Sean Baker’s “Anora” premiered with a bang, winning the prestigious Palme d’Or at this year’s Cannes Film Festival. Surprisingly it’s the first American film to do so since Terrence Malick’s sublime 2011 masterpiece “The Tree of Life”. Unfortunately “Anora” falls well short of that lofty masterpiece status. Instead it’s a draining exercise in indulgent filmmaking that puts its focus on most of the wrong things.

“Anora” sees Baker gravitating towards the same problems that plagued his previous feature, 2021’s “Red Rocket”. His films set out to be raw, gloss-free windows into overlooked American subcultures and that’s a good thing. But too often his tawdry obsessions come at the expense of much-needed attention to his characters and/or their relationships. Never has that been more true than in “Anora” – one of the loudest and longest 140 minutes you’ll endure.

“Anora” is a blaring example of what a lack of restraint can do to a movie. Baker’s inability to know when to ease off the gas and let his characters breathe becomes one of the film’s biggest problems. We’re left with surface-level treatments rather than any meaningful development. And good luck finding an emotional core amid the endless yelling, constant arguing, and (at times) brain-melting dialogue.

The film’s star Mikey Madison is the biggest victim playing Anora, a 23-year-old lap dancer at a high-end New York City strip club. Much like Emma Stone for Yorgos Lanthimos, Madison lays bare and fully commits to her male director’s vision. But despite routinely stripping down and screaming on demand, Baker never gives her the material she needs to stretch her role beyond rank exhibitionism. Yet in a weird way it fits with the aggressive amorality of Baker’s crass and cranked-up world.

Madison’s Anora, who goes by Ani, works at Club HQ making her money fulfilling the 15-minute fantasies of her diverse clientele. One evening she dances for a rich and pampered young Russian named Vanya (Mark Eidelshtein) – an easy frontrunner for the most obnoxious movie character of the year. He’s immediately attracted to Ani, showering her with C-notes and inviting her to his family’s modernistic mansion for some sex work on the side. It’s a proposition Ani happily accepts.

Ani is framed as a savvy young woman who understands the ins-and-outs of the game she plays. She uses manipulation like a scalpel, shrewdly seducing customers by catering to their desires for her own self-interests. But her supposed agency and acumen are unintentionally undermined by her relationship with Vanya. Her tough and confident persona takes a “Pretty Woman” turn after she accepts $15,000 to be his girlfriend for a week.

Following six days of rampant sex, drugs, and partying (which Baker numbingly depicts for what seems like an eternity), Ani and Vanya fly to Vegas on a whim and get married. Nothing about their sudden nuptials makes sense mostly because the pair spend too much time in a haze of debauchery to develop any believable emotional attachment.

Or maybe Ani is just in it for the money. But that makes us question everything we thought we knew about her. How could she not see through the patently flighty and profligate Vanya? We certainly can. The problem is we don’t really know because so much screentime is wasted on superfluous things that we never get a good sense of Ani’s true feelings, sensibilities, or even her motivations.

In reality the marriage is little more than a device used to turn the second act of “Anora” into a half-baked screwball romp across New York City. After word of Vanya’s exploits reaches his wealthy parents back in Russia, they send their son’s Brooklyn-based handler, Toros (Karren Karagulian) and his two bumbling goons, Igor (Yuriy Borisov) and Garnick (Vache Tovmasyan) to get the marriage annulled. But once they arrive at the family estate Vanya splits, leaving the angry Ani to join the three inept tough guys in their citywide search for him.

As “Anora” takes its dramatic turn it only gets more narratively and tonally chaotic. The one consistent throughline is the incessant yelling, ranting and raving which is so prevalent that it feels like a running joke I must not get. Meanwhile the world Baker recreates has a striking air of accuracy due to his choice to shoot on location. It’s too bad his characters don’t possess the same authenticity. Instead they find themselves trapped within a proudly profane yet frustratingly hollow construct that gives the appearance of something raw and dazzling but is actually a repetitive and exhausting grind.

VERDICT – 1.5 STARS

Liam Neeson thrillers have become as common as day and night and we’ve grown accustomed to getting at least one a year. They usually follow a pretty familiar blueprint and each generally adheres to the same narrative formula although with slight variations (and I say that as a fan). But lately many of his thrillers have shifted from light and easy genre fare to grittier and more serious-minded. That trend continues with his latest, “Absolution”.

In “Absolution”, Neeson reunites with director Hans Petter Moland (the two worked together in 2019’s “Cold Pursuit”). While their previous collaboration had a pitch-black comedy element to it, “Absolution” is more of a tragedy. Screenwriter Tony Gayton puts together a sturdy crime thriller framework. But his interests lie deeper and are more human. And as its “Everyone Pays in the End” tagline foretells, not even the film’s damaged protagonist will remain unscathed.

In “Absolution” Nesson is in top form and his signature gravitas is one of the film’s biggest assets. He puts off distinct Charles Bronson vibes with his late ’70s fashion sense, thick mustache, and steely tough-as-nails intensity. He plays Thug, a former boxer and hardened gangster who has loyally worked under a Boston crime boss (Ron Perlman) for thirty years. Though still deadly and efficient, some see Thug as a relic. This comes out most in some early scenes where he’s asked to work alongside the boss’s inexperienced and reckless son (Daniel Diemer).

But Thug has other concerns, mainly his reoccurring headaches and bouts with memory loss. He sometimes forgets names and directions, and even where he lives. He finally sees a doctor and is diagnosed with CTE (Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy), a neurodegenerative disease directly linked to repeated head trauma. He’s told to expect a sharp decline over the next couple of years which inspires him to make amends for the life he has lived.

Thug reaches out to his estranged and rightfully bitter daughter Daisy (Frankie Shaw), a struggling single mother who reluctantly introduces him to his grandson, Dre (Terrence Pulliam). Moland and Gayton tease what looks to be a conventional reconciliation story. But for Thug, reconnecting proves difficult. And no matter how hard he tries, he can only keep his condition a secret for so long – from his understandably leery daughter; from the kind-hearted and filterless prostitute he begins seeing on the side (Yolonda Ross); and from his suspicious boss.

Neeson shrewdly embodies every facet of his character, from the grizzled tough-guy to the broken shell of a man fighting to keep his mind intact. It’s a measured and textured performance that pulls from the often underappreciated screen veteran’s acting arsenal. Both Shaw and Ross add compelling pieces while Perlman is a sturdy presence in a small but impactful role.

Not everything in the film clicks into place. There are a couple of well-meaning but out of tune dream sequences that don’t quite pack the emotion punch they’re going for. And there’s Thug’s sudden soft spot for a captive sex worker that desperately needs more attention. Yet “Absolution” remains a gripping slow-burn that offers Liam Neeson a meatier and more contemplative role while giving him the chance to knock off a few goons for old times’ sake. “Absolution” opens in theaters this Friday.

VERDICT – 3.5 STARS

We live in a day where there is no shortage of big screen biopics. That’s because deep down most of us are drawn to human stories of all kinds. Combine that with our love for the art of cinema and it’s no surprise that we get so many. But biopics are susceptible to a number of traps. An overreliance on formula, representing fiction as facts, or as in the case of “The Apprentice”, letting personal crusades mar what could have been a piercing and insightful study.

In a nutshell, “The Apprentice” is a movie that works so hard to demonize its subject that it forgets to make him human. Director Ali Abbasi’s politically driven misfire seeks to paint New York businessman and former President Donald J. Trump as unflattering as possible. His more rabid detractors will consider that a strength and embrace the movie despite its glaring issues. The overly sensitive Trump acolytes will hate it and immediately cry foul over the timing of its release. As for the more grounded viewer, it’s not hard to see through the film’s flimsy facade.

In reality, Donald Trump has provided plenty of real-life material worth dissecting in his business, personal, and political lives. But Abbasi adds too many fictional twists to serve his film’s message. He paints a wildly one-sided portrait that barely registers a human pulse. It’s a shame considering how ripe the subject matter is for exploration. But instead, “The Apprentice” comes across as misguided, lazy, and self-important.

Trump is played by a firmly committed Sebastian Stan who often looks as if he’s trapped in a prolonged Saturday Night Live sketch. He’s adorned in an assortment of glaringly bad wigs that he’s always primping. And outside of the occasional intonation, his voice rarely sounds like the real thing. Getting past these distractions can be a chore.

Written with more purpose than principle by Gabriel Sherman, “The Apprentice” hones in on Trump’s rise as a New York City real estate developer. The story kicks off in 1973 with Trump meeting attorney Roy Cohn (brilliantly played with cold precision by Jeremy Strong). Cohn is revealed to be a New York power-player who uses a variety of legal and illegal tactics to bend the system to his will. His list of clients includes politicians, media moguls, and mob bosses. With Trump facing prosecution for violating the Fair Housing Act, Cohn agrees to take his case.

From there Cohn takes the young businessman under his wing, serving as the mentor and father figure Trump never had with his dad, Fred (Martin Donovan). But Cohn also gives Trump a crash-course in using the system, basing it on three ruthless principles that Trump later adopts as his own. Their relationship is the centerpiece for much of the film, moving from mutually beneficial to something genuinely personal.

But as Cohn’s villainy is well established in the film’s first half, Abassi and Sherman want their audience to know that Donald Trump is much worse. This really comes through in the final act where the filmmakers seem to lose any sense of restraint. They pack in every negative claim whether substantiated or not. From more troubling accusations such as Trump raping his wife Ivana (played by an underused Maria Bakalova) to more petty jabs such as alleged liposuction, scalp reduction surgery, and erectile dysfunction. These things again expose motives that consistently derail the movie.

As mentioned, Donald Trump is not beyond critique and the film is at its most compelling when examining his place within the corrupt New York City system of the 70s and 80s. But the movie can’t stay on track. It can’t sustain any drama nor build any suspense. Most of the supporting characters are mere sketches and even Stan’s Trump veers into caricature, especially during the film’s near farcical final half-hour.

“The Apprentice” is a movie that seems at odds with itself from the get-go. It wants to be serious-minded and candid, but it also has a very clear position it wants to advance at any cost. That leaves us wondering what’s true and what isn’t. The filmmakers aren’t much help with Abassi telling The Wrap that his movie “is very much fact-based and fact-checked” while Sherman tells The Hollywood Reporter “This is a work of art. It’s fiction.” Whatever you call it, “The Apprentice” fumbles what could have been a captivating and pertinent biopic. I’m sure it will please the one political camp and infuriate the other. For everyone else, it’s nowhere near as provocative or illuminating as its creators believe it to be.

VERDICT – 1.5 STARS

With “Apartment 7A”, director Natalie Erika James makes an ambitious attempt at delivering a prequel to Roman Polanski’s highly regarded “Rosemary’s Baby”. This psychological horror thriller takes an interesting approach to the 1968 film and Ira Levin’s original 1967 novel. It works best as a compelling appendix that fills in holes rather than expand the lore. And it does more to pay homage to Polanski’s classic than plow new ground.

Those familiar with “Rosemary’s Baby” may have a good idea of what to expect after hearing one name – Terry Gionoffrio. She’s a young woman who has a small but memorable role in Polanski’s earlier film and is the centerpiece of James’ prequel. Set in 1965, Terry (capably played by Julia Garner), is an aspiring dancer who came to New York City from Nebraska with big dreams of one day seeing her name in lights. Her career seems to be taking off, but she has a gruesome setback after breaking her ankle during a live performance.

Terry is forced to endure a lengthy and painful recovery leading her to start popping pain meds. She attends several casting calls but loses out due to her noticeably weak ankle. But good fortune (or misfortune) comes her way after Terry meets the kindly Castevets, Minnie (Dianne Wiest) and Roman (Kevin McNally). They’re a wealthy elderly couple who live in The Bramford, a Renaissance Revival apartment building in Manhattan.

The Castevets explain to Terry that they have no children of their own. They like to help struggling young people get on their feet, so they offer to let her stay rent-free in their neighboring apartment. Things immediately start turning around for Terry. One of her new neighbors, Mrs. Gardenia (Tina Gray) gives her an herbal home remedy that fully heals her ankle. And after a blurry evening with another tenant, Alan Marchand (Jim Sturgess), she’s hired to be on the chorus line of a musical he’s producing.

But Terry soon learns that her big breaks are too good to be true. The Castevets go from sweet to weird to all-out intrusive. Strange sores begin to appear on her body. And more questions arise about her night with Alan. Of course with this being a direct prequel, the first film has already set the table and served the full meal. That ends up stripping “Apartment 7A” of its mystery and suspense. We know where things are going and have a good idea of how they get there.

Yet James makes several good choices and adds her own unique touches that keeps us interested. Thematically she maintains a fascinating balance in depicting a young woman’s obsession with fame. Terry may have put herself in a bad position, but she’s unquestionably a victim. Garner artfully manages these tricky tensions, showing us ambition that leads to regret and later vulnerability that gives way to resilience.

Among James’ creative flourishes are two dramatically different but equally potent dance scenes. One is an elaborately staged musical number and the other a more intimate and calculated dance sequence. Both come from very different places and have significantly different purposes. But they’re part of what energizes this unavoidably predictable yet well-made, well-paced, and well-acted “Rosemary’s Baby” companion piece. “Apartment 7A” is now streaming on Paramount+.

VERDICT – 3.5 STARS

Ernest Hemingway’s “Across the River and Into the Trees” is rarely mentioned among the American writer’s more celebrated works. But it’s one I hold a special affection for. The work was first serialized in 1950 for Cosmopolitan magazine before being published as a novel later that year. Despite being met with negative reviews from the press, “Across the River” would become Hemingway’s only novel to top the New York Time’s bestseller’s list. As is often the case, literary critics and scholars have been more receptive of the work over time.

Director Paula Ortiz, working from a script by Peter Flannery, brings “Across the River and Into the Trees” to the screen in an adaptation that seeks to explore the DNA of Hemingway’s beguiling treatise on facing death, the prospect of love, and the emotional ravages of war. Their updated and safer spin first premiered at Idaho’s Sun Valley Film Festival back in March of 2022, and now it will be available for more people to wrestle with. And as with Hemingway’s novel, the reactions should be interesting.

Those familiar with the novel will immediately notice the movie’s streamlined approach to setting up the story. Flannery’s script bypasses many of the book’s early details and makes some pretty significant narrative alterations. It still revolves around a complicated protagonist, the grizzled and truculent Colonel Richard Cantwell (played by Liev Schreiber). He’s a 51-year-old American Army officer and renowned hero of both World Wars stationed in Italy.

In many ways the Colonel is a quintessential Hemingway protagonist – world-weary and cynical in spirit. His ice-cold granite demeanor conceals more than the terminal illness he was recently diagnosed with. It also hides a lost soul deeply scarred by sorrow and trauma. The Colonel is a self-destructive man who drinks like a fish, is a heavy smoker, and pops nitroglycerin pills to keep his heart from exploding. Yet there’s a poorly veiled romantic side to the man which really comes out in his love for the city of Venice.

Ignoring the warnings of his concerned friend and physician Captain Wes O’Neill (Danny Huston in a small but effective role), the stubborn Colonel is determined to travel to Venice for a weekend duck hunt. O’Neill relents but assigns him a driver, the chatty Private Jackson (Josh Hutcherson). It doesn’t take long for the Colonel to shake his escort and hitch a boat ride into the city with an arresting young woman named Renata Contarini (Matilda De Angelis). He’s instantly fascinated by her which distracts him from his real reason for being in Venice.

In what feels like fate, the Colonel and Renata meet again and spend the night walking around the city marked by its beautiful sites and winding canals. It’s revealed that Renata is a countess from a once affluent family. She’s now unhappily engaged to a wealthy aristocrat named Antonio (Giulio Berruti) more to satisfy her ambitious mother than out of any feeing of true love. There’s a hint of Linklater as the two walk and talk across the alluring Italian città. But here the charm is shadowed by a looming sense of despair. It’s what makes the film both enchanting and tragic.

Ortiz makes great use of her locations which are exquisitely shot by DP Javier Aguirresarobe. The film is a visual feast but in a self-restrained way that keeps it from becoming just a pretty travelogue. The camera serves the characters and their emotional pilgrimage. Venice is undoubtedly a key character, but at its heart “Across the River” is conversational and thoughtful. Flannery’s dialogue is organic and revealing; occasionally uneven but mostly authentic to the spirit of Hemingway’s prose.

With a title derived from the last words uttered by Confederate General Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson, “Across the River and Through the Trees” offers a bittersweet examination of love while emphasizing the toll war can take on the human spirit. Not all of the film’s liberties work, but Ortiz shows good instincts in keeping her film character-focused, and she captures the era’s post-war sensibilities which is a crucial element to the story. Add in a solid performance from the sturdy Schreiber and you have a warm yet haunting film that adds its own spin to one of Hemingway’s most underappreciated works. “Across the River and Into the Trees” releases in select theaters on August 30th.

VERDICT – 3.5 STARS

From director Henrik Martin Dahlsbakken, the Norwegian wartime thriller “The Arctic Convoy” tells yet another compelling story inspired by real events during World War II. Throughout the nearly 80 years since its end, there have been countless movies of all shapes, sizes, and subjects made about the Second World War. Yet there has been no shortage of captivating true stories of bravery, heroism, savagery and suffering, told through perspectives from all across the world. Add “The Arctic Convoy” to that list.

Dahlsbakken’s film sheds light on the Allied Arctic convoys that ran from 1941 until 1945. Consisting of merchant ships and their military escorts, the convoys traveled from Allied ports to the northern ports in the Soviet Union, carrying vital military supplies to Russian soldiers battling the Nazis on the Eastern Front. The icy journeys were perilous. Not only were they threatened by the merciless Arctic seas, but the ships were frequently targeted by German planes, battleships and U-boats.

Written by the trio of Christian Siebenherz, Harald Rosenløw-Eeg, and Lars Gudmestad, the film’s story is inspired by convoy PQ 17. In the summer of 1942, 35 civilian merchant ships and their British Royal Navy escort left Iceland en route to the port city of Murmansk. We spend the entire film onboard the lead vessel, a Norwegian freighter captained by a seasoned seaman named Skar (Anders Baasmo).

Over the course of the journey the filmmakers put time and effort into familiarizing us with the crew. Along with Skar, there is his chief radio operator Ragnhild (Heidi Ruud Ellingsen), his antsy new first mate Mørk (Tobias Santelmann), the ship’s gunner Johan (Adam Lundgren), the sea-weary engineer Erik (Olav Waastad) and others who give the film its human pulse.

The drama kicks in with the arrival of an alarming coded message seven days into their journey. They learn that their British escort has been ordered to withdraw and the convoy is to disperse and scatter. They get no explanation beyond that, and due to strict radio silence they’re unable to reach out for clarity. Is the withdrawal because the British forces are needed elsewhere? Or are they fleeing an imminent and substantial German attack that they’re ill-prepared to defend?

With all the other ships going their own ways, Skar is left with a critical decision. Does he and his crew turn around and return to Iceland, leaving the soldiers without their critical supplies? Or do they push forward to Murmansk and fulfill their mission, navigating potential enemy-infested waters with no military support whatsoever? It’s not hard to guess the choice he makes. But the suspense that comes from that choice only builds, especially once distress signals start coming in from the other vessels who are being picked off one by one.

Rather than being action-filled and spectacle-driven, “The Arctic Convoys” relies on the human drama rather than big eye-popping set pieces. There’s a heavy focus on the sailors working under intensifying pressure and the psychological toll it inevitably takes. Second guessing leads to conflict, especially between Skar and Mørk. Yet there is an overarching sense of duty that drives even the most distraught crew members to give their all.

That’s not to say there’s no action. The film’s biggest sequence comes around the halfway mark and features the ship’s harrowing encounter with two German fighter planes. Brilliantly shot and edited, the scene cuts back and forth between all areas of the ship, giving us a variety of perspectives while generating some nail-biting in-the-moment tension. Everything from the exhilarating buildup to Dahlsbakken’s artful execution works.

“The Arctic Convoy” succeeds in sharing yet another little-known true story from the many still yet to be told from World War II. Strong performances and a character-driven focus adds some unexpected layers to this riveting, edge-of-your-seat nautical drama. Those itching for more spectacle might struggle with the film’s approach. But that doesn’t make it any less thrilling and it turns out to be a strength that drives this gripping war drama. “The Arctic Convoy” opens July 26th in select theaters and on VOD.

VERDICT – 4.5 STARS