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      ‘The Gorge’ Review: How Deep Is Your Love?

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      Miles Teller and Anya Taylor-Joy don’t exactly meet cute in this action movie, but they do find romance as well as horror.Somewhere the Baltics, an American and former Marine named Levi, played by a goateed Miles Teller, is assigned to guard a gorge. He’s installed high up in a fancy watchtower that’s equipped with comfortable living quarters, plenty of food and well-stocked bookshelves. Previous occupants have chalked quotes from the likes of Jean-Paul Sartre, T.S. Eliot and Cyril Connolly on the walls.An identical tower sits across the gorge. In that one is Drasa (Anya Taylor-Joy), a dark-haired Lithuanian agent. We first see her paying a visit to her accordion-playing father, and we meet Levi being kind to his dog on the beach, so we know they are good people. While they’re instructed by their espionage overlords to distrust each other, they quickly contrive to get physically closer.Directed by Scott Derrickson from a script by Zach Dean, “The Gorge” takes an already implausible premise and then catapults it out of the espionage genre and into science-fiction and horror. As it happens, at the bottom of this gorge are creatures called “the hollow men” (more Eliot!) and these gnarly fellows go on the attack after Drasa blasts Ramones music across the divide.In the meantime, Levi’s commander, played by Sigourney Weaver, is up to no good, ordering the elimination of a previous gorge operative. But for all the elaborate weaponry, production design and (eventually) frantic action offered here, this movie crackles most as a lively pas de deux between Taylor-Joy and Teller, who commendably take their material seriously no matter how seriously ridiculous it gets.The GorgeRated PG-13 for language and violence. Running time: 2 hours 7 minutes. Watch on AppleTV+. More

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      Wallace and Gromit Creator Discusses the Characters, Technology and the Queen

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      Nick Park’s latest film in the stop-motion series is up for multiple awards at the BAFTAs and the Oscars.Wallace and Gromit is something of an institution in the entertainment world. Since its introduction more than 35 years ago, the stop-motion series has won three Oscars and five BAFTAs. The two protagonists — Wallace, the cheese-eating inventor, and Gromit, the long-suffering dog — have even appeared on Royal Mail stamps.The animation series’ latest iteration — “Wallace & Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl” — is now back in the awards race with nominations at Sunday’s EE British Academy Film Awards, known as the BAFTAs, and the Oscars in March.“Vengeance Most Fowl” was directed by Wallace and Gromit’s creator, Nick Park, and by Merlin Crossingham, who said the film was shot over 15 months in a studio that was larger than a soccer field, with 260 people on set — including 35 animators and 50 puppet makers. The handcrafted clay cast has been expanded to include a robotic garden gnome called Norbot.“As a crew, if we got a minute and a half in the week, we’d have a megaweek,” Crossingham said. He described animation as a “magic trick,” because “you’re breathing life into something that doesn’t have any.”Park was born and raised in Preston, a city in northwestern England. His father was a photographer and his mother was a tailor and seamstress who made garments for all five of her children.Nick Park, left and Merlin Crossingham at the London Critics’ Circle Film Awards this month, where “Vengeance Most Fowl” won the best animated feature prize.Scott A. Garfitt/Invision, via Associated PressWe 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 BAFTAs Rising Star Award Has a Public Option

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      The EE Rising Star Award is the only honor presented at the British equivalent of the Oscars that is voted on by the British public.“It’s nice that the audience are getting to have a say in Britain’s biggest award-giving ceremony,” James McAvoy said at the 2006 British Academy Film Awards, known as the BAFTAs.The Scottish actor, then 26, had just been named the inaugural winner of BAFTA’s Orange Rising Star Award. Introducing the newly minted prize, the British actor Patrick Stewart explained that it was presented to “a young actor or actress of any nationality who has demonstrated exceptional talent and ambition” and that it was the only accolade of the evening voted on by the British public.Sunday’s ceremony marks the 20th anniversary of the prize, now known as the EE Rising Star Award, which the British public has bestowed on an entire generation of up-and-coming actors and actresses, including Tom Hardy, Eva Green, Letitia Wright, Daniel Kaluuya and Kristen Stewart.This year’s nominees include Marisa Abela, the star of the Amy Winehouse biopic “Back to Black,” David Jonsson, who plays a sympathetic android in “Alien: Romulus,” and Mikey Madison, the star of Sean Baker’s “Anora,” who is also in the running for a leading actress award. (Many Rising Star Award contenders have been nominated in a BAFTA performance category as well, but none has managed the feat of winning both, so far.)David Jonsson has also been nominated for the prize; he played a sympathetic android in “Alien: Romulus.”Isabel Infantes/Reuters“I think that the Rising Star Award has been very smart,” Xan Brooks, a film critic for The Guardian, said in a phone interview. Especially in today’s influencer-social media culture of effervescent fame, Brooks contended that “there is a place for a Rising Star Award in the British awards firmament.”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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      ‘Paddington in Peru’ Review: Homeward Bound

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      The genial bear embarks on an Amazonian journey of self discovery in this movie, which cannot measure up to “Paddington 2” despite its charms.It’s rare for a sequel to outshine its original, and there’s hardly a case that comes to mind quicker than “Paddington,” the live-action franchise about a clumsy, gentlemanly bear from Peru who was brought up in London. Based on Michael Bond’s books, the original movie and especially the sequel stand out for their appeal to all ages — from the children toward whom they’re geared to the abundance of adults who relish their sincerity, humanity and flair.“Paddington in Peru,” an amiable effort to continue the trend, moves its star into the action-adventure genre. The movie finds Paddington (voiced by Ben Whishaw) on a safari through the Amazon jungle of his youth to rescue his aunt Lucy (Imelda Staunton), who has mysteriously gone missing from her retirement home.If “Paddington” hinges on blundering and “Paddington 2” on relentless civility, the third stages a more personal journey of self discovery. It’s a somewhat rote exercise in soul-searching, and the script lacks subtlety. (At one point, a character actually says, “you have found yourself.”) But the experience is still a worthy one for our furry leading man. Finally, Paddington graduates from nuisance to pathfinder, from struggling to fit in to forging his own identity.The movie begins by catching us up with the Brown family in their picturesque townhouse in London. The kids — now adolescents — have gained independence, and Mrs. Brown (Emily Mortimer, taking over from Sally Hawkins) is missing the days when the fivesome would spend time as a family. So, when Paddington learns that Lucy is in trouble, Mrs. Brown jumps at the opportunity for some vacation bonding and ushers her family into a Peruvian rescue mission.In his feature debut, the director, Dougal Wilson, nods to the adults in the room by taking the straightforward story and packing it with cinematic references. Early on, there’s a singalong where the retirement home’s Reverend Mother (Olivia Colman) belts to the hills with the sound of music. Later, action scenes sponge ideas from Buster Keaton and Indiana Jones. And among the ensemble, the intrepid Hunter Cabot (Antonio Banderas) plays a local river guide whose support of the Browns is tainted by an ulterior motive.Watching Hunter’s schemes unfold, viewers can appreciate the central challenge facing “Paddington in Peru.” How do you measure up to “Paddington 2” when much of its magic came from Hugh Grant, who’s nowhere to be found? Instead, the filmmakers call on Colman and Banderas to fill the void, and although the actors commit with manic enthusiasm, their goofing can’t conjure what came before. Like chivalry from a genial bear, it’s a tough act to follow.Paddington in PeruRated PG. Running time: 1 hour 46 minutes. In theaters. More

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      ‘Universal Language’ Review: If Tehran Were Winnipeg

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      A lightly satirical and surrealist comedy imagines the snowy Canadian city in the style of the Iranian New Wave.The jokes I most enjoy are very specific, aimed at some tiny cross section of people who possess a peculiar shared set of reference points. Sure, broadly crowd-pleasing comedy is a hoot. But when you sense something is funny because it was made for you, and so there are other people like you, too — that’s one of the best feelings art can provoke.“Universal Language,” directed by Matthew Rankin, is a gently funny, gently moving, slightly surrealist little comedy that’s aimed at two groups of people: Canadians, specifically but not exclusively those who know Winnipeg, and aficionados of Iranian cinema. Surely there’s overlap between the two circles in that Venn diagram, but I can’t imagine it’s all that substantial. Combining the two cultural specificities, though, makes for something fresh and weird and delightful to watch — even if, like me, you’re not an expert on either one.Even before the movie begins, onscreen text proclaims that this is “A Presentation of the Winnipeg Institute for the Intellectual Development of Children and Young People.” No such agency exists: It’s a sly wink at cinephiles, who may know that a similar institute — the Institute for the Intellectual Development of Children and Young Adults — produced some of the classic Iranian films in the 1970s and ’80s, including some early children’s films from the celebrated director Abbas Kiarostami. Rankin even uses a logo for his fictitious institute that looks suspiciously like the Iranian one.Actually, the onscreen text that I could read was in English subtitles, because the logo was rendered in Persian — unexpected for a purportedly Winnipeg-based organization. It’s the first indication that this movie is not set in a world strictly like our own. In their screenplay, Rankin, Ila Firouzabadi and Pirouz Nemati came up with a world that is sort of a thought experiment: What if Tehran were Winnipeg? Or Winnipeg were Tehran? What if the landscapes were snowy, the Tim Hortons were teahouses and everyone spoke Persian?Persian and French, technically — this is Canada after all. There’s no reason given for this alt-historical fact: This is just normal Canada but with Iranian cultural traditions having fully melded with Canadian ones for whatever reason. In fact, the first scene is set in a French-immersion language school full of rambunctious children, including one dressed up as Groucho Marx (cigar included) and one, named Omid (Sobhan Javadi), who insists that a turkey stole his glasses. The ill-tempered teacher (Mani Soleymanlou), who excoriates the children for not even having “the decency to misbehave in French,” declares that there will no school until Omid has glasses again.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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      ‘Sly Lives! (aka the Burden of Black Genius)’ Review: Struggling to Transmit

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      Questlove’s new documentary aims to dissect the forward-looking brilliance of Sly Stone and his band, but mostly it traces their downward arc.Partway through this new Questlove documentary about Sly Stone, his band, the Family Stone, and the joyous, urgent funk they made, I got a little sad. Not for Stone, per se, and not for fame’s warping effect on his personality and relationships or for the serious drug addiction that maybe helped him cope with being that recognizable. (If “psychedelia” was a look, he looked it: piles of hair often cherried by a hat; capes, tight leather and denim; shirts, vests and jackets that never ever seemed to close.) I got sad because I could predict the notes the movie would hit — collapses, breakups, recriminations, redemption.I could make that prediction because of all the “Behind the Music” I’ve watched. This movie, “Sly Lives!,” tells Stone’s life as one of those “… and then it all fell apart” stories. Ahmir Thompson, the director better known as Questlove, proceeds with more care — with ardor even — than that series, which ran for about 17 years on VH1 and developed a formula that itself became an addictive experience. You don’t know “binge watch” until you’ve lost an entire day on that show’s roller coaster.“Sly Lives!,” which is streaming on Hulu, traces the arc of a vital career, and down is where, for a time, it led. Stone is an artist partly responsible for making “too much, too fast,” in the rock ’n’ roll universe, feel inevitable now. And if George Clinton happens to surprise you with the news that he and Stone had been using crack and were arrested in 1981 for possession, withholding that discovery constitutes minor cultural malpractice. Yet how does a filmmaker devise an alternative to the old rise-before-demise template? Failing that, how does a filmmaker enliven the journalism of the format with insight, feeling, personality, an argument?Questlove would like “Sly Lives!” to brush the dust from Stone’s pop pedestal, to celebrate his music as sui generis polymathic synthesis and as hip-hop’s bedrock, to imply that his ethos, zeal, caution and nerve persist in his scores of studio-wizard and rhythm-vision progeny: for starters, Stevie Wonder, Prince, Lenny Kravitz, Outkast, Erykah Badu, Meshell Ndegeocello, LCD Soundsystem, Kendrick Lamar, Childish Gambino, Steve Lacy. But the movie gets lost in the gulf between standard, if illuminating, biography and roiling existential crisis.For “Sly Lives!” is a title with freight. “The Burden of Black Genius” is what follows in a parenthetical, but “Black” gets a strikethrough. The film opens with its director asking for a definition of “Black genius” from Clinton, D’Angelo, Chaka Khan, Q-Tip, Nile Rodgers, Jimmy Jam, Terry Lewis and the guitarist Vernon Reid. Thought bubbles ensue. André 3000’s endorsement of Black genius as a phenomenon he loves “when it happens” is as near an answer as anyone gets. And Stone, who’s 81 now, evidently couldn’t be cajoled into comment.He was born Sylvester Stewart and reared in Vallejo, Calif. His musical life began in the church and was fortified by playing records on the radio station KSOL and producing songs for other Bay Area acts at Autumn Records. He stopped studying music in college and, in 1966, formed a band of his own with his siblings, Rose (keys) and Freddie (guitar), alongside Cynthia Robinson (trumpet), Jerry Martini (sax), Greg Errico (drums) and Larry Graham (bass). (They all provided vocals. But one of the film’s quieter achievements is the reminder that Stone was the pre-eminent funk singer — growls, yelps, wails; pulpit and pelvis.)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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      ‘La Dolce Villa’ Review: Sweet Italian Nonsense

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      A light as air romantic comedy about a cheap villa in a fictional town capitalizes on the “Emily in Paris” model, with pasta.From the start, I had many questions about “La Dolce Villa,” directed by Mark Waters, most of which are easy enough to answer but stick in the mind nonetheless. Why, for instance, is the hot middle-aged dad, Eric (Scott Foley), so incredibly mad at his 20-something daughter, Olivia (Maia Reficco), for wanting to purchase a literal villa in Italy for the whopping price of one euro? Why, for that matter, is her Italian so good? Why does Eric seem so convinced the one-euro Italian villa situation is a complete scam, despite, presumably, living in a world that has the internet? Why does everyone in the tiny, remote, fictional town of Montezara, in which this villa can be found, speak extremely accomplished, crystal-clear English? And why does it feel like “La Dolce Villa” is actually funded by an Italian tourist bureau?The same answer applies to each of these: It’s a Netflix movie, designed expressly for the “Emily in Paris” audience. That is to say, it’s a glossy fairy tale about Americans having lighthearted adventures in Europe, getting into scrapes and falling in love and charming the pants off all the locals.I’ve basically explained the premise, but let’s add that Eric, a widower, and Olivia are from Ohio. After a couple of bad traveling mishaps in the past, Eric is convinced Italy is the worst place ever. He used to be a chef, but now he’s a corporate guy — yet when he sees the villa, with its capacious broken-down kitchen, the gears start to turn. Olivia is more of a free spirit, and she’s made friends with the mayor of Montezara, Francesca (Violante Placido), who is beautiful, around Eric’s age and full of big plans for her little town. Montezara is populated by an assortment of contractors, nonnas and beautiful young people. Everybody eats pasta and rides bikes through the countryside.And Montezara seems full of villas available for one euro, part of a movement in Italy to infuse new life into communities that are in danger of becoming ghost towns. (In the movie and in real life, buyers have to commit to renovating the building within a few years, which can cost thousands of dollars but is still much cheaper than buying a house virtually anywhere else.) It’s basically paradise on earth, and of course, Francesca and Eric — being single, middle-age and extremely beautiful — will meet cute and have a series of slapsticky mishaps and you know the rest.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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      ‘Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy’ Review: A Screwball Heroine Is Back

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      The madcap Londoner returns in a third sequel that is just as deliciously satisfying as the first movie in the series — maybe even more.Even though Bridget Jones fans are used to zany plot developments, few could have anticipated the twist in the new installment of her film series: Miraculously, “Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy” reconnects with the deft balance of bubbliness, high jinks and emotion that was the hallmark of the movie that started it all in 2001, “Bridget Jones’s Diary.”That is a surprise, indeed, because of the first two sequels’ diminishing returns. The previous entry in the franchise, “Bridget Jones’s Baby,” may have ended with our heroine (Renée Zellweger) as the beaming new bride of her soul mate, Mark Darcy (Colin Firth), but the franchise itself was in dire straits. Labored and unfunny, that film, from 2016, sounded like a cinematic death rattle rather than peals of joyous wedding bells.Michael Morris’s “Mad About the Boy” opens with Bridget a widow of four years — happiness is always fleeting, a bittersweet undercurrent that anchors those generally buoyant movies.She is as messy and disheveled as ever, the kind of mom who sets pasta on fire and lets her young children (Mila Jankovic and Casper Knopf) run the house. Fortunately, she still has the same supporting friends (James Callis, Shirley Henderson and Sally Phillips). She also continues to hang out with the suave playboy Daniel Cleaver, portrayed, as always, by Hugh Grant — how the Bridget Jones movies have, over the years, handled this now unpalatable type qualifies as magic of the highest order. And blessedly, Emma Thompson pops back as Bridget’s gynecologist, pronouncing “syphilis” in a way that deserves to start a thousand TikTok memes.Still, it’s time for Bridget to move on and make the most of her 50s. In short order, she falls into the toned arms of the 29-year-old Roxster McDuff (Leo Woodall, “The White Lotus”), who rescues her from an ill-fated attempt to climb a tree — one of many instances of slapstick in the movie, a wise decision considering Zellweger’s expert physical comedy.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