Reminders of Him: A solid redemption drama

Reminders of Him (2026) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five); rated PG-13, for profanity, drug use and mild sensuality

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang 

Author Colleen Hoover has blazed an impressive trail in the young adult romance genre, with an astonishing 24 novels and novellas during the past dozen years.

 

After yet another near-miss effort to spend even a fleeting moment with the daughter she
never has known, Kenna (Maika Monroe) admits her fears and helplessness to Ledger
(Tyriq Withers), who is trying hard to be fair with her ... and with everybody else.

She’s perhaps best known for 2016’s It Ends with Us, which became her first big-screen feature adaptation in 2024. It was followed by last year’s similarly respectful handling of 2019’s Regretting You, and now director Vanessa Caswill has helmed a respectful, richly emotional adaptation of 2022’s Reminders of Him.

This is the first one Hoover has co-scripted, alongside Lauren Levine.

 

Hoover’s niche often concerns characters trying to navigate relationships that are fractured, damaged or even toxic. Although the atmosphere can be dark and moody, these are credible, relatable, real-world dramas; no surprise, then, that Hoover has an extremely devoted fan base.

 

The driving question in Reminders concerns the circumstances under which redemption and forgiveness are possible ... and whether the key character deserves them.

 

The story begins as Kenna Rowan (Maika Monroe) returns to her home town of Laramie, Wyoming. Her first act, on the city outskirts, seems spiteful; she angrily removes a cross and flower bouquet marking the site of a previous road accident. Then, left on her own — with very few possessions — she makes her way to the ironically named Paradise Apartment complex, and books a unit that almost maxes out her cash in hand.

 

The feisty landlady, Ruth (Jennifer Robertson, a hoot), offers a slight deduction if Kenna accepts one of the many kittens crawling around the check-in counter.

 

Her unit isn’t quite a pit, but it’s darn close. (Subsequent moments spent with the kitten, as the story proceeds, are a sweet touch.)

 

Finding a job is next. But all the doors slam shut when Kenna honestly admits, on the application forms, that she has just been released from prison. This frustrating first day concludes when she winds up in the bar that now occupies the bookstore she once loved. She has a flirty, but brief encounter with the owner, Ledger (Tyriq Withers); the dynamic seems oddly off.

 

Kenna finally secures a job at a local grocery store, thanks to the kindness of shift manager Amy (Grammy-winning country singer-songwriter Lainey Wilson), who doesn’t probe. Their initial conversation is telling; Amy believes in giving people the chance to prove who they are in the present, rather than who they were in the past. (Nice thought. We need more of that.)

It Follows: A smart, scary little shocker

It Follows (2014) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated R, for disturbing violent and sexual content, graphic nudity and profanity
By Derrick Bang

Young indie filmmaker David Robert Mitchell acknowledges a debt to horror auteurs John Carpenter and George Romero, and it’s easy to see why: Mitchell’s little chiller, It Follows, is suffused with the original Halloween vibe.

And I mean that in the best possible way.

As the full implications of her terrifying dilemma are explained to Jay (Maika Monroe,
center), her sister Kelly (Lili Sepe) and former boyfriend Greg (Daniel Zovatto) react with
varying degrees of skepticism. Their doubts won't last long...

Mitchell’s film is unsettling and nervous-making, in the manner of 1968’s Night of the Living Dead and 1978’s Halloween, both of which emphasized atmosphere over the gratuitous gore they were (somewhat unfairly) accused of spawning in subsequent rip-offs. Mitchell understands the distinction; rather than gross out the audience, he’s far more interested in sending us home with a desire to leave the lights on all night.

Not to mention regarding the next sidewalk-strolling stranger with a worried eye.

For the most part, Mitchell plays this card skillfully: This is a seriously disturbing suburban nightmare, and editor Julio Perez IV knows precisely how to pace cinematographer Mike Gioulakis’ often disconcerting camera set-ups: a slightly wonky angle here, a worrying overhead shot there, a tense tracking shot taking us to the next scene.

Nor does Mitchell cheat, with cats bursting from darkened closets, or potential victims playing nasty tricks on each other. This narrative is scary not because of in-our-face surprises or frenzied assaults, but because of inexorable, slow-moving doom: the horror of ghastly inevitability.

The setting is a dilapidated neighborhood in suburban Detroit, with homes just distressed enough to suggest residents trying their best to maintain appearances, despite rampant unemployment and fractured families. The occasional empty house signifies a battle lost, just as nearby streets leading toward the city pass entire blocks of shattered structures that look more like the aftermath of the London blitz, than any portion of a modern American metropolis.

The actual time, though, feels ambiguous (and deliberately so, I’m sure). Technology exists, but smart phones aren’t ubiquitous; neither are we far enough back to glimpse LPs and turntables. It’s as if time, like suburban renewal, has skipped this particular enclave, which exists in something of a dreamlike haze.

Which is appropriate, given what’s about to happen.

College-age Jay (Maika Monroe) and her sister Kelly (Lili Sepe) lead a casual lifestyle with their mother, the latter an alcoholic who barely charts her daughters’ comings and goings. Despite this, Jay and Kelly seem to be reasonably well-adjusted, spending most of their time watching old fright flicks with best buds Yara (Olivia Luccardi) and Paul (Keir Gilchrist), who has had an obvious crush on Jay for many years.

Labor Day: Belabored

Labor Day (2013) • View trailer 
Three stars. Rating: PG-13, for dramatic intensity and mild sensuality
By Derrick Bang

Good artists love to stretch, and should be encouraged to do so; nothing is worse than getting stuck in a rut.

With Frank (Josh Brolin, right) keeping a wary eye on her, Adele (Kate Winslet) quietly
pays for her purchases, afraid that any effort to raise a fuss about this menacing
stranger might endanger her son, Henry (Gattlin Griffith).

Still, it’s puzzling that Jason Reitman — a director/scripter best known for deliciously snarky dialogue and the piquant social commentary of Juno and Up in the Air — would settle for the soggy melodrama of Labor Day. At best, Joyce Maynard’s source novel is one step up from a Nicholas Sparks weeper, and Reitman’s approach slides right into the sloppy sentimentality of a big-screen Harlequin romance, with an endless parade of stricken expressions and long-suffering sighs.

Honestly, this film has so many pregnant pauses, they should have delivered twins or triplets. Strip out the long wordless takes on young Gattlin Griffith alone, and Labor Day would be half an hour shorter.

Okay, that’s unduly harsh and somewhat unfair. When the anguished gazes come from Kate Winslet, they contain undeniable dramatic heft; her every glance and gesture convey a wealth of emotional data. To his credit, co-star Josh Brolin also delivers a persuasive performance, and Griffith — his protracted silences notwithstanding — capably holds up his end of the equation.

Somehow, though, the dramatic whole is less than the sum of these thespic parts. I simply couldn’t get beyond the story’s contrivance and constricted timeline: shortcomings that may have been less conspicuous during the leisurely reading of a 288-page novel, but which confront us aggressively during a two-hour movie.

The story is a memoir shared via adult hindsight by Tobey Maguire, whose narrative voice always is a treat; he delivers just the right blend of wistful nostalgia and reflective insight. He tells us of a most unusual event that took place when he was 13, amidst a particularly sweltering New England summer weekend in 1987.

Young Henry (Griffith) is the sole companion to his mother, Adele (Winslet), who has become reclusive following the quiet tragedy that led up to an unhappy divorce. Henry is her lifeline; to the degree allowed by his youth, he conducts modest financial transactions and handles small shopping chores. But he’s still a boy; larger responsibilities elude him, and their house is sliding slowly into disrepair.

Neighbors, although observant and well-intentioned, respect Adele’s desire for isolation.