CAPSULE MOVIE REVIEWS: 4-3-26

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My Film Critic pants are quite fetching; they are on, pressed, and ironed. I'm ready to review five new movies in this week's capsule (short) movie reviews for Friday, April 3rd, 2026.

1) THE DRAMA

WARNING:

Okay, I’m going to start this a little differently, because I mean it.

If you have any interest in seeing The Drama (and you should) stop reading right now.

Seriously.

Go see it. Go in as cold as possible. Don’t read reviews, don’t watch breakdown videos, don’t scroll through Reddit threads where people are dissecting it. Just go see it.

Because this is one of those movies where the less you know, the better it hits.

Now…if you’re still here, I warned you.

Because it is almost impossible to talk about The Drama (written and directed by Kristoffer Borgli) without getting into the stuff that makes it so effective, so uncomfortable, so funny, and so completely twisted.

And I’ll say this right up front: I think this is one of the best movies of the year.

It’s a dark, deeply uncomfortable, brutally funny black comedy that is going to divide people, piss some people off, and absolutely floor others. I’m firmly in the latter camp.

So on the surface (and I mean surface) this looks like a romantic comedy.

You’ve got Emma, played by Zendaya, and Charlie, played by Robert Pattinson. They’re beautiful, charming, successful, they have great friends, they have a great apartment, they have fantastic sex, they have that whole “perfect couple” thing that rom-coms love to sell you.

The movie even opens with a meet-cute straight out of the handbook: coffee shop, awkward misunderstanding, a little lie to break the ice. You have seen this movie before. Except…you haven’t. Because Borgli is setting you up.

From the very beginning, there’s something off. The editing is strange, conversations cut off mid-sentence, little jumps that feel like they might be fantasy or memory or just…something not quite right. There’s this low-level unease that sits under everything, even when it’s playing like a light, slightly quirky romantic comedy.

And then the movie settles into its real premise: it’s about the week leading up to Emma and Charlie’s wedding.

And if you’ve ever been involved in planning a wedding (or even just attended one) you know what a nightmare that can be. The logistics, the stress, the personalities, the expectations. Borgli nails that.

The food tastings, the photographer meetings, the DJ drama, the tiny decisions that suddenly feel like life-or-death situations, it’s all here, and it’s hilarious because it’s so accurate. But then…there’s a dinner.

A drunken dinner/tasting with their best friends, Rachel and Mike (played brilliantly by Alana Haim and Mamoudou Athie) and someone suggests a game: tell the worst thing you’ve ever done.

And this is where the movie drops the floor out from under you. Because Emma’s answer? She confesses that when she was a teenager, she planned a school shooting. Planned it. Prepared for it. Had the weapon. Was ready to do it.

And the only reason she didn’t go through with it…is because another shooting happened somewhere else first, and the moment passed.

That’s the movie’s pivot point.

And from there, The Drama becomes something else entirely.

Now, I know, just hearing that, I can already hear people going, “Oh, come on. That’s exploitative. That’s inappropriate. That’s not something you make a comedy about.”

And I get that reaction. I really do. But here’s the thing: this movie is not about school shootings. Not really.

What Borgli does (brilliantly, I think) is he takes the absolute worst possible thing you could imagine someone revealing about themselves…something so horrifying, so beyond the pale…that it completely destroys the illusion of who you thought that person was. And then he asks: what do you do with that?

How do you reconcile the person you love (the person you’re about to marry) with this revelation? Do you believe people can change? Do you believe that something someone almost did is as defining as something they actually did? Do you believe you ever really know another person?

That’s what the movie is about.

And it goes to some very dark, very funny places to explore that.

Charlie, Pattinson’s character, starts to unravel. He begins replaying every interaction he’s ever had with Emma, reinterpreting her behavior, her anger, her reactions.

There’s a moment where she yells at a driver in traffic, and suddenly it becomes terrifying to him. He starts imagining scenarios, projecting danger where there might not be any.

It’s paranoia. It’s fear. It’s the collapse of trust.

And it’s hilarious, in the most uncomfortable way possible.

There’s a scene with a wedding photographer who keeps using the word “shoot” (“We’re going to shoot you like this, we’re going to shoot your parents over here”) and the way the word just hangs in the air, the way it affects Charlie in particular, is both deeply awkward and laugh-out-loud funny. That’s the tightrope this movie walks.

It makes you laugh at things you feel like you shouldn’t be laughing at. And that’s exactly what great black comedy is supposed to do.

Meanwhile, the relationships start to fracture. Rachel wants nothing to do with Emma anymore. The wedding starts to feel like a ticking time bomb. And Charlie (who, let’s be clear, is not exactly a saint) starts behaving badly himself. Really badly.

Because that’s another thing this movie does so well: it shows how quickly moral superiority can crumble when you’re pushed into a corner. You think you’re a good person. You think you know where your lines are. Until something tests you. And then suddenly…maybe you’re not so sure.

Performance-wise, this thing is loaded.

Zendaya is fantastic. This is a complicated role (she has to be sympathetic, unsettling, funny, grounded, and a little unknowable all at the same time) and she nails it. You’re never entirely sure where you stand with her, and that’s exactly the point.

Robert Pattinson continues his run of doing really interesting work. He plays Charlie’s unraveling beautifully. He starts as this charming, slightly awkward guy and slowly turns into someone paranoid, reactive, and increasingly unhinged.

And Alana Haim? She’s phenomenal. She’s funny, sharp, angry, and completely believable. She’s quickly becoming one of the most interesting supporting actresses working right now, and this performance just solidifies that. The whole cast is locked in.

And Borgli (coming off the terrific Dream Scenario) proves again that he has this really unique voice. The editing, the pacing, the tonal shifts, the way he blends reality with these almost surreal mental images, it all works here in a way that feels precise, controlled, and purposeful.

There’s a bit of Ari Aster in the DNA (he’s an executive producer) but honestly, I think Borgli pulls this off much more successfully than Aster did in Eddington, or Beau Is Afraid. This movie knows exactly what it’s doing, and it sticks the landing.

And that final stretch…without giving too much away…is a great, sharp, very funny commentary on the absurdity of romantic comedy endings. It takes a trope you’ve seen a thousand times and twists it just enough to make you go, “Oh…wow. Yeah, that’s exactly what this movie was building toward.”

Look, this is not for everyone.

It’s going to be divisive. It’s going to make people uncomfortable. It’s going to make some people angry.

But for me? This is exactly what I want from a movie like this. It's bold. It’s funny. It’s unsettling. It takes risks. It actually has something to say. And it says it in a way that sticks with you.

The Drama is one of the best films of the year so far.

Go see it.

Just…next time, maybe don’t read the review first. - ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

2) THE SUPER MARIO GALAXY MOVIE

Well…here’s the best thing I can say about The Super Mario Galaxy Movie:

I didn’t fall asleep. And considering how loud this thing is, that would have been physically impossible anyway, but still, that’s something.

Now, let me get this out of the way right up front, because it absolutely matters: I am not the target audience for this movie. Not even remotely. I have never been a video game guy.

The only home video game system I have ever owned in my entire life was Pong. That’s it. I never had Atari, never had Nintendo, never had Sega, Xbox, PlayStation, none of it. The last video game I played with any regularity was Galaga in, like, 1982.

So my connection to this stuff? Minimal at best, nonexistent at worst.

I know Mario from Donkey Kong. I know there was that godawful 1993 movie with Bob Hoskins and John Leguizamo (which still haunts me, by the way) and I know there was that 2023 animated one with Chris Pratt that I remember thinking was unbelievably stupid.

So walking into The Super Mario Galaxy Movie, I’m already at a disadvantage. I don’t know the mythology, I don’t know the characters beyond the basics, and I certainly don’t care about Easter eggs or game references.

And let me tell you…this movie is nothing but that.

On a very simple level, the plot (if you can call it that) is this: Mario and Luigi, now heroes in the Mushroom Kingdom, team up with Princess Peach, Toad, and a new character named Yoshi, which is a dragon-like creature who eats things and…poops them out as eggs. Yeah. That’s a thing.

Anyway, they blast off into space, meet Princess Rosalina, and have to stop Bowser Jr. (voiced by Benny Safdie) who’s trying to free his father, Bowser, who’s been shrunk down and imprisoned since the last movie. So it’s a galaxy-hopping adventure, collecting power stars, fighting bad guys, saving the universe…all the usual stuff.

Or at least, I think that’s what’s happening. Because honestly, I had no idea what was going on half the time.

There are mushrooms (like ten different kinds of mushrooms) there are turtles, there are frogs, there are stars with faces, there are glowing things, there are galaxies that look like amusement parks, and at a certain point the movie just turns into what feels like gameplay.

Like I’m watching someone else play a video game, which, by the way, is apparently a thing people do now, they sit online and watch other people play video games. I don’t get it. I never will. And that’s what this felt like. Ninety minutes of watching someone else play a game I have no interest in.

Now, that said…this is not an incompetent movie. On a technical level, it’s actually incredibly well done.

The animation is spectacular. I mean, genuinely impressive. The colors pop, the design is intricate, the action sequences are huge and dynamic and constantly moving.

There’s a sequence with a collapsing castle that turns into this full-on Indiana Jones-style chase that’s really well executed. The space battles, the explosions, the movement through these different galaxies, it’s all very slick, very polished.

You can see every dollar on the screen.

And if you see this thing in 3D (which I didn’t, but it’s obvious) it’s probably going to look incredible. Stuff is flying at the screen constantly, the depth is clearly designed for that format, and kids are going to eat that up.

So yeah, technically? It’s top-notch.

But man…is it stupid.

And I don’t mean that in a fun, silly way. I mean it’s aggressively, unapologetically dumb. The characters are one-dimensional, you know... because they’re based on a video game, and video games are, by nature, one-dimensional. And Hollywood still hasn’t figured out that you can’t just stretch that into a compelling narrative.

So what you get are these thin, barely defined characters running through a series of loud, chaotic set pieces with some half-hearted attempts at themes (friendship, loyalty, family, doing the right thing) but none of it feels sincere. It feels like it’s there because it has to be there. Like, “Okay, we need a message for the kids, throw something in.”

The voice cast is stacked (Chris Pratt, Anya Taylor-Joy, Charlie Day, Jack Black, Keegan-Michael Key, Brie Larson, Donald Glover, Benny Safdie) and they do what they can. Keegan-Michael Key is fun, Luis Guzmán shows up and is enjoyable, and Louder voices are…well, loud.

Chris Pratt continues his streak of showing up, collecting a paycheck, and not doing anything particularly interesting. Jack Black spends a good chunk of the movie sounding like he’s on helium because Bowser’s been shrunk down, so his presence is weirdly minimized.

And then there’s Glenn Powell.

He shows up as Fox McCloud (some fighter pilot character from another Nintendo property) and I didn’t even know it was him at first, but the second the character opened his mouth, I went, “God, this guy is annoying.”

And of course it’s Glenn Powell, who I find one of the most obnoxious leading men working today. Perfect casting, I guess, because the character is an obnoxious, cocky, smug hotshot.

So yeah, the voice work is fine. Everyone’s professional. Everyone’s doing their thing. But they’re all serving a script that is, again, incredibly stupid.

There are a couple of moments that made me chuckle. There’s a gag with this weird, unfinished, black-outline character holding a hammer (like a deliberately unrendered animation) and I thought that was kind of funny. There are a few visual jokes that land.

But for the most part, I was just sitting there, overwhelmed by noise.

This movie is loud. I mean, relentlessly loud. Bright, colorful, constantly moving, always shouting at you. There’s no downtime, no breathing room, no moment where it just lets you settle in.

Which, again, is probably the point.

And look, I’ll say this. If you are into this stuff, if you love these games, if you know these characters, if you get the references, if you enjoy this kind of hyperactive, sensory-overload animation… You’ll probably have a blast. Kids will definitely have a blast.

This was not made for me. I know that. I’m a 60-year-old guy whose peak video game experience was Pong. I get it.

But from my perspective?

It’s loud, obnoxious, narratively empty, and unbelievably dumb. Technically impressive? Absolutely. Entertaining for its target audience? Probably.

For me?

Just a lot of noise in space. - ⭐️⭐️

3) A GREAT AWAKENING

Every once in a while, a movie comes along that isn’t just bad, it’s frustrating in a way that goes beyond the usual complaints about lousy acting or weak direction. A Great Awakening is one of those movies.

And I’ll just say it right up front: this is a terrible film. Not just poorly made (which it absolutely is) but one that feels more interested in pushing an agenda than in telling a compelling, honest, or even remotely accurate story.

Now, on paper, the premise sounds like something that could actually work. It’s about the relationship between George Whitefield, this hugely influential preacher during the Great Awakening in the 18th century, and Benjamin Franklin, one of the most fascinating figures in American history.

You’ve got religion, politics, the birth of a nation, ideological conflict, there’s a movie there. A really interesting one. That is not the movie this is.

This is the second feature from Sight & Sound Films, which, if you know anything about them, are the folks behind those big theatrical Bible productions out in Pennsylvania and Branson. And look, there’s nothing inherently wrong with faith-based storytelling. None. If you want to make a movie rooted in Christianity, go for it.

But there’s a difference between exploring faith and bludgeoning an audience with it.

And A Great Awakening doesn’t just bludgeon you, it hammers you over the head with it for over two hours.

The story follows Whitefield, played by Jonathan Blair, as he rises from actor to preacher, igniting this religious movement that sweeps across England and the American colonies.

Along the way, he forms this friendship with Benjamin Franklin, played by John Paul Sneed, who, historically, was a deist: someone who believed in a higher power but wasn’t exactly on board with organized religion in the way Whitefield was.

Now, that conflict alone, faith versus reason, evangelism versus skepticism, that’s fascinating. That’s drama.

But instead of exploring that in any nuanced or interesting way, the movie reduces everything to a series of heavy-handed sermons and conversations that feel less like dialogue and more like Sunday school lectures.

Scene after scene is just Whitefield preaching. Or persuading. Or moralizing. And not in a dramatically engaging way, in a way that feels like you’re being talked at, not told a story.

And here’s where it gets really problematic.

This movie presents itself as history. It wants to be taken seriously as a depiction of real events, real people, real moments in the formation of this country. But it whitewashes history in a way that I found genuinely troubling.

There is barely any meaningful acknowledgment of Whitefield’s relationship to slavery, something that is not just a footnote in his life, but a significant, deeply uncomfortable part of his legacy.

It’s brushed aside, minimized, and then essentially excused with a line that boils down to, “Don’t judge the faith by the flaws of the man.” That’s not grappling with history. That’s rewriting it. And when you’re presenting something under the banner of “this is important history,” that matters.

A lot.

Now, even if you set all of that aside (and honestly, it’s hard to) the movie still doesn’t work on the most basic level. This thing is ineptly made.

The acting? Rough. Across the board. These are performers who clearly come from the Sight & Sound world, and it shows... not in a good way. Everything is pitched at this broad, theatrical, almost presentational level that doesn’t translate to film at all.

The direction is flat. The cinematography is dull and often downright ugly. The special effects, wow... there’s a Benjamin Franklin kite-and-key sequence that is so poorly executed it borders on parody.

And the whole thing has this bizarre, low-budget sheen that makes it feel less like a feature film and more like one of those educational videos you’d see looping in a poorly funded museum exhibit.

You know exactly what I’m talking about, those grainy, stiffly acted reenactments with bad wigs and worse lighting, playing on a screen in the corner while you’re half-paying attention as you walk by. That’s what this feels like. For two hours.

And then there’s the screenplay, which barely qualifies as one. It’s just a collection of speeches, moral lessons, and staged moments that don’t feel organic or lived-in. Nothing feels real. Nothing feels earned.

It’s all messaging. Relentless, heavy-handed messaging.

And again, that’s where the movie becomes more than just bad, it becomes, in my opinion, kind of concerning. Because it’s presenting itself as something educational, something important, something rooted in truth…while bending that truth to fit a very specific narrative.

I’ll be honest, I found this more off-putting than a lot of the overtly outrageous stuff I see in horror or exploitation movies. At least those films know what they are. This one wraps itself in the language of history and importance while delivering something that feels fundamentally dishonest.

And on top of that? It’s just a chore to sit through. A long, painful, exhausting chore.

So yeah, when I see the Sight & Sound logo attached to future films, I’m not exactly going to be filled with excitement. If this is the direction they’re heading (more of this kind of heavy-handed, poorly made, historically dubious storytelling) then I think we’re in for more of the same.

And that’s not something I’m looking forward to.

A Great Awakening is not just a bad movie. It's one of the worst I’ve seen this year. - ⭐️

4) TOUCH ME

There’s something kind of admirable about a movie that swings this hard. Even when it doesn’t quite connect.

Touch Me, written and directed by Addison Heimann, is one of those movies that comes out of the gate with a ton of ideas (big, messy, provocative ideas) about trauma, addiction, sex, codependency, all wrapped up in this bizarre sci-fi horror package involving an alien who can literally make you feel the greatest pleasure imaginable with a single touch.

And yeah…that’s the hook.

The story follows Joey, played by Olivia Taylor Dudley, and her best friend Craig, played by Jordan Gavaris, are two deeply codependent, emotionally damaged people who are just kind of drifting through life, dealing with past trauma, anxiety, all the stuff that never really goes away.

After a pretty spectacularly gross plumbing disaster leaves them without a place to live, they end up reconnecting with Joey’s ex, Brian (played by Lou Taylor Pucci) who, it turns out, is not exactly your typical ex-boyfriend. Because he’s an alien.

And not just any alien, he’s got this ability, this…gift, where his touch delivers pure, overwhelming euphoria. It’s like the best drug you’ve ever had, the best sex you’ve ever had, the best escape from reality you could ever imagine, all rolled into one. And of course, Joey and Craig get hooked. Hard.

They move into his desert compound, they fall under his influence, and what starts as this kind of weird, seductive, almost funny setup slowly spirals into something darker. It becomes about addiction, control, manipulation, and it all climaxes in a pretty unhinged, violent third act.

Now, I’ll say this right up front, there’s a lot to like here.

This is a crazy movie. It’s bold, it’s weird, it’s got a real personality, and there are moments where it absolutely works. Heimann clearly has ambition.

There’s an attempt to frame the story in this sort of confessional, therapy-driven structure (Joey recounting her experiences, the narrative unfolding in this almost monologue-heavy way) and visually, the movie goes for it.

You get these neon-soaked sequences, these almost rave-like stretches where everything feels heightened and surreal, and the practical effects? Really good. Refreshingly good. The alien design, the tentacle stuff, the tactile, physical nature of the effects—it’s nice to see something that isn’t just CGI sludge.

And the performances carry a lot of the weight.

Olivia Taylor Dudley is fully committed, she goes for it emotionally, physically, all of it. Jordan Gavaris brings a kind of manic, vulnerable energy to Craig that works really well, especially in the more comedic moments.

And Lou Taylor Pucci is clearly having a blast as Brian, this narcissistic, tracksuit-wearing extraterrestrial who dances around, oozes charisma, and controls everyone with this addictive, euphoric touch. He gets it. He knows exactly what movie he’s in.

And there are laughs. Real laughs. Some of the sequences (especially the ones where Joey and Craig are basically competing for Brian’s attention, for that next “hit”) are genuinely funny in a really uncomfortable, slightly deranged way.

The problem is, the movie can’t sustain itself.

It wants to be about something deeper (trauma, addiction, the ways people use sex and substances and relationships to numb pain) and every once in a while, it gestures toward that. It tries to get serious. It tries to dig in.

And it just…can’t get there.

The script doesn’t have the depth. The direction doesn’t push it far enough. So every time the movie slows down and says, “Okay, now we’re going to talk about something real,” it falls flat. It doesn’t cut through the craziness to get to anything meaningful. And that creates this tonal imbalance.

Because on one hand, you’ve got this outrageous, neon-drenched, sexually charged alien horror comedy that’s kind of fun, kind of wild, occasionally really funny. And on the other hand, you’ve got this attempt at serious psychological exploration that just doesn’t land.

So it ends up feeling uneven. Repetitive, too. Like it keeps circling the same ideas without really evolving them. And the whole time, you can feel the influences.

This movie owes a huge debt to 1982's Liquid Sky, and honestly, watching Touch Me just made me want to go back and watch Liquid Sky again, because that movie tackled similar themes (sex, addiction, alien intervention) in a much more interesting, much more daring, much more effective way.

You can also see touches of ‘80s music video aesthetics, a little bit of the terrible Luc Besson, some giallo-style color work, maybe even a hint of Tarsem Singh in the lighting and tone. it looks good. It feels inspired. But it also feels derivative.

And that’s really where I land on this thing.

There’s talent here. There’s ambition. There are good performances, some strong visuals, practical effects that actually mean something, and a handful of sequences that really work, comedically and stylistically.

But as a whole? It just doesn’t come together.

It’s inconsistent, it’s a little too self-indulgent, it can’t balance its tones, and when it reaches for something deeper, it comes up short.

So yeah…there’s stuff in Touch Me that I liked. There are moments where it’s genuinely entertaining, even kind of inspired.

But overall, it’s a mixed bag. Interesting, but not recommendable. - ⭐️⭐️

5) FANTASY LIFE

There are movies you forget because they’re small, or quiet, or just kind of drift by without making much of an impression.

And then there are movies you forget because your brain is actively trying to protect you.

Fantasy Life is one of those.

I saw this thing almost a year ago at the Chicago Critics Film Festival, and I’ll be honest, I had to go back and re-read the plot just to jog my memory, because my initial reaction after seeing it was apparently to just shove it into some dark corner of my brain labeled “do not revisit.” And now that it’s finally getting a theatrical release…yeah, it all came flooding back.

Unfortunately.

So here’s the setup: Matthew Shear writes, directs, and stars as Sam, a neurotic, anxiety-ridden New Yorker who gets fired from his paralegal job, has a panic attack in a bookstore (because of course he does) and ends up seeing a psychiatrist, played by Judd Hirsch.

Through a series of contrived, indie-movie coincidences, he becomes a “manny,” taking care of the psychiatrist’s grandkids, and starts to develop feelings for their mother, Dianne, played by Amanda Peet, who is a struggling actress dealing with a stalled career and a shaky marriage to a touring rock musician.

That’s the movie. Or at least, that’s what it pretends to be.

What it actually is…is one of the most self-indulgent, pompous, vanity projects I’ve seen in a long time.

And look, I don’t throw that around lightly. But this is a textbook case. Matthew Shear (who, by the way, has worked with Noah Baumbach, a filmmaker who understands neurotic characters and messy relationships better than almost anybody) has apparently learned absolutely nothing from that experience.

Nothing about balance, nothing about how to make an unlikable character interesting, nothing about how to ground neurosis in something relatable or insightful. Because the character he plays here is just…insufferable.

Not in an interesting way. Not in a “wow, this guy is flawed but compelling” way. Just annoying. Whiny, self-centered, awkward in that very calculated, “aren’t I quirky?” indie-film way that feels completely manufactured. And since he’s the writer, director, and star, the entire movie bends around him.

This is his show. And it feels like it.

What you end up with is a movie where a clearly autobiographical stand-in gets to surround himself with a bunch of really talented actors (people he knows from the New York theater and film scene) and just…exist in scenes with them while they try, desperately, to elevate material that isn’t there. And man, is this cast wasted.

We’re talking about Judd Hirsch, Bob Balaban, Andrea Martin, Zosia Mamet, Holland Taylor, Jessica Harper (seriously, Jessica Harper shows up and barely gets anything to do) and they’re all just kind of…there.

Loosely improvising, wandering through scenes that feel half-written at best, leaning on clichés about Jewish family dynamics, neuroses, generational conflict…all of it played at the most surface level imaginable.

Bob Balaban, who can be great, is particularly painful here, reduced to a grumpy caricature. Judd Hirsch, playing a psychiatrist (and yeah, the movie very smugly leans into his Ordinary People legacy like it’s a clever inside joke), seems like he’s just going through the motions.

There’s a laziness to a lot of these performances, and it doesn’t feel like the actors don’t care, it feels like they weren’t given anything to work with. Like they showed up to do a favor. That’s honestly what this whole thing feels like: a favor.

Now, to be fair, Amanda Peet does what she can. And there are moments where you can see what the movie thinks it’s doing. This idea of an aging actress, someone who had a career, who’s now dealing with the brutal reality of being over 40 (or 50) in an industry that forgets you the second you stop being “hot” or relevant.

There’s real stuff there. That’s a real struggle, and Peet, who’s terrific, brings a little bit of truth to it. But it’s buried under layers of cliché.

The audition scenes? We’ve seen them a hundred times, done better. The conversations about career and relevance? Generic. The idea that this schlubby, awkward guy is somehow the emotional anchor, the wise confidant, the guy who’s going to help her rediscover herself?

Come on.

And this is where the movie crosses from annoying into something a little more…eye-roll inducing.

Because this is very clearly one of those “guy writes, directs, and stars opposite a much more talented, much more charismatic, much more attractive actress” situations. You know exactly what I’m talking about.

It’s the Cha Cha Real Smooth school of filmmaking (another movie I couldn’t stand) where the filmmaker casts himself as the lovable, misunderstood, secretly brilliant guy who ends up being the center of emotional gravity for everyone around him. It's wish fulfillment. It’s ego. It’s vanity.

And it’s exhausting.

The scenes with the kids? Painfully unfunny. They’re supposed to be cute and charming, but they just go on and on, with Sam saying inappropriate things in that “awkward humor” way that never lands. It’s grating.

The Martha’s Vineyard sequences (which should be the emotional centerpiece, the big family pressure cooker) feel barely written. They’re sloppy, meandering, filled with broad, stereotypical behavior and no real insight.

And everything (everything) is drenched in cliché. Every beat, every character, every line feels like it’s been lifted from better movies and watered down.

Which brings me back to Baumbach.

Because if you’re going to play in this sandbox (neurotic New Yorkers, relationship drama, family dysfunction) you better bring something to the table. Baumbach does. So does Alex Ross Perry. Paul Mazursky and Woody Allen (sometimes) did. Many other indie filmmakers working in this space manage to find specificity, humor, pain.

This movie has none of that. It's all surface.

And at the center of it is a performance that just doesn’t work. Matthew Shear is not compelling here. He’s not funny, he’s not insightful, he’s not someone you want to spend 90 minutes with. And when your entire movie is built around that character? You’re in trouble.

Look, I’ll say this: it’s not quite as aggressively terrible as Cha Cha Real Smooth, which I still think is one of the most irritating vanity projects of the last decade. But it’s in the same neighborhood. It’s the same kind of self-satisfied, “look how charming and deep I am” filmmaking that just rubs me the wrong way.

And by the time it was over (again, a year ago) I had already started to forget it. Which, in retrospect, was probably a healthy instinct. Now that it’s back, now that it’s getting a release, now that I’ve been forced to revisit it mentally?

Yeah. No.

This is one of the worst movies I’ve seen in the past year. A complete waste of a terrific cast, built around a deeply uninteresting central character, drenched in cliché, and driven by a level of self-indulgence that’s almost impressive.

Do yourself a favor. Skip this one. - ⭐️

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