Spider-Man: Brave New Day — Action and angst

Spider-Man: Brave New Day (2026) • View trailer

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

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 8.9.26

After the chaotic multiverse complexity of 2021’s Spider-Man: No Way Home — a score card was needed, to keep track of all the superheroes, super villains and spider guys from three different Earths — this one is a welcome relief.

 

Spider-Man (Tom Holland) and NYPD Detective Jean DeWolff (Liza Colón-Zayas) survey
the wreckage after a massive tank truck rams into a government building occupied by
the somewhat mysterious Department of Damage Control.

Indeed, I deem it the best entry in star Tom Holland’s run as the title character. Just one spider guy here, a couple Marvel Comics colleagues, only a few super villains — including Spidey’s primary antagonist, who remains a mystery until the film’s second half — and a sensible plot that’s easy to follow.

The Chris McKenna/Erik Sommers script is much tighter, and better focused, than the previous films.

 

Fourth time’s the charm, I guess.

 

Back to some semblance of a normal life, Spider-Man has become New York City’s very public resident hero. He enjoys a good working relationship with the local police force, and frequently liaises with NYPD Detective Jean DeWolff (Liza Colón-Zayas, appropriately take-charge).

 

But he’s achingly lonely.

 

For reasons compelled by events in the prior film, the existence of Spidey’s civilian self, Peter Parker, has been wiped from everybody’s memory. That includes best friend Ned Leeds (Jacob Batalon) and former girlfriend MJ (Zendaya). Given that Peter’s beloved Aunt May (Marisa Tomei) also died during No Way Home, that leaves the poor guy even more isolated than usual.

 

Which, honestly, always has been the character’s most compelling feature. As originally conceived by writer Stan Lee and artist Steve Ditko, back in the early 1960s, Peter was a nerdish bookworm and social outcast, which made him relatable to readers. (Back in those days, Superman and Batman never had social problems.)

 

Holland handles angst and loneliness quite well, and many of this film’s best moments occur when the guy is out of uniform. The yearning in Peter’s gaze, when he sees couples and groups enjoying each other, is palpable. And heartbreaking, because Peter still loves MJ, even though — in effect — she never has met him.

 

But somebody always needs saving, some local crisis averted, and some crooks need to be caught, so Spider-Man is kept busy. (I’m not sure how Peter puts food on the table, since there’s no indication of any sort of civilian job. Maybe Aunt May left him a lot of money?)

 

But full-time superhero work takes its toll. Enhanced abilities and high-tech Spider-Man suit notwithstanding, Peter is human. He’s battered and bruised all over, and he also isn’t as quick as he was, back in the day. 

The Dink: An uneven rally

The Dink (2026) • View trailer

Three stars (out of five); rated PG-13, for occasional profanity and plenty of sexual vulgarity

Available via: Apple TV+

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 8.2.26

File this one under “Silly, but fun.”

 

I’ve been waiting for filmmakers to embrace the rapidly expanding explosion of pickleball, and director Josh Greenbaum and scripter Sean Clements have treated this new sport pastime with a blend of humor and good-natured ribbing.

 

Much to his surprise, washed-up tennis pro Dusty (Jake Johnson) begins to enjoy
pickleball, thanks in great part to the kindness and encouragement of Candace
(Mary Steenburgen), his regular partner.

While, sadly, making a few fouls along the way. (About which, more in a moment.)

From the moment he could hold a tennis racket — age 3 — Dusty Boyd was groomed and trained by his father, Chuck (Ed Harris), to become a skilled, forceful and unrelenting tennis pro. By age 17 (now played by Nathan Blair), laden with a roomful of trophies, he had earned the nickname for which he would henceforth be known: “The Hammer.”

 

Then, catastrophe: Following a climactic, hard-fought match against the similarly talented Andy Roddick (Cooper Woestendick), Dusty miscalculated a cocky jump over the net ... and his career was over.

 

Cut to the present day.

 

Dusty (now Jake Johnson), still driving his beloved 1999 Buick LeSabre,  has been reduced to coaching children at Chuck’s tennis club. Dusty has been recounting his flashback rise and fall to a pair of adolescents who couldn’t possibly care less (played with eye-rolling, long-suffering-sigh perfection by Indiana Elle and Cayden Romero).

 

Alas, change is in the wind. Chuck already has granted two of his courts to the demands of local pickleball enthusiasts (the two courts most in need of repair, it should be noted). He’s finding it increasingly difficult to ignore the group’s earnest spokesman, Skip (Patton Oswalt), who wants more courts ... and his well-researched arguments are starting to gain traction. 

 

In an effort to silence Skip, Chuck proposes a winner-take-all pickleball match between each group’s best player. Dusty — insisting that he’s now fully healed, and still desperate to prove himself in his father’s eyes — lobbies to be the club’s champion. Chuck reluctantly agrees, and Dusty throws himself into training ... and, naturally, reaggravates his original wound, and is forced to step down.

 

To add insult to injury — literally — Dusty’s orthopedist (Ben Stiller) prescribes pickleball as the perfect “soft contact” activity to help him heal again. 

 

And, so, Dusty reluctantly joins a gaggle of “pickle pals” on their court one day. He’s partnered with Candace (Mary Steenburgen) in a match against the feisty Gail and Judy (Cleo King and Lynne Marie, both a total hoot). They relentlessly talk smack and taunt Dusty during the calamity of his first attempt at the game, as he repeatedly tries to employ knock-it-over-the-bleachers power returns, instead of the necessary gentler touch ... and whiffs every time.

 

Pressure: Fascinating, behind-the-scenes D-Day saga

Pressure (2026) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five); rated PG-13, for war violence, bloody images and brief profanity

Available via: Peacock (free to subscribers) and other paid VOD options

By Derrick Bang

Director Anthony Maras’ fact-based drama opens on a grim scene that evokes 1998’s Saving Private Ryan.

 

It’s late April 1944. An ashen-faced Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower (Brendan Fraser) slowly walks along Slapton Sands beach in Devon, horrified by the multitude of dead and wounded soldiers, some floating in the waves lapping at the shore. It’s the ghastly wake of Exercise Tiger, a two-day D-Day rehearsal which, because of miscommunication, resulted in the deaths of at least 750 American servicemen, hundreds due to friendly fire.

 

Meteorologist James Stagg (Andrew Scott, right) isn't surprised when his forecast for
the impending D-Day invasion — advising against mounting the offensive on the
chosen day — angers Gen. Eisenhower (Brendan Fraser), but he quietly refuses
to change his mind.

That catastrophe remained largely unknown until the 1988 publication of historian Charles B. MacDonald’s Slapton Sands: The “Cover Up” That Never Was.

The prologue amplifies Eisenhower’s determination to make no mistakes on D-Day.

 

It’s also the first of two “I never knew that” revelations within this film, adapted by Maras and playwright David Haig from the latter’s 2012 play of the same title.

 

We cut to June 2, inside the London home of eminent Scottish meteorologist James Stagg (Andrew Scott) and his very pregnant wife, Liz (Tamsin Topolski). Just as they finish breakfast, Stagg is collected by a military escort, having been appointed Chief Meteorological Officer for the Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force, commanded by Eisenhower.

 

(In November 1943, Stagg was granted an emergency commission with the rank of group captain in the Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve, giving him an essential level of authority in a military milieu unaccustomed to outsiders ... a detail that this film’s script should have supplied.)

 

Stagg arrives at the heavily guarded Southwick House, and is thrown amidst a group of several dozen researchers and meteorologists under the command of American Col. Irving P. Krick (Chris Messina), who accurately supplied weather conditions for Eisenhower’s earlier African and Middle-Eastern campaigns. Krick and this new team have been tasked with selecting the optimal conditions for the Normandy landing: a specific overlap of weather, the tides, the time of day, and the phase of the moon.

 

They’ve relied on information sent by amateur and professional weather watchers studying conditions, and sending up weather balloons, from hundreds of locations in surrounding countries and bodies of water. Armed with all this data — and one other factor, to be discussed in a moment — Krick confidently assures Eisenhower that conditions will be perfect at 6:30 a.m. Monday, June 5.

 

(No, that isn’t a typo. It’s the basis of this drama.) 

The Odyssey: An epic masterpiece

The Odyssey (2026) • View trailer

Five stars (out of five); rated R, for violence, gore, dramatic intensity and profanity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.19.26

Not many screenwriters get to share a credit with Homer.

 

And Christopher Nolan is one of very few directors up to the challenge of the ancient Greek poet’s classic work.

 

Warriors three: Odysseus (Matt Damon, center), Cepheus (Jimmy Gonzales, left) and
Eurylochus (Himesh Patel) survey what's left of Troy, following their successful
siege of the city.

This is epic filmmaking on a truly grand scale, which is the only way to present a saga that has it all: gods and goddesses, men and monsters, full-scale battles, perilous sea voyages, and dastardly palace intrigue. Granted, Nolan skips some events, and minimizes the list of involved deities, but only scholars intimately familiar with Homer’s fabled poem will notice.

Nolan wisely holds our attention, during this three-hour masterpiece, by alternating the “money sequences” with quieter, even melancholy moments between primary characters. Indeed, judging by how Monday evening’s sold-out Sacramento crowd reacted, viewers were much more invested in what would become of Odysseus’ kingdom, during his absence, than with what he faced while struggling to return home.

 

Be prepared for a challenging initial character dump.

 

Nolan follows Homer’s template, opening the story in medias res — in the plot’s chronological middle — and then supplying What Came Before via flashbacks recounted by Odysseus and a few other key players.

 

Tensions are high in Ithaca, where 20 years have passed since King Odysseus (Matt Damon) and his men joined Agamemnon (Benny Safdie) in his army’s successful invasion of the city of Troy. During this time, Odysseus’ wife, Penelope (Anne Hathaway), has endured a palace invasion by an ever-expanding number of boorish suitors hoping to become her new husband.

 

She has held them at bay by promising to remarry when she finishes weaving a shroud for Odysseus’ aged father, Laertes ... but she secretly unweaves each day’s progress at night.

 

(And she has gotten away with this for 20 years? That doth raise an eyebrow or two.)

 

The suitors have remained at bay, in part, because Odysseus’ renown, skill and might leave a massive shadow, even in his absence. During one flashback, we see that he’s the only man able to string his bow, inevitably following that up with his favorite party trick: shooting an arrow through a series of bundled axe heads.

 

Odysseus and Penelope’s son, Telemachus (Tom Holland), has come of age during this time. But he’s more eager to find his father — or, at least, to learn if he’s alive — than challenging his mother for the throne.

 

But one of the suitors, Antinous (Robert Pattinson), has grown tired of waiting. His vile nature emerges early on, when he grossly insults Eumaeus (John Leguizamo), Odysseus’ loyal, loquacious friend and swineherd. Although now blind, Eumaeus still is able to tell the young man what he’s doing wrong during a swordplay training session. Leguizamo exudes honor, honestly and loyalty.

 

Worse yet, Antinous contemptuously abuses Argus, Odysseus’ faithful and now quite aged dog. Pattinson oozes smarmy menace, with a scowl to match. (Do we hate Antinous? You betcha.)

 

Such behavior violates what becomes a crucial theme, as these events proceed: Zeus’ Law, the “guest friendship” decree that decrees how hosts should and should not act, and requires them to treat all guests with respect.

Enola Holmes 3: Elementary, dear reader

Enola Holmes 3 (2026) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five); rated PG-13, for violence and dramatic intensity

Available via: Netflix

By Derrick Bang

This series continues to delight on all levels.

 

Director Philip Barantini, new to the franchise, blends its many diverse elements with stylish élan. He’s rewarded, in this third entry, with fine performances from everybody in the cast: most notably star and co-producer Millie Bobby Brown, the driving force behind these stylish film adaptations of Nancy Springer’s popular books.

 

During a flashback sequence, Enola (Millie Bobby Brown) recalls how surprised and
delighted she was, when Tewkesbury (Louis Partridge) proposed with an
improvised ring.

Over time, Sherlock Holmes’ world has been blessed with both faithful film and television adaptations of Doyle’s famed stories, and all manner of book and film pastiches and alternate universe twists on the original characters. It’s a testament to the adroit flexibility of Doyle’s characters, and the tolerant devotion of his fans, that so many of these what-ifs have been successful.

That’s certainly true of Enola (Brown), the 20 years younger sister of Sherlock Holmes (Henry Cavill, also reprising his ongoing role). In this telling, as faithfully adapted by scripter Jack Thorne, Enola was raised from a young age by their uncharacteristically feisty, free-thinking and mildly eccentric mother, Eudoria (the apparently ageless Helena Bonham Carter, also returning).

 

Eudoria ensured that Enola would be both book-educated and taught to be sharply observant, resourceful and able to take care of herself, thanks to jiu-jitsu self-defensive skills. Enola also became adept at puzzles and word games; indeed, her unusual name is “alone” backwards, a reflection of the fact that most people she encounters refuse to take her seriously.

 

The first film — based on Springer’s first novel, Enola Holmes and the Case of the Missing Marquess —  introduced all of these elements, threw Enola into her first case, and concluded with older brother Sherlock grudgingly acknowledging her detective skills. Thorne and co-scripter Harry Bradbeer veered away from Springer’s books for the second film, focusing instead on an actual historical event perfectly suited to Enola’s endeavors: Britain’s July 1888 matchgirls’ strike, which led to the creation of the Union of Women Matchmakers.

 

Thorne once again dips into established history for this third film, which cheekily removes Enola and Sherlock from their comfortable London setting.

 

“Every good story starts with a wedding,” Enola pertly tells us, as the film begins, once again breaking the fourth wall: one of this series’ many hallmarks. She continues to do so as the story proceeds, frequently pausing to address us directly, or to shoot us a knowing glance. This succeeds because of Brown’s skill with Thorne’s well-scripted dialogue, thus drawing us intimately into these events, as if we’re long-trusted allies.

 

The wedding is her own, to beloved Lord Tewkesbury, Marquis of Basilwether (Louis Partridge, also returning). He has matured from the callow, useless young man of the first film, and now has become a seasoned orator and rabble-rousing member of Parliament, doing his best to move the needle on social and gender equality.

 

Somewhat unexpectedly, their wedding is taking place in Malta, thanks to a suggestion made by Tewkesbury’s mother (Hattie Morahan), who believes this an important acknowledgment of her late husband’s military career.

Moana: It’s déjà vu all over again...

Moana (2026) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five); rated PG, for action peril, scary images and rude humor

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.12.26

The window between Disney’s animated features and these semi-live-action remakes seems to be shortening, given that Moana 2 sailed into theaters just two years ago. This new film’s arrival feels somewhat cynical: driven more by corporate greed than art.

 

Resolutely embracing her destiny, Moana (Catherine Laga'aia) bravely sets sail, to restore
order to what has become an existential ecological threat to her people. Fortunately,
she won't be alone for too long...

But if the enthusiastic crowd for Wednesday evening’s sold-out preview is any indication, this new version of Moana will be a monster hit anyway. (Pun intended.)

It’s easy to see why. The characters are engaging, well defined and capably portrayed; the Pacific island setting is colorful and laden with captivating cultural touches; the focus on female empowerment is always welcome; and the underlying message of caring for the fragile interconnectedness of nature is a lesson that bears constant repeating these days.

 

All this said, the first half of Jared Bush and Dana Ledoux Miller’s script is far more satisfying than the second half, during which the ubiquitous songs also become more intrusive.

 

Matters totally jump the shark when the giant crab Tamatoa (voiced by Jemaine Clement, as he did in the original) unexpectedly bursts into song. This essentially is a retread of the sea witch Ursula’s similar expository sequence in 1989’s The Little Mermaid, but her song — “Poor Unfortunate Souls” — was laced with genuine menace, as was Ursula herself.

 

Tamatoa is nothing more than tedious comic relief, which destroys this film story’s flow.

 

But that comes later. Events begin during a prologue, as the shape-shifting trickster demigod Maui (Dwayne Johnson) steals the bright green, emerald-like heart of Te Fiti, the life-giving mother island goddess who embodies creation. The insufferably cocky and narcissistic Maui does so under the belief that it will win him love and adoration, when in fact he has unleashed a terrible darkness.

 

One thousand years later, we meet the jovial, hard-working denizens of the island Motunui, during a marvelously choreographed dance sequence set to the lively song “Tulou Tagaloa.” This community is ruled by Chief Tui (John Tui), who with his wife Sina (Frankie Adams) are the doting parents of 4-year-old Moana (Emma Puahi-Shapazian, in these early scenes).

 

The little girl has a strong attachment to the ocean, whose waters respond in kind; they part one morning, to reveal a brightly colored shell. She retrieves it; the waters part to reveal another ... and, then, the missing heart of Te Fiti. But she’s suddenly snatched up by her father, who warns Moana to resist the lure of the ocean, because his people have learned never to travel beyond the island’s surrounding reef.

 

The heart is left behind, swallowed again by the sea. (Or is it?)

 

Minions & Monsters: Almost overwhelming

Minions & Monsters (2026) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five); rated PG, for animated violent action and rude/macabre humor

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.5.26

Minions features always have felt less like a coherent film, and more like a randomly assorted collection of sight gags, but this one is particularly scattershot.

 

(It’s no accident that the Minions work best in cartoon shorts.)

 

Although the slyly duplicitous Goomi (the little green guy) has promised Minions James,
Henry and Ed that they'll find their desired monsters in a long-abandoned island cave,
getting there proves ... a bit hazardous.

On top of which, contrary to expectations raised by its title, the crucial monsters don’t appear until way past the halfway point.

Prior to that, writers Pierre Coffin and Brian Lynch have fun dumping the little yellow troublemakers into silent-era Hollywood, where they skewer — or reference — every iconic moment made famous by the likes of George Méliès, Buster Keaton, Charlie Chaplin, Harold Lloyd and countless others.

 

(I do wonder, though ... will such material resonate with today’s moviegoers?)

 

The stage is set when the current Universal Pictures logo halts during mid-presentation, scrolls backwards, and then zips through its previous versions until arriving at the late 19th century dawn of cinema, with crudely animated, monochromatic Minions dancing on the screen.

 

The story proper begins as perky tour guide Olivia (voiced by Allison Janney) leads a group through a vast display of movie memorabilia. Sight gags abound even here, as a glass booth honoring George Lucas unexpectedly contains Lucas himself, trapped without his phone (and gamely voiced by Lucas).

 

Olivia builds to her big reveal of the two most famous figures in the entire museum: Minions James and Henry ... wholly unrecognized by anybody in the group. Appalled by this display of ignorance, Olivia begins an incredible saga that reveals how the official history of cinema is much weirder than what anybody has been taught.

 

The story begins in territory lifted from 2015’s Minions, as tribes of Minions voyage the Earth in prehistoric times, seeking to serve the world’s most despicable masters. One group, led by the disciplined and impatient Dick, has brief encounters with a massive, home-stomping cyclops and a Renaissance-era wizard.

 

Alas, in each case the impish, unfocused and invariably destructive Minions accidentally kill their temporary masters.

 

The imaginative James can’t keep his head in the game; much to Dick’s annoyance, he’s too busy drawing fantastical pictures of encounters with lurid monsters. (James doesn’t know it yet, but he’s in the process of inventing storyboards.) James therefore is shunned by the other Minions, with the exception of the loyal Henry, and the warm-hearted, hearing-impaired Ed, both of whom become best friends. (One struggles to imagine the finer points of Minion sign language.)

Supergirl: A wobbly flight

Supergirl (2024) • View trailer

Three stars (out of five); rated PG-13, for strong action violence and occasional profanity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang

In and of itself, the notion that Kara-El (Milly Alcock) has become a self-destructive tear-away is appropriately poignant.

 

Kara (Milly Alcock, left) repeatedly tries to protect Ruthye (Eve Ridley), by insisting that
she remain safe, but the plucky, sword-wielding young woman refuses to be left behind.

Unlike her older cousin Kal-El (Superman), who had the benefit of loving step-parents and a pastoral Midwestern upbringing, Kara’s backstory is laden with emotionally crippling tragedy (and is faithful to established Super-family lore). No surprise, then, that she spends most of her time on red-sun planets, where her powers are erased, enabling her to indulge in rash behavior and endless drunken binges.

(That said, the notion that she wasn’t killed long ago, while hanging out amid such ill-advised company, is the first sign of trouble in Ana Nogueira’s lamentably uneven and illogical script.)

 

Kara’s current multi-day bender is prompted by her 23rd birthday, an occasion that merely reminds her of the long-gone friends and family members no longer able to celebrate with her.

 

Meanwhile...

 

Elsewhere on Holzherr, the red sun planet where Kara has made her home, Krem (Matthias Schoenaerts) — the savage, remorseless leader of the vicious, Viking-like Brigand scavengers — gleefully murders weapons craftsman Elias (Ferdinand Kingsley), his wife Delilah (Emily Piggford) and their son Edmond (Bruce Lennox), while younger daughter Ruthye (Eve Ridley) watches in horror.

 

By activating booby traps, Elias destroys Krem’s ship before being cut down. The killer and his remaining men trudge away, certain of finding some alternative means of transportation.

 

Since we later learn that Krem and his all-male Brigands have been kidnapping young women, in order to force them to bear male children, it makes no sense that Krem fails to snatch Ruthye on the spot ... and yet he doesn’t. (Let’s call this the second of the many awkward hiccups raised by Nogueira’s sloppy script.)

 

While getting happily blasted at her favorite local pub, Kara is surprised when the grimly determined Ruthye shows up, offering her father’s sole remaining sword to any mercenary willing to help her track down Krem.

 

This alien-laden setting is a cross between Australian Outback pub, East Asian dive bar and Western American saloon, and laden with ooky aliens that make Star Wars’ Mos Eisley Cantina look like a kindergarten class. No surprise, one of the largest and ugliest pubgoers simply snatches the sword, irritating Kara enough to demand its return ... with predictably violent results.

 

But wait ... red sun planet, remember? Kara has no powers, yet we’re supposed to believe that this 5-foot-5 twentysomething slip of a woman could defeat such a huge pug-ugly? (Shall we call this the script’s third awkward hiccup?)

 

Toy Story 5: Absolutely perfect

Toy Story 5 (2026) • View trailer

Five stars (out of five); rated PG, for mild rude humor

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.21.26

The Toy Story franchise has been a marvel since the first film’s 1995 debut.

 

This fifth entry is the best thus far: a bold statement, considering the quality, imagination, voice talent, carefully sculpted characters, sentimentality and heart that long have been this series’ hallmark.

 

When an angry Jessie insists that newcomer Lilypad is useless with respect to helping
Bonnie make new friends, the quick-thinking tablet briskly signs up the little girl with
three schoolmates ... in a chat room.

Ah, but this one adds an oh-so-timely new element: topicality.

Andrew Stanton and McKenna Harris, sharing writing and directing chores, have challenged these beloved characters with an existential threat: impending irrelevance, due to the competitive, soul-sucking arrival of (gasp, shudder) screens.

 

Woody, Buzz, Jessie and all the other toys have long cherished their crucial role in helping young owners nurture their imaginations, while also shaping their social skills. When one owner successfully “grows up,” the toys are passed along to another, as when college-bound Andy lovingly introduced his toy friends to young Bonnie, at the end of Toy Story 3.

 

But the increasingly ubiquitous tablets threaten to break that chain, which our heroes aren’t about to tolerate. They’ve no desire to mimic Puff the Magic Dragon, who “sadly slipped into his cave.”

 

Although this story gives everybody plenty of screen time, Jessie is the focus. Cusack deftly conveys this character’s huge emotional arc.

 

That said, this film opens on a disorienting and unexpected note. Buzz Lightyear (voiced by Tim Allen) wakens in a strange place, during a dark and stormy night. Waves crash on a debris-strewn beach. He spots a huge, damaged container several yards away, apparently having fallen off a passing ship. 

 

Peering inside, he spots 49 more Buzz Lightyears. He activates them; they assemble en masse to scout the island. Sharp-eyed viewers might notice a fleeting glimpse of their spacesuit decals: “Hi-Tech Edition.”

 

(Hold that thought.)

 

Uncertain of their location, unsure of what to do, they equate a blazing star in the nighttime sky with their venerable “Star Command” ... and, hastily assembling a raft, set off to reach it.

 

Meanwhile...

 

Bonnie (Scarlett Spears) happily plays with her toys, putting them through adventures that (for the first time) we “see” through her imaginative eyes. The visual style of these playtime sequences are wholly different: a pastel, tactile, chalk-drawing technique that evokes animated child’s drawings. The impact is sweet, vibrant and mirthfully silly.

 

This gaggle of toys, led by Jessie and Buzz, includes her faithful horse Bullseye, Rex (Wallace Shawn), Mr. Potato Head (Jeff Bergman), Slinky Dog (Blake Clark), Forky (Tony Hale) and many other familiar faces.

 

Woody (Tom Hanks), Bo Peep (Annie Potts) and Combat Carl (Ernie Hudson) are elsewhere at the moment.

 

Disclosure Day: The truth is out there

Disclosure Day (2026) • View trailer

4.5 stars (out of five); rated R, for action violence, gruesome images and some profanity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.14.26 

This is 1977’s Close Encounters of the Third Kind writ very large.

 

Director Steven Spielberg’s original story — fleshed out by skilled genre screenwriter David Koepp — hits the ground running, and trusts viewers to catch up.

 

Despite being surrounded by shadowy agents with orders to apprehend them, each
one unexpectedly steps aside as Margaret (Emily Blunt) and Daniel (Josh O'Connor)
slowly walk toward potential freedom.

The film opens suspensefully on a late-night hostage swap. Dr. Daniel Kellner (Josh O’Connor) apparently stole something quite valuable from Noah Scanlon (Colin Firth), head of WARDEX — “Waived Reporting, Development and Extraction” — a shadowy Department of Defense contractor that apparently answers to nobody. 

This is made clear by the fact that Casper Boyd (Henry Lloyd-Hughes), Scanlon’s go-to “dirty work” field agent, kidnapped Daniel’s girlfriend, Jane (Eve Hewson), in order to facilitate this exchange. It looks fairly cut and dried ... until Daniel raises a small, slender, metallic bipyramid that he holds in one carefully gloved hand.

 

Scanlon and all of his black-garbed associates carefully back away.

 

Daniel and Jane flee, which kicks off the first of this film’s several pell-mell chase sequences. They manage to escape, much to Scanlon’s vexation. (Firth displays an impressive level of barely controlled rage.) But how can they stayhidden, given all the high-tech surveillance resources available to Scanlon? 

 

Meanwhile...

 

Chirpy Kansas City KCXE-TV news meteorologist Margaret Fairchild (Emily Blunt), after completing a day’s work, returns home to boyfriend Jackson (Wyatt Russell), a low-stress musician and Fruit Loops-loving Everyman. The following morning, before she leaves for the morning shift, they’re startled when a red cardinal flies in an open window and perches on the kitchen table. 

 

And stares at her. She stares back, trance-like, Blunt’s expression suddenly a blank, wordless slate.

 

Shaking herself from this fugue, she rushes off to work. After arriving at KCXE, she suddenly starts speaking in foreign languages ... including, as this scene’s uneasy atmosphere builds, a series of guttural clicks, burps and grunts that don’t sound the slightest bit human.

 

Shortly thereafter, she feels a strange, strong pull to go “somewhere else,” much to Jackson’s bewilderment. Somewhere north. 

 

Throughout scenes with these two sets of characters, disturbing radio reports and TV news broadcasts warn of the rapidly increasing probability of a world-wide nuclear war. The threat level jumps to DEFCON 2.

Miss You, Love You: Captivating character study

Miss You, Love You (2026) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five); rated TV-MA, for profanity

Available via: HBO

By Derrick Bang

Two-handers are a challenge on film, because they often feel like plays that wandered into the wrong medium, losing some of their live-on-stage intensity in the process.

 

That isn’t an issue when one of the performers is Oscar winner Allison Janney.

 

As time passes, Diane (Allison Janney) and Jamie (Andrew Rannells) learn a lot about
each other, including the fact that they're both wounded sparrows.

We expect great work from her, and she certainly delivers. This film’s biggest surprise is that co-star Andrew Rannells matches her, line for line, and scene for scene.

Their shared energy is nurtured by writer/director Jim Rash, who grants them a beguiling premise, plenty of tart dialogue, and numerous revelatory exchanges that ramp up the emotional intensity.

 

We’re dumped into the story without preamble, as Jamie Simms (Rannells) parks in the driveway of an attractive New Mexico suburban home, adjacent to nearby desert land. He drags out luggage for what we assume will be a lengthy stay, knocks on the door, and confronts Diane Patterson (Janney), who doesn’t know him from Adam.

 

What initially seems like rude hostility actually is a blend of anger, disappointment and crippling grief. She’s mourning her recently deceased husband, whose departure was preceded by a lengthy battle with Parkinson’s. She hoped that her estranged son Tyler would help her handle the necessary details; instead, he sent Jamie, his assistant.

 

Which, yes, feels coldly insensitive.

 

Jamie, wide-eyed and inappropriately prepped, visibly shrinks under her withering verbal explosion of dismay. She doesn’t shout or screen — Diane is too refined for that — but Janney employs plenty of perfectly articulated, pent-up spite in order to intimidate her visitor.

 

“Am I a lot?” she scathingly asks, after pausing for breath.

 

“No,” Jamie politely lies.

 

“That’s a shame,” she snaps back, “because I’m trying to be.”

 

Resignation eventually sets in; Diane does need help, and the solicitous Jamie won’t be cowed into retreat. He explains that Tyler wanted to help, but is hung up waiting to interview a former POW in Khartoum; he has promised to come as soon as he can. Tyler and Jamie text each other relentlessly, which also annoys Diane. (How could it not?)

 

Jamie notices that Diane seems to be killing the potted succulents that her late husband Henry left behind. (That’ll prompt a smile from gardeners, who know full well that one must work very hard to kill a succulent.)