To get the basics out of the way, the directing, acting, and shot selection in Good Luck, Have Fun, Don’t Die all result in a generally well put together sci-fi adventure / satire. Some of the CGI in the third act doesn’t exactly dazzle, but it more than serves its purpose. From a technical perspective director Gore Verbinski does his part, and makes sure to add plenty of his signature off-kilter flair and humor. With that said, the screenplay is the real star of the show. Writer Matthew Robinson’s narrative and themes are what give the film its bite, and are what will stick with you long after the credits roll.

I honestly haven’t been this surprised by a film in a long time. The way Good Luck, Have Fun, Don’t Die tackles contemporary themes of AI, screen addiction, harmful escapism, school shootings (!), and the subsequent preying on the grieving deeply resonates. This is a film that defiantly shouts into the void – shouting at all we’ve already resigned ourselves to. It’s a film where the lead explicitly spells out, multiple times, that we and he have already lost to the matrix. There’s already giant cat-centaurs lurking about. However, while we might already be past the point of no return, it insists the good fight is still worth fighting anyway, no matter how long or how many times it takes.

As Sam Rockwell and his jolly band of misfits traverse the neighborhood and an escalating series of confrontations, from run of the mill hitmen to AI-children demigods, they continuously confront these very issues. We watch as they grapple with the disconnect between their own lived experiences and truths, and what the rest of society is telling them is now table stakes.

It takes an outsider (Michael Pena) to recognize that the schoolchildren are not alright and that the teachers have already accepted defeat. It takes a newly grieving mother (Juno Temple) to (somewhat) realize how society has commoditized the pain from school shootings instead of trying to stem the violence itself. These characters live in an absurd world that’s absurdly not too different than our own. The only difference being, they have a schizophrenic looking Sam Rockwell forcing them, under threat of murder-suicide, into actual action (well that, and again, the giant cat-centaur).

While everyone else has already succumbed to indifference, accepting that society has slipped away, Good Luck, Have Fun, Don’t Die reassures you that you aren’t crazy for noticing how far gone we are. It reassures you that it’s okay to scream, that it’s okay to point out this isn’t normal, and that it’s essential to remember this isn’t inevitable.

Good Luck, Have Fun, Don’t Die is a film that forces you to confront your reality, even if on the surface it’s not saying anything too revolutionary and might appear overly preachy at first blush. The themes it confronts are incredibly pertinent to the moment, and the way it navigates these tough conversations with a mix of absurdism and dark humor is masterful. Not even a third act that comes dangerously close to grinding the whole thing to a halt can derail it. Director Gore Verbinski definitely returned with a vengeance, and is hoping you’ll join him.

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Avatar: Fire and Ash follows the escalating conflict on Pandora as Jake Sully (Sam Worthington) and Neytiri (Zoe Saldana) process their son Neteyam’s death and encounter a new violent, fire-worshiping tribe led by fresh antagonist, Varang (Oona Chaplin). Varang makes quick friends with Jake’s recurring enemey, Colonel Miles Quaritch (Stephen Lang), and aids him in kidnapping his estranged son, Spider (Jack Champion), and capturing Jake for betraying the RDA (the human organization intent on exploiting Pandora for its plethora of valuable resources).

That’s a lot of moving pieces, and you can certainly tell that Avatar: Fire and Ash struggles to put them all into place. Similar to Avatar: The Way of Water, this latest film is noticeably choppy before it settles in for its major action set pieces. While James Cameron certainly delivers on the spectacle and action you would expect in an Avatar climax as he gets to smash all his toys together, the editing you have to endure to get to that point can be rather disorienting. Avatar: Fire and Ash is constantly jumping from topic to topic and scene to scene. The film will often quickly mention or show something, and then almost immediately reintroduce it as a core plot point or motivator. With so much to touch on and so many pieces to move, there’s simply not enough time to let everything breathe, even with a 3hr 17min runtime.

The constant focus shifts might be more forgivable with a more compelling script, but Avatar: Fire and Ash stumbles there as well. Lines are often… uninspired, to say the least. Prepare yourself to hear “bro” at least 1000 times and an out of place “no shit” when you least expect it. The line delivery also doesn’t help. Jack Champion is noticeably bad as Spider throughout, and is not improving as much as everyone had hoped between films. Having to listen to him flatly deliver his lines is incredibly grating. His character is essentially an excuse for the VFX artists to show off their CGI work with a human actor in frame. Honestly, it’s so impressive that it almost makes his character bearable. Almost.

On the bright side, the new villain, Varang, is the clear standout of the film. She injects the most new life into Avatar: Fire and Ash and easily steals the spotlight in any scene she’s in. Her ruthlessly violent personality and obsession with fire lets the film cleanly pair her up with Colonel Miles Quaritch (the big bad from the first movie, if you don’t remember). Varang’s legitimately fun and engaging character brings out the most from the Colonel, and let’s him shine as a much more compelling character than in Avatar: The Way of Water.

Even with all the above negativity, Avatar: Fire and Ash still manages to deliver some absolutely jaw dropping scenes. The stunning visuals, moving score, and triumphant battles all manage to pick up a bit of the slack from the remainder of the film’s parts. The climax is what Avatar: The Way of Water’s should have been, and feels as though it has finally closed the door on this latest arc. However, it also comes across as somewhat of retread of the prior film. For all the advertising focus on “fire”, Avatar: Fire and Ash largely sections itself off in the previously introduced water biomes. While the second film treats the audience to a fresh new corner of Pandora, this one struggles to establish its own identity.

While I will continue to defend the first Avatar and James Cameron’s obsession with this fascinating world, if the scripts are going to be this stilted with stuck in the mud narratives, then this franchise may be starting to overstay its welcome. At some point the visuals, score, and expansive lore of Pandora will start to buckle under the weight of all the mediocre baggage stacked on top. As of now this is still an experience worth seeing on the big screen, but noticeable cracks are starting to show. If this series is going to continue, hopefully Avatar: Fire and Ash represents James Cameron getting his toys in order, ready to move onto tighter, more focused entries.

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Warning! Spoilers for Kill Bill: Vol. 1, Kill Bill: Vol. 2, and Kill Bill: The Whole Bloody Affair below. If you haven’t already seen Vol. 1 and Vol. 2, please do yourself a favor and fix that.

Kill Bill: Vol. 1 & Vol. 2 (2003 & 2004) follow The Bride (Uma Thurman), a former assassin who awakens from a four year coma after her jealous ex-lover, Bill (David Carradine), attempts to have her murdered during her wedding rehearsal. We watch as she seeks to extract revenge against all those who wronged her, her husband to-be, and her unborn daughter. Both volumes are generally highly regarded for their slick editing and “jukebox” style – remixing the films, genres, songs, and tropes that Tarantino holds oh so dear. The pair are a true film nerd’s love letter to the medium.

With that said, the one major compromise Tarantino had to make when releasing the originals, is that he never wanted them to be separate works in the first place. He always envisioned them as one project, yet allowed himself to be (rightfully) convinced that a nearly five hour long film would not be commercially well-received. The Whole Bloody Affair is Kill Bill the way it was originally meant to be seen.

Not only does The Whole Bloody Affair stitch together the two original films along with an additional intermission, it completely re-frames Vol. 2. I personally always preferred Vol. 1, and at the risk of embarrassing myself, found Vol. 2 just a bit too slow, a little too down tempo… almost like it was the second, concluding half of a much more boisterous and indulgent affair (wink wink). With The Whole Bloody Affair removing Vol. 1’s cliffhanger reveal of The Bride’s child surviving the incident, and allowing us to go on that emotional journey with her, the entirety of Vol. 2 feels that much more coherent and impactful. Seemingly small changes made to connect these two films end up truly elevating the entire experience.

In addition to the obvious stitching together of Vol. 1 and Vol. 2, The Whole Bloody Affair also includes the iconic Crazy 88 fight scene in color. It’s fun and plenty bloody, but honestly the black and white version found in the original release is already a chic stylistic choice. So that change is a wash. In this latest version, you also get to see The Bride chop off Sofie Fatale’s (Julie Dreyfus) second arm, which again is neat, but doesn’t exactly add a whole new layer to the narrative. It’s an interesting addition that aids with continuity, but not much beyond that.

The largest source of new content actually comes in the form of an extended anime backstory for O-Ren Ishii (Lucy Liu). If you’re a sucker for badass 2D animation, this sequence delivers in spades. It might throw off the original film’s incredibly hard hitting timing just a smidge, but fans of the original definitely won’t mind spending a few extra minutes in this beautifully drawn flashback.

There’s also a… Fortnite tie-in after the credits? The Lost Chapter: Yuki’s Revenge animates an additional scene that Tarantino was never able to bring into the films, and feature’s Uma Thurman vocally reprising her role as The Bride. It depicts Gogo Yubari’s (Chiaki Kuriyama) twin sister, Yuki (Miyu Ishidate Roberts), seeking revenge on The Bride in Los Angeles for killing Gogo. It’s not particularly worth watching, and a number of in-universe Fortnite gags heavily weigh it down, but Tarantino clearly positions it as a thing unto itself and it isn’t worth getting up in arms over.

Overall, while the new scenes (both long and short) are welcome additions for long-time fans, the true value of Kill Bill: The Whole Bloody Affair is in what it does to elevate Vol. 2. No longer does Vol. 2 awkwardly act as the conclusion to a much more “exciting” film you watched either days or years prior. Now, it delivers its emotional punches and twists in real time, elevating the experience across both volumes of content. If you can find a theater to watch this in 70mm film, it only enhances the experience even further. Kill Bill: The Whole Bloody Affair is the definitive way to watch Quentin Tarantino’s love letter to cinema, and should be required viewing for any fans of the originals.

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The Running Man (2025) follows our hero, Ben Richards (Glen Powell), as he competes in the dystopian future’s most popular game show, “The Running Man”, to win the money his sick daughter (Alyssa Benn) and struggling wife (Jayme Lawson) need to escape the thralls of poverty. To do so, Ben must survive for 30 days while both professional assassins and goon squads hunt him down. Regular citizens even get in on the action by reporting his every move for reward money of their own. It’s a fight for survival as the show’s producer (Josh Brolin) progressively raises the stakes all in the name of ratings.

To address the positives first, Glen Powell turns in yet another compelling performance. Powell first showcased his leading man capabilities in 2023’s Hit Man, and he continues to showcase them here. His charisma and screen presence are often the only things holding The Running Man (2025) together, and they manage to do so without much strain. Colman Domingo also turns in a fun performance as Bobby Thompson, the show’s over-the-top, eccentric host who pursues audience engagement over all else. His flexible relationship with ideals like “truth” and “moral obligation” gives the film a sturdy thematic foundation to build off of.

Beyond the performances, there are a few chuckle-worthy gags in the later stages of the hunt, and an admittedly decent stretch in the second act where the film finds its rhythm.

Unfortunately, that’s about it for nice things to say, which brings us to The Running Man (2025)’s long list of issues. The biggest, and perhaps most disappointing, is that the film truly could have been directed by anyone. Edgar Wright’s trademark editing, witty dialogue, and impeccable pacing are all noticeably absent from the very first scene. Instead, the film blitzes through the first act with a clear lack of direction. Nothing is given time to breathe. Within 30 seconds Ben goes from promising to never go on the life threatening show to being fitted for his onscreen uniform, and it definitely doesn’t come across as intentional. The film never even gives us enough time to start caring about Ben’s sick daughter, which is rather problematic as her illness is the catalyst for the entire plot.

To extend an olive branch, The Running Man (2025) does obviously try and lean into the cheesy over-the-top satire the material lends itself to, but it never quite clicks. This then drags down all the other creative choices that were clearly made with that angle in mind. It also sadly gives the studio an excuse to jam in as much product placement as they can, and they certainly take advantage. Monster, anyone? No? How about some Liquid Death instead?

As previously mentioned, the The Running Man (2025) does start to find its stride in the second half, but horrific child acting and cringe-worthy reoccurring characters continually interrupt it. What’s worse, is that some of these awkward gags sneak back into the final moments of the film, robbing it of any opportunity to end on a high note. So what we’re left with is a rushed and messy first act, some passable action in the middle, and a rudely interrupted climax.

With all these structural issues you may be wondering if the film at least has any rich thematic layers to dig into. And deep down, you already know the answer. The Running Man (2025) only offers some very surface-level critiques of the media, and of its role in sowing division within and between social classes. It also, without ever name dropping the technology, gently warns of how AI can further those deceptions. Nothing particularly novel.

Ultimately, The Running Man (2025) falls short on multiple levels without ever crossing the line into being truly awful. Edgar Wright’s fingerprints are conspicuously missing, the pacing is haphazard and breakneck, many performances are downright embarrassing, and the film does its best to sabotage itself when it finally tries to land the plane. Add in the fact that it has shockingly little to say about a country run by a game show producer with roving bands of headhunter goons (bad or good), and I’d say to run far away from this one.

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The Suicide Squad (2021) primarily follows six of DC’s… lesser known villains, brought together by the government’s formidable Amanda Waller (Viola Davis). Their mission, with no option to reject it, is to journey to the inhospitable island of Corto Maltese and sabotage the secretive scientific experiments taking place there. Bloodsport (Idris Elba), Peacemaker (John Cena), King Shark (voiced by Steve Agee), Harley Quinn (Margot Robbie), Ratcatcher 2 (Daniela Melchior), and Polka-Dot Man (David Dastmalchian) find themselves kept (sort of) in line by Col. Rick Flag (Joel Kinnaman). While the marketing material may showcase a slew of other fun and quirky characters, the film’s title should give you a hint of how that goes.

For the most part everyone fills their designated ensemble role quite well. Idris Elba serves as the stable patriarch figure of the group. John Cena delights as the deranged protector of peace, willing to kill as many women and children as it takes to uphold it. Margot Robbie slides right back into her fantastic portrayal of Harley Quinn, only faltering when the script lets her down (more on that later). Rounding out the baddies, Daniela Melchior provides a serviceable emotional through line for the team and David Dastmalchian is the celebrated new addition. Polka-Dot Man’s depressed sense of humor and unexpected running gag make him the easy standout. The only character that falls apart is Viola Davis’ Amanda Waller. Just like in the last iteration, she comes off as a frustrating bureaucrat instead of a towering threat. This time the film itself even undercuts her presence when the plot demands it.

One of the large improvements previously referenced is that this version of The Squad dives right into the action. It quickly moves past all of the stage setting the 2016 version has to deal with. With no time wasted, our characters are on a beach ready to kill in the most gruesome and entertaining of ways. However, this insistence on jumping right into things is a double-edged sword. By spending so little time on setting up the cast before throwing them into the fray, the film lacks emotional and dramatic weight. At times it is as if a child has grabbed all of his or her action figures and smashed them together, declaring it a battle of epic proportions. The results are undoubtedly entertaining, but hallow nonetheless. The Suicide Squad (2021) tries its best to feed the audience reasons to care about a number of its characters as it goes on, but these sequences are too little, too late.

The next and most important improvement (that guess what, is another double-edged sword), is Gunn’s sense of humor. Whether it’s hitting or missing Gunn swings for the fences every time. An impressive kill-off between Bloodsport and Peacemaker left my theater in stitches. Harley Quinn also delivers some terrific laughs when the film embraces her psychosis and has her fall in love with Corto Maltese’s Presidente General, Silvio Luna (Juan Diego Botto… noted Nick Wright look-alike). She also serves the biggest groans, with poop and 69 jokes headlining. Additionally, some squad members with less spotlight, like King Shark, quickly have their tropes worn out. Although the R-rating lets the film flex with entertaining physical and violence-based comedy, it is hard to walk away from The Suicide Squad (2021) not thinking that PG-13 ratings have previously forced Gunn to be more creative with his writing.

Focusing in on the filmmaking itself, the island setting proves a bit dull. Moving from generic location to generic location results in a visually bland affair. The film does give Harley one colorfully stylized battle (highlighted in the trailers), and it’s probably the most impressive of the bunch. Another scene worth mentioning is a fight that starts off in the reflection of a certain polished helmet. I only wish the film had the confidence to let the shot linger a smidge longer. The soundtrack is also typical upbeat Gunn, but nothing as noteworthy as Guardians of the Galaxy’s.

The Suicide Squad (2021) accomplishes what it sets out to do. It hits the tone of the source material much more faithfully than the first adaptation (by actually providing a plausible reason for villains to make up the team, even though it still redeems our baddies a bit too much at the end) and it more than successfully revitalizes the brand for DC Films by injecting the lovably evil squad with James Gunn’s trademark energy and humor. Unfortunately, it injects so much of both that the film cannot always sustain itself.

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Emma, the woman who rejects the Dancin’ Kid’s (Scott Brady) advances, represents femininity gone astray. She has no man, she attempts to control and lead on her own, and her short haircut lends to an all around butch appearance. It is for this deviation from the norm that Johnny Guitar crucifies Emma. The film takes advantage of audiences’ bias against strong females in the genre to turn them against her. So once the film does show Emma upholding a staple of the genre by her burning down the saloon, because audiences have already labeled Emma as the antagonist her actions become those of a villain. Thus by leaning into one regressive trope Johnny Guitar manages to subvert another.

At the beginning of the aforementioned scene, we see Emma holding a rifle while in high-key lighting with dramatic music playing in the background. As Emma fires the rifle the lighting shifts to low-key, casting shadows upon her. A close-up of the flames she creates follows, with violins now added to the score. Next we see her face, again in low-key lighting, but now also lit by the flames. As Emma backs out of the saloon and into the wilderness, Johnny Guitar completes its thorough denouncement of her. With Emma backing up closer and closer to the fixed camera, the shot ends with a close-up of her wicked smile, drums beating and flames raging behind her (complimented nicely by her bright red lipstick). The transition from a brightly lit scene to shadows and flames, the crescendo of the score, and the close-up of her hateful celebration cement Emma as a detestable character.

This is in stark contrast to Vienna, who repents for her sins of independence. Vienna returns to the warm embrace of Johnny Guitar (Sterling Hayden), finding herself back at the side of her man. She is no longer the rogue woman building an empire of her own from the beginning of the film, but the damsel in distress wearing the pure white dress, waiting for her gallant knight to ride down on his white horse and save her. Johnny Guitar transitions Vienna from a self-sufficient entrepreneur to a more sympathetic character that audiences recognize as one who needs and deserves saving.

Vienna may no longer represent a deviation from gender norms, but she still represents the progress of civilization. The saloon that she built in anticipation of the coming railroad encapsulates small town fears of urbanization and the destruction of a simpler way of life.

When Emma transitions from the interior of the saloon to the wild outdoors, it symbolizes the refusal to accept progress. No longer confined by the laws of a modern society, the characters can give in to their urge for primal mob justice. The outdoors houses freedom, violence, hangings, and untamed wilderness. It does not have established rules or hierarchies and is ripe for exploitation (but not by outsiders). Watching a seemingly deranged Emma skip out of Vienna’s burning saloon sends a clear message- that those who seek to turn back time are irrational and maniacal. The doors of the saloon are a boundary in the world of Johnny Guitar, and with Emma burning them down she proclaims her willingness to send society backwards for the sake of her own self-interests.

The scene concludes with a long shot of Johnny Guitar and his white horse emerging from the trees, the camera panning to follow. Here, the music pauses for a brief second with Johnny’s introduction. The dramatic score from the destruction of the saloon subsides after one last long shot of the building. We see another long shot of the mob, and then Johnny rides his horse from a long to a medium close shot as he proceeds to follow. The white imagery, musical introduction, and dramatic panning reveal all establish Johnny as a force for good. The back to back long shots of the saloon and mob strengthen the connection between the two, act as Johnny’s gaze, and establish his motivation. The film reinforces the unwarranted nature of the destruction and provides us with a hero to rectify the situation and deliver true justice. Johnny arrives as the savior of the damsel (a stand in for modernization) and sets off to tame Emma and the lawless wilderness she represents.

Westerns traditionally support the nostalgia for slow and quaint towns of the frontier, yet in Johnny Guitar the individual halting that progress gets characterized as one to root against. With Emma as the villain, the film condemns her actions and expects the audience to as well. Yet, she accomplishes the goal of many Western heroes. She successfully (at least temporarily) holds off those who encroach upon her lifestyle. She rids the town of the saloon and the increased traffic and urbanization it would have brought. But because of the lighting, score, and framing the film successfully trains the audience to see Emma’s actions as treacherous. Therefore, instead of celebrating the upholding of classical Western values, viewers lament the destruction of the town’s growth. Johnny Guitar uses the audience’s own inclination to demonize strong female characters to in turn condemn one of the staple themes of the genre.

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Whether jumping between ships, diving into a river, knocking out a policeman, or running for his life Buster Keaton peppers every scene with numerous punchlines. The narrative itself takes a back seat to the visual comedy. The audience knows the two young lovers will eventually connect, but the thrill resides in anticipating what wacky situations will temporarily derail that plot. Steamboat Bill, Jr. even features what many call Buster Keaton’s most dangerous and must-see stunt: fitting perfectly through an open window in a house’s falling facade. Keaton supposedly even told his director to keep the camera rolling no matter what. Valuing these stunts and visual marvels over the story is what makes Steamboat Bill, Jr. resemble the “cinema of attractions” more than a narrative focused film.

My particular showing of Steamboat Bill, Jr. also included live piano accompaniment by Philip Carli, which simply added to the sense of “attraction.” Now not only did the film itself want to draw the audience’s attention away from the plot and towards the technical craft of the stunts and gags, but the theater also added its own additional artistry to the experience. Even though we remember Buster Keaton for fusing his stunts with more than serviceable story, between him and Philip Carli the narrative did not stand a chance.

Of course all of this applies to a silent film from 1928, but how does it apply to modern cinema? Well, over the years it naturally progressed from Keaton (who was already fusing action with narrative) to franchises that dominate our current theaters. If you look at Marvel or the Fast & Furious franchise, these films draw in audiences with the promise of spectacle. Of course there is an interesting through line across the films, but the action remains the primary draw. Even as budgets and technology have skyrocketed, the principals found in Steamboat Bill, Jr. still hold true today.

Once you do away with the facade and superfluous story, whether it is Fast & Furious or pornography, in the end, you’re just there for the explosions.

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The Hunt essentially opens with 12 strangers awakening in a field, all from different origins. They do not know why they are there or who may have captured them, but they quickly realize their captors do not plan to keep them alive for long.

As the next 1hr 55mins plays out, The Hunt attempts to satirize the growing political divide in America. Emphasis on “attempts.” It takes shots at both sides, but they so routinely come across as ham-fisted and clunky they elicit more moans than laughter. And in making so many surface level jokes about everyone, the film fails to make a statement. It essentially points a finger at the worst qualities of the worst people on either end of the spectrum, screams, “haha isn’t that stupid,” and then cuts to black.

Sure, it depicts far-right conservatives as prone to fantastical conspiracy theories and paints their liberal counterparts as those who are just as likely to ignore truths in order to construct their holier-than-thou positions, but it peters out after that. The Hunt simply does not say enough to justify itself. In fact, The Hunt falls victim to the same trap its characters do, it constantly thinks its smarter than it is.

About halfway through the film, there is a “twist” (I use that word lightly) that reveals The Hunt as a smidge smarter than I originally gave it credit for. However, it uses its twist to launch another surface level critique instead of saying something more profound. Every time it has the opportunity, The Hunt stops just short of producing something meaningful.

The Hunt unfortunately does not live up to the potential of its premise. If a studio decides to delay a film due to controversy, I would prefer the film to at least be controversial. Betty Gilpin’s terrific performance as Crystal fails to be truly memorable due to the films constant stumbling. A chuckle here or there cannot make up for the persistent eye-rolling The Hunt induces. Ultimately, The Hunt closer resembles a middle schooler’s idea of political satire rather than anything of value.

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Usually, studios provide theaters with roughly 90 days of exclusivity before releasing films through other means. With Universal Pictures now defying that norm, this could potentially lead to long term issues for theaters. Will moviegoers want to give up the convenience of their own home? After all, home theater set-ups have improved substantially and it seems harder and harder to find a venue with patrons not on their phones or talking to one another.

After a few months of social distancing, new habits will form. Once loyal theatergoers may begin to shun going out for the latest films and embrace a simpler and more personal experience. Home set-ups may never truly match the screen and sound quality of a decent theater, but how good is good enough? Is the pure spectacle of it all still a strong draw? Or are Universal’s actions another nail in the traditional theater system’s coffin?

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Much like gorging oneself on a bowl of colorful candy, watching Birds of Prey is mostly enjoyable, but a bit too much at times. The film opens with an animated exposition-focused introduction, and its narration and humor falls a bit too far on the “try-hard” side. Harley Quinn (Margot Robbie) narrates this segment, and her narration continues throughout the film. At times this works, especially when setting up for some of the more comical character introductions. However, it also acts as Birds of Prey’s most egregious fault. Similar to the opening sequence, many of the voice-over jokes fall flat and attempt to hit that “so random it’s funny” button. Even for a film as frenetically paced as this one, at points it is just too much.

Genuinely funny moments are present in Birds of Prey, but the most noticeably fantastic segments are the fight sequences. A jailhouse brawl with the sprinklers pouring down, a tremendously creative funhouse climax, and slide-based combat all give Birds of Prey’s action a much-needed sense of originality. The film also ditches the drab color pallet of other comic book movies and goes all in on flashy and vibrant visuals. Putting the cherry on top of all this, Birds of Prey’s soundtrack keeps the energy high throughout. Only one or two of the songs initially come across as obnoxiously poppy, but even they end up blending into the chaos.

Margot Robbie delivers with her performance as Harley Quinn, with all of the trappings that entails. If you love this incarnation of the character, you will love her portrayal, but like other aspects of the film she can be overwhelming at times. Ewan McGregor steals the show with his hammy and over the top rendition of Black Mask. He does a fantastic job of bringing the mentally unstable and incredibly violent character to life. The only actor that sticks out is Ella Jay Basco as Cassandra Cain. Like many child actors, she does not read her lines super fluidly, but nothing too glaring.

One last peculiar scene to note, Birds of Prey features a direct homage to Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953). It even packs in a rework of “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend.” While a nice weird little surprise if presented in a vacuum, the wonky editing suggests they had this quite elaborate scene leftover and were trying to find a place to edit it in. It seemed rather sloppy.

Birds of Prey comes in with all guns blazing and does not let up for the entirety of its 1hr 49min runtime. This approach represents both its greatest strength and weakness. The film presents an incredibly vivid and feverish narrative that separates itself from other comic book movies. Simultaneously, that same energy often goes too far and leads to cringeworthy humor and unneeded exposition. Birds of Prey is a fun movie to watch, but also one that comes with a lot of baggage.

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