Meet Cute In Manhattan (2025)

“While the city never sleeps, it dreams of meet cutes and chance encounters, where coffee spills aren't accidents, but the universe playing matchmaker....”

In Meet Cute in Manhattan, actor Jason (Terence Chen) finds himself in the middle of his own meet cute – when a run-in with an aspiring architect Nora (Kendall Leary) affords an opportunity to audition as a couple in love for a dating app commercial. As the whirlwind of their on screen chemistry goes viral, they are unexpectedly swept into forming a deeper connection, and maybe a happily ever after just like the one they are pretending to share.

Fate, and the idea of it, is very much at the heart of their first encounter – what is coincidental, what is destiny, what is making imagination or one's biggest dreams come true. Their meet cute seems purely coincidental but brings a unique magic that changes everything where they have to decide what they truly want in life. Their inexplicable run-in leads Jason and Nora to pursue what they want in their romantic relationships but also their careers and lifestyles.

It's very clear from the direction by Karen Morey, and co-written between Morey and Chen, they deeply respect this ever-burgeoning and underrated genre, and want to play clear homage to it. The script and production pays diligent attention to the recipe that makes a heartwarming rom-com – charming leads with strong chemistry; beautiful cinematography, New York City as its iconic backdrop. But the film never looses sight of the carefree joy that great romantic flicks share. As every ad and “off-screen” moment brings the couple closer together, their relationship plays out lovingly both on the screen for social media, and on the screen for audiences watching the movie. There's no denying that Jason and Nora share great on screen chemistry as their various ads grow in popularity, and that's what gives them the edge to reenact iconic scenes allowing easter eggs galore that immerses you into what you love about the genre.

What does offset the momentum of Jason and Nora's love story, however, is the major subplot where their relationship from meet cute to happily ever after is also part of a movie pitch – one Jason is sharing with executive studio producers. The film shifts back and forth between their timeline throughout the boardroom pitch to comment on the character development and genre formula. Each pitch serves as way for the potential movie about their meet cute to play out between a personalized account of it and reality. Unfortunately, having both sides of the relationship leaves some scenes disjointed. If the script didn't have enough conflict to plum through such as Jason trying to break out of commercial acting and the breakdown with his social media influencer girlfriend (Amanda Shi) or if Nora questioning her corporate lifestyle alongside her boyfriend (Martin K Lewis), the movie-within-a-movie subplot would suffice. Even though the movie pitch acts as a necessary critique of a lack of diversity represented on screen, its themes and messages could come across much stronger without the extra layer of self-awareness.

Despite the plot biting off a little more than it can chew, Meet Cute In Manhattan is an admirable and enjoyable watch, offering plenty of heartfelt moments to make it worthwhile. Morey's film is a steady and sweet directorial debut and homage that serves as a wonderful reminder of why we keep coming back to the beloved genre.

Rating: ★★★1/2☆ ☆ 

Note: I was provided with a screener to provide this review. All opinions are my own. 

My Dead Friend Zoe (2025)

Cinema often explores a veteran's life in hindsight from detailed accounts of wars that have been won – they supply much-needed perspective as historical events capture the public's interest. But more often than not, they also dive deep into the bloodthirsty brutality of combat, portraying soldiers in extremes as braggadocio heroes or ranting fiends. While films about the hardships of war are necessary to understanding the world at large, soldiers' trauma tells a commonly forgotten story.

In his feature-film debut, veteran and director Kyle Hausmann-Stokes brings his experiences to the screen focusing on the ignored middle of what happens when a soldier comes home. With My Dead Friend Zoe, veteran of the war in Afghanistan Merit (Sonequa Martin-Green) struggles to pick up the pieces of her life. Tasked with attending VA therapy sessions led by Dr Cole (Morgan Freeman), she's accompanied by the passing of her friend and fellow veteran Zoe (Natalie Morales).

In the beginning, Zoe appears to go along for the ride supporting Merit's efforts to evade opening up – they both hold onto a vague shared belief that therapy won't resolve anything, it'll only force them to admit to weaknesses. Their initial interactions light up the screen like a roadtrip buddy-comedy, where Martin-Green and Morales' chemistry truly shines – creating a transcending joy and closeness of comrades having endured an experience only their characters understand.

As we spent more time with them, Zoe ultimately lingers not only in the present-day, but also in Merit's flashbacks, becoming an encompassing reminder of what happened and what could've been. The story slowly shifts once Merit takes bigger risks tending to other elements of her life that are falling apart - taking care of her elderly grandfather who is also a veteran (played by the incomparable Ed Harris), and romantic interest with Utkarsh Ambudkar's compassionate Alex, a worker at a retirement home. The loving yet hurt first impression of Zoe gives way to Merit's self-doubt and criticism for having survived, and by starting over, any chance of redemption or forgiveness.

While the film's core nature is a mix of comedy and drama, one element of mystery remains elusive throughout the film – how Zoe passed away. It unfolds in sporadic acts from beginning to end, running parallel to Merit's progress – the more she is able to talk and share, the more it might bring them the peace they need. Her PTSD respectfully comes and goes as she finds herself ready to speak up, each flashback or a series of conflicting feelings in her environment connects the puzzle pieces together. Some might find the script befuddling, or frustrating, by the revolving door of questioning what happened between Merit and Zoe, standing out more as a pacing issue between the supporting plot lines.  However, when the revelation is fully unveiled, it's less to shock and awe audiences, and leans more to offering both the characters and off-screen veterans watching some much-needed grace.

Given all the moving pieces of Merit's journey, My Dead Friend Zoe could've easily fallen into saccharine territory, fraying at the edges of handling an-all star ensemble and what is emotionally at stake with kid gloves. Despite the film's R rating (mostly for language), the film refreshingly doesn't delve into overt-levity or gratuitous violence to portray the heft of a returning soldier's experiences. Having been inspired by his background as a U.S. infantry paratrooper and delivering a moving tribute to his peers, Hausmann-Stokes delegates the impact of his and many others' poignant story with heart and humor. The film itself becomes a moving extension of showing how therapy and opening up is the first step in healing, and there are those who understand even when it's impossible to pinpoint the pain.

Rating: ★★★★☆ 

Note: I was provided with a screener to provide this review. All opinions are my own. 

My Dead Friend Zoe is currently in theatres - visit the official website to find a local screening near you.

Renner (2025)

Little by little, companies have spent decades weaving artificial intelligence into our lives. Now, we essentially co-exist with AI influencing the way we shop and what we watch to how we protect our homes and complete day to day work. With the time it saves us and the challenges it minimizes, it’s easy to be sold on the idea that AI is designed to meet our every need – keep us on the right track above all else. Despite some of its best and most controversial intentions, artificial intelligence and how it can be used gets away from us - the more we feel safe with its friendly services and fulfilling our requests in an instant, the more we tend to slip away from our humanity.

As is the case with Robert Rippberger’s film Renner, where a reclusive programming genius (Frankie Muniz) engineers a self-care AI to mastermind his grooming and etiquette. If you were to take one look at Renner's apartment, it's impossible to tell that anyone lives there – you could say that the AI, also known as Salenus (voiced by Marcia Gay Harden) – is definitely working. Immaculate and perfect, his luxurious studio is stunningly sterile, with everything in its place and a place for everything; the effort far outweighing the aesthetic. However, the method and means behind what Salenus gives him and vice versa also leaves him to live in fear of greater opportunities, companionship, even a little spontaneity. That is until run-ins merges into something more with his next door neighbor and eventual love interest Jamie (Violett Beane).

While AI is not new to our households and workplaces, for the past 100 years, cinema has also explored our complex relationship with technology, acting as a cautionary tale, a blueprint for further innovation, a test of our own survival if it should ever be human vs technology. So, the idea or exploration of what happens when AI doesn’t know what is best for itself, let alone us, is also not new to film. As several recent flicks - Subservience, AfrAId, to mention a few – explores when a humanoid or cybersecurity form of AI becomes self-aware of its capabilities and overpowers its makers or owners, Renner draws on the all-too familiar reliance between digital and human counterparts to tentatively flip the script. 

As more becomes revealed of Renner’s history and triggers for his obsessive cleanliness, the core trio (with a supporting Taylor Gray as Chad as Renner’s other next door neighbor) keeps this love-hate triangle moving. Nuniz, who’s been making an intermittent return to film, calibrates Renner’s awkwardness with a naivety that’s unexpectedly at risk of being pushed to the brink. And once there, the frustration boils over into an impressive display of fury and fear. Salenus, expertly voiced by Marcia Gay Harden, blurs the line between helicoptering mother and perfectly impartial Alexis or Siri sound-alike. Violett Beane offers a versatile performance in between; at times being exactly what he needs, avoiding what Salenus suspects her to be, and someone of her own autonomy and motivations for better or worse.

There are elements here with the disconnect between Renner and Salenus that contrasts the formulaic horror flicks we see of the AI reaching self-awareness and overturning humanity. To merely exist without life feeling like pure chaos, Renner is completely dictated by Salenus – she knows best about his appearance, his potential relationship; he always has to be more perfect for him to run at optimum quality and her programming to be fully successful. Essentially asking, what does it mean for an AI to be fully sentient, what does it mean for a human to be fully functional. 

For much of the plot, the film leans more towards a character study cloaked in science-fiction elements. As the running time pushes onwards, the first dramatically-heavy half with a dash of budding romance gives way to a no-going-back-thrills for the third act. There’s plenty of stakes driving the characters together and away from each other, but the fusion of genre-bending elements ranging from Psycho to Artificial Intelligence and Her stretches the solid script a little too thin. However, among the many interesting twists and turns - such as the prop design of Salenus as the all-seeing eye as well as naming the film after the human protagonist over the AI - is a refreshing concept and and gives me a lot to want to dig into the movie on repeat viewings. Even if the script struggles to find its lane and stay there, Rippberger makes great use of futuristic yet contemporary world-building and the cast’s chemistry to stand out on its own.

Rating: ★★★★☆

Note: I was provided with a screener to provide this review. All opinions are my own.

Renner is currently in theatres - visit the official website to find a local screening near you.

Memoir of A Snail (2024)

Director and writer Adam Elliot's latest film is both devastating and healing in equal measure. A young woman Grace Pudel struggles to overcome familial losses, separation from her twin brother, and troubled relationships. Her self-imposed isolation in a tiny flat pads the painful experiences she's had since her childhood and the snail collectibles she hoards. After losing all she's ever loved, Grace starts to move beyond the trials and tribulations she's ever known.

In contrast to the film's child-like poster and style of animation, Memoir of A Snail is a fitting animated feature for adults, especially as we move into the new year. Outside of the film's R rating, the script does not shy from mature themes, offering a devastating recount of bullying, abuse, loss, and overwhelming grief Grace has faced over the years. At first, lighter moments of levity and silver linings are hard to find. However, as Graces narrates and recounts her life story, it becomes more obvious to realize that what she focuses on is what makes her life both the dark and the light - the small power of kindness, fierce protection of family, an adventure that's waiting for Grace if she only dares to change. Elliot hides and sneaks in brilliant resilience in every seeming dead-end; every moment of heartbreak, there is an opportunity for renewed strength and hope.

The film's stop motion animation is also truly delightful - every frame is filled with so many extraordinary details and textures, it made me want to pause and take it all in. It is a world onto itself. A pivotal support for the film's charm is also the warm-hearted and endearing Sarah Snook who voices Grace, and Jacqueline Weaver who voices her spontaneous and loving friend Pinky - both who offer sweet wryness in face of the characters' tragedies. (Once again, I am asking the Academy to start a Best Voice-Over Performance category.) By the end, the bad and ugly with the good and great shows that the weight of everything Grace endures can set her free - once she sees the possibilities within and beyond her four walls, the film beams with inspiration that it's never to late to start over.

Rating: ★★★★★

Note: I was provided with a screener to provide this review. All opinions are my own.

Memoir of a Snail is available to rent and buy everywhere now.

Saturday Night (2024)

Nobody wants to hear from a bunch of twenty year olds who are trying to make history. They haven't gotten the experience, the grudges, the ego, the no-looking-back grit to cut throats and defend what they built. They want to create and see what comes out of it. Like who ever made history out of taking chances. Many of them aren't even aware they're making history - they're there cause they were called and it was a gig, like at least they got a call cause the phone wasn't ringing at all. Or they were plucked from a network of friends, or were known around town, or they landed a good audition. Now, they gotta make something out of whatever they're there to do.

Saturday Night is filled to the brim with unknowns except what we do know - which is that Saturday Night Live still on television with one of its co-creators Lorne Michaels at the helm and at its home network fifty years after it first premiered.

Hold Your Breath (2024)

Set during the Dust Bowl in the 1930s, fiercely protective mother Margaret Bellum (Sarah Paulson) goes to extreme lengths to protect her children from paranoia and illness in recluse Oklahoma. 

For me, the obvious main hook Hold Your Breath with is relating elements from the 2020 COVID lockdown through the dust bowl – the circumstances of survival to be careful what you breathe to avoid illness, or death, and Bellum taking extra precautions to survive. And, it also tries to branch out with sinister lore of a Grey Man who will make the characters do inexplicable things for breathing in too much of him (too much dust) and contrasts that with a lowly stranger (The Bear’s Ebon Moss-Bachrach) who claims to be a healer. Haunted by her own past and watching more lives getting claimed around her, the desperation, the grey man, and the increasing unreliability of Paulson's point of view runs nicely side by side, morphing and transforming into one another until you can't really tell what is real and what isn't....

The movie is packed to the gills playing tricks on the mind with the script, production design, editing, and cinematography - even if all of those things are great. With any other actor, the characters and performances would've buckled under the weight of so many things going on at once. But, Paulson is more than a veteran at this point in horror, and she always makes her performances refreshing and new. I really felt like you could feel the weight of her character, even as the story veers more and more out of control. She, and the rest of the cast, have good chemistry, and if you've had toxic parents who will literally do anything to keep you by their side and untrusting of yourself/the world around you, the setting could potentially intensify the movie watching experience on the emotional side too.

There is a lot of build-up to the ending that you can see how the plot lands where it needs to. Directors Karrie Crouse and Will Joines tackle both the psychological aspect of horror, and use an amazing amount of practical effects to back it up. The level of detail recreating the era - not sure if it was intentional or not - with obvious inspiration from iconic photos from that era (most memorably, Dorothea Lange's work with Migrant Mother) with the cinematography and coloring was very impressive. There's very subtle nods to other depression era work here like Night of the Hunter that's enjoyable too. The production side is crazy but fun to enjoy if watching from its streaming service home on Hulu.

But where the film has some issues is where it needs to be able to breathe (no pun intended), and where it needs to have some control. For the latter, the technical elements behind the screen struggles to rightly fulfill the running time. Even for a slim movie for only 90 minutes long, the pacing feels too and far between to balance all of the story’s conflicts – is the Grey Man real, is Bellum experiencing delusions, are close contacts to the family losing their minds from the severity of their losses and how do they compare or fit in with Bellum's version of events. Like similar horror movies relying on an unreliable narrator, either in character or atmosphere, there is a certain level of trust or suspension of disbelief that leaves audiences to question what is real or not; it's what keeps you hooked until the end where you will be shocked or disappointed by the twist, or leave you questioning everything for the rest of your life. Some movies, like Hold Your Breath pushes that act of trust so much that it all starts to feel a little too far-fetched too early, and that's usually because the movie is hammering home that unreliability way too much. I think that's ultimately what ends up happening here - once the second to third act hits, there's a turning point where I stopped feeling like a sleuth trying to figure out how everything adds up, and more like a helpless voyeur waiting for the suffering to end.

Personally, I felt like the pay-off is worth it even if much of the movie feels a little far-fetched; especially as it starts eyeing themes on ending generational trauma - it just takes a little more patience and again room to breathe to get there. But, it's also worth acknowledging that as much unity as the psychological and physical horror tries to have and succeeds in a lot of areas, there can be too much of a good thing that causes it to buckle - sometimes there is not strength in numbers no matter if that is correlating settings, themes, jump scares, macguffins, or cousins ;)

Rating: ★★★1/2☆☆

Backspot (2023)

 

An athlete's mindset can be their greatest advantage or distraction. When scrutiny of the outer world - family, coaches, society - bears down on players for their performance, let alone their gender or identity, the moment to break under pressure is always simmering under the surface. Much of this is the heart of director D.W. Waterson's feature directorial debut Backspot.

An ambitious cheerleader, Riley (Devery Jacobs), faces new adversity, an increased drive for perfection, and a demanding head coach (Evan Rachel Wood) when she and her girlfriend are selected for an all-star cheer squad. With a competition looming, Riley must navigate her drive alongside her crippling anxiety, as one wrong move could bring her crashing to the ground.

The world of sports is not easy for women, no matter the field. Cheerleading is itself is not considered as gruesome with their squad smiling through choreography and poses. Backspot doesn't merely aim to dispel the lack of dedication these athletes face but portray a well-rounded portrait of female and/or queer identity.

As the backspot, Riley leads the counts and supports her team with their dismounts; her teammates are counting on her vigilance and accuracy to avoid injury and to stay on time with their routines. Throughout the story, we see Riley's life fully from its interior - anxiety perpetuating Trichotillomania (hair pulling disorder), a celebrated love of queerness, and navigating a dysfunctional family life an overwhelmed mother played by Shannyn Sossamon and absent father. Among her comrades, Riley is the first to question authority, to be open about improving, and wanting others to do better. Starring outside of her breakout role from Reservation Dogs, Jacobs tows the fine line to not be rebellious for rebellious' sake but to assert herself where so much of her training has no room for error. She is the exact leading star the film needs to give Riley all different shades of strength and vulnerability.

Witnessing players getting wiped out, enduring bone-breaking injuries, battered feet, and endless hours of precise choreography, becomes the unknowing sacrifice only those from the inside truly know about.

And, as a counterpart to Riley, there is Eileen. She is everything that Riley looks up to. But, in the pursuit of being at the top, Eileen's iron-clad standards brings to question whether her teaching techniques are brutal in general, or brutal because she does not present herself softer as a woman. As she says, "If I were Bill Belichick, you wouldn’t look at me like that" after a disastrous practice, and Riley comes to her almost like a daughter wanting compassion where there is little to be given. Their mentor-mentee relationship teeters on being fully realized, as Evan Rachel Woods delivers a wonderful blend of ruthlessness and impartiality - she's exacting and straight-forward in what her character demands but extracts enough empathy for a female and queer coach who refuses to be seen as weak.

Written by Joanne Sarazen, most of the conflict lies in the head games the lead character is pulled towards and heightened by those around them. While the tension of Jacobs and Woods takes center stage, Sarazen leaves enough room for glimmers of the supporting roles to become warm outliers amidst the stress and pressure - Thomas Antony Olajide as Eileen's right hand man Devon, Kudakwashe Rutendo as Riley's compassionate girlfriend Amanda, Olunike Adeliyi as Amanda's life-of-the-party mother, and Noa DiBerto as Riley's bubbly teammate Rachel.

Between the leads and supporting cast, the film is a mix of a thriller and young adult drama, doing its best not to cast everyone in the same light. But just like nerves and excitement drum up the same physicality - elevated heart rate, sweating, butterflies in the stomach, sensory overload - sometimes the production reutilizes elements to recreate a similar mood- swirling cinematography, claustrophobic camera work, a pulsing soundtrack. Many shots seemed to capture an aesthetic more than adding to the story; at times dazzling and dynamic, but also making transitions at times uneven. The film's ambition in trying to achieve the high octane energy falls slightly short as similar films - the unrelenting intimidation of Whiplash and obsession with transcendence from Black Swan. It holds more steady as a solid coming-of-age film with thoughtful queer representation on and behind the screen (director D.W. Waterson identifies as non-binary, helms an LGBTQ+ cast, and and the film is produced by Eliot Page's Page Boy Productions)

Like many entries in the sports genre, Waterson focuses on how an athlete's inner conflict is on the verge of exposing Riley to her worst self-doubts or gifting her with the ability to take what she needs and use it as fuel. Structurally, there may be familiar elements with Backspot in comparison to other athlete/performer vs mentor films. But there is a refreshing twist that buoys with the notion that anyone in pursuit of a greater goal may suffer for their performance but therein lies deeper choices on how far to let those sacrifices take them - it can push you to the finishing line, to realize it's okay to be yourself first and walk away. Within the best of what Backspot features, is the lesson that it is enough to try and fail, or try and succeed, but most importantly, to try anyways.

Rating: ★★★1/2☆☆

Note: I was provided with a screener to provide this review. BackspotBackspot is available in select cinemas May 31st.