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      ‘Megalopolis’ Review: The Fever Dreams of Francis Ford Coppola

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      The director’s latest is a great-man story about an architect, played by Adam Driver, driven by ideals and big plans. It’s a personal statement on an epic scale.Francis Ford Coppola’s “Megalopolis” is a bursting-at-the-seams hallucination of a movie — it’s wonderfully out-there. At once a melancholic lament and futuristic fantasy, it invokes different epochs and overflows with entrancing, at times confounding images and ideas that have been playing in my head since I first saw the movie in May at the Cannes Film Festival. There, it was both warmly received and glibly dismissed, a critical divide that’s nothing new for Coppola, a restlessly experimental filmmaker with a long habit of going off-Hollywood.Nothing if not au courant, “Megalopolis” is a vision of a moribund civilization, though also a great-man story about an architect, Cesar Catilina (Adam Driver), who dreams of a better world. An enigmatic genius (he has a Nobel Prize) with an aristocratic mien and a flair for drama, Catilina lives in a city that resembles today’s New York by way of ancient Rome, though it mostly looks like an elaborate soundstage. As familiar as Fifth Avenue and as obscure as the far side of the moon, it is a world that mirrors its real counterpart as a playpen for the wealthy and a prison-house for the destitute. The city haunts Catilina; it also inspires him.What Catilina dreams of is a “perfect school-city,” in which people can achieve their better selves. It’s an exalted aspiration, as seemingly boundless but also as sheltering as the blue sky, and one that invokes a long line of lofty dreamers and master builders. There are predictable obstacles, mostly other people, small-minded types without vision, idealism or maybe just faith. Among these is the mayor, Franklyn Cicero (Giancarlo Esposito), a consummate politician with no patience for fantasies or for Catilina. Their animosity runs through the story, which is narrated by Catilina’s aide, Fundi Romaine (Laurence Fishburne), dense with incident and populated by an array of noble souls and posturing fools.The fools prove better company in “Megalopolis” than most of the upright types, though with their all-too human comedy they’re not always distinguishable. They begin rushing in after the jolting opener, which finds Catilina dressed in inky black and uncertainly climbing out of a window in the crown of the Chrysler Building. Before long, he is standing with one foot firmly planted and the other shakily raised over the edge. He calls out “time stop” and everything — the clouds above, the cars below — freezes, only to restart at his command. He looks like a colossus, though also brings to mind the early-cinema clown Harold Lloyd hanging over a different abyss in “Safety Last!” (a title that could work for this audacious movie).It’s quite the to-be-or-not introduction. Given that filmmakers are in the business of stopping time, Catilina’s entrance also reads as an auteurist mission statement. So it’s a relief when Catilina gets off that precipice, even if Coppola never really does. The filmmaker has a thing for dreamers and their great, big dreams, and it’s easy to see “Megalopolis” — which he mentioned in interviews as early as 1983 — in autobiographical terms. Like Catilina, Coppola has endured and almost been consumed by catastrophic setbacks (most notably with his founding of a film studio that nearly ruined him), only to rise phoenixlike from the ashes. It’s one reason that “Megalopolis” feels like a personal statement on an epic scale.Giancarlo Esposito plays a consummate politician with no patience for the architect’s fantasies.LionsgateWe are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      ‘The Wild Robot’ Review: Wonder and Whimsy That Does Compute

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      Chris Sanders’s movie about a robotic assistant and the gosling she raises is defined by dazzling visuals and frank ideas about the circle of life.Have you ever thought about the many ways animals show emotion? Consider an inquisitive snout wriggling in the air, tails coiled protectively around cubs and ears perky or drooping depending on mood. For creatures who didn’t evolve to walk upright, wearing one’s heart on one’s sleeve is a considerably more anatomical business.Among the achievements of “The Wild Robot” is a painstaking regard for details like these. Written and directed by Chris Sanders (“How to Train Your Dragon”) and adapted from Peter Brown’s novel, the movie is a dazzling triumph of animation in which you feel the filmmakers’ attention on every frame. In a revivifying turn away from the gag-a-minute, computer-generated extravaganzas clogging up the animated zoological canon, this is a work that cares most about two things: big feelings and great beauty.That’s not to say that its machine is built entirely of new parts. In some ways, this kid-friendly affair about an interspecies found family even leans into its derivative elements. Roz, the bionic hero of “The Wild Robot,” seems designed to evoke the title character in “The Iron Giant,” sharing that monster’s studying eyes and lanky stature. But rather than outer space, she hails from today’s sinister science-fiction analog: the conglomerate Universal Dynamics, which specializes in robotic digital assistants. Think Alexa in hulking metal form.The movie opens as Roz (short for Rozzum Unit 7134) accidentally washes off a cargo ship and ashore a wildlife island, where she swiftly begins scouting for a task that satisfies her serve-at-all-costs programming. After wreaking havoc on some fauna, the robotic assistant (voiced by Lupita Nyong’o) stumbles upon a purpose: raising an orphaned, newborn gosling whose kin she accidentally squashed.Brightbill, as she names him, is on the runty side, and although Roz grows more sociable — at first, she can speak only in a Robotese, which is so stilted it might as well be Middle English — her ward (voiced by Kit Connor, of the Netflix series “Heartstopper”) struggles to master the basics of his pond and sky habitats. Tagging along for the child-rearing is a rascally fox named Fink (Pedro Pascal), who alternates between parenting advice and snide remarks. The impending winter imposes a ticking clock on Brightbill’s training: Should he fail to become airborne before migration time, he will perish in the cold, assuming he’s not eaten first.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      ‘Killer Heat’ Review: Mediterranean Mischief

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      Joseph Gordon-Levitt plays a detective running from his past in a murder mystery that is mostly a stiff slog to get through.When it comes to the modern murder mysteries that truly love the genre — the ones that don’t so much subvert but wholeheartedly lean into the familiar tropes of your favorite cheap detective novel — there’s a fine line separating the good and the not-so-good. Not only a properly calibrated twist, but a sense of wit and a legible directorial imagination is what distinguishes, say, your “Knives Out” and “A Haunting in Venice” from a film like “Killer Heat.”The latter, directed by Philippe Lacôte, has the starter elements that might equate to a romp of a detective movie: a hard-drinking private investigator character running from his past, a screenplay based on a short story by the celebrated crime novelist Jo Nesbo. But this film has none of the charm, tension or cinematic energy to elevate those ingredients into a greater sum.It mostly wants to rely instead on brooding, overwrought narration from Nick Bali (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), an American expat detective who has landed on Crete to investigate the death of Leo Vardakis (Richard Madden), a member of a wealthy family that controls the island. Penelope (Shailene Woodley), the wife of Leo’s twin brother, Elias, has secretly hired Nick, suspicious of the actual circumstances that led to Leo’s death from a mysterious rock climbing accident. Soon, relationship secrets, along with Nick’s own personal past of betrayal, come to light.The twists and pedestrian dramatics are a stiff slog to get to, and Gordon-Levitt’s once innate charisma has vanished altogether here; his cheap P.I. outfit itself seems to be wearing him more than the other way around. Perhaps that’s the point “Killer Heat” wants to make about a cynical detective who’s just going through the motions. Yet, inadvertently, that ethos has swallowed the film itself.Killer HeatRated R for language, some sexual content, nudity and violence. Running time: 1 hour 35 minutes. Watch on Amazon Prime Video. More

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      ‘The Universal Theory’ Review: A Quantum Noir

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      A physicist becomes embroiled in a conspiracy throughout this German meta-thriller. Shot in black-and-white, the film pays homage to Hollywood classics.A slippery meta-thriller from Germany, “The Universal Theory” has all of the elements of a classic film noir, but with an uncanny twist.Directed by Timm Kröger, this slick black-and-white movie features a femme fatale, woozy dissolves that stitch together each scene and a booming Bernard Herrmann-esque score by Diego Ramos Rodríguez that never lets up.And, frankly, an annoyingly convoluted plot.The story, drenched in postwar paranoia, centers on Johannes (Jan Bülow), a young physicist attending a quantum mechanics conference in the Swiss Alps. The year is 1962 — though what is time, anyway? That question is at the heart of Johannes’s yet-uncompleted doctoral thesis, in which he attempts to make the claim that the multiverse is real. His grouchy supervisor, Dr. Strathan (Hanns Zischler), is sick of hearing about it; the portly, LSD-loving Dr. Blumberg (Gottfried Breitfuss), whom Dr. Strathan despises, is more enthusiastic.Then there’s Karin (Olivia Ross), a jazz pianist who ensorcels Johannes with her relentless mystique; inexplicably, she knows obscure events from his childhood.The looming white mountains, shot with a sinister edge by Roland Stuprich, seem to be hiding something, and everyone’s caginess around Johannes turns him into something of a detective figure (a state not unrelated to the manic work of writing his thesis).Murdered individuals then start popping up around Johannes. It’s more than enough to make our hero go mad, though the film fails to present this unraveling with enough psychological grit and narrative momentum to make its more unusual surprises feel impactful. Though visually handsome, the film leaves the audience with the sense that, like a grad student, it is still working out its big ideas.The Universal TheoryNot rated. In German, with subtitles. Running time: 1 hour 58 minutes. In theaters. More

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      ‘Rez Ball’ Review: Warriors on the Court

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      This inspirational sports movie follows a high school basketball team in New Mexico with deep Native American heritage.The sports drama “Rez Ball” rapidly shows the tough road ahead for the Chuska Warriors, a New Mexico high school basketball team. When Jimmy (Kauchani Bratt) and Nataanii (Kusem Goodwind) hang out, a bleak Nataanii is mourning the deaths of his mother and sister. When he doesn’t show up for a game, word comes of his death by suicide.Yet “Rez Ball,” which is directed by Sydney Freeland and written by Freeland and Sterlin Harjo, doesn’t dwell on the tragedy. Jimmy misses his buddy, but he’s also fighting resentment about his naysaying mother and insecurity about stepping up as a star player. Rather than milk the sadness of Nataanii’s death, the plot about Native American athletes shooting for the state championship gathers its momentum from their teamwork and persistence.The team’s relatively mild coach, Heather (Jessica Matten), who is Native American, inspires her players with the use of Navajo-language play signals and instills discipline with a sheepherding team-building exercise. Her Warriors rack up wins, falter, then muster enough hustle to compete on a state level. The movie tends to race through actual game play — though the actors at least can handle the ball — and so the film’s strength lies more in the players’ easy rapport and the New Mexico location shooting.The fictional tale is inspired by the book “Canyon Dreams: A Basketball Season on the Navajo Nation” by Michael Powell, a former New York Times reporter, but Freeland and Harjo also drew on their experiences. It’s less a slam-dunk nail-biter than a matter of can-do self-determination, or as Jimmy’s friends say: stoodis (“let’s do this”).Rez BallRated PG-13 for thematic elements including suicide and some teenage smack-talking. Running time: 1 hour 51 minutes. Watch on Netflix. More

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      ‘Lee’ Review: A Remarkable Life at War

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      Kate Winslet embodies the tenacity of the photographer Lee Miller, who documented World War II for British Vogue.“Lee,” starring Kate Winslet as the photographer Lee Miller, is smartly trained on a span of 10 years: from 1938 until shortly after World War II.Miller’s biography sounds nearly apocryphal. Born in Poughkeepsie, N.Y., she was a model for Vogue, a student of the artist Man Ray (and his muse), and a fashion photographer whose work often reflected her own Surrealist sensibilities. Miller documented the war for British Vogue — then under the editorship of the English journalist Audrey Withers (Andrea Riseborough) — often in the company of the Life photographer David Scherman (Andy Samberg).It would be hard for any narrative feature film to capture the many facets of the photographer responsible for some of the most indelible images of World War II. Winslet embodies those dimensions — as well as Miller’s propulsive drive — often with an askance look, a whetted remark, a resolve both stubborn and practical.Alexander Skarsgard portrays Miller’s British husband, Roland Penrose. The two meet prickly, if teasingly so, at a gathering in the South of France that also includes French Vogue’s Solange d’Ayen (Marion Cotillard) and her husband, Jean (Patrick Mille), and the Surrealists Nusch and Paul Éluard (Noémie Merlant and Vincent Colombe). Some of these friends appear again at the war’s end; Cotillard is especially devastating as d’Ayen.The movie begins with a framing device: Miller being interviewed by a journalist in her farmhouse in 1977, which allows her to tell her story. The director Ellen Kuras uses Miller’s actual photos and recreates a number of her more piercing images throughout the film — as a tribute, but also as a call to head to the archive. “Lee” feeds the desire to seek out more of her images. Winslet’s performance demands that we consider the force behind the camera.LeeRated R for disturbing images, language and nudity. Running time: 1 hour 56 minutes. In theaters. More

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      ‘Sleep’ Review: Bumps in the Night

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      A taut and thrilling thriller about sleep issues is also a clever drama about early marriage.Apnea, insomnia, sleep hygiene, sleep aids, sleep tricks: It’s all science but feels like sorcery. Even the most rational person can begin to suspect, three weeks into sleepwalking spells or 3 a.m. wakefulness, that some curse has been placed upon them, and the only cure is some mystical spell. It’s the stuff of horror, and the director Jason Yu harnesses it deftly for his debut feature, “Sleep,” a neatly constructed thriller about the sort of insanity that slumber issues can visit on even the most harmonious household.The household here is made up of the newlyweds Hyun-su (Lee Sun-kyun) and Soo-jin (Jung Yu-mi), who is heavily pregnant. They live in a modest apartment with Pepper, their fluffy and beady-eyed white Pomeranian. On their living room wall hangs a plaque proclaiming a cheerfully optimistic notion: “Together we can overcome anything.” This sentiment, we understand, is about to face a great challenge.First it’s Hyun-su’s sleep disturbances. He scratches his face bloody in the night — a problem, since he’s an actor who is in the middle of shooting a minor part in a TV show. He sleepwalks, and sleep-eats. When Soo-jin observes him in the night, she realizes he is gorging himself on weird and gross food — raw meat and eggs — and she starts to worry, with mounting fright, for Pepper’s safety. Hyun-su seems to not be himself at night. What is he capable of?The couple consult a doctor and take precautionary measures, but Hyun-su’s sleep activities are taking their toll on Soo-jin, who sleeps less and less, especially once the baby arrives. He offers to stay in a hotel for a while; she is convinced they need to be together: As the plaque says, they can only overcome anything together. At the same time, Soo-jin’s superstitious mother tries to talk them into less orthodox cures, and Soo-jin, red-eyed and nearly delirious from constant, wakeful vigilance starts to wonder if her mother has a point.Yu’s direction is confident, and he manages to convey how a little apartment can transform from domestic comfort by day to claustrophobic agony by night. His restraint throughout keeps us guessing. We really don’t know what’s plaguing Hyun-su. Is it nerves, or a neurological disorder, or some dark and shadowy force? Soo-jin doesn’t know either, and it scares her on several levels. But when Soo-jin’s state of mind deteriorates, Hyun-su becomes just as worried about his wife, who, after all, just gave birth, and wouldn’t be sleeping well no matter what.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      ‘Saturday Night’ Review: Live TV at Its Mildest

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      When it debuted 50 years ago, “S.N.L.” was chaotic, rangy, even offensive. But nothing’s wild or crazy in Jason Reitman’s fictional reimagining of its first episode.Movies about tectonic cultural shifts tend to be too neat and tidy, too frictionless. “Saturday Night,” the director Jason Reitman’s fictional reimagining of the debut of “Saturday Night Live,” is a nice, safe movie about a revolution. Busily plotted and sporadically funny, it is a backstage look at the night a gang of comics whom most of the world had never heard of began taking over TVs across the country. It was a comedy home invasion on a national scale, and it was glorious (when it didn’t suck).The movie, written by Reitman and Gil Kenan, has a straightforward conceit. It opens at on Oct. 11, 1975, the night that the show, then called “NBC’s Saturday Night,” is scheduled to debut. (The name was changed in 1977.) In just 90 minutes — ticktock — the show will go live if the performers, writers, crew, network suits and some guy named Lorne can get it together in time. A lot of money, reputations and possibly bright futures are riding on the show, but with its deadline looming, it still seems underbaked and, from some vantage points, overly abstract.To convey that premiere and what it portended, Reitman both sticks to the historical record and embellishes it, building momentum by zeroing in on some mini-crisis amid rapid edits, swish pans and rushing bodies. Everything and everyone at 30 Rockefeller Plaza runs too fast or seems immobilized, with characters either in frenetic motion or huddling in pools of flop sweat. As the minutes pass, Reitman periodically cuts to a clock onscreen or someone calls out the time; at one point, a set designer, Leo Yoshimura (Abraham Hsu), slowly begins installing bricks on the stage of Studio 8H, each brick an emblem of the show’s parts sliding into place.In a (real) 1975 news release, NBC called the show “a new concept in late-night programming.” The network wanted a replacement for weekend reruns of “The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson,” and this venture was going to be a comedy show with sketches, musical guests, short films and the Muppets. But it was unclear what it was, maybe even to those behind the scenes. That much seems obvious when an NBC executive, Dick Ebersol (Cooper Hoffman), asks the show’s creator-producer, Lorne Michaels (Gabriel LaBelle), if he knows what it is. The straight-faced Lorne responds with an amusing, self-aggrandizing analogy involving Edison, the lightbulb and electricity. Who are you in this metaphor, the baffled exec asks.Lorne doesn’t answer, but the movie does by making him its focus. The character is less interesting than his surroundings — he’s more a blurry place holder than a fully realized personality — but whether here or there, Lorne is the center of this storm. He’s the hub, the visionary, the guy who can see past the chaos. Sure, there’s his wife, the writer Rosie Shuster (a tart Rachel Sennott); the host, George Carlin (Matthew Rhys); and a creepy suit, Dave Tebet (Willem Dafoe, in by far the funniest turn). But the star is Lorne because even genius apparently needs a boss.So, hi Chevy Chase (Cory Michael Smith), Gilda Radner (Ella Hunt), Jane Curtin (Kim Matula), Laraine Newman (Emily Fairn), Dan Aykroyd (Dylan O’Brien), Garrett Morris (Lamorne Morris, no relation) and John Belushi (Matt Wood). It’s nice to see them, so it’s too bad that only a few of the actors playing the main cast — and only the men — manage to register. That’s the case even when Reitman gestures at the show’s gender problems, as in a peek at a still-funny sketch about female construction workers learning how to harass a guy in short shorts. It’s Dan’s squirmy embarrassment, and how he then wags his rump, that makes it work.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More