Movies

After the garish, exhaust-spewing spectacle of most “political” thrillers, Steven Spielberg’s Munich arrives like a shock to the moral system—a slow-burning fever of a film, where triumph is measured not by body counts but by the corrosion of souls. Released in the long winter shadow of Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo, Munich isn’t content with the easy uplift of righteous action. No, Spielberg has something far more unsettling in mind: he gives us the nightmare of retaliation—personal, national, and ultimately, existential—and then refuses to wake us up.

September 5 arrives on the screen as an urgent, bracing slab of historical drama—a kind of fevered docudrama pitched somewhere between the fretful hum of a 1970s control room and the icy dread pressing in from the world outside. Tim Fehlbaum’s direction plunges us into the back corridors of catastrophe: the Munich massacre at the '72 Olympics is no longer simply a horror recalled, but a media spectacle in real-time, filtered through the sweating brows and moral agonies of ABC Sports. Not since Lumet thrust us behind the cameras in Network have we felt the pulse of crisis with such claustrophobic vitality—and with almost as much queasy self-examination.

WarGames belongs to that rare class of Hollywood entertainments that seem, almost accidentally, to have tapped straight into the anxieties—and hopes—of an entire era. John Badham’s 1983 techno-thriller opens in a haze of early computer geekery: modems squeal, dot-matrix printers grind, and a Seattle teenager named David Lightman (Matthew Broderick) sits hunched over his blue-glowing screen. Within minutes, what begins as an innocent search for a few pirated video games erupts into a pulse-cranking race against nuclear oblivion—a transformation so swift and seamless it’s as if the movie itself is racing the clock.

“Donnie Brasco” is one of those rare crime movies that operates less as a cautionary tale than as an anatomy of yearning—of what we’re willing to counterfeit, and what must finally be, heartbreakingly, real. Directed by Mike Newell (whose touch is lighter than the usual genre brutes), the film plunges us into the rank back rooms and vinyl-upholstered dusk of Mafia New York. Yet what haunts you afterward isn’t the ratcheting tension or the whiff of violence—it’s the look in Al Pacino’s eyes as he walks toward obliteration, and the ache of Johnny Depp’s split, nearly-shattered soul.

If Alex Parkinson’s Last Breath reminds us of anything, it’s that even the most harrowing true stories can be neatly packaged, pressed into narrative conformity, and, somewhere along the way, lose their vital spark. Parkinson, remaking his own 2019 documentary, attempts to fuse the cold sweat realism of survival thrillers like 127 Hours with the hallucinatory dread of The Abyss, but winds up stranding us not in the abyssal dark, but somewhere in the anodyne blue light of a well-meaning, mildly gripping genre exercise.

Tokyo Revengers 2: Bloody Halloween - Decisive Battle electrifies audiences with a rousing finale to the Bloody Halloween arc, standing as a testament to the series' evolution. Following the groundwork laid in Tokyo Revengers 2 Part 1: Bloody Halloween - Destiny, this installment raises the stakes dramatically and delivers a fusion of visceral action and deep emotional resonance. Director Tsutomu Hanabusa artfully weaves a narrative rich in personal stakes and consequences as Takemichi Hanagaki, again portrayed by the compelling Takumi Kitamura, plunges into a chaotic gang war with unwavering resolve. What unfolds is a gripping exploration of friendship, sacrifice, and the relentless pursuit of a brighter future against seemingly insurmountable odds.

Tokyo Revengers 2 Part 1: Bloody Halloween - Destiny marks the continuation of the beloved manga's cinematic journey and is now accessible on various platforms. While director Tsutomu Hanabusa takes significant strides in character development, this middle chapter struggles under the weight of exposition, often sidelining the pulse-pounding action that initially defined the series. The film explores themes of friendship, sacrifice, and the complexity of time travel, yet it risks losing its audience in a narrative bogged down by intricate details.

Nobody is a 2021 action thriller that spins the mundane into a spectacularly violent reboot of the action genre, with a surprising twist: Bob Odenkirk at the helm. I found myself revisiting this film after watching Novocaine, which features an almost similar plot centered around ordinary lives spiraling into chaos; the contrast and overlap piqued my curiosity.

A Working Man, directed by David Ayer invites audiences back into the thrilling embrace of a Jason Statham-led action thriller. With a storyline that echoes familiar tropes from the action genre, the film revolves around themes of justice, devotion, and the lengths one will go to protect those they care about. Although its premise isn’t groundbreaking or original, it captivates viewers who crave high-octane sequences coupled with a compelling narrative centered on loyalty and sacrifice. Set against a slick backdrop of crime and consequence, A Working Man delivers an adrenaline-packed experience that finds comfort within the archetypes of its genre.

The Hundred-Foot Journey, directed by Lasse Hallström and released in 2014, serves up a delectable blend of comedy and drama, artfully adapting Richard C. Morais' 2010 novel. This charming film, produced by cinematic heavyweights Steven Spielberg and Oprah Winfrey, invites audiences into the vibrant world of culinary rivalry. Nestled in a picturesque French village, the plot unfolds around two restaurants positioned just a hundred feet apart—an Indian eatery, Maison Mumbai, established by the Kadam family, and an upscale French restaurant, Le Saule Pleureur, run by the formidable Madame Mallory. The film beautifully explores themes of cultural clash and collaboration, familial bonds, and the transforming power of food.