I think it’s appropriate to apologize for the severe delay in this review. I saw The Fantastic Four: First Steps on Tuesday, July 29, and am just now getting this review out. Hand up, I apologize.

OK, now on to the review.

Marvel, a studio that seemed to be losing its way, might just be finding its stride again.

The Fantastic Four: First Steps is the kickoff to the MCU’s Phase Six, a phase that’s poised to be one of the most important in the franchise’s long history. Phases Four and Five were lackluster at best, as Disney and Marvel got too caught up in attempting to fill Disney+ instead of producing quality content that audiences actually enjoyed. There have been several projects that connected with the moviegoing public, but most have fallen flat, and the declining box office returns have illustrated the lack of trust the public seems to have in the MCU at the moment.

But it appears everything might be back on the upswing with The Fantastic Four: First Steps. Marvel’s First Family has received the cinematic treatment several times throughout the 21st century, and while some provided surface-level entertainment, all of them fell far short of what a Fantastic Four flick should be—particularly Fantastic Four (2015). That thing is a train wreck.

With Disney’s purchase of 20th Century Fox in 2019, Marvel finally recaptured the rights to a slew of its key characters: the X-Men, Blade, Daredevil, and the Fantastic Four. With that acquisition, the wheels were officially put in motion for the Fantastic Four to join the Marvel Cinematic Universe. And wouldn’t you know it—it’s actually pretty good!

There’s just something so nostalgic about the retro-futuristic vibe of the movie, and that’s kind of insane given that I didn’t grow up in the 1960s—the decade in which the film takes place—nor did any of the crazy technology present in the film exist in real life. Still, I yearn to live in the world of the characters portrayed on screen, and I believe that’s one of the things the movie does best.

It’s an MCU movie that actually feels like it has its own unique style, which is saying something since most of them are just carbon copies of one another in many regards. That’s part of the strength of the franchise, but it’s cool that one of them strays a bit in a different direction.

The fact that it’s set in a totally different timeline than the main MCU continuity also helps alleviate any sort of ill will that moviegoers might have toward how everything with Marvel is going at the moment. Part of the issue with Phases Four and Five was that audiences now have so much prep work to do before going to see an MCU film. For instance, in order to fully comprehend everything that was going on in The Marvels, audiences needed to watch two TV shows and a movie that came out in 2019. That’s a lot to ask of the regular person. For The Fantastic Four: First Steps, there were zero prerequisites. In a world of sequels and prequels, that’s kind of nice.

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Yes, 52 Movies in 52 Weeks was meant to happen in one singular year, and I promise it still will! Nobody ever said I couldn’t watch—and review—multiple movies in a single week.

With my vacation to Yellowstone and Grand Teton last week, my movie-watching schedule was completely thrown off (I promise I’ve seen The Fantastic Four: First Steps; a review is coming soon.) Also, to be honest, this week’s movie kind of left me without words.

Apocalypse Now is intense. For those who have seen it, or those familiar with its subject matter, that’s a fairly obvious statement. It takes place at the height of the Vietnam War and follows Captain Benjamin Willard (played by Martin Sheen), a disillusioned soldier sent on a mission to kill a rogue colonel. Along the way, we—as well as Willard and those around him—are exposed to the horrific nature of the conflict.

After finishing the movie about a week and a half ago, I was struck by just how poignant the images director Francis Ford Coppola managed to portray on the screen were. Contrary to popular belief, filmmaking is an art form, and Coppola pushes the medium to its furthest extent in Apocalypse Now.

In many ways, the movie is the antithesis of 2025 filmmaking. Sure, there are plenty of good movies being made today that are full of iconic style (Denis Villeneuve’s two Dune films come to mind), but nothing really touches what Coppola accomplished back in 1979. What he was able to do with that film is extraordinary on so many levels, and as I mentioned earlier, I’m frankly at a loss for words to describe my experience watching it.

But I have to try. I’ll start with this: it’s a fever dream of horror and chaos, all filtered through the lens of Coppola’s genius. It’s a movie I don’t really ever have a desire to watch again—the images, motifs, and themes laid before my eyes were that horrifying and chilling—but at the same time, I’m not sure what I saw will ever leave my mind.

Isn’t that the whole point of this entire movie exercise in the first place? Nowadays, the silver screen is filled with pictures made just to entertain the lowest common denominator. As I’ve continually reached back in time, watching older movies that might not be as accessible as some today, I’ve realized that they truly don’t make them like they used to. And as many have realized long before I did, that’s really such a shame.

What makes Apocalypse Now special, at least in my opinion, is that it goes all out. Whether it’s the theatrical cut (which I watched) or one of the film’s many alternate editions, Coppola, in the words of John Hammond from Jurassic Park, “spared no expense.”

That’s partially true in the literal sense—Coppola partially self-funded the project. Despite the success of his earlier work in the ’70s, Hollywood studios refused to greenlight Apocalypse Now. This baffled Coppola, who, at the height of his powers, couldn’t understand why Warner, Universal, or Paramount wouldn’t pony up $12–14 million to make what ended up being heralded as one of the best war films of all time.

It was a complicated situation, but it most likely came down to this: 1) it wasn’t just any war movie—it was a movie about the Vietnam War, and 2) Coppola wanted to own the negative (i.e., the original, unedited strip of film the movie was shot on), which would, in practice, mean he owned the movie. Those two things were nonstarters from the studios’ perspective. They didn’t want to touch Vietnam—the U.S. Army had just evacuated Saigon in defeat around the time this film was being pitched—and a director practically owning a movie was something they simply wouldn’t allow.

So, Coppola had to fight tooth and nail to make Apocalypse Now. That fight didn’t stop once shooting began in 1976, as it was a train wreck from the start. Harvey Keitel was originally cast as the lead, but after a few days of shooting in the Philippines, he left the project. Coppola brought in Sheen to take over, but that didn’t stop the troubles. Here’s just a small list of unfortunate occurrences that made the production of Apocalypse Now, much like the events it portrays, a living hell:

• A typhoon shut down production and destroyed a good portion of the sets. Most of the crew returned to the United States for several weeks.

• Martin Sheen, who was only 36 years old, suffered a near-fatal heart attack during production, leaving him unable to work for months. His brother filled in during his recovery, but they could only film him from behind (obviously).

• When Marlon Brando, who played the rogue Colonel Kurtz, finally arrived in the Philippines, he was so overweight that Coppola opted to film only his face, using a body double for any wide shots.

• Once filming concluded, the post-production team struggled with the audio because the on-set crew didn’t capture proper ambient sound of the jungle. There was also difficulty acquiring studio recordings of gunfire, as such a library didn’t exist at the time.

That’s just a small glimpse into the nightmare that was the making of Apocalypse Now. I’m sure that with a deep dive, one could uncover many more instances of turbulence throughout the production.

When everything was said and done, the originally planned $12–14 million budget had ballooned to around $25 million. Coppola resorted to putting up his car, house, and all the profits he made from The Godfather as security to finish the project. Talk about dedication to one’s craft.

It’s a miracle that anything coherent came out of all that. It’s an even greater miracle that one of the greatest movies of all time emerged from such a maligned process.

As I said earlier, writing coherent thoughts about what makes Apocalypse Now so great is really difficult for me. The proof is just in watching it. Francis Ford Coppola is a filmmaker who, at his best, creates movies that transcend time. The Godfather and The Godfather Part II—two films I’ve seen before but will revisit during this 52 Movies in 52 Weeks journey—will be talked about forever. Same with Apocalypse Now.

The themes, ideas, and images displayed on movie screens in 1979 still communicate that war, no matter the justification, is always ugly. It’s the curse of the human experience that such great lengths can be taken to harm one another. Apocalypse Now illustrates that perfectly.

Well, I guess I could get coherent thoughts out after all. Look at me go!

Final Score: 4.5/5

It’s time for the Letterboxd Minute. Here are some of my favorite reviews from Letterboxd, the best social media app on the planet:

• Jay (4.5/5): “All that teasing of Marlon Brando to reveal he was Baron Harkonnen.”

• Marianna (5/5): “I refuse to believe that this lost Best Picture to Kramer vs. Kramer… I just know Coppola was embarrassed too.”

• Maria (4.5/5): “I love the smell of Marlon Brando inventing acting through three seconds of screen time and literally obliterating every other actor ever in the morning. Also, napalm.”

At the end of each review, I’ll update my rankings of the 52 movies I’ll be watching throughout the year. With only two movies watched, it’s still a fairly easy exercise, but I foresee it becoming much more difficult down the road.

1. The Apartment (1960)
2. Apocalypse Now (1979)

To me, The Apartment is just a film I imagine I’ll want to rewatch in the near future. That doesn’t mean Apocalypse Nowisn’t good—I think I’ve said enough times that it’s quite good, actually—but its premise is such that it’s just a hard movie to want to see again, and that knocks it down a peg for me.

Welcome to the inaugural review of my cinematic journey through time! In case you missed the introduction post from a couple of days ago, this is the start of me expanding my movie range. I love the art of film, but I haven’t seen nearly enough of the staples to call myself a true fanatic. So, throughout the next year, that’s going to change as I watch one movie a week from The New York Times Book of Movies.

Here’s a little excerpt from that post that further explains what this is all about:

Over the next year, I’ll watch one film a week—52 in total—each one randomly selected from the book and loosely organized by the alphabet (one to three films per letter). Every Friday, I’ll post a review right here on the site, diving into the history of the film along with my overall thoughts.

Sound good?

I thought so.

Let’s do this thing, starting with The Apartment.

“Shut up and deal.”

Throughout this cinematic journey through 52 movies in 52 weeks, I feel like I’ll be uttering the phrase “they don’t make ‘em like they used to” quite often. I’d say that’s certainly true when it comes to The Apartment.

Billy Wilder’s 1960 masterpiece has been heralded as one of the best films of all time for decades. It was a smashing success at the time—it was the eighth-highest-grossing film of the year, making $24.6 million ($268,074,344.59 in 2025) on a $3 million budget—and has only garnered more attention and acclaim as time has passed. When people talk about the great movies of the 20th century, The Apartment should, and usually does, come up.

Dramatic comedies—which I guess is what you could call this film, although the movie’s star, Jack Lemmon, would probably disagree with that assessment—just don’t sell at the box office anymore. It takes major spectacle to draw in audiences nowadays. And while there’s nothing inherently wrong with those types of movies, it’s kind of fun watching something so small in scale that was so renowned in its day. That would be a rare phenomenon in 2025, but in 1960, that was just par for the course.

If you’ve somehow never heard of this film and have been left in the dark regarding its reputation, here are some of the many accolades it received at the 1961 Academy Awards:

• Best Motion Picture (Won)

• Best Director — Billy Wilder (Won)

• Best Actor — Jack Lemmon (Nominated)

• Best Actress — Shirley MacLaine (Nominated)

• Best Supporting Actor — Jack Kruschen (Nominated)

• Best Story and Screenplay — Billy Wilder and I. A. L. Diamond (Won)

• Best Art Direction — Alexandre Trauner and Edward G. Boyle (Won)

• Best Cinematography — Joseph LaShelle (Nominated)

• Best Film Editing — Daniel Mandell (Won)

• Best Sound — Gordon E. Sawyer (Nominated)

Believe me now?

I honestly can’t believe I hadn’t seen it until now. And now that I have, I can say for certain that it’s a movie I’ll want to show to everybody and anybody who hasn’t gotten the chance to lay eyes on it yet. I’ve been converted to The Apartment way.

The Apartment is centered around C.C. Baxter, played by Jack Lemmon, an insurance clerk in New York City. His main goal is to climb the corporate ladder, which he does by lending out his apartment to company executives for use with their mistresses. It’s a fairly wild premise, especially for 1960, and it’s a film that couldn’t have been made prior to the waning influence of the Hays Code in the late 1950s. But where some writers and directors would falter with such an odd concept, Wilder thrives.

Wilder co-wrote and directed The Apartment right on the heels of 1959’s Some Like It Hot, a comedy starring Lemmon, Tony Curtis, and Marilyn Monroe. That film too had a crazy story—after two musicians witness a mob hit, they disguise themselves as women and join an all-female band in hopes of escaping the mafia. It’s a really good and wild time, and it’s insane that Wilder was able to follow that success so quickly with another masterpiece.

Lemmon, the star of both movies, had this to say about what he thought when Wilder approached him with the script for The Apartment:

I couldn’t believe that Billy had done Some Like It Hot and then just when that’s through he hands me The Apartment and says, ‘This is our next one.’ And I read it, and it was one of the best scripts I’ve ever read.
— Jack Lemmon

He’s not wrong. The screenplay is, to put it plainly, exquisite.

Most films live and die by the script, and without a stellar one, The Apartment probably falls flat. The witty and quick dialogue, paired with some of the best “show, don’t tell” storytelling I’ve ever seen, makes the writing and directing pop like no other. Every character is unique—and yes, that may sound obvious—but Wilder and Diamond really do something extraordinary with them. Everyone speaks in a distinct voice, and characters bounce off each other in different ways depending on the context of the scene.

For more on the excellence of the screenplay, check out this fantastic video on YouTube:

The fantastic writing enables the actors—Lemmon and MacLaine chief among them—to just do their thing. Those two are especially charismatic, and the most genuine compliment I can pay their performances is that they feel like regular people. That was imperative. We, as the audience, need to empathize with the main characters—and we do. That might sound crazy given the wacky premise, but it somehow works.

Because, despite the crazy theatrics that transpire over the two-hour runtime, The Apartment is just a simple story about finding yourself. Lemmon’s character begins the film with no backbone, using the easy path to achieve his goals. Sure, he’s seemingly succeeding in everything he sets out to do—he’s getting promoted and everybody likes him. But at the same time, he’s a pushover who’s lonely and unsure of himself. And what makes everything so satisfying is that he learns all the right lessons, corrects his behavior, and winds up on top—ethically, at least—when everything is said and done.

If there’s one word I’d use to describe the movie, it’d be satisfying. There’s a ton of setup in the film, and once the credits rolled, the satisfaction I felt was extraordinary. Everything is planted with a purpose. Nothing feels out of place. It’s frankly quite beautiful.

One more thing: I’m a big fan of a good forced perspective trick, and dang, there’s an excellent one in this film. Cinematographer Joseph LaShelle might not have won the Oscar for his work on The Apartment, but he should’ve just for the wonderful illusion he pulled off.

While it may look like a massive office set, it’s actually not. As the desks (and humans) recede into the background, they gradually get smaller, making the room feel much larger than it really is. That just scratches an itch in my brain. Oh, what fun!

Honestly, there’s not much more to say. While it’s not perfect—the pacing is a bit of an issue for me, but I imagine that’s just a me problem due to my youth or something like that—The Apartment succeeds in pretty much everything it sets out to accomplish. From the fantastic writing to the charismatic actors, Billy Wilder’s 1960 magnum opus continues to permeate the culture to this day. Go watch it—I promise it’ll be worth your time. And hey, if you find it to be a drag, then you can take that up with my personal assistant, Toby1.

Final Rating: 4.5/52

It’s time for the Letterboxd Minute™! Here are some of my favorite reviews from Letterboxd, the best social media app on the planet:

• Andrew (5/5): “If I write four words half as good as the four final words here, I’ll die happy.”

• Jerry (4/5): “Jack Lemmon straining his spaghetti through a tennis racket might just be the best thing I have ever seen, movie-wise.”

• alewatchsfilms (4/5): “Can’t believe Billy Wilder invented Airbnb.”

• wersku (5/5): “The most relatable moment in the movie is when Jack Lemmon tries to eat his food, but there’s nothing on TV that feels worth watching while he eats.”

• zoë rose bryant (5/5): “I’ve seen this plenty of times, but the moment when Fran gives Bud her mirror still never fails to make my jaw DROP.”

• Ben (5/5): “Jack Lemmon is underrated. Billy Wilder and his six Academy Awards are underrated. Shirley MacLaine is the most underrated.”

At the end of each of these reviews, I’ll update my rankings of the 52 movies I’ll be watching throughout the next year. As there’s only been one film witnessed so far, this ranking is pretty easy:

1. The Apartment (1960)

We’ll see how long it remains at the top of this list.

The dog days of summer have settled in, and with them comes a certain restlessness. Baseball is the only daily sports spectacle on the calendar right now, and at the moment, it’s just not enough. Don’t get me wrong—I love baseball way more than anybody you probably know. I just watched half of the MLB Draft over the last several days, which is notoriously one of the most boring professional sports drafts. But only so much entertainment can be derived from that. As such, I’m on a quest for merriment, and what better way to answer that call than by diving headfirst into the vast and vibrant universe of cinema?

As many of you, my wonderful readers, have likely gathered from my recent posts over the past several weeks, I’m a bit of a movie lover. Whether it’s dissecting the latest blockbuster to hit theaters or raving about a hidden gem, I find endless fascination in the art of filmmaking. There’s a catch, however: my cinematic journey is far from complete and contains some glaring holes. Please don’t laugh—I’m almost ashamed to say this—but I’ve yet to see iconic films like The Godfather or 2001: A Space Odyssey. Trust me, I know it’s embarrassing. But I’m determined to end that shame by embarking on a cinematic mission of sorts.

Thanks to a wonderful birthday gift from my amazing wife, I’m now armed with The New York Times Book of Movies, a comprehensive guide to 1,000 of the “most important, popular, and influential films of nearly a century of cinema.”

Here’s the plan: Over the next year, I’ll watch one film a week—52 in total—each one randomly selected from the book and loosely organized by the alphabet (one to three films per letter). Every Friday, I’ll post a review right here on the site, diving into the history of the film along with my overall thoughts.

This journey is also a chance to celebrate, as B&B Theatres would so wonderfully say, the magic of the movies. Moving pictures on a screen haven’t been around for all that long in the grand span of human history, but they’ve made an enormous impact on the culture of modern society. The fact that we live in a time where we can communally experience such a fascinating art form is a miracle.

For transparency’s sake, here is the list of movies that I’ll be watching throughout the next year (list subject to change)1:

• Week 1: The Apartment (1960)

• Week 2: Apocalypse Now (1979)

• Week 3: Bull Durham (1988)

• Week 4: Before Midnight (2013)

• Week 5: Boyhood (2014)

• Week 6: Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977)

• Week 7: Cool Hand Luke (1967)

• Week 8: A Clockwork Orange (1971)

• Week 9: Die Hard (1988)

• Week 10: Dial M for Murder (1954)

• Week 11: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)

• Week 12: Empire of the Sun (1987)

• Week 13: East of Eden (1955)

• Week 14: Face/Off (1997)

• Week 15: The 40-Year-Old Virgin (2005)

• Week 16: Fargo (1996)*

• Week 17: The Godfather (1972)

• Week 18: The Godfather Part II (1974)

• Week 19: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (1968)

• Week 20: Goodfellas (1990)

• Week 21: A Hard Day's Night (1964)

• Week 22: Ikiru (1952)

• Week 23: Jailhouse Rock (1957)

• Week 24: Jerry Maguire (1996)

• Week 25: King Kong (1933)

• Week 26: L.A. Confidential (1997)

• Week 27: Lawrence of Arabia (1962)

• Week 28: Lost in Translation (2003)

• Week 29: Mad Max (1980)

• Week 30: Moonlight (2016)

• Week 31: Munich (2005)

• Week 32: North by Northwest (1959)

• Week 33: One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (1975)

• Week 34: The Outlaw Josey Wales (1976)

• Week 35: Pulp Fiction (1994)

• Week 36: The Pianist (2002)

• Week 37: Paths of Glory (1957)

• Week 38: The Quiet Man (1952)

• Week 39: Raging Bull (1980)

• Week 40: RoboCop (1987)

• Week 41: Saving Private Ryan (1998)

• Week 42: Schindler's List (1993)

• Week 43: Star Wars (1977)*

• Week 44: The Thin Red Line (1988)

• Week 45: To Kill a Mockingbird (1963)

• Week 46: 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)

• Week 47: Unforgiven (1992)

• Week 48: Vertigo (1958)

• Week 49: West Side Story (1961)

• Week 50: When Harry Met Sally (1989)

• Week 51: Young Frankenstein (1974)

• Week 52: Zodiac (2007)*

So, grab your popcorn and join me for the first movie this Friday. We’re starting with the letter A, which means Billy Wilder’s The Apartment is first up to bat.

This is a non-spoiler review.

Superman is unapologetically a comic book movie. In fact, it might be the most on-the-nose comic book film I’ve ever seen.

James Gunn’s restart of the DC cinematic universe had a lot on its shoulders. On one hand, it had to be a satisfying introduction to this version of Superman—a character so well-known that everyone holds an opinion about him. Meanwhile, Superman also needed to be the on-ramp to the new world that Gunn and DC want us all to immerse ourselves in for the foreseeable future.

For the most part, Superman succeeds in balancing both tough tasks. It’s not an origin story—we’re just thrown right into the world, just like you would be if you were reading a comic book. At times, this is a refreshing new take on the genre. But at others, I found myself a little confused and out in the cold. Maybe the true DC diehards will understand everything, but this regular guy was sometimes a bit out of the loop.

Every scene feels like it was ripped straight out of a comic strip, which is endearing, and sometimes a little frustrating, all at the same time.

Comic books are, for the most part, silly and goofy, and that’s exactly what Superman is. I find it admirable that Gunn decided to switch up the formula from past DC projects, like The Dark Knight trilogy or Zack Snyder’s films, which attempted to ground the characters in our real world. Superman is definitely not a part of our reality and is instead part of some other world that is totally foreign. That’s neat and refreshing, but also a bit frustrating. Character backstories aren’t always fully fleshed out, which is fine for some characters, but for others, it would’ve been nice to know a bit more. Additionally, comic book tropes are well known by this point, so some of what happens isn’t exactly surprising to the keen viewer.

But one of the most underrated elements of Superman is its visual style. James Gunn and his creative team clearly made a deliberate decision to lean into the color and vibrancy of classic comic books, as well as the Christopher Reeve films from the 70s and 80s. Gone are the washed-out grays and overbearing shadows that plagued earlier DC films. Instead, Metropolis gleams with golds and blues, and Superman himself is clad in a suit that actually pops on screen. This is a film that looks like it knows what it is: bright, heroic, and unafraid to embrace a little camp.

The homages to the Reeve movies don’t end with the visual choices. Reeve’s son Will makes a brief cameo that many people won’t recognize, but the diehards that do will have butterflies well up in their stomachs when he shows up on screen, especially if you saw the great documentary Super/Man: A Christopher Reeve Story that came out last year.

Additionally, the use of the original John Williams score as the baseline for every composition provides some much-needed nostalgia. It was a fantastic creative choice that got me levitating off my seat whenever it played.

Making any Superman film in the modern age comes with a lot of pressure. For one thing, portraying the character the way fans want likely comes with a ton of stress, especially in the wake of the controversial Zack Snyder movies, which divided the DC fanbase.

So, I have to give major kudos to David Corenswet for putting on the cape and tackling this challenging character. And for my money, he did a great job capturing everything I want out of Clark Kent and Superman. He was charming, funny, but best of all, filled with hope in humanity. Most importantly, he actually saved people, which is more than you can say about a certain other version of the Man of Steel.

In many ways, Superman feels like a direct response to Man of Steel and Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice. Gunn and Corenswet’s version of Superman isn’t dark and brooding—he’s bright and cheery and wants to help the world. Even when a surprising secret comes to light that could potentially upend Superman’s reputation, Gunn makes sure to show that this iteration would never turn his back on the people he’s there to protect. That’s refreshing. All I want is to see Superman help humanity. When I see Superman jump in front of a child who’s about to die, shielding them from a bunch of sharp shards of glass, that just scratches an itch of mine.

When the credits began to roll, I had a smile on my face. Superman is hope-filled, and that’s really all I want out of a movie featuring Clark Kent. Hope, love, mercy, and the desire to protect humanity are Superman’s greatest traits—and they’re all present here.

Final Rating: 3.5/5

Go see this movie with your family—it’s going to be a fun time. And as someone currently feeling a little bit of Marvel fatigue, I’m excited to see what Gunn’s DC cinematic universe will bring in the future. If they keep up this pace, it should be a fun ride.

Here are some other miscellaneous points about the film:

• Lex Luthor is just a pure hater. Never has he been more hateable than he is in this film. As this is a non-spoiler review, I won’t get into specifics, but just know that the second that bald maniac pops up on screen, you’ll want justice served immediately.

• Krypto the dog is cute and will surely generate many laughs. I’m not sure if this is how I would’ve introduced a flying dog with super strength into the fold, but what do I know? He’s pretty cool, and I wish he were mine.

• Metropolis is not somewhere I’d want to live. There’s just too much going on. Everybody should move to Gotham. I’m sure that place is fine and dandy.

• Every character gets in on the action in some way. Whether it’s the Justice Gang, Lois Lane, or even Jimmy Olsen, everybody has a role to play. At times, however, there’s just too much happening, and the sheer number of characters can bog the movie down.

• Krypto is undeniably cute, but where did he come from? Did they have dogs on Krypton? I’m in the dark here, guys. Someone fill me in.

  ---

It’s time for the Letterboxd Minute (the name is still a work in progress)! Here are some of my favorite reviews from Letterboxd:

• ztram (4/5): “This feels like a warm hug. David Corenswet embodies Superman to perfection. There are definitely cringey line deliveries from some characters, but it’s met with moments that brought people to tears. The score absolutely shreds. Lex is a generational hater. So hilarious. It’s romantic, fun, and most importantly it makes you feel hopeful. That is what Superman is all about.”

• matt lynch (3.5/5): “He really GUARDIANSed up the Man of Steel. Undeniably a James Gunn movie, for better or worse. Works way more than it doesn’t. The dog rules.”

• anto (4.5/5): “Zack Snyder’s Superman found dead in a ditch.”

• sam (4/5): “Finally a Superman that acts like he was raised by the Kents and not by the devil himself (I’m looking at you Zack Snyder).”

• JoshuaCaine (4/5): “The type of movie that makes you wanna do community service.”

It took approximately two seconds for me to realize that F1 was going to be the dad movie of the year. Trust me, that’s a compliment.

On a scale from Top Gun: Maverick to Twister (both are excellent dad movies, by the way), F1 probably falls somewhere in the middle. It’s a thrill ride from start to finish, with dynamic and exciting racing sequences covering up some screenplay and character flaws that ultimately don’t matter once the credits roll. This movie is unapologetically about racing, and since the racing is stellar, F1 accomplishes exactly what it set out to do.

What sets F1 apart from other sports movies, particularly those about racing, is the sheer spectacle and scale at which everything unfolds. If you didn’t get the chance to see this in a theater, I’m so sorry. No matter how good your home entertainment system is, nothing compares to seeing and hearing Formula 1 cars fly by on a massive screen.

Director Joseph Kosinski and cinematographer Claudio Miranda put the viewer right in the driver’s seat. Throughout every race, and there are a lot of them, you’re smack dab in the action. You feel every turn. You feel the acceleration as the car blasts down a straightaway. If I didn’t know any better, I’d believe I was actually in the car with how intimate it all feels.

That’s Kosinski’s specialty. The parallels between his work on Top Gun: Maverick and this movie are clear. I’d go as far as to say F1 is just Top Gun: Maverick but with race cars. And hey, that’s what I wanted, and that’s what I got, so I’m extremely pleased.

This review would be incomplete without mentioning the fantastic score by Hans Zimmer. No matter the genre, he simply doesn’t miss. His score for F1 is pretty different from anything he’s done before—I’ve seen a lot of people compare it to Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross’ work on Challengers, and that’s not entirely off-base—and it just goes to show how vast his range really is. Hearing it blare through IMAX speakers was a pleasure, and like many of Zimmer’s compositions, it made me feel like I was levitating out of my seat.

Let’s talk about the cast. Brad Pitt is the star, and boy, is he as charismatic as ever. Even in his sixties, Pitt exudes a rare kind of superstardom that actors don’t seem to possess anymore. Alongside him is Damson Idris, who I was fairly unfamiliar with prior to F1. Now that I’ve seen him in action, though, I’m sold. In fact, I’m so on board with Idris that I’d go as far as to say he should be the next James Bond—and if you know me, you know just how high of praise that is.

Kerry Condon and Javier Bardem are also in the cast, but they don’t have much to do. That’s mostly because everyone—Pitt, Idris, and the rest of the ensemble—is working with a fairly lackadaisical script. The screenplay, written by Ehren Kruger, is by-the-numbers, to say the least. It’s a retread of several other films in the genre and is filled to the brim with clichés.

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before: A washed-up veteran returns to mentor a flashy young talent. At first, the young buck refuses to listen to the wisdom of those who came before. But after many trials and tribulations, the two bond and end the movie as friends and champions. Sound familiar?

On top of the familiar plot, the dialogue is also atrocious. I found myself correctly predicting the characters’ lines in multiple scenes, and that’s a failure on the script’s part. In my opinion, it’s fine for F1 to follow a beat-by-beat blueprint of the genre’s best, but at least give us some interesting character moments to go with it.

But as I said earlier, that’s not really what the film is about. F1 is about fast cars going fast and all the emotions that come with it. By my count (and this might be a slight exaggeration), 75% of the runtime is spent in the driver’s seat. That’s exactly what I want.

So, if you’re seeking blockbuster thrills, F1 is for you. If you’re looking for something that’s going to reinvent the wheel, you’re out of luck.

At the end of the day, F1 is the movie of the summer so far. See it on the biggest screen you possibly can. It’s worth the price of admission.

Final Score: 4/5

I love Letterboxd. Scrolling through and reading what other people around the globe think about different films is fascinating. So, at the end of each movie review I post, I’ll end it with some of my favorite reviews from other people on Letterboxd.

• Paul Scheer (3.5/5): “This Movie is what I think Nicole Kidman means in her AMC speech.”

• alor (4.5/5): “wait lewis hamilton from Cars 2 is in this????”

• brooklyn (3.5/5): “almost walked out when ‘sonny hayes’ overtook charles leclerc”

• hunter strawberry (4.5/5): “how can you explain a generic title like “f1 the movie” when “Pitt-stop” was literally there for the taking

• Adam (2.5/5): “So when Brad Pitt crashes a bunch of cars it’s ‘the blockbuster event of the summer’ but when I do it I’m a ‘liability’ and ‘an insurance risk.’”

• joj66 (3/5): “Sonny Hayes committing so many track crimes that the FIA would have him publicly executed.”

• MovieFella (5/5): “(Brad) PITT STOP”

I love Jurassic Park. Steven Spielberg’s 1993 masterpiece is one of my favorite films ever made. Its imagery, themes, and ideas still permeate the cultural zeitgeist to this day. While it’s cliché to say that they don’t make movies like Jurassic Park anymore, I’d say that it’s certainly true in this case.

But like everything in Hollywood, money reigns supreme, and after Jurassic Park made millions at the box office, studio executives started dreaming: “How can we milk this for all that it’s worth?” Well, 31 years after the original came out, they’ve certainly found a way to do just that.

Jurassic World Rebirth attempts to make you feel like you're watching Spielberg’s original gem. From the soaring use of John Williams’ score to the scattered references and homages thrown about, it definitely tries to immerse you in something that’s supposedly magical. It all falls incredibly short of that goal, however, as every time one of those scenes gives a faint citation, I’m just sitting there longing to watch Jurassic Park.

What is the point of all these movies? It’s not the pursuit of creativity and art. Money is probably the main reason; Rebirth opened to an estimated $318 million worldwide as of July 6, with its indirect predecessor, Jurassic World Dominion, making over $1 billion over its theatrical run. But is enormous wealth enough to justify the equivalent of cinematic garbage? In my opinion, no.

Scarlett Johansson, Mahershala Ali, and the ever-great Jonathan Bailey should not be subjected to acting in such a horrendous product. It’s a feat in and of itself that this trio of actors was put into a movie and such a disastrous result occurred. And let me be clear: it’s not their fault. While Johansson is not at her best, Ali and Bailey are their ever-charismatic selves. Bailey, utilizing an American accent, definitely took some getting used to, but once he settles in and his character (I don’t remember any characters’ names, and I frankly don’t feel the need to fill my brain with that kind of useless information) starts to be more involved in the plot, he begins to shine. Other than that, the character moments are extremely lacking, and every interaction left me wanting more.

The most offensive instance of forced nostalgia comes midway through the film, when Williams’ original theme blares at its loudest while Bailey’s character has a strikingly intimate moment with a modified dinosaur. I’m not kidding.

I won’t bother diving further into the plot. It’s a big nothing burger filled with enough dinosaur slop to keep you somewhat satisfied. Even those sequences of action, while entertaining in the moment, struggle to find their footing. Every instance is just another stop on a journey that, once it finishes, feels, much like the movie it’s in, pointless.

In the end, Rebirth is another installment in a franchise that’s severely lost its way. Calling for the death of the series is probably an overreach. After all, just look at how much money the last several entries in the franchise have made. There’s obviously an audience for dinosaurs. What audiences are tired of is bad scripts. The carnage and chaos that the prehistoric brings can only do so much. Without a good script, a movie is nothing, and that’s where Rebirth finds itself.

No movie in the Jurassic catalogue has provided the magic that the original supplied. Spielberg tried to do it with The Lost World and failed. Every filmmaker and studio should’ve learned the lesson back then in 1997. They didn’t, and now we stand here with seven movies within this franchise: one amazing and six lacking any sort of enchantment.

Drop a (metaphorical) meteor on Universal Pictures. Maybe that’ll teach them.

Final Rating: 2/5

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