Category: Movie Reviews

Just enough of Apple TV’s latest high-profile thriller works to recommend it, even if it never quite achieves the heights it should with its premise and captivating leading man. Idris Elba has had a fascinating career in that he has the screen charisma to be a movie star, and yet his most popular roles remain on the small screen (“The Wire,” “Luther”). Here, despite the presence of some strong supporting performers, he uses every bit of that magnetism in a way that almost becomes a detriment to the project in that it loses altitude a bit whenever he’s not centered. I walked away from “Hijack” thinking that Elba could easily carry an action show like “24”—an obvious inspiration for this real-time thriller—but that I’d rather see him kicking ass on the big screen in a “John Wick”-esque franchise instead. That I began to unpack the career of the star over the seven chapters of “Hijack” is a bit telling regarding the quality of the thrills here in a show that’s consistently interesting but never quite as engaging as it should be, largely because of how many characters it tries to bring onto this overbooked flight.

Written by George Kay (the recent Netflix adaptation of “Lupin”) and directed by Jim Field Smith (“Butter”), “Hijack” opens with the final passengers boarding a 7-hour flight from Dubai to London. One of those last people on board is Sam Nelson (Elba), who exchanges a few texts with his ex-partner that makes it clear that things are a bit rocky on the home front. She even tries to encourage him not to come to London. He ignores that instruction and ends up on a flight from Hell when the journey is overtaken by five hijackers. Led by a stoic gent named Stuart (an excellent Neil Maskell), the hijackers seem to have a highly coordinated plan, including a way to emotionally manipulate their way into the cockpit, although Kay has a habit of parsing out information in a frustrating manner. For several episodes, it’s not even clear what the hijackers’ intentions are or what they hope to accomplish (a folder named “Demands” appears more than halfway through the series), which could theoretically add tension by making us feel like confused passengers on the plane, but the show so consistently leaves the vessel that it just starts to feel like a cheap trick.

Instead of locking us in our seats with Sam and the rest of the kidnapped passengers, “Hijack” jumps to the U.K. to also include the people who will try and stop a tragedy from the ground. The great “Torchwood” star Eve Myles plays Alice Sinclair, one of the air traffic controllers who first understands the severity of what is happening on the flight. Myles give a smart no-nonsense performance, often the voice of reason that elucidates the stakes of each escalating situation—usually that the logical thing to do would be to shoot the plane out of the sky. Much of “Hijack” consists of Sam trying to lower the stakes of the hijacking so that doesn’t happen, which makes for some of the most interesting writing and performing by Elba. If the British government—or the Hungarian one they’re flying over—suspect that they could have another 9/11 on their hands, they won’t hesitate to kill everyone on board. Elba conveys how much his character’s background as a business negotiator makes him aware that he may have to give into his tormentors at times just to keep everyone calm.

Sam and Alice aren’t the only ones on edge as the Home Secretary and other British power players debate what to do with an uncontrolled plane headed for one of the biggest cities in the world. These scenes are admirable on a political level, but they ultimately serve as a detriment to “Hijack” by reducing tension every time we leave the plane. Similarly, Neil Maskell is solid as a cop who become deeply involved in the case to a connection he already has with Sam, but his arc too serves to clutter more than anything else. “Hijack” undeniably works best when it’s Elba vs. Maskell, and I wished for more juicy scenes between the two actors instead of subplots about what was happening on the ground.

Still, “Hijack” builds to an impressive final chapter, an episode that really allows Elba to use all of his skills to try and save the day. He understands that sheer force won’t stop a hijacking, turning Sam into a negotiator more than an action hero. And yet even the final episode goes on a few scenes too long in a way that stretches disbelief. Everything that works about “Hijack” has a bit of fat around it that should have been cut away. And I’m not really sure any of it would have worked without Elba, sitting in the seat of his career, unsure where he’s going to land.

Whole series screened for review. Starts on Apple TV+ on June 28^th, with episodes dropping weekly.

“God Is a Bullet” is like a mallet to the back of the head. It’s never subtle, demanding that you know its presence while knocking the taste out of your mouth (none of this, unfortunately, can be counted as a compliment). The film attempts to marry the movements common to grisly road movies and grimy action thrillers while aiming to shake the religious fiber of its morally upright protagonist, Bob Hightower (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau), a local sheriff’s deputy searching for his kidnapped daughter, Gabi (Chloe Guy). There are, to be sure, moments of shock. But they offer very little awe. 

The opening is a broken canvas of dispersed events: In one instance, a girl with a pink balloon, awaiting her mother outside a supermarket, is snatched by a group of Satanists in a black van. She will grow into Case (Maika Monroe), a blond, tattooed, heroin-addled acolyte of cult leader Cyrus (Karl Glusman). We then jump to some unknowable time after, during Christmas, where, in a ghastly scene akin to “A Clockwork Orange,” this same cadre of goons rape and murder Hightower’s ex-wife, kill her husband, and flee with his daughter. Every shot from a double-barrel shotgun that sends Hightower’s ex-wife’s limp body thudding into a pool is more garish than the last and is equally as incomprehensible in its tenor as the tawdry plot of the movie. 

The first few minutes, a hopeless, slap-dash attempt to transport viewers to the heart of this gruesome movie, signal a strained desire by writer/director Nick Cassavetes to pull tension from the collision of crushing realism and a knowing formalism. 

The film’s discordant tones begin when the naive Bob recruits the worldly Case—she recently left the group and is presently in rehab—to track Cyrus’ gang. They hit the road in a pickup truck with a cache of guns, arriving at a desert house belonging to the Ferryman (Jamie Foxx), a tattoo artist with an amputated hand and the kind of white splotches on his face common to those with vitiligo. The makeup used for Foxx simply looks crummy. The same goes for the tattoos on all the characters, which are so blackened and well-defined you’re left wondering if these marauders get touched up every couple of months. Those are some smaller swings for authenticity that ultimately feel like glaring affections.

To a point, Cassavetes wants you to know you’re watching a movie. He inserts explicit photography featuring bloody Satanic sacrifices, which remind viewers that the film is adapted from Boston Teran’s same-title book but not based on true events. He and editor Bella Erikson also slow fight scenes, tinged by Mozart, to break the spell of this naturalistic road movie. Over-the-top but committed performances by Glusman, for instance, and a host of gang members, also push the boundaries of belief. 

You can nearly sense how “God Is a Bullet” could be an intriguing study of religious faith amid an unspeakably terrible world. But Cassavetes’ distended script interrupts the rhythm and pace of his storytelling. There’s an entire subplot involving January Jones as the trophy wife of the town’s sheriff (Paul Johansson) that could be entirely excised, and you wouldn’t miss a thing. The backgrounding of Cyrus also begs to be trimmed.

In trying to intertwine the visual feel of “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” and the first season of “True Detective,” the film loses focus. Its violence against women, while certainly an intended critique of this barren, apathetic desert landscape, succumbs to gratuitousness. Cassavetes’ artsy sheen doesn’t help matters either. Instead, the operatic, final confrontation between Bob, Case, and Cyrus is brutalist miserablism disguised as elevated style.     

The only standout figure among the bunch is Monroe, playing Case. The actress previously stunned in Chloe Okuno’s surveillance thriller “Watcher,” and it’s a wonder to see her attempt a vastly different character here, moving from the secluded housewife in a strange land to this free-spirited alpha woman. Monroe’s every head tilt, her grounded deliveries, and broad physicality achieve the exact balance between sophistication, brokenness, and deadliness Cassavetes desperately wants.

Monroe is ultimately entrusted with landing the film’s final false note, a bid for normalcy that appears to counter her character’s deepest desires. It’s a groan-inducing end whose neatness leaves one wanting more than the superficiality Cassavetes provides. If God is a bullet, it can’t come fast enough. 

Now playing in theaters. 

Some memories are too painful for us to carry day to day. There are compartments in our minds where we store our heaviest memories to protect ourselves from despair. This is especially true for traumatic events—happenings so large there’s no control over our reactions. Some people can move on without remembering, but for others, the answers are a necessity to living. They give people the insight they need to know themselves better to heal wounds and move on emotionally.

In “Revoir Paris,” memory is a mystery to be solved. Mia (Virginie Efira) rides her motorcycle all over Paris, searching for answers about a devastating mass shooting at a local bistro. She was there, and she survived, but she can’t seem to remember how. The opening scenes show Mia going about her life, working on the radio, and spending time with her boyfriend Vincent (Grégoire Colin). But later, she’s alone, writing at the bistro. There’s a birthday being celebrated at a neighboring table. The mood is calm and pleasant. She gets ink on her hands from her fountain pen and goes to the bathroom to wash it off. But before Mia can return to her table, she hears gunfire and screaming. The scene, though brief, is appropriately terrifying—it’s not just what we see but what we don’t see. Director Alice Winocour doesn’t show us where the gunshots are coming from, instead focusing on the panic of the bistro staff and guests. The scene cuts before we can see how exactly Mia survived.

Months later, Mia’s life has not returned to normal. She feels distant from her work and Vincent. And so begins her journey to remember the past to move forward. With determination, Mia tries to get answers about where she ended up during the shooting and what happened to the kind cook who held her hand and comforted her. On her journey, she meets and speaks with other survivors of the attack, all struggling in their own way. One woman accuses Mia of barricading herself in the bathroom, refusing to let anyone else in, which Mia doubts despite being unable to prove it. She meets another survivor, a teenager named Félicia (Nastya Golubeva), and they quickly form a bond. Mia has a very different dynamic with another survivor, a banker named Thomas (Benoît Magimel), who is recuperating in the hospital. These connections all bring Mia comfort and help jog her memory.

“Revoir Paris” has a sensitivity to it, a warm texture despite the abundance of cool blue tones. Its somber visual style of the film is reminiscent of Atom Egoyan’s early work with its quiet, confessional tone and vibrant splashes of color. Much like Egoyan’s “Exotica” and “The Sweet Hereafter,” every character in “Revoir Paris” is connected by grief and sadness. The characters often look forward when speaking or look to the camera, allowing us to witness the emotion on their faces. As the story drifts from person to person, face to face, it all begins to feel dreamlike. The image of Mia on her motorcycle only enhances the feeling that we’re drifting, days and nights blurring together. Sometimes the film shifts perspective to other survivors, narrating their feelings and memories. It’s a very human way to explore trauma, reminding us that Mia is one of many hurting.

As Mia, Efira gives a subdued performance enhanced by her expressive face. Much like her previous starring roles in “Benedetta” and “Sybil,” Efira quietly commands the screen. Golubeva is also a standout as Félicia, a young woman with the maturity that comes from actively overcoming trauma. Additionally, Sofia Lesaffre does so much with her small, pivotal role as Nour, a young woman who still works at the bistro after the shooting. 

“Revoir Paris” is a story about people thrown together, forever changed by their time together. In addition to its emotional resonance, the film highlights Paris’ cultural and economic diversity as we watch Mia interact with people she may have never met. Despite the tragedy, “Revoir Paris” is a hopeful film about the healing power of human connection and mutual comfort. It’s the kind of movie that lingers in the mind long after the credits roll.

In theaters now.

It’s been five years since director Boots Riley’s riot of a debut, “Sorry to Bother You,” dominated conversations. With a deft hand that crafted comedy with punchy social critique, “Sorry to Bother You” put Riley’s creativity and contributions to Afro-Surrealism on the map. The style he implemented in that film proves to be not a one-and-done, but a jumping-off point, as he reaches into his toolbox of absurdism and humor yet again in his new Prime Video series, “I’m a Virgo.”

The show follows Cootie (Jharrel Jerome), a 13-foot-tall, 19-year-old Black man raised in Oakland. Jerome, noted most for his dramatic work as Kevin in Barry Jenkins’ “Moonlight” and Korey Wise in Ava Duvernay’s “When They See Us,” stretches his legs (quite literally) into funky new territory with this series. 

Cootie is sheltered. His adoptive parents (Mike Epps and Carmen Ejogo) keep him cooped up in the house for fear that when people discover him, he will be ogled, tokenized, and eventually disposed of. They keep him fearful with headlines of the giants who came before him, who now exist only in graveyards, science labs, or museums. So when Cootie decides to venture out of their home against their wishes, we’re equally skeptical but intrigued of how the world will receive him. What ensues is an absolute romp of a coming-of-age story, chock full of Cali culture, first love, friendship, and biting social examination.

The 13-foot-tall gimmick runs the gamut of physical comedy and day-to-day hilarity. Cootie’s size is accomplished through CGI, forced perspectives, and practical doll-size props, all of which work extremely well in Riley’s world. It’s incredibly kitschy, and the fun of it remains intact even when it isn’t believable. Through tickling sequences, we learn how he eats, uses the bathroom, and eventually, in one of the series’ most memorable moments, has sex. 

Jerome embodies Cootie’s physical and social awkwardness with fun-loving empathy. His naivety causes us to view him much like his parents do, with protective care. Jerome manages the clumsiness and curiosity of Cootie without infantilizing him and, in the funnier moments, shows his comedic edge. Whether it’s using superspeed to test the romantic waters with counter worker Flora (Olivia Washington) at the Bing Bang Burger joint, downing a plate of tacos like it’s nothing, or assisting his friends in doing two-wheel donuts in their convertible, Jerome’s Cootie is a joy to watch.

Absurdity is the series’ truest commitment, and it functions not only for laughs but thematic support as well. A perfectly cast Walton Goggins plays “The Hero,” a millionaire with a super-suit á la Iron Man (but in the worst of ways). He’s basically a supercop on steroids, flying over Oakland, lauding the importance of law and order, and alerting Black teens that “three or more people dressed in similar clothing may be prosecuted as a gang.” Goggins is absolutely insane in his portrayal, but it’s exactly what the show needs in a ludicrous antagonist. 

The Hero’s character represents the problems with the police but levels up by meshing that point with the world’s obsession with superheroes. Cootie idolizes The Hero’s comics but learns that with real-world implications, The Hero is not a protector of the people but of America’s classist, capitalist rhetoric. Capitalism is on full display in “I’m a Virgo.” From tackling the inaccessibility of healthcare in a particularly damning episode to a throughline of a cult of Steve Jobs lookalikes who name Cootie as their messiah, Riley explores the consequences of the institution with varying senses of gravity. 

Even in opaque representations, the integrity of the commentary is not lost. When an agent approaches Cootie and books him as a model in a series of fashion installations where he, a giant Black man, terrorizes white mannequins, Cootie knows it’s “f**cked up.” Yet he chases the bag, sacrificing a shred of his dignity for a check.

“I’m a Virgo” has fun with its coming-of-age format while also staying true to the struggles of that life era, particularly for a young Black person. Navigating friendship, first loves, and spreading your wings from the parental grasp is one set of universal hurdles, but learning how to endure a political landscape that puts a target on your back is a beast of its own. With an incredible roster of talent animating this world, “I’m a Virgo” is a laugh riot, a pulsing social document, and an empathetic character study. Riley’s quick wit, surrealist creativity, and nuanced social investigation add this series to his history of absurdist excellence. If another five years is the cost of a third edition, it’ll be worth the wait. 

Whole series was screened for review. “I’m a Virgo” premieres on Prime Video today.

From a producer of “Spring Breakers” and “The Virgin Suicides,” writer/director Jordan Gertner’s “Sheroes” brings us into the lives of four thick-as-thieves friends who hit Thailand for a hedonistic adventure. The quartet quickly finds themselves in over their heads when one gets kidnapped by a notorious drug lord. To fight and protect one another, each young lady brings a unique set of skills to a heart-pumping battle for survival. At least, it should be.

Starring Isabelle Fuhrman (Ezra), Skai Jackson (Daisy), Sasha Luss (Diamond), and Wallis Day (Ryder), “Sheroes” is another addition to the genre of girl power road films like “Girls Trip” and the upcoming feature “Joy Ride.” The concept alone means that this story can occasionally be fiery fun. “Sheroes” has some fantastic stunts and some beautifully shot landscapes, coupled with a crude yet crafty screenplay with lines like, “You’re going to use your vagina to get us out of here,” “F**k—because I’m a girl,” or “This is not a game, and you’re not Wonder Woman.” 

But the plot for “Sheroes” could have been fleshed out better to be more grounded and consistent. At times, it feels a bit laborious until Daisy is kidnapped; at that point, the tempo picks up, and the plot becomes more interesting. 

What would have happened if the one Black character was part of the rescue squad and not the one who was kidnapped? Skai Jackson is mostly known for being a Disney actress, and it would have been a nice surprise for her fans to witness her character Daisy kicking butt and taking names. Yet, this responsibility is solely left to the white characters in the film while she portrays the damsel in distress.

The relationship issues between all the characters are only lightly touched upon and, in many instances, never fully resolved. For instance, Daisy and Ryder hook up before the kidnapping, but it comes off as just that … a hook-up. So, when they profess their dying love for each other, one is left dazed and confused about how they got there so quickly.

Jasper and Diamond have an attraction that escalates at warp speed, too, due to the shallow character writing, and although Ezra and Diamond have some issues, that too is never resolved beyond Ezra apologizing for half the film. At least Sasha Luss is a standout as Diamond. She unapologetically embraces Diamond’s complexity and messiness, making her extremely entertaining to watch and the one character who feels whole.

While I applaud Gertner’s attempt to make an action-adventure anthem film for the millennial generation of young women around the globe, “Sheroes” falls prey to too many predictable tropes for action, adventure, thriller, and girl genre films.

In theaters now. 

In 1970, “Midnight Cowboy,” starring Jon Voight and Dustin Hoffman, won the Academy Award for Best Picture. Two years after the beloved classic family musical “The Sound of Music” won, how does an X-rated film about a man who aspires to be a male prostitute with rich women, but ends up developing a tender relationship with another downtrodden man, suddenly become an Oscar darling? The documentary “Desperate Souls, Lost City and the Legend of the Midnight Cowboy” attempts to investigate the film’s origins and explain how and why this movie resonated with the world the way it did.

Wrapped loosely in the packaging of a documentary, “Desperate Souls, Lost City and the Legend of the Midnight Cowboy,” is written and directed by Nancy Buirski. It features Jon Voight, Bob Balaban, Brian de Palma, Charles Kaiser, Lucy Sante, Brenda Vaccaro, the voice of John Schlesinger, and many others who either were in “Midnightt Cowboy,” involved in its production, or were admirers of the film.

When the documentary opens with a closeup of Jon Voight, recalling an existential crisis by director John Schlesinger after the completion of “Midnight Cowboy,” the film almost implicitly states that it will be about the creation of that film. Yet, “Desperate Souls” only lightly touches on the creation of “Cowboy.” Instead, this film spends most of its time investigating the era during which it was made. “Midnight Cowboy” lived at the nexus of a war, the civil rights movement, and the early beginnings of the gay rights movement.

The first examination in the film is how the Vietnam War framed it. The war is cited as the major factor in turning the world from the happy-go-lucky land of movie musicals to gritty reality-based films like “Midnight Cowboy” that did not flinch from portraying the city of New York in its reality. Schlesinger began in Europe and was exposed to the work of other creatives like John Richardson, who used a certain reality in making their films, a style Schlesinger adopted.

When the film abruptly shifts gears to speaking about John’s homosexuality and the impact of the world upon him, we begin to understand the motivations that he and writer Walter Salt had in creating the relationship between the movie’s stars. Schlesinger, a closeted homosexual who flirted with communism and was nearly banned by Hollywood, was buoyed by the confidence he received with “Midnight Cowboy” would later release “Sunday Bloody Sunday,” a story that depicts what was called one of the most open and honest on-screen portrayals of homosexuality.

The documentary then shifts to a discussion of the civil rights movement, starting with the death of JFK. In one scene, Charles Kaiser notes that the gay pride movement “co-opted” the ideals and used them “unfortunately, better than the civil rights movement” in furthering their agenda.

If this review seems a little scattered and clumsy, it is because it is an intentional recreation of the tone and direction of “Desperate Souls.” The movie’s direction is not unfocused but is very non-linear in its presentation, allowing it to meander from subject to subject with loose connections. One of the interviewees, Lucy Sante, even audibly wonders how he got on a certain train of thought as he is relating a story.

The film takes only a moment to discuss the success of its source material. In fact, it is only at the end of the movie that “Desperate Souls” reveals that “Midnight Cowboy” won three Academy Awards: Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Adapted Screenplay. Instead, the documentary spends too much time looking at the world around Schlesinger’s drama. Certainly, Schlesinger, Salt, and James Leo Herlihy (the author of the sourcebook) are the desperate souls, and New York is the lost city, and both are thoroughly investigated here. However, when you use the words “The Legend of Midnight Cowboy” in a film’s title, it only seems logical that more time should be spent on the movie itself.

Now playing in select theaters. 

The last few years have been a kind of golden age for movies and TV about middle school. High school has always gotten more attention from filmmakers, possibly because most would prefer to forget the awkward transition from childhood to adolescence. However, those awkward if not painful moments that define middle school can make for great drama and rich comedy (“Eighth Grade” and the Hulu series “Pen15” come to mind as great examples that do both). 

“World’s Best” is more of a family film than the aforementioned film and series but it is no less insightful about the ‘tween years. Set in contemporary New Jersey, it tells the story of Prem Patel (played by a charming Manny Magnus), a driven math whiz who is gearing up for the mathlympics competition. His single mom Priya (Punam Patel) is doting and supportive, but she also feels like a complete human being, not just the “mom”. 

This is expressed nicely when she takes Prem into her own memories of how she met his late father Suresh (played by Utkarsh Ambudkar who also co-wrote the screenplay), who Prem is shocked to learn was a local legend in the underground hip hop scene. This is where “World’s Best” reveals itself to be a hip-hop musical. Suresh begins visiting his son and begins passing on his evangelical passion for hip-hop. 

Much to Priya’s dismay, Prem enters himself in the talent show and his interest in performing threatens to usurp his passion for math. At this point, “World’s Best” also seems to borrow ever so slightly from the superhero film, particularly the origin story. Prem’s daddy issues are reminiscent of most of the MCU’s characters, particularly his struggle to reconcile what his parents want for him versus what he wants for himself. Along the way there are the usual bits of middle school drama, specifically the betrayal of friends who drift away from each other and into opposing cliques. 

“World’s Best” succeeds thanks to the brisk pacing at 100 minutes and Roshan Sethi’s deft handling of the ups and downs of ‘tweenhood. The emotions are earned, and the playful tone accommodates the more serious reveals and complications nicely. Ambudkar and Magnus’ chemistry go a long way toward making the film work. You believe them as father and son and their joy at making music together is infectious. 

Now on Disney+.

The R-rated studio comedy hardly makes any theatrical appearances these days, especially in the age of streaming. The only adult comedies usually come from Universal Pictures, which relish in genre-bending (“Cocaine Bear,” “Renfield“), mixing up concepts for kids but with a mature twist (the upcoming “Strays”), or banking on a comedian closely associated with Judd Apatow (“Bros“). But a solo comedic vehicle for an A-lister to show off their comedic chops (and not from Universal) sounds like a pipe dream. But Sony and Oscar-winner Jennifer Lawrence have made that pipe dream into a raunchy reality with the confident ’80s-styled R-rated comedy “No Hard Feelings.”

Directed by Gene Stupnitsky (“Good Boys,” co-creator of Freevee’s “Jury Duty“), the film centers on Maddie Barker (Lawrence), a Montauk-based Uber driver in her early thirties and on the verge of bankruptcy. When her car gets repossessed by her scorned tow trucker ex Gary (Ebon Moss-Bachrach), the house that her late mother left her is about to foreclose, and the income from her mundane part-time bartending job at a seafood-themed bar is far from enough to suffice. Resorting to Craigslist, Maddie answers an odd job listing that offers a Buick Regal as compensation. The position: date a wealthy couple’s (Matthew Broderick and Laura Berlanti) 19-year-old son Percy (Andrew Barth Feldman) for the summer, get him out of his shell, and pop his first cherry before heading to Princeton University in the fall; all while Percy is unsuspecting of his parents’ involvement. Initially thinking the gig would be a piece of cake, Percy’s clueless, awkward anxiety-riddled vibe gives Maddie a run for her money.

Since departing from Creative Artists Agency in 2018, Jennifer Lawrence’s recent return to the big screen boasts liberation from the intensity she poured into her past few roles. Her days of prestigious Oscar bait and being a franchise star who wore exhaustion in her performances are over. Today, with each new project, her agency and freedom are prominent. In “No Hard Feelings,” Lawrence proudly lets her freak flag fly.

Through the rambunctious, hasty cynical Maddie, Lawrence returns to her comedic roots from 2007’s “The Bill Engvall Show” and aces each facet of her performance here. She has the same skillful comedic ability as Anna Faris, Charlize Theron, Emma Stone, and Regina Hall, who flip their sensuality on a dime and dive into silly behavior. Lawrence has expert comic timing, especially with Maddie’s cynical clap backs and insults. Even for a skilled talent like Lawrence, she still impresses with her commitment to outrageous feats of physical comedy. Nothing she has done as Mystique in any of the “X-Men” films will measure up to Maddie going full pro-wrestler on a bunch of teenagers in her birthday suit.

“No Hard Feelings” boasts a breakthrough standout performance by Andrew Barth Feldman, who leaps from the Broadway stage to the silver screen as a delightful foil to Maddie. His Percy is like the anthesis of Gary from Paul Thomas Anderson’s “Licorice Pizza“; Instead of pursuing a woman of his elder, he does everything in his power to maintain abstinence at a slow and steady pace. He’s the perfect foil for Lawrence’s Maddie, garnering numerous laughs with his timid demeanor contrasting her outward confident spirit.

Lawrence’s and Feldman’s offbeat budding chemistry bolsters the film’s humor more than the mediocre material. But the best gags are all spoiled in the much better-edited trailer, which quickly cuts to the next joke, as opposed to the final product, where shots often linger on an actor’s reaction to whatever wackiness is occurring. Throughout this movie, I patiently waited for a singular laugh-out-loud moment not from the promos. That moment never arrived.

Director Stupnitsky is no stranger to combining the sincere and absurd. His previous feature endeavor, “Good Boys,” did just that and prospered thanks to its central young cast. His most recent project as a series co-creator, “Jury Duty,” followed suit using the charming non-actor subject Ronald Gladden. “No Hard Feelings” persists in trying to have its raunchy cake full of sweet sentimental frosting, but the frustrating script forces its gags and drama. The film’s comedic and dramatic facets attempt to garner a rise reaction from the audience without balancing the two.

Halfway through, “No Hard Feelings” reaches a gag high point and abruptly stops, sacrificing scenes of dating mishaps for juxtaposed stories about two lonely people of different generations and classes influencing each other to grow up. As sharp as they may seem, these elements are too familiar to “Licorice Pizza” and Lawrence’s previous lead project “Causeway,” two films that more robustly depicted these budding arcs. Around this movie’s second half, the outlandish comedy is lost in unearned character drama straight from an entirely separate script.

If it wasn’t for Lawrence and Barth Feldman’s joint comedic excellence, with their commanding charm and chemistry fueling its laughs, “No Hard Feelings” would have been a disaster. But thanks to them, it’s a serviceable summer comedy that should keep the J. Law lovers happy, even though her talents are better used elsewhere.

In theaters now.

Sullen middle school freshman Kokoro (Ami Touma), is frightened to attend school after getting bullied by her aggressive female peers. Any reminder of school leaves her with a stomachache as constant anxiety washes over, preventing her from getting out of bed. Who can blame her when the bullying is so intense? Girls at her school either tell her to drop dead or stalk her back home, where they attempt to trespass. For the growing teen, staying home is the most viable option.

Bedridden in her room, Kokoro finds a portal inside her full-length body mirror. She steps through to the other side, transporting her to a magical castle straight out of a fairy tale book. There, Kokoro meets six other teenagers around her age. They sit on a staircase, awaiting information about their random invitation.

The Wolf Queen (Mana Ashida), a tough, commanding little girl in a wolf mask, appears. She tells them they have been selected to play a game. They all have about a year to find a key lying about in the castle. Whoever finds the key is awarded a wish. But if anyone breaks a rule, that person gets eaten by a wolf as a death sentence. Throughout the year, Kokoro and her peers try living their double lives freely, taking school one day at a time and reuniting at the castle afterward.

Based on the novel of the same name by Japanese writer Mizuki Tsujimura, this animated adaptation of Lonely Castle in the Mirror wears its good intentions on its sleeve. Its fantasy and realism elements hold stable ground and offer a mature observation about teenagehood’s hardships, including the cruelty teens face at school or home and the deep loneliness that stems from such rooted trauma. 

A few months deep into visiting the lonely castle, Kokomo learns that, like her, each teenager has little to no control over their life or surroundings. But the longer time spent there, the more it looks like a peer-led recovery group offering solace and safety than it does an enchanted castle. When the film details the other issues everyone besides Kokoro holds, it wavers from plain sad to horrifying.

The decent animation by A1-Pictures (“Fairy Tail,” “Sword Art Online”) offers unique background landscapes, several 3D shots, and an attention to scale when the teens are against the massive castle halls. But despite those positives, there’s hardly any justification for its overall presentation. Compared to “Fairy Tail” and the many “Sword Art Online” features, “Lonely Castle” is a more laid-back dramatic offering than other A1-Pictures features that often bear vibrant flashiness. Regardless of the genre and tone, “Lonely Castle” desperately needed some glitz. 

In fantasy-coming-of-age stories of similar tone and maturity, like “Chronicles of Narnia” or “Bridge to Terabithia,” a refreshing gust of whimsy capturing youthful joy can balance the bleakness of the mundane. And yet director Keiichi Hara misses the potential to add an elegant factor that would give the film weight. The only convenient time the animation is astonishing is around the climax, which is already late. 

The teenage ensemble all are likable enough. But they severely lack personality and complexity beyond their traumatic backgrounds, preventing them from feeling like a natural friend group. Their shared camaraderie is weak, especially since their dialogue is basic conversations that play to the stereotypical anime archetypes—the quiet type, the confident older sibling type, the nerdy type, the mysterious type, the aggressive type, and the goofball romantic—and their only activity is working together to find a key. But as time passes, the relationship shared between Kokoro and her fellow teen outcasts barely progresses. 

What “Lonely Castle in the Mirror” lacks in character, it tries to make up for in a mystery surrounding why and how the teens wound up intertwined. While it is an intriguing plot backbone, the focus doesn’t arrive early enough to scratch any interest. The film’s reveals are easy enough to predict and enact a fatigue for a certain sci-fi trope that has recently made the rounds. 

“Lonely Castle in the Mirror” is dull and overlong, weighed down by its heavy-handed and intense discussions about teenage trauma and loneliness. This coming-of-age fantasy animated film completely undervalues its fantasy elements and animation, making for a missed opportunity. For all its well-intended purposes in spotlighting unspoken childhood subjects, the story of “Mirror” is riddled with far too many cracks to recommend.

In theaters now.

This chronicle of retired American cyclist Greg LeMond’s tiring, tumultuous return to his former glory during the 1989 Tour de France seems like something that would be right at home on ESPN’s acclaimed “30 for 30” documentary series. Unfortunately, there is already a “30 for 30” doc—2014’s “Slaying the Badger”—about an intense Tour de France race LeMond had. 

The story that “Slaying the Badger” lays out—how French cyclist/mentor Bernard Hinault began a rivalry with a young LeMond during the ‘86 Tour after LeMond helped him win the previous year’s Tour—is a brief part of “The Last Rider”’s pain-ridden first half. Although LeMond won that Tour, it’s not a victory he relished. The stone-cold betrayal by Hinault sent him into a depression that also brought back shameful memories of being sexually abused at age 13 by a family friend, yet another, alleged loved one who betrayed him. LeMond literally got hit with a bigger setback when he returned to the States. During a holiday turkey shoot, he was accidentally shot by his brother-in-law, putting him in critical condition. (His wife Kathy tells how she almost went into labor at the same hospital where LeMond fought for his life.)

WIth over 40 pellets in his body, LeMond slowly began his journey back to being a pro cyclist. He eventually became a competitor in the ‘89 Tour, when most of this documentary’s action occurs. That’s where he began a rivalry with champion French cyclist Laurent Fignon, the same man who defeated Hinault in the ‘84 Tour and made LeMond aid Hinault in winning the following year. An ego-driven, media-hating, ornery cuss of a Frenchman, Fignon almost pedaled his balls off to defeat LeMond, who was just there to see if he could still roll with the big dogs.

“The Last Rider” is an engaging, efficient race to the finish line. Director Alex Holmes takes us back to those arduous hills LeMond and Fignon rode up and rode through with help from a lot of videotaped footage and commentary from the LeMonds. There are also testimonials from Pedro Delgado (the ‘88 Tour winner whose late start at the ‘89 Tour’s prologue practically set off the LeMond-Fignon rivalry) and Cyrille Guimard, the ex-cyclist-turned-coach who trained LeMond, Fignon, and Hinault.

Although “The Last Rider” paints Fignon, who died of cancer in 2010, as the designated villain (you could say anyone who’s French in the story—and that includes Hinault and the chesty Guimard—is the antagonist), both Holmes and LeMond respectably don’t bring up the times that year when he tested positive for amphetamines. You would think LeMond—whose anti-doping stance is so notorious he made a lot of Lance Armstrong fans mad when he wondered if the champion cyclist was juicing back in the day—would be the first to posit that Fignon was on that stuff. But the closest underhanded thing LeMond accuses Fignon of is holding onto a motorcycle during the race.  

Basically, if you’re a fan of sports cinema where an all-American lad goes up against a Eurotrashy adversary (Fignon even looks like the blonde-haired dude who tried to kill Bruce Willis in “Die Hard”) on a televised world stage, “The Last Rider” gives a nice, nifty portrait of a guy who goes through one hell of an uphill battle—both figuratively and literally.

Now playing in theaters.