Our latest movie reviews

Furies by name, furious by nature, this full-bore Lebanese heist flick, executive-produced by George Clooney under his Smokehouse production label, brings Safdies and Tarantino energy to the streets of Beirut circa 2022. It even conjures memories of Thelma & Louise in its feminist, rage-against-the-machine story of two women sticking it to an unjust system.  A one-first-job crime thriller, it has the madcap feel of a true story. But director Rami Kodeih, who co-writes with his wife Nora Mariana, borrows only the real-life backdrop of a Beirut stricken by the fallout from the 2019 economic crisis, daily powercuts, even some latent ill-will dating bac to the Lebanese Civil War. The banks aren’t just not lending money, they won’t give customers their own savings. Single mum Maro (Rym Mroueh) needs funds to help her younger sister Dalia (Maria Nakouzi) with her cancer treatment. Instead of a George Bailey to calm everyone down at the counters, she has to deal with the dismissive bank manager who waves her away as he scarfs down his lunch. Obviously, no half-decent thriller is going to let this stand. The bank – and its patronising manager – are about to face an ungodly amount of payback as the two sisters hatch a plan to break into the vault and make off with money for meds, and some on the side to pay their two accomplishes: ageing war veteran Sunshine (Issam Bou Khaled) and angry, erratic Hamza (Hasan Akil), who unbeknownst to the sisters is in debt to a vicious mob boss. ...

The humdrum but magical business of making a low-budget film – lugging sets around, pulling off fake lashes, haggling with extras, cobbling together the cash to pay for it all – is perfectly captured in this intimate, joyful and politically-edged doc about the making of Derek Jarman’s queer 1991 period drama Edward II.  Seamus McGarvey is now a twice Oscar-nominated cinematographer who has worked with Greta Gerwig, Joe Wright, Lynne Ramsay and others. Back in 1991, he was an aspiring DP who scored an access-all-areas invite to film Jarman as he shot Edward II over five weeks at Bray Studios. Using this hitherto unseen material, debut director Theo Rollason does a fine job stitching together an effervescent making-of doc with a social history of the gay rights movement, AIDS-era Britain and the repressive policies of ’80s and ’90s governments.  Were he still alive, the treatment would no doubt have made excellent sense to Jarman. The great British artist and filmmaker, who would die of an AIDS-related illness three years after making the film, had already forged a punky vision of contemporary Britain with Jubilee (1978) and a violent, anachronistic period piece in Caravaggio (1986), With Edward II, he’d merge the two ideas together. A modernised take on the Christopher Marlowe play, it spoke to the homophobic and politically repressive state of the day. For Jarman, there was no hard boundary between art and politics or basic human rights. He’s filming by day, protesting...

From Bruges to Inisherin to Easter Island. Not your typical Tripadvisor itinerary but the thematic leyline that connects Martin McDonagh’s loose triptych of Beckettian buddy movies. His latest could be the best yet: a bittersweet hangout film about lonely, crumpled men facing up to mortality, dealing with the consequences of violence and chewing the fat to outlandishly funny effect.  That fat is mostly chewed by John Malkovich in a performance so good, you’re left rueing all the genre slop he’s had thrust his way in recent years. He’s Chris, a wolfish but ageing and increasingly forgetful CIA spook whose coup-organising and democracy-disrupting days may even have extended to supplying the rifle used to kill John F Kennedy 10 years earlier. His best (ie only) friend is Sam Rockwell’s Lee, a younger, slightly less jaded agent who nonetheless knows better than to trust a word their exasperated station chief, MJ (Steve Buscemi), tells them. It’s 1973, a few months before a CIA-orchestrated coup will bring down Chile’s democratically elected Marxist president Salvador Allende. This pair of loose cannons have been sent off to the remote Chilean territory of Easter Island to take in ‘the big heads’ and stay out of trouble. And it is not going well. ‘We came down here to destabilise your government,’ Chris happily tells a pair of students (Mariana di Girolamo, Ailin Salas) at the airport, ‘and it is going great’. Forget Slow Horses, these guys are basically stationary.  But...

In the 1960s and ’70s, a tide of eccentrically-dressed Westerners flowed East along the hippie trail, hunting for enlightenment as they trundled through Iran, Afghanistan and Pakistan to India and beyond (before the Russian invasion put a violent end to all that peace and love). Far fewer people looked for spiritual fulfilment in the opposite direction. But this beautifully imaginative hybrid documentary, executive-produced by Priyanka Chopra, is dedicated to telling the story of one of them: PK, an Indian portrait artist who fell in love with a Swedish tourist, and set off on an impossible journey to find his destiny. British director Orlando von Einsiedel (The White Helmets) foregrounds interviews with this story’s central couple: PK himself, who revisits his impetuous youth over chai from a Delhi roadside seller, and Lotta, who recalls their passionate affair with enjoyably Nordic understatement in the muted Swedish countryside. When PK was born, a soothsayer foretold that he would meet a woman from over the sea – a Taurus, with musical flair. So when he sketches Lotta’s portrait one day, and discovers that she is all those things, the future seems to be written in the stars. She heads home – and, too broke to buy a train ticket, he follows her by bicycle, with no map, and only $80, art materials, and some dried fruit to sustain him on this treacherous pedal-powered journey through inhospitable deserts and snowy mountains.  Clearly, he survived. But von Einsiedel...

An extreme sports doc so pummelling, you may need a huff of oxygen (or a hug) afterwards, Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi and Jimmy Chin’s follow-up to Free Solo is not the Everest climbing documentary you’re expecting. It left me gasping at points, as its protagonists dice with death in ways us sea-level folk can only gaze up at in awe and bafflement. Of course, people have been (successfully) scaling Everest since 1953. Nothing new there, right? But only five of them have done it from the Chinese side of the mountain rather than the commonly used southeast ridge in Nepal – the formidable North Face route that looks like something you wouldn’t want to fly over, much less climb. Much, much less ski back down. Yet that is the task real-life partners and elite mountain skiers Jim Morrison and Hilaree Nelson set for themselves in 2022. Chin, not only the co-director here but a friend of the couple and their fellow climber, is on hand with a dual-purpose climbing/filmmaking crew to help them achieve their dream of conquering ‘the ultimate ski run on Planet Earth’. Ahead of them are sudden avalanches, treacherous ice fields, high winds and fatally fickle weather – all captured with stunning cinematography via drone footage, helicopter shots and GoPro cameras. A sudden avalanche yields footage from inside the snow, like some terrifying new virtual reality experience. Widescreen shots of Everest beg the obvious question: how the hell do you begin to ski down that?  Ahead of them are...

Five years in the making, Ed Sayers’ feature debut brings together 40 people across 25 countries, each armed with a Super 8 camera to film the natural world on their doorstep. The result is like a lo-fi remix of Godfrey Reggio’s epic Koyaanisqatsi – both a celebration of nature and environmental omen, albeit minus the tribal warbling. Thanks to those goliath, bombastic BBC productions, nowadays we consume nature as a hyperreal hi-def event, so obsessed with spectacle there’s little space for reflection. There’s no to-the-death battles here or exotic mating rituals. Accompanied by Alexandra Hamilton-Ayres’s spectral score, this is nature, up close and often very personal. The spark for Sayers’ experiment was French filmmaker Roger Batteault, whose footage of flamingos included an eerie shot of a lone bird flying to catch up with the flock, like a broken spear gliding through a wide expanse of sky. Inspiring him to film grey seals near his Norfolk home, Sayers rallied a community of Super 8 enthusiasts and conservationists to share the world around them.The sheer variety of life is astounding. We see octopus in Patagonia; silkworms in London; water buffalo in Assam; reindeer in the Arctic Circle; fin whales in Thailand; rattlesnakes in the Mojave Desert; the puffins of Skomer Island in Wales… Inevitably, man’s impact crashes the party with footage of glaciers reduced to puddles, Kenya’s two last surviving northern white rhinos and a haunting vignette in the sunken human...

Remember the pandemic, when everyone had time to Netflix and chill? TV shows that might otherwise have come and gone became global hits, and in between the Tiger Kings and the Queen’s Gambits there was a Parisian acting agency called ASK that became a global sensation. But by the time Call My Agent became a hit, the show’s creator, Fanny Herrero, had quit, citing burnout. Despite the clamour for a season five, it never happened, partly because the show’s stars – Camille Cottin, Laure Calamy, et al – were now top of every casting director's list. (Basically the plot of one of the episodes.) Fans of the format and its self-spoofing celebrity cameos – Cécile de France, Isabelle Huppert, Jean Dujardin among the most recognisable – were left to cry over the diminishing returns of copycat shows in the UK, India, Italy, Korea, Turkey and elsewhere. Five years on and this movie is the satisfying compromise the stars and Herrero, who returns to write the script, agreed to. And it says everything about the enduring standing of Call My Agent! that George Clooney has a monumental scene-stealing cameo. Eva Longoria, Laetitia Casta and Vincent Macaigne round off the celebrity involvement. But they are the bubbles, not the champagne. Despite a hokey fourth-wall-breaking pre-credits recap of the demise of the ASK agency – jobbing actor Hervé (Nicolas Maury) fills us in on where everyone is five years later – fans will be happy that the movie doesn't take the easy route of installing...

‘I had to sacrifice a lot for the greater good. Aren’t you glad I did?’ There aren’t many people who could stare down the barrel of a camera and say this without coming across as cocky or unlikeable. Billie Jean King is an exception. Liz Garbus (Love, Marilyn) and Elizabeth Wolff's exhilarating documentary, part of ESPN’s acclaimed 30 for 30 series, pulls apart the complicated relationship between sporting greatness and social responsibility. King never set out to become a trailblazer. Give Me The Ball! takes its title from the phrase a young Billie Jean King would shout whenever there was a ball to be caught, chased or hit.  That desire to compete would later manifest in activism. Despite dominating the tennis circuit from the outset, King didn’t receive the financial rewards enjoyed by her male counterparts, routinely paying for her own travel to tournaments and working side hustles to get by. With the support of her then-husband Larry, she took matters into her own hands to secure sponsorship and create the foundation for what would become women's professional tennis. The focus of the documentary is 1973, the year of ‘the Battle of the Sexes’, when she took on chauvinist Bobby Riggs in a highly-publicised match to prove that women could compete with men on the court. Rather than rehash the film of the same name, the lens is widened to show everything else the year demanded of King. ‘Everything else’ amounted to the collapse of her 20-year relationship, the pressures of...

Six years after our own very real pandemic, Hollywood’s first Covid-inspired blockbuster manifests what many of us fantasised about during the darkest moments of the first lockdown – a broken world emptied of human life. Influenza is to blame in Ridley Scott’s film, which technically makes it an a-cough-alypse, and while there are bursts of Mad Max berserking, The Dog Stars is a surprisingly sensitive meditation on what we could have lost. It’s May, 2035. On a deserted Colorado airfield, we meet two men and a dog clinging onto existence. Josh Brolin’s shoot-’em-burn-’em ex-Marine Bangley is hellbent on defending the compound from scavengers. Jacob Elordi’s pilot Hig can’t wait to escape, flying the Rockies for signs of civilisation with his faithful Belgian Malinois. A glitchy radio message appears to promise a new life, but when Hig crash-lands his battered Cessna near a remote ranch, he gets a shotgun welcome from its owner (Guy Pearce) and curiosity from his daughter (Margaret Qualley).  From Blade Runner’s neon dystopia to Gladiator’s barbaric Rome, when it comes to immersive world-building, Scott is one of cinema’s great architects. But in The Dog Stars, we’re transported to a wasteland we’ve walked countless times before: tomb-like skyscrapers, overgrown freeways, feral packs of savages. In the ironically overpopulated genre of post-apocalyptic cinema, what makes The Dog Stars stand out from the pack?  Superficially, Scott offers a few novel twists – notably, a bison...

If you’ve fallen under the spell of House of the Dragon’s determined-to-marry-well witch, Alys Rivers, you’ll surely be drawn to Gayle Rankin’s wild turn in Scottish filmmaker Louis Paxton’s beguilingly debut, The Incomer. Rankin plays Isla, one half of an exceedingly strange, semi-feral sibling duo completed by Outlander star Grant O’Rourke as her softer, jollier-in-spirit brother, Sandy. They’ve been isolated on a remote island somewhere off the northeastern coast of Scotland, with their parents little but unreliable memories. Marrying the dark anarchy of Lord of the Flies with a dash of Limbo’s kooky, bruised heart, Paxton delivers a furiously funny piece of folklore. He’s aided in by animation director Selina Wagner’s charcoal-drawn animated sequences, which reveal that the island once teemed with locals. They were apparently betrayed by the wily mainlanders. An unrecognisable Four Weddings and a Funeral star John Hannah’s tricksy, Gollum-like selkie who lingers in the rocky shallows is another danger, wheedling at Isla and Sandy to join him in the murky depths. Hannah is marvellously menacing, with make-up and prosthetics designer Siobhán Harper-Ryan giving him a sharp-toothed smile and blubbery skin. The siblings’ dad went into the sea to keep these creatures at bay. He also taught his bizarre kids to defend the isle, insisting the only good mainlanders are those bludgeoned with a cudgel or hoiked off the cliffs. Isla and Sandy ceremonially adopt the likeness of...