Review: Numakage Public Pool

Posted on September 5, 2026 by philipbrasor

Frederick Wiseman, who died in February, was not only America’s greatest documentary filmmaker, but an anthropologist of rare insight. Though he is mainly famous for perfecting the so-called fly-on-the-wall observational doc, it was his wide-ranging approach to his institutional subjects that will be studied centuries from now, from public libraries to ballet companies, from local politics to government functions. Shingo Ota, whose previous film was about the day worker enclave of Nishinari in Osaka, brings the same kind of enveloping curiosity to his study of the last days of a public pool in the city of Saitama, but circumscribes it with thematic structure. The opening scenes of the film show the Numakage Public Pool being demolished, so we already know its fate. Over the next 90 minutes Ota frames its demise through Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’s five stages of grief, which are usually experienced by a person who is told they are dying. In Ota’s case, the people suffering are the regular users of the pool, which has been a beloved fixture of the neighborhood for many decades and whose removal, we soon infer, is the result of a lack of imagination on the part of city officials. In documenting what is essentially an act of bureaucratic arrogance, Ota tries to make it into a kind of Greek tragedy. 

But along the way he gets some stunning footage, and conveys a clear sense of how a viable community can emerge from a common, casual interest. As he goes through the five steps—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance—mostly by forcing the matter, he goes both behind the scenes to show us how a successful public pool is managed and operated, and head-on with users who have a deep emotional stake in the facility. Among the former are the lifeguards, who start and end the day with typical Japanese-style workplace rituals, and the meticulous custodial crew who maintain the impressively diverse attractions (three separate pools, a water slide, concessions, and a massive locker room) in tip-top shape. Two local businesses that cater to pool patrons are also covered in detail, a bento takeout/delivery service and a family-run dagashiya (snacks and cheap novelties for children). Among the users are a cohort of elderly women who look to be in great shape thanks to their daily pool exercise regimen and who badger Ota into joining them in the water; the usual gangs of mischievous kids and adolescents; and a subset of men who come to cruise other men under the radar, though signs in the locker room prohibiting more than one person in a stall at a time would seem to indicate that the operators know what’s going on. In addition, Ota shows a group of local activists lobbying city hall to keep the pool open, though anyone with any knowledge of Japanese government protocols will know that once such a decision is made—in this case, without much effort being made to solicit public input—it’s already a done deal, regardless of all the bowing and “kento shimasu (we’ll look into it)” assurances on the part of white-shirted office factotums. 

The five-step gambit ends up providing little in the way of meaning. Ota gets more substance out of careful camera placements that manage to catch evocative encounters and incidents—though a sequence at the end where one of the male regulars brings home another male regular unannounced for dinner with his elderly, seemingly annoyed mother is obviously staged (a title card during the introduction implies as much) and thus feels joltingly out-of-place. One of Wiseman’s skills was developing narratives out of completely disparate elements. Ota is not at that level. He still needs gimmicks.

In Japanese. Now playing in Tokyo at Theater Image Forum Aoyama (03-5766-0114).

Numakage Public Pool home page in Japanese

photo (c) hydroblast

Posted in Movies | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Review: The Voice of Hind Rajab and 2000 Meters to Andriivka

Posted on September 4, 2026 by philipbrasor

Tunisian director Kaouther Ben Hania has already proven herself to be an imaginative creator of documentaries with Four Daughters, a film in which she showed the real-life subjects of her story coaching actors who would play them in recreations of their experiences. The Voice of Hind Rajab takes this conceit to its next natural level. It is a wrenching dramatization of the events of January 29, 2024, as they unfolded in the offices of the Palestinian Red Crescent Society (PRCS) where workers tried to help the titular six-year-old girl via cellphone survive an Israeli attack in Gaza. Though what we see on screen is a minute-by-minute acting out of the story, much of the dialogue is the actual recording of the cellphone conversations.

The PRCS’s job in this case is “coordination,” meaning they receive calls for help from people inside the occupied territory and then assist them, but they are required to do this by working with the Israeli authorities, and through the Red Cross, no less, thus adding several layers of bureaucracy. Consequently, much of their mission is tangled up in red tape, which in this case proves deadly because the girl is the only survivor in a car full of relatives that has been hit by Israeli fire. The aid workers on duty must contend with a little girl using a phone with dodgy reception and surrounded by the corpses of her loved ones. Then they have to direct an ambulance to the site of the carnage to save the girl, but not before gaining permission from the Israeli Defense Forces to let the ambulance through. These various challenges cause extreme friction among the aid workers, including the front line operatives Rana (Saja Kilani) and Omar (Motaz Malhees), who talk directly to the little girl and pressure their harried supervisor, Mahdi (Amer Hlehel), to work around the IDF to get help to the girl as soon as possible. Ironically—or not, depending on your perspective—their task is complicated by the IDF’s tendency to jam signals from within Gaza. 

Predictably, the film is unbearably tense, and not just because the voice we hear is that of a real, frightened child. Ben Hania keeps the action tightly focused on her main core of aid workers, so viewers have no chance to catch their breath; and her actors treat the whole endeavor accordingly, as a chamber piece where every character’s attention is fixed on one thing and one thing only. In addition, Ben Hania has to master her own tricky coordination, making sure the various non-recreated elements, like the real-time audio and video of the incident, are incorporated into the dramatization in a way that doesn’t make them a distraction. She does this mainly by occasionally cutting away from the artifice and giving us the actual footage of aid workers doing their job. It is aggressively present-in-the-moment, demanding you not forget what happened on that day.

Presence in the moment is also the leitmotif of 2000 Meters to Andriivka, the latest documentary about the Russian invasion of Ukraine by AP reporter Mstyslav Chernov, which chronicles up close and personally a grueling inch-by-inch retaking of the titular village by a Ukrainian battalion in 2023. Chernov is embedded in the batallion and speaks to the audience in post-dubbed English voiceover, explaining much of what’s going on and even providing context about individual soldiers and the general tenor of the Ukrainian “counteroffensive” that the Andriivka mission is a part of. He has also fitted some of the soldiers with GoPro cameras to capture the action from their point-of-view. Unlike his narration of the Oscar-winning 20 Days of Mariupol, his tone here is distinctively muted, less optimistic about Ukraine’s chances as he watches the destruction firsthand from within the chaos of battle.

And “chaos” is the operative word. The terrain is unusually limited: a thin stretch of forest about 40 meters wide set between two huge mine fields that leads directly to the village. The forest already looks like the moon, with burnt trees and crater-like foxholes sometimes occupied by Russians who have to be removed one-by-one. The Ukrainian soldiers are uniformly profane and understandably terrified of their mission, and while they often talk about what they will do after Andriivka is secured (“I will sleep for two days”; “I am going to take the longest shower in history”) there’s that unmistakable quality in their voice that no actor could possibly mimic of talking through their terror. 

2000 Meters to Andriivka is essentially the opposite of The Voice of Rind Hajab in that not only is nothing recreated, but the realness of the images and the sound become overwhelming. Bullets whizz by, clumps of dirt fly up into the camera lens, grenades go off a short distance away, and men scream. They scream a lot. More significantly, the exhaustion of being always afraid, contained rather obviously in Chernov’s voiceover, is a constant that can’t be erased by anything. Is it all worth it? Chernov implies that these soldiers are here because they feel they have no choice (“I came to fight, not to serve,” says one), because whatever their leaders in Kyiv and their enemy in Moscow decide, they will not rest until all Russians are out of Ukraine. The movie thus adds another layer of exhaustion to an inexhaustible war. 

The Voice of Rind Hajab, in Arabic and English, now playing in Tokyo at Shinjuku Musashinokan (03-3354-5670), Bunkamura Le Cinema Shibuya Miyashita (050-6875-5280), Cine Switch Ginza (03-3561-0707).

2000 Meters to Andriivka, in English, Ukrainian and Russian, now playing in Tokyo at Toho Cinemas Chanter Hibiya (050-6868-5001), Shinjuku Musashinokan (03-3354-5670).

The Voice of Hind Rajab home page in Japanese

2000 Meters to Andriivka home page in Japanese

The Voice of Hind Rajab photo (c) Mime Films-Tanit Films

2000 Meters to Andriivka photo (c) 2024 Dogwoof

Posted in Movies | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Review: Backrooms

Posted on September 3, 2026 by philipbrasor

Horror movies work best when their scares are rooted in identifiable psychological unease. Kane Parsons’ Backrooms, one of the most discussed American horror movies of the year, based on Parsons’ own internet photo postings and YouTube series, has a brilliant setup: The proprietor of a sad, under-patronized furniture store in a colorless California suburb in the 1990s is, as the movie gets underway, cycling through various low-level crises. In addition to being a frustrated, unsuccessful architect, Clark (Chiwetel Ejiofor) drinks too much, has recently separated from a wife who continues to badger him for money, and is seeing a therapist, Dr. Kline (Renate Reinsve), whose bedside manner seems to be making his depression worse. The breakdown in Clark’s psychic equilibrium is best exemplified by the hapless TV commercials he makes for his business, where he dresses up as a pirate and looks like a fool, thus fortifying the ridiculousness of Clark’s very existence, which already feels like a horror movie in that the viewer automatically wants to turn away from it.

Parsons then injects a supernatural element that at first feels gratuitous. Having decided to sleep in the store as a way to save money, Clark discovers some electrical problems and while checking the breaker in the basement accidently finds he can pass through a wall into a series of yellow-lit backrooms that seem to lead nowhere. Flummoxed by the discovery, he enlists two student filmmakers (Finn Bennett, Lukita Maxwell) to follow him back through the wall to record the phenomenon, but this time he and his assistants are attacked by an unseen force that traps them in these endless corridors. Since Clark told Dr. Kline about his discovery, she starts to worry when he does not show up for his appointed sessions and goes to the store to investigate. Kline’s experience in the backrooms is sufficiently disorienting to qualify as horror-adjacent, but it isn’t until she encounters Clark in what amounts to an extra-dimensional incarnation of his sublimated anxieties that the movie starts to get under your skin in a very unpleasant way.

Though there’s some violence and blood, the movie’s unsettling power emerges from the way it plays on the audience’s experiences with liminal spaces, which often have a discombobulating effect on the senses, epitomizing the idea of an unnatural environment. Kane intensifies the discomfort by increasing these unnatural qualities with weird angles, impossible perspectives, and attendant sounds that seem to emanate from within rather than without. If, in the end, he bites off more than he can chew by trying to provide some kind of meaningful explanation for what we see on the screen, he leaves you with enough fresh nightmare material for a month’s worth of bad sleep. I don’t think I ever need to visit a furniture store again.

Opens Sept. 4 in Tokyo at Toho Cinemas Nihonbashi (050-6868-5060), Toho Cinemas Hibiya (050-6868-5068), Marunouchi Piccadilly (050-6875-0075), 109 Cinemas Premium Shinjuku (0570-060-109), Shinjuku Wald 9 (03-5369-4955), Shinjuku Piccadilly (050-6861-3011), Toho Cinemas Shinjuku (050-6868-5063), Toho Cinemas Shibuya (050-6868-5002), Toho Cinemas Roppongi Hills (050-6868-5024).

Backrooms home page in Japanese

photo (c) 2026 Backrooms Rights LLC, PC Films, LLC

Posted in Movies | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Review: The Gullspång Miracle

Posted on September 2, 2026 by philipbrasor

The “truth is stranger than fiction” documentary is almost a movie genre unto itself, though its appeal is mostly ironic: no self-respecting novelist would ever countenance a story this outrageous or unbelievable. This Swedish film, the first feature-length doc by Maria Fredriksson, qualifies for the genre but in a back-assward way. It’s the entire making of the film that buggers belief. In fact, at one point, when the revelations become too much, the director herself can be heard in the background demanding in a conspicuously exasperated tone that her subjects “stop lying” and address her doubts about what they are trying to put across. In that regard, maybe the movie is its own genre: “untruth is stranger than both fiction and real life.”

Fredriksson did not initiate the project. She was asked to record the “miracle” that two sisters in their 60s had recently experienced, thinking that it would make a great movie. It started when one of the sisters, May-Elin Storslettin, who lives in Norway, visits the other, Kari Klo, who lives in the town of Gullspång, Sweden, and is badly injured during a mishap at an amusement park. Told by a physician that she should not travel, May lays up at Kari’s for a few weeks and then impulsively decides to buy an apartment in the town. She chooses a unit because of a still-life on the kitchen wall—a painting that both sisters think is some kind of omen—and when she and Kari meet the owner of the apartment, they are struck by how much she resembles their older sister Lita, who committed suicide 30 years earlier. Initially they wonder if the woman, a retired Swedish army lieutenant named Olaug Bakkevoll, isn’t actually Lita, since they never saw Lita’s body as the funeral was carried out with a closed casket due to religious proscriptions against suicide. Long story short, after some dodgy geneological research carried out by an over-eager cousin and a DNA test showing that Olaug is the sisters’ half-sibling (same father, different mother), they determine that Olaug is Lita’s twin, but because they were born in 1941 during the Nazi occupation, their father decided to give Olaug away to a family “living on the other side of the fjord,” since it was known that the Nazis were carrying out medical experiments on twins. The upshot is that Lita grew up in a strictly religious farm family with lots of siblings while Olaug was raised by a well-to-do couple who gave her a more liberal, worldly education.

At first, these differences feel insignificant in the blinding light of the movie’s incredible revelations, but once Olaug gets to know her newfound relations better, including the family members who still live on the farm in Norway, the relationship quickly curdles. Some of the simmering enmity has to do with class and some has to do with pedigree (Norwegians and Swedes have always harbored national resentments toward each other), but mainly what we see is these individuals’ true selves, as it were, coming to the surface. When Olaug grows suspicious of the police’s initial finding that Lita’s death was a suicide, she demands they reopen the case and then learns that an undisclosed autopsy determined she had no drugs in her system. The family is relieved because they now think she died of natural causes, but Olaug believes it was murder, an insistence that sends Fredriksson further down a rabbit hole and sorely offends the sisters. Fredriksson tries to keep up with the changing situation, but eventually lets it go where it will, and in the end it’s difficult to trust anyone, including Olaug, whose eccentricities now come across as stark bigotry and self-delusion. The “miracle” may be nothing more than wish fulfillment run amok, and while the story gets away from Fredriksson the movie itself never fails to fascinate. That it was even made is the actual miracle.

In Norwegian and Swedish. Opens Sept. 4 in Tokyo at Cinemart Shinjuku (03-5369-2831).

The Gullspång Miracle home page in Japanese

photo (c) 2023, Ballad Film, SVT, Film i Vast, Film Stockholm, Mer Film, Good Company Pictures

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Review: Nightborn

Posted on August 28, 2026 by philipbrasor

Though I’m sure there were cinematic treatments of the horrors of new motherhood before Rosemary’s Baby, it was Roman Polanski’s adaptation of Ira Levin’s bestseller that first interpreted the phenomenon as a literal horror story, and we’ve have many variations on the theme since then. Nightborn takes a folk horror approach to the subject of post partum depression, a theme that’s been ripe for the picking lately by woman directors like Lynne Ramsay and Mary Bronstein. The movie’s director, Hanna Bergholm, is Finnish, and sets her story in a creepy, dark Finnish forest that the protagonist, a newlywed named Saga (Seiki Haarla), knew as a child because her grandmother lived in a big old house there surrounded by junk that, she was told, kept the forest’s malevolence at bay. So when Saga’s new British husband, Jon (Rupert Grint), endeavors to remove the junk from the property so they can fix up the delapidated house as their own home, you already know they’re in for it.

It’s clear that whatever subtexts Bergholm wants to impart about the psychological pitfalls of giving birth, she’s more intent on telling a straightforward Tale from the Crypt, and Nightborn essentially takes Rosemary’s Baby to its natural end. Nine months after Saga and Jon make love in the squishy moss under a forbidding looking tree in the forest, Saga goes through a very difficult labor and immediately feels that there’s something wrong with her new son, whom she impulsively names Kuura. What’s weird is that no one else seems to think Kuura is strange, despite that fact that the child has a distressingly shrill crying voice and draws blood when he suckles. Bergholm emphasizes this disconnect by never showing Kuura’s face, always having it turned away from the camera or hidden in shadow. As the baby starts to grow it develops a taste not only for blood but meat that Saga has no choice but to satisfy, a decision that Jon finds repugnant without even trying to understand, even as the forest itself starts encroaching more aggressively on the house. Family from both sides of the marriage come and go and tend to take Jon’s incurious side, thus driving Saga deeper into depression and frustration. Though she hates the baby, she also feels protective of it.

As a horror film, Nightborn is long on gore and short on scares, which may be the point. Even if Bergholm is avoiding metaphors, it’s obvious that her sympathies for Saga’s situation are at the expense of everyone else, especially Jon who, despite his genuine fear for Saga’s wellbeing, refuses to admit to what’s happening right before his eyes. In the end, Saga is forced to face her demon baby by herself, meaning she’s alone in her despair, and that’s a pretty chilling take on the so-called maternal instinct. 

In English and Finnish. Now playing in Tokyo at Human Trust Cinema Shibuya (03-5468-5551), Toho Cinemas Changer Hibiya (050-6868-5001), Kino Cinema Shinjuku (03-5315-0978).

Nightborn home page in Japanese

photo (c) 2025 Elokuvayh/o Komee4a Oy, Filmai LT, Bluelight, Getaway

Posted in Movies | Tagged | Leave a comment

Review: Shelter

Posted on August 27, 2026 by philipbrasor

One of the problems that critics of AI encounter when they complain about its effect on movie-making is that a lot of green-lit content in Hollywood already feels as if it’s been produced by a computer program. I have little doubt that had this latest Jason Statham vehicle been written by ChatGPT it wouldn’t have been any worse than it is in its actual state. Statham’s action-hero parameters are unique, which also makes them easy to reproduce because they’ve become so familar, and there’s not an original idea or turn-of-phrase in Shelter. Statham has already played the former super-effective undercover operative hiding out from his checkered past more than a few times, and his characters tend to reenter the fray in order to save an innocent—in this case a young girl—from the evil intentions of powerful entities. The details may differ slightly, but who remembers details?

In this case, Michael Mason (Statham) manages a lighthouse on a deserted Scottish island. The man who delivers his supplies, usually on choppy seas, is often accompanied by his niece, Jessie (Bodhi Rae Breathnach), who tries to make a human connection with Mason but always fails because he’s such a reticent grump. When her uncle dies, Jessie takes over the route and Mason, who we learn worked with her uncle sometime in the past, decides to mentor the girl, teaching her how to use guns and such. Then suddenly bad men invade the island and Mason is forced to flee with Jessie to the mainland in order to confront the mastermind behind the invasion, an MI6 higher-up named Manafort (Bill Nighy) who used to work with Mason and wants to eliminate him because he knows something he shouldn’t, thus Mason’s reason for living the hermit’s life on an uninhabited island.

The usual mayhem ensues, which should be enough for most action fans, but except for one well-staged car chase, the only really interesting aspect of the movie is Naomi Ackie’s MI6 factotum Frost, who is charged with finding out why their agents are being disposed of so handily. She eventually comes around to the realization that her boss, Manafort, is up to no good. Ackie at least pretends that her character possesses a distinctive personality. Usually, Statham also transcends the mechanics of his characters as they’re written, but here he has nothing to work with and seems to give up on Mason fairly early on. The character’s actions are spurred by his need to keep Jessie safe, but the girl’s existence barely registers once the fighting and bloodshed begins. I would like to think that any self-respecting LLM would have striven for something better.

Opens Aug. 28 in Tokyo at Toho Cinemas Nihonbashi (050-6868-5060), Toho Cinemas Hibiya (050-6868-5068), Toho Cinemas Shinjuku (050-6868-5063), Kino Cinema Shinjuku (03-5315-0978), Toho Cinemas Roppongi Hills (050-6868-5024). 

Shelter home page in Japanese

photo (c) 2026 Fire Hawk Productions Limited

Posted in Movies | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Review: The Drama and Enzo

Posted on August 21, 2026 by philipbrasor

Since the only film other than The Drama I’ve seen by Norwegian director Kristoffer Borgli is his last one, Dream Scenario, I don’t have much insight into his approach except the feeling that he definitely likes his comedy to be as discomfiting as possible. Dream Scenario, which featured Nicolas Cage as an emotionally stunted college professor who suddenly appears in strangers’ dreams, sent up cancel culture, while The Drama goes for the jugular of a whole cinematic genre, the romantic comedy. Zendaya and Robert Pattinson play Emma and Charlie, two thirty-year-olds with cushy, creative jobs in Boston who, after two years of anodyne dating and vigorous, seemingly satisfying sex, decide to get married. The kicker occurs fairly early in the film during the couple’s pre-wedding tasting party with their best man, Mike (Mamoudou Athie), and maid of honor, Rachel (Alana Haim), who happen to be married to each other. After condemning the behavior of a casual acquaintance who may or may not be using heroin, the four very drunk friends challenge one another to reveal the worst thing they’ve ever done in their lives, and Emma’s turns out to be such a doozy that Rachel immediately banishes her from her life and Charlie begins wondering what he’s gotten into.

For the rest of the film, which mostly takes in the week leading up to the wedding, we see Emma’s and Charlie’s relationship deteriorate, mainly from Charlie’s point of view, though Borgli’s method of exposition makes it difficult to tell. He gives us flashbacks to Emma’s adolescence, when the dastardly deed took place, as well as jump-cut inserts that illustrate various aspects of the seemingly doomed relationship, such as Emma’s short temper and Charlie’s supreme lack of self-confidence. These scenes are clever and well-staged and successfully get the viewer squirming over how close-to-the-bone they cut, but it’s often difficult to tell which are based on things that actually happened and which are imaginative leaps; and if they are imaginative leaps, whose imagination do they spring from, Emma’s or Charlie’s? The upshot is that our two principals are so caught up in their romantic illusions that they can’t call the wedding off and thus head right into it like a runaway train over a cliff. The darkly comic climax doesn’t necessarily write itself, but it’s pretty much what you expect and you may end up watching it through your fingers. 

Pattinson has the meatier role. Zendaya’s Emma is presented as something of a cipher. She comes across as more of a solid character in flashback as a teenager (played by Jordyn Curet, who doesn’t much look like a younger Zendaya) than she does as an adult woman. Part of the problem is Borgli’s presentation of contemporary American life. He’s uninterested in the attendant racial dynamics—both of the main couples are interracial—and plays by the rules of the American rom-com in that the production design is invariably upper middle class without realizing how such class depictions might affect our observation of the interpersonal difficulties on display. We don’t even meet the parents until the wedding scene, and then learn almost nothing about them. The Drama does one thing right: it shows how unreliable romantic comedies are as a genre. But we already knew that. It’s probably why we liked them in the first place.  

Enzo is also cringe-inducing, but in a more traditional European art-house way. Based on a script by the late Laurent Cantet and directed by his associate Robin Campillo, it’s a coming-of-age film where the protagonist goes through more than his fair share of soul-twisting, self-inflicted psychological trauma, though at first blush these interior conflicts seem clear-cut. Sixteen-year-old Enzo (Eloy Pohu) has dropped out of the “traditional school system” and endeavors to become a certified mason through a trade school that finds him employment with a construction crew. We quickly learn that Enzo is not very good at his job, though it seems to have more to do with attitude than ability. When his foreman drives him home one day to talk to his parents about his difficulties, we learn that Enzo lives in a villa in a swanky hill area of southern France overlooking the Mediterranean. Enzo’s family is well off, his father (Pierfrancesco Favino) a tenured math professor and his mother (Elodie Bouchez) an engineer (who, it’s pointed out, makes more money than her husband). Liberal and open-minded, the folks seem fine with their son’s choice of vocation, but we soon come to understand that Dad believes it is just a phase and that he will eventually come to his senses and go back to school. This clash in perspective gets under Enzo’s skin and drives him further into silent rebelliousness, though to what end he never seems certain.

However, the initial plot conceit of a kid bucking his bourgeois pedigree and getting his hands dirty in solidarity with the hoi polloi gives way to something different. Enzo finds himself attracted to a pair of Ukrainian emigrants who are working on the job site, especially the cruder of the two, Vlad (Maksym Slivinskyi). When both men are called back to help their country fight off the Russian invaders, it is Vlad who resists the request, a decision that appeals to Enzo because it seems to indicate an expression of will that transcends Vlad’s sense of responsibility. As friction with his father intensifies, Enzo draws closer to Vlad, developing sexual feelings that only further complicate his nascent selfhood, sending him into a tailspin of emotional and physical self-harm.

Though it’s easy to see what Cantet and Campillo are getting at, I regretted that my original take on the story—Enzo’s rejection of his privilege—turned out to be a misconception of the movie’s overall dramatic thrust. It turns out to be a red herring, something that lured me into a more conventional tale of a teenager confused by hormones facing choices he doesn’t really comprehend. Though Enzo’s destiny is entirely believable and even moving, it’s also disappointing in the larger scheme of things. 

The Drama now playing in Tokyo at Toho Cinemas Nihonbashi (050-6868-5060), Toho Cinemas Hibiya (050-6868-5068), Toho Cinemas Shinjuku (050-6868-5063), Kino Cinema Shinjuku (03-5315-0978), Human Trust Cinema Shibuya (03-5468-5551), Toho Cinemas Roppongi Hills (050-6868-5024).

Enzo, in French and Ukrainian, now playing in Tokyo at Human Trust Cinema Yurakucho (03-6259-8608), Human Trust Cinema Shibuya (03-5468-5551), Shinjuku Musashinokan (03-3354-5670). 

The Drama home page in Japanese

Enzo home page in Japanese

The Drama photo (c) 2026 Dramatic Movie Rights LLC

Enzo photo (c) Les Films de Pierre

Posted in Movies | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Review: In the Grey

Posted on August 20, 2026 by philipbrasor

As a filmmaker, Guy Ritchie hardly has any original ideas, but he’s developed an action-movie style that puts the viewer at ease quickly and painlessly. His films, regardless of the subject matter or the intensity of the violence, eschew any pretense of seriousness, and usually the only obstacle to full appreciation of their intended entertainment purposes is the quality of the script. In the case of this disposable semi-heist flick, Ritchie himself writes self-consciously hard-boiled dialogue that attempts to serve a plot whose intricacies border on the incomprehensible, and so he is careful to make the explanations of what is happening at any given moment plain to the point of redundancy. Early on, there’s a sequence where he outlines in detail the contingencies of an emergency escape plan that the principals hope they won’t need, but, with perfect Chekhov’s Gun logic, you already know they’ll resort to it in the end.

Though Jake Gyllenhaal and Henry Cavill are the nominal stars, the protagonist is a young lawyer named Rachel (Eiza Gonzalez), a kind of fixer specializing in the titular legal frontier. Rachel forcefully comes to the aid of a New York asset management company that is owed a billion dollars by a Spanish crime boss, Salazar (Carlos Bardem), who not only refuses to pay back the money he borrowed but has already murdered the man the company dispatched to retrieve it. Rachel promises to get the principal back, with interest, for a hefty sum using the extra-legal means at her disposal and two former mercenaries whose names are Sid and Bronco (Cavill & Gyllenhaal)—as if they were a Jewish rodeo tag team—to draw up and carry out the scheme, which mostly involves stealing the money rather than talking Salazar into giving it up, since it’s obvious he believes he’s beyond the reach of international law. Nevertheless, Rachel does manage some legal hocus-pocus to sieze Salazar’s assets temporarily during their fraught “negotiations” while Sid and Bronco set up their aforementioned elaborate escape plan with the help of some super-efficient hired guns, not to mention a whole arsenal of real guns.

Though the movie’s grunt work is carried out by Ritchie’s able-bodied direction of the myriad action scenes, its pleasure principle is situated in the profane, faux-homoerotic banter of Sid and Bronco as they carry out their nefarious plan. Lots of people die and while the whole “grey” area inhabited by the plan is supposed to make you wonder who’s really “bad” in all this, it’s obvious who you’re going to root for. But if you’re not entirely sure Ritchie has a few ridiculous plot twists in the end that will make you come to the appropriate conclusion. 

Opens Aug. 21 in Tokyo at Toho Cinemas Nihonbashi (050-6868-5060), Toho Cinemas Hibiya (050-6868-5068), 109 Cinemas Premium Shinjuku (0570-060-109), Toho Cinemas Shinjuku (050-6868-5063), Human Trust Cinema Shibuya (03-5468-5551).

In the Grey home page in Japanese

photo (c) 2026 Hacieda Productions Limited

Posted in Movies | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Review: The End of Oak Street and Ready or Not 2: Here I Come

Posted on August 14, 2026 by philipbrasor

A movie whose main promotional hook is that it’s produced by J.J. Abrams and features dinosaurs is probably a sure box office bet for its opening weekend. Cinephiles who may need more convincing might be intrigued by the director of The End of Oak Street, David Robert Mitchell, whose debut feature was It Follows, one of the more inventive indie horror movies of the last decade. But likely the aspect that will attract the most attention, at least from people of a certain age, will be its setting: American suburbia in the early 1980s, thus raising the possibility, given its genre (sci-fi), that it will deliver classic Spielberg thrills and emotional payoffs to those with a nostalgia jones for that kind of stuff, like viewers who made Stranger Things the most successful streamed drama series of all time. 

The Platt family is suitably generic, but Mitchell’s script tosses some dramatic spice into the stew by making them borderline dysfunctional. Unbeknownst to his family, dad Greg (Ewan McGregor) has been laid off from work and is “moonlighting” as a pizza delivery man, a job that irks his homemaker wife Denise (Anne Hathaway), who secretly channels disillusionment with her domestic lot into auto-fiction. Teen daughter Audrey (Maisy Stella) is for some unexplained reason put down for her obsession with astronomy, while her younger brother Brian (Christian Convery) is going through the requisite rebellious motions by acting out in ways that border on the violent. These soap opera elements get tossed one night when the earth shakes, the house is bombarded by strange lights, and the power and water shut down. In the morning, things seems to have changed, but it takes a few minutes for the Platts, as well as their neighbors, to realize that their street has somehow been transported back to the Jurassic Age and that big lizards are hiding in the newly emergent tropical flora. Chasing, munching, and screaming ensue.

Because It Follows, per its title, was centered on people being stalked by an invisible entity, Mitchell knows how to stage elaborate chase-and-run scenes, and the set pieces are quite clever; some, in fact, disturbingly graphic in the way they relieve tension, but nonetheless funny for the exact same reason. But while Mitchell throws around clues regarding the mechanism of the time-slip that brings all this mayhem about, everything feels arbitrary. A good fantasy does not need to explain itself in order to be effective, but The End of Oak Street keeps teasing a familiarity with hard science that it never delivers on, which means the Spielbergian sentimental ending, designed to resolve all the existential problems in the story, including the interpersonal ones plaguing the Platts, feels even phonier. 

The gory humor in Matt Bettinelli-Olpin’s and Tyler Gillett’s Ready or Not 2: Here I Come is even more cartoonish and works more successfully within the narrow scope of its entertainment purview. The story begins at the exact moment the first movie, Ready or Not, ended, with Grace (Samara Weaving), having survived a night of being hunted almost dinosaur style by her new in-laws, the Le Domas family, as part of a bizarre tradition regarding new members, sitting on the steps of the mansion she’s just burned down, covered in blood and waiting for an ambulance. However, Grace’s delivery from evil is short-lived as members of the Satanic cult her in-laws belonged to assemble from across the globe at the order of the paterfamilias (David Cronenberg, of all people) to exact their revenge on the young, resourceful woman. 

This time Grace is accompanied by her sister, Faith (Kathryn Newton), who just happens to be at the hospital when the two surviving Le Domas heirs, Ursula and Titus (Sarah Michelle Gellar and Shawn Hatosy), come to abduct her. As in the first movie, killing is not really the point. Grace must be allowed a chance to elude her pursuers in an elaborate game of hide-and-seek, but this time the firepower is more sophisticated, not to mention more internationally sorted. 

The plot, as it were, mimics the first movie’s to a T in that it is nothing more than a series of violent confrontations between the cult’s various members and Grace, now aided—or maybe hampered is a better word—by her less savvy sister. What keeps the story interesting is the competitive rivalry among the cult participants to be the one who brings Grace down, an attitude Grace successfully exploits to her own superhuman advantage by tapping into her proletarian hatred of hubristic oligarchs. Here I Come doesn’t necessarily improve on the bloody shenanigans of its predecessor, but it does take it to the next class level. 

The End of Oak Street now playing in Tokyo at Toho Cinemas Nihonbashi (050-6868-5060), Toho Cinemas Hibiya (050-6868-5068), Marunouchi Piccadilly (050-6875-0075), 109 Cinemas Premium Shinjuku (0570-060-109), Shinjuku Wald ) (03-5369-4955), Shinjuku Piccadilly (050-6861-3011), Toho Cinemas Shinjuku (050-6868-5063), Toho Cinemas Shibuya (050-6868-5002), Toho Cinemas Roppongi Hills (050-6868-5024).

Ready of Not 2: Here I Come now playing in Tokyo at Toho Cinemas Nihonbashi (050-6868-5060), Toho Cinemas Hibiya (050-6868-5068), Toho Cinemas Shinjuku (050-6868-5063), Human Trust Cinema Shibuya (03-5468-5551), Toho Cinemas Roppongi Hills (050-6868-5024).

The End of Oak Street home page in Japanese

Ready of Not 2: Here I Come home page in Japanese

The End of Oak Street photo (c) 2026 Warner Bros. Ent.

Ready of Not 2: Here I Come photo (c) 2026 Searchlight Pictures

Posted in Movies | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Review: Left-Handed Girl

Posted on August 13, 2026 by philipbrasor

It’s not taking anything away from director Tsou Shih-ching to point out that her debut feature was co-written, co-produced, and edited by Sean Baker, whose last movie, Anora, swept the Oscars in 2025. There’s some Baker DNA in Left-Handed Girl, from the iPhone cinematography to the focus on women living at the margins of whatever social milieu they inhabit, but that said, Left-Handed Girl is a better film than Anora or maybe any other Baker movie except The Florida Project. Tsou has been assistant director on many of Baker’s films, so in a sense it’s perhaps better to think of their work as a joint enterprise. Tsou, who lives in the U.S. but grew up in Taiwan, sets her movie in Taipei and obviously knows the city like the back of her hand. It opens with an assured montage of shots of a small rental truck entering the city by highway. The truck contains a family: the driver, Shu-fen (Janel Tsai), and her two daughters, 20-year-old I-ann (Ma Shih-Yuan) and 5-year-old I-jing (Nina Ye). I-ann lived in Taipei up until just before I-jing was born, when the three moved to the countryside, so to I-jing the city is brand new, a wonderland of colors and lights and hard surfaces, and Tsou gives us her viewpoint through the fractured prism of a kaleidoscope. It’s a bustling mix of images that perfectly sets the pace of the subsequent story.

Shu-fen is returning to Taipei to open a noodle stall in a busy night market in the center of the city. She is trying to reboot her life after paying off the debt of her ex-husband, who used to own some sort of factory and then disappeared when it went under. Her parents and two married sisters live in relative middle class comfort in the city, while her brother lords over a successful company that has business on the mainland. She is the black sheep of the family owing not only to her poor choice of spouse, but the inexplicable presence of I-jing, who, after all, is 15 years younger than her sister. Most of the movie’s through-plot addresses Shu-fen’s worsening financial situation, but the camera stays mostly on I-jing, who, as the titular character, dismays her old-fashioned grandfather (Akio Chen), who still believes that the left hand is the instrument of the Devil and tries to make her favor her right. These complaints lead the girl to believe that she actually is possessed, at least partially, by an evil force, but rather than try to exorcise it she allows it free rein in carrying out actions, like shoplifting, for which she feels no responsibility. Meanwhile, I-ann exercises her rebellious streak by securing a job at a semi-legal betel nut shop where she has sex with the owner for the worst of reasons, and Shu-fen is courted by a fellow night market operator named Johnnie (Brando Huang) who deals in a wide range of cheap sundries.

Tsou’s and Baker’s script nimbly weaves all these disparate threads into a satisfyingly dense tapestry depicting how modern urban sensibilities, not to mention the appetites they engender, can’t help but come into conflict with the filial virtues the characters pretend to honor. Though the story is closer to real life than Anora, Left-Handed Girl is still a movie in love with the kind of magical artifice that only movies can provide, and the facility with which Tsou propels her irrepressible story forward gives the entire production a sense of joyful immersion that’s impossible to resist. The characters go through hell, but the film is a kind of heaven. 

In Mandarin and Min Nan. Opens Aug. 14 in Tokyo at Human Trust Cinema Yurakucho (03-6259-8608), Shinjuku Musashinokan (03-3354-5670), Human Trust Cinema Shibuya (03-5468-5551).

Left-Handed Girl home page in Japanese

photo (c) 2025 Left-Handed Girl Film Production Company Limited 

Posted in Movies | Tagged , | 1 Comment