But The Devil Wears Prada 2 lets us pretend, anyway, even as it starts with a harsh bit of reality: Seconds before Andy (Anne Hathaway) wins an award for her journalism, she and her colleagues at the New York Vanguard receive a text telling them they’re all fired. Her sudden availability winds up being perfect timing: Runway just published a story lauding a fast-fashion company that turns out to be using sweatshop labor, and CEO Ira (Tibor Feldman) and his son Jay (B.J. Novak) decide that installing Andy as the magazine’s new features editor will save the venerable publication’s credibility.

Trouble is, they didn’t run this past Miranda Priestley (Meryl Streep) first, so Andy’s reunion with her old boss is already off on the wrong foot, even with ever-patient art director Nigel (Stanley Tucci) once again providing Andy with the latest designer togs and shoes. After an ass-kissing visit with Emily (Emily Blunt) — once Miranda’s second-in-command, now a higher-up at Dior, a major advertiser with Runway — Andy sets off to put real journalism into the magazine, even as market forces and an untrustworthy tech giant (Justin Theroux) try to bring down the whole enterprise.

Screenwriter Aline Brosh McKenna and director David Frankel, in returning to this material, had no easy choices: they either had to pretend that all was well in the world of glossy mags, or they’d have to give us a Miranda and an Andy struggling with the fact that, as Miranda puts it, “the September issue is so thin you could floss with it.” But the ongoing appeal of the original The Devil Wears Prada had nothing to do with real-world concerns; it was a triumph-of-the-underdog-in-Chanel-boots tale so ephemeral that you could floss with it. (This grim examination of corporate consolidation brought to you by 20th Century Studios, once known as 20th Century Fox before it was absorbed into The Walt Disney Company.) Seeing the once-formidable Miranda having to cope with HR demands would be funnier if the movie wasn’t constantly softening her blunt edges, to the extent of giving Kenneth Branagh the thankless role of her devoted husband, presented only to show that an older, wiser Miranda can keep a man.

Production designer Jess Gonchor (Saturday Night) wisely gives us a suite of Runway offices that seem less grand and spacious, implying both the shrinking of the market and that feeling you get when you return to your first-grade classroom and everything suddenly seems so small. Alas, the original movie’s wicked wit has shrunk as well; the delicious venom that Streep and Blunt portrayed in the first film, unavoidably softened by repeat watchings over the decades, lives on via Bridgerton’s Simone Ashley, as Miranda’s current, ever-unamused assistant.

Andy gets her own barely-there relationship, with a sweet contractor played by Patrick Brammall (Colin from Accounts), but in true sequel style, The Devil Wears Prada 2 exists to give you moments (or outfits) that remind you of the first movie. Sequels have succeeded with less, goodness knows, but too often there’s a sense of inertia that drags down the pace. Little subplots get raised and resolved with minimal excitement, and there’s an ongoing sense that any attempt to revive and revitalize Runway amounts to rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic.

The first movie, for all its fluff, gave Miranda that eminently quotable “cerulean sweater” monologue, but this follow-up has nothing as interesting to say about fashion, or journalism, or life as anyone leads it. It’s sending nostalgia down the runway and expecting us to wear it, when the perfectly comfortable original already fits just right.

Director: David Frankel
Screenwriter: Aline Brosh McKenna, based on characters created by Lauren Weisberger
Cast: Meryl Streep, Anne Hathaway, Emily Blunt, Stanley Tucci, Justin Theroux, Lucy Liu, Kenneth Branagh, B.J. Novak, Simone Ashley, Tracie Thoms, Tibor Feldman, Patrick Brammall, Caleb Hearon, Helen J. Shen
Executive producers: Michael Bederman, Aline Brosh McKenna, Karen Rosenfelt
Producer: Wendy Finerman
Director of photography: Florian Ballhaus
Production design: Jess Gonchor
Editing: Andrew Marcus
Music: Theodore Shapiro
Sound design: Lidia Tamplenizza, Paul Urmson, supervising sound editors
Production companies: 20th Century Studios
In English
119 minutes

The film was shot in Cantal, a rural department in France’s Auvergne-Rhône-Alpes region which is not too far from Lucien Roux’s hometown of La Tronche, in the Isère department. This is where the farmer Didier leads a fairly isolated existence, especially after the passing of his brother Claude. Prone to loneliness, Didier throws himself into his work, looking out for the cows that have always defined his existence. The daily routine is not without difficulties, and not just because of the physical aspects of the job: Didier was born deaf and, without Claude by his side, he has to reinvent himself linguistically, finding new ways to get around his aural impairment and make himself understood, all while the national farming business is grappling with hardships periodically recounted through news broadcasts.

In addition to writing and directing, Joulaud and Roux also served as cinematographers, capturing the not-always-ordinary quotidian habits of Didier’s existence. Given the premise, they place an expected but nonetheless welcome focus on the visual component, highlighting how the farmer goes on about his life almost wordlessly, save for when he has to communicate with other people. From the very beginning, the opening shots make clear this is a milieu that, while rooted in the realities of the region, exists as its own little world, particularly as far as Didier and his personal perception of his surroundings are concerned.

In that sense, the international title sort of smudges the nuance contained in the original French: the voice of the herd, rather than the echo. It’s a voice expressed without dialogue, one that Didier has grown accustomed to over the many years spent with the cows. Through that relationship between farmer and cattle, the film plays as an ideal companion piece, and spiritual successor, to Ramboy. There, it was a question of learning, as a young boy got initiated into family traditions in Ireland; here, we deal with a man who has already learned, and honed his skills to such a degree he can, hopefully, carry out his duties and coexist with a community that, for all intents and purposes, will never be able to fully understand him.

The same goes for the two filmmakers: if the 2022 short was a calling card, this feature-length expansion on similar themes is a confident work of artistic and humanistic maturity, one that finds the universal hook of solidarity and man’s profound bond with nature in a very specific rural microcosm that, much like its deaf inhabitant, finds a way to exist on its own terms.

Directors, Screenwriters: Matthias Joulaud, Lucien Roux
Producers: Juliana Fanjul, Annick Bouissou, Alexandre Cornu
Cinematography: Matthias Joulaud, Lucien Roux
Music: Sylvie Klijn, Yatoni Roy Cantu
Sound: Yatoni Roy Cantu
Production companies: Akka Films, Les films du tambour de soie, RTS Radio Télévision Suisse
World sales: Akka Films
Venue: Visions du Réel (Burning Lights Competition)
In French
80 minutes

Interview by Cho Hyo-jin.

 The Film Verdict:  When did you begin your tenure as a new programmer at the JEONJU International Film Festival? How was your start?

Molly Kim:  I officially started last November, which wasn’t very long ago. I expected to be incredibly busy from the get-go, but it turned out to be a relatively slow season as it fell between major film festivals abroad, during which I actively seek out films to invite. What I did was to contact all the friends I had made along my decade-long career as a film critic and festival programmer and ask for any current projects that I should know about. I ended up inviting a few titles this way. Purehearted is a film I learned about through an actor friend. Of course, it has its own cinematic merit, but inviting it felt especially meaningful because it taught me the fulfilling sense of making something happen by working with my friends and their networks, as opposed to working as a critic, which is largely a solitary practice.

TFV: What was your experience as a festival programmer before JEONJU IFF and what does it feel like to work for this festival in particular?

MK:  I have done around five festivals. Some of them are small and local; some no longer exist. JEONJU IFF is one of the three major film festivals in South Korea and the biggest one I have ever worked on. Plus, it has a very distinct legacy and identity built over its 26 years of history. So, I feel like I am myself debuting on a stage where my selections will be judged, like a mackerel on a cutting board, which is intimidating. But there are aspects that I’m very proud to be a part of, including the festival’s commitment to protecting programmers’ autonomy in making decisions.

TFV:  What did you notice watching the submissions? Were there any noticeable trends in filmmaking in South Korea and around the world?

MK:  In the Korean submissions, I noticed a growing number of films about filmmaking itself, often focusing on the hardships and conflicts of the process. At first, I found this entertaining, as I’m part of that community too. But this year, nearly a third of the Korean submissions I watched fell into that category, making the overall entries feel less diverse. It may reflect the current state of film education in Korea. Increasingly, I find works by filmmakers without formal film school backgrounds more interesting, the number of which has grown as filmmaking becomes more and more accessible.

Many international submissions address on-going wars. But because independent productions often lack the resources to depict large-scale conflicts directly, they tend to opt for more intimate approaches; how one’s little corner in the world has been affected in the face of such big forces. For example, one film in our program, How to Divorce During the War, follows a Lithuanian couple navigating their divorce amid the Russia-Ukraine war. I expect to see more films using this personal lens to explore overwhelming crises.

TFV:  While a big part of festival programming is identifying great cinema, it’s also about expressing what the festival stands for. What is your approach to making selections?

MK:  Programming can be very powerful, especially on a platform of this scale. Championing certain works is a political statement in a way. I have always aimed to use that power to support diversity, which was a key focus for me this time, not only in terms of sexuality, ethnicity, and gender but across a wide range of perspectives. So, we are playing Barbara Forever, a documentary about the legendary filmmaker and queer activist Barbara Hammer. I also curated the special program, “Special Focus: New York Underground – The Mavericks”, which includes works by Robert Downey, Sr., Jack Smith, and Carolee Schneemann. These films emerged from a period of radical changes and display such diverse voices, charged with possibilities of revolution. Securing screening rights for the titles was harder than I thought, but it was worth the effort. Most of these titles have been previously screened in Hong Kong or in Japan, but not in Korea. I wanted to help bring more diversity to our program.

TFV: Are there any sections you hope will attract more audience attention this year?

MK:  Aside from the Special Focus I just mentioned, I would highlight Cinema Fest, which may sound surprising. I’ve heard that the section has been less central to the festival identity, given its audience-friendly and family-oriented nature, which is not what JEONJU IFF is typically known for. I wanted this section to be more interesting while keeping it accessible, so I started working on it early. I’m happy to screen films like Tow and Derek vs Derek that are not overly complex but genuinely enjoyable while offering us things to think about.

TFV:  What are some of the events during the festival that you are most looking forward to?

MK:  There is a documentary title, She, by filmmaker and anthropologist Parsifal Reparato, about Vietnamese female workers at a Samsung manufacturing plant. The focus on women reflects a difficult reality: they are often perceived as more vulnerable and thus easier to exploit. The director will visit Jeonju for post-screening talks, and we have arranged a special conversation between him and a Korean documentary filmmaker. Her documentary, Colorless, Odorless, screened at JEONJU IFF last year. It examines the health risks and grave illnesses imposed on the workers at Samsung’s semiconductor factories. It’s a rare and exciting opportunity to bring together two documentarians exploring closely related issues in different contexts, and to hear them engage directly with one another.

TFV:  In the press release announcing your appointment, you stated that it is a crucial time when film festivals, the industry, and generations of artists are experiencing dynamic changes. What did you mean by that, and what do you see as the role of a programmer or festival in this age?

MK:  I was referring mostly to the changing landscape of the medium. We are presenting Special Focus: New York Underground with films from the 60s and 70s, a period when the film industry was challenged by the success of television. In many ways, today feels similar. Cinema is reshaped not just by streaming platforms but also by YouTube and other alternative media. Accordingly, some core characteristics of the industry are shifting. Most prominently, budgets have decreased significantly. The upside is a generational shift, allowing younger filmmakers more opportunities. Even in our Competition sections, there is a strong presence of emerging talents. More people of diverse backgrounds also get to create as the conditions of filmmaking have been made more accessible. At this time of transition, festivals should reflect and respond to these changes. That is why we are introducing a new section, Possible Cinemas, which looks at possible filmmaking approaches under limited resources.

TFV:  Do you have a festival role model for JEONJU IFF?

MK:  The Udine Far East Film Festival. It’s the one festival I look forward to attending every year and always wish I could stay a little longer. Like JEONJU IFF, during the week or so of the festival, all you do is watch films and connect with other guests. One thing they do especially well is bringing people together. The festival regularly hosts shared meals where we get to meet someone we didn’t know before, and those encounters can lead to a new friendship and a new collaboration. That is, in my opinion, the true asset and the greatest strength of the festival. You go to the festival and come back enriched with new relationships. I believe JEONJU IFF has the resources and charms to offer that kind of experience. It can become such a friendly place that you just want to visit for the joy of it.

In a sense, you can’t blame them, given that Michael’s manager is one of the film’s producers and Michael’s son and four of his living siblings are executive producers, which probably left the architects of this film with all the artistic freedom of a Kremlin propagandist. (Rebbe and Janet Jackson, having apparently opted not to sign on as executive producers, are never portrayed or even mentioned in the film; guess we shouldn’t expect a recreation of the “Scream” video in the promised second chapter.)

Where Fuqua and his team are allowed to shine is in the evocation of some of the most exciting musical moments from Michael’s career, from the Jackson 5’s debut on The Ed Sullivan Show to Michael’s standout appearance on the Motown 25^th anniversary special to the videos for “Beat It” and “Thriller.” But the rest of Michael is so utterly empty, even by biopic standards, that one wishes the family had opted to make an EPiC: Elvis Presley in Concert performance compilation film (in IMAX and Dolby) instead of this precise impersonation.

To his credit, actor Jaafar Jackson (Jermaine’s son) offers a spot-on recreation of his uncle’s dancing and speaking, as does newcomer Juliano Valdi, playing young Michael. When either of these actors dons a familiar wardrobe and reenacts the real Michael’s dance moves, the film achieves a liveliness that’s otherwise missing; these sequences play like the only parts of this biopic that haven’t been flattened into nothingness by a team of lawyers and publicists.

The songs themselves, it’s worth nothing, seem to exist in some kind of uncanny valley; they sound like astoundingly effective cover versions, but the closing credits insist that all the vocals are by Michael himself, implying either the use of alternate takes or enough post-post production to make tunes you know by heart sound just the slightest bit different.

Story-wise, Michael skims over the highlights, from the Jacksons’ working-class origins in Gary, Indiana, to how Joe Jackson (Colman Domingo) turned his children into a pop sensation through an iron will and what we would now classify as child abuse. Once they move to California, Michael starts befriending animals because his early fame makes it impossible to make friends his own age. And as he gets older, he finds success on his own with the albums Off the Wall and the record-breaking Thriller, with Joe both resenting and attaching himself to his son’s triumphs.

Viewers interested in Michael Jackson, the human being, won’t come away with much: we learn that he picked up dance moves from watching James Brown and Gene Kelly on TV, he was obsessed with Peter Pan, and he was unfailingly gracious to his fans, particularly if they happened to be hospitalized. (Fandom has seldomly been portrayed this benignly; none of Michael’s admirers ever grab him or stalk him or make unseemly demands.)

There’s little to no exploration of Michael’s creative process, his musical inspirations, or his demons, and the same can be said for how the film portrays Joe’s weaknesses and insecurities. We get a scene in which Joe and Don King conspiratorially smoke cigars in front of a fireplace while cooking up the Victory tour, shot for maximum cartoon-villain effect.

Makeup designer Bill Corso captures the early-80s evolution of Michael’s physiognomy (the movie ends circa Bad), with the singer’s nose getting progressively smaller. There’s one scene with Michael visiting a plastic surgeon, prompted by Joe’s insults and an obsession with the sylphlike features of the storybook Peter Pan, and that’s all the film has to say about Michael’s appearance and his motivations behind changing it. The makeup department clearly wasn’t spending as much time on Miles Teller’s putty schnozz as John Branca, Michael’s manager, with the prosthetic changing appearance from scene to scene.

Movies about artists, ideally, celebrate the art while also providing a glimpse into the blood, sweat, and tears behind its creation, but any exciting moments here can be found in their original, natural state on YouTube. Michael has no ambitions beyond being its own commemorative souvenir booklet.

Director: Antoine Fuqua
Screenwriter: John Logan
Cast: Jaafar Jackson, Nia Long, Laura Harrier, Juliano Krue Valdi, Miles Teller, Colman Domingo
Executive producers: Ron Burkle, Antoine Fuqua, David B. Householter, Jackie Jackson, Jermaine Jackson, LaToya Jackson, Marlon Jackson, Prince Jackson, Tito Jackson, Hayley King, Karen Langford, Jordan Schur, Lydia Silverman
Producers: Graham King, John Branca, John McClain
Director of photography: Dion Beebe
Production design: Barbara Ling
Editing: John Ottman, Harry Yoon
Music: Harvey Mason, Jr., executive music producer
Sound design: John Warhurst, supervising sound editor; Paul Massey, film music mixer/re-recording mixer
Production companies: Lionsgate, Universal Pictures, GK Films, Optimum Productions
In English
127 minutes

The film veers sharply away from the legendary Universal Monsters take on Egyptian death practices, which probably explains why the title distinguishes itself with a possessory credit for Cronin, best known for sequel-to-a-remake Evil Dead Rise. What he brings to the tomb is a hodgepodge of horror influences: besides mummies and bugs (can’t tell a story like this without some scarabs and scorpions, after all), he throws in demonic possession, body horror, and a creaky old house replete with a network of crawlspaces.

If any of this were scary, all would be forgiven, but we’re left with a bunch of cheesy jolts and a vulgar array of physical assaults, most of them aimed at young girls and old women. Cronin is never not going for effect here, but the onslaught of cracking bones, skin peeling, and teeth removal gets tiresome fast, as the movie figuratively asks the audience, “Am I freaking you out?” every 30 seconds.

The story centers on an American family living in Cairo: dad Charlie (Jack Reynor) is a TV news correspondent on the rise, mom Larissa (Laia Costa, Victoria) is a nurse, and the two are raising daughter Katie (Emily Mitchell) and son Seb (Dean Allen Williams). A mysterious lady (Hayat Kamille, Murder on the Orient Express 2017) snatches the girl, leaving the family shattered. Eight years later, they’ve settled in Albuquerque in the big old house owned by Larissa’s mom Carmen (Veronica Falcón, Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe), with teenage Seb (Shylo Molina) and new younger sister Maud (Billie Roy).

Charlie and Larissa, who have maintained Katie’s old room in the hopes of her return, are thrilled to get a call from Cairo detective Dalia (May Calamawy, Moon Knight) that Katie (Natalie Grace) has been found alive. But as they bring her home, the parents realize their daughter isn’t merely near-catatonic because she’s been deprived of food and sunlight; her captors have made her a vessel for a long-dormant demon. And as Katie sheds her wrappings — inscribed with binding spells — that demon is looking to get out.

Not the worst set-up for a horror movie, granted, but Cronin never digs particularly deeply into his own premise. For example, while the film treats Katie’s kidnapper as the monster she is, it never for a moment considers that trapping a demon inside a human body is, in a larger sense, a humanitarian act and a horrible responsibility that has been passed down from generation to generation. And even when this plot thread steers into genuine dramatic and emotional stakes, the script backpedals as quickly as it can.

Horror fans who are here for the visceral thrills will certainly appreciate the sound team’s commitment to making the scary scenes as squishy and crunchy as possible, but even they will roll their eyes at the lengths to which Cronin and his editor go to generate a seemingly endless parade of cheap jolts. While the women tend to be on the receiving end of the violence, at least Falcón and Calamawy carve out some moments of intensity for themselves; poor Reynor has been directed to blink as little as possible, and while his eyes are certainly striking, his startled stare loses its potency before long.

At their best, mummy movies can contemplate mortality and history and the passage of time and the horrific demands of the wealthy and powerful. Otherwise, you get something like Lee Cronin’s The Mummy, so tirelessly dedicated to gutter-level grossness that it resembles a church-basement haunted house rather than a millennia-spanning tale of terror.

Director: Lee Cronin
Screenwriter: Lee Cronin
Cast: Jack Reynor, Laia Costa, May Calamawy, Natalie Grace, Shylo Molina, Billie Roy, Veronica Falcón
Executive producers: Michael Clear, Judson Scott, Macdara Kelleher, Lee Cronin, Pete Chiappetta, Andrew Lary, Anthony Tittanegro
Producers: James Wan, Jason Blum, John Keville
Director of photography: Dave Garbett
Production design: Nick Bassett
Editing: Bryan Shaw
Music: Stephen McKeon
Sound design: Peter Albrechtsen, sound designer/supervising sound editor
Production companies: New Line Cinema, Atomic Monster, Blumhouse, Wicket/Good
In English
133 minutes

And if that sounds like damning with faint praise, it is; beyond its relative novelty as a wide release bereft of explosions, superheroes, and awards ambitions, You, Me & Tuscany offers a well-worn fake-fiancé plot plus travelogue. It’s not without pleasures of its own, starting with a winsome and winning lead performance by Halle Bailey (The Little Mermaid) as Anna, a housesitter stuck in a rut.

Just a few years ago, Anna was a promising culinary student who was all set to travel to Italy with her mother, who had ambitions of opening a restaurant. Anna dropped out of school when mom got sick, and then stopped cooking together after she died. But a chance encounter with globe-trotting Tuscan real-estate agent Mateo (Lorenzo de Moor, Another Simple Favor) in a Manhattan hotel bar inspires Anna to take her never-used airline ticket and go visit the small village and family restaurant that Mateo left behind.

The local summer festival means a lack of lodgings, so Anna breaks into Mateo’s unused villa; when his mother Gabriella (Isabella Ferrari, The Great Beauty) and grandmother Nonna Alessia (Stefania Casini, 1900) show up to clean the place — and spot Anna wearing Nonna’s old ring, which the interloper found in a drawer — they assume Anna must be Mateo’s fiancée. Matters are complicated when Anna meets Michael (Regé-Jean Page, Bridgerton), Mateo’s cousin and adopted brother, and sparks fly.

Rather, sparks are supposed to fly. Bailey and Page are, individually, dynamic and charismatic performers, but between them, they summon so little chemistry that director Kat Coiro (Marry Me) has to get them soaking wet — twice (courtesy of a sprinkler system in Michael’s vineyard) — to give them an aura of passion. Cinematographer Danny Ruhlmann (Anyone But You) fully understands the assignment, taking a slow pan up and down Page’s soaking, shirtless torso.

The screenplay by Ryan Engle (Rampage) goes absolutely nowhere you wouldn’t expect, from Mateo’s surprise appearance in the village to the sudden reveal of his troublemaking former fiancée. Romances like this are about discovering delightful little byways on a pre-determined journey, and the film finds them through an assortment of engaging supporting characters, including Anna’s pal Claire (the very funny Aziza Scott disappears far too frequently), friendly cabbie Lorenzo (Marco Calvani, Netflix’s The Four Seasons), and Mateo’s sister Francesca (Stella Pecollo). If there’s one performance that gives the film poignancy and stakes where the screenplay offers none, it’s Paolo Sassanelli as patriarch Vincenzo: whether he’s expressing disappointment and regret over his relationship with Mateo or offering Anna the confidence-boost she needs to get her back to cooking, Sassanelli’s quiet intensity elevates the film to its most emotionally satisfying moments.

Non-Italian viewers checking out You, Me & Tuscany just for the travelogue of it all get lots to look at, from the breathtaking countryside to some brilliant food styling, including a dinner table overflowing with delights, an outdoor produce market bursting with vibrant options, and the cooking of a risotto dotted with multi-colored vegetables. Another treat for anyone who’s visited the country is getting to watch Anna ride in a number of only-in-Italy vehicles, from a two-seater taxi and a three-wheel mini–pickup truck to a souped-up sports car.

This is also a film about Black characters that isn’t also about, as my former podcast co-host Ify Nwadiwe would say, “the struggle”; the Italians goof on Anna for being American (the way she pronounces her name, her love of peanut butter), but her ethnicity never enters into it. Michael’s mother was Gabriella’s sister, so no one’s fazed by a woman of color showing up and claiming to be Mateo’s fiancée. Characters, and viewers, of all ethnicities deserve their fantasy fluff where everyone gets along.

You, Me & Tuscany has all the heft of a squash blossom, and it’s similarly tasty without being filling. But sometimes, you just want one anyway.

Director: Kat Coiro
Screenwriter: Ryan Engle; story by Ryan Engle & Kristin N. Engle
Cast: Halle Bailey, Regé-Jean Page, Marco Calvani, Aziza Scott, Lorenzo de Moor, Isabella Ferrari, Stefania Casini, Paolo Sassanelli
Executive producers: Ryan Engle, Scott Putman
Producers: Will Packer, Johanna Byer
Director of photography: Danny Ruhlmann
Production design: Elena Albanese
Editing: Zene Baker, Troy Takaki
Music: John Debney
Sound design: Gilberto Martinelli, sound mixer
Production companies: Universal Pictures, Will Packer Productions
In English
104 minutes

That refusal to explain itself to newbies is both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, the cartoon moves at a brisker pace than its predecessor, never pausing to footnote its world-building. On the other hand, outsiders will have to take it on faith that, say, Princess Peach (voiced by Anja Taylor-Joy) eating a magic mushroom will make her grow in size, Alice in Wonderland–style. (Adult viewers not tasked the responsibility of chaperoning small children may wish to sneak their own edibles into the theater to improve the experience.)

The villain this time around is Bowser Jr. (Benny Safdie, which should thrill all the toddlers who loved Good Time), seeking to rescue his father Bowser (Jack Black), who was imprisoned and miniaturized after trying to kidnap Peach in the previous adventure. Bowser Jr. steals another Princess, Rosalina (Brie Larson), to use her powers in nefarious ways. Rosalina is “mother to the stars,” and she sends one of her children to find Peach. After Peach departs in pursuit, Bowser Jr. steals her entire castle, including plumber brothers Mario (Chris Pratt) and Luigi (Charlie Day), and the galaxy-spanning chase is on.

Along the way, they’ll encounter an amphibian mobster (Luis Guzmán), omnivore Yoshi (Donald Glover), and a very Han Solo–ish space pilot (Glen Powell) — the arrival of the latter two garnered applause from game fans at my press screening — while a seemingly reformed Bowser finds himself torn between his son’s desire to conquer the universe and the lessons of friendship he’s learned from his former captors, particularly Luigi.

Returning screenwriter Matthew Fogel makes no bones about the fact that he’s adapting a video game here, with the plotting reduced to pure “go to the place and get the thing.” The two laughs I got along the way, even as a non-player, were couched in familiarity: Powell’s ne’er-do-well is clearly playing off its Star Wars references, and a slow-talking information robot utterly rips off the sloth from Zootopia.

The animators and designers, for their part, have crafted a multitude of dazzling worlds and backgrounds for the characters, from the realism of a Monument Valley–style desert (across which Mario and Luigi ride motorcycles) to a gravity-defying casino where there’s gaming not just on the floor but also up the walls and across the ceiling. There’s also some lovely character design on Bowser Jr., whose wide eyes and quivering jaw communicate his desire to make his dad proud (when he’s not ferociously trying to destroy our heroes with his magic paintbrush.)

Directors Aaron Horvath and Michael Jelenic (who gave the world the brilliant Teen Titans Go to the Movies! before getting mired in Mario world) know where their bread is buttered, re-enacting the left-to-right action of the original video game whenever possible so that fans, in turn, can re-enact the “Leonardo DiCaprio pointing at the screen” meme.

And why shouldn’t they? The last few decades of pop culture have demonstrated that, to paraphrase the emperor in Amadeus, people like songs they already know. It’s just a little disappointing that the brain trust behind The Super Mario Galaxy Movie couldn’t throw the occasional bone (or mushroom, or box with a question mark on it) to viewers who don’t already have a high score but might like to join the game.

Directors: Aaron Horvath, Michael Jelenic
Co-directors: Pierre Leduc, Fabien Polack
Screenwriter: Matthew Fogel, based on characters from Nintendo video games
Cast: Chris Pratt, Anja Taylor-Joy, Charlie Day, Jack Black, Keegan Michael-Key, Benny Safdie, Donald Glover, Issa Rae, Luis Guzmán, Kevin Michael Richardson, Glen Powell, Brie Larson
Executive producers: Brett Hoffman, Bill Ryan, Yusuke Beppu
Producers: Chris Meledandri, Shigeru Miyamoto
Music: Brian Tyler
Sound design: Jeremy Bowker, sound designer/supervising sound editor
Production companies: Universal Pictures, Illumination, Nintendo
In English
98 minutes

As he prepares his wedding-night toast, groom-to-be Charlie (Robert Pattinson) recalls that his meet-cute with Emma (Zendaya) involved an undercurrent of duplicity: he awkwardly attempted to pick her up in a coffee shop by claiming to have enjoyed the novel she was then reading, even though he’d never read it. He cops to the lie on their first date, however, and she’s more amused than angered by the revelation.

Cut to the week of Charlie and Emma’s wedding, when they’re sampling food and wine options from the caterer with Charlie’s best friends, married couple Mike (Mamoudou Athie) and Rachel (Alana Haim), who are also serving as Best Man and Matron of Honor. After a few too many bottles, the conversation turns to “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?” And then Emma tells them.

Her revelation won’t be spoiled here; suffice it to say that writer-director Kristoffer Borgli (Dream Scenario) has given Emma a secret both shocking and disturbing enough to make Charlie rethink their entire relationship, and whether or not the two should even get married. That choice is probably The Drama’s boldest move, but the film never feels exploitative; the characters and the audience have to sit with the discomfort and horror of it, but that horror is never brushed aside or minimized.

After Emma’s confession, all four leads spin out, from Rachel’s fury (if The Drama is like an extended episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm, Haim is the Susie Essman) to an upset Charlie clumsily attempting to seduce his assistant (Hailey Benton Gates). It all leads to an extremely awkward and brutally hilarious wedding reception where disaster looms around every clink of silverware on crystal, with the subtly insistent score by Daniel Pemberton and the tension-building editing (from Borgli and Joshua Raymond Lee) ratcheting up the discomfort.

More’s the pity, then, that Borgli whiffs the ending, because up until the film’s final sequence, he’s made the most of an uncomfortable situation. The director (and his cinematographer Arseni Khachaturan, Bones and All) know how to present a love-story Boston, complete with spacious apartments and cozy hang-out joints, and the cast finesses the rom-com beats (starting from that coffee-shop meet-cute), lulling viewers into expecting a charming urban love story and thus making the pivot to Emma’s reveal as disconcerting to the audience as it is to the characters.

Pattinson allows us to see both the cleverness and caddishness of Charlie; Emma turns out to be far more complicated and unsettling than the gamine we first meet, with Zendaya playing all those notes perfectly, but Charlie is no put-upon innocent himself.

The Drama falls into the category of “date night movie for people who are really confident about their relationship” — it’s either a conversation-opener or a door slammed shut for young lovers — but it might have achieved real greatness if Borgli hadn’t let Emma and Charlie off so easily. It’s a comedy of manners that seems to aspire to something darker and more relevant. In an era where terrible people in power either paper over their past mistakes or reframe them as triumphs, there need to be consequences or, conversely, the lack of consequences should be the point. Instead, The Drama shrugs off its terrible weight, amounting to a failure of nerve. This movie digs two complicated characters into a frighteningly complex hole and then, unforgiveably, offers unearned forgiveness.

Director: Kristoffer Borgli
Screenwriter: Kristoffer Borgli
Cast: Zendaya, Robert Pattinson, Mamoudou Athie, Alana Haim, Hailey Benton Gates, Zöe Winters, Sydney Lemmon, Jordyn Curet, Michael Abbott Jr., Anna Baryshnikov
Executive producers: Kristoffer Borgli, Chris Stinson, Amy Greene
Producers: Lars Knudsen, Ari Aster, Tyler Campellone
Director of photography: Arseni Khachaturan
Production design: Zosia Mackenzie
Editing: Joshua Raymond Lee, Kristoffer Borgli
Music: Daniel Pemberton
Sound design: Jack Sobo, supervising sound editor
Production companies: A24, Live Free or Die Films, Square Peg
In English
106 minutes

Drawing some apparent inspiration from the films of Godfrey Reggio (the score is perhaps inevitably reminiscent of Koyaanisqatsi, due to the similar instruments used), Meier stages the entire film as a travelogue around the world, with the visuals juxtaposed with voiceover that consists entirely of online comments and reviews. Some might feel the point could have been made just as efficiently with an even shorter running time than the finished product’s 78 minutes, but the grating nature of the remarks – often condescending in terms of how the reviewer’s preconceived notions colored their experience of the actual place – adds to the idea that, per the title, these landscapes are social not in the human sense, but as a digital commodity to be flaunted on websites and apps as a display of (ironically) well-traveled ignorance.

The thornier issue, for many and since the film’s world premiere at the Solothurn Film Festival, is Meier’s use of footage created via the use of artificial intelligence. The latter has, in fact, become an intriguing topic within the Swiss film industry in the last year or so. In the spring of 2025, the Generative Center – a collective based in Lugano – unveiled the first of several planned shorts based on Helvetic myth and folklore, The Wolf of Curio. Animated entirely with AI, it still had – per the credits – a human voice cast and a human crew, most notably people in charge of color grading and editing. It was therefore an attempt to use the technology purely as a tool and not a substitute for the people who make films, although the finished product still suffered from the uncanny valley effect that comes with the predominant generative AI aesthetic.

Damien Hauser started tinkering with artificial intelligence for the purpose of creating visual effects, before deciding to make it part of the story proper in his science fiction extravaganza Memory of Princess Mumbi, an exploration of what it means to create art and not lose sight of the human moments. Meier’s approach is not quite as overtly self-analytical, but the use of the artificially enhanced or generated footage is no creative shortcut: even when they’re not completely off-putting, AI visuals retain a disconcerting quality, leaving one even just slightly ill at ease, and that is precisely the effect Social Landscapes seeks to convey in its attempt to emphasize the layers of fakery that are at play in mankind’s performative approach to memories of trips to distant lands.

And while the images may be (deliberately) questionable at times, there’s no denying the human touch when it comes to the soundtrack, more specifically the score composed and performed by Stefan Rusconi (church organ) and Tobias Preisig (violin), a mixture of new work and tracks from their album Levitation. Already admirable on its own for its Philip Glass-like suggestions, the music acquires a deeper meaning when we get to the very end of the film and the end credits reveal how the new pieces were recorded: in various churches in Switzerland. Given how often the movie theater has been likened to a temple or a church, it is clear Meier believes in the integrity of the cinematic artform, using it here to lay bare the kind of artifice some might be tempted to misuse in the name of mass (and cheap) production.

Director, Screenwriter: Jonas Meier
Producer: Niels Vije
Cinematography: Jonas Meier
Music: Stefan Rusconi, Tobias Preisig
Sound: Christoph Benz
Production companies: zweihund GmbH
World sales: Visionär Films
Venue: CPH:DOX (Next: Wave Award)
In English
78 minutes

The action, for want of a better term, unfolds on two locations: one is the Aleutian Islands archipelago, situated in the Pacific Ocean and part of the US State of Alaska; the other is a ship heading to that area. Specifically, it’s a cable-laying vessel, entrusted with the job of making sure the remote community on the islands will have access to the Internet. One of the islanders, Gilmar, is very much looking forward to this, as the online world will provide him, the lone queer person within a radius of thousands of kilometers, with a link to a larger macrocosm he has only been able to dream of thus far.

Conversely, another island native, the young Indigenous woman Danika, is returning to the area after years of absence, hoping to pass on her connection to nature and ancestral culture to her children. However, she has legitimate doubts about its feasibility in a society increasingly dominated by an addiction to digital devices. Such devices are, naturally, a vital part of life on the approaching ship, as the Filipino crewmembers rely on their phones and intermittent signal availability to stay in touch with their families over the course of the long and sometimes perilous journey.

Documentaries always come with questions about just how unintrusive the filmmaking crew actually was since they needed to capture the required footage while the people on screen still got to go on with their everyday routines as though the camera – when they weren’t explicitly asked to address it – wasn’t there. Arctic Link is a particularly fascinating example of this, as the small crew had to shadow people in contexts that, under the wrong circumstances, could become exploitative (the islanders) or downright dangerous (the cable-laying operations). Per the press notes, the island portion we see is the result of two years’ worth of encounters prior to the start of filming, meaning the camera has essentially become part of the community and those who interact with it do so of their own volition, in a very natural fashion (coincidentally, another Swiss production that debuted around the same time – Tobias Nölle’s Tristan Forever, also set on a remote island – had to tackle similar practical and ethical concerns).

In fact, while technology is the main driving force of the narrative, even the scenes depicting the cable – the de facto physicalized version of the quintessentially ethereal Internet – have an eerie beauty to them, as this manmade monument (of sorts) to the digital landscape becomes a tangible, yet largely invisible part of the environment that surrounds us. And so, while it ostensibly allows people to connect with an outside world that has long eluded them, it also connects us – via Purnell’s quietly affecting journey to this remote corner of the Earth – with a spellbinding slice of nature most of us were unaware of, a microcosm that gets its moment in the spotlight while retaining its charmingly unassuming essence. Thus, the titular link takes on a spiritual connotation to go alongside the literal one.

Director, Screenwriter: Ian Purnell
Producer: Franziska Sonder
Cinematography: Marie Zahir
Music: Tobias Koch
Sound: Tobias Koch
Production companies: Ensemble Film GmbH, SRF Schweizer Radio und Fernsehen
World sales: Ensemble Film GmbH
Venue: CPH:DOX (DOX:Award Competition)
In English, Tagalog, Spanish
82 minutes

Director Kirill Sokolov (Why Don’t You Just Die!) is clearly a student of international genre cinema, with references to gonzo Japanese and Italian action and horror movies evident in the exhilaratingly jarring cuts from editor Luke Doolan (The Underground Railroad) and in every rack-focus and split-diopter from cinematographer Isaac Bauman (the upcoming Faces of Death). But beyond all that flash, there needs to be a story, characters, stakes, something to engage the audience. Instead, we get tons of fight choreography and tongue-in-cheek gore — much of it impressive, granted — but it’s not enough to keep the narrative afloat.

Zazie Beetz stars as Asia, who arrives at legendary New York apartment building The Virgil to take a housekeeping gig, although she’s really there to rescue her younger sister Maria (Myha’la, Industry) from the human-sacrificing devil-worshippers who live there. After years in jail, serving time for shooting their abusive dad, where she learned the art of facing multiple combatants at once — like something out of The Raid — Asia is ready to take on any and all rich creeps who would get in the way of her mission.

Not a bad premise for a film and, like The Raid, the screenplay by Sokolov and Alex Litvak (Predators) offers a built-in video-game structure, whereby our hero must survive level after level before facing off with the Big Boss. But classics like The Raid understand the subtle art of making each fight distinct, whether through combat style or weaponry or physical layout of the space. Much of They Will Kill You involves Asia taking on a handful of faceless opponents (they’re often wearing masks) inside various hotel common areas, and the sameness of those brawls drains the life out of them as redundancy takes over. Chief among her maskless opponents are Tom Felton and Heather Graham, but they get little to play beyond a requisite blond smugness.

The writers occasionally insert a bold concept — a Sam Raimi-esque bit of body-horror slapstick that gives new meaning to the phrase “wandering eye,” for example — but not often enough; nor do they give the energetic and luminous Beetz enough material for her to build an actual character, in spite of how she physically and emotionally throws herself into every scene. Patricia Arquette’s presence reflects a somewhat diminished sense of commitment, as she serves up one of the least convincing Irish accents in recent film history.

The film’s best moments are an outlandish pleasure, far outshining the highlights of the similarly-plotted and mostly by-the-numbers sequel Ready or Not 2: Here I Come. But the latter at least maintains a consistent level of energy from start to finish. The initial dynamism on display in They Will Kill You contracts and collapses. Death be not dull.

Director: Kirill Sokolov
Screenwriters: Kirill Sokolov & Alex Litvak
Cast: Zazie Beetz, Myha’la, Paterson Joseph, Tom Felton, Heather Graham, Patricia Arquette
Executive producers: Russell Ackerman, John Schoenfelder, Carl Hampe, Alex Litvak, Kirill Sokolov
Producers: Andy Muschietti, Barbara Muschietti, Dan Kagan
Director of photography: Isaac Bauman
Production design: Jeremy Reed
Editing: Luke Doolan
Music: Carlos Rafael Rivera
Sound design: Jeffrey A. Pitts, sound designer/supervising sound editor
Production companies: New Line Cinema, Nocturna, Domain Entertainment, Warner Bros.
In English
94 minutes

Set in Laramie, Wyoming (and shot in Calgary), the vastness of the sky and the beautiful mountain ranges — and the insistence of cinematographer Tim Ives (Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret) upon including those vistas in every shot possible — go a long way toward keeping the storytelling from becoming too grim, even when Monroe’s Kenna comes back into town and snags an apartment at a shabby complex called Paradise. (Complete with a giant neon sign, whose letters might as well read M-E-T-A-P-H-O-R.)

Kenna’s been gone for seven years, serving prison time for a DUI accident that resulted in the death of her boyfriend Scotty (Rudy Pankow). Consumed with guilt, Kenna showed no remorse at the trial, although she found a reason to live when she later discovered she was carrying Scotty’s child. Alas, his parents Grace (Lauren Graham) and Patrick (Bradley Whitford) swooped in and took custody of young Diem (Zoe Kosovic); Kenna has returned to Laramie in the hopes of meeting her child for the first time.

Further complicating Kenna’s return is the fact that Scotty’s best friend Ledger (Tyriq Withers, Him), a former NFL player who left the Broncos after an injury, has been renting the house across the street from Grace and Patrick and serving as a stand-in dad to the young girl, who’s just old enough to start asking question about her mother’s whereabouts. Kenna and Ledger have a meet-cute at the bar he owns — since he was away playing football when Scotty and Kenna were a couple, they’d never met before — but once he realizes who she is and why she’s in town, he finds himself torn between his feelings for her and his instinct to protect Diem from a woman whom Grace and Patrick think of as a monster.

Big emotions are on display here, with major decisions to be made and reckonings to be reached, but the screenwriters and director Vanessa Caswill (the BBC’s Little Women) don’t trust their audience’s ability to sit with a character’s pain. At almost every turn, a potentially gut-wrenching moment — Ledger stops Grace and Diem from unknowingly walking into the grocery store where Kenna works, for instance — is buffered with egregious sentimentality, usually from Diem or from Kenna’s developmentally disabled co-worker Lady Diana (Monika Myers), both of whom the film reduces to cuteness props, not unlike the kitten Kenna adopts upon moving into her apartment.

Both Withers and Pankow deliver the kind of soft-eyed sweetness that’s the stock in trade for male leads of female-driven romantic dramas, and Graham squeezes what she can out of a character who’s mainly a plot device. (We spend the film waiting for Grace to show grace.) But it’s Monroe’s show all the way, imbuing genuine grief and regret into this three-hankie spectacle.

Tear-jerkers are valuable to cinema; they can provide emotional catharsis as satisfying as any other kind of popcorn entertainment. It’s hard to get misty-eyed, however, over a film that never stops reassuring you that everyone’s going to get a happy ending. Let the audience feel bad for a while, so they can feel good after; failing that leaves everyone feeling nothing.

Director: Vanessa Caswill
Screenwriters: Lauren Levine & Colleen Hoover, based on the novel by Colleen Hoover
Cast: Maika Monroe, Tyriq Withers, Rudy Pankow, Lainey Wilson, Lauren Graham, Bradley Whitford
Executive producer: Robin Mulcahy Fisichella
Producers: Colleen Hoover, Lauren Levine, Gina Matthews
Director of photography: Tim Ives
Production design: Francesca Massariol
Editing: Michelle Harrison
Music: Tom Howe
Sound design: Warren Hendriks, sound designer/re-recording mixer; Anna MacKenzie, supervising sound editor
Production companies: Universal Pictures, Heartbones, Little Engine Productions
In English
114 minutes

It’s the not-too-distant future, and astronomers have observed a flowing chain of some mysterious substance that seems to be feeding off our sun. Scientists from around the globe are called in to deal with the problem; one of them is seventh-grade science teacher Ryland Grace (Gosling), whose doctoral thesis so brashly challenged existing theories that it caught the attention of shadowy government figure Eva Stratt (Sandra Hüller). Even though Grace’s troublemaking theories turn out to be wrong, he winds up being the only scientist on Earth who can figure out how to attract and regenerate the mystery substance. He’s sent into deep space to the one place in the universe where the alien matter isn’t devouring a star, so he can learn why and subsequently save all life on Earth. No pressure.

This backstory comes at us in bits and pieces, however: Goddard and directors Phil Lord and Christopher Miller (22 Jump Street) open the movie with Grace waking up from a medical coma on a space station, unsure of who he is or how he got there. And while he’s putting all that together, he’s also got to deal with a visit from a faceless, stone-like alien (Grace eventually dubs him “Rocky”) who’s on a similar mission from another galaxy.

Like The Martian, it’s a story about process in which someone intelligent and capable can, in the words of Matt Damon’s character in the earlier film, “science the shit out of” a problem. But while the problem facing Damon and his NASA cohorts was clear-cut even for the lay mind — stay alive on Mars, figure out a way for a rescue team to bring him back to Earth — Project Hail Mary’s alien substance, what it is, what it does, and how to contain it or reverse it, isn’t as easy to follow, at least not in the way that Goddard presents it. By the time Grace and Rocky start making vital discoveries, I found myself apportioning their dialogue to a folder in my brain marked “Science Stuff.” (And yes, Rocky does eventually speak, through a computer translator, voiced by James Ortiz.)

Project Hail Mary is absolutely working toward something unique, combining awe-inspiring galactic vistas from cinematographer Greig Fraser (Dune: Part Two) – Amazon MGM really, really wants you to see this movie in IMAX, and they’re not wrong – with the free-wheeling wit that Lord and Miller have brought to their earlier projects (which also include The LEGO Movie and Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse) as directors and producers. The gags are practically the architecture, whether Gosling is on his own, or trading banter with Rocky or, in flashbacks, with Hüller’s stone-faced bureaucrat.

What the film doesn’t deliver, even with Gosling giving it his all, is a character for Grace. We know why he left academia to become a schoolteacher, but does this guy have friends or family? Is there anyone on Earth for whom he wishes to make this ultimate sacrifice, and will anyone miss him while he does it? Even if the answer to those questions is “No,” Goddard’s screenplay never tells us, so even as Grace reconstructs his memories and the events that brought him to galaxy’s edge, he remains a puzzling enigma. Some of his strongest character notes come courtesy of costumers David Crossman and Glyn Dillon, who give Grace the best collection of hip-nerd T-shirts since Val Kilmer in Real Genius whenever the reluctant astronaut isn’t modeling the latest in form-fitting, space-station sportswear.

Ultimately, the film’s breezy attitude and calculated audience-pleasing wins out. Project Hail Mary offers plenty of laughs alongside of a dollop of sentiment, and it centers science in a tale where the apocalypse isn’t necessarily inevitable; it celebrates both humanity’s ability to save itself, and the idea that humanity might be worth saving.

Directors: Phil Lord & Christopher Miller
Screenwriter: Drew Goddard, based on the novel by Andy Weir
Cast: Ryan Gosling, Sandra Hüller, James Ortiz, Lionel Boyce, Ken Leung, Milana Vayntrub, Priya Kansara
Executive producers: Patricia Whitcher, Lucy Winn Kitada, Nikki Baida, Ken Kao, Drew Goddard, Sarah Esberg
Producers: Amy Pascal, Ryan Gosling, Phil Lord, Christopher Miller, Aditya Sood, Rachel O’Connor, Andy Weir
Director of photography: Greig Fraser
Production design: Charles Wood
Editing: Joel Negron
Music: Daniel Pemberton
Sound design: Erik Aadahl, sound designer/supervising sound editor
Production companies: Amazon MGM Studios, Pascal Pictures, Open Invite Films, Waypoint Entertainment, Lord Miller
In English
156 minutes

Cine Verdict entrevistó a Daniela Alatorre, directora de IMCINE, para entender mejor las estrategias detrás de la nueva ley.

TFV: Felicitaciones por la propuesta de una nueva ley del cine. ¿En qué se diferencia de la ley de 1992?

Daniela: agradezco el interés de Cine Verdict. La ley necesitaba actualizarse y ampliarse. El panorama mediático ha cambiado mucho en estos años, aportando contenidos audiovisuales a los espectadores también fuera de las salas de cine, en plataformas de streaming, dispositivos electrónicos y utilizando efectos generados por IA. Queremos democratizar el acceso a los derechos culturales, y hemos incrementado el apoyo a la producción para las comunidades vulnerables, como los pueblos indígenas y afrodescendientes. México es un país multiétnico y pluricultural, y queremos defender los derechos culturales y creativos de las personas. Una estrategia complementaria es asegurar el mandato de preservación, para que se preserven y se almacenen adecuadamente no solo las películas, sino también las clases magistrales, el pensamiento crítico en el campo y los contenidos que preservan nuestra historia y nuestra memoria patrimonial.

TFV: ¿Cómo aborda la estrategia los desafíos actuales de la producción cinematográfica?

Daniela:  La estrategia actualiza el marco legal y diseña políticas públicas que apoyan la producción local a través de incentivos fiscales y financieros. Los incentivos ofrecen una reducción del 30% en los impuestos para las producciones. En el caso de las internacionales, buscamos garantizar que contraten al menos un 70% de talentos y proveedores mexicanos. Se ha aumentado la financiación de IMCINE para producciones de ficción, documentales, posproducción, series y animación. También apoyamos las producciones en los estados fuera de la capital mexicana, y la exhibición en la Cineteca Nacional. La realidad es que México -y América Latina- está en desventaja respecto de los mayores recursos que tienen las industrias cinematográficas de otros países, por lo que esperamos que estas medidas puedan defender nuestra soberanía creativa. Consideramos que el cine es un patrimonio cultural que no debe responder sólo a las fuerzas del mercado, sino que también refleja una diversidad de géneros, formatos y espectadores, incluidos los niños. También queremos crear nuestra propia plataforma de exhibición.

TFV: En un campo cada vez más competitivo, ¿cómo puede ganar mayor visibilidad el cine mexicano?

Daniela: La nueva ley extenderá el requisito de que los exhibidores asignen el 10% del tiempo de pantalla a películas mexicanas durante dos semanas (desde una semana en la ley de 1992). Necesitamos revisar y monitorear el cumplimiento. También buscará que las plataformas de streaming otorguen mayor acceso y visibilidad a nuestras producciones en las opciones y prioridades que ofrecen a los espectadores.

TFV: Los cineastas mexicanos han recibido reconocimiento internacional (24 Oscars hasta el momento, así como Goyas, Globos de Oro y muchos premios de festivales importantes). ¿Existe el peligro de que los cineastas exitosos sean reclutados por estudios y servicios de streaming en el extranjero, y las producciones no regresen a México?

Daniela: Estamos seguros de que nuestros talentosos cineastas seguirán buscando historias y equipos mexicanos y seguirán filmando aquí, dada la diversidad de nuestras locaciones y la habilidad y prestigio de nuestros técnicos. Estamos aumentando la financiación para nuestras escuelas de cine, como el CCC (Centro de Capacitación Cinematográfica), que produce graduados altamente calificados. IMCINE ha aumentado su presupuesto de producción y desarrollo, y estamos ya ofreciendo apoyo, residencias y capacitación en áreas fuera de las grandes ciudades. También nos centramos en las mentorías y el desarrollo de guiones para capturar las historias que aún quedan por contar.

TFV: Hay un creciente temor de que los actores estén siendo reemplazados por la Inteligencia Artificial.

Daniela: Eso es una preocupación, y en una modificación a la ley de derechos de autor estamos proteger los derechos de los artistas. Por ejemplo, dado que hay mucho doblaje de películas en nuestra industria, queremos asegurarnos de que, incluso si se utiliza la Inteligencia Artificial, se haga con el pleno acuerdo y la remuneración de los actores.

TFV: ¿Cómo ve la iniciativa de Netflix de invertir mil millones de dólares (en varios años) en producciones cinematográficas mexicanas?

Daniela: IMCINE da la bienvenida a las empresas internacionales que demuestren confianza en nuestro país al invertir en sus propias producciones en nuestro país. Nuestros incentivos y apoyos a la infraestructura de la producción de cine y a las capacidades técnicas de México, a las instalaciones de capacitación, nuestros estudios y locaciones variadas hacen que el rodaje en México sea una opción atractiva para empresas internacionales. Estamos viviendo un gran momento en el cine mexicano.

Ultimately, it is also a heart-wrenching study of how a serious crime scars the soul of the perpetrator as well as the victim, and how healing, such as it is, can take place through selfless service to another person. Though the setting may seem overly familiar at first, that impression is quickly swept aside as personalities take over in the riveting lead performances by Kingsley Ben-Adir and Rob Morgan. Both actors are superbly measured and self-aware, fiercely casting out any hint of sentimentality in the story.

A night scene introduces Frank Baker (Ben-Adir) as he is marched shackled into a new prison with a dozen other men in orange jumpsuits. The dominant colors will soon shift to the blue of standard-issue prison wear and yellow in the distinctive jackets of the “Gold Coats”. These are veteran inmates who (based on a real program in a California prison in San Luis Obispo) have been trained as caregivers for fellow prisoners with cognitive issues like Alzheimer’s and dementia. This hierarchical color symbolism draws the first, seemingly definitive line between Frank, young and athletic but with grizzled hair attesting to 17 years already served behind bars, and the fragile and failing 60-year-old Louis Nelson (Morgan) who is put in his care.

Louis has been a tough, violent customer all his life, feared by the other inmates. Now he is fragile and failing, with bouts of lucidity alternating with total puzzlement over where he is and what brought him there. There is something of the mortally wounded animal in his hostility and rage towards Frank that gives Louis a human side despite the fact he (like Frank) is serving time for murder.

As his memory fades, the paradox becomes increasingly clear: he no longer has the capacity to understand why he is being punished. The viewer shares Frank’s perplexity: first, and most banally, how to dress and feed a man who refuses his help. The group of inmate-caregivers, coached by an enlightened psychiatrist, rally around Frank when he is so discouraged he is ready to quit. They have all learned to roll with the fearful rages, outbursts and insults from the men they care for, and have grown protective and attached to them as their minds deteriorate and they move ever closer to hospice care. All this is touchingly suggested in Volpe and Esther Bernstorff’s screenplay without becoming maudlin. As a kind-hearted Hispanic Gold Coat (René Pérez Joglar in a warm supporting role) reminds Frank, one day their minds will be empty of everything, “even hate”.

Frank’s own struggle is multifaceted. He is approaching an important hearing with the parole board which fills him with hope and trepidation and, after many years, he has reestablished contact with his sister. But we sense that he is not being completely honest when he claims to have conquered his anger issues and gotten his violent impulses in check. In contrast, Louis seems to mellow as his dementia progresses, but he receives no help from his daughter who refuses all contact with him.

The slow pacing, especially in the first half of the film, requires some patience on the part of the viewer, but there are rich rewards later as scenes flow organically to their inevitable conclusion. Compared to the frenzied rhythm of Late Shift, Frank & Louis is a model of stylistic moderation, where all the narrative and technical elements work together in a persuasive whole. Oliver Coates’ sophisticated score quietly but insistently penetrates almost every scene, depicted by cinematographer Judith Kaufmann with simultaneous lights and shadows that are the visual equivalent of the moral dilemma under the surface of the story. How can we reconcile punishment – even just punishment – with a criminal who doesn’t remember his crime? It is Kafka seen from another angle.

Director: Petra Volpe
Screenwriters: Petra Volpe, Esther Bernstorff
Producers: Reto Schaerli, Lukas Hobi
Cast: Kingsley Ben-Adir, Rob Morgan, René Pérez Joglar, Rosalind Eleazar, Indira Varma
Cinematography: Judith Kaufman
Production design: Su Erdt, Iain Andrews
Costume design: Pascale Suter
Editing: Hansjorg Weissbrich
Music: Oliver Coates
Sound design: Gina Keller
Production companies: Zodiac Pictures
World sales: TrustNordisk
Venue: Sundance Film Festival
In English
94 minutes

The Film Verdict interviewed Daniela Alatorre, director of IMCINE, to better understand the strategies behind the new law.

The Film Verdict: Congratulations on the proposed new film law. How does it differ from the 1992 law?

Daniela Alatorre: I appreciate the interest of The Film Verdict. The old law needed to be updated and expanded. The media landscape has changed a lot in these years, bringing audiovisual content to viewers on streaming platforms, electronic devices and using AI-generated effects. We want to democratize access to cultural rights, and we have increased support for production for vulnerable communities such as indigenous peoples and people of African descent. Mexico is a multi-ethnic and multicultural country, and we want to defend people’s cultural and creative rights. A complementary strategy is to mandate preservation, so that not only films, but also master classes, critical thinking in the field and relevant content are preserved and stored properly.

TFV: How does the strategy address current challenges in film production?

Alatorre: The strategy updates the legal framework and designs public policies that support local production through fiscal and financial incentives. The incentives offer a 30% reduction in taxes for productions. For international producers, we aim to ensure that they hire at least 70% Mexican talent and suppliers. Funding for IMCINE has been increased for fiction, documentary, post-production, series and animation productions. We also support productions in the states outside of the Mexican capital, and the exhibitions at the Cineteca Nacional. The reality is that Mexico – and Latin America – are at a disadvantage relative to the larger resources of other countries’ film industries, so we hope these measures can defend our creative sovereignty. We believe that cinema is a cultural heritage that should not respond only to market forces, but also reflect a diversity of genres, formats and targeted viewers, including children. We also want to create our own exhibition platform.

TFV: In an increasingly competitive field, how can Mexican cinema gain greater visibility?

Alatorre: The new law will extend the requirement that exhibitors allocate 10% of screen time to Mexican films for two weeks (from one week in the 1992 law). We need to review and monitor compliance. It will also ask streaming platforms to grant greater access and visibility to our productions in the choices and priorities they offer viewers.

TFV: Mexican filmmakers have received international recognition (24 Oscars so far, as well as Goyas, Golden Globes and many awards from major festivals). Is there a danger that successful filmmakers will be recruited by studios and streaming services abroad, and productions will not return to Mexico?

Alatorre: We are certain that our talented filmmakers will continue to search for Mexican stories and will continue filming here, given the diversity of our locations and the skill and prestige of our crews and technicians. We are increasing funding for film schools, such as the CCC (Capacitacion Cinematográfica), which produces highly qualified graduates. IMCINE has increased its development budget, and we already offer support, residency and training in areas outside of major cities. We also focus on mentorship and scriptwriting to capture the stories that remain to be told.

TFV: There is a growing fear that actors are being replaced by Artificial Intelligence.

Alatorre: That is a concern, and in an amendment to the copyright law we are protecting artists’ rights. For example, since there is a lot of movie dubbing in our industry, we want to make sure that even if artificial intelligence is used, it is done with the artists’ consent and remuneration.

TFV: How do you view Netflix’s initiative to invest a billion dollars (over several years) in Mexican productions?

Alatorre: IMCINE welcomes international companies that show confidence in filming here. Our support for Mexican filmmakers, production infrastructure and our diverse locations make Mexico an attractive choice. We are living an exciting moment in Mexican cinema.

“It is the most progressive and ambitious audiovisual policy proposal in decades,” Juan Carlos Vargas, a film professor from Guadalajara university, told The Film Verdict. “It contemplates the reactivation of the film industry as an ecosystem and considers support from training, production and distribution to exhibition and preservation. Moreover, it includes dubbing, A.I., and streaming platforms. We will have to see whether it is applied and followed.”

The proposal began its legislative process on March 3, 2026, and is expected to be approved before April 30. Claudia Sheinbaum Pardo, President of the Republic, has already approved a decree for Fiscal Incentives for Film as a complement to the law.

The atmosphere was festive when the legal reform was presented in February at Palacio Nacional, seat of the Mexican government, in the presence of a large swath of the filmmaking community. Mexico’s cultural authorities and President Sheinbaum spoke about the benefits of the law and the decree, the complexity of the task, as well as the consultations held with associations and companies. Producers Inna Payán and Salma Hayek-Pinault spoke — with great emotion —  about the major improvements in procedures and funding, as well as the economic significance for the country.

This presentation — unusual for a legislative proposal — was considered a good sign. “The fact that the federal government is turning its attention to the film and audiovisual industry and finding ways to update, modernize, and promote it is, in itself, a particularly important indication,” commented film director, academic, and programmer Juan Manuel González to TFV. “The reform sounds remarkably interesting. We will have to see how it progresses and what obstacles it faces on its way before it is signed into law.”

Filming by decree

At the presentation of the reform, Salma Hayek-Pinault noted that the production incentives will allow her to finish her first film as a director, currently in progress in the states of Veracruz — her home state — and Quintana Roo. “I could shoot this film in Australia, the Canary Islands, or the Dominican Republic because they do have incentives there, but I want to shoot a love letter to Mexico and it has to be filmed here, with Mexicans.”

But what does the decree mean for smaller productions? Speaking to TFV, Ozcar Ramírez González, Mexican producer and director (9 meses, 9 días, La 4ª. Compañía, Días de gracia), voiced a different opinion. “This decree is to attract investment, which is not to say that it’s bad in itself, but we shouldn’t pretend it will help.  It is for foreign films. For someone like me who makes independent films, it does not benefit me; it truly changes nothing.” Estrella Araiza, director of the Guadalajara International Film Festival, with a background in film distribution and markets, said, “The production issue is and has been solved for a while. There are many issues that affect Mexican cinema, but producing is not one of them.”

The decree requires that the talent and actors be predominantly Mexican. “We must understand that the spirit of the decree is that there is a distribution of these tax credits to all Mexican service providers for the audiovisual industry; that is, even if a large company receives this credit, it is distributed among all those who provide services to the production,” commented Juan Manuel González. The decree does not include, as in other countries, a cash rebate or tax rebate, which means that companies will be compensated with a tax credit without affecting tax collection. This may make it less attractive.

What about funds for the promotion of national production?

The new law will provide a legal framework for FOCINE (Fund for the Promotion of Cinema) which has been operating since April 2020 as a stimulus program through calls for proposals, without being included in any law, which made it very vulnerable. The Ministry of Finance will annually assign the amount of this fund.

FOCINE replaced the very successful FIDECINE (Investment and Stimulus Fund for Cinema) which between 2002 and 2019 supported 230 feature films ranging from memorable first works (Duck Season directed by Fernando Eimcke) to films by established directors (The Reasons of the Heart by Arturo Ripstein) and some commercial films like Instructions Not Included and Una película de huevos. FIDECINE was closed, without warning, in 2020 during the pandemic.

The irony of exhibiting in Mexico

Mexico, as a country, is the fourth largest market in the world for audiovisual content both in theaters and on platforms. However, Mexican films, successful at festivals around the world, with very few exceptions are not even released in the country’s commercial circuit. Distribution and exhibition is a complex problem: on one hand, audience development is necessary, and on the other, exhibition chains often pose an obstacle, citing losses.

The new law proposes extending screening times and improving exhibition schedules. However, according to musician, producer, and “film doctor” Pablo Mondragón, “Nobody cares about the screen percentage, and no Mexican is going to watch movies just because Mexican cinema is in theaters for three more weeks. The United States are geniuses in this field; they have been revolutionizing creativity, talent, and technology for years to create products unobtainable elsewhere. As a friend used to say, ‘your creativity with limited resources is competing against a U.S. content industry that, except in Japan, China, and India, is overwhelming the whole world’. That is why funding must embrace new ways of production developed by creators who have a lot to teach us. As we have always said: if we join forces with those who have new needs and solutions, then we CAN compete with any film industry.”

At  the presentation, the new law and decree were celebrated as a great achievement. And so they are: the Mexican film industry could not continue working under a law that is 34 years old and makes no mention of ethnic diversity or the representation of minorities. When it begins to take effect, we will see, in theaters and on streaming platforms, whether this reform was enough.

Según dijo a TFV el académico y catedrático de cine de la UdG  Juan Carlos Vargas “ …es la propuesta más progresista y ambiciosa de política cultural audiovisual de las últimas décadas. Contempla la reactivación de la industria del cine como un ecosistema que considera apoyos desde la formación, producción, distribución, exhibición y archivo.  Además, incluye al doblaje, la inteligencia artificial y las plataformas de streaming. Habrá que ver si se cumple y aplica…”

La propuesta empezó su proceso legislativo el 3 de marzo y se espera se apruebe antes del 30 de abril.  Claudia Sheinbaum Pardo, presidenta de la República aprobó y está vigente el Decreto de estímulo fiscal que es un complemento de la ley.

La reforma para la Ley se presentó en Palacio Nacional,  el pasado febrero, estuvo invitada una buena parte de la comunidad cinematográfica. Las autoridades de la cultura en México y la presidenta Sheinbaum hablaron de los beneficios de la Ley y del decreto, el trabajo que significó y la consulta que se hizo con asociaciones y empresas. Las productoras Inna Payán y Salma Hayek-Pinault hablaron -con mucha emoción- de las facilidades para filmar y el significado económico para el país.  La atmósfera era festiva y terminó en un portrait de famille.

Esta presentación – inusual para una propuesta legislativa- se considera un buen indicio: “El que el gobierno federal esté poniendo la vista sobre la industria del cine y el audiovisual y encontrando maneras de actualizar, modernizar e impulsarla, es en sí mismo, un hecho muy importante (…) la reforma suena muy interesante. Habrá que ver cómo avanza y cuáles son los obstáculos que enfrenta en su camino antes de llegar a ser publicada” comentó para TFV el director de cine, académico y programador Juan Manuel González.

Filmar por decreto

En la presentación de la reforma Selma Hayek-Pinault dijo que el incentivo a la producción le permitirá terminar su primera película como directora, en este momento en proceso en los estados de Veracruz – su estado natal- y Quintana Roo,  “podía filmar en Australia, las Canarias o República Dominicana porque ahí si tienen incentivos. Pero, quiero hacer una carta de amor a México y se tiene que filmar aquí, con mexicanos”.

¿Pero qué significa el decreto para producciones más pequeñas? Ozcar Ramírez González, productor y director mexicano (9 meses, 9 días, La 4ª. Compañía, Días de gracia) dijo a TFV: “Este decreto es  para atraer inversión, lo cual no es que sea malo en sí, pero tampoco nos vamos a hacernos tontos de que eso va a ayudar. Es para películas extranjeras, yo que he hecho películas independientes, no me conviene, verdaderamente cambia cero”. Estrella Araiza, directora del Festival Internacional de Cine en Guadalajara, con una trayectoria en distribución y mercados de cine nos dijo “el tema de producción está y estaba resuelto desde hace un rato. Hay muchos temas que aquejan al cine mexicano pero producir no es uno de ellos”.

El decreto exige que el talento y los actores  sean mayoritariamente mexicanos , “debemos entender que el espíritu del decreto es que haya una derrama de estos créditos fiscales hacia todos los proveedores mexicanos de servicios para la industria audiovisual, es decir, aunque una gran empresa reciba este crédito, el mismo se distribuye entre todos los que colaboran prestando servicios a la producción audiovisual” comentó Juan Manuel González. El decreto no contempla, cómo en otros países, un cash rebate o tax rebate, lo que significa que se compensará a las compañías con un crédito fiscal sin afectar la recaudación de impuestos. Esto puede hacerlo menos atractivo.

¿Y los fondos para el fomento a la producción nacional?

La nueva Ley dará marco legal a FOCINE (Fondo de Fomento al Cine) que está funcionando desde abril 2020 como un programa de estímulos por medio de convocatorias sin estar incluido en ninguna ley, lo que lo hacía muy vulnerable.  El monto de este Fondo será asignado por la Secretaría de Hacienda anualmente.

FOCINE sustituyó al muy exitoso FIDECINE (Fondo de Inversión y Estímulos al Cine)  que apoyó, entre 2002 y 2019, 230 largometrajes que van desde óperas primas memorables (Temporada de Patos, Fernando Eimcke); películas de directores consagrados (Las razones del corazón de Arturo Ripstein) y algunas películas comerciales como  No se aceptan devoluciones y Una película de huevos. FIDECINE se cerró en 2020, sin previo aviso, durante la pandemia.

La ironía de la exhibición en México

México, como país, es el cuarto mercado mundial para el cine y las series tanto en salas como en plataformas. Sin embargo, las películas mexicanas, un éxito en festivales alrededor del mundo, con muy pocas excepciones ni siquiera se estrenan en el circuito comercial del país. La distribución y exhibición es un problema complejo, por una parte es necesaria la formación de públicos y por otro las cadenas de exhibición suelen ser un obstáculo.  La nueva ley propone ampliar los tiempos y mejorar los horarios de exhibición. Según el músico, productor y film doctor Pablo Mondragón “lo del porcentaje de exhibición a nadie le importa y ningún mexicano va a ir a ver películas porque estén tres semanas más el cine mexicano.  Los Estados Unidos son unos genios porque llevan años revolucionando la creatividad, el talento y la tecnología para crear productos inalcanzables, como decía un amigo ´hoy competimos contra lo fascinante´ (…); tu creatividad con pocos recursos está compitiendo contra una industria estadounidense de contenidos que excepto Japón, China y la India está avasallando todo el mundo. Por lo tanto los apoyos deben tener voluntad de reunir nuevas formas de producción de creadores distintos que tienen mucho que enseñarnos. Como se ha dicho siempre, si unimos fuerzas los de la experiencia con los de las nuevas necesidades y soluciones, entonces SI podemos competir con cualquier cinematografía. ”

En la presentación la nueva Ley y el Decreto se festejaron como un gran logro. Lo son, el cine nacional no podía seguir con una ley de hace 34 años, que no mencionaba la diversidad étnica o la representación de minorías. Cuando empiece a funcionar veremos, en el cine y en plataformas, si esta reforma fue suficiente.

There is no metaphorical hat upon which Gyllenhaal won’t place another hat, and then another, and then a veil, and a wig: She opens the film with Mary Shelley (Jessie Buckley) in limbo, telling us that she’d always intended to write a sequel to Frankenstein that was even scarier. And if that weren’t enough, Shelley then possesses the body of 1930s Chicago gangster’s moll Ida (also Buckley), who floridly tells off a table of mafiosi before tumbling down a flight of stairs and dying.

Lucky for Ida, then, that Frankenstein’s monster (Christian Bale) has arrived in town with the hopes that mad scientist Dr. Euphronius (Annette Bening) might make him a bride. They dig up Ida in a potter’s field, re-route some electricity from a streetlight, and The Bride is born. She has no memory of her past, but unlike Elsa Lanchester in Bride of Frankenstein, the revived Ida finds herself warming up to her potential mate.

There’s a great deal of plot here: the two lovers becoming fugitives, with a pair of Chicago detectives (Peter Sarsgaard, Penélope Cruz) in hot pursuit; the monster’s obsession with big-screen song-and-dance man Ronnie Reed (Jake Gyllenhaal); and Ida’s distinctive look (black lips and tongue, with a bloody inkblot on her cheek) inspiring imitators — think adult women behaving like the teen-girl pop cults of Ladies and Gentlemen the Fabulous Stains or The Legend of Billie Jean — who rise up against their male oppressors. Maggie Gyllenhaal takes every advantage to emulate 1930s cinema (monster movies, gangster pictures, RKO musicals) and pilfer from a plethora of screen Frankensteins, from James Whale’s to Mel Brooks’. (The motto for this Bride is “something borrowed, something borrowed, something borrowed, something borrowed.”)

As a piece of filmmaking craft, The Bride! is often thrilling, with cinematographer Lawrence Sher (Joker: Folie à Deux) capturing multiple vintage film styles while legendary costumer Sandy Powell and production designer Karen Murphy (Elvis) play fast and loose with the looks of the decade. (Did a New York theater in 1936 screen White Zombie in anaglyph 3D? Probably not, but the sight of a packed audience wearing those red-and-blue glasses makes for an indelible visual.)

If only director Gyllenhaal had demanded more from screenwriter Gyllenhaal. The Mary Shelley framing device feels fairly absurd — imagine if One Battle After Another opened with Leonardo DiCaprio as Thomas Pynchon, telling you that what you were about to see is even better than anything else he’d ever written — and having Shelley burst in and out of Ida’s speech patterns never pays off in any real way. Ida spends much of the film unable to remember who she is, and when she suddenly starts naming her fallen comrades and calling out the mobsters who killed them, it happens in the middle of a musical number (no, really), and thus gets lost in the cacophony. (Credit to Gyllenhaal for paying tribute to a legendary female forebear in the director’s chair by naming the main Chicago gangster “Lupino.”)

Jessie Buckley gives a performance that can’t be called “good” by any traditional yardstick, but it’s in perfect keeping with the rest of the movie; her work here is big and boisterous and frantic and unrestrained, and clearly what Gyllenhaal wanted. Bale wisely underplays, resulting in a quietly witty and occasionally heartbreaking monster. Bening’s having a ball, with Jeannie Berlin as her hilariously deadpan sidekick; should they return to play the Abbott and Costello to Bale’s Frankenstein’s monster, that would be a sequel worth making. Cruz can barely keep a straight face for her super-detective character, but she does carry off the era’s Joan Crawford bangs and eyebrows with grace.

It’s difficult not to link The Bride! to another recent Warner Bros. release, Emerald Fennell’s Wuthering Heights, since both feature prominent female auteurs extravagantly deconstructing the work of legendary women novelists. But while 1935’s Bride of Frankenstein is a puckishly perfect skewering of the Genesis myth — man is created to exist, while woman is created merely to keep the man from being lonely — The Bride! veers off in so many exhausting directions that it ultimately amounts to little more than sound and fury. She’s alive, alive, but she can’t maintain this pace.

Director: Maggie Gyllenhaal
Screenwriter: Maggie Gyllenhaal
Cast: Jessie Buckley, Christian Bale, Peter Sarsgaard, Annette Bening, Jake Gyllenhaal, Penélope Cruz
Executive producers: Carla Raij, David Webb, Courtney Kivowitz
Producers: Maggie Gyllenhaal, Emma Tillinger Koskoff, Talia Kleinhendler, Osnat Handelsman Keren
Director of photography: Lawrence Sher
Production design: Karen Murphy
Editing: Dylan Tichenor
Music: Hildur Gudnadóttir
Sound design: Damian Volpe, supervising sound editor
Production companies: Warner Bros. Pictures, First Love Films, In the Current Company
In English
126 minutes

But even if there’s more than a little James Cameron DNA in the screenplay by Jesse Andrews (Elio, Luca) — who shares story credit with director Daniel Chong (We Bare Bears) — Hoppers finds its own footing thanks to some memorable characters and elaborate set pieces. Viewers who judge Pixar movies on whether or not they make you weep may find themselves tickled and perhaps moved, though dry-eyed.

We meet Mabel Tanaka (voiced by Lila Liu) as a young student who’s fervently determined to liberate every last turtle, guinea pig, and snake from her grammar school; her passion for animals often spills over into rage, but her beloved Grandma (Karen Huie) teaches the girl that patience and quiet have their rewards, particularly when communing with nature. It’s a lesson that sticks with teen Mabel (Piper Curda, May December), who nonetheless loses her temper during her frequent arguments with Mayor Jerry (Jon Hamm), who wants to build a mostly pointless highway on top of the pond where Mabel and Grandma watch the beavers and other animals make their homes.

When Mabel discovers that her college professor Dr. Sam (Kathy Najimy) has developed technology that allows for consciousness transfer to robotic animals, the student seizes the opportunity to convince the animals into keeping their homes in the pond. Discovering further chicanery by Jerry, beaver-Mabel becomes more of a firebrand, until she realizes her advocacy has inspired the animal kingdoms to work together to “squish” Jerry for good.

Kudos to Andrews for avoiding two clichéd tropes that Pixar seems to love: there’s no seemingly-benign authority figure who later turns out to be evil, and the two best-friend protagonists don’t have a falling-out for no other reason than to prompt the final act of the screenplay. Just about everyone in a power position here, from Jerry to animal monarchs voiced by the likes of Meryl Streep and Ego Nwodim, reveals their true personalities from the start.

The only benevolent authority is beaver George (Bobby Moynihan), who gets close with Mabel and also maintains perspective on the situation; as “king of the mammals,” he’s expected to hold dominion over human beings as well. While Mabel is furious with Jerry, it’s George who notes that “people places and animal places are all just places,” believing that “we’re all in this together.” (And no, they don’t sing the song from High School Musical, even if Disney does own it.)

It might also count as a sign of Pixar evolution that Grandma’s death is implied more than it’s dwelled upon; when early scenes show young Mabel bonding with and learning from her older relative, the expectation is for a the full Up treatment. Without bringing audiences to gut-wrenching sobs, however, Hoppers tells an effective story with wit and ingenuity, not to mention distinctive character design for every corner of the animal kingdom, from a kind-hearted shark (Vanessa Bayer) to a bratty caterpillar (Dave Franco).

Hoppers wants kids (and adults) to come away with renewed appreciation for nature and respect for our fellow travelers on the planet, but there’s a lovely pacifist moral hidden in there as well, one that suggests that cooperation is necessary to prevent mutual destruction. And in 2026, that’s a lesson that feels practical rather than theoretical.

Director: Daniel Chong
Screenwriter: Jesse Andrews; story by Daniel Chong, Jesse Andrews
Cast: Piper Curda, Bobby Moynihan, Jon Hamm, Kathy Najimy, Dave Franco, Eduardo Franco, Aparna Nancherla, Tom Law, Sam Richardson, Melissa Villaseñor, Isiah Whitlock Jr., Ego Nwodim, Nicole Sakura, Meryl Streep, Karen Huie, Lila Liu, Vanessa Bayer
Executive producers: Pete Doctor, Peter Sohn, Kiri Hart
Producer: Nicole Paradis Grindle
Directors of photography: Jeremy Lasky, Ian Megibbe
Production design: Bryn Imagire
Editing: Axel Geddes
Music: Mark Mothersbaugh
Sound design: Coya Elliott, supervising sound mixer; Stephen Urata, re-recording mixer
Production companies: Disney, Pixar
In English
105 minutes