Time for my second batch of awards viewing capsule reviews! If you want to hit the first, you can double back here. Not much else needs to be said. Away we go.
Sing Sing
Pardon the phrasing, but Sing Sing absolutely sings. It’s a moving triumph on the backs of not only Colman Domingo, Paul Raci, and Clarence "Divine Eye" Maclin, but real-life former inmates who participated in Sing Sing Maximum Security Prison’s Rehabilitation Through the Arts program. Director and co-writer Greg Kwedar creates a jailhouse drama that speaks profound wisdom about the reclamation of humanity in individuals who survive the prison system through artistic expression. John H. Richardson’s "The Sing Sing Follies," specifically Brent Buell’s Breakin' the Mummy's Code, lays the groundwork; Kwedar gives Sing Sing’s thespians a beautiful voice.
Domingo’s on his way to a deserved Best Actor nomination; for now, he’s my winning vote. Domingo’s sense of humanity in a place meant to punish is beyond impactful. John "Divine G" Whitfield has this exuberance, charm, and mindset that resists the demonization and brutal stereotypes of inmates, especially by someone failed by our judicial system. Despite that all, the film and Domingo’s performance find this indomitable spirit and hopeful persistence that is phenomenally displayed, and yet still nurses the wounds beneath, the scars left by the actions that led most men to Sing Sing, that layers into a multidimensional tour-de-force. Not to undersell the majority of the cast playing themselves, success stories of the RTA program who proudly bring their talents to screen for an organic display of feel-good cinema. No Oscar bait failings in sight.
4.5/5
Wallace and Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl
Aardman’s latest Wallace and Gromit comedy is a comfortable representation of the studio’s delightful trademarks, if nothing more. It’s perfectly fine by goofy stop-motion expectations. Wallace invents another zany contraption — Norbot, a “smart gnome” programmed to complete household chores — and Gromit has to pick up the pieces when the product goes haywire. Feathers McGraw gets involved because who doesn’t love an incognito penguin doing pull-ups in his zoo prison cell? Add a plucky and lighthearted Lorne Balfe score, and boom — you’ve got another Aardman staple.
The problem is Wallace and Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl never rises above Aardman’s flock. I never laughed as hard as in Shaun the Sheep Movie or felt swept up like in the escapism of Chicken Run. Norbot’s a silly little doodad with an unexpectedly poignant take on artificial intelligence, but nothing sticks around well after the film ends. I’ll revisit other Aardman classics where Vengeance Most Fowl feels like a passing distraction. It’s a nice treat, but not worth awards consideration.
3/5
A Real Pain
Jesse Eisenberg’s tourist therapy carries that oh-so-abrasive Shiva Baby energy — be warned. What’s comical to some may trigger an anxiety attack on others, but that doesn’t devalue merit. A Real Pain lets its characters be vulnerable, uninhibited, and messy in ways that feel anti-Hollywood. Judgments are weighed against Eisenberg’s wet safety blanket (David) and Kieran Culkin’s sad, unpredictable nomad (Benji). Two American cousins join a Nazi German Holocaust tour in Poland, and while Benji provokes wacky hijinks at parts, Eisenberg’s story is interested in exploring the often tumultuous dynamics between family members and what that bond means.
It’s safe to say Culkin’s earned himself a Supporting Actor nomination; I’d venture further and predict he’s most likely taking home an Oscar. A Real Pain is his turbulent show, as Benji throttles through depressive episodes amidst heritage tourists, prompting David’s stammering apologies. We all know a Benji, we've all encountered a David, and we’ve all found ourselves desperate to help someone but unsure how. Eisenberg keys into these jittery anxieties with aplomb, but the “ambiguous” airport ending exits on a weird note. Should A Real Pain have wrapped a scene or even minutes earlier, I might have been more smitten — the finish leaves an open book feel that’s not fulfilling from a storytelling standpoint.
3/5
Hard Truths
Marianne Jean-Baptiste is primed for an Oscar nomination thanks to Hard Truths. As Pansy, a depressed Londonite in a foul mood, Jean-Baptiste scolds, bickers, and naps her way through the doldrums of societal imprisonment as many do. Mike Leigh’s downtrodden character drama examines Pansy’s interpersonal relationships as pleasantries wither away, hinging on her tirades. Jean-Baptiste unloads time and time again on her supporting cast members, putting her all into an enveloping gloom that turns Pansy against the world.
It’s a tough film to watch as Pansy lashes out at loved ones who only want to help. Leigh bluntly covers complex topics of self-examination and depression’s corrosive effects. The problem? I found Leigh’s approach to be purposely offputting — but offputting nonetheless. Pansy’s rage is a recurring thematic touchpoint that doesn’t see past a singular talking point and becomes overbearing to watch. Conversation after conversation beats us down, mimicking how Pansy’s husband, sister, and son feel, but it feels like a played-out trick by the end.
Hard Truths indeed comes with some hard truths, none more prominent than how Leigh’s story might have landed a much stronger impact as a truncated short.
2.5/5
The Wild Robot
How am I supposed to protect my "bad boy" appearance while wiping away tears throughout The Wild Robot [sarcasm]? Chris Sanders' penchant for adventurous children's cinema is alive and thriving in his Peter Brown adaptation. Lupita Nyong'o's task-mastering robot learns what it means to be alive thanks to the help of talkative animals in this adorable call to the wild. Emotions run high no matter your age, as Sanders rescues our hearts from feelings of coldness and isolation.
It's simple yet affecting; community themes wash away outsiders' pains. The Wild Robot benefits from Nyong'o's metallic voice and the emotion she pushes through computerized vocal programming. Pedro Pascal, Kit Connor, Catherine O'Hara, and other actors bring their woodland characters to life from inside recording booths. Animation resembles this flowy watercolor aesthetic that's beautiful to observe, crafting unique visuals that explode with vibrancy as scoring swells and climaxes. I didn't expect to get swept away by a runt gosling learning to fly, but here I am, ready to vote for The Wild Robot as my favorite animated title of the year.
4/5
Babygirl
I was iffy on Halina Reijn’s Bodies Bodies Bodies, and I’m even iffier on her corporate erotic thriller Babygirl. Nicole Kidman’s portrayal of CEO Romy Mathis poses an interesting conversation not only about improper sexual engagements between young interns and senior management, but also about women in power committing adultery (specifically how they're perceived vs. men in the same position). The problem is the film’s approach — oddly manufactured and unsexy? For an erotic thriller, Babygirl is infrequently erotic and not often thrilling. It’s no The Boy Next Door (he says with seriousness).
The film’s failures are not Kidman’s, pouty Harris Dickinson as Romy’s fling, or Antonio Banderas’s faithful stage director husband. Reijn constructs small moments that shine, but the overall experience doesn’t feel scintillating, dirty, or forbidden. Even more, Babygirl feels climactically inconsequential despite its soapy dramatics. Performances draw us in, but a surface-safe interpretation of what could be perceived as predatory behaviors (on either side) never feels appropriately dangerous. For those reasons, Kidman dropped off my ballot.
2.5/5
Red Rooms
Is Red Rooms a proficient and despicable examination of the internet’s most obscenely dark corners? Yup. Does it overhaul the subgenre? Not really.
I’ve been drowning in Red Rooms praise but spent the film’s (overlong) duration waiting for the masterfully crafted horror story to appear. We’ve seen these courtroom hybrids that blend true crime with nauseating evils rise in popularity, but I never sensed that Red Rooms elevated the subgenre. It’s chilling, unspeakable stuff, but no more so than comparable criminal exploitation flicks where onlookers stumble into worst-of-the-worst cases.
Juliette Gariépy’s portrayal of a model and online poker player who becomes obsessed with a snuff film trial proxies for unhealthy obsessions over mass murderers. Same for Laurie Babin’s Clémentine, a tourist with an odd sympathy for Ludovic Chevalier’s yet-to-be-sentence killer — preaching innocence until proven guilty. As the film unfolds and evidence emerges, Red Rooms reveals why both women act on their impulses. Gariépy and Babin ensure their performances keep butts in seats, but filmmaker Pascal Plante isn’t reinventing an internet-horror wheel that’s been spinning since movies like The Den. Blame the hype, but I left this one feeling underwhelmed.
3/5