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My Film Critic pants have been ironed, my Film Critic belt has been adjusted, and I'm ready to review five new movies in this week's capsule (short) movie reviews for Friday, March 14th, 2025.
1) BLACK BAG
Steven Soderbergh has been one of the most consistently remarkable filmmakers for over three decades. Black Bag is yet another example of his mastery. This sleek, smart, and incredibly entertaining adult spy thriller is the second great film he's delivered this year, following Presence, a terrifying ghost horror movie.
What sets Black Bag apart is its razor-sharp script by David Koepp, who also penned Presence. Instead of the bombastic, over-the-top action sequences that populate most modern espionage films, this one focuses on razor-sharp dialogue, tight plotting, and a sense of intelligence that respects its audience.
Think of it as Mission: Impossible if, instead of hanging off helicopters, Tom Cruise and company engaged in taut, clever conversations dripping with tension and innuendo.
Cate Blanchett and Michael Fassbender play Kathryn St. Jean and George Woodhouse, a married couple and fellow senior agents in British intelligence. Their relationship is complicated, their loyalty questioned, and their trust constantly tested, especially when George is assigned to root out a traitor within their organization.
The problem? His wife might be the mole. Things escalate when they host a dinner party for four senior associates—all suspects—and use drug-laced food to try and pry out the truth. The resulting mind games, betrayals, and sharp-tongued exchanges make for some of the year's best scenes.
Blanchett is phenomenal, oozing mystery, sultriness, and biting wit, while Fassbender is coolly restrained, delivering a performance that is both stoic and deeply layered. Their professional and personal relationship serves as the film's core, and it becomes clear that the spy games they play are also fueling the passion in their marriage.
The film cleverly explores their dynamic, showing how espionage and seduction are deeply intertwined.
The supporting cast is nothing short of spectacular. Regé-Jean Page is captivating as Colonel James Stokes, Naomie Harris brings depth to her role as the agency's in-house shrink, and Tom Burke is a scene-stealer as the boozing, womanizing Freddie Smalls.
As the cunning cyber expert Clarissa Dubose, Marisa Abela is a revelation—balancing charm, intelligence, and unpredictability in a performance that keeps you on edge.
And let's not forget Pierce Brosnan, who delivers one of his best-supporting performances in years as Arthur Steiglitz, the grizzled intelligence chief who commands every scene he's in. Watching Brosnan revel in a role that allows him to be both menacing and effortlessly charismatic is a joy.
As always, Soderbergh serves as his own cinematographer and editor under his usual pseudonyms, and the result is a visually stunning film that moves with precision. His knack for crafting immersive sequences is on full display, from an incredible montage of Fassbender administering lie detector tests to the tense dinner party scenes where deception drips from every word. Every shot is meticulously composed, and the pacing keeps you on your toes.
Beyond its espionage thrills, Black Bag is also one of the sexiest films of the year. Blanchett and Fassbender's chemistry crackles and the film plays with seduction, trust, and betrayal in cerebral and visceral ways. The script is laced with humor, the tension is palpable, and the twists are genuinely surprising.
Ultimately, this is a film that proves spy movies don't need explosions and car chases to be thrilling. They just need sharp writing, impeccable direction, and performances that keep you riveted. Black Bag delivers all of that and more. It's a sophisticated, stylish, and endlessly entertaining thriller—one of the year's best films and yet another reason why Soderbergh remains one of the greatest directors working today. - ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
2) NOVOCAINE
There's nothing worse than a one-joke movie where the joke isn't funny. Novocaine, the latest attempt at a hyper-violent, irreverent action comedy, takes a mildly interesting premise—a guy who literally can't feel pain—and stretches it so thin that by the time the credits roll, you feel like you've been repeatedly hit over the head with a frying pan.
Jack Quaid stars as Nathan Caine, a sheltered bank executive with congenital insensitivity to pain (CIP), which means he can't feel a thing—physically, at least. Emotionally, though? That's another story: once his co-worker crush Sherry (Amber Midthunder) is taken hostage by a gang of bank robbers, he's suddenly inspired to transform from a risk-averse desk jockey to an indestructible action hero.
The movie leans into the gimmick: Caine gets shot, stabbed, burned, punched, and thrown off buildings, but because he can't feel pain, he just keeps going. The whole thing is supposed to be hilarious and shocking but quickly becomes exhausting.
Look, I get the idea. It's Die Hard meets Looney Tunes, with a guy who doesn't flinch at injury taking out bad guys in increasingly absurd ways. The problem is, Novocaine doesn't build on that concept—it just repeats it ad nauseam.
Every scene is an excuse for another grotesque display of over-the-top carnage, and by the fourth or fifth time Jack Quaid is gluing himself back together or popping his own bones into place like a real-life Wile E. Coyote, the novelty is long gone.
The worst part? The action isn't even that good. The directors, Dan Berk and Robert Olsen seem to think that shaky camerawork and buckets of CGI blood can make up for poorly staged fight sequences, but instead, it just makes everything feel more lifeless.
If you're going to make an action movie, at least choreograph the action well. If you're going to make a comedy, at least make it funny. If you're going to make an action-comedy, well… at least try to do one of those things right.
Jack Quaid is a likable guy. He's got great comedic timing in The Boys, and he's been proving himself in movies like Companion, but here, he's stuck in a role that doesn't ask him to do much besides grin through ridiculous amounts of carnage. He's trying, but the script just isn't giving him anything to work with.
Amber Midthunder, who was phenomenal in Prey, is utterly wasted here. She plays the generic damsel in distress, and while the movie tries to throw in some twists regarding her character, they're so predictable that you can see them coming from a mile away.
Meanwhile, Ray Nicholson (yes, that Nicholson) plays one of the bank robbers, but his performance just made me wish we were watching his dad instead. There's a moment where Jack Quaid and Jack Nicholson's son are beating the hell out of each other, and all I could think was, "Man if this were Dennis Quaid and Jack Nicholson, it'd be so much better."
I get what Novocaine is going for—it wants to be Deadpool meets John Wick but without the cleverness of the former or the technical brilliance of the latter. The problem is, I already hate the Deadpool movies, and this somehow manages to be even worse.
The film tries to be self-aware, but it's not nearly as smart as it thinks it is. The violence is supposed to be so over-the-top that it's funny, but it's just numbing. The humor is supposed to be irreverent, but it's just lazy.
There are moments where it seems like Novocaine wants to say something about pain, trauma, and emotional vulnerability, but those moments are buried under layers of cheap gags and CGI gore.
And then, to top it all off, the movie opens with Everybody Hurts by R.E.M. playing over the opening credits. I knew I was in for a miserable experience the second I heard that.
Nathan Caine may not feel pain, but I sure as hell did while watching this movie. It's dumb, repetitive, and exhausting, a one-joke premise stretched into a feature-length slog. Jack Quaid and Amber Midthunder deserve better. The audience deserves better. Hell, even the bank robbers deserve better.
This movie could not end fast enough. I hated Novocaine. - ⭐️
3) OPUS
There's a trend in modern satire, particularly in films skewering celebrity culture, media complicity, and the absurdity of influencer and pop star worship. Some of these films succeed by bringing sharp wit and genuine insight (Blink Twice), while others miss the mark completely, mistaking blunt-force storytelling for clever commentary (Opus).
Opus is an infuriatingly derivative film that squanders a potentially rich premise on tired cliches, dull execution, and an identity crisis that sees it veer from what should have been a biting satire into a plodding, uninspired horror film.
Mark Anthony Green directed this feature debut and starred in a talented cast that included Ayo Edebiri, John Malkovich, Juliette Lewis, Murray Bartlett, and Amber Midthunder. The film had all the ingredients for something subversive and wickedly entertaining.
Instead, it offers a tedious experience that plays like a shallow knockoff of superior works such as The Menu, Triangle of Sadness, Midsommar, and, most notably, Blink Twice—a film that does everything Opus tries to do but with actual intelligence and purpose.
The story centers on Ariel Ecton (Ayo Edebiri), an ambitious journalist desperate for a big break. She receives a golden opportunity when she is invited to a secluded compound in Utah to preview a new album from the enigmatic and reclusive pop star Alfred Moretti (John Malkovich), a music icon who hasn't released anything in 30 years.
Upon arrival, she finds herself among a group of intoxicated journalists, sycophants, and industry insiders who seem more entranced by Moretti's aura than by any real journalistic integrity. But, of course, things aren't what they seem. As Ariel starts to dig deeper, she unearths disturbing secrets about Moretti's true intentions and the cult-like world he has built around himself.
On paper, this could have been a great premise. The intersection of celebrity worship and media ethics is an endlessly rich subject for satire, particularly in today's era where publicists manufacture narratives, journalists sell out for access, and the line between fan and critic has all but disappeared.
The world of press junkets, where writers are flown to luxury locations, wined and dined, and expected to deliver objective reviews, is ripe for a takedown. And yet, Opus completely fumbles its opportunity, failing to dig into these ideas with any nuance or bite.
Instead of delivering a sharp critique of the toxic cycle between celebrities and the media, the film opts for a generic horror framework. What starts as a mystery-drama about an enigmatic pop star and a young journalist quickly devolves into a dumb, one-note horror film that doesn't earn its scares or tension.
The final act, filled with absurd revelations and over-the-top imagery, feels more like a desperate attempt to inject shock value rather than a well-thought-out conclusion.
Ayo Edebiri, one of the most consistently great performers of the past few years, is completely wasted in this movie. It's the first time she has ever been uninteresting in something. Her performance lacks the sharpness, wit, and depth she's known for, mainly due to a script that gives her nothing to work with.
Ariel is a poorly developed character—neither compelling nor dynamic—making it difficult to care about her journey. The film also fails to provide any real sense of danger, tension, or character motivation that would justify her actions.
John Malkovich, meanwhile, does what John Malkovich does: he sleepwalks through his role, relying on the same eccentric mannerisms and weird line readings that have defined his career for the past 40 years.
There was a time when his oddball performances felt inspired, but now they feel like self-parody. His character, Moretti, is supposed to be this larger-than-life, almost mythical figure, but Malkovich brings nothing new to the table. His presence doesn't command intrigue—it drains it.
The only person who understands the type of movie this should have been is Juliette Lewis. Her performance is lively, engaging, and the only time the film feels remotely entertaining. You can't take your eyes off her whenever she's on screen. Unfortunately, she's not in the movie nearly enough to save it.
Visually, the film is slick and well-shot, but so are a million other A24 productions. The cinematography is polished, but there's nothing particularly distinctive or memorable about it.
It lacks the visual creativity of films like The Menu or Midsommar, which used their environments and aesthetics to enhance their storytelling. The settings feel lifeless here, and the tension that should build from being isolated in this eerie compound never materializes.
What frustrates me most about Opus is that it thinks it's clever. It presents itself as a searing indictment of celebrity worship and media culture, but it has nothing insightful to say.
Instead of meaningfully exploring its themes, it trades in cheap shocks, predictable twists, and a final act so ridiculous that it might as well have been lifted from a bad Black Mirror episode.
If you're looking for a smart satire about the grotesque nature of power, fame, and media manipulation, watch Blink Twice instead. If you're looking for an unsettling, slow-burn horror thriller, Midsommar has already perfected that formula.
At the end of the day, Opus is an empty exercise in faux-intellectual filmmaking. It mistakes self-seriousness for profundity and leans far too heavily on ideas that other films have already explored in far better ways.
With an incredible cast wasted on thin characters and a story that ultimately has nothing to say, Opus is one of 2025's biggest disappointments. Ayo Edebiri deserves better. Juliette Lewis deserves better.
We all deserve better. Avoid this one. - ⭐️1/2
The Looney Tunes gang is back, and this time, it's Daffy Duck and Porky Pig front and center in a madcap sci-fi adventure that pits them against an alien invasion. While The Day the Earth Blew Up: A Looney Tunes Movie doesn't reinvent the wheel, it's a rapid-fire, joke-packed tribute to the golden age of Looney Tunes that delivers just what it promises—90 minutes of chaotic, old-school fun.
Daffy Duck and Porky Pig are working at a bubblegum factory (which, of course, goes completely off the rails thanks to Daffy's antics) when they stumble upon a sinister alien mind-control plot.
Now, it's up to the unlikely duo to save the planet while navigating their usual dynamic—Porky being the long-suffering, exasperated straight man, and Daffy, well, being an absolute disaster. Along for the ride is Petunia Pig, offering some much-needed help as they attempt to stop the extraterrestrial invasion while avoiding total self-destruction.
If there's one thing this movie gets right, it's the spirit of classic Looney Tunes. It fully embraces the chaotic energy, slapstick humor, and self-aware absurdity that made the original shorts legendary.
The animation, while not groundbreaking, feels appropriately stylized and has the DNA of the classic Chuck Jones and Bob Clampett eras. You can tell the filmmakers love and respect these characters. They lean into everything that made Looney Tunes so special—visual gags, rapid-fire jokes, and that unmistakable anarchic energy.
It's also clear that Pete Browngardt, the film's director, took some influence from Ren & Stimpy creator John Kricfalusi and other modern animators who were inspired by the wild exaggerations and expressive insanity of early Warner Bros. cartoons. There's a looseness to the movement and a willingness to let things get really weird, which is exactly what you want in a Looney Tunes film.
Looney Tunes practically invented meta-humor—breaking the fourth wall, winking at the audience, making fun of the medium itself. Bugs Bunny was doing it decades before it became trendy, so when this movie employs those tactics, it doesn't feel forced or gimmicky—it feels right.
There are plenty of modern jokes, too, particularly aimed at social media culture, influencers, and technology. While some of that can feel a little "of the moment," a lot of it lands well. Daffy is the perfect character to lampoon today's ridiculous online personalities, and the film takes full advantage of that.
Eric Bauza is now the go-to guy for Looney Tunes voices and continues to do solid work as both Daffy and Porky. He understands the rhythm and delivery that made Mel Blanc a legend, and while nobody will ever truly replace Blanc, Bauza does a commendable job. The supporting cast is strong, with Peter MacNicol bringing just the right amount of over-the-top villainy to his alien invader role.
Comedy-wise, it's a relentless onslaught of gags. Some work better than others, but the film's rapid pacing ensures that if a joke doesn't land, there's another one right behind it. There's some clever sci-fi parody here, mixed with classic Looney Tunes antics, and while it might not be Who Framed Roger Rabbit? levels of genius, it's never dull.
This isn't the Looney Tunes: Back in Action-level revival that some fans might be hoping for, and it's certainly not as groundbreaking as Who Framed Roger Rabbit?.
But The Day the Earth Blew Up is a solid, enjoyable return for these characters, and it's refreshing to see them back in a fully animated feature instead of being shoehorned into live-action hybrids.
It's not a masterpiece, but it's a fun, fast-paced throwback that captures the essence of what makes Looney Tunes great. Kids will enjoy it, longtime fans will appreciate the nostalgia, and if nothing else, it serves as a gateway to introduce a new generation to the real classics—the original Looney Tunes shorts.
So, go see this, have a few laughs, and then go home and fire up Duck Amuck or Rabbit Seasoning—because while this movie is fun, those cartoons are still the gold standard. - ⭐️⭐️⭐️
Filmmaker Rungano Nyoni's second feature, On Becoming a Guinea Fowl, is nothing short of astonishing. Her first film, I Am Not a Witch, was a breathtaking and powerful debut, and this one takes her distinct style even further.
What she has crafted here is remarkable: a blend of powerful storytelling, biting satire, social commentary, and deeply surreal moments that make for one of the most original and affecting films of the year.
It's a film about uncovering the truth, about long-buried family secrets, about class, capitalism, and colonization, all told with a deeply personal and often darkly humorous edge.
At its core, On Becoming a Guinea Fowl follows Shula (Susan Chardy), who, while driving down an empty road in the middle of the night, stumbles upon her uncle's body. From there, the film unfolds into a tense, emotional, and often uncomfortably funny family drama as funeral proceedings begin and Shula and her cousins start unearthing long-buried truths about their middle-class Zambian family.
But this isn't a straightforward narrative—Nyoni plays with structure, blending dreamlike fantasy with stark realism and shifting perspectives and tones to keep the audience constantly engaged, unsettled, and completely riveted.
One of the most striking things about the film is its sense of place. From the moment Shula finds her uncle's body—wearing sunglasses and her strangely off-kilter costume—the film completely pulls you into its world. You can feel the environment, the heat, the dust, the air.
The authenticity of the settings, from the homes to the funeral rituals to the way people speak and move, is palpable. It's a film rich with cultural detail, immersing the audience in a world that feels lived-in and real, even as it dips into surrealism.
But while On Becoming a Guinea Fowl is deeply rooted in Zambian culture, its themes are universal. This film is about family dynamics, generational trauma, and what gets passed down through silence and denial.
The exploration of male sexual abuse and how it's hidden, ignored, or rationalized within families is one of the film's most stunning and gut-wrenching elements. Nyoni doesn't shy away from these topics; she forces the audience to confront them, weaving them into a deeply personal and broadly resonant story.
The performances across the board are exceptional, but Susan Chardy's lead performance as Shula is an absolute revelation. She carries the weight of the film on her shoulders, balancing a quiet strength with a vulnerability that makes her one of the most compelling protagonists I've seen in years.
Her presence is magnetic—whether she's in a quiet moment of contemplation or standing in the middle of chaotic funeral proceedings, she commands the screen. The supporting cast is equally strong, filling out the film's world with a mix of warmth, menace, and humor that makes every interaction feel completely authentic.
Visually, the film is stunning. Nyoni and her cinematographer create a mesmerizing blend of the real and the surreal, often shifting between dreamlike imagery and raw, unfiltered realism. Their use of color, light, and movement gives the film a hypnotic quality, making even the most grounded moments feel slightly heightened.
And then there's the sound design—everything from the whispered conversations to the chaos of the funeral to the eerie silences contributes to building the film's atmosphere.
And let's talk about that ending. Without giving anything away, the final moment of On Becoming a Guinea Fowl is one of the most powerful, gut-punch endings I've seen in years.
After watching the same rituals and traditions play out repeatedly throughout the film, the final shot lands with a force that is both devastating and cathartic. It's an image that lingers long after the credits roll, encapsulating everything the film has been leading toward in one unforgettable moment.
This is an extraordinary example of modern filmmaking—an urgent, poetic, and deeply moving film that cements Rungano Nyoni as one of the most vital voices in cinema today. It's a film that demands to be seen, discussed and thought about long after it ends. Without question, On Becoming a Guinea Fowl is one of the best films of 2025. - ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
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