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What’s this Movie About? BLACK BAG
“I watch her, and I assume she watches me.”
Even though Black Bag represents the third collaboration between director Stephen Soderbergh and screenwriter David Koepp, it’s the one that feels most like something you would expect from such a pairing. The two can boast resumes as varied as they get in their respective lanes. Koepp can count Death Becomes Her, Jurassic Park, and Mission: Impossible among some of his most popular works, while plenty of Soderbergh’s films, including Sex, Lies, and Videotape, Erin Brockovich, and Traffic are considered true classics. Black Bag doesn’t come close to reaching the heights of any of these films, but it does show that, despite more hits than they can count, Koepp and Soderbergh are still present and remain artists who continue to relish the art of entertaining storytelling. This is certainly true with their latest collaboration, which is the kind of playful, late-winter gem that’s always a joy to discover.
In Black Bag, married couple Kathryn (Cate Blanchette) and George (Michael Fassbender) enjoy a spark-filled marriage and thriving careers as members of British Intelligence. The secret to their union is that neither one pries into the other’s work, responding with the term “black bag” whenever one of them gives the other a question they’re not allowed to answer. However, when George is tasked with spying on Kathryn, who may be committing traitorous acts, it makes him question his loyalty to both his marriage and his career.
For anyone who loves a throwback, Black Bag is littered with them. The movie has the kind of slickness found in the capers of classic cinema, some truly lush cinematography courtesy of Soderbergh, and a score from David Holmes that feels just this side of mischievous. Best of all is the mesmerizing rapport between the two leads. Their back-and-forth represents some of the best chemistry of the year, despite it being only March. Kathryn’s slickness and George’s continuous enchantment of her go a long way toward making the movie one of the deceptively hottest experiences of 2025 so far. There’s a decent enough comment within Black Bag about relationships within the spy world. We see that Kathryn and George’s marriage works, yet we’re also made well aware that this is because of the conditions they’ve made for each other and the understanding that exists between them. Yes, every relationship must face conditions and compromises if it wants to last, but Black Bag shows what concessions are necessary when two people belong to a world that requires just as much from them as their own marriage does.
Besides the romance (which is never anything less than steamy when it comes to the central couple), Black Bag is the kind of genre blend that most studios are just too afraid to make anymore. While most films get points marked off for daring to mix up tones and styles to tell their story as they see fit, this movie happily has no such worries as it shows itself to be an espionage tale, a dark comedy, and a whodunnit, sometimes all at once. Even the film’s architecture doesn’t follow the standard blueprint, beginning with a dinner party at the couple’s home where they have invited name fellow spies Freddie (Tom Burke), Clarissa (Marisa Abela), James (Rege-Jean Page), and Zoe (Naomi Harris) to their home for dinner where a meal that has been laced with a drug used to sniff out deceivers is served. The extended sequence is the best in the film as it brilliantly sets up the thrilling ride we’re about to embark on, complete with an assortment of colorful suspects, plenty of twists, and, eventually, even Pierce Brosnan in a supporting role that sees him having more fun than he’s had in some time.
Black Bag gives some great actors the chance to have some fun with a collection of side characters, none of whom are what they seem. Brosnan, Burke, Abela, Page, and Harris all prove a natural fit for Soderberg’s world and give real life to the motley group of suspects, with each actor making them their own. That being said, nothing can beat the chemistry shared by the two leads. Blanchett carries herself with such seductive confidence that suggests she’s always one step ahead of everyone in the room. Meanwhile, Fassbender credibly portrays a Hitchcockian leading man with his quiet desperation to get to the bottom of who is behind it all.
Apart from all of its attributes, the aspect of Black Bag that deserves the most applause is its use of the MacGuffin. Coined by Alfred Hitchcock back in the day, the MacGuffin is a storytelling device that the famed director described as: “The thing that the bad guys are after, but that the audience doesn’t care about.” Black Bag manages to use its MacGuffin skillfully, giving the audience just enough information for us to know that the item that everyone going on about is a big deal, but not so much information that we have to invest more time with it than we’d prefer. In an era where some films are criticized for over explaining or not explaining enough, Black Bag finds the perfect middle ground, showing that the storytelling device made famous so many years ago is still alive and well, not to mention just as fun as ever.
Action, Alfred Hitchcock, Black Bag, Cate Blanchette, Crime, Death Becomes Her, Erin Brockovich, Jurassic Park, MacGuffin, Marisa Abela, Michael Fassbender, Michael Koepp, Mission: Impossible, Movies, Naomi Harris, Pierce Brosnan, Rege-Jean Page, Review, Sex Lies And Videotape, Thriller, Tom Burke, Traffic -
SXSW 2025: TOGETHER Gets Under Your Skin to Pull at Your Heart
Michael Shanks’ debut feature is a wholesomely gory deconstruction of codependency
Stills courtesy of NEON. Millie and Tim (real-life couple Alison Brie and Dave Franco) are hesitantly settling into their new rural home after uprooting their lives in the city for Millie’s new teaching post. On the outside, Tim and Millie are doing their best to support one another–Millie’s job is fulfilling, while Tim has the chance to revive his once-successful music career by joining his friend’s band on tour. But their relationship exists in an uneasy limbo. Tim’s stuck in arrested development, homebound after never learning to drive and still wracked with grief over the death of his parents; Millie wants to be there for Tim, but his faded intimacy, reluctance to get engaged, and indifference towards her attempts to help him get back on his feet has Millie doubting whether their relationship has any future at all.
The naturalism of Brie and Franco’s performances, seemingly augmented by their off-screen real-life relationship, makes Michael Shanks’ debut an already compelling relationship drama. Viewers effortlessly bounce between the emotional extremes of this couple, identifying with Tim’s idealistic yet self-imposed immaturity as much as Millie’s very valid frustration at their romantic stasis. This isn’t the first time Brie and Franco have worked together, pairing with amazing comedic timing in The Little Hours and into further thriller territory in Franco’s directorial debut The Rental. Yet whether together or apart, this is the first time either actor has turned in such potentially polarizing vulnerability. Brie and Franco engage in equal-opportunity nudity, trading scarring verbal jabs, and swapping positions of control or authority at the expense of making either partner look, well, petty or pathetic. The open embrace of their characters’ shortcomings as much as their strengths makes the complicated relationship dynamics at the heart of Together ring true, making for a film about the constant tension between one’s identity both as an individual and as a couple, the willing or imposed sacrifices we make for each other, and the resentments that can fester as a result.
It isn’t long, though, before a dangerous encounter for our couple while hiking nearby reveals the gruesome reasons why Together played in one of SXSW’s late-night slots–and elevates Shanks’ film into territory that’s paradoxically repulsive yet completely wholesome. The already-uneasy co-dependency between Tim and Millie ratchets up the sickening ick factor, which Shanks pairs wonderfully with an expert toying with the audiences’ expectations. Obsessions about their relationship take on an addictive factor, turning Tim into a creepy stalker figure and Millie into a desire-driven mania. The couple’s hesitance to commit plays into sequences that involve them to, for lack of a better phrase, rip off an all-but-metaphorical bandaid–which results in impressive physical performances from Brie and Franco that had our midnight audience laughing, gasping, and screaming when we least expected it.
The influence of other modern horror films from auteurs like Jordan Peele, Ari Aster, and Julia Ducournau looms large over how the couple’s relationship between themselves, their neighbors, and nature itself. However, Shanks refreshingly tempers such gloom and suspense with an extremely welcome sense of humor. In the film’s tensest sequences, we know what the characters need to do, we feel the gag in the back of our throats–but Brie and Franco find such human ways to delay getting to the point, transforming these normally repulsive moments into much-needed laughter beats. Climaxes of scenes pull double-duty as the payoffs to extended comic bits as well as shocking jump scares, imbuing the film’s body horror and cosmic dread with a seemingly incompatible but wholly successful levity. Occasional appearances by the jovial yet menacing Damon Herriman (Charles Manson in both Once Upon a Time in Hollywood and Mindhunter) provide a necessary objective look at Tim and Millie’s horrifying absurdity, before injecting his own hilarious bit of horror shenanigans.
What I enjoyed so much about Together, though, was the surprising amount of sincerity that Shanks keeps up across the film’s runtime, no matter how dire or dreadful Tim and Millie’s relationship may get. There’s still some spark that pulls them together as much as being apart may be key to their literal survival. It’s the North Star for Together that allows both the film’s creatives and future audiences to navigate the film’s tonal shifts, recognizing how much horror and joy coexist in any relationship even without the intrusion of overtly genre elements.
Make no mistake, Together is as much a sweet and hilarious romantic comedy as it is a truly disgusting horror film, and it’s the symbiotic relationship between Shanks, Franco, and Brie that makes the film’s disparate tones fuse so well.
Together had its Texas Premiere in SXSW 2025’s Festival Favorites section, and will hit theaters on August 1, 2025 courtesy of NEON.
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SXSW 2025: LIFEHACK is the Best Screenlife Feature Yet
Georgie Farmer as Kyle, Yasmin Finney as Alex, Roman Hyack Green as Sid and James Sholz as Petey “Screenlife” is a term I believe was coined by Russian filmmaker Timur Bekmambetov to describe a subgenre he’s been championing for years now and indicates a type of film that exclusively takes place within a screen on the screen. In other words, you’re not getting sweeping landscapes and idyllic sunsets. You’re get webcams, chat feeds, social media accounts, and security camera footage. It’s the type of storytelling tool that places distinct limitations around itself to see what kinds of modern stories can emerge. I’ve personally experienced a small handful of these types of movies, including Searching, Profile, and Host. I enjoyed those to limited degrees, and am here to say that LifeHack is far and away the best screenlife project I’ve seen to date. In fact, LifeHack is the first screenlife story that seemed to not only benefit from the screenlife rule set, but perhaps even transcend it.
A key limitation I’ve felt with past screenlife titles is underdeveloped characters. Since you can only see them on chat screens, it’s hard to get to know them. LifeHack’s four main leads are best friends and perpetually online gamer/hacker types. Writer/Director Ronan Corrigan and co-writer Hope Elliott Kemp do a remarkable job scrolling through old home videos and online memories to show us how these four best friends became an elite online unit and we feel a fast bond with them. It doesn’t feel limiting to only see our friends through their monitors because that’s how THEY see themselves all the time. We feel like we’re in their inner sanctum, clued in to all their individual quirks, skill sets, and personalities as they bond, game, troll, and do life together.
I also really appreciate the way our new young friends seem to edge their way into the main plot of LifeHack, in which they attempt to heist a billionaire’s (a very thinly veiled Elon Musk stand in) crypto stash from him. Much like so many major internet stories and so much online discourse I see, our friends kind of “joke” about being able to pull something big off, test the waters with some smaller stakes pranks, and then all the sudden find themselves in over their heads and fighting for their lives as somewhere along the line their “trolling” begins to become “larceny”. As kids are wont to do, they react in wildly different ways with some doubling down and some realizing their futures in college and career are quickly fading away as a result of their online actions encroaching on their real worlds.
So now we’re all in with our well-realized young cast of characters, and the heist is on, whether they all really wanted it to be or not. They’ve got to see this through to the end now, and here is where the film really and truly soars: the extended heist sequence. In order to get the crypto stash, our brilliant young hackers have to physically get into the billionaire’s building and onto his personal laptop. With the help of his scorned and cut off from the trust fund influencer daughter, our leads attempt an absolutely nail-biting heist unlike any you’ve ever really seen before thanks to the requirements of the screenlife format. Through texts, security footage, video chats, and more, you’ll see a thrilling sequence unlike any other.
Finally, there’s a real underdog vibe to LifeHack that makes it extremely easy to root for our four leads. These are kids with real struggles, talents, passions, hopes, and dreams. Sure, they’re extremely online in a way that feels uncomfortable to me as an old man, but they’re not simply our protagonists, they’re the heroes of the film. We fall in love with them, and we want more than anything for them to succeed. It helps that their “victim” is a truly hateable billionaire at a time when so few are siphoning up the livelihoods of so many. We’re in a robber baron era once again, and though it took Corrigan and his team years to finalize this film, it’s now hitting at the ripest possible time as a middle finger to oligarchs and a fist pumping celebration of youthful rebellion and ingenuity.
If LifeHack proves anything, it’s that even within an intentionally limiting format like screenlife, you can still get thrills, and even find emotional connection with the characters when the filmmaking team knows what they’re doing. Corrigan gives us characters that feel robust and relatable, and displays through the many screens we are watching a highly plausible and authentic feeling crypto heist, even if I have no idea what a truly authentic crypto heist would ACTUALLY look like. The point is that it’s done so well that it’s easy for audiences to buy in, go for a ride, and never feel like their intelligence is insulted along the way. This is no easy task when you’re not only writing a “script”, but also having to display every last onscreen detail and frequently relay story and emotion, tension and release, through graphical displays, texts, and chat windows. Corrigan and Kemp pull it all off with aplomb, and if there’s justice, LifeHack will see a wide release and give audiences around the world the same thrill ride it gave me.
And I’m Out.
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SXSW 2025: THE SURRENDER is a Terrifying and Tactful Take on the Horrors of Loss
Julia Max’s debut feature approaches grief and tragedy with understated yet deeply effective scares
Courtesy of Cailin Yatsko. From A Dark Song to Servant, my favorite horror trope is the paranormal procedural. Rooted in the mysterious, often occult-based actions of characters seeking a resolution to trauma via otherworldly means, it’s a subgenre that directly confronts the random mysteries of life—that in finding some pathway through tragedy, so will we.
What’s refreshing about Julia Max’s The Surrender is that this experience is something shared rather than a solitary one—offering dueling portraits of grief that are equally conflicting, terrifying, and compelling. The film follows Megan (Colby Minifie) and her mother, Barbara (Kate Burton), as they go through the rituals of hospice care for patriarch Robert (Vaughn Armstrong). While Megan prepares herself to let her father go and finally move on, Barbara’s journey isn’t as easy. Seeking to prolong Robert’s life or even cure him, Barbara embraces occult methods—even if they put her at risk, like pulling her own teeth. When Robert finally passes, Megan reluctantly joins her mother in her most intensive occult remedy yet: a multi-day process designed to take them to the afterlife and bring Robert back from the dead.
The clever structure of Max’s debut creates an inseparable fusion between The Surrender’s occult rituals with the deeper “rituals” of grief. From burning photos and belongings of those we hold dear to gruesome bodily mutilation, Max organically dramatizes the myriad ways that grief and death take emotional pieces out of us. Max directly confronts these themes and their natural horrors without coyly dressing them up in a barely-subtextual villain, while also approaching Barbara and Megan’s differing perspectives with a tactful, respectful nuance. Megan, pulling double duty caring for her mother as much as her ailing father, is understandably more than ready to move on with the life she’s put on hold; Barbara, terrified of confronting life without her partner, does all she can to prolong it, whether that involves experimental treatment or something more disturbingly esoteric. In a landscape where Capital-T-Trauma seems to invade every attempt at modern horror, it’s refreshing to see a film that naturally incorporates these themes that risk being overly familiar.
Minifie and Burton are more than up to the task of bringing Max’s complex screenplay to life. Minifie’s wide-eyed fear and indecision fuel much of the film’s terrifying sequences–and as the film gradually isolates her from others, she clears the daunting task of effectively reacting to the more external horror of The Surrender without going to an extreme too far beyond the more grounded anxiety that opens the film. Burton is stellar as Barbara, playing her with the stoic stubbornness of mother figures we’re all familiar with, especially as that headstrong nature begins to undercut the sense of maturity we gave to them as children that we then grow to possess as adults. While it’s easy to trust Barbara at the beginning, Burton chips away at her confident exterior to reveal the complicated, frustrating human underneath–someone wholly selfish and contradictory yet still very human and relatable. The sunk-cost nature of the film’s storytelling lives and dies by Minifie and Burton’s central tension–and is the predominant reason why it’s so easy to surrender to The Surrender’s exploration of grief and horror.
The scrappy nature of the film’s production is quite admirable, with its limited location and resources and emphasis on character work rather than showy visuals bringing to mind Mike Flanagan’s breakout debut Absentia. She still makes room for surprising frights, particularly involving one audience-wide jump at a twist on traditional mirror jump scares. What’s remarkable about Max’s film is her ambitious drive to begin with these sparse resources and limit herself even further. We almost never leave the film’s central house–but when we do, Max somehow manages to make the characters’ new surroundings feel even more limited and claustrophobic, amplifying the unknown terrors facing her characters. It’s here the film makes its biggest swings, experimenting with gory makeup practicals and judicious VFX, recognizing the power of keeping the audience figuratively and literally in the dark as much as possible. One particular shot, bringing light to the darkness, will make your blood run cold long after viewing not just due to the terror of life after death, but the indifference of the dead towards the living.
With its nuanced and deliberate approach to horror, The Surrender is quietly one of the standouts of SXSW 2025’s impressive Midnighter lineup.
The Surrender had its world premiere at SXSW 2025. It’s currently seeking distribution.
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SXSW 2025: FRIENDSHIP, Did We Just Become Best Friends?
Did we just become best friends? That’s the question that jumpstarts writer-director Andrew DeYoung’s Friendship. Dweeby, socially awkward Craig gets a package meant for new neighbor Austin, whose warm demeanor immediately draws Craig in. The two become friends, fast friends. The budding friendship gets its first test at a group event, a guy’s night. Can you guess how things go? If I told you one of the guys is played by Tim Robinson and the other by Paul Rudd, can you already match the actors to their character?
Friendship takes the well-established comic personas of each actor and lets their combustible chemistry take the wheel from there. As Craig, Robinson’s comic intensity and knack for instantly memeable reactions translate from the short form of I Think You Should Leave to feature length better than you might think. Rudd’s doing his everyman bit that has endeared him to audiences for decades, and it works just as well as ever. In hindsight, there’s a part of me that wonders how the film would’ve played had they switched characters and played against type. Hypotheticals aside, letting people play to their strengths gives the comedy a reliable baseline. It allows DeYoung to take bigger swings with the situations he drops the characters into knowing Robinson and Rudd will get laughs while opening up the potential for some explosive moments of hilarity.
As a writer, DeYoung taps into something we’ve all felt before: wanting to impress someone only to flounder and fumble it away. Anyone who’s ever tried a little too hard to win someone over, or been on the receiving end of those overtures, will certainly connect with the awkwardness DeYoung conjures up. Smartly, those feelings of insecurity cut both ways for Craig and Austin. One of the men handles it better than the other, but it’s still there. That provides the dramatic and comedic drive for the film. DeYoung’s script rides the line of coming up with funny, relatable scenarios and cranking them up just enough to open the doors for the laughs to flow without feeling like he’s forcing the comedy. With performers like Robinson and Rudd, the laughs come easily. That’s without even getting into the supporting cast that crackles every time they get to deliver jokes. Most noteworthy is Kate Mara as Craig’s wife, Tami. Mara gets the film’s heaviest dramatic elements, but she generates plenty of laughs on her own.
Similar to I Think You Should Leave, Friendship comes preloaded with a “you’ve-gotta-see-this” cache. It’s Tim Robinson and Paul Rudd bouncing from one awkward situation to the next. There are a couple of reaction shots and off-hand comments that surely will become memes the second the movie opens. It’s a very funny movie. Of course it’s funny. The real test of Friendship‘s strength, like any relationship, will come with time and repeat viewings, which this movie is sure to garner.
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CUTTHROAT ISLAND: Stunts, Explosions & Corporate Bankruptcy On The High Seas! [Two Cents]
![CUTTHROAT ISLAND: Stunts, Explosions & Corporate Bankruptcy On The High Seas! [Two Cents]](https://i0.wp.com/cinapse.co/wp-content/uploads/2025/03/MV5BMjA4MDQ4MTMzN15BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwNTc5MjA0NQ%40%40._V1_.jpg?resize=1140%2C714&ssl=1)
Renny Harlin drops a small countries entire GDP into a wild pirate film with jaw dropping stunts, dangerous pyrotechnics, and a soggy script that threatens to sink the whole thing!
Two Cents is a Cinapse original column akin to a book club for films. The Cinapse team curates the series and contribute their “two cents” using a maximum of 200-400 words. Guest contributors and comments are encouraged, as are suggestions for future picks. Join us as we share our two cents on films we love, films we are curious about, and films we believe merit some discussion. Would you like to be a guest contributor or programmer for an upcoming Two Cents entry? Simply watch along with us and/or send your pitches or 200-400 word reviews to [email protected].
Flashing blades, roaring cannons, daring rogues swinging through the air to the aid of their true loves and to battle dastardly villains – there’s a definitive image, however ephemeral in exact detail, that comes to mind when you hear the word “swashbuckler.” Stories of romantic adventure in this vein stretch back at least to the days of Alexandre Dumas’s Musketeers, Baroness Orczy’s Scarlett Pimpernel, and Sir Walter Scott’s Wilfred of Ivanhoe, and they’ve been mined for cinematic adaptation and inspiration almost since the birth of the medium, and their influence can be seen from Jack Sparrow’s Caribbean to galaxies far, far away. This month sees Cinapse’s team looking at nearly a century of swashbuckling sagas from their black-and-white roots to the brand-new reinventions of the form to examine why these tales are so enticing, so timeless, and who told them the best.
The Pick: Cutthroat Island (1995)
This week on Two Cents, we jump ahead 60 years, trading out the wit and repartee of Eroll Flynn for the bombastic stunts and effects of Renny Harlin. Holding the title of one of the biggest box office bombs in cinema history, Cutthroat Island is not some poor man’s attempt at swashbuckling, but a genuinely awe inspiring spectacle of pyrotechnics and death defying stunts, where every last cent of the budget is up on screen (but never showed back up at the box office). Made at the peak of Harlin’s career, starring his new bride Geena Davis and a baby faced Matthew Modine, as well as a bevy of character actors, here is what the scoundrels of Cinapse had to say about this wild ‘90s pirate spectacle.
The Team
Spencer Brickey
Cutthroat Island is a lot of things; a swashbuckling adventure through the Caribbean, an insane money sink that bankrupted Carolco, a vanity project between newlyweds that they called their honeymoon, and one of the worst box office disasters of all time. What it really is, or at least what anyone should care about, is a collection of some of the most dangerous stunts and awe inspiring pyrotechnics put to screen.
Following the adventures of Morgan Adams (Geena Davis) and her crew of pirates, Cutthroat Island hits all the classic swashbuckling tropes; hidden Spanish treasure, competing pirates searching for the same riches, the meddling “government” looking for their piece of the pie, plenty of sword fights and naval battles, and gallons of rum consumed. What really sets Cutthroat Island apart, though, is the wizardry on screen when it comes to stunts and effects. At this point, director Renny Harlin was at the peak of his career, coming off of the success of both Die Hard 2 and Cliffhanger. What he did with that blank check is make a film that throws its straight up A list stars into actual stunt work. Geena Davis and Matthew Modine are actually doing all the stunts on set, which include swinging between ships (and high up in the masts), jumping through windows (there is a stunt/visual effect here, with Geena jumping on a wagon, that I had to rewind 3 times to try and figure out how the fuck they did it), and barely escaping massive fireballs every few minutes.
If you’re not impressed with the stunts, the pyrotechnics on display should be enough to knock your socks off. Everything explodes here; be it random barrels, ships at sea, or even a regular old chandelier. And they don’t just explode, they explode BIG. Massive, sky high fireballs accompany every action on screen, turning the world into a borderline hellscape. There is a scene, of two ships firing upon each other, that looks so chaotic and violent it’s almost disorienting. All if this of course leads to one final explosion, as we watch a large pirate ship explode into a million pieces of shrapnel and fire. It is an absolute beaut.
Is Cutthroat Island some sort of hidden gem? Not really. The casting just does not work, and the dialogue leaves a lot to be desired. But, for those looking for something to turn their brain off for, and just get lost in the chaos on screen, Cutthroat Island is a film for you
Source: IMDb Brendan Agnew
Cutthroat Island is a movie I kinda love – and think is genuinely good – in spite of itself. The 1995 pirate blockbuster is obviously a passion project by Die Hard 2: Die Harder director Renny Harlin, but showcases his strengths and weaknesses as a filmmaker at their utmost. On the one hand, the cast is a lot of fun (though I’ll go to my grave believing that Cary Elwes in the Matthew Modine role would add a whole extra star to this movie), the sets and costumes and pirate-y ephemera look great, and the score by John Debney is driving and operatic and full of hummable riffs we beg for in modern spectacle films.
But most importantly, this is one of the greatest collections of high-skill stunt-heavy set pieces of the decade. It’s like the filmmakers decided to cram in every cool “pirate thing” they could think of and then over-deliver. There’s not a saloon brawl in Cutthroat – there’s a saloon shoot-out cum explosive melee that feels ripped from James Bond-by-way-of-Robert Louis Stevenson. You can feel the love for the cinematic legacy of pirate adventure films as we get reenactments of the Captain Blood auction scene with a ‘90s diesel twist, alongside the director’s “kid in a candy store” energy as he cashed every check his earlier hits had given him. And Geena Davis proves game for everything asked of her, and more – I’m still not sure I believe the horse stunt she pulls off in this movie, even though you can clearly see her face as she crashes through a window onto a moving carriage to summersault into the driver’s seat in the same fucking shot. And the final ship-to-ship battle remains among the best of its kind even to this day in terms of sheer destructive production.
If the script were as good as the spectacle, this would be a true all-timer alongside the likes of The Rock. Unfortunately, they’re not. While the film offers a fun group of buccaneers to follow on the treasure hunt to the titular isle, it feels both slightly overstuffed and under-dramatized. The inciting incident – Davis’ Morgan Adams inheriting a piece of a map from her father as he lies dying at the hands of her uncle – is ripe for swashbuckling melodrama, but the film never truly capitalizes on the pieces it has. Mostly it just shuffles people around the board with double dealings and triple-crosses until it’s time to blow everything up, and while Langella is belting for the bleachers and a blast to watch, it can feel like a lot of marking time until Act 3.
Fortunately, Act 3 is legit amazing, giving every one of Morgan’s main crew members mini-arcs during a gigantic broadside battle while Davis and Langella buckle every swash from sheets to gundeck. It’s hard not to yearn for the better film this could have been shaped into, but it’s still a rock solid example of the kind of practical stunt-heavy high concept “original” blockbuster we claim to yearn for these days.
Brendan Foley
When you look at the line-up of huge box office failures, the actual quality of the movie is rarely the most determining factor. There are numerous examples of excellent films bombing because of competition, lousy marketing, or simply being too ahead of the culture. It happens all the time.
Not this time though.
Is Cutthroat Island so terrible that it deserved to be a record-breaking, studio-shuttering, genre-killing dud?
No.
Is Cutthroat Island any good?
FUCK no.
There are some folks in our cinema celebrating community with love in their hearts for Renny Harlin but my heart is closed for business to that dude and all his hackwork that don’t involve Samuel L. Jackson getting bitten in half by a terrible CGI shark. Cutthroat Island is loaded with truly spectacular stunt and pyrotechnic work and all of it (ALL OF IT) lands with a bigger thud than this movie’s box office because Harlin has no idea how to stage, shoot, or cut action. Between the frantic editing and the hideously mistimed and overused slow motion, it’s like he’s going out of his way to sabotage any chance of the movie being even a turn-your-brain off good time by tanking the action.
It doesn’t help matters that the script is a jumble of poorly realized cliches, only made more embarrassing in hindsight when films like Curse of the Black Pearl and Master & Commander reminded us of how much juice those classical tropes and clichés still had so long as you actually utilize them properly.
I wish I could say that at least the cast is giving it their all, but both Geena Davis and Matthew Modine look out of place and uncomfortable. They don’t just lack chemistry, they appear to be actively repelling each other like magnetic poles. The script is loaded with banter and one liners, all of which are about as successful as Carolco Picture’s tax return that year. Davis and Modine, terrific actors!, deliver their every stilted line as if they learned the words phonetically a minute before Harlin called “Action”.
Langella is pretty good.
A film that clearly either sinks or swims with the pirate crew here at Cinapse! To give some numbers to this historic flop, the film cost $115 million dollars to shoot, and only made $10 million at the box office, netting a $105 million lose (adjusted for inflation, that’s a $220 million dollar loss). Quite the bit of pirate booty was lost on this journey, it seems. But, don’t worry, the clashing of swords and explosion of cannons has just begun here on Two Cents!
March: Swashbuckling Adventure On and Off the High Seas
Our month of Swashbuckling continues all March, culminating in the two-part adaptation of Alexandre Dumas’ classic novel!
March 17 – Hook (Digital Rental / Purchase – 2 hours 21 minutes)
March 24 – The Court Jester (Digital Rental / Purchase – 1 hour 41 minutes)
March 31 – The Three Musketeers: D’Artagnan (Hulu – 2 hrs 1 minute) / Milady (Hulu – 1 hour 55 minutes)
And We’re Out.
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SXSW 2025: FUCKTOYS Evokes the Punk Spirit of a Bygone Age
Annapurna Sriram beguiles as the writer/director/star of this gonzo-fueled affair
Welcome to Trashtown, USA. Home to all manner of weirdos, miscreants, and deviants. A netherworld seemingly built atop the ruins of its shooting location, Louisiana. One of it’s denizens AP (Annapurna Sriram) has a problem, she’s cursed. Its sensed by not just one, but multiple tarot card readers, and according to each, can only be lifted by a ceremony that’s gonna cost a cool $1000 and involve the sacrifice of a baby lamb. Short on cash, AP falls back to what she knows best, using her body and feminine wiles to ply her trade through the seedy underbelly of the town. She’s joined by her old friend Danni (Sadie Scott) along for the ride to help as she strips and indulges her clients kinks, all before an encounter with a rich man in a luxury house who looks to take the most precious thing she has, just to satiate his own perverse urges.
Fucktoys is undeniably in bad taste, but Sriram’s is exquisite, informing her crafting of this playfully perverse and transgressive feature that marks her triple-threat status as writer, director, and star. The story is inspired by real life events and Tarot card Arcana (specifically the Fool’s Journey), but repurposed to deliver an incisive commentary on class. For all the weird and kinky twists to behold in this alternate world, some things remain unchanged, such as social structure and the enduring squeeze of capitalism. The haves and the have nots remain. For AP, it’s a need to get immediate cash to solve a curse rather than pay for an auto repair or medical bill, but the point remains the same. She’s a service worker, living paycheck to paycheck in a land that caters to the debauched and animalistic urges of the upper class.
A smart and incisive script comes with a smutty edge, but there’s also an enduring sweetness to the film, stemming from the motley crew of characters we meet during AP’s travels, and also from her friendship with Danni. They traverse this land atop a moped, in connective scenes that conjure up misty feelings as their expressions convey hope and determination, even though their next stop might be another setback or involve yet another wanton act.
Fucktoys has a lo-fi but distinct aesthetic. Cinematography from Cory Fraiman-Lott lights up pastel hues and adds a disarming haze to add warmth, burnishing off the rougher edges of the backwater locales. The production design from Nichole McMinn is savvy and effective. In the background we see collapsed building, piles of junk, antiquated technology, and the enduring sight of hazmat teams doing cleanup. It all points to a land hit by some kind of disaster and a minimal amount of effort to help set things right. Despite the neglect, these people endure and eke out survival as best they can, finding comfort and support within their community. A globe-hopping soundtrack adds a further sense of inclusivity and diversity, themes that persist and echo an underlying championing of sex workers, sex positivity, and the trans-community.
There’s a line in the film about AP loving trash, and it speaks to Sriram’s approach. In her aesthetic and vibe, and also in her dedication to telling a story about these downtrodden and exploited castaways of society. The ambition, aesthetic, tone, and larger than life characters bring to mind the films of Meyer, Jarmusch, and most notably Waters. Inspirations for sure, but Sriram’s vision is unquestionably her own, one that evokes the punk spirit of a bygone era of filmmaking. Fucktoys is a joyously gonzo affair that puts to rest the old adage that they don’t make em like they used to.
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SXSW 2025: THE RIVALS OF AMZIAH KING is the Kind of Film that Sets Your Heart on Fire
Andrew Patterson’s second feature is an un-bee-lievable joy that establishes him as an important filmmaking voice
It feels like an eternity since The Vast of Night made its thunderous debut at Fantastic Fest 2019. The film’s rapid-fire dialogue, intricately detailed small-town setting, and innovative approach to what not to show as much as what is depicted instantly established Andrew Patterson’s first feature as a landmark opening shot. His announced follow-up, The Rivals of Amziah King, illustrated how Vast of Night served as an effective calling card for greater talent, featuring an ensemble that includes Kurt Russell, Tony Revolori, and Cole Sprouse alongside Vast veterans Jake Horowitz and Bruce Davis, anchored by a return to leading roles for Matthew McConaughey. If the film’s rapturous premiere at SXSW 2025 is any indication—complete with a 5-minute standing ovation for the director himself—Andrew Patterson’s two features have positioned him as a distinct cultural talent.
Set in the wild riverways of present-day Oklahoma, The Rivals of Amziah King follows McConaughey’s titular beekeeper by day and bluegrass musician by night through a wandering narrative that explores how his charisma and kindness remain a critical lifeblood of his rural community. A chance reunion with his foster daughter, Choctaw native Ketari (Angelina LookingGlass), inspires Amziah to bring her into the fold as a successor to his carefully built honey empire. Despite all of Amziah and Ketari’s local goodwill, however, more powerful enemies like farming multi-magnate Dob McCoy (Kurt Russell) lie in wait for opportunities to destroy everything Amziah and Ketari hold dear.
While I had high expectations for Andrew Patterson’s sophomore feature, I never imagined it would deliver the impactful joy that this film provides. The Rivals of Amziah King harkens back to the verbose, unabashedly emotional, and briskly paced character studies of Sam Peckinpah and Robert Altman—films largely ignored by modern studios yet deeply craved by audiences eager for quality storytelling and memorable characters. It unfolds as a sprawling, intimate, and entirely unpredictable epic, the kind of movie that sets your heart on fire.
What’s more–what makes The Rivals of Amziah King truly indelible is its active resistance to easy genre categorization, defying traditional norms of genre and pacing to thrive in the richness of its vivid portrayal of a vanishing way of life. At first glance, it immerses you in the magical, whimsical wonder of Mud or Beasts of the Southern Wild, before its brutal, gothic turns evoke the Coen Brothers’ grimly comic darkness as seen in Blood Simple or No Country for Old Men. However, a more apt comparison would be O Brother, Where Art Thou. Amziah King is very much a musical featuring heart-stopping communal Bluegrass numbers; it opens with a barnburner of a dueling banjos performance by McConaughey and Owen Teague, set in, of all places, a drive-thru chicken fried steak sandwich shack. There’s also room for revenge thrillers, action-packed heists, Spaghetti Western showdowns, and so much more.
It’s not quite accurate to label Amziah King as a magpie film, mixing a Tarantino-esque array of influences into a genre remix. Instead, Patterson draws from lived experiences of Americana–potluck anecdotes, or those random sidewalk characters whose faces get etched in your memory in an instant. Sure, they’re seen through a genre lens, but their authenticity allows Amziah King to intentionally break away from any preconceived notions of what a film like this might or should be. Patterson and writer James Montague lead audiences bravely into the story they wish to tell, one full of unrestrained emotion, remarkable patience, and an astonishingly refreshing amount of heart.
Thanks to Patterson and Montague’s tonal versatility, we can never quite pinpoint our location in Amziah King’s runtime. Patterson approaches each intimately chaotic moment with the impact of a significant climax. Whether it’s extracting a swarm of bees from an ill-fated elementary school or salvaging the bloody scalp of an innocent bystander from the grasp of a massive honey extractor, every unexpected sequence mines the monumental from the mundane, revealing insights into the emotional connections that unite individuals and communities with a broader cosmic whole. It discovers passion and joy in bonding with nature, the “third spaces” that communities create for each other outside work and home, and a sense of spiritual freedom that seems to have faded in the more urban parts of the country. An extended diatribe about potluck dish etiquette feels both hilarious and profound.
With McConaughey’s wizened glee charging each moment, we can’t help but be swept up in whatever journey Amziah takes us on–especially in the film’s standout sequence, where Amziah places Ketari at the center of an impromptu jam session with his gang of musical misfits. Like many of Amziah King’s most beautiful moments, it strikes like a bolt from the blue. While we start out nearly as nervous as LookingGlass’ Ketari, Patterson and McConaughey gently encourage us to give ourselves over to the experience.
It’s one carefully labored over by its behind-the-camera craftspeople. M.I. Littin-Menz’s cinematography captures the late-night sodium glow of The Vast of Night while eagerly uncovering breathtaking, sunlit vistas dotted with busy honeybees. Patrick J. Smith’s editing indulges in Peckinpah-esque stopped time, bobbing and weaving between shots before freezing the frame just as your heart catches in your throat. Lastly, this soundtrack is instantly iconic, featuring selections from Ben Hardesty’s discography, along with majestic riffs by composers Erick Alexander and Jared Bulmer, augmented by a surprising musical cameo by Michael Trent and Cary Ann Hearst of The Films and Shovels & Rope fame. It’s the kind of album you instantly want in your record collection, brimming with the same spark of life found in everything these characters do.
McConaughey leads a wonderfully eclectic ensemble that combines famous faces with those we swear we recognize. As the star noted in our intro, “I know exactly who that is, I know exactly where they’re from, and I sure do like hanging out with them.” To the credit of both the performer and director, McConaughey and Patterson know precisely when to seize the spotlight for their craft while also allowing time for other performers, such as Bruce Davis, Rob Morgan, and musician Ben Hardesty, to make singular, rousing impressions on viewers.
Angelina LookingGlass, however, is a revelation as Ketari, who comes into her own as Amziah’s chosen successor, embodying all the ruthlessness and benevolence that such a position requires. Patterson captures her resolve with reverent awe, seamlessly shifting the episodic narrative to Ketari’s clever schemes to reveal and rectify the unseen threats against her. Where her enemies wield wealth and physical force, Ketari possesses a cultivated community, profound knowledge of the land, and Amziah’s near-infinite compassion, all of which hold a far more potent elemental power.
Even as the narrative shifts into darker, more challenging territories that stand in stark contrast to the free-spirited whimsy and joy of the film’s first half, The Rivals of Amziah King never loses its sense of heart. It doesn’t propose taking the high road or engaging in dignified, noble actions. It finds valor in vengeful midnight hive thefts just as much as it does in rallying a community’s last dollars to help the little guy win at auction against the powerful. This direction not only reveals the limits of Amziah’s selfless sense of community but also showcases why it’s something to treasure and protect at all costs. Revenge is as sweet as honey, yet just as difficult (and in some cases, nearly lethal) to extract.
The Rivals of Amziah King had its World Premiere at SXSW 2025. It is currently seeking distribution.
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SXSW 2025: ANOTHER SIMPLE FAVOR is a Disappointing Return
In Another Simple Favor Anna Kendrick and Blake Lively return to their characters from 2018’s mystery thriller about a mommy blogger and a glamorous, perhaps dangerous, new friend.
We catch up with their characters a few years after A Simple Favor, with Stephanie continuing her successful blogging career and branching into becoming a novelist, and Emily in prison for the double murder she committed.
It might be considered a spoiler to talk about where the story can possibly go in a sequel with one character behind bars for 20 years, and it would normally be worth the surprise to keep that secret close. It should feel like a clever, wonderful surprise with how the film pretzels itself into a solution to bring our characters back together, but the film hand waves it away in a manner that will repeat throughout the film. We all just want these characters back together and getting up to shenanigans again, don’t we folks? Who cares if it makes any sense how we get there? This pattern of illogical and sometimes bizarre developments progressing with barely any engagement or depth continues throughout the whole movie.
Another Simple Favor posits that it’s ok to be “hand wave: the movie” if you anchor it with enough charm and comedy in a beautiful location; and honestly, the film is mostly right. I found frequent funny moments and it is nice to see Lively and Kendrick bounding off each other. I can see many viewers and fans of the original just going along for a ride with a breezy pace and excellent chemistry between the actors.
That doesn’t change that no one behaves in a recognizably human manner, or that the central mystery isn’t enough to fully engage with or chew on (or even make sense). Yes the leads are excellent, yes there’s a wonderful ensemble surrounding them, and yes Paul Feig still directs comedic moments well. Unfortunately those things aren’t enough to elevate Another Simple Favor above the original, leaving us with a charming but ultimately disappointing sequel.
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SXSW 2025: NIRVANNA THE BAND THE SHOW THE MOVIE the Renegade Comedy the Masterpiece?
I first met Matt Johnson serendipitously during the screening of his debut feature, 2013’s The Dirties at Fantastic Fest. I was sitting near the front chatting with this young guy about movies at the festival and what we liked, and the conversation led to the movie we were seated for. I said something along the lines of “I don’t know anything about this movie, I just wound up here” and how that’s one of the best parts of film festivals – pure discovery. When they called up the director to introduce the movie, much to my surprise it was my seat mate. What followed was a relatively harrowing movie with such a strong point of view that I couldn’t help be surprised came out of this talkative, nice Canadian. It was singular and felt like it only could’ve come from him.
I’ve followed Matt’s career since, culminating with BlackBerry, which is maybe the apex of the new niche subgenera of tech-company-rise (and fall?). It was his most straightforward movie but still contained all his humor and immediacy.
Enter mockumentary Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie, based on Matt Johnson and Jay McCarrol’s 2017 Canadian television series Nirvanna the Band the Show, based on the 2007 web series Nirvana the Band the Show. In all of these, Matt and Jay play fictionalized versions of themselves who want to make it in the music industry and specifically play a gig at The Rivoli (a local Toronto club). It seems like they aren’t content to work their way up through standard means, eschewing open mics or even simply recording music – instead opting to skip straight to the main stage and devising inane, futile plans and stunts to land there.
I haven’t seen the show or web series, so my impression of this film is coming from a newcomer to these characters and story. It blends unscripted real life interactions, complex scripted action, and archival footage from the web series to create this one of a kind melting pot of influences and styles.
It’s clear that much of what Matt and Jay accomplish comes from pushing the limits of what they normally would be “allowed” to do, and the result feels defiantly fun and exhilaratingly free. I hope for the sake of accessibility to great art that this movie comes out in the form we saw, because it’s a brilliant, hilarious ride that pushes buttons and utilizes IP in a playful way.
I don’t want to get into the actual plot because the discovery of what the movie actually becomes as you watch was joyous. Through happenstance or the limitation of their methods or simply working with what they were given almost two decades in the past (via the web series), you can feel the creative team behind this stretching and problem solving on the fly, resulting in something that could feel messy but instead feels adventurous and thrilling. It’s constantly hilarious with both broad gags and sharp moments.
So here we are, a dozen years after The Dirties, and Matt Johnson continues to be a singular voice. Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie could have only come from him and his renegade team and I’m very grateful I’m here to witness their output.
