Though if you missed March’s article? You can check it out here.

Here’s to a safe and healthy May.

Until next time,

Ryan.

Subscribe now

Movies

• Rounders (1998)

• Winter’s Bone (2010)

TV

• Ponies: Season 1 (2026)

Music

• Running with the Hurricane (Camp Cope) (2022)

• Colorado’s On Fire Again Live ‘25 (Richy Mitch & The Coal Miners) (2026)

What’s Next?

• Assassin's Creed Black Flag Resynced (2026)

• Ted Lasso: Season 4 (2026)

Substack Spotlight

10 Film Scenes That Will Make You Cry Every Single Time

Consider me a complete Lunatic

• , Drafting.

Seasons Care Nothing for War

• ,

Rounders (1998)

Although he cuts a passable figure as a law student, Mike McDermott’s (Matt Damon) true passion is his after hours gig, moonlighting at the poker table.

Having made a name for himself in New York City’s club scene, Mike dreams of competing in the World Series of Poker, believing it will be his ticket to success.

Yet after one disastrous hand sees him cleaned out by mobster KGB (John Malkovich), Mike swears off gambling forever.

Taking on a blue-collar job organized by mentor Joey Knish (John Turturro), he insists to girlfriend Jo (Gretchen Mol) and law professor Petrovsky (Martin Landau) that, however much he feels the call, he will commit to a life of simple if quiet honesty.

However, when his old partner Worm (Edward Norton) is released from prison, chased by both massive debt and the worst of the city’s underworld, things change.

Initially reluctant, Mike eventually agrees to help Worm balance in his ledger but as he quickly falls back on old habits, with KGB out for blood and the walls closing in, he realizes he must decide just where his priorities lie.

Directed by John Dahl, working from a script co-written by David Levien and Brian Koppelman, while Rounders may nestle into a relatively expected grove as it relates to its general structure and execution, it still works to deliver those pieces with confidence.

Filmed almost entirely on-location in New York City, there is an appreciated believability to the world as presented, notwithstanding that it doesn’t expand much beyond the smoky haze of back alley card rooms.

So as a byproduct of Mike and Worm being regulars on the circuit, the viewer - primarily through the set-ups of Dahl and cinematographer Jean-Yves Escoffier - immediately feels brought in too.

Mike’s narration meanwhile, if mostly front-loaded, works well enough to establish a modicum of intimacy as it relates to his thinking/poker prowess in the opening act. This, even if being heavily expositional and lacking much beyond era-familiar juvenility.

Its return later on then, does come across as something of a crutch. Jarring, in the third act, again directing the viewer as to what exactly he is thinking and feeling. The film, evidently, not trusting one to have retained what has been presented thus far, be it the intricacies of poker more broadly or the specifics of the plot itself.

Although in fairness, it is a choice that has some thematic relevance especially as the narrative, essentially a literal high-stakes coming-of-age tale, begins to gather steam.

Despite Worm’s complete indifference, Mike knows returning to poker in any capacity comes not just with risk financially but emotionally as well. To stand with only “one foot in the door”, something he is unwilling to do.

He may believe univocally in his talent but it comes with no-holds-barred, no expectations and there is effective contrast drawn.

Skill at the table be dammed, neither Mike or Worm are infallible or impervious from the consequences of their own poor decision making and if still landing as somewhat calculated, in regards to the beats the script choses to pursue, it does feel earned as the noose progressively tightens.

This said, the film’s overall resolution does move away from this somewhat, not devaluing the established framework but bringing it forward in a way that is very much viewer-dependant. Either striking those notes of contempt or measured sympathy, if with little grey area in between.

Yet either way, it is the performances that garner a great deal of the film’s momentum.

In support, Norton is appreciably slimy as Worm, more than willing to manipulate, lie and otherwise slink through the boroughs (fittingly) with dishonesty as his operating mode.

And although he feigns it, he cares little for how his reemergence into Mike’s life is a massive disruption, both personally and professionally. Concerned only with what he can leverage, however far it takes him.

Now, in terms of raw substance or any genuine arc, there isn’t much here. As from the first moment he appears, the character is generally static, consumed only with his own advancement, obsessive in a way that often teeters on the edge of being grating.

Norton though, to his credit, commits fully to the character’s utter irredeemability, working well to contrast Worm’s particular brand of chaos with Mike’s more measured approach.

There isn’t any empathy here but Norton sees that Worm, to some extent, is understood, within the small pieces of background work given as well.

Mol doesn’t have all that much, material-wise but she delivers on her character’s intent as a quasi-audience surrogate, someone removed from the world of underground poker and horrified by the path Mike chooses to follow, while Turturro and Landau both play well as Mike’s mentors.

The weakest link though is undeniably Malkovich as KGB, from his shoddy accent work to the character’s forced eccentricities. A host of poorly convinced, disparate decisions never once pulling together to create a truly compelling or believable antagonist.

And considering just how much importance is placed on the character overall, it is a missed opportunity across the board.

Otherwise, while Matt Damon, established in 1998, was still growing into his movie star shoes, as Mike, he toes successfully between arrogance and humanism.

Mike is genuine in his desire to leave poker behind and knows he is putting everything on the line, his relationships, his money and potentially his life, upon stepping back into the underworld. But he can’t hide from the fact that he feels most at home in the action either. The thrill, the chase, testing the odds with every hand he sits in on.

The catch though, is the vulnerability to Damon’s performance.

Mike refuses to pull his punches but there is a honesty that Damon sticks with, even as the character spirals and then, fights to claw himself out.

Rounders can’t quite escape the familiar impulses of the framework it chooses to follow nor can it pair all of its storytelling/performance elements together effectively.

But strong in its major nodes, sharp technically and orbiting around two locked-in lead players, it is, if not overly memorable, than solid where it matters most.

Rating: 7.1/10

Winter’s Bone (2010)

Living in severe poverty in rural Missouri, high schooler Ree Dolly (Jennifer Lawrence) is her family’s sole provider, for both her ill mother and younger siblings.

Though when Ree is told her long-absent, meth dealing father must appear for his court date or the family will lose their house, which he put up as bond collateral, she sets out to locate him.

But as she finds herself crossing paths with indifferent locals criminals and the law thrice, next to her uncle Teardrop (John Hawkes), Ree begins to question just how far they are willing to go.

Directed and co-written by Debra Granik alongside Anne Rosellini, while Winter’s Bone is an adaptation of the Daniel Woodrell’s same-named, 2006 novel, never once does it feel as though it is overextending its reach.

If minimalist in approach, in adhering incredibly close to the standard, 1-2-3 act structure, then deliberate and purposeful in its execution.

The script brisk, every line of dialogue, full of regional punch, the resulting work of say, cinematographer Michael McDonough and editor Affonso Gonçalves. Simple framing, tight cuts, everything lands with the intended impact, in grounding one in the Ozarks and keeping them there.

Yet while the instinct may be to slot Ree’s journey into the coming-of-age box, such labelling seems not just too clean and organized but almost disingenuous to the story as presented.

As the film begins, she is already hardened by the world. Her youth lost and in raising/protecting her siblings, having grown wise beyond her years.

Her arc then, is not exclusively in development of the character alone, in that literal sense but more so in opposition, and then, almost begrudging comparison to those around her.

Drug kingpin Thump Milton (Ronnie Hall) may rule the area with impunity but even he sees it is an impossible ask, to totally shut Ree out. Be it Milton himself or his number-two, wife Merab (Dale Dickey) who comes to cultivate a dash of twisted understanding.

Ree is adamant she will uncover the truth of her father, be it dead, in debt or vanished and while Milton and his people refuse to loosen their grip wholesale, on the hierarchy they dominate, they do sympathize. Her determination, to them, something that is, perhaps, not totally unfamiliar.

Ultimately, while the film only explicitly answers a handful of the questions it puts forward, instead, it is content to allow the characters themselves and the underlying subtext to do the majority of the heavy lifting. Again, this lends Winter’s Bone at large a particular comfortability, most prevalent throughout the first two acts, yet it isn’t strictly defined by it either, in keeping such a hard, close focus on its characters.

Never in a way though, where it could seem patronizing or even purposefully disrespectful to the reality it is depicting.

Rather, it simply is, with the performers tasked with bringing it to life and often, viscerally so.

Dickey’s role is very much in quiet support but she still plays well, in biting contrast to Lawrence, an unwilling mirror of a road yet followed and although his physical visibility is minimal, Hall’s Milton is a presence earned.

Hawkes meanwhile, is a host of contradictories as Teardrop but each feels fully realized.

Whatever past is held with his brother, one way or another, it is left almost entirely to interpretation and lost deep in the grips of addiction, he is at first insistent to Ree that she leave well enough alone.

Although beyond knowing the comparative power that Milton holds, it strikes more as his own guilt and decades of compounding trauma, working their way to the surface. For where Hawkes stands out is making Teardrop’s reversal all the more human. Actively choosing to put himself in harm’s way to assist Ree in her search, if out of measure of love for his niece yes but more so, to repair a soul, his own, that he feels cannot be saved.

Though as Ree, Lawrence is the film’s anchor front-to-back.

Her pain, her suffering, her unrelenting drive.

She doesn’t set out to find closure per se, wherever her father is or whatever his fate, to Ree, it is inconsequential to ensuring her siblings remain safe with a roof over their heads. Yet repeatedly confronted with the harsh realities of the meth trade, with debts bound by word and blood both, she slowly comes to terms.

Understanding that she will not be permitted to escape without blood of her own taken, to balance long-held scales.

And at every opportunity, within every scene, Lawrence comes up strong. Contrasting her character’s believable hard-front exterior with emotional breaks that, given their rarity, are impactful in their resonance.

Winter’s Bone may not do anything new with the pieces it is given but it places them on the board with such confidence, from the smaller world-building to the performances, it sees that it is a film of great staying power.

Difficult but often, just like life itself, by design.

Rating: 8.3/10

Ponies: Season 1 (2026)

In late 1970s Moscow, Bea Grant (Emilia Clarke) and Twila Hasbeck (Haley Lu Richardson) live under the watchful eye of both the American and Soviet governments, as employees of the city’s US Embassy.

But when their husbands, CIA spies, are supposedly killed without a trace, they approach their handler Dane (Adrian Lester) about filling the void.

Alongside his loyal right hand Ray (Nicholas Podany), Dane has been under-the-gun, struggling to establish a consistent foothold in the city’s espionage racket but believes the duo, dubbed “PONIES” by Soviet intelligence - “persons of no interest” - will be able to succeed where others have failed.

Given a crash course and later assigned to work with informant Sasha (Petro Ninovskyi), all three soon find themselves up against dangerous KGB agent Andrei Vasiliev (Artjom Gilz), who is unafraid to brute force his way up the corporate ladder.

Yet as they fall further-and-further into a world of deception, blackmail and murder, Bea and Twila must soon decide if their pursuit of justice is truly worth the cost.

Co-created by the duo of Susanna Fogel and David Iserson (who are credited with writing six of the season’s eight episodes) all the cues Ponies is expected to hit, as a modern period piece in the Neo-classical style are present and accounted for.

The set design, used in small but active ways to inform specific notes of character-focused storytelling, even when trading one drab office space for another. The costuming, consistent without feeling overdone, the needle drops, the in-show technology used, cutting edge for the characters but appreciably quaint considering, etc.

These are the basics for a show of Ponies’ reach yes but they are still the framework that holds up a healthy amount of the proceedings episode-over-episode and the delivery, sharp, is noticed.

The performances are uniform, as well.

As Andrei, Gilz may be little more than a sociopathic force-of-nature but credit is due. Each time he appears on screen, it is with a wave of anxiety in his wake while as Dane, Lester steps into the suit of a career company man nicely.

He holds a great deal of respect for Bea and Twila both, his mentorship genuine but otherwise, he is unflinching in the toll their work will require. Refusing to comprise his mission of bringing down the Soviet apparatus, if holding his own secrets close too.

Functionally the tritagonist, Ninovskyi steadily builds out Sasha as a well-rounded character. His initial reasons for working with the Americans clear but already wrecked with paranoia before Bea enters his orbit, the resulting chaos he is at the centre of, it forces Sasha to find an inner strength he didn’t know he had.

Ninovskyi’s beats are generally scattered over throughout the season but when he’s given the stage, either individually or through his dynamic with Clarke, he makes full use of it.

The emotional and narrative heart of Ponies however, runs through Clarke and Richardson.

Bea and Twila may find themselves in Moscow for similar reasons but their journeys to get there, they couldn’t be more different. Yet in quickly developing a sisterhood that goes further than their shared loss, as the only ones who can truly relate to what the other is experiencing, between them, there is a vested audience interest, clear from the jump by way of their chemistry.

But it is in seeing them working in real-time to transpose those life experiences into their burgeoning espionage careers from which both performers get a great amount of milage.

Twila, at first seemingly coarse and flighty, trauma responses from a difficult upbringing, finds that her people-skills, despite the lack of Russian, make her a natural fit in Moscow’s underworld while still acting as the relative muscle or wheelwomen when her friend needs it.

Richardson, bringing such exuberance to the character but not missing when handed heavier material either, peeling back the layers on Twila’s purposeful exterior.

As Bea, Clarke is somewhat more centred, her character’s proficiency in Russian seeing her take on an active field role, as the company looks to undermine the KGB, via Andrei, from within.

More apprehensive than Twila about fully committing to the cause, at first Bea struggles, believing she is disrespecting her husband’s memory, particularly in her deepening relationships with Sasha and Andrei both but finds she is something of a natural. A chameleon of sorts, charming but intimidating when needed, quick-on-her-feet and not afraid to put herself in harm’s way to do whatever the mission requires.

Clarke brings such believability to the role, as Bea finds her footing as a spy but doesn’t lose the person underneath either. Still conflicted and still unsure but even so, resolute

Where the show takes its biggest and ultimately messiest swings however, is with its narrative, in both structure and execution.

While it may pull a great deal from its Cold War-era setting with a smattering of historical-fiction dashes for the eagle-eyed viewer, the show doesn’t much bother with present-moment, real-world parallels. This isn’t a dealbreaker (not everything must) but it also lends itself to a certain wildness.

The inciting beat, of Bea and Twila taking on field roles with the agency as they look for closure is strong enough, if quickly overlaid with numerous other nodes.

Some major, some subplots but each given a healthy amount of screen time either way.

Although for the most part, in fairness, the payoff does feel earned over the season’s final two hours as the show collapses inward, racketing up the tension and bringing most of the characters together in expansion of their solo stories. But it also dovetails in a way that doesn’t see everything realized or explained with one-too-many cliffhangers left in the lurch.

And as of this writing, with no second season confirmed, it leaves Ponies in something of a holding pattern.

Very well made at its best, with impressive technical work, an enjoyable story and excellent performances, especially from its two leads yet held back, for now, by the machinations of the corporate machine.

What could be more, hopefully, not confined to a one-off experiment in the period piece sandbox.

Rating: 7.5/10

Running with the Hurricane (Camp Cope) (2022)

Although their third and ultimately final album doesn’t see Camp Compe move any further from the sound, lyrically and sonically, that they built their name on, each of Running with the Hurricane’s ten tracks is rich with the alt-rock feel that the Australian trio made their calling card.

Punchy, emotionally resonant and never once taking their foot off the gas nor compromising on their message.

Never feeling cramped in by the passage of time but now three years later, still able to exist wonderfully within it.

Colorado’s On Fire Again Live ‘25 (Richy Mitch & The Coal Miners) (2026)

After releasing two complete albums in 2025, just months apart - Colorado’s 0n Fire Again and No Silent Monks - up-and-coming folk-rockers Richy Mitch & The Coal Miners have returned in 2026 with their first record of live material,

Colorado’s On Fire Again Live ‘25, comprising cuts from a series of shows the band held in the autumn of last year.

And while it is cool to hear their sound on the stage, as close as it can be approximated through headphones or car speakers, unless one is a devout listener of the group, eager to dissect every second of their sound, there isn’t all that much presented here.

Exactly as advertised but nothing else besides.

Assassin’s Creed Black Flag Resynced (2026)

After months of escalating rumours, at last, Ubisoft has confirmed that, thirteen years following the original they are remaking their beloved pirate-Assassin outing, Assassin’s Creed IV: Black Flag.

And in a wide-ranging showcase led by star Matt Ryan earlier this month, the team, fronted by Ubisoft Singapore, seems eager to share how they are preparing to blend AC past-and-present.

Revamping the on-foot combat and traversal if still keeping the classic feel be it on land or the Caribbean Sea. While visual and quality-of-life-tweaks are primed to bring Edward Kenway’s journey more in line with the RPG-era of the series from Origins to Shadows.

Retaining the same performance capture data however, outside of curiosity in the as-stated expanded story sections, with all the major players returning, the big question is just if Ubisoft long (and rightfully) battered in the public eye, can pull it off.

The first remake in their flagship series just prior to what will be its twentieth anniversary in 2027, even with the OG Black Flag’s reputation already solidified, the stakes and expectations will be high.

Resynced is currently set for release on July 9th.

Ted Lasso: Season 4 (2026)

Now three years since Ted Lasso’s third season concluded, the much-loved Apple outing is set, it seems, with its fourth.

But as Ted (Jason Sudeikis) returns to Richmond, this time as the coach of their women’s side, even with a host of familiar players in his corner, their journey is sure to be anything but easy.

Like a goldfish. Ted Lasso’s fourth season is set to debut on August 5th.

Substack Spotlight

There are many wonderful writers, out there in the wild but specifically so, here on Substack.

In that spirit, here are a few articles I really enjoyed this past month, including some from valued members of the Off-Balance community.

Do feel free, if you haven’t already, to expand your horizons and check out what they have on offer.

10 Film Scenes That Will Make You Cry Every Single Time

Jen Talks Telly, Film, Music

10 Film Scenes That Will Make You Cry Every Single Time

Before I begin, let me preface this by saying: I am a notorious crier at films. And not just supposed-to-be-sad ones either. So this could have ended up as a list of scenes where you’d be like: Jen, really? Are you sure you’re a normal person? (Maybe I will do one of those lists sometime, just for fun…

Read more

22 days ago · 16 likes · 16 comments · Jen Talks Telly, Film, Music

Perhaps the greatest thing about film as a medium is that the feelings any one project inspires, they aren’t necessarily universal.

Different stories, different methods, different viewpoints, all existing at once but speaking to each individual on their own wavelength.

With this piece though, with a great person-to-person affability, Jen highlights ten films that spoke closely, from the heartbreakers to tear breakers.

And either in revisiting old favourites or putting something new on the watchlist, for each, there is a discussion to be had.

You can find more of Jen’s writing over at .

Consider me a complete Lunatic

,

Drafting

Consider me a complete Lunatic

Did you know the word ‘lunatic’ derives from the Latin “luna”, meaning moon? It refers to an intermittent state of insanity influenced by the moon. With that in mind, Artemis II has arguably sent the majority of us into a collective state of utter lunacy. Isn’t reclaiming language fun…

Read more

24 days ago · 3 likes · Mary Upton

Even with the Artemis II astronauts now safely back home, Mary’s piece wonderfully illustrates just why that mission to the Moon’s far side was so important.

So critical, even at such a delicate socio-political juncture around the world.

Blending present-moment work, a dash of the mythological and personal poetry, for as much as the dissenters may claim otherwise, Mary keeps the focus on the heart of space exploration: the human element.

Dreams and possibility, as close as the night sky.

Be sure to check out more of Mary’s work over at Drafting.

Seasons Care Nothing for War

,

Out With Lanterns

Seasons Care Nothing for War

It seems Spring did not hear the news. The nesting towhees are still plucking leaves from the pear trees to cushion their dark, burgeoning nests. The crepe myrtle still sprouts late blossoms. The honeybees still hum. Ground bees drone on too, just as loud as last year. It seems they’re unaware of the other drone varietal, the one bent upon de…

Read more

a month ago · 23 likes · 2 comments · Julie Barton

Despite the promise so-often held, even as the seasons shift, it does not mean one is immune to that change. Feeling the ground move beneath them or the wind, dancing to its own accord.

Yet with this piece, Julie reaffirms what makes poetry such a powerful tool, be it for reflection or critique, oftentimes, just a line removed.

You can find more of Julie’s work over at .

Buy Ryan a Beer

Leave a comment

Even if not every target will hit its mark, credit should always be given to the creative that is willing to expand further than their pre-established borders.

Not without missteps sure but from straight action and thriller-survival to humanistic drama, director Baltasar Kormákur has always been a filmmaker capable of putting his own spin on various genre standards.

Yet in this spirt so arrives his newest film, Apex, which dropped on Netflix late last week.

But unable to break free from any particular storytelling framework, familiar and transparent, it is project that just can’t get out of its own way.

Travelling to remote Australia in the wake of a personal tragedy, adventurer Sasha (Charlize Theron) hopes to find some small semblance of peace in a most unforgiving wilderness.

But when she crosses paths with seemingly friendly local Ben (Taron Egerton), she immediately finds herself tested.

Revealing himself as a deeply disturbed man who begins hunting her for sport, Sasha realizes she must put all her survival skills to use if she wants any hope of making it out alive.

Credited to writer Jeremy Robbins, again, narratively, Apex isn’t reaching for anything beyond its stated confines - the crux, a classic protagonist/antagonist dance of wills - but that doesn’t mean it is totally absent some punch either.

Shot primarily on-location in Australia while working with cinematographer Lawrence Sher and editor Sigurdur Eythorsson, Kormákur’s set-ups are sharp and considerate of the action as presented. Clear, crisp and easy to follow while making effective use of lighting and physical set work.

It is a comparatively low bar but for a project so reliant on the back-and-forth dynamic of its two leads, that intention is communicated.

There is never once a moment where the stakes, through the actual filmmaking, come across as overly muddled in pursuit of excess or too washed away in an abundance of digital sludge. While a handful of simple if appreciated flourishes make full use of those established environments.

Ultimately though, all the primary storytelling nodes are painfully bog standard with not enough character to truly elevate them in any meaningful way.

Lacking the sly charm of say, Send Help another recent horror-thriller outing or more broadly, the confidence to truly challenge any expectant viewer.

Now, in fairness, there is a slight reversal in the third act that, at the very least, carries Apex over the finish line.

Not so much in turning the film inside out but if recognizing the inherent predicability baked into its core premise, if too little too late, trying to move somewhat away from it.

In that respect, no, it isn’t all that successful. Yet in actively working its thinly-sketched out character motivations into the setpiece-first narrative, Apex sees that the final thirty-forty minutes of a generally elongated ninety minute runtime land.

Moderately important instead of simply perfunctory.

But while the script at large may not utilize its characters beyond the obvious, the film’s two leads, in Theron and Egerton, still bring a sense of life to their performances.

More reliant on her physicality to bring the character to life, Theron’s Sasha is a woman who holds the most difficult of her emotions, from grief to fear, close to the vest.

Still grappling from a trauma for which she holds herself personally responsible, she quickly concludes that peace, as traditionally held, just isn’t in the cards.

Determined as she is, it is only by fighting back against Ben’s sadism, for better or worse, will she find the cold comfort she is searching for. It is bare bones absolutely but as an action-film veteran, Theron finds a good enough rhythm early and delivers, alongside her few emotional beats.

As Ben meanwhile, Egerton is given the bulk of the film’s heaviest material and commits fully to his out-to-pasture cut. Giving a believable credence to Ben’s increasingly dark motivations but never letting his foot off the gas as a total maniac either.

All-in-all though, there isn’t much to be said for Apex.

The leads show up to work and the solid technical chops, next to the mild serve presented in the final third may see it exist with a touch more memorability than similar films but otherwise, it barely scraps by.

Predictable, inconsistent and perhaps worst of all, for an apparent thriller, content to coast on promise over action.

Rating: 5.4/10

Buy Ryan a Beer

As always, thank you so much for reading! And if you missed February’s article, you can check it out here.

Here’s to a safe and healthy April.

Until next time,

Ryan.

Subscribe now

Movies

• The Quick and the Dead (1995)

• The Bride! (2026)

TV

• Black Rabbit (2025)

Music

• Father of the Bride (Vampire Weekend) (2019)

• Against the Dying of the Light (José González) (2026)

What’s Next?

• Spider-Man: Brand New Day (2026)

Substack Spotlight

8 “Oscar-Worthy” Performances Overlooked Because They Happened in Horror Films.

• .

How my movie shoot is going

F1’s world feed has a belonging problem

• ,

The Quick and the Dead (1995)

In Arizona’s Old West, the town of Redemption has seen better days.

Ran with an iron fist by lifelong outlaw John Herod (Gene Hackman), it is a place where morals and good judgment go to drink their nights away.

Though when Herold organizes a quick-draw tournament with no holds barred, the stakes are raised.

Among the participants being young hotshot The Kid (Leonardo DiCaprio), trick-shot artist Ace Hanlon (Lance Henriksen) and the quiet Cort (Russell Crowe).

A former running mate of Herod said to be the fastest draw on all sides of the state line, having since found his faith, Cort rejects violence of any kind. As a result, he is strong-armed into participating while being routinely beaten by Herold’s goons.

But also putting her name on the board is gunslinger Ellen “The Lady” McKenzie (Sharon Stone).

Having recently arrived in Redemption, Ellen holds Herod responsible for a childhood tragedy that befell her family and is consumed with nothing but slow burning vengeance.

Yet soon realizing she’ll need to navigate the town, the contest and her mission, for Ellen, her time in Redemption will be anything but simple.

Directed by Sam Raimi and credited to screenwriter Simon Moore, The Quick and the Dead, doesn’t once shy away from the influences and baseline artistic styling worn proudly on its holster.

Slotting in with presence alongside the revival Westerns that established a foothold in the early 1990s, it is something of a dark camp effort, a loose period piece and as the narrative develops, a serious mediation on trauma and the cost of vengeance thrice.

On paper, no doubt, it may seem like too many plates to balance and positioned as they are, to clash.

And naturally, all the major pieces are classic genre standard too. The gruff loner with a hardened if buried heart, their opposed antagonist who considers themselves untouchable, the eclectic assortment of townsfolk hanging on at the watering hole, etc, etc.

But each element of the production, if inherently and purposefully indebted to the history that preceded it, also feels complete on its own.

The set design, built around physical wide-street, false-fronts or the shoot, taking place on location, throughout Arizona.

Cinematographer Dante Spinotti and Raimi prioritizing a mix of tight, moving close-ups, from character-on to specific storytelling points (the town’s clocktower, whiskey glasses in hand) to wide environmental set-ups too.

The setting sun, lingering just as long as a devastating thunderstorm.

Even the smaller, as-expected sound design cues, revolver hammers being cocked, a horse galloping at speed or saloon doors swinging open don’t just grab the viewer’s attention, they keep it.

Alan Silvestri’s more minimalist score, contrasted against editor Pietro Scalia’s instincts of allowing a scene to truly breathe, next to rapid-fire cuts when needed.

Working in tandem, though Moore’s script extends at an effective pace with Raimi’s direction matching the suggested energy, neither are free of a few dips. Considering, although the prominent flashback sequences in the back half do succeed in their emotional intention, they’re held just a handful of beats too long.

Wanting to make crystal clear their narrative importance, if acknowledging the prior foreshadowing that colours them, not completely trusting the audience as needed.

Ultimately though, fair or not, that is the question that surrounds most of the film as is. The setting aside of comfortability, given its known parameters and simply allowing The Quick and the Dead to tell its story.

Fortunately, in this spirit, with gusto, each of its performers step up to their marks.

As Herod, right from the jump, Hackman is appreciably slimy.

His character, not just unrepentant for the violence that has defined his life but seemingly unable and unwilling to consider another way forward.

To be born a killer, to live as a killer and presumably, to die as one too.

Yet wile Hackman could easily slide into full metaphorical-moustache twirling villainy, there is a dash of humanity, however slight, that he keeps hidden, apparent but not working as his performance’s defining note. A balance not once slipped on.

In his Hollywood breakthrough, Russell Crowe is a man of few words as Cort. Relying mostly on his physical acting to convey his character’s trauma and as well, deeply conflicted emotional state as the tournament progresses, while developing a strong bond with Ellen, recognizing their similar journeys.

It is quiet work in comparison but Crowe steps on each beat with soles down, as does a still burgeoning Leonardo DiCaprio.

Of course, only a year removed from his first Academy nomination, it wasn’t as though DiCaprio was an unknown or an entirely untested quantity. Though lining up across a host of far more seasoned performers, he does’t land as overmatched here.

Capturing The Kid’s unrelenting confidence, the type that can only come with young and earned arrogance, with ease.

In smaller roles, in support, Keith David brings his usual charm as a gentlemen gunslinger and Roberts Blossom, as the town physician, is a man battered but not beaten.

That said, the film’s orbit, naturally, is centred around Sharon Stone’s Ellen.

Though a task Stone takes on with a relish, Ellen feels incredibly lived-in from the very first moment she appears.

Unrelenting in pursuit of her goal and brutally honest as she does so, she must also come to terms with her limitations. Her scars.

Both alone and alongside those she grows close too, be it Cort or The Kid.

Confronting the reality that, try as she might, burying one’s humanity is a tougher task than it seems and confronting that pain can, in of itself, be a fate worse than death.

So in many ways, while Stone gleefully plays up Western tropes as a quick-drawing hero of intention, she is also sure to highlight her own interpretation of that general archetype, brought to the forefront. Ellen, not someone who will stand by idly, not a woman who needs to be reminded of simple kindness or when needed, inflicting necessary violence on those deserving.

It is all there.

But only she will decide just how and when her cards are played.

Leading the film throughout its entire runtime, if never loosing her handle on the character, Stone’s performance is one of great strength.

The Quick and the Dead won’t land for every viewer.

Be it the locked-in framework of its Western setting or a script that, admittedly, doesn’t serve in any wholly surprising way.

Though with terrific performances across the board, punctuated by Sharon Stone next to the wall-to-wall flourishes by director Sam Raimi and his team, it is a film not just of power but lasting impact too.

Rating: 8.5/10

The Bride! (2026)

Considering the sheer cultural reach of Frankenstein as a property, even on name recognition alone, it is a taller task than one might assume, in bringing something so well established to the screen.

Countless adaptions, reinterpretations and methods of delivery.

Although with her newest film, The Bride! which released in theatres earlier this month, writer-director Maggie Gyllenhaal presents a truly distinctive take on Mary Shelley’s tale of myth and monsters.

If not entirely able to break away from general storytelling templates, a film, still, of noted conviction all the same.

Speaking from beyond the grave, famed horror author Mary Shelley (Jessie Buckley) laments the stories never told.

Having been trapped in a state of purgatory since her death for the better part of eighty years, her existence is a quiet cycle.

Though believing she has found a way, at last, to make her mark, her spirit reaches into 1930s Chicago.

Possessing mafia mole Ida (Buckley, in a dual role), when she is killed in an accident by way of Shelley’s influence, Ida is buried in a common grave and quickly forgotten.

Elsewhere, The Creature (Christian Bale) - now going by Frank -arrives in the city.

Having spent decades wandering the Earth alone, Frank is looking for someone to share his life with. And believing that ostracized scientist Cornelia Euphronius (Annette Bening) can help recreate the experiment of the late Victor Frankenstein which brought him into the world, he enlists her help.

Exhuming Ida’s corpse, the duo successfully reanimate her, if at a cost. She has seemingly no memory of her past life and has retained Shelly’s spirit which, further emboldened, is unafraid to take the wheel whenever she choses.

Yet soon becoming fugitives, Ida and Frank go on the run across Midwestern America while being doggedly pursued by detectives Wiles (Peter Sarsgaard) and Malloy (Penélope Cruz).

But as the noose tightens, Ida realizes, one way or another, that she must decide just who and what she wants to be.

On a base level, there is a great amount of zeal present in Gyllenhaal’s script, even within the general base.

And while one’s first instinct may be to contrast the film next to say, Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein, beyond The Creature, there isn’t much 1:1 here.

Del Toro’s effort, if excellently made on its own merits, although it did take some noted liberties with the source material, is very much a film made in the mold of Shelley’s novel, in both presentation and application.

The Bride! if at times imprecise, swings bigger.

Loosely adapting elements of Frankenstein1 while also pulling on the Boris Karloff-led films within its visual language and a narrative through-line, as a period piece, that recalls the Public Enemies era (specifically, unsurprisingly, Bonnie and Clyde).

At a glance, no doubt, it can strike as overcrowded and occasionally, there are moments that feel as though the film has stretched itself too thin, particularly within its characterization work.

Trying to see that every major character is given something to chew on (which is impressive, to be fair) but just not having enough time and space to do so effectively.

Similarly, the larger beats struggle in not playing their hand too early, with an overlay of interesting thematic nodes that, ultimately, land very much at surface level.

But at large, The Bride! is simply bursting with character and colour, everything, from Gyllenhaal’s direction to the specific production choices, all feeding into a film committed to a larger vision, right down to the smaller details.

The bombastic if still authentic-feeling costuming and the specificity of the monster makeup for the two leads. The overarching influence drawn, outside of Karloff and James Whale, to horror, B-movies, early noir and Pre-Code films of the ‘30s more generally.

Not in pursuit of hardened realism but instead, successfully, singular memorability by way of pastiche.

Of the main cast, Sarsgaard gets a few individual moments which he presents well but it is his back-and-forth with Cruz that shines brightest. Their bantering, enjoyable for the brief window it exists in, although it is Cruz that takes on the lion’s share of material between the two.

Malloy, constantly undervalued and underestimated as a woman in a male-dominated field but unafraid to take a stand for which Cruz makes her someone worth rooting for, despite her mostly opposing role in the narrative.

Elsewhere, Bening clocks in despite limited material and Jake Gyllenhaal has a brief role that he chews into well.

But it is Bale and specifically, Buckley that anchor the film front-to-back.

Bale’s on-record, career-wide proclivity for physical transformation is, on paper, a natural fit for The Creature but his performance leans more towards a visible if not grandiose subtly.

And if often tormented by the nature of his life, isolated and treated with disdain by virtually everyone he encounters, Frank has still retained a healthy measure of humanity. Despite his physical dominance, he at first is content to keep a low profile in straying from violence and sincere in his desire to be more than a well-regarded monster.

But equally so, he can be cruel and manipulative, with little regard for the consequences of his actions beyond immediate gratification. Utterly consumed by his own desires until it is too late to reverse course.

Yet Bale, alongside Gyllenhaal, keeps the character on a tight rope. Understood to a certain extent but never all that sympathetic. Playing off Frank’s chemistry with Ida to strength, if in seceding the floor to Buckley more often than not.

For all-in-all, the film is hers.

As Mary Shelley, though teetering on the author’s emotional edge, Buckley isn’t given much more than a few intercut set-ups in aesthetic black-and-white but it is her distinct take on both characters that truly shines.2

Ida, upon being brought back from death, is at first glad to engage in nothing but base hedonism, though slowly prodded by Shelley through sporadic possessions, she comes to regain her own sense of individualistic purpose, if struggling with resurfacing memories.

Her time with Frank, seeing her realize that she must carve out a path forward that is uniquely her own, wherever it leads.

Buckley, from her alternating vocal work, to the changing mannerisms highlighted through her physicality. It a performance, on both sides, in which she is in complete command.

With strong lead performances, great artistic vision and a writer-director in Maggie Gyllenhaal who cuts no corners, messy and overextended as it may be nor not hitting every high it reaches towards, there is a confidence to The Bride! that inhabits every frame.

From the opening credits to the close.

Rating: 7.9/10

Black Rabbit (2025)

Although his days are little more than chaos personified, restauranteur Jake Friedken (Jude Law) does his best to keep everything at the Black Rabbit running smoothly.

A frequent spot for New York City’s elite, the restaurant has been steadily creating a name for itself, in Brooklyn and beyond.

And working closely with chef Roxie (Amaka Okafor) and designer Estelle (Cleopatra Coleman), Jake, eager to expand his burgeoning empire, feels that nothing can stop him.

But when his troubled older brother Vince (Jason Bateman), a one time partner turned criminal rolls back into town, all those illusions quickly fall away.

Thousands of dollars in debt to mobster Mancuso (Troy Kotsur) and hounded relentlessly by Mancuso’s violent son Junior (Forrest Weber) and right-hand Babbit (Chris Coy), while Vince tries to keep his head down, it does him little good.

Realizing the only way he can escape is by leveraging every favour he can, he soon gets to work, including putting the squeeze on Jake.

Yet as the walls close in, from the mob to the police, the brothers must decide just how far they’re willing to go… before that choice is made for them.

Co-created by Zach Baylin and Kate Susman, who are credited with writing four of the show’s eight episodes, there is something to be said for Black Rabbit’s explicit approach, in being a one-and-done miniseries.

Not Netflix trying to artificially stretch the story into a potential franchise-to-be (only to burn it after three seasons) or the show runners operating on the assumption of having more room to play with, only to throw themselves off cliffhanger abyss at the eleventh hour.

It is, in totality, exactly what it sets out to be and nothing else besides. A slow burn with intention, that lends the entire operation a certain understanding.

Unfolding Vince and Jake’s past over multiple episodes, deliberately racketing up the tension over the final two hours or taking pains to show the compounding traumas that continue to haunt its two protagonists. From Jake’s inability to turn his brother away or how, six of one, half dozen of the other, they’re both equally terrible people in search of redemption they don’t deserve.

Some practical, some spiritual.

Shot on location, the New York City presented by cinematographers Igor Martinovic and Peter Konczal is one of dark hues, grime and an almost suffocating sense of dread. While in tandem, directed by a rotating ensemble, including two episodes each helmed by Bateman and his former Ozark co-star Laura Linney, there is an internal consistency present.

A unifying style that allows the show’s presentation to land as cohesive, from the larger narrative marks on down.

Otherwise, too often with Black Rabbit it feels as though something is missing.

Now, in fairness, the show is pretty transparent with its influences. Shades of The Bear crossed with a bog-standard, gritty crime-drama but there just isn’t enough meat on either bone (kitchen humour) to justify this pairing.

The overall storytelling, struggling to grasp at anything besides the familiar.

For that is usually the catch, after all.

Taking the established framework its primary set-up presents and doing something of note with it or, at the very least, moving its characters to their destination in a unique way, outside of well-trodden pathways.

Instead, the primary story is caught up in tropes once the wheels start spinning and most everything around it strikes as a perfunctory. Trying to weave in sub-plots around Roxie, Estelle and Sope Dirisu’s characters but having them not be, really, anything more than accelerants.

The one exception is everything connected to Abby Lee’s character, Anna and how the her story, small if key, does commentate on issues of violence against women and sexual assault, not just within the industry but more broadly. And knowing that Black Rabbit drew some of its story from a real-life restaurant in New York’s Greenwich Village that came to be defined by similar controversy, it is a thread that lands with more impact than the rest.

Elsewhere, the larger performances, it should be said, are solid.

Weber’s Junior only has one note and forced to play it too hard and too early, he devolves into little more than a bad J-Roc impression but as Mancuso, Troy Kotsur is an intimidating presence.

As Gen, Vince’s estranged daughter, Odessa Young has a good contrast with both Law and Bateman. As someone who has been at the receiving end of her father’s runs of addiction and parental disappointment too many times, apprehensive in letting him back in, she is determined to break the cycle.

Something Jake, notably, is unable to do. Law, unraveling his character in a believable way, while Bateman, gaunt, wired and relentless is on the razor’s edge from the very first moment his character appears.

Providing an energy that the story as is, lacks.

For that is the contradiction that defines Black Rabbit.

Propped up by its leads, with sharp enough technical chops but not doing anything particularly noteworthy with its storytelling either one-to-one or over its eight episodes at large.

Existing.

But not expanding within the space it seems so keen to occupy.

Rating: 5.6/10

Father of the Bride (Vampire Weekend) (2019)

Never once a group to bend to the pressure in a way many of their late 2000s/early 2010s pop-indie-rock contemporaries saw themselves tempted, Vampire Weekend have always moved at their own pace.

But more than their preceding efforts, it is their fourth album, 2019’s Father of the Bride, which saw them truly evolve into their potential.

Blending each of their sonic elements together while sharping their interior lyricism, each line, pushing into the next with the listener brought alone in close company.

Against the Dying of the Light (José González) (2026)

Now well into his career, with his fifth album, Against the Dying of the Light which released earlier this month, José González has further fine-tuned his most recognizable sound.

And sure, there isn’t anything of any serious note to be said for the project as is. More of the same regarding the well-established person-to-person, alt-folk presentation that he has made his calling card… but it lands regardless.

The delivery track-to-track is sharp, the lyricism over-under is compact and the resulting record, one of memorability.

Spider-Man: Brand New Day (2026)

Now five years since Spider-Man: No Way Home, it has been a long time coming for Peter Parker in the MCU.3

Though with Destin Daniel Cretton taking over for John Watts behind the camera and Tom Holland once more suiting up in the red-and-blues, the next chapter of the webhead’s story seems primed to more actively push him forward, particularly in comparison to most of the Home trilogy.

This, if actively pulling from one of the character’s more controversial eras on the page, just how the film manages to juggle everything from its own necessity to sky-high expectations will be no small task.

But with both new and familiar true believers stepping forward, if nothing else, the film is sure to have promise and spectacle in equal measure.

Brand New Day is set for release on July 31st.

Substack Spotlight

There are many wonderful writers, out there in the wild but specifically so, here on Substack.

In that spirit, here are a few articles I really enjoyed this past month, including some from valued members of the Off-Balance community.

Do feel free, if you haven’t already, to expand your horizons and check out what they have on offer.

8 “Oscar-Worthy” Performances Overlooked Because They Happened in Horror Films

Molly O'Blivion

8 "Oscar-Worthy" Performances Overlooked Because They Happened in Horror Films

Let’s get this out of the way: I am not a fan of the Academy…

Read more

2 months ago · 148 likes · 87 comments · Molly O'Blivion

While Ryan Coogler’s Sinners may have, ahem, staked an impressive claim at the Oscars earlier this month, as Molly outlines with great passion, historically, horror has always been a genre fighting a pronounced uphill battle.

Not just generally shut out by the Academy but looked upon with comparative distain.

It isn’t something that reveals an easy answer per se but with tremendous passion behind her words, Molly outlines eight performances from horror films gone by that continue to resonate. Be it the more subdued or the boldest swings.

Performers who brought their absolute best to every take, in a variety of different metrics, even if the wider acclaim didn’t necessarily follow.

But Molly, even if retroactively, delivers that spotlight. From revisiting old favourites or adding something new to the watchlist, there are always films worth celebrating.

Be sure to check out more of Molly’s work here.

How my movie shoot is going

Courtney Daniels

How my movie shoot is going

If you’re new to my posts, I’m currently making my next feature. Just as with my last film, It’s Not You, It’s LA (aka This Fucking Town), I’m shooting without a crew. I’ve been on a natural high since I started, in mid-February. Here’s my first post about it, in which I tell how I accidentally started making this movie…

Read more

a month ago · 41 likes · 39 comments · Courtney Daniels

Rare is the filmmaker that truly pulls back the curtain to share the nuances of their process and progress, the ups-and-downs, in real-time.

Though with this piece on her latest film, Courtney does just that.

From trouble-shooting issues with lighting on-the-fly, moving into active production without a finished script or the numerous challenges encountered when shooting on-location.

Be it exterior work in Beverly Hills and interiors in a shopping mall, to navigating driving sequences in a live parking garage.

No film, heck, no creative endeavour is free of the unexpected but the pure enthusiasm Courtney shows in the face of navigating these hurdles is undeniable and for any burgeoning filmmaker-to-be, no doubt, inspiring too.

Proof that the insurmountable is never quite.

You can find more of Courtney’s work here.

F1’s world feed has a belonging problem

,

FaceTime

F1’s world feed has a belonging problem

I grew up with the Las Vegas Strip as my backyard…

Read more

a month ago · 12 likes · 2 comments · Face Lubag

So caught up in the spectacle put forth by a tightly-curated presentation, often lost in the discussion over any sporting event of weight, such as an an F1 race, is the tangible impact on the people that must continue to live, exist, around it.

But with this absolutely terrific piece, Face returns to the conversation not to F1, a monolith but instead, the consumer themselves.

The people.

Tracing her own history, as a Las Vegas native who has seen the city’s distinct evolution over the past-decade plus, if forever retaining its Rat Pack stylings, into a pro sports hotbed.

And how the apparent necessity on the corporate-political level, in tandem with F1, not just in Las Vegas, can see so much of a city’s inherent character stripped away. Sterilized, for so-deemed mass consumption. Glamour and glitz, funnelling the unaware viewer under the production-driven tunnel. To see the picture alone, not the marks of genuine, human weathering on the frame.

Though as Face puts it, to widen the emotional map would see an expansion.

A reminder that it is not the skyline that makes a city what it is but rather, those that built it.

You can find more of Face’s work at .

Leave a comment

Buy Ryan A Beer

From the outside looking in, the theoretical benefits in profit alone would surely outweigh any lingering feelings of resentment.

Yet it bears remembering that in the case of DC and Marvel Comics, old habits die hard.

Now, while the kingpins of superhero comicdom may be far more cordial now than they were during say, their Silver Age heyday, with writers and artists both moving with increased frequency between outfits, for the most part, they are content to leave each other to their own devices.

By design to a certain extent, as the industry’s foundational operating mode continues to evolve by the day.

Be it brick and mortar shops still battling the online subscription model or the contradiction between a broader cultural footprint on the screen but a lack of general interest on the page.

But if the opportunity presents itself, take it.

Recently, DC has found great success reimagining their classic heroes under the Absolute imprint while Marvel’s reboot of their much-loved Ultimate line, to high praise, has shown that there will always be space for genuine creative expansion.

Yet in contrast, however cynical, there is something still to be said for brand synergy.

And to be fair, over the decades, the companies have set aside their historical back-and-forth to team up on numerous occasions.

From the brief collaborative effort that was the Amalgam imprint in the late 1990s, the Justice League/Avengers limited run in the early 2000s to a series of dual one-shots, the most recent of which, Deadpool/Batman-Batman/Deadpool in late 2025, proved the audience had yet to completely lose their spark.

To set aside any sort of continuity, universe destinations or the usual nitpicking over minute particulars. The opportunity, as presented, to bring together a host of talented creatives and simply let them loose in the imaginative sandbox, enough.

Although with the latest DC-Marvel release this past Wednesday, Superman/Spider-Man by its very nature, the book promotes a certain sense of reflection.

For one, with the double-bill of this summer’s theatre efforts looming, in Supergirl and Spider-Man: Brand New Day, eyes will no doubt be drawn back to the spinning rack as a result. Knowingly then, capitalizing on that interest, if loosely, would be the boardroom play.

But as well, now exactly fifty years since the very first DC-Marvel partnership in March of 1976, with Superman vs The Amazing Spider-Man: The Battle of the Century, it bears out as a perfect opportunity.

Once more reuniting the medium’s flagship heroes in a well executed if imperfect showcase.

On special assignment in Metropolis, photojournalist Peter Parker finds himself working with old friend, reporter Clark Kent, in investigating a break-in at a experimental laboratory

Though if quickly deducing that Parker’s longtime foe Otto Octavius/Dr. Octopus is responsible, as they leap into action, Spider-Man and Superman soon realize that Octavius is not operating alone.

Above Metropolis, Brainiac has partnered with the not-so-good doctor in a scheme that will see them bring the world to its knees.

That is, not if a certain duo of heroes have anything to say about it.

Written by Mark Waid with Jorge Jiménez on pencils, the main story clearly relishes in the fact that it exists at all.

Playing up a sharp banter between his heroes, Waid positions Clark’s more level demeanour as a natural springboard for Peter’s famously chatty approach to super-heroics, if highlighting too their inherent, unbreakable will.

No matter the cost, the matter the odds, both will rise to protect innocent lives.

Fortunately, it is a balance struck early.

The instinct may be there but Waid doesn’t drift too far into the approach that can often define Spider-Man’s humour in guest spots while still giving the character, if constantly on-his-toes, ample room to exist as the seasoned crimefighter he is.

This, if next to Superman.

Clark, composed in a way his counterpart is not. A certain maturity, keeping him at-ease and level, even in the face of tremendous adversity. The dialogue, if only slightly so, purposefully harkening back to a different time, where verbose punchiness was the standard.

Jiménez’s pencils spotlight too with Spider-Man’s wild, kinetic movement contrasting against Superman, deliberate and precise, especially in their action spots. This, if not once losing his established handle on maintaining a clarity-first approach.

Things never feel too cluttered, noted, when no doubt it could be easy to veer into hard, visual brashness.

Tomeu Morey’s colours provide the necessary pop in support. Metropolis, vibrant if not overwhelmed by the clashing red-and-blues with effective use of shadow and complementary colour in interior work.

Elsewhere, the seven back-up stories each bring their own flavour to the outing, if understanding, through some frustration, the expected act of heavy pre-promotion.

Each story was notably outlined with preview set-ups prior to release in addition to the working of the extensive variant cover angle that defines any major comic drop.

Not taking the wind out of all sails per se but further eliminating whatever vestiges remain of that long-forgotten feeling, even for a one-shot. In hastily trying to assemble a run off the gas station rack no but simply finding joy in what was, without any expectations.

Still, that said, it remains the task of the creatives themselves to deliver regardless and by-and-large, they do.

Written by Tom King, Lois & Mary Jane, puts a great spotlight on two characters that are always at their best when they’re given room to exist beyond just their traditionally prescribed roles as love interests (timely too, as within the main Marvel Universe, MJ, still bonded to the symbiote, continues to operate as Venom) while Jeff Lemire’s The Bridge lands with impact.

Showing just how the legacies of Ben Parker and Jonathan Kent continue to reverberate for the men they raised.

Gail Simone’s contribution however, Blind Date, is easily the most intriguing, considering.

The titular characters aren’t even involved here, with instead The Punisher and Power Girl taking the stage.

It is an off-beat, team-up effort that, if buoyed by Simone’s usual strengths, in dialogue and character work, draws on great contrast and enjoyably so. Reaffirming why relenting to the wave isn’t the worst thing, every now and then.

In follow-up, Spider-Man/Superman will release next month before, presumably, the titans will go their separate ways once more.

Though in sticking the landing either way, while Superman/Spider-Man isn’t free of dips, DC and Marvel’s return to the crossover game delivers.

Up, up and away.

Issue rating: 8.0/10

Leave a comment

Buy Ryan A Beer

This review will discuss the episode in full, including the ending.

Please consider this your spoiler warning.

Though as always, thanks for reading Off-Balance!

Ryan.

Subscribe now

It again bears acknowledging that following the mass cancellation of The Defenders apparatus at large, despite the persistence of resulting fan outcry, the odds of those established characters returning to the screen in any meaningful capacity seemed slim at best.

The (literal) red tape too daunting. The legal grandstanding over streaming and rights, too complex to navigate.

Even the idea that the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) proper would seriously consider integrating them into its larger tapestry, if not improbable, than unlikely, given the franchise’s historically distant focus on street-level heroics.

But indeed, from the brink, The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen battled back.

And while the first season of Daredevil’s revival/sequel series Daredevil: Born Again was not without its fair share of stumbles - be it a notoriously troubled production overall or missed creative swings - the blueprint was evident.

Though as the show returned on Tuesday, with its second season premiere, it was to see that confidence, hard-earned, put into further practice.

If as well, with an understood respect for a story just beginning to put down its pieces.

Now months into Wilson Fisk’s (Vincent D’Onofrio) stranglehold on New York City, his Anti-Vigilante Task Force (AVTF) goons run the streets.

Beating, kidnapping and murdering any who might dare to oppose them, all on the Mayor’s orders.

From the shadows however, if now wanted fugitives, Matt Murdock/Daredevil (Charlie Cox) and Karen Page (Deborah Ann Woll) have no intention of sitting by quietly.

Having consolidated a small fighting force, among them being an increasingly conflicted BB Urich (Genneya Walton), together, they aim to expose Fisk for his criminality as The Kingpin.

But when Daredevil disrupts a clandestine shipment of guns meant for Fisk’s city-state in Brooklyn, emerging in the aftermath is wisecracking political fixer Mr. Charles (Matthew Lillard).

Seemingly operating on the payroll of one Valentina Allegra de Fontaine herself, Mr. Charles promises a quick solution to Fisk’s troubles, if making it clear that his time in New York will not be brief.

Meanwhile, as the AVTF move like sharks after chum, Matt tries to do more than use his fists to fight the power, by flexing what he can of his legal acumen but finds it a tall order. Anyone who stands to oppose the Fisks, Wilson or Vanessa (Ayelet Zurer), they are actively putting their lives at risk.

Though right on cue, as Cherry (Clark Johnson) is accosted by the AVTF at his home, putting him in physical peril with heart trouble, it is only Daredevil’s timely intervention that saves him.

Yet soon overwhelmed, as Matt lies beaten and moments from being executed, he himself is saved by a most unlikely source. Although as the bodies fall around him, the projectiles responsible don’t leave much to the imagination.

Scrawled with a message of snarky thanks from Bullseye (Wilson Bethel), who has business of his own to settle with Fisk, it is only by way of his arch-rival does The Devil find himself able to live another day.

A debt he no doubt will not be eager to repay but considering, as the credits roll in wonder, may not have a choice.

Credited to the directing duo of Aaron Moorhead and Justin Benson, while being written by showrunner Dario Scardapane, this premiere episode doesn’t much move the needle but of course, that is by design.

Yet even in needing to take the requisite time to establish its footing, across the board, the pacing doesn’t drag too hard and the to-be-seen broader stakes are put up clearly (even Nikki M. James’ Kirsten, if for now separated from Murdock’s orbit, gets a story node connected to the larger plot).

The fight choreography too is crisp, in-character and violent, naturally but not overbearing either. Meanwhile, the choices made in depicting Daredevil’s powers continue to make full use of distorted sound, shifting aspect ratios and an alternating colour palette.

Harkening back to the original show, to some extent, if still doing something of individualistic note.

Ultimately though, all horns primed and expectations tempered, there isn’t much use in extrapolating too heavily or putting a healthy amount of stock in what amounts to a single episode.

The show’s marketing, having already revealed some more binding points.

Be it, with interest, the return of Krysten Ritter’s Jessica Jones to the fold (who gets a brief name drop here) or a no doubt tenuous alliance-to-be between Daredevil and Bullseye.

Per the released broadcast schedule, the second and third episodes will run back-to-back - with the Moon Knight speculation no doubt to run rampant until proven wrong - but further too, the groundwork is already solid.

Maybe it is Fisk, done up in his classic all-white or Daredevil, rocking a Shadowland-inspired look. Matt and Karen may have restarted their romantic relationship in earnest but if their past history is anything to go by it probably won’t be smooth sailing, despite how effortless Cox and Woll make that chemistry appear.

Similarly, Heather (Margarita Levieva) may be now somewhat conflicted over her place in Fisk’s empire but haunted by her encounter with Muse, hard choices may soon be coming her way.

And elsewhere, though Jack Duquesne (Tony Dalton) may be managing in AVTF custody, the easy money is on the Swordsman not being there for long, while all-in-all, despite the Mayor’s claims, it is clear there is trouble brewing in his apparent paradise.

With the fight ahead to get both complicated and bloody.

Better grab those billy clubs.

Episode rating: 8.0/10

Leave a comment

Buy Ryan A Beer

Emerging as it did, right the tail end of television’s most celebrated golden era, over its six seasons, Peaky Blinders achieved a sense of closure that has become increasingly rare in the franchise age.

But four years following the series finale and after a limited theatrical release earlier this month, so has arrived the Netflix-backed sequel film, Peaky Blinders: The Immortal Man.

Once more reuniting both series creator/writer Steven Knight and star Cillian Murphy in the much-anticipated next chapter featuring their Birmingham baron.

And while it goes without saying, although the film is deeply beholden to what preceded it, by its very nature, it also recognizes the need to push forward.

Succeeding in its biggest swings, The Immortal Man delivers… if not being totally immune from missteps in pursuit of those sky-high expectations either.

Come 1940, the Second World War has reached Birmingham, with Nazi bombing raids having left the city on the brink.

Though while Member of Parliament Ada Shelby (Sophie Rundle) does her best to protect the people in her care, in opposition is her own nephew, Duke Shelby (Barry Keoghan).

Having assumed control of the Peaky Blinders, under Duke’s leadership, the gang has devolved back to their untamed roots. Once respected, now deeply feared. Coming to align with English Nazi agent Beckett (Tim Roth) and promised a substantial payout, Duke soon finds himself involved in a plot that could upend all of England, turning the tides of war in Germany’s favour.

Meanwhile, still finding peace elusive is one Tommy Shelby (Cillian Murphy).

Having the spent the intervening years sequestered away in the ruins of his once-proud estate, Tommy spends his days continually haunted by unrelenting demons. But later confronted by Ada and Duke’s maternal aunt Kaulo (Rebecca Ferguson), he realizes he can no longer hide from his past.

Yet as he returns to Birmingham, father and son quickly find themselves on a collision course. Both, chasing Gypsy prophecy and a future secured, no matter the cost.

Ultimately though, there is little use hiding from the obvious.

As a direct sequel outing to the series, while the film can kinda-sorta stand alone on its own merits - providing just enough context and backstory to kickstart the proceedings as needed - by design, it very much exists as a project made with the already entrenched Peaky Blinders viewer in mind.

The continuation of Tommy’s arc in his personal fight against fascism. Seeing the result of Duke’s unsteady accession to the throne, as first presented in the closing stanza of the sixth season or the general smattering of deep cut references that embrace the much-acclaimed history they are building upon.

Technically, this is something reflected.

Director Tom Harper (who previously directed three episodes of the series), works well with cinematographer George Steel in capturing the visual language previously established.

Be it Birmingham’s industrial streets, here, bombed out to oblivion, the Garrison clouded in smoke or majestic wide shots of a four-wheeled caravan, rolling through the countryside.

In accompaniment, interviewed, Knight has spoken to the physical nature of the production, too. From shooting on location, with a commitment to practical set work, sound design, stunts and 1:1 fight choreography.

Similarly, scored by Antony Genn and Martin Slattery, the film is overlaid with notes of both mystery and unrelenting tension. The numerous needle drops, on-brand, click lyrically and thematically too, if landing, maybe just a touch presumptuous in their delivery (as small a note as it may seem).

Not quite allowing any scene, be it driven by emotion or action, to breathe as singularly as they could. Each, it was seemingly decided, needing to be paired with a proper backing track, often superseding the baseline that is present by default, even in consideration of the as-expected Nick Cave inclusion.

All bladed caps tucked in equally though, it is, unsurprisingly, Knight’s script that will draw the most attention.

Now, it bears acknowledging that no creative journey is unburdened by the pressures of the road that would have preceded it. Although in promotional spots, to his credit, Knight has freely admitted to this.

Discussing how the roadmap for the series shifted as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic (the shuttering of a then-planned seventh season, for one) or how, even with the absence of some major players in The Immortal Man, for a variety of reasons, the plan was always to continue the Shelby story with a feature.

Knowing this then, maybe it is to see his thinking, from page-to-screen, better understood.

The pacing, if compact, still deliberate. Three acts, yes if clearly a series of television arcs, parsed down. A season-wide narrative tightened to series of days, at most. Not forcing himself to adapt wholesale to a new medium necessarily (as someone with twenty-plus years writing films) but challenged somewhat, in readjusting to a more economical approach.

The relatively smaller hitches, unable to be passed by, in relative form: the specificity of certain dialogue set-ups, scene-to-scene transitional work, broader characterizations, if accounting for growth and regression both.

Very well-presented, if not utterly spotless.

Though on the performance side, there are no slouches, only the reality of great work confined to a tight two hours.

Rundle doesn’t have a wealth of material to draw on but having always had a keen handle on Ada’s character, once more, she is up to the task, a strong counter to her brother’s often all-consuming cynicism.

Another returnee, Packy Lee is again full of spirit as Johnny Dogs, the only true counsel and measure of friendship Tommy will allow. Lee and Murphy have a great back-and-forth here, Johnny, perhaps more forceful than he ever has been previously, recognizing the stakes of Tommy’s return to the streets he once commanded.

As Kaulo, Ferguson fits seamlessly into the larger world, noted in her impact if slight in presence while Roth, in contrast, is believable enough, if bound to his villain archetype.

Beckett’s motives are clear enough, somewhat separated from bog standard antagonist convention, although this is mostly left to exposition-laded dialogue. Counting more on the bigger picture rather than his specific place in it.

Keoghan, however, makes his mark.

It tracks, considering.

Assuming the role of Duke from Conrad Khan (who debuted the character, as a teenager, in the final episodes of the series), Keoghan’s portrayal is that of a young man who, try as he might, can’t hide the turmoil he wears on tailored sleeves.

Feeling hoisted with expectations he cannot live up to if conflicted, equally so, in trying to determine just what his relationship to his father is and potentially, could be.

It was, knowingly, the one major node not totally resolved at the close of the series and so its move to the forefront this time around makes sense.

His, if a character heavy with contradictions, one that Keoghan is sure to make, if understandable, never a person the audience can completely sympathize with either. His chemistry with Murphy coming easy, if in notice of Keoghan’s effort, purposefully, to channel his co-star’s energy. Duke, being volatile and cursed, blanketed in a different if complementary darkness to the one that envelopes his father.

Murphy, to this, is excellent. Naturally. Slipping back into his most visible role with an almost relaxed ease, Tommy, damaged and battered.

Weary.

Dictated by his trauma in a way he has accepted that is, by his own choice, inescapable but seeing any opportunity to save his son and country both from a compounding fate.

And sure, maybe one could view this as a soft backpedaling on the final hours of Peaky Blinders but it also feels, in opposition, earned and organic. The understanding that, following his time in France, peace ceased to be a linear path followed for Tommy Shelby and accepting one moment of clarity at face value was never going to be, totally, enough.

Speaking to Rolling Stone in 2024, Murphy said his return to the role would need to be “justified” to count his reprisal among any sequel projects and his embodiment here is proof enough.

As he always has been, with nothing but complete control over Tommy’s cool, hardened exterior as it battles inner chaos.

The Immortal Man won’t, can’t, fully satisfy every fan of the series.

Be it specifically in notice of its largest, no doubt to be divisive storytelling moves nor the inability to count itself as a singular epilogue, with a yet-to-be-named sequel series already confirmed to be in development.

And although not every element of its presentation is executed flawlessly or exists free of critique, it is a title that lives up to the name it carries.

Laying the groundwork for an expected future if with reverence for what brought it to be in the first place.

However long winter may loom.

Rating: 8.4/10

Leave a comment

Buy Ryan a Beer

Over its initial twelve years on air, while Outlander has never made any apologies for embracing the full nature of its genre-bending premise, as the show debuts its eighth and as-announced final season on March 6th just how it will end remains of a topic of intense community debate.

For although author Diana Gabaldon has been actively involved with the adaption from the very beginning, her tenth and expected-to-be series-closing novel remains unpublished. The ball then, as a result, being firmly in the court of longtime showrunnner Matthew B. Roberts and his team as they prepare to conclude the on-screen story.

But after the seventh season played more openly with the time-travel nodes at the heart of the series, in anticipation of the end, so arrived the first season of Outlander: Blood of My Blood in mid-2025.

A prequel, set roughly thirty years prior to the start of Outlander’s first season while shifting the focus to new and a handful of familiar characters both.

Unable to stand fully on its own, given the inevitable comparisons to its sibling show nor a totally complete effort in its own right considering but at the very least, an effective proving ground.

For as the whole enterprise stands with one foot out the door, in preparation of the forthcoming Spin Off Era, it will be with Blood of My Blood at the forefront.

This, even if it can’t quite hit its intended highs as strongly as it would like.

Although he remains haunted by his time in the service, upon returning home to London, Great War veteran Henry Beauchamp (Jeremy Irvine) does his best to look towards the future.

Leaving their young daughter Claire in the care his brother, Henry and wife Julia (Hermione Corfield) soon holiday to the Scottish Highlands, looking to rekindle romance and possibility in equal measure.

But after stumbling upon the mysterious Craigh na Dun standing stones outside Inverness, they find themselves thrown across both time and space.

Separately awakening in 1714, Henry is soon brought into the fold of Clan Grant as their newest bladier (treasurer) while Julia finds herself kidnapped and sold into the service of the sadistic Simon Fraser, Lord Lovat (Tony Curran).

Leveraging his new status, Henry searches desperately for his wife not knowing she has been pressed into anonymity as a housemaid. And although Lovat’s shadow looms large over the estate in the face of any escape attempt, his bastard son, Brian (Jamie Roy) does his best to protect Julia however he can.

Elsewhere, upon the death of their laird (lord), each member of Clan MacKenzie recognizes the power struggle that will soon follow.

Though while sons Colum (Séamus McLean Ross) and Dougal (Sam Retford) vie between each other for the upper hand, eldest Ellen (Harriet Slater) is determined to stake her own claim.

Refusing to become a pawn between her brothers, while social custom prevents her from becoming laird herself, she works to position herself in favour. But after meeting Brian, despite the risks and rising tensions between the Clans, he and Ellen find they have fallen in love at first sight.

And as each party grapples for leverage, whatever their cause, little do they know that the repercussions of their actions will be felt for decades, centuries, to come.

Within an Outlander specific vacuum, there is not much of Blood of My Blood that truly surprises, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Time travel, forbidden romance, the general historical fiction framework, everything is present and accounted for.

Book pursuits will no doubt quibble with the finer points of course, although there is something to be said for the general universe expansion regardless and clearly, with Gabaldon’s direct say to a certain extent (she is the sole credited writer for the ninth episode and a co-writer on the tenth).

Portions of Brian and Ellen’s relationship has been touched on previously in the novels yes (and again, so it was briefly, in Outlander’s seventh season) but virtually everything regarding Henry and Julia, in contrast, is brand new material, exclusive to the screen.

So by-and-large, while the show mostly plays the hits, in terms of its thematic and storytelling familiarity, there is something here, nestled within that choice. The confidence to move fully beyond the source material while still maintaining both that established spirit and the adaption’s own.

Beyond that, technically and within its on-the-ground production elements, unsurprisingly, Blood of My Blood is consistently strong throughout.

The details, delivered on as is expected.

The period-focused costuming and physical set work, all points in time acknowledged (with the Belgian front being of note). Not needing to mask Scotland for Colonial America as later-seasons of Outlander have done but instead, being able to take full advantage of shooting on-location, to the flourishes in the dialogue (even if the Gaelic spoken, light and very much superfluous for the benefit of the larger audience, still adds character to the world as presented).

Building off these choices however are the performances, which are the show’s most engaging selling point.

And it is no small feat, it must be said.

The leads specifically, asked to stand side-by-side with some of television’s most applauded work not just in the historical fiction space over the past decade but within its presentation of romance, as well.

Yet each of Irvine, Corfield, Roy and Slater are up to the task, easily and effectively imbuing their characters to different degrees.

Irvine, maintaining Henry’s all-but-unshakable love for his wife, despite being forced to fall back on his wartime experience to survive in the 18th century, later grappling the compounding trauma that brings.

A humanity he and the writing team see that the character doesn’t lose, when it would be easy to do so.

Similarly, Slater gives Ellen a fantastic individualism, her portrayal, bursting with energy. Standing defiant in the face of both familial and societal pressure, unwilling to bend, more so when she finds her true love in Brian and knows she must listen to her heart, no matter the roadblocks placed in her way.

Next to her, comparatively, Roy has a much heavier responsibility.

Following both the footsteps of Sam Heughan’s role of Brian’s son Jamie in Outlander and though to a far lesser extent, if in respect, Andrew Whipp as well (Whipp, having played an older Brian sporadically in spot work since Outlander’s first season).

But not only does Roy make the character stand apart on his own merits - Brian’s personal kindness and love for Ellen raging against the daily, unrelenting abuse he is subjected to by his father - but his challenging of Heughan, in of itself, is worthy of praise.

The subtle notions in his physicality and mannerisms, his delivery, right down to the enunciation of certain words and phrases.

It all creates a throughline to the one-day laird of Lallybroch in a way that is startling in its believability. A similar commitment, equally found in Corfield’s portrayal as Julia.

More measured and not as first-jump impulsive as her daughter will come to be but nevertheless, Julia, being a woman who marches to her own accord.

Genuine in her desire to help others however she can if in the understood service of her own goal, to reunite with Henry and return home. Corfield’s performance, presenting shades of Caitríona Balfe with an impressive precision yes but not to the point of pulling away from what she, Corfield, brings on her own either.

From the performers, to the writers, to the casting directors. The assignment wasn’t just understood, it was elevated. Nowhere near a guarantee gong in but levelling out as a high-end product across the board.

Both within their one-on-one, romantic dynamics and as well, each other (Brian and Julia’s friendship or that, on the same thread, which develops between Julia and Ellen).

The supporting cast does well too, if with far less to work with.

Lord Lovat may be nothing more than a despicable one-note rapist but Curran commits, while Sara Vickers as Brian’s mother Davina has a small but impactful arc that unfurls with intent over the season’s course.

Maybe it is the decision to fill in backstory gaps for secondary but key characters within series lore, from Ned Gowan (Conor MacNeill), Murtagh (Rory Alexander), Jocasta (Sadhbh Malin) or the brothers MacKenzie.

Furthermore, Terence Rae chews up what he can as Arch Bug, even as a younger man, Rae proving that the character was nothing but unrelenting evil, slotting nicely on the wall of Outlander’s numerous antagonists.

Where Blood of My Blood stumbles most prominently however, no matter how hard it tries, is in capturing a feeling of true necessity.

That isn’t to say it comes across as being totally inconsequential, not at all but with a second season renewal already in the bag before the first even premiered, it is clear creating a singular product wasn’t and didn’t necessarily need to be the goal here.

Uneven pacing, struggling to properly invest in what is, essentially, four protagonists with individual and shared stories next to scattered spotlights. An eventually found rhythm promptly brought to a halt by way of a finale cliffhanger so purposefully egregious, the only balm is knowing resolution is already in the cards.

All prequels, by their very nature, can struggle with this but while the best manage to land on the line between telling their own story while still informing-enriching what comes next, Blood of My Blood doesn’t reach that aspired level.

A strict companion piece more than anything else, explicitly designed for the longtime Outlander viewer (less so, the readers) with little in the way of foundational world-building or exploratory work. If one has come this far already, do not misunderstand, absolutely, there is a great deal that will stand out but not in the way, as a potential starting point, its existence may suggest to those unfamiliar.

It is expected the viewer knows the score already, from the fates of virtually all the major and supporting characters to the operating specifics of the narrative and the world en masse.

Again, none of these things make Blood of My Blood a lower shelf item per se, it just means, on both paper and execution, it must work even harder to be more than its parts, ultimately stumbling too often in that specific pursuit.

Yet it is something of a sliding scale.

Because the production work is deliberate, the performances, especially that of the four leads, are simply excellent and there is promise, still, to be found in seeing just how these particular love stories will come to conclude.

Solid, for sure.

But exactly that.

And with little room granted for the piper to play an even stronger tune.

Rating: 7.0/10

Buy Ryan A Beer

Leave a comment

In Off-Balance custom, here is a snapshot of what I watched, listened to, read and (mostly) enjoyed over the past month (that is, what I haven’t covered previously).

Though in other, exciting news, my friend is currently crowdfunding for her in-production short film, SWATHE.

Lauren has been a big supporter of both my work here at Off-Balance and an on-the-ground member of the Film Stack community at large. To return the favour as she gears up for her directorial debut? It means a great deal.

If this is something that speaks to you too, then to be sure to check out the prompt below where the project, including the script, can be read about in more detail.

Lauren and the team are pouring their hearts into SWATHE and I have no doubt the final result will reflect that passion.

As always, thanks for reading!

Until next time,

Ryan.

SWATHE - A Short Film

Subscribe now

Movies

• The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz (1974)

• The Time Machine (2002)

• Materialists (2025)

• The Smashing Machine (2025)

• Hamnet (2025)

TV

• Lessons in Chemistry (2023)

• Black Mirror: Season 7 (2025)

Music

• Black Pumas (Black Pumas) (2019)

• I Swam Here (John Craigie) (2026)

What’s Next?

• The Devil Wears Prada 2 (2026)

• Untitled John Wick Game (TBA)

Substack Spotlight

#98 - One Hundred and One Dalmatians (1961)

• ,

Oh the Places You’ll Go! (If you just keep going!)

• ,

Creating an empathetic space within your writing.

• ,

A History of Violence: The NBA’s Spectacle from Bad Boys to Modern Brawls

• ,

The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz (1974)

Having worked every corner of his post-war Montréal neighbourhood, the ambitious Duddy Kravtiz (Richard Dreyfuss) longs for more.

Taking a summer job up province at a resort town in the Laurentians, Duddy finds himself struck by the promise shown by a nearby lake. Becoming determined to purchase and develop the surrounding land, he boosts to his father, Max (Jack Warden) that it will be their family’s ticket out of poverty.

So then convincing his girlfriend, the charming but no nonsense Yvette (Micheline Lanctôt) to assist in his pursuit, Duddy soon embarks on a series of money-making hustles to raise the necessary funds.

From running pinball machines across the border with the easily-influenced Virgil (Randy Quaid) or finding himself somewhat reluctantly involved with local gangster, Jerry “The Boy Wonder” Dingleman (Henry Ramer).

And although he is warned more than once, Duddy’s insistence quickly comes at a cost. Forcing him to consider just how far he is willing to go, in securing the status he so desperately craves.

An adaption of Mordecai Richler’s same-named 1959 novel, what is perhaps most apparent about the film, right from the opening title card, is its front-facing approach. Working from a Richler-penned script under the direction of Ted Kotcheff, Duddy Kravtiz is deliberate and purposeful in the unspooling of its narrative.

It is a film that, given two hours to work with, is sure to utilize every minute, not stuttering in its pacing but making full use of it.

Taking care to establish both its characters and the narrative stakes that surround them, from one scene to the next as Duddy steadily makes his way up the social ladder, from modest beginnings to wannabe city-slicker.

It does slip.

A feeling of water-treading emerging around the halfway mark, as the narrative shifts regarding Duddy’s partnerships. Squeezing whatever he can out of blacklisted filmmaker Friar (Denholm Elliott) to his eventual involvement with Virgil and Dingleman, in advance of the third act.

Yet even so, the few subplots that are there feed into the primary story in an organic, genuine way.

Duddy’s complicated relationships with his father, uncle (Joseph Wiseman) and brother (Alan Rosenthal) thrice or Yvette’s growing personal strife, regarding Duddy’s actions. It all informs the film’s chosen storytelling and thematic intention.

Not drawing focus away but smartly enriching what is already present.

To this, the performances are uniform.

Lanctôt, showing lust turning over into love and from love, eventual resentment. By design, the narrative doesn’t much give Yvette a lion’s share of material but Lanctôt draws out an impressive interiority regardless. Making the viewer understand why she believes in Duddy so strongly but not at the cost of her own individualism either. Quaid’s character exists in a similar yet opposing space, Virgil wanting deeply to impress Duddy despite his hero initially viewing the pinball-entrepreneur-to-be as little more than opportunity personified.

Quaid, presenting an honest-to-a-fault naiveté that contrasts well.

In comparatively smaller doses, Warden, Wiseman, Elliot and Ramer each have presence, if not shying away from being windows of reflection either. This, of what Duddy, who means something different to each could be, should he choose to either accept his limitations or stay the course.

Though at the centre of the film, all the way around, is Dreyfuss.

His portrayal, one that is unrelenting from the very first moment he appears on screen to the film’s close.

Joyous, smart-mouthed and utterly, throughly unstoppable. Duddy, refusing to accept anything but success as he drags a dream of prosperity into something real. Dreyfuss, physically dominating most scenes, despite his slighter frame, through raw energy alone.

Totally unwilling and unable to give up any ground, on more than one front, his is a character that must dictate the film from start-to-finish and it is a task embraced.

Balancing on the line between asking the viewer to understand just what it is Duddy is reaching for if not necessarily respecting the actions that get him there.

Redemption, not something he is looking for but ultimately, realizing it has fallen too far out of his reach.

In the decades since its release, Duddy Kravtiz has been championed as a Canadian film of record, given the larger supports that maintain it (a Canadian director and writer, filmed on location, etc).

The functional nature of that praise isn’t seamless but it is, with hindsight, an interesting exercise to consider, with the basis of the source material in hand.

Like his protagonist, Richler was an Anglophone-Jewish Montréaler who came of age in the late 1940s/early 1950s, right on the precipice of the Quiet Revolution. Later, throughout the 1970s and into the 1990s, visibly contending with both the Quebec sovereignty movement and as well, anti-Semitism from various corners of the province’s political apparatus.

The specific, contrasting French-Canadian experience then, in that respect, is not something explicitly touched on. But the fact alone that the film (in this case) inherently illuminates a complex and contentious period of Canadian history speaks to something of value.

Something not easily answered if because an easy answer would be disservice.

More so now, in remembering, once more, that no piece of art nor those that bring it to life stand still in perpetuity. Be it Dreyfuss, at a Jaws anniversary screening in 2024, launching into an off-topic tirade widely commended for being racist, misogynistic and transphobic in nature (this, following previous accusations of sexual harassment).

Or perhaps it is Quaid, his decades of well-publicized legal troubles, seeing him reach the utter bottom of the barrel in endorsing the current U.S administration.

This knowledge then, does it limit the respect Duddy Kravtiz garners on a storytelling-performance level? For some, it undoubtedly will and for others, it will continue to be another example in not holding artistic expression above reproach,

To indeed be a project of strength, if not excused on those merits alone. For nothing, after all, can live in a vacuum.

Especially ambition.

Rating: 8.3/10

The Time Machine (2002)

When his fiancé Emma (Sienna Guillory) is killed in a mugging, scientist Alexander Hartdegen (Guy Pearce) becomes determined to save her life.

Spending years in seclusion, he eventually builds a functioning time machine but upon returning to 1899, soon realizes that Emma’s death, no matter what he does, is inescapable.

Travelling further and further into the future, believing he can find a solution, after inadvertently sending himself 800,000 years forward in time, Alexander is trapped, with no way to retrieve his machine.

Stuck in a nature-reclaimed version of New York City that has reverted to a hunter-gather state, Alexander quickly befriends the local Eloi people, specifically Mara (Samantha Mumba) and her brother, Kalen (Omero Mumba).

But when the Eloi are confronted by their oppressors, the Morlocks, Alexander finds himself at the centre of an uprising. Searching for a way to both rescue Mara from captivity and hopefully, return home.

In theory, The Time Machine holds a great deal of prestige in hand.

If a much-looser take on H.G Wells’ 1895 science-fiction novel, it boosts a sense of foreknowledge that neither the novel or the celebrated 1960, Rod Taylor-led film adaptation could speak too. Directed by Simon Wells, the author’s great-grandson, with the backing of modern VFX and ideally, an appropriately grand sense of scope

Instead, anything of note is in short supply.

That isn’t to say that the film is utterly indefensible but rather, unable to do anything of true value with the tools at its disposal. Delivering a passable if noticeably mediocre experience.

To this, the special effects, the clear selling point of The Time Machine even existing in the first place, see themselves washed away. The 1960 film, with its use of miniatures and stop-motion is undeniably quaint but there is an active, engaging artistic effort. Lost behind an over-reliance on turn-of-the-century CGI that just can’t hold its weight, any smaller touches of world-building or character in the 2002 film are lacking in comparison.

Even the deviations from the novel, which, in a vacuum, are not bad ideas per se, feel half-hearted and undercooked.

John Logan’s script and Wells’ direction, more concerned with crossing items off the checklist than committing to their expansions in any meaningful way. Rushing through the entire first act in advance of Alexander’s arrival in the far-future, neglecting the fact that his adventures prior to that point greatly inform the character’s arc and the narrative’s overall development.

His evolution then, from timid, stereotypical scientist to decisive man of revolution doesn’t feel earned nor does his modicum of personal growth in the third act.

To this, whatever emotion Pearce does present feels static and script-specific. He and Mara do have an engaging enough back-and-forth (for which Mumba deserves credit) but the narrative doesn’t support it beyond the predictable basics. Similarly, Jeremy Irons appears as a film exclusive antagonist but even his usual gravitas feels misplaced.

In the years since, both Wells and Pearce have, if clear not to disown it, expressed their frustrations with the film as is. And perhaps there is something to be said for adapting the original novel in any serious, page-to-screen way, a challenging ask, well over a century later.

The world that H.G Wells imagined is one that still can be revisited yes but heavy with a more allegorical bent, it relies on a particular understanding on behalf of the reader. Understanding that both the genre at large and time travel fiction specifically, though forever indebted, have moved well beyond the parameters first established in the novel. Adhering so tightly, as a result, not necessarily being sustainable for an more expansive adaption.

But six of one, half dozen of the other, it doesn’t excuse what The Time Machine is lacking, either.

A film that is.

And nothing else besides.

Rating: 5.2/10

Materialists (2025)

Working exclusively with New York City’s elite, former actress-turned-matchmaker Lucy (Dakota Johnson) has become a scene superstar, despite growing cynicism regarding the nature of her work.

Yet after meeting Harry (Pedro Pascal), a wealthy finance trader at a client’s wedding, they soon begin dating. Lucy makes no secret of any prospective partners needing to check various boxes, especially when it comes to base materialism - money, looks and power - and sees Harry as an ideal fit.

Though when she reconnects with her ex-boyfriend John (Chris Evans) a genuine but struggling theatre actor, Lucy slowly realizes that compatibility matters too.

While the at-a-glance reading of Materialists may position it as little more than an inoffensive popcorn outing, instead, the film does present itself with a good deal of expectation.

The follow-up effort from writer-director Celine Strong, following her 2023 debut Past Lives, the instinct here may be to see her go for a similar swing.

Not expanding too far, if in an effort to keep things within her established wheelhouse but not too conforming too closely to that framework either.

Technically, if simple, it is sharp.

Filmed entirely on-location (save for its framing bookends) and shot on 35mm film by cinematographer Shabier Kirchner, even down to the smaller nuances in the costuming, they all work, with interest, to put the viewer in a particular time-and-place.

The high-end restaurants where Harry and Lucy’s relationship first blossoms, the more subdued feel of residential Brooklyn or John’s cramped, roommate-riddled apartment. Each feels distinct yes but rather than just being set dressing, there to further enrich the thematic-character nodes already in play.

Johnson, as the film’s primary star, gets the most to work with in this respect. Lucy forced to confront not just work-developed bias but past trauma too, from relationships to her formative years. Honest, though in the sense that while her arc is clear, the character doesn’t come across as widely evolved either. Her growth, not immediate or believably permanent. Johnson, selling it without making Lucy land as something who is totally unlikable.

To this, while Johnson and Pascal may not have firecracker chemistry - to which, to be fair, the film doesn’t shy away from - they do have a solid enough back-and-forth. Pascal, coming across as smooth and well-defined if not performative in his character’s romantic pursuits.

Evans is more traditional, within the film’s framework, as the ex-boyfriend who may not have it all but is honest about what he does posses. There isn’t much for him to chew on but as John, Evans strikes a fun contrast to Harry (and more broadly, as when he chooses to do so, his well-established action film persona) but there does seem to be something of a disconnect.

As from the moment the audience meets him, John already lands as someone self-actualized and at peace. With no arc or person-to-person conflict to truly speak towards, it is simply a holding pattern of waiting for everyone else, in this case, Lucy, to catch up.

For ultimately, this is the biggest question that surrounds the film, from the pacing to the way the script is structured.

Not a complete 1990s-style rom-com, as the premise and marketing might suggest, nor an emotionally taxing heartbreaker as Past Lives was either.

It tracks, to a point, this is true.

Strong, clearly not wanting to run things back wholesale but also caught, by way of that purpose, with a film that can’t quite handle everything she wishes it to either. Heavier pillars of say, modern womanhood, sexual violence or the cost of present moment capitalism very much worthy of their place though not given the space to develop beyond the broadest of strokes, considering the will-they/won’t-they crux of the whole operation.

It doesn’t leave Materialists absent any punch, to be fair, though it does strike as a touch indecisive.

Having so much to say but struggling to simply get it all out.

Rating: 6.9/10

The Smashing Machine (2025)

Familiarity alone can only carry one so far.

The dissolving of their decade-long filmmaking partnership may have been cause for concern by some but as the Safdie brothers, Benny and Josh, chose to move forward on their own?

Soon behind them was earned curiosity.

And while Benny’s solo effort, The Smashing Machine does carry itself with confidence, all chips down, it isn’t much more than what its back-of-the-box set-up suggests.

After spending years working his way up the ladder, by 1997, fighter Mark Kerr (Dwayne Johnson) has established himself as one of the brightest lights on the MMA circuit.

Primarily competing in Japan, apart of the Pride Fighting Championships, next to his trainer Bas Rutten (himself) and cornerman-turned-competitor Mark Coleman (Ryan Bader), Kerr battles for every inch in the octagon.

But as both he and his girlfriend Dawn (Emily Blunt) struggle through alternating periods of addiction and sobriety, the cost of that drive to succeed becomes increasingly apparent.

Broadly, although it can appear low-energy to so eagerly and so directly compare the individual Safdie films, the similarities, once noted, seem almost unescapable.

Josh, with 2025 release Marty Supreme worked to package a semi-fictional sports biography with a sheen of crime-drama if to middling and poorly delivered results.

Benny, meanwhile, who directed, wrote and edited The Smashing Machine goes far more traditional with his sports biography - which, funnily enough, released just a few months earlier, in October of 2025 - but in comparison, fair or not, it feels, if not more complete a project necessarily, then front-facing.

Less of a thinly-veiled social commentary totally obsessed with its own sense of self-importance and instead, content to focus on something smaller.

One man’s journey of fame and frustration in the classical style.

Everything being equal however, although it sidesteps virtually all of the expositional, rags-to-riches notes that usually frame films of similar standing, what is there for The Smashing Machine is just far too procedural. Too predictable.

And sure, Safdie makes clear his approach. That of an easily digestible, structurally-sound pleaser with technically strong fundamentals.

That in itself, considering the gruelling nature of the filmmaking process at large, worth acknowledging.

But there simply isn’t enough meat on the bone.

Particularly so when the beats shown can be anticipated then crossed off the list well before their arrival. Mark Kerr’s on-screen story, caught in formula it recognizes but doesn’t try to deviate from. The importance of his continued impact on the sport, seemingly grandiose but only truly highlighted in the closing title cards. A series of missed opportunities.

In the spotlight though, either way, is the work of the cast.

On the supporting side, Safdie continues the family tradition of casting non-actors or non-traditional performers in major roles in pursuit of a refurbished Neo-realism.

Notably however, it isn’t quite as drop-and-place when compared to those prior efforts.

Playing himself may seem as nothing more than a gimmick for Bas Rutten but considering his twenty-odd years of acting experience following his MMA career, he is solid in a relatively smaller role. Genuinely wishing the best for Mark but coming to realize that he alone cannot help steer the course away from the fighter’s many demons.

Similarly, real-life MMA fighter Ryan Bader, if throughly unremarkable as Coleman doesn’t come across as too overmatched. This, considering his more active involvement in the film’s narrative crux.

As co-lead meanwhile, Emily Blunt gives a commanding performance, as the film’s standout despite, to disappointment, neither Safdie’s script nor direction being quite sure how to best utilize the character outside of the immediate orbit.

Blunt, brute-forcing interiority for which the page clearly didn’t supply, Dawn, someone who loves as deeply as she battles turmoil through emotional abuse and her own escalating addictions. Relying less on usual romantic chemistry with Johnson, instead, their dynamic is one of back-and—forth tension. Each, with increasingly less subtly as they scrape for a painful upper hand.

Her portrayal, not just believable as someone caught between a series of hard decisions but honest too.

Then, there is Johnson.

And it must be said how much The Smashing Machine’s promotional gauntlet, unsurprisingly, hyped up his involvement here. Indeed, a “serious” turn for a performer who has spent virtually his entire acting career building a brand focused tested to the gills.

Yet watching Johnson in real-time the past few years has seen that image come under repeated fire, tequila hawk after tequila hawk.

A clear, unmistakable result of his reach and ego thinking themselves untouchable even as other wrestlers-turned-actors well and fully leapfrogged him on the creative ladder (from John Cena to Dave Bautista).

Maybe it was his studio strong-arming turned universe collapsing effort in Black Adam. Maybe it was the string of repeated box office misses showing he was no longer the hard-locked draw he was during his peak, in the early 2010s.

Or maybe it was the reporting of his on-set behaviour, where he thought himself above both call times and by his own admission, using provided facilities, leaving those on-set to deal with his urine-filled water bottles.1

The result then, being a quiet return to his wrestling roots, Vin Diesel’s dinner table and an effort to stabilize his image by flexing a different set of muscles.

And no doubt, while one could argue that whatever Johnson attempted in the last season of Ballers was a shot at drama, The Smashing Machine sees him more fully embrace that labelling.

Physically, there is no question he fits the role, both in the octagon and outside it. Someone who looms over his co-stars and with that contrast working to effect in the film’s tenser scenes, primarily with Blunt. The worry that Mark, in one of his many drug-addled hazes, will snap at any moment.

But Johnson just doesn’t have the chops to carry the film front-to-back. Taking the material and reading it sure but not elevating it in any meaningful way beyond the script’s intention.

A performative presence.

Mostly by way of Emily Blunt’s take, The Smashing Machine isn’t a total wash but held back by its own creative structure, a director aiming for a soft landing and a lead playing too far out of his wheelhouse, it doesn’t have much to latch onto to.

With high wattage absolutely but absent any serious staying power.

Rating: 5.5/10

Hamnet (2025)

While adding yet another project to the forever-expanding Shakespeare catalogue can seem, at first, like a foolhardy endeavour, Hamnet proves otherwise.

Taking expectation and running with it, from each moment of hard-earned serenity into heartbreak, it is an emotionally challenging if deliberate film.

One that lives up to the reputation any mention of its chosen subjects will inevitably suggest.

In late 16th century Stratford, aspiring playwright William Shakespeare (Paul Mescal) moves aimlessly through his days as a Latin tutor, finding no joy in the work.

Yet after a chance meeting with locally ostracized herbalist-falconer Agnes Hathaway (Jessie Buckley), a whirlwind romance soon sees them married and in time, with three children. Eldest Susanna (Bodhi Breathnach) and twins, daughter Judith (Olivia Lynes) and son, Hamnet (Jacobi Jupe), who also goes by Hamlet.

As the years pass however and William, alone, establishes himself in London as the premier dramatist of the day, Agnes carries painful burdens.

Fighting against societal convention, personal trauma and the ups-and-downs of motherhood as she primarily raises the children.

But when the family is struck with a devastating tragedy, Agnes and William both must come to terms with who they wish to be… and just how, for better or worse, they’ll move forward.

Directed by Chloé Zhao, next to a script she co-wrote with Maggie O’Farrell (with the film adapting O’Farrell’s same-named 2020 novel), as with any period-piece drama, by its very nature, Hamnet is banking more openly on its supporting, world-building elements. Though from the costuming to the set design, to success, each is up to the task.

It is a film that immediately feels weathered and lived-in if not overbearing by way of that presentation, either.

Similarly, both composer Max Richter and cinematographer Łukasz Żal deliver. From spotlighting the chilling expanse of Stratford’s forests or the comparative grandeur found at The Globe in London. Richter specifically, asked to hit notes ranging from romance to heartbreak with neither feeling shortchanged.

Otherwise, regarding its base storytelling framework, right out of the gate, Hamnet doesn’t much shy away from its core premise.

Not only is it explicitly laid out in the opening card, it is right there in the title too. Anticipating the falling of the other shoe then, as it were, in theory, it could sap the film of not just its tension but a good deal of its investment.

Instead, Zhao and O’Farrell put their focus towards their characters moment-to-moment rather than just pure plot momentum.

Considering, it is a move not made without risk nor does it totally escape the overhang of predictability.

It isn’t hard not to anticipate the signposts before they appear and the pronounced shift into the third act can feel, well, clunky. The narrative, having reached its third escalation point and recognizing where it needs go but too rapidly moving itself into position to do so. This, in contrast to the more relaxed pace, elsewhere, that works in the film’s favour.

Now, it bears acknowledging that both O’Farrell’s novel and the film are both confined to the same parameters, with only so much practical information to draw from. Besides the work itself naturally, after four hundred-plus years only specific elements of Shakespeare’s life and that of his family are known with absolute certainty.

And even then, in certain circles, to continued conjecture.

So there is something of a guessing game at play, for both Zhao and O’Farrell. Needing to fictionalize, bridge and otherwise infer regarding the best course for their narrative if still adhering to a touch of known, real world history (to be clear though, historical fiction, Hamnet very much is).

All this, with creative license still front-of-mind with a healthy amount of nods and allusions to the overall Shakespeare canon, immediate period accuracy be dammed.

Ultimately though, given the larger thematic/character nodes in play, it is a story that, if not impervious, lands with devastating emotional weight.

Keeping things level however, are the performers, who are remarkably strong, across the board.

In support, as Agnes’ brother Bartholomew, Joe Alwyn has a noticeable back-and-forth with Buckley, her truest confidant. Able to sympathize regarding their childhood and the isolation she can often feel, while being presented as a man, against-time-type, who respects her individualism.

Regarding the Shakespeare children, while both Breathnach and Lynes see that they make the most of their few highlight moments, it is Jupe, as Hamnet, who is given the heaviest amount of material and doesn’t once come across as being overwhelmed. It is a substantial ask for a young performer yet he carries it strongly.

Noah Jupe meanwhile, as the star in William’s eventually staged Hamlet doesn’t have much screen time but makes the most of it regardless, next to the inevitable (by design) parallels that will be drawn to his younger brother’s role.

As The Bard, Mescal is given a far tougher task than one may initially assume.

The name William Shakespeare may be immortal yes but again, regarding the man himself, specifically, there isn’t much concrete to chew on beyond the hard ink.

Mescal doesn’t overextend with his portrayal, however. And no doubt it would be easy to go big and brash, in trying to capture a measure of that standing but he is more subdued. Achingly human, if as well, imperfect.

William does love his family, deeply but he strives too, above all else, for success in his writing. Being willing to sacrifice a more physical presence in their lives to achieve that goal only to be faced, more than once, with the heavy cost of that decision.

That tricky line Mescal toes, between cultivating sympathy for his character while not making him someone totally worth rooting for either, given how the narrative unfolds.

Although Hamnet, in totality, belongs to Buckley.

And rightfully so, as from the moment she first appears, Buckley is in complete control of not Agnes as a character but the film at large.

Presenting with an intensity that immediately commands the screen, if not overtly drawing from her co-stars either, Agnes is a woman fully committed to her sense of self, paying no mind to the norms of the period.

Eager to mentor her children in the same survivalist lessons imparted by her late mother, if still troubled by her loss. The first one to recognize William’s need to be in London even in understanding the strain it will come to place on her and their family.

Yet at every turn, from smaller nuance to the more forceful, Buckley never once wavers.

Delivering on her character’s emotional turmoil and emotional strength with an incredibly direct, believable honesty. A performance that is nothing short of captivating from start-to-finish.

Hamnet isn’t airtight.

It hits the odd snag in its pacing and structure, with critiques that can pointed towards in its deception of historical fiction front-to-back and its thematic underpinnings. Which, for a variety of reasons, will just not land for every viewer.

But the vision is apparent, the auxiliary supports are consistent and the performances, from the supporting stars to the leads are uniformly strong.

A film which reaches and when it matters, achieves. Each shot, deliberate, no word of dialogue wasted. Economical and focused.

Rating: 8.5/10

Lessons in Chemistry (2023)

A brilliant scientist continually stonewalled by the deeply misogynistic environment that is 1950s corporate America, despite her professional struggles, Elizabeth Zott (Brie Larson) refuses to compromise.

Yet in partnership with fellow scientist Calvin Evans (Lewis Pullman), together, they begin developing revolutionary new theories in DNA research and in time, come to fall in love.

But after Calvin is killed in a freak accident, Elizabeth is left to raise their daughter Madeline (Alice Halsey) alone.

Years later, following her hiring by television producer Walter (Kevin Sussman) Elizabeth is the star of the live-on-air television show Supper at Six. Working diligently to combine both her culinary and scientific talent into a single program, she becomes a sensation throughout Southern California, if still battling sexism and doubters.

Though as Madeline searches for answers regarding her father’s life, Elizabeth sees that she must confront her complicated past in order to truly look ahead to the future.

An adaptation of Bonnie Garmus’ same-named novel, at eight episodes, in its favour is the fact that Lessons in Chemistry, as a miniseries, is totally committed to its primary story.

Concise, compact and more than once, emotionally affecting. Elizabeth’s parallel journeys through motherhood and her fight for earned recognition consistently delivered on, the binding elements throughout, if with a few serves. The second and third episodes, in very different ways, exploring those elements skillfully.

Otherwise, if competently made technically and hitting all the required notes of its period piece setting if with little in the way of innovation, the show is best served by its performances.

In support, as lawyer Harriet Aja Naomi King is strong. An always there friend to Elizabeth, if driven to her own ends as she balances parenthood with her involvement in the early days of Civil Rights Movement. King, if building good dynamics within the ensemble, a character believable individually too.

Similarly, for Patrick Walker as Reverend Wakely who doesn’t have too much to work with but brings a warmth that counterbalances, specifically against Halsey’s Madeline. Halsey, playing well as a character just beginning to make her way in the world if wise beyond her years, in unraveling closely-guarded mystery.

Pullman, meanwhile, is an interesting case.

Although his screen time is front-loaded, given the story being told, Pullman still makes his mark on the narrative if having little room to do so. Calvin’s rapport and eventual love story with Elizabeth something that is sold through his approach yes but further, through his dynamic with Larson.

Though overall, the show is Larson’s to run with.

Elizabeth’s love for her work, her daughter and professional ambition, in contrast to her longstanding grief, trauma and occasional social awkwardness. An outcast among those whom she is often willing to support, in spite of herself.

There are many competing faucets here but Larson sees them all come together successfully, in a performance that is fully and impressively realized.

But elsewhere, when it stumbles, the show struggles to pick itself up without bruising.

Most prominently, the pacing, if not necessarily feeling as though it is dragging, is scattered.

Recognizing the importance of narrative mystery, in not revealing everything at once of course, though in having both the sixth and seventh episodes be almost entirely flashbacks, the show not only totally derails any previously gained momentum but reveals as well, a distrust of its own storytelling ability.

Not able to speak to all of its threads completely then, come its conclusion, to frustration.

Furthermore, while the established focus is understood as being one that belongs to Elizabeth, as a byproduct, almost all of Harriet’s story, to no fault of King, can feel siloed and perfunctory. Wanting to further enrich its period set-up with the backing of the Civil Rights Movement but in making it very much a secondary subplot, it comes across as dishonest and even, considering, almost disrespectful.

Swinging too hard and landing too low, while its performances are terrific, Lessons in Chemistry isn’t everything it could or should be.

Rating: 6.6/10

Black Mirror: Season 7 (2025)

Fifteen years since its debut and now, seven seasons deep, expecting Black Mirror to still be operating at its initial threshold of paranoia and hard cynicism is a harder ask than it might seem.

Though that isn’t to say that creator Charlie Brooker and his team have lost their touch, per se.

Instead, it is more a case of the anthology, if forever beholden to its sci-fi/horror/drama roots, recognizing the need to continually evolve behind that first-imagined scope. The Black Mirror lore has become a sub genre all of its own of course, as rich with easter eggs for the eagle-eyed as it is the layering of its increasingly relevant thematic application.

And with its seventh season of six episodes which released last year, that feeling is further communicated although with something of a catch.

Because on one hand, while the majority of show’s earliest episodes made no secret of their intentions, bleak and almost exclusively dispiriting, on the other, it has also slowly embraced if not joyous storytelling, than something more visibly bittersweet.

Occasionally humorous and yes, sometimes, even genuinely hopeful (let’s call it The San Junipero Effect).

It is a sliding scale, naturally.

Common People, Bête Noire and Plaything more openly lean into those series staples, mixing human interest with the dark underbelly of technology and the dangers of power. Be it wider, on the corporate scale or the individual, with, one way or another, consequences.

Not entirely able to avoid feeling self-derivative, in waiting for the now well-established series framework to reveal its hand but also actionable, in a far more direct way than it ever has been previously. From continued warnings on the use of artificial intelligence, tech convenience and even base capitalism in the present moment/not-so-distant future.

None, no longer concerned with even pretending to hide predatory intentions.

To say they exist in specific contrast would be false but there does seem to be concentrated effort, with Hotel Reverie and Eulogy to draw more on the personal, to effect.

For that is always where Black Mirror is at its strongest.

The set-ups and supporting elements, from the world-building, costuming, composition and set design work, that almost goes without saying.

Yet Emma Corrin and Paul Giamatti, as the anchors of those respective episodes, bring a genuine humanity forward for characters, which, at face value would be a tough sell. Corrin, utterly pitch perfect as a 1940s noir actress holding close complex secrets. Giamatti, as a lover scorned, drawing understanding for a character that doesn’t quite earn it.

Though of the six, it is the finale, USS Callister: Into Infinity, which garners the most curiosity for both the season and series at large.

A direct sequel to the fourth season episode, USS Callister (a first for the series), Infinity picks up with Nanette (Cristin Milioti) and the crew still trying to navigate their new reality in the face of growing opposition.

But after outside forces and old secrets emerge, they realize they must overturn the status quo if they want any hope at survival.

A film-length outing at ninety minutes, per director Toby Haynes from storyboarding to delivery, the process in bringing the Callister team back to the screen was not without its ups-and-downs. Beginning in earnest around 2020, with the idea being to expand the initial episode into its own spin-off series before the choice was eventually made to settle on a singular television film instead.

Reuniting virtually all of the main cast (with Milioti and Jimmi Simpson, in particular, being standouts in their dual roles) although Infinity may purposefully strip away the retro-inspired sheen of its predecessor, it fully builds upon that specific world in an engaging, organic way.

The door, still left open for further continuation, no doubt, should the opportunity arise.

And that, perhaps more than anything, is the clearest path for the show as it turns toward an eighth season renewal.

The seventh, not totally absent the inherent familiarity that comes to colour any long-running series but respecting that it can’t rest on its laurels either. Sharp within its design, performances and artistic ability.

Innovation, even if slight, when complacency would be easy.

Rating: 8.2/10

Black Pumas (Black Pumas) (2019)

While neither Eric Burton nor Adrian Quesada were in any way untested as musicians, there is still something about their debut, self-titled album as the Black Pumas that leaves the listener continually impressed.

With the standard edition clocking in at even ten tracks, it is simply bursting with explosive character. A neo-soul rock-funk fusion record that is as striking in its base musicianship as it is through the delivery itself.

Every lyric tight. Every bass and drum line, hit. No corners cut and equally so, no compromises made.

I Swam Here (John Craigie) (2026)

Although it can seem somewhat presumptuous to so boldly declare John Craigie one of a select few, not many musicians operating today are able to blend dashes of Americana, folk and pure storytelling quite like he is.

And with his newest record I Swam Here, Craigie further refines his now two-decade old sound with a familiar if appreciated precision.

Further building upon a sharp, solid backing alongside his salt-of-the-Earth lyricism. Again, if not breaking any new ground then content enough to dig into what is already there with confidence.

The Devil Wears Prada 2 (2026)

Legacy sequels are rarely worth their weight but twenty years on, with The Devil Wears Prada having only further cemented its pop culture standing, what once seemed unlikely now indeed shall be.

As Andy Sachs (Anne Hathaway) returns to Runway’s orbit, even with Nigel (Stanley Tucci) in support, she knows the job of navigating the high-profile word of Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep) won’t be an easy one.

With both director David Frankel and screenwriter Aline Brosh McKenna back in the fold however - alongside virtually the entire main cast from the original film - there does seem to be concentrated effort beyond simply coasting on recognition alone.

Lauren Weisberger’s sequel novel may not have the prestige of the first but as this adaption brings it to the screen, seemingly, it won’t be without purpose.

The Devil Wears Prada 2 is currently set for release on May 1st.

Untitled John Wick Game (TBA)

Now three years since the (mostly) concluding act that was John Wick: Chapter 4, while the action-fu franchise will be always somewhat beholden to Keanu Reeves, 2025’s spin-off film, Ballerina more than proved that should Ana de Armas take up the mantle going forward, the series is in good hands.

And while that may be true for the film side of the franchise, with their just-announced and still-untitled John Wick video game, developer Saber Interactive is primed to bring the Baba Yaga to the interactive screen.

Narrative details remain scarce, save for a brief and highly-curated gameplay sequence but with Reeves reprising his famous role, it seems an inspired union, from concept to medium (if next to a fair amount of tempered expectations).

No release date has yet been shared.

Substack Spotlight

There are many wonderful writers, out there in the wild but specifically so, here on Substack.

In that spirit, here are a few articles I really enjoyed this past month, including some from valued members of the Off-Balance community.

Do feel free, if you haven’t already, to expand your horizons and check out what they have on offer.

#98 - One Hundred and One Dalmatians (1961)

,

Louise’s Movie Thoughts

#98 - One Hundred and One Dalmatians (1961)

With number 98 on my list we take a complete detour from the other films I’ve written about. Enter One Hundred and One Dalmatians (1961). We all know the story; when two dogs love each other very much, they have puppies, and then a terrifying old lady tries to turn them into fur coats…

Read more

3 months ago · 4 likes · 4 comments · Louise Joubert

It seems a simple enough question at a glance but in practice, deciphering it is another matter altogether.

Just what is it about the films that inspire and push us forward?

Though as Louise does just that, in compiling a list comprising 100 of those personally-impactful films, it is a reminder that the approach, on so many fronts, can make a world of difference. Now 65 years since its release, One Hundred and One Dalmatians remains a project of impressive conviction, from the nuance of the art design and storytelling to the broader animation particulars.

But equally so, with this piece, Louise wonderfully speaks to the person-to-person resonance. On honesty in filmmaking, on heart and soul, on the importance of having a film that can stand the test of time against angst and shifting taste both.

On the importance of keeping something close not just because it has endured but because it matters.

You can find more of Louise’s work at .

Oh the Places You’ll Go! (If you just keep going!)

,

Kinda Conquering Creative Fear with Caroline

Oh the Places You'll Go! (If you just keep going!)

Greetings folks…

Read more

3 months ago · 8 likes · 4 comments · Caroline in the Garden

Every creative has those that help them along but as she tracks her musical journey, from roots to tree, Caroline’s pure joy is undeniable.

Though as well, there is the acknowledgment, alongside that, of her own role. Artistically in her musicianship, the growth of her lyricism, embracing collaboration.

The work isn’t easy, it rarely is.

But here, Caroline reframes that viewpoint. The pursuit of creation, rightfully, being taken on with an unfailing, unfiltered optimism. Even with the ups-and-downs considered.

After all, who knows just where the road might lead.

Caroline also recently shared her submission to NPR’s Tiny Desk series, with her song “Speck”, which can be listened to here.

Be sure to check out more of her writing and music both at .

Creating an empathetic space within your writing.

,

Writer? I Hardly Know Her!

Creating an empathetic space within your writing.

I think much of what art is and should be involves the creation of an empathetic space…

Read more

3 months ago · 21 likes · 2 comments · Maria Hawthorne

No doubt while some writers are content to operate solely from a place of isolation, with this piece, Maria delivers a strong reminder.

The process of not only sharing the result but seeing it land is half the battle in any artistic space. To take in the praise yes but respecting the feedback, the critiques, too.

The bigger question is, how can the individual craft their message in the most effective way? From specific words chosen to thematic intention and general language, although empathy should always be top of mind in working to connect with any reader, this isn’t always the case.

Maria, with a keen eye for prose and poetry, examines this with great skill. Laying out that process and then, challenging it.

From comfortability to change and then, something else entirely.

You can find Maria at

A History of Violence: The NBA’s Spectacle from Bad Boys to Modern Brawls

,

Ire Knows Ball

A History of Violence: The NBA's Spectacle from Bad Boys to Modern Brawls

“Get out of my face and keep on playing…

Read more

3 months ago · 17 likes · 6 comments · Irene

In this present age of the all-consuming sports racketeering and self-directed bookies, for too many, the magic has been lost. Instincts, dulled. So-proclaimed fans, more concerned with connecting on parleys as they dilute the game into payouts alone.

The only spirit behind their cheers, whatever can be mustered for late-stage capitalism.

But with this piece, Irene, brilliantly, turns the focus back towards the court.

Through mostly defined by its displays of pure athletic skill, equally, basketball has always been a sport engrained with violence if seeing the specific execution shift over the decades. Irene, presenting the tapestry, as rich as it is contradictory. From Kermit Washington to the Bad Boys to the NBA in 2026. An era mostly defined by strict trash talking, punctuated by a brawl earlier this month between Detroit and Charlotte that saw four players ejected and later, briefly suspended.

Though that is, after all, the truest experience of being not just a team supporter but a sports fan at large.

It may often come in waves but evolution, indeed, is rarely a linear thing. From three-pointers to haymakers.

If you’re looking to read more of Irene’s work, you can do so at .

Leave a comment

Buy Ryan a Beer

Despite his standing as a godfather of both modern horror and superhero cinema, the second act of his career has seen Sam Raimi be increasingly selective with where he choses to place his focus.

Though perhaps as a result, the projects he has put his weight behind - only four features in the past seventeen years, for those keeping score at home - have, if not flawlessly, been the beneficiaries of a director leaning into a finely-tuned intuition.

And with his newest outing, Send Help which released late last month, that was proven true once more.

A film that, even if it can’t necessarily rise above its various pieces, is sure to embrace the best of them.

Socially awkward and unassertive, corporate strategist Linda Liddle (Rachel McAdams) is routinely shut out by her co-workers and treated with distain by those above her.

Yet after a plane crash on a deserted island off the Taiwanese coast sees her and blowhard CEO Bradley (Dylan O'Brien) as the only survivors, the familiar hierarchy soon reverses.

As when Linda reveals herself as a skilled survivalist, she takes the lead in keeping them both alive, despite Bradley’s initial objections.

But as their odds of being rescued grow smaller by the day and with paranoia running rampant, Linda realizes that if she wishes to make it home, she’ll need to play dirty.

Technically, Send Help is not a film that stretches itself too thin.

Save the opening half-hour, by design, it is set almost exclusively in one location with little in the way of heavy auxiliary elements or grandiose production.

Although what is present is undeniably strong.

The simple but effective set design, which slowly moves from inviting paradise to iron-barred cage. The VFX work, which relies more openly on the practical with touch ups only in support, fabulously bloody and over-the-top violent. There is too, Raimi’s long-time collaborator, editor Bob Murawski given at the table who keeps the film moving at a crisp clip.

Letting it breathe when it must if keeping suspense ever-present, that is, with two fingers tucked behind his back (earning every minute of a near two-hour runtime).

Considering the inherent set-up in play, of smaller scale and tighter focus, there is more of a reliance on these elements with each, to success, being up to the task.

Similarly, co-written by the duo of Mark Swift and Damian Shannon (of prior Friday the 13th franchise work), while Send Help makes no secret whatsoever of the framework that binds it, a one-to-one horror in the classical style, it is also overlaid with a healthy amount of both black comedy and real-world, thematic relevance.

Be it the boss from hell or perhaps more appropriately in this case, the frat-bro jackass on the receiving end of deserved comeuppance. Although Swift, Shannon and Raimi, in delivery, toe a more difficult line here than one might presume at a glance.

Moving between nouveau camp and quiet commentary for a good portion of the film, that is, if lurching closer-and-closer to an expected third act of something far more sinister.

But the overhang of unease serves them well, even if, with the beats well in hand, it is primarily communicated through the character work.

This, for which both McAdams and O’Brien are up to the task.

And yes, while Bradley as a character is immediately drawn, in genre custom, as someone beyond any sort of redemption it is still on the performer to present that energy, of which O’Brien does without fault.

A trust-fund lifer who has never had to think beyond what to tip his waiter, Bradley is now forced to contend with someone, in Linda, who has been on the receiving end of his misogyny and disrespect simply one too many times.

Coming to recognize he must adapt to his new surroundings but struggling to actually put that wisdom into practice in a way that will best serve him before the tide comes in. Sure, as the film progresses, the lines do become a touch more blurry but sympathy for Bradley, either way, is never something that is on the table.

O’Brien, coming in with a smug, smarmy act of self-serving narcissism that he carries, reel-to-reel, right over the finish line.

McAdams, meanwhile, is handed a little more to dig into.

Linda’s rapid acclimatizing to the island, the curtain pulled back towards what is self-actualization achieved. But despite her noticeable descent into acts of more questionable moral judgment (very much so) there is an impossible-to-shake humanity that McAdams, as the film’s anchor, doesn’t once lose her handle on.

Linda’s past may be questionable and her methods gruesome but from leveraging her shifting dynamic with O’Brien to even the slighter, noticeable changes in the character’s physicality, McAdams plays everything to a tee.

During the film’s initial promotional run, Raimi acknowledged his feelings that McAdams had been under-utilized in their previous effort (his 2022 film, Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness) and was determined to give her a stronger spotlight this time around.

And rightfully given that space, McAdams earns every inch of the floor.

Send Help isn’t beyond criticism.

Ultimately, the base narrative, if aware of its seen-it predicability, can’t quite shake it. It looks toward genre standard a little too frequently and although the numerous nods to reality TV juggernaut Survivor are appreciated cuts, the more cynical may see them as nothing more than corporate-synergy grandstanding, particularly so, with the franchise’s 50th season set to debut later this winter.1

But helmed by a director perfectly suited to the material, a script that balances various nodes with skill and lead performances that more than understood their assignment (specifically McAdams) it is exactly what it sets out to be.

A darn enjoyable time at the theatre when that seems, lately, too unfrequent an experience.

Rating: 7.6/10

Buy Ryan a Beer

Leave a comment

May we all have a safe and healthy February.

And as always, thanks for reading.

Until next time,

Ryan.

Subscribe now

Buy Ryan a Beer

Movies

• Tetris (2023)

• Tornado (2025)

• The Rip (2026)

TV

• The Morning Show: Seasons 1-4 (2019-2025)

• Chad Powers: Season 1 (2025)

• Marcello Hernández: American Boy (2026)

Music

• La La Land (Wax Fang) (2007)

• The OF Tape Vol 2 (Odd Future) (2012)

What’s Next?

• Daredevil: Born Again: Season 2 (2026)

Substack Spotlight

Enough Paul

• ,

BAD

• ,

The Death of George R. R. Martin and What It Means to Me

• ,

Cry Me A River

• ,

Tetris (2023)

In the late 1980s, after a chance play-test at an industry expo, video game designer turned publisher Henk Rogers (Taron Egerton) is sold on the promise of Tetris and immediately sets out to secure the rights.

And as his initial quest takes him from America to Japan and back again, he comes to advocate on behalf of Nintendo of America and their president, Minoru Arakawa (Ken Yamamura) - relentlessly pitching Tetris as something that will revolutionize the industry.

Though upon travelling to Moscow and meeting the game’s creator, programmer Alexey Pajitnov (Nikita Yefremov), he realizes that things won’t be so simple.

The Soviets have no intention of dealing with Henk in good faith but in the face of growing political instability, as the Iron Curtain prepares to fall, the country has become rife with opportunists and schemers. Among them the corrupt Maxwells (Roger Allam and Anthony Boyle) of rival publisher Mirrorsoft and KGB agent Trifonov (Igor Grabuzov), who will squeeze any opportunity to his advantage.

So as the walls close in, both Henk and Alexey must decide on just what their future holds… before that decision is made for them.

All-in-all, yes, there is no way around it, Tetris is exactly what its back-of-the-box tag suggests: a competently made biopic with dashes of a drama-thriller in support.

Where it breaks away, just enough, is in its choice of subject.

In the right circles, the real-life Henk Rogers and Alexey Pajitnov have name recognition absolutely but the reality is, the general audience (and probably, many in the modern gaming space) will simply know Tetris, the game alone, above anything else.

Director Jon S. Baird and screenwriter Noah Pink seem to recognize this as well, making sure that while Tetris gets a healthy amount of applause, the true focus is on their two primary figures.

How their at-first individual journeys come to intertwine, with the fate of Tetris on the global stage representing far more than just video game rights (something Baird spoke to during the film’s promotional run, contrasting the parallels between the geopolitical situation of the film’s Cold War setting to Russia’s ongoing invasion of Ukraine).

To this, while the supporting cast at large is solid without much flair - save for Boyle who leans into his smarmy trust fund act with a particular enjoyment - both Egerton and Yefremov bring noticeable life, Henk’s whatever-it-takes zeal contrasting Alexey’s more subdued, beaten-down-portrayal.

While Henk’s determination to secure Tetris puts an increasing strain on his personal life back home in Japan, he initially struggles to comprehend just how tight the grip of the Soviet institution rests on Alexey’s shoulders.

His dreams for something better fighting against the seemingly inescapable shackles that bind him.

Where Egerton and Yefremov succeed is in giving each of their characters and their arcs a strong amount of buy-in. Able to balance the other out in a way that sees them both stand in the film’s spotlight, equally, without upstaging each other.

Again, Tetris doesn’t try to reinvent the biographical mold in any serious way and as a result, while the stakes may be clear, particularly in the third act, it can feel visibly telegraphed. Unable and unwilling to move around the familiar barriers it encounters.

But the lead performances keep the film level, as does the choice to focus on a somewhat more obscure subject.

A sense of character that is maintained from the first eight-bit style title card to the close, despite lacking much staying power.

Rating: 6.8/10

Tornado (2025)

Of the countless filmmakers that have worked to establish their foothold over the past fifteen-odd years, few have cultivated as much pure curiosity as writer-director John Maclean.

After a duo of short films, his feature debut, 2015’s Slow West was then and remains still a truly fascinating entry in the modern Western canon.

A project so meticulously crafted from conception to execution, even if, reel-to-reel, it didn’t do much of intrigue with its storytelling - though bursting, as it was with the type of raw potential that is a rare for the burgeoning artist to capture, so strongly, on their first attempt.

But perhaps against some semblance of convention, for Maclean, that potential has been long-simmering. Returning exactly a decade later with just his second effort, 2025’s Tornado, from a story he developed with Kate Leys.

A hand-crafted and deeply passionate film there is no question yet only able to stretch its base ambition into the expected and familiar.

In late 18th century Scotland, Tornado (Kōki) has come from Japan with her father, Fujin (Takehiro Hira), a samurai turned puppeteer.

While their travels throughout the Highlands are mostly solitary, they have become acquainted, to Fujin’s wariness, with Vienna’s (Joanne Whalley) circus troupe.

Both understanding, in dangerous times, the need to protect one’s friends.

Yet when a gang of common criminals led by the relentless Sugerman (Tim Roth) have their ill-gotten gold stolen and believe Tornado and Fujin to be responsible, Tornado realizes that justice waits for no one.

And whatever lessons she has learned from her father, soon enough, they will be put to the test.

On a base level, Tornado does deserve its props, if only through the more off-kilter nature of the premise pairing its influences on tattered sleeves. Be it 1970s action films, with its pulp-revenge sheen or the annuals of Westerns and Kurosawa more broadly.

Now, Maclean, to his credit, never shies away from the pastiche that colours his work here, even if his own impulses are immediately apparent as well.

To some surprise perhaps, given it is only his sophomore feature but in, notably, reuniting with cinematographer Robbie Ryan that wide-frame, nigh-fantastical style they previously established with Slow West is a strong draw here. Particularly, in giving the on-location Scotland work space to shine be appropriately overcast (returning composer Jed Kurzel similarly, is sparse and deliberate but impactful in smaller doses).

Elsewhere, of the small and comparatively low spotlight cast, Roth and Kōki are the standouts.

Sugarman may be little more than a stock antagonist, an unmovable obstacle but Roth finds a few notes of heavier work from quieter implication, especially in the character’s difficult relationship with his son, fellow criminal Little Sugar (Jack Lowden).

Kōki, meanwhile, doesn’t have a wealth of material to dig into besides a general feeling of stock-revenge predictability but she sees that each beat lands with effect.

Tornado’s restlessness, her longing and eventually, her rage.

It is an arc that unfurls without much suspense act-over-act but for a performer who is still finding her industry footing, it again proves that Kōki is a star-to-be with undeniable promise.

By and large however, where Tornado stumbles the most is by way of its writer-director.

And maybe it is a case of simply presuming a larger step forward from Maclean from his decade-in-the-making follow-up outing, that is true.

But simply too much of Tornado is bogged down by a predictably that, if enjoyable to a certain extent, given its general set-up, simply can’t keep pace.

Stilted dialogue that doesn’t lean as strongly into campiness as it should have, procedural framing for its protagonist-antagonist dynamic or a reliance on standard structure that, if tight at an exact ninety minutes, fights against familiarity at every step.

Heck, it seems even Maclean, in crouching a good portion of his film behind an extended flashback sequence, recognized this.

Hoping, too late, that an already thin curtain wouldn’t get pulled back before he was ready. A comfortability in his approach, though with lesser results to show for it.

Wonderfully shot, with solid, moment-to-moment fundamentals and leads who understood their assignment, there are pieces of Tornado that can be spoken to with praise.

Yet held back, most prominently, by Maclean’s encore jitters, it just isn’t everything it could be.

Rating: 5.6/10

The Rip (2026)

Following the murder of their captain (Lina Esco) by unknown assailants, members of the Miami PD’s narcotics team find themselves caught in a web of competing interests.

Although they demand justice, detectives Dumars (Matt Damon) and Byrne (Ben Affleck) learn that their outfit has come under investigation by the FBI and boxed out by their supervisors, they are further suspected of corruption.

But after Dumars insists they follow a potential lead into a high-leverage stash house, he brings along Byrne, next to detectives Baptiste (Teyana Taylor), Ro (Steven Yeun) and Salazar (Catalina Sandino Moreno).

Believing the risk to be worth it, although the team tries to keep seemingly oblivious homeowner Desi Lopez (Sasha Calle) in the dark, as they fall into mistrust, paranoia and cartel threats, they realize they’ll be lucky if their night ends before sunrise.

Written and directed by Joe Carnahan, who is no stranger to the action-crime template, The Rip, which dropped on Netflix earlier this month and is partially based on a true story, does come with somewhat heightened expectations.

The big selling point of the marketing, of course, if in putting a fair share of the focus on the ensemble overall, was transparent.

Hyping up the pairing of Damon and Affleck, the famous real-life friends, once again collaborating on screen. And though their post Good Will Hunting period saw them mostly stand apart, as Damon spoke too in 2023, by design over the past half-decade and change, their collaborations have become more frequent.

An attempt to simply make more projects with each other the goal, so claimed (if capitalizing too, no doubt, on the resulting boost in eyeballs any such reunion brings to the screen).

So, sure, that’s cool.

Two of the industry’s most visible and successful heavyweights, banding together while attempting to look out for those below them too (with their production company, Artists Equity, notably working with distributor Netflix to provide benchmark bonuses to the crew).

But all that being equal, there is still the matter of the film itself.

And it is… well, just a degree above passable.

Though in fairness, it is exactly what it presents itself to be.

An action-thriller outing teetering on the edge of mediocre schlock but carrying itself, front-to-back, with the upmost seriousness.

Yet while the cast does have some spark between them (particularly Taylor and Sandino Moreno) and Damon and Affleck, now both old hat as grizzled men-of-action, do well enough in carrying the narrative forward, so much of The Rip feels astonishingly perfunctory.

There is Carnahan’s dialogue, cliché-riddled and unable to balance necessity against plot movement. The characters themselves, little more than stock archetypes roughly repurposed, with not enough space given to allow them to stand out as individuals beyond those broad strokes.

Or maybe it is the restricting mandates sent down from up top, as Damon has acknowledged.

Netflix, finally admitting that they’re creating their projects with a districted, two-device audience in mind (something reality TV, comparatively, has long played too).

Plot points, being repeated on a loop. The stakes, too easy to predict. The exposition-laded flashbacks in the third act clearly acting as a failsafe for those who weren’t paying attention, only drawn back in once the gunfire started.

It is insulting, quite frankly and on more than one count.

For if this is the way Netflix - and eventually, probably, the studios en masse - have committed themselves to filmmaking going forward? Forget it. It is a disruptive and harmful practice to inflict upon the medium generally but as well, to whatever higher potential The Rip could have harnessed.

Because dry, stilted and stale, it just wasn’t shown here.

Rating: 5.0/10

The Morning Show: Seasons 1-4 (2019-2025)

Although she is at the very top of the morning television circuit, UBA journalist Alex Levy (Jennifer Aniston) isn’t immune to the pressures of her notoriously high-octane industry nor those who dictate it.

But after her longtime anchor partner Mitch Kessler (Steve Carell) is exposed as a predator, at the heart of a sexual misconduct scandal going back decades, Alex realizes that simply sticking to the status quo will no longer serve her.

Impulsively recruiting the brilliant if troubled Bradley Jackson (Reese Witherspoon) to be her new number two, Alex initially attempts to bring Bradley into the fold with little disruption.

But alongside various others on their team, be it producers Chip Black (Mark Duplass), Mia Jordan (Karen Pittman) or off-beat executive Cory Ellison (Billy Crudup), though they all try to navigate the network’s new reality, it eventually becomes clear that sidestepping the landmines will only get them so far.

If they must blow up the battlefield to tell their truth, then so be it.

From both a strict storytelling point-of-view and now, in hindsight, with four complete seasons under its belt, it is fascinating to see how The Morning Show (broadly inspired by the real-world book, Brian Stelter’s Top of the Morning) has evolved.

The choice to adhere so closely to the present moment means it is a mirror few other productions of its standing have an opportunity to be. Not necessarily commenting in the abstract, years later but instead, actively engaging with the culture it exists alongside of.

On the reverse, it also makes the show something of a real-time period piece, occasionally to its deterrent. Working too hard to place its characters in any pre-established scene instead of allowing them to create it all their own.

That first season specifically, being so tight and complete, both for its narrative and individual arcs, it is obvious its success demanded continuation when it wasn’t, strictly speaking, necessary (hence, the entire second season struggling to format a bridge story around the early stages of the COVID-19 pandemic).

Yet the commitment to tackling sexual violence, race, gender roles, identity and corporate/on-the-ground politics in America, most prominently, are consistent highs throughout all four seasons: even if the delivery still must adhere to that familiar, professional-personal drama boxing

Though it is the performances, front-to-back, that truly hold everything together.

As co-leads, both Aniston and Witherspoon are given the space to slowly build out their characters, although part of their not-always-endearing charm is just how realistic they can come across.

Not opposed to growth necessarily but taking its lessons on piecemeal and without much care for how their actions, at large, impact those around them.

Bradley, so committed as she is to finding the truth, whatever the story, if believing that she can simply brute-force her way through any confrontation with that mortal high-ground in hand. Witherspoon, striking a good line between keeping the audience in her corner, even if her carelessness often crosses into pure recklessness (particularly regarding the blurred lines in respect to the character’s personal life).

Alex, meanwhile, is initially drawn as little more than a total narcissist, so singularly focused on her career ambitions above all else, any emotion she does show feels nothing but performative.

Where Aniston excels is in, if not peeling that away - because ultimately, that is who the character is - then adding a few hard-earned layers. Alex’s past and her trials at the top forcing her to confront just how she wishes to shape her legacy in the never-ending pursuit of power.

Elsewhere, although they’re very much supporting players in the grand scheme, each of Karen Pittman, Mark Duplass and Néstor Carbonell (as meteorologist-turned-anchor Yanko) all come to play important roles throughout the course of the series.

Caught in the crossfire though they may be between machinations out of their control and the growing understanding that they’ll need seats at the table to survive, for various reasons.

Each, making their characters wholly believable (Pittman in particular) in fighting nothing but a series of uphill battles.

Later additions to the main cast (among them Jon Hamm, Greta Lee and Marion Cotillard) bring their own elements to the ensemble. Complimenting the previous feel if keeping those dynamics moving too (notably, that between Hamm’s character, tech-bro billionaire Paul Marks and Aniston).

Orbiting them all however, is Crudup’s Cory.

And it bears acknowledging that yes, it is not as though Crudup has gone unrecognized for his work on The Morning Show - winning, as of this writing, two Emmys so far - it is more the sheer strength of his performance that stands out.

Surrounded by a host of accomplished co-stars, who are no slouches themselves but promptly delivering episode-after-episode of just terrific acting.

Every grimace, every out-of-place laugh, each out-of-pocket turn of phrase. Inherently complex and contradictory, Crudup brings Cory forward with an incredible forthrightness that never comes across as overbearing or too pretentious.

Instead, he is, without question, the show’s MVP, no small feat when the expansive nature of the material is considered.

The Morning Show isn’t without missteps.

It often hits snags with its pacing and handling all of its thematic pins in the most mature and effective way. Be it the more grey-area handling of Carell’s character following his introductory arc or the moving beyond the morning television grind, in the third and fourth seasons.

This choice, if intriguing, revealing a creative team not always in complete control of their vision.

But renewed for a fifth season in late 2025, there is no denying that it still has momentum and promise for wherever it choses to go next.

It is simply a matter of staying focused.

Overall rating: 7.9/10

Chad Powers: Season 1 (2025)

A standout if self-centred college quarterback, Russ Holliday (Glen Powell) seems destined for greatness.

But after one poor play and a disastrous public meltdown during a title game, he is blacklisted and his dreams of playing in the NFL are dashed.

Years later, Russ, though working for his father (Toby Huss) as a prosthetics assistant on film sets itches for an opportunity to get back into football, even if the sporting world makes it clear it has passed him by.

Yet following a spur-of-the-moment decision, he wins a walk-on spot on the (fictional) South Georgia Catfish, a college program overseen by Coach Hudson (Steve Zahn) and his assistant, daughter Ricky (Perry Mattfeld).

The catch being, with help from his prosthetic kit and team mascot Danny (Frankie Rodriguez), Russ has disguised himself as “Chad Powers”. A bumbling, socially-awkward oddball so-claimed to hail from the backwoods of West Virginia but who is, of course, a force to be reckoned with on the field.

Reluctantly living as “Chad”, Russ slowly learns that humility and kindness aren’t quite the weaknesses he once viewed them as… even as he struggles to maintain his dual-identities and his ruse quickly threatens to fall apart.

Overall, there isn’t that much for Chad Powers to latch onto.

It makes no secret of repurposing a series of comedy sketches that formerly stared football legend Eli Manning as the Chad Powers character (fittingly, Manning, producing, also appears in a brief cameo) nor does the core premise push for any sort of dramatic tension or storytelling longevity.

The whole joke being, really, that Powell currently fits the pop culture bill as a handsome, chiseled dude of record and having him be the opposite of that, done up in thick makeup as he drawls out nonsense in a ridiculous accent?

While it gets some smirks, it rarely gets lasting laughs.

On the other hand, in being only six, half-hour episodes, there does seem to be an acknowledgment on the show’s behalf.

Recognizing that to bite off anymore would be foolish and equally, so would pushing beyond those established stakes. A mostly wall-to-wall comedy that knows enough to lean towards drama only when it absolutely must.

Instead, the bulk of the weight is placed within the performances and the investment they draw.

Rodriguez’s Danny is an effective if expected foil to Russ, forcing him to consider the world beyond his highly-curated bubble, if being as well, his only true friend.

Mattfeld gets a little more to chew on.

Ricky, feeling consistently underestimated for her strategical chops, though determined to fight back against any appearances of nepotism. Finding an unlikely ally in “Chad”, despite his often bizarre behaviour, she soon suspects there is more to him than he lets on. Mattfeld then, makes the character believable despite not having too many threads on which to pull.

Naturally however, the biggest spotlight goes to Powell in his quasi dual role.

His most successful prior work has seen him present between earned confidence and cockiness and initially, Russ is no different, little more than a spoiled man-child who refuses to take responsibility for his mistakes, despite his undeniable talent.

Ultimately, while Powell gets a few moments of heavier material that he sinks into well, while the Chad Powers get-up is very much a joke machine more than anything serious, it does become if not grating, per se, then familiar too quickly.

A deeply one-note shtick that Powell has obvious fun with it but just can’t elevate.

In the line of sports comedy/comedy-dramas post Ted Lasso, although Chad Powers has a clear focus - compared to say, Stick - it doesn’t have much else.

There is more potential to be mined from its premise though and in ending on an eyebrow-raising cliffhanger, maybe the second season, which began production earlier this month, will have better luck finding it.

Rating: 6.3/10

Marcello Hernández: American Boy (2026)

Since his debut on Saturday Night Live in 2022, Marcello Hernández has established himself as one of the ensemble’s most committed cast members.

Not afraid to play more wired, eccentric characters while still leaning into his own sense of style.

Unsurprisingly then, his first standup special, Netflix’s Marcello Hernández: American Boy, sees him further refine that approach during a set filmed in his hometown of Miami.

Reflecting on his upbringing, family life and larger cultural observations, alongside the back-and-forth contrasts between men and women both.

Now, in terms of raw material overall, while in no way is Hernández striking out with anything new here, so committed as he is to his particular delivery, it sees most everything land.

An honesty that carries even familiar set-ups over the finish line.

Similarly, rather than being overtly and tightly polished, he seems happy to stick with a looser, almost manic approach allowing the laughs to come from both his on-stage physicality and the uniqueness in which he brings it forward. Staying clean, if occasionally overlaying his comedy with dashes of more pointed, present-moment commentary every now and then too.

American Boy isn’t above dips and a handful of missed punchlines but for a comedian just beginning to more fully break in his on-stage shoes, it shows Hernández with a noted confidence.

And no doubt eager to carry it forward.

Rating: 7.4/10

La La Land (Wax Fang) (2007)

Never a band to shy away from their own inherent, musical eccentricities, even on what is just their second record, 2007’s La La Land, Wax Fang delivers.

On paper, both their lyrical and sonic blending freely suggest that they are pushing too far, as they dance around elements of prog, hard rock and a garage-esque folk sound effort. That is, with their lyrical storytelling considered (if isolated, from Majestic, Cannibal Summer and Wake Up, Sleepyhead!)

Instead, all ten tracks, bound thematically, feel complete individually while still being apart of a bigger picture: a balance that is harder to achieve than it seems.

The OF Tape Vol 2 (Odd Future) (2012)

It is something of a contradiction.

Because while Odd Future, even at their peak, didn't have any serious legs from the collective did come a wealth of heavy-hitters: leader Tyler the Creator, his one-time protégée in Earl Sweatshirt, an already breaking-out Frank Ocean, etc.

Some of hip-hop’s most celebrated voices from the 2010s, all finding their rhythm in tandem.

That said, while their involvement doesn’t necessarily elevate the material presented it does provide an interesting lens from which to revisit it. The OF Tape Vol 2 was Odd Future’s only album (although not officially disbanded in technical terms, they haven’t released anything since) and it doesn’t move the needle much from the lyrical standards that ran the genre during the time.

Be it casual drug use, excessive partying or bars devoted to veneer violence and objectification, the few moments of any greater depth are mostly fleeting and don’t much stick

And yet, despite this, there is a maturity-in-progress apparent.

Be it Earl and Tyler, still unsurprisingly juvenile in their late teens and early-20s but already finding their voices beyond their horror core roots or the ensemble overall, now a rarity in hip-hop, deep into the solo artist age.

An imperfect record yes but a springboard and time capsule both still worth its salt.

Daredevil: Born Again: Season 2 (2026)

While the first season of Daredevil: Born Again made no secret of its difficult journey during production - from reshoots and changing creative teams, to facing down outsized expectations - by-and-large, it delivered.

The question now, with everything behind-the-scenes stabilized, is whether it can follow up that foundational promise with something even greater.

And although cautious optimism will always be the best approach, as the MCU returns to Hell’s Kitchen, it won’t be without a few familiar faces, either.

As he continues to take on Wilson Fisk’s (Vincent D’Onofrio) Anti-Vigilante Task Force, Matt Murdock/Daredevil (Charlie Cox) is assisted in his crusade by both Karen Page (Deborah Ann Woll) and a returning Jessica Jones (Krysten Ritter), the generally better angels on his shoulder.

Though with Bullseye (Wilson Bethel) still loose, if Matt’s past experience is any indication, the fight ahead won’t be easily won, more so, in knowing that a third season already looms.

Born Again’s second round is set to debut on March 24th.

Substack Spotlight

There are many wonderful writers, out there in the wild but specifically so, here on Substack.

In that spirit, here are a few articles I really enjoyed this past month, including some from valued members of the Off-Balance community.

Do feel free, if you haven’t already, to expand your horizons and check out what they have on offer.

Enough Paul

,

Critical Thinking

Enough Paul

Paul McCartney recently sat on the banks of the Arkansas River in Oklahoma and looked directly into his phone camera. The 83-year-old deity was recording an Instagram Reel to promote the show he was playing that night at an arena with a capacity of less than 20,000 people. It was the 66th show of his ultra-tour “Got Back.” My reaction was quick: “Go hom…

Read more

4 months ago · 22 likes · 1 comment · Lindsey Adler

It is a battle few emerge from completely unscathed, regardless of medium, that between what was and what could be.

Though perhaps none are as visible in that fight as Paul McCartney.

Yet while the initial instinct, for many, may be to simply defer to his standing, as she always does, Lindsey, beautifully so, provides a more nuanced perspective.

For it is not just engaging with the shell of present-day McCartney musically but rather, more closely examining the larger cultural space he occupies.

The nodes surrounding not his personal legacy but The Beatles too.

For as Lindsey notes, in consideration of Ringo Starr’s decision to take a healthy step back from running promo spots in his golden years, McCartney has firmly solidified himself as the band’s most forceful, prominent arbitrator.

Not far removed from the role he once occupied decades ago, sure but it in putting forth those final, formative words, it is to see McCartney drenched in a conflict-driven, agenda-focused individualism that can’t be shaken.

Now, Lindsey correctly frames this dichotomy as existing on a painful line. For indeed, when that time comes, there will be no disputing of McCartney’s sheer artistic impact, his generation-spanning brilliance.

Though if the measure of any one creative, ultimately, rests with just how comfortable they are with what they have left behind? For McCartney, more than most, it would seem an equation already long solved.

Instead, it is a reminder that few things in life are so simple.

But clarity, either way, is something Lindsey makes easy.

You can find her over at .

BAD

,

SOMEWHERE ON THE BRIDGE

BAD

The first proper single I’ve released as a solo artist in over two years, I give you guys: BAD…

Read more

3 months ago · 106 likes · 17 comments · Chelsea Cutler

When the end result can hold such promise, not often does one consider the process, hard as it can be, to bring art into the world.

But as Chelsea releases "BAD” her first single as a soloist in over two years, with this piece, she pulls back that veil with a visible, heart-to-heart honesty.

Not just in celebration of the music itself, which is always an achievement worth noting but as well, the journey that got her there.

Her road, coloured with substance use, personal discovery and reexamining what it is that makes her shine as an artist.

No second guesses, just new opportunities.

You can find Chelsea at .

The Death of George R. R. Martin and What It Means to Me

,

Fleeting Meditations

The Death of George R. R. Martin and What it Means to Me

George R. R. Martin has died. As a big fan of his work in my teenage years, though I am by no means surprised, I am still saddened nonetheless. We knew this was coming. Even still, it’s hard to come to terms with. A Song of Ice and Fire once had the potential to become one of the greatest fantasy series ever penned. At one point, the franchise was …

Read more

4 months ago · 340 likes · 158 comments · Joseph Coleman

Despite his hard-earned praise, for much of the past decade, the conversation around author George R. R. Martin has steadily shifted.

Still rightfully lauded for his work on fantasy series, A Song of Ice and Fire if equally so, seeing that praise drift further-and-further into abject frustration.

For now, seven years since the conclusion of Game of Thrones, the author has yet to move forward on his work. This, in quiet acknowledgment, seemingly, of the adaption having already spoken before and more crucially, for him.

And that is his right of course but with this piece, Joesph reframes the conversation not as a reader furiously scorned but rather, as a lament.

The loss of storytelling promise should Martin choose not to proceed. Of what it means to be writer and the relationship entered with the reading audience.

How the arts are, inherently, a lonely pursuit are greatly enriched with that contract, for better or worse.

The future, to the wind.

Though as another fantasy adaption, Outlander, prepares to air its final season later this year it also does so prior to the release of its source material’s closing act. Author Diana Gabaldon has worked closely with the production from the very beginning but as with Martin before her, that question lingers.

The show, potentially getting the final word.

But as Joesph highlights so well, it is so much more complex than simply turning to the next page.

You can find more of Joesph’s work at .

Cry Me A River

,

INSPIRED

Cry Me A River

We had tickets to see The Bone Temple last weekend and we were very excited. In order to prepare, we rewatched 28 Years Later, the first part of this new trilogy of films spawned from the 28 Days Later franchise…

Read more

3 months ago · 19 likes · 6 comments · jen harrington

When it seems that so much of the present moment cinema discourse is caught at the intersection of bombast and angst, Jen’s piece serves as an important reminder.

For it is not always the noise that can draw one in but instead, something smaller, more intimate. Something more driven to pursue and maintain the emotional connection so sought after.

To cry, to scream, to chase the feelings that only film can inspire.

And with the recommendations shared here, that world is brought even closer.

You can find Jen at .

Buy Ryan a Beer

Leave a comment

Despite the now seemingly inevitable hand-wringing over their artistic credibility, to his credit, Avatar auteur James Cameron has always had a clear vision for his second act passion project.

Generally accessible storytelling paired with technically-rich set pieces that are custom built for the in-cinema experience.

No more, no less.

And with the franchise’s third entry, Fire and Ash, which released late last month, this was proven true once more, again solidifying Cameron’s place as one of the greatest action filmmakers of his time (if not medium-wide).

But equally so, given the nature of its design, Fire and Ash is both a film that cannot be taken entirely on its own terms as a singular project nor can it totally escape an increasingly familiar and formulaic approach, however hard it tries.

Following the events of the previous film, Jake (Sam Worthington) is fighting to simply keep his family together.

Neytiri (Zoe Saldaña) has become all but inconsolable following the death of their son, Neteyam (Jamie Flatters) and compounding this, struggles in accepting Spider’s (Jack Champion) place among them given her complex feelings towards humans.

Though when Spider, Lo'ak (Britain Dalton), Kiri (Sigourney Weaver) thrice are all forced to confront their unique relationship to Pandora, it becomes clear that the family’s grief and anger, though shared in different ways, will not be easily resolved.

Meanwhile, Quaritch (Stephen Lang) continues to hunt Jake, determined to bring him in. Coming to recruit the Mangkwan, a group of sadistic, fire-wielding Na'vi, he hopes their might will finally tip the scales in the RDA’s favour.

But as he grows closer to their leader, the dangerous Varang (Oona Chaplin) Quaritch begins to consider that Jake’s embracing of Pandora wasn't, perhaps, as treacherous as he formerly believed. Though as they find themselves once more hurtling towards conflict, the RDA and the Na’vi both must draw their battle lines.

Though right from the jump, operating within the framework that has been previously established, like its predecessors, Fire and Ash is a technically impressive piece of filmmaking.

Filmed back-to-back with The Way of Water, against the at-a-glance viewpoint, Avatar continues to blend various physical pieces, be it on-stage performance capture, free-diving and location work. All speaking in favour to the committed world-building which is present in virtually every frame. From the larger visual pillars to the minute of region-specific art, sound and set design, Pandora’s ever-vocal fauna to the Na’vi language itself.

Broadly, that sense of the otherworldly, sci-fi escapism which has always been the series’ calling card is even further developed here.

The sheer scope, confident and consistent.

Though it expectedly lacks the film-over-film leap that was seen going from the 2009 original to The Way of Water in 2022, while the instinct may be to place Fire and Ash at large into the CGI-heavy noise machine that has come to dominate blockbuster filmmaking, nothing comes across as being rushed or hastily manufactured. That oft-repeated critique that has become shorthand in, for example, superhero circles isn’t something that quite fits here.

Now, that doesn’t make it impervious by any means - the third act specifically, unable to veer away from being visually loud just because it can be - but Cameron, as both director and a member of the editing team, next to his longtime collaborator in cinematographer Russell Carpenter, see that the action is clear, concise and impactful.

It may seem an easy enough mark, prior standing considered but reaching it is another matter altogether and it is done with noticeable ability.

Similarly, although they may not have a wealth of material to play with, the performances of the main cast deliver.

Chaplin is the film’s standout, both individually and as she plays off her co-stars. Varang’s motives aren’t breaking any new ground but Chaplin makes the character immediately well-realized, honest even, despite her following suit in the basic presentation of the “lacking humanity” archetype. There is noticeable tension not just every time she speaks but simply appears on screen - a classic action movie villain.

Quaritch is still positioned as the primary big bad but Lang clearly enjoys returning to once more break this character apart as he continues to grow more comfortable in his Na’vi skin. Not so much troubled by Jake pushing him to consider the world beyond his known borders but continually intrigued by the possibility.

Unable to truly mask his respect for his rival as a solider and almost coming to sympathize in Jake’s mission to protect his family, as his - Quaritch’s - relationship with Varang evolves. And as Jake, while Worthington again earns it as a grizzled, heart of gold man-of-action, he doesn’t get a wide showcase here.

This potion of the story, just not belonging to the character as its predecessors did.

Saldaña gets more room, adding another layer to Neytiri as she battles her grief in a way that is striking and most importantly, believable, while trying to resolve it true to form for the character.

Often asked to carry swaths of the film, Saldaña proves at every step, unsurprisingly, that she is more than up to the task.

Of the secondary cast, though Champion and Weaver’s stories are intertwined in a way that speaks to bigger franchise implications first and foremost (with a healthy amount of pay-off here, it should be said), they are mostly given just a handful of beats and asked to extrapolate them to the absolute limit, which they give all they have.

Deciphering Fire and Ash’s specific storytelling aptitude however is a somewhat trickier ask, if only because it both pushes the franchise forward in interesting ways but at the same time, seems driven to stay comfortably in neutral.

That said, it does bear reiterating that Avatar has never aspired to be anything more than what it is.

And for some, yes, that decision to focus more openly on operatic spectacle rather than say, something tighter or perhaps not as comparatively limited will continue to be the franchise’s biggest narrative misstep, project-to-project. However, that isn’t fully the case here and it doesn’t sink the film the way popular discussion might suggest, the highs, still apparent.

Be it, again, the arcs of specific characters (Neytiri, Kiri and Quaritch most prominently) or the raw expansion of the world that the credited trio of screenwriters, Cameron, alongside Rick Jaffa and Amanda Silver are keen to dig into (from a story they crafted next to Josh Friedman and Shane Salerno, all apart of the quasi-writer’s room Cameron established for the franchise over a decade ago).

It tracks.

While the original film fit traditional narrative templates to a tee, The Way of Water, though strong enough on its own merits was also tasked with reintroducing real-time audiences to, well, everything thirteen years later, if next to considerable expectations given the success of its predecessor.

So where Fire and Ash does well is simply being permitted to tell its story without heavier, sweeping obligation, in that respect, if knowing that the investment is already built-in. Further expanding on some characters, concluding other threads entirely in pursuit of setting up new ones or overlaying everything simultaneously.

It is though, something of a paradox.

Because again, while Cameron’s action-chops are a given, the film is by-far-and-away at its strongest when it is in the depths of its character work. Taking the time to explore, to examine what makes its ensemble tick in a way only a few tentpole outings are given the space to do so, even if it can, at times, come across as undeniably paper thin (or in the case of Lo’ak's story specifically, given far too much time for a resolution which is, ultimately, far too telegraphed).

The action may look fantastic but it also feels, as a byproduct, terribly perfunctory. The film inherently knowing that is the selling point but unable to meld those instincts together in a way that would best serve both over its three hour-plus runtime - although that is not to say that the storytelling sings without snags either. Be it the, if expected, deep campiness in the dialogue (six-out-of-ten on the Adam West Scale) or the fact that its story was built in the room as a middle chapter in a continuing effort and lands with a passable if unsatisfactory roll of the eyes as a result.

The final hour, little more than wrapping up one story effectively enough but leaving then two, even three cliffhangers in its place.

Though to this, speaking in 2024, Cameron revealed that portions of a fourth film - tentatively still set for release in 2029 - have already been shot, as apart of that concurrent, two-film production in order to account for the aging of the younger actors prior to a six year time skip in the narrative.

But in November of 2025, he seemed more willing to hedge his bets, (if as well, still inherently hyping up his latest effort). Saying that the franchise will only go forward if the box office numbers demand it… otherwise, so he claims, he’ll be concluding the story through a series of novels instead (as of January 9th, the movie has cleared over a billion dollars internationally).

When all is said and done however, it leaves Avatar: Fire and Ash at a weird intersection, both familiar and lacking.

The leads know their roles well and as pure technical achievement, with all its pieces on the board, there are still words to be said for the experience of seeing Avatar in the theatre, however the critics and cynics may disagree1.

Mostly freed from the burden of expectation, its narrative sees it as the most enjoyable and engaging of the films thus far, taking some bold enough swings and swerves both.

Where it stumbles is within the nature of that execution, be it the weak dialogue, purposeful cliffhangers, leaving more than frustration over curiosity or the one-to-one thematic/foundational repetition. As was said in 2009 so again was it said in 2022 and it is clear that Fire and Ash has little in the way of true evolution on hand.

Angst, resolution and a violent climax, in that order.

Through its ambition alone, while there will always be fun in spades amongst the jungles of Pandora, if there is indeed to be more in the cards for Avatar, a measure of its potential still feels unrealized.

Fire and Ash comes closest in this pursuit, although it just doesn’t burn as brightly as it could.

Rating: 6.7/10

Buy Ryan a Beer

Leave a comment

So it goes.

Even as they put their much-celebrated partnership on hiatus - after ten years and five co-directed films - there was indeed something to be said for the curiosity which surrounded the Safdie brothers, Benny and Josh, as they once more decided to strike out as individuals.

Two creatives, each to pull from the lessons of a unique collaborative approach, if in their own way going forward.

And although there is no denying that his Christmas Day release, Marty Supreme, boasts the requisite amounts of prestige and promise, ultimately, there is little of Josh Safdie’s second solo film that truly lives up to that billing.

A project of far too many pieces, trying too hard and too desperately to hold themselves together.

Marty Mauser (Timothée Chalamet) is utterly convinced of his greatness.

Though he spends his days as an unassuming shoe salesman, by night he is an accomplished table tennis player who, by the early 1950s, has become a rising up-and-comer on the international scene - known for his undeniable skill as much as his bravado.

Having funded his career primarily as a small-time hustler with his friend Wally (Tyler Okonma), Marty eventually crosses paths with businessman Rockwell (Kevin O’Leary), his wife Kay (Gwyneth Paltrow), becoming relentless in working both for opportunity.

But as he struggles in balancing that ambition up against the demands of his personal life, particularly his relationship with childhood friend Rachel (Odessa A’zion), Marty is forced to confront the reality that, no matter how much he rages, faith alone will only carry him so far.

Though technically a singular effort, not labelling itself as a straight biopic, since it was first announced, Safdie, alongside his other long-time collaborator, co-writer (and co-editor) Ronald Bronstein have made no secret of Marty Supreme’s inspiration: the life of table tennis player Marty Reisman, who, like the film’s same-named protagonist was a hustling New Yorker, first gaining notoriety in the ‘50s as he refused to bend to the sport’s then burgeoning establishment.

And to this, despite not adhering to strict narrative formula, in that respect, the period-appropriate, true-to-life details are easily the film’s strongest visible element.

Cinematographer Darius Khondji, who, interviewed by American Cinematographer last month, spoke about shooting Marty Supreme primarily on film with anamorphic lenses, alternating between 65, 75 and 100mm as needed and limiting lighting in tighter scenes to achieve the desired era look.

Similarly, so too has production designer Jack Fisk, acknowledging the effort put in by his team, working almost exclusively on location in New York City and with a commitment to the physical.

Be it through constructing sets by way of authentic building blueprints and reference photos or costume designer Miyako Bellizzi, fine-tuning each piece of clothing put on screen. Sourcing directly from appropriate Jewish communities in Brooklyn or pulling from preserved video footage to better capture the specific time-and-place that would have been represented the contrasting demographics - from Kay’s more classical style to Marty’s flashier, mobster-lite inspired aesthetic.

And while the ping pong scenes, considering, are mostly bookends, there is an authenticity there too.

Per his own account, Chalamet had been training in the sport since 2018 when he first learned of the protect, worked further during production with Olympian Wei Wang and alongside real-life champion Koto Kawaguchi (who plays, in his film debut, Koto Endo, Marty’s main rival) performed almost all of their own stunts.

Each of these things brings something that, within the execution, elevates Marty Supreme beyond being just another bog-standard period film.

There was a conscious decision here, across the board, to focus on the presentation and that is reflected.

On the performance side is Tyler the Creator as Wally, credited here under his birth name (Tyler Okonma) in his film debut. And although there isn’t that much of a distinction to be made between the character specifically and the persona Okonma has been crafting since his time leading Odd Future, he doesn’t feel overmatched, if playing almost entirely against Chalamet.

Wally has a story of his own and even if left exclusively on the margins, Okonma makes it feel genuine.

Odessa A’zion’s, side-by-side, is given more material to work with, even if Rachel, by design, is intrinsically tied to Marty. The catch being, however much Marty may try to keep a distance, for a variety of reasons, most of them selfish, A’zion sees that Rachel, a hustler all her own, refuses to back down despite the efforts of those who try and suggest she do otherwise.

Paltrow too gives an effective performance, Kay, feeling wholly believable as an actress who has seen her career falter and marriage become perfunctory. Bringing Marty into her orbit and battling for an upper hand, both come to understand, that they enjoy chasing, even with the resulting turmoil it brings.

A control she plays with skillfully, despite comparatively limited screen time, from a cool, faux-disinterest to something raw and more immediate, while in smaller roles, Abel Ferrara and Fran Drescher are solid.

The biggest weak point here, unsurprisingly, is business magnate Kevin O’Leary as Rockwell, in his acting debut. And on one hand, yes, while O’Leary’s role as an unmoral asshole is something he is well suited too (considering his vocal personal-political profile), his lack of even minor acting ability is quickly apparent, grinding each of his scenes to an absolute halt, regardless of who he is paired with.

Either Safdie sold a portion of his creative integrity for pennies on the dollar or O’Leary (or fellow businessman, John A. Catsimatidis who also stars) bought it outright: either way, placing O’Leary in a role, a major role no less, is simply a baffling decision that doesn’t pay dividends, not even once.

If there was a push for a glorified, stunt-casting cameo then so be it but anything more and even then, was the wrong play all the way around.1

At the centre of the whole enterprise however, is Chalamet’s Marty.

And all-in-all, there must be acknowledgment for what Chalamet, Safdie and Bronstein craft here, a character that, though positioned as the film’s protagonist is very much, in consideration to virtually everyone else he encounters, the villain.

A man so consumed by his drive to be at the very pinnacle of the table tennis world, he will do whatever he takes to get there. Con, steal and more than once, physically threaten those that become too much of an obstacle. His emotional intelligence, if any, a nigh-psychopathic focus, all but exclusively angled towards what others can give to him, be it money, opportunity or base hedonism. And while there has been much digital ink spilled over the apparent inability of some online to sympathize with the character, indeed… that is the point.

Not once does Chalamet let up, obsessive and frantic in his portrayal before the title card even drops, making Marty, if understandable in his motives, purposefully unlikable.

Less an action of rooting for someone to succeed, more respecting the act of stepping back if just to see where it leads.

Of course, as previously laid out with strength by The Ringer’s Julianna Ress, attached to Chalamet here is his less-than-subtle push for Oscar consideration over the past few weeks, the film-at-large having been held up as the crowning jewel for his career thus far (having been nominated for Best Actor twice previously).

To such an extent then, is such acclaim warranted?

From this vantage, no, for while Chalamet is indeed effective in the role, there isn’t enough done either within the micro of his performance nor the macro of everything else to mask Marty Supreme’s most unescapable shortcomings: the script and Safdie’s direction of it.

Maybe there was an element of carte blanche in the mix, Safdie, coming off the success of his prior projects and given the freedom, as director and co-writer, next to Bronstein, to bring the film to life how he chose.

In practice however, these instincts are poorly served.

The intention, in fairness, is clear, wanting to show Marty contrasting the highs of the table with the hurdles he must navigate to return there but for a film that touts so loudly its purported energy, the delivery, at two-and-a-half hours, is lethargic, misguided and totally stagnant.

A series of loosely-connected vignettes under the shadow of a basic plot outline thrown together with only the minimal amount of care and connective tissue. Paired next to a climax that doesn’t earn the length of its final thirty-five minutes, with editing throughout that struggles to consistently generate the tension and rapid-fire pace the apparent stakes would suggest.

There are a few sequences that speak to a better sense of kinetic energy but they almost feel retrofitted, placed onto a drama that was too insistent on the importance of its existence alone (there is a far tighter, hour-forty-five film in here somewhere).

It is though, when all is said and done, where Marty Supreme lands.

With strong technical chops, particularly in the physical application of its period piece trappings and noted work by the standout members of its major cast but dragged down, again-and-again, by a particularly poor casting choice, a disjointed, elongated script and a director that needed a far steadier hand to temper his impulses.

Average, at best.

And far from being supreme.

Rating: 5.7/10

Leave a comment

Buy Ryan a Beer

I hope everyone had a great December.

In Off-Balance custom, for the final time in 2025, here is a snapshot of what I watched, listened to, read and (mostly) enjoyed over the past four weeks (that is, what I haven’t covered already).

Time flies: I’ve been writing on Substack since May of 2023 and the community here continues, to my frequent amazement, to grow. I really have no words other than thank you.

I am so grateful for your continued support right now, this month and always.

Otherwise, in more personal news, I have some real exciting things on the docket as we start looking ahead to 2026. Not just regarding my writing specifically but grander, messier… life stuff. And when I’m ready and able, I’ll be sure to share more.

Until then? Let’s keep it going.

I’ll see you out there,

Ryan.

Movies

• The King of New York (1990)

• Zola (2021)

Music

• Section.80 (Kendrick Lamar) (2011)

• Blonde (Frank Ocean) (2016)

What’s Next?

• Peaky Blinders: The Immortal Man (2026)

• The Boys: Season 5 (2026)

Substack Spotlight

Fuck Your Algorithm: Why Physical Media Still Matters

• ,

On Tarantino

• ,

Performances You Need To See.

The Off-Balance Rewind: 2025

• Assassin’s Creed Shadows: The Off-Balance Review.

• Superman (2025): The Off-Balance Review.

• A Day at the Dome (Redux).

The King of New York (1990)

Following his release from prison, career criminal Frank White (Christopher Walken) promptly begins seizing control of the New York City underworld while simultaneously presenting an honest front to the media, daring to put down anyone who opposes him.

Though as he and his right-hand, Jimmy Jump (Laurence Fishburne) find themselves relentlessly pursued by a trio of determined cops (David Caruso, Victor Argo, Wesley Snipes), Frank comes to understand that his vision for the future will be one hard fought… and at great cost.

Directed by Abel Ferrara and credited to writer Nicolas St. John, there is something to be said for both The King of New York’s immediate hook and some of the supporting elements that surround it.

Be it the work of cinematographer Bojan Bazelli who gives New York City a familiar if intimidating quality, masked in dark blues, smoke and shadow or the overall set design. Invoking a distinct character, next to the film’s then contemporary style.

There is Walken, delivering a performance that, though it is pretty straightforward, crosses subtly with a man believably well versed in power and violence. Fishburne too, who has virtually nothing to chew on beyond broad strokes still brings a sharp energy to his portrayal, earning focus in a somewhat crowded, secondary ensemble.

Otherwise, though the film isn’t a total wash, considering, little else is worth much praise, primarily St. John’s script. The biggest problem being it soon becomes apparent that outside of the knights-on-the-board introductory sequence, the narrative is driven by weak set pieces and not any sort of legitimate storytelling momentum.

Frank’s motives are clear enough sure but the conflicts he faces come across as stiff and overly manufactured, sapping any inherent tension away.

As well, the decision to split time, between Frank, with the trio of cops, specifically Caruso and Argo’s characters is the film’s most visible mistake. It may seem like a good idea in theory, even if playing up the unremarkable “not-so-different” angle but lacking any sort of genuine interiority between them means that everything drags with disinterest, in spite of itself.

The King Of The New York may be delivered with an air of grand importance but instead, it is received with, at best, a half-hearted shrug. A film that ultimately, isn’t quite sure neither what it wants to be nor what it truly wants to say.

Rating: 5.3/10

Zola (2021)

After a supposed chance meeting, Zola (Taylour Paige) strikes up a friendship with fellow stripper Stefani (Riley Keough) and intrigued by her promises of a quick weekend away, at a high-earning club in Tampa, the two soon hit the road.

Though joined by Stefani’s “friends”, X (Colman Domingo) and the hapless Derrek (Nicholas Braun), not long after arriving in Florida, Zola soon realizes that things aren’t quite what they seem - not only is X Stefani’s pimp, he has no issues about asserting that power in the pursuit of lining his pockets.

And as their situation grows increasingly more dangerous, Zola and Stefani both are faced with a series of choices that have no easy answers.

On the surface, yes, while the general framework of Zola, coupled with its various pieces - a partial road tripping, crime thriller outing with darkly comedic undertones - isn’t necessarily doing anything new, it is delivered as a project closely attuned to its specific moment… that being, because it is.

Though directed with a clear hand by Janicza Bravo, from a script co-written with Jeremy O. Harris, the whole crux of the film is derived from the real-life material it is adapting: a 2015 Tweet thread written by the actual Zola, those experiences (if noted for not being entirely accurate, in their totality) later to be visibly corroborated by David Kushner for Rolling Stone, playing up that “true story” hook, if in a more immediate way.

That infamous “chirp” that is heard during key intervals of Paige’s occasional narration, the specificity of the dialogue and costuming. The collaborative timing and sharp framing of Bravo, cinematographer Ari Wegner and editor Joi McMillon, all working to alternate Zola’s presentation between an in-your-face, Gen Z-style Instagram reel and something darker and more emotionally direct, depending on the moment.

All of it, seeing the film solidified on a somewhat weird nexus as both a contemporary effort and - already, in many ways - a period piece for the social media age (for one, Twitter, as presented here doesn’t even exist in the same way anymore).

In accompaniment, the performances of the main cast are strong.

Braun, for better or worse, isn’t quite able to shed the presentation of Derrek being little more than his Succession template repurposed with Florida Man sheen but he makes him honest regardless. Someone who is clearly caught in a loop of poor decision-making but doesn’t have the ability to articulate his pain in any healthy way.

Domingo, meanwhile, commands the screen almost every time he appears, a total presence. X, a man whose easily tapped-in-too instincts for violence and control can hardly be masked behind a thin veneer of faux-affability before they explode outwards.

It is, front-to-back, a performance of note.

Paige and Keough both work well with individualism and a push-and-pull dynamic: two characters who are able, initially, to bond over supposedly similar life experience before their relationship quickly falters.

Paige, making Zola relatable right from the opening title card as she tries desperately to keep her head above water despite the chaos that comes to consume her time in the Sunshine State. Holding tightly to her moral compass, if understanding she’ll need to bend, if not break it, while recognizing too that falling to such allure in the first place is lesson she’ll never forget.

Stefani is a little tougher to pin down, if only because Keough (and the writing of the character overall) make her a purposeful enigma. Built upon trauma, clearly and unable to escape from it but equally so, not afraid to be openly manipulative as it suits those ends, even if it can seem, often, to be totally disingenuous (specifically considering everything from her dialect to her mannerisms, which, as a white woman, are clearly not her own).

Cultivating measures of sympathy and frustration as needed, scene-over-scene, Keough keeps Stefani on a tightrope but manages well.

All that said, narratively, Zola can’t escape its own pre-destined formula, even if based on true events. Not predictable in the minute per se but telegraphing the nature of those approaching signposts in a way it can never quite navigate around. Nor does it truly have much to say about sex work in a way that would set it apart in a sense of broader consumption, in a more positive sense, even if the material doesn’t push towards such an approach (although there is, in fairness, something of perspective shift regarding that presentation around the mid-point).

A film that doesn’t see all of its swings land but deserves to be recognized for taking them in the first place.

Rating: 7.8/10

Section.80 (Kendrick Lamar) (2011)

Although his 2011 debut album, unsurprisingly, may not see his now signature storytelling voice nor inclination to more front-facing experimentation be wholly refined right from the jump, with Section.80, Kendrick Lamar proved he was more than just another talented if easily boxed up-and-comer on the rise.

His delivery, if more raw, no less impactful, weaving a few concept nodes around political, social and personal nodes without once losing his control.

Almost casually laying the foundation for his more recognized, later efforts if not without great staying power all its own.

Blonde (Frank Ocean) (2016)

When considering the near-mythos that has been built up around him, really, since his days in Odd Future, it can hard, at times, to truly separate Frank Ocean from the constant buzz which surrounds him in comparison to the man, the musician himself.

So nine years on now, since the release of his second and most recent album, Blonde, the instinct may be, when discussing Ocean, to lean into that purposefully mysterious persona but in doing so, above all, ultimately takes the focus of the work itself.

And Blonde, still, is a record that simply brings the listener in on every song, every track.

Be it the eclectic if finely-tuned production or the songwriting, anchored with Ocean’s ever-apparent personal style: from emotional interiority, on seemingly each possible front, to the external world which brought that turmoil forward in the first place.

An album that stands, asking on be taken in, approaching timelessness, as it does, within that invitation alone.

Peaky Blinders: The Immortal Man (2026)

On one hand, it seems an almost impossible task.

Upon its conclusion in 2022, Peaky Blinders easily secured its standing as one of the best made television shows of its era and beyond, entering the all-time discussion in a medium full of no slouches for that title (particularly over the last 25/30 years).

And while the exploits of Tommy Shelby (Cillian Murphy) and his true-to-life inspired crime syndicate may have established another high-water mark for historical crime fiction, in ending when it did - on its own terms after six complete and tightly-scripted seasons - it seemed unlikely Murphy and series creator Steven Knight would have anything more to say.

Instead, after years of quiet movement on the production side paired with a healthy amount of doubt, with epilogue film, Peaky Blinders: The Immortal Man there will indeed be a return to Birmingham. Tommy, years following the events of the series, forced once more to confront his legacy and seemingly, his complicated desire for justice, no matter the personal cost.

If it will be worth the wait (and continuation of the story) however, remains to be seen.

The Immortal Man is currently set for release next March, on Netflix and preceding that, a brief theatrical run.

The Boys: Season 5 (2026)

While the fourth season of The Boys wasn’t without the show’s as expected highs by any means, in clearly being designated as the set-up season to the fifth and final effort, it left its ten-episode narrative, as a result, in something of a holding pattern (even if

Unwilling and unable to truly take any bold swings with its characters in advance of its sure-to-be-explosive endgame, that is, as one of the wildest shows on television: blending present-moment political commentary, superhero storytelling and high-octane action.

But with that fifth season now confirmed, just where the titular vigilante group might go can be better seen, with Butcher (Karl Urban) bringing the band back together for one last gig, that is, as they work to take down Homelander (Anthony Starr) before he tears America apart.

And although the show has never really seemed to feel the weight of its outsized expectations before (even with its corporate overlords in tow) sticking the landing will, one way or another, no doubt be a tougher ask.

The season is currently set to debut in April of 2026.

Substack Spotlight

There are many wonderful writers, out there in the wild but specifically so, here on Substack.

In that spirit, here are a few articles I really enjoyed this past month, including some from valued members of the Off-Balance community.

Do feel free, if you haven’t already, to expand your horizons and check out what they have on offer.

Fuck Your Algorithm: Why Physical Media Still Matters

,

CUT TO BLACK

Fuck Your Algorithm: Why Physical Media Still Matters

There’s a quiet kind of revolution happening in the thrift bins, in dusty record stores, in corner DVD shops, in every secondhand crate of vinyl tucked beside a sagging bookshelf. You might not see it when you fire up your streaming app and scroll endlessly like a fucking zombie, desperate to find something, anything, that hasn’t already been reduced in…

Read more

5 months ago · 26 likes · 4 comments · Jose Zambrano Cassella

While it has become, with a fury, a much discussed talking point of the ever-online media collective (and yes, even here, as apart of Substack’s film community), often, pledging a sincere case for physical media preservation has become easier said than done.

Though with this piece José lays out, with an undeniable passion, just way that practice is not just a fashionable dying art but instead, a vitally important act: for the consumer, for the artist, for the media itself.

The physicality, the connection, the creative growth that can only truly come when browsing the shelves, opening the cases and holding something that will last well beyond the algorithm, in every way.

You can find José at .

On Tarantino

,

Will Sloan's Brilliant Thoughts

On Tarantino

Quentin Tarantino has been doing a lot of talking lately, and it’s been impacting my ability to enjoy his films. Or perhaps more accurately, it has underlined certain tendencies in his films that I increasingly find disquieting. There is ugliness in this man’s worldview that wasn’t always so apparent to me, and if you’ll forgive me for helping prolong t…

Read more

5 months ago · 485 likes · 28 comments · Will Sloan

Now six (just about seven) years removed from his last feature, writer-director Quentin Tarantino’s public profile has seen him continue to pivot towards something akin to a low-brow, low-budget pundit. In fairness, not unfamiliar territory necessarily but taken on with far more force.

And while his degrading remarks on actors Paul Dano, Owen Wilson and Matthew Lillard made earlier this month drew their requisite amount of pushback (as being nothing but total asshole behaviour), with this piece, Will looks to examine Tarantino more closely.

Not just through the always-shifting lens of his films alone but the personal/emotional, socio-political orbit that has cultivated that decades-long held persona in the first place - and for “QT”, the reality that we are dealing with a creative who, ultimately, though always to hold acclaim for most of his work, having become more of a roadblock than the beacon he seems to believe.

You can find Will at .

Performances You Need To See.

The Long Take

Performances You Need To See.

Acting is one of those things everyone swears they understand, like coffee roasting or astrology. People toss around words like “technique” as if they personally invented the Method. When I’m watching a film, none of that theory chatter survives contact with the screen. What actually hits me is embarrassingly simple…

Read more

5 months ago · 21 likes · 9 comments · The Long Take

Will a healthy amount of current moment film criticism coming to rest on just that - criticism, true of occurring, yes, even in this space - there is something so incredibly refreshing when choosing to reverse that energy, as Raphael has done here.

Not just in acknowledging a strength of any particular project, if in passing but recognizing talent entirely on its own terms. In this case, performances of record and those that brought them life, across an impressively diverse range.

A respect for the craft that highlights just what cinema is all about.

Don’t miss out: you can find more at .

The Off-Balance Rewind: 2025.

As 2025 winds down, I thought it’d be an interesting exercise to go back and revisit some of my pieces from the year that was: if just to reflect, to see if my opinions had changed or maybe, to find out that I disagreed with my previous work entirely.

Indeed: the timeless art of relentless self-criticism.

Assassin’s Creed Shadows: The Off-Balance Review.

If I’ve gathered anything from my video game coverage, it is that trying to capture the feeling of any one game is, to be sure, no easy thing. A lion’s den of competing elements at play, all expected to stitch together nigh-seamlessly without interruption.

Though while even the most tireless films, generally, will top out at three hours, there is simply a different set at parameters needing to be considered when you’re working with an experience that can range anywhere from 40 hours as a baseline to 100, maybe even 200-plus.

And in working to discern all that over just a period of a few weeks, if right in the glow of highly-promoted release window no less, can be tricky. Not falling victim to the hype while still being as fair, as honest, as possible.

In hindsight then, I feel that my review of Assassin’s Creed Shadows wasn’t quite what I wanted it to be.

Not that I’ve done a total reversal, per se: what clicked for me at launch, in the base game, still does now - the expansion of the base-building mechanics, the raw visual strength, the contrasting combat-and-stealth gameplay styles - but I just can’t shake that I glossed over its shortcomings too readily.

The weak, middle act pacing that has come to colour most of the AC’s RPG-games (Odyssey, being the expectation) or the mostly dead open world in which diminishing returns are commonplace past the twenty-five hour mark. Things that, though I did acknowledge them previously, just didn’t get the pushback they probably deserved, considering their moment-to-moment importance in the third-person space.

No, I won’t be retroactively changing my rating or anything like that, as it was then it should and will stand now - but if anything, it is a reminder that taking that additional step back and allowing your critique to stretch its legs more freely?

It is, more often than not, the most effective play. I wish I did that more here.

Superman (2025): The Off-Balance Review.

Although it was definitely a quieter year for superhero movies this summer - long gone are the days with multiple releases at a time - there were still some heavy hitters from the Big Two, though perhaps none more so visible than James Gunn’s Superman.

A film unafraid to tackle the current political apparatus, social media and most importantly, reaffirming Superman (correctly) as a symbol of truth and justice.

A shining light, in uncertain times.

The bigger question however, is has my option on it drastically shifted in the past six months? On the whole, no, I don’t think so. I still stand by my review, in all facets - my praise, my critiques and my rating - but it is unfair to say that, sometimes, the litmus test is as simple as a rainy Sunday afternoon?

Yeah, maybe.

Superman is a great outing but it is, often purposefully, a scattered one too, in a way it recognizes but can’t quite corral (particularly in its first act).

So after chewing on it, Marvel’s summer tentpole, Fantastic Four: First Steps may be a comparatively more straightforward effort but it plays without that anxious energy in a more effective way, if not being, per se, the better film, 1:1.

Something I’d be more inclined to put on and let run if under the gun of choice, if that makes sense.

Reviews man! Movies!

Evidently, even when I’m happy, I still can’t sit with it (well, that seems about right).

A Day at the Dome (Redux).

Though the heartbreak of their World Series loss will undoubtedly last until the spring, when optimism rises from its hibernation once more, one thing I tend to find that can be lost in sports discussion is the element of pure enjoyment.

Following it, regardless, wherever it leads.

In August, I took in my annual game at the Rogers Centre with my Dad and it was, of course, picture-perfect. A Toronto win with Mad Max himself on the mound, Shane Bieber in the wings, the energy, electric. Davis Schneider, delivering on every dollar earned.

And ultimately, yes, when all is said and done? I do believe, honestly, that such things will be what I’ll truly remember most about my 2025 Jays.

Those moments, the smaller snippets, the blink-and-you-miss-it possibility. That ever-unique experience of sharing a beer with someone who will, simultaneously, pepper you with questions to make sure you’re up to snuff on the current reliever’s pitching sequence and the infield’s positioning.

So it can be, banners, not being the only thing that fly forever. Memories too.

Buy Ryan a Beer

Leave a comment

Please consider this your spoiler warning.

Otherwise, as always, thanks for reading Off-Balance!

Ryan.

Subscribe now

At a glance, though it doesn’t necessarily invite such discussion after twenty-five years and now, forty-nine seasons on the air, Survivor has, for better or worse, become intrinsically tied to the concept of legacy, specifically its own.

Maybe it is the the inescapable shadow of the Golden Age, its first twenty-thirty seasons and the now Mount Rushmore-esque castaways that came to define them (fittingly perhaps, now fifteen years since the show’s best season, the twentieth, Heroes vs. Villains).

Maybe it is that unique iconography or the inherent distinction of the core premise: this, which helped to immediately separate Survivor from the larger apparatus of its reality TV contemporaries - if with the understanding that it couldn’t coast on those laurels forever, either.

And although the so-named “New Era”, roughly, from the forty-first season onwards has seen the show both retool itself on the fly while retaining the entrenched basics - eighteen strangers, dropped on a beach in Fiji to battle the elements, each other and a chance at a million dollars for the title of Sole Survivor -, conversely, it has also become increasingly defined by formula and production interference in a way it never was previously, at least, to such a visible extent.

A stubbornness, apparent, even as that landmark 50th season looms.

But as 49 concluded earlier this week, it proved something both Jeff Probst and his team seem to struggle in acknowledging: when they allow themselves to simply get out of their own way?

There is still adventure to be found in the Mamanuca Islands.

In hindsight, it was decision that, though seemingly inconsequential at the time, proved the death kneel for all those that made it.

As the castaways reached the merge on Day 14, the majority, if understanding the potential held by the remaining Uli members, deemed Nate, with consideration of his social acumen, the most pressing threat.

And as soon as the opportunity presented itself, no doubt, Rizo and Savannah, as his allies, would be following him to the jury bench.

But on Night 26, as the final three of Savannah, Sophi and Sage brought their torches to tribal, it was that same jury, there to recognize a game played with an unwavering commitment to winning, no matter the cost.

A strong physical presence which complimented both her challenge performances more broadly and her four individual immunity wins, tying the women’s record, as only the sixth to achieve that feat. A fierce competitor and keen strategist who, if lacking a more performative social touch, refused to be backed into any corner she couldn’t fight her way out of. Either individually or with her two (and frankly, only, post-merge) allies in tow.

A style which, all-in-all, if no doubt antiquated in present-moment Survivor saw Savannah come out victorious, via a 5-2-1 vote.

Though indeed, if the ongoing conjecture around her game speaks to anything, it is how the raw fundamentals, if so solidified, have changed too.

Beyond just firmly planting itself in the social media age, if a necessary move for its own… continued existence (gotcha), how the show carries itself has indisputably evolved.

Confessionals, laden with hard-knock stories, their rich, tug-at-the-heartstrings overtones, perfect for quick-hit soundbites and presumably designed to keep the attention of a general audience more concerned with multitasking two screens, at minimum, than being singularly engaged.

The overall undertaking being, openly, less gruelling (an inherent byproduct of committing to 26 days, nearly two weeks fewer than the traditional 39) next to the noted perspective shift that Probst continues to hype up on the bumpers of each commercial break. The idea that castaways should be grateful for the experience above all else rather than actively pushing as hard as they can for a chance to win (that “kumbaya” mentality so derided by a vocal portion of the show’s online fanbase).

So maybe then, with all that considered, the contrast Savannah embodied is what made her stand out.

Sure, she wasn't above those mandates by any means but again, while the show is no stranger to pure chaos agents, particularly in recent years, moderating that hustle with a non-stop strategic zeal made her, in that respect, a modern Survivor outlier: not afraid to directly confront her fellow castaways on their alliances, votes or even potential advantages (such as when she straight-up attempted to tackle MC in a failed bid for her idol key).

No, it didn’t make her many friends (something crystallized in Kristina’s all-time jaded-juror question, regarding Savannah’s retention of personal details) nor did production do her any favours, considering, even with the winner’s edit: more than once reiterating the perceptions others held of her as a borderline villain, single-minded, insincere and supposedly lacking self-awareness… but the hook, of course, was evident.

As she, if not alone, drew some great TV, personality-to-personality, week-over-week.

The whole idea, after all.

Though she never totally overcame the somewhat purposeful weirdness of her introduction - that is, the ongoing bit regarding her bodily functions - as the season went on, Sage quickly emerged not just a key strategic option but as a social player of note as well.

Someone who was able to contrast her outward affability with sharp, if emotionally-driven reads, in taking quick, decisive turns if she felt the situation required it.

To this, while her battle-of-the-wills with Shannon saw her come out triumphant, flipping on Steven, at the eleventh hour no less, ultimately worked against her, in better paving a path to a third, not first place finish (yet per her exit press with Entertainment Weekly, Sage acknowledged that her relationships with her fellow castaways were much more complex, to her telling, than what was shown on screen - as is, with all respect to her experience, pretty standard).

Elsewhere, after enduring the utter catastrophe that was the original Kele tribe, Sophi built herself up from the literal bottom, with no numbers in her favour. Scrappy and impossibility determined, parlaying a tight three alliance (if as the third) all the way to a two-vote final tribal.

And although they didn’t get the lion’s share of the screen time, 1:1, Jawan, MC and Nate, for three, were all compelling in their own right, both pre-and-post merge.

But then, of course, there was Rizo.

Though it should be said, right from the get-go, by way of the season’s promo material alone, it appeared he would be fighting something of an uphill battle.

Indeed, the easy-to-point towards embodiment of the show’s inclination towards trying to bring in a younger demographic, that is, if those attempts were coloured by smacking them repeatedly on the head with a torch snuffer and frankly, mildly, deceptively so.

For one, Rizo is notably older then the Gen Alpha/current-moment, always online slang that was immediately apart of his confessionals and person-to-person interactions - consider, hilariously, Nate’s bewilderment, even as a film producer, regarding those “absolute cinema” comments - initially giving him an air of totally put-on showmanship that, if baseline amusing, wouldn’t last.

Instead what become clear was Rizo’s genuine, no-holds barred enthusiasm for playing the game.

Some shtick? Oh, absolutely.

Yet not enough to hide a dude proud of his family, stoked for the opportunities presented and a true desire to be crowned Sole Survivor (and while “The Rizgod” was ever present, the reliance on his catchphrases did decline, to be fair, significantly after the first couple weeks).

Though from the moment he arrived to the night he left, just short of the final three (bested by his number one, Savannah, in the fire-making challenge), Rizo established himself as the season’s single best social player. Able to effortlessly bring others in, navigate strategy and build bonds, even in the face of his consistently poor challenge performance and the running joke that became his will-he-won’t-he immunity idol play.

How seriously was he really taken, then, is the question, as he walked into tribal again-and-again only to come away, virtually the entire time, totally clean?

And though it is something worth debating, no doubt, the end result, what will be remembered, is an energy often hoped for but rarely delivered on: Rizo, being one of the strongest individual personalities over the past few seasons and certainly, the New Era overall, regardless of his finish or how he got there.

Good timing too, for now, more than ever, those once reinvigorated seams are starting to show.

For one, the starting three-tribe set-up has reached its absolute breaking point, this is indisputable.

The season’s opening weeks in the pre-merge being defined by nothing by OG Kele’s total implosion (again, with one tribe neatly fitting the “disaster” bill) proving that a true shake up to that structure must come soon.

It isn’t new of course, for others to dominate while some struggle in the tribe stage but when the hallmarks, now, can be spotted two palm trees over - one group, continually getting their teeth kicked in, weak challenge performance, compounded with a lack of supplies/the kept flint - means stagnation, frustration, sets in on behalf of the viewer almost immediately.1

There just isn’t any fun to be had when one tribe has been clearly designed to lack cohesion on the part of production, this, while their opponents simply wait around for the merge so they can actually begin playing the game (similarly, having castaways only arriving to their first tribal once they’re repping themselves as individuals, well into the game, is not the play).

The intention is noted and while some seasons (47, notably) have managed to avoid this - and 49 did change things up a bit, with two smaller switches prior to the merge - it is a wound repeatedly self-inflicted.

All-in-all then, Survivor 49, though held back by its own poor decisions on the production side, specifically during the first half of the season, was elevated by the memorability occasionally needing to be brute-forced by its castaways.

Personality and persistence, still to be the show’s best traits, not an over-reliance on produced drama or gimmicks.

Although perhaps it is best to not speak too soon.

With 49 now concluded, the focus can turn entirely to 50, of which, in hoping to avoid spoilers prior to filming, virtually the entire cast, of all returning players, were revealed back in the spring, save for the two 49 additions: now officially confirmed to be Rizo and Savannah, who, if the initial promo spot is any indication, will be apart of the most bombastic (and celebrity-loaded) season in show history.

That being, if not to leave 49 too far behind.

Considering where it stumbled, coming up few votes shy of a stronger majority, though if being another solid outing on the beach.

Rating: 7.4/10

Buy Ryan a Beer

Leave a comment

In Off-Balance custom, here is a snapshot of what I watched, listened to, read and (mostly) enjoyed over the past month (that is, what I haven’t covered already).

As always, thanks for reading!

Until next time,

Ryan

Subscribe now

Movies

• Eden (2024)

• Sinners (2025)

TV

• Alex vs ARod (2025)

Music

• GO:OD AM (Mac Miller) (2015)

• The Incredible True Story (Logic) (2015)

• Memories and Empties (Colter Wall) (2025)

Substack Spotlight

5 Obscure One Hit Wonders

9 Screenwriting Rules to Break When Writing Found Footage Horror

• ,

The Misery and the Triumph of Parallel Parking

• ,

Eden (2024)

Perturbed with the sociopolitical changes that are sweeping across late 1920s Germany, Friedrich (Jude Law) and Dore (Vanessa Kirby) leave for Floreana, a harsh but uninhabited island in the Galápagos.

Resolving to live in insolation, if with purpose: Friedrich, to write his apparent magnum opus, a rebuke of societal convention while Dore, who has multiple sclerosis, turns to more non-conventional remedies to guide her treatment.

Though intrigued by the sensationalized accounts of Friedrich’s letters which have been published in the German press, they are soon joined by the Wittmers: Heinz (Daniel Brühl), Margaret (Sydney Sweeney) and son Harry (Jonathan Tittel), who, despite the Friedrich’s initial misgivings, soon acclimatize to living on the island.

But further disruption by the self-proclaimed Baroness, the cruel Eloise (Ana de Armas) and her love-struck lackeys (Toby Wallace, Felix Kammerer), quickly shatters any preconceived illusions of freedom.

Already harbouring mistrust, as paranoia - particularly that fostered by Eloise - seeps in, the so-called islanders realize they must protect themselves… before decisions on their welfare are made for them.

Pairing Howard with a script written by Noah Pink (from a story by both) the big selling point of Eden, most prominently, is how it is fictionalizing some semblance true events: what occurred on Floreana has been adapted before (in the 2013 documentary film, The Galápagos Affair, for one) and further through the accounts of the real people who lived there during that time.

So there is something to be said then, for the route the film chooses to take. This, in recounting something that occurred, now, nearly a century ago, not widely known, considering and with any of those surviving accounts being inherently inconclusive and contradictory.

All of it, on paper, prime ground for a psychological thriller.

And at its strongest, yes, the film does get a decent amount of milage out of its base concept. The unspooling motivations of its primary players may be, pretty immediately, cut-and-dry but the tension (and resulting stakes) are unfurled well enough.

Howard’s direction, the eye of cinematographer Mathias Herndl and even the location stand-in of coastal Australia, all building towards the effect of casting Floreana as a fool’s paradise.

Those expectations aren’t really subverted however, though not in the sense of genre or styling - it is exactly what it sets out to be, that is abundantly clear - but instead, in a way that would best serve its storytelling and characters.

A slow crawl of stagnation over evolution.

That said, there are some highlights.

Kirby and Law have a sharp back-and-forth dynamic as two people that have convinced themselves of the necessity of a mission they alone understand, only to see their beliefs and trust in each other repeatedly tested, in outsized if logical ways.

As the Baroness, De Armas is the film’s standout, clearly relishing in the opportunity to play somewhat against type as an unabashed villain, Eloise, nothing if not a dangerous and self-centred opportunist.

Considering the general ensemble nature of the project, she doesn’t get a lion’s share of screen-time but she chews through every minute she can regardless.

Otherwise, Brühl is his usual, reliable self in an entirely thankless role, and while Wallace and Kammerer are believable, as two men caught in a situation thoroughly out of their control, there is also a fair amount of overlap between them as well: the film, not quite able to differentiate either, making their characters all but interchangeable, while Sweeney, if quiet, is effective enough, casted as the film’s moral-emotional centre up against a sea of chaos.1

Eden though, is ultimately a weird film in totality.

Casting an interesting spotlight on a more obscure historical event with good fundamentals and a brand-name cast that understood their assignment but with little else to show for it.

No big swings, no heavier exploration besides the obvious, nothing to truly hang its hat on, in a cut-above memorability way.

Rating: 6.4/10

Sinners (2025)

From the moment his career began in earnest, be it with franchise tentpoles to more independent efforts, writer-director Ryan Coogler has always been a filmmaker of tremendous vision: itself, something of a rare commodity in an industry which can often struggle in separating individualism from the monolith.

And yet, with his fifth film, Sinners, which released earlier this year, the end result is no different.

A project touting character, bending genres, thematic maturity and a strong, creative through-line… even if it not all of its pieces, as a byproduct of that scope, come together as seamlessly as they could.

After making a name for themselves in the Chicago underworld, twin brothers Smoke and Stack (Michael B. Jordan, in a dual role) return home, as local legends, to their small-town in 1930s Mississippi.

Aiming to open a juke joint as a laundering operation for their riches, the brothers quickly get to work, recruiting the best of local scene: singer Pearline (Jayme Lawson), blues master Delta Slim (Delroy Lindo) and their young cousin, Sammie (Miles Caton), a guitar prodigy who idolizes the twins, seeing in them an opportunity to chase his dreams.

Though unable to totally escape their past - more so after reunions with their significant others, Mary (Hailee Steinfeld) and Annie (Wunmi Mosaku) - following a confrontation with Remmick (Jack O’Connell), a mysterious man who provides them with a glimpse of the supernatural, the twins find themselves faced with an enemy unlike none they have encountered before.

And alongside their loved ones they realize they must fight back, that is, if they want any hope of making it out alive.

Right from the jump, it bears noting that Sinners is, by design, a project wearing its stylistic influences proudly and in promotional interviews leading up to release, Coogler acknowledged as much: be it From Dusk to Dawn (very much so), the larger feel of The Twilight Zone to Stephan King’s more classical, horror-based inclinations.

And while that may provide the film with an immediate sense of familiarity, around them are the touches of individualism, technically and artistically, which see Sinners be unique to itself rather than just straight pastiche (this, compared to say, other films of note in 2025’s blockbuster space).

The tightly-hemmed period costuming (by way, funnily enough, of Coogler's friends on the MCU backlot),cinematographer Autumn Durald Arkapaw, shooting on film while - trusting the strength of the medium’s specific visual language - incorporating shifting aspect ratios during certain narrative moments. The blend of physical and digital effects or as well, the work of composer Ludwig Göransson.

Though it is not just Göransson’s compositions 1:1, which are to his standard, but alongside his various song-to-song collaborators, highlighting the key part music plays in the film binding the its framework to something more pronounced.

Because yes, though Sinners, structurally, isn’t breaking any new ground per se, there is a voice that is consistent throughout. Coogler’s direction and script both, speaking to identity, race, cultural placement and the harsh historical notions of its chosen period with a remarkable, earned focus.

Where it stumbles on this front, considering, is within the balancing of its two genres, a clear ambition that doesn’t entirely land, if, to a lesser extent, alongside the “one night or bust” approach. Not quite a crime film nor a complete horror outing front-to-back or, either, a character effort that can totally capture all the facets it wishes, over its near two-and-a-half hours: although not necessarily to the fault of poor pacing or indecisive editing.

Instead, it lands as a confidence that is stretched just a hair too thin.

The performances though, deliver.

O’Connell’s Remmick is a solid antagonist, without too much flair.

His charisma and faux-affability, it soon becomes evident, masks for a man who has long lost any genuine notions of humanity, working only in service to his specific worldview. A nigh force of nature that can’t be casually dismissed, even as (to relatively mixed results in comparison) he gently cedes some of that spotlight as the film progresses.

As Mary, Hailee Steinfeld is given enough space for both her character’s own individualism and to work as part of the bigger ensemble, specifically through her dynamic with Jordan but in a way that feels believable: a long-simmering complexity not easily answered that she brings a great energy too (while additionally, in crafting the character, pulling from her own background/life experience).

In his film debut meanwhile, Miles Caton doesn’t feel too overmatched when up against a host of more seasoned performers, the character’s general wonderment and less jaded nature played well, though, naturally, he shines the brightest when given the opportunity to flex his musician-specific muscles.

While on the supporting side the rest of the cast bring a good notion of their characters feeling lived-in prior to the film’s beginning, even if, given the larger focus/narrative momentum, their development is relatively slight.

For at the centre of Sinners, twice over, is Michael B. Jordan.

Though in many ways, Jordan’s presence is an unsurprising capstone to his long-running partnership with Coogler, having starred in all five of his films thus far and having brought something different to each.

His dual-role, as the twins, providing him with a chance to further solidify that creative trust and while behind-the-scenes spots highlighted the work of the larger team in realizing that vision - from the differing costuming to the mix of traditional stitching, stunt work and high-end, digital wizardry in putting both characters side-by-side -, ultimately, the bulk of the responsibility lands on Jordan’s shoulders.

And his performances then, in totality, are strong if relatively understated. Giving focus but not stealing it either with the dividing characterization swings between Smoke and Stack, purposefully, prioritizing subtlety over bombast. Jordan though, finds a few notes for each to carefully create that distinction: the slight changes in delivery, posture and even the nuance of their more personally-driven motivations. No, it isn’t immediate but as the film unfolds ,those changing stakes become clear and Jordan keeps them upright with an impressive stamina.

All-in-all, Sinners is not devoid of missteps. For one, unable to evenly balance the inherent ambition present in its scope or the specific characterization such reach would require.

But backed by an unwavering creative vision, despite the raw familiarity baked into its premise, committed performance work and strong thematic bindings, it is a film of across-the-board success, its strengths, apparent from the very first title card.

Rating: 8.5/10

Alex vs ARod (2025)

At the heart of Alex Rodriguez’s story is contradiction.

He is, without question, one of the best players in baseball history, though not just through his outsized counting stats alone but by way of his talent, put into motion.

A full five-tool player. One of the greatest power-speed threats to ever grace a diamond. A defensive dynamo who dominated the hardest spots of the infield, at short and third both, with a precision far surpassing the teammate he famously accommodated (in Derek Jeter).

But as well, Rodriguez, “A-Rod”, was, if, an on-the-record steroid user someone who lied, repeatedly, regarding his relationship with PEDs before coming clean. Someone who, more than once, disrespected both his place and his standing.

A player known as much for his titanic home runs as for the size of his ego.

Camelot and Centaurs.

Though with HBO’s three-episode documentary series, Alex vs ARod, which ran over three weeks this month, the intention is clear. If not a strict rehab tour, for one of the sport’s most challenging figures, then, at the very least, a reconsideration. Featuring a myriad of interviews with former teammates, coaches, family and naturally, Rodriguez himself. Tracing his journey from childhood to the brightest of stadium lights from Seattle, Texas and then, the Bronx, finding stardom and scandal as he went.

Technically, the series doesn’t break any new ground.

It is functionally well-made in the classic documentary style, cutting between archive clips, game footage and confessionals to tell its chosen story with a steady, if somewhat unremarkable hand. There isn’t much new presented, either: Rodriguez has been in the public eye since he was a teenager and outside of a few odd details, unless one is going in completely blind, it mostly plays the hits.

Now, it should be said that unlike, for example, the Pete Rose documentary, the honesty (to an extent) is apparent here. The repeated, open-book acknowledgments of Rodriguez’s most scrutinized decisions are noted, if still placed behind that hoped-for redemption (and the arrogance that comes with it) that he can’t - or choose not to - shake.

Because ultimately, the onus of the project lies not with what is shown on screen per se but rather, more on the viewer themselves.

Since retiring in 2016, Rodriguez has worked diligently to mend his public persona, his second act, that of a respected baseball commentator, a well documented success.

His efforts to get on the Cooperstown ballot, however, less so.2

And though any preconceived notions will be unlikely to change, in providing a glimpse behind the curtain, manufactured though it may be, Alex vs ARod is, if nothing else, a reminder of what A-Rod was at his best during his playing days: entertaining, if, for better or worse, like few others.

Rating: 7.0/10

GO:OD AM (Mac Miller) (2015)

There is almost a feeling of whiplash, considering.

Though widely - and rightfully, given the raw musicianship on display - thought of as his magnum opus, Faces, Mac Miller’s 2014 mixtape was infamously born through the heights of the rapper’s noted struggles with substance abuse. A project then, as a result, nearly entirely consumed with darkness, both lyrically and within its highly eclectic production (and ultimately, being prophetic: Miller died, at 26, of an accidental drug overdose just three years later).

Yet succeeding Faces was GO:OD AM, his third album and instead, conversely, brought forth through a period of extended sobriety for the rapper.

Released ten years ago this fall, GO:OD AM is, if Miller at his most visibly commercial then as well, reflective. Itself, something, seemingly, of an oxymoron (he was only 23, yes) but knowing that he had been active for nearly a decade already, it grants the record a perspective no doubt some of his peers didn’t have, if not in the same way.

Ruminating on love, the lifestyle and the future.

The experimentation that would become his calling card, here, breaking through onto a bigger stage, with a record that, even upon yet another revisit, still feels fresh.

The Incredible True Story (Logic) (2015)

Though he’d been steadily building a somewhat niche following over the previous few years, by way of his Young Sinatra mixtape trilogy, with his 2014 debut album, Under Pressure, Logic brought himself into a mainstream spotlight: chronicling both his difficult upbringing and a nearly unbridled confidence as he looked to make his mark on the hip-hop scene.

But with his follow-up effort, The Incredible True Story, which released ten years ago this month, in November of 2015, his pronounced sigh of relief is, still, apparent. No longer beholden to any false trappings of expectation or, well, outside… pressure, not in the same way.

Instead, it is a project almost, totally, diametrically opposed.

A sci-fi concept album - with Steve Blum and Kevin Randolph staring in the accompanying skits - crammed full of pop culture-styled connective tissue while backed by production alternating between stadium grandeur (Young Jesus, I Am The Greatest, Stainless) and the more college-dorm, psychedelic-tinged sound Logic and his collaborators had, by then, already long mastered (Fade Away, Paradise).

Lyrically, though there isn’t much to write home about, to higher praise that is, the crosses between the concept journey, familiar ground and typical genre bravado not necessarily striking anything new, there is a solid enough foundation holding his bars together.

And while Logic has continued to expand his offerings in the intervening years (to increasingly lesser results) there is little doubt that The Incredible True Story, overall, remains his best.

Focused and forthright in a way not much else in his catalogue can match.3

Memories and Empties (Colter Wall) (2025)

On the heels of his newest album, Memories and Empties, which dropped in mid-November, singer-songwriter Colter Wall has not just found his sound but finely-tuned it.

Debuting on the country music circuit when he was barely out of his teens, now a decade into his career, it is to see a steady progression, a growth.

His musicianship, particularly his string work, has visibly improved (this, best seen on 1800 Miles and Memories and Empties), while paired with the continued strength of his base songwriting and delivery, ensure that the album, front-to-back, is consistently well realized.

While fully committing to his on-the-ranch style of lyricism does see Wall lose some of his prior, more slice-of-life Canadiana, his countered-with authenticity pushes back beyond the usual genre façade, to success.

Substack Spotlight

There are many wonderful writers, out there in the wild but specifically so, here on Substack.

In that spirit, here are a few articles I really enjoyed this past month, including some from valued members of the Off-Balance community.

Do feel free, if you haven’t already, to expand your horizons and check out what they have on offer.

5 Obscure One Hit Wonders

For every musician or group act that breaks out into the zeitgeist, behind them, are the one hit wonders.

More visibly existing in a space, comparatively, best known for what they couldn’t achieve, that doesn’t mean their legacy is any less valuable: instead, it is the act of defining it rests on less on chart numbers and record sales but more on the listener themselves.

Finding or maybe rediscovering something that, perhaps, had long been left behind.

And as it relates to the Canadian music scene specifically, over at the work has been put in to bring those stories to life with a sharp eye (or rather, an ear).

Influences, continuing to resonate, even decades later.

9 Screenwriting Rules to Break When Writing Found Footage Horror

,

CUT TO: Writing a Movie

9 Screenwriting Rules to Break When Writing Found Footage Horror

“The noise in the dark is almost always scarier than what makes the noise in the dark…

Read more

6 months ago · 15 likes · Lauren Greenwood

As always, the strength of Lauren’s writing lies in her ability to showcase the wealth of her professional experience, as a screenwriter, with a close, personal touch.

And in this instance, as she prepares to move her found-footage film, Contractions, from the page to screen, Lauren shares not just the lessons she learned but the rules she found herself breaking too - as a filmmaker yes but as well, as a creative more broadly.

Working both inside and outside of her rhythm to balance each method on the scale, with a voice that speaks to that process with a sharp, person-to-person clarity.

What could be, brought to life.

You can find her at .

The Misery and the Triumph of Parallel Parking

,

Worthless Trash

The Misery and the Triumph of Parallel Parking

Certain triumphs live forever in the mind: landing your dream job, starting a business, buying your first home. This is a column about one such triumph. It’s a column about overcoming the odds, about sweat and toil, about pushing relentlessly through pain and humiliation toward glory…

Read more

6 months ago · 58 likes · 10 comments · Archer Parquette

Indeed, it seems to be the universal nexus after all: the unknowable, seemingly omnipresent terror of parallel parking.

But with this piece, where Archer succeeds is in blending that familiar feeling with both great humour, in highlighting the personal work put in and an impressive undercurrent of honesty: of truthfulness and self-reflection, in serving a strong reminder that any obstacle can, sure enough, be overcome.

You can find Archer at .

Leave a comment

Buy Ryan a Beer

Almost from the moment it was first published in 1818, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein1, has cultivated a particular fascination, one that has held now for over two centuries, from the curious to the forever-terrified.

Though with his latest effort, an adaptation of the novel, the aptly-named Frankenstein, the ambition of writer-director Guillermo del Toro is self-evident: bringing the novel to the screen in a familiar if fresh way, all dictated by the unique style that has become his calling card, that is, as one of the most celebrated filmmakers currently working.

And after a brief theatrical run earlier this year, the film, through its arrival on Netflix last week, sees that promise fulfilled.

Grotesque and ghastly, absolutely, if grand all the same.

When his mother (Mia Goth) dies giving birth to his younger brother William, distraught, young aristocrat Victor Frankenstein (Christian Convery) vows to one day destroy the barrier between life and death, believing that he alone can usher mankind into a new age.

Decades later, come the mid-nineteenth century, now an accomplished if an oft-dismissed surgeon/scientist given the nature of his work - that is, the slightly trifling matter of harvesting and then reanimating corpses - an adult Victor (Oscar Issac) is met by Henrich Harlander (Christoph Waltz): an arms dealer who, like the Baron Frankenstein, moonlights in the peculiar.

Offering to bankroll Victor’s experiments, Henrich soon reunites him with William (Felix Kammerer), in addition to William’s fiancée, Henrich’s niece Elizabeth (Goth, in a dual role), with whom Victor immediately becomes infatuated

But when, against all odds, his experiments prove successful, birthing a composite man known only as The Creature (Jacob Elordi), the hubris of Frankenstein’s efforts must be dealt with… for both creator and creation.

And again, at a glance, even with such a hand as Del Toro’s at the helm, it may not seem like all that profitable an endeavour. That is, once more bringing Shelley’s seminal tale to the screen, so imprinted as the broad strokes are on the at-large cultural psyche, even if just through the specific lens of previous adaptations (of which there have been numerous).

Yet as Del Toro himself spoke to in press material, relating how his approach to the film was shaped in part through a long-overdue, personally-charged discussion with his father, if equally so, next to a deep appreciation for the source material and others who have tackled it.

To varying degrees, by his own admission, he has been trying to make Frankenstein, professionally, for well over twenty years and to this point, all the now finely-honed hallmarks of his style are present, to effect.

Maybe it is the much-appreciated focus on the practical, be it the elaborate, period-inspired if nigh-fantastical costuming. The man-monster bent, the grounded, wire-work stunts, the (correct) insistence on building physical, on-location sets, as highlighted in promotional spots. The eye of cinematographer Dan Laustsen. Or maybe it is having star Elordi, per his own account, spending anywhere from six to eleven hours at a time in the makeup chair, in an effort to bring his character to life without digital crutches.

The almost ethereal, gothic-infused compositions of prior Del Toro collaborator, Alexandre Desplat, who finds a strong balance between bombast, horror and emotional notes, without either feeling too overpowering.

A larger sense of by-design atmosphere that is present at seemingly every opportunity, even if the delivery is not entirely seamless.

That pronounced scope, being clearly positioned to mask dips in the film’s pacing and visual language, particularly in the first hour, hour and a half, for which the story must remain but for which it is apparent that the contradiction between character and raw memorability was not something easily solved.

That, or the off-rhythm, no-other-choice CGI which clearly didn’t have anywhere close to the same passion put behind it.

And while the purists will no doubt quibble over the adaption-first choices made in Del Toro’s script, with a fair amount of deviations, changes and noticeable additions, from a 1:1 perspective, the spirit, the respect for Shelley’s original work is evident and frankly, indisputable.

Del Toro, taking those elements and bringing them forward to best suit his thematic and narrative intention, if lacking the slight measure of ambiguity which would no doubt serve him just a little better. That is, both for the film’s pacing and before all of its pieces are placed on the board, that wall of grey morality, falling completely away.

To say that it such thinking hasn’t been present or was less so previously? No, not quite and there is a command over the material that must be acknowledged too.

On his press run, Issac has described the project as actively pulling from a bevy of different thematic/cultural/light religious inspirations. By way of its presentation, the inherently macabre, at times somewhat queasy is effectively counterbalanced by an alternating undercurrent of pitch-black humour and front-facing honesty. All this, next to the film’s general structure, which sees it be neatly broken into two distinct halves, if pushing more for strong competency over any massive surprises.

Perspectives shifting, events and character motivations reexplained or repositioned in a way that feels (mostly) earned, clear and importantly, organic.

For ultimately, Frankenstein is perhaps most served, visibly, by its performers.

As the titular Victor Frankenstein, Issac effectively captures the dichotomies that define his character, possible initial sympathy - if apprehension - crossed with an almost obsessive mania showing him to be a cruel, socially-emotionally stunted man.

Driven to success not out of altruism or a desire to serve others but instead, to resolve a pain he chooses not to openly verbalize with any real merit, if believing the work alone will speak for him. Yet when it does, his discontent becomes all but impossible to reconcile with.

The unbending belief that he alone is the hero of the story causing Victor, in response, to become a most dangerous architect (instead of, well, maybe going to therapy).

Though to Issac’s credit, he keeps all of these nodes at the forefront, in their contrasting alignment, never allowing the character to slip, even when it could be easy to do so.

Goth’s task is a little tricker, hers a dual role less in the traditional sense of shared, competing screen time but rather in the thematic/character-focused discussion it puts forward. Though given the most space to operate as Elizabeth, while other characters may see her as something of an enigma, she instead views the world through that prism herself, as a place of curiosity she can’t quite but is eager to decipher.

Intelligent, independent and prioritizing honesty in a way which eludes most of those she deals with, Goth makes Elizabeth stand out, particularly in her duelling contrast with Issac, given how each approaches the world.

In support, Waltz is solid, channeling his most reliable mysterious-mischievous shtick, despite having a comparatively smaller role, similarly, for Kammerer’s William: though bound to Victor by blood, his life has taken him on a far different course and upon reconnecting in adulthood, he realizes there is only so much he can do, to bridge that gap.

David Bradley is impactful as a key supporting role and within the film’s frame story, as Captain Anderson, Lars Mikkelsen brings a of noted mix of gravitas and quiet amazement when faced with the impossible.

But the beating heart of Frankenstein as a whole is Jacob Elordi as The Creature.

And in of itself, this is impressive, considering that (outside of the frame story opening sequence) Elordi doesn’t even appear for well over an hour, The Creature, only the operating action for the film’s first half.

Yet even then, once he is brought into being, his arc unfurls at pace, Elordi, forced to rely almost exclusively on his physical acting as his character slowly adjusts to the near overwhelming stimuli defining his sheltered if uncertain existence.

Though as the narrative moves forward, so too, does Elordi’s performance, evolving, as The Creature is forced to reckon with finding not just his place in the world, his voice, but equally so, confronting the pain he carries.

Looked upon with horror by so many, including himself, caught between instincts of incredible violence and incredible heartbreak in a struggle to find a grander purpose: only to be continually reminded of where the road began but as well, just where it might lead.

Elordi, nailing not just the outsized expectations that come on the physical side, playing a character of such hold but more so, more importantly, the humanity that is paired with it.

Not just an instrument of rage but something else altogether.

Frankenstein isn’t perfect, no.

The digital elements of its presentation fall flat and some of the larger narrative beams, if by design to a certain extent, can feel undercooked.

But supported by rich practical effects, a thematic, exploratory maturity in the storytelling and the work of its cast (particularly Jacob Elordi), it is a film deserving of its place in the vast field of adaptions which bear the same name.

A monster, over melancholy.

Rating: 7.9/10

Leave a comment

Buy Ryan a Beer

In Off-Balance custom, here is a snapshot of what I watched, listened to, read and (mostly) enjoyed over the past month (that is, what I haven’t covered already).

Thanks for reading!

Until next time,

Ryan.

Movies

• Killer Klowns From Outer Space (1988)

TV

• Mr Inbetween (Seasons 1-3) (2018-2021)

• Dexter: Resurrection (Season 1) (2025)

• The Rainmaker (Season 1) (2025)

• Trainwreck: Mayor of Mayhem (2025)

• A.K.A Charlie Sheen (2025)

• Victoria Beckham (2025)

Music

• 3 Feet High and Rising (De La Soul) (1989)

• Returning to Myself (Brandi Carlile) (2025)

Substack Spotlight

What Do We Need From Our Movies Right Now?

• ,

The Dark Sea of Creativity

• ,

Why Meaningful Work Often Looks Like Failure

• ,

Killer Klowns From Outer Space (1988)

One night, seemingly unprompted as they descend upon a small California town are extraterrestrials known only as the Klowns.

Beings who, true to their purposely misspelled name, quickly get to work terrorizing the populace with a series of appropriately wacky (and horrifying!) methods of death and destruction.

But banding together to stop them, in a classic love triangle turned allies-of-necessity are Mike (Grant Cramer), Dave (John Allen Nelson) and Debbie (Suzanne Snyder): three locals who realize that though they may be outnumbered, they can’t allow themselves to be outmatched.

It helps to get the obvious out of the way, of course.

Killer Klowns is, well, exactly what is advertised.

A B-movie, quasi-slasher comedy that, since its release - despite the inherent hilarity which just courses through it - has continued to endure in its own niche corner of the Halloween movie market.

Not a genuine franchise starter, nor a big budget effort or even operating in the true, upper echelon of cult efforts… yet the confidence on display here, one way or another, is undeniable.

The brainchild of the Chiodo bothers, while the storytelling may be circus-tent thin (clown humour), Klowns sees their special effect background in full force, combining miniatures, practical stunt work and strong costuming to create their grotesque antagonists with a clear vision. This internal consistency, never wavering tying everything together as it does, managing to sidestep complete absurdity, while being wholly entertaining (always sure to remind viewers that yes, they’re in on the joke).

A film very much of its time, with Klowns, comes expectations moderated, considering but shenanigans, at least, sky-high.1

Rating: 6.0/10

Mr Inbetween (Seasons 1-3) (2018-2021)

While the TV landscape has undeniably shifted over the past twenty, twenty-five odd years, turning the antihero protagonist into well-trodden ground, such familiarity doesn’t necessarily preclude any new iteration on that template from succeeding.

It simply means the resulting execution is doubly important.

So in this vein, while Mr Inbetween can’t entirely escape the preconceived notions it is framed around over its three seasons it brings forward some incredibly effective, if at times somewhat predictable television.

Ray Shoesmith (Scott Ryan) cares little for pretence.

He lives a quiet life as a bouncer in suburban Sydney, simply trying to be good co-parent to his daughter Brittany (Chika Yasumura), keep his scheming buddy Gary (Justin Rosniak) out of trouble and find time for nights out with his girlfriend, paramedic Ally (Brooke Satchwell).

But Ray holds many secrets.

Chief among them that he is a well-respected criminal in the Australian underworld (“The Magician”) taking on everything from debt collecting and robberies to contract killing, while occasionally doling out vigilante justice on those he deems deserving.

And though he toes a careful line, in working to keep his two lives separate, often struggling against the most violent of his impulses, Ray comes to fear that it will be a battle he cannot win.

Credited entirely to the writer-director duo of Ryan and Nash Edgerton, while Mr. Inbetween is technically an adaptation/spin-off of Ryan’s previous effort, the 2005 film The Magician, it holds little resemblance beyond the larger generalities.

Instead, across its 26 episodes, the show is, primarily, a character study. Though not just for its protagonist but equally so, for those around him.

Much of this success then, naturally, lies in the execution.

The editing and cinematography, if understated, deliver while the dialogue, though minimalist, is crisp and punchy with a layer of often humorous cultural flavour that immediately helps to differentiate Mr Inbetween from its similarly-styled (mostly American) contemporaries. The violence too isn’t overdone, content to lean towards the quick and purposeful rather than any sort of full-on action film spectacle. And while the structure and plotting aren’t necessarily breaking any new ground either, a focus more on the people over strict bombast helps to keep the stakes compact.

Alternating between tenser efforts, considering and outings that are more low-key, personal.

Ray, finding himself navigating the challenges brought forth by his line of work, counterbalanced by the trial-by-fire that is his experience in parenthood and more so, the compounding emotional damage he tries to repress, if only for everyone else to pick up the pieces.

To this, the performances, particularly the leads, are all key in seeing the material lands effectively and they deliver.

As Gary, Rosniak nicely fills the comedic relief role but he also gets quite a few moments of heavier material (particularly in the second season) and he sees that these competing elements land to effect. Gary and Ray’s history isn’t elaborated on much, left mostly to implication but their status as the other’s ride-or-die, no matter what, is communicated very well.

Similarly, so is the contrast between Matt Nable’s Dave and Damon Herriman’s Freddy, two members of Ray’s criminal circle for which morality is a shifting scale.

Chika Yasumura, comparatively, doesn’t have much material from the jump. Alongside Nicholas Cassim as Ray’s brother, she mostly serves to act as a window into the titular hitman’s personal life. But Yasumura brings a great deal of energy to her portrayal, observant and personable, Brittany, serving away from the lesser archetype that can define younger characters in such scripted dramas.

Her arc, specifically in the final stretch of episodes, building soundly and with weight.

Satchwell’s Ally, meanwhile, is more fleshed out from the jump, finding a kindred spirit within Ray, even as he mostly keeps her in the dark regarding the true nature of his lifestyle. Satchwell, regardless, making her character feel genuine and deeply human.

Ultimately however, everything orbits around Ryan’s Ray.

Generally indifferent to the violence he inflicts and expressing the belief, more than once, that it is necessary to maintain the ecosystem in which he lives in, on the surface, again, there isn’t anything groundbreaking within this presentation. The rough anti-hero type who, despite being scarred by his past, works hard to push that trauma-acknowledgment to the side. Ray is a good friend and father, if a generally “so it goes” criminal, who follows a strict code of honour that separates him from most he deals with, even to his detriment.

Though Ryan - as creator, lone credited writer and overall creative force - brings him to life so throughly and with such commitment, one is brought in, sometimes, despite themselves.

This, all the more impressive considering that The Magician and Mr Inbetween are, thus far, the only projects Ryan has been involved with in his career: though not once does he feel overmatched or outgunned, even when up against far more seasoned performers, instead quietly bringing his character’s many contradictory elements to life.

No, Mr Inbetween isn’t totally airtight, unable to totally avoid the predictability that comes with its chosen territory or the odd misstep in its overall delivery.

But it is a crime-drama of great strength either way, while being held up with memorable supports, from its performers on down.

Overall rating: 8.4/10

Dexter: Resurrection (Season 1) (2025)

Though broadly an adaption of Jeff Lindsay’s long-running novel series, on screen, Dexter has always, for better or worse, marched to the beat of its own slightly-disturbed drum.

But after the closing seasons of the original series visibly faltered, capped off with a 2013 finale all but universally despised (including by star Michael C. Hall) it spoke to a disappointing, dispiriting end.

A downturn for which recovery, for most, is all but a pipe dream.

Instead, with OG showrunner Clyde Phillips returning to the fold came the 2021 sequel miniseries New Blood alongside short-lived prequel effort, Original Sin.

Both, in their own way, proving there was more story to tell for Miami Metro’s most notorious boogeyman but equally, if never explicitly saying so, working overtime to redeem what was once considered all but unsalvageable.

And so then arrived the aptly-named, ten-episode Dexter: Resurrection earlier this year.

Another sequel series, yes, picking up what New Blood put down but perhaps, most importantly, proving with a renewed zeal that one of television’s most conflicted anti-heroes isn’t done just yet.

After the events in Iron Lake, Harrison (Jack Alcott) has disappeared into New York City, quietly working as a bellhop at a Midtown hotel, if being continually haunted by his various demons.

Meanwhile, awakening from an extended coma following his… father-son bonding exercise, Dexter (Michael C. Hall) is confronted by his old friend from Miami, Angel Batista (David Zayas): who has confirmed, at last, that Dexter is indeed the notorious Bay Harbor Butcher and is now determined to expose him.

Though as he arrives in New York, reuniting with Harrison while looking to stay two steps ahead of both Batista and relentless NYPD detective Wallace (Kadia Saraf), Dexter soon becomes entangled with the mysterious Leon Prater (Peter Dinklage). Prater, a billionaire who sponsors serial killers in the city and for whom Dexter, in more than one way, is a noted person-of-interest.

Parenthood, his past, managing the urges of his “Dark Passenger”: as he moves through the boroughs, Dexter soon realizes that the only way to keep Harrison and the city safe is to do what he does best.

After all, he may be a killer… but he follows a code.

Again, on the surface, it can seem that Resurrection, so indebted to what preceded it - with flashbacks, deep cuts, high-profile cameos and thematic familiarity - alongside the bevy of new plot elements introduced would promptly see itself buckle under that weight, trying too hard to recapture the glory days of the earliest Dexter seasons, now, almost twenty years ago.

Instead, it plays, impressively, with tact admission.

The franchise, its protagonist, the cultural space in which they all operate, much has changed in those intervening years and ignoring that passage of time, well, it wouldn’t serve anyone nor the story the team is looking to tell.

And while not every major branch and subplot lands, this is something reflected in the larger character/performance work.

While having Dexter cross paths with other serial killers, socially, has been seen before Resurrection not only gets a fair amount of milage of the context in which they’re brought together but in how those dynamics inform the story. Specifically, that between Hall and Krysten Ritter’s Mia. Uneasy kinship, paired with a drive to secure an all-important upper hand, considering the dangers in their shared “line of work”.

Ritter, bringing a sharp energy to her character that sees her elevated amongst that particular ensemble.

Zayas, meanwhile, steps back into his role as Batista with purpose, after what was a glorified cameo appearance in New Blood. His former friendship with Dexter, clashing against a growing obsession to see him brought to justice, to avenge the loved ones for whose deaths he holds him responsible. Though his arc does struggle with a sense of inconsistent and incomplete pacing, Zayas does well here, making Batista sympathetic, even when fitted, considering, as an antagonist.

Similarly, Kadia Saraf delivers as Detective Wallace.

While one of Dexter’s more enjoyable crutches is seeing him run circles around the police, as New Blood highlighted, when their only recourse is plot necessity, it simply doesn’t land as effectively as it could.

Clearly learning from this, Resurrection leans back into what clicked in the original series, Wallace, as someone who neither Harrison or Dexter can so easily outfox, Saraf’s hyper-focused, all-business portrayal creating a character who brings noticeable tension, given this, each time she appears.

Elsewhere, as Blessing, Dexter’s unassuming landlord, Ntare Mwine has a good contrast with Hall as does Emily Kimball with Jack Alcott as Gigi, Harrison’s early-stages love interest, despite her comparatively limited screen time.

In reprising her role as Deb in New Blood, Jennifer Carpenter (and quite well too) played up a far different energy as Dexter’s inner voice, though in returning as Harry, James Remar recaptures his and Hall’s established back-and-forth without skipping a beat, the imagined angel on the devil’s shoulder (this, even if the show does stretch his work somewhat).

As the two most visible antagonists however, neither Peter Dinklage as Prater nor Uma Thurman as his right-hand are, not necessarily weak links but rather, plainly unremarkable. The spooling out of their backgrounds and motivations as designed is no doubt purposeful, to create a growing sense of intrigue episode-over-episode but instead, it feels half-baked.

Arcs, incrementally and wastefully expanded, to everyone’s deterrent.

Conversely, as Harrison, Jack Alcott stands out.

And that is not to say he didn’t in New Blood but by design there, Harrison was clearly meant to act as a window of reflection into his father’s psyche instead of being a character more individually rooted.

That is still the case to an extent but in firmly establishing him as a co-lead, Alcott is given more material, which he runs with.

Like Dexter, though Harrison may have been “born in blood” and struggles with his darker intentions, he also has a far more visible humanity that his father lacks: if respecting that he can’t change who Dexter is, he wants, desperately, to be more than finely-honed killer, however easy that urge may come.

Some of his secondary plotting can feel extraneous in terms of pure storytelling momentum - as Harrison fights day-over-day for both his present and future - but as it relates to his larger arc, it is all communicated well.

A young man who has known little but tragedy, insistent that wherever he goes next, it will be on his terms alone.

Less a mask, more raw honesty.

Alcott, making Harrison someone the viewer just wants to root for, either through his chemistry with his co-stars (Hall, specifically) or within the characterization he further refines.

But the cold beating heart of Resurrection, it is, of course, inescapable: Michael C. Hall as Dexter.

What is maybe the most impressive, regarding Hall and his performance however, is in the way he continues to bring each element of Dexter’s ever-contradictory if ever-evolving character to life.

In essence, forever building upon the decision that was made at the conclusion of that very first Dexter season: the titular anti-hero, deciding, almost on a whim, to be more than an emotionless machine bound only by strict adherence to his “code”.

And though Dexter is still, well, what he is, his recent experiences in have affected him in more ways than one.

No longer just a classical psychopath, stripped to the bone.

His complex but undisputed love for Harrison, his confrontations with Batista, each, forcing him to admit head on, for the first time in years, that he isn’t entirely squared away behind a performative façade. Humanity, always something he has tried to keep at an arm’s length but be it more proactively relying on his vigilante instincts before stepping into the kill room or the acceptance of his changing social and physical norms.

Older and battered by injury, though he is still an unstoppable force of nature, relatively, the beats Resurrection does take in showing that Dexter is not operating at his peak are a rare instance of such a revival effort not shrinking away from the change that has brought it forward in the first place.

Dexter, working himself back into fighting shape though not just to satisfy his inner chaos but to protect those around him too.

Hall, still, expertly, walking the tightrope between making Dexter totally unnerving - his understated delivery, the nigh empty eyes, the white-hot rage, burning just below the surface - while equally, commanding the screen at every opportunity. Dexter finding his purpose not in senseless acts of violence but rather, in something that neither those he hunts nor those that pursue him could ever totally understand.

Justice, in its most dangerous form.

Resurrection isn’t without missteps.

Technically passable at best, with drab set design and costuming, or an over-reliance on bought-for musical cues. There being no active effort, artistically, to try and contrast sunny Florida with a more oppressive, gloomier New York City (to be fair, New Blood didn’t do this either) with a handful of dead-end subplots and forgettable main villains.

House-style presentation, without actionable memorability.

But on the reverse, the cast is great, the bigger picture swings in the storytelling are well done and as a do-over to a do-over, at last, Resurrection is the epilogue/second act that the character deserves.

Already renewed for a second season, there is a measure of understanding that, with the franchise’s history in mind, it is being judged on a curve of sorts.

Not reaching the level of the original show’s highs (an impossible bar, frankly) but in putting Dexter back where he belongs, succeeding.

Rating: 8.5/10

The Rainmaker (Season 1) (2025)

After up-and-coming law student Rudy Baylor (Milo Callaghan) finds himself on the outs of prestigious firm Tinley Britt, he falls in with Bruiser (Lana Parrilla) and Deck (P. J. Byrne): two small-time attorneys caught up in a wrongful death claim against a Tinley client.

Initially indifferent, Rudy soon realizes there is a bigger game at play, particularly one that Tinley partner Leo Drummond (John Slattery) and new associate, Rudy’s ex-girlfriend, Sarah (Madison Iseman) are determined to bury.

But when serial killer Melvin Pritcher (Dan Folger) emerges as a dangerous x-factor, Rudy and his partners must move quickly, before their time runs out.

The second adaption of John Grisham’s same-named novel (following the 1997, Matt Damon-led film), while the general set-up is the same, big picture-wise, The Rainmaker very much operates in its own space.

Though ultimately, it is the back-of-the-box hook to a tee: a functionally well made, crime-drama-legal thriller with all the expected garnish. That doesn’t mean it is wholly absent any serious momentum but over its ten-episode first season, which concluded earlier this month, The Rainmaker can often struggle in defining just what it wishes to be, in which one of those pillars it should veer most strongly towards.

At times predictable and often heavy-handed with the lack of tact in its storytelling (this, particularly so in the one major, mid-season subplot regarding a domestic violence case) the show avoids the worst of its potential fate, as a totally by-the-numbers effort, primarily through the work of its cast.

Parrilla and Byrne bring great energy, both together and individually while Callaghan and Slattery neatly fill their protagonist-antagonist roles in deeply familiar if enjoyable enough ways: the brash young gun, up against the smarmy boardroom charmer.

And that, perhaps, is The Rainmaker most succinctly: not strong enough to truly rise above the weakest of its parts but not completely forgettable either.

Rating: 6.3/10

Trainwreck: Mayor of Mayhem (2025)

Even a decade-plus on, the Rob Ford saga remains, still, a truly bizarre episode in Canadian politics.

Ford, the brash Toronto mayor who gained international infamy after being caught on tape smoking crack cocaine in 2013, only the most visible incident in a career dominated by a poor decision making and baffling public candour prior to his death three years later.

Trainwreck: Mayor of Mayhem then, the special that released earlier this year (apart of Netflix’s so-named Trainwreck series) seems eager to take on the task of telling Ford’s story but at a brisk 45 minutes, it doesn’t give itself any room to breathe.

Crammed full of interviews with journalists, former associates and back-patting types, it plays as little more than a greatest hits package without any sort of leeway for legitimate reflection or more critical examination. A few brief mentions are given to how Ford’s style of political navigation, was in hindsight, something of a precursor to the current US landscape, in addition to the influence of his family (his bother, Doug, is currently the Premier of Ontario) but otherwise, there simply isn’t much here.

If one was there in the moment, Mayor of Mayhem doesn’t encourage much revisiting while if they’re curious to hear more, by-and-large, there are far better avenues in which to do so.

Rating: 5.0/10

A.K.A Charlie Sheen (2025)

There is always something to be said for giving one the space, if nothing else, to speak their current truth.

Of course, Charlie Sheen is definitely something of a unique case in that respect. Having been in the public eye for virtually all of his adult life, there is little of the actor that has been left unsaid (on his own account) or unseen: the professional highs contrasted with his turbulent personal life, punctuated by a decades-long struggle with substance abuse.

Now sober however, with A.K.A Charlie Sheen, the two-part documentary that debuted last month, Sheen again takes centre stage, in a series of interviews alongside various others inside and (partially) outside of his orbit, to break down his journey and career with a renewed perspective.

Though released in tandem next to Sheen’s new memoir, as with any piece of celebrity spotlight work, it arrives at something of a viewer-by-viewer intersection of morbid curiosity and human interest. How the chosen questions are asked and framed, how Sheen presents himself, how much, sympathy, if any, is cultivated for a lifetime of decisions, if through struggle, ultimately cushioned with resources well beyond the reach of the majority viewer.

To his credit at least, Sheen is pretty transparent.

He speaks frankly on the most graphic of his experiences, particularly regarding the heaviest of his drug use, some known publicly, some not, with a candour that alternates between total bewilderment at his past behaviour, acceptance and some measure of quiet regret, specifically on the impact it had on his family (though featured prominently in archival and home video footage, a disclaimer early on reveals that both his father, Martin and brother, Emilio Estevez, declined to participate).

To this however, Sheen’s second ex-wife, Denise Richards, is perhaps the most engaging participant, if only for acknowledging, with a noticeable openness, the challenges she faced in working to navigate Sheen and his/their children’s safety at the loudest levels of his addiction (during the early 2010s), even long after they were separated.

Ultimately though, A.K.A Charlie Sheen lands on a weird place on the axis.

The reality of having Sheen himself dictate the proceedings means, for better or worse, alongside his interviewers, that the material, bombast or not, is still kept at an arm’s length. It is notable that, in one instance, Richards demands they keep filming once she begins to break in a tough emotional spot: the effort to rehabilitate its titular star? Even if not explicitly stated, it is there and inescapable.

It is a project that can be informative considering but completely absent any legitimate staying power, it struggles to be truly worth its weight.

Rating: 6.2/10

Victoria Beckham (2025)

Following 2023’s Beckham, with the aptly-named Victoria Beckham, David and Victoria Beckham have again renewed their partnership with Netflix, this time, in a three part series that puts Victoria in the spotlight: reflecting on both her life and career while simultaneously prepping her team (of her self-titled, Victoria Beckham brand) for their show at Paris Fashion Week.

The catch naturally, is understanding that the only way to get anything out of Victoria Beckham is to take it at face value. So slickly produced, so tightly packaged, so born as it is out of the millionaire-twice-over distribution racket, as a solid if somewhat unspectacular piece of celebrity promo work.

Inherently, this isn’t a project designed to strip away at carefully crafted images, to unearth hidden secrets or long suspected… and anything that could fit that bill, well, that’s what Beckham was for.

But primarily anchored by Victoria, as she traces her journey from childhood, to the Spice Girls, to Paris, Victoria Beckham is, if simple, impressively honest. And although entirely coincidental, it acts then as something of a counterweight to say, A.K.A Charlie Sheen, in not trying to be more than it is.

And hey, that counts for something.

Rating: 6.6/10

3 Feet High and Rising (De La Soul) (1989)

Emerging from the East Coast, New York scene that would immediately and forever alter the course of hip hop in the late 1980s/early 1990s, 3 Feet and Rising is one of those albums that seems almost impossible to believe as is, even thirty-six years later.

De La Soul’s debut effort, as compact and rich lyrically as it is production-wise, trading the high-level intensity that, to that point, had defined the genre for a feel-good, more off-beat approach. Heavy jazz-soul sampling bound to on-the-ground, person-to-person storytelling: this, a full year before fellow New York area natives, A Tribe Called Quest, would break out doing something similar (fittingly however, as many members of the Native Tongues supergroup appear here, including Q-Tip).

Long shut out from streaming services due to clearance issues regarding the group’s extensive sampling, despite only being reasserted in 2023, 3 Feet High and Rising still feels fresh, present.

Itself a testament to the quality that was always there.

Returning to Myself (Brandi Carlile) (2025)

With Returning to Myself, her eighth album which released earlier this month, Brandi Carlile has once again proven herself as one of the few currently working artists that can truly lay claim to the much vaunted, singer-songwriter title in a way that feels genuine.

Sure, like anyone she has her list of collaborators and fellow producers, helping to further hone her musical message but not once here does that process show its seams, guided by committee with mass-market profit in mind.

Instead, it is Carlile at her strongest: personal, introspective, drawing on a sense of lived-in experience that informs every line, each moment of hard-won delivery, with an album that will easily sit alongside the rest of her catalogue.

Substack Spotlight

There are many wonderful writers, out there in the wild but specifically so, here on Substack.

In that spirit, here are a few articles I really enjoyed this past month, including some from valued members of the Off-Balance community.

Do feel free, if you haven’t already, to expand your horizons and check out what they have on offer.

What Do We Need From Our Movies Right Now?

,

Luz Films

What Do We Need From Our Movies Right Now?

I like American films best. I think they’re so great, they’re so clear, they’re so true, their surfaces are great. I like what they have to say: they really don’t have much to say, so that’s why they’re so good. I feel the less something has to say, the more perfect it is. — Andy Warhol…

Read more

7 months ago · 26 likes · 21 comments · Taylor Lewis

As one of the leading members of Substack’s film effort, Taylor has always had her finger on the both the pulse of that community but as well, the medium itself.

How it has grown and evolved, yet equally so, backpedaled.

The broad structure of, specifically, American filmmaking finding itself in creative lockstep or as she puts it, the loss of collective, lived-in artistic discovery: the instinct to follow the familiar, instead of the empowerment that can come with risk, wherever it leads.

It isn’t something that can be solved overnight, no. An immediate balm applied to sooth those long-cresting tides but as Taylor speaks too, it is not the numbers or algorithms that matter most but the people: the currently batting and on those deck who will take film forward, a truly collaborative approach, prioritizing the exciting unknown over comfortability.

You can find Taylor at .

The Dark Sea of Creativity

,

MUSE

The Dark Sea of Creativity

Read more

7 months ago · 17 likes · 14 comments · Lisa Anderson Shaffer, LMFT

Perhaps the most striking thing about Lisa’s writing, as always, is how brilliantly she blends all of her approaches into one: the personal and professional experience, lining up next to a person-to-person angle that is deeply human, honest. Relatable.

The measure of any creative, after all, is within the balancing act they must constantly perform, even when not operating in the physical space of bringing their voice into the world.

The ground, shifting, expectations, changing on a whim. The importance of mentorship and belief, on all sides when self-doubt can seem inescapable.

But Lisa, with a cool and steady hand, reinforces the best of possibility both within what is and more so, what could be.

The destination may be unique but the journey, it is not one that needs to be taken alone.

You can find her at .

Why Meaningful Work Often Looks Like Failure

,

Wannabe Wisdom, Diaries of a Fake Guru

Why Meaningful Work Often Looks Like Failure

This week, I had an epiphany: failure is worth it…

Read more

7 months ago · 148 likes · 53 comments · Ashley Evans

Success - such a catch-all term as it is - can mean vastly different things to every person in any artistic-creative space but particularly so, to writers: at such a time, more so than ever before, where uncertainty has become a dominant overhang.

So then however, with this piece, Ashley speaks to her personal experience with this phenomenon, if highlighting too, the insight of her own community: from navigating failure and painful acceptance, to putting down a stepping stone while finding meaning in the smaller victories.

A paragraph, a single sentence, a particularly inspired turn of phrase: all left to marinate in the journal pages long before they’re brought to light.

For one never knows from where inspiration may strike.

You can find Ashley at .

Buy Ryan a Beer

Leave a comment

In Off-Balance custom, here is a snapshot of what I watched, listened to, read and (mostly) enjoyed over the past month (that is, what I haven’t covered already).

As always, thanks for reading!

Until next time,

Ryan.

Movies

• Kinds of Kindness (2024)

TV

• King of the Hill: Season 14 (2025)

Music

• Wayne Interest (Tijuana Panthers) (2014)

• Gourmet Ravioli (First of October) (2019)

What’s Next?

• The Mandalorian and Grogu (2026)

• Marvel’s Wolverine (2026)

Substack Spotlight

The Dodgers Do It Again

• ,

Four Austen Classics in Review

• ,

Kinds of Kindness (2024)

In a era of filmmaking that has been, by and large, defined by franchise work, the contrast seen from the individualists, such as writer-director Yorgos Lanthimos, at the very least, promote a measure of artistic intrigue that moves beyond the expected.

Now, that isn’t to say that Lanthimos should be placed into the “indie box’ by any means (as one of the most applauded filmmakers currently working) but even with a fair amount of good will in his corner, pushed too hard, too liberally, that enthusiasm can be, if not misplaced, then misused.

And for better or worse, his 2024 effort, Kinds of Kindness, which he directed and co-wrote alongside Efthimis Filippou, exemplifies this.

A three-act anthology film that, although tied together thematically - threads of identity, choice and the human experience - and loosely, narratively, alongside a notable ensemble cast of the director’s favourites playing various roles, it simply lacks the juice worthy of its runtime and purposefully experimental approach. Just because Lanthimos, in speaking to the hallmarks of his style, can get weird and off-beat and challenging doesn’t mean all those pieces should be placed on the board simultaneously.

The film’s first act is probably its strongest, something akin to a psychological dark comedy, before it veers further-and-further into complete absurdist horror, entertaining in the way that there is nothing of immediacy to actively comment on, besides the push for shock value.

More consistently, the performances are uniformly strong, particularly those of Emma Stone and Jesse Plemons: who, within his three roles, all of them primary, is the closet the project has to a true anchor, while there is undeniable fun to be had, as is the case with any anthology, in looking to see just how tightly everything is bound.

But crafting a project the leaves an aftertaste of bewilderment over curiosity means, with Kinds of Kindness, that there is, ultimately, little to truly latch on too… nor in being anything worth revisiting either.

Rating: 5.6/10

King of the Hill: Season 14 (2025)

After years spent working in Saudi Arabia, with both propane and propane accessories, Hank Hill (Mike Judge) and Peggy (Kathy Najimy), now retired, return home, finding that through much has stayed the same in Arlen, things aren’t quite as they left them either.

Meanwhile, Bobby (Pamela Adlon), now the head chef at a Japanese-German fusion restaurant in Dallas, slowly begins rekindling his relationship with Connie (Lauren Tom), only to find himself struggling in balancing everything that seems to have come hand-and-hand with his still burgeoning adulthood.

Perhaps the most impressive thing though, about this batch of ten episodes (classified as show’s fourteenth season, although practicality speaking, very much a revival), is how near- seamlessly it steps back into groove.

It has been fifteen years since the original King of the Hill finale and on one hand, it would more than make sense for the production to simply try to recapture what already worked previously, in keeping the old guard of the former Animation Domination lineup neatly encased in Texas-style amber. Instead, the eight-year time skip doesn’t just unburden the show from the weight of those expectations but allows it to exist in a different if familiar way, toeing the line between comfortability and something just fresh enough: helped by the light threads of serialization working to tie those standard sitcom beats together.

And though it swings a little too hard in the beginning, overloading a fair portion of the first two episodes with the expected eye-rollers - be it quips on all-gendered restrooms, rideshares or COVID-19 - unlike many of its then and still-now contemporaries, it never feels overtly dark or purposefully mean-spirited.

Though with the deaths of longtime cast members Jonathan Joss in 2025 and Johnny Hardwick in 2023 (who recorded material for six episodes prior to being replaced in the role of Dale by co-star Toby Huss), the as-reported fifteenth season set for 2026, means the show will, almost against all odds, continue to evolve, if for a little while yet.

The more front-facing humanity it first made its calling card, as sharp as it ever was.

Rating: 7.6/10

Wayne Interest (Tijuana Panthers) (2014)

For as experimental a pairing as it may continue to seem on paper -and can be, still, in actual execution - in many respects, the California surf-punk/rock sound has become pretty tried and true: if not necessarily bursting forward as the forebears of the sound once did, in rather than politely presenting itself on the stage.

And sure, within this frame of mind, Wayne Interest the third album from Long Beach-based group Tijuana Panthers doesn’t do anything new, per se.

It doesn’t push convention forward or much break away from the group’s previously established motifs, if with slightly more polish.

But it is, over its fourteen songs, exactly what it sets out to be, a slice of near easy-listening playing, production-wise, on those cross-genre staples with compact lyricism in support, building out an approach that is distinctly their own.

Gourmet Ravioli (First of October) (2019)

For a pairing born of an inherently gimmicky presence - two YouTubers/musicians, Rob Scallon and Andrew Huang working together to produce an entire album in one, ten-hour recording session - what is most notable about First of October and in this case, their third album, Gourmet Ravioli, specifically is that, while knowing that overhang is (by design) inescapable, it adds such a layer of “take it as it is” intrigue to each track.

No deep lyricism, no real, memorable production work but it is, on the reverse, crisp and punchy in the short burst of engagement it cultivates: almost like, well, working through an actual can of ravioli.

The type of flavour that can only come from the microwave pipeline, a reminder that not every piece of music needs to break new ground, if it is, at the very least, tasty enough on its own.

The Mandalorian and Grogu (2026)

Over the past decade-plus, while there is no denying that Star Wars, though still a nigh-indomitable cultural monolith in the broader strokes, it has seen its actual product-over-product execution shift.

The franchise has been absent the film side following sequel trilogy capper The Rise of Skywalker in 2019, instead funnelling virtually all of its creative output into its various television endeavours, among them most notably being The Mandalorian: in which bounty hunter Din Djarin (Pedro Pascal), over three seasons, slowly grows from a hardened loner into a protective father figure upon taking charge of Grogu, a myserteous alien gifted in the ways of The Force.

And while the show’s storytelling became increasingly scattered come the close of its third season, continued adventures seemed relatively certain.

The Spaghetti Western-inspired premise alone, perfect for classic season-over-season serialization.

But after the 2023 Hollywood labour dispute saw a potential fourth season be shuttered, Lucasfilm instead (with both series drivers Jon Favreau and Dave Filoni in support) shifted gears - the project being reworked into what is now, it seems, The Mandalorian and Grogu, bringing the series’ widely popular protagonists to the big screen for the first time.

The question of course is seeing just how much the show’s momentum will successfully carry over, in transitioning mediums, in what will be, come release, three years since the third season aired, while additionally hoisting larger expectations on its shoulders.

Though maybe not. After all, even at its most medium-level, there is always some excitement to be found, in the galaxy far, far away.

The Mandalorian and Grogu is currently set for release in May of 2026.

Marvel’s Wolverine (2026)

Long time coming.

At State of Play earlier this month, the first proper look at Insomniac’s eagerly-awaited superhero effort, Marvel’s Wolverine, was seen: nearly four years since its initial reveal and two following the devastating ransomware attack against the developer that saw large portions of their in-production work be leaked to the public.

And although official plot details are still under close guard and it is impossible, of course, to not shake the inevitable comparisons to their Spider-Man trilogy, it is clear they’re looking to deliver a title true to the spirit of the character - dark, grounded and incredibly violent.

This, something that was further emphasized in a follow-up spot featuring members of production and star Liam McIntyre, who all spoke with excitement as, for now, Insomniac changes their tune from friendly neighbours to the man who is the best at what he does.

To similar success? We shall see.

As of this writing, Marvel’s Wolverine has a release window of Fall 2026.

Substack Spotlight

There are many wonderful writers, out there in the wild but specifically so, here on Substack.

In that spirit, here are a few articles I really enjoyed this past month, including some from valued members of the Off-Balance community.

Do feel free, if you haven’t already, to expand your horizons and check out what they have on offer.

The Dodgers Do It Again

,

The Long Game

The Dodgers Do It Again

Hi friends…

Read more

7 months ago · 48 likes · 17 comments · Molly Knight

If ever there was a team that took the supposed volatility of baseball and crushed it harmlessly underfoot, lifting it cleanly into the upper deck, it has been indeed, the Los Angeles Dodgers of the quarter century thus far.

Yes even in these parts, as October approaches in Blue Jays County, there is once more a quiet, if not awe for the Dodgers then understood respect, as they head into the dance with their twelfth NL West title in the past thirteen years… a run of success further punctuated by two World Series championships.

And as Molly acknowledges, if you’re an outsider, that respect is hard-won and yet, with skill, as always, she presents a different vantage. Tracking both her personal and professional experiences with the team, from the clubhouse and back again, from the moments that were, to this, the moment that is.

Her passion for the game, a genuine love for her team, they are a reminder that even in the gripes of the pressure cooker, at its best, baseball binds - in ways that go far further than just nine innings.

You can find Molly at .

Four Austen Classics in Review

,

Out Of The Void

Four Austen Classics in Review

Following on from my last post about my current love for free Audiobooks, here are four more audiobooks I have enjoyed recently. I did not intend them to all be Jane Austen’s work, but I do not regret it one bit. She’s fantastic…

Read more

8 months ago · 7 likes · 13 comments · Rubi Balasingam

For the writers, the authors, that achieve that specific form of medium immortality, examining them removed from the vacuum of academic or professional discussion can be a tricky, at times, almost impossible task.

But with this piece, Rubi highlights the uniqueness - and the joy - that came with her audiobook journey through four of Jane Austen’s most celebrated works. Rubi, with a keen eye and sharper wit, making a great case for Austen’s catalogue at a time when valuing the lessons brought forth from the experiences of others seems to be in too short supply.

You can find Rubi at .

Buy Ryan a Beer

Leave a comment

While this review will discusses the miniseries in detail, it does not include any major spoilers.

As always, thanks for reading Off-Balance!

Ryan.

Initially presented as a five-issue miniseries unabashedly designed to ride the wave of then present moment momentum (that being, the zombie apocalypse craze that swept through the mid-to-late 2000s), instead 2009’s Marvel Zombies became the jumping off point for various small-sequel runs over the following near-decade: if nothing else, quietly confirming the inherent blacktop appeal baked into the core premise, long after the novelty faded.

Though after being loosely adapted in the MCU’s animated-anthology effort, What If?, in a one-off episode in 2021, it was clear there was still, well, something of an appetite for more undead, superhero hijinks.

So then arrives Marvel Zombies.

A four episode sequel series, that while directly following the events of What If… Zombies?!, still exists on something of an island, in its own little corner of the ever-expanding (but soon to be reset) MCU multiverse - even if the delivery, ultimately, struggles in keeping all its pieces on the board as well as it could.

As the world sits decimated following the zombie apocalypse, the few remaining heroes have been scattered, limited to surviving day-by-day, with little to save.

Yet when Kamala Khan/Ms. Marvel (Iman Vellani) discovers a way to potentially reverse the effects of the virus and save the planet, she realizes that, with no Avengers in sight, the responsibility rests on her shoulders.

Though even after making contact with other survivors, among them Peter Parker/Spider-Man (Hudson Thames), Shang-Chi (Simu Liu), Katy (Awkwafina), Alexei Shostakov/Red Guardian (David Harbour) and the Daywalker, Blade (Todd Williams) - now referring to himself as Blade Knight, after being imbued with the mystical spirit of Khonshu - Kamala becomes determined to see her goal through.

This, as the stakes, continually rising, seem insurmountable.

At its best, Zombies does what any good comic event/team-up story should, in focusing on the moment-to-moment character work playing into both what has been done well previously and what, here, is unique.

From Shang-Chi and Katy, Alexei and Yelena (Florence Pugh) or the all-too-brief segments highlighting the dynamic shared between the MCU’s as-anointed next up heroes in Kamala, Riri Williams/Ironheart (Dominique Thorne) and Kate Bishop/Hawkeye (Hailee Steinfeld).

Even if, by design, it is all pretty compact, from the back-and-forth dialogue to the strength of the voice acting (with virtually all of the franchise’s established players once more reprising their roles), it succeeds in keeping the viewer invested in what is, otherwise, a pretty standard, not-everybody-makes-it-home gore fest - more so, considering many of these characters, from Phase 4 onwards, have not really had the opportunity to be in the spotlight as of late, so their inclusion alone scores Zombies some points.

As the overarching lead, Kamala is a standout. Vellani is terrific, bringing her now signature enthusiasm to every line, even as this version of the character, though deeply traumatized by what she been through, refuses to give up hope, fighting for the memory of her loved ones.

Liu and Awkwafina are an enjoyable pairing once again, while still getting some individual moments, while Harbour, in indirectly building upon his work in Thunderbolts*, continues to find an appreciated balance for Alexei. His character’s comedy-first shtick never becoming too grating when contrasted against some noted emotional beats.

The animation (in the same style as What If?) is again solid, if occasionally unspectacular, static, being at its strongest and most memorable during the numerous action sequences. The art design for an overran New York City in the first episode, most prominently helps to covey, effectively, a sense of what looms and though the show is not overly gratuitous with its violence (considering) it sees that its MA rating is not totally wasted, either.

But for what clicks, Zombies is far from perfect.

For one, though it is zombie fiction M.O, the show stumbles in striking the right notes between steadily chipping away at its large ensemble cast while still allowing the more off-the-board pairings to breathe as they should. Disappointing (if again, expected) as knowing if/when many of these characters will be featured again in future MCU projects is, at present, an unanswerable question - something which, most visibly, extends to Blade (or rather, Blade Knight).

It isn’t on Williams, who does good work in the booth and broadly, yes, there is no denying the execution is cool as hell but having the character’s first full appearance in the franchise be as an amalgamation variant (albeit, while still being modelled on Mahershala Ali) crystallizes the opportunities the MCU has missed out on over the past few years, through their struggles to get anything Blade related off the ground.

Furthermore, credited exclusively to the duo of Bryan Andrews and Zeb Wells, though Zombies, generally, benefits from this creative synergy, it can feel held back by a series of safe plays, in leaning into tropes and formula more than its own momentum. Wells may have a far better handle on his writing here - rather than following the poor impulses and editorial interference that dominated his widely panned run on The Amazing Spider-Man - but it doesn’t see the project move beyond the weaker elements of his house-blended style either, if at least keeping it level.

Ending in a place where there could potentially be room for more, Zombies, if purposefully dark and dispiriting, is not as complex a project as it clearly wishes to be either. In trying to do more than the usual “too far gone” approach that defines the source material, it falls short, future set-up the priority over telling a complete story on its own terms: the punch, appreciated at first before slipping as the series goes on.

Though held up most strongly by the delivery on its zombie-killing promise and the work of its locked-in voice cast, particularly Vellani, it is component, solid even but all-in-all, falls short of having any true, lasting bite.

Rating: 6.6/10

Buy Ryan a Beer

In Off-Balance custom, here is a snapshot of what I watched, listened to, read and (mostly) enjoyed this month, that is, what I haven’t covered previously.

As always, thanks for reading! 

Until next time,

Ryan.

Movies

• Wolfs (2024)

• Happy Gilmore 2 (2025)

TV

• Trailer Park Boys: Jail (Seasons 1 & 2) (2021-2025)

Video Games

• Marvel’s Midnight Suns (2022)

Music

• Star Line (Chance the Rapper) (2025)

• Ready When You Are (The Frights) (2025)

Musicals

• Back to the Future: The Musical (Toronto, 2025)

What’s Next?

• Ghost of Yōtei (2025)

Trailblazers

• Eugenie Bouchard

• Victoria Mboko

Substack Spotlight

How Do We Measure Success?

• ,

Flying by the seat of my pants

• ,

The Most Dangerous Thing You Can Do

• ,

Wolfs (2024)

When they’re both called to the same job, a death, involving a high-profile client, two fixers (Brad Pitt and George Clooney), who are insistent on working alone, find that, on this particular night, their preferences don’t carry much weight.

Quickly caught up in a conspiracy that seems to engulf the entire New York underworld, in reluctantly accepting that they’ll need to team-up to make it out alive, whether it is by quips or bullets, both can agree on thing: sunrise can’t come soon enough.

On paper and occasionally in execution, it is true, Wolfs isn’t a total wash.

Written and directed by Jon Watts (this, being his first non Spider-Man film in nearly a decade), while being anchored by one of the quarter century’s most enjoyable on-screen duos (considering - or perhaps not considering - the complexities surrounding them as individuals, Pitt specifically), right out of the gate, there is a certain, well, not quite swagger present but more, a confidence which can really only come from pedigree alone.

Though all-in-all, it is delivered only in bursts.

The concept, if immediately familiar, is solid enough but too often Watts doesn’t seem all that comfortable in actually operating within it: content to relay on standard crime-caper beats to carry the proceedings forward, with stiff dialogue and stiffer staging in support. His past superhero experience doing little to mask the fact that he still can’t direct an action scene with any sort of mustard (stagnant set-ups, the best he can muster) while the “one night in Brooklyn” crux of the whole operation is further betrayed by a slow and plodding sense of pace.

But be it Pitt and Clooney both who lean strongly into their as-expected chemistry and action film chops (with a few comedic moments acknowledging they aren’t quite the dynamos they once were) or Austin Abrams as a wannabe drug dealer, in essence, the film’s third lead: there are pieces to like here, despite little 1:1 consistency across the board.

Though with a planned sequel later shelved (after Watts disagreed with Apple over the film’s streaming-first release) rather than existing as an uneven but halfway enjoyable franchise starter, instead, Wolfs is something of a quiet oddity.

An established director looking to branch out, as he lands on a passing grade, if not an outstanding one.

Rating: 5.9/10

Happy Gilmore 2 (2025)

Following his out-of-nowhere emergence on the pro golf circuit, Happy Gilmore (Adam Sandler) established himself as one of the game’s best, while going on to marry and start a family with PR rep Virginia (Julie Bowen).

But years later, having long left both golf and his hotshot persona behind, Happy is drawn out of retirement, returning to the tour in order to pay for his daughter Vienna’s (Sunny Sandler) school tuition.

Though when a rival league, Maxi, threatens to upend the sport’s balance of power, Happy, alongside both old friends and a team of real-world golf superstars, including one-time rival Shooter McGavin (Christopher McDonald), must band together in order to protect their professional way of life.

And ultimately, yes, with Happy Gilmore 2, there is no way around the obvious: it is exactly what its back of the box set-up suggests.

The 1996 original, born out of Sandler’s SNL heyday, has endured far more than most of his below-the-line comedy efforts, both within the sports movie space and outside it. Not art high by any stretch but if nothing else, delivering on its intended premise.

So it isn’t much of a surprise then that Gilmore 2, which released on Netflix late last month fares similarly, while additionally operating in the legacy sequel mold, too often concerned with pulling on the threads of comfortability and cheap nostalgia rather than doing anything, sincerely, on its own storytelling merits: loaded with Sandler-brand, vacation-mode juvenility, cheap shtick and low-effort spot work from the Happy Madison clubhouse (including Sandler’s co-writer, career-long collaborator Tim Herlihy).

Again though, all of this is expected but for a good portion for the first act, the film gets dangerously close to having Sandler operate in his much-celebrated dramatic mode: that is, before the cameo-buffet begins, the Maxi plot takes over and whatever small modicum of creative integrity it had going in quietly gets put on the sidelines.

No, Gilmore 2 isn’t totally bankrupt, coasting as far as it can and no, it doesn’t aspire to be anything beyond what it is but while its predecessor has rightfully carved out a somewhat niche spot in the sports movie pantheon, the sequel pushes too hard to support itself on the back of that foundation… with any sort of staying power of its own in short supply.

Rating: 5.3/10

Trailer Park Boys: Jail (Seasons 1 & 2) (2021-2025)

Finding themselves once again in Sunnyvale Correctional following a small-time robbery gone wrong, “The Boys” - Ricky (Robb Wells), Julian (John Paul Tremblay) and Bubbles (Mike Smith) - are soon joined by their long-time shadow, Julian’s camera crew, who in following them behind bars, look to document their latest hijinks as they either get out early or go down swinging.

Now over ten years since series creator Mike Clattenburg departed the franchise (and almost twenty years on from the original seven seasons), on one hand, almost any new Trailer Park Boys content should be considered something of a net win.

By design, the initial premise never inspired any inkling of serious longevity or of being an expansive franchise in-waiting but since taking the creative reigns from Clattenburg, Tremblay, Wells and Smith have greatly expanded the scope of the series, to varying degrees of success, with Jail, in that spirit, existing somewhere in the middle. Embracing some of the more left-field approach that coloured The Animated Show (with a dash of revival season energy) while not being as totally DOA as say, Out of the Park was.

But like most of the franchise’s recent spin-off efforts, even with something of an overarching narrative covering all eighteen episodes, there just isn't enough juice here to properly support two seasons of television.

The beats, more so than usual, quickly become familiar (from Ricky’s get-high schemes to the Bubbles-Julian dynamic), the comedy devolves rapidly from the standard dark crassness to easy-mark gross-out and despite the efforts to meld some new characters with a handful of returning cast members, Jail simply can’t hold itself together long-term.

Though in confirming earlier this month that a thirteenth season of the original show is set for release sometime in 2026, perhaps a return to the park, with a more focused eye towards dope-and-kitty shenanigans, will help The Boys recapture what they’ve spent most of the past ten years searching for.

Because this isn’t it.

Trailer Park Boys: Jail, overall rating: 5.1/10

Marvel’s Midnight Suns (2022)

No doubt in tandem with the adjacent movie boom, long gone are the days - not counting those half-baked tie-ins (man, remember those?) - where video game developers were given the leeway for more openly experimental superhero titles or, at the very least, games that leaned into their characters with a stronger edge than what was shown on big screen (the “Uncaged Edition” of the X-Men Origins: Wolverine adaption comes to mind).

That isn’t to say that there isn’t anything to dig into on the Marvel side specifically, not at all - Eidos-Montréal did great work on their deeply underrated Guardians of the Galaxy title, while Insomniac continues to build out their Spider-Man universe - but corporate synergy can be a death knell if handled poorly or with the expectation that a brand name alone will carry a game to critical-financial success.

Though while all this may seem primed to steer anyone away from trying something a little more off the board, with their 2022 effort, Marvel’s Midnight Suns, developer Firaxis takes some noticeably strong swings in that sandbox - even if not all of them land.

After Hydra resurrects the dark sorceress Lilith (Jennifer Hale) in their bid for world domination, Earth’s many disparate superheroes (from the individual operators to The Avengers, X-Men and the titular Midnight Suns) realize that, in order to combat this threat, they will have no choice but to work together.

Taking up residence in The Abbey, a Salem estate built on the grounds of ancient magic, they reluctantly wake the warrior known only as The Hunter (Elizabeth Grullon), Lilith’s long-estranged daughter (an original character developed by Firaxis, as the game’s protagonist) from centuries in limbo, knowing she is perhaps the only one that can truly stand against her.

Yet as Lilith’s power grows and the spectre of the Elder God Chthon (Darin De Paul) looms behind her, the heroes see that they must put their personal differences aside for the good of the planet… before it is too late.

Best known for their turn-based Civilization series, building a superhero game from the bones of this template, as is the case with Midnight Suns, it can seem, on paper, like a strange choice for Firaxis: a card-driven, tactical strategy RPG, with both a relationship system and a dash of third-person exploration in support.

Yet where it matters most, all those elements are delivered on.

The narrative is solid (if formulaic) presenting the type of pulply storytelling most comic adaptations over the past few years have put on the back-burner (in both the main campaign and the DLC episodes) with a more concentrated eye towards the magical side of the Marvel Universe - though the moment-to-moment draw of Suns, is in totality, the combat.

From the animations for hero-specific cards to the moment-to-moment flow. Be it Wolverine (Steve Blum) slashing, Spider-Man (Yuri Lowenthal) swinging or the Scarlet Witch (Emily O’Brien) unleashing chaos magic on the battlefield, it all feels fluid, powerful and appropriately responsive.

The goal of each encounter is to build up “Heroism”, used for certain card plays, health buffs and certain environmental attacks, while also balancing limited arena movement or exhaust moves, such as dual-takedowns, before a turn concludes and the player is put on the defensive. To this end, the difficulty spikes naturally as the story progresses, from taking on standard Hydra goons in the first act, to supercharged dimensional minions come the end: where, depending on the chosen difficulty, heroes or build, the player can quickly be defeated.

It does occasionally come across as choppy and stilted, the inescapable card-build, genre awkwardness of having characters simply standing around while their teammates get pummelled but considering the sheer size of the roster (with seventeen playable characters, counting the episodic DLC), almost each hero feels viable or designed to encourage the player to find a specific synergy, from steadily putting resources into ability cards for the whole team or instead, honing in a few heroes and focusing on them first.

This, of course, the Persona-inspired team-building, is the aspect of Suns which has continued to generate the bulk of discussion since release, held up by some as being tonally weak or narratively inconsistent.

But it is clear that Firaxis was banking on it to support a large portion of the experience and for the most part, yes, it is successful.

Each character, they’re looking to adapt to life in the Abbey, work through their individual traumas or battle team-internal conflicts. Be it Nico Minoru (Lyrica Okano) and Tony Stark (Josh Keaton) arguing over the best path forward, between the resident Suns and visiting Avengers, Magik (Laura Bailey) struggling to make peace with her complicated past or The Hunter and Captain America (Brian Bloom) finding common ground over being warriors out-of-time.

Or maybe it is something smaller: joining Blade’s (Micheal Jai White) book club or (humorously) going painting with Deadpool (Nolan North) while he slowly peels back the layers of his wisecracking shtick.

It doesn’t always land (it is painfully obvious there was a romantic component here, in some capacity, that was scrapped in development) but the simple fact that, through this system, the game spotlights some lesser-known heroes - with respect for their source material no less - that clicks where it needs too.

Though that is, all-in-all, most of Suns.

With strong combat, comic book pulpiness and well-realized characters, despite shortcomings in both its storytelling and resulting delivery that keep it from fully reaching a higher level.

Rating: 7.7/10

Star Line (Chance the Rapper) (2025)

For a time, it really did seem that Chance the Rapper’s trajectory could go nowhere but up.

His 2010 mixtape, 10 Day, with its airy production and wise-beyond-his-years lyricism saw him burst onto the scene when he was still a teenager, one of the brightest lights redefining what hip-hop could be, going into the 2010s.

He followed it three years later with what is widely considered, still, to be his magnum opus: Acid Rap hasn’t aged without fault in the decade-plus since, it is true (specifically some of the lyrics) but where it succeeded, from the general quotability to the psychedelic-edge production backing a strong social awareness, it immediately made him a household name.

He was the face of The Social Experiment, created living memes on SNL while dropping Christmas tapes and although his Chicago-brand association with Kanye West was dicey even circa-2016 (a few years before West became totally irredeemable), Chance seemed to have his ear to the ground in a way few of his contemporaries could match.

Yet with all this considered, it was with an almost universal distaste which followed the release of his debut album, The Big Day, in 2019.

Showcasing little of the goodwill he had previously cultivated musically, while it isn’t completely inert, per se, the response was enough to see his output in the six years since be limited almost exclusively to spot work and features.

But with Star Line, which dropped earlier this month, Chance returns from his quasi-hiatus with his second album.

And it is… well, it is solid. Fine.

If ever there was a project in recent memory that was the definition of an artist playing it safe, this is probably it. No big swings on the production, nothing overly memorable lyrically, nothing that sticks, really, beyond the actual act of listening to any one track.

By design, evidently, to some extent.

Chance, trying to strike a middle ground between those who still feel burned by The Big Day in returning to his more “classical” rap roots, even if with the acknowledgment that he isn’t, hasn’t been that creative for close on a decade now… to middling, if acceptable results.

A sharp piece of gum that can’t hold its flavour.

Rating: 5.8/10

Ready When You Are (The Frights) (2025)

Following their EP, Five Fucking Singles this spring, The Frights returned in full earlier this month with their sixth album, Ready When You Are, filling out those previously released songs around a record proper, their first in two years.

And sonically, it should be said, there aren’t any major developments here, not that it is a surprise or played to their deterrent, necessarily: the group long ago settled into a strong groove regarding their surf rock/punk-pop sound and while they do build outwards to an extent, Ready When You Are very much follows the template their previous two projects (Everything Seems Like Yesterday and Gallows Humor) put down.

The catch though, in comparison, is that their lyricism continues to evolve: long gone are their burgeoning days of angsty teenage/young adult battlecries or the staking of their claim to a misguided individualism (taken in irony though it may have been at times).

Instead, now a decade-plus into their career, The Frights seem totally willing to acknowledge not just their hard-won maturity but both the nostalgia that comes with it… alongside the instinct to look forward to the future - be it “Older Now”, “Who I Am” or “Place to Die”, most notably, each, playing into a specific aspect of that growth.

It doesn’t feel manufactured or dishonest, rather, it is a genuine next step… wherever they decide to take it.

Rating: 7.8/10

Back to the Future: The Musical (Toronto, 2025)

All things being equal, it is a fair question.

After forty years, what more, really, can be said for not just the original Back to the Future film but the resulting franchise as a whole?

Co-creators Bob Gale and Robert Zemeckis have carefully curated their most beloved and successful property in the intervening decades, long swearing off legacy sequels and reboots, while any sort of supplementary material, be it video games or comic books, has been developed only with their direct involvement and creative oversight.

So a musical, of all things, it may seem like an odd choice but five years after it debuted in 2020, Back to the Future: The Musical has proven itself to have legs beyond just being something of a general novelty, playing on the back of an established name.

And at the Ed Mirvish Theatre in Toronto earlier this month, during the show’s stopover on its North American Tour, it was to see the classic time-travel adventure brought to great life: immediately familiar yet distinct too.

The set design, the costuming and musical cues, each is openly indebted to the original film of course but there is a clear effort here to present the material in its own way, reflective of the unique nature of the medium that is musical theatre and not just grafting the film’s script to the stage.

It isn’t entirely seamless, no.

Most of the spectacle and the loudest laughs are still reserved for adaption moments specifically, though the original compositions do, in fairness, a great deal of heavy lifting to capture that Back to the Future spirit, alongside the major performances: each, bringing a fresh energy to carry the proceedings over its near three-hour runtime - to “88” and keeping it there.1

Ghost of Yōtei (2025)

After confirming the game had gone gold in late August, developer Sucker Punch Productions continue to gear up for the release of their next title, Ghost of Yōtei.

A standalone sequel to their 2020 game, Ghost of Tsushima, Yōtei takes place some 300 hundred years following that story: where after the murder of her family, Atsu (Erika Ishii), a battle-hardened mercenary, sets out to tell the story of her own legend as she hunts those responsible, determined to bring them to justice.

And based on the promotional material released thus far, while Yōtei seems to have expanded on many of Tsushima’s core features - the samurai-film inspired combat, the impressive visuals, the enjoyable narrative pulpiness - it does seem, katana tip to sheath, like more of the same.

Which, while not a bad thing per se, does mean it will come with expectation in hand.

We will known soon enough though if it can live up to that hype, when Yōtei, as a PlayStation 5 exclusive, releases on October 2nd.

Eugenie Bouchard: Trailblazer

As championship or bust cynicism continues to be the operating fuel for most current-moment sporting discourse, the Canadian Open earlier this summer proved itself, of sorts, as an effective counterweight.

With her pending retirement from tennis announced prior to the tournament in late July, one could be forgiven for feeling Eugenie Bouchard was, perhaps, leaving too soon.

Though to find themselves with that option in the first place, to go out on one’s own terms, it is a rarity for so many high-level athletes: injury, ego, diminished ability or some combination of the three being the usual catalysts, polite applause, the best that can be mustered in place of fond recollection.

Now, that isn’t to say Bouchard’s past few years were free from similar struggle: her world rating, dropping, as she fought through injury trouble, early cuts and generally stepped back from maintaining a consistent spot on the WTA circuit.

But as she took to her hometown court in Montréal against Belinda Bencic in the second round, career-ending loss be dammed, Bouchard provided one last reminder of her strengths, this, as the crowd cheered her name: that sparky power set that saw her, at her peak, rise to fifth in the world as she worked to redefine both the woman's game and Canadian tennis en masse.

A trailblazer, in every sense of the word, wherever her next chapter leads.

Victoria Mboko: Trailblazer

It is indeed funny sometimes, how these things play out.

While Eugenie Bouchard’s retirement in no way left Canadian tennis absent its share of star talent - with Bianca Andreescu taking the baton with ease, as the country’s top player - exactly one week to the day that Bouchard walked off the court at the Canadian Open, its winner was crowned: Toronto-raised teenager Victoria Mboko, who capped her all-time run through the tournament in style, beating four-time Grand Slam champ Naomi Osaka in three sets, whilst fighting through a hand injury to boot.

Though in the bigger picture sense, Mboko’s story captured the best of tennis’ continued rise in the Canadian sporting scene: in a summer primarily defined by the Blue Jays fight for October and with any eyes for soccer mostly focused on preparing for next year’s World Cup, Mboko proved, with humour, an endearing affability and (most importantly) great skill that the sport can’t, won’t, be relegated in the country’s broader consciousness for much longer.

It has arrived, in force… and so has she.

Substack Spotlight