One Battle After Another: Inherent ICE

Leonardo DiCaprio in One Battle After Another

Did Paul Thomas Anderson just make an action movie? Yes and no. Certainly, One Battle After Another is a robust and muscular production, replete with car chases, kidnappings, and explosions. Yet its most exhilarating sequence—the one that best encapsulates its singular combination of tumultuous suspense and whip-smart comedy—is just a guy talking on the phone.

It helps, of course, that said guy is Leonardo DiCaprio, one of our last true movie stars. He plays Bob Ferguson, a lapsed revolutionary whose stormy past as an ideological militant has long since subsided into a cloud of bong smoke and disorientation. With his scraggly facial hair and his fried brain cells, Bob seems an unlikely hero of a decades-spanning epic from the acclaimed director of Magnolia and There Will Be Blood. But One Battle After Another, which Anderson adapted from Thomas Pynchon’s Vineland, has no interest in being bound by expectation or convention. It is a wildly ambitious picture that takes as its subject no less than the precarity of the American experiment, yet it is also an intimate family melodrama—a poignant tale of darkened souls clawing their way back toward the light. Read More

A Big Bold Beautiful Journey: Trip or Flop

Colin Farrell and Margot Robbie in A Big Bold Beautiful Journey

He doesn’t want the GPS. Who the hell needs a GPS? He can just use his phone. Aha, the saleswoman points out, but what if his phone craps out on him? A few feeble protests later (“I don’t think it will.” “But what if it does??”), he relents and agrees to the upsell, at which point the woman exclaims in triumph, “Fuck yeah!”

There is no small degree of metaphor in this early exchange in A Big Bold Beautiful Journey, when a lonely single man named David (Colin Farrell) rents—“has foisted upon him” is probably more accurate—a 1994 Saturn from a strangely persistent agent in a pinstriped suit and pencil haircut (Phoebe Waller-Bridge, presumably improvising her thick German accent on the day of shooting). After all, a GPS is designed to guide you to a preplanned destination, allowing you to surrender your agency and simply obey the device’s rhythmic commands. So when this particular model, which speaks in the soothing voice of Jodie Turner-Smith, suddenly asks David, “Would you like to go on a big, bold, beautiful journey?” he hardly has any choice in the matter, and neither do you. Read More

Him: Stupor Bowl Sunday

Tyriq Withers in Him

To watch sports is to subject yourself to a vocabulary riddled with hyperbole and cliché. You need to give 110%. The best players eat, sleep, and breathe the game. Athletes are soldiers, and every contest is a war. It’s not the size of the dog in the fight, it’s the size of the fight in the dog.

Him, the new movie from Justin Tipping, attempts to literalize this sort of inflated rhetoric. It imagines a heightened surreality where a draft prospect’s training regimen takes place at a militaristic boot camp, and where professional success equates to personal survival. It takes the metaphor out of blood sport.

Conceptually speaking, this isn’t a horrible idea. By their nature, movies dramatize and embellish real-life experiences, and the obsessive character of modern sports—the players’ pursuit of excellence, the fans’ deranged zeal, the economy’s spending of billions on advertising and gambling—naturally lends itself to an outsized treatment. So the problem with Him isn’t that it’s absurd. The problem is that it’s stupid. Read More

The Long Walk: Fear Eats the Stroll

David Jonsson, Cooper Hoffman, and other dudes in The Long Walk

As depicted in The Long Walk, the United States is a land of turmoil and suffering. Shortfalls in productivity have led to a crippling economic depression. State-sanctioned violence is broadcast in the form of bread-and-circuses entertainment. The military persecutes citizens who dare voice their dissent. To clarify, the movie is a work of fiction, not a documentary.

Specifically, The Long Walk is based on a novel by Stephen King, though its horror is allegorical rather than supernatural. Taken literally, the story’s premise—in which 50-odd young men compete in a grueling endurance test that doubles a perverse battle for life and death—isn’t especially plausible. But it’s less unrealistic than it might have seemed, say, eight months or three days ago. When the nation’s president declares war on the free press, when his toadies mount an intimidation campaign against anyone who opposes conservative orthodoxy, when TV networks suspend late-night programs out of fear of governmental retribution… well, it becomes more difficult to frame the image of tanks rolling down public streets as a flight of imaginative fancy. Read More

Splitsville, Twinless, and the Offbeat Romantic Comedy

Dakota Johnson in Splitsville; Dylan O'Brien and James Sweeney in Twinless

It’s been a rough two decades for the romantic comedy. Twenty years ago, the summer box office was already showing signs of intellectual-property creep, but nestled amid the Star Wars prequel and the Batman origin story and the Steven Spielberg and Tim Burton remakes were two smash-hit original rom-coms: Wedding Crashers and The 40-Year-Old Virgin. (You could also throw in Mr. and Mrs. Smith, depending on your level of genre pedantry.) In 2025, you need to scroll all the way down to #18 before finding a single romantic comedy, Materialists (and calling that one a rom-com is a bit of a stretch); at a modest $37M, it’s the only rom-com of the year to scrape its way past $3M domestic.

Were studios just waiting to unleash their laugh riots until after Labor Day? Whatever the reason, last weekend saw the release of two new comedies that, while not strictly adhering to rom-com conventions, nevertheless serve as a welcome change of pace for anyone exhausted by all of the comic-book adaptations and animated sequels. Neither exactly set the box office afire, which is a shame, given that one of the pleasures of a well-made romantic comedy is the joy of experiencing collective laughter and heartbreak with fellow patrons. That, and both of these happen to be pretty good. Read More