Movies

If the original Jurassic Park was the cinematic equivalent of hearing Beethoven's Fifth for the first time, disruptive, awe-inspiring, and strangely primal, then this seventh fossilized entry, Jurassic World Rebirth, is what happens when you ask an algorithm to remix that symphony using only elevator chimes and the incessant crinkle of a Snickers wrapper. That wrapper, tossed by an over-caffeinated, under-written scientist in this film’s opening moments, is perhaps more memorable than anything that follows, a literal flake of trash that signals the lazy entropy setting in, not just in the movie’s security system, but in the script, direction, and spirit of this once vital franchise.

There’s something very contemporary about Companion, that sense of ordinary people, lacquered in anxiety, stumbling into catastrophe by way of a Silicon Valley fever dream. Drew Hancock, no hack, has made a movie that wants to stare at the icy void where technology and human vanity collide, then crack a joke so the void doesn’t stare back too hard. It’s a science fiction thriller in horror makeup, but with the nervous giggle of a dinner party gone off the rails.

There is an itch in contemporary science fiction which no number of tight scripts and digital vistas can entirely scratch: the genre longs to mean something again, to be both playground and arena, but all too often balloons out into ponderous “themes” and sterile future-worlds. It’s a relief, a relief laced with a kind of giddy disbelief, to witness Bong Joon Ho’s Mickey 17, a film that doesn’t just cross genres, but seems to tear them up and ball them in one trembling fist.

Star Trek: Section 31, the latest “triumph” in the hallowed Star Trek franchise. Released on Paramount+, this film attempts—let’s be generous here—to capture the magic of the Star Trek universe, but instead, it resembles a hapless child playing dress-up in a too-big, moth-eaten uniform. Longtime Star Trek fans, brace yourselves: this isn’t just bad; it’s a nostalgic nightmare. With its confused characterizations and incoherent plot, the film stands as a testament to what happens when you take a beloved franchise and toss it into a blender set on “oblivion".

Planet Dune, the movie that dares to ask: "What if we take all the epic grandeur of Dune and replace it with... well, whatever this is?" Directed by Tammy Klein and Glenn Campbell, and released in September 2021, this science fiction mockbuster is more of a cosmic comedic catastrophe than anything else. And you know what? I actually liked it.

Elevation, the latest post-apocalyptic action thriller directed by George Nolfi, I was hoping for an engaging adventure that would blend tactical survival with emotional stakes. After all, the film stars Anthony Mackie and Morena Baccarin, both actors known for their compelling performances. Unfortunately, what unfolded before me was a cinematic trainwreck of boredom, confusion, and missed opportunities.

Once in a while, a film comes drifting in on the wind, caught by almost no one, championed by even fewer, carrying the kind of oddball, heart-clutching enchantment that threatens to restore faith in the very act of cinema. Fish Story, Yoshihiro Nakamura’s time-hopping wonder, is precisely that sort of late-breaking revelation: a freewheeling, postmodern fable, at once as headlong and as intricately assembled as the punk anthem at its core. It’s hard to think of a movie, in these battered days, that is so bracingly, disarmingly optimistic—so resolutely happy to believe that music, and thus art, can literally save the world. And damned if the movie doesn’t just about convince you.

Where do I even begin with Borderlands, the latest cinematic misadventure directed by Eli Roth? This 2024 science fiction action comedy features a star-studded cast, including Cate Blanchett, Kevin Hart, and Jack Black—three talents I would hope have better things to do.

We have been “blessed” with the latest installment of Zack Snyder's cosmic circus with Rebel Moon Part 2: The Scargiver—but really, it should be titled The Shit-giver. If you thought Rebel Moon Part 1 was a wild ride, hold onto your popcorn because this sequel brings you the chaos of a toddler’s birthday party—colorful balloons and loud noise included, but good luck finding any cake.

Given Snyder's reputation for visually striking films, I approached Rebel Moon with a mixture of curiosity and guarded optimism. After all, how could a film featuring a dying planet and a band of rebels not deliver some level of excitement? Spoiler alert: it crashes and burns rather spectacularly.