The line between dreams and delusion can be blurry, but Timothée Chalamet’s flawed protagonist is the core of a captivating story about ambition and the relentless pursuit of greatness in Josh Safdie’s Marty Supreme. 

Chalamet is Marty Mauser, a charismatic narcissist with an unshakable drive to be a champion in the up-and-coming sport of table tennis in 1950s New York. By day, Marty is a smooth-talking salesman in his uncle’s shoe store, carrying on an affair with his married girlfriend Rachel (Odessa A’zion), and spending all his spare time plotting ways to make it to Japan to compete against unstoppable champion Koto Endo (real-life table tennis champ Koto Kawaguchi).

Along the way, he runs afoul of the head of the international table tennis organization, a gangster with an emotional attachment to his dog, a billionaire pen tycoon, and an aging movie star. 

We often think of world-building with regard to sci-fi and fantasy, but it’s just as important in a period piece. Not only do the environments from production designer Jack Fisk and costumes by Miyako Bellizzi feel authentic, but the casting choices, made by casting director Jennifer Venditti, add another fascinating layer to the film. 

Gwyneth Paltrow stands out as a movie star past her prime, trying to assert her talent through theater. She can see through Marty’s bullshit, though she willingly succumbs to his flattery in a sort of “game recognize game” attraction. Kevin O’Leary is most well-known as the snarky investor “Mr. Wonderful” on Shark Tank, which adds an interesting flavor to his role as Paltrow’s wealthy husband, who has a very twisted power dynamic with Marty. 

A’zion is truly captivating in a breakout role as Rachel, Marty’s ride-or-die. She’s simultaneously immune to his manipulative nature and willingly roped into the spiraling chaos that swirls around him. In addition, we get appearances from the likes of Tyler the Creator, Fran Drescher, Penn Jillette, Isaac Mizrahi, and George Gervin, just to name a few—all adding a unique special sauce to the screenplay from Safdie and Ronald Bronstein. 

Of course, Chalamet’s performance and the meta layer of his “one of the greats” speech make this complicated character a real treat. Unlike A Complete Unknown, which presented Bob Dylan as an asshole, but then excused all his terrible behavior as the acceptable cost of being a “genius”, Marty is a piece of shit from the get-go, and the film doesn’t try to brush that off or gloss over it. Instead, we’re simply with him on this ceaseless quest to be the best, invested because he’s fascinating more than because he’s lovable. If anything, we want him to win just so the damage he’s caused to everyone around him is worth something. 

With media literacy in the toilet, it can be risky to give audiences a main character who is a charming but destructive narcissist. As we saw with The Wolf of Wall Street, many people believe the term “protagonist” to be synonymous with “hero” and assume that any film with a rotten person as the central character must be endorsing that character’s actions. Much like Leonardo DiCaprio’s Jordan Belfort, Chalamet’s Marty Mauser is a fast talker, a great salesman, a man with drive and endless ambition, but he’s also self-serving, manipulative, and unconscionable, leaving a trail of casualties in his wake. He’s absolutely captivating to watch, but he’s a real piece of shit. 

Marty Supreme offers a fascinating examination of ambition and post-war American exceptionalism, showing us both the good and bad of “dreaming big”. Marty’s drive is admirable, but destructive. He’s surrounded by characters who are more willing to compromise and settle, which is shown as both sad and logical. Wanting to achieve greatness is certainly something to strive for,  but at what cost? 

Director Selvamani Selvaraj’s new Tamil film, Kaantha, gives us a vintage noir-style thriller about a deadly ego clash between an arrogant superstar and an auteur director, with a debutant starlet caught in the middle. While the story might be set in the past, the film represents a fresh new step for South Indian cinema.

Dulquer Salmaan stars as actor T. K. Mahadevan, who has climbed up from nothing to become a legendary cinema superstar in 1950s Madras. He’s treated like a god, introduced in silhouette and flanked by an entourage.

On the set of his new film, he constantly clashes with director, Ayya (Samuthirakani), who was previously his mentor. This film is Ayya’s baby, a deeply personal story, and he will not allow Mahadevan to take control of the project.

The initial conflict arises because Mahadevan is all about pleasing the audience, while Ayya is all about the art, but as secrets are revealed and we learn more about their backstories, we see that the animosity between the two men goes much deeper than creative conflict. 

Their only common ground seems to be beautiful debutant actress Kumari, played by the spectacularly gorgeous Bhagyaahri Borse. Both men use their relationships with Kumari to exert power over each other, pulling her in different directions and raising questions about her loyalty.

Throughout the course of the film, relationships get tangled, tensions escalate, secrets are revealed, and eventually, we have a murder on our hands. 

Enter Rana Daggubati as Phoenix, the investigator tasked with cracking the case and identifying the perpetrator. Daggubati avoids the hardboiled detective cliche, changing the tone and aiming for a wilder characterization more along the lines of Benoit Blanc in the Knives Out films.

The performances are all strong in Kaantha, with Salmaan tackling the challenge of channeling the vintage style of 1950s acting while also giving us the subtleties favored by audiences today. He’s effective when he goes big, but little things like a look in his eye or a small shift in expression show just how incredible he can be with the nuance needed for the character. It’s a truly remarkable performance, one that would likely land him on the shortlist for an Oscar if this were a Hollywood film.

Our supporting cast is also firing on all cylinders here. Samuthirakani, whom I’m more used to seeing in a villain role, is quiet and contained, but always striving for control in a way that creates great tension. 

Borse is finally given a chance to shine after starring in commercial films that prioritize her beauty over her acting chops. I was thrilled to see her flex her skills here, giving us innocence and intrigue at the same time, and I love that Kumari is such a crucial character.

Kaantha is one of the most visually marvelous films of the year, thanks to stellar cinematography from Dani Sanchez-Lopez. The use of light to obscure or reveal characters, the classic noir-style shadows, the way shots play with reflections and mirrors, and even the overall color palette make each frame feel rich and delicious.

Every aspect of Kaantha feels like a departure from traditional South Indian cinema. The complex characterizations and even the pacing are a bold step in a new creative direction. For that reason, this film will probably be rather divisive for audiences. If it works for you, it will really work for you, and that was my experience. I felt so grateful for Salmaan and Daggubati, who co-produced the film, for taking this big swing.

The Girlfriend is a poignant story about toxic relationships, breaking free from patriarchy, and defining your own identity. Women everywhere are feeling seen and celebrating the film—so of course, YouTube is filled with reviews from salty men pouting about it. When a film generates such strong responses, it’s usually a good sign to check it out. 

Rashmika Mandanna delivers a phenomenal performance as Bhooma, a fresh-faced college student studying English literature. Raised by a narcissist father (Rao Ramesh) after her mother passed away, she’s grown up to be shy and always prioritizes others above herself. 

She catches the eye of handsome and popular Vikram (Dheekshith Shetty), who is drawn to her innocence and selflessness. Before she realizes it—or even actually wants it—Vikram kisses her and declares to the whole school that she is his girlfriend. 

Just like that, her budding identity as a writer, a creative, a friend, and an individual is stripped away. Her life starts to revolve around Vikram, who loves her meekness. He often compares her to his mother (yikes!) and expects her to clean his dorm room, do his laundry, and even feed him.

Bhooma does all these things happily at first, but the smothering nature of Vikram’s love slowly begins to feel suffocating.

Both Mandanna and Shetty capture all this with subtlety, allowing for a slow-burn escalation that feels very authentic to real toxic relationships. By the time things really hit the fan, we’ve been eased into it just like Bhooma, brushing off little red flags along the way until we’re absolutely drowning in them. 

The supporting cast emphasizes the messages, serving as both an audience surrogate and a harrowing cautionary tale for Bhooma.

A single scene with Vikram’s mother (an absolutely stellar appearance from Rohini in a dialogue-free role) sends chills down Bhooma’s spine and serves as a glimpse into the oppressive, patriarchal future she’ll have with Vikram if she doesn’t break free. 

Her English teacher (writer-director Rahul Ravindran) warns her not to lose her voice, but seems cautious about overstepping, knowing she needs to make the realization for herself. I appreciated that he was just a supporting character and that the story didn’t suddenly shift to center him or turn him into a savior, as it does in some Telugu films about women dealing with abuse.  

Bhooma’s biggest support comes from former romantic rival Durga (Anu Emmanuel), an outgoing girl who had previously tried to date Vikram. Durga can clearly see that Bhooma is being steamrolled, the life behind her eyes slowly being drained by his overpowering influence. While Emmanuel appears in only a few scenes, she makes a tremendous impact, showing us the healing power of female friendship. She had me tearing up in the theater during a scene toward the end of the film where she shows up to help Bhooma at her lowest point. 

The Girlfriend is not subtle in its messages. Similar to Barbie, this movie aims to plainly lay out some of the struggles women face—and also similar to Barbie, some men seem determined to miss the point and dismiss it. The Girlfriend is particularly meaningful because it comes from a notoriously macho Indian film industry, which rarely places any importance on female characters at all, let alone centering them in a story. 

While The Girlfriend has a few melodramatic moments, its solid writing, strong performances, and social significance make it a remarkable achievement in the Telugu film industry. If people can celebrate a film like Arjun Reddy, we should also celebrate a film like this that serves as a counterpoint to that type of narrative. Mandanna deserves huge praise for throwing her considerable star power behind this project.

From Nightbitch to If I Had Legs I’d Kick You to the most recent entry, Die My Love, we’ve had a slew of recent movies about the struggles of motherhood. Sometimes presented as horror, sometimes as a bizarre metaphor, sometimes as a grimly funny psychological exploration, we’ve seen mothers battle societal expectations and their own sanity on screen to varying degrees of effectiveness.

In Die My Love, Jennifer Lawrence stars as writer-turned-mother Grace. She’s just moved into a country house with her husband (Robert Pattinson) and their newborn, with the aim of taking care of the baby while she writes the great American novel. But soon she finds herself isolated, struggling with postpartum depression, and coming unglued. 

Lawrence’s performance packs a punch. She uses her natural charm to make Grace sympathetic, but also entirely unhinged, tapping into physicality and vulnerability that will make her an award season darling. The slow descent into madness can be humorous at times, heartbreaking at others, and then turn infuriating in an instant. 

Grace is in mourning for the life she had prior to the baby, a life filled with passion that now seems like a distant memory. Her current situation feels both overwhelming and completely empty. Even when she might find windows of kindness from random cashiers, friends, or her mother-in-law (Sissy Spacek), she’s emotionally incapable of responding normally because her mental state is too unstable, and no one has noticed until it was already too late. 

While the film does conjure up strong emotions depending on how much you can empathize with Grace, it can occasionally feel a bit languid in pace and rely on common tropes to convey its message. 

Grace’s obsession with a mysterious motorcycle rider (LaKeith Stanfield) and the recurring use of a black horse can create some uncomfortable parallels with the way Black men are sometimes fetishized by white women looking to break free of societal norms. 

Similarly, Grace’s animosity toward the dog her useless husband brings home feels like it leans too hard on that “women going crazy and hurting animals” trope we used to see more frequently in psychological thrillers from the ‘80s and ‘90s. 

Women can self-destruct in ways that don’t involve animal cruelty or outward destruction. In fact, using these tropes can sometimes make it easier to dismiss actual mental health struggles because these cliche “crazy” acts have been used so often.

Like Rose Byrne in If I Had Legs I’d Kick You, Lawrence delivers a powerhouse performance that feels emotional, raw, and real, but the story lacks anchor points that make us truly invest in Grace as a character. We feel for her as her mental state disintegrates, but we don’t really know her. 

Much like If I Had Legs I’d Kick You, Die My Love is not a pleasant watch. It’s a harrowing movie about a woman crumbling, something you should watch more than you might want to watch. 

The Predator franchise began with muscled-up, R-rated action, but Predator: Badlands makes it clear that Disney’s vision for the property is PG-13 sci-fi that feels more in line with Star Wars. 

Predator: Badlands shifts the perspective, giving us a protagonist Predator (or Yautja, as they’re called canonically) named Dek (Dimitrius Schuster-Koloamatangi). Much like Prey, Dek is considered weak by his clan because he’s not a skilled hunter like his older brother, except in Predator world, weakness is brutally snuffed out, so his lack of skills could cost him his life.

As part of a ritual to prove his worthiness, Dek decides to hunt an unkillable monster feared by all the Yatuja. He lands on the creature’s planet—which might as well be space Australia with all the deadly nature—and stumbles upon a damaged Weyland-Yutani synth named Thia (Elle Fanning), who was sent to the world along with her robot twin Tessa before getting separated. 

The two team up, despite Dek’s insistence that Yautja only hunt alone, and soon they form a friendship. They’re even joined by a cute little CGI creature Thia nicknames “Bud” as they try to survive through various action sequences and monster attacks. 

If this feels more like a YA sci-fi story than a spine-ripping Predator movie, that’s because it is. 

The “I have to prove myself to my father” storyline and plucky robot friendship are far more tonally similar to recent Star Wars than anything we’ve seen in previous Predator or Alien movies. In fact, the whole film feels like it could have easily been a Disney+ Star Wars spinoff that was later retrofitted to be about characters from the Predator/Alien IP. 

This Disneyfication can feel jarring, especially for those of us who hold the original Predator film in such high regard, but if you’re able to accept the sanding down of all the franchise’s edges, you can still have some fun with Predator: Badlands. 

The pace is brisk, with a runtime under two hours and well-rendered action scenes. Some of the creature concepts are fun, and the world-building is enjoyable. From sentient vines to a field of razor-sharp grass, this planet is like a more violent version of Pandora from Avatar. 

The dynamic between our two lead characters mostly works, leaning hard on the familiar trope of the gruff guy learning sensitivity from the lighthearted girl. It’s an interesting choice to give personality and depth to a mandible-faced killer we’ve only seen collaborate with humans in brief moments like the so-bad-it’s-good Alien vs. Predator. While Thia isn’t technically human, her wide-eyed warmth and positive attitude make her the exact manic pixie dream bot to crack through Dex’s icy exterior with Marvel-style banter and lessons about the value of emotions.

While we may be a long way from the amazing original film, Predator: Badlands is far from the worst entry in the series. Generic and watered-down? Yes, but it has a coherent (if way too simplified) story and clear characters—and you can actually see what’s happening on the screen, unlike the abysmal Alien vs. Predator: Requiem. 

It’s kind of funny to think of Predator heading in a more family-friendly direction when the Alien franchise has maintained some edge and cachet with Alien: Romulus and the Alien: Earth series. It’s even stranger to think that both stories began with spine rips and chest bursters, and now we have Yautja telling jokes and adorable animal sidekicks for Disney to try to turn into the next Baby Yoda.

Sometimes watching a movie can be the perfect way to unwind after a long day. You get comfortable on the couch and put on something lighthearted to chill out. But sometimes a movie seeks to give you the exact opposite of that experience, to stress you out or frustrate you to the point of a physical reaction. That was my experience with If I Had Legs I’d Kick You. 

Rose Byrne stars as Linda, a therapist who cares for her (mostly unseen) young daughter, who must be fed through a tube due to a medical condition, heavily implied to be a severe eating disorder. Linda is married but lives most of her life as a solo parent because her husband is frequently away for work. This means she’s solely responsible for every doctor’s appointment, every emotional outburst, every middle-of-the-night emergency, and every demand from her child.

It’s a lot to try to manage, and it’s made much worse when the ceiling in her apartment caves in, leaving a gigantic hole above her bed. She and her daughter are forced to move into a motel while she tries to get the landlord to repair it, and the state of disrepair and chaos starts to reflect Linda’s own life. 

She seeks help from her therapist (Conan O’Brien), but the process feels futile and sometimes downright awkward because it’s like a glimpse through the looking glass at how she handles her own clients. Each session serves as a stark reminder that nobody can just tell you what to do to solve all your problems when your life is crumbling around you.

If I Had Legs I’d Kick You is an incredibly stressful watch. Shot primarily in claustrophobic closeups, Linda’s life is like a cascade of little catastrophes that all start to add up. She’s both incredibly relatable and downright unlikable, perhaps a reflection of how awful we can be when we’re forced to carry an unsustainable emotional weight indefinitely. 

Byrne gives a remarkable performance, making Linda both sympathetic and sometimes repugnant. She’s selfish and unfeeling in a scene where she’s cold to hotel employee James (A$AP Rocky), but also selfless and constantly riddled with guilt about her daughter’s condition. She’s all the complexities and contradictions of motherhood rolled into one, and Byrne humanizes her in a way that reflects the multitudes of good and bad inside all of us.

Byrne’s powerhouse performance is complemented by the supporting cast, particularly Danielle Macdonald as Caroline, a patient whose overprotective fears about her newborn baby create an extra layer in the chaos of Linda’s world. Linda is simultaneously sympathetic to Caroline, annoyed by her, and even subtly jealous as events start to unfold later in the story.

Films can often make us laugh or cry, but very few are able to execute the goal of making us feel this uncomfortable. If I Had Legs I’d Kick You is deeply upsetting on a level beyond horror or melodrama and more on par with the panic-inducing feeling of Uncut Gems or the disturbing grimness of Requiem for a Dream. It’s fucked up, and it wants you to feel fucked up and reflect on that feeling. 

It’s an incredibly impressive film, but one I don’t ever want to revisit. It’s very effective in its objectives with great execution from the style to the performances, but man, it is heavy. As someone at my press screening said about writer-director Mary Bronstein, “has anyone checked on her to make sure she’s okay?” 

Luca Guadagnino’s After the Hunt is about complex, complicated relationships, truth, power, manipulation, and deception. At least that’s what it tries to be about.

Julia Roberts stars as Alma, a professor at Yale. She is seemingly respected and adored by everyone, especially her charismatic colleague, Hank (Andrew Garfield), and her ultra-wealthy student, Maggie (Ayo Edebiri).

But Alma’s world is shaken up when Maggie accuses Hank of sexual assault. Soon, suspicions arise, motivations are questioned, and nothing seems as clear-cut as we might like to believe. 

When the movie focuses on the suspicions and questions surrounding the incident, it shines. 

Not a single character here is likable. They’re all pretentious, flawed, and very selfish, but this works for the story when we’re questioning what actually went down and learning more about the darker sides they’re all trying to hide. 

Because none of their motivations are completely clean, our allegiance shifts from scene to scene, which can make the character work feel engaging and interesting. Who should we believe when everyone seems so rotten? 

Garfield’s charming personality initially makes us feel like this is all a big lie, something Maggie concocted to target Hank based on information she learned about Alma’s past. He’s flirty and affectionate, sure, but inappropriate? We can’t be too sure.

Edebiri is excellent at making Maggie seem both vulnerable and utterly manipulative. Her obsession with Alma, Hank, and their relationship makes us question her motivations from the start, but then stops us in our tracks and prompts us to reconsider why we would be so quick to dismiss such a traumatic accusation. 

Roberts built a career on being likeable and personable, so her turn as Alma is impressive. The character is basically a selfish alcoholic who has her own questionable motivations as she navigates the situation. Her marriage is complicated, her relationship with Hank is and their competition for tenure is complicated, and her friendship with Maggie is messy. Roberts deserves applause for bringing such nuance to such a prickly character.

Unfortunately, the plot of After the Hunt loses focus, and the strong performances aren’t enough to overcome problems in the screenplay.

Some of the dialogue feels like a first draft from a template. In an opening scene, the professors are having a discussion at a party that is so pretentious it feels like a parody of the intellectual conversation dialogue someone would write for a bunch of Ivy League professors.

At one point, Alma fires back at a student about social justice, essentially calling the student a snowflake. It’s very reminiscent of a similar, memorable scene in Tár, but without enough buildup to give it the impact. I just kept thinking, “Lydia Tár would have done this so much better.”

We have entire characters in here that add little to the story beyond a couple of interesting moments. Chloë Sevigny and Michael Stuhlbarg are both great actors, and I had no issues with their performances, but their characters don’t get enough development. They can start to feel like elevated scenery when they could have helped us reveal something more interesting about Alma and her state of mind.

Worst of all is that this movie tackles controversial subject matter but doesn’t really say much about it. 

We’re presented with a #MeToo situation, and it’s interesting to look at that through the lens of questioning what happened, shifting the audience allegiance, and raising questions about how well we can really know someone, but it feels like any intrigue or interest in that storyline gets slowly deflated.

I found myself mentally checking out and consciously wondering why I wasn’t more engaged with After the Hunt because the performances are great, the film looks good, but something just wasn’t clicking for me.

On top of that, I think Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross have done some incredible scores—the Challengers score is an all-timer—but the music here felt disconnected in a way that surprised me. There were oddly placed musical stings like something out of a horror movie, but it was like what we were hearing didn’t match up to where we were in the story. Frankly, it bummed me out because usually their scores are one of the highlights of a movie.

Despite some strengths, After the Hunt is a disappointing execution of what might have been a fascinating story. The three central performances are praiseworthy, but I wish the screenplay had given us more. Instead, many of the ideas here are never quite explored.

There are few things more satisfying than going to the movie theater and being absolutely blown away by a cinematic experience. 

I really enjoyed the first Kantara film, and I maintain to this day that it had one of the best climaxes of any movie that I’ve ever seen.

Writer, director, and star Rishabh Shetty returns with another glimpse into the beautiful world of Kantara, this time with a prequel, Kantara: A Legend – Chapter 1.

This time, we journey to the pre-colonial era, which opens the door for more mythology, more dazzling VFX, and more of the magic that made the conclusion of the first movie so epic and memorable.

Chapter 1 is a story of tribal villagers versus an evil king, of gods, myths, and legends, of greed and community, and while it is thematically similar to the first film, the scale here is cranked up to 11. 

The visuals are absolutely stunning with rich colors, detailed sets, and some of the best CGI animals ever put to screen. The blend of CGI with practical effects and sets makes this feel visually rich and tactile, more in line with a film like Lord of the Rings than the rubbery CGI we get in so many big blockbusters today. There are a few shots in here that left me speechless in the theater, and I would watch this film again just to soak in the visuals.

The most impressive thing of all is, of course, Shetty himself. As writer and director, he tells a great story, but it’s his committed performance that takes Kantara: Chapter 1 to the next level. 

I was blown away by the physicality he brings to this role, particularly in the Guliga sequences, where he manages to transform his entire body. The way all his muscles seem to vibrate, the way his eyes widen, the sound of his primal scream, it’s a performance that requires unbelievable stamina and dedication. Give this man all the awards! 

With Kantara: Chapter 1, Shetty cemented my love for this series and ensured that I will be seated to take in the next chapter on the big screen.

Based on a true story, Roofman stars Channing Tatum as Jeffrey Manchester, a former military man turned criminal who has a knack for recognizing patterns and seeing how things work. 

He uses these skills to determine the perfect plan for robbing any McDonald’s franchise. He simply cuts a hole in the roof to break in, politely ambushes the staff with a weapon when they arrive to open the store, grabs the cash, and temporarily locks the employees in the refrigerator while he escapes.

His victims all note his polite demeanor and his concern for their well-being, often making sure they have coats so they’re not too cold during their brief imprisonment in the refrigerator before the police arrive.

But regardless of a chipper demeanor, armed robbery is still armed robbery, and soon Jeff is caught and sent to prison with additional time for kidnapping, due to the refrigerator stunts. 

During his time there, he plots his escape, eventually making his way out of the prison and camping out in a hidden area behind the bike display at Toys ‘R‘ Us, where he plans to live until the heat dies down.

Soon, he starts to venture out and interact with people, including recently divorced mom Leigh (Kirsten Dunst), who works at the store and has no idea he’s been squatting there. 

Leigh and the members of her church, led by Pastor Ron (Ben Mendelsohn) and his wife Eileen (Uzo Aduba), are immediately charmed by Jeff and welcome him into their community. 

Through his interactions with Leigh, he starts to create his new life as John, an undercover government agent, and forms a family with her and her two daughters.

But all good things must come to an end, and he knows consequences will eventually catch up with him, so he must choose between his blossoming new life and fleeing with the forged documents provided by his former sergeant, Steve (LaKeith Stanfield), and his girlfriend, Michelle (Juno Temple). 

Tatum is an ideal pick for this role because he is so effortlessly likable that he immediately makes the audience root for Jeff. He’s a criminal, sure, but his golden retriever energy and natural charm would make even the most logical person hesitate to question any gaps in his cover story. Tatum’s acting skills have grown by leaps and bounds over his career, and Roofman gives him a fabulous opportunity to showcase how much emotion he can bring to a close-up or how skilled he can be with making dialogue feel real and natural.

Similarly, Dunst makes Leigh feel very realistic and instantly relatable, a divorcee doing her best to rebuild her life and raise her daughters. She’s thoughtful and caring, even when dealing with her smug boss, Mitch (Peter Dinklage). When her relationship with Jeff starts to blossom, we want everything to work out well for both of them.

These two central performances are the greatest strength of Roofman, and they elevate a story that could easily feel routine or generic. Dunst makes us see what would appeal to Jeff about a regular life filled with church outings, arguments with a teenager, unfavorable work schedules, and early morning walks in the park. Tatum makes us understand why a man with an extensive criminal history would live off peanut M&Ms and bathe in a Toys ‘R’ Us sink in hopes that he might someday be able to see his children again. They make us care about these people and what happens to them.

There are no weak links in the entire cast, although some actors may feel slightly underutilized. Dinklage is there to be an obstacle for Leigh, and while he’s great at playing the type of irritating boss we all can’t stand, his character doesn’t get much screentime. Mendelsohn, Aduba, Temple, and Stanfield can also feel like blink-and-you-miss-them roles. 

We do get some rather interesting cameos from the actual people involved in the real-life case. The arresting officer makes an appearance in a scene at a church-sponsored singles lunch, the truck driver who was inadvertently involved in Jeff’s escape plays himself, the pastor plays a pawn shop owner, and even the real Leigh briefly appears as a crossing guard. 

These appearances add a fun layer of authenticity to a story that could have easily skewed into exaggerated Hollywood hijinks. Instead, Roofman gives us a grounded version of a small-scale heist movie that feels reminiscent of another Tatum fave, Logan Lucky, but with more heart.  

You’ve seen sports movies, you’ve seen biopics, and you’ve seen award season dramas, but The Smashing Machine aims to give you all of those things together while not falling into the cliches of any of them. Does the film pull it off? Yes and no. 

Dwayne Johnson stars as mixed martial arts fighter and early UFC pioneer Mark Kerr. Mark is focused, polite, and friendly, despite choosing a career where he beats people to a pulp in the ring. He lives with his girlfriend Dawn (Emily Blunt), who is sometimes his biggest supporter and sometimes his most powerful trigger. 

Much like a typical biopic, we see a period of Mark’s life as he trains, wins, develops a drug dependency, loses, and picks himself back up again. It’s a familiar tale, but The Smashing Machine doesn’t go for the overt melodrama of your usual biopic. 

At several points in the story, we expect an enhanced made-for-cinema-screens moment: horrifying domestic violence, a nearly-deadly drug overdose, a crippling injury—something to give us that heightened movie reality we so often see in films about legendary real people. The Smashing Machine comes close to these things, but instead focuses more on giving us a grounded story. 

This feels more real and less exaggerated, which can be great in its perceived authenticity, but can also make the film feel drawn out and occasionally a bit boring. 

Mark begins the film as a nice guy, remains a nice guy as he’s gaining fame and notoriety, continues to be a nice guy as he deals with addiction and rehab, and then concludes as, you guessed it, a nice guy. Aside from a few heated moments in his toxic relationship or struggles with not being the absolute best at all times, he doesn’t go through a major character transformation.

A lot has been made of Johnson branching out of his typical celebrity-driven blockbusters to take on more serious fare with this Benny Safdie-directed award season biopic. While he’s physically enormous, Mark is much more subdued and thoughtful when compared to the arrogant and exaggerated characters we usually think of when a movie stars The Rock. But because Mark’s journey doesn’t really seem to shape him or cause him to undergo a major character transformation, the role feels a bit safe. Yes, Johnson is good, but it can sometimes feel like baby’s first A24 movie because the challenge is more in the muscle tone and facial prosthetics than it is in the acting.

Blunt, on the other hand, completely disappears into the role of Dawn. She’s a character who can be incredibly loving and supportive one minute, but then turn on a dime and cause a blowout fight. The relationship between Dawn and Mark felt very authentic to those couples who know exactly how to push each other’s buttons, and Blunt does an amazing job conveying those mood swings with her eyes and her body language in addition to the tone in her delivery. 

A notable supporting role is real-life MMA fighter Ryan Bader as fellow UFC pioneer Mark Coleman. We only get glimpses into Coleman’s life—his financial motivations in winning these bloody fights, his genuine friendship with Mark, his journey to the finals—but he’s an engaging character we can instantly connect with. 

The Smashing Machine is a sports movie that doesn’t want to do the tropes of a sports movie, it’s a biopic that doesn’t want to do the tropes of a biopic, and it’s an award season movie that doesn’t want to do the tropes of an award season movie. I respect all of those motivations, but the end result lacks some of the spark needed to make this a more memorable film.