The Devil Wears Prada 2: Still wickedly fun

The Devil Wears Prada 2 (2026) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five); rated PG-13, for sensuality

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang 

The delicious snark isn’t quite as evident, and a greater degree of sentimentality is present, but everything else about this long-awaited sequel is spot-on.

 

When a panicked Andy (Anne Hathaway) confesses that she has nothing appropriate
to wear for a weekend gathering at her boss' home in the Hamptons, Nigel (Stanley
Tucci) comes to her rescue.

No surprise, since the entire team returned: director David Frankel, screenwriter Aline Brosh McKenna, and stars Meryl Streep, Anne Hathaway, Emily Blunt and Stanley Tucci. It should be noted, however, that while the 2006 film was a reasonably faithful adaptation of Lauren Weisberger’s 2003 novel, this sequel is an entirely original story that is — as the screen credit reads — “based upon characters created by Weisberger.”

This actually is a good thing, since it allows McKenna to lace her character-driven plot with thoughtful — and rather unsettling — issues that are relevant here and now (although fans who enjoyed Weisberger’s two subsequent novels might be disappointed).

 

The story audaciously opens on twin crises.

 

Andy Sachs (Hathaway), having followed through with her long-ago decision to leave Runway magazine in order to become a professional reporter, receives a prestigious journalism award for a particularly hard-hitting series of articles. Alas, seconds before her name is announced as the winner, Andy and all of her key New York Vanguard colleagues — everybody sitting at the same table — are fired. By text. Victims of “corporate restructuring.”

 

Over at Runway, imperious editor-in-chief Miranda Priestly (Streep) faces a catastrophe, having failed to properly research an article about a clothing brand that has been revealed to rely on sweatshop labor. Advertisers begin to panic, and social media lights up with outrage and demeaning memes; Irv Ravitz (Tibor Feldman), owner of Runway’s parent company Elias-Clarke, is apoplectic.

 

Perhaps worse, Miranda cannot respond with the level of blistering waspishness that characterized her every interaction in the first film; a long series of HR complaints have left her verbally muzzled, forced to pivot to insufferable PC alternatives. One of the film’s funniest running gags involves Streep’s exasperated expression every time Miranda’s current assistant, Amari (Simone Ashley), quietly tut-tuts and forestalls an impending gaffe.

 

Seeking to hasten damage control, and made aware of Andy’s recent award, Irv figures she’d be the one to write an appropriately balanced and sincere mea culpa. He offers her a position as Runway’s features editor; astonished at this miraculous turn of events, she accepts.

Mabel: Modest, but endearing

Mabel (2024) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five); not rated, and suitable for all ages

Available via: Amazon Prime and other VOD options

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 5.3.26

Back in the day, a sweet little film like this would have found a happy home as an Afterschool Special, which all three networks ran half a dozen times each year, from 1972 through 1996. The thoughtful dramas were topical and/or gently instructive, aimed at the tween demographic, often helping them navigate interpersonal relationships.

 

Callie (Lexi Perkel) is in seventh heaven when she visits the expansive university
botany department where Mrs. G (Judy Greer) works, when not substitute teaching
at the nearby middle school.

Alas, the market appears to have vanished for such films, which is a shame. This one apparently sat on a shelf for two years, before obtaining streaming release with absolutely no fanfare.

More’s the pity, because Mabel is a quiet charmer.

 

We meet 11-year-old Callie (Lexi Perkel) as she carefully digs up a touch-sensitive Mimosa pudica fern in the forest near her Virginia home, and transplants it into a pot. She names it Mabel.

 

It’s a keepsake; her father, David (Quincy Dunn-Baker), has obtained a job in upstate New York, and this is moving day. The family — including mom Angela (Christine Ko) and Callie’s infant sibling — is leaving her beloved woodsy environment for the realm of strip malls and treeless suburban neighborhoods.

 

Callie’s bliss is botany. As the drive proceeds, looking out the rear seat window, she initially calls out the species of each passing clump of trees ... and then, a bit later, glumly recites the name of each big box store and its huge paved parking lot.

 

Callie’s early days in her new school are painful. She’s socially awkward and slightly withdrawn; fleeting efforts to fit in prompt only silent stares in an environment of established social cliques and lab partners. She’s also dismayed by the apathy shown by her sixth-grade science classmates, who seem to have no feeling for her style of intensely focused study.

 

On another note, Callie’s arrival delights next-door neighbor Agnes (Lena Josephine Marano), who similarly seems not to have any friends ... possibly because she comes on a bit strong. But the problem is that Agnes is “only” a lowly fourth-grader, and therefore beneath Callie’s notice.

 

Which, Angela quickly points out, is unkind.

 

Callie’s mostly unhappy school experience shifts when she spots a new substitute teacher pushing a cart laden with plants. Callie follows, winding up in an eighth-grade botany class taught by Mrs. G (Judy Greer). 

 

Her teaching style is challenging and aggressive. She demands her students’ respect and attention, confounding them with all manner of plant lore. That makes Mrs. G awesome, in Callie’s eyes: everything she hopes to become. That she shouldn’t be “moonlighting” in an eighth-grade class is immaterial, and Mrs. G certainly doesn’t suspect anything, given that Callie is so quick to participate.

Apex: Fails to summit

Apex (2026) • View trailer

Two stars (out of five); rated R, for strong violence, grisly images, nudity and profanity

Available via: Netflix

By Derrick Bang

Richard Connell has a lot to answer for.

 

Variations of his iconic 1924 Colliers magazine short story, “The Most Dangerous Game,” have littered television and movie screens ever since the first official Hollywood adaptation in 1932, which featured Joel McCrea, Leslie Banks and Fay Wray.

 

Ben (Taron Egerton) cheerfully shows Sasha (Charlize Theron) the best way to begin
her kayaking journey, offering two possible starting points on her map.

Director Baltasar Kormákur’s newest spin offers little, aside from 50-year-old Charlize Theron’s undeniably impressive physical prowess. Jeremy Robbins’ script begins reasonably well, but then turns gruesomely tasteless and grisly in the second act, and spins off into Cloud Cuckoo Land during the ludicrous climax.

We meet Sasha (Theron) and longtime companion Tommy (Eric Bana) toward the end of their ascent up the steep face of Norway’s imposing Troll Wall, rising above the Romsdalen Valley: a defying-the-elements challenge they’ve obviously done often, on this natural wonder and many others. Their characters are sketched economically but sufficiently; she’s headstrong and impatient, while he’s the voice of reason.

 

A final overhang repeatedly defeats her — as Lawrence Sher’s cinematography induces extreme vertigo — and then the weather turns against them. 

 

“Luck is like anything else you take up a mountain,” Tommy sagely comments. “Eventually, it’ll run out.”

 

They accept defeat and begin to descend; the subsequent crisis is inevitable.

 

Five months later, Sasha travels to Australia’s (fictitious) Wandarra National Park. Her goal: a head-clearing, soul-cleansing whitewater kayaking journey down a lengthy, tempestuous river laden with rapids and falls (most scenes filmed along New South Wales’ majestic Woronora River).

 

Leonard Cohen’s “Boogie Street” plays behind this montage, up to the point Sasha checks in with an affable park ranger (Aaron Pedersen). He cautions that it’s rough country; quite a few people have disappeared, evidenced by a bulletin board laden with dozens of “Missing” notices and photos.

 

She next stops for supplies at a convenience store, where two loutish, good-’ol-boy hunters (Matt Whelan and Rob Carlton) get in her face. She calmly ignores their boorish behavior. The more genial Ben (Taron Egerton), dropping off some of his homemade meat jerky, apologizes for his gender. She insists that isn’t necessary, but nonetheless thanks him for the kindness.

 

They chat a bit; she asks for map directions to her destination. He offers a choice: the “easy way,” or the “hard way.” Naturally, the latter intrigues her more.

 

The first day passes without incident, as Sasha deftly kayaks down the often raging river. The location is wild, awesome and exhilarating; Sher’s camera work and Sigurður Eyþórsson’s rat-a-tat editing enhance the thrills. As the sun drops, exhausted but obviously happy, Sasha sets up camp and sleeps well.

 

The next morning, some of her stuff is missing.

Queen of Chess: Checkmate!

Queen of Chess (2026) • View trailer

Five stars (out of five); rated TV-PG, and suitable for all ages

Available via: Netflix

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 4.26.26

Empowerment documentaries don’t come better than this one.

 

Rory Kennedy’s fascinating profile of chess prodigy Judit Polgár prompts viewers to stand up and cheer. Repeatedly.

 

Judit Polgár and Garry Kasparov played each other many times, but no game was more
notorious than their first match, in early 1994, at Spain's 12th annual
Linares Super Tournament.

Because Polgár was a cause celebre from such a young age, Kennedy had access to countless archival photos and video clips; he smoothly blends these with contemporary “talking heads” commentary by Polgár and her two older sisters —Susan, Sofia and their parents — along with match analysis by chess commentator/players Dirk Jan, Anna Rudolf, Jovanka Houska, Maurice Ashley and Garry Kasparov.

In the hands of Kennedy and co-scripters Mark Bailey and Keven McAlester, this film is engaging, suspenseful, triumphant, emotionally shattering, and — ultimately — a testament to determination and dogged perseverance. 

 

Along with proof that women can compete with men ... and beat them.

 

“They’re all weak, all women,” chess master Bobby Fischer notoriously comments, during various interviews resurrected from the early 1960s. “They’re stupid compared to men. They can’t concentrate, they don’t have stamina, and they aren’t creative. 

 

“They should keep strictly to the home.”

 

Judit was born on July 23, 1976, in Budapest: youngest child in a Jewish-Hungarian family. All three girls were part of a nurture-vs.-nature experiment conducted by their father, László, who believed that “geniuses are made, not born.” A chess teacher and player himself, László and his wife, Klára, home-schooled the girls and — starting each at age 5 — spent eight to nine hours every day focused on chess.

 

Another reason for that choice: the Polgárs were quite poor, and chess components were cheap.

 

(Yes, László endured criticism for what some perceived as parental abuse.)

 

From the beginning, László had no interest in women’s competitions; with help from several professional Hungarian and Russian champions, he trained his daughters to be as aggressive as male players. This put him at odds with the Hungarian Chess Federation, with its strict policy of confining women to their own tournaments. Worse yet, the girls weren’t allowed to leave the Eastern Bloc countries.

 

At one point, László and Klára genuinely feared that they might be arrested, and separated from their daughters.

Dust Bunny: Should have been left undisturbed

Dust Bunny (2025) • View trailer

2.5 stars (out of five); rated R, for considerable violence, implied gore and child endangerment

Available via: HBO MAX

By Derrick Bang

File this one under “Be careful what you wish for ... you might get it.”

 

Writer/director Bryan Fuller developed a reputation in the early 21st century for creating adorably quirky television shows such as Dead Like Me, Wonderfalls and — most particularly — Pushing Daisies. He then got more serious last decade, putting his spin on television adaptations of established properties such as Hannibal, American Gods and Star Trek: Discovery.

 

The restaurant setting may be attractively benign, but the barely veiled conversation that
flows between Aurora (Sophie Sloan, left), 5b (Mads Mikkelsen) and Laverne
(Sigourney Weaver) is anything but.

Surprisingly — after all this time — Dust Bunny is his first theatrical feature (although almost nobody noticed its fleeting big-screen appearances last December). It’s quintessentially a work of his wildly outré imagination, but his attempt to blend the whimsy of Pushing Daisies with the brutality of American Gods fails miserably, and succeeds at neither.

Frankly, the result is a mess: a failed effort to re-invent 1994’s Leon: The Professional as an absurdist fantasy.

 

The film begins late at night, as a tiny swirling dust mote grows larger by bumping into other dust chunks, gradually assembling itself into a small, rabbit-shaped dust bunny that scuttles beneath the bed of 8-year-old Aurora (Sophie Sloan). She lives in a fifth-floor New York City apartment with her parents (Line Kruse and Caspar Phillipson).

 

The dust bunny growls at a volume far beyond its tiny size, prompting Aurora to shriek in terror, waking her parents. She insists there’s a monster under her bed; they naturally don’t believe her.

 

(“Grown-ups pretend not to be afraid,” she later comments, “but they are, all the time.”)

 

Aurora clearly is an imaginative child, sharing her bed with all manner of stuffed critters, in a bedroom that production designer Jeremy Reed clearly enjoyed filling with all manner of not-quite-right accessories: dolls with the heads of animals, clocks that don’t show the time, and other mildly disorienting touches.

 

Cinematographer Nicole Hirsch Whitaker amplifies the sense of unreality with all manner of cockeyed, vertigo-inducing camera angles, some shifting in mid-scene.

 

Still frightened, Aurora climbs out her bedroom window and onto the fire escape. A fluttering firefly calls her attention to the neighbor in 5B (Mads Mikkelsen). She follows when he leaves his apartment, and — wide-eyed — watches as he kills a dragon ... actually killing the members of an armed gang in a dragon dance parade puppet.

 

The following morning, a still-terrified Aurora warns her parents to “stay off the floor.” They ignore her, and — as Aurora listens, from her bed, to the sounds on the other side of the closed door — they’re devoured. By something huge.

 

How to Make a Killing: Loses its way

How to Make a Killing (2025) • View trailer

Three stars (out of five); rated R, for profanity and violence

Available via: Amazon Prime and other VOD options

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 4.19.26

Writer/director John Patton Ford faced two cinematic challenges with this macabre little thriller.

 

First, the general rule of remakes and sequels: If the result isn’t at least as good as the original, if not better, then the viewer’s time is being wasted.

 

While sizing up the youngest member of the Redfellow family, in the line of succession,
Becket (Glen Powell) quickly discovers that the guy is an arrogant, reckless
waste of space.

Second, and more crucially, some classic films are sacrosanct, and fall under the heading of Thou Shalt Not Touch. Here in the States, Casablanca and Gone with the Wind fall into that category. Across the pond, the Ealing Studios/Alec Guinness masterpiece, Kind Hearts and Coronets, has been a revered treasure since its 1949 debut.

Only a cheeky American would have the audacity to do it again.

 

In fairness, Ford wisely adopts the narrative template established by British scripters Robert Hamer and John Dighton, who in turn adapted Roy Horniman’s 1907 novel, Israel Rank: The Autobiography of a Criminal.

 

As with the original, this film opens in a jail cell, as Becket Redfellow (Glen Powell) awaits execution for murder. A priest (Adrian Lukis) arrives, with but four hours to go; when asked about final words, Becket relates his saga in flashback, with ongoing voiceover commentary.

 

It begins when 18-year-old Mary Redfellow — belonging to an obscenely wealthy, old-money family worth untold billions — unwisely becomes pregnant. She insists upon having the child, whereupon her imperious father Whitelaw (Ed Harris) banishes her from the family’s New York estate.

 

Important detail, though: She remains an heir, in the family line of succession.

 

Mary moves to the New Jersey township of Bellville, finds menial employment, and raises young Becket (Grady Wilson) to the best of her ability. Despite their meager circumstances, she ensures that Becket is exposed to refined pursuits, such as archery and music. But as the “poor kid” among children of wealthier families, he’s frequently tormented.

 

He catches the eye of Julia Steinway (Maggie Toomey), who returns his affection, but in a way that feels borderline cruel.

 

Becket is nonetheless happy, but the boy’s world is shattered when his mother takes ill. Before dying, she informs Becket of his rightful heritage. Her final wish is to be buried in the family crypt; this request is denied. 

 

Becket grows up angry, and not merely because he’s shuttled through a series of foster families. Upon achieving maturity, he obtains a good job with a custom tailor, where he has an unexpected reunion with Julia (Margaret Qualley). They briefly discuss his family background, and how he’s eighth in the line of succession.

 

“Call me when you’ve killed them all,” she says, mockingly, before exiting the shop.

Islands: Adrift

Islands (2025) • View trailer

Three stars (out of five); Unrated, but deserving a PG-13 for dramatic intensity, drug use and fleeting nudity

Available via: Amazon Prime and othr VOD options

By Derrick Bang

Sigh.

 

It starts so well.

 

Writer/director Jan-Ole Gerster’s brooding character piece initially radiates curiosity. 

 

Partly out of kindness, partly out of sympathyfor the clearly unhappy Anne (Stacey Martin),
Tom (Sam Riley, right) impulsively offers to spend a day touring her, her husband
Dave (Jack Farthing) and their young son around the island of Fuerteventura.

Tom (Sam Riley) wakens one morning, clothed and prone on beach sand; cinematographer Juan Sarmíento G. emphasizes the bright, blazing sunlight. Tom stumbles to his feet, slides into his nearby vehicle, and drives to his day job as a tennis instructor at a swanky resort hotel.

The disapproving receptionist, Maria (Bruna Cusí), hands him the week’s schedule, noting that he looks as rough as he feels. But Tom is popular — the schedule is fully booked — so his behavior apparently is tolerated by the Folks In Charge.

 

Tom spends the day cheerfully — but mindlessly — tossing tennis balls, lobbing and returning serves. He heads each night to Waikiki, a rowdy techno nightclub where he dances, smokes too much, drinks too much, does some drugs, and sometimes winds up in bed with a lovely lady (or two). He’s a blackout drunk, waking each morning with little (if any) memory of recent past events.

 

Lather, rinse, repeat: every day, apparently stretching back quite awhile. There isn’t much else to do, on this island setting of Fuerteventura. Tom is stuck, for reasons we don’t yet know.

 

(We rarely see him eat anything, which seems an odd oversight.)

 

Tom sees a fresh group of tourists arrive one day; one woman pauses, while stepping from the bus, and shoots him a contemplative glance. She appears later at his ramshackle office — where he keeps a concealed bottle of vodka, for occasional daytime snorts — having been directed there by Maria.

 

She introduces herself as Anne (Stacy Martin), and explains that she’d like tennis lessons for her 7-year-old son, Anton. Tom suggests his twice-weekly children’s group classes, but she insists on private lessons. Tom hesitates, then acquiesces, knowing that the French couple booked for the next day’s 9 a.m. slot rarely shows up.

 

Anne and Anton (Dylan Torrell) arrive on time, and Tom is impressed by the boy’s ability. Future bookings are made; on the next one, Tom meets Anne’s husband, Dave (Jack Farthing), quickly revealed to be a horse’s ass. Tom does the family a favor; Dave offers a cash thank-you, which Tom refuses. Instead, clearly liking Anne and Anton, Tom allows himself to be drawn into their island activities; he encourages as much, by spending a day touring them throughout Fuerteventura.