At least home plate umpire Clarence "Brick" Owens thought all four pitches were out of the strike zone. Ruth, however, was convinced his second and fourth pitches should have been called strikes and when Owens called ball four on Morgan, Ruth charged off the mound and screamed at Owens: "If you’d go to bed at night, you (expletive deleted), you could keep your eyes open long enough in the daytime to see when a ball goes over the plate!"

You can imagine Owens’ reaction. He told Ruth to shut up and get back on the mound or he’d be tossed. Ruth countered: "Throw me out and I’ll punch ya right in the jaw!"

That was the breaking point. Owens threw him out and, true to his word, Ruth actually tried to punch the ump in the jaw. He missed, however, and hit Owens a glancing blow behind the umpire’s ear. Still, Owens fell to the ground.

Ruth’s punishment? He was fined $100, handed a 10-game suspension and forced to give a public apology.

But that’s not the end of the story. Not by a long shot. What makes this episode historic is that Ernie Shore was summoned from the bullpen to relieve Ruth. Sam Agnew had to replace Boston catcher Chester "Pinch" Thomas who was also ejected as part of the Ruth-umpire fracas. During the first batter Shore faced, Morgan, the batter Ruth walked to begin the whole affair, was thrown out trying to steal second. Shore then retired the next 26 batters in a row without giving up a hit or a walk and Boston won the game 4-0

For close to the next 80 years, Shore’s feat was determined to be a "perfect game" because he was on the mound for all 27 outs. It stood that way until sometime in the 1990s when it was reclassified as a "combined no-hitter."

Available for home viewing: Tomb Raider ★★½

Tomb Raider may be the most faithful adaptation of a video game to-date. Unfortunately, faithfulness to the source material doesn’t always result in the best cinematic experience and this is one of those occasions. The Tomb Raider video games are action-oriented with playability being the key component to what makes them work. Reducing a game — any game — to a conventional movie turns it into something passive, thereby robbing it of its single most valuable element. Action sequences in a game can be exhilarating because the player participates in them. There’s a sense of accomplishment. Watching as a film on a home TV screen, the same sequences become rote because there’s little suspense. The director, after all, is the ultimate player, so it’s a given that the character is going to succeed. The result is a dilution of suspense; action without suspense can be dull and repetitive.

This is the second time the saga of Lara Croft has been brought to the screen and, for this iteration, the main character is being played by Alicia Vikander (replacing Angelina Jolie, who took on the role in the 2001 film and its 2003 sequel). Hands down, Vikander is the best thing about Tomb Raider. She’s tough, buff, and gorgeous. She’s as strong and capable as any male action hero and director Roar Uthaug (who made the disaster film The Wave) never reduces her to the level of eye candy or a kick-ass sex symbol. For her part, Vikander isn’t treating this like a paycheck. She’s committed. She worked out obsessively to bulk up for the part and did all her own stunts. Plus, as a bonus, she brings her Oscar-winning skills as an actress to bear in a couple of emotional scenes that the screenplay sneaks in between action set pieces. (In one, Lara has to cope with something video game characters almost never face: the impact of the "first kill.")

Tomb Raider is, alas, an origin story. When we first meet 21-year old Lara, she’s at loose ends — the daughter of wealthy businessman and adventurer Lord Richard Croft (Dominic West), she refuses her inherited fortune because she won’t sign the papers declaring her missing father to be dead. So she scrapes by on the money she earns from odd jobs until one day she discovers a clue that hints at where her father (if he’s still alive) might be. Accompanied by Lu Ren (Daniel Wu), the son of the man Richard hired to transport him, Lara heads for a mysterious Pacific Island where the amoral Trinity corporation has set up a dig site. Led by Mathias Vogel (Walton Goggins), Trinity’s mercenaries are searching for the tomb of an ancient queen. Once opened, the sarcophagus may hold the key to world domination … or world destruction. Through a combination of physicality and brains, Lara becomes the only one who can stop Vogel’s push to bring home the goods to his employers.

Following an exposition-heavy first 20 minutes, which features flashbacks and various character-building shortcuts, Tomb Raider switches into all-action mode and, as one might expect from an adaptation of this video game franchise, there aren’t a lot of "down" moments. All the expected Tomb Raider tropes are present — if it’s in the game, it’s in the movie. At times, gamers may feel their thumbs twitching as if using a controller to impel Lara’s movements. The action, like the plot, is straightforward, lacking the cliffhanger tension that made Raiders of the Lost Ark so compelling. The Tomb Raider games were obviously inspired, at least in part, by the 1981 film, but this second generation revival feels more like a retread than an homage. There’s something missing.

Considering that the average Tomb Raider (or similar) video game contains anywhere from eight to 16 hours of content, the film feels stripped-down and truncated. The plot is straightforward with only a single predictable twist and little in the way of narrative complexity. There’s plenty of shooting (with guns and bows), jumping, climbing, and falling. The bad guys are entirely one-dimensional and, with the exception of Lara, the good guys don’t fare much better. Vikander shines. Goggins tries hard to be steel-eyed and nasty but he did a better job of it in The Hateful Eight. West (playing Vikander’s father for the second time, after also serving that function in Testament of Youth) is adequate, if underused. Kristin Scott-Thomas and Derek Jacobi have cameos as high-up employees in Lord Richard’s company.

Viewer reaction to Tomb Raider may vary based on expectations. Those who care more about a cinematic recreation of the video game than a movie that can live and breathe on its own will likely be thrilled with the final result. Those hoping for something a little more along the lines of Raiders of the Lost Ark may find cause for disappointment. Raiders was about more than a strong hero careening from one action scene to the next but that’s all that Tomb Raider offers. Even as a mindless popcorn movie, I found it strangely unengaging — action without suspense, momentum without tension. I wouldn’t mind playing the game based on the movie but was less enthused about the movie based on the game.

Available for home viewing: An Ordinary Man ★★★

This character study compensates for certain narrative hiccups and a bland sense of time and place by offering an effective performance by Ben Kingsley to go along with a story that asks difficult questions and goes to places many similar films would avoid. In fact, every time An Ordinary Man seems to be headed into a minefield of clichés, it takes an unexpected detour and the film’s final such excursion comes like a gut-punch. The clinching moment is presented so matter-of-factly that it’s difficult not to be shocked by the scene — even if you see it coming.

Brad Silberling’s An Ordinary Man transpires in the former Yugoslavia and follows attempts by a war criminal, known only as "The General" (Kingsley), to avoid capture. The General is presented as a cold, emotionless man who is most likely guilty of the things of which he has been accused (the massacre of thousands of men and boys under his command). Nevertheless, we see from his infrequent interactions with others that there are plenty of people willing to harbor him, raising the age-old question of where the dividing line exists between "patriot" and "monster." The General has sufficient self-awareness that he might place himself in the latter category; others would see it differently.

After being relocated by his chief protector (Peter Serafinowicz) to a new apartment, The General comes face-to-face with an unexpected visitor — the maid, Tanja (Hira Hilmar), who cleaned the place for the former inhabitant and was oddly not informed of the change of resident. Suspecting an assassin, The General first grills her then has her strip naked to check for concealed weapons. Convinced that she may be legitimate, he tells her to get to work, then criticizes her methods and asks her all sorts of inappropriate questions. This seems to be the beginning of a friendship — or at least a mentoring relationship — but nothing in An Ordinary Man is quite that simple.

For viewers, the most difficult aspect of watching An Ordinary Man is coping with the largely sympathetic portrayal of a man whose past misdeeds put him alongside the vilest characters brought to the screen (at least in serious, non-escapist productions). Silberling doesn’t necessarily expect us to empathize with The General but he at least wants to provide a level of understanding. His approach brings to mind all sorts of philosophical arguments about what constitutes "evil" and whether those who are thus named consider the label valid. This is a far cry from Silberling’s previous directorial outing, the horrible Land of the Lost, which badly damaged his Hollywood career.

Kingsley (exhibiting a bit of the same flair he displayed in Sexy Beast) is superb but he is matched, line-by-line and scene-by-scene by Hilmar, an Icelandic actress whose profile has been on the rise in recent years. Kingsley effectively conveys The General’s complexity, including his arrogance, his sense of entitlement, and eventually his guilt, pain, and self-loathing. The only thing questionable about the actor’s performance is his accent, which is a weird cross between Cockney and Scottish, with some other inflections thrown in. Hilmar develops Tanja into a solid foil for The General whose motivations are more complex than what we first assume them to be.

As befits a character study, Silberling doesn’t rush things. An Ordinary Man is slowly paced but doesn’t suffer as a result. The lead performances, their peculiar chemistry, and their evolving relationship (which thankfully doesn’t include a romantic component) keep us engaged. It’s a little disappointing that, despite being filmed in Belgrade, the movie is unable to capture a strong sense of place, but that’s a minor quibble. An Ordinary Man depicts the many shades of complicated character with a minimalist plot that doesn’t demand complicity from the viewer to provide a glimpse of understanding.

Available for home viewing: Love, Simon ★★★

Love, Simon is, at it’s core, a crowd-pleaser about an "average" high school guy who finds love in the most unlikely of places. Part romantic-comedy, part coming-of-age story, it recalls the more innocent "high school" films of the past, where the focus was on love and romance rather than sex and lust. Love, Simon’s twist is that the title character (played by Nick Robinson) is a closeted gay boy who chafes at keeping his true self hidden. Because the film wants to be upbeat, uplifting, and teen-friendly, it studiously avoids darker, more realistic themes and plot points, opting instead to offer a fantasy world where things (mostly) turn out right. That’s not to say it marginalizes the difficulty of coming out for a teenager, but it glosses over some of the negatives in favor of an idealized result.

Seventeen-year old Simon Spier, who narrates the story, is smart, witty, and self-aware: all the qualities necessary for the voice of a movie that wants to be smart, witty, and self-aware. Simon knows he’s gay; in fact, this has been the reality of his life for four years, and he hasn’t told anyone: not his caring, educated mother, Emily (Jennifer Garner) nor his good-natured, somewhat dense father, Jack (Josh Duhamel), nor his younger sister, Nora (Talitha Bateman). His three best friends — Leah (Katherine Langford), Nick (Jorge Lendeborg Jr.), and Abby (Alexandra Shipp) — are equally in the dark. The only one who knows is "Blue," a gay boy Simon anonymously swaps text messages with (with Simon using the moniker of "Jacques" to hide his own identity). But when a fellow classmate, Martin (Logan Miller), learns Simon’s secret and uses it to blackmail him, Simon senses the walls closing in and decides he may have no choice but to throw open the closet doors and emerge.

Love, Simon is charming and likeable in much the same way that heterosexual teen comedies can be charming and likeable. Although the plotting is at times clunky (with the blackmail device in particular seeming artificial), the dialogue is believable and the characters are nicely rounded. It doesn’t take much for us to root for Simon to find true love and hope that when the inevitable happens, his life will take a turn for the better. Although sometimes deviating from the source material, Becky Albertalli’s Young Adult novel, Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda, the film retains its core themes.

The movie was directed by Greg Berlanti, whose previous credits include The Broken Hearts Club and Life as We Know It. He keeps the tone light as befits a mainstream audience more interested in being entertained than seeing a serious film about the difficulties of coming out. To be sure, Love, Simon doesn’t sugarcoat the experience and aspects of Simon’s struggle are depicted but, aside from some of the less savory elements surrounding Martin and his blackmail, Berlanti maintains an upbeat mood. The screenplay is also surprisingly chaste. Sex (the act) is rarely mentioned; Simon’s sexual identity is reflected by phraseology along the lines of "he likes" or "he is attracted to." The PG-13 rating is reflective of the MPAA’s overt conservativism as opposed to actual content (main character is gay = automatic PG-13). For the most part, this is PG material (although there is one f-bomb and a few off-color remarks).

Robinson crafts an immensely likeable Simon — as appealing as any of the teenage protagonists in a John Hughes comedy. And, although he is attentive and helpful, the movie doesn’t wreath him in nobility. The things he does to protect his secret (at least in the beginning) are far from laudable and, when they come out (as such things must do in movies that don’t deal in ambiguity and dangling plot threads), there are consequences. The strongest supporting performances belong to Langford as Simon’s gal-pal, Leah, and Shipp as the feisty Abby Suso. Miller’s Martin is thoroughly detestable, but that’s the point. The adults, including Garner and Duhamel, are forgettable. A Garner monologue surprisingly falls a little flat.

Love, Simon contains its share of manipulation but doesn’t tip the balance too far toward sentimentality. The movie succeeds in its goals: provide accessible characters, offer a solid (if somewhat idealized) depiction of the difficulties faced by closeted gay teenagers who are afraid that revealing their secret will destroy their lives, and offer the moment that all rom-com lovers demand from titles in their favorite genre. It’s a well-made, affable movie that should provide an entertaining two hours for all but the most virulent homophobes.

Available for home viewing: I Kill Giants ★★★

The concept of a child creating an imaginary world as a retreat from reality isn’t new to either movies or literature. In fact, one of the most beloved of all family films, The Wizard of Oz, employs this conceit. More recent endeavors like Pan’s Labyrinth and A Bridge to Terabithia, have taken darker turns. Perhaps the best of all of these, 2016’s powerful A Monster Calls, is the closest cousin to director Anders Walter’s feature debut, I Kill Giants. Based on Joe Kelly’s award-winning comic book series (with a screenplay credited to Kelly), the film follows the day-to-day travails of a teenage girl, Barbara (Madison Wolfe), who finds refuge from the ugliness of her existence in a world filled with giants and monsters.

In a head-to-head comparison with the oh-so-similar A Monster Calls, I Kill Giants draws the short stick. That’s not to say it’s an unworthy film. Quite the contrary — it’s just not on the same level as J.A. Bayona’s adaptation of Patrick Ness’ novel. I Kill Giants is well-acted, does amazing things with a limited budget, and effectively tugs at the heart strings once we recognize what Barbara’s real monsters are. The scenes of bullying are uncomfortably credible (not the white-washed version often presented in mainstream films — I’m thinking of Wonder here) and there is an opportunity for a catharsis.

Barbara, who lives in a house on portion of the New Jersey coast that in no way resembles any beach I have visited there (filming took place in Belgium and Ireland), is immersed in geek culture. She’s a Dungeons and Dragons fanatic, although she doesn’t have any friends to play with her. Her older sister, Karen (Imogen Poots), who functions as her guardian, offers to join a game but Barbara demurs. She is interested in playing with her self-absorbed brother and his friends, but their interest goes no farther than games that involve consoles and TVs. Barbara is also a baseball fan, with Phillies paraphernalia littered around the basement where she has set up an indoor fort.

Barbara’s D&D obsession has bled into her real life. She is bullied at school by a girl named Taylor (Rory Jackson), whom she treats with contempt. Her free time is spent in a nearby forest and on the beach, where she has set up traps to confound the giants that she believes haunt the woods and may be coming to destroy the town. She encounters Sophia (Sydney Wade), a new girl who has just moved to America from Leeds, and the two form a fragile friendship. Sophia is fascinated by Barbara’s fantasy-world but doesn’t buy into it and begins to search for a way to help the girl. This desire is shared by the school’s psychiatrist, Mrs. Molle (Zoe Saldana).

I Kill Giants effectively blends the fantasy and real-world elements into an engaging whole. Although not as successful as the films I cited earlier in blurring the lines between what might only be in the main character’s mind and what is really happening, I Kill Giants nevertheless works as an examination of how children use make-believe as an escape mechanism. As the movie approaches its climax, Barbara must face not only her metaphorical adversary but the underlying darkness.

The narrative is at times uneven. The movie spends a little too much time on Barbara’s romps through the forest — these are the least compelling scenes in the film — and it fractures the story by trying to flesh out the stories of Karen and Sophia but (lacking the necessary screen time) not quite getting there. The film might have worked better had it remained 100 percent from Barbara’s perspective. Scenes in which the protagonist doesn’t appear feel disconnected from the rest of the production.

Poots and Saldana add their names to the project but, although they give solid turns, their roles are secondary. The star is relative newcomer 15-year old Wolfe, whose performance is note-perfect. Despite having previously appeared primarily in minor TV and movie roles, Wolfe easily carries I Kill Giants, imbuing Barbara with a mix of spunk and fragility and showing how even the most self-sufficient of loners sometimes craves companionship.

The marketing aspects of I Kill Giants play up the Harry Potter connection — the involvement of producer Chris Columbus being the link — but the comparison does a disservice to this film which is a vastly different kind of story. The fantasy elements are just that — fantasy — and the CGI is used sparingly. Although we see the giants as Barbara sees them, the glimpses are fleeting. (The lengthy sequence in which she explains their origins uses 2D animation.) I Kill Giants is about coping, surviving, and hopefully emerging stronger at the end. The vivid cinematography, affecting performance by Wolfe, and lack of saccharine allow the film to resonate not only with the teen target demographic but older viewers as well.

Available for Home Viewing: Black Panther ★★★½

During the past year, several of the studios releasing superhero movies have upped their game, moving into new territory without tossing aside the tropes that differentiate comic book-inspired fare from its traditional action/adventure cousin. 20th Century Fox started things with Logan, a stylish meditation on sacrifice and mortality. DC followed with Wonder Woman, a celebration of kick-ass femininity. Now, in 2018, along comes Black Panther. Although seen by some as the final lead-in to the ultimate Avengers story, this movie is much, much more. In fact, save for some plot linkage at the outset, Black Panther never lets on that it’s even in the same universe as Iron Man, Hulk, Thor, and the rest. This is the closest Marvel has come to making a stand-alone tale in many years. Even Doctor Strange felt more connected to the larger MCU.

In agreeing to co-write and direct Black Panther, Ryan Coogler, who previously made Fruitvale Station and Creed, ensured that he would have carte blanche about how he presented T’Challa’s story. While remaining faithful to the character’s comic book backstory, Coogler takes the film in some unexpected directions. There’s action aplenty but it’s intermingled with more serious-minded and thought-provoking material. If there has ever been a more political superhero movie, I can’t think of it. Black Panther is in-your-face with its political perspective, neither soft-peddling its allegorical aspects nor shying away from an ideology that may be controversial in some circles. The movie embraces the philosophy of inclusion, rejecting competing notions of isolation, nationalism, and imperialism. It goes so far as to used the word "fool" when describing those who would "build barriers." Black Panther isn’t content with characters in cool costumes pummeling each other in a special effects-laden setting.

Although this represents the first full outing for the Black Panther character (who made his debut in Captain America: Civil War), it’s more of an "introduction story" than an "origin story." Coogler’s approach is similar to the one Tim Burton used in 1989’s Batman — don’t waste the audience’s time with a blow-by-blow description of how the Black Panther got his powers and what he initially does with them. Instead, tell a real story and sprinkle in the details along the way. It’s a more satisfying method of storytelling that what we sometimes have to slog through with initial forays.

After a prologue, which provides background, context, and an establishing scene set in 1992, the action shifts to the modern-day. The setting is the small (fictional) East African country of Wakanda. To the rest of the world, Wakanda is mired in the third-world and, like its neighbors, struggling with poverty and a lack of resources. That image is a sham, however — an illusion maintained by Wakanda’s superior technology to hide the nation’s true nature from those who would plunder its most valuable resource, the mineral vibranium. The wonders of Wakanda are known only to its residents.

T’Challa (Chadwick Boseman) assumes the throne after the events of Captain America: Civil War (in which his father is killed in a terrorist bombing). Armed with technology developed by his super-scientist sister, Shuri (Letitia Wright), and accompanied by his former lover, Nakia (Lupita Nyong’o), and the head of the military, Okoye (Danai Gurira), T’Challa travels to South Korea to capture an amoral mercenary named Ulysses Klaue (Andy Serkis), who is selling vibranium on the black market. On this mission, he encounters CIA agent Everett Ross (Martin Freeman), who previously appeared in Captain America: Civil War. The mission to bring Klaue back to Wakanda ends in failure. T’Challa returns home not with a criminal in tow but with the critically injured Ross, who takes a bullet to save Nakia. A short time later, a stranger, Erik Killmonger, appears at Wakanda’s border with an unconventional gift and a shocking story — one that allows him to challenge T’Challa in mortal combat for the right to lead Wakanda.

Black Panther is the first MCU movie to feature a black superhero as the title character. (It is not, however, the first Marvel movie with that distinction. Wesley Snipes’ Blade, who made three appearances in the late 1990s and early 2000s, broke the "color barrier", although the cinematic superhero landscape of that era was much different.) Black Panther celebrates its blackness, ensuring that nearly every role — big, small, and in-between — is played by a black actor. On some level, Black Panther is a pushback against a Hollywood culture that shies away from "black films" made for mainstream audiences. The director takes things a step further by employing a reversal of a typical stereotype. Many white-dominated movies feature a token black character (an inclusion that allows them to claim "racial diversity"). Coogler flips this by making Freeman the token white character. Aside from Freeman and Serkis (old buddies from their Peter Jackson days), the only non-black actor with any noteworthy screen presence is Stan Lee, making his expected cameo. (Lee, along with Jack Kirby, created Black Panther in 1966.)

The film’s chief villain, the angry and revenge-minded Killmonger, is a different sort of bad guy than what we’re accustomed to getting in superhero movies. Unafflicted by megalomania, Killmonger is motivated by a personal animus and a desire to use violence and chaos to redress the worldwide oppression of black people. He intends to use the resources of Wakanda to achieve that. He is perhaps the most nuanced antagonist ever to emerge from the MCU tapestry. He is not demonized; in fact, the screenplay goes to great lengths to emphasize the tragedy of his genesis and how, were it not for the misguided actions of "good" people, he might never have become the man he became. In keeping with superhero movie expectations, there is a climactic battle between Killmonger and T’Challa but, unlike the resolution of Wonder Woman, it’s not an anticlimax and the conclusion of the struggle is not by-the-numbers.

In casting Black Panther, the filmmakers have assembled a group of today’s best young black actors, with a veteran or two thrown in for good measure. Boseman’s T’Challa is a fine addition to the MCU (something we can see now that he has more than a supporting part) — a versatile performer whose previous roles include Jackie Robinson (42), James Brown (Get on Up), and Thurgood Marshall (Marshall). Michael B. Jordan makes his third appearance for Coogler, following leads in Fruitvale Station and Creed. Nyong’o, Gurira, and Letitia Wright play the three strong, self-assured women who fight alongside T’Challa. Angela Bassett, as T’Challa’s mother, and Forest Whitaker, as his mentor, represent an older generation. Freeman and Serkis help connect Black Panther to the MCU.

Black Panther is arguably the most audacious movie to emerge from the MCU to-date and has to be in the conversation when considering the all-time best comic book-inspired stories. Although the structure is rooted in the superhero tradition, the production rarely feels limited by that classification. It takes us to new places and sloughs off the generic label that adheres to many films of the genre, providing an experience that is by turns exciting, emotional, and funny. This is 2018’s first great motion picture — a title that will surely be remembered when "end of the year" bests are discussed.

Available for home viewing: Annihilation ★★★½

Science fiction means different things to different people. For some, it’s the quasi-fantasy/space opera of Star Wars. For others, it’s allegorical space-faring material like Star Trek. And for still others, it encompasses a strongly technical, scientific, and/or visionary aesthetic. Annihilation, like Alex Garland’s previous endeavor (and directorial debut), Ex Machina, falls into the category of films that embrace Big Ideas in ways that presuppose viewers are intelligent and attentive. Is that asking too much from the average movie-watcher?

Annihilation is to genetics as Ex Machina is to robotics although the films are related only in their lack of conventionality and willingness to challenge viewers. Liking Ex Machina is no guarantee of liking Annihilation or vice versa. In terms of tone, Annihilation is a close cousin to Arrival. There’s the same dark atmosphere and bleak sense of discovery. Annihilation has its share of action — including one horrifying encounter that ratchets up the tension to an almost-unbearable level — but this movie, unlike something produced for mass audiences, is about what happens in the calm moments between the loud, splashy sequences.

I often find non-linear narrative structures to be lazy and unhelpful except in cases where there’s a story-based reason for it, which is the case here. Annihilation opens with a woman, Lena (Natalie Portman), being questioned by a man wearing a decontamination suit. Her memory is vague — she is unable to give clear answers to simple questions. We follow her story through a series of flashbacks with Garland frequently jumping around in time, back and forth, forth and back, as it suits his method of storytelling.

In the past, we meet Lena a year after the disappearance and presumed death of her husband, Kane (Oscar Isaac). She’s emotionally closed-off and his sudden, unheralded return shocks her to the core. She’s painting a bedroom and, turning when she hears a noise, sees him in the hallway. But there’s something wrong with Kane. He’s cold and emotionless. His dialogue consists of mumbled answers and half-phrases. Then he starts to bleed from the mouth before going into convulsions. The government whisks him away and Lena with him. She soon learns that he was part of a super-secret group of volunteers who entered a mysterious area called "The Shimmer" (aptly named for the nebulous curtain around the perimeter). Despite being the sole survivor, his condition renders him unable to provide any useful information. Another party is going in and Lena petitions to be included.

There are five of them — all women and all highly educated except one. In addition to Lena, a biologist, they are: Dr. Ventress (Jennifer Jason Leigh), a psychiatrist; Anya (Gina Rodriguez), a gregarious paramedic; Cass (Tuva Novotny), a friendly anthropologist; and Josie (Tessa Thompson), a shy physicist. The enter The Shimmer hoping to unlock its mysteries and find a way to retard its expansion. They are armed only with some guns and their intelligence. To survive, they will need both those things — and perhaps more.

Discovery is an important part of the journey that Garland takes the viewer on. The movie makes us an invisible member of Lena’s group; a mute presence on her shoulder. We learn only what she learns; we see only what she sees. Like her, we sometimes have to fit together the pieces of a puzzle — the screenplay doesn’t do it for us by force-feeding the answers. To the end, there’s a layer of ambiguity. The final scene can be interpreted in various ways.

Paramount Pictures did not do much to market Annihilation. The reason may have to do with a film the company distributed last year: mother! There are some superficial similarities but, where mother! was an example of directorial excess with a greater concern with "vision" than story, Annihilation is a different sort of movie. Yes, it’s equally unfriendly to audiences interested only in a superficial, visceral experience, but Annihilation has a well-defined narrative that offers a degree of resolution. It doesn’t leave the viewer feeling cheated and duped, although I would be lying if I claimed the ending won’t frustrate some. Paramount’s concerns about the movie’s dim commercial prospects (a fair worry, by the way) resulted in a rift with the production team and a decision to limit the publicity push.

Portman has entered a phase of career where she’s no longer interested in doing roles solely for pay or exposure (no more Star Wars or Thor for her). It’s easy enough to see what attracted her to this project — similar qualities to the ones Arrival used to seduce Amy Adams. Portman gives a nuanced performance as a woman navigating a tumultuous period of her life, showing all the ways in which she has changed ("change" and mutation being key themes). She is supported by a mostly-female supporting cast that includes veteran Leigh and another participant in the Thor universe, Thompson. Isaac, who appeared in Ex Machina, returns to work with Garland again; his part, although pivotal, is limited.

Annihilation makes you think. It makes you wonder about the mysteries of genetics and the fragility of DNA. It makes you think about what happens when parts of the body no longer feel familiar and how quickly those changes can arise. It asks about the human capacity for self-destruction and it explores the power of guilt. Admittedly, the climax almost seems prosaic for a movie with this much to say but, while offering some of the film’s most impressive images, it satisfies a need for closure. Although Garland’s unwillingness to compromise may limit his viewership, it has resulted in a film whose ideas and philosophy demand thought and dissection and are not easily dismissed or forgotten.

Available for home viewing: Death Wish ★★

It’s fair to ask what new things Eli Roth and Bruce Willis bring to Death Wish that the original, made in 1974 with Charles Bronson, didn’t have. The answer is: not many. Rather than using this as an opportunity to provide a deeper dive into the hot-topic debate of vigilantism (which is getting a lot of media attention in the wake of the latest high school shooting and suggestions of allowing teachers with concealed carry permits to come armed to their classrooms), Roth elects to "color within the lines" and stay true to the original’s template. Also given short-shrift is the question of whether a vigilante might be motivated to stay active by the fame resulting from extreme social media exposure — a topic raised but not effectively explored by this new iteration. The filmmakers seem ultimately unwilling to risk transporting Death Wish beyond what it was in its first incarnation: a grim, violent exploitation film that pays lip service to being more interesting.

The movie stacks the deck early by presenting Dr. Paul Kersey (Willis) as an ideal guy. A hard-working surgeon who doesn’t differentiate between cop and robber when they’re on his table, he has a loving wife, Lucy (Elisabeth Shue), and a college-bound daughter, Jordan (Camila Morrone). His life comes crashing down one evening while he’s working a shift for a sick colleague. A trio of criminals breaks into his house, kills Lucy, and brutalizes Jordan to the point where she ends up in a coma. In the wake of the home invasion/murder, Paul feels lost and is frustrated by the police’s seeming lack of progress. He reaches the breaking point when he is beaten up while attempting to prevent an assault on the streets of Chicago. When a gun comes into his possession, he cleans it up and learns how to use it. Although his eventual goal is to find and kill the men who destroyed his family, he’s not beyond dispensing justice in other circumstances, such as saving a carjacked woman or killing a drug dealer. Thus is born "The Grim Reaper" — a social media sensation who becomes the talk of morning radio call-in shows and whose existence is met with ambivalence by Police Detectives Raines (Dean Norris) and Jackson (Kimberly Elise).

Willis approaches the role with less swagger than he normally uses, although his past baggage makes it difficult to accept him as an "everyday" person pushed beyond the ordinary boundaries of human tolerance. Shue is surprisingly unconvincing in limited exposure — the scenes in which she is begging for mercy are cringeworthy. Some gallows humor is provided by the detective pair of Norris and Elise — I could envision a spin-off featuring these two. Vincent D’Onofrio is on board in the thankless role of Paul’s ne’er-do-well brother (someone who serves no purpose whatsoever and could easily have been elided from the script).

Joe Carnahan’s screenplay is based on the Brian Garfield novel and the 1974 script credited to Wendell Mayes, although, when the two diverge, it hews closer to the latter. Garfield, who was displeased with the Bronson movie, claimed that the anti-vigilantism message of his book was turned 180-degrees in the movie. Roth does nothing to reverse things: the new movie’s sympathies present the killings as cathartic, "rah rah" moments and develop Paul as a tragic-but-heroic figure. This Death Wish frequently references the original. There’s a location flip — in 1974, the action began in New York City and ended in Chicago. Here, it’s the reverse. And the "finger-gun" gesture used by Bronson is invoked by Willis in the film’s most direct homage.

The 2018 Death Wish has been developed with a specific audience in mind — those who enjoy these kinds of thoughtlessly violent outings. The direction is workmanlike, although without the flourishes that have added some visual razzle-dazzle to similar orgies of brutality like John Wick and its sequel. By neutering Willis’ penchant for self-deprecating humor and turning him into a virtual automaton, Roth further limits his film’s enjoyability. Death Wish is in many ways a throwback, which would be okay if there wasn’t already an okay version of the same story kicking around from the 1970s (with four increasingly bad sequels for those who want to see more).

Available for home viewing: The Party ★★★

Sally Potter’s quirky The Party owes a lot to a generation’s worth of French "gathering" films in which a bunch of characters come together for dinner (or something similar) and all hell breaks loose. Commonalities among these films include an abundance of dialogue, simmering tensions among characters, a tone that varies between darkly comedic and tragic, and a surprising revelation or two along the way. All of these elements are present in The Party.

With a svelte running time of about 70 minutes, The Party doesn’t overstay its welcome. It doesn’t feel too short but, unlike many of these films, it doesn’t turn into a slog through intellectual diarrhea. Although set in modern day, Potter uses black-and-white to divorce The Party from a strictly contemporary interpretation. Although the lack of color is surprising at first, it quickly becomes second nature.

The plot is sparse. This is about acting, dialogue, and character interaction, not narrative. Events transpire at a dinner party thrown by Janet (Kristin Scott Thomas) and her husband, Bill (Timothy Spall), to celebrate Janet’s appointment as minister of health in the opposition’s shadow cabinet. Also in attendance are the cynical April (Patricia Clarkson) and her estranged partner, spiritual guru Gottfried (Bruno Ganz); Martha (Cherry Jones) and Jinny (Emily Mortimer), who have just learned that the latter is expecting triplets; and Tom (Cillian Murphy), whose wife, Marianne, has been "delayed." The Party revolves around various truths and secrets that are revealed, including a terminal illness, several affairs, and whether one character is going to commit a crime with a gun.

Potter’s script is deft, breezing along quickly. The comedy is low-key and of a more intellectual than physical variety. There’s an element of mystery surrounding the proceedings; this is enhanced by a momentary flash-forward (with a deranged-looking Thomas brandishing a firearm). Of course, with a cast of this caliber, Potter makes sure to allow each actor an opportunity to shine. The result is a true ensemble. Of all the storylines, the least impactful one is the friction between Martha and Jinny about their impending parenthood and what it means for their relationship.

Potter has never been an auteur to color inside the lines. She first achieved international recognition for her 1992 film, Orlando, and achieved greater notice for 1997’s antiseptic romance, The Tango Lesson. Her productions are perfect art-house fare, where viewers are willing to accept the challenges mandated by some of her choices. The Party is among Potter’s most accessible works because of its reasonable length and strong acting. The fly-on-the-wall, real-time approach puts us in the house with these people and makes us interested in what will happen next. The ending, which is an artistically selected cliffhanger, is more likely to bring a smile than a huff of frustration. The Party is worth a rental for those who appreciate this sort of production, although it’s unlikely to broaden Potter’s appeal (not that such a thing would be among her concerns).

Available for home viewing: 12 Strong ★★★

12 Strong represents a recent war as depicted on screen in an old-fashioned way.

Back in the 1950s and 1960s, war movies followed an established template that pitted the "good guys" (often Americans) against the "bad guys." Such films focused on battles and usually ended with a hard-fought victory. In the wake of the unpopular Vietnam War, however, a new breed of war films emerged. Those focused on the less heroic aspects of combat, often with brutal depictions of the associated carnage. There was also greater attention paid to the difficulties many soldiers had re-acclimatizing to life at home. A majority of war films made post-1970 fell into this category with traditional/throw-back fare representing exceptions. 12 Strong fits into the "exception" category.

The tone falls just short of the macho, kick-ass feeling of a fictional action story. Although the film acknowledges that war isn’t exclusively a rah-rah experience, it tends toward glorifying combat rather than emphasizing its dehumanizing aspects. Of course, that’s by intent. Director Nicolai Fuglsig (making his feature debut) has set out to provide a testosterone-laced, visceral account of events in Afghanistan during October 2001; his intention isn’t to offer a dark exploration of the impact of war on the psyche. To that extent, he is successful. The battle scenes are well filmed, replete with the requisite doses of adrenaline. There are instances of suspense and moments of intensity. Although the characters are all types, the performances are strong enough that we identify with them despite their lack of depth.

The story at the foundation of 12 Strong is based on the events related in Doug Stanton’s non-fictional book, Horse Soldiers. Some changes have been made to allow for a "more cinematic" experience, but the essence of the narrative remains true to what really happened. Still, those interested in the full account are pointed toward the book; Fuglsig’s adaptation is interested primarily in pacing and excitement. The filmmakers’ few attempts to expand the canvas generally don’t work. The opening scenes, which establish family relationships, feel trite and perfunctory. Equally unconvincing is the relationship between one of the soldiers and the Afghan boy assigned to be his "protector." There’s also an out-of-place sequence showing a Taliban mullah killing a teacher for instructing girls in reading and math. I suppose this is intended to emphasize the evil of the Taliban but it feels gratuitous and unnecessary.

Following a brief prologue set on and shortly after September 11, 2001, 12 Strong takes the action to Afghanistan, where a detachment of Green Berets joins forces with warlord Abdul Rashid Dostum (Navid Negahban), one of the leaders of the Northern Alliance. Although Dostum’s goal is to take Mazar-i-Sharif from the Taliban, this proves to be a tactically difficult task even with U.S. air support. The 12 Green Berets are led by Captain Mitch Nelson (Chris Hemsworth) and his Chief Warrant Officer Hal Spencer (Michael Shannon). Other notable members of the group are Sergeant Sam Diller (Michael Pena) and Sergeant Ben Milo (Trevante Rhodes).

Arguably, the most interesting aspect of the battle for Mazar-i-Sharif is the way it combines 18th century equipment and tactics with state-of-the-art late 20th century weaponry. To that end, Nelson and his compatriots charge into battle on horseback … after calling in bombing runs from B52s cruising at 30,000 feet. Donald Rumsfeld referred to this attack as "the first American cavalry charge of the 21st century."

Lack of psychological complexity and character development shouldn’t be held against 12 Strong. The movie does a good job at what it sets out do and will likely please the target demographic (those who have appreciated other recent patriotic films like American Sniper and Lone Survivor). It’s well made and, although not sufficiently deep or thematically rich to stand the test of time, it offers a salute to courage, determination, and the importance of diplomacy in developing and cementing alliances. For those who enjoy war films, especially those with an "old fashioned" bent, 12 Strong offers two solid hours.

Available for home viewing: Fifty Shades Freed ★★

Spoiler alert: There’s a spoiler in paragraph 4. Is it a big deal? Depends on how deeply you’re invested in these characters and whether you’ve read the books. It’s there but it won’t ruin the movie if you inadvertently read it.

Although there are numerous problems with Fifty Shades Freed, the third and final installment of E.L. James’ trilogy, the fundamental one is also the most obvious: the lack of a compelling story. To the extent that the Fifty Shades movies have been about the redemption of Christian Grey (Jamie Dornan) by his love of Anastasia Steele (Dakota Johnson), the transformation was completed at the end of the second film, Fifty Shades Darker. At that time, Christian had finished the long, laborious character arc starting at Patrick (American Psycho) Bateman and finishing at Michael Bolton. Fifty Shades Freed opens with the Grey wedding, beginning the third movie at the point where most romances conclude. The inconsistent, occasionally tortured narrative argues why the "happily ever after" period is rarely explored.

Now that Ana and Christian are together, the production (like the novel upon which it is based) has to figure out what to do with them. It dabbles a little in what could be called "post-wedding" melodrama, in which the couple copes with having to compromise on things like whether Ana will change her name from "Anastasia Steele" to "Anastasia Grey." Determining that this isn’t sufficiently interesting to maintain audience interest, things slide into cheap thriller territory with Ana’s former boss, the stalker/kidnapper Jack Hyde (Eric Johnson), haunting our heroine while her husband tries to micromanage her life. The movie even goes so far as to have a car chase, although I doubt the Fast and Furious filmmakers will be contacting director James Foley for advice.

As has been the case with the series since Fifty Shades of Grey, this is all about attractive people getting naked and having kinky BDSM-flavored sex. For those who are on hand strictly to see bare flesh, Fifty Shades Freed doesn’t disappoint. Johnson shows off her breasts on a fairly regular basis and, although the camera never strays much below Dornans navel, the rest of him gets good exposure. Despite all the nudity, however, there’s not much steam or genuine eroticism. The sex scenes are strangely mechanical and devoid of passion. It’s probably a mixture of three things: directorial decisions, a lack of chemistry between the leads, and viewer apathy.

I would guess that constraints inherent in James’ book limited screenwriter Niall Leonard (who is married to the author) from doing anything surprising or intriguing with the characters. A couple of scenes (Ana doffing her top outside at a resort and some risky public car sex) indicate that the plucky heroine might have a thing for exhibitionism but, rather than explore that avenue, the movie falls back on trysts in the red room and stale drama like (SPOILER!) what happens when Ana forgets about birth control. And, because all romances are about lovers finding one another, Fifty Shades Freed is forced to find a way to sever Ana and Christian’s relationship so it can bring them back together.

Of the three movies, this is the least aggravating. Maybe that’s because the thinly-drawn characters have grown on me (like a fungus). Or it could be because I don’t care enough to eviscerate this one with the same level of venom I used for its predecessors. I didn’t hate the movie and there’s sufficient eye candy to keep it from being a complete snoozer. Fans of Ana and Christian may be glad to take one last trip around the block with these two. Although Fifty Shades Freed is forgettable, it’s not godawful. Somehow, I doubt Universal will use that quote for marketing purposes.

Available for home viewing: Thoroughbreds ★★★

Thoroughbreds is a dark comedy/thriller that calls to mind a couple of films from the 1990s: the somewhat obscure Fun and Heavenly Creatures, a title that became a calling card for both director Peter Jackson and actress Kate Winslet. This new movie, written and directed by first-timer Cory Finley, anchors its narrative to the same premise: an unhealthy attachment between two outwardly normal teenage girls. Their amorality, coupled with a sense of entitlement and lack of empathy, leads to murderous thoughts and plans that could evolve into more than the idle daydreams of two bored young women. Although there are a few missteps, the movie boasts a deliciously dark tone that makes for compelling viewing.

Finley isn’t afraid to experiment with unconventional blocking and angles. The opening scene is an example as the camera follows Amanda (Olivia Cooke) from an over-the-shoulder perspective as she explores the ground-floor level of the mansion where her one-time schoolmate and soon-to-be-tutor, Lily (Anya Taylor-Joy), lives. (Erik Friedlander’s unconventional, discordant score punctuates the visuals.) Like Amanda, we are strangers getting to know the locale where many key scenes will later transpire. Late in the film, a crucial sequence captured using a long take (with a slow zoom) relies more on sound than imagery to convey what’s happening. It’s an effective bit of restrained filmmaking that few directors would attempt in this era of show-me-everything.

We come to learn that Amanda is not a conventional girl. She claims to have no emotions — she can feel hunger and fatigue but not love or grief or joy. Her mother has paid Lily to keep Amanda company while tutoring her but the relationship between the two girls quickly becomes toxic. When Lily expresses her dislike of her rich, domineering step-father, Mark (Paul Sparks), Amanda calmly suggests murder as a solution to the problem. Although initially horrified by the notion, Lily begins to warm to it. Consideration begets action and the two girls hire a local loser drug dealer, Tim (Anton Yelchin in his final role), to commit the deed. But, with Tim not being an ideal hitman, things don’t go as planned.

One of the film’s strengths is the interaction between Amanda and Lily. Both young actresses, Cooke (the dying girl Rachel in Me and Earl and the Dying Girl) and Taylor-Joy (the accused daughter Thomasin in The Witch), give sterling performances and evince strong, albeit unusual, chemistry. Cooke conveys Amanda’s supposed lack of emotion with just enough ambiguity that we wonder, and Taylor-Joy gives the initially skittish Lily a creepy edge. The film’s strongest scenes are when these two are together, playing off one another. The sexual undercurrent is buried deep — far deeper than in either Fun or Heavenly Creatures — but it’s there for anyone who looks.

There are a couple of missteps. Amanda’s backstory, which involves a horse, is not well integrated into the overall tale. The ending, although shot in an interesting way, is anticlimactic and narratively disappointing. It works but the climax, in concert with the epilogue, left me feeling a little flat. Maybe it’s just that I would have enjoyed spending more than 90 minutes in the company of such damaged, psychologically fascinating characters.

Finley’s dark twist on the female coming-of-age story represents one of the more daring independent releases of the past few months and is worth seeing as much for its subdued thriller aspects as for its warped sense of humor, which permeates the character building and dialogue. The ending may feel abrupt but problems with the final scenes don’t diminish the pleasures to be had from all that precedes them.

Available for home viewing: Maze Runner: The Death Cure ★½

If I knew definitively what the plural was for the term deus ex machina, I’d apply it here. Rarely can I remember a movie filled with so many miraculous rescues and associated contrivances.

The Death Cure represents the final chapter in a movie series that made it to the finish line. That’s about the best thing that can be said about the three-film Maze Runner saga (unlike, for example, Divergent, which as a result of the dumb decision to bifurcate the final book, has left the conclusion untold). In the small world of cinematic dystopian Young Adult serials, The Maze Runner has always seemed like an also-ran and it’s surprising that Fox decided to pony up the money for The Death Cure after the anemic performance of The Scorch Trials. After watching this overlong, bloated excuse for a climax, I can argue that the studio would have been better off pocketing the money and walking away.

Fully three quarters of The Death Cure is an extended chase (with occasional breaks for exposition) in which our brooding hero, Thomas (Dylan O’Brien) and his faithful pal, Newt (Thomas Brodie-Sangster), seek to rescue their buddy, Minho (Ki Hong Lee), from the clutches of scientist Ava Paige (Patricia Clarkson), and her pet guard-dog, Janson (Aidan Gillen). Ava has been joined in the lab by Thomas’ love interest, Teresa (Kaya Scodelario), who betrayed all the good guys at the end of the second film. The rescue eats up an interminable amount of The Death Cure’s unnecessarily protracted running time and, after boring us to death, the story finally gets around to wrapping things up.

Little about The Death Cure can be considered satisfying on any level. Canyon-sized plot holes remain, salvation frequently comes out of thin air, and character motivations become matters of narrative convenience. The script identifies a fascinating bio-ethical dilemma then quickly dispatches it by making it irrelevant. There are a few deaths but not as many as one would expect and several characters escape situations that should have had them strolling off alongside The Grim Reaper.

Behind the scenes, O’Brien proved his dedication to his craft by sustaining a serious injury in a stunt-gone-wrong then returning to work as soon as he was healed. His performance, sadly, hasn’t improved since the previous film. The movie ignores the obvious chemistry between O’Brien and actress Rosa Salazar (who plays Brenda) by insisting that Thomas’ one true love is Teresa (played by a strangely robotic Scodelario, who seems to have given up on the series). The irony here is that, in James Dashner’s source novel, Thomas and Brenda fell in love, but the script decided not to incorporate this detail. Meanwhile, Gillen, who seems to have taken Littlefinger a little too much to heart, is good at being sneaky and conniving but isn’t sufficiently frightening to be The Big Bad Villain.

The Death Cure is the worst of the three Maze Runner movies, although the drop-off from The Scorch Trials isn’t that steep. Director Wes Ball has displayed a strange consistency across the series. With the exception of the first half of The Maze Runner (which was actually quite good), the movies have been long, tedious, and rarely engaging. The action scenes have been poorly choreographed and chaotically presented. Picking through the debris, I can find one compliment — the movies are visually interesting. That’s something, I guess.

The YA movie flame burned brightly for a few years before essentially being snuffed out by changing tastes (the genre, while not dead, has fallen back into the niche from whence it came) and Hollywood greed. By the time The Maze Runner got going, the downward trend was evident. The Death Cure will likely be the last YA book adaptation to make it to the screen and it already feels anachronistic — something that might have worked on some level four or five years ago but utterly fails in today’s climate. Pointless, loud, seemingly longer than a Peter Jackson film, and missing a credible story, The Death Cure is for Maze Runner completists only and even they will probably be disappointed (and perhaps horrified) by the divergence between the book and the movie.