Buzz Blog

Bad Shabbos ***
The comedic line between “farce” and “cringe” is a thin one, but co-writer/director Daniel Robbins walks it fairly deftly in this tale of family connection with a dark twist: During the Shabbos dinner in New York when David Gelfand (Jon Bass) will be introducing this parents (David Paymer and Kyra Sedgwick) to the parents of his non-Jewish fiancé, Meg (Meghan Leathers), the already-fraught scenario gets complicated further when another one of the dinner guests winds up dead on the bathroom floor. What follows is a Weekend at Bernie’s-style scenario as the dinner descends into chaos with everyone trying to cover up a possible crime, and some of the situations will inevitably come off as forced. But Robbins has a terrific cast—Leathers is a particular standout, with Clifford “Method Man” Smith showing a sneaky-great comedic spark as the doorman of the Gelfands’ building—and a sense for all the micro-aggressions that can be part of family dynamics. And he’s smart enough to keep the proceedings to a tight 84 minutes so that the absurdity doesn’t overstay its welcome. While the undercurrent of sweetness about what constitutes family, and what you’re willing to do for one another when the chips are down, doesn’t necessarily evolve fully when the emphasis is on slapstick humor, the result is still a goofy pleasure that keeps its cringe under control. Available May 30 at Broadway Centre Cinemas. (NR)

Bono: Stories of Surrender **1/2
The last attempt at a U2-centric documentary—2023’s Bono & The Edge: A Sort of Homecoming with Dave Letterman—was such a bizarre misfire that it could only be improved upon, yet there’s still an overstuffed quality to this filmed chronicle of U2 frontman Bono’s 2023 residency at New York’s Beacon Theater for a combination of book tour for his 2022 memoir Surrender, one-man show and solo concert of stripped-down U2 favorites. The artist born Paul Hewson does a pretty impressive job of bringing his rock-star savior persona down to earth, sharing anecdotes—about the formation of the band, his relationship with his wife, his 2016 heart surgery and, mostly, his attempts to connect with his widowed father—between mini-performances of the various songs. It’s hard not to recognize that the crowd is there primarily for the latter as they chant along with the hits, though director Andrew Dominik and the gorgeous black-and-white cinematography of Erik Messerschmidt keep the focus squarely on the man on stage. There’s just a truncated quality to nearly everything, from the snippets of nearly a dozen tunes to the extremely limited use of backstage/offstage commentary, that makes it feel like the show needed to be either longer, or considerably more focused. It’s definitely a piece that humanizes its central character, including the very human experience of biting off more than you can chew. Available May 30 via AppleTV+. (NR)

Bring Her Back ***
It feels like virtually every horror film of the past 15 years—including Talk to Me, the 2022 debut by Australian brothers Danny and Michael Philippou—has attempted to make grief and trauma its subtext. Fortunately, even though the Philippous are visiting similar territory again for their follow-up, they find a bit more focus this time around. They tell the story of step-siblings Andy (Billy Barratt) and Piper (Sora Wong) as they begin a new life with foster mother Laura (Sally Hawkins) after the death of their father, unaware that Laura has plans for using Piper to replace her own deceased daughter. If one thing was clear from Talk to Me, it’s that the Philippous have a gift for arrestingly grim imagery, and they manage several corkers here, most of them surrounding Laura’s creepy, mute other foster child, Oliver (Jonah Wren Phillips). Mostly, though, they’re wise enough now to streamline their mythology, realizing, for example, that it’s not necessarily important how Laura came by the VHS tape that inspires her idea for a dark ritual. There’s a fair bit of dead space between the showier scenes, and Andy’s own back-story never quite lands emotionally. But with Hawkins anchoring the proceedings—displaying her distinctive gift for sliding seamlessly from sweetness to madness—this turns into a rock-solid supernatural chiller, even as it wanders over well-trod ground. Available May 30 in theaters. (R)

Jane Austen Wrecked My Life **1/2
The catchy title proves to be kind of a fake-out, since writer/director Laura Piani’s romantic comedy isn’t really about being impeded by the conventions of swoony turn-of-the-19th-century British fiction—and settling on what it is about becomes part of what makes it a bit frustrating. We meet Agathe Robinson (Camille Rutherford) working in a Paris bookstore, struggling both with her dream of being a novelist and her recent lack of a dating history. She gets a nudge on both fronts when her longtime mostly-platonic best friend Félix (Pablo Pauly) submits Agathe’s name for a Jane Austen writing fellowship, landing her in England to wrestle with her life direction. A kind of romantic triangle emerges also involving Oliver (Charlie Anson), a many-generations-removed Austen descendent working at the retreat, and Piani plays up the farcical elements of Agathe frequently embarrassing herself around Oliver, with Rutherford finding an appealing Phoebe Waller-Bridge quality in Agathe’s mix of intelligence and social awkwardness. Yet there’s also a bit of trauma lurking in Agathe’s past—which fortunately doesn’t remain coyly unspoken until near the end—as the story eventually leans toward the idea that honest art only comes from mining the messy realities of personal experience. That’s a perfectly nice idea; it’s just one that feels like it bumps into all the daffy rom-com stuff in a way that undercuts its seriousness. Available May 30 in theaters. (R)

Karate Kid Legends **
It’s impossible to overstate the impact of the original 1984 The Karate Kid on my love of theatrical movie-going when I worked in a theater where it was showing—not just repeatedly experiencing the mass reaction of audiences to a bona fide crowd-pleaser, but realizing that a movie of this kind could also be emotionally satisfying as a narrative. So it has been dispiriting to watch, over 40 years, as it turned into just another repeatedly disinterred franchise, and particularly to see this one become such a half-assed de facto remake of the original. Our latest “kid” is Li (Ben Wang), a Chinese teen relocated with his mom (Ming-Na Wen) to New York, where he eventually receives coaching from his uncle, Han (Jackie Chan), and Daniel LaRusso (Ralph Macchio) to compete in a big tournament. “Eventually” does a lot of heavy lifting in that sentence, as the two legacy-franchise actors are mostly absent until well past the half-way point, leading to a real bait-and-switch robbing us of that mentor connection. Otherwise, it feels mostly like an attempt at ticking off Karate Kid boxes—fatherless young hero; new romantic interest (Sadie Stanley); sadistic adversary (Aramis Knight) from a “no mercy” dojo; etc.—while lumping in other stuff like loan sharks and a traumatic back-story for Li that just mucks up the fun. Director Jonathan Entwistle occasionally finds some lively action to match Wang’s charisma, except when he’s going full Scott Pilgrim with video-game-style graphics for each tournament punch. Once upon a time, a movie like could recognize the appeal of formula, without becoming formulaic. Available May 30 in theaters. (PG-13)

Tornado ***
It’s been a decade since writer/director John Maclean’s debut feature, the gritty revisionist Western Slow West, but he hasn’t lost his touch for blood-soaked period pieces with an edge. He sets this one in 1790 Great Britain, where Tornado (Kôki), a Japanese traveling entertainer with performing samurai-themed puppet shows with her father (Takehiro Hira), crosses Sugarman (Tim Roth) and his band of thieves when she makes off with the bags of gold from their latest robbery. The in medias res opening 20 minutes—before flashing back to the circumstances leading to Tornado being on the run—provides a terrific showcase for Maclean’s knack for almost silent storytelling, leading up to a magnificent performance moment for Roth in which his dead-eyed stare portends doom. And he manages to sneak in a neat thematic parallel in the rebellion of both Tornado and Sugarman’s own son, Little Sugar (Jack Lowden), as a framework for Tornado’s ultimate quest for revenge. Maclean delivers that third-act parade of carnage almost too efficiently, not quite allowing the various showdowns enough room to breathe, and there’s an oddly truncated subplot involving another band of traveling performers. Even that storyline, though, allows for a terrific moment in which a potential threat to our villains is dispatched before a metaphorical Chekhovian gun can be fired. Here’s hoping we don’t have to wait another 10 years for Maclean to show his stuff. Available May 30 in theaters. (R)