Jaunt: A charming little journey

Jaunt (2024) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five); not rated, and akin to PG-13 for sensuality, brief nudity and profanity

Available via: Amazon Prime and other VOD options

By Derrick Bang

Folks with a fondness for California’s scenic coastline will get a kick out of this film.

 

Writer/director Alexi Papalexopoulos’ accomplished feature debut is a road trip in both the physical and spiritual sense: a Golden State journey with well-chosen stops both scenic and touristy.

 

While pausing their California coastal drive for some quiet time on a beach, Madeline
(Emanuela Boisbouvier) listens attentively while Paul (Blake Worrell) begins to
acknowledge the mess that he has made of his life.

Middle-aged, shambling Paul Wesson (Blake Worrell) is introduced at low ebb in his unkempt West Hollywood apartment, laden with dirty dishes, food containers and dead plants. He looks like he hasn’t gotten out much since the COVID epidemic, and — on this average morning — attends a therapy “session” online, rather than in person.

The kind face in the screen obviously has urged Paul, repeatedly, to get outside and jog the nearby Runyon Canyon hiking trail: a modest 2.8-mile ascent with lavish views from Inspiration Point and Clouds Rest. (Papalexopoulos’ film was shot entirely on location, with Luka Bazeli handling the often majestic cinematography.)

 

This time, finally — annoyed by his expanding paunch — Paul goes for it. He manages a half-hearted jog/walk to the first lookout point; he arrives panting, as though he might pass out any moment. At which point (we heave a disapproving sigh), he bums a cigarette from the only other person present: a twentysomething French woman, sitting on a bench and chatting on her phone.

 

To his surprise, she isn’t put off by his appearance. Her gaze is playful, her smile amused; she explains that, in France, it’s customary to exchange small talk for as long as shared cigarettes burn. 

 

She’s Madeline (Emanuela Boisbouvier), a free spirit who has come to California because, well, that’s what some Europeans yearn to do. Paul makes vague references to a former career as a photographer, and maker of low-budget movies. He surprises himself by impulsively inviting her to dinner; she accepts. He shares his address; they part ... and then he remembers what his apartment looks like.

 

Cue a droll montage of frantic cleaning.

 

Alas, his chosen restaurant unexpectedly is closed for the evening. Having learned that Paul knows how to cook, Madeline insists they simply return for a meal at his place. They eat, chat, dance, flirt and wind up in bed.

 

The Sheep Detectives: Wooly bully!

The Sheep Detectives (2026) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five); rated PG, and needlessly, for mild dramatic intensity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 5.10.26

Director Kyle Balda’s quaint little charmer is certain to appeal to fans of Babe, Charlotte’s Web and other (sorta-kinda) live-action talking animal movies.

 

This one blends that core premise with a bit of Shaun the Sheep and ... Agatha Christie.

 

Whenever George (Hugh Jackman) feels gloomy or lonely, he cheers himself by spending
quality time with his favorite sheep, Lily.

The film derives from an intriguing source, adapted from German author Leonie Swann’s 2005 novel, Three Bags Full, which is set in the Irish village of Glenkill. 

Scripter Craig Mazin moves the action to the fictitious English countryside community of Denbrook. (Filming actually took place in and around Oxfordshire, and cinematographer George Steel makes ample use of the lush setting.) Mazin also takes serious liberties with Swann’s characters and the plot; the beguiling result bears little resemblance to her novel.

 

Eccentric rancher George Hardy (Hugh Jackman) gets along far better with his sheep — all of whom he has named — than with the townsfolk. He writes long narrative letters to somebody named Rebecca, detailing his workaday activities. He’s also an avid fan of mystery books; once chores are done each day, and the sun begins to set, he sits on the steps leading to his tiny trailer home, and reads aloud to his large flock.

 

At first blush, it seems curious to see all the sheep amble toward the trailer, and settle onto the ground, as if paying attention. As we learn, when George retires for the night, the sheep understand every word, and debate who the culprit might be. 

 

The lively arguments fly between the patient Mopple (voiced by Chris O’Dowd), the curious Zora (Bella Ramsey), the fluffy Cloud (Regina Hall), the proud and dignified Sir Ritchfield (Patrick Stewart), the shaggy Wool-Eyes (Rhys Darby) and rowdy twins Reggie and Ronnie (Brett Goldstein). Ah, but the wise and perceptive Lily (Julia Louis-Dreyfus) always knows the right answer, well before each novel concludes.

 

Lily understands the structure of such books, explaining that it’s always a matter of deducing which suspect had means, motive and opportunity.

 

Meanwhile, budding young journalist Elliot Matthews (Nicholas Galitzine) arrives in Denbrook, having been sent to write a feature on the town’s “cultural festival.” This turns out to be only three paltry tables set up by prickly innkeeper Beth Pennock (Hong Chau), who becomes grievously insulted when Elliot bluntly notes that her “fair” isn’t such a much.

 

Other key villagers include Tim Derry (Nicholas Braun), the clumsy and sweetly befuddled local policeman; Rev. Hillcoate (Kobna Holdbrook-Smith), the often bewildered local minister; Ham Gilyard (Conleth Hill), the smugly arrogant town butcher; and Caleb Merrow (Tosin Cole), a fellow sheep rancher who leases half of George’s land for his flock.

 

Beth spits nails every time George’s name is mentioned. George, far from devout, stuns  Rev. Hillcoate and his entire congregation during service one day, by storming into church and dumping a huge wad of bills in the donation plate.

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.