Dial M for Murder

You know what may be Hitchcock’s least appreciated strength? Pacing. This movie, like a lot of the old master’s movies, moves. The story gets right into it and doesn’t waste the viewer’s time. The result is a film that comes across as sharp and exciting and kinetic, even though the presentation is—with the exception of the one key scene—largely static, and indeed mostly confined to one set. Thus, the entertainment value here is high even if you are not particularly a fan of mystery or suspense stories. You barely have time to appreciate the fine performances by Grace Kelly, Robert Cummings and especially Ray Milland, whose smug self-confidence really sells the story. That story is exceptional, too, in its audacity; the script tell the audience exactly how things are supposed to go, tells you that everything won’t go according to plan, and then shows you exactly all that—and still plays it out in a way that comes across as spontaneous. It’s a neat trick. Great stuff and well worth watching.

Avatar: Fire and Ash

Apparently, is not easy being green ... or blue. Or striped. Or vaguely cat-like. Or probably a dozen other traits. That sentiment is reflected in the tone of this film, which is generally somber and much too serious. The only thing that comes close to humor in these proceedings comes from the character of the Colonel, who is inexplicably still alive and probably will remain so for another seven movies. That general heaviness is a problem, because any epic flick tends towards feeling burdensome after a while—long before you reach this piece's three hour running time—and a light touch can break up the load a bit. You don’t get that here, which is why you start to notice the length sooner rather than later. What also doesn’t help is how much this movie, especially in its early scenes, is all about, “Hey, look at that weird thing,” and “Hey, look at that other weird thing”—which can go on for quite a while, because on Pandora it’s all weird things. So the film takes a while to get going, and then it takes a while to finish (hallmarks of director James Cameron’s style). That said, there are positives, too. The performances, despite being hidden under makeup and/or CGI rendering, are effective, and the action sequences are sights to behold, if for nothing else than for their audacious scale (again, a Cameron thing). And you’ve got to have a heart of stone to not feel some impact from the defending nature storyline. And, again, even with the lengthy length, you never really feel your attention wavering too much; the movie delivers attention-holding entertainment throughout. There’s just a nagging sense that, maybe, even if it’s a well-executed movie, this is not necessarily a necessary movie. They probably could have stopped at the first flick—which had a story that wrapped up pretty tightly—rather than stretching out to three movies at least. (This one ends with the villains getting away, or at least not dying on camera—typically a sure sign that a sequel is being set up, regardless of whether or not there’s a demand for it.) So judge carefully whether or not you wish to visit this world yet again. You probably won’t regret watching it, or skipping it for that matter, and if the latter you’ll certainly have plenty of time to contemplate how it goes for those of your own color and species.

Supergirl

C'mon people—lighten up. This movie is hardly as bad as the general reception said it was when it first came out in theaters. The worst that can be said about it is that it is lacking in a certain level of inspiration: little in these proceedings comes across as unique or inventive, and it seems like a number of opportunities to be clever were left on the table. But to hear tell on arrival, you’d think this film came across like an Ed Wood flick. Not so. The presentation is competent, at least, if not exactly artful, the moral of the story is cliched and maybe a little insipid but not offensively so, and Milly Alcock is fairly likable (certainly visually appealing) as the titular character. Given the amount of disappointment expressed over this film, I'm actually starting to wonder if all that stuff about biases against movies being led by women may have something to it. Typically, I chalk that trope up to movies that are just not that good—I have often found myself agreeing with that mob myself—but there seems to be a lack of proportionality to the judgment made here. I, at least, found this movie amusing and relatively diverting—not necessarily worth today’s outrageous ticket prices, but fine to watch on your streaming service. This outing may not inspire cries of “you go, girl”—not, alas, “woman”—but this Kara should be allowed to get her kicks without being held to too high a standard. After all, it is just a comic book flick; it's no The Dark Knight, nor even a Man of Steel, but it's certainly acceptable. Stop expecting an all-time classic every time out.

Brotherhood of the Wolf

A rollicking good time—en francais. This movie is now (as of this viewing in 2026) a quarter century old, yet it still plays fresh and feels very contemporary. That undoubtedly derives from its being a period piece set in the 1700s—nothing is obviously anachronistic because it’s all anachronistic. The action sequences are exactly like you’d see in any more recent action flick, with all the slick moves and stylish presentation that has become the standard these days. Indeed, the whole production has stylish written all over it, with plenty of moody and atmospheric visuals that sell the story’s monster mayhem plot. The strong work of director Christophe Gans gets ample assistance from excellent performances from the leads, Samuel Le Bihan as Fronsac, a naturalist and sometime soldier and Mark Dacascos as his companion Mani, an Iroquoian who is as badass as any action hero conjured up by the Hollywood movie machine. They’re on a mission to catch a beast that has been terrorizing the countryside, but there’s more going on than your mere monster on the rampage. Thus, you get a well-blended mix of horror and thriller and political intrigue and, because they’re French, a touch of the amour, too. It does go on a bit too long, and it may be a bit too easy to figure out who’s really behind the whole campaign, but the movie is still very enjoyable and well worth the time it takes to watch it. (And read it; subtitles are required for those not familiar with la langue.) So there you have it: sometimes the French can be a bit more than just cheese eating surrender monkeys. C’est bon.

Hercules in the Haunted World

Is this an artfully directed action adventure movie, of another cheesy Italian Hercules flick? Can’t it be both? The answer here is a resounding yes. This film has many of the elements that make so many of the other ‘50s-‘60s Hercules movies laughable: wooden acting from star Reg Park, dubbed dialogue, scrambled knowledge of the myths. Yet, it also features real artfulness in its direction and design, some clever action sequences, and good pacing. It’s more than you expect from this sort of movie, and it all comes across as wildly entertaining (not to mention brief and mostly to the point). And, as usual with these flicks, there’s plenty of eye candy in the female characters. Plus, in the end, the film mixes in some vampire and walking dead elements to throw some horror the viewer’s way. Imaginative, visually appealing, fun—by the gods, an actual good Hercules movie! Wonders do never cease.

Pretty in Pink

Scenes from the class struggle in suburban Chicago. True fact: this movie came out in 1986, the same year I graduated from high school. That probably explains why it felt like I had watched it before even though I never saw it until now. The styles, the music, the general vibe—all of it is like concentrated essence of Eighties, a perfect setting for a tale that is, if not as old as time, at least as timeless as the problems of youth. That’s the period of life the film covers, when all of the angst and heartache and highs of being a high school senior feel like the biggest things in the world. Molly Ringwald’s Andie and Andrew McCarthys Blane experience all those ups and downs, and in context their conflicts are—at least metaphorically—the big world issues in a narrative that serves as a microcosm of the larger struggle of society. Blane is a Richie while Andie is from the wrong side of the tracks—literally: the music store where she works is named Trax in one of the film’s not especially subtle hints. Like a Reagan-era Romeo and Juliet, the two teenagers serve as unwilling soldiers in a cold class war, with their relationship being the flashpoint for various battles fought by and with both kids’ families and friends. Fortunately, no one dies, including sidekicks like Annie Potts as Andie’s coworker and mentor, and James Spader as Steff, the suburban prince who dishes out the bulk of the wealthy side's nastiness. Particular props go to Harry Dean Stanton, who gives one of the most understated and underrated performances of his career as Andie’s down-on-his-luck but kind and compassionate father. And then there’s Jon Cryer's Duckie, Andie’s best friend and would-be paramour who stands as the heart and soul of the show in an unforgettable turn. He is perhaps one of the iconic characters of ‘80s cinema, a personification of the then-current zeitgeist. No surprise that such a character would appear in a John Hughes production (of a Howard Deutch film); his films did as much to define that era as any other cultural product. In this case, the defining production is cute and charming as all get out, but also tinged with the kind of sadness that makes for a full and satisfying emotional experience. If you lived it then, you know it by heart, and if you’re too young to have been there, this flick will give you the exact feel for the time and place—and the timeless truths that infuse all of those details. That’s more than pretty; it can be downright beautiful.

Star Wars: The Mandalorian and Grogu

Do you know what you really know? Like, for instance, do you know whether or not you’re watching a movie that’s good and entertaining, or just one that appeals to your personal tastes, and sense of nostalgia, and maybe a few other things, too? This is a film that gives that bit of mental exercise a real workout. I can honestly say that I enjoyed most of this movie…but maybe I’ve just been watching Star Wars flicks for so long—practically my entire life—that I don’t have an independent ability to judge such a movies. Quite a bit of what made the Mandalorian TV series so enjoyable is present here—the action and fight sequences, Mando's steely character and the ironic juxtaposition of that with his relationship with Grogu, and just the whole Star Wars-ness of the thing—but then again, there are clear flaws here, too. For instance, the score. You weren’t expecting me to mention the score; indeed, with most movies you barely even notice the score. Here the score is front and center, trying very hard to make itself heard and noticed, with a whole range of odd and genre-busting compositions that demand the viewer’s attention. That’s not a good thing; a film score can be inventive and memorable, but it should still take a back seat to the narrative. There also seems to be a distinct lack of creative vision—or at least interesting ideas—in the direction the story takes; it appears that most of the thinking went into how things look and not so much into coming up with new, clever story ideas. So the art direction is fine, but the plot has holes and lacks any interesting twists. Perhaps that results from a reliance on the familiar, given that there’s plenty of fan service going on in the characters and settings and minor details. (There’s even a visual callback to the board game from the very first film.) You get the picture with this picture: it’s for fans, and anyone else can go pound all the sand on Tatooine. So I can’t recommend it to you, nor tell you to avoid it, either—you have to figure that for yourself. Or not. That is the way.