Space Jam: A New Legacy

To succeed, don’t do what you want; do what they tell you.

This is what LeBron James—perhaps the greatest basketball player of all time—tells his computer-code-wiz son, Dom. By working hard and pushing computer games aside, he says, one can provide for themself and their whole family.

LeBron may be right. And this is a big problem.

You see, Al G. Rhythm is jealous of it all. The fame, the adoration. As an algorithm for Warner Brothers Studios, his work creating movies has gone unloved and unrewarded. But not anymore.

Al has a plan to finally win over the hearts of humans: He will kidnap LeBron and Dom and challenge them to a game of high-stakes basketball. Oh, and whereas Al’s teammates will be NBA and WNBA superstars, LeBron must pick his crew from the lowliest of the low, some stale old Warner Brothers intellectual property called the Looney Toons.

If you have questions at this point, I have answers. Yes, this movie is ridiculous. Yes, about half of it is as stiff and try-hard as you’re afraid it’s going to be.

In fact, it feels like Warner Brothers rushed through the brainstorming phase and made this movie purely to advertise its previous hits: It constantly ties characters, quotes, and even clips from its more successful movies into this story. Sometimes it works, but most times it doesn’t. It’s uncomfortable and embarrassing to watch a studio stoop this low, just as it’s embarrassing to think that in what was clearly planned as a blockbuster advertisement for itself, it decided to have its own computer—the thing that we’re supposed to believe creates its movie ideas—be evil. (Let’s not even think about the computer knowing that the Looney Toons have overcome impossible odds to win a basketball game before, and that it has decided to attain human validation by beating down a human admired by millions of people.)

So, this movie may be the most expensive, least effective advertisement of all time. But it’s not all bad. LeBron’s conflict with his son Dom is believable, and Dom’s acting is genuinely good. LeBron’s slighty-more-stiff delivery even punches up a few one liners. And the second half of the movie almost redeems the first: It reinvigorates the clever ridiculousness of the Looney Toons of old, toying with our natural instincts and creating laughs for the whole family. 

But that’s not enough. Although light and family-friendly, Space Jam: A New Legacy is a forgettable movie. Though “don’t overthink it” can sometimes be good advice about a movie, this is more a “don’t think it at all” one, which, if you ask me, is not a worthy way to spend your valuable time.

Shiva Baby

Somebody died. Wanna get frisky? 

That’s one of the things Danielle is thinking right now. Others include does my mother think I’m a failure because I’m bisexual and why can’t I get a job in gender business?

These concerns may sound naive or niche, though Shiva Baby is anything but. It is a transgressive, sensitive, and observant work, one that’ll mesmerize you even as you peek through the cringe-shielding hands on your face. 

After meeting Danielle in a most abrupt (compromising?) fashion, we are thrown just as abruptly into a shiva. People, at a house, in mourning. And wow are they alive. 

They’re saying hi, catching up—and asking Danielle questions she can’t answer. Things become increasingly uncomfortable as it becomes clear that she isn’t growing up at the pace or in the way everyone expects. And the schmear on the bagel? Danielle’s ex-girlfriend and current sugar daddy are in attendance.

The editing and direction superbly cramp us in, and together with pitch-perfect writing, acting, and music, connect us with Danielle. Can we just have a minute, please?! Yes, yes, back to the food table for the fifth time, whatever works!

And so, we swim with Danielle through a sea of cloying, judgmental people, watching her young mind fire neurons in all sorts of directions. And so, this movie is a moving, impressive work of art. 

Wish Dragon

You have three wishes! Go!

Of course Din, our dear, kind-hearted Din, can’t go. What he wants most in this world can’t be granted. 

It has to do with Li Na. She’s gone from the neighborhood and on to richer things. But she still remembers Din and their friendship, right? If there ever was a time for him to find out, it’s now, with the help of a wish-granting dragon from a teapot.

Don’t let the extremely-on-the-nose opening sequence scare you off. What we have here is a wholesome story for the whole family to enjoy, one that highlights the deep joys of human connection. You’ll smile and chuckle plenty—and breathe a sigh of relief when you realize it’s not another story where a dull boy pines for an impossibly perfect girl.

Smooth, soft animation rounds out the feel-good feeling. Though we’ve seen this idea done before, good execution is good execution.

Monster

How long will you read this before your mind wanders? 

I’m not asking to judge you. I’m just curious, because it happened to me watching Monster, early and often.

It’s funny, because the movie is very good. Steve is a budding moviemaker, open-minded student, and good friend and family member. So how strange and scary it is when he’s charged with murder. Just another young Black man found at a robbery gone wrong.

Tight writing, smart structuring—everything from the color of clothing to ambient music gives us a moving watch.

Most of the performances are expert, too. But Steve’s is extraordinary. When he quietly narrates his aspirations from the rooftops, or shakes in a mix of guilt and fear in front of his parents, it’s difficult not to marvel at how good this actor is. How genuine it feels when he explores the possibilities of his life, unsure all the while. It’s both personal and universal.

A story about an upstanding kid caught up in the pains of experience and prejudice is worth a watch. But more than that, as great art does, this movie makes you think about things outside of what you’re seeing. So let your mind wander on this one: It will always come back.

Dead Pigs

There’s a special anxiety that comes from not having. Not having someone to talk to; not having enough money; not having what they have. Insert your problem here.

We all share in this feeling, and it’s partly why Dead Pigs is so good. The movie taps into our natural anxiety—in a way that somehow relieves the pressure.

It’s a true cinematic experience, where five human stories converge into something larger than life. Sure, Candy’s doing well—but she lives in the last house in a neighborhood being torn down. And her brother? He’s a pig farmer with less money than pigs. His son, a troubled rich woman, and an expat architect round out the problem-fest.

That all sounds like a lot. Too much. But smart writing eases us in. Scene changes don’t distract or confuse; they pique our interest.

Further drawing us in is how the moviemakers create atmosphere. Each place mirrors the mood of its characters: a dark, neon city broods and seethes here; buildings fall apart there. In widescreen that both overwhelms and helps us take it all in, we find a sad, sweet, and funny story which reaffirms human connections.

Ya No Estoy Aquí (I'm No Longer Here)

When was the last time a movie snuck up on you?

And please, don’t answer with a horror movie. Those are sneaky over split seconds. What I’m asking about is that rare ninja snowball—that quiet, unassuming story which somehow builds into a knockout. Like Ya No Estoy Aquí.

Sure, the story isn’t new: A teen flees Mexico for the United States. And sure, the structure isn’t special: Scenes alternate between past and present, and are so action-less that seconds pass like syrup. But at some point, this movie hits with you an icy clarity. It is something special.

Like Ulises. He’s just a teen, but already an expert dancer of cumbia, and looked up to by his crew. They’re all terkos. In a community where every street ends in drugs or violence, the terkos decide to dance, slowly and together.

Until they can’t, of course. Bye bye loud haircuts and baggy clothing. Ulises has to flee when he gets implicated in something dangerous. And so the movie flashes between his past moments with friends in Monterrey and his present difficulties living in New York. Each scene is simple: Ulises listens to the radio here; a friend complements his hair there. But after enough rolling, we see the snowball. Los terkos is the only people, the only place, where Ulises is allowed to be himself.

The acting is raw, and the moviemaking, powerful. It’s funny how something can start so simple and transform beyond expectation. How like life.

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s t a n d o u t s — **spoiler alert**

(1) fam

Ulises and los terkos are stubborn. We know this because the movie tells us so—it literally defines the word. And over time, we learn why the teens call themselves this. They live among violent gangs, but refuse to get involved. They seek out a different community. One that is bright and vibrant.

This is their rebellion. It’s funny, to think that non-violent dance is such, but here it is. And so, many of the scenes of this chosen family are tame. Almost boring. The kids might sit together, or dance for a song. Surrounded by violence and crumbling buildings, we see community. The terko way of life in real time. Take a look.

(2) stick around, gang

Another technique used to show us Ulises’ reality is when the camera sticks around. Ulises might walk out of focus, but the camera doesn’t follow him; it remains to capture what is going on around him.

At first, these scenes might feel distracting, or seem like transitions. But they are all relevant to Ulises’ reality, and are context clues for us.

For example, when Ulises walks by a woman in New York, the camera stays on her. She dominates the screen, preaching in Spanish. God has saved her from something. Or, when Ulises calls into a Mexican radio station and can’t get through, we watch the DJ put on a commercial. All we see is that room. All we hear is the Mexican government promising security to its citizens.

The moviemakers are telling Ulises’ story, but they want us to know that his situation is not necessarily unique.

Wolfwalkers

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Do you remember your favorite bedtime story? The bedsheet fuzz which lulled you to sleep, as you and your loved ones explored worlds? This is one of the treats of childhood, difficult to replicate as we age.

But we try. And it’s more than just nostalgia-seeking, or a bribe to sleep. We tell bedtime stories to teach our most vulnerable, receptive minds the knowledge of generations. We want them to know what we know, and more, without them having to endure the hardship. It is a rational and laudable goal.

The story from Wolfwalkers seems made for this ritual. But is it worthy of it?

Robyn would say yes. She’s an adventurous young girl, ready to explore the world. While father sets wolf-traps in the forest, she shoots her crossbow around the house. Sure, chores are important, but higher callings even moreso. Like catching wolves.

That’s our first problem. Robyn’s higher callings have been chosen for her: by her father (to keep her safe) and by the Lord Protector (to keep her civilized). The three are English invaders, and must be careful in this wild, pagan Ireland.

And that’s our next problem. Whether it be the Irish hunting wolves or the English hunting the Irish, nobody seems to get along. So when Robyn sneaks out of the house, difficulties surround.

What she doesn’t expect is to befriend a wolfwalker named Mebh. But this part-human, part-wolf teaches Robyn more about family and harmony than any civilization has.

The moral of the story—that all living things are connected and deserving—is certainly bedtime story material. The idea that we must care for the planet while caring for ourselves is demonstrated tenderly. But the movie loses force when it picks its bad guy.

Here, that bad guy is a different religion. The Lord Protector quells wolf and human rebellion alike, and sees the Irish’s close connection with nature as something dangerous. To be tamed. This religiously-motivated awfulness is subtle, and will likely be lost on children who are paying attention to the story of two brave girls encountering danger and caring for family. And the movie is a quality one; vividly animated, touching, and family-friendly. But bedtime story material it is not.

Bedtime is for bedrock values, and this movie isn’t consistent about its own. It disparages colonialism and indenturing groups of people with the intention of making their lives better—however misguided such behavior is—while it takes no issue with its heroes using nature and other animals—even taking over their bodies and consciousness—to suit human purposes. Both “religions” are using the world around them for their own purposes and doing what they think is best for the less fortunate. The movie overlooks this fact in its search for something worthwhile to share.

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s t a n d o u t s — **spolier alert**

(1) It’s All About Perspective

In one sense, this story pits civilization and its strictures against the wild and its freedom. Even the Irish, who serve the English, fear unbridled nature and will take English help to tame it. The moviemakers’ animation styles weave in with this theme.

For example, scenes of the town are largely in two dimensions. Perspective is flattened, and highlights the symmetric, grey monotony of civilized life. There is no flourish here, no growth. Just the various cages we live in called home, town, city.

Compare that to scenes of the forest, where wolves and other creatures live together in balance. For these scenes, the animators show a lush, deep, three-dimensional world. Colors and lines are never the same. Here we see life flourishing; wild beauty unchecked.

Each kind of animation is striking, and a thing to behold. But maintaining their differences throughout adds depth to the movie.

Énorme (Enormous)

Frédéric wants a baby? That’s funny; his wife already acts like one.

Claire’s a world-class piano player—but aloof, and overwhelmed by the world. She needs Frédéric to plan her schedule. Feed her. Relax her. And it works, because the two are in love.

So what’s the problem? It’s not that Frédéric is ready for the responsibility of a child while Claire can’t even remember his birthday. It’s that Claire doesn’t want a baby, and that Frédéric does something unforgivable to get one.

This is not something to gloss over. But however it makes you feel, it makes the movie. Frédéric himself becomes a doting mother: buying all the baby gear; reading all the baby books; eating into his own baby bump. His excitement is sweet, and very often hilarious.

The way the couple reacts to their situation reminds us that both sexes contain multitudes. Throw that together with jokes? What’s not to like?

Beginning

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Why is it that we don’t seek out sad? It’s a fact of life, after all, and denying reality is a recipe for disaster. Is it because life is hard enough on its own? Because we know sad will always be there, whether we look for it or not?

Whatever the reason, we treat sad movies the same way. When was the last time someone recommended to you—truly, deeply recommended to you—a sad movie? We just don’t do it. But happy needs sad. Loss helps us recognize what we appreciate; helps us know what to look for, or remember. Sad movies do the same. Their brutal truths can be uncomfortable, but they open our eyes to what is—and therefore what can be. Think about Schindler’s List. Or Requiem for a Dream. And add Beginning to the list.

It’s about Yana, mostly. She’s having a hard time raising her son in a healthy environment. The community attacks her family for its religion. But however unfair and dangerous this is for them, this is not our brutal truth. The brutal truth is that here, men treat women like tools.

Take Yana. She does the work around here: teaching the neighborhood kids about faith; caring for the house and her son, while her husband goes out on business for extended periods. And yet, he expects this and more from her, without giving anything in return. Whenever he is home and Yana doesn’t blindly support his insecurities, or have sex with him, he tosses her aside like the wrong screwdriver. No questions about her day. No words of support. And the cherry on top? He gets upset at his wife when she opens up about being raped.

This is just awful. How can we watch something like this? Well, you can if you care about people. If you care to learn more about what hurts them, and what helps them. If you’ve ever appreciated when someone sat down with you and listened, that’s how. And if you take the time to do so here, you’ll remember that there are still things of beauty in a sea of heartbreak.

Like Yana. Every day, she’s alone and uncomfortable. Dissociating. But every day, she fights through this to teach children; to care for the future. Floating alone, she tries to do right by others.

The longer we watch, the more we see how this takes a toll on her. The last scenes are some of the most shocking and elemental you’ll see in a long while.

Nobody likes sad. But sad teaches. Sad is universal. So take some time for yourself and watch this movie. Maybe it’ll help you remember that you’re not alone. Maybe it’ll help you remember what makes you happy, so you can go for it.

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s t a n d o u t s — **spoiler alert**

(1) d a r k n e s s

Yana is in a bad place, both literally and figuratively. Though the moviemakers express this in several ways, a simple and striking one is the use of dark and light.

See below, how much of the frame—of our perception—is darkness? How light (how goodness? how Yana?) can sometimes feel small? Separate?

(2) t o g e t h e r b u t a p a r t

Not just Yana feels detached. Each of the characters is dealing with an issue, and the way they are framed hints that they are working through their issues alone.

Take a look below. Each of these people is having a conversation. But they are alone, surrounded only by emptiness. Sitting together, but apart. The moviemakers are talking to us here.

Even Yana’s attacker, a man who arguably has power, is shown apart. Left behind by his hunting party, he falters. Is he thinking about his atrocity? Being punished by a higher power?

(3) n o t h i n g n e s s

Just keeping the good times rolling here! After darkness and separation, we come to nothingness.

A recurring theme in the movie is Yana’s dissociating, discomfort, and depression. We know this in part because of repeated long takes of nothing, where we simply watch Yana live in silence. In these moments, we see Yana exhausted, defeated. Giving in to the abyss of sleep—almost as if she craves death.

When Yana visits her mother, she asks why they never talk about her father. Yet another man missing from the picture. Apparently, he used to call his daughter Sleeping Beauty. Remember that story? When a girl was cursed to die too soon, and then instead cursed to sleep, not living, but waiting around until a man kisses her, to live? The are layers of meaning here.

Kajillionaire

What kind of parents name their kid Old Dolio?

The kind that like—no, that need—a scam. The kind so scared of how the world takes, they spend all their time scheming how to take first.

So, their grown daughter is as maladjusted as her parachute pants are big. But when a charming stranger nudges her way into the family’s latest scam, Old Dolio starts to see more of what she’s been feeling lately. Maybe there’s something worthwhile about other people, after all.

This movie is as breathtakingly creative as it is furiously romantic. Quirky, delicate, deep, and endearing, storytelling does not get better than this.

The Dig

The Dig strikes gold, then gets greedy.

Edith can’t kick the feeling that something big is buried on her land. With world war and illness looming, finding it has become that much more important.

Basil agrees. He’s no archaeologist, but the man respects a dig.

What the two uncover will go down in history. But making history and being history are very different things. So Basil does double duty, giving and Edith and her son some perspective amidst the turmoil.

It is a simple and touching story. What’s odd is that the moviemakers didn’t seem to think so. Surprisingly deep into this, a romantic storyline magically appears, shifting the focus of the movie and almost doubling its length.

But it’s still worth a watch, not least for its beautiful picture. Golden light and big sky expanses subtly remind us how precious life can be.

Family Romance, LLC

Drunk uncle gonna ruin your wedding day? Why not rent a replacement?!

That’s right. Family Romance, LLC has actors to fill whatever role you need—loved ones included.

It’s a strange concept, and even stranger to behold. The main event has “Dad” trying to rekindle a relationship with his neglected “daughter”.

Their moments together are real. But because half of the emotion is paid for, these moments feel hollow. It’s almost like watching a funeral. Yea yea, life goes on, but something’s missing, and you can’t tell me otherwise!

This seems to be the deeper goal of the movie—to get us thinking about the loneliness and connection life can offer. Although it’s thought-provoking, the movie feels more talent show than anything else. Most of the time has us jumping between unrelated scenes, just to exhibit different actors. This stalls the main story until the very end, when its conflict is finally introduced. The movie gets good just as soon as it finishes.

To All the Boys I've Loved Before

Speak now or forever hold your peace? I’ll take the third option.

Like Lara Jean. Instead of telling people how she really feels, she writes letters—never to be sent, of course.

Of course. Once these letters (mysteriously) make their way into the world, what had felt like a sappy movie transforms. When all the boys you’ve loved before are at your door, funny things happen.

It’s not a likely story. You’ll see more group hugs and self-possessed teenagers here than you will in a lifetime. But it’s hard to roll your eyes when the rest makes you feel so good. You can sympathize with the hard stuff, and laugh at the light. Lara Jean playing her part to perfection helps.

Pieces of a Woman

The baby’s coming. Right now.

But Martha and her partner aren’t worried about being at home. In fact, they planned it this way.

What they didn’t plan for was tragedy. You’d think it would bring the family closer together, but this is a story of separation. People feel pain and seek peace in different ways.

The birthing scene alone will rock you. But the whole movie is expertly done. Editing toys with our perceptions. Direction keeps us close, because even the smallest detail adds to the picture. And last but not least, Martha and her mother deliver champion performances: We’re not watching people change, we’re watching their most intimate thoughts in action.

Prepare to have your emotions thrown on a skillet.

Soul

If you died tomorrow, would you be OK with it?

Without any words, that’s what Soul asks us. The short story is that Joe needs to pick between following his jazz-piano-passion and holding down a steady job. The long story is that he has other things to figure out, and it takes a journey through space and time for him to realize it.

Sound heavy? That’s because it is. But this remains a movie for the whole family, filled with approachable characters and silly scenarios. The music is mesmerizing, and the animation everchanging. You’ll be hooked in the first two minutes.

It’s something special when a movie can work on multiple levels; when your child can have fun learning a life lesson—and you can have fun re-learning it. So now that you know there’s something special in your life, what are you waiting for?

Klaus

Nobody gets toys on Christmas.

That’s because Smeerensburg is about tradition, and tradition says to hate thy neighbor.

Jesper is thrown into this lovely setting as the town’s new mail carrier. But he’s no saint either: He sees Klaus, a nice old man, as his ticket out. At least, that’s how their relationship starts . . .

At the end of the day, this movie tries to do too much. It’s really about Jesper growing up, but jams in Santa’s origin story, the meaning of secular Christmas, the corrupting power of adults, and more. This makes things confusing. Who should we root for? What’s the moral of the story?

You can watch it with family, but it’s more for adults (who overthink things) than children. All that said, its tie-ins to Christmas traditions are clever, and the animation can be gorgeous. Lights and lines create vivid portraits that just so happen to move.

Mangrove

Before Frank knows it, his new restaurant is the hottest spot in town. That’s bad news.

Why? The police don’t see a place to relax. They see enemy headquarters, usurpers of English space and women. So begins an attack on London’s Caribbean community.

The story here is many. Many conversations, many frustrations, many injustices. It’s all maddening. And yet, the movie is beautiful.

Direction with a light touch lets the story speak for itself. And with near-perfect acting, it speaks loud and clear: There is no limit to what individuals are capable of when they work with each other.

The movie is powerful—and powerfully real—from beginning to end, but the trial sequences are some of the most memorable you’ll see in movies.

Godmothered

The Godmother industry is going out of business. People just don’t believe in happily-ever-after anymore.

That includes Mackenzie, which is bad news for Eleanor, Godmother-in-training and complete ditz.

Will Mackenzie ever rekindle the light in her life? Eleanor thinks so, and tries her best to make it happen. She’s completely out of place—and hilarious and charming. The same can be said for the whole movie. This fairy tale includes funny twists on oldies-but-goodies, but leaves behind outdated values.

The cast gels together, and every so often, camerawork adds to the theme of magic in our everyday. What we have here is a wholesome story just in time for the holiday season.

My Octopus Teacher

Craig is strong; Craig is gentle. Craig free dives in the wild ocean.

One day, he comes across something he’s never seen before. This begins an unexpectedly long and touching journey, where a man learns about an octopus, and an octopus learns about a man.

Waiting for the punch line? It is a funny story. But it’s also dead serious—about survival, intelligence, connection. Crisp picture gives us a movie that, like its parts, swells with life.

Enola Holmes

Enola Holmes was raised to be independent. At least, Mother tried. When this her best friend and teacher goes missing, we’ll see if Enola is truly ready to walk her own path.

Unexpected situations seem to be around its every bend. It’s hard to say whether those, or Enola’s problem-solving, are more fun to watch.

One thing is for sure: This movie has energy. Good music and writing chug us along, with lead actress as conductor. Sitting with her, the ride flies by.