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      ‘Rebel Moon — Part Two: The Scargiver’ Review: Of Stars and Wars

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      A delirious, pulpy mishmash of knockoffs, Zack Snyder’s film isn’t good, but it sure is something.A Zack Snyder picture is like everything and nothing else in the galaxy. “Rebel Moon — Part Two: The Scargiver,” the second half of the director’s hammering saga about a bucolic village at the fringes of the universe forced to fight off its imperial overlords, pulls from as many influences as there are stars in the sky. “Star Wars,” of course (yes, there are light sabers), and also “Mad Max,” Caravaggio, John Ford, European art-house cinema, World War II propaganda flicks, steampunk Victoriana, cottagecore girlies on Instagram and Wagner’s “Götterdämmerung.” Not only does the score boast two types of choirs (haunted child and Gregorian), but a single frame might include a robot dressed like the Green Knight (and voiced by Anthony Hopkins) next to a Conan the Barbarian clone next to some guy in overalls who looks like he just flew in from Bonnaroo. A delirious, pulpy mishmash of knockoffs, “The Scargiver” isn’t good, but it sure is something.The first “Rebel Moon,” released on Netflix in December, made audiences endure a gantlet of narrative groundwork that’s fairly inessential and recapped here. In it, a farm boy named Gunnar (Michiel Huisman) and a secretive assassin named Kora (Sofia Boutella) assemble an interstellar team of protectors (played by Djimon Hounsou, Staz Nair, Elise Duffy, Doona Bae and others). Now, the story picks up five days before the squad must defeat a vicious army led by an admiral (Ed Skrein) with a bad haircut and worse attitude.The script by Snyder, Kurt Johnstad and Shay Hatten trips over its aspirations whenever any character talks. There’s not a single authentic conversation, just exposition dumps and soliloquies (the best of which Hounsou delivers). Finally, after an hour of speeches, we’re treated to an hour of rousing warfare. Primal, pitiless, agonizing carnage is where Snyder excels. He’ll kill anyone, even nice people, even grandmothers-turned-guerrilla warriors who just want to get back to folk dancing. And he makes it hurt.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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      ‘The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare’ Review: War, Undemanding

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      Guy Ritchie’s latest is the platonic ideal of an airplane movie, which is not exactly a good thing.I travel by air every couple of months, and always think about a single, burning question: What makes for a great airplane movie? Not movies about being on planes. Movies to be watched on planes, making bearable the three or nine hours spent in a tin can, squashed on all sides, munching tiny pretzels and trying not to order yet another gin and tonic.“The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare,” the latest offering from the director Guy Ritchie, is a perfect airplane movie. That is not a compliment, but it’s not exactly a dis. Some movies shouldn’t be watched on planes — slow artful dramas, or movies that demand concentration and good sound (please do not watch “The Zone of Interest” on your next flight). But you’ve got to watch something, and for that, we have movies like this one.Ritchie didn’t always make airplane movies. His early work, frenetic and ribald and hilarious movies like “Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels” and “Snatch,” begged to be watched in a room full of roaring audience members, or at least at home over pizza and beers with your friends. In more recent films like “Guy Ritchie’s The Covenant,” he’s veered darker and more serious, the sort of thing that might make a flight even more tense.But watching “The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare,” which applies a frivolous touch to a serious matter (that is, defeating Nazis), I realized it embodied my three most important principles for airplane movies.Principle I: Make It Familiar“The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare” is a fictionalized account of a real thing that was only recently discovered. During World War II, in an effort to cripple German U-boats in the North Atlantic and also open the way for the Americans to join the war, Winston Churchill maybe-sorta-unofficially authorized a rogue band of daredevils to execute a delicate operation: Cut off resources to the Germans by sinking their supply ships. Unfortunately the refueling operations, accomplished via a few Italian boats, were parked on a Spanish-controlled island called Fernando Po, located just off the coast of West Africa — in neutral territory. An official British campaign would cause the rest of unaligned Europe to join up with the Nazis. So it had to be done in secret.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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      ‘Stress Positions’ Review: It’s Giving Pandemonium

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      The writer-director Theda Hammel’s biting, delirious quarantine comedy skewers white gay men in a world where fact, fiction and authentic experiences collide.For “Stress Positions,” the writer-director Theda Hammel shows her hand when a character says, in a world-weary voice-over, that the madness we’re about to witness “happened so long ago.”The movie is set in summer 2020.Karla (portrayed by Hammel) is a sardonic transgender massage therapist in New York, and the first of the film’s two narrators. Her opinion of white gay male privilege, especially that of her best friend Terry, who went from intern to husband of his boss, can be stinging.“Stress Positions” finds Terry (John Early) in lockdown in the brownstone of his soon-to-be ex-husband, Leo (John Roberts). Upstairs, Coco (Rebecca F. Wright), a tenant, puffs cigarettes and vaguely hews to Terry’s Covid safety protocols. Terry’s nephew Bahlul (Qaher Harhash), a Moroccan fashion model, is ensconced at the garden level. The 19-year-old Bahlul is the son of Terry’s estranged sister who converted to Islam. He has a broken leg, soft brown eyes and a small notebook. Is it a memoir? A novel? As he writes, he ruminates on his mother in a voice-over. We find out that Karla’s girlfriend, Vanessa (Amy Zimmer), wrote a minor-hit novel with material filched from Karla’s life. Here, fact, fiction and authentic experience are all themes to be mined.Beyond skewering white gay male culture, the movie is also a dig at the pieties of the recently politicized. Terry, Karla and Vanessa don’t know where Morocco is, or Yemen or Kabul, for that matter. And Ronald, a food delivery guy (Faheem Ali), plays a telling role in exposing the hierarchy of lives that matter.If some of the points seem muddy, the filmmaking is expressive and deliberate. With shimmer, shadow and verve, “Stress Positions” — which recently closed the New Directors/New Films festival — captures the often hallucinatory pandemonium wrought by that “long-ago” moment.Stress PositionsNot Rated. Running time: 1 hour 35 minutes. In theaters. More

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      ‘Blood for Dust’ Review: Dire Straits

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      This drug-run thriller, starring Scoot McNairy, traffics in grim ponderousness.In “Blood for Dust,” Cliff (Scoot McNairy), a salesman, hawks defibrillators across the upper western states. The devices are a tough sell, he admits. Yet this sluggish, self-serious job-gone-wrong movie could itself stand to be jolted to life.It emerges that, while working for a previous employer, Cliff participated in an elaborate theft scheme that ended with the accounting man’s suicide. That gory mess, seen in a prologue set in 1992, provides the first image, in the sort of sudden brutality that is meant to shock but instead comes across as posturing.Flash forward 17 months, to when the bulk of the action takes place. Cliff has debts, a tarnished reputation and a wife (Nora Zehetner) with whom he has had the experience of caring for a cancer-stricken child. (Evidently opening with a suicide wasn’t grim enough.) Ricky (Kit Harington), a former colleague in the scandal, approaches Cliff with an offer. “I could use a man don’t mind breaking the rules,” he drawls in an accent far removed from the Montana setting.Cliff doesn’t trust that pitch — and the barely recognizable Harington shouldn’t have trusted in that horseshoe mustache — but desperation is desperation. So Cliff joins a drug-running operation, with predictably violent consequences.Directed by Rod Blackhurst, “Blood for Dust” is a throwback, in the sense of being exceedingly familiar. An early shot of a snow-covered parking lot inevitably evokes “Fargo,” but “Blood for Dust” doesn’t have a witty line or a glimmer of humor. The climactic shootout is so dimly lit that it’s difficult to discern who is firing at whom. It’s easy enough to guess.Blood for DustRated R. Gun violence and a topless bar. Running time: 1 hour 38 minutes. In theaters and available to rent or buy on most major platforms. More

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      ‘Abigail’ Review: Horror by Numbers

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      In this cheerfully unambitious vampire movie, a bloodsucker is shut up in an old mansion with some nitwit criminals. Will there will be gore? You bet.A cheerfully obvious splatterthon, the new horror movie “Abigail” follows a simple, time-tested recipe that calls for a minimal amount of ingredients. Total time: 109 minutes. Take a mysterious child, one suave fixer and six logic-challenged criminals. Place them in an extra-large pot with a few rats, creaking floorboards and ominous shadows. Stir. Simmer and continue stirring, letting the stew come to a near-boil. After an hour, crank the heat until some of the meat falls off the bone and the whole mix turns deep red. Enjoy!That more or less sums up this movie, a horror flick that’s serviceable enough to make you occasionally giggle or flinch, yet is also so aggressively unambitious that it scarcely seems worth griping about. It centers on the kidnapping of the title character (a fine Alisha Weir), an outwardly self-possessed 12-year ballerina who’s snatched one night by a half-dozen genre types. A formulaically diverse cohort of underworld bottom feeders (played by Dan Stevens, among others), these Scooby-Doo-ish chuckleheads come with divergent skills, histories and expiration dates, and are largely tasked with padding the reed-thin story and dying horribly.The filmmakers — it was written by Stephen Shields and Guy Busick, and directed by Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett — have outfitted the story with the usual particulars. Much of the movie unfolds inside a sprawling labyrinthine mansion that looks like it was imagineered by an amusement park designer who scanned some old horror movies while thumbing through picture books on the history of the European aristocracy. There are suits of armor flanking the front door, a bearskin rug on the floor, an empty coffin tucked in a corner and oddly, given the genre circumstances, some fresh garlic in an otherwise derelict kitchen.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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      ‘We Grown Now’ Review: A Child’s Eye View

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      Minhal Baig’s third feature follows two boys living in a public housing complex in Chicago as they cope by building their own dream worlds.The two boys in the gauzy nostalgia piece “We Grown Now” are total charmers. They’re also worryingly vulnerable, something you clock soon after the movie opens. Set in 1992, it takes place primarily in Cabrini-Green, at the time a public housing development in Chicago. There, the boys frolic and dream amid cinder block walls. Every so often, they wander outside to the concrete playground and to a jumble of old mattresses that the local kids use as cushioning. One boy likes to vault through the air and onto the mattresses; he likes to fly.The two boys are around 10 years old, and the closest of friends. They live in the same broken-down tower building, one of several in the complex, where sometimes they hang out in an abandoned apartment. There, they like to talk and stare at the stained and cracked ceiling, conjuring up visions from it the way they might do under the sheltering dome of the sky. Malik (Blake Cameron James) turns out to be an especially dreamy child, a pint-size philosopher who lives with his loving mother (Jurnee Smollett), doting grandma (S. Epatha Merkerson) and sister (Madisyn Barnes), a typical if benign sibling thorn in his side.For his part, Malik’s best friend, the more prosaically drawn Eric (Gian Knight Ramirez), lives with his older sister (Avery Holliday) and their father (Lil Rel Howery), a kindly fount of praise and disappointment. The friendship between Eric and Malik — the child performers are dear — is one of the truest parts of the movie, and it’s easy to fall quickly into step with them as they wander Cabrini, head to school and one day briefly escape from their routine. Bored one day while in class, the boys jump on a train and eventually make it to the Art Institute of Chicago, where they roam its galleries, at one point pausing before Walter Ellison’s striking painting “Train Station,” a 1935 canvas that depicts a segregated terminal.Their interest in the painting is easy to believe: It’s beautiful, arresting and at once familiar and mysterious (as the child of a former museum guard, I can relate). At the same time, like so much of this movie, the scene also feels forced, partly because the writer-director Minhal Baig’s expressionistic reveries don’t always fit with the issues she recurrently invokes. When the boys run through the museum, the other patrons remain frozen in place, as if they were in a different dimension. Yet when Malik connects the painting to his grandmother’s home in Mississippi, he opens a window onto a profound history that’s too heavy for this otherwise fanciful scene. He also sounds more like a filmmaking conceit than a child, however wise.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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      ‘Egoist’ Review: A Romance With a Twist

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      In this ultimately sentimental drama, a lonely fashion magazine editor in Tokyo meets a personal trainer with a secret.Kosuke (Ryohei Suzuki), the protagonist of Daishi Matsunaga’s “Egoist,” is a lonely fashion magazine editor in Tokyo, with high cheekbones and deep pockets. When he meets and falls for Ryuta (Hio Miyazawa), a fresh-faced personal trainer, it all seems like a dream — until Ryuta reveals that he moonlights as a prostitute to make ends meet, and that their romance complicates his livelihood. Kosuke makes a proposition: He’ll give Ryuta a monthly stipend to cover his expenses.It’s the perfect set up for a juicy erotic thriller. But “Egoist,” adapted from the novel of the same name by Makoto Takayama, has many surprises in store, not all of them pleasant. Halfway through the movie, a tragic twist turns what seems like a sexy romance full of intrigue into a sentimental (albeit handsomely performed) drama about loss.Suzuki and Miyazawa have crackling chemistry, and they turn in delicate, finely tuned performances that are sometimes undercut by the script’s broad strokes and unsubtle flourishes. When we first meet Kosuke, his designer outfits, puffed chest and sad eyes show all we need to know; his voice-over, which tells us that clothes are his “armor,” is redundant. So are the film’s many montages underlining Ryuta’s plight — he toils at multiple jobs to care for his sick mother — that reduce the character to something of a sob story.Class is the central theme in “Egoist”: Kosuke and Ryuta’s star-crossed romance shows us how money, and the struggle to make ends meet, can complicate even the most genuine love. But as the film leans into melodrama, it loses both its friction and frisson, and a steaming-hot premise turns into something cold to the touch.EgoistNot Rated. In Japanese, with subtitles. Running time: 2 hours. In theaters. More

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      Tribeca Festival’s 2024 Lineup Features Films With the Brat Pack, Lily Gladstone

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      Organizers released the event lineup for the annual New York event, set for June. It includes films that trace the lives of Linda Perry and Avicii.The 2024 Tribeca Festival will offer the world premieres of a Brat Pack documentary, a movie starring Lily Gladstone and films that trace the lives of the music world figures Linda Perry and Avicii, organizers said Wednesday as they announced the event lineup.Also on the schedule will be a feature starring Jenna Ortega, a buddy comedy with Michael Cera, Maya Erskine and Kristen Stewart and a documentary that looks at the world of queer stand-up comedy.This year’s festival, which will run in Lower Manhattan from June 5-16, will open with the documentary “Diane von Furstenberg: Woman in Charge” and will include 103 features from 114 filmmakers in 48 countries. The festival will offer 86 world premieres and 30 movies directed by first-time filmmakers.Officials said their final selections were chosen from more than 13,000 submissions — a record high.“We feel really lucky that there was such enthusiasm, particularly with all of the challenges that the industry had this year,” Cara Cusumano, the Tribeca Festival’s director, said in a phone interview. “It made me feel really optimistic about the future of independent film and about the resiliency of the creative community.”The documentary “Brats” will follow Andrew McCarthy as he crisscrosses the country reconnecting with fellow actors Rob Lowe, Demi Moore, Ally Sheedy, Emilio Estevez and others who in the 1980s and ’90s became collectively known as the Brat Pack. A panel featuring McCarthy, who directed the documentary, and other members of the cast will follow the premiere.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