The Rip: Quite disappointing

The Rip (2026) • View trailer

2.5 stars (out of five). Rated R, for violence and gobs o' profanity

Available via: Netflix

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 1.25.26

Matt Damon and Ben Affleck have appeared together in more than a dozen films, since their small supporting roles in 1992’s School Ties. 

 

After climbing into an attic that is suspiciously clean and empty, narcotics cops J.D.
(Ben Affleck, left) and Dane (Matt Damon) notice that a back wall appears to be a
"false front."

They most often have been part of an ensemble cast, or one has starred while the other took a smaller supporting role, as in 2023’s Air. Learning that they’d share equal starring roles in a crime thriller helmed by action director Joe Carnahan therefore sounded promising … although his résumé is wildly uneven, to say the least. Hits such as Narc and The A-Team share space with junk such as Battle Ready and Shadow Force.

Carnahan and co-scripter Michael McGrale clearly borrowed a note from Howard Hawks’ 1959 classic, Rio Bravo — remade, in an urban setting, by John Carpenter in 1976’s Assault on Precinct 13 — and that also seemed like good news.

 

Alas, all that potential is sabotaged by the most relentless barrage of F-bombs I’ve ever endured in a mainstream film. Every character succumbs to this nonsense, at times unleashing a torrent within a single sentence. It’s inane, distracting and a glaring example of uninspired screenwriting. We barely get a sense of these people as individuals, because they’re little more than profanity-spewing caricatures.

 

Ahem.

 

Things begin viciously, as Miami-Dade Police Capt. Jackie Valez (Lina Esco) is brutally murdered, late at night, by two masked thugs … but not before she sends a text. To somebody.

 

In the aftermath, the members of her special unit — the Tactical Narcotics Team — are grilled by higher-ups who’ve heard rumors of crooked cops robbing drug houses. These silly interrogations don’t get the story off to a good start, since both Lt. Dane Dumars (Damon) — Valez’s second in command — and Detective Sgt. J.D. Byrne (Affleck), along with the visiting Feds, lose their tempers in twin displays of unrestrained overacting.

 

As an added wrinkle, one of the Feds — Del (Scott Adkins) — is J.D.’s brother.

 

The team later regroups to assess the situation; the other members are Mike Ro (Steven Yeun), Numa Baptiste (Teyana Taylor) and Lolo Salazar (Catalina Sandino Moreno). The latter handles their drug- and cash-sniffing beagle, Wilbur. DEA colleague Matty Nix (Kyle Chandler) drops by briefly to hassle them; it’s difficult to tell if it’s good-natured ribbing, or genuine suspicion.

 

In a nod to Robert Mitchum’s character in 1955’s Night of the Hunter, Dane has two sets of letters tattooed on his hands: AWTGG and WAAAWB.

No Other Choice: A searing, timely statement

No Other Choice (2025) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated R, for violence, profanity, macabre tableaus and sexual content

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 1.18.26

Socie-economic satire doesn’t come more savage — or relevant — than this audacious saga.

 

South Korean director Park Chan-wook’s new film is a heady blend of drama, real-world touchpoints, burlesque and — sometimes quite abruptly — macabre dark humor. Its arrival now is felicitously timely, at a moment when worldwide jobs in all social strata are being replaced by AI, leaving veritable armies of displaced and disgruntled people in its wake.

 

Having finally worked up the courage to confront his first target, Man-su (Lee Byung-hun,
left) is startled when the pathetic Beom-mo (Lee Sung-min) fails to take him seriously.

Man-su (Lee Byung-hun) is introduced in his garden, smiling at the pending arrival of autumn. He’s happily married to Mi-ri (Son Yejin), and a doting father to teenage stepson Si-one (Woo Seung Kim) and younger daughter Ri-one (So Yul Choi). The little girl is a cello prodigy, but neurodivergent and withdrawn, and never performs for her parents.

(Choi is a genuine cello talent. It shows.)

 

As a longstanding and highly respected employee of the papermaking company Solar — recipient, among other honors, of the “Pulp Man of the Year” award — Man-su is well-paid, and was able to purchase the beloved home in which he grew up. He has added an adjacent greenhouse, where he frequently pursues his hobby of bonsai crafting.

 

Life is good.

 

Until, suddenly, it isn’t. An American multinational buys Solar and abruptly fires much of the company workforce, including Man-su.

 

Although he vows to regain similar paper industry employment within three months, he has an inherent flaw. During interviews, he has no good response when asked to admit his “prime weakness” (an intriguing question that all business hiring entities should consider).

 

The additional, obvious problem is that he’s merely one of many similarly highly qualified former supervisors vying for the same rapidly dwindling job openings in this shrinking industry.

The Mastermind: A dull, tedious slog

The Mastermind (2025) • View trailer

Two stars (out of five). Rated R, for profanity

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

By Derrick Bang 

In addition to the flowery words of praise emanating from numerous critics, The New York Times recently named this one of 2025’s Top 10 films.

 

That clearly warranted a look-see.

 

Fully aware that the art heist he's planning is far outside his area of expertise, James
(Josh O'Connor) carefully considers every possible detail.

Having done so, I can’t imagine what all these people have been smoking.

Although I generally respect indie filmmakers who weave compelling stories about recognizably ordinary people — a welcome relief from most of the noisy, soulless blockbusters churned out by major studios these days — writer/director Kelly Reichardt’s ironically titled character study brings new meaning to dull, colorless and tedious.

 

“Colorless” is particularly apt. Cinematographer Christopher Blauvelt’s washed-out palette must’ve been intentional, but the result merely enhances this film’s drab, lifeless qualities.

 

There’s a point at which measured stillness approaches meaningless, intolerable immobility, and Reichardt crosses that threshold far too many times.

 

At the risk of succumbing to the obvious pun, this film is like watching paint dry.

 

The setting is Framingham, Massachusetts, in 1970. The story begins in a local art museum, where James Mooney (a somnambulant Josh O’Connor), an unemployed carpenter and art school dropout, carefully examines four modernist Arthur Dove paintings hung in one gallery. Museum attendance is sparce; a lone guard sits, head down, sleeping at his post. (Is he supposed to be a joke?)

 

We eventually get a sense, based on his later comments during a family dinner, that James wants to make something special of his life. How he lands on becoming an art thief is left unexplained. Has he done this before? Who put him up to this particular assignment? Who’s the fence? How did he get to know the dodgy friends who participate in this venture? 

 

Don’t wait for any answers; they never come.

 

Given the year, it’s conceivable that James, his wife Terri (Alana Haim) and their two adolescent sons — Carl (Sterling Thompson) and Tommy (Jasper Thompson) — could have a house and get by solely on her salary. James apparently has supplemented by sponging off his well-to-do parents; his mother Sarah (Hope Davis) is a soft touch, but his father Bill (Bill Camp) — a circuit court judge — is losing patience with James’ ongoing failure to launch.

 

So: an art heist, in order to make quick cash. Why not?

 

Marty Supreme: An exhilarating ride

Marty Supreme (2025) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated R, for relentless profanity, sexual content, violence and brief nudity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 1.11.26

Timothée Chalamet isn’t merely an impressively nuanced actor; he’s also an astonishing chameleon.

 

Marty (Timothée Chalamet, far right) and longtime friend and fellow hustler Wally
(Tyler Okonma, far left) size up the potential victims in a neighborhood bowling
alley with table tennis options.

He all but vanishes into the persona of this madcap film’s title character, a larger-than-life figure whose aggressive personality fills every moment of this 149-minute drama. Director Josh Safdie’s flamboyant style echoes 2024’s similarly dog-nuts Anora, blending breathtaking sports action with freakishly burlesque sidebar sequences.

Events begin in 1952, in Lower East Side New York, where 23-year-old Marty Mauser (Chalamet) works as a clerk in a shoe store owned by his Uncle Murray (music journalist Larry “Ratso” Sloman). Marty excels at his work — as he tastelessly boasts, he could “sell shoes to amputees” — but it’s a job he didn’t choose, and a drudge-laden life that feels stifling and pre-ordained.

 

We’ve scarcely taken in his character, when he has a back-room quickie with a “customer” — Rachel (Odessa A’zion) — who turns out to be a longtime friend and neighbor. The title credits then unspool as his sperm swim up her reproductive tract, and implant themselves into an egg.

 

(Hey, I said Safdie’s approach was outrageous.)

 

Table tennis has become Marty’s escape from a work-a-day world that expects him to stay in his lane. He excels at his sport; he’s ruthless, powerful and blessed with a hustler’s ability to gauge an opponent’s strengths and weaknesses. He speaks constantly of attending and conquering the upcoming world championships in Wembley … but lacks the funds to get there.

 

Trouble is, table tennis isn’t taken seriously in the States in the 1950s. That opinion certainly isn’t shared by those who play each other for cash in a nearby table tennis parlor, where Marty and longtime friend and fellow hustler Wally (Tyler Okonma) frequently fleece unsuspecting marks.

 

Marty is a force of nature. He doesn’t walk; he struts. He doesn’t chat; he dominates every conversation. Statements, proclamations and determined assertions spew from his mouth in a torrent. He believes not only that he’s the best at this sport, but that the world owes him a similar faith in this claim.

 

Less charitably, Marty is arrogant, boorish, rude and quick to take advantage of anybody — or anything — to get what he wants.

 

Not a nice or likable guy. 

 

Do we admire him? Good question.

 

Song Sung Blue: Musical lightning!

Song Sung Blue (2025) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for dramatic intensity, brief profanity and fleeting drug use

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 1.4.26

If writer/director Craig Brewer’s poignant drama weren’t based on actual events, it would be a shameless tear-jerker.

 

Be advised: The fact that it is based on actual events, makes it even more of a tear-jerker.

 

Mike (Hugh Jackman, left), Dave (Fisher Stevens, center left) and Mark (Michael
Imperioli, center right) listen intently, as Tom (Jim Belushi) outlines their upcoming
touring schedule.

In the interests of full disclosure, I’ve been a life-long Neil Diamond fan since early high school, which makes me inclined to be both forgiving and potentially hyper-critical. But the latter never came into play, because both Hugh Jackman and Kate Hudson are fabulous singers and performers. 

Brewer’s film, based on Greg Kohs’ 2008 documentary of the same title, deftly profiles small-time musicians Mike Sardina (Jackman) and Claire Stengl (Hudson): how they met, and the magic that occurred once they got together.

 

Brewer begins unexpectedly, with a tight-tight-tight close-up of Jackman’s face, as Mike gravely recounts some seminal moments in his life: a confession of sorts, which concludes as the camera pulls back, to reveal that he’s at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. It’s a special day — his 20-year “sobriety birthday” — and he celebrates it as he has each one before, by concluding with a solo guitar performance of “Song Sung Blue.”

 

Mike moonlights as a mechanic to support his true passion, as a veteran musician — nicknamed Lightning — on the Milwaukee gigging circuit, performing whatever is demanded at county fairs, small auditoriums and dive bars. After uncharacteristically refusing a gig — insisting that trying to impersonate Hawaiian pop singer Don Ho is too much of a stretch — he chances to catch Claire doing her Patsy Cline act at the Wisconsin State Fair.

 

They click (to put it mildly).

 

“I’m not a songwriter, I’m not a sex symbol,” he confesses. “I just want to entertain people.”

 

“I don’t want to be a hairdresser,” she replies, “I want to sing, I want to dance, I want a garden, I want a cat.”

 

The relationship happens quickly, both because they’re sympatico … and also because Jackman and Hudson radiate charm and charisma the way the rest of us breathe. Mike and Claire are totally cute together, with a goofy, giddy level of excitement like teenagers experiencing love for the first time.

 

Both have painful pasts. In addition to his hard-fought sobriety, Mike carries trauma from his service in Vietnam as a “tunnel rat,” and has a failed marriage behind him; Claire also is divorced. 

 

Mike gets occasional visits from his college-age daughter, Angelina (pop chanteuse King Princess); their relationship is prickly, at best. Claire has two kids — teenage Rachel (Ella Anderson) and adolescent Dana (Hudson Hensley) — who frequently drive her crazy. Both Mike and Claire also struggle financially.

 

Musically, though, they go together like peanut butter and jelly.