Anna Kendrick steps behind the camera for the first time to take on misogyny and murder with Woman Of The Hour, a chilling true crime tale debuting on Netflix starting this Friday. In September 1978, photographer Rodney Alcala was the winning Bachelor on an episode of The Dating Game. What producers and viewers of the show didn’t know at the time was that he was in the middle of a killing spree that already claimed the lives of several young women throughout southern California. Weaving back and forth through time, Kendrick uses the taping of the now infamous game show entry as an anchor point to underscore just how deceiving appearances can be. Backed by a sharp script and even more incisive editing, her directorial debut is a bracingly fresh take on the serial killer genre.

Kendrick also stars as Cheryl Bradshaw, a struggling actress who schleps fruitlessly to auditions, where casting directors barely even look up from their notes to acknowledge her when running scenes. Desperate for work, she reluctantly takes a spot on the hit game show The Dating Game, in the hopes that her appearance will spark more TV roles for her in the future. After throwing the three male contestants unscripted questions, to the chagrin of host Ed Burke (Tony Hale), Cheryl chooses the charming and intelligent “Bachelor #3” Rodney Alcala (Daniel Zovatto). Anxious for the all-expense paid trip to Carmel, Rodney asks Cheryl for a drink right after the show but during their date, she can’t ignore the nagging feeling that something isn’t right with the newly-minted game show winner.

In addition to the unsettling encounter Cheryl has with the murderer, whose victim count was estimated to be 130 by the time he died in 2021, Woman Of The Hour depicts a handful of the atrocities Alcala committed. While these scenes are terrifying and can be difficult to watch, they certainly don’t indulge in brutality against these women and are intended to convey just how casual the transition from flirtation to violence can be at the hands of a monster. Daniel Zovatto is appropriately unnerving as the calculatedly charismatic creep, connoting confidence and conscientiousness atop his psychopathic impulses. In each of the sequences that show Alcala on the hunt for vulnerable women, Zovatto reveals aspects of his character that make him even more deplorable but no less fascinating.

Concluding right at the 90-minute mark, Woman Of The Hour does come across as somewhat underdeveloped despite its weighty subject material. Kendrick devotes a portion of the narrative to an audience member, played by Nicolette Robinson, who recognizes Alcala during the taping of the episode after a previous encounter that left her shaken. I imagine her inclusion in the film is Kendrick taking artistic liberties, as there isn’t any evidence someone who had a brush with Alcala was in the audience for the show. But in comparison to Cheryl’s perspective of events and Rodney’s murderous interjections in the narrative, the scenes of Robinson’s character desperately trying to warn a top producer of The Dating Game about Alcala don’t resonate with the same level of intensity.

What Kendrick makes clear is how the sexism of the era, the residue of which is still on display today, allowed murderers like Alcala to carry out horrendous crimes undetected. Using The Dating Game, a long-running game show that positioned women as prizes to be won, as a backdrop drives home the point that a literal serial killer can be championed if they say the right thing. During commercial breaks, Cheryl chats with a tenured makeup artist who quickly touches her up and imparts bits of wisdom for the nervous contestant. In the years she’s been on the show, she says the real question under all the different questions that are asked is “which one of you will hurt me?” Of course, the line takes on a more literal meaning in context but even outside this story, it points to how unsafe women have been made to feel by men throughout the years. It’s a premise that Kendrick unpacks brilliantly as both the lead actress and director of Woman Of The Hour, an impactful evocation of quiet dread.

Score – 3.5/5

More new movies coming this weekend:
Coming to theaters is Smile 2, a horror sequel starring Naomi Scott and Rosemarie DeWitt, following a pop singer begins to experience a series of increasingly disturbing and daunting events as she is about to go on a new world tour.
Also playing in theaters is We Live In Time, a romantic drama starring Andrew Garfield and Florence Pugh, telling the story of an up-and-coming chef and a recent divorcée who find their lives forever changed when a chance encounter brings them together.
Streaming on Shudder is MadS, a one-take horror movie starring Lewkowski Yovel and Lucille Guillaume, involving a teenager whose night takes a surreal turn when he picks up an injured woman after driving back from seeing his drug dealer.

Reprinted by permission of Whatzup

What do you get when you cross a loosely-adapted comic book movie with a billion dollars at the box office and 11 Oscar nominations? Well, you get Joker: Folie à Deux, a sequel borne not of artistic necessity but of financial potentiality. On paper, it doesn’t seem like a lazy effort; after all, it’s a full-blown musical that spends most of its runtime either in a prison or a courtroom. But it’s clear that director and co-writer Todd Phillips is simply out of his element here. It’s no secret that Phillips borrowed heavily from two Scorsese classics (Taxi Driver and The King Of Comedy) when creating Joker. It’s ironic (or perhaps fitting) that his follow-up seems to track so closely with Scorsese’s New York, New York, a dolefully nostalgic musical so poorly received that it sent the director into a downward spiral. Don’t be surprised if we see a black-and-white boxing epic from Phillips 5 years from now.

It’s two years after the events of Joker and Arthur Fleck (Joaquin Phoenix) has been committed to Arkham State Hospital while awaiting trial for the murders he committed. Taking up his case is attorney Maryanne Stewart (Catherine Keener), who plans to argue that Arthur’s crimes were the result of a split personality over which he had no control. The conditions of Arkham are bleak — courtesy of thuggish prison guards like Jackie Sullivan (Brendan Gleeson) — but a bright spot appears in the form of fellow inmate Lee Quinzel (Lady Gaga), whom Arthur meets in music therapy. Despite the unusual circumstances, the pair fall for one another but as the media frenzy around Arthur’s hotly anticipated trial continues the swirl, will their burgeoning bond survive the madness?

To be clear: Joker: Folie à Deux isn’t bad because it’s a musical; it’s bad because it’s not a good musical. Instead of crafting original songs, Todd Phillips opts for standards like the ones Lady Gaga sang with Tony Bennett on the albums they collaborated on before his passing. Obviously the songs are in her wheelhouse and she belts them out well, but Phillips doesn’t even try to stage cogent musical numbers to feature her towering vocals. Understandably, Joaquin Phoenix doesn’t match her vocally but you could make the argument he’s singing “in character” more as Arthur, where Gaga doesn’t register as playing a character during her songs. Aside from a few cheek-to-cheek reveries, the choreography often seems haphazard and almost improvised in the rest of the sequences. The switches to song-and-dance mode often feel perfunctory and there are periods where the film seems embarrassed to admit that it’s a musical.

As underwhelming as Joker: Folie à Deux is as a musical, its ultimate undoing is that it’s a narratively inert courtroom drama as well. Putting Arthur on trial may have seemed like a satisfying narrative arc in theory but for the purposes of this sequel, it anchors its ambitions down with callbacks and reframing of events from the first film. It also puts front and center how little Todd Phillips actually understands or cares about Arthur in the first place; most of the testimony is centered around how awful his character was to people around him in Joker. Borrowing from the “God’s lonely man” mold from the aforementioned Scorsese classics, Phillips was at least able to feign empathy for his central character the first time around but here, he has no idea what to make of him and his actions. This aimlessness affects Joaquin Phoenix’s performance too, whose work here is still passable but not nearly as arresting as it was in his initial Oscar-winning role.

Aside from an opening animated sequence that feels like it’s trying too hard to throw the audience off kilter, the early stretch of Joker: Folie à Deux is its most promising. If the end of Joker positioned the titular rogue as a folk hero for the downtrodden, Folie à Deux provides a sobering counterpoint to infamy with its dispiriting prison sequences. Even though the guard characters are inconsistently written, Phillips reliably hits the prison drama beats with cinematographer Lawrence Sher, returning from Joker with camerawork that’s more claustrophobic than the predecessor but no less compelling. Frankly, someone more talented than Phillips would’ve had more success with this project but since he was never going to turn down the paycheck, why not play to the director’s strengths and make this a road movie? Phillips directed Road Trip, Due Date and three The Hangover films, so why not have Arthur and Lee hit the road like Bonnie and Clyde?

Score – 2/5

Coming to theaters this weekend:
Saturday Night, starring Gabriel LaBelle and Rachel Sennott, is a biopic based on the true story of what happened in the 90 minutes prior to the 1975 premiere of NBC’s debut of Saturday Night Live.
Piece By Piece, starring Pharrell Williams and Morgan Neville, which documents the life and musical career of producer Pharrell Williams, incorporating his faith and expressing his artistry by means of Lego.
Terrifier 3, starring David Howard Thornton and Lauren LaVera, continues the saga of the murderous Art The Clown, as survivors of his Halloween massacre struggle to rebuild their shattered lives during the holiday season.

Reprinted by permission of Whatzup

If the body horror subgenre has a guiding principle, it’s in the terror of our infinite consciousness being inextricably tethered to malleable mortal flesh. Most films in the category find humans attempting to circumvent their natural form and being punished in gruesome ways for their transgression. The Substance, the provocative new satire from writer/director Coralie Fargeat, abides by this thesis — “you can’t escape from yourself,” as a sinister voice on the phone warns at one point — but pushes the subgenre into thrilling new territory by taking on the beauty industry and the impossible standards society places on women. In the protagonist’s quest for physical perfection, imagery is evoked that isn’t merely ugly but downright horrifying. It’s as gnarly a parable about self-acceptance as you’re likely to see this year, or any other year, for that matter.

The opening shot of The Substance makes it clear that the star of Elisabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore) is fading. As the cracks of her respective Hollywood Walk of Fame emblem have manifested over the years, she too finds the passage of time difficult to take when her long-running aerobic TV show is canceled on her 50th birthday. After a car accident, she learns of a mysterious serum known as “The Substance”, which promises Elisabeth a “younger and better version” of herself. Upon first injection, a new being is birthed out of Elisabeth’s spinal column, a younger counterpart who chooses the name Sue (Margaret Qualley) and shares Elisabeth’s interest in sexualized fitness routines. Sue parlays with Elisabeth’s skeezy TV producer Harvey (Dennis Quaid) and she seems to be well on her way to stardom but there’s a catch: the regimen for The Substance dictates that Sue and Elisabeth switch bodies every week.

Inevitably, this protocol is abused and the equilibrium between Elisabeth and Sue is irrevocably thrown off. The temptation of staying in Sue’s body beyond the week-long timeframe proves too great and the results become dire in short order. It’s difficult to pick a favorite stretch of The Substance, easily one of 2024’s finest, but the initial fracturing of Elisabeth and Sue’s journeys provides the film’s most biting commentary. While Sue spends her week titillating viewers with her new show Pump It Up, Elisabeth desperately grasps for fulfillment through overindulging on junk food. She even accepts a date with a high school acquaintance who is, frankly, not nearly as good-looking as she is, but thanks to the humongous Sue-featuring billboard outside her window, Elisabeth spirals into debilitating insecurity. It’s a heartbreaking scene and Demi Moore pulls it off perfectly.

If The Substance was primarily just scenes where we’re asked to have sympathy for Elisabeth, Moore would already be doing the best work of her career but what puts this over the top is how much more is asked of her. At the outset, she has to sidestep the grotesque behavior of demeaning male executives who no longer see her as relevant and by the end, she steps into corporal grotesqueries that are best for viewers to experience for themselves. To an extent, I imagine Moore brought personal experience from aging in Hollywood to this role and it requires so much vulnerability and rawness to make the narrative cohere. It’s as compelling and committed a lead performance as I’ve seen all year and my hope is that Moore is in talks for Best Actress when Oscar season kicks in.

Following up her brutal debut Revenge, Coralie Fargeat demonstrates impeccable control over a story that could go terribly wrong in the hands of someone who wasn’t as passionately intelligent about the material. She’s making a movie that is, in large part, about the female form but the nudity is clinical and considered in the way that Jonathan Glazer was for 2013’s Under The Skin. The sexually-charged imagery is intentionally over-the-top and draws attention to the futility of pursuing physical perfection, as Margaret Qualley herself is performing with prosthetic enhancements. Fargeat also tips her hat to a handful of classics, with liminal spaces right out of The Shining and a pivotal music cue from Vertigo, another movie that involves female doppelgängers under intense male scrutiny. The Substance is a shot in the arm for those who have been bored by recent horror offerings.

Score – 4.5/5

New movies coming this weekend:
Coming to theaters is The Wild Robot, an animated sci-fi film starring Lupita Nyong’o and Pedro Pascal, about an intelligent robot who is stranded on an uninhabited island after a shipwreck and subsequently bonds with the island’s animals.
Also playing only in theaters is Megalopolis, an epic science fiction movie starring Adam Driver and Giancarlo Esposito, centering around an idealist architect in a decaying city, who is granted a license by the federal government to demolish and rebuild the city as a sustainable utopia.
Streaming on Paramount+ is Apartment 7A, a psychological thriller starring Julia Garner and Dianne Wiest, involving a struggling dancer who finds herself drawn into dark forces by a peculiar couple promising her fame in 1960s New York.

Reprinted by permission of Whatzup

Michael Keaton was one of the highlights in last year’s superhero goulash The Flash and at the tail end of this summer, he’s back reviving another character from a different 1980s Tim Burton classic after a lengthy hiatus. Fortunately, Burton has returned for directing duties as well in Beetlejuice Beetlejuice, a legacy sequel that could have easily been a soulless excuse to pilfer from the bio-exorcist’s bedeviled brand but instead feels like a proper successor. Following a Dumbo remake that feels like it was workshopped within an inch of its life, it seems Burton is having real fun behind the camera again and the spirit of play is infectious. Sure, the storyline is too busy and the pacing gets away from him but when it comes to Burton movies, I’ll take amiably anarchic over anemically anonymous any day of the week.

Moving on from her goth teenage phase in Beetlejuice, Lydia Deetz (Winona Ryder) now uses her ghost-communing powers to host a talk show about haunted houses with her television producer boyfriend Rory (Justin Theroux). A death in the Deetz family brings Lydia, stepmother Delia (Catherine O’Hara) and Lydia’s daughter Astrid (Jenna Ortega) back to the small town of Winter River for the funeral. All the while, Lydia is plagued with pop-up visions of Beetlejuice (Michael Keaton), who has been carrying a flame for her in the afterlife while running a call center of shrunken head pencil-pushers who help the recently deceased with their questions. Various circumstances dictate that Lydia begrudgingly utter the titular demon’s name thrice and once she does, the real world and afterlife intermingle in appropriately kooky ways.

Screenwriters Alfred Gough and Miles Millar, who worked with Ortega on the wildly successful Netflix series Wednesday, pack their script with enough plot threads and fun characters that in another life, Beetlejuice Beetlejuice could’ve been a Max miniseries. At feature length, it moves at a blistering pace and even though there are plenty of imaginative ideas on the page, Burton probably would’ve done well to cut out some of the excess. After a pitch-perfect introduction, Monica Bellucci wanders around the rest of the movie as an undead jilted ex-lover looking for a way into the plot but never really getting there. Willem Dafoe is another welcome presence as ghost detective Wolf Jackson, a stunt-addicted action star when he was alive, but Burton can’t really decide how to handle his character either.

Jackson’s signature catchphrase is “you gotta keep it real” and Burton seemed to retain this ethos in regards to practical effects vs. computer-generated work in Beetlejuice Beetlejuice. Much of the predecessor’s fun came from the demented creature design and creative use of stop-motion animation, among other peculiarities that make it one-of-a-kind. There are obviously more special effects in this sequel — after all, the entire budget for Beetlejuice‘s visual effects was $1 million — but the focus is still on tactile aspects like macabre costume design and creepy makeup as opposed to spitting everything out of a computer. There’s a musical number in the third act that kills and there’s even an extended Soul Train bit that commits fully to its goofy conceit.

What I appreciated most about Beetlejuice Beetlejuice is that it doesn’t feel like it’s trying to cater to a wider audience or reinvent itself for a new generation. Just like the original was its own thing when it came out, this movie has a go-for-broke spirit that Hollywood seems to be lacking when it comes to franchise moviemaking. The returning cast also seem giddy to be returning to their characters after a long break, with Keaton especially shining once again as his uncouth undead trickster demon. Ortega is playing a little bit too deadpan as the third-generation Deetz but given that her storylines center around a neighborhood crush and trying to reunite with her deceased father, her playing things straight isn’t much of a hindrance. Beetlejuice Beetlejuice caps off a summer of surprisingly strong sequels like Inside Out 2 and Twisters that prove follow-ups don’t have to fall back on familiarity to succeed.

Score – 3.5/5

New movies coming this weekend:
Coming to theaters is Speak No Evil, a psychological thriller starring James McAvoy and Mackenzie Davis, about a family who’s invited to spend a weekend in an idyllic country house, unaware that their dream vacation will soon become a nightmare.
Also playing in theaters is The Killer’s Game, an action comedy starring Dave Bautista and Sofia Boutella, involving a veteran assassin who fends off a hit he placed on himself after learning the terminal medical diagnosis he received was incorrect.
Streaming on Netflix is Uglies, a science fiction film starring Joey King and Keith Powers, set in a future post-scarcity dystopian world in which everyone is considered an “Ugly,” but then turned “Pretty” by extreme cosmetic surgery when they reach the age of 16.

Reprinted by permission of Whatzup