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.

 

Mike & Nick & Nick & Alice: Definitely unique

Mike & Nick & Nick & Alice (2026) • View trailer

Three stars (out of five); rated R, for drug use, frequent profanity and strong, bloody violence

Available via: Hulu

By Derrick Bang

File this one under Violent Guilty Pleasure.

 

That said, writer/director BenDavid Grabinski’s darkly comic crime thriller gets considerable mileage from star Vince Vaughn’s deadpan delivery of numerous quite funny lines. The dialogue also gets additional punch from the story’s wildly fanciful premise.

 

Nick (Vince Vaughn, foreground) contemplates his next move, while his companions
— from left, Alice (Eiza González), Mike (James Marsden) and Future Nick (Vaughn) —
try to decide what to do with him.

The result is an improbable love child between “Pulp Fiction” and “Back to the Future.”

Grabinski sets this saga during a single, body-strewn evening within The Organization, a contemporary criminal empire headed by no-nonsense Sosa (Keith David). As befits this genre, his gang members are known by descriptive names such as Roid Rage Ryan, Quick Draw Mike and Dumbass Tony.

 

Nick (Vaughn) and Mike (James Marsden), longtime buddies, have done Sosa’s dirty work for years.

 

Everybody has gathered in a swanky hotel to celebrate the return of Sosa’s beloved son, Jimmy Boy (Jimmy Tatro), just released from a six-year prison stretch. The festivities promise to stretch long through the night: beginning with a party that’ll be followed by an after-party, then an after-after-party, and finally an after-after-after-party. (Each becomes a titled chapter in this increasingly manic narrative.)

 

First, though, a prologue focuses on genius inventor Symon (Ben Schwartz), as he dashes between banks of computers, controls and mad-scientist displays, while bopping to Billy Joel’s “Why Should I Worry?”

 

Alas, Symon should have worried. He doesn’t last long, after an encounter with Nick.

 

At the party, Sosa has learned that Jimmy was set up, all those years ago, by a rat among their numbers: Mike. Sosa orders Nick to snatch Mike and hand him over to a stone-cold contract assassin known as The Barron, who has a reputation for (ahem) eating his victims after killing them.

 

Nick heads to room 801, where he knows Mike can be found. Nick cajoles him into an assignment, warning that they’re on a “tight schedule.” Mike briefly balks; he has had enough of this life of crime, and wants out. Just this one last thing, Nick insists.

 

They drive to a lovely home in a quiet neighborhood, where Nick hands Mike a rag and a bottle of chloroform, with which to subdue the guy inside.

 

Don’t hesitate, Nick emphasizes. Just do it.

 

Mike duly knocks on the door ... and is stunned when Nick opens it.

 

(By this point, sharp-eyed viewers will have noticed that Nick’s wardrobe keeps changing, back and forth.)

 

So ... what the heck?

 

A Magnificent Life: An animated charmer

A Magnificent Life (2025) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five); rated PG-13, for occasional profanity, dramatic content and brief violence

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 3.29.26

Sylvain Chomet has made one of the most delightfully whimsical animated biopics you’re likely to see.

 

French novelist, playwright and filmmaker Marcel Pagnol — 1895 to 1974 — was an imaginative, forward-thinking Renaissance man in every sense of the term.

 

Whenever Marcel gets stuck, trying to extract a key event from long-ago memories, he's
assisted by a ghostly apparition of his adolescent self, who vividly recalls every detail.

In addition to being recognized as one of France’s greatest 20th century writers, he also was an early advocate of cinema upon seeing his first talkie, back in 1929. After coaxing Paramount Pictures to adapt his play Marius into what became one of the first French-language talkies, Pagnol founded his own film studio in 1932, where he often served as producer, financier, director, screenwriter, studio head, distributor and foreign-language script translator.

After shrewdly dismantling everything during World War II, in order to keep his work out of Nazi hands, in 1946 Pagnol became the first filmmaker elected to the prestigious Académie français.

 

And he wasn’t done yet, by any means.

 

Chomet continues to be remembered in this country for two marvelously imaginative animated films, 2003’s The Triplets of Belleville and 2010’s The Illusionist. Long an admirer of Pagnol, Chomet was delighted when asked by the man’s grandson, Nicolas Pagnol, to make a film based on Sylvain’s four-volume memoirs, published between 1957 and 1977 (the last one posthumously).

 

This film is the result: not quite full documentary, and not quite docudrama, propelled by a charming gimmick.

 

Events begin in 1956 Paris, as Pagnol (voiced by Laurent Lafitte) is approached by the editor-in-chief of a women’s magazine, who desires a literary serial that will recount the events of his childhood, his memories of early 20th century Provence, his first loves ... and everything else that captivated him, at the time.

 

Pagnol initially declines, musing “What’s the point of writing things, that people no longer wish to read?”

 

But that statement underestimates both the evocative, emotional power of his writing, and the degree to which he’s admired by the entire French population ... along with a rising fascination with the process of trying to recall all of his important moments and feelings.

Bank of Dave 2: The Loan Ranger — Another gleeful underdog saga

Bank of Dave 2: The Loan Ranger (2025) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five); Unrated, and suitable for all ages

Available via: Amazon Prime and other VOD options

By Derrick Bang

Back in 2023, director Chris Foggin’s delightful Bank of Dave depicted how England’s Dave Fishwick rose from a working-class bloke who parlayed his one-man car repair shop into Britain’s largest minibus supplier, and then — enraged by what the 2008 financial crisis did to ordinary folks — set up his own lending company.

 

After Dave Fishwick (Rory Kinnear, foreground) publicizes the predatory tactics of payday
lenders, they fight back in a way that drags him into court and threatens the existence of
his bank. His colleagues — from left, David (Pearce Quigley), Oliver (Amit Shah) and
Jessica (Chrissy Metz) — offer words of encouragement.

He vowed to do what bank CEOs had forgotten or ignored: to help people and do no harm.

Scripters Piers Ashworth and Clare Keogh shaded some events — it was a film, not a documentary — but the core jaw-dropping details were accurate. (Channel 4’s actual 2012 documentary is readily available via YouTube.)

 

But Fishwick wasn’t finished.

 

Foggin and Ashworth are back, with the just-released Bank of Dave 2: The Loan Ranger, which delivers an equally entertaining and provocative account of what Fishwick did starting in 2013, after learning that some of his customers were being bled dry by the usurious interest charged by payday lending firms.

 

(We’re warned, as was the case with the first film, that this one’s narrative is “true-ish” at best.)

 

Rory Kinnear and Jo Hartley return as Dave and his wife, Nicky, who make the perfect team. Events kick off quickly, when — during a chat show — Dave hears from a caller who is being buried beneath crippling interest rates on a payday loan. 

 

He’s stunned to discover that the British government has done nothing about this predatory business model. Dave then allies himself with Oliver (Amit Shah), a Citizen’s Advice & Law Center counsellor who can lead him to numerous victims. 

 

But unlike Dave’s earlier battle, which was limited to British entities, he and Oliver learn that the two largest payday offenders — dubbed Quickdough and Snapcash Advance — are overseen by a dodgy wealthy American named Carlo Mancini (Rob Delaney). This prompts Dave to cajole Jessica (Chrissy Metz), a New York-based financial journalist, into joining them in his Lancashire home town of Burnley.

 

Their subsequent crusade runs into serious roadblocks. None of the victims is willing to testify in court, for fear of being slapped with even higher interest rates. And while interviewing such folks, Dave learns that both operations are run solely online ... meaning that there’s no physical place for borrowers to pay back in cash, even if they have the necessary amount.

 

That really annoys him ... but it also prompts the ingenious manner with which he decides to channel public outrage, social media being more of a force than it was, back in 2008.