Reviews

Written and directed by Serge Rodnunsky, War Flowers (2012) is a vanity period film staring a surprising cast, including veteran actors Christina Ricci and Tom Berenger. A few charming performances save this otherwise meandering and strange take on American history from being too unbearable to watch, but history buffs will cringe.

Union general McIntire (Tom Berenger) lost two sons at the Battle of Antietam, so when his army invades an unnamed valley in North Carolina in 1863, he tries to send his third son, Louis (Jason Gedrick), back home before the war ends. Eager to get into the fight, Louis disobeys his father but gets wounded and seeks shelter in a farm house.

The house is owned by Sarabeth Ellis (Christina Ricci) and her daughter Melody (Gabrielle Popa), who are waiting for Sarabeth's husband, John (Bren Foster), to return from the war. Sarabeth believes John has been killed, but Melody has faith. Short on food, they're harassed by a local derelict, Rufus (Kurt Yaeger).

As the fortunes of war swirl around their farm, Sarabeth must decide whether to embrace her unwelcome Yankee visitor and perhaps move on with her life, or give up and succumb to the horrors of war. Things look bleak when Louis McIntire is captured by his own men, mistaken for a Confederate, and left in the stockade by his father. Will the two reunite and survive?

There aren't many redeeming qualities in this film, but if I had any praise at all, it would be for Gabrielle Popa's portrayal of seven-year-old Melody. It's a shame that actress hasn't gone on to do more with her career. The back-and-forth between her and Christina Ricci's character is the highlight of this movie. Their dialog borders on anachronistic, but it has a certain charm that saves the viewer from an otherwise lackluster and cliche-ridden script.

War Flowers' two stars, Ricci and Tom Berenger, are not at the height of their abilities. Berenger played Lt. Gen. James Longstreet in my favorite Civil War film Gettysburg (1993), but here both his acting and his physical health seem to have deteriorated. Likewise, Ricci gives it her best effort but there isn't much to work with. This movie was released after her TV show Pan Am (2011-2012) was cancelled, so maybe she had nothing better to do.

On a side note, North Carolina in 1863 is a weird setting for this film. There were only two battles fought in North Carolina that year: Fort Anderson and Washington. Both were Confederate offensives along the coast in the spring. Did the writer do any research for his movie, or did he just pick a southern state and year at random? If you're going to make a historical film, details matter. Grounding a story in real events makes it more compelling and authentic.

War Flowers currently has a 4.2 rating and a 38% audience score on RottenTomatoes, for good reason. Like the more recent Son of a Gun (2019), War Flowers is an amateur effort with a low production value. Despite spending upwards of $5 million, the direction, cinematography, editing, and sound are all embarrassingly poor quality, even for an indie film. Civil War buffs should avoid this amateur effort.

I watched Adam Carolla and Dennis Prager's new documentary No Safe Spaces (2019) in a nearly-sold out theater in Alexandria, VA. While it was a decent summery of the latest threats to freedom of speech and expression, and the audience loved it, there were some glaring omissions that left the film feeling incomplete.

If you've been paying attention over the past several years, you've noticed the rise in political activism on both the right and left has led to some alarming developments, including riots, street clashes, and an effort to "de-platform" opposing views on the Internet. No public space has been at the forefront of this conflict more than college campuses.

No Safe Spaces highlights two of the most dramatic episodes of campus activism and political correctness run amok: Bret Weinstein and the 2017 Evergreen State College riots, and the 2016 riots at California State University that targeted conservative political commentator Ben Shapiro.

Bret Weinstein, then a politically liberal biology professor, objected to his college administration asking white students and faculty not to come onto campus for a "Day of Absence" event. Campus security stood down in the face of student protests and a court eventually awarded Weinstein $500,000 in damages for the college failing to protect his safety. Footage of protestors shouting down administrators and forcing a student to read a public apology for speaking with Weinstein is an alarming glimpse at a possible future.

No Safe Spaces isn't confined to politically-correct attacks on freedom of speech and expression on college campuses. It touches on comedy as well, featuring interviews with comedians like Tim Allen and Bryan Callen. Noticeably absent was comedian Joe Rogan, whose popular podcast has spread popular awareness of many of the film's events. Rogan has interviewed members of the "intellectual dark web" like Sam Harris, Eric Weinstein (brother of Bret Weinstein), Jordan Peterson, Dave Rubin, Ben Shapiro, and Christina Hoff Sommers, all of whom have faced campus protests and have the same general objections to political correctness.

The documentary also featured clips from Van Jones and Barack Obama promoting free exchange of ideas on college campuses and speaking out against censorship. Van Jones briefly served as President Obama's Special Advisor for Green Jobs in 2009 and is now a CNN commentator. Contrary to what most critics claim is a one-sided film, I thought No Safe Spaces went out of its way to include liberal and left-wing perspectives.

What it didn't include, however, was a discussion of the origins of political correctness and the madness that has infected college campuses. It briefly touches on how the University of California, Berkeley, birthplace of the 1964 Free Speech Movement, has become an epicenter for politically-correct student activism. But how did it get from A to B? Who is teaching these students to react with violence in the face of opposing views?

That discussion, even a brief overview, would have been more useful than a cartoon of the First Amendment being shot up or reenactments of Adam Carolla's childhood.

As No Safe Spaces points out, tolerance for opposing views has not been the norm throughout human history, and the United States has its own checkered history with censorship. In 1835, for example, President Andrew Jackson banned the post office from delivering Abolitionist literature in the South. The ideal of a "marketplace of ideas" in which partisans respectfully debate opposing views and the best ideas win, is an ideal worth defending and promoting.

In my opinion, it's important for audiences to be aware of what's happening on college campuses and for this free speech argument to be heard, but as a film, No Safe Spaces comes up short. It features many low-quality clips from other interviews and YouTube channels, and its original content wastes vital minutes on Adam Carolla and Dennis Prager's personal stories. It is, however, a good starting point for anyone concerned about the future of free discussion in the United States.

A boyfriend unsuccessfully copes with his girlfriend's passing and resurrection during a zombie outbreak in Life After Beth (2014). Written and directed by Jeff Baena, this comedy-horror manages to be neither terrifying nor funny. Life After Beth has its moments, but its poorly thought out horror elements interrupt and undermine what could have otherwise been an interesting exploration of love, loss, and regret, and the importance of letting go.

Young Zach Orfman (Dane DeHaan) is devastated when his girlfriend, Beth Slocum (Aubrey Plaza), dies from a snakebite. His parents, Noah (Paul Reiser) and Judy (Cheryl Hines), urge him to move on. Zach becomes suspicious to the point of paranoia when Beth's parents, Maury (John C. Reilly) and Geenie (Molly Shannon), abruptly stop speaking with him and cloister themselves in their home.

Things get complicated when Zach discovers Beth has returned from the dead. Her parents consider it a miracle, but Zach just can't accept the new status quo. Beth's strange behavior, as well as the appearance of other long-dead people from his past, has him asking questions. His testosterone-fueled brother, Kyle (Matthew Gray Gubler), springs into action as the zombie apocalypse unfolds. Can Zach discover a cure for the zombie outbreak and save his lost love?

An interesting premise and talented cast weren't enough to save Life After Beth from lousy writing and direction. I understand Zach's struggle with loss and letting go of his girlfriend is the film's central conflict, but that doesn't give the horror elements a pass. World building is important in any zombie film. Why are the dead coming back to life? What do they want? Is there a cure? How can they be stopped? None of these questions are answered in its 89-minute runtime.

Beth's parents urge Zach to accept the miracle and not worry about why Beth has returned from the dead (perhaps as a message for the audience). But Zach rejects their advice and looks for an explanation. His efforts ultimately lead to a dead end. The zombies' strange behavior, like nesting in attics and being soothed by elevator music, likewise go unexplained. Why include these elements at all if they serve no purpose? I found myself more frustrated than entertained.

Casting was a mixed bag as well. Aubrey Plaza is perfect for this type of role. Dane DeHaan was actually sympathetic and relatable and not as creepy or reptilian as he was in Valerian and The City of a Thousand Planets or A Cure for Wellness. Once again, Molly Shannon and John C. Reilly play awkward adults in a Jeff Baena film. It didn't work in The Little Hours and it doesn't work here. Not sure the rationale behind casting top tier comedians in secondary roles that don't play to their strengths.

Life After Beth is comparable to the zombie-romance film Warm Bodies (2013), which was released a year earlier and was better in almost every way. Warm Bodies' exploration of its characters' relationships connected with audiences, while the zombie elements complimented-rather than distracted from-its story. Perhaps Warm Bodies shows what Life After Beth could have been with a larger budget, but its director, Jonathan Levine, had a comparable level of experience with Jeff Baena at the time.

The blame for Life After Beth's failure lands squarely at its writer/director's feet, and I'm surprised any studio green lit another Jeff Baena film after this disaster. Life After Beth made $88,000 on a budget of $2.4 million. Yikes. You might as well flush money down the toilet. This was a rare occurrence when critics and audiences were in agreement, with a 44 percent critic rating and abysmal 30 percent audience rating on RottenTomatoes, proving once again that you need more than a quirky concept and a well-known cast to make a good film.

Written by Tyler Burton Smith and directed by Lars Klevberg, Child's Play (2019) is a remake of the 1988 horror film of the same name. In this version, Chucky is a sabotaged smart-toy who learns violence is cool by watching human behavior. As such, the supernatural elements of the original have been removed. What remains is a contemporary morality play about the dangers of smart technology and our addiction to electronic devices.

Karen Barclay (Aubrey Plaza) is a single mother living in a distressed urban neighborhood with her son, Andy (Gabriel Bateman). Andy's loneliness leads Karen to give him a Buddi doll (voiced by Mark Hamill) for his birthday. Though visibly dysfunctional, the doll (which calls itself Chucky because it has to, I guess?) imprints on Andy and quickly becomes overprotective.

Andy soon meets two other kids in the apartment building, Falyn (Beatrice Kitsos) and Pugg (Ty Consiglio), and the trio play pranks on Karen's jerkish boyfriend, Shane (David Lewis). Detective Mike Norris (Brian Tyree Henry) suspects something is amiss. Can Shane and friends rein in Chucky's violent tendencies before it's too late?

Child's Play is the latest horror-franchise reboot, and it was only a matter of time. In the horror pantheon, I would put Child's Play on a second or third tier behind obvious powerhouses like Halloween, Nightmare on Elm Street, or Friday the 13th. Its premise of a killer doll is just a little too campy, and the original films do play up the humorous element. Still, Child's Play has a reliable fan base.

If you love the Child's Play franchise, you'll probably love this film. It changes some main elements but keeps enough of the original to satisfy fans. I'm not into the slasher subgenre, but I'd say Child's Play (2019) was a competent big-budget horror film. It just doesn't rise to the level of It (2017).

Casting was partly to blame. I'm an Aubrey Plaza fan, but she seemed out of place here. Whether this was a problem with the script, or Plaza being unfamiliar with playing the generic mom role, I can't say. The casting choice definitely left her comedic strengths rotting on the vine. She would make a much more convincing older sister, camp councilor, or babysitter in a different horror film.

Of the three main child actors, Beatrice Kitsos stands out. She performed admirably in her first feature film, giving Falyn a smart, scrappy personality lacking from the other children. Gabriel Bateman's performance as Andy was adequate but a little too milquetoast. His character arc from kid too intimidated to make friends to hedge-saw wielding hero isn't quite believable.

Child's Play (2019) was writer Tyler Burton Smith's first full-length screenplay, and it shows. A perfect example where the script fell short was the scene in which a character is attacked while hanging Christmas lights. It appears to be late summer or early fall (hence ripe watermelons). Why on earth is he hanging Christmas lights? Is there no other reason he'd be on a ladder? It's like Smith just thought that would look cool and wasn't thinking about the obvious incongruity.

This didn't seem to bother audiences, who have reacted mostly favorably. Child's Play (2019) has already grossed around $20 million on a $10 budget, virtually guaranteeing a sequel. I was never a fan of the original film or the franchise, so maybe I missed something, but I did think it was a fun, entertaining horror film with a freshly contemporary message.

A Confederate surgeon invents a battlefield legend to protect a young woman from an intolerant society in Son of a Gun (2019), written and directed by Travis Mills. This indie production reels in its audience with an interesting premise but from the first scene to the last, falls short in nearly every category of filmmaking.

The year is 1863. Union and Confederate armies are locked in deadly combat near Vicksburg, Mississippi. Battlefield surgeon Legrand Capers (Miles Doleac) is pulled away from a wounded soldier to tend to a young woman (Jessica Harthcock) at a nearby farmhouse who was shot in the abdomen by a stray bullet. Months later, he returns to learn the woman is pregnant, yet she insists she's a virgin. The stray bullet, passing through the soldier's scrotum, must have somehow impregnated the woman! At least, that's what an elderly Legrand Capers (Cotton Yancey) tells a group of old-timers at a tavern.

Things get complicated when the film unravels three separate versions of events, with different actors and actresses playing the various roles. Each version leads the audience further away from fantasy and toward the scandalous truth. Finally, as Capers is dying of tuberculosis many years after the war, he is confronted by the family's former slave, Mamie (Nancy Lindsey), who knows what really happened.

Son of a Gun's use of multiple perspectives and multiple casts to tell the story was unique and not as confusing as it sounds. The actor who played middle-aged Capers, William Shannon Williams, was subtly charming and fit the roll well, as did actress Nancy Lindsey. For the most part, the performances were fine. It was the amateurish sound and editing that cheapened every scene.

Son of a Gun is based on a Civil War-era medical legend about a bullet that carries away a soldier's testicle and impregnates a woman living nearby. Mississippi physician Legrand G. Capers, Jr. originally submitted the tall tale to The American Medical Weekly as a joke. It was published in their November 7, 1874 issue. Snopes recounts how the story spread and eventually lost its farcical origins.

This film invents an explanation for why Dr. Capers would circulate such a story. He was, according to writer/director Travis Mills, protecting a young woman from scandal who became pregnant out of wedlock. I enjoyed watching as each story unraveled to uncover just a little bit more of the "truth". Unfortunately, the film's technical flaws overwhelmed any redeeming quality.

I hate to criticize an amateur filmmaker because we all have to start somewhere, but Travis Mills has dozens of short films under his belt. Son of a Gun looks like all the first takes from a better movie. The sound quality is awful. In more capable hands, this film could've been a quirky dramedy in the vein of O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000). Instead, we're left with an unpolished rough cut in desperate need of audio and video editing.

Son of a Gun has high ratings on Amazon and Imdb, but for the life of me, I can't figure out why. Did we watch the same movie? This film had a more entertaining story than another recent indie Civil War movie, Finding Josephine, but at least that film got the basics right. I've seen amateur YouTube channels with higher production value. Send this one back to the editing room and try again.

Written by Matt Bai and Jay Carson, and directed by Jason Reitman, The Front Runner (2018) dramatizes the news media's role in U.S. Senator Gary Hart's 1988 Democratic presidential primary campaign implosion. Filmed like a docudrama, the 113 minute period piece alternates between Hart's campaign and the journalists covering it, to the detriment of both perspectives.

As the film opens, Senator Gary Hart (Hugh Jackman) is riding high off an energetic but ultimately unsuccessful primary campaign for president. Flash forward four years, Hart prepares to make another run for it with his veteran campaign manager, Bill Dixon (J.K. Simmons), and a cornucopia of campaign staff, including body man Billy Shore (Mark O'Brien) and a fictional scheduler named Irene Kelly (Molly Ephraim). Hart tries to maintain a cozy relationship with the press, including with inexperienced Washington Post reporter AJ Parker (Mamoudou Athie).

Things get complicated when Hart attends a party on a yacht called the Monkey Business and reporters at the Miami Herald begin receiving strange phone calls about Hart cheating on his longtime wife, Lee (Vera Farmiga). Frustrated, Hart challenges AJ to "follow him around." Miami Herald reporters Tom Fiedler (Steve Zissis) and Pete Murphy (Bill Burr) take this as an invitation and begin surveilling Hart's apartment, where they see Donna Rice (Sara Paxton) leaving at night. Can Hart extinguish this media firestorm before it's too late?

With a cast of literally dozens of minor characters competing for screen time, your effort to keep track of them all will be as ambitious as the filmmakers' efforts to tell this story from every imaginable angle.

Historically, Gary Warren Hartpence (1936 - ), aka Gary Hart, was a U.S. Senator from Colorado from 1975 to 1987. He ran in the Democratic primary for president in 1984 and again in 1988. Media furor over an alleged affair with a Florida model named Donna Rice led to Hart withdrawing from the race, though he later tried to restart his campaign. To this day, Hart and Rice deny having an affair and Hart and his wife of 61 years remain together. Some commentators point to this scandal as a turning point in the way presidential candidates were covered by the press.

According to the real Bill Dixon, there were never any incriminating photos of Hart kissing Donna Rice, as depicted in the film. The National Enquirer did publish a photo of Rice sitting on Hart's lap while the senator was wearing a "Monkey Business Crew" t-shirt, but nothing as explicitly damning as shown in the film.

By choosing to include these fictional photos, making Hart look guilty, the filmmakers implied members of the media were justified in pursuing Hart. There's even an entire scene in which Washington Post reporters discuss jumping on the story based on the incriminating photos. Yet throughout the film, reporters are cast as sleazy and opportunistic. Should journalists ignore a candidate's personal failings, even in the face of incontrovertible evidence? The Front Runner seems to be saying, 'yes'.

Like The Front Runner, Chappaquiddick (2017) also dramatized a political scandal involving a Democratic senator. In 1969, an inebriated Ted Kennedy drove into a lake, leaving campaign worker Mary Jo Kopechne to drown. That film focused primarily on Kennedy's actions and his efforts to rescue his political career, so there's no confusion over what the story was about. The Front Runner should have followed a similar course and focused on one perspective.

The consensus among critics and viewers seems to be that The Front Runner is boring and lacks depth, though critics favored it more (59% critic rating vs 39% audience rating on RottenTomatoes). In my mind, it looks too much like a documentary and not enough like a feature film. The film spent too much time establishing the hustle and bustle of an active presidential campaign and not enough on the actual plot. At least 20 minutes could be cut without changing anything.

Written and directed by country musician Rory Feek (cowritten by Aaron Carnahan), Finding Josephine (2019) purportedly follows the true story of Josephine Robison, who disguised herself as a man and enlisted in the Confederate Army to find her husband. In many ways it's a typical love story, but the film tackles issues of gender and sexuality during the war, topics usually avoided in this genre.

Finding Josephine is framed by the director's personal story about how love letters he allegedly found in a farmhouse in Tennessee led him to write a song that sparked the love between him and his future wife, who tragically died of cancer. The film was originally supposed to be released in 2016, but the death of his wife postponed it. Feek inter-spliced their personal story with the film, topping it out at 81 minutes.

The year is 1864. Josephine Robison (Alice Coulthard) works on her family farm, while her husband John (Mitch Eakins) is off fighting in the 3rd Tennessee Regiment. Unable to bear her loneliness, she disguises herself as a man and enlists in the Confederate Army, where she hopes to find him. Her journey takes her all the way from the back roads of Tennessee to the trenches around Richmond, Virginia.

Along the way, Josephine falls in with a small group of soldiers, including a gruff old man named Tally Simpson (Boris McGiver), a sadistic sergeant named Sturgill Marks (Jessejames Locorriere), and a boy named Whit (Matthew Alan Brady). Every moment threatens to expose her secret. Can she survive the war-and her fellow soldiers-to be reunited with her lost love?

I give Finding Josephine an 'A' for effort, but a 'D' for history. I liked how the film tackled issues of gender and sexuality. You typically do not see that in Civil War films. Things like camp life, prostitutes, and homosexuality are usually overshadowed by larger-than-life personalities and dramatic battles. BUT...

While there were examples of women who disguised themselves as men to enlist in Civil War armies, the filmmakers obviously knew little about the war or how it was fought. A small group of infantry wouldn't just wander around aimlessly, seemingly detached from any larger unit. I understand the filmmakers didn't have the budget for large units of soldiers, but they could've made them cavalry scouts, or at least provided some explanation for their unusual circumstance.

Likewise for the Union soldier they encounter in the woods. What was he doing out there by himself? And why wouldn't he just surrender when he saw he was outnumbered six-to-one? I found myself being taken out of the narrative again and again because of these silly and improbable situations.

Historically, John Wesley Robison fought in a Confederate artillery unit called Sparkman's Company, Tennessee Light Artillery (Maury Artillery), not the '3rd Tennessee'. John was captured when Vicksburg, Mississippi surrendered in July 1863 and walked home. Neither John's artillery unit nor the real 3rd Regiment, Tennessee Infantry ever fought in Virginia.

According to a blog post written during the filming of Feek's music video, the original letters on which Rory Feek based his song "Josephine" were transcribed in the 1960s by historian Jill Garrett and written about in the year 2000 by Colleen Farrell for the Maury County Historical Society. I couldn't find any evidence Josephine dressed as a man and joined the Confederate Army to find her husband.

Finding Josephine had a lot of potential. There were hundreds of women who dressed like men and joined combat units during the American Civil War. That's a cool story! Unfortunately, the filmmaker chose to ruin it by inserting himself into the story, raising unnecessary questions about the film's origins and authenticity. A completely fictional film with a similar premise would've been much better. Not every period film has to be "inspired by true events."

Written by Michael Werwie and directed by Joe Berlinger, Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile (2019) is based on the memoir The Phantom Prince: My Life with Ted Bundy by Elizabeth Kendall. While ostensibly about Ted Bundy's relationship with his longtime girlfriend, whose call to the police eventually led to his capture, the film focuses too much on Bundy's dark charisma and courtroom antics.

The film opens at a bar in Seattle in 1969, where single mother Elizabeth Kendall (Lily Collins) meets handsome Theodore "Ted" Bundy (Zac Efron) for the first time, and the audience is mercifully spared the usual nods to 1960s counter-culture. Ted gets along well with her daughter, Molly, and seems to embrace the fatherly role. Things turn dark, however, when Ted is arrested at a traffic stop in 1975 and charged with kidnapping Carol Daronch (Grace Victoria Cox).

Though conflicted, and despite the protestations of her best friend, Joanna (Angela Sarafyan), Elizabeth is in denial that Ted could have committed the horrible acts of which he's suspected. She grows increasingly distant as Ted's legal troubles multiply, and he is accused of multiple murders. In prison, Ted rekindles an old flame with Carol Ann Boone (Kaya Scodelario), while trying desperately to keep Elizabeth's affection. Can Elizabeth break this destructive emotional bond and move on with her life?

Cameos include John Malkovich as Judge Edward Cowart and Metallica vocalist and guitarist James Hetfield as Officer Bob Hayward. Unlike previous Bundy films, Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile focuses more on the psychological toll and courtroom drama than the actual murders. It reenacts scenes from real interviews and news broadcasts in docudrama style.

Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile closely follows real events. Theodore Robert Bundy (1946-1989) was an American serial killer who maintained his innocence right up to a few years before his execution in the Florida electric chair. He eventually confessed to killing 30 young women in seven states between 1974 and 1978. His charisma, clean-cut appearance, and escape attempts made him a media sensation.

In a sense, Zac Efron was the perfect actor to play this role. A conventional bro, disarmingly handsome, with a boyish demeanor, Efron basically becomes Ted Bundy. It's easy to see why women trusted him and why he passed under the radar for so long. He simply didn't fit the image of what most people thought a killer looked like. But Efron's performance is also the main problem. It distracts from what this film is supposed to be about.

Although I haven't read Elizabeth Kendall's memoir, I'm guessing she didn't primarily focus on Ted Bundy, his trial, and his bizarre celebrity status. I'm guessing she focused on her own experiences, which is what this film should have done. Instead, Elizabeth's character becomes a melancholic shadow passively observing events.

Like Netflix's recent film The Highwaymen (2019), which chose to tell the story of outlaws Bonnie and Clyde from the perspective of the lawmen who hunted them down, Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile should have told this story entirely from Elizabeth Kendall's perspective. Bundy should have been a specter haunting Elizabeth as she tried to move on with her life.

But the filmmakers couldn't help themselves when it came to giving Zac Efron maximum screen time. What results is a macabre focus on Bundy's attempts to manipulate everyone around him, from his personal life to the courtroom. As a result, critics and audiences have given this film mixed reviews, and I have to agree. The filmmakers just weren't willing to depart from a typical true crime narrative.

Written by Thomas Farrell and David M. Kennedy and directed by Sean McNamara, Field of Lost Shoes (2014) tells the story of cadets from the Virginia Military Institute who fought at the Battle of New Market during the American Civil War. Despite an obviously low budget and inexperienced cast, the film is charming and emotionally engaging; one of the better Civil War films to be released in recent years.

Robert (Nolan Gould) is a freshman cadet, or "Rat", who falls in with a tight group of upperclassmen, including John Wise (Luke Benward), an ex-governor's son, and Moses Ezekiel (Josh Zuckerman), an aspiring sculptor and the first Jewish cadet at VMI. The war forms a backdrop to schoolboy antics like hazing, stealing food from the Institute's enslaved cook, Old Judge (Keith David), and pursuing a romantic interest with the local girls, including Libby Clinedinst (Mary Mouser).

War comes knocking on their doorstep, however, when Union General Ulysses S. Grant (Tom Skerritt) sends Franz Sigel (Werner Daehn) and Captain Henry A. DuPont (David Arquette) with an army to subdue the Shenandoah Valley. Opposing him with a much smaller force is Confederate general and former U.S. vice president John C. Breckinridge (Jason Isaacs).

Breckinridge badly needs reinforcements, and he reluctantly sends for the VMI cadets, who his battle-hardened veterans regard as nothing more than children playing soldier. Will the cadets get there in time, and more importantly, will they prove their worth on the battlefield?

Field of Lost Shoes is based on the true story of cadets from the Virginia Military Institute who fought in the Battle of New Market on May 15, 1864. As depicted in the film, the cadets played a role in winning the battle for the Confederacy. Ten were killed or mortally wounded and 47 wounded. The title "Field of Lost Shoes" comes from the fact that several soldiers lost their shoes in the mud while crossing the battlefield. Moses Ezekiel did become a well-known artist and sculpted the monument to his fellow cadets that stands at the Virginia Military Institute to this day.

Critics hated this film, charging it with rewriting history to whitewash racism, but that's unfair. Not only did Field of Lost Shoes depict the heartbreaking reality of a slave auction and the splitting up of black families, but it shows VMI's cook, "Old Judge" (Keith David), being brutally beaten and falsely imprisoned for stealing food. The film also outright says the war is being fought over slavery, something other Civil War films have been hesitant to do. There's nothing ahistorical about the characters having differing opinions over slavery or acting compassionately towards slaves.

John Wise's father, Virginia Governor Henry A. Wise, exemplified these Southern contradictions. The movie implies Governor Wise was an opponent of slavery, but it's a bit more complicated. He criticized the slave trade as Ambassador to Brazil and described African Americans in humanizing terms. However, he also said slavery was justified "by the natural as well as divine law" and became an ardent secessionist. Later in life, he supported U.S. Grant for president, the very man who trampled Southern aspirations for independence into dust.

Sculptor Moses J. Ezekiel was another man of contradictions. As an adult in Rome, Italy, he kept a Confederate battle flag hanging in his studio. His best known work was the Confederate Memorial in Arlington National Cemetery, which depicts (among other figures) a black body servant in military uniform and a weeping black woman holding a Confederate officer's child. In Field of Lost Shoes, Ezekiel is shown as empathizing with Old Judge, which seems in keeping with his later "lost cause" sentiments.

Overall, Field of Lost Shoes was more compelling and emotionally engaging than larger-budget Civil War films like Free State of Jones (2016). It managed to keep a tight reign on its multitude of characters and events, using them to enhance rather than detract from the main story. We can both condemn a society based on slavery and recognize the courage of the men who fought under its flag. There's a reason the Virginia Military Institute still honors these boy-soldiers to the present day, and this film is a fitting tribute to their memory.

A Neolithic revenge story seeks to explain the mysterious man found frozen in the Alps. Written and directed by Felix Randau, and originally release in Germany in 2017 as Der Mann aus dem Eis, Iceman purports to tell the story of a Copper Age man preserved in the frozen Alps for 5,000 years. Beautiful landscapes and harrowing authenticity help balance what might otherwise be a one-dimensional revenge plot.

Kelab (Jürgen Vogel), Kisis (Susanne Wuest), and their clan are living in the Ötztal Alps around 3000 BC, where Kelab protects a fetish called Tineka. The clan is blessed with the birth of a child, but grieved by the loss of its mother. When Kelab is off hunting in the woods, a trio of raiders attack his village, slaughter its inhabitants, and steal their idol. Filled with a desire for revenge, Kelab rescues the newborn and pursues the raiders.

Along the way, Kelab interacts with other Neolithic people, including an old man, Ditob (Franco Nero), and his daughter Mitar (Violetta Schurawlow), in their sparsely populated valley. Can Kelab survive the harsh elements to exact revenge and take back his sacred Tineka?

Iceman was inspired by Ötzi the Iceman. In 1991, Alpine hikers discovered a mummified body partially frozen in ice. Shockingly, scientists dated its age to somewhere between 3400 and 3100 BC. The adult male was so well preserved that scientists were able to determine precisely what he ate in the days before he died. Most intriguingly, they discovered his cause of death was an arrow impaled in his back, compounded by other injuries.

It's impossible to say for certain who this man was and the larger circumstances leading to his death, but evidence gathered from his corpse informs Iceman in a credible and convincing way. Scientists identified blood from at least four other people on his weapons and clothing, so we know he was involved in a violent struggle. The film is so authentic its characters even speak an early version of Rhaetic, a language related to Etruscan and spoken by pre-Indo Europeans living in that region.

Like Alpha (2018), Iceman has great cinematography, was shot in beautiful and sweeping landscapes, and tries to authentically re-create prehistoric culture. Unlike Alpha, however, Iceman has a realistic story. When one man falls from a sheer cliff, he breaks his back instead of being conveniently saved by ridiculously improbable circumstances.

But for all its good qualities, Iceman left something to be desired. The 1981 French film Quest for Fire, in which the the dialog is also spoken in a prehistoric language, benefited from rich interactions between the characters. In contrast, Iceman was oddly solipsistic. Interactions between characters were kept at a bare minimum. I expected much more, particularly when it came to Kelab and his encounters with other humans. I'm not an anthropologist, but I'm pretty sure we were able to communicate and express emotions other than anger back then.

Iceman was generally praised by critics, but left audiences shrugging their shoulders. It currently has an audience favorability rating of 54% on RottenTomatoes. I probably would've had the same reaction if I didn't love historically authentic films. For me, seeing this primitive man's world come to life more than made up for Iceman's deficiencies.

The story of the men who took down Bonnie and Clyde is recounted in The Highwaymen (2019), written by John Fusco and directed by John Lee Hancock. This bleak Netflix production aims to de-glamorize the infamous outlaw lovers with a more nuanced perspective, but still can't help indulging in a few popular myths.

When Bonnie Parker (Emily Brobst) and Clyde Barrow (Edward Bossert) mastermind a prison farm escape, Lee Simmons (John Carroll Lynch) convinces Texas Governor "Ma" Ferguson (Kathy Bates) to bring ex-Texas Ranger Frank Hamer (Kevin Costner) out of retirement. Hamer agrees, and after purchasing a small arsenal of weapons, he reluctantly teams up with Maney Gault (Woody Harrelson), another ex-Ranger past his prime.

Despite being "too old for this s--t", Hamer and Gault use experience and gut instinct to show up a team of FBI agents utilizing the latest law enforcement techniques, led by Agent Kendale (Jason Davis). After a string of false leads and narrow misses, the elderly lawmen finally gripe, complain, and manipulate their way into locating the outlaw gang. A young deputy named Ted Hinton (Thomas Mann), who grew up with Bonnie Parker, is there to provide dark irony and identify the criminals' bullet-riddled bodies.

Channeling Neo-Westerns like No Country for Old Men (2007) and Wind River (2017), and to some extent the TV series True Detective, The Highwaymen focuses on a life-or-death pursuit through an unforgiving and bleak environment, with characters the modern world has left behind. Unfortunately, and despite its original contribution to the Bonnie and Clyde filmography, it comes across as an unimaginative imitation of these other works.

Historically, Clyde Barrow and his gang were petty criminals who robbed, kidnapped, and murdered their way across several states. By 1934, the gang was allegedly responsible for 13 murders, including nine police officers. History would probably have forgotten them if not for Clyde's lover, Bonnie Parker, a waifish thrill-seeker who accompanied the gang. The story of a good girl gone bad was irresistible to the American press and public, but Bonnie and Clyde's run ended in a hail of bullets when lawmen ambushed their car in rural Louisiana.

Unlike other films about Bonnie and Clyde, The Highwaymen focuses on Frank Hamer and Maney Gault, the ex-lawmen who tracked them down and arranged the ambush. The filmmaker's attention to historical detail is admirable, even including Texas' first female governor, Miriam "Ma" Ferguson. But The Highwaymen falls into the same trap as all the other films by portraying Bonnie Parker as a submachine gun toting cold blooded killer. In really, there's no evidence she ever fired a shot.

If you enjoy dreary, depressing, and monotone films that completely lack creativity, or if you're a fan of classic cars, you'll love The Highwaymen. But seriously, it's a competent film with a great lead cast and a different take on a familiar story. It just fails to do anything interesting with the genre. The filmmakers didn't take any risks.

The Highwaymen was released on Netflix, so there are no box office returns, but it currently has a 53% positive critic rating and 78% audience rating on RottenTomatoes. Overall, I'd put my rating at somewhere between those two numbers.

This made-for-TV drama meanders through the opening salvos of the American Civil War.

Written by Jonas McCord, directed by Gregory Hoblit, and produced by Steven Spielberg, Class of '61 premiered on ABC in April 1993. This confusing drama follows members of the West Point class of 1861 and their families as they head off to join opposing sides of the war. It's notable for an early appearance by Clive Owen, who is the only actor to stand out among the myriad of stock characters.

As the film opens, three friends, Shelby Peyton (Dan Futterman), George Armstrong Custer (Josh Lucas), and Devin O'Neil (Clive Owen), are attending the United States Military Academy at West Point. Tensions are high as Confederate troops fire on Fort Sumter, leaving cadets with divided loyalties. Shelby Peyton, a Virginian, decides to resign and head south to join the Confederacy, despite his engagement to O'Neil's sister, Shannon (Sophie Ward).

Back home in Maryland, Devin O'Neil learns his brother Terry (Christien Anholt) has joined pro-Southern partisans, which upsets his pro-Union Irish family. Things get complicated when O'Neil is unable to secure a commission in the Union Army. He rooms with George Custer in Washington, DC, where he falls in love with Lily Magraw (Laura Linney), who also happens to be a Southern spy.

Things get even more complicated when Shelby Peyton returns to his plantation, where his favorite slave, Lucius (Andre Braugher), has killed two slave catchers in an escape attempt. He is forced to flee northward in the Underground Railroad, leaving his pregnant wife behind to an uncertain future. Will destiny reunite all these characters at the First Battle of Bull Run?

Dozens of characters, several interweaving and marginally related side plots, and constantly changing settings make Class of '61 a baffling and unenjoyable mess. I understand the filmmakers were trying to present all sides of the Civil War, with participants from a variety of backgrounds, but this is difficult to achieve in a 90-minute film. It took productions like Roots (1977) and The Blue and the Gray (1982) six to nine hours to weave such complex and compelling drama.

Though several characters were fictional, with the obvious exception of George Armstrong Custer, Class of '61 does strive for some historical accuracy. In one dramatic scene, Southern students at West Point walk out before graduation after being told they would have to swear a loyalty oath to the Union. In fact, of the 26 cadets set to graduate in 1861 who would later fight for the Confederacy, 17 resigned prior to graduation.

As a historical subject, the American Civil War is a treasure trove of drama, tragedy, and unbelievable stories, but Class of '61 lacks the necessary focus for a compelling drama film. We don't spend enough time with any of the characters to become invested in them. The character played by Clive Owen, this film's strongest actor by far, is given a dead end storyline that eye-rollingly concludes with him running onto the Bull Run battlefield just at the right moment to reunite with his old friends.

On a recent trip to Manassas National Battlefield Park, I watched a short film commissioned by the National Park Service to tell the story of the First and Second Battles of Bull Run. It effectively portrayed the battle while telling the story of individual soldiers and civilians who were caught up in the conflict. That film was far more compelling and emotionally engaging than Class of '61, which didn't even try to get the battle right. What a disappointment.

An ensemble cast of talented comedians isn't enough to save this poorly executed dark comedy lampooning scandalous behavior in the Catholic Church.

This isn't the first time in history the Catholic Church has faced criticism for corruption and sexual impropriety, and The Little Hours (2017), written and directed by Jeff Baena, wants to remind us of that. Inspired by a fourteenth century Italian satire, this film's poor quality and lackluster performances landed dead on arrival, missing an opportunity to successfully reboot a classic tale for contemporary audiences.

At an Italian convent run by Sister Maria (Molly Shannon), three young nuns, Alessandra (Alison Brie), Ginevra (Kate Micucci), and Fernanda (Aubrey Plaza), are bored with their daily monotony and harass the elderly gardener into quitting. Meanwhile, Lord Bruno (Nick Offerman) discovers a servant named Massetto (Dave Franco) is having an affair with his wife. Massetto flees for his life, and runs into Father Tommasso (John C. Reilly), who got drunk and lost the convent's embroidery on his way to the market.

Eager for a friend, Father Tommasso convinces Massetto to return to the convent and work as their new gardener, where he will pretend to be a deaf-mute to avoid being harassed by the sisters. Things get complicated when Alessandra, Ginevra, and Fernanda all scheme for Massetto's affection. Is Fernanda's strange behavior just repressed desire bubbling to the surface, or is something more sinister afoot?

The Little Hours is based on stories from The Decameron (c.1353) by Giovanni Boccaccio, an Italian Renaissance humanist. As English writer Geoffrey Chaucer did for his own country in The Canterbury Tales (c.1400), Decameron satirized life in the Late Medieval Italian states through a series of short stories told by various narrators. The Little Hours takes elements from Day Three, particularly stories one and two.

In the first story, a man pretends to be deaf and mute to gain access to a bevy of young nuns at a convent, but finds their sexual appetites overwhelming. He reveals his ruse and make a deal with the abbess to work out a regular schedule for his "services". In the second story, a king discovers an affair between his queen and a servant, and cuts off a lock of the sleeping servant's hair so he can identify him in the morning. The servant foils the king's plan by sheering a lock from the other servant's heads as well.

The Little Hours cleverly weaves these tales together with subplots about witchcraft and the forbidden love between Father Tommasso and Mother Superior. While the sets and costumes are accurate to the Medieval period, the dialog (which was heavily improvised), is not. The incongruity is more distracting than innovative. There are films that successfully update historic plays and stories with modern slang, but this instance comes across as lazy.

Something definitely misfired about this film. With such a strong cast, The Little Hours should have opened as a top billed comedy, rather than quietly making its way to Netflix. The Little Hours opened in two theaters and made $1.6 million at the box office. While critically praised, audiences gave it a mediocre reception, and it has a 48% audience rating on RottenTomatoes.

In my opinion, The Little Hours wasted the talents of its cast. Veteran comedians like John C. Reilly and Molly Shannon are barely given anything to do. There are no jokes-only a series of awkward and uncomfortable scenes and mumbled dialog. It's like you're watching an amateur film made by all these famous actors and actresses at the beginning of their careers. What could've been comedy of the year is, instead, a forgettable mess.

Though historically inaccurate, this film effectively tackles issues of censorship and the limits of free expression.

Directed by Philip Kaufman, Quills (2000) is based on a play of the same name by Doug Wright. It is a quasi-historical movie about the infamous writer Marquis de Sade and his internment in Charenton asylum in post-revolutionary France. Though not financially successful, its performances, costumes, and sets won praise from critics and audiences alike.

At the Charenton Asylum, the Marquis de Sade (Geoffrey Rush) has been under the care of Abbe Coulmier (Joaquin Phoenix), a liberal clergyman who encourages De Sade to write and produce plays, which are performed by the inmates at the asylum. Unbeknownst to him, De Sade has been sneaking out his manuscripts for publication with the help of laundress Madeleine (Kate Winslet). Scandalized, Emperor Napoleon orders Doctor Royer-Collard (Michael Caine) to take over Charenton and reform its notorious inmate.

A battle of wills ensues between De Sade and Royer-Collard, with Abbe Coulmier and Madeleine caught in the middle. The more Royer-Collard tries to break De Sade, the more defiant and outlandish De Sade becomes. The inmate is determined to expose Royer-Collard's hypocrisy, centered around his marriage to his much younger wife, Simone (Amelia Warner). Can Abbe Coulmier save De Sade's soul (and his own) before it's too late?

Quills is first and foremost an exploration of censorship and free expression. Are De Sade's provocative stories harmless entertainment, or genuinely subversive and dangerous? Is De Sade a raving lunatic, or a martyr to the cause of free speech? It asks the audience to actively engage with the ethical and moral questions played out on screen.

Historically, Donatien Alphonse François, Marquis de Sade (1740-1814) was a French aristocrat imprisoned several times for crimes including blasphemy and sodomy. He became a revolutionary politician and anonymously authored several erotic novels, including Justine, 120 Days of Sodom, and Juliette. He spent his twilight years imprisoned in Charenton Asylum after Napoleon Bonaparte ordered his arrest. At Charenton, under the care of Abbé de Coulmier, de Sade had an affair with a 14-year-old maid, Madeleine LeClerc.

Royer-Collard arrived at Charenton in 1806. In contrast with the film, he did not believe de Sade was insane and petitioned to have him sent to a regular prison. De Sade died of old age in his sleep, his son burnt most of his manuscripts, and his books were banned in France until 1957. In the 1960s, De Sade's writings were recirculated, embraced by postmodern philosophers like Michel Foucault.

Even before its December 2000 release, historians criticized Quills for its historical inaccuracies. According to Neil Schaeffer, author of The Marquis de Sade: A Life (1999), De Sade did most of his controversial writing before the French Revolution and his internment at Charenton. In his later years, he became morbidly obese and was long estranged from his wife. In fact, a female admirer who requested a room at the asylum smuggled out his writing, not the young teenage maid Madeleine.

Despite an Oscar nomination for Geoffrey Rush, Quills was not financially successful. It only made $7 million on a $13.5 million budget in the US. It's not surprising a movie about an eighteenth century French author wasn't a blockbuster, however, it does have a 75% positive critic and 83% audience rating on RottenTomatoes.

On one hand, it's a shame most viewers will come away from this film with a distorted picture of Marquis de Sade's life. On the other, it is an incredibly effective piece of filmmaking that uses historical figures to get its point across. Like Arthur Miller poignantly tackled moral panic in The Crucible, Quills dissects censorship and the limits of free expression. History is merely a vessel to discuss a much larger social issue.

Just four years after Lizzie Borden Took an Ax and the campy TV mini series it spawned, were audiences really clamoring for another Lizzie Borden film?

An uninspiring cast sleepwalks its way through this speculative take on an all-too-familiar story in Lizzie (2018), written by Bryce Kass and directed by Craig William Macneill. The film pits Lizzie Borden and the family's live-in maid, Bridget Sullivan, against her tyrannical father and unsympathetic step mother in what co-producer and lead actress Chloë Sevigny described as an overtly feminist take.

The film opens in the aftermath of Andrew (Jamey Sheridan) and Abby (Fiona Shaw) Borden's murder. An investigator asks their 32-year-old daughter, Lizzie (Chloë Sevigny), whether her father had any enemies. From there, the film rewinds to the family's employment of a 25-year-old Irish maid named Bridget Sullivan (Kristen Stewart). According to the filmmakers, that was the catalyst for the eventual double homicide, and the answer to the investigator's question. There is never a question about Lizzie Borden's involvement in her parent's death. The obvious foil, and rival for Lizzie's inheritance, her uncle John Morse (Denis O'Hare), serves as a flimsy red herring.

Lizzie's central conflict is between Lizzie, Bridget, and her domineering father, who seeks to control all the women living under his roof. While Lizzie's sister, Emma (Kim Dickens), fades into the background, Lizzie and Bridget find themselves in a compromising position, one that leads to her parents' gruesome murder. Sevigny herself characterized this as a literal "smash the patriarchy" moment.

In real life, Andrew and Sarah Borden were found murdered in their Fall River, Massachusetts home on August 4, 1892. Their middle aged daughters, Lizzie and Emma, lived with them, along with their maid, Bridget Sullivan. There had been significant tension in the family leading up to the murders, and Lizzie gave conflicting alibis. Lizzie was arrested and put on trial. After 90 minutes of deliberation, the all-male jury acquitted her. Her trial was a national media sensation, but to this day, there are many competing theories about "whodunnit."

Like most dramatizations of these events, Lizzie both assumes Lizzie Borden was guilty and that she committed the murders with an ax. In reality, the murder weapon was never determined, though the movie does try to explain why the hatchet in question lacked any evidence of being used in the crime. The film also omitted the food poisoning the family suffered, and the extended trip Lizzie and her sister took prior to the murders. Although the house interior looked accurate, the exterior bears little resemblance to its historic counterpart.

There's also no evidence Lizzie was a lesbian or that she was sexually involved with Bridget Sullivan, or that Mr. Borden sexually assaulted Bridget. That allegation came from mystery author Evan Hunter (aka Ed McBain)'s 1984 novel Lizzie, a work of fiction. Contemporary rumors about Lizzie's sexuality were of the kind gossipers leveled at any unmarried, middle-aged person at the time.

Like Lizzie, Lifetime's biopic Lizzie Borden Took an Ax (2014) also weirdly sexualizes her. Both films depict her as a seductress and show her committing the murders in the nude and drinking alcohol. Lizzie Borden was, in real life, an upper class spinster, Sunday school teacher, teetotaler, and member of the Women's Christian Temperance Union.

Their contemporary revision of Lizzie Borden's personality is where the two films part ways. For all its faults, Lizzie Borden Took an Ax at least accurately portrayed Lizzie and her sister Emma's close relationship, while in Lizzie, Emma vanishes for most of the film. Their actual family dynamic was sidelined to make room for a lesbian fantasy, which at this point is such a boring cliche in feminist film.

Lizzie grossed $642,157 at the box office, and currently holds a 65% rating from critics and 56% audience favorability on RottenTomatoes. The filmmakers were obviously hoping controversy and its two leading ladies would carry their film, but even a contractually-obligated effort on the part of Chloë Sevigny and Kristen Stewart couldn't save this dreary rehash of a 126-year-old unsolved murder.

Directed by brothers Jedd and Todd Wider, God Knows Where I Am (2016) tells the story of Linda Bishop, whose tragic life ended quietly in an abandoned New Hampshire farmhouse. This powerful and captivating documentary uses Linda's own words, left behind in a notebook, and interviews with friends, family, and social workers to piece together her last weeks on earth. The result is one of the best documentaries I've ever seen.

The documentary tells the story of Linda Bishop, who in 1999 abandoned her 13-year-old daughter and began wandering, convinced the Chinese mafia, or some other unknown agency, was after her. Her travels even brought her to Ground Zero in New York City after the September 11 terrorist attacks, where she handed out American flags and gave tours. While working at a Chinese restaurant, she briefly met a man named Steve, who she became convinced wanted to marry her. In real life, the man once called a jail to ask them to block her letters.

For years, she checked in and out of psychiatric hospitals. Doctors diagnosed her with schizoaffective disorder and bipolar disorder with psychosis, but she denied there was anything wrong. Finally, in October 2007, Linda was released from New Hampshire Hospital in Concord and squatted in a vacant home, where she survived by eating apples until winter. She then slowly starved to death, writing diligently in a notebook, with neighbors a short distance away.

There were many tragedies about Linda's life, but when the New Hampshire Hospital simply released her into the streets without contacting her closest relatives, that was the beginning of the end. Linda refused to acknowledge her illness, and no one could force help on her. This failure of the mental health system forms the central debate in this film. Was there anything that could've been done differently to save her life?

The filmmakers recount this tragic story through interviews, footage filmed on location at the actual home where she died, and readings from Linda's journal. This narration, provided by actress Lori Singer, is performed with such authenticity you feel like you're hearing Linda's own voice. The narration alone is an incredible part of this documentary, a window into its subject's mind you rarely see.

God Knows Where I Am raises a number of important questions that might not otherwise be in the public consciousness. What obligation does the state have to care for someone who doesn't want help? Where is the line between eccentric beliefs and mental illness? What are the social and personal costs of homelessness?

The only potential problem with this documentary is that it walks a fine line between decency and voyeurism. Nina Metz at the Chicago Tribune wrote that it "is filmed with the kind of care and Pinterest-ready aesthetic that almost - almost - tips into fetish." It lays bare Linda Bishop's last moments to an extent that Linda herself likely never wanted anyone to see. I watched the film with the very uncomfortable sense that I was watching a person's most intimate moment completely uninvited.

God Knows Where I Am is almost universally praised and currently holds a 84% positive rating from critics and 88% audience favorability on RottenTomatoes. This simple but powerful tale takes the deeply personal and turns it into something universal. With every scene crafted to emotionally connect the audience to Linda's story, it is an excellent example of documentary filmmaking done right.

Historic authenticity is cast to the wind in this revisionist costume drama that feels like it was written by a freshman Women's Studies major. Directed by Josie Rourke with a screenplay by Beau Willimon, Mary Queen of Scots (2018) was based on the book Queen of Scots: The True Life of Mary Stuart by John Guy. Like many films released this year, it has strong female leads, a diverse cast, and progressive social messaging, but checking all the right boxes on the SJW playlist wasn't enough to save this film from mediocrity.

The year is 1560, and the young and beautiful Mary Tudor (Saoirse Ronan) returns home, where she is out of place in a dreary Scottish castle. Her half-brother, James, Earl of Moray (James McArdle), has been ruling as regent, alongside a bevy of colorless and perpetually-angry Protestant men. Her appearance in Scotland alarms her cousin, Queen Elizabeth I of England (Margot Robbie). Elizabeth, a Protestant, is not seen as a legitimate ruler by her Catholic subjects. She seeks to gain influence over Mary by arranging a marriage with Elizabeth's own lover, Robert Dudley (Joe Alwyn).

Instead, Mary marries the charming and charismatic Lord Henry Darnley (Jack Lowden), who pulls a Jeckyll-and-Hyde routine and becomes a drunken lecher on their wedding night. Things get complicated for the childless Queen Elizabeth when Mary becomes pregnant, producing an heir for her dynasty and strengthening her claim to the English throne. Can Mary fend off attacks from her domestic critics and convince Elizabeth to acknowledge her as England's rightful ruler?

Mary Queen of Scots couldn't decide whether it wanted to be a film about the rivalry between two queens or a revisionist biopic of its titular character, so it does neither particularly well. This ill-conceived and poorly executed film also missed a chance to let its leading ladies shine. As Queen Elizabeth, the talented Margot Robbie goes to waste as a costumed mannequin who practically disappears for the middle third of the film.

Historically, Mary Stuart was born in 1542, the only legitimate heir to Scottish King James V. She was briefly married to the King of France. After his untimely death in 1560, Mary returned to Scotland and ruled as Mary I of Scotland until 1567, when she was forced to abdicate after her second husband's murder (which her rivals accused her of orchestrating). She fled to England to seek protection from her cousin, Queen Elizabeth I, but many English Catholics considered Mary the legitimate Queen of England, so Elizabeth had her imprisoned and later executed.

There are many anachronisms and inaccuracies throughout Mary Queen of Scots, not the least of which was "colorblind casting" that falsely portrays 16th-Century England and Scotland's aristocracy as racially diverse. Mary's Scottish accent was also out of place (she grew up in France), as was her friendship with Italian courtier David Rizzio/Riccio. Most historians acknowledge Mary was probably having an affair with the man, which infuriated her Second Husband. Rizzio might have been bisexual, but he wasn't "one of the girls," as the film portrays.

Though ostensibly based on a book, this film can be considered a remake of the 1971 film by the same name. Mary, Queen of Scots (1971) was directed by Charles Jarrott and starred Vanessa Redgrave and Glenda Jackson. Like the 2018 film, the 1971 version featured a fictional meeting between the two queens and speculated that Lord Darnley and the musician David Riccio were lovers. The two films part ways, however, when it came to Mary's imprisonment. The 1971 version devotes more screen time to her 19 years in English captivity, while this version fast-forwards through it.

Mary Queen of Scots opened to mixed reviews and currently holds a 63% positive rating from critics and 44% audience favorability on RottenTomatoes. Its opening weekend took in a painful $194,777 on a $25 million budget. A successful film gets the audience invested in the story. Mary Queen of Scots ultimately failed to connect with audiences because it was more concerned with pushing the filmmaker's social perspective than making us care about who gains the English throne.

An all-star cast weaves a sixteenth-century soap opera in this colorful attempt to breathe new life into a familiar story. Written by Peter Morgan and directed by Justin Chadwick, The Other Boleyn Girl (2008) was based on a novel of the same name by Philippa Gregory. Billed as a scandalous portrayal of King Henry VIII's courtship and eventual marriage to Anne Boleyn, this film seems quaint by today's standards. Its release was timed to capitalize on Showtime's The Tudors (2007-2010), but lacked that show's outstanding performances.

The film opens in Tudor England during the reign of King Henry VIII (Eric Bana). Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk (David Morrissey) and his brother-in-law Thomas Boleyn (Mark Rylance) learn the King is unhappy with his wife, Katherine of Aragon (Ana Torrent), who has not yet produced a male heir. They sense an opportunity to advance their social standing by installing one of Boleyn's daughters as the King's mistress. His daughter Mary (Scarlett Johansson) has already wed William Carey (Benedict Cumberbatch), so they turn to Anne (Natalie Portman).

Over the objections of his wife, Elizabeth Boleyn (Kristin Scott Thomas), Thomas invites the King to his estate to introduce him to Anne. Things get complicated when the King is injured in a hunting accident and he falls in love with Mary when she tends to his injury. Mary becomes the King's mistress, and Anne is exiled to France for trying to marry an earl without the King's knowledge.

Anne returns from France a transformed woman, and despite Mary giving birth to a baby boy, she sets her sights on winning the King's affection and becoming Queen. It's an all-too-familiar story, which ends in an all-too-familiar way. Unfortunately, the filmmakers chose to continue the story past its logical conclusion, when Anne wins the rivalry with Mary for the King's affection.

King Henry VIII ruled England from 1509 to 1547. He is known for severing the Church of England from the Roman Catholic Church, and for having six wives, two of whom he had executed. Mary Boleyn was the King's mistress for a time, and is rumored to have bore two of his illegitimate children. She was married twice, the second time to a common soldier, and died estranged from her family.

Anne Boleyn became Queen of England in 1533, however, her failure to produce a male heir led to her execution for treason and other trumped-up charges three years later. Henry and Anne's daughter, Elizabeth, became one of England's most renowned queens, who reigned for over 44 years.

The Other Boleyn Girl follows the general outline of history but changes many details. King Henry VIII met both Mary and Anne Boleyn at court, not at their father's estate. Henry had been present at Mary's wedding. Mary was not an innocent maiden when they met, having already had an affair with the King of France, among others in the French court. In contrast, Anne was well-educated, intelligent, gracious, and politically astute, a far cry from the brash and boorish depiction in this film. The Tudors also unfairly portrayed Anne this way.

Compared with The Tudors, the acting in The Other Boleyn Girl leaves much to be desired. Natalie Dormer played a much more convincing seductress than Natalie Portman. She oozed sexuality, confidence, and energy. Jonathan Rhys Meyers' portrayal of King Henry VIII makes Eric Bana's seem flaccid by comparison. Of course, The Tudors had more time to develop their relationship and keep building the suspense. That's why The Other Boleyn Girl should have ended when Anne became queen and devoted more time to the rivalry with her sister.

The Other Boleyn Girl is the kind of romantic costume drama that critics generally dislike but that appeals to a certain audience (the word "soap opera" comes to mind). It currently holds a 42% positive rating from critics and 62% audience favorability on RottenTomatoes. The film was commercially lukewarm as well, grossing $26.8 million on a $35 million budget. The filmmakers should have focused on what unique elements they brought to the story, rather than waste screen time rehashing what audiences have seen before.

A talented cast delivers a boilerplate recitation of horrific events in this movie of the week focusing on the 1965 Sylvia Likens case. Written and directed by Tommy O'Haver, An American Crime (2007) was based on a case of horrific abuse inflicted on a teenage girl at the hands of Gertrude Baniszewski in her Indiana home during the 1960s. Though released on Showtime and given an R rating by the MPAA, and despite a talented cast, An American Crime never rose above the level of a made-for-TV drama.

Sylvia (Ellen Page) and Jenny (Hayley McFarland) Likens are daughters of carney folk who must go on the road. They leave Sylvia and Jenny in the care of Gertrude Baniszewski (Catherine Keener), a single mother with six children of her own. Baniszewski agrees to care for the girls for $20 a week. She becomes abusive when the payment arrives late, but by then the girls have nowhere to turn. Their attempt to contact their parents backfires when Gertrude finds out and punishes them further.

The abuse escalates when Gertrude's eldest daughter, Paula (Ari Graynor), becomes pregnant and Sylvia tells the man with whom Paula's been having an affair, to shield her from his abuse. Paula complains that Sylvia is spreading rumors about her, and Gertrude beats and locks Sylvia in the basement as punishment. In the basement, Gertrude invites her own children to participate in Sylvia's torture. Can Sylvia and Jenny escape before it's too late?

When faced with a crime of this magnitude, it's natural to ask why it happened. What kind of person would do such a thing, and why? Why were the children complicit in the abuse, and what does this say about the nature of evil? Like many true crime dramas, An American Crime takes viewers through a succession of events without getting inside the minds of its characters to address these deeper questions.

In 1965, 16-year-old Sylvia Marie Likens' father paid Gertrude Baniszewski, a woman he barely knew, to look after Sylvia and her sister, Jenny, in Indianapolis, Indiana. Baniszewski's horrific abuse of Sylvia accelerated over several weeks. Soon neighborhood children joined in, even paying to abuse and humiliate her. Sylvia eventually died of a brain hemorrhage, shock, and malnutrition. Paula Baniszewski and four teenagers were charged in what was described as "the most terrible crime ever committed in the state of Indiana."

An American Crime generally follows these true events while taking some artistic license. Without going into gruesome detail in this review, the film omitted some of the worst physical and sexual abuse Sylvia suffered, including being made to eat feces. Gertrude's eldest daughter, Paula, was portrayed as unwittingly involved, but in reality she took an active role in Sylvia's torture. These changes served to weaken the film's overall impact.

In contrast, The Girl Next Door (2007) pulls no punches with its sickening portrayal. Released on Starz a year earlier than An American Crime (which premiered at Sundance in 2007 but didn't air until 2008), The Girl Next Door is a fictionalized account of the case but features a much less sanitized portrayal of the abuse. It ends with the girl's abuser getting what she deserved, though in real life Gertrude Baniszewski served time in prison and was paroled in 1985. The Girl Next Door had generally positive ratings from viewers and critics alike.

An American Crime, however, was widely panned by critics, but generally praised by viewers. It currently holds a 29% rating from critics and 75% audience favorability on RottenTomatoes. Though accused by some critics as being akin to "torture porn," it actually omitted much of the abuse Sylvia suffered. There are ways the film could have delivered a more poignant portrayal without being exploitative. Unfortunately, An American Crime suffered from lack of creativity, despite an admirable effort from the cast.

The beautiful cinematography and wonderful acting in this over-the-top period piece barely makes up for its historical inaccuracy and a grueling 2-hour run time. Written by Deborah Davis and Tony McNamara and directed by Yorgos Lanthimos, The Favourite is artistically filmed, the acting is wonderful, and cinematography top notch. If you're looking for a realistic account of Queen Anne's 18th Century British court, however, you'll be sorely disappointed. The Favourite chooses to enshrine gossip and rumor as historic fact, while delivering a film that is as tedious as it is tantalizing.

As the film opens, Queen Anne (Olivia Colman) is deciding whether to continue a war with France after an English victory, or sue for peace. Her natural inclination, and that of opposition leader Robert Harley (Nicholas Hoult), is for peace, but her influential friend and Keeper of the Privy Purse Lady Sarah (Rachel Weisz), wife of Lord Marlborough (Mark Gatiss), wants to prosecute the war to the bitter end. During negotiations, a dirty but charming Abigail (Emma Stone) arrives seeking employment in Lady Sarah's household.

Things get complicated when Abigail discovers Queen Anne and Lady Sarah's dirty little secret, and uses it to her advantage to get closer to the Queen. Abigail and Lady Sarah engage in a private war for the Queen's affection, while Robert Harley and Samuel Masham (Joe Alwyn) conspire to use Abigail to get closer to the Queen, wh0 only has time for one friend, I guess. Who will become the Queen's favourite?

Using extreme wide-angles (shot with Panavision lenses) to achieve a sense of expanse even in a small room, the filmmakers capture a delightfully Baroque portrayal of an outlandish and amoral British aristocracy. The acting is top-notch, with Emma Stone giving one of the best performances of her career. Olivia Colman should receive an Oscar nod for her portrayal of Queen Anne. The film, however, could've been improved by cutting at least 20 minutes of silence, screeching violins, and arthouse chapter titles.

Historically, Queen Anne ruled England, Scotland, and Ireland (and then Great Britain) from 1702 to 1714. The film takes place during the War of the Spanish Succession. John Churchill, 1st Duke of Marlborough, the husband of Queen Anne's close friend, Sarah Churchill, Duchess of Marlborough, was commander of Allied forces in that conflict. Marlborough was caught between the two political parties in Britain: the Tories and Whigs. Queen Anne favored the Tories, who wanted peace, but the Whigs had gained considerable power alongside Sarah Churchill, who had the Queen's ear and advocated on their behalf.

Sarah was notoriously headstrong and spoke her mind freely and openly, which began to get on the Queen's nerves. In 1711, Queen Anne dismissed the Duke of Marlborough from service over charges of embezzlement. John and Sarah Churchill went into exile a year later. Sarah's break with the Queen was exacerbated by her rivalry with her younger cousin, Abigail (Hill) Masham. Sarah tried to have Abigail removed from the Queen's household, and when she could not, accused Abigail and the religiously conservative Queen of having a sexual relationship (among a litany of other insults).

The Favourite indulges in sensationalism at the expense of history. It depicts Sarah as a jealous lover carrying on an illicit sexual affair with the Queen and omits Queen Anne's great religious devotion and her marriage to Prince George of Denmark, though he died in 1708. The only evidence of a love affair comes from romantic-sounding (but entirely Platonic) letters and rumors spread by political rivals. Director Yorgos Lanthimos admitted he didn't care whether a real love triangle took place between Queen Anne, Sarah Churchill, and Abigail Masham. "We never really discussed it (the historical accuracy)," he said.

As a story of two rivals competing for the affections of a monarch, The Favourite is similar to The Other Boleyn Girl (2008), directed by Justin Chadwick and starring Natalie Portman, Scarlett Johansson, and Eric Bana. It is about the rivalry between sisters Anne and Mary Boleyn for the affection of King Henry VIII. Sarah Churchill and Abigail Masham were also related (though distantly). It wasn't uncommon at the time for ambitious families to seek employment at a royal court, and becoming a royal mistress could be very advantageous.

Like The Favourite, The Other Boleyn Girl has little regard for historic accuracy, but where The Favourite imagined sexual trysts where there probably were none, The Other Boleyn Girl turns the Boleyn sisters into innocent virgins. In that film, Anne is depicted as a pure and devoted wife when she met King Henry VIII. In reality, she had already been kicked out of the French Court for sleeping around (King Francis called her "my English mare"). You know it's bad when even the French think your sex life is scandalous.

The Favourite currently holds a 94% positive rating from critics and 58% audience favorability on RottenTomatoes. Despite winning a litany of praise and awards, it barely made back its $15 million budget at the box office. Why the discrepancy? This is exactly the type of film critics love, and it will appeal to art house aficionados. There's nothing wrong with that. But while general audiences might snicker at the absurd spectacle, they will feel the clock ticking on every single minute of this two-hour film.

Oliver Stone's two hour lampoon of President George W. Bush failed to leave a lasting legacy. Written by Stanly Weiser and directed by Oliver Stone, W. (2008) was meant as a final middle-finger to the outgoing Bush Administration; an attempt in film to solidify negative public perceptions surrounding President George W. Bush and the Iraq War. But years later, W. looks more like a relic of its time; a forgettable albeit slightly humorous political drama by filmmakers who accidentally made their subject more sympathetic.

W. intercuts between George W. Bush's ne'er-do-well youth and his presidency, particularly the lead up to the Iraq War in 2003. Events surrounding the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks are glaringly absent. How can you make a film about George W. Bush's tenure in the White House without mentioning September 11? Probably because he received the highest recorded presidential approval rating in history after the 9/11 attacks, and the filmmakers didn't want to remind the audience about the tremendous crisis his administration had to face.

The film opens with a young-ish George W. Bush (Josh Brolin) getting hazed in a Yale fraternity. He jumps from job to job, to the great disappointment of his stern father, President George H.W. Bush (James Cromwell), until he meets his future wife, Laura (Elizabeth Banks). With the help of political strategist Karl Rove (Toby Jones), Bush becomes Governor of Texas, and later, President of the United States, where he uses his office to depose Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussein, something his father never achieved.

The filmmakers use real quotes and incidents to portray George W. Bush as a comedic figure, including one incident in which he almost died choking on a pretzel. In hindsight this comes across as mean spirited, since Josh Brolin's Bush is sincere in his religious convictions, appears to genuinely believe Iraq possessed weapons of mass destruction and wanted the public to be on board with the war, and is constantly frustrated by his disapproving father. As National Review's Tom Hoopes pointed out, this had the unintended consequence of making Bush relatable and sympathetic to the audience.

The real George W. Bush was born in Connecticut in 1946 but grew up in Texas. He graduated from Yale University with a Bachelor's in History and later attained an MBA from Harvard Business School. He is a reformed alcoholic and avowed Christian who once got a DUI. He was a Lieutenant in the Texas Air National Guard, Governor of Texas from 1995 to 2000, and 43rd President of the United States from 2000 to 2008. As President, he presided over the Global War on Terror and the invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq. Despite high approval ratings in his first term, he left office deeply unpopular

Though this film selectively recounts events from Bush's life, some of the more surprising scenes are accurate. A drunken Bush really did challenge his father to a fight, and he once crashed his car into a garage after his wife chided him for a lousy speech. He really did choke on a pretzel and land a fighter jet on an aircraft carrier. W. rips dialog from actual statements and speeches, including a liberal dose of Bush's linguistic foibles.

The filmmakers stray into the realm of conspiracy theories, however, when it comes to an alleged relationship as a young man. In the film, Bush drunkenly proposes to a girlfriend in a bar and later his father tells him he'll "take care of the girl." It's never mentioned again. Bush did have a fiance before meeting Laura, but allegations that he got a woman pregnant and arranged for an abortion came from pornographer Larry Flint. Even the National Enquirer couldn't find any evidence for that story.

Before reviewing Vice (2018), a film about Bush's vice president, Dick Cheney, I decided to go back and re-watch this film, to see how the two compare. Vice and W. are similar in their portrayals of their respective protagonists. Both Bush and Cheney overcame alcoholism and directionless youth and rose to political prominence with the help of a faithful wife. Both films use personal moments (including bathroom scenes) to humanize (some would say humiliate) them. Where Vice portrays Cheney as a devoted family man, however, W. focuses on Bush's struggle with his father and omits his daughters entirely.

Vice confronts 9/11 head on, and uses Cheney's response, and his infamous order to shoot down any remaining hijacked aircraft, to illustrate his rise to power. In contrast, W. only briefly mentions this defining moment of the Bush Administration. Where Vice concludes the Iraq War was an overreaction to the 9/11 attacks, W. contends it was an attempt by President Bush to prove he could do something his father could not. Vice simply tackles its subject better, with more authentic performances by its cast. By all accounts, Vice is the superior film.

W. landed with mixed reviews and currently holds a 58% positive rating from critics and 42% audience favorability on RottenTomatoes. It grossed a respectable $29.4 million on a $25 million budget. The problem with W. lies in its cast's subpar performances and its adherence to information and events that were already in the public eye. Do we really need to watch reenactments of scenes that already played out on our televisions and are readily accessible online? W. failed to bring anything new or interesting to the screen.

Vice President Dick Cheney's life is creatively recounted in this bullish political biopic. Written and directed by Adam McKay, Vice (2018) is bolstered by incredible performances by its lead cast, but hindered by strange and often jarring film techniques that pull your attention away from the drama. Both Christian Bale and Amy Adams show once again why they are among the best actors of our time by saving what could have otherwise been another mediocre polemic against the Bush Administration.

As the film opens, Dick Cheney (Christian Bale) is a young man struggling to find his place in the world and teetering on the brink of alcoholism. His wife, Lynn (Amy Adams), gives him an ultimatum to clean up his act. Cheney gets a job as an intern in Washington, DC and is fatefully taken under the wing of Congressman Donald Rumsfeld (Steve Carell), who becomes the youngest Secretary of Defense in U.S. history under President Gerald Ford. For a time, the two men's fortunes seem to go hand in hand.

After seemingly retiring from politics, Cheney is approached by presidential candidate George W. Bush (Sam Rockwell), to be his running mate. Cheney manipulates the gullible Bush into handing him unprecedented control in the executive branch. He uses his influence to fill various White House positions with loyalists, and virtually runs the administration from behind the scenes, when he's not recovering from numerous heart attacks. There he pushes "unitary executive theory," which seeks to hand greater control to the President, and by extension, himself.

Vice interweaves these political machinations with Cheney's personal struggles. At home, he tries to juggle his deep love for his two daughters, Mary (Alison Pill) and Liz (Lily Rabe), while shielding them from the public eye. When Liz decides to enter politics, Cheney must decide between supporting her (and her position against same-sex marriage) and his longtime support for Mary, who is a lesbian. This more intimate look at Dick Cheney's life almost translates into a sympathetic portrayal. At least, his motivations are more relatable.

Born Richard Bruce Cheney, the historical 'Dick' was raised in Nebraska and Wyoming. He failed out of Yale but graduated with a Master's in Political Science from the University of Wyoming. He was White House Chief of Staff for President Gerald Ford, a U.S. Representative from Wyoming for ten years, Secretary of Defense under President George H.W. Bush, and then Vice President under Bush's son, President George W. Bush. He was also CEO of an oil company called Halliburton from 1995 to 2000. Though he's been called the most powerful Vice President in U.S. history, his cantankerous personality and uncompromising support for unpopular policies tarnished his legacy.

Filmmaker Adam McKay cherry-picked scenes from Cheney's life to construct his narrative, and he imagined personal moments not even Cheney himself has spoken about, but McKay acknowledged these limitations. In one scene, Cheney and his wife speak Shakespearean dialogue in bed, because there's no way to really know what they talked about in those moments. It's hard to condemn him for that. However, I've written about McKay's bizarre implication that Lynn Cheney's dad had something to do with her mother's death, and that kind of creative license is a lot less justifiable. Watch Vice with a grain of salt.

It would be difficult not to compare this film with Oliver Stone's W. (2008) a similar biopic, albeit of President George W. Bush. In W., Vice President Dick Cheney is portrayed less convincingly by Richard Dreyfuss. As a supporting role, Chaney fades into the background and in one particular scene is put in his place by President Bush,who tells him not to be so vocal at meetings. Cheney's history and close relationship with Donald Rumsfeld is barely mentioned.

In his defining moment, however, Oliver Stone's Cheney becomes a cartoonish supervillain as he lays out his vision for an American empire in the Middle East. Cheney's motivations in Vice are much more visceral. You feel his compulsion to defeat America's enemies by any means necessary, even if the threats loom larger in his mind than in reality. Vice's Cheney would have W.'s for lunch.

Vice currently holds a 64% positive rating from critics and 57% audience favorability on RottenTomatoes. Despite generally positive reviews, it grossed $9.9 million in its opening weekend on a $60 million budget. Ouch. Maybe Vice isn't the masterpiece it pretends to be but Brian Tallerico was too harsh when he wrote: "For people even remotely engaged in the national political landscape for the last two decades, 'Vice' offers nothing new to consider." This film offers a rare glimpse behind the curtain at a vice president who wielded tremendous influence almost completely out of the public eye. It's worth the price of admission.

When 90-year-old Earl Stone loses everything he loves, can he use ill-gotten gains to win it back before the DEA, or the cartel, takes him down?

Written by Nick Schenk and directed by and starring Clint Eastwood, The Mule (2018) was inspired by a New York Times article "The Sinaloa Cartel's 90-Year Old Drug Mule" by Sam Dolnick. The Mule uses true events to frame a much more compelling story. Bucking the current trend of emotionally monochrome dramas, this film is a rich tapestry of triumph and tragedy, humor and sadness, and guilt and forgiveness.

Earl Stone (Clint Eastwood) is a successful horticulturalist in Peoria, Illinois but neglectful of his family. He finds himself estranged from his wife Mary (Dianne Wiest) and daughter Iris (Alison Eastwood), but is still admired by his granddaughter Ginny (Taissa Farmiga). Mary and he divorce, and after failing to embrace the digital age, Stone's business falls on hard times. He takes a mysterious offer to deliver a package from Mexico to Chicago. With his newfound income, he rebuilds the local VFW after a fire and helps pay for his granddaughter's cosmetology tuition. Meanwhile, he frustrates his cartel handler, Julio (Ignacio Serricchio) with his unpredictable behavior.

Things get complicated when DEA agent Colin Bates (Bradley Cooper) and his partner Trevino (Michael Peña) flip a cartel employee and he tips them off about a successful drug mule known as "Tata", or grandfather. The unassuming elderly white man with a clean record was able to slip under law enforcement's radar. At 90 years of age and with the DEA on his tail, Earl Stone is running out of time to reverse his fortunes and reconcile with his family.

The Mule is loosely based on the life of Leo Sharp, a WW2 veteran and Detroit-based horticulturalist and daylily farmer who began working as a drug mule for the Sinaloa cartel after his business fell on hard times. His life of crime made him a millionaire. Sharp was finally caught in 2011 at the age of 87, pled guilty to drug conspiracy, and served one year in prison before being let out due to his declining health. He died in December 2016.

Most of the events depicting Earl Stone's family life were not based on his historic counterpart. Sharp had a wife and three children, and was still married when he died. The filmmakers changed the years in which the events took place, and changed Sharp's home state from Michigan to Illinois. These changes, particularly when it comes to the main character's personal life, substantially improved the story and added much-needed depth, drama, and substance. The filmmakers didn't set out to tell Leo Sharp's story; they used it as a springboard to tell their own.

It's difficult not to compare The Mule with Clint Eastwood's 2008 film Gran Torino. We don't see many elderly protagonists on screen anymore, and Eastwood seems to have carved a new niche for himself late in his career. Like the character of Walt Kowalski, Leo Sharp is an emotionally reserved and politically-incorrect elderly white man having a difficult time adjusting to the modern world. Both are Korean War veterans, and both experience the loss of a spouse.

While Kowalski sacrifices himself to remove a threat to his community, Sharp embraces a life of crime to improve his financial situation and help others in need. Sharp is no hero, but he learns the importance of placing family before his own ambition, finds forgiveness, and rekindles his relationship with his family. The Mule's message is deeply personal, and therefore is the more emotionally impactful of the two films.

The Mule opened to mostly favorable reviews from critics and audiences alike. Cynical viewers might dismiss parts of this film as overly sentimental, but you'd have to have a heart of stone not to be moved by some aspect of the story. It has a 60% rating from critics and 72% audience favorability on RottenTomatoes, and pulled in $17.5 million in its opening weekend (finishing second at the box office). With what might be his last film, 88-year-old Clint Eastwood cements his place as one of the greatest actors and directors of our time.

A strong-willed teenage girl, half witch and half mortal, must choose between the world of magic and the ordinary in Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (2018 - ), the latest adaptation of the Archie Comics series Sabrina the Teenage Witch. Written and developed by Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa, the series embraces a much darker tone than previous incarnations. Its incredible style, intense visual effects and action, and talented cast keep its social justice subtext from becoming too annoying.

As Halloween and her sixteenth birthday approaches, Sabrina Spellman (Kiernan Shipka) is torn between loyalty to her high school friends, Rosalind "Roz" Walker (Jaz Sinclair) and Susie Putnam (Lachlan Watson), and her boyfriend Harvey Kinkle (Ross Lynch), and loyalty to her family and the Church of Night. Sabrina's aunts, Hilda (Lucy Davis) and Zelda (Miranda Otto), raised her after her parent's died in a plane crash, and desperately want her to continue the family tradition, undergo the Dark Baptism, and sign her name in the Devil's book.

Sabrina's misgivings grow as she battles her patriarchal high school principal, Mr. Hawthorne, and a trio of witches called the Weird Sisters, who believe a half-breed like Sabrina shouldn't be allowed to attend the Academy of the Unseen Arts. Father Faustus Blackwood (Richard Coyle), High Priest of the Church of Night and Dean of the Academy of the Unseen Arts, assures Sabrina their religion is about free will, but it seems the Dark Lord has other plans.

Chilling Adventures of Sabrina was filmed in Vancouver, British Columbia, which seems like a fitting choice. It's almost always raining and dreary. The cinematography is great, with a chilling play of light and color, especially in interior scenes. My only gripe is that it's often filmed with a very shallow depth of field, making it look like someone smeared grease around the lens.

Of course, no show is complete these days without some kind of "woke" politics. Sabrina and her friends form a group cleverly titled WICCA (get it?): Women's Intersectional Culture and Creative Association, after she casts a spell on Principal Hawthorne, terrorizing him with spiders and making him absent from work so the assistant principal can approve the club. They do this to protect a transgender friend from jock bullies.

After enlisting the Weird Sisters' help to punish the jocks, their leader tells Sabrina the Dark Lord wants them to have freedom or power, but not both. "Why?" Sabrina asks. "Well, he is a man after all," she replies. Oh brother. Can my eyes roll any harder? These nods to the SJW crowd are about as subtle as Michelle Wolf at the White House Correspondents Dinner.

That Sabrina has a loving and devoted boyfriend seems like a quaint throwback, a relic of earlier Sabrina incarnations. The show itself is a weird amalgamation of ideas and time periods. Sabrina the comic book is set during the 1960s, and the Netflix series features card catalogs, transistor radios, and rotary phones, but its music and pop culture references are decidedly more contemporary. Witchcraft in the series is also part traditional lore and part revisionist Wicca. It certainly is unique and surprising.

Chilling Adventures of Sabrina was originally supposed to air on the CW, but went straight to Netflix instead, where it has won many accolades. It currently has a critic rating of 88 percent and audience approval rating of 82 percent on RottenTomatoes. The show's film-quality effects and cinematography set it far apart from its competitors, and it makes Sabrina The Teenage Witch (1996-2003) look like it was filmed in someone's garage. If Chilling Adventures of Sabrina is any indication, the future of supernatural television is dark indeed.