The Worst of 2024
With 2024 now in the books, it’s time to look back on the year in movies. In this second of two blogs, I spotlight my Bottom 10 Films of 2024, followed by 10 Dishonorable Mentions and an open-ended list (in alphabetical order) of other releases that I found disappointing. In a separate blog post, I examine my Best Films of 2024. Unlike that post, however, I have excluded web site and trailer links in this entry (why would I include such information for pictures that I wouldn’t recommend and aren’t worth your time?). In addition, in both blogs, I have included uncharacteristically brief looks at my favorite and least favorite documentaries of 2024.
So, with that said, check out what I thought about the underwhelming movies of 2024. You may not agree with me, and I respect your opinions, regardless of whether our views align. I hope you’ll respectfully grant me the same. And your feedback, as always, is welcome. Here goes!
The Top 10 Countdown

10. “The Girl with the Needle” (“Pigen med nålon”) (Denmark/Poland/Sweden)
Having been trained as a journalist, I’m generally not one to back away from an unsettling story, whether told through reporting or on the silver screen. However, there are times when I have to question the wisdom of whether certain films should have been made to begin with. Just because it can be done, in my estimation, does not necessarily mean that it should be done. Such is the case with writer-director Magnus von Horn’s third feature outing, a dark, fact-based story that’s innately disturbing and, frankly, in my view, pushes the boundaries of good taste. The film, set in Copenhagen as World War I comes to an end, follows the life of Karoline (Vic Carmen Sonne), a factory seamstress whose husband, Peter (Besir Zeciri), was believed killed during the conflict. In his absence, she becomes romantically involved with, and subsequently pregnant by, her boss, Jørgen (Joachim Fjelstrup), who summarily abandons her when his wealthy, controlling mother (Benedikte Hansen) threatens to cut him off financially if they wed. Karoline is thus left with the prospect of becoming an unemployed single mother. She takes drastic steps to end the pregnancy but reconsiders her decision when she meets a seemingly compassionate and supposedly legitimate but highly unscrupulous baby broker, Dagmar (Trine Dyrholm), who offers to help Karoline out of her dilemma – for a price. Little does she know, though, that the cost is far higher than she ever imagined, especially when she becomes involved with the new stranger and her wholly unprincipled operation. What ensues is one of the most troubling stories I have ever seen committed to film, one that genuinely makes me wonder whether it should have ever been told in the first place. Admittedly, this picture is technically well made, with gorgeous black-and-white cinematography and fine performances across the board.. qualities that helped it earn an Oscar nomination for best international picture. However, it’s so cold and unsettling that even viewers with cast-iron stomachs and unflinching cinematic sensibilities may find this one difficult to sit through. Perhaps it may have worked better as a documentary than as a narrative reenactment, but that’s precious little comfort in the face of this offering’s ominous subject matter. It also makes me wonder how so many critics, awards competitions and film festivals have come to lavish so much praise on it, despite the undeniable technical prowess that’s gone into making it. Those accomplishments hardly seem to be enough to justify this release’s existence and represent a growing trend toward an inherently unfeeling, irresponsible approach to moviemaking, one whose further development, in my opinion, should be nipped in the bud, no matter how groundbreaking, inventive and provocative it might be seen. Some have tried characterizing “The Girl with the Needle” as a chilling horror film, but, from where I stand, I see it more as a horrific film, a truly dubious distinction to be sure. Indeed, don’t say you weren’t warned about this one.

9. “Oh, Canada” (Canada/USA/Israel)
It’s bad enough when a film disappoints and doesn’t live up to expectations. But what’s perhaps worse is when a picture not only fails to live up to expectations, but also categorically validates the negative reputation that precedes it. Such is the case, regrettably, with the latest feature from filmmaker Paul Schrader, an embarrassingly bad production from an artist who has written and/or directed such masterful works as “First Reformed” (2017), “American Gigolo” (1980), “Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters” (1985), “The Last Temptation of Christ” (1988) and “Taxi Driver” (1976). This miserably unfocused slog struggles to tell the story of Leonard Fife (Richard Gere), a famous but terminally ill director who’s being interviewed for a made-for-TV biography discussing his legendary life and career as a revered documentary filmmaker. However, the protagonist doesn’t see this so much as a congratulatory tribute to his accomplishments but as a cathartic, unburdening confession about the life he led that virtually no one knows anything about. To complicate matters, his rapidly failing health and cloudy memory keep him from fulfilling this objective, especially when he reveals secrets about himself not known by even those closest to him (most notably, his wife, Emma (Uma Thurman), and his protégé, Malcolm (Michael Imperioli), director of the biography), revelations that they’re quick to attribute to faulty recall. Leonard’s previously hidden back story comes to life through a series of clumsy, disjointed flashbacks featuring his younger self (Jacob Elordi) presented in a largely unintelligible fashion that brings new meaning to the term “nonlinear.” What’s worse, though, is that the relevance of these admissions largely goes unexplained and unresolved, bearing seemingly little relation to the nature of his character or his career as an auteur. His flight to Canada and experience as a conscientious objector during the Vietnam War, for example, receives surprisingly little attention given that his defection from the US is essentially responsible for what kept him out of prison and made his vocation as a filmmaker possible. Then there are snippets from his many passing dalliances with women that make for a story more like “Oh! Calcutta!” than “Oh, Canada.” Taken together, these elements make for a hodgepodge of moments from a life undefined, one that viewers are likely to care little about in the end. Such work is highly uncharacteristic for an artist like Schrader, which makes the impression it leaves on viewers all the more worse. Whatever the director was going for here, it’s not particularly clear. And that’s too bad, given that the filmmaker appears to have had plenty of good material and resources to work with here, including a cast of players who turn in some of their best-ever on-screen performances, the dreadful script that they’ve been handed notwithstanding. For what it’s worth, the result is a major disappointment, one that exceeds the negative impressions it has already left on so many movie lovers who expect more from a talent like this.

8. “I Saw the TV Glow” (USA)
After watching this piece of incoherent, unfocused rubbish, I would have much rather watched my TV itself glow instead. Writer-director Jane Schoenbrun’s incomprehensible smart horror offering is an absolute utter waste of time, not to mention the ticket price. This glacially paced story of two psychologically and emotionally troubled teens, Owen (Ian Foreman) and Maddy (Brigitte Lundy-Paine), who bond over a cheesy late night 1990s young adult sci-fi/horror television series called The Pink Opaque, struggles mightily to find its way. As Owen grows into an adult (Justice Smith), his videophile cohort vanishes mysteriously when the TV series is abruptly cancelled, leaving him wondering what happened to her until she just as mysteriously reappears years later with a disjointed story that makes no sense from top to bottom. As the film’s narrator, Owen tries earnestly to explain, but his recounting of this experience is equally baffling, especially when he eventually tells why Maddy has come back after her protracted absence. The result is an unintelligible tale that’s far from frightening (even metaphorically speaking) and ends up being a convoluted mix of 1990s teen angst, extended and inexplicably incorporated music videos, an exploration of sexual ambiguity, and a woefully wayward attempt at symbolically addressing issues related to personal disassociation and self-actualization. There are also numerous story elements and images that are included in the narrative that go undeveloped and unexplored. To its credit, the picture features a fine production design, intriguing cinematography, a good measure of campy comic relief (though not nearly enough of it) and a skillfully assembled soundtrack (handily this release’s best attribute). However, when a film’s musical guests receive greater billing than its cast members and the soundtrack ends up being its strongest asset, that doesn’t say much about the production’s overall quality. To be honest, I get genuinely annoyed (and feel egregiously ripped off) when I leave the theater having screened a picture whose trailer and marketing seem to offer so much promise and end up failing miserably when it comes to delivering the goods, and that’s very much the case with this pretentious, sophomoric cinematic trainwreck (the picture’s five Independent Spirit Award nominations notwithstanding). Seriously, don’t waste your time or money on this one.

7. “Perfect Endings” (“13 Sentimentos”) (Brazil)
Screened at the 42nd Reeling Chicago International LGBTQ+ Film Festival
Getting back in the dating scene after a long absence can be quite a challenge. With ever-changing conventions dictating what’s acceptable and what’s not these days, those who are out of practice can be left bewildered (especially those who were never particularly adept at modern-day courting to begin with). That’s very much the case with João (Artur Volpi), who just broke up with his partner of 10 years. He’s a nice guy, if a bit reserved and geeky, but certainly quite handsome and politely genial. Yet, even though he’s certainly open to getting back into the dating game, the ambitious Brazilian filmmaker is actually most anxious to begin work on directing a new arthouse movie from his own script. However, just as the production is about to launch, his funding gets pulled, forcing him to retool the screenplay for a potential new would-be backer. But, as he’s doing this, he develops writer’s block, unsure what kind of story he wants to tell. So, to occupy his time as he sorts out this issue, he investigates new dating opportunities, many of which prove to be more boldly “amorously assertive” than he’s accustomed to, revealing just how much he’s out of touch with current dating practices than he realized. In fact, when “hopeful” suitors discover that he makes movies, they suggestively approach him to put his talents to use for chronicling their erotic escapades – not so much with him but with other more willing participants. So, with no income in hand and in need of money, João relents, taking his filmmaking work in a decidedly different (and personally embarrassing) new direction. But this path gets him no closer to career or romantic fulfillment. So what’s he to do now? That’s what he needs to find out for himself. However, as promising as this premise might sound for a gay romcom/outrageous sex farce, writer-director Daniel Ribeiro seriously drops the ball by committing the cardinal sin of moviemaking in this genre – creating a picture that’s tediously dull. As this offering unfolds, it fails to generate giggles in either of the protagonist’s hapless undertakings, areas that should be rife with potential for yielding sidesplitting laughs. What’s more, for a movie that’s supposed to be heavy on eroticism, this release contains some of the most boring on-screen sex I’ve ever seen (explicit though some of it may be). And the picture’s lame attempts at incorporating supposedly creative narrative twists and more serious subject matter largely fall even flatter than its other failed material. The result is a finished product that fails to take advantage of the innate strengths it should have had going for it. Consequently, it’s little more than a tiresome, uninteresting slog that seems far longer than its 1:40:00 runtime – and a seriously missed opportunity to make what easily could have been an admittedly cheeky but nevertheless uproariously funny comedy. So much for the perfect endings.

6. “The Falling Star” (“L’étoile filante”) (Belgium/France)
Screened at the 2024 Gene Siskel Film Center Chicago European Union Film Festival
It’s always frustrating to walk out of a movie and ask yourself afterward, “What did I just watch?” That was my reaction to this scattered, unfocused offering from the writing-directing duo of Dominique Abel and Fiona Gordon, and that’s unfortunate given that this release has some definite strengths in its corner. This tale tells the story of a radical activist (Abel) who’s been on the run since 1986 and has been laying low of late by working as a bartender in a corner dive known as The Falling Star. However, when he’s approached by a mysterious stranger with a malfunctioning prosthetic arm (Bruno Romy) apparently in search of some form of revenge, he must go back into hiding, although this time he does so by putting up an unwitting, easily manipulated lookalike double (also Abel) in his place. It’s an all-too-familiar narrative in which audiences are bound to know in advance that things are going to go very wrong when the plan is implemented. In this case, though, viewers are unlikely to figure out just how wrong they’ll go – and it has nothing to do with the nature of carefully crafted humorous incidents designed to evoke hearty laughs. Rather, the woefully errant plotline unfolds with a series of disjointed, unrelated bits that rarely work and seldom connect to the initial premise. The picture truly plays like a work that was made up by its creators as they went along, taking a pile of comic possibilities and throwing them all at the wall to see what sticks. There’s an especially heavy reliance on slapstick, some of which is admittedly inspired but most of which plays like the dysfunctional routines Woody Allen tried to pull off in some of his early films. And, the further one gets into the story, the more it comes across like a protracted improv exercise, including everything from music video-style dance routines to surreal flashbacks to embarrassingly rampant silliness. There are also some lame attempts at incorporating social commentary, which largely comes out of left field and has only a tangential nexus to the principal story thread. As noted earlier, all of this is regrettable, too, considering the elements that the film does have going for it – a modestly interesting, potential-filled premise, an exquisite production design, a deftly chosen soundtrack and an overall stylish look, especially in the cinematography. However, the filmmakers don’t know how to harness these attributes and fashion them into a cohesive, attention-holding story. The closer this one got to the end, the more I couldn’t wait for it to be over, despite its comparatively short 1:38:00 runtime. Indeed, there are plenty of falling stars in this cinematic disaster, but I have to wonder how many of them were planned by its makers.

5. “The Sparrow in the Chimney” (“Der Spatz im Kamin”) (Switzerland)
Screened at the 60th Annual Chicago International Film Festival
To be blunt, I really dislike arthouse films that give the genre a bad name, yet writer-director Ramon Zürcher’s third feature outing regrettably does just that. This pretentious, meandering exercise in allegedly profound cinema falls flat shortly after it begins and never recovers, growing ever more pointless, unfocused and self-important as it unfolds. Set in the rural childhood home of two very different and quietly combative sisters (Maren Eggert, Britta Hammelstein), the film follows the events associated with a birthday celebration involving the siblings and their families. As the festivities (if they can be called that) begin to play out, however, it quickly becomes apparent that this party will go anything but smoothly given its cast of largely reprehensible characters, nearly all of whom utter their hate-filled insults with stoically deadpan monotone delivery. This examination of a seriously troubled family, in turn, increasingly draws heavily from “The Big Book of Domestic Dysfunctional Drama,” with virtually every character possessing a crippling physical and/or psychological disorder, qualities that shape and define their pervasively ugly demeanors. This hodgepodge of elements is thus employed in a futile attempt to build some type of cohesive narrative, presumably in an effort to depict the descent into madness. But this goal is never adequately realized, thanks in large part to a wealth of superficial, pedestrian dialogue that tries mightily to pass itself off as enigmatically “meaningful” and several preposterous surreal segments that are all show and no substance, sequences that resemble scenes out of “Carrie” (1976) or “Firestarter” (1984) if those films had been directed by Ingmar Bergman. And, no matter how much the filmmaker seeks to cover up these innate weaknesses by embellishing them with stunning still life cinematography, the strains of atmospheric classical music and long, lingering facial close-ups, the overall mix of elements just doesn’t work, growing progressively more muddled, laughable and tedious as this tiresome offering wears on…and on…and on. To make matters worse, though, the film also incorporates some positively repugnant images, such as a young woman slicing up her bloody hand on a cheese grater and a cat being locked into a washing machine that’s subsequently switched on, a shamefully disgusting sequence that’s wholly uncalled for, regardless of how simulated it may have been. It’s beyond me how this disastrous project got the green light to begin with, but this is handily one of the worst films of 2024, one that doesn’t deserve whatever attention and accolades it may erroneously garner.

4. “Emilia Pérez” (France/Belgium/Mexico)
It generally takes tremendous courage to stand up and proclaim that the Emperor is indeed naked, especially in the face of a crowd of willfully blind onlookers who contend otherwise. Nevertheless, there are times when this truly needs to be said in light of an inexplicably misguided view to the contrary. And that’s certainly the case with the latest from often-overrated writer-director Jacques Audiard. This jumbled mess of a film can’t make up its mind if it wants to be an edgy musical (given its forgettable songs and original score), a quasi-campy comedy (despite its palpable lack of bona fide humor but with a narrative that’s admittedly frequently laughable), a crime thriller (one that feebly grows ever more pretentious, meandering, implausible and uncompelling with each passing frame) or a treatise on forgiveness and redemption that unapologetically drips with overwrought political correctness. In essence, this offering follows the exploits of Manitas (Karla Sofía Gascón), a Mexican drug cartel warlord who wants to undergo the transgender transition process to liberate the inner woman that has been inside him since birth, aided by a supposedly articulate and self-righteous lawyer (Zoe Saldaña) who hastily and seemingly thoughtlessly sells out with the promise of a financial windfall for her assistance. After undergoing the process, however, the newly emerged Emilia Pérez has regrets about her past, both in terms of her brutal “professional” behavior and the abandonment of her kids and shrewish, self-centered wife (a fine performance by Selena Gomez in one of the film’s few praiseworthy assets). However, this change of heart, while modestly understandable, generally lacks believability. And, given the utterly reprehensible nature and baffling, head-scratchingly contradictory choices of all the principals, it’s difficult to fathom how anyone would care a whit about any of them. That’s especially true for the picture’s lead, whose actions do little to generate any kind of meaningful empathy for transgender individuals and causes, a true backfire if I ever saw one. And, through it all, the story is mystifyingly augmented with a slew of inconsistently timed, largely unremarkable musical production numbers that add precious little to the overall story (they could have been left out entirely and it would likely have made for a more compelling release). In sum, the finished product plays like a preposterously melodramatic Italian opera libretto mixed with elements from pictures like “Sicario” (2015) and any number of cheesy Mexican soap operas. How this cinematic morass has managed to garner as much attention as it has received is truly beyond me. That’s especially true with the many undeserved accolades it has received, including 10 Golden Globe Award nominations (a virtually unheard-of number for any film in this awards competition) and four undeserved wins, as well as a whopping 13 Oscar nominations and numerous nods from the Critics Choice Awards, the Screen Actors Guild Awards, the BAFTA Awards, the American Film Institute, and numerous film festivals, including the prestigious events in Cannes and Toronto. Indeed, don’t be fooled into thinking that the blend of diverse elements here should be taken for inventive, inspired originality. But, more importantly, don’t waste your time on this celluloid trash, despite how allegedly elegant the Emperor’s outfits are said to be.

3. “Janet Planet” (USA)
There’s a difference between minimalist and vacuous, and writer-director Annie Baker doesn’t seem to know the difference. The playwright’s debut feature, to put it simply, is boring, pretentious, meandering, unfocused and a big, fat waste of time. It’s so dull, in fact, that the film makes the works of Kelly Reichardt appear utterly fascinating. Set in 1991 in the hippie-dominated arts community of rural western Massachusetts, the film follows the story (if one could even call it that) of middle-aged acupuncturist Janet (Julianne Nicholson) as she struggles to sort out what appears to have been a wayward, meandering life. And, as this tale plays out, it faithfully sticks to that course, too, an influence that’s clearly wearing off on Janet’s equally clueless, incessantly brooding, 8-year-old daughter, Lacy (newcomer Zoe Ziegler). Along the way, the duo experiences an array of cryptic, inconsequential involvements with others who are apparently fascinated with Janet (though goodness knows why), all of whom (Will Patton, Sophie Okonedo, Elias Koteas) are just as lost and boring as Janet is. So what’s the point in all this? Who knows – and, not long into the picture, who cares? The raves that have been showered on this tedious, tiresome piece of filmmaking are a complete mystery to me, given its prevailing mundane nature and monotone performances by players who all sound like they’ve been shot up with sodium pentothal. Nicholson, in particular, comes across as so disengaged that she probably could have just as easily phoned in this performance (despite claims that this is the breakthrough role that she’s supposedly been waiting for – please, watch her in “August: Osage County” (2013) instead). What’s more, this picture probably has some of the worst sound quality I’ve ever seen in a contemporary production – so bad that I had to struggle to be able to hear what was being said (and I was sitting in the theater’s second row). And the film’s feeble attempts at trying to incorporate some kind of subtle, nuanced metaphysical undercurrent fail miserably as well, treated almost as if their inclusion was an afterthought. How this misguided offering managed to capture three Independent Spirit Award nominations, including best first feature and best first screenplay, is utterly beyond me. If you dare to consider giving this one a look, make sure you don’t watch it when you’re tired – you just might fall asleep soon after the opening credits roll, an understandable reaction, to be sure.

2. “Extremely Unique Dynamic” (USA)
Screened at the 42nd Reeling Chicago International LGBTQ+ Film Festival
I’ll come right to the point about this mess – it’s a prime example of unmitigated cinematic nonsense. This preposterous exercise in stream of consciousness filmmaking is not only utterly ridiculous, but positively annoying to sit through. I lost interest very quickly and could not wait for it to end. Writer-directors Ivan Leung, Harrison Xu and Katherine Dudas have come up with one of the most unfocused, amateurish, totally stupid movies I have ever seen, one that plays like a bad, pretentious student film project on steroids. It’s almost as if the filmmakers went out and shot a lot of footage at random and then tried to piece it all together into some kind of allegedly coherent finished product, hoping that it would somehow all make sense (and apparently not really caring if it didn’t). Much of the “story” (if it can even be called that) consists of two longtime stoner buddies (Leung, Xu) engaged in a series of shallow, incomprehensible, disjointed conversations while making a movie about two fictional friends making a movie whose subject is making a movie (and unrealistically attempting to do so all in one weekend). In the process, they spout an endless barrage of completely unrelated ideas on how to proceed, many of which amount to little more than hollow, pseudointellectual observations about a wide range of subjects, filmmaking techniques and narrative elements. What’s more, the film’s attempt at trying to redeem itself by incorporating some “serious” material late in the film absolutely falls flat, given that any credibility that the directors were trying to engender at this point is totally undermined by the unending, senseless twaddle that preceded it. The picture also unsuccessfully tries to incorporate an LGBTQ+ story thread that gets decidedly shortchanged and feels more like an afterthought than a genuine attempt at making some kind of meaningfully relevant social statement. The picture’s only redeeming attribute, in my opinion, is its mercifully short 1:13:00 runtime, which actually often feels much longer than that. It’s truly sad that many well-made movies struggle mightily to find distributors while cinematic hokum like this inexplicably gets the green light. Sadly, the principals involved in this project seem to have deceived themselves into thinking they’ve created an edgy, rip-roaring contemporary comedy in this offering. But what they don’t realize is what they’ve actually created is a joke.

1. “Long Time, No Sleep” (“Hace mucho que no duermo”) (Argentina/Colombia)
Screened at the 40th Annual Chicago Latino Film Festival
It’s true what they say about not being able to judge a book by its cover – or a movie by its trailer. Such is the case with writer-director Agustín Godoy’s debut feature, a trainwreck of a film that makes virtually no sense from start to finish. As a sort of screwball comedy (a term I use loosely) in which multiple characters are trying to get their hands on a mysterious locked backpack, the film follows them as they relentlessly pursue one another throughout the streets and neighborhoods of Buenos Aires in a race to get the goods. In some ways, it loosely follows the narrative format of comedy classics like “It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World” (1963) or “What’s Up, Doc?” (1972) only with a lot less skill (or humor, for that matter). Its plot line features a collection of disjointed elements that feel like they were dumped into a spaghetti bowl and thrown against the wall to see what would stick (most of which doesn’t). Carrying the story are an equally mismatched assemblage of characters, including an insomniac office worker (hence the title, I suppose) who frequently and inexplicably begins speaking in rhyme, a quirky Tarot card reader who doubles as a security guard when not cluelessly following her impulses, a band of inept mob mules and a mysterious woman simply known as the Duchess who appears to be the intended recipient of the backpack. In telling this story, however, the movie is all over the map with bizarre plot developments, most of which don’t relate to one another and are lazily connected by endless (and I do mean endless) sequences of characters running from one another throughout the streets, parks, landmarks and industrial areas of the city. I’ll admit that this makes for a rather comprehensive and nicely filmed travelogue about Buenos Aires, and it features a reasonably engaging, well-edited opening sequence, but that’s about all this woefully sorry effort has going for it. Under no conditions should you waste your precious time on this hot mess.
Dishonorable Mentions

11. “Heretic” (USA/Canada)
No matter what anyone might say, putting lipstick on a pig doesn’t change the fact that one is still dealing with a pig. And that’s very much the case with this dismally failed attempt at smart horror from writer-directors Scott Beck and Bryan Woods. When two naïve Mormon missionaries (Sophie Thatcher, Chloe East) visit the remote home of a creepy, loquacious middle-aged loner (Hugh Grant) in an attempt to convert him, the trio launches into a protracted conversation about the nature of “the one true religion.” To a certain extent, it’s an intriguing philosophical discussion – at least for a while – until it gradually descends into a series of longwinded fits and starts characterized by disjointed, unrelated, unresolved segments that try viewer patience. The dialogue increasingly amounts to a series of overwrought contrivances undermined by implausible character development, particularly among the two supposed innocents who begin spouting lines that are difficult to accept in light of their supposedly gullible, unsophisticated nature and narrow worldview. But then, in a desperate attempt to retain fading audience attention, the picture degenerates into little more than a meandering slasher movie, albeit with better production design than one typically finds in such fare. What’s more, this offering’s exasperating (and inexplicably Independent Spirit Award-nominated) script heavily “borrows” from an endless stream of religious, philosophical and cinematic sources, one even suggesting that this could turn into the second coming of “The Butterfly Effect” and “Matrix” franchises. And, while Golden Globe, BAFTA and Critic Choice Award nominee Grant and his co-stars genuinely deliver more than capable portrayals of the three principals, even their performances aren’t enough to cover the inherent weaknesses of this material, no matter how much lipstick is applied to it. Considering the foregoing, I’m truly mystified by the much-celebrated response this offering has been accorded given its tiresome narrative and pretentious, largely pointless overall direction, an experiment that just doesn’t work. As a fan of the smart horror genre and its aim of elevating the content of releases in this cinematic milieu, I’m seriously disappointed that the inspired creators of “A Quiet Place” (2018) haven’t come up with something better here, an outcome that’s definitely heretical in itself.

12. “Dune: Part Two” (USA/Canada/UAE/Hungary/Italy/New Zealand/Jordan/Gambia)
As a big sci-fi/fantasy fan, I generally look forward to seeing new releases in this genre. However, when the first part of this story was released in 2021, I was sorely disappointed by this tedious, overlong slog that, despite its stunning visuals and cinematography, never really engaged me. For all my disappointment with the initial installment, though, it can’t begin to compare to my reaction to “Part Two” – an even more tedious, unengaging, overly complicated offering that had me bored by 20 minutes in. I found myself not caring a whit about the characters or their story (which could have used a scorecard to help viewers sort out everything), and even the supposedly superior visuals of this iteration failed to capture my attention or interest. I can only conclude that I must be missing something, given the generally positive reactions and accolades this film has received (including 5 Oscar nods, 7 BAFTA nominations and 10 Critics Choice Award salutes), but I’m mystified that I haven’t yet figured out what. By all rights, the elements would appear to be in place here to make this picture succeed – a stellar cast, great special effects and the skillful directing of filmmaker Denis Villeneuve, who created such excellent works as “Arrival” (2016) and “Blade Runner 2049” (2017) – but “Part Two,” like its predecessor, just never grabbed me. To be honest, I’m truly surprised that I made it all the way through its 2:46:00 runtime, considering the nearly constant temptation to want to fast-forward through the egregiously dull sequences (of there were many). From all this, I can only surmise that this film and the one that preceded it were created simply to milk as much box office money as possible out of the source material, despite the fact that the story isn’t innately captivating enough to live up to that challenge. Indeed, if you’re like me and found the first part boring, you’ll probably find this one even more tiresome and lackluster (I’m certainly glad that I waited for this one to come to streaming and didn’t waste my money on theater ticket prices). And now, as I understand it, another sequel, “Dune: Messiah,” is in pre-production to continue a story that has still yet to reach conclusion after more than five hours of screentime. Be aware that the “Dune” films are far from the quality of other lengthy trilogies like the “Lord of the Rings” and “Dark Knight” series, films that definitely hold viewer interest from start to finish. Instead, “Dune” and “Dune: Part Two” are more like such mind-numbing standalone offerings as “Heaven’s Gate” (1980), “Ishtar” (1987) and “Tenet” (2020) than anything of a genuinely epic nature. Treat the hype for this one with a hefty grain of salt, and don’t say you weren’t warned.

13. “Red Island” (“L’île Rouge”) (France/Belgium/Madagascar)
Movies about little-known, faraway locations can be a great way to learn about exotic destinations and cultures. And those set in a historical context can offer excellent opportunities for insights into the legacies of these locales. Such was my hope for this offering from writer-director Robin Campillo about the waning days of the French presence on the island of Madagascar. Set in the early 1970s, approximately a decade after the nation gained independence from its former colonial occupier, the film follows the lives of several French military officers and their families, particularly their relationships with each other and with locals, at the time when France was withdrawing from the country. On the surface, this might sound like an intriguing premise for a film, but, instead, it’s a mess of diverse, largely unconnected story threads that are never fully fleshed out. Over the course of this release, the disjointed narrative changes focus multiple times, telling pieces of stories from the ever-shifting perspectives of an array of characters involved in a wide range of underdeveloped scenarios, many of which are introduced and subsequently allowed to fizzle without meaningful or satisfying resolution. Much of the picture explores childhood and coming of age matters from the standpoint of Thomas (Charlie Vauselle), a shy eight-year-old seeking to find his way and understand life in this enigmatic setting. But Thomas’s experience is intertwined with themes related to domestic discord, marital infidelity, interracial relationships, concealed secrets, questionable ambitions, political reform movements and the fading remnants of European imperialism. There are also numerous segments exploring Thomas’s vivid fantasy life, particularly his fascination with Fantômette, the subject of a French book series for young readers featuring a crime-fighting female superhero. In presenting all of this material, the film incorporates familiar elements reminiscent of a plethora of pictures, including everything from “The Year of Living Dangerously” (1982) to “The Ice Storm” (1997), among others. In the end, though, none of this hangs together especially well, frequently leaving viewers perplexed about what’s coming next or why some of this material was even included in the first place. It essentially feels like a movie put together by a committee, ultimately providing considerably more frustration than satisfaction. For what it’s worth, “Red Island,” sadly, is a real disappointment and a woefully missed opportunity to offer audiences something truly fresh, new and different, something the movie industry could really use more of these days.

14. “Rumours” (Canada/Germany.Hungary/USA)
Truly good satire needs a razor-sharp edge to succeed, but this latest effort from director Guy Maddin (in collaboration with filmmaking partners Evan and Galen Johnson) falls stunningly flat, resulting in a rambling, unfocused slog that somehow manages to mix messages and symbology that are simultaneously both cryptically understated and patently obvious. Set at a G7 summit in Germany, world leaders from the host country and their American, Canadian, British, French, Italian and Japanese counterparts (along with delegates from the European Union) hold their annual gathering to discuss the state of the world and pat themselves on the back for a self-congratulatory job well done (despite not possessing the requisite skills to accomplish anything meaningful or of substantive consequence other than keeping their nations’ respective seats warm). They smile their hollow smiles and make empty though allegedly profound observations about a variety of subjects, all while attempting to craft one of their famous joint statements (position papers that the American president openly admits no one ever reads). In this case, the communique is meant to address some kind of undefined global crisis, but it appears to be one with apocalyptic overtones. But, in the course of their “work” – an undertaking for which they’re far from qualified – they quickly find themselves in over their heads when the infrastructure around them begins to crumble, a circumstance made more ominous by the appearance of inexplicable apparitions and zombie-like bog creatures straight out of classic folklore and middle European fairy tales. One might think that this would make for an interesting premise in telling a surrealistically satirical fable about the state of contemporary world politics, but the execution here is so poorly carried off that it ends up amounting to little more than oh so much intellectual and symbolic masturbation (depicted here a little too literally and repetitively at that). To complicate matters, the narrative incorporates countless developments that go wholly unexplained, some of which presumably have to do with the symbolic emasculation of a prevailing patriarchal world in favor of an emerging female-directed paradigm, but others of which are just so enigmatically absurd that they defy description, explanation or purpose (there’s more of that masturbation again, only this time reflected in the nature of the picture’s screenplay elements). The overall result is a mess of a movie that, despite its gifted ensemble cast and atmospheric cinematography and production design, just doesn’t work, especially since the insights it’s trying to impart aren’t particularly new, revelatory or funny. We’re well aware of how inept many of the world’s supposedly astute leaders are these days, including the fact that they’re cluelessly engaged in little more than what amounts to unconscious acts of that aforementioned “self-love” (and self-aggrandizing ones at that), but do we really need a movie to remind us of that (especially one as shabbily made as this)? No thanks. If I were you, I’d duck out of this one and see what else is playing at the multiplex (or, better yet, skip it altogether).

15. “Babes” (USA)
How disappointing it is when you see a movie that you were looking forward to only to walk away unimpressed, if not largely disappointed. So it is with director Pamela Adlon’s debut feature, a comedy-drama about the wild and crazy relationship between two lifelong thirtysomething New York BFFs (Ilana Glazer, Michelle Buteau) who share the experiences of pregnancy, childbirth and parenthood while struggling to maintain the kind of free-spirited friendship they had before becoming mothers. The narrative consists of a series of vignettes – some outrageous, some touching, some serious – involving various aspects of their connection, their individual lives and their interactions with others. Unfortunately, these episodes are wildly inconsistent, regardless of their nature. Some work well (especially, surprisingly enough, those that get unapologetically down and dirty with unbridled raunchy humor), but most others fall stunningly flat for a variety of reasons. The biggest problem here is the writing, which frequently tries far too hard to make the material work. Some segments simply aren’t funny, relying on excessive exhausting mugging and overacting to win over audience members (yet unsuccessfully persuading them otherwise). Others are utterly preposterous and implausible (despite trying to come across as “zany” or “outrageous”), lacking credibility in terms of plot devices, character development and story flow. And others still are just plain inauthentic, particularly when driven by the strained chemistry between the two often-immature leads, whose supposed bond simply isn’t convincing. What’s more, when the film unsuccessfully tries to turn serious, scenes that are supposed to move and touch viewers just don’t work, because the film doesn’t do enough to engender sufficient interest in the protagonists, their challenges or their relationship with one another. To its credit, the film features some fine performances by supporting cast members (John Carroll Lynch, Stephan James, Elena Ouspenskaia), but the leads grow progressively tiresome, especially the longer the movie drones on. In short, “Babes” is a big misfire that fails to deliver despite a few modest laughs along the way. Best bet for this one? Stream it if you must.

16. “The Substance” (UK/France)
There’s a big difference between being funny and being laughable, yet the latest from writer-director Coralie Fargeat has somehow found a way to be both. After amassing a considerable amount of largely well-earned cinematic goodwill in the film’s opening segments, the picture mercilessly squanders that support in the final act with an overlong, meandering, disgustingly gratuitous and grotesque exhibition of utter bad taste. This story of an aging actress (Oscar nominee and Golden Globe Award winner Demi Moore) who seeks to revive her career by retrieving some of her lost youth with the aid of an enigmatic injectable follows her grand misadventures when the mysterious substance prompts the emergence of a younger doppelganger (Critics Choice Award nominee Margaret Qualley), who becomes a bombshell Hollywood sex kitten sensation virtually overnight. To make this experimental venture work, however, the two individuals must comply with a complex set of rules, dictates that become increasingly difficult to follow as they each vie for their respective shares of attention. And, as this scenario unfolds, tension grows between them, leading to complications and unexpected developments that become progressively harder to manage. But that’s where what works in the film ends. As the story plays out from there, it becomes stupendously absurd, and, even though there are some hearty laughs in this, there are even more ridiculously implausible and unexplained occurrences that try audience members’ patience and tolerance, so much so that I couldn’t wait for this trainwreck to end. In addition to the foregoing shortcomings, the film includes myriad changes in tone, making it difficult to determine whether this is supposed to be a serious thriller or a campy romp, very much in the same vein as the stunningly incomprehensible French offering “Titane” (2021). It also shamelessly “borrows” elements from other movies in various ways, most notably imagery and narrative references from “The Shining” (1980) and “Young Frankenstein” (1974), costume designs from the “Hunger Games” franchise, and bafflingly inexplicable soundtrack excerpts from films like “Vertigo” (1958). Then there’s the picture’s obvious, heavy-handed message about the perils of misogyny, observations that, as important as they are, could easily stood to have been turned down more than a few notches (yes, we get it already). At the same time, though, there are also some fundamentally innate questions about the narrative that go wholly unanswered, leaving us with numerous head-scratching moments. Sadly, these failings detract significantly from the elements that do work (at least early on in the film), such as the fine performances of Moore and Qualley, the picture’s inventive cinematography, and a central premise that could have made for an engaging story if handled with greater finesse. But these strengths are effectively cancelled by what ultimately results when this release goes off the rails. Indeed, how “The Substance” captured the 2024 Cannes Film Festival award for best screenplay, as well as five Oscar nods (including best picture and director), is truly mind boggling. I’m certainly a fan of the weird, wild and wacky, but this release undermines the virtues of those cherished qualities. Regrettably, I was seriously looking forward to seeing this offering, and I was decidedly impressed by what I saw in its opening acts, but that was all wiped out by how this one ultimately plays out, a picture that, in the end, ironically relies more on style than “substance.”

17. “Bonhoeffer: Pastor. Spy. Assassin” (Belgium/Ireland)
Heroes come in many forms, and, regrettably, they often go unrecognized for their efforts, which is why movies honoring them for their accomplishments can be so vitally important, particularly in attempts at correcting the oversight of being overlooked. However, when it comes to writer-director Todd Komarnicki’s cinematic tribute to Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906-1945) (Jonas Dassler), a little-recognized German theologian who was sharply critical of the Nazis’ treatment of Jews and imprisoned dissidents during World War II, that noble goal goes largely unfulfilled. To be perfectly honest, this film is dreadfully dull, relying on a lot of preaching and protracted conversations to carry the narrative, not exactly what I would call engaging and compelling viewing. Indeed, if Bonhoeffer was supposedly so influential in spearheading German resistance against the Third Reich and criticism of Germany’s national church for its silence toward and complicity with Adolf Hitler’s policies, his initiatives, at least as portrayed here, aren’t particularly enlightening or instructive. To make matters worse, the picture’s flashback-oriented approach alternating between Bonhoeffer’s final days and events from his past lends little to telling his story, occasionally causing pivotal developments in his life to become more muddled than enlightening. Perhaps this production’s biggest sin, however, is its alleged tampering with the facts, including events that never took place, others whose content was significantly altered and still more for which there are only vague suggestions about their validity but for which substantial proof is lacking. The result is a release where viewers might easily come away from it not knowing what to believe given its fabrications, alterations and lack of coherence. That’s even apparent in the title, whose qualities attributed to the protagonist could be considered specious, at least when it comes to his supposed role as spy and assassin. To its credit, though, there are moments when Bonhoeffer’s outspoken views are presented through powerfully delivered statements (though the same could also readily be said of the words of some of his peers), but they’re too few and far between for my tastes. In addition, Bonhoeffer’s prolific career as a writer goes largely unnoticed, reducing his 34 volumes of work to little more than a footnote and a few passing references. It’s truly sad to see a film that gets things wrong as badly as this one does, especially when it comes to recognizing the work of someone who is said to have had as much impact as he did. Unfortunately, the oversights here continue.

18. “I.S.S.” (USA)
It’s unfortunate that a good premise can’t be saved from poor execution, but such is the case with this undercooked sci-fi thriller. When three Americans and three Russians aboard the International Space Station are stranded there when war breaks out between the two countries on Earth, the previously congenial crewmates turn against one another when the two teams of astronauts each receive orders to take control of the facility at any cost. The question in this, of course, is why? As a scientific research center, what material value would there be in taking charge of a remote space-based facility to the Earth-bound survivors of a war-ravaged planet? While the reasoning behind this is eventually explained, its revelation is delayed, leaving viewers with a drawn-out mystery that doesn’t make much apparent sense, especially when taking control calls for a team of intelligent, convivial, supposedly mature scientists to instantaneously turn into murderous territorial thugs. And, even when the big reveal is finally made, it seems like it’s hardly justification enough for this kind of behavior from a group of individuals who are allegedly more psychologically evolved and have supposedly risen above the infantile geopolitical bickering of their counterparts on terra firma. That’s particularly true in light of the many (and I do mean many) references to the crew’s “enlightened” outlook and assumed solidarity, qualities that are repeatedly browbeaten into viewers in the film’s opening act. The fault here lies with a rather lame narrative and a screenplay that doesn’t do much to overcome that failing. The special effects are also somewhat underwhelming for a sci-fi offering, one in which the filmmakers could have done considerably more to make the picture more visually engaging. Sadly, director Gabriela Cowperthwaite, perhaps best known for the superb documentary “Blackfish” (2013), is in over her head with this release, a project that really could have used a more skillful hand in making it the kind of edge-of-your-seat thriller that it deserved to be. Instead, audiences are left with a mediocre sci-fi tale that feels more like something one would find on the SyFy Channel or some other B-grade cable network. You won’t miss much by skipping this one.

19. “Bob Marley: One Love” (USA)
In addition to telling an individual’s life story, one of the other primary objectives of a film biography is to provide insight into the protagonist’s character and nature. Unfortunately, that’s where this profile of reggae icon Bob Marley (Kingsley Ben-Adir) tends to come up somewhat short. Director Reinaldo Marcus Green’s biopic about the legendary musician and peace advocate provides viewers with a somewhat scattershot and episodic look at the artist’, primarily focused on the last few years of his life, intercut with flashbacks that are largely inserted without explanation and don’t come across as especially insightful or enlightening. To the film’s credit, it features a fine repertoire of Marley’s music, including the origins of many of his works, as well as fine performances by Ben-Adir and Lashana Lynch as the musician’s wife, Rita. However, I came away from this offering feeling as though I didn’t know a lot more about its subject than I did going in, particularly since many story threads are raised but never sufficiently resolved. It also probably doesn’t help that the film’s sound quality (in the non-musical sequences) leaves much to be desired, often resulting in the need to strain to hear and comprehend the dialogue. In many ways, “One Love” feels like a missed opportunity to tell the story of someone who had much to say but whose message doesn’t come across nearly as clearly as it could and should have. Listen to Marley’s music instead – you’ll get more out of one of his albums than you’re likely to absorb from this picture.

20. “Megalopolis” (USA)
In the interest of full disclosure, it pains me to write this, but I feel I must be honest. Legendary writer-director Francis Ford Coppola’s long-awaited epic cinematic fable is, regrettably, a major disappointment. After decades of stop-and-start development, the filmmaker’s metaphorical opus about a renowned, idealistic architect (Adam Driver) seeking to build an ambitious utopian development in a modern-day version of New York inspired by ancient Rome follows the protagonist’s often-frustrated efforts to get the project off the ground (not unlike the production of this movie itself). Thematically speaking, the picture addresses a number of thoughtful, significant issues about the roles of greed, corruption, politics and agenda-based motivations in matters of public welfare, as well as the importance of enabling the expression of inspired creative freedom. It also delves into the relevance of love and support in fueling the success of such ventures. However, these notions are severely undermined by an overwhelming abundance of narrative clutter and style over substance. While it’s true that “Megalopolis” is gorgeous to look at with its inventive and impressive cinematography and production design, these visual aspects become so dominant that they vastly overshadow the coherence and intelligibility of the story. Admittedly, a greater sense of clarity begins to emerge as the picture unfolds, but, unfortunately, by that point, it’s difficult to imagine almost anyone genuinely caring about what ultimately happens. There are also many less-than-subtle parallels between the plot of this film and the screen adaptation of author Ayn Rand’s best-selling novel “The Fountainhead” (1949), raising some questions about the authentic originality of this work. Given that this could well be Coppola’s final film, it’s a shame to see the director wind up his repertoire with such a disappointing and underwhelming effort, and some reviewers (myself included) have tried mightily to avoid being unduly unkind, perhaps delivering more generous ratings than might ordinarily be the case. Nevertheless, it would appear that this allegorical undertaking was more than the filmmaker could manage, and it shows in the finished product, quite a letdown from the director known for such classic offerings as “The Godfather” (1972) and “Apocalypse Now” (1979). Yet, if you’re determined to see it, in light of the stunning visuals, this is probably a production best viewed on the big screen, but don’t be surprised if you walk away from this one disappointed overall.
Unworthy (in alphabetical order)

“All We Imagine as Light” (India/France/Netherlands/Luxembourg/Italy/Switzerland/USA/Belgium)
Invariably, there’s always one film release each year that’s vastly and inexplicably overrated, both in terms of critical acclaim and awards season recognition, and this disappointing, tediously paced slog tops my list of candidates for 2024. Writer-director Payal Kapadia’s examination of contemporary working class conditions in Mumbai follows the stories of three women who struggle with getting by financially, vocationally and personally, all of them having relocated to the city from their rural roots in search of illusory, overpromised opportunities. The picture has been widely praised for its gentle treatment of its subject, along with its sensitive and nuanced handling of its principals’ lives. To me, however, this is a politely euphemistic way of saying it’s boring (I can’t recall how many times I checked my watch during the screening I attended). Moreover, this offering tries unsuccessfully to cover too much ground (and not very well at that), including an array of topics ranging from loneliness to fiscal hardship to gentrification to outmoded traditions and more. I also don’t find this offering to be especially groundbreaking in terms of its subject matter; its themes of working class struggles and personal isolation, in my estimation, are addressed far more effectively in other Indian films like “The Lunchbox” (2013) and “Fire in the Mountains” (2021), which present more compelling and more engaging treatments of their stories (watch those pictures instead). On top of all this, there are some narrative elements that don’t feel sufficiently fleshed out or that are either implausible or woefully executed surrealistically (it’s subtlety often makes it hard to tell which is truly the case). Admittedly, the film’s aesthetics, such as its cinematography, have much going for them, but they’re not nearly enough to make up for the picture’s larger and more significant shortcomings. At the risk of being ridiculed, I truly don’t believe “All We Imagine as Light” is rightfully worthy of the many accolades it has received from the Golden Globe Awards, the Critics Choice Awards, the Independent Spirit Awards, the National Board of Review, and the Cannes and Chicago Film Festivals, among others. With so many other (and better) international film offerings out there, it’s regrettable that these competitions and festivals have squandered nominations and awards on this needlessly hyped undercooked release.

“A Different Man” (USA)
Stories that allegorically address themes related to self-esteem, social acceptance and prejudice undoubtedly merit our attention, provided that they execute their narratives in discernable, cogent, relatable ways. Unfortunately, though, that’s where writer-director Aaron Schimberg’s third feature drops the ball. The film follows the strange saga of Edward Lemuel (Sebastian Stan), an aspiring New York actor afflicted with a severe skin disfigurement that has left his face overcome with tumorous growths. However, when he learns of a radical new medical treatment that offers the hope of a cure, he jumps at the chance. And, before long, after a series of incidents that bring graphic new meaning to the term “skin peel,” he’s left with a normal (and quite handsome) appearance. But, now that he has this new look, is it what he really wants for himself? Can he adjust to it and what it affords? This change thus prompts him to ask himself these questions when he starts getting all of the things he had once supposedly longed for, such as a beautiful romantic interest, Ingrid (Renate Reinsve), and a lead role in an off-Broadway play. He can’t help but quietly wonder, “Am I suddenly being accepted because of my appearance or because of who I am as an individual?” What’s more, was the reaction that he previously received from others as bad as he thought it was, or was his perception clouded by his own distorted views of himself? That becomes especially true when he meets Oswald (Independent Spirit Award nominee Adam Pearson), a cheery, well-adjusted individual who leads a successful, fulfilling life despite being affected by the same health condition Edward once had. Conceptually speaking, these issues are universal themes that many of us might ask ourselves from time to time, all of which ultimately stem back to our view of whether we see the glass of life being half full or half empty. However, when examined through the prism of this National Board of Review honoree, these ideas are unnecessarily muddled here by a clumsy script that can’t make up its mind what kind of movie it wants to be. Is it smart horror? A dark comedy? A psychological thriller? An essay on the role that “appearances” play in our judgments and assessments of ourselves and others? As it’s presented, the film is a jumbled combination of the foregoing punctuated by awkward and abrupt transitions, undercooked character development, and underwhelming explorations of its core notions. Indeed, rather than confidently tackling its primary intents head on, the picture spends much of its time dancing around them (and often tripping over its own feet in the process), particularly with the incorporation of odd, out-of-place plot elements that serve more to confuse the flow of the story than to clarify it. In many ways, the finished product becomes much like the quirky, bombastic works of filmmakers Charlie Kaufman, Ari Aster or Darren Aronofsky, one that leans more toward the needless excesses of “The Substance” (2024) (see above) than the graceful eloquence of “The Elephant Man” (1980). To its credit, “A Different Man” frequently comes across better than it probably should thanks to the solid performances of Pearson, Reinsve and Golden Globe Award winner Stan. But, given the film’s many other shortcomings, that’s hardly enough to save this production from itself.

“Nickel Boys” (USA)
The artistic choices a director makes while working on a film often contribute much to the success or failure of the finished project. When these decisions aptly suit the nature of the production, they can transform a commendable picture into a cinematic masterpiece. But, when they fail at this, they can unduly get in the way, and such is the case with this debut narrative feature from writer-director RaMell Ross. Based on the 2020 Pulitzer Prize-winning novel by Colson Whitehead, the film tells the story of two young Black men, Ellwood (Ethan Herisse) and Turner (Brandon Wilson), who reside at the Nickel Academy, a fictional Florida reform school based on the infamous Dozier School for Boys, an institution known for its notoriously abusive treatment. Set in the 1960s against the backdrop of the Civil Rights Movement, “Nickel Boys” depicts the horrendous atrocities inflicted upon the two friends and other “academy” residents, brutality that included acts of physical and sexual abuse, as well as the mysterious “disappearances” of those who failed to abide by the facility’s strict rules. This is obviously an important and troubling story, one that desperately needs to be told. But, despite the picture’s fictional treatment of a fact-based tale, the impact of the story is severely diluted in this anemic, overlong screen adaptation, primarily due to the filmmaker’s attempt at wrongheadedly trying to turn it into some kind of cinematic art project. Much like the director’s inexplicably Oscar-nominated documentary feature “Hale County This Morning, This Evening” (2018), this release is seriously burdened by an array of unsuitable cinematography choices, some of which are employed unevenly, some of which add nothing particularly meaningful and others that are just plain odd. When combined with the picture’s poorly penned screenplay – one rife with redundant, predictable sequences and tediously dull dialogue that tries to pass itself off as more profound than it genuinely is (yet has perplexingly managed to receive multiple awards season nominations) – viewers are left with a disappointing, lackluster narrative that significantly waters down the relevance of the events being chronicled here. In fact, were it not for the fine performance of Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor as Ellwood’s loving grandmother, there’s not much else worth watching in this exercise of style over substance. Indeed, how this offering has managed to capture the attention of the critics’ and awards communities, including an undeserved Oscar nomination fir best picture, is truly beyond me. An incensing tale like this deserves much better treatment than what’s on offer in this underwhelming slog, yet another of 2024’s disappointing celluloid failures.

“The Piano Lesson” (USA)
When a gifted playwright’s work is adapted for the big screen, the transition from one medium to another can be quite challenging to pull off successfully. And, if the adaptation gets it wrong, it fails to do justice to the source material, an outcome that often unfairly reinforces the blanket denigration often accorded to film as an “inferior” artform compared to others (like literature or the stage). Such is the case, unfortunately, with this latest adaptation of work drawn from the writings of August Wilson, a stage-to-screen cross-over that comes up short compared to previous conversions of his material (like “Fences” (2016), which succeeded brilliantly). This tale of two siblings (John David Washington, Screen Actors Guild Award nominee Danielle Deadwyler) who match wits over the fate of a family heirloom – a piano with a hand-carved façade featuring images of their slave era ancestors – presents protracted depictions of their heated discussions over its ultimate dispensation, one option aimed at selling it and the other bent on retaining it as a treasured piece of family history. As this scenario plays out, however, complications emerge when the ghosts of their deceased relatives and other spirits make their surreal presence known in steering the quarrelsome brother and sister to settle the matter. It’s an intriguing premise, one that speaks volumes about dealing with the ghosts of one’s past, what they endured in their lives and how the impact of their experiences has been passed down to their descendants. But many of the film’s scenes fall prey to one of the key pitfalls that often undermine theatrical adaptations – a series of overlong, stagey, tediously talky conversations that may work on Broadway but that try the patience of viewers on screen. What’s more, many sequences launch into seemingly unrelated exchanges whose connections to the primary narrative often seem tangential at best, segments that are further undermined by loquacious and not particularly interesting dialogues. And, as for the fantasy sequences, their excessively disparate nature is wholly incongruous with the remainder of the film, looking more like they belong in a movie like “Carrie” (1976) than an August Wilson production. While writer-director Malcolm Washington’s debut effort definitely has its strong suits, such as its fine ensemble of performances, inventive cinematography and meticulous period piece production design, it lacks the integral components needed to make this a compelling and engaging watch, its Independent Spirit Award nomination for best first feature notwithstanding. To be sure, August Wilson deserves better than what’s materialized here, a film that’s largely forgettable and a pale shadow of his other cinematic adaptations.

“Sebastian” (UK/Finland/Belgium)
Screened at the 42nd Reeling Chicago International LGBTQ+ Film Festival

“Vermiglio” (Italy/France/Belgium)
Just as too many cooks can ruin the stew, too many story threads can ruin a movie, and that’s very much the case with writer-director Maura Delpero’s fourth feature film. This Golden Globe nominee for Best International Film follows the lives of a family in a village in the Italian Alps in 1944. The family patriarch and town schoolteacher, Cesare (Tommaso Regno), along with his wife and army of eight children, shelter a pair of Italian army deserters, hiding them from Axis Forces in search of runaways. While in seclusion, one of the soldiers, Pietro (Giuseppe Di Domenico), falls in love with Cesare’s eldest daughter, Lucia (Martina Scrinzi), eventually marrying her and fathering a child. However, when the war ends and Pietro travels to Sicily to visit his family, all hell breaks loose, revealing a deep dark secret and creating havoc for his pregnant wife and her family. Had the film stuck to this storyline, “Vermiglio” might have been an engaging watch. But that, unfortunately, is not the case. The picture incorporates an array of other plot lines, seriously diluting the narrative and making for a very unfocused, incoherent watch (particularly in the first hour). Most of these extraneous story arcs remain largely underdeveloped, and much of what could have been done with the principal narrative thrust remains largely unexplored. To make matters worse, the picture’s glacial pacing at the outset tries viewer patience to the point where checking one’s watch becomes a regular activity. Only when the script settles on its primary tangent does the film begin to become remotely watchable, but, by that point (nearly an hour in), it’s too late to salvage the viability of the production, especially since viewer interest in any of these characters has long since evaporated. It’s a shame that the filmmakers chose to employ this approach in telling this story, because, if it had been judiciously pared down to the basics that work best, this could have been a beautiful, compelling release. Instead, we’re left with a mishmash of ideas, themes and narrative elements that leaves audiences clamoring for an end that’s far too long in coming.
Documentaries
In the past, I’ve typically posted a blog all its own about the best and worst in documentaries for each year. However, in my opinion, 2024 saw a somewhat surprising dearth of significant, worthwhile documentary releases (both good and bad), and most of those I managed to screen were far from impressive on each end of the scale. Consequently, this has translated into a considerably more limited list of both worthy and unworthy 2024 releases in this genre. With that said, then, here are the documentaries from 2024 that I believe viewers should seriously consider skipping.
The Top 3 Countdown

3. “Look Into My Eyes” (USA)
Psychic ability is a subject that often mystifies yet captivates many of us. It’s also a topic that’s frequently misunderstood and comes with a lot of distorted, uninformed baggage in need of serious clarification. Those looking to be enlightened about it, however, are unlikely to come away from director Lana Wilson’s documentary on the subject with much new or profound insight. The film profiles seven New York City psychic professionals through conversations with these individuals and footage from sessions with some of their clients. Regrettably, though, this overlong offering is in serious need of being trimmed and recut. Much of the material becomes redundant and tedious as the film progresses, and the picture frequently focuses on the wrong content. Many of the client sessions, for example, are abruptly cut short just as they’re starting to get interesting. In addition, the interviews with the psychics are at their best when they wax philosophically about the nature of this phenomenon (particularly when discussing how they became involved in this practice, often through artistic, healing and self-acceptance avenues), but there’s not nearly enough of these fascinating metaphysical musings. And then there’s a potentially intriguing collective gathering involving all seven psychics that, sadly, receives woefully short shrift, again getting clipped just as it’s becoming engaging. Instead of more of what works best in the film, viewers are left with numerous easily eliminated pregnant pauses, often-superfluous descriptions about everyday aspects of the psychics’ personal lives and overly repetitive discussion of subjects addressed in the session material (especially those involving the work of a pet psychic, an intriguing but vastly overused narrative element). This National Board of Review Award winner could have been a genuinely revelatory and insightful examination of this subject, but the filmmaker has not made the most of that golden opportunity. Instead of providing audiences with a meaningful, articulate look into the subject matter, viewers are left with a meandering, unfocused treatment of a topic that could be valuable and impactful to many of us – and that truly deserves better handling than what’s presented here.

2. “Power” (USA)
Questions about unchecked police power have become one of today’s hot button social issues, and the public is deeply divided about it, depending on who one speaks with. Writer-director Yance Ford’s latest pours ample fuel onto this fire with a cinematic essay that clearly has an impassioned view on the subject, making a strong case that some will obviously agree with but that others are likely to decry as an agenda-driven leftist treatise. Through a series of interviews with academics who have studied the issue and criminal justice insiders, viewers are shown the dual-edged sword surrounding this subject. While the film acknowledges that there is a need for policing in light of the prevalence of violent crime, it also argues that the supposed deterrent to this problem – a greater police presence with wider, legally sanctioned latitude in carrying out its mission – is simultaneously contributing to its growth, circumstances that have long gone unrecognized and/or willfully ignored as a result of longstanding prejudicial societal conditions that have only furthered the proliferation of this issue. Those conditions, in turn, are dissected in terms of how and why they fell into place through the years as a means to curtail the freedoms of those who were seen as posing an inherent (if somewhat overblown and paranoic) threat to the social order imposed by an entitled power structure (namely, anyone whose demographic attributes didn’t match those of the self-appointed elite). Archive footage thus explores the efforts of early police forces to contain the lives and activities of slaves, indigenous peoples, immigrants and labor organizers, all of whom were considered suspect simply by virtue of their own innate identities. And, from these dubiously sanctioned roots, the power of those in charge has only grown more formidable and pervasive in forcefully holding down those who are perceived as dangers to the status quo, such as student radicals, social and political opponents, and others outside “the mainstream,” thanks to the supply of increasingly alarming means more typical of paramilitary operations than the civilized maintenance of law and order necessary for the functioning of a supposedly mature democracy. Good cases are made in favor of these arguments, to be sure. And, in all fairness, the film incorporates the views of constituents within the system who are legitimately trying to reform it internally. Admittedly, though, “Power” has a tendency to become somewhat circular in making its point, redundantly repeating its genuinely valid contentions but without offering solutions to a scenario that only seems to be growing worse without impactful efforts to contain it, a decidedly missed opportunity to meaningfully address the situation. Perhaps that’s what is needed next, with this offering serving primarily to draw attention to and raise awareness of the issue, but I think the public at large is already sufficiently cognizant of the situation such that this release could have gone farther in tackling its subject. Sustained recognition of the problem is certainly a noteworthy takeaway from this production, but it’s unfortunate that it didn’t seek to expand on that notion and offer us more in terms of providing answers – and hope for the future.

1. “Taking Venice” (USA/Italy/France)
Ever watch a movie that isn’t what it should have been? Such is the case with writer-director Amei Wallach’s third feature documentary, which is supposed to be an account of the US government-backed campaign to capture the grand prize for painting at the 1964 Venice Biennale, the world’s most influential art exhibition. The thinking behind this effort was to showcase the supposedly superior nature of the nation’s art and culture, one in a series of comparable American propaganda initiatives aimed at winning over the hearts and minds of the citizens of the world at the height of the Cold War. The plan here was to secure top honors for the works of artist Robert Rauschenbach (1925-2008), one of the most influential innovators of the emerging pop art movement, who was best known at the time for his “combines,” three-dimensional creations that straddled the line between painting and sculpture. This venture thus helped enable the US to become a major player on the international arts scene and did much to change the ways that fine art was exhibited, marketed and appreciated. The problem with this film, though, is that it frequently deviates from its stated intent; its unfocused storyline often jumps about wildly, straying from the thrust of the narrative. In fact, the picture actually works best – and ultimately would have worked better overall – as a biography of Rauschenbach by itself. Indeed, that’s the story that should have been told here, given that the artist’s life and career are far more interesting than this largely anemic chronicle of the exhibition, a tale that often comes across as scattered, shallow, gossipy and not especially insightful. In short, this is a project that should have been significantly retooled right from the outset. While a segment about the Biennale certainly should have been included as part of such a hypothetical production, there’s not enough worthwhile material to make it into a standalone work of its own (at least based on what’s presented here). A biography of the artist, on the other hand, would have made for a release worth watching, especially since “Taking Venice” frequently veers off onto tangents about its principal contributor that are much more engaging than what the film is supposed to be about. In watching this offering, I was reminded of an anecdote I heard in one of my journalism school classes: A cub reporter was assigned to cover a speech by a public official but returned from the event with nothing to report. When his editor asked him about it, the young journalist said there was no story to tell, because the official didn’t give his talk, having been shot by a gunman in the audience. Now there’s a message the filmmaker here obviously should have taken to heart.
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