Peaky Blinders: The Immortal Man

Peaky Blinders: The Immortal Man serves as a gritty continuation of the beloved series, bringing Cillian Murphy's Tommy Shelby out of exile during the chaos of the Birmingham Blitz. 

Directed and written by the same team behind the original show, Tom Harper and Steven Knight, the film doesn't miss a beat when it comes to world-building. The costumes and sets perfectly immerse you in WWII-era England, capturing that signature Peaky Blinders atmosphere.

The casting remained a high point, with original players returning alongside fantastic newcomers like Rebecca Ferguson and Barry Keoghan. Keoghan was a particular standout, bearing a striking physical resemblance to Murphy, and the two played off each other brilliantly. There was some diversity with Jay Lycurgo as Elijah and Stephen Graham returning as Hayden Stagg, but unfortunately, there were still no BIPOC women represented in significant roles.

While the plot is interesting, the film as a whole didn't land quite as well as the television show. It felt predictable and a bit slow-moving in its execution, lacking some of the urgency and tension that made the series so gripping. It also missed the dark comedy that was sprinkled throughout the TV show, those moments of levity that balanced out the heaviness and gave the characters more dimension. That said, I appreciated the deeper themes woven throughout, coming to terms with trauma and doing the right thing without expecting recognition or reward. I also genuinely appreciated seeing an evolution of Tommy Shelby's character, watching him grapple with his past and move toward something resembling redemption.

By the end, I found the movie to be just okay. It provides a satisfying conclusion to Tommy's story while leaving the door open for potential future stories centered on the Shelby family. If you're a fan of the series, it's worth watching for closure, but it doesn't quite reach the heights of the show's best moments.

Hamnet

 

Hamnet is a historical drama directed by Chloé Zhao. The film follows William Shakespeare, played by Paul Mescal, and his wife, Agnes, played by Jessie Buckley, as they navigate the devastating loss of their young son, Hamnet, a tragedy that eventually inspires the creation of Hamlet.

The cinematography was stunning and vast, yet the story remained intimate and easy to follow. It was a breathtaking exploration of the intersection between personal tragedy and timeless art.

While the chemistry between the leads was undeniable, Jessie Buckley was the star. She handled Agnes with such range and grace that you felt every ounce of her grief. Paul Mescal played a more reserved version of a father managing his pain, turning it into purpose, which was a vital and moving contrast to Buckley's raw performance.

Hamnet is a beautifully paced film that explores the enduring power of memory and pulls at the heartstrings in the best possible way. It is a well-deserving film of its massive awards sweep including Jessie Buckley’s well-earned Oscar and Golden Globe for Best Actress.

The Secret Agent

The Secret Agent is a slow-burning 70s neo-noir political thriller set in Brazil during the final years of Brazil’s U.S.-backed military dictatorship. The story follows Marcelo, played by Wagner Moura, as he attempts to escape the country with his son with the help of an underground resistance.

The film explored the heavy themes of surveillance, political paranoia, and the erasure of history through disinformation.

While it won the Golden Globe for Best Foreign Film and earned an Oscar nod, I personally didn’t find it worthy of that level of accolade. The pacing was quite sluggish until the final thirty minutes, and Wagner Moura’s performance felt a bit too safe. I didn’t see the emotional range or character development needed to fully invest in his journey.

The cinematography purposefully used a dated, grainy 70s aesthetic that added to the mood, but the story itself left a lot of questions. As one Reddit user pointed out, the film assumes the audience is "piecing together" an incomplete story from tapes and newspapers, much like the characters themselves. While that intentional vagueness was an interesting take on plot holes, it ultimately left me feeling more disconnected than invested.

Train Dreams

 

Train Dreams is a sprawling, meditative period drama that feels like a quiet, yet heavy, transition from the old world into the new. Directed by Clint Bentley and based on the Denis Johnson novella, the film follows Robert Grainier, played by Joel Edgerton, as he navigates a life of labor and loss in the turn-of-the-century Pacific Northwest.

While the slow-paced narrative could easily be interpreted as boring by some, the sheer scale of the cinematography created a profound sense of isolation, making you feel lonely even when characters are on screen.

The writing was incredibly strong, particularly in the heartbreaking scenes between Robert and Claire, played brilliantly by Kerry Condon, which actually moved me to tears. The chemistry between Edgerton and Felicity Jones, who played Gladys, was also so palpable it made you truly root for them. While, I wasn’t a huge fan of the choice to include narration from Will Patton, I suppose it fit the era’s oral storytelling tradition.

I deeply appreciated the film’s commitment to historical honesty and diversity. It took a hard look at the Chinese Exclusion Act, showing the systemic mistreatment faced by Chinese railroad workers. Beyond that, the inclusion of Indigenous actors like Nathaniel Arcand, who played Robert's friend and storekeeper, Ignatius Jack, added a layer of authenticity to the setting that many period pieces miss.

Even though I wouldn't have personally voted for Train Dreams to be nominated for Best Picture, I can still appreciate the strong writing and inclusive casting that will make it a significant piece of cinema.

My Oxford Year

 

My Oxford Year is a Netflix-produced romantic comedy drama based on the novel by Julia Whelan. The story follows an ambitious American student whose life plan gets a major shake-up when she meets a man at Oxford.

While the plot hit all the familiar beats of the genre, the chemistry between Netflix alums Corey Mylchreest (Queen Charlotte) and Sofia Carson (Purple Hearts) was decent enough to keep me invested.

I did find myself wishing for a bit more character development and a more diverse cast to really round out the world, but the film still managed to pull at the heartstrings. It was a sweet reminder to take life one moment at a time and not to be so devoted to a plan that you miss out on love.

At its core, it delivered exactly what it promised: a charming, predictable escape to the English countryside. It’s a perfectly cute at-home movie for a rainy Sunday, even if it’s not necessarily one I’d go back and watch a second time.

Rental Family

 

Rental Family is a comedy-drama directed by Hikari and starring Brendan Fraser. The film follows an American actor in Tokyo who joins a "rental family" agency; a real-life Japanese service where people hire actors to play family members.

What could have easily fallen into "white savior" tropes was thankfully avoided as Fraser’s character wasn’t there to "fix" Japan, but rather to participate as a flawed soul with few social connections, in a broken society. It was incredibly refreshing to see an American character who actually tried to assimilate, speak the language, and respected the culture instead of pushing Americanism on everyone. It explored themes of loneliness, empathy and found family.

I appreciated the authenticity with the costuming, sets and usage of the Japanese language. The casting was superb with Fraser continuing his streak of choosing deep, thoughtful, and "good" characters who feel fully formed, and the entire ensemble played off him with impressive chemistry. I was especially impressed by Takehiro Hira who was the owner of the rental family agency with his own secrets and Mari Yamamoto who played Fraser's capable and intelligent peer.

This film was a pleasant surprise that was poignant and beautifully crafted. It managed to be a real tearjerker in the most heart-wrenching yet hopeful way that it effectively stuck with me long after the credits rolled.

Wuthering Heights (2011)

 

Wuthering Heights is the 2011 adaptation of Emily Brontë’s classic novel follows a boy of unknown origins who is rescued from poverty by the Earnshaw family, only to develop an intense, boundary-blurring relationship with his foster sister, Cathy.

This visceral, period drama that strips away the polished veneer often found in Brontë adaptations to focus on a raw, atmospheric experience. It also veers from the novel in that it only centers intensely on the childhood and young adulthood of Heathcliff and Catherine.

One of the film's greatest strengths was its casting, which felt significantly more accurate to the source material than previous versions. The relatively unknown lead actors delivered powerhouse performances, capturing the themes of racism, revenge, obsession, and mental health with a chemistry that felt both magnetic and deeply unsettling.

Directorially, the film is a very "artsy" endeavor, it was not dialogue-heavy, choosing instead to lean into heavy symbolism, the bleakness of the moors, and intense psychological intimacy. By completely omitting the second generation of characters found in the novel, the film narrowed its lens entirely onto the central pair's destructive bond. I noticed a poignant layer to Heathcliff’s characterization here; he was portrayed as someone permanently cast aside, forced to witness the worst in people from the shadows specifically because of his race. This added a grounded, painful reality to his descent into bitterness and vengeance.

Ultimately, while I could see the connection of the main characters, the way they expressed their love felt fundamentally unhealthy coming from a modern day lens. When I think of "romance" today, I usually envision mutual respect and happy endings, but Brontë was writing a Gothic Romance, which is a genre defined by high emotion that transcends social norms and a sense of doom where two people are "meant to be" even if it destroys them both. 

Ultimately, I’m glad I watched this version since it is widely considered the closest adaptation to the source material. Combining the film with a deep dive into the 'CliffNotes' of the novel finally helped me understand what all the hoopla is about regarding this classic. However, even with that context and the film's strong performances and atmospheric beauty, I still can’t get on board with the fervor for this story. It was simply too dramatic for my taste.