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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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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Bugonia follows our two protagonists, Teddy (Jesse Plemons) and Don (Aidan Delbis), as they kidnap and torture Michelle Fuller (Emma Stone), a high-powered female CEO. They operate under the belief that Michelle is not just a cold and calculating corporate elite, but that she is actually an alien from Andromeda intent on destroying the Earth. Her and her brethren supposedly brainwash the masses, manipulate individuals through their baser instincts, and wage ecological warfare through honey bee colony collapse disorder (CCD). In case you haven’t picked up on it yet, Bugonia takes aim at the seemingly ever growing and prominent class divide in modern society. The twist, of course, is that those “elites” might really be from another world.

As you might imagine, two conspiracy obsessed recluses attempting to torture a “confession” from a corporate executive inevitably results in a tug-of-war, where each side attempts to present their case. This back and forth is where Bugonia predictably has the most to say. On one hand you have the elites, overworking and exploiting their historically obedient and dutiful worker bees, and on the other hand you have the abused working class, who realize something is wrong, but resort to the most farcical of conspiracies to explain their suffering. Regardless of who you sympathize with, when these two groups sit down at the proverbial and quite literal kitchen table, conversation grinds to a halt. One side sees the other as predestined losers and the other quite literally fails to see the humanity in their opposition. Instead of finding common ground, corporate jargon and hallucinatory ramblings fly back and forth. Progress stalls, the queen languishes, and the worker bees fall further into disillusionment. The colony teeters on collapse.

While the opening act does a commendable job of introducing us to our outlandish cast of characters, and the last third truly goes off the rails in the most delightful ways (including a gratifyingly poignant conclusion), the core of the film does wear on. Emma Stone and Jesse Plemons deliver the performances required for such a dialogue heavy film, but Lanthimos leans too much on repetition. Seemingly in an effort to retain some of the pure zaniness of the original South Korean outing, the film repeats jokes (usually with Don, to poor effect) to fill space while the second act takes its time to dryly move the narrative along. While a certain level of deadpan is expected in a Lanthimos production (and by certain level, I mean a tremendous amount), he fails to find the right cadence in Bugonia.

With Bugonia, Yorgos Lanthimos sets out to remake one of South Korea’s true dark comedy cult classics, Save the Green Planet!. On nearly every technical level, Lanthimos succeeds. And even beyond the craft, Bugonia delivers its message in a much more impactful and timely manner. It thoroughly explores the unending conflict between queens and worker bees, and doesn’t stop at simply noting that the social contract between the two has deteriorated. It casts aside the notion that the colony is failing for mysterious, unexplainable reasons, but instead asserts that no one has any realistic interest in saving the hive. While some second act pacing issues hold it back, and Don could probably use another re-write, Bugonia is another strong entry in Lanthimos’ rapidly growing catalogue.

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At the center of Titane’s madness is Alexia/Adrien (Agathe Rousselle), who at a young age caused her father (Bertrand Bonello) to crash the car while vying for his ever distant attention. This results in the installation of a metal plate in her head and the doctors advising her father to watch for any abnormalities. Hint hint. Without giving too much away, Alexia goes on a bit of a killing spree and winds up disguising herself as Adrien, the long missing son of fire chief Vincent Legrand (Vincent London). Agathe Rousselle gives a phenomenal performance throughout her character’s transformation from Alexia to Adrien. Similarly, Vincent London truly captures a broken father’s desperation.

Underneath Titane’s bizarre sensibilities is a strong undercurrent of people looking for family. However, not just a superficial family defined by blood relations, but a family where each member openly loves and supports the others’ honest selves. We watch as Alexia craves paternal love and acts out predictably, then experiences an avalanche of unrequited affection that simultaneously corrupts other “chosen” family members, and then settles with the family that embraces each other for who they actually are. A family where a child has to show her true self and gender to her father despite his expectations, and a father who has to come to terms with his aging masculinity. Simply acknowledging what a family member tells you and truly embracing and supporting the concept are two very different things, and sometimes life has a way of confronting you with realities you have been hopelessly trying to avoid.

While on Titane’s wild ride, a haunting soundtrack, dazzling cinematography, and stylish saturated colors will accompany you. Whether you are watching dancers on the hoods of cars at an auto show, Alexia dramatically marching towards her newfound lover while dripping with water, a man simply playing with a lighter, or an eruption of flames Titane does not disappoint visually.

One area the film does stumble in is how it handles the second half. As Titane (somewhat) pulls away from absurdities and thrills in favor of more tender moments, it also loses some of the edge and shock value that the first half successfully relies upon. In doing so Titane also loses a bit of itself until it comes roaring back in the conclusion. The film puts its more outrageous concepts on the back burner until it’s ready to deal with them again, and in doing so relinquishes some of its much earned momentum.

From the opening scene, Titane continuously doubles down on its own outrageous absurdity until it suddenly pulls back. You go from watching a thriller, to body horror, to something that has a lot to say about what it means to be family. Specifically, what it means to be family in action, not just by blood or oil. Titane somehow addresses gender fluidity, the role of parents to support and accept, the male ego slipping as bodies and testosterone age away, and the opportunity to choose a family not given to you by birth all while bombarding the screen with gore and squirm inducing violence. You find you cannot look away from these disturbing images partly because of how beautifully Titane presents them and partly because they all have something to say. Even though the film may retreat too far from its own deliriousness in the second half, it comes speeding back just in time for a finale that will have you guessing until its last push. Strap in because Titane is one hell of a ride.

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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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Directed by Leigh Whannell, The Invisible Man documents Cecilia Kass’ (Elisabeth Moss) attempted escape and recovery from her abusive and manipulative boyfriend, Adrian Griffin (Oliver Jackson-Cohen). After she flees the mansion, Adrian stages his own suicide before using his advanced technology to turn himself into the titular monster. From there he slowly but surely sabotages Cecilia’s mental recovery and turns her world against her.

One of the best parts of The Invisible Man is analyzing Cecilia’s psychological state throughout the film. Elisabeth Moss flawlessly pulls off a woman attempting to put her life back together after an incredibly abusive relationship. Moss’ performance captures every step forward and back for Cecilia.

Right from the beginning, The Invisible Man has a lot going for it. Of course the title alone produces a great deal of dramatic irony for at least the first act of the film. This results in a built-in well of tension The Invisible Man can draw from right out of the gate. Shots holding on empty space for an uncomfortably long time invite the audience to search the frame for what we know is there. Long shots through hallways create an additional sense of voyeurism. Without explicitly showing anything, The Invisible Man successfully instills fear from the opening scene.

Unfortunately, this driving force of tension falters during the climax of the film. While turning up the action and violence, The Invisible Man tosses aside the paranoia it has so meticulously cultivated. Up until this point there are only a few scenes requiring suspension of disbelief (think security cameras), but here it decides to do away with the whole concept of working in the shadows. Thankfully the film manages to course correct afterwards, but this blip significantly neuters The Invisible Man’s ability to use its bag of psychological tricks.

Another issue attached to later moments is it visually stumbles a bit with the CGI heavy scenes. The budget just is not there to deal with the extended use of the advanced technology they are going for. It is never so bad that it becomes cheesy, but it is noticeable.

Overall, The Invisible Man is a great story of overcoming mental abuse and gaslighting. The ending may not present 100% explicit answers, but it asks us to trust the victim and not fall into the trap of (extremely weak) plausible deniability; ring any bells? Indulge yourself with The Invisible Man this coronavirus quarantine season, for it is a true psychological horror treat.

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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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Brad Pitt plays Roy McBride, an astronaut on a mission to find his missing father (played by Tommy Lee Jones) out in space and save the world. The secrecy surrounding the mission only fuels Roy’s daddy issues as he delves further into space.

The stunning visuals of Ad Astra captivate the eyes. James Gray does an excellent job of lighting and framing each shot just right. He and the film never disappoint in this department, and watching Ad Astra for the cinematography alone might prove worthwhile.

If it does prove worthwhile, it will not have anything to do with the rest of the movie. Brad Pitt does his best, but the film does not give him much to work with. Side characters are just that, relegated to the sidelines and only given a meager number of lines. Tommy Lee Jones does not get enough time to leave much of an impact, but like Brad Pitt, strives to make the most of it.

Ad Astra tries to cultivate a contemplative atmosphere with rising tension; however, it actually moves painfully slow except for short bursts of action designed to wake the audience back up. Slower paced films can and often do work (see Once Upon a Time in Hollywood for a recent example), but they need to either have something interesting to say, say something in an interesting way, or get a little weird and wild at the end. Basically, they need to have a payoff and Ad Astra has none. Ad Astra instead offers viewers standard issue commentary on family, father-son relationships, and appreciating what you have in front of you. Nothing too exciting. The film does have one good line rephrasing these concepts in a unique context, but it does not do enough.

No matter how hard it tries, Ad Astra amounts to nothing more than mere eye candy. It seemingly mutes most of its actors’ performances to lend gravity to the drama, yet never capitalizes on the tension it creates. The conclusion has nothing unique to offer and does not redeem or enhance the slog endured to get there. Visuals alone cannot save this film, but you should save yourself the time.

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From the first second of the traditional title scrawl, The Rise of Skywalker is in fast-forward mode. The big return of Emperor Palpatine? Done in the title scrawl. No setup or introduction. One or two words about cloning, technology, and the Sith being powerful, and voila. This rush to get through the worldbuilding remains consistent until the final confrontation. The material and story choices themselves are not necessarily bad, but they get moved through so quickly there is no time to emotionally process them.

The story clearly wants to get to the last third of the film and for good reason, it is easily the strongest part of the movie. Ignoring if you agree with all of the force power and story changes up until this point, J.J. Abrams puts on a show. A nostalgia powered space battle combined with the end of Rey and Kylo’s journey proves the franchise can still produce those epic moments. Unfortunately, this climax does not have the same level of emotional investment as other iconic scenes, due to the previously mentioned pacing issues.

Moreover, The Last Jedi is clearly already seen as the new black sheep of the franchise. If The Last Jedi properly set up The Rise of Skywalker, then the pacing of the story arc could have worked. Even if J.J.’s claim that Emperor Palpatine was always planned is true, Abrams obviously did not plan for director Rian Johnson to go as far off the rails as he did. The trilogy lacks a consistent vision and suffers for it.

Visually, The Rise of Skywalker produces some spectacular moments. A lightsaber battle over the water and a scene in the final battle stand out. John Williams’ composition remains a standout for the Star Wars franchise and hits all of the right nostalgic notes when J.J. Abrams demands it. Adam Driver even gives his best and most compelling performance as Kylo Ren this time around. However, all of this is in the background of the pacing issues. Without proper pacing, decisions do not have weight and characters do not resonate.

If you love Star Wars you already plan on watching The Rise of Skywalker. But the question is, how good of a film is it? In that regard, from a pure filmmaking perspective, not a very good one. For the most devout fans, it will give you one last rush of nostalgia before the saga finds itself on the shelf. For everyone else, it will rush through the majority of the actual movie while profusely apologizing for its predecessor (which sits at 91% on Rotten Tomatoes as of 12/28/2019). Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker tries to juggle too much and drops the ball. Watch for the closure, but do not expect any force miracles.

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