Week Ending 3/13/26

I thought I was the only freak who chewed their Altoids like candy regardless of their "curious" strength. I feel so seen.

With a passing mention of Dr. Grant as mentor to Dr. Loomis (Jonathan Bailey)—as well as a quick "Crichton High School" bus prop—this really is a rebirth considering the legacy cast members are nowhere to be seen. Will it stick? Will there ever be another Jurassic film without a full-on remake of the novel? Baby Dolores might have something to say about it. I'm honestly just shocked this is the first entry to get a Visual Effects Oscar nomination since The Lost World.

David Koepp and Gareth Edwards expunge what Colin Trevorrow brought to the franchise by saying Earth can no longer sustain dinosaur life beyond islands at the equator (an interesting theory considering the planet's rising temperatures due to climate change, but I digress). So, in order for mercenaries hired by an evil capitalist (Rupert Friend) to procure the genetic material necessary for a lucrative heart disease cure, Zora's (Scarlett Johansson) team must travel south.

Just like the in-world executive suite demanded "new" species to sell theme park tickets, Universal demands "new" on-screen mutants to keep our protagonists (rounded out by Mahershala Ali and Jonathan Bailey) on their toes while trekking through a deserted-for-two-decades island lab. Throw in a shipwrecked family of innocent civilians (led by Manuel Garcia-Rulfo) and you have plenty of people to scare, kill, and see rise to the occasion.

Less a Jurassic Park film than a straight survival film wearing Jurassic Park skin, Rebirth leans into the suspense and hopes its verbosely generic plot doesn't bore audiences to death with clunky dialogue and two-dimensional characters. A little redemption here, some altruism there, and a Dad seeing his daughter's screw-up boyfriend in a better light. Monsters and popcorn and hubris, oh my.

6/10

Born in 1929 Czechoslovakia, Herbert Heller had a comfortable childhood alongside his parents and brother until the Nazis arrived during World War II. Even then, however, his father did everything possible to pretend that comfort remained despite reality constantly exposing his sentiments as a lie. Herbert senior was an engineer who couldn't fathom the Germans risking the country's brightest minds just to adhere to their evil ideology. He was, of course, wrong.

We meet Herbert Jr. (Stephen Lang) as an old man facing a terminal diagnosis in Northern California during The Aughts. A happily married father who runs an admired children's store, he's held his secret of surviving Terezin, Auschwitz, and the Nazi death march from everyone for sixty years only to have his impending sense of mortality bring those memories and nightmares flooding back. Unable to tell his family outright, he approaches the Holocaust Foundation for help.

The resulting first-hand account of Heller's harrowing experience would lead him into an unplanned public speaking career wherein he touched countless young teens and inspired them to find the courage to keep going no matter how difficult things seemed. Producer Jeanine Thomas was one of the people who helped book those events before spending a decade self-financing a way to put Herbert's story onto the big screen and expand his reach even further.

From what I've gleaned, the script that director Finn Taylor wrote to fulfill that dream is a fiction. The idea was to merge Heller's Holocaust account with the work he did after finally revealing that past, so the Abby character (Elsie Fisher) becomes more of an amalgamation than any one specific person. How would his story inspire someone three generations younger than himself? What would that person be experiencing to absorb his voice of bravery?

So, a fated rendezvous is born where Herbert, fresh from the doctor telling him to fear the worst, walks past a sedated Abby being rushed on a gurney through the hospital halls. It was fated because the person the Holocaust Foundation found to record his statement just happens to also be her rehab center psychologist. Ruth (Robin Weigert) sees this is a "two birds, one stone" scenario wherein Herbert and Abby can potentially heal each other's pain.

The film therefore unfolds via a series of flashbacks. Herbert sees the desperation in Abby's face and strikes up a bargain that he'll explain the scar on his forearm if she explains the bandage on her neck. His tale is straightforward and linear from those days of his father's (Slavko Sobin) false hope to the horrors of camp life and the inevitable disappearances of his mother (Stella Stocker's Karel) and brother (Oskar Hes' Hein). When Abby struggles, he picks up where he left off.

This occurs often since she doesn't quite know where to start or how to process what led to this moment. A friendship erased (with Ursula Parker's Sabrina). An absentee mother (Leah Pipes). An abusive father (Ben Geurens). We catch snippets as Herbert's questions conjure fragments she cannot fully comprehend before pushing them aside to return focus onto him. We figure it out pretty quickly, though, and then we wait for her to speak it aloud.

It's an intriguing way to frame the film because it renders his account of survival into the main narrative thread's catalyst instead of the reason we're here. In many ways, The Optimist (as much a title about Herbert's father's positivity in the face of terror as Herbert's own hope for the future to survive our own present-day hardships) is more about connecting with Abby than the past. This fact doesn't do the whole many favors, though, since those flashbacks hold the most impact.

This is true both because of the subject matter itself (not to diminish Abby's struggles, but we are talking about the Holocaust) and young Luke David Blumm's central performance within (not to mention Stocker and Sobin's emotional supporting roles). It's impossible not be get drawn into the details of Herbert's memories and the mixture of despair, luck, and perseverance within them. Every survivor's story is akin to a miracle.

So, the audience is being asked to overcome this disparity of impact. Some will surely argue it's a disparity of effectiveness, but I think that is unfair to the work Lang and Fisher are doing on the other side. I don't think equating her struggle with his is some failure of relativity either since the whole reason we're being told about Heller's struggle is because of how teens like Abby turned their lives around after hearing it. Empathy doesn't operate on levels.

You either have the humanity to acknowledge someone else's pain or you don't. To say you can when it comes to Herbert but not when it comes to Abby is simply admitting that your empathy is motivated by selfishness. We're talking about teenagers in both instances, after all. Kids experiencing the sort of anguish that no one their age should regardless of era, context, or support systems. It's never "You don't have it that bad." It's "I'm sorry you've endured that."

In that respect, Taylor's script succeeds in bridging the gap by stripping his present-day leads of age and impact to simply exist as victims with the capacity to see their pain in the other's face and recognize they aren't alone. Hearing Herbert's tale gives Abby the strength to keep going and seeing her rise from the darkness of her thoughts quiets his guilt by bestowing purpose onto his survival. Their openness and vulnerability ultimately lighten both of their souls.

7/10

The opening crosscuts in Josh Duhamel's Preschool (written by Richard D’Ovidio from a story co-crafted by him and his wife Nicole) tell you everything you need to know about what's to come. We watch as Alan (Duhamel) and Brian (Michael Socha) very seriously talk at their newborn children about the lives they will move heaven and earth to see come to fruition. They make lofty promises, reveal their own insecurities, and startle upon discovering their wives heard.

Lauren (Charity Wakefield) and Sarah (Antonia Thomas) want the best for their children too, but they understand the balance necessary for a healthy life and the difference between support and pressure. Do they force their husbands to understand it too? Not really. They roll their eyes whenever Alan and Brian go overboard because they presume both men will eventually realize they're acting insane. For the sake of the film, however, that insanity is what sells.

Alan and Lauren have a lot of money. Brian and Sarah have enough. Alan is a brash American who acts more important than he is. Brian is an uncouth self-made man who cannot see he is more important than he believes. And their kids (Eadie Johnson's Grace and Arris Crooke's Dylan, respectively) are legitimately the perfect candidates for Mrs. Lawrence's (Fenella Woolgar) prestigious preschool. Sadly, there's only one open spot left for the semester.

It's a fun point of conflict for absurd comedy as these two couples are presented with the task of writing a thesis (no more than twenty pages) about their child's worthiness and conducting a "father's presentation" devoid of any concrete instructions. What will Alan and Brian do to gain the upper hand? Is espionage enough? Bribery? Blackmail? Sabotage? Everything is on the table once their wives foolishly give them the benefit of the doubt.

Lauren and Sarah inevitably become best friends in the process considering they can see past the toxic masculinity to recognize how alike they are despite their very different socio-economic backgrounds. They are ultimately the ones bearing the brunt of their husbands' shame too as a result since nothing (broken bones, poisonous bites, or reputational suicide) will deter the men from their asinine ambitions. It'll be a miracle if both families aren't forced to leave town.

The jokes are broad and the situations familiar, but don't discount the ability of D’Ovidio's script and Duhamel's direction to push the envelope and render their clichés wild enough to feel fresh. Brian's family consisting of a better educated and more successful brother (Laurie Kynaston) and a gregarious father quick to call him on his bullshit (James Cosmo) might hit all the usual notes, but the former's sarcasm and latter's eccentricities keep it interesting.

We get the requisite "feats of strength" scene with a contemporary sport in an enclosed space (Padel). There's an off-putting yet believable children's variety show (led by Colin Carmichael's Monkey) that gets used as a measuring stick of self-worth. And the best bookend joke I've seen in quite some time courtesy of a joyfully boisterous preschool being located directly opposite the gloomy prison-like fort Alan and Brian must keep reminding us is the "good" one.

I love where the film takes Grace and Dylan as far as proving their fathers correct where their excellence is concerned despite also showing how their own smug satisfaction undercuts the victory. I enjoyed the fact that the escalation of idiocy and real monetary and social damage inflicted ratchets up with little regard for remorse because it ensures neither dad can earn our empathy. And yet it's also nice that both get their moment to admit where they've gone wrong.

As such, Preschool truly lives and dies by how you embrace Duhamel and Socha in these very flawed yet relatable roles. This is the sort of comedy that demands its performances elevate the plot's rote machinations and I believe they do exactly that. Because even though we cannot fully empathize with them due to their deplorable shenanigans, we can see it in their eyes that they know they've gone too far. They simply cannot stop once that train leaves the station.

So, enjoy their descent into immaturity and violence while you can. The tracks will eventually end as both are destined to realize they've lost even if their goal is achieved. Because Alan and Brian are the real children. It's their competitive nature that drives their kids to excel at activities they might not even fully comprehend to pursue that excellence themselves. These men are spoiled brats refusing to share who need Grace and Dylan to finally show them how.

6/10

Writer/director Amy Wang's Slanted is forever captured from the perspective of its protagonist, Joan Huang (Shirley Chen). That doesn't mean it's shot from a first-person vantage point, though. Just that we see her insecurities and shame projected upon the screen courtesy of those around her. The scowls of a white couple walking past her on the street. The racist expression of a white classmate mocking her Asian-ness. Joan's own love for a "white" filtering photo app.

We also witness this phenomenon in how Joan sees her parents. Sofia (Vivian Wu) and Roger (Fang Du), despite kind eyes and smiles, are often portrayed as weak, stubborn, and othered. Yes, this is a product of the very "white America" town in which they reside treating them as such, but it mostly exemplifies just how much their daughter has aligned with the latter against them. Because Joan could come to their defense. She chooses to distance herself instead.

Ethnos founder Willie Singer (R. Keith Harris) knows this truth courtesy of what we can assume is an aggressively pervasive data mining algorithm built into the back of his AI filter. The statistics show how much Joan uses the software. It surely has its tentacles in her shopping and texting history to see how much she fantasizes about being "normal." So, the system offers a once-in-a-lifetime deal to make that dream a reality. To give her a path towards "true" equality.

The sci-fi conceit is augmented by a shift in aspect ratios. Slanted's prologue is shown in widescreen to portray the hopefulness and ignorance of youth. Joan (Kristen Cui as a child) doesn't yet know what she doesn't know. Her father says everything will be alright. She faces racism in school, but maybe it's just that one kid. And she spies on the beauty and glory of a prom queen being crowned amongst her peers. The American Dream is hers for the taking.

We can therefore presume the shift to full-frame upon meeting high school-aged Joan is proof that reality has officially scrubbed that possibility from her mind. Now it's all about assimilation and pasting over the existential weight of her identity with aesthetic choices that were meant to blur the line but only end up making it more apparent. Joan is fighting for survival. She's yearning for one more shot at tricking everyone into believing she's actually one of them.

And then comes Dr. Singer's gift of going one step further. Because what's better than fooling the world? Fooling yourself. It's not presented in those terms. The pitch is that waking up with a new face and voice (Mckenna Grace's renamed Jo Hunt in widescreen) will provide a fresh start. But that doesn't work when the past remains intact, her parents unchanged, and her best friend—another minority at school (Maitreyi Ramakrishnan's Brindha)—is tossed aside.

Jo's recognition of this fact is all the more damning as a result because it finally exposes what she's done. Yes, she's erased her identity and heritage in physical terms where it concerns appearance, but, as her parents explain, she's also erased it psychologically and historically insofar as how her face connected to her ancestors. How her grandmother's eyes have now been replaced by a homogenized visage barely discernible from the next.

Because what is the so-called "American culture" Joan strove to embrace? White supremacy. The true ideal at the back of this country is one that highlights the melting point of ethnicities and religions its experiment was meant to create. But what happened when that potential finally manifested in the impossible? What happened when equality made its way to the White House by the election of a Black president? America's real culture was brought back to the forefront.

There are a lot of indelible moments throughout Wang's film from the grotesque body horror to Stepford Wives satirical conformity, but none hit me more than a later scene inside the home of Joan's idol (Amelie Zilber's Olivia). The white-washed American flag canvas. The utter lack of color anywhere. The inability of her father to even speak the word "race." It epitomizes just how deep-seated white supremacy is to America's genocidal desire to make ideology into law.

As POCs in America, we must be very cognizant of our actions. We must find ways to reject the notion that being a "good one" is actually counterintuitive to our goal of equality since it further normalizes the idea that "normal" should be synonymous with "white." Joan wants life to be easier and becoming Jo allows for that to happen, but at what cost? Is that ease worth voluntarily giving them the power to erase who you were and who your loved ones still are?

Think of Slanted as the reverse Get Out. Its script might not be as nuanced, but it is just as insidious. It also very effectively points to the shame inherent to being a non-white citizen of a country hellbent on infantilizing, exploiting, destroying, and/or becoming you. Peele showed white America's power to enslave. Wang reveals an immigrant's propensity to let themself be enslaved. But Americans often forget they're all immigrants. Whiteness is an aberration here too.

8/10