Tag: USA

They Will Kill You

  By

★★★
“Ready or Not 3.”

There’s no denying that this is considerably weakened by coming in the wake of Ready or Not 2. There’s just too much similarity for it to be otherwise. A woman having to fight her way through a bunch of Satanists, in order to save her kid sister? Yeah, there’s a strong sense of deja vu, in its most literal meaning. Yet it would be unfair to write this off as some kind of mockbuster. While the “elevator pitch” may be similar, the details and the approach taken are different. This skews considerably more towards the horror elements. Many reviews cite Sam Raimi and Quentin Tarantino as influences, and that’s not wrong. To the point I might have used fewer homages, to be honest. 

The heroine is Asia Reaves (Beetz), who is jailed after trying to protect her sister, Maria (Myha’la) from their abusive father. Ten years later, she gets out of prison, and seeks to be reunited with Maria. The trail leads to The Virgil,  a massive apartment building. Asia gets a job there as a maid, using an assumed identity, under the oversight of building supervisor Lilith Woodhouse (Arquette). It turns out, the building is home to a cult of Satan worshippers, who trade human sacrifices for immortality. But after a decade in the penal system, Asia has the skills to defend herself, and won’t let anyone – or anything – get in the way of her mission to rescue her sister.

Save Kill Bill, I’m not a huge fan of Tarantino. It appears Sokolov is, going by the number of jarring needle-drops and, to be honest, shots of women’s feet. There are points where the style seems to be more important than the substance. However, there are some excellent sequences as well. The use by Asia of a fiery axe is top-tier carnage, and the near-unlimited ability of her opponents to take damage leads to some spectacular gore. They may be immortal: they still spray blood like enthusiastic geysers. When one has her head reduced to the consistency of porridge, one eyeball continues to operate on its own, independent basis.

I do think the immortality thing is a double-edged sword. It robs the fights of much impact, because decapitation is barely an inconvenience. Naturally, there is a solution, and I figured it out, more or less, as soon as it was mentioned. Beetz makes a fierce and unstoppable heroine, no mistake about it. You will also see things you have not witnessed before, especially during a thoroughly unhinged ending. It consequently makes Ready or Not 2 seem positively down to earth and realistic, so the stabs – word chosen advisedly – at social commentary consequently feel misplaced, even more than usual. I note Sokolov’s previous (non-GWG) film was called Why Don’t You Just Die! I’ve a feeling there may be a theme running through his work. Suspect I will still end up checking it out, hoping for the pure and undiluted carnage I didn’t quite get here.

Dir: Kirill Sokolov
Star: Zazie Beetz, Patricia Arquette, Myha’la, Tom Felton

Ready or Not 2: Here I Come

  By

★★★★
“Let the games begi… uh, continue!”

Despite a slightly clunky title, I enjoyed this a little more than the original. It helps that there’s no need for build-up or explanations. We join things immediately after the end of part one, with Grace MacCaullay (Weaving) staggering outside the mansion where she battled and beat the Le Domas family. Understandably, she ends up in hospital and handcuffs, where her sister Faith (Newton) shows up. But it turns out the Le Domas family were just one part – albeit the head – of a larger, Satanic organization, the Council. The remaining families now need to determine a successor. Whoever kills Grace gets to take over, so the siblings are quickly abducted and taken to the Council’s country club complex.

Grace refuses to take part, but using Faith as leverage, they compel her participation. The siblings must battle for survival and, again, try to survive to dawn against a litany of more or less competent adversaries. This was one my main criticisms about part one: the Le Domas members were so inept as to be no threat. While, in some ways, this is true again here, the film does at least lean into the humourous possibilities. The peak is likely reached when Grace has to face off against Francesca, her late husband’s ex. There’s some rocket launcher incompetence, followed by some pepper sprayage, which leaves the two adversaries thrashing about like blind squid, while an 80’s classic tune plays. It’s awesome. 

There is a bit of a lull thereafter, because Faith is again used against her sister. This compels Grace, once more, to don bridal attire, as a means of avoiding further bloodshed. Well, “postponing” might be closer to the truth. The ceremony goes off about as well as a typical wedding held by a professional wrestling federation – though with considerably more blood than even the most hardcore fed. It’s all a lot of fun, with the Council families providing a slew of fun characters, in addition to its lawyer (Wood). It provides an interesting contrast in family dynamics between the MacCaullays and the Danforths, represented by Ursula (Sarah-Michelle Gellar – and, yes, there are some potential Buffy references) and her psycho brother, Titus (Hatosy).

I liked the fact that it kept any actual social commentary very much secondary. What makes the Council evil is not particularly race, class or money. It is that they are freakin’ Satanists. The film’s other main strength is Weaving, who cements her position as perhaps the best of the next generation for action heroines. She runs through the whole gamut of emotions here, and it is extremely easy to root for Grace. But let’s be honest, the actress would be forgiven if she had simply worn a “not this shit again” expression for one hundred and ten minutes. While the poor box-office here means it’s unlikely we’ll see a part three, long may Weaving’s shotgun continue to smoke. 

Dir: Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett
Star: Samara Weaving, Kathryn Newton, Shawn Hatosy, Elijah Wood

Asking For It (2021)

  By

★
“Just say no.”

Not to be confused with the other film of the same title, it’s likely significant it took me over three years to cover this, after mentioning it in the earlier review. I suspect I kept seeing the spectacularly bad reviews and finding more enjoyable things to do. That cat-litter box ain’t gonna clean itself, folks. Eventually, though, I bit the bullet, and… Well, by the end, a bullet would have been welcome. For debut director O’Rourke has made a rape-revenge film, without managing either to build on the tropes of the genre, or find anything new to say. It’s the kind of film which could only have come out of the brief period when #MeToo was considered relevant.

It has not aged well. In particular, casting Ezra Miller as a men’s rights activist, because they (to use preferred pronouns, albeit sarcastically) are now spectacularly cancelled. Instead of watching the movie, I recommend instead going down the Wikipedia rabbit-hole for amusement. My favourite sentence: “Miller believed people criticized their relationship with Iron Eyes because she is “an apocalyptic Native American spider goddess” who, along with Miller as Jesus Christ, will bring about an Indigenous revolution.” Alright then. Mind you, those reviews I mentioned suggest the film was poorly received at the time too. I suppose I should discuss it. I’d rather not. Can’t I just continue lobbing snark grenades from afar? [Monty Python voice: Get on with it!]

Joey (Clemons) gets date-raped. Through Regina (Shipp), a regular at the diner where she works, she is introduced to an all-female vigilante group, the Cherry Bombers. Their mission is to make any abusive men pay – naturally, they are the judge, jury and executioners of what constitutes “abuse”. The group’s Public Enemy #1 is Mark Vanderhill (Miller) who, conveniently, is about to stage a major rally for his Men’s First Movement. Oscar Wilde once described fox-hunting as “The unspeakable in full pursuit of the uneatable.” That’s entirely appropriate for this film too. Vanderhill is a pantomime villain, and the Cherry Bombers are an all-you-can-eat buffet of alphabet soup and minority groups, smugly sure of their righteous mission. I’m not sure who I hated more. 

The whole thing feels entirely like a vehicle for O’Rourke to tout his creds as an “ally”. The end credits even include a lengthy statement about native land and its use, for additional right-on points. And yet, O’Rourke was arrested for punching a trans woman in 2022. Awkward. I am equally sure these beliefs in no way qualify him as a movie-maker, and there is precious little indication here of relevant skill. Not in O’Rourke, nor the thirty-six credited producers of various kinds. Bandwagon much? At one point, a movie marquee in the background has screenings listed for Thelma & Louise and Switchblade Sisters. Unless “There’s nothin’ I love more than watching grown men squeal” (an actual line here) is your idea of moral philosophy, those are films for which this is not fit to make a sandwich. 

Dir: Eamon O’Rourke
Star: Kiersey Clemons, Vanessa Hudgens, Alexandra Shipp, Ezra Miller

Razor Days

  By

★★
“Just not sharp enough, I’m afraid.”

This was certainly not what I expected. That, in itself, would not have been a problem – I’m quite used to, and indeed do not mind, films which confound my preconceptions. I respect what this is attempting to do as well, which is a different take on the revenge movie. The problem here is fumbled execution: more on the directorial, writing and technical fronts, though in some of the performances too. Even allowing for the obviously limited resources this had to play with, by the end, it was definitely a struggle to get through, with a lack of narrative thrust in particular, meaning it failed to hold my attention. That’s a bit of a shame. Only a bit, mind you.

There are three central characters here: Anita (Best), Jessamay (Rochon) and Rena (Monahan). Two of them have severe cases of post-traumatic stress disorder, resulting from their kidnapping and savage treatment at the hands of a rural family, the Logans, who may have cannibalistic tendencies. Jessamay, in particular, suffered brutally, losing an eye and being left with a badly-scarred face. Rena, meanwhile, has largely retired from society. But with the reluctant help of Anita, Jessamay tracks her down and convinces Rena to join them as they head to the Logan farm. As Jessamay puts it, “Time to tell God that he can’t fuck with us and not have any repercussions.” But this does not exactly have the healing consequences for which the trio were hoping. 

And that’s the point: revenge is not clean or cathartic. Indeed, part of the message here seems to be that it can end up turning you into the monster too. To quote Friedrich Nietzsche, “Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster… for when you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.” If someone optioned that line and made a movie of it, you’d probably end up with this. Which works for Rochon’s character, because she has the necessary acting chops to pull it off. Despite her reputation as a “scream queen”, she has always been a cut above that in her talent. The others though? Not nearly so much.

Not helping: bad audio, which will either have you leaping for the remote or, in my case, turning it almost all the way down and relying on the subtitles. There are interesting ideas for a revenge film, such as that we don’t see the victims’ ordeal until after the revenge – and even then, it’s through Jessamay’s dreams, an unreliable narrator if ever there were one. Unfortunately, the execution is sloppy and dilutes the points the movie is trying to make. It’s an interesting contrast to the recently reviewed Undercover, where the story was nothing new, but it did it brilliantly. Here, there’s no shortage of innovation, but Watt doesn’t know how to go about getting them off the page and onto the screen. 

Dir: Mike Watt
Star: Amy Lynn Best, Debbie Rochon, Bette Cassatt, Jeff Monahan

Extremities

  By

★★★
“Not so extreme.”

In the mid-eighties, Farrah Fawcett underwent a bit of sharp change in career path. The previous decade had seen her become one of the biggest sex symbols of the seventies, a star in the first season of Charlie’s Angels, and selling millions of posters a year. But here and in 1984’s TV movie The Burning Bed, which addressed the largely taboo topic of domestic abuse, Fawcett’s work took on a pro-feminist tone. While Bed hit screens before this, her connection to Extremities predated it. The concept was originally a stage play, and Fawcett appeared in the original New York production – incidentally, replacing Susan Sarandon (Karen Allen, Ellen Barkin and Helen Mirren have also taken on the lead role). 

She was thus an easy choice for the film adaptation, to a mixed reception. While nominated for a Golden Globe, critics Siskel & Ebert called it one of the worst movies of the year – alongside the brilliance of The Hitcher, so I’m ignoring them. The origins on-stage are fairly obvious. The bulk of this takes place in the house shared by Marjorie (Fawcett), Terry (Scarwid) and Pattie (Woodard). Marjorie is recovering from narrowly escaping a rape attempt. With the attacker wearing a mask, the police are unable to act, and she is now living in fear, knowing her attacker has her wallet, and so knows where she lives. Rightfully so, for when Joe (Russo) shows up on her doorstep, it’s not with good intentions. 

With the help of a convenient can of wasp spray, she is able to turn the tables on her attacker. Joe is knocked out and tied up, while Marjorie prepares her own brand of justice, digging a grave in the garden, in which he will be buried alive. However, the return of first Terry and then Pattie to the house complicate matters, not least because Joe claims he’s the victim, and he and Marjorie knew each other before. Using information he had found in the mail-box, he’s able to spread dissension in the ranks, with Pattie – a social worker, so clearly a do-gooder on the side of the criminal – particularly averse to Marjorie’s plans. We also learn about an incident in Terry’s past, which colours her opinion.

In contrast to other entries like Hard Candy, there’s no doubt as to the antagonist’s guilt, and that certainty makes it a bit less interesting to me. I was impressed with Fawcett’s performance – the switch from victim to relentless avenging angel is sudden, yet does not feel unwarranted. Russo also deserves credit, for playing a compelling slimeball, who is also convincing enough when pleading innocence. The strong leads help counter what feels unnecessarily restrained, compared to other eighties entries in the genre, both in terms of the rape and the revenge: there were points where I wondered if this was a TV movie. The ending would be one such. I guess we discover that the way to a rapist’s heart, involves his crotch, a sharp blade and threats in lieu of actual mutilation.

Dir: Robert M. Young
Star: Farrah Fawcett, James Russo, Diana Scarwid, Alfre Woodard

The Protector

  By

★★½
“Post-apocalypse, talk will still be in abundant supply.”

[Note: not to be confused with Protector] The year is 2042. A plague knows as The Rot has decimated the land, and those who survived it are in a precarious state, with the water supply having almost run out. There is one source left: an underground aquifer which has enough water for a century. Needless to say, its highly coveted, but access to it has been cut off by the native American tribe under whose land it sits, with the road heavily mined by Chief Brand (Greene, in what must have been close to his final role before passing away). Warlord Gael (Aryeh-Or) lets Key (Moreau) out of jail, knowing she has a map through the minefield and can give him control of the aquifer.

But, wait! There’s more! Because another issue facing society is mass infertility, with children almost non-existent since The Rot. Key finds herself acting as guardian to one rare kid, Kellan (Lane) on her journey. Oh, and there’s also a mad pastime called “Dirt-Joust”, which is like jousting, only with hot-rods replacing horses – it appears fuel is not hard to come by – on which the combatants ride on the bonnet. It’s not a career choice with a pension plan, shall we say. To be honest, it’s a shame we didn’t get to see more of this sport, since the scene we do get is kinda rad. But then, doing so would have only been possible by cutting out the many, many scenes of chit-chat. 

That’s the main problem here, I found. The obvious point of comparison is Mad Max, and in its female protagonist, particularly the new iterations of the franchise, such as Fury Road. However, there, the plot was basically there to act as a delivery mechanism for jaw-dropping action scenes. Here, it’s as a vehicle for moral lectures, pontification and general conversation. It feels as if writer-director Gasteazoro did not understand the assignment, or the rules of the sub-genre. It’s a shame, because there are elements here which work. Not the least of which is Moreau, who looks the part of a world-weary heroine who has had it up to here, and carries herself well, on the rare occasions when she is called into action. 

The film also looks pretty nifty. I haven’t been able to find out the budget: it likely wasn’t a huge amount, yet unlike things like Road Wars: Max Fury, it rarely if ever looks cheap. Some wobbly CGI flames are about the worst element on offer. It instead feels like the film is mostly intended to be a vehicle – pun not intended – for Gasteazoro’s liberal views on a variety of topics, from ecology, through the rights of indigenous people, to same-sex marriage. I would venture to suggest that a post-apocalyptic film might not be the best route to change minds and influence people on these subjects. Give me ninety minutes of dirt-jousting instead, and I might be prepared to listen to you. 

Dir: Raul Gasteazoro
Star: Marguerite Moreau, Aryeh-Or, Mark Lane III, Graham Grene

Burner

  By

★★½
“Crime does pay…”

Kiki (Owens) was in a detrimental relationship with drug dealer Axar (Wheatley), until an arrest and subsequent jail time acted as a wake-up call. She cleaned up her act while inside, got out on probation, and has just succeeded in winning back custody of her teenage daughter, Lola Ray (Wylie). However, Axar – who slid out from charges on a technicality involving mishandled evidence – comes crawling out of the woodwork, wanting to resume their relationship, and offering one last score which will set the family up for life. This goes badly and violently wrong (of course!), but Kiki ends up in control of a cryptocurrency wallet containing close to a million dollars. Naturally, that’s not where the story ends. 

Indeed, the early going goes bouncing about in time like a rubber ball, beginning with Kiki being hauled out of a van by a masked man, in the middle of the desert. We then kick back to see the various events which led up to that point, as outlined above. I’m not sure this approach necessarily adds much, beyond offering an immediate hook at the start. It always feels like the use of this gimmick indicates film-makers are unsure about the overall strength of their narrative, having to cherry-pick an incident to lure people in. That is somewhat the case here, with a story that doesn’t have much to offer which wasn’t familiar.

For example, the mother prepared to go to dodgy lengths for her child is rather clichéd, and the supposed twist provided by the reveal at the end, of what actually happened, is nowhere near as much a surprise as the makers think. However, there are enough positives in other elements to make this a tolerable watch. Owens’s performance gives Kiki a commitment which helps paper over the cracks, and there are a couple of excellent supporting actors. Veteran Lew Temple only has one scene, as the detective investigating the shootout, but almost steals the film with his probing interrogation of Kiki. He knows for sure something is up; he just can’t prove it, given Kiki’s stonewalling. Similarly, Jolene Andersen is great in her single scene as very bad cop Stanikov.

However, these moments only highlight the rest of the film, which is nothing special at all. I didn’t feel Kiki was particularly sympathetic, not least because she jumps back in with Axar far too easily for my tastes. Certain subsequent events – part of the reveal – also suggest she’s hardly a good person or a fit mother. Indeed, you could credibly argue she’s worse than Axar, and certainly little worse than Stanikov. Again, this feels like a misstep by the makers, who seem to like their lead character more than they give the viewer reason to do so. Having a kid feels very much a lazy and insufficient excuse for her actions. While it’s understandable, this does leave the film touting a questionable moral, albeit unintentionally.

Dir: Robert Orr
Star: Kacy Owens, James Oliver Wheatley, Akina Wylie, Robert Laenen

Hurry Monday

  By

★★
“Sounds like somebody’s got a case of the Mondays.”

The phrase “blandly competent” comes to mind here. There’s not a great deal to criticize about this, from a technical standpoint. For example, the dialogue is audible, although does vary somewhat in tone, depending on the location. It’s reasonably well-shot, and knows better than to try and go beyond the restrictions of its resources. However, this lack of ambition may be its biggest problem as well, because it’s very intent on colouring strictly within the lines. Smaller-scale films need to push the envelope a bit to stand out, and this instead seems content to go the obvious route at almost every turn. Even the story’s main surprise was not much of one, and provoked little more than a shrug.

The heroine is Nedraphine Ramos (Salgado) – known as Ned by most, for obvious reasons. She and her partner David (Hu), have just pulled off a major jewel robbery in Los Angeles. This netted them ten flawless gems, worth over a million dollars. But the aftermath sees David shot dead, forcing Ned to high-tail it out of California. She heads back to her home town of New York for the first time in years, seeking to fence the loot to a mysterious, little-known individual called the Nubian, before dropping off the grid. She bumps into former high-school sweetheart, former soldier Dale Matthews (Renard). But it quickly becomes clear that someone wants to get their hands on Ned as well as the gems, and will stop at nothing to do so.

I only finished watching the movie a few hours ago, and I’m already struggling to remember many details about this. It does feel in need of both more and better action. There are significant periods which feel more like Ned is driving and/or walking around New York, while listening to a mix tape of slow jams. For example, an extended scene of her driving to a date with Dale, accompanied by one tune, is followed by one of them wandering about together, while another, slightly different song is played. I may have been making “hurry up” gestures at the screen. I could also think of a number of more interesting potential twists: for example, David had faked his own death.

Not sure we ever did discover who was behind the attempted abductions, or what they were trying to achieve with them. There’s only one antagonist, and Ned is looking to arrange a meeting with them anyway, so what was the point? There are fragments where something intriguing does peek through. The notion of a whole, almost John Wick-esque world of thieves and fences, has potential. The best scene might be a simple conversation between Ned and the Nubian – the latter has a calmness about them, which I found highly effective. However, the movie doesn’t appear interested in exploring this in any depth. Not when there’s another song which needs to be levered into proceedings.

Dir: Vaughn Christion
Star: Sofia Salgado, Wesley Renard, Crawford Hazelwood, Owen Hu

Virgin Pockets

  By

★½
“Don’t take this cue.”

In sports films is, actors don’t necessarily have to be able to play the game in question. But they should be able to fake it – if not necessarily at a level capable of fooling professionals, at least to get it past the casual viewer. When it comes to ball and cue games, I am certainly a casual. Unfortunately, the two players are the core of proceedings here do not look like pro players. They look considerably closer to me, down the pub, after a few pints. The major difference is, they at least do not look pleasantly surprised when they knock in a ball. But when one half of the “sports drama” equation is unconvincing, it puts a lot of weight on the other.

It fares at least somewhat better there. This is the story of veteran pool hustler, Lizzie Monroe (Madison), who avoids the bright lights of the pro tour circuit. Instead, she hustles players in various bars and other establishments, with the help of manager ‘Grace’ Scott (Krukowski), because “That’s where the real money is.” Admittedly, there’s no particular indication of this being true here, with the money changing hands not exactly life-changing. Anyway, Lizzie meets Jordan ‘J.J.’ Jamison (Grace), a younger and rawer player who uses her sex appeal to help her win, albeit with penny ante rewards. An unimpressed Monroe hustles the hustler, but is eventually convinced to become a mentor to J.J, and show her the proper way to play.

If you’ve seen any films from this genre, you can probably figure out how this is going to go. Eventually, there will be dissension in the ranks, J.J. will go her own way, and the mistress will end up facing off against her student. Give yourself two points, since that’s exactly what happens. To get there, however, you have to sit through an awful lot of pool montages, accompanied by music from mediocre punk(ish) bands – presumably friends of the director, likely sourced from the local scene in Erie, Pennsylvania where this was made. It’s filmed almost glamour style: with many shots of our leads’ cleavages and butts leaning over the pool table. Can’t say I minded, and yet…

Because, cheesecake aside, the pool is probably the least entertaining thing about this. You never get to see much apart from random shots, so there’s absolutely no sense of ebb and flow or contest progression. Rather than the humdrum mechanics of playing the game, what I did find interesting was the psychology of hustling, and the strategy of how you can lure someone in, to take all their money. The best sports films transcend the game they’re about, to tell a story which can resonate, even if you aren’t a fan. Only occasionally does this spend long enough away from the table to be capable of simply engaging the viewer. And inevitably, a few minutes later, you’re back to enduring another montage of unconvincing players making simple shots. 

Dir: Paul Gorman
Star: Marie Madison, Chexy Grace, Jeremy Krukowski, Shannon Solo

Pretty Lethal

  By

★★★
“Nutcrackers Sweet”

To be fair, this was actually announced back in February 2023. Though that was still after Ballerina had wrapped its original shoot. At the time, the title was Ballerina Overdrive, with the cast including Lena Headey, in the role subsequently played by Thurman. Now, it comes out feeling more than a bit as if it is trailing in the wake of Ballerina. Coming out on Amazon Prime rather than theatrically doesn’t help its prestige. While nobody is going to call this great, and it’ll be forgotten as quickly as most other streaming originals, it does at least deliver on the premise. These are actual ass-kicking ballerinas, and their artistic talents are an intrinsic component of their fighting styles.

A Los Angeles ballet troupe of five young dancers, including the working-class Zoe (Apatow) and her appropriately named nemesis, Princess (Condor), are on their way to Budapest for a performance. The bus from the airport breaks down, and they end up in the Teremok Inn, an establishment run by Devora Kasimer (Thurman). When the troupe’s instructor finds out Devora is not exactly just a boutique hotelier, and then spurns the advances of local mobster Pasha Marcovic (Sipos), it does not go well for her. The ballerinas are suddenly witnesses, and therefore very much surplus to requirements. That’s the plot, more or less. Oh, there are slight wrinkles. Devora turns out to be a former ballerina herself. But it’s mostly run, hide and fight.

This is all adequately entertaining nonsense. Disbelief obviously needs to be suspended as you watch 90-pound girls beat up men twice their size. At least there is some effort put in to making them, in the main, use their agility and flexibility, rather brute force. There’s some cool stuff with razor blades, embedded into ballet slippers or taped to fingertips, which works well. Though the sequence I enjoyed most was the one where they went full corps de ballet on Pasha’s men. It’s impossible to take seriously, yet is done with so much inventive energy I was left with a big, goofy grin on my face. Shame there wasn’t more. It’s certainly lighter in tone – and likely more entertaining – than director Jewson’s previous GWG entry, Close, with Noomi Rapace.

I actually grew to like the characters more over the course of proceedings. Admittedly, this is because my initial reaction was… not good. Obvious trope followed obvious trope. But by the end, I had even warmed to the obnoxious Princess. She gets a great moment, confronting one of the henchmen, and going on a rant which begins by complaining about the wifi, drifts through reality TV, and ends up in a sad psychic story. Finally, an amusing anecdote. While we were watching this, Chris pipes up, “You know who’d be good as Devora if they remade this? Uma Thurman.” While I certainly couldn’t argue with her there, I did have to break the news, gently, that it already was Uma Thurman.

Dir: Vicky Jewson
Star: Iris Apatow, Lana Condor, Uma Thurman, Tamás Szabó Sipos