by Josh Sewell
Supergirl
(Rated PG-13 for sequences of strong violence, action, language and smoking. Opens in theaters on June 26.)
The premise: When an unexpected and ruthless adversary (Matthias Schoenaerts) strikes too close to home, Kara Zor-El (Milly Alcock), aka Supergirl, reluctantly joins forces with an unlikely companion (Eve Ridley) on an epic, interstellar journey of vengeance and justice.
The verdict: It pains me to say a superhero movie with a female lead is bad, especially since all the worst mouth-breathers on the internet will be happy to hear it. I hate to disappoint the trolls, but Alcock is terrific as Kara (as her quick appearance in last summer's Superman suggested) – it’s the movie around her that’s tired and derivative.
Director Craig Gillespie and screenwriter Ana Nogueira have crafted a mishmash of Guardians of the Galaxy and Mad Max: Fury Road, except the stakes feel forced and none of the characters are interesting. The villain is lame (sorry, Schoenaerts), the cutesy kid sidekick is boring (sorry, Ridley) and Rob Hardy’s grimy cinematography is overloaded with bland CGI slop. Gillespie even goes for a James Gunn-style needle drop that’s supposed to be a big applause moment, but it ends up just being embarrassing.
Weirdly, the title character disappears also for a big stretch in the second half. Not sure why the film sidelines Alcock so long, but it’s probably not a coincidence that’s when the quality plummets. At least David Corenswet occasionally pops up to remind viewers how much better Superman was.
Which brings me to my biggest question: why is the Lobo character here? I know he’s a fan favorite and Jason Momoa dreamed of playing him for years (he’s perfectly okay in the role). But he doesn’t fit into the story at all; if you removed him completely, nobody would notice.
Grade: D+
Couture
(Rated R for language, some sexuality, nudity and brief bloody violence. Opens in select theaters on June 26.)
The premise: Angelina Jolie stars as Maxine, an American filmmaker who arrives in Paris to direct a short film for Fashion Week. As her path intersects with women of different ages and cultural backgrounds, she faces a health crisis that sends her on a journey of self-discovery.
The verdict: Writer-director Alice Winocour has reminded viewers how great Jolie can be in the right role. I just wish the movie surrounding her wasn’t so irrelevant and glacially paced. I’m not a fashion expert by any stretch of the imagination, but a film called Couture should probably make the audience understand why people take the art form seriously. (The Devil Wears Prada – a far less pretentious story – has an iconic monologue that accomplishes this task in a minute or so.)
Instead, everyone involved is using fashion as a means to an end. In the most interesting plot thread, Jolie is treating it as a springboard into blockbuster filmmaking – until she gets sidelined by fate.
Anyier Anei, also good, plays a new model who uses her beauty to improve her family’s lives back home in South Sudan. Her character’s subplot isn’t as emotionally resonant as Maxine’s, but she helps viewers understand the stakes of this world and how “normal” people have trouble acclimating to it.
Ella Rumpf plays a makeup artist who uses her work life as fodder for writing material, which serves as the film’s voiceover. The problem is it doesn’t really work since we don’t know much about her character.
While Couture has a lot of promising ingredients, Winocour fails to bring them together to make a fulfilling recipe. At the very least, it made me remember why Jolie is such a Hollywood icon. She’s had a rough personal life for the last decade or so, but I’d love to see her rebound into more quality material.
Grade: C-
Voicemails for Isabelle
(Rated TV-14 for sex and language. Now available on Netflix.)
The premise: To cope with her grief, aspiring chef Jill (Zoey Deutch) narrates her chaotic life via voicemails to her late sister – unaware the number now belongs to Wes (Nick Robinson), a handsome businessman who starts to fall for her.
The verdict: This charming love story from writer-director Leah McKendrick (who also plays a small but important role in the film) is a terrific watch thanks to endearing performances – and scorching chemistry – from Deutch and Robinson. However, I think Netflix might be misleading viewers by calling it a romcom.
I was crying within the first 15 minutes thanks to a beautiful, soul-crushing prologue that proves the film’s real love story is the sisterly bond hinted at in the title. Although Deutch only shares a couple of scenes with Ciara Bravo, who plays her sister as an adult, those moments are strong enough to establish the foundation for everything that follows.
The movie’s central premise – when will Jill discover the horrible secret Wes is too scared to tell her? – is a black cloud hanging over the proceedings, but that’s par for the course when it comes to this genre’s tropes. It’s just a bummer considering McKendrick’s screenplay is otherwise realistic when it comes to people’s flaws and behavior. I think the movie could’ve been just as sweet and dramatic if Wes let Jill know up front what was going on.
Voicemails for Isabelle also understands another crucial aspect of iconic romcoms: a great soundtrack. Most of the songs are pulled straight from TikTok trends (which makes sense considering the flick’s target demo), but there’s also a well-placed Taylor Swift song that feels like cheating. The story is already heartbreaking enough without incorporating some of the pop star’s most emotionally resonant material. When I heard the opening cords, it was instant waterworks.
Grade: B
(Rated PG-13 for sequences of strong violence, action, language and smoking. Opens in theaters on June 26.)
The premise: When an unexpected and ruthless adversary (Matthias Schoenaerts) strikes too close to home, Kara Zor-El (Milly Alcock), aka Supergirl, reluctantly joins forces with an unlikely companion (Eve Ridley) on an epic, interstellar journey of vengeance and justice.
The verdict: It pains me to say a superhero movie with a female lead is bad, especially since all the worst mouth-breathers on the internet will be happy to hear it. I hate to disappoint the trolls, but Alcock is terrific as Kara (as her quick appearance in last summer's Superman suggested) – it’s the movie around her that’s tired and derivative.
Director Craig Gillespie and screenwriter Ana Nogueira have crafted a mishmash of Guardians of the Galaxy and Mad Max: Fury Road, except the stakes feel forced and none of the characters are interesting. The villain is lame (sorry, Schoenaerts), the cutesy kid sidekick is boring (sorry, Ridley) and Rob Hardy’s grimy cinematography is overloaded with bland CGI slop. Gillespie even goes for a James Gunn-style needle drop that’s supposed to be a big applause moment, but it ends up just being embarrassing.
Weirdly, the title character disappears also for a big stretch in the second half. Not sure why the film sidelines Alcock so long, but it’s probably not a coincidence that’s when the quality plummets. At least David Corenswet occasionally pops up to remind viewers how much better Superman was.
Which brings me to my biggest question: why is the Lobo character here? I know he’s a fan favorite and Jason Momoa dreamed of playing him for years (he’s perfectly okay in the role). But he doesn’t fit into the story at all; if you removed him completely, nobody would notice.
Grade: D+
(Rated R for language, some sexuality, nudity and brief bloody violence. Opens in select theaters on June 26.)
The premise: Angelina Jolie stars as Maxine, an American filmmaker who arrives in Paris to direct a short film for Fashion Week. As her path intersects with women of different ages and cultural backgrounds, she faces a health crisis that sends her on a journey of self-discovery.
The verdict: Writer-director Alice Winocour has reminded viewers how great Jolie can be in the right role. I just wish the movie surrounding her wasn’t so irrelevant and glacially paced. I’m not a fashion expert by any stretch of the imagination, but a film called Couture should probably make the audience understand why people take the art form seriously. (The Devil Wears Prada – a far less pretentious story – has an iconic monologue that accomplishes this task in a minute or so.)
Instead, everyone involved is using fashion as a means to an end. In the most interesting plot thread, Jolie is treating it as a springboard into blockbuster filmmaking – until she gets sidelined by fate.
Anyier Anei, also good, plays a new model who uses her beauty to improve her family’s lives back home in South Sudan. Her character’s subplot isn’t as emotionally resonant as Maxine’s, but she helps viewers understand the stakes of this world and how “normal” people have trouble acclimating to it.
Ella Rumpf plays a makeup artist who uses her work life as fodder for writing material, which serves as the film’s voiceover. The problem is it doesn’t really work since we don’t know much about her character.
While Couture has a lot of promising ingredients, Winocour fails to bring them together to make a fulfilling recipe. At the very least, it made me remember why Jolie is such a Hollywood icon. She’s had a rough personal life for the last decade or so, but I’d love to see her rebound into more quality material.
Grade: C-
(Rated TV-14 for sex and language. Now available on Netflix.)
The premise: To cope with her grief, aspiring chef Jill (Zoey Deutch) narrates her chaotic life via voicemails to her late sister – unaware the number now belongs to Wes (Nick Robinson), a handsome businessman who starts to fall for her.
The verdict: This charming love story from writer-director Leah McKendrick (who also plays a small but important role in the film) is a terrific watch thanks to endearing performances – and scorching chemistry – from Deutch and Robinson. However, I think Netflix might be misleading viewers by calling it a romcom.
I was crying within the first 15 minutes thanks to a beautiful, soul-crushing prologue that proves the film’s real love story is the sisterly bond hinted at in the title. Although Deutch only shares a couple of scenes with Ciara Bravo, who plays her sister as an adult, those moments are strong enough to establish the foundation for everything that follows.
The movie’s central premise – when will Jill discover the horrible secret Wes is too scared to tell her? – is a black cloud hanging over the proceedings, but that’s par for the course when it comes to this genre’s tropes. It’s just a bummer considering McKendrick’s screenplay is otherwise realistic when it comes to people’s flaws and behavior. I think the movie could’ve been just as sweet and dramatic if Wes let Jill know up front what was going on.
Voicemails for Isabelle also understands another crucial aspect of iconic romcoms: a great soundtrack. Most of the songs are pulled straight from TikTok trends (which makes sense considering the flick’s target demo), but there’s also a well-placed Taylor Swift song that feels like cheating. The story is already heartbreaking enough without incorporating some of the pop star’s most emotionally resonant material. When I heard the opening cords, it was instant waterworks.
Grade: B
Reach out to Josh Sewell at joshsewell81@gmail.com or on BlueSky @joshsewell.bsky.social
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