The Off-Balance Variety Show: March 2025.
Divided loyalties, the cycle of violence and The Social Experiment.
If you missed them (and if you’re ever-so curious) be sure to check out January and February’s editions while you’re here.
But either way, thanks for reading Off-Balance! I’m so grateful for your continued support this month and always.
May we all have a safe and healthy April.
I’ll see you out there,
Ryan
Movies
TV
Books
Music
Video Games
What’s Next?
Substack Spotlight
Breakdown
,
jeremy strong, kieran culkin, and the cost of caring too much
,
You Were Never Really Here, And Hero Complexes, PLUS A Prison State
,
When Nothing Is Working, This Is What You’re Missing
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Anora (2024)
Growth is a constant yes but few filmmakers working today have shown such control over their style like writer-director-editor Sean Baker.
An immediately apparent human interest that is present throughout vitally each entry in his catalogue, albeit, existing on a varied spectrum: be it broader social commentary, something more inherently personal or a mix of the two.
And Anora, Baker’s eighth film, is no different, honing in on specific vision while never once wavering in its execution, as direct and pronounced as it is. Presenting a series of threads, that, while they are not delivered flawlessly, are noticeably entrusted to the viewer. Allowing them to step into a world that, for some, may be far from their own but as it relates to a sense of baseline, person-to-person understanding, not wholly foreign either.
Anora/Ani (Mikey Madison) is a young stripper based in Brooklyn, nights at the club where she works, contrasted with quieter, almost aimless days, the roar of Coney Island, as her backing track.
When she is introduced to Vanya (Mark Eydelshteyn) however, the impulsive, immature son of a Russian oligarch, their shared, if surface-level chemistry quickly builds from paid-for-sex to a chaotic, drug-fuelled trip to Las Vegas where Vanya proposes and Anora accepts.
But when Vanya’s parents hear the news, they dispatch their forceful if overmatched goons (Karren Karagulian, Vache Tovmasyan and Yura Borisov) to demand the union be annulled and the whole incident quickly buried.
Though as they all come to learn, that is easier said than done.
To Baker’s credit, the film’s most consistent, binding quality is within its commitment in both its storytelling and more practical presentation. While elements of class discussion and immigrant life in America are touched on, they are all part of a heavier, more emotionally charged reality (that which is a through line throughout but particularly dominates the final act) but instead, are paired with sporadic, earned moments of levity: that which carry through from the earliest days of Vanya and Anora’s relationship, in the film’s beginning. A riotous barnburner which keeps the water close and the other shoe, hanging perpetually overhead.
To that end, sex, which is a critical thematic and narrative key of Anora, is drawn in a primarily transactional framing with the few dashes of intimacy that are shown are coloured with an appropriate weight, given their storytelling and character-building function (and by her own admission, to some discussion, Madison turned down the opportunity to work with an intimacy coordinator on set).
The performances are uniformly excellent, Eydelshteyn, effectively playing up a stunted man child who is both unable and unwilling to truly accept any sense of legitimate responsibility for his actions. While Borisov, as low-level goon Igor, is given task of the film’s most complex character and brings him to understated, contradictory life.
Though as Anora, Mikey Madison is the film’s anchor front-to-back.
In command, as is her character, right from the jump: although as the film progresses, it becomes clear there is more to Anora than she would care to admit, her “try-and-stop-me” attitude, while it isn’t totally disingenuous, it isn’t the whole story, either.
The character is introduced through an in medias res lens meaning as her situation becomes more chaotic, more unsure, more threatening (bumbling through they are, she is restrained, coerced and physically assaulted by the oligarch’s goons in their pursuit of Vanya), it can seem like Madison only has two or three operating modes - but the catch to her performance is what she finds within the unspoken subtleties and the implications they bring forward. Where Anora was prior to the viewer’s arrival, what she experienced, how that informs her current actions, etc.
Not blind to inequality but working to carve out a personalized stand of independence and a sense of empowerment to which she can call her own: as unlikely as it comes to seem, as she runs up against those, including Vanya, who have no legitimate respect for her personhood.
Anora isn’t flawless.
The “One Night in Brooklyn” portion of the film, while it bridges many important character gaps, is fifteen minutes overlong and the resulting characterizations, outside of the main orbit, can seem inadequate, as does, despite the after-mentioned highs, thematic repetition.
But it is a film deserving of the wide praise it garnered during the awards season most recently past, though visiting it for the first time, in the afterglow of that fanfare, it permits a certain feeling of individualism, removed from expectation.
And all the more stronger for it, it is.
Rating: 8.2/10
Road House (2024)
One must wonder sometimes, if director Rowdy Herrington and lead Patrick Swayze truly knew the beast they were working to release upon the world with the original Roadhouse.
Not the cult movie to end all cult movies necessarily (see: Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man) but so massive in the outsized impact it would leave - campy, chintzy and utterly, endless quotable. The anti-movie for “serious” film criticism, in the sense of forcing the viewer to forgo having a close an eye for technical skill, an ear for serious dialogue or an inclination towards higher-end storytelling. It is, well, what it is. And either one is having an absolute blast as they take it at face value or they aren’t, that’s just the rules of the game.
But in remaking it, as was the case with 2024’s Road House (different spelling, different movie, who would’ve thought), it bears to consider two things, beyond the obvious money-first questions: could it be more than the original, in regards to its creative execution and could it maintain that built-in audience?
That being, both diehards of the 1989 film and the younger crowd (whose only exposure to the project is potentially through its immortalization in Family Guy).
Road House doesn’t quite succeed, in doing anything revolutionary but if nothing else, it follows up that operating mantra to a tee.
Have fun… and don’t expect too much else.
Elwood Dalton (Jake Gyllenhaal) is, to describe it generously, down-on-his-luck.
But when the former UFC fighter takes up a job as a bouncer at a roadhouse in Florida, he quickly finds himself becoming part of the community as he forms relationships on far different wavelengths with locals Ellie (Daniela Melchior), Stephen (Kevin Carroll) and Stephen’s daughter, Charlie (Hannah Lanier).
Meanwhile, as he works to keep the peace, Elwood catches the eye of crime lord Brandt (Billy Magnussen) and the sociopathic hitman in his employ, Knox (Conor McGregor), who seems more maniac than man.
And Road House, with all those pieces in play and two notable exceptions, plays out exactly as one expects it will.
Not painful in its predictability but effectively landing on that camp spirit it is so looking to channel. Director Doug Liman is no stranger to action filmmaking and he helms an effective enough ship, while his leads do well within their material (the film, co-written by Anthony Bagarozzi and Charles Mondry). Melchior brings good energy to her role while Gyllenhaal, perhaps knowing he is no Swayze (who else could be?) plays up a more openly comedic side next to his functional action star chops.
The most glaring misstep, is, unsurprisingly, McGregor in his film debut. Even if his character is supposed to be a touch ridiculous, McGregor has absolutely no weight as a serious antagonist whatsoever, silted and playing up his grating loudmouth persona to no real effect (to say nothing for his deeply controversial personal life: to see the public persona is to see it in his character too).
Road House sets out not to reinvent the wheel but rather, simply give it a fresh coat of paint. So by that metric, mission accomplished.
Rating: 7.0/10
Before Midnight (2013)
Hey, sorry, me again.
Just to say, if it wasn’t on your radar, I wrote a retrospective on Before Sunrise in January, in celebration of that film’s 30th anniversary.
You can read it here.
Okay, back to it.
As a supposed finale, Before Midnight is given the task to both build on what its predecessors established but also subvert those expectations, as well. This, done in a way that is reflective of not just its preexisting characters but their thematic inroads, seen and unseen, making it a fascinating film to revisit.
Yes, as an inherent byproduct of returning to Midnight, the heavier narrative moments may not land with the same, gut punch feel (simply upon knowing they’re coming) but it also opens the film up, in a real unique way.
Richard Linklater, directing and co-writing, alongside his two leads, delivers with Midnight a film that lacks the nigh-fantastical, young-love of Sunrise but organically expands on what Sunset put forward: something more mature and complex, now bound by the oft-uncomfortable, unknowable reality that comes with life, in whatever form it takes.
Nine years following their reunion in Paris, Jesse (Ethan Hawke) and Celine (Julie Delpy), now parents to twin girls, are approaching the end of the summer spent in Greece alongside family friends and Jesse’s teenage son (Seamus Davey-Fitzpatrick).
Though as the sun sets on the Peloponnese, so to, does their already shaky idealism: they’re at different stages of their careers and are increasingly butting heads over not just that diversion but the challenging realities of being co-parents. Jesse implicitly suggests he wants to move to Chicago, to be closer to his son, amidst tension with his ex-wife.
Celine however, is hesitant, to move back to America, to uproot their lives and those of their daughters.
Neither, willing to truly acknowledge the other as they struggle against the heaviest of accusations and their own individualism, though while knowing there is still strength to be found within their well-defined dynamic.
All of the success found here, of course, comes back to the Linklater-Delpy-Hawke trio. These characters, through their work, they feel so lived-in, genuine, in a way, for example, the first film never got all that close to grappling with (though it didn’t need too, to be fair, not in the same way).
As Jesse himself acknowledges, all those determinations he made as a younger man, about not repeating the same path his parents took, everyday looks more-and-more similar, while Celine fights against fitting into boxes others prescribe to her, in contrast to her own vision for the future, one she was fighting to find in Sunset.
Each is given space to develop, to breathe, to express, while also having a slight change up in the established formula by having them interact with others, besides each other, for an extended stretch (next to impressive long takes, rich with minuscule performance quirks and a layering, in the verisimilitude minute of the “day-to-day” style shown in the dialogue, as is Before standard).
Now, the supporting framework isn’t as consistent when lined up to its direct predecessors. The raw tourism aspect, when compared to Vienna or Paris isn’t as strong, the pacing dips and while there was a feeling of almost ethereal timelessness present previously, Midnight is delivered and presented as, very much so, a film from the mid-2010s.
Though unlike Linklater’s other efforts from the same period (last month’s Everybody Wants Some!!, for example) there is an active effort to dig into, to truly examine Jesse and Celine from a characterization standpoint (Boyhood came close yes, though couldn’t quite match up, due to its structure).
Their highs, their lows, their unavoidable flaws, every element, creating a reflection the viewer can acknowledge as being human, in its own hyper-creative way.
Midnight may not hit the same highs as Sunrise and Sunset before it and another sequel may never come to pass but it concludes the trilogy as presented with such front-facing ability: even in something as simple as two people, knowing their love is not as picturesque as it once was as they watch the sun disappear behind the waves.
Rating: 8.9/10
Donnie Brasco (1997)
Over the past few decades, the most highly-regarded mob films have taken on a sense of broader viewer expectation, by way of the influence they inspired: everybody knows the tropes, the stereotypes, the cliché phrases.
The genre, almost in spite of itself, easily veering into intentional parody without even knowing it.
So there is then, for those that wish to reach for it, a higher standard of sorts. Directed by Mike Newell, credited to writer Paul Attanasio and based on the memoirs of former FBI agent Joe Pistone, Donnie Brasco lands at something of an interesting intersection within those genre confines.
Dark and undeniably gritty, it steps back from say, the more real but still stylized Goodfellas template, to build out something of its own. Firmly existing in a distinctive space, as it does away with any pretence regarding the realities of organized crime.
In the late 1970s, undercover FBI agent Joe Pistone (Johnny Depp) has successfully established himself under the alias of Donnie Brasco, a low-level criminal in New York City.
But when (as planned) he catches the eye of mobster Lefty Ruggiero (Al Pacino) who brings him into the mafia’s fold, “Donnie” comes to find himself caught between the pull of two very different spaces. That of his increasingly estranged wife Maggie (Anne Heche), professional obligations and the genuine bonds he comes to form with his mob associates as he falls further-and-further into their world, though knowing he cannot pick one without leaving the other behind.
Once it lies all those pieces into place, though the film doesn’t deviate from this structure, instead, it masterfully tightens its grip. The walls, as reflective of its protagonist’s situation, steadily closing in, moving past any base predictability as Donnie struggles, morally and emotionally, to navigate his two competing realities.
The period-details are sharp, the dialogue, rich in mob slang, is just fantastic and Newell’s direction is steady but quiet, almost with a documentarian’s feel, particularly on a rewatch: allowing the story to play out on its own, without any heightened interference.
On the performance side, all the film’s supporting cast, Sonny Black (Michael Madsen) and Richie (Rocco Sisto) most prominently are given impactful character moments, as is Heche as Maggie, who draws out a characterization, in contrast to Donnie, that relies on a strong individualism.
As Lefty, Pacino (an actor who is no stranger to bombast) is strikingly honest, nigh-sympathetic, despite being totally unrepentant, a man who has spent his entire life as a loyal solider but has next to nothing to show for it. He finds a kinship of sorts in Donnie and comes to take him under his wing, though not without disagreement as the uncomfortable truths surrounding their way of life often bubble to the surface.
In the interest of transparency, it helps to acknowledge that revisiting anything starring Johnny Depp in 2025 requires an active level of disassociation, considering his known actions and personal life, as they stand.
The Amber Heard case, accusations of grey-area musical plagiarism and verbal abuse on sets or the general collapse of his visible public profile wholesale. In the grand scheme of things, yes, there are far more difficult cases of performers and the line on which their art sits but Depp is one the most recent, high-profile examples and for good reason, considering.
Come Donnie Brasco however, Depp, at 34, though he had long proven himself as a somewhat off-beat leading man of merit (Edward Scissorhands, Gilbert Grape and Ed Wood, most notably) was still six years out from the first Pirates of the Caribbean film: yet to truly break through into the larger pop culture stratosphere that he would make his home over the following fifteen-odd years.
The film sees him deliver though, what is, perhaps, one of the best performances of his career. Not lost behind eccentricity or zeroed-in peculiarly but subtle and greatly understated, as Joe, as Donnie, struggles between loyalty and obligation.
As expected for any project of such inclination, Donnie Brasco does take some noticeable liberties with its real-world history (for one, that Sonny Black was the one who came under immediate threat in the aftermath of the operation, not Lefty) and this often ends up playing to its deterrent. Too compressed, too narratively small, despite the inherent scope presented.
But almost thirty years later, despite those missteps, the film remains one of the strongest efforts to come out of that mob movie canon.
Rating: 9.1/10
The Old Man: Season 2 (2024)
On its surface, The Old Man (adapting the Thomas Perry novel of the same name) is one of those projects, which banking on pedigree alone, is clearly shooting for something above just boilerplate action-thriller-drama labelling.
It has a cast led by heavy-hitters, is supported by mostly component action and is executed well enough. But ultimately, the show’s second (and final) season can’t bring all its elements together in a way that feels truly earned, shuffling through characters and plot-lines without consistency or any sense of gravitas.
Now, what works does work, to be fair. Dan Chase (Jeff Bridges) and Harold Harper (John Lithgow) continue to play up a strong back-and-forth as former soldiers, in two different ways, both knowing their time has passed, as they confront their pasts in Afghanistan or Emily (Alia Shawkat), establishing an identity all her own, as she learns just how deep her family’s secrets are buried.
But The Old Man can’t justify any long-term investment, no matter how much it clearly wishes too, even as it ends on a series of cliffhangers forever to go unresolved. Though as highlighted by Deadline, in the wake of the show’s cancellation announcement, it was beset by delays and stoppages throughout its run although almost all of them went beyond poor creative impulses (be it the COVID-19 pandemic, the WGA strike or Bridges undergoing cancer treatment).
What could’ve been, to some extent yes but not mourning lost promise either.
The Old Man, Season 2 Rating: 5.7/10
The Old Man, Overall Rating: 6.1/10
Punisher, Volume 7 (Punisher MAX) (2004 - 2009)
With Jon Bernthal returning to Frank Castle’s well-worn boots in the currently-airing Daredevil: Born Again, it seemed as good a time as any to revisit what is widely held up as the character’s most acclaimed comic run, writer Garth Ennis’ 60-issue take under the still-controversial MAX imprint.
Of course, anything regarding the character, naturally, comes with a heightened place in the discourse.
From his oft-divisive beat-by-beat fundamentals (a vigilante who, driven by personal tragedy, believes lethal force is the only option against the criminal element he opposes) or, more urgently, the real-world co-opting of his logo by military, police and far-right hate groups in recent years (which Marvel has addressed to some extent and has become, light spoilers considered, a plot point in Born Again).
And while some depictions (like Ray Stevenson in 2008’s War Zone) have adapted elements of a harder characterization, perhaps as a result of those larger implications, rightfully, Bernthal’s portrayal in the MCU overall has carefully toed the line. Presenting a version of Frank Castle that is much more morally visible and haunted by his past rather than a wholly dark, near sociopathic force of rage who is driven by it.
For some it works for others, it doesn’t: as a protagonist, The Punisher can be very hard to define, in a way he doesn’t need to be as a supporting character, without the pretext of action-driven understanding.
Yet regardless, the influence of Ennis’ work is clear, even with its unmistakable flaws.
Later clarified to take place in its own corner of the Marvel Multiverse, MAX is led by a Frank Castle who, returned to his Vietnam War roots, ages in real-time, in a dark, grounded reality absent any of the brand’s more traditionally colourful superheroes.
As the volume proper begins (following the four-issue Born prologue, which showcases his final combat tour in the early 1970s) Castle, forever pushed forward by the loss of his family in the crossfire of a mob hit, has been operating as The Punisher in New York City for over thirty years, delivering his own version of lethal justice against the city’s criminals.
But in a post-9/11 world, he is often forced to reckon not just with the end result of the war machine that made him but those who would continue to corrupt it for their own ends: be it deranged mobsters and immoral slave traders, politicians or lone individuals who lack his (albeit weak) moral grounding.
For that’s the catch - Frank Castle is not a hero, something Ennis himself has spoken too, this stance, reflected in his writing of the character.
He is a man, grim and unrelenting, who, while not entirely removed from an ingrained sense of conviction and humanity, shows absolutely no hesitation in putting down those he considers deserving. Whether that is “right”, cathartic though the delivery may be at times (with those Castle is up against often being, by design, completely devoid of sympathetic qualities) is something Ennis isn’t afraid to tackle head on. Critiquing misplaced adulation, his protagonist wholesale or the American military apparatus and social complacency as it relates to the mechanisms that keep those systems in place to begin with.
Elsewhere though, the pacing, arc-to-arc, can hit quite a few snags and in placing the antagonists as the primary focus of most stories, if they don’t click, little else will, save for their inevitable end.
Ennis’ writing of women and minorities borders on stereotypical and offensive (or worse) more often than not (with the character of Kathryn O'Brien being a prominent exception) and although he has the creative leeway to do so under the MAX label, while the brutal violence never seems misplaced, the constant profanity, specifically the racial slurs and inflammatory language against women often do.
Castle’s internal monologue is one thing but otherwise, it can feel juvenile and arrogant, there just to present a tough veneer, not because those choices are being made in any character-effective way (which is par for the course for many Ennis projects, as The Boys, for one, can attest).
Just because you can curse the reader out, it doesn’t mean you should.
Though as an exploration of just what makes the psyche of Frank Castle and the thematic world in which he operates tick, at its best, the volume is excellent. Tim Bradstreet’s covers stand-out with their down-to-earth feel and the interior pencil work and colouring land similarly: just how effectively those strengths outweigh what doesn’t work, well, personal preference on the part of the reader is the only wholly effective barometer.
Ennis would leave before the end of the volume, with other writers taking the lead in seeing the run to an uneven if passable conclusion but he would tell, within his time on the title, a complete story all the same.
His return to the character in other capacities in the two decades since, including additional prequel titles for the all but discontinued MAX line, highlight, for better or worse, the inherent strengths of his no-holds-barred approach.
Rating: 7.7/10
Colorado’s On Fire Again (Richy Mitch & The Coal Miners) (2025)
The group’s third album, which dropped earlier this month, Colorado’s On Fire Again, sees Richy Mitch & The Coal Miners continue to refine their sound and lyricism in equal measure.
Still maintaining their folk roots but in bringing in a more focused rock sound, subtly moving away from being placed into something akin to an “easy listening” box, if one could call it that, despite their growth across the board.
This, a record that will no doubt have legs in the rotation well into the spring.
Rating: 7.8/10
Surf (The Social Experiment) (2015)
Still fresh off the genre-reevaluating success of his Acid Rap mixtape two years prior, while Chance the Rapper may be the brightest and most mass-recognizable star featured on Surf - and not to discredit that, his verses on Familiar, Sunday Candy and heartfelt delivery on Windows are still delights - the album, technically The Social Experiment’s first and only so far, was very much a collaborative effort by a strong cast of artists, led by trumpeter and producer Nico Segal (then known under his less-than-stellar stage name, Donnie Trumpet, which he would drop in 2016).
A decade on, though it may stumble in establishing a strong sense of consistency track-to-track, lyrically, it is witty, sharp and personal, without too much in the way of spot-up cultural references that can make lesser hip-hop records feel dated before their time. The production, eccentric and memorable both, leaving a mark not easily forgotten.
Rating: 8.1/10
Batman: Arkham Knight (2015)
Even in the lead-up to its initial release in 2009 (may the demo room never die), Batman: Arkham Asylum was poised to change gaming in more ways than one - and that it did. The immediately influential “FreeFlow” combat, the comic-appropriate storytelling led by industry veteran Paul Dini or the legitimizing of superhero video games further than just cheap movie tie-ins.
Developer Rocksteady would, almost improbably, do it again with their follow-up title, 2011’s Arkham City, taking all those successes, place them in a light open world, broaden their narrative stakes and anchored with the best-of-the-best, in dual performances by franchise stalwarts Kevin Conroy and Mark Hamill, craft a title which is still held in the highest regard today.
Their trilogy capper however, 2015’s Batman: Arkham Knight, which turns ten this June, has spent the decade since its release existing in a hotly-contested space which neither Asylum nor City never really occupied: brilliant in some respects, maddening in others.
Post Arkham City, Bruce Wayne/The Batman (Kevin Conroy) has remained ever-diligent in his crusade to protect Gotham but unbeknownst to his allies, it has come at a terrible cost. Infected, as are a select few of other Gothamites, with the deceased Joker’s (Mark Hamill) Titan-riddled blood, he is often beset with dangerous hallucinations of his oldest foe, to his growing concern.
Though when Scarecrow (John Noble) launches an attack on the city, he does so alongside the mysterious Arkham Knight (Troy Baker), an armoured mercenary who has a deeply-personal, unexplained grudge against The Batman.
Elsewhere, numerous other villains have been set loose, among them The Penguin (Nolan North), Harley Quinn (Tara Strong) and Firefly (Crispin Freeman), while The Riddler (Wally Wingert) has kidnapped Batman’s lover and occasional-ally Catwoman (Grey DeLisle), hoping to draw The Caped Crusader out.
So both alone and with the help of his various allies, Batman must take back the city, confront his greatest fears and once and for all, define just what it means to be Gotham’s protector.
On the ground, Knight’s Gotham, even ten years later, locked in through it is, on older hardware specs, is realized well, with strong art design, weather effects and specific ambience (goons chattering away or the atmosphere of individual interiors, from Man-Bat’s lair to Oracle’s clocktower hideout). On the gameplay side, the combat, both open and in stealth has been refined once more, easily the best and deepest of the series (including the oft-forgotten prequel title, Arkham Origins) enhancing that “Batman” experience to its highest level: gadget-combo/melee weapon takedowns, smooth hand-to-hand via FreeFlow or the Predator system.
Though all that is only one half of the equation - the game’s big marketing point was the inclusion of the Batmobile, a first for the series, used in everything - everything - from tank-based combat and traversal, key story moments and infamously, those stickiest Riddler challenges, be it trophies or timed-lap races (a solid slice of the 243 challenges total).
Now, one can eventually find a good rhythm behind the wheel, heavy, imprecise and far too mechanically overdeveloped the Batmobile may be but its inclusion remains hotly contested in Knight’s discourse, as does the finer and broader points of its narrative.
It is a noticeable dichotomy - all of Knight’s performances, Conroy, Hamill, Baker, the vast supporting cast, they’re top-notch, drawing one into the stylized Arkham world that is very much indebted to the larger Batman mythos yet firmly standing apart too.
But it picks up far too many narrative threads than it can handle, leaving them all feeling deeply undercooked as a result, the presentation of Batman’s personal arc alone (as he grapples with his humanity amid the spectre of The Joker rattling around in his subconscious) elevated far higher.
The secondary villains being so throughly built into the side content means they simply don’t have much screen time and while the Bat-Family fares better, with each of Nightwing (Scott Porter), Robin (Matthew Mercer) and Barbara Gordon/Oracle (Ashley Greene) all playing important roles in the story none breath, fully, the way they should, save for the one-shot DLC episodes.
More prominently, with such weight given to the Arkham Knight, one would think his identity/purpose would have more tangible importance but very early on any Batman fan worth their salt can deduce who he really is - leaving later playthroughs devoid of any true momentum, as is anything to do with Scarecrow or the still-divisive 100%-completion ending itself (which requires one to wipe every single open-world activity off their checklist).
Still the benchmark not just of Batman video games but superhero games overall (the Arkham DNA in Insomniac’s Spider-Man series, for example, is undeniable), when Knight succeeds it is impressive still - yet it is continually, constantly bogged down by an over-reliance on the Batmobile, weak plotting and a foundation that never once can truly support a sense of misplaced ambition.
Rating: 6.6/10
The Last of Us Part II (2020)
Considering the upcoming release of The Last of Us S2, to avoid spoilers for those who haven’t played the game, only the broadest of specific narrative beats will be discussed here.
Nobody said love came easy but that doesn’t mean it isn’t worth fighting for, either.
With the first The Last of Us, it was to see developer Naughty Dog take all the lessons they had steadily learned with their globetrotting Uncharted outings, that which was initially crystallized with 2011’s Drake’s Deception - their tight, highly-stylized linear gameplay loops, the cinematic quality of their storytelling and performances - and bring them to an entirely different world.
And while Joel (Troy Baker) and Ellie’s (Ashley Johnson) journey of self-discovery across a zombie (“Infected”) overrun post-apocalyptic America wasn’t without weak links in the chain, (totally unspectacular combat and stealth mechanics or some heavy-handedness in its storytelling) where it excelled, it did so brilliantly. A deeply human, heart-wrenching story, which, bolstered by medium-best performances ended on a note of ominous hope: everything earned, after all, for better or worse, it comes at a cost.
But it also left players with a bigger question, even if its slight-cliffhanger ending brought a modicum of resolution. What else could be said? What could come next?
The answer was 2020’s The Last of Us Part II: arriving seven years later, deeper in gameplay, vastly more complex narratively and openly prodding at every single edge of technical artistry and philosophical musing it could muster.
The franchise has taken on a much more pronounced cultural profile since then yes but five years following its release this summer, in June of 2020, TLOU2 maintains its impressive grip on the larger gaming psyche.
And yet… everything earned.
Years following the events in Salt Lake City, Joel and Ellie have more-or-less settled comfortably into their lives in Wyoming, though at a heavy cost.
Joel has revealed the truth to his brother, Tommy (Jeffrey Pierce) about what transpired in the Firefly hospital and flashbacks come to reveal what is a deep strain to Joel and Ellie’s once inseparable relationship.
Meanwhile, militia solider Abby (Laura Bailey), grappling with demons of her own, comes to cross paths with Joel and Ellie, where a series of devastating personal tragedies put all three and their allies on a volatile collision course - where the true cost of love, violence and forgiveness are laid bare, again-and-again.
On the gameplay, presentation and technical sides, while TLOU2 builds on the first game’s groundwork, it is also expanding on Naughty Dog’s 2016 title, Uncharted 4: beautiful environments, both inside and out, while experimenting with U4’s more open ended segments, away from the studio’s traditional linearity.
The nature-reclaimed streets of Seattle or long abandoned office spaces, thick with spores and crawling with Infected. Crafting fully mo-capped weapon enchantments at a workbench, the minute of the lighting, sound design and weather - or specific particle effects and movement-based physics, within some subsets of the game’s (albeit, limited) on foot traversal: from impromptu grappling hooks to going prone in tall grass.
Naughty Dog’s dev teams are well-known for their attention to across-the-board detail but TLOU2 is their masterclass. Even on the OG release for the PlayStation 4, the well-worn hardware is pushed to its very limit, while unshackled, the Remastered version on the PS5 shines even brighter (all accented with laudable accessibility options for those who choose to use them and the return of composer Gustavo Santaolalla, haunting as ever).
Open combat is absolutely brutal, stealth, more so. Human enemies, no longer just faceless cannon fodder, have names, for which their allies will cry out for in anguish as they’re either taken down or discovered. Headshots and body shots, heavy, purposeful, will, depending on the chosen firearm or bow ammunition used, either gorily dismember a foe or have them begging for their life in pain, only to be finished off with a melee move or perhaps, a previously placed trip-mine: players must be mindful of their crafting resources too, especially if playing on higher difficulties. More limited, more scarce, never knowing when they’ll be needed, in situations where the player can be flanked rapidly and quickly overwhelmed.
The Infected, divvied up as they are into both new and returning classes, must be dealt with carefully, with strategy in mind, as to not expose the player’s delicate positioning in any given space.
Both Ellie and Abby, as the main playable characters, in this vain, have a few tweaks present to their individual gameplay sets and collectible strands. For Abby, her skill tree and arsenal are more front-facing and combat-focused, while the reverse is true for Ellie, creating an appreciated if minor contrast in jumping between their sections as the story unfolds: dense, dispiriting and determined as it is.
Right from its very beginning - the very beginning - TLOU2 is actively looking to challenge not just its characters and the pre-established foundation of the previous game but the player, as well.
At every moment, at every opportunity, within each gameplay encounter and during the heaviest emotional beats of its storytelling: elevated by the terrific performance capture work of the cast.
As Joel, Baker is a supporting character this time around but still cuts a believable, hardened-survivor-turned-adopted-parent figure. Shannon Woodward, as Dina, has an optimism that is hard-won as does Ian Alexander as Lev: though it is the game’s leads that take on the lion’s share of the spotlight.
Ellie and Abby’s stories drop in-and-out, intersecting as needed with Johnson and Bailey in full command of their contrasts and mostly unspoken, dark similarities. Both, having much more in common than they realize as they fight competing instincts of revenge and understanding (with Bailey, notably, winning a BAFTA for her portrayal).
For this is where TLOU2 takes its biggest swings, drawing on some semblance of real-world emotion as spoken too by creative director and co-writer Neil Druckmann, who, while working alongside writer Halley Gross, pens a story that, strong and immensely powerful though it is, is simply unrelenting in its substantial thematic and emotional execution.
Though it does stumble.
Such missteps, only brought further into prominence during any one replay or revisit.
The extended flashback sequences, though providing great character development can often feel shoehorned in, awkwardly positioned, wanting to only explain something long after the immediate impact has passed. Two stories, for two main characters, jostling for equal space and hamstringing the pacing as a result, with too many of the supporting characters feeling underbaked. Nothing but weak plot accelerants, well performed though they may be.
But it all circles back to the game’s still inflammatory standing in the discourse: developer crunch leading up to launch, bookended with massive leaks before then which sullied, for conversation’s sake, any honest interpretation of the story not just in that mid-summer after release but well afterwards.
This, amid horrific, sickening backlash by the worst of the always-online contingent: from transphobia and misogyny towards the characters and plot, widespread cyberbullying and most troubling, violent death threats against Druckmann and Bailey for their creative roles.
Yet TLOU2 rose above it all, to great success.
Not immune to its own gameplay shortcomings but standing apart as one of the few titles that can truly stake a claim to gaming’s “greatest ever” throne, selective and subjective though that list may be.
Rating: 9.6/10
The Last of Us: Season 2 (2025)
After existing for the better part of a decade with just two products to its name (barring remasters and remakes), The Last of Us universe is no longer alone.
HBO’s adaption of the first game, which had a one-season run in 2023, received (and justly deserved) its wide-reaching praise. Not just a “video game adaption” (followed by excessive eye rolling) as would’ve been the case in the not so distant past but excellent television on its own merits.
Building out from, further developing and putting a unique stamp the source material in a way that felt genuine, the contrasts between mediums considered.
But knowing just where the second game leads, not just with its narrative but how it openly challenged its audience, on various fronts (as discussed above) the second season of the show has expectation in hand twice over, if such a thing was even possible.
Just how well it delivers, we will find out soon enough: once the season premieres next month, on April 13th.
From the World of John Wick: Ballerina (2025)
Impressive still it is that, from its relatively modest, uncertain beginnings, the first John Wick film gave birth to one of the most successful action franchises of the past twenty-five years.
And although it has yet to truly establish itself beyond Keanu Reeves’ titular hitman with numerous spin-off and sequel projects supposedly in development (after the Continental series never really got off the ground), Ballerina may just prove to be the exception - even if, naturally, Reeves will have, at minimum, one set-piece driven cameo (if the marketing is anything to go on).
Technically a prequel, slotting between the events of Parabellum and Chapter 4, Ana de Armas stars as Eve Macarro, an assassin out for revenge, as is Wick custom, while being caught up in its ever-dangerous underworld.
Ballerina arrives in theatres on June 6th.
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, all 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.
“Breakdown”
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With her usual blend of humour and a sharp, knowing eye, Amanda breaks down, well, Breakdown, the 1997 Kurt Russell vehicle in her punchy, concise and crisp style that would have James Braddock himself envious.
There is no better endorsement of a film then the critic who approaches it and Amanda makes a great case for kicking back and enjoying (or perhaps rewatching) a 90s classic, beer and popcorn, in hand.
You can her follow her over at .
“jeremy strong, kieran culkin, and the cost of caring too much”
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What is the measure of any artist but the work they leave behind? Though with value in the popular space no longer found exclusively in the delivery but instead, the immediate after-taste of consumption, it is a question not easily answered.
And yet, for vastly different reasons, Jermey Strong and Kieran Culkin, the two former Succession co-stars, have found themselves at opposing ends of this argument: visible acting styles and public personas, personal gripes and the larger audience inability to grasp the nuance they so desperately, apparently, crave.
As she always does, Sophie’s examination of these two men, their place within their field and their resulting impact, one way or another, is rich, insightful and thought-provoking.
Recently however, Sophie shared how her essay was openly, upsettingly plagiarized by The Guardian (a follow-up update she provided showed that she was eventually given a measure of accreditation which seems meaningless when the underlaying crux of the issue, that being, the total and complete theft of her work, was not acknowledged).
It is a reminder, however frustrating, that all writers, all creatives, must continue to work together: not just in protecting their shared and personal artistic license in the face of plagiarism but against those who do not respect such principles wholesale.
If you’re looking to see more of Sophie’s work, be sure to stop by .
“You Were Never Really Here, And Hero Complexes, PLUS A Prison State”
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The truest measure of knowledge is accepting that some experiences exist outside of any one individual purview: there is always someone, somewhere, who can inform on a topic with a clarity well beyond one’s own.
Decarceration’s brilliance then, as always, lies not just in well-rounded film criticism but the application of that critique. Examining Lynne Ramsay’s 2017 film, You Were Never Really Here and extending a through line towards a real, lived-in window of the American prison system in addition to the horrors, numerous among them, that the current US administration is actively inflicting.
Be it brazenly stripping away the rights of its own people, disregarding fundamental liberty or terrorizing the very notion of freedom (as, with sovereignty-threatening imperialism in hand, they remain belligerent towards their supposed allies, notably Greenland and Canada both - though they are now and remain, fights the US government will not win).
But knowingly advocating for change, a larger purpose, whatever the scale, it is always worth the trouble.
You can see more of Decarceration’s work at .
“When Nothing Is Working, This Is What You’re Missing”
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Though it can often be easy to follow the path of least resistance, no creative, burgeoning or seasoned, will ever truly find themselves enriched with such a practice.
Complexity, uncertainty and total unknowns: each plays an important role and each has a purpose.
From the minuscule progress markers of personal artistic evolution, to the duality of life and death, by design, very little worth pursuing is easy to come by but it always worth the effort.
Lisa, with her personally-affecting, humanistic style speaks on these elements with such honest clarity it provokes a particular sense of commendable reflection, well after the final stanza is read.
You can find her over at .
Another great piece, Ryan! Of course you know I cannot wait for Ballerina and Season 2 of The Last of Us. Really looking forward to those. I have been loving Richy Mitch and the Coal Miners - great album, great sound and kind of perfect for the warming weather we are beginning to see out here in California.
Also, thank you so much for the mention, Ryan. It’s super thrilling when a writer who inspires you deeply lends their words to thoughtfully and so beautifully capture what you are trying to express out here in the world. Ryan you have written the most perfect Muse artist’s statement. Thanks :)
Ryan, this might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever written about me. Thank you so much for the mention and thank you even more for reading!! 🩷