Read Carter Sigl's review of Nightcrawler here.

I would never do a combined TV/movie list, simply because for me, TV rarely matches the artistry of the best movies. Given the way that TV shows are made from a business perspective, it's not hard to understand why it never works in the long run. They make it up as they go, and that lack of planning degrades each series (with the sole exception of The Wire, the only TV show that is among my favorite movies).

True Detective shook me to the core, and stood above most of the year's cinema. I’ve seen it three times, and I’m still not quite sure what to say. Moments of the show, like the glorious Rust Cohle philosophical tangents or brilliantly filmed scenes, have wandered in and out of my mind for the last six months since I first watched the show. Anything that becomes a part of my life in that way exemplifies the deep connection I’m always hungry for at the cinema.

I’m still not a believer in TV, and I don’t expect to be content with season two of True Detective, however this show has created an obligation to work through the next year in TV.

-Edge of Tomorrow for being incredibly entertaining.

-Obvious Child for being funny, charming and moving.

-The Unknown Known for being a fascinating study of a very powerful man in modern American history.

-Snowpiercer for being a haunting yet entertaining action film

-Jodorowsky’s Dune for being a study of mythology and the romanticization of what could’ve been.

-Transparent, because if I’m to include True Detective, I must be honest about another show’s inclusion. This one is too obvious in its intention at times, but nonetheless poignant, true and important.

-The Babadook for being a beautifully shot horror movie with a marvelously demonic pop-up book

-Boyhood for being truly, deeply moving, even though much of it felt artificial to me.

I never imagined I would say the following: The best part of the new film from David Fincher, director of one of my favorite films (The Social Network), is Tyler Perry. To be clear, this is not necessarily a slight against Fincher as Perry is awesomely funny as a badass defense attorney in this movie. However, it isn’t particularly encouraging when your favorite part of a movie is the comic relief from the core story.

Gone Girl is the new Hollywood adaptation of the international bestselling book of the same name by Gillian Flynn. On the day of their fifth wedding anniversary, Nick Dunne’s (Ben Affleck) wife, Amy (Rosamund Pike), goes missing. Nick never seems particularly shocked or worried about the situation. The media obsesses over the story and examines Nick, wondering whether or not he murdered her based on his general lack of reaction to the situation. He doesn’t seem sad, concerned, or remorseful, he’s just normal. The media assumes this coldness is evidence that he murdered Amy, but the movie’s audience knows that he was not home to murder her. The entire situation simply doesn’t add up and it’s not supposed to; plot twists and mysteries are abound in Gone Girl.

The whole enterprise feels familiar for Fincher. The beautifully grim cinematography, the cold and calculated shot composition, the oddly fascinating female lead with violent tendencies, and the exciting slate of plot twists. Each of these characteristics fit the bill of Fincher’s last film The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, but in Gone Girl are duller, less intellectually intriguing, and as a result, more boring. I really don’t know what the purpose of this movie was. Is this supposed to be engrossing pulp or is there something deeper that I don’t see? What attracted Fincher to this project when it seems he’s mostly repeating recent steps? The main reaction I have to Gone Girl is a newfound interest to revisit The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo.

Overall, the film is still a great pulp-thriller done by a power team of artists (Fincher, Reznor and Ross, Cronenweth, Affleck & Pike). One scene in particular, in which a box cutter is used in a climactic moment in the film, was visually memorable and deliciously uncomfortable to observe. It also has a remarkably enjoyable dark humor throughout that I absolutely loved. The general negativity of my immediate reaction is more a response to what I hoped the movie could be. I can’t say I’m anxiously awaiting a second viewing of Gone Girl, but perhaps on second viewing Fincher’s intentions will be more clear.

Grade: B

Skeleton Twins portends to be the big break for writer/director Craig Johnson, whose excellent first film True Adolescents is under seen and underappreciated. He links up with stars Bill Hader and Kristen Wiig and the film was loved at Sundance, where it received the Screenwriting Award. Its current Rotten Tomatoes score is 100%. All five of my friends that I saw the film with were beaming afterwards. Unfortunately, I was the disappointed one.

Coming to Skeleton Twins as a fan of True Adolescents, I expected the same feeling of awkward reality. Not that True Adolescents is awkward, but that it conveys the awkwardness of human beings. We are too strange and unique to be most movie characters. This came through with not only newcomers Bret Loehr and Carr Thompson, but also seasoned indie-star Mark Duplass. Conversely, Skeleton Twins felt too famous with Kristen Wiig, Bill Hader, Ty Burrell, and Luke Wilson. By using talented comedic actors, who are certainly on their game in this film, I had trouble shifting between the comedy and drama. It’s not that there should be less or more of either, but that the gap between the two was unbridgeable. I know that all these actors have the dramatic chops, as we’ve seen from Wiig in Bridesmaids and Wilson in Enlightened. Johnson proved his talents as a writer/director on True Adolescents, but this film just doesn’t mix those sentiments well enough. 

However, Hader and Wiig are still very good in this film. It has dramatic moments that had me in tears. To be clear, I’m disappointed because I hoped this would be a great movie. It’s not, but it’s very, very good and that’s something worth seeing when it comes to theaters and VOD in September.

Grade: B 

Last year director Adam Wingard suddenly became a horror director of note with You’re Next, a film about the slow slaughter of the Davidson family trapped in a vacation home. Their killers adorn deliciously eerie animal masks, which highlight Wingard’s visual prowess for the detestable. Many, such as myself, falsely presumed that this effort was his debut, when actually he’d released four feature length films that involved top talent like Joe Swanberg (Happy Christmas), Amy Seimetz (Upstream Color), and E.L. Katz (Cheap Thrills). The emergence of Wingard’s new film The Guest was of particular interest, as this low-budget filmmaker finally had more money to play with.

The film follows David (Dan Stevens), a recently discharged American soldier whose come to this quiet town to fulfill the last wish of his late comrade and friend. David devilishly pries his way into his friend’s family home and becomes involved with the personal lives of each family member. Over time, the family’s daughter Anna (Maika Monroe) becomes suspicious of David and a game of cat and mouse ensues. Strange and extremely overt measures are taken throughout the mundane beginnings of the film to make sure the audience is aware that this story is headed towards horror, despite its apparent domesticity. One instance is typical horror music that shrieks when the title of the film appears on-screen. There are plenty of other overt reminders that this is a horror film and that David is someone to be watched closely.

 While viewing The Guest, I was surprised by how similarly it succeeded and faltered to You’re Next. Like in You’re Next, particular character moments are glaringly artificial and silly. One particular one pertains to the actions of the family’s son Luke (Brenden Meyer) and his motivation in telling David something (which will remain unsaid as this occurs near the end of the film). Luke’s actions are absolutely preposterous, which Wingard is clearly aware of, but why? The moment with the shrieking title felt as random as it did in Drew Goddard’s The Cabin in the Woods.  Goddard’s film was clearly commenting on the genre, while WIngard’s doesn’t seem to know why it does what it does. I couldn’t understand if The Guest was supposed to be commentary or celebration, as it aimlessly wanders around the two with no apparent design. That said, this movie is super freaking fun.

Observing the cat and mouse game between David and Anna is thoroughly enjoyable, if only because many moments are scored by highly enjoyable and weirdly danceable indie music (perhaps electronic and synth-pop?). Dan Stevens is solid as David, bringing eccentricities to the character that are amusingly strange. The trajectory of the story is delightfully depraved; it had me smiling on the edge of my seat almost literally dancing in anticipation of abrupt violence (seriously: smiling and almost dancing, in anticipation of abrupt violence). This notably unique aspect of The Guest underlines its general spectacular creativity that comes in doses. Wingard keeps the film visually intriguing throughout, without being amateurishly over-the-top. He’s visually successful in the way this year’s Jim Mickle film Cold in July is, being highly enjoyable and elevating the film’s value despite the limitations of genre.

Overall The Guest actually winds up being quite similar to this summer’s Guardians of the Galaxy, being a fairly typical entry in its genre with spectacularly worthwhile flair. This film isn’t quite as generic or stylish as Guardians, and unfortunately it has more than a couple notably bland moments. It’s bigger and more intense than You’re Next, but not particularly more mature in its filmmaking. That makes The Guest something of a disappointment, but it is still wonderfully entertaining for those who can have fun in the dark crevices of their brain.

Grade: B+/B

Rich Hill, Missouri is a town used like many others recently: as a symbol of America’s crumbling social infrastructure.  The documentary Rich Hill focuses on three boys named Andrew, Harley and Appachey from this Missouri town. Rich Hill has many of the familiar signs of ordinary existence; I particularly latched onto the fact that the school has an FBLA (Future Business Leaders of America) club. This detail is of no real significance, however given the authenticity of this film, I’m sure you’ll find little details that remind you of home and growing up too.

I could dissect the specific stories and families but you should discover that through the film. Simply put, you should go watch Rich Hill at the Brattle this weekend or on VOD (where it's already available).  All the sadly familiar elements of broken Americana are here: mental illness, obesity, child smoking, abandonment, instability, mega sodas, childhood trauma, depressive sleeping, guns, prison, etc. And it’s all very real. You’ll feel sullen and dejected, partly because of how perceptively directors Palermo and Tragos capture these stories. Rather than having interviews with a black background or somewhere pretty, they show these kids and their parents intimately where they play in the streets or in their homes. The houses are hard to look at, as behind almost every interviewee, you can see the walls literally cracking. These people’s homes are literally breaking apart, and it’s quite overtly making you grapple with America’s social devastation of late. It’s a paralyzing experience, to watch this happen and not be able to do anything. It’s definitely not the kind of film that makes me feel like I can go out and do something to help.

The deeper story Palermo and Tragos are telling has been told more than a few times in the last several years, however I don’t think it has been told as authentically. Palermo and Tragos have a very non-invasive style with artfully perceptive moments. They must’ve put a lot of effort into developing their relationships with these kids, as the kids are shockingly candid on camera at times. All that being said, Rich Hill certainly has its flaws; at times it felt like they tried too hard to force visual metaphors, like the frequent focus on cracking walls. It tries a little too hard to be American as well and the overall message feels too familiar at this point.

Years in the future, it won’t exactly matter that Rich Hill felt a little too familiar upon release. I will remember it as the best filmic representation of the decay of America’s social foundations at this time in history and that’s certainly something special.

Grade: A-

Brandon: What are your initial thoughts on Calvary?

Carter: Something along the lines of: “Damn, that was a good movie.” I was slightly stunned when I walked out of the theatre.

Brandon: I would agree that it’s one of the best movies of this summer, but it has been a weak summer. It has very good moments, especially the opening, and gorgeous cinematography, but the film felt a little unfocused once it was over. I’m not entirely sure what McDonaugh was doing. It’s really great though, much better than a lot of films I’ve seen recently.

Carter: I interpreted the film simply as a character study of Father James. It was simply the individual trials and tests of faith that he had to endure that particular week. It doesn’t necessarily have or needs to have a point beyond that.

Brandon: Calvary is such an artificially constructed universe that I find it hard to take as merely a character study. The film opens with Father, played brilliantly by Brendan Gleeson, in a confession booth.  A man tells Father that the man was molested by a priest as a child. Immediately, McDonaugh links priesthood and sin. Further, the whole film seems to question if the priest, good or not, is the biggest sinner of us all. Priests implore adults, through guilt, to believe in a theoretical higher power who allows such a horrible events as this. I’m not sure the whole film sticks to this notion, as in parts belief in a higher power is validated, but I think it’s worth noting.

Carter: I think maybe you’re not making the distinction between the Church and the priest. Yes, the Church can be corrupt, and some of the constituents of it have certainly done terrible things. The film does not disguise that. However, that does not mean all priests are sinners. Father James certainly is not. It seems to me like McDonaugh was attempting to equate Father James with Christ, enduring the punishment for the sins of others despite not committing any himself.

Brandon: Is it not a sin to commit your life to supporting and honoring a supposed divine presence that stands for the molestation of children in its name? I think this is the kind of question Father James grapples with in Calvary. I think he may feel guilty for being a priest. I’m uncertain of McDonaugh’s intentions but I’m under the impression he may be juxtaposing the “sinful” with pure Father James because he wants Father James and the audience to see that the deeper sinner is the one guilting those around him.

Carter: I think what we are seeing here, and what will apply to any audience that goes to see it, is that one’s reaction to a film intertwined as closely with the Church and faith as this will be inevitably colored by one’s opinion of that faith. This is not a bad thing, in fact I think its great that we can talk so openly and criticize faith. However, it makes objective analysis difficult. But I think purely from a cinematic perspective this film is wonderful. The actors, especially Gleeson, do a wonderful performance, and like you said earlier, the film is beautifully shot. Although, I may be slightly biased because of my love of Irish culture.

Brandon: I can’t completely agree that one’s reaction is simply colored by their previously held beliefs. This isn’t a broad film about religion, it very starkly opens by making the viewer confront the molestation of children by priests. The more complicated whole of the film is going to bring out one’s own opinion, but I think it slants in one direction (emphasis on slant, it does provide a counterpoint). I wonder if you’ve seen The Guard? I found McDonaugh’s previous film much more clear and focused, not to mention both profound and tremendously enjoyable. Calvary is definitely a different experience but I found it to be a letdown which is why I’m a little more negative than I ought to be towards the film.

Carter: I have sadly not seen The Guard, but I know I need to get on that because of how important it is to Irish cinema. However, from what I understand about it, it sounds like quite a different film than Calvary. Although I understand what you mean by being let down by a director you expected more off; I felt the same way about Darren Aronofsky and Noah.

Brandon: Well, there’s no better way to highlight how accomplished Calvary is, at least in part, than by putting it side by side with Noah.

Carter: Oh, now that’s not fair at all.

Brandon Grade: B+

Carter Grade: A

Director Jonathan Glazer’s Under the Skin is an enthralling, remarkable and unparalleled work of originality. It’s fairly difficult to explain exactly what happens in the film, partly because it doesn’t really matter. Under the Skin uses plot as a means to use image, sound and rhythm to represent feelings inside Glazer’s head. Don’t let your confusion hold you back, just allow yourself to experience this avant-garde cinema.

Scarlett Johansson’s unnamed character is introduced on screen naked, taking a dead woman’s clothes off.  She’s an alien transplanted into a female body who is using this woman’s clothes to assimilate into society. Johansson, considered one of the most attractive women on earth, doesn’t seem very attractive. Perplexingly, she’s weirdly alien-like. This scene occurs in front of a blisteringly white background with Johansson and the other girl silhouetted in the center. They look like specimens under a microscope. A bug then crawls onto her fingers and suddenly Glazer does an extreme close-up of its highly strange shape with antennae and sharp long legs. The whole opening is absolutely unforgettable. Glazer is drawing attention to how absurd our physical human forms are. Our bodies are normal to us, but if we take a step back, we realize how utterly strange they are.

She enters society for the first time in a crowded shopping mall. Given the opening of the film and music compositions that are scintillating, haunting and enigmatic, the viewer senses her unfamiliarity. This otherwise typical moment, with the usual mall crowds, noises and of course Hollister entryway, feels abstract and new. Remarkably, Glazer makes the viewer understand the alien’s perspective. Soon after, Glazer cuts to several different women being “made-up” in a department store. One has her eyebrows plucked, another is having make-up applied, and another has her arm moisturized. They examine their bodies in the mirror. They are altering their bodies, becoming alien like Johansson. Glazer is effectively pointing out that in modern western society, women are usually pressured to focus on their physical appearance before anything else. The predator/prey relationship between men and women is the focus of Under the Skin but in reverse.

Johnansson’s unnamed character is in modern day Scotland. Throughout the film, she converses with different men on the streets. She picks up whoever is willing to pursue her and brings them into a strange room. She and each man appear in a black, vacuous hallway. She walks away from the camera seductively, stripping slowly, as he does the same while following her. Eventually the black floor becomes reflective, like a mirror in this darkness. Each man follows her, mouth agape; she isn’t a person, but a body. As they follow her, they sink in an oily black liquid pool. She stops her seductive walk once he’s fully submerged. We don’t know where he went. Seconds later, she’ll be on the prowl looking for more men. The first time I saw the film this felt repetitive and unnecessary, but on second viewing, I couldn't take my eyes off the screen.

Why is this happening? I really don’t know, I can’t justify every image or scene. Under the Skin is a masterfully distinctive visualization of feelings. It’s exactly as Alfonso Cuarón called it, “pure cinema”. Amazingly, it’s also literally pure reality in some regards. The scenes in which she picks men up off the streets of Scotland actually happened, documentary-style. Johansson wore her costume and make-up and the filmmakers outfitted her car with high quality hidden cameras. The reactions she gets from Scottish men as she tries to pick them up are real. Clearly they must’ve signed waivers and chose to act once they get to the black oily liquid part in the film. However, the fact that this all happened in real life shows how true the conflict is. I imagine this knowledge is partly why I was so entranced by these scenes on second viewing.

I’m still skeptical of how perplexing Under the Skin is on a literal level at times. I’m not willing to give it the benefit of the doubt that every scene and image is worthwhile. Perhaps after 3rd and 4th viewings, it’ll shift into focus but for now I can’t let it off the hook. I’m also uncertain of its feminism. It’s incredibly effective at showing the predator/prey relationship, but is it a revenge fantasy? Why does Glazer have to explore this issue with a woman pursuing men? I’m never a supporter of revenge in cinema or otherwise. I don’t know the answers to these questions but I’ll continue pondering them as Under the Skin is a fascinating movie worth thinking about for weeks if not months or years.


Grade: A-


BRIEF SPOILER-FILLED RANT FOR THOSE WHO HAVE SEEN THE FILM:

One of Under the Skin’s most fascinating developments involves a deformed man’s interactions with Johansson. He may be symbolic of the non-sexualized male, who doesn’t objectify women. The objectifying male can come in two basic forms. First is the obvious jerk that catcalls women and has no respect for them as complex intelligent beings. The second type has a more insidious layer of sexism. He doesn’t catcall but still views her as a sex object first and person second. This second type is very complicated to explain and requires its own essay, so for now I’ll leave it there. This deformed man might be representative of the man who doesn’t objectify in either form. He doesn’t have friends because, as Glazer may be positing, this is a very rare breed of male that is usually surrounding by the other. After being kind and affectionate to him, Johansson entraps him like the others. However afterwards, she stares into a dirty mirror and feels wrong. Moments later, she brings him back from the black abyss and he’s set free. Glazer seems to be saying most men objectify, but not everyone. This is one of the most intriguing scenes in the film so I thought I should include these thoughts for those who may be interested!

Korean director Bong Joon-Ho’s English-language dystopian thriller Snowpiercer is a sharply affecting film with terrifyingly realistic concerns about humanity. The film establishes a strangely specific world in which the only remaining humans alive are on a train called Snowpiercer, which runs a yearly loop around the world. About 20 years previous, a global warming solution went wrong and the entire world was frozen. The only way to survive the disaster was to board this eternal train, which literally must break through snow and ice at times.

As the train chugs violently around the world, a mini-society exists within its compartments. The farther back one resides in the train, the poorer and worse treated they are. The only social mobility seems to be revolution, as no one has transcended the social class they boarded the train with. The focus of the film is the lowest class in the absolute back of the train, , who lives in a grim, soot-covered area that resembles a factory more than a train car. Disillusioned with the unfair class separation, this group, led by Curtis (Chris Evans), plans on pushing through the train towards the upper class compartments which are filled with shocking degrees of comfort and even excess (which I’ll leave as a surprise). 

Bong Joon-ho’s film is quite cynical, viewing society as an unchanging machine that needs social classes. Whether or not you’re averse to such a stance on existence, it’s quite convincing. Some of the moral quandaries the film delves into are ones no person should ever have to endure. Yet, the possibility of this reality is quite realistic. Snowpiercer has similar thoughts to the recent HBO hit True Detective. Is human life a failed experiment?

Even simply as an action thriller, Snowpiercer is a hit. There’s one particular sequence in which Chris Evans fights through a single compartment. His balletic movements, while wielding an axe, are scored by sad piano music playing over silence, other than the swoosh and crunch of his axe.  Another outstanding scene occurs in the classroom compartment. Children are learning history from a simultaneously friendly and eerie teacher (Alison Pill). Other revealing conversations will make your stomach drop.

Snowpiercer is thrilling as an action movie, intellectual exploration and emotional journey. It’s certainly not without flaws; I question the physical ability of certain characters in fight situations, the dismissal of language barriers (somewhat covered but not adequately enough), and a particularly fantastical concluding moment involving a child and his size. Despite realistic terrors, Snowpiercer is more metaphor than prediction for humanity. It’s very affecting and sickeningly fun to watch.

Grade: A-

Enemy, the new film from Denis Villeneuve (Prisoners), is fascinatingly oblique. On a basic plot level, Enemy follows a history professor named Adam Bell (Jake Gyllenhaal) who discovers that a film actor, Anthony Clair (Gyllenhaal), is his exact physical double. The film examines each person’s romantic involvement with a different beautiful blonde woman. The two blonde women, Mary (Melanie Laurent) and Helen (Sarah Gadon), aren’t exactly alike but are clearly reminiscent of one another. A web of psychological complexities emerges as the four become entangled.

What happens in Enemy is not particularly special. The value is in Villeneuve’s surrealistic visualization of the story, which is astounding and distinctive. The entire film has an eerie, washed out yellow color to it. Watching the movie made me feel slimy and dirty, like I’d been dragged through the mud. Even more strange, the general aesthetic and a sprinkle of overhead shots creates the feeling of an omnipresent force throughout Enemy. The overall experience of this film isn’t immediately satisfying; over time however, the film burrows in a corner of your subconscious and crawls around your brain at will.

Enemy is an extremely impressive film and one that will contend for a spot on my year-end list. It definitely has issues. I’m still a bit confused about what literally happens and I suspect that certain moments are more provocative than perfectly relevant to the story. That said, the whole enterprise is fascinating and will stay with me for months to come. Enemy is not for the literal minded; it explores a person’s subconscious and requires its viewer to allow the experience to process at least partly on that level. If you’re open to that, this is a must-see and one of the best films of 2014 so far.

Grade: A-/A

Eight years ago, John Carney’s highly successful debut Once hit theaters. The indie musical followed the developing relationship between two Dubliners as they became romantically entangled and wrote music together. One of the songs, “Falling Slowly”, won an Oscar the next year and the film was beloved by many. The nuanced acting and humble lo-fi production made the experience evocative of the rare moments when you or your friends write beautiful music. It took me back to moments listening to friends’ bands in high school reaching rare transcendent instances of true artistic expression; it also helps that the film takes place in the charming city of Dublin.

Begin Again is the long awaited follow-up musical from Carney. It is strikingly similar to Once; with the synopsis even saying, “….what happens when lost souls meet and make beautiful music together.” It too is a tale of indie musicians who play their songs throughout the film. It’s essentially a spiritual sequel in the vain of The Hangover II, with the same concept but in a different city. The simple charms of Dublin are replaced by bustling New York City. Relatable characters struggling through life are replaced by semi-struggling but wealthy Americans. The authentic, rustic texture is replaced with glossy high definition sheen.

The basic premise of Begin Again is that Dan (Mark Ruffalo) is a down on his luck former music executive. He wanders into a bar and sees Greta (Keira Knightley) play at an open mic. It’s magical for him and he pursues recording her, even though he no longer has a label to record with. Greta is lonely and desperate as well having just left her newly famous boyfriend Dave (Adam Levine of Maroon 5). Dan and Greta decide to make an album themselves and record outdoors throughout New York City using whatever money they have and Dan’s former music connections. Alongside Dan and Greta’s kinship is the remnant of Dan’s former marriage by which he has a child and Greta’s former relationship which ended literally the day before she met Dan. The real heart of the film is Knightley whose chemistry with Levine and Ruffalo is kinetic and engaging. Scenes without Knightley are fairly dull and lacking her human touch.

As the film proceeds, it becomes clear that it follows a very similar path to Once, and each change feels like a downgrade. The setting is the film’s most glaring failure, as its use of New York City is bland and uninspired. There is nothing unique or remarkable in the way Carney shows New York City. I rolled my eyes as Ruffalo and Knightley romantically listen to an iPod in the middle of Times Square. Believe me, I’ve tried to listen to music when Times Square is busy; you can’t hear a thing even at full blast, certainly not with the specificity and detail a musician or producer would desire. Is this really that important? No, however it is emblematic of an ironic falsehood with which much of this film exists.

Since the broader premise of the film is getting away from the evil music studio and producing a record independently, the irony is painful; this film falls flat on its face because of its irritating Hollywood sheen. It’s polished and dull, like a pop record gone wrong. What worked so well for Carney in the past was his characters’ ordinariness. Begin Again feels like a slap in the face to see a newer, weaker iteration of the last film; it feels like Once but with famous actors. The construction of this film subverts its freakin’ message! Worse, the songs just aren’t great. They are good,  but not songs that you’ll rush to buy afterwards. The lone exception is Lost Stars, which brings the film somewhere true and even justifies its existence. Unlock the average schlock that came before it, this song really does validate the whole enterprise.

Unless you’re really desperate for something mildly enjoyable, don’t see this at the cinema. It loses the magical ordinariness of Once and replaces it with manicured, studio-style emotional cues that ring false. It’s not completely false however, and Lost Stars alone makes it worth seeing the film; maybe just wait until it’s on iTunes.

Grade: B-