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.

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.

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.

The Choral: Makes beautiful music

The Choral (2025) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five); rated R, for profanity and sexual candor

Available via: Apple TV+ and other VOD options

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 4.5.26

During an impressive partnership/friendship that goes back to 1994, director Nicholas Hytner and writer Alan Bennett have collaborated on four films: The Madness of King George, The History Boys, The Lady in the Van and this new one ... along with far more stage productions.

 

Ellis (Taylor Uttley, center left), Lofty (Oliver Briscombe, center right) and Mitch (Shaun
Thomas, far right) listen soberly as Clyde (Jacob Dudman) describes his war experience.

Both are BAFTA, Olivier and Tony Award winners, and their films are beloved by viewers and critics alike. The films are quintessentially British, depicting well-crafted characters who often just try to get by, while facing some sort of challenge, amid events beyond their control.

The Choral is no different. This period charmer was essentially lost earlier this year, amid the post-holiday crush of Academy Award contenders: another lamentably unsung film scarcely granted theatrical release before being shuttled to the purgatory of streaming services.

 

Because, honestly, how is one supposed to find such a film, amid the cacophony of streaming titles ... unless somebody calls attention to it?

 

Consider this such a call.

 

The year is 1916, the setting the small (fictitious), working-class Yorkshire mill town of Ramsden. The war with Germany has raged for two years, during which time the initially patriotic fervor has been replaced by resignation, worry and sorrow. Too many lives have been lost, with — as everybody now realizes — no end in sight.

 

The story opens as telegram boy Lofty (Oliver Briscombe) delivers the worst kind of news to families desperate for their boys’ safe return. He’s accompanied by best mate Ellis (Taylor Uttley), tagging alongside on his bicycle. Lofty is solemn and kind, well aware of the grim news he bears; Ellis is more lighthearted and jokey. But both exchange a telling glance each time a door opens to a woman who crumples upon seeing what Lofty holds.

 

Both boys are 17. Although the British army was all-volunteer during the war’s initial 18 months, earlier this year an Act of Parliament mandated conscription at age 18. Both boys thus are fully aware of what soon awaits them.

 

Alderman Bernard Duxbury (Roger Allam), who owns the mill, also is chairman of the local Choral Society. The group traditionally mounts an annual performance of J.S. Bach’s The St. Matthew Passion. But the war has drastically reduced the choral’s male section — and Duxbury’s work force — which, at one point, prompts a grim warning, “No mill, no music.”

 

Duxbury lost his only son to the war; his wife, Margaret (Eunice Roberts), has retreated into wordless grief, unwilling to abandon her black clothing. But Duxbury, carrying on, recognizes that encouraging the choral’s remaining singers and musicians to produce a concert far beyond their means grants purpose and camaraderie.

Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale — Going out in style

Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale (2025) • View trailer

4.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG, for no particular reason

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 9.21.25

Trust Julian Fellowes to strike gold again.

 

The creator and primary writer behind Downton Abbey has overseen an impressive and always engaging run since the television serial debuted back in September 2010. Six series — encompassing 52 episodes — and three big-screen films later, Fellowes has lost none of his narrative magic.

 

The Downton clan — from left, Lady Edith (Laura Carmichael), Lord Grandtham (Hugh
Bonneville), Lady Mary (Michelle Dockery), Tom Branson (Allen Leech), Cora Grantham
(Elizabeth McGovern) and Bertie Hexham (Harry Hadden-Paton) — pause during
dinner, to ponder some uncomfortable decisions.

This (truly?) final installment brings everybody back to their beloved Yorkshire country estate, along with sequences set in traditionally British high spots such as the Royal Ascot racetrack and a sumptuous formal London ball. (Entertaining as it was, the previous film — A New Era — found everybody a bit out of place, in the south of France.) 

Even so, I worried that the absence of Maggie Smith’s Dowager Countess Violet Crawley would leave a gaping hole in the many carefully crafted relationship dynamics, which Fellowes established over so many years. 

 

Happily, she’s very much in evidence, and not merely via the handsome portrait displayed prominently in the estate’s grand hall. The Dowager Countess’ spirit also is present, and her marvelously tart one-liners have been taken up by Penelope Wilton’s Lady Isobel Merton, who delivers them with equal genteel frostiness.

 

The year is 1930, and the Crawleys — Lord Grantham (Hugh Bonneville), Lady Cora Grantham (Elizabeth McGovern), Lady Edith Hexham (Laura Carmichael) and her husband, Lord Hexham (Harry Hadden-Paton) — have just enjoyed a performance of Noël Coward’s operetta, Bitter Sweet. They’re in posh orchestral seats, of course, while Mr. Bates (Brendan Coyle), his pregnant wife Anna (Joanne Froggatt) and Miss Baxter (Raquel Cassidy) watch from an upper balcony.

 

A backstage visit grants additional exposure to Coward (Arty Froushan, who truly nails the role), star Guy Dexter (Dominic West) and his valet/companion, Thomas Barrow (Robert James-Collier), former Downton junior footman-turned-butler.

 

Coward ultimately plays a significant role in the film’s third act, and his presence also allows for carefully placed and thematically significant songs, including “I’ll See You Again,” “The Stately Homes of England” and “Poor Little Rich Girl.” The first is from the operetta, while the latter two are clever, Coward-esque songs by soundtrack composer John Lunn, who has been with the series from the beginning. (And yes, his iconic title theme is suitably placed.)

 

A running plot line from the first two big-screen films continues to stress the Crawleys: the increasing financial difficulty of maintaining Downton, along with their lifestyle, amid the socio-economic changes taking place during this period between wars. To that end, the family has placed great hope in an inheritance due Cora, following the death of her mother; her “black sheep” brother — Harold (Paul Giamatti), not seen since the TV show’s fourth season — arrives to share these details, accompanied by financial advisor Gus Sambrook (Alessandro Nivola).

 

But that issue is torpedoed abruptly, by the public revelation of Lady Mary’s (Michelle Dockery) divorce from her husband, Henry Talbot. This makes her persona non grata at Lady Petersfield’s Ball — the highlight of the social calendar — where Mary is ordered to leave, because in their aristocratic circle she immediately shifts from society darling to shamed outcast. (Additionally a pity, because we don’t get to see much of the sumptuous gown in which costume designer Anna Robbins garbed her, for this scene.)

 

The Ballad of Wallis Island: Rhapsodic

The Ballad of Wallis Island (2025) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, and too harshly, for brief profanity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang

You just can’t beat our cousins across the pond, when it comes to quirky dramedies.

 

This one comes from the inventive minds of co-writers Tom Basden and Tim Key, who also play the two leading roles. They’ve expanded their BAFTA-nominated 2007 short — The One and Only Herb McGwyer Plays Wallis Island — into this even more beguiling feature-length film.

 

Seeking a way to bridge the awkwardness still present between them, Herb (Tom Basden,
left) encourages Nell (Carey Mulligan) and Charles (Tim Key) to make sky lanterns,
and set them aloft with a private wish.

The premise is hilarious, the execution note-perfect, and the unusually isolated setting an important character in its own right.

The story begins as international music superstar Herb McGwyer (Basden), having agreed to do a private gig on a remote island off the Welsh coast, arrives just off-shore his destination ... following a long trip in a small motorboat. Baffled by the absence of a dock, faced with having to wade the rest of the way, Herb makes matters worse by falling out of the boat and getting thoroughly drenched.

 

He's nonetheless greeted enthusiastically by his host, Charles Heath (Key), who compounds Herb’s perplexity with a ceaseless barrage of apologies, words of adulation, non-sequiturs, poor attempts at humor, and otherwise meaningless idle chatter. (Prepare yourself for a barrage of bad puns.)

 

Herb is further annoyed/confused to discover that they need to walk the several miles to the opulent hotel where he’ll stay ... which happens to be Charles’ home.

 

Its architectural opulence — compounded by touches of whimsy — is breathtaking. (It’s actually Derwydd Mansion, a Tudor-style property dating back to the 15th century.)

 

The décor is period by way of the occasionally bizarre, decorated by somebody with far more money than taste. Kudos to production designer Alexandra Toomey and her team, who filled the vast spaces with items sourced from antique marts and trunk sales.

 

Along the way, Herb has tried repeatedly to get details about where he’ll perform, and for how many people, and so forth. Charles curiously deflects all such questions, until Herb — understandably — finally gets a bit frosty.

 

Turns out that Charles — more than a little eccentric, and a massive fan-boy — is a millionaire many times over, having won the national lottery twice. This allowed him to fill his home with every bit of McGwyer memorabilia he could find, and buy himself the ultimate fan collectible: a concert. For one person. Himself.

Vengeance Most Fowl: It's a gnome run!

Vengeance Most Fowl (2024) • View trailer

4.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG, and needlessly, for mild rude humor

Available via: Netflix

By Derrick Bang 

Filmmaker Nick Park already had won two Oscars, the second for Wallace & Gromit’s The Wrong Trousers, when American viewers finally got to see that hilariously clever claymation short via a Wednesday evening PBS screening on March 20, 1995.

 

That’s how long it took to cross the pond. Unbelievable.

 

Wallace,left, thinks that his recently invented Norbot "helper gnome" will revolutionize
back-yard gardening ... but the more practical Gromit has his doubts.

We Yanks instantly recognized what our British cousins had known since Park burst onto the scene in 1989, with a pair of Oscar-nominated shorts: Creature Comforts took the award, besting A Grand Day Out, Wallace & Gromit’s debut adventure.

Park and his Aardman production team subsequently made the world a better place, in their own modest way: not merely by bringing renewed respect to the painstaking art of sculpted clay animation, but because they also carved a niche for adorable, family-friendly British whimsy.

 

Along the way, Park and his hilariously eccentric claymation duo collected two more Academy Awards, for 1996’s A Close Shave and 2006’s feature-length The Curse of the Were-Rabbit.

 

They’re all laden with folksy, tea-and-cheese, veddy-British charm, laced with countless spot gags and a wacky, off-kilter sense of humor.

 

Along with plenty of eyeball-rolling puns. 

 

That’s also true of the many other delightful Aardman productions that kept us entertained along the way, among them Chicken Run, Arthur Christmas and Shaun the Sheep TV episodes and big-screen features.

 

All of which brings us to this new film: not merely the first Wallace & Gromit entry we’ve seen since 2010’s A Matter of Loaf and Death, but also an inspired sequel to The Wrong Trousers.

 

That earlier short’s villain — Feathers McGraw, the nefarious, inscrutable penguin who disguises himself as a chicken, with the help of a red rubber glove — is seeking payback. (Park and co-director Melin Crossingham must be the only people alive who could made a mute, animated penguin look sinister.)

 

A brief prologue recaps how the beloved duo captured Feathers, and turned him over to the constabulary; the penguin subsequently was sentenced to a “high-security institution” ... the local zoo.

 

The story proper kicks off on a typical day with the ceaselessly inventive Wallace (voiced by Ben Whitehead, sounding just like the late and very lamented Peter Sallis, who played this role for years).  Wallace never met a simple task that couldn’t be “improved” via some crazily complicated contraption.

 

By way of example, each morning begins when Gromit activates the “Get Up Deluxe,” which opens the curtains in Wallace’s bedroom, tilts his bed, and — with the push of a red “launch” button — sends him down a chute, removes his pajamas, dumps him into a bathtub — with pre-wash, soak, scrub and eco cycles — then dries and plunges him into the Dress-O-Matic, after which he plops into the downstairs kitchen, fully clothed, in time for the automatically prepared tea-and-toast breakfast. 

 

It’s a breathtaking 70 seconds — choreographed to Lorne Balfe and Julian Nott’s exhilarating score, with echoes of the iconic main theme — which sets the tone for future, equally frantic action sequences.

Blitz: A powerful, WWII-era character study

Blitz (2024) • View trailer

Five stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for dramatic intensity, violence, occasional profanity and racism

Available via: Apple TV+

By Derrick Bang

Back in 1987, writer/director John Boorman’s semi-autobiographical Hope and Glory presented the London Blitz as something of a “boys’ own adventure,” focusing on children who were too young to understand what was happening, and viewed the chaos as oddly exciting.

 

Shortly after joining hundreds of similarly frightened Londoners seeking shelter from a
bomb raid, by fleeing into a subway, George (Elliott Heffernan) suddenly becomes
aware of something just as dangerous...

Writer/director Steve McQueen’s Blitz takes a decidedly different view.

The setting is London, September 1940; Hitler’s Germany has just begun the eight-month bombing campaign designed to terrify England into quick submission. (He sure got that wrong.) As one immediate result, Operation Pied Piper evacuated 800,000 children from urban centers to outlying rural communities, over the course of just three days.

 

McQueen’s film opens on a terrifying scene, as untrained and outmatched firefighters attempt to extinguish multiple blazes caused by the most recent attack. It’s noisy, chaotic and scary ... particular when the scene shifts skyward, as more bombs slowly spiral their way down. In a few brief minutes, McQueen and his filmmaking team sketch the horror of random death and destruction.

 

This prologue is replaced by brief random shots, concluding with a field of flowers, which slowly fades as piano music is heard. Working-class single mother Rita (Saoirse Ronan) readies her 9-year-old son, George (Elliott Heffernan), with a tattered suitcase. They live with her father, Gerald (Paul Weller), a doting man who radiates kindness and compassion; he’s the piano player. Fleeting flashbacks establish the tight bond between these three, and the deep love that Rita and George share.

 

She’s shattered. Ronan’s stricken expression is heartbreaking, her eyes clenched, in order to prevent tears.

 

George, on the other hand, is furious. He absolutely doesn’t want to leave, refuses to understand why he should, and feels betrayed when his mother resolutely hustles him to the train station.

 

“I hate you!” he snaps, pain in his face, as he breaks from her and runs into a train car. When she spies him through a window, as the train pulls away, he refuses to meet her gaze as she implores him to say a proper goodbye.

 

What follows is powered by two phenomenal performances, from Ronan and young Heffernan, both so solidly “in character” that we soon forget we’re watching actors; they become Rita and George.

 

As the train proceeds, McQueen hits us with the jolt we’ve been dreading ... because George is a mixed-race child. Two loutish boys in the seat behind lean over; one runs his fingers through George’s “unusual” hair. Heeding his grandfather’s advice about bullies, George stands up to them ... and they retreat in embarrassed silence.

 

“All mouth, and no trousers,” George scoffs, recalling his grandfather’s words.

 

(Love that expression!)

The Old Oak: Solid, true to life, and timely

The Old Oak (2023) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Not rated, but R territory for nonstop profanity

Available via: Amazon Prime and other VOD outlets

By Derrick Bang

A reassuring quote, usually incorrectly attributed to St. Augustine, observes that “Hope has two daughters: Anger and Courage. Anger at the way things are, and Courage to see that they do not remain as they are.”

 

Far too many people, these days, have shunned that second daughter.

 

When an unlikely friendship develops between Syrian newcomer Yara (Ebla Mari) and
pub owner TJ (Dave Turner), it's viewed as a betrayal by some of his longtime
neighbors and customers.

The Old Oak is the final entry in director Ken Loach’s unofficial “Northeast Trilogy,” following 2016’s I, Daniel Blakeand 2019’s Sorry We Missed You. At 88 years young, this new film is likely to be his swan song ... although I wouldn’t bet against him. But if it is to be his last hurrah, it’s a lovely note on which to conclude a career that stretches back more than half a century.

This also is the 16th film Loach has made with scripter Paul Laverty: a collaboration that began with 1996’s Carla’s Song. Their oeuvre is dominated by brutally unhappy stories that focus on struggling, working-class individuals driven to — and often beyond — their breaking point. These films are well-crafted statements of rage against real-world systems that seem deliberately designed to crush ordinary folks ... and they’re often quite painful to watch.

 

The Old Oak, however, is a bit different ... although, at first blush, it doesn’t seem that way.

 

The year is 2016, the setting a village in Northeast England: once a thriving mining community, now fallen on hard times. Shops are boarded up, and most former residents have left; many of those who remain are frustrated, depressed, bitter and — yes — angry. The town’s sole remaining gathering spot is its only pub: The Old Oak, run by TJ Ballantyne (Dave Turner).

But even TJ is barely hanging on by his fingertips. The pub’s larger “function space” has been locked for years, due to unrepaired plumbing and electrical issues; the regulars are limited to the smaller space in front of the bar. This sense of slow-motion collapse is conveyed cleverly as the film begins, when TJ — prior to opening one morning — attempts, without success, to straighten the final outdoor letter in the pub’s name.

 

And as far as many of the locals are concerned, things get much worse on this particular day, when a busload of Syrian refugees arrives unexpectedly. Because so many houses have remained empty for so long, they’ve been advertised at fire-sale prices by distant landlords — sometimes based in other countries (!) — who couldn’t care less how this practice destroys the value of the homes owned by the villagers who remain.

 

One such victim is TJ’s boyhood friend Charlie (Trevor Fox), who with his wife did all the right things: They worked hard, raised a family, bought the terraced house they initially rented, and maintained it throughout the years, believing it a secure investment that would fund a happy retirement. Now, through no fault of their own, that carefully nurtured plan has crumbled into dust.

The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare: Jolly good show!

The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare (2024) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated R, for relentless violent content and some profanity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 4.19.24

This one has it all:

 

Taut suspense; superb direction and pacing; well-crafted characters played by a terrific cast; dry, mordant humor; and a jaw-dropping, war-era assignment that unfolds like Mission: Impossible without the gadgets, and is based on actual events related within Prime Minister Winston Churchill’s declassified memoirs, as detailed in Damien Lewis’ 2014 nonfiction book, Churchill’s Secret Warriors: The Explosive True Story of the Special Forces Desperadoes of WWII.

 

Gus March-Phillips (Henry Cavill, center) believes that he and his lads — clockwise from
left, Geoffrey Appleyard (Alex Pettyfer), Anders Lassen (Alan Ritchson), Henry Hayes
(Hero Fiennes Tiffin) and Freddy Alvarez (Henry Golding) — can seriously compromise
Nazi U-boat activities.

To be sure, director Guy Ritchie and his co-writers — Paul Tamasy, Eric Johnson and Arash Amel — have, um enhanced these events quite a bit; that’s to be expected from the flamboyant filmmaker who brought us (among many others) Snatch, The Gentlemen and cheeky updates of Sherlock Holmes and The Man from U.N.C.L.E.

But enough truth remains to make this one of the most audacious covert operations ever to emerge from World War II.

 

England is in dire straits as this story begins, with London enduring nightly Nazi bombing raids, and American forces unable to cross the Atlantic due to the persistent threat of German U-boats (that latter detail stretching the truth a bit). Determined to break this impasse, Churchill (Rory Kinnear) authorizes an off-books assault — dubbed Operation Postmaster —  proposed by Special Operations Executive Brigadier Colin Gubbins (Cary Elwes) and his personal assistant, Lt. Commander Ian Fleming (Freddie Fox).

 

(Yes, that Ian Fleming. He had quite the colorful career during the war.)

 

The details are to remain a secret between Churchill, Gubbins and Fleming: withheld, in particular, from War Office senior officers who favor trying to cut a deal with Hitler (!).

 

The plan: a clandestine black-ops mission — in other words, “ungentlemanly,” by the norms at that time — involving a small group of carefully selected mercenaries, tasked with destroying a crucial U-boat supply ship berthed in a neutral Spanish port on the volcanic island of Fernando Po.

 

Gubbins’ choice to head the mission: Major Gus March-Phillips (Henry Cavill), currently a guest of Her Majesty’s prison system.

 

(Well, naturally.)

 

What follows is a thrilling blend of The Dirty Dozen, The Magnificent Seven and, yes, the aforementioned Mission: Impossible. Once released and apprised of the assignment — when he isn’t cadging fine spirits, cigars and Fleming’s lighter (a cute bit) — March-Phillips assembles his team, each of whom would walk through fire on his behalf:

 

• Henry Hayes (Hero Fiennes Tiffin), an Irish navigations expert;

 

• Freddy “The Frogman” Alvarez (Henry Golding), a demolitions pro fully at home underwater; and

 

• Anders Lassen (Alan Ritchson, recognized from Amazon Prime’s “Reacher” TV series), an unstoppable killing machine, equally adept with knives and his beloved long-range bow and arrows, who has a charming habit of collecting the hearts of his Nazi victims.

 

Scoop: Fascinating, fact-based depiction of a journalistic coup

Scoop (2023) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated TV-14, for dramatic intensity, sexual candor and occasional profanity

Available via: Netflix

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 5.3.24

Movies about reporters have been a cinema staple ever since talkies emerged.

 

Early classics leaned toward comedy, most famously with 1931’s The Front Page and 1940’s His Girl Friday (actually a gender-switched remake of the former). Following World War II, the genre focused more on social issues, with notable examples that included 1947’s Gentleman’s Agreement, 1948’s Call Northside 777 and 1951’s Ace in the Hole.

 

Prince Andrew (Rufus Sewell), naively believing that his "royal bearing" will win the day,
hasn't the faintest notion how his oblivious behavior will come across on camera, when
interviewed by BBC journalist Emily Maitlis (Gillian Anderson)

But it took 1976’s All the President’s Men to bring the genre into crucially important territory, with its depiction of dogged real-world investigative reporters determined to speak truth to power, and warn ordinary people about the monsters hidden in plain sight.

Recent classics similarly ripped from actual events include 1999’s The Insider, 2005’s Good Night, and Good Luck, and 2015’s Spotlight. They remind us of the crucially important role played by the Fourth Estate in a democracy, at a time when honest journalism — in print or on television — is in a death spiral, and an increasing number of corrupt individuals exclude truth-tellers and speak solely to “friendly” reporters.

 

Bloggers don’t break stories or create news; they merely repeat it.

 

All of which brings us to Scoop, adapted from a chapter in Samantha McAlister’s 2022 memoir about her most (in)famous journalistic “gets”: in this case, the events that led to the 2019 BBC television interview that brought down Prince Andrew.

 

As was the case with All the President’s Men — which captivated naysayers who initially scoffed at the notion of investigative journalism being interesting — director Philip Martin’s well-paced handling of these events is fascinating. He gets a significant boost from the sharp script by Geoff Bussetil and Peter Moffat — the latter a veteran of crime-oriented British TV shows such as Criminal Justice and Silk — and a terrific cast.

 

The story begins in 2010, with a suspenseful prologue that finds tabloid photographer Jae Donnelly (Connor Swindells, excellent in this brief role) finally getting the photo — on December 5 — that showed Prince Andrew strolling amicably through New York’s Central Park with his good friend Jeffery Epstein.

 

That picture would haunt Prince Andrew for almost a decade, as he tried to distance himself from the slowly widening sex scandal that embroiled Epstein and his equally complicit partner, Ghislaine Maxwell.

 

Martin and his writers then move events to 2019, as staff members of the BBC current events program Newsnight listen with dread when massive layoffs are announced. Emotions are high, prompting an uncomfortable exchange between “booker” Sam McAlister (Billie Piper), producer Esme Wren (Romola Garai) and on-air interviewer Emily Maitlis (Gillian Anderson).