Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight: Ferociously memorable

Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight (2024) • View trailer

Five stars (out of five). Rated R, for violent/bloody images, profanity, sexual assault and underage smoking and drinking

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.20.25 

Films this powerful don’t come along very often.

 

Director/scripter Embeth Davidtz’s boldly unflinching drama is adapted from Alexandra Fuller’s award-winning 2001 memoir, which depicts the author’s childhood in white-controlled Rhodesia, before and after that country’s 1980 independence and re-christening as Zimbabwe.

 

Sarah (Zikhona Bali), the family housekeeper, is the only adult who takes any interest
in young Bobo (Lexi Venter), who has become an almost uncontrollable feral child.

At first blush, Davidtz seems an unlikely choice as filmmaker; she’s best known as the accomplished actress who delivered memorable performances in Schindler’s List, Junebug, Mansfield Park and television shows such as Mad Men and Ray Donovan. As it happens, though, at age 8 the American-born Davidtz moved with her South African parents to Pretoria in the early 1970s, where she grew up confronted by that country’s institutional racism.

It's not hard to understand what drove her to this material.

 

Her film gets its quiet, skin-crawling intensity from the casual indifference with which its “superior” characters of privilege — or power — turn a blind eye to casual, systemic cruelty. In that respect, Davidtz’s film deserves pride of place alongside classics such as Schindler’s List and The Zone of Interest, although this one is even more disturbing because of its child’s-eye perspective.

 

The story’s primary character — she cannot possibly be termed a “heroine” — is 7-year-old Bobo Fuller (Lexi Venter, simply amazing), who lives on a family farm on the outskirts of Umtali, with her teenage older sister Vanessa (Anina Hope Reed) and their parents, Tim (Rob Van Vuuren) and Nicola (Davidtz). Three dogs are a constant presence.

 

It’s a dangerous time, days away from a presidential election between Robert Mugabe, favored by Black Africans, and the Western-educated Bishop Abel Muzorewa, viewed by his countrymen as a puppet controlled by the minority white population. Unrest has turned violent, with members of both races being slaughtered (although radio and TV coverage focuses on white victims).

 

The girls are warned never to enter their parents’ bedroom at night, because they sleep with loaded guns.

 

To say that Bobo runs wild is an understatement. She’s a completely unsupervised feral child: perpetually grimy and smelly, often dressed in the same ragged shorts and a gray T-shirt with the slogan “Come to Umtali and get bombed,” which is a) tasteless for somebody her age; and b) laced with an unsettling double meaning.

 

She often roars through a nearby village on a dirt bike, rifle slung over one shoulder, taunting the Black children to chase her. She parrots racist beliefs — “Black people have no last names” — not because she understands how hateful they are, or even what they mean, but simply because that’s what she hears her parents and their friends say.

Everything's Going to Be Great: Well ... not quite

Everything's Going to Be Great (2025) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five). Rated R, for partial nudity, sexual candor and frequent profanity

Available via: Amazon Prime and other video-on-demand options

By Derrick Bang

Folks passionate about All Things Theater — amateur or professional — are guaranteed to adore this modest Canadian dramedy.

 

Everybody else ... likely not. 

 

After a particularly trying day at school, Les (Benjamin Evan Ainsworth) receives some
encouraging — if typically quite unusual — advice from his father, Buddy (Brian Cranston).

Director Jon S. Baird’s flamboyant touch approaches burlesque at times, and mainstream folks may find star Bryan Cranston’s character totally annoying. It’s also hard to forgive the unexpected midpoint hiccup in Steven Rogers’ script, after which the film loses considerable steam, never to be regained.

The year is 1989, the initial setting Akron, Ohio. Carefree Buddy Smart (Cranston) has led his family through a series of temporary theater management jobs ever since marrying his wife, Macy (Allison Janney), two decades ago. Everybody pitches in, whether serving as stage manager, prop handler, ticket seller or accepting roles in the current production.

 

Trouble is, they’ve never been successful enough to remain in one place for long, after which it’s on to the next small-town theater seeking new management.

 

The indefatigable Buddy is a relentless cheerleader nonetheless, insisting that this time will be different; they’ll finally make it; and so forth. Every time the clearly overwhelmed Macy points to the grim result from their failure to put enough warm bodies in theater seats, Buddy brushes her off by insisting, “Everything’s going to be great.”

 

In a word, he’s exhausting ... but Cranston, so adept at body movement and well-timed dialogue, makes him endearingly exhausting. Most of the time.

 

Younger son Les (Benjamin Evan Ainsworth), who worships his father, is fully on board; he’s a pretentious kid given to exaggerated outfits, with a tendency to quote lines from plays. During moments of confusion or crisis, he receives advice from dead thespians and playwrights such as Noël Coward, Ruth Gordon, Tallulah Bankhead and William Inge (each amusingly played by, respectively, Mark Caven, Chick Reid, Laura Benanti and David MacLean).

 

To say that Les stands out from his classmates is the worst of understatements; he may as well have the word “nerd” tattooed on his forehead.

 

“They don’t get me,” he glumly says to his father, at one point. No kidding.

Superman: Up, up and away!

Superman (2025) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for fantasy violence and action, and fleeting profanity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.16.25

It’s damn well about time.

 

I had begun to worry that the current Warner Bros. regime didn’t have the faintest idea how to properly handle Big Blue.

 

Lois Lane (Rachel Brosnahan), Jimmy Olsen (Skyler Gisondo, center) and Clark Kent
(David Corenswet) are disturbed by the misleading spin that media talking heads have
put on Superman's recent activities.

Director Zack Snyder’s previous cycle — Man of Steel, Batman v Superman, and Justice League, all with Henry Cavill donning the cape — was a dour, dreary, dull and depressing slog, without the faintest trace of the noble Kryptonian who battled for truth, justice and a better tomorrow.

(Yes, it used to be “...and the American way,” but there’s nothing wrong with making Superman’s pledge more universal.)

 

Writer/director James Gunn has swooped to the rescue, granting this adventure the same blend of world-threatening thrills and snarky character dynamics that made his first two Guardians of the Galaxy entries so much fun. (We’ll pretend the third one never happened.)

 

Gunn also pays affectionate tribute to many key elements from the Christopher Reeve series, starting right out of the gate, when this film’s rousing David Fleming/John Murphy score hits us with a few bars of John Williams’ iconic Superman theme.

 

Sharp-eyed viewers also will spot several members of Gunn’s repertory actors, albeit in very fleeting roles.

 

All that said, this definitely is a “darkest before the dawn” story, and “dark” dominates the entire first hour. Gunn kicks things off as a defeated Superman (David Corenswet), punched halfway around the world, crashes hard into Antarctic snow near his Fortress of Solitude. He’s in agony, suffering from broken ribs, a ruptured bladder and — given his labored breathing — fluid in his lungs.

 

(What? I hear you cry. Superman can be damaged? Goodness, yes; he’s tough, but not wholly invulnerable.)

 

The situation then becomes almost farcical — not in a good way — when he desperately whistles to Krypto. The clearly insufficiently trained super-pooch arrives quickly ... but only wants to play, completely oblivious to Supe’s distress.

 

This is a cheeky way to start: a totally James Gunn maneuver.

 

Once Superman recovers — thanks to a sustained blast of our yellow sun’s healing rays (Gunn knows his Superman lore) — and returns to Metropolis, we discover how dire things have become. 

 

Holy Cow: An earthy, beguiling character study

Holy Cow (2024) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five). Not rated, but equivalent to an R, for nudity, explicit sexuality and occasional violence

Available via: Amazon Prime and other video-on-demand options

By Derrick Bang

Discovering charming little films like this one, and bringing them to viewer attention, is my favorite part of this job.

 

Having yet yet another hindrance to his idealistic goal of making the best possible
Comté cheese, Totone (Clément Faveau) considers his options ... and younger
sister Claire (Luna Garret) has faith that he'll work it out.

French director Louise Courvoisier’s feature film debut is an accomplished coming-of-age saga so raw, naturalistic and intimate at times, that it often feels like we’re eavesdropping on actual people, rather than actors playing roles.

(As a quick sidebar, her film’s original title — Vingt dieux — translates to Twenty Gods, not Holy Cow: a terrible substitution slapped on by the American distributor.)

 

The lush farmland setting of Jura, in the eastern French region of Bourgogne-Franche-Comté, is captured splendidly by cinematographer Elio Balezeaux; this has much to do with the film’s cinema-verité atmosphere. That said, Courvoisier and Balezeaux don’t exploit these countryside locales for their natural beauty; this is an environment of dirt, mud, sweat, hard work, earthy casual sex and often flinty relationships.

 

We sense that most of these folks don’t bathe very often.

 

Nor does the story — by Courvoisier, Théo Abadie and Marcia Romano — make it easy on us. Their main character is a thoroughly unlikeable waste of space who — unlike the artisan cheeses produced within this region — doesn’t improve with age and additional exposure ... at least, not for a very long time.

 

In fairness, 18-year-old Totone (newcomer Clément Faveau) never had a chance, having been raised by an alcoholic, hands-off father whose wife apparently fled long ago. We meet the deadbeat teenager during a typical late-night binge of booze, cigarettes and casual sex, accompanied by best friends Jean-Yves (Mathis Bernard) and Francis (Dimitry Baudry), who aren’t much better.

 

By day, the badly hungover Totone does nothing to help his father with the family’s struggling Pimorin Cheese Dairy. His sole display of responsibility is taking younger sister Claire (Luna Garret) to school each day, after which he joins Francis while they watch Jean-Yves work on his lovingly modified stock car.

 

This routine abruptly shatters when Totone’s father wrecks his car and dies, having gotten behind the wheel while hopelessly drunk. (We gasp at the stupidity of this, but apparently these folks don’t watch out for their own.) This isn’t a community with options such as social services; Totone has no income, the dairy collapses without his father’s guidance, and now the young man must care for Claire 24/7.

Heads of State: Way over the top

Heads of State (2025) • View trailer

Three stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, and quite generously, despite strong action violence and profanity

Available via: Amazon Prime

By Derrick Bang 

This relentlessly silly movie will require a lot of patience, even from undemanding viewers inclined to be forgiving.

 

When Air Force One is blown out of the sky during a coordinated drone attack, U.S.
President Will Derringer (John Cena, left) and UK Prime Minister Sam Clarke
(Idris Elba) wonder if the next few minutes will be their last...

It’s basically a live-action cartoon, and the dog-nuts script — by Harrison Query, Josh Appelbaum and André Nemec — has plot holes large enough to swallow Air Force One. I frequently was reminded of Jackie Chan’s goofiest martial arts comedies, and the degree to which this flick succeeds, does so for the same reason: sheer star power.

Idris Elba and John Cena are a lot of fun together, and appear to have a great time in the midst of all the chaos ... so we do, as well. 

 

To a point.

 

Will Derringer (Cena) is the gung-ho President of the United States: a political neophyte after a successful career as an action movie star. Imagine Arnold Schwarzenegger’s Governator as the President: Derringer constantly employs Cena’s wide smile as if he’s greeting folks on the Hollywood red carpet, as opposed to anything resembling a statesman.

 

Sam Clarke (Elba) is Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, a relentlessly serious man who grieves over the state of the world, and quietly despairs over his inability to make things better. He’s refined, well-educated and loathes Derringer’s glib, glad-handed egocentricity; Derringer, in turn, never has forgiven Clarke for a deliberate slight during the U.S. presidential campaign.

 

But we don’t meet them immediately. Director Ilya Naisheller opens with a prologue set amid Spain’s annual Tomatina, a tomato-throwing festival that takes place in the town of Buñol, and is famed as the world’s largest food fight. Senior MI6 agent Noel Bisset (Priyanka Chopra Jonas) leads a surveillance team that hopes to capture notorious terrorist Viktor Gradov (Paddy Considine), who has been spotted in the town square.

 

Alas, it turns out to be a trap; Bisset and her entire team are ambushed by thugs led by Viktor’s ruthless pet assassins, Sasha and Olga (Alexander Kuznetsov and Katrina Durden, both impressively nasty).

 

This sequence is typical of the frequent, brutal violence that often works against the story’s humor, and also stretches the generous PG-13 rating.

 

Much as Clarke and Derringer dislike each other, they’re forced to make a public show of togetherness and mutual respect — displaying the long-standing “special relationship” between the U.S. and UK — while attending a NATO meeting in Italy. It’s a crucial gathering, because membership is wavering, in the face of an increasingly hostile and unpredictable world.

F1: High-octane entertainment

F1 (2025) • View trailer

Five stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for dramatic intensity and occasional profanity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.13.25

This is, without question, the ne plus ultra of professional car racing movies.

 

Until now, depending upon one’s age, fans likely would point to 1966’s Grand Prix, 1971’s Le Mans, 2013’s Rush or 2019’s Ford V Ferrari.

 

Cocky young race car driver Joshua Pearce (Damson Idris, left) can't imagine why he
has been paired with — in his eyes — a washed-up senior citizen like Sonny Hayes
(Brad Pitt), and does nothing to conceal his contempt. The kid has much to learn...

(Sorry Tom, but 1990’s Days of Thunder sinks beneath its banal plot, stick-figure characters and jaw-droppingly dreadful dialogue.)

This one blows ’em all off the track.

 

Director Joseph Kosinski, co-scripter Ehren Kruger, cinematographer Claudio Miranda and editors Stephen Mirrione and Patrick J. Smith have done the seemingly impossible, by dropping their film right into the middle of actual Formula 1 racing competitions. The result is a level of unparallelled authenticity, which grants us edge-of-the-seat viewers an astonishing sense of being there: not merely on the track, in the design facilities and amid the pit crews, but also inside the cars during the heat of racing.

 

It's actually better than live-TV coverage of actual Formula 1 events, because Miranda employed state-of-the-art, pan-and-tilt portable cameras capable of providing multiple angles of drivers in the bay — essentially getting bolted into their vehicles, like the steering wheel and other components — and during the height of racing action on straightaways and G-force curves.

 

But all of this would be mere window-dressing, absent a solid story and relatable characters, played here by an impressively charismatic cast led by the always captivating Brad Pitt. Adept at strong dramatic scenes and graced with a quiet, laid-back calm that was made for a movie camera, Pitt also is blessed with one of cinema’s most radiant smiles. 

 

When it emerges — particularly during unexpected moments, as if Pitt were happily surprised by the appearance of an old friend — the emotional impact is to die for. He truly is the Baby Boomers’ Paul Newman.

 

Kosinski and Kruger essentially have revisited the formula that worked so well for them in 2022’s Top Gun: Maverick: another take on the redemption saga of Old Dog Teaches Young Pup New Tricks, in a highly charged dramatic environment.

 

And, just as Kosinski put us into a fighter jet’s cockpit like never before, he has done the same here with Formula 1 racing.

Jurassic World: Rebirth: It's deja vu all over again

Jurassic World: Rebirth (2025) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for intense action violence, bloody images, mild profanity and a fleeting drug reference

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.6.25

The formula is tried and true, and this sci-fi thriller is a heckuva rollercoaster ride for those who’ve never seen more than one or two previous franchise entries.

 

Teresa (Luna Blaise, foreground) cautiously approaches a deserted supply pod, while
her companions — from left, Isabella (Audrina Miranda), Reuben (Manuel
Garcia-Rulfo) and Xavier (Davis Iacono) — wait with mounting anxiety.

(During one well-staged moment of peril, at Monday evening’s Sacramento preview screening, I feared the woman seated in front of us would have a heart attack. I’ve never heard anybody shriek so loud, or for so long, in a movie theater.)

As I noted, when reviewing 2018’s Fallen Kingdom, the essential elements never change:

 

Stalwart heroes: check. Well-meaning scientist(s) with ideals shattered: check. A soulless corporate villain: check. One (and only one) comic relief character: check. A child — or children — in peril: check.

 

Plenty of unexpected appearances and jump-attacks by swiftly moving dinosaurs: check-check-check.

 

All that said...

 

I have seen all six previous entries, and the formula has become trite to the point of cliché. Scripter David Koepp, generally a solid and skilled writer, took the paycheck and phoned this one in. Every step of this film feels like an inferior remake of 1993’s franchise-spawning first film, which had the strong benefit of having been adapted from Michael Crichton’s page-turning novel.

 

Alas, several of the characters here are wafer-thin, to the point where it’s easy to predict who will become dino chow, and who will survive. Indeed, given the amount of initial screen time, personality and back-story granted each of the 11 key players, I also nailed the order in which they’d perish. That’s just sloppy writing.

 

Half the time I was rooting for the dinosaurs...

 

In fairness, though, director Gareth Edwards, editor Jabez Olssen and the amazing special-effects team do a masterful job of generating the most excitement possible. The primary cast members, and their likable performances, make it easier to forgive the script’s shortcomings.

 

To cases:

 

A brief prologue reveals that a new crop of bunny-suited InGen scientists and genetic engineers, having learned nothing from previous catastrophes, continues to stubbornly develop ever-more-dangerous hybrid dinosaurs. Big surprise: Something goes awry.