Author: Josiah Teal

Send Help – The BRWC Review

The latest film from horror and superhero visionary Sam Raimi, Send Help, hits theaters as a survival thriller with Raimi-esque scares. Written by the team that brought audiences a range of films from Baywatch to Freddy vs. Jason, Send Help blends dark laughs with terror as Linda Liddle (Rachel McAdams) and Bradley (Dylan O’Connor) fight to stay alive in the remote South Pacific. The premise alone lends itself to terror, but through the lens of Raimi returning to his mid-budget, high-concept roots of The Evil Dead, Send Help takes on a life of its own with genre-blending gusto.

Linda is quirky, endearing at times, but off-putting at others. She works hard, is a numbers whiz in corporate strategy, and is a massive Survivor fan; she is next in line for a significant promotion. Bradley underestimates Linda, passing her over for the new VP job in favor of his college buddy Donovan. Yet Bradley, in all his confidence, tells Linda, “Prove me wrong.” En route to close a deal in Thailand, the entire corporate team falls victim to a gruesome plane crash, save for Linda and Bradley. Out of the office and into the wild, Bradley is at the mercy of Linda. No amount of corporate speak or golf course skills has prepared him for the elements, and now Linda is the one in charge.

On the surface, Send Help can look like Misery meets Lord of the Flies. Bradley injures his leg in the crash, and he must rely on Linda to stay alive. However, recontextualizing the story post-reality-TV boom and, more importantly, post-Survivor adds a wrinkle to the narrative. The Survivor nods are more than set dressing and namechecks, but a catalyst to Linda’s agency in the story. Using a show like Survivor as a means to Linda’s actual survivor tale is an excellent, “show-don’t-tell” approach to storytelling. The choice reveals her personality outside the corporate world; what has her mocked by the executives leads to a power shift when stranded.

Watching Rachel McAdams as Linda, it’s impressive to remember she is the same performer who brought Regina George to the big screen. She also won hearts and garnered tears in The Notebook. McAdams plays Linda with a blend of strangeness and charisma that endears but still unnerves. But it fits her career and showcases her range. Having previously starred in Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness, seeing her take on a horror-adjacent role aligns with her work with Raimi. Dylan O’Connor, as a legacy-hire CEO, plays into his confidence and creates sympathy for an unlikable character. Both translate their performances into Raimi films, giving just enough nuance to make audiences wonder, “Am I cheering for the right person?”

Mark Swift and David Shannon hit the balance of black comedy and edge-of-your-seat scares in Send Help. Combined with Raimi’s visual style, the trio blends gruesome, gross violence with offbeat humor and the pacing of a good video-store-era gem. It’s the tone of a thriller with the gore of a horror. Swift and Shannon populate Linda and Bradley with personality choices ripped from modern Survivor, but blend them in a way organic to the story. Told within the wild world of Sam Raimi, Send Help is unpredictable until the closing credits, but it feels earned in every scene. Swift and Shannon weave in foreshadowing with ease, as nothing is without reason, from the books on Linda’s shelves to a knife allegedly washing up on shore.

Predictability has been the furthest thing from Raimi’s radar since he first stormed cinemas with The Evil Dead in 1981. Even though the majority of the 21st-century Raimi has brought audiences superhero films, he has remained visionary across genres. From Spider-Man 2’s epic train battle to Drag Me to Hell’s closing moments, Raimi is a director of style that becomes substance. But Send Help is not Doctor Strange zombie-dreamwalking in Multiverse of Madness, a note of horror inside another genre. Send Help is classic Raimi, more akin to Drag Me to Hell or even Darkman in its quirky, indie-inspired filmmaking. The atypical story structure of Evil Dead II, the irreverent humor of Army of Darkness, and the final-act twists across Raimi’s work all permeate Send Help in a way only he could.

Send Help finds balance and blends genres with ease. It comments on corporate life without being preachy. It gives enough information to guess twists without becoming predictable. And it provides McAdams and O’Connor with a vehicle to expand their repertoire without alienating their best qualities. Swift and Shannon, with Raimi, create symmetry throughout the story, wasting no space in the script or on screen, everything building to the cathartic, bloody frenzy of the final 15 minutes

Send Help is the latest in the growing trend of mid-budget films that push creative boundaries and achieve box-office success. From Oscar-worthy dramedies from A24 and Neon like Marty Supreme and Anora to elevated horror like Longlegs and Midsommar, it’s electrifying to see Sam Raimi joining the mid-budget renaissance with something as unique as Send Help. The filmplays on a few familiar tropes, but through the sharp storytelling of Sam Raimi and the seamless performances of the leads, Send Help shines in all its survival-horror glory.

David Lynch‘s The Straight Story is one of the most overlooked films in the Lynch canon. Released directly in the middle of the foreboding Lost Highway, and perhaps his masterpiece, Mulholland Drive, The Straight Story is unique in its normalcy. A biographical road drama released by Walt Disney Pictures seems a far cry from the man renowned for mesmerizing audiences with unnerving surrealism. Yet, The Straight Story earned Lynch a Palme d’Or nomination and an Oscar nod for Richard Farnsworth. Soon to be available for the first time on 4K HD and Blu-ray in the United Kingdom, the physical release gives audiences a chance to glimpse an often unseen side of Lynch’s work.

Alvin Straight (Richard Farnsworth) is in his 70s, living in a small Midwestern town, and long estranged from his brother, Lyle (Harry Dean Stanton). After a fall, Alvin receives news that his health is deteriorating. Years of hard living, the passing of his wife, and grief from his days in WWII have started to catch up with the stubborn farmer. In an attempt to reconnect with his brother, Alvin sets out across America on a riding lawnmower to find the last bit of adventure in the twilight of his life. Lynch chronicles the real-life story of Alvin Straight, rich with Americana and the freedom of a swan song.

Richard Farnsworth carries the narrative of The Straight Story. Alvin’s 240-mile odyssey spans the open road, as he meets grounded characters and confronts his own past. Farnsworth conveys emotional nuance and intelligence throughout his performance, especially in his eyes. It’s not Alvin’s tears causing the narrative payoff, but rather his almost tears, the buildup before the break. Whether facing the lightning storm before his journey or reflecting on his war regrets, Farnsworth captures the spirit of a man who lived in hardship but hopes to make amends within himself. Performances outside Farnsworth are rich with kindness, leading to a wholesome nature throughout Lynch’s take on the road drama genre.

Lynch’s long-time collaborator, Mary Sweeney, co-wrote The Straight Story with John Roach. The film serves as John Roach’s lone screenplay, yet it becomes an unexpected tonal shift in Lynch’s work. Sweeney would continue to collaborate with Lynch, editing Mulholland Drive. While The Straight Story lacks the surrealism of Lynch and Sweeney’s other works, it retains some of their quirks and, of course, some Lynchian dialogue. Characters still overreact to simple hangups or underreact to catastrophes; shooting a lawnmower to the point of explosion or arguing about why Alvin fell are prime examples. Among the few classic Lynchisms, Sweeney and Roach pack the script with a sense of warmth and comfort. Uncharacteristic in David Lynch’s work, yet it allows him to showcase his range as a director.

Family-friendly and cozy are far from descriptions for the man who created Eraserhead. However, The Straight Story is far from Eraserhead. The film is still very David Lynch, with idiosyncratic characters, thoughtful compositions, and a score setting the tone. Lynch keeps the heartfelt core and the emotional stakes but resolves rather than rejects catharsis. Alvin’s trek is anchored by Farnsworth’s performance, but through David Lynch’s lens, it transcends the screen and culminates in an earned, deeply human finale.

The physical release of The Straight Story is essential for Lynch fans and cinephiles alike. In an age of streaming, it’s easy to herald Blue Velvet or The Elephant Man; they’re shocking, evocative, made for cinematic discussion. But, taking the time to dive into The Straight Story is no less rewarding. It’s an overlooked and strange time in Lynch’s filmography, but it’s no less David Lynch. Though gone is the dreamlike logic and wild surrealism, David Lynch is no less the master of dreams. Rather than nightmarish dreamscapes or avant-garde nightclubs, the dreams of The Straight Story are as simple as the open road. And through the open road, Lynch reveals a sweetness seldom seen in his canon.

The Straight Story is available on 4K HD and Blu-ray on February 9th

Taking only six months for the sequel to hit theaters, 28 Years Later: Bone Temple picks up where Danny Boyle‘s return to the rage virus left off. The gang of tracksuit-wearing marauders from the previous film has adopted Spike. Meanwhile, Dr. Kelson maintains his work, preserving the skulls of those fallen to the zombie virus. Alex Garland returns to write Bone Temple, with original director Danny Boyle serving as a producer. Nia DaCosta, of Candyman (2021) fame, steps in as director, bringing a visceral touch of dread to the film alongside Boyle’s primal view of the apocalypse. With a third film awaiting a release date, Bone Temple expands on the world of the original while maintaining the intrigue for those awaiting part three.

Jimmy Crystal (Jack O’Connell) is the terrifying leader of “The Fingers”, the Power Rangers-meets-Hooligan gang from the epilogue of 28 Years Later. Young Spike (Alfie Williams), thinking he found salvation, soon realizes the horrors of Crystal’s gang as they torture fellow survivors in the name of Satan. Bone Temple interweaves Spike’s plight among humans with Dr. Kelson (Ralph Fiennes), who befriends “Sampson” (Chi Lewis-Parry), an infected alpha. Just as Dr. Kelson begins to find hope for the infected, the two stories merge as Jimmy Crystal spreads his mortifying brand of “charity” across the English countryside. Spike and Kelson reunite in a swarm of fire, carnage, and just a little Satanism.

Bone Temple lets the characters breathe. 28 Years Later had the seemingly impossible task of recapturing the heights of the original in a post-Walking Dead world of zombie entertainment. Yet, with character introductions and establishment mostly out of the way, Bone Temple lets the audience learn. Writer Alex Garland takes his time showcasing the psyche of the unhinged Jimmy Crystal, juxtaposed with the resolve of Dr. Kelson. The film comments on grief, how the mind copes with the end of days, and most of all, how the soul deals with the sins of the world. Kelson’s relationship with Sampson captures his compulsion to heal, even when the person is long-infected. While Crystal’s gang killing the innocent conveys the enduring zombie truth: that humans are the real monsters.

Ralph Fiennes‘s Dr. Kelson is a clear highlight of Bone Temple. Fiennes plays Kelson with such balance, orchestrating the emotional nuance of a man living in a temple of skulls while keeping a warmth that draws audiences in. Fiennes has played romantic leads in cheesy rom-coms like Maid in Manhattan and earned Oscar nominations for Schindler’s List and Conclave. He brought Lord Voldemort to life in the Harry Potter franchise and played the ever-professional concierge in The Grand Budapest Hotel, a career defined by range. And Bone Temple is no exception. Ralph Fiennes captures Kelson’s earnest philosophy and expands on it with a bit of unexpected whimsy, elevating the character from the first installment.

Alfie Williams is less present in Bone Temple than in 28 Years Later. He is still fantastic as Spike. However, 28 Years Later was Spike’s journey towards self-discovery, growing up knowing only a world ravaged by the undead. Bone Temple is the continuation of that arc, but it examines Spike within the context of compounding trauma. Jack O’Connell is devilishly charismatic as the demented gang leader and further cements Spike’s traumatic present through his portrayal of Jimmy Crystal. Erin Kellyman rounds out the main cast as Jimmy Ink, giving Spike a lifeline within the gang and setting up the third installment.

Despite Danny Boyle’s absence in the director’s chair, Nia DaCosta captures the mood of 28 Years Later. Needle drops, ranging from Duran Duran to Iron Maiden, give the film a vibrant sonic palette, imprinting the humanity within the chaos and delivering a memorable climax. While the bombastic, anarchic zombie chases of Boyle are fewer, DaCosta keeps the scale of the Bone Temple and weaves the narrative with pulse-pounding suspense. The horrors remain, but DaCosta grounds Bone Temple in the anxieties of Spike and Kelson more than the fear of the living dead. These anxieties do more than expand on the foundations of the previous film; they bridge the first film to the world of Bone Temple.

Some sequels are Terminator 2 or Aliens, taking the premise of the original and raising the stakes to heights audiences never thought possible. Some are Empire Strikes Back, expanding on the universe, adding backstory for the characters. But some sequels are like Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, expanding on the original and, more importantly, preparing the characters for the journey ahead. Bone Temple serves as the steps and choices Spike needs to take from the kid in 28 Years Later to the person he will become in the next film. The film focuses on Kelson, gives hints about the future of the rage virus, and sets up the premise for the end of Spike’s story. Bone Temple stands as a sequel worthy of the original and cements 28 Years Later’s place in a post-Walking Dead, post-Train to Busan world, offering a cathartic examination of life, death, and memento mori.

The third entry in James Cameron‘s box-office-conquering franchise, Avatar: Fire & Ash, brings audiences back to Pandora with the promise of recapturing the magic of the 2009 phenomenon. 2009’s Avatar had 9 Oscar nominations, is the highest-grossing film of all time, and has its own place at Disney World. It was enough to let James Cameron spend ten years developing a sprawling saga meant to rival Star Wars or The Lord of the Rings. Even with Best Picture nominations and financial success taken into account, Way of Water did not carry the same cultural currency as the original. Way of Water and Fire & Ash enter the box office in a post-MCU world. Avatar was a cultural touchstone when some of Hollywood’s biggest franchises were in their infancy. But in a world of franchise fatigue and unending shared universes, can James Cameron convey his vision beyond the screen and show audiences why Pandora meant so much in 2009? And more importantly, why does it matter in 2025?

Picking up soon after the events of Avatar: Way of Water, former Marine Jake Sully (Sam Worthington) and his family are struggling with the loss of their son. Jake is preparing for war, while his wife, Neytiri (Zoe Saldana), calls upon the goddess, Eywa, for guidance. The family is fracturing. After Jake and Neytiri decide to take their adoptive son, Spider (Jack Champion), to Neytiri’s tribe, the family does their best to find closure. But along the journey, the Sully family once again encounters the RDA’s wardog, Colonel Quaritch (Stephen Lang), accompanied by a new ally, the vicious cult leader Varang (Oona Chaplin). As Varang and Quaritch stalk the Sully family, it’s evident that she is something the likes of which Pandora has never seen.

Varangis is one of the most intense and interesting characters in the Avatar canon. Hailing from a tribe decimated by volcanic Ash, she spreads her destruction to Pandora with religious zeal. Teaming up with Colonel Quaritch, the RDA supplies Varang with all the weaponry she needs to cleanse Pandora through fire. Varang leaves destruction in her wake, making for a much more compelling villain than even the dreaded RDA. Skirmishes and splintering subplots follow as Avatar: Fire & Ash chronicles Quartich’s destructive alliance, Jake & Neytiri’s relationship, Sully’s family healing, Spider’s relationship with his father, and the spirituality of Pandora. Yet within the web of subplots, Jake Sully must once again face the dreaded RDA in a climactic battle of sky, earth, and water.

Cameron’s visual style is still Avatar‘s greatest strength. Whether it’s the depths of the ocean or the floating mountains of the sky, Pandora is as lush as ever. The bioluminescence, paired with James Horner’s original scoring motifs brought to life by composer Simon Franglen, brings the audience back to the world that made Avatar such a landmark of the late 2000s. Cameron offers kinetic aerial fights and a few Terminator 2-esque explosions, but shines most in the quiet beauty of Pandora. Franglen’s score accents Cameron’s cinematic storytelling, making Pandora feel as alive and spiritual as mythos suggests.

As with previous installments, the motion capture technology is impressive. Cameron’s ability to blend emotional nuance and the latest technology is a clear highlight of the franchise. Saldana, Worthington, Weaver, and Lang all add gravity to their roles and lose nothing to Mocap. Once again, Avatar pushes CGI, Mocap, and broad digital visualization further than ever before. Whether it’s the subtleties of Saldana’s grief-stricken opening or the vastness of Pandora’s landscape and wildlife, Cameron captures everything.

Performances throughout Fire & Ash are strong. Saldana balances Neytiri’s loss within a spiritual framework well. Sigourney Weaver is always a delight. And Worthington and Lang are always believable as hardheaded marines within a mystical world. However, the breakout performance in Fire & Ash comes from Oona Chaplin as Varang. Chaplin’s visceral performance channels elements of Mad Max: Fury Road and Citra from Far Cry 3, all to create a chaotic, unseen side to the Na’vi.

World design, performances, and cinematography have always been the staples of Avatar. They are the lifeblood of the franchise that makes Pandora feel real. Yet the biggest detractors of pure Pandora escapism in Fire & Ash are the spiraling and uneven subplots. Even within the three-hour-plus runtime, Fire & Ash introduces a variety of subplots to solve within minutes or leaves them open for hours without progress. Conflict between Jake and Neytiri springs from Neytiri’s prejudice towards her adoptive son, Spider, only to be resolved a few moments later. These narratives often lack subtext, as characters speak exactly what they feel.

2009’s Avatar structured Jake Sully’s arc through the “Pocahontas Narrative,” and, on that foundation, the core messages Cameron’s world radiates throughout the story. But as with Way of Water, Fire & Ash attempts to weave a massive ensemble story without dovetailing into a cathartic finale. By the time Fire & Ash reaches its showdown, overplotting dilutes the core arc of Spider, Jake, and Quaritch.

The box office may not reach the heights of the 2009 epic or Way of Water, but Fire & Ash will still maintain Avatar as a financial juggernaut. Cameron’s blend of technology and nature is always wondrous and worthy of silver screen exploration. Fire & Ash introduces vibrant new characters, while keeping the spectacle of an immersive, nostalgic experience.

But Fire & Ash is a mixed bag. For every bit of groundbreaking development or compelling character moments, the film offers dozens of subplots that undercut the overall flow of Cameron’s story. Even with Verang adding something unique to the franchise, she is missing from most of the second half. James Cameron maintains his originality and tech-driven direction throughout Fire & Ash, but unlike the original, the subtext is often missing beyond the scope of the story. The feeling of Pandora remains in the music, gorgeous scenery, and detailed world-building. Fire & Ash will be no stranger to the Academy Awards and will make plenty at the box office. Pandora still dazzles the visual senses, but without renewed narrative focus, Cameron’s world risks becoming a spectacle without the resonance of the original.

Set against the beautiful Tokyo skyline, Rental Family weaves a gripping character piece between minor moments that become life’s essence. Rental Family is directed and co-written by Hikari, known for her gripping character work in 37 Seconds and Netflix hit Beef. Hikari’s vision of Tokyo comes to life through the mastery of Brendan Fraser and an eclectic cast of performers. Fraser, coming off Killers of the Flower Moon and his Oscar win for The Whale, centers a film brimming with emotional nuance. Rental Family promises an engaging, empathetic experience from the opening frames and continues into the wellspring of joy, sorrow, and greatness that life offers.

Phillip (Brendan Fraser) is a struggling actor living in Japan. He has been in the country for 7 years and has only had a little success, in the form of a toothpaste commercial. As major roles continue to elude Philip, a unique opportunity presents itself: to act in someone’s daily life. Starting playing a “sad American” at a funeral, Philip soon takes a job at “Rental Family.” An acting job that sees Philip portraying a best friend, a love interest, someone to talk to, or whatever the client needs in their life.

As Philip begins his role at “Rental Family,” the lines between professionalism and genuine love begin to blur as he acts as a father for a young girl, Mia (Shannon Mahina Gorman), and a journalist to aging actor Kikuo Hasegawa (Akira Emoto). What begins as a father-daughter relationship to get Mia into a prestigious school soon turns into a friendship that enriches both of their lives. Just as Philip and Mia connect, Phillip and Kikuo begin to bond in ways transcending from actor-to-actor to person-to-person. But how long can the charade last? Rental Family handles regret, love, loss, and closure with a gentle hand, as Hikari balances Oscar-worthy drama with wholesome conversation.

The cast of Rental Family makes the text possible. The script alone is powerful, but it’s through the cast’s deep character choices that the film shines brightest. Gorman breathes life into Mia, taking a great character and adding wisdom beyond her years. She infuses the subtext of Hikari and Stephen Blahut’s words with rich emotion, instantly connecting the character to the film’s themes. Emoto’s eyes alone convey deep regret, yet his smile gives Kikuo the duality the character needs. Takehiro Hira and Mari Yamamoto are excellent as the Rental Family staff, adding further layers to the strong performances and empathy throughout Rental Family. Each of these performances is what the character needs, and each flows seamlessly into Brendan Fraser’s masterful work.

Brendan Fraser’s emotional depth and chemistry show no bounds. Audiences have seen Fraser’s chemistry in action in his pre-Y2K classics like The Mummy, as well as in cult hits like Airheads and Now & Then. The Whale allowed Fraser to explore his emotional range and chemistry further than ever before, earning him long-overdue accolades. Yet Rental Family builds on everything that came before, showcasing Fraser’s gentle sensibilities and warm spirit amid a tapestry of emotions. Philip is the catalyst of Rental Family. Philip’s actions drive the cathartic character arcs, and it is through Fraser’s depth and chemistry that each moment feels earned.  

From the mountains to the skyline to the cherry blossoms and bullet trains, cinematography soars in Rental Family. The shot placement tells the story beyond the words, allowing for the cast’s emotions to register for maximum impact. Beyond pure storytelling, cinematographer Takuro Ishizaka (of the gorgeous Rurouni Kenshin films) and director Hikari have created a visual love letter to Japan. The framing of Rental Family is art in its own right. But within the context of Hikari’s direction and Fraser’s performances, the art of Rental Family becomes an anchor for sentimentality.

Empathy is a core theme of Rental Family. But Hikari chooses to take Rental Family beyond pure empathy into compassion; the idea of putting empathy into action and attempting to create a more beautiful existence. Brendan Fraser is an incredible actor surrounded by a cast of great actors, but it’s through the rich characters they portray that compassion comes to the forefront. However, like Philip, the lines between reality and cinema begin to blur as Rental Family asks its audience to embrace themselves, to dare to build community, and to brave the idea of compassion. Hikari, Fraser, the entire cast and crew are worthy of any accolades of award season. But most of all, Rental Family is among the best films of 2025. From the performances to the direction to the sweet cinematography and the core idea of compassion, Rental Family is the film 2025 needs.