Things Heard and Seen Synopsis: After moving to a small town with her husband (James Norton), Catherine (Amanda Seyfried), a young artist begins to suspect that their newfound home may harbor a sinister secret.
Netflix has built a robust film library during its meteoric rise, but I’ve always wished the streamer did more to embrace horror’s unnerving allures. Horror plays best in home entertainment’s tight-knit setting, allowing audiences to manifest their own discomfort as the dreary atmosphere builds onscreen. Aside from a few accomplished offerings (His House, Gerald’s Game, and Apostle), the streamer’s slew of blandly flavored enterprises have come and went without much fanfare.
Looking to change that is the handsomely crafted gothic scarer Things Heard and Seen. Despite boasting a sturdy cast and premise, this stagnate effort does little to get under audience’s skin.
Unlike other lukewarm vehicles, Things Heard and Seen at least holds a substantive pulse. Writer/directors Robert Pulcini and Shari Springer Berman implement mannered filmmaking techniques to dig into Catherine and George’s lingering marital dysfunction. The buttoned-up choices are a fitting complement to the film’s dive into distrust and unearthed frustrations, often enhancing the spooky haunted house aesthetics through their sense of purpose. Pulcini and Berman perhaps leave their largest impact through their atmospheric tendencies. Their somber setting and its haunting echoes serve as an apt magnifying chamber for the characters’ internal struggles.
A capable veteran cast also helps keep viewers engaged. Amanda Seyfried has a knack for displaying nuanced emotion through subtle techniques, skillfully personifying Catherine’s dual struggles with impactful conviction. James Norton imbues a smug charisma fitting of George’s performative actions, while F. Murray Abraham and Natalia Dyer steadily elevate their thinly structured roles.
Pulcini and Berman’s film presents poise and promise with every frame, but the duo can’t fully implement the premise’s allures. After a first half bursting with pertinent ideals, the screenplay’s second half whisks audiences into a formulaic tale of psychosis. The lack of follow-through prevents anything from being built on top of the promising foundation, settling for well-trudged horror mechanics amidst a narrative that could have made a stronger statement (I don’t think the film does enough to intertwine its horror and character ambitions). For most horror audiences, Things Heard and Seen will be a detour into been-there-done-that conventions.
I could stomach the potent sense of deja vu if the film did more to revitalize its conventions. While capable across the board, Pulcini and Berman lack the distinctive verve needed to compel viewers. Well-choreographed, yet lifeless visual frames rarely indulge in the premise’s haunted happenings, leaving a narrative that often feels too timid to truly scare. Things Heard and Seen honestly works better as a domestic drama, as once the film tries to reveal its horrific hand, it only reveals a played-out platter of toothless scares.
Things Heard and Seen rarely takes a major stumble, but the slow-build tale dully develops towards a fairly inert conclusion.
Things Heard and Seen releases on Netflix on April 30th.
After a relatively high-profile March, April looks to reprieve audiences before the summer movie season. Still, there are a plethora of under-the-radar gems for audiences to discover (The Virtuoso, Stowaway, and Moffie), so let’s get started on this month’s new release breakdown!
THE VIRTUOSO – Directed by Nick Stagliano
The VirtuosoSynopsis: Danger, deception, and murder descend upon a sleepy country town when a professional assassin (Anson Mount) accepts a new assignment from his enigmatic mentor and boss (Anthony Hopkins). Given only where and when along with a cryptic clue, the methodical hitman must identify his mysterious mark from among several possible targets, including a friendly local (Abbie Cornish) who begins to connect with the hitman.
Dozens of disposable VOD actioners crowd the market space every month, with most of these half-hearted efforts achieving the bare minimum in their attempts to please general audiences. That being said, this endless content factory does produce a few pleasant surprises. Shimmering like a luminous diamond in the rough, Nick Stagliano’s taunt cloak-and-dagger thriller The Virtuoso shines way above its VOD paygrade.
Stagliano isn’t shy to pay tribute to his inspirations. Similar to insular assassin stories like Killing Them Softly and The American, the direction bakes icey layers of paranoia and deceit into every frame. Stagliano’s sturdy patience stands as a strong match to the assassin’s solemn professionalism, with flourishes like internal narration and vivid planning descriptions placing audiences in the protagonist’s mindset. The veteran ensemble also deserves praise for their intelligently tempered performances. Anson Mount boasts poised charisma as an assassin longing for a sense of purpose, while Abbie Cornish and Anthony Hopkins steal the show with their textured performances (Hopkins melancholic monologue exhibits his remarkable strengths).
However, the all-around prestigious delivery consistently overcompensates for a by-the-numbers screenplay. James C. Wolf’s effort shines with its vivid narration and well-choreographed exchanges, but the narrative follows a strangely predictable path considering the mystery-based premise. The lack of detailed character development also can’t mask the looming sense of familiarity. A few admirable attempts to shade the synonymous characters’ lingering paranoia and isolation are too inert to connect with their intended impact.
For what it its trying to be, The Virtuoso scores fairly high marks. This is a sleek, sensual, and occasionally-complex descent into the mind of a jaded assassin.
Lionsgate will release the crime thriller THE VIRTUOSO in Select Theaters and Everywhere You Rent Movies on April 30th; on Blu-ray and DVD May 4th.
GOLDEN ARM – Directed by Maureen Bharoocha
Golden Arm Synopsis: When her best friend, Danny, ropes her into taking her spot at the Women’s Arm Wrestling Championship, Melanie, who is a baker, must trade whisks for barbells to compete against the reigning champ for a chance at the grand prize.
Buddy comedies are a familiar comfort food fixture, boasting enough feel-good entertainment for audiences to forget about the film’s formulaic design. Maureen Bharoocha’s new film Golden Arm embraces the genre’s loose energy to produce an agreeable comedy detour.
Much of Golden Arm’s charm comes from its well-matched leads. Mary Holland and Betsy Sodaro often carry the narrative with their sharp comedic abilities, with the two developing a natural rapport as oddball friends who bring out the best in each other. Holland impressively holds her own distinct comedic mannerisms to liven up Melanie’s insular persona, while Sodaro commands the screen through her sheer force of nature. Both stars have a blast throughout this playful comedy. Golden Arm’s cheeky premise finds plenty of avenues for playful barbs, as screenwriters Jenna Milly and Ann Marie Allison embrace a melody of well-articulated comedic setpieces (the arm wrestling itself holds some surprising steaks).
There’s a certain earnestness propelling Golden Arm, even as the film travels through extremely formulaic territory. Audiences are unlikely to find anything particularly new about Bharoocha’s film, but this spirited and well-meaning comedy ably whisks audiences along its familiar ride.
Golden Arm releases In Theaters and On Digital on April 30th.
STOWAWAY – Directed by Joe Penna
Stowaway Synopsis:On a mission headed to Mars, an unintended stowaway accidentally causes severe damage to the spaceship’s life support systems. Facing dwindling resources and a potentially fatal outcome, the crew is forced to make an impossible decision.
Director Joe Penna has endured a remarkable journey to success, grinding his way on YouTube before striking big with 2019’s survival thriller Arctic. Penna opts for a similar approach with Stowaway, a close-quarters project originally conceived to be Penna’s filmmaking debut (Arctic was going to be a spin-off until The Martian stole its Mars survivalist thunder). While much of Penna’s skilled touch is left intact, this lukewarm thriller can’t quite achieve its admirable eye for realism.
Stowaway certainly boasts a sturdy center. Penna’s filmmaking displays precision and texture despite working within indie budget assets, shooting the spaceship’s tight-corners with arresting dynamism (his usage of tracking shots and steady framing often embrace). I continue to find his grounded storytelling to be a refreshing change-of-pace from most bombastic space features. Similar to Arctic, the embrace of pragmatic conversations and developments help imbue the central conflict with a pressing sense of agency.
Where Arctic was able to thrive with its naturalistic minimalism, Stowaway can’t quite revitalize formulaic storytelling. There are a few impactful twists buried within the unconventional third act, but a majority of the narrative beats feel ripped from superior science fiction stories. A well-suited cast does their best to prop up the material (including a breakout from Shamier Anderson’s vulnerable performance). As solid as they may be, none of the characters receive the screentime to build authentic layers upon their blank-slate protaginsts.
I certainly would not call Stowaway a bad film, it just doesn’t do enough to materially build upon its barebones foundation. Still, I am excited to see where Penna goes with his promising career.
Stowaway premiers on Netflix April 22nd in the US and on Amazon Prime internationally.
MOFFIE – Directed by Oliver Hermanus
Moffie Synopsis: A young man drafted into South Africa’s military, but he knows he is different and must keep himself hidden. However, when another recruit develops an intimate relationship with them, they are now both in danger.
War is a merciless battleground full of external strifes, although not all war films center their focus on grizzly conflicts. Joining the likes of Jarhead and GI Jane, Oliver Hermanus’ latest film Moffie digs into the insular struggles of a closeted soldier overcoming his bigoted environment. The director’s remarkably empathetic eye touches upon his subject matter with raw emotionality and verve.
Moffie consistently unearths powerful sentiments from its premise. Hermanus strikes genuine chords throughout his runtime, with his free-flowing camera work smoothly capturing each hectic moment behind the scenes. His film works best not only as a character study but as a deeper reflection of the environment’s over-masculine tendencies. Whether it’s the pushing of prejudicial ideas or the commonplace roughhousing that picks vulnerable soldiers apart, it’s clear our protagonist’s biggest obstacles don’t lie on the battlefield.
While Hermanus’ film doesn’t create the most nuanced statement (his penchant for lingering silence is agreeable, but the characters could’ve used a few more textures to personify them), Moffie lands with a lasting impact. I am excited to see where Hermanus goes next for his career.
Moffie premiered in theaters and on VOD on April 9th.
Mortal Kombat Synopsis: MMA fighter Cole Young (Lewis Tan) seeks out Earth’s greatest champions in order to stand against the enemies of Outworld in a high-stakes battle for the universe.Classic Mortal Kombat characters like Sonya (Jessica McNamee), Kano (Josh Lewis), Jax (Mechad Brooks), Scorpion (Hiroyuki Sanada), and the villainous Subzero (Joe Taslim).
While some may dispute the trend, quality video game movies have arisen from the subgenre’s run of dreadful dumpster fires (from Super Mario Bros to the Uwe Boll catalog, the list goes on). Recent titles like Monster Hunter, Sonic the Hedgehog, and Tomb Raiderdisplay a keen understanding of their source material’s allures, crafting colorful popcorn entertainment rifts in the spirit of their interactive predecessor. Even with a few formulaic falterings, these sturdy films still exhibit the type of adoration and understanding adaptations need to succeed.
After a two-decade hiatus on the silver screen, the guilty pleasure gruesomeness of Mortal Kombat is returning in a modernized new package. Director Simon McQuoid’s debut isn’t without formulaic studio handholding, but his infectious embrace of the material’s dopey penchant for violence carries through where it counts.
For those unacquainted with Mortal Kombat’s verbose brutality, this cinematic adaptation won’t generate the best first impression. The studio-friendly script constraints itself from the start within the game’s vast world-building, as the trio of writers(Greg Russo, Dave Callaham, and Oren Uziel) oddly center their narrative around fresh-faced protagonist Cole Young. The character is a blandly-flavored amalgamation of other action protagonists, stealing development from personable fan favorites deserving of more attention (I demand justice for Kung Lao).
I’d say Mortal Kombat has a lingering Cole Young problem (not a discredit to Lewis Tan, who elevates the role as much as possible). This new protagonist stands for the type of needless meddling that executives enact upon these adaptations, trying to force a sense of foundation that the material desperately doesn’t need. Seriously, who needs a contrived character backstory and poorly-written diatribes when daunting foes are performing bone-crushing acrobatics?!?! Both the script and McQuoid’s direction don’t push boundaries enough outside of traditionalist Hollywood formula.
Even after establishing my misgivings, I can’t deny having a blast throughout Mortal Kombat’s runtime. McQuoid’s film may lack in substantive departments, but his spirited effort relishes the game’s adoration for creative carnage. He creates well-staged action setpieces ripped straight from the game’s outrageous choreography (I loved the winking inclusion of the unblockable swing kick and other maneuvers), seasoning each bone-crunching fatality with endless buckets of comical bloodshed. Busy sequences are accented with a melody of framing sensibilities and poised camerawork, with McQuoid expressing his action expertise despite being a newcomer to blockbuster spectacle.
I also credit the director for operating with a sly sense of self-awareness. His frantically-paced film blows past each tired plot beat to throw in as much MK iconography as possible (two characters literally pause their conversation to break out in a battle). It may not please most critics, but I am glad McQuoid never loses focus on what diehard fans want to see. Each clever reference and playful barb imbue enough care to create a loving adaptation for the target audience (although, a little less Kano wouldn’t have hurt things).
Mortal Kombat’s dopey theatrics are on display even when the action isn’t onscreen. Whenever the script drifts away from Cole’s melodrama, the eccentric ensemble flashes their boisterous personas while properly representing their virtual avatars (the over-written dialogue feels like a playful ode to antiquated machismo one-liners). Is the acting going to win any Oscars? Certainly not, but the overt hamminess has a certain appeal within this generally nonsensical universe. Similar to the game, the film achieves a level of low-rent theater that isn’t without charm.
I can’t begrudge anyone for pinpointing Mortal Kombat’s myriad of flaws. This shameless adaptation makes no bearing about its unpretentious approach. For fans of the brand like myself, that strategy scores enough victories to jumpstart a promising new era of brutal fatalities.
Mortal Kombat is available in theaters worldwide alongside a day-and-date HBO Max release domestically.
The Mitchells vs the Machines Synopsis: After Katie Mitchell (Abbi Jacobson) is accepted into the film school of her dreams, her family (Danny McBride, Maya Rudolph, and Michael Rianda) decides to use this opportunity to drive Katie to school as a road trip. When their plans are interrupted by a tech uprising, the Mitchells realize that they must work together to save the world.
I’ve got to be honest, most of Hollywood’s mainstream animated efforts have lost my interest. While there are the occasional gems (last year had two with Souland Wolfwalkers), most animated films feel like factory-assembled products. Studios copy and paste the same tired narrative formula, gluing in a who’s who ensemble of actors and tired pop culture jokes to excite kids and adults alike. Duds like Trolls World Tour and Scoob exasperate the fatigue of this dynamic, ultimately highlighting the utter soullessness behind these colorful products.
Just when I was starting to lose my faith, producer wonderkids Phil Lord and Christopher Miller (Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse) save the day with The Mitchells vs the Machines. Acting as a dynamic breakout for director, writer, and co-star Michael Rianda (Jeff Fowler also co-wrote and co-directed), The Mitchells soars with endless waves of creativity and affability.
Every frame of The Mitchells vs the Machines sings with tremendous attention to detail. With his narrative debut, Rianda and his team of skilled animators create a clever concoction of animated styles, blending the expressive detail of 2D animation with the limitless range of typical 3D efforts. Their thoughtful techniques imbue a distinct visual identity onscreen, with a melody of playful flourishes cleverly accenting the Mitchells’ quirky sensibility (this is one of the few features to combine YouTube visuals in a way that feels cohesive). Rianda and his team infectiously operate like kids playing in the sandbox. Every scene oozes with creatively formed details that consistently amuse and surprise audiences (no spoilers, but let’s just say an old-time toy gets transformed into a Godzilla-esque creation).
Thankfully, Rianda’s visual vibrancy is matched with what’s under the surface. He and Rowe dream up a thoughtful screenplay chock-full of satirical commentary on our own tech-obsessed tendencies. It could have been easy for these gags to feel too cutesy for their own good, but neither writer allows their film to talk down to audiences. The film’s insights are adept and hilarious due to the material’s divine truth, understanding how our populous’s over-reliance on technology could lead to physical and emotional alienation (I think this is an important message for kids growing up in this new age of tech).
The well-constructed thematic elements mesh beautifully with the film’s emotional core. Where most family films handle familial dynamics with careless simplicity, Rianda and Rowe take a nuanced look into a critical time of adolescence. As Kaite grows into her own as a verging adult, she clashes with her parents, as they are still growing to understand who Kaite is becoming. The writers look into this delicate transitional period with emotion and much-needed specificity. Under each argument and critique, the familial unit radiates with deeply-seated care for one another. Credit to the boisterous voice cast for enhancing their emotive roles, with Abbi Jacobson and Danny McBride being particular standouts as the vulnerable daughter-father pair.
The Mitchells vs the Machines could become a new animated staple for some, but there are still lingering missteps holding the film back from all-time greatness. As much as I love the script’s thematic and emotional elements, the narrative structure is as tired as it gets. The characters’ journey to save the world gets a bit too busy at times with flashy visuals and bombastic setpieces. As good as the action looks, it’s far less interesting than what’s going on with the script’s more thoughtful elements.
Minor issues aside, I had a blast with The Mitchells vs the Machines. Brimming with creative energy and earnest intentions, this should be the early frontrunner for next year’s Best Animated Feature race.
The Mitchells vs the Machines opens in select theaters on April 23rd before premiering on Netflix April 30th.
The Comeback Trail Synopsis: Indebted to the mob, two low-rent movie producers (Robert De Niro as Max and Zach Braff as Walter) try to save themselves by setting up an aging western star (Tommy Lee Jones as the once-famed Duke Montana) for a deadly insurance scam.
The quirky and occasionally obtuse machinations behind big-screen projects have become a feature-worthy subject on their own accord (most recently withMankand The Disaster Artist). I have an inherent fascination with this inside-baseball perspective, as these subversive efforts exhibit the imperfect chaos behind a plethora of cinematic staples.
As a same-name remake of the fairly obscure 1982 comedy, writer/director George Gallo’s latest The Comeback Trail spins a satirical yarn centered on Hollywood’s seedy underbelly. The concept’s promise should modernize nicely with the industry’s rampant malpractice, but Gallo’s passably amusing film only operates in a colorfully vapid light.
To Gallo’s credit, The Comeback Trail possesses more gumption than his recent efforts (looking at you, Vanquish). The director’s playful embrace of the sleazy 70s setting chic displays a clear adoration for his subject matter, often setting an infectiously campy energy to mitigate other technical missteps. Gallo’s zippy hold on the material keeps the narrative beats engaging even as they travel through familiar territory.
I also praise the director for drawing dedicated performances from his rogue’s gallery of icons. It’s honestly been ages since Robert De Niro appeared this animated on screen. The Oscar stalwart basks in the scummy glow of his low-life producer protagonist, employing a plethora of sharp comedic touches to accent the character’s inherent unlikability. Morgan Freeman and Tommy Lee Jones also display their usual charms in supporting roles, with Jones often stealing the show as a mopping star tripping his way towards a potential comeback.
The Comeback Trail boasts enough spry comedic bits to entertain some, but I was left wanting more from the material’s blandly pleasant delivery. Gallo and co-writer Josh Posner lack the sharp tongue to say much within their premise, rarely taking opportunities to critique the industry’s antiquated norms and its single-minded desire for profits. Most of the comedic bits dumb themselves down in the favoring of repetitive pratfalls over sharply tuned observations. It’s a shame to see a premise with potent singularity utilized for simplistic, crowd-pleasing fare (a similar satire like Bowfinger found a far better balance between brains and humor).
The Comeback Trail never decides what kind of comedy it wants to be. Some elements hint at a darker, more nefarious spin on the premise’s hijinks (a fake trailer for one of Max’s horrible B-movie efforts shows some much-needed bite), but other moments settle for the most simplistic of gags. Whether it was a failure of nerve or a misunderstanding of the premise’s inherent strengths, Gallo’s well-intended efforts never discover a succinct identity onscreen.
While rarely a drag, The Comeback Trail misses on its chance to do much of interest with its promising premise. The lack of perspective greatly limits the film, but I do think it could find a suitable audience on streaming platforms.
