The Smashing Machine

 

The Smashing Machine takes us back to the late 90s to tell the story of UFC legend Mark Kerr. Starring Dwayne Johnson as Kerr and Emily Blunt as his partner, Dawn Staples, the film captures Kerr’s meteoric rise and the devastating spiral of addiction and obsession that nearly cost him his life. 

Directed with a clear eye for immersion, visually, the film's cinematography utilized an indie-documentary style with a "gloomy, cloudy" palette that perfectly evoked the grit of the early MMA era. It was paired with an unconventional, chaotic jazz score that felt dated in a way that heightened the tension. 

Despite the heavy themes of obsession and the high-stakes world of fighting, there were moments where it felt like there wasn't quite enough story to sustain the runtime, leading to some boring lulls. 

The production’s commitment to authenticity shined through the casting, featuring real-life fighters like Ryan Bader playing Mark Coleman, which added a layer of legitimacy to the cage sequences that I appreciated. The transformation of Dwayne Johnson is the film’s biggest talking point. Thanks to incredible hair and makeup, Johnson physically disappears into Kerr. His performance was at its best when he was conveying the quiet agony of addiction; the "masks" he puts on to hide his depression from those around him were genuinely well-done. However, while Johnson was solid, he lacked the transformative emotional range that usually attracts major acting awards. Emily Blunt, predictably excellent, shared great chemistry with the cast, but the depiction of their relationship was exhausting. The constant, petty arguments highlighted a toxic dynamic that was difficult to watch at times.

Ultimately, The Smashing Machine felt like it struggled with its own pacing. It aimed for the raw, emotional gut-punch like The Wrestler, but didn't land with the same impact. It was a respectable effort that succeeded in its aesthetic and authenticity, but it fell just short of the legendary status of the sports dramas it tried to emulate.

The Rip

 

Joe Carnahan's latest gritty thriller, The Rip, is more than just another cop drama, it's a fascinating experiment in modern filmmaking that reunites real-life best friends Matt Damon and Ben Affleck. The film centers on a group of Miami narcotics officers who stumble upon a secret room filled with $20 million in cash, and what follows is a tense mystery where greed, betrayal, and outside pressures turn a routine seizure into a fight for survival.

One of the most compelling reasons to watch The Rip is the story behind the camera. Produced by Damon and Affleck's company, Artists Equity, the film made headlines for its landmark deal with Netflix where back-end revenue and performance-based bonuses are shared with the entire cast and crew. Knowing that all 1,200 people who worked on the film benefit from its success adds a layer of goodwill that's hard not to appreciate while watching.

The film shined brightest in its pursuit of authenticity. Set in the heart of Miami, the attention to detail was sharp, particularly with the diverse casting and the cops' seamless use of Spanish; a necessary touch for anyone actually working on the streets of South Florida. As expected, Damon and Affleck had a lived-in, effortless dynamic, playing off each other with the ease of life long friends, which anchored the film even when the script felt a bit thin. While the cast was incredibly talented, including standouts like Steven Yeun and Teyana Taylor, most characters felt underbaked. The filmmakers make a solid attempt at depth with Damon's Lieutenant Dane Dumars, whose backstory was inspired by the real-life grief of the officer who lived the true story, but the supporting team could have used more development. The plot itself followed a fairly predictable path, and if you've seen a "dirty cop" or "heist gone wrong" movie before, you'll likely see the major beats coming.

Matt Damon recently noted in interviews that Netflix encouraged "streamer-style" storytelling for this film which included repeating the plot several times and front-loading the first act with a massive action sequence to keep people from looking at their phones. In The Rip, you can definitely feel those gears turning as the film hit the ground running and constantly reminded you of the stakes. While that made for a movie that is very easy to follow, it occasionally sacrificed nuance for clarity.

Ultimately, The Rip is a high-octane, one-time watch that succeeds thanks to the undeniable star power of its leads and its impressive production values. It's a solid Friday night choice that keeps your eyes on the screen, but don't expect a new classic for the re-watch list.

The Running Man

Set in a decaying near-future, The Running Man centers on the worlds most popular and lethal reality show. With a simple premise, survive 30 days while being hunted by professional assassins and a bloodthirsty public for a massive cash prize. Following Ben Richards, played by Glen Powell, a man pushed to the edge by a failing system. Driven by the desperate need to fund medical care for his dying daughter, Richards accepts an offer from the show’s ruthless producer to become a "Runner."

The reimagining of this film successfully pivoted away from the neon-soaked camp of the 1987 Schwarzenegger classic, opting instead for a thriller that honored Stephen King’s original novel. There were great themes around consumerism, media consumption and how it can be used to manipulate a population, all which felt quite relevant in today’s day and age. I thought it was ironic that Stephen King set his 1982 novel for the year 2025. The film exceled at world-building, and I definitely picked up on the heavy Hunger Games vibes which wasn’t surprising given that King’s source material helped birth the "deadly game" genre.

If there were any doubts about Glen Powell’s status as a powerhouse lead, this film put them to rest. Powell brought a grounded, blue-collar intensity to Ben Richards that made him instantly easy to root for. He balanced the physical demands of the role with a weary, emotional core that kept the stakes feeling personal rather than just spectacle-driven.

The film had a refreshingly diverse cast. However, while the representation was appreciated, the script left something to be desired in terms of depth for its supporting characters of color, who often felt more like plot catalysts than fully realized people.

At times, the dialogue leaned into corny territory but thankfully, the plot was so lean and easy to follow that these moments of cheese didn’t derail the momentum. I also thought that the twist toward the end was clever and helped to elevate the story beyond a simple "cat and mouse" chase.

In the end, The Running Man is a rare remake that justifies its existence by returning to its roots that Stephen King fans have long asked for. It’s a solid, high-octane thriller that proves the 1982 novel still has plenty of teeth in the 21st century. While it isn’t without its stumbles, it’s a fun ride that felt relevant in our modern media landscape.

Hedda

 

Nia DaCosta's latest film is a bold reimagining of Henrik Ibsen's 1890 play Hedda Gabler. After directing The Marvels, DaCosta has made a complete 180 and I'm here for it. Set in 1950s England, the film follows Hedda, played by Tessa Thompson, a woman caught between the ghost of a past love and the slow suffocation of her current life.

The costumes were stunning, they felt authentically 1950s but somehow contemporary at the same time. The film had a "gilded cage" vibe that reminded me of the films Passing and The Great Gatsby. Underneath all the glitz and glamour of lavish parties in grand estates, lied a tension that was bubbling up. DaCosta used this luxurious world to dig into themes of racial identity, queer desire, and what it meant to be trapped by wealth and societal expectations. She tackled big questions about how you live your life authentically in these settings where you feel you have no real control or freedom.

I appreciated the diverse casting and strong character development. The chemistry between Tessa Thompson and Nina Hoss was magnetic and their scenes had an intensity that kept me glued to the screen. Thompson's performance was worthy of the Golden Globe nomination that she received. She became a woman who was drowning in desperation and mental anguish, someone who had to manipulate everyone around her just to feel like she had any control over her own life.

In the end, you are left with some uncertainty as DaCosta doesn't give us easy answers. By playing with ambiguity and shifting how we see Hedda's story, she created something that felt both classic and new.

Tron: Ares

Tron: Ares is the third installment in the iconic franchise. It marks a significant shift for the series, following a highly sophisticated program named Ares, played by Jared Leto, as he leaves the digital world for a dangerous mission in the physical one.

While the premise was intriguing, the film unfortunately struggled to live up to the legacy of its predecessors. Despite a star-studded cast including Greta Lee, Evan Peters, Gillian Anderson and Jeff Bridges, the movie was hindered by a predictable plot and a script that felt uninspired. I liked the exploration of an AI program navigating the complexities of the human world and the moral choices that come with it, but the execution just didn't play out well.

Visually, however, the film was a triumph. The cinematography was crisp and futuristic, offering a stunning aesthetic that honored the franchise's roots. The fight choreography was creative, and the film included clever nostalgic nods, such as the iconic light trails from the motorcycles that slice through real-world traffic. The costuming was another high point, particularly for Jodie Turner-Smith, who delivered a standout performance as a ruthless, objective-driven program. Jared Leto’s naturally stoic acting style fit the one-dimensional nature of an AI, and Greta Lee entertained despite a limited range. Unfortunately, the performances couldn’t quite save the clunky narrative that relied heavily on copy-paste elements from Tron: Legacy, resulting in a film that felt like a beautiful but hollow shell.

One of the most disappointing aspects was the soundtrack. While Tron: Legacy had the legendary Daft Punk score, Ares featured music by Nine Inch Nails and incorporated tracks from Depeche Mode. While the attempt to pay homage to the 80s was clear, the industrial, dark vibe simply didn't hit the mark for a Tron film. It felt more suited for a movie like The Crow. Ultimately, Tron: Ares offered a nice visual homage to its 80s roots, but it lacked the narrative innovation and score needed to stand on its own, making it unsurprising that it struggled to find an audience at the box office.

The Thomas Crown Affair

 

With Michael B. Jordan set to direct and star in a new version of The Thomas Crown Affair, I decided to revisit the 1999 remake starring Pierce Brosnan and Rene Russo. A reimagining of the 1968 classic, the film follows Thomas Crown, a billionaire so bored with his wealth that he steals a Monet just for the thrill. The plot kicks into gear when Catherine Banning, an insurance investigator, enters the scene, sparking a high-stakes game of cat and mouse fueled by a complicated romantic attraction.

The film's tone is a mix of heist-thriller and romance, but many elements didn’t age gracefully. The score, which might have felt stylish in the late 90s, came across as incredibly corny by modern standards, and the dance sequence was genuinely painful to sit through. A major point of frustration was the overt sexualization of Rene Russo’s character; the film is filled with unnecessary topless and body shots that felt gratuitous, especially since the men weren’t subjected to the same gaze. Even the cameo by the legendary Faye Dunaway as Crown’s therapist felt off, with her dialogue being far too direct and familiar to be a realistic portrayal of a professional.

In terms of acting, Brosnan and Russo had solid chemistry, though their performances varied in quality. Brosnan was likable and safe in his lane, but showed limited range, while Russo was clearly the stronger actor, even if she leaned into overacting at times. I appreciated that Banning was written with autonomy and high intelligence, though it felt a bit too convenient that she had every single answer while the men around her sat like fools.

The plot itself stretched the limits of realism, specifically the idea that a world-class thief would risk everything for the woman investigating him, and while the heists were clever and featured one genuinely great twist near the end, the final resolution felt decidedly corny.

While the film had its moments of cleverness, watching it today felt significantly more dated than its 25-year age would suggest. It’s a stylish relic of its time, but it certainly leaves plenty of room for Michael B. Jordan to improve upon the formula.

Avatar: Fire and Ash

 

In the third installment of the Avatar franchise, Avatar: Fire and Ash, the conflict on Pandora reaches a boiling point as Jake and Neytiri’s family encounter the "Ash People," a new and aggressive Na'vi tribe. Starring, Sam Worthington, Zoe Saldaña, Sigourney Weaver, Stephen Lang, and Kate Winslet who all reprised their roles.

The cast delivered strong performances in a sequel that maintained the franchise's reputation for stunning visual effects and high-octane action. While the film struggled to move past the long-standing "white savior" trope and followed a plot structure very similar to The Way of Water, the overall experience was emotionally resonant, successfully pulling at the heartstrings and making its lengthy runtime feel much shorter than it was.

Beyond the spectacle, the film offered sharp political commentary that felt incredibly relevant today, exploring the dark history of colonialism and drawing parallels to real-world instances of superpowers invading nations and installing dictators through weapon sales. These heavy concepts were paired with intimate themes of grief, racism, and the universal struggle of parents learning to trust their children with more responsibility as they grow. Central to the narrative was the question of how one responds to injustice, whether by sinking deeper into anger or rising above it to become a better person. However, despite these depths, a significant point of contention remains the cast’s lack of diversity; the principal Na'vi roles are still predominantly played by white actors, a "blueface" casting choice that many feel is problematic when telling stories so clearly coded in indigenous struggle.

To his credit, James Cameron has publicly acknowledged the real-world inspirations behind his tribes, citing the Lakota Sioux for the first film, Polynesian and Māori cultures for the second, and his 2012 trip to Papua New Guinea as the blueprint for the Ash People and their fire-dancing rituals. While Cameron employs cultural and linguistic consultants, many indigenous creators argue that borrowing these aesthetics without casting indigenous leads or involving them in the writers' room remains a form of cultural appropriation.

In the end, while Fire and Ash may lacked plot variety, it remained a visually breathtaking journey that proved there is still plenty of depth and complex social commentary to be found in the world of Pandora.