In Border, Swedish customs officer Tina (Eva Melander) has an inexplicable but undeniable talent for sniffing out the feelings of people around her -- she can smell anger or guilt, which allows her to uncover any number of crimes enclosed within the people walking by her inspection point.  Her senses go haywire one day when Vore (Eero Milonoff) comes through, and she encounters for the first time someone who looks like her but at the same time holds no shame or apology for it.  It's hard to tell which aspect is more intoxicating to her, which has consequences that alter her world irreparably afterwards.

Abbasi's second film is based on a short story by Let the Right One In's John Ajvide Lindqvist and features the same sort of ubiquitous loneliness of the Other.  Abbasi has said he wanted to emphasize the experience of being a minority, and Tina is repeatedly shown to be maligned, sometimes subtly but often not.  She is stared at in grocery stores, she finds herself looking at closed doors that she realizes she has no power to open, and she lives with someone whose indifference is outmatched by the outright aggressive behavior of his three dogs who clearly detest her.  And yet, to typify her experience as a metaphor for the minority, for the immigrant or for the transgender (both of which Abbasi denies), is irresponsible when we see how the story unspools.  In many ways, Border is a love story...not even necessarily of Tina and Vore, but of Tina and herself.  For Tina, she is able to feel both remarkably beautiful but also finds liberation in being normalized.  But while it's important for her to grow and appreciate herself, it is not necessary to do so at the price of discarding humanity itself, especially if she is meant to embody a minority.

As a character, Tina is kind -- you see it in her interactions with others, namely her father, and in the childlike wonder as she communes with nature and the animals around her (besides, for whatever reason, dogs).  The film tries to balance a high-falutin idea in introducing the worst of humans, and yet emphasizing that perhaps it is the best of what humans are capable of that prevents Tina from completely abandoning them.  No more should be said plot-wise at the risk of spoiling Border, but there is a disavowal of nuance and depth in Tina's ultimate choice.  Her kindness comes from some of the goodness in life, even as she has experienced cruelty.  When Abbasi looks through a cut and finds a scene or a frame that looks too "good", he'll reportedly cut it out, because he doesn't want the beauty of an image to distract from the film.  Unfortunately, this application applies to both his visuals and his storytelling, but to deny that beauty is to disturb the verisimilitude of its subject.  There is good in humans, and there is beauty in the life that Tina lives -- and to ignore that is to simplify the subtlety of her moral decisions. 

More than anything else, Border is interesting because of its genre bends and plot twists, but beneath the core of that there's not much of a beating heart.  Abbasi is certainly to be appreciated for what he has attempted with the film, but it could have spent more time on the borders between nature and nurture, the borders we place within our hearts, and the borders we traverse to connect with other people outside of those we look like.

A group of WWII soldiers must take down a Nazi radio tower in a small French town in order to allow the Battle of Normandy to take place.  In the catacombs of the church underneath the tower, they find horrors concocted by Nazi scientists intending to build an immortal army for the Germans.

To call Overlord a Nazi zombie flick is misleading, although that's the go-to phrase for this movie.  The Nazi/WWII backdrop is more of a convenience, considering its revisionist alternate history makeup of the army (no one bats an eye at the mixed races and the sergeant is a respected African-American man) and the ease of an indelibly evil adversary.  There aren't quite enough zombies to make it a zombie flick either, nor do we have the usual braindead bloodthirsty inanimate bodies scrambling around.

The reason this isn't a zombie movie is because it misses all the beats of its predecessors, even while making references to Moreau and Carpenter.  It takes itself completely seriously, almost to a flaw.  There are beats in the movie where you expect a joke, but Overlord purposefully elbows those moment aside as if to assure you how seriously we should take it.  This is fine, but it then makes it harder to excuse the lapses in judgment the characters make.  There are a few too many unzipped bags, syringes used with devil-may-care-consequences, or trusting peeks into darkened cells for any normal person to make.  There's an attempt at the theme of not becoming the monsters you're fighting, but it peters out fairly easily.  Boyce (Jovan Adepo) is the protagonist here and he serves as a moral compass for the group, supposedly not even able to kill a mouse.  But as Overlord progresses, he sometimes unwittingly shows the lack of moral compass for the story, including his readiness to move to violence in one scene.  There's no moral quandary or dilemma found there...in fact, you'd find more of that in Shaun of the Dead.

With all that said, however, Overlord is still a fun ride.  Part of this is because you come to love the troop, and that's always half the battle.  The characters are easily established in the first few minutes, from fast-talking Tibbet (John Maguro) to brooding transfer Ford (Wyatt Russell), and this unfortunately is what so many current horror movies lack and what their weakness is.  The livelihoods of these men wouldn't matter a whit otherwise, and thankfully we don't have that problem here.  The special effects don't have the same verisimilitude that, say, Saving Private Ryan does, but we don't really need it to.  The first sequence of their parachute jump is a completely whipped around, manufactured ride...but it's still exciting and breathless all the same.  On par with that is the discovery of the Nazi lab, which is manufactured and breathless in a different way.  The eeriness of that scene makes it one of the highlights of the movie, where otherwise things are little too matter-of-fact.

Zombie movies have often been a social commentary on the current events.  If Overlord were to serve that purpose, it might be the refreshing recourse of an easy bad vs good and being able to take matters into your own hands on the side of good.  The film might not be trying anything at all though, because the strength of Overlord is indeed in the artificiality of it, including its disavowal of the other horrors that can be (and were) created by those with power.  Its assurance of no moral grays is vaguely reassuring, and it's a movie that would be better categorized as an action movie that will engage the viewers for its runtime.

There's a scene in Wildlife when Jeanette (Carey Mulligan) takes her 14-year-old son, Joe (Ed Oxenbould), to see a wildfire raging in the Montanan forest.  "Do you like it?" she asks him.  His response is in the negative, as he gazes, bewildered and horrified at the destruction before him.

The same could be said of Joe's reaction to his mother's path of destruction in Paul Dano's directorial debut Wildlife.  The film is about the changing roles of a nuclear family in 1960s, but only tangentially.  Wildlife is told chiefly through the eyes of Joe, who is unaware of social shifts of the decade, and can only witness and feel what is happening to his family before him.

Jeanette is devoted-- supportive in every way and perfectly fulfilling all that the role requires of her as a good mother and wife.  This is perhaps why she reacts the way she does when her husband lets her down in conforming to his role of what a good husband should do in providing for the family.  Jerry (Jake Gyllenhaal), loses his job and decides to take on low-paying and dangerous work of fighting wildfires, ostensibly abandoning his family to do so.

Mulligan does an excellent job of playing an unmoored Jeanette, confident as she charges forward, and yet completely uncertain of what her identity is.  She's done her part, but what happens when her partner doesn't?  She takes on the role of an independent woman, but she's not sure of what that means for her or if she really wants to.  At one point, she says "If you have a better plan for me, tell me."  Early on in the movie, someone assumes she's angling for a job and she quickly assures them that she's a stay-at-home mom -- it becomes a bit of a loaded statement as the film proceeds. 

​The question of identity is one that the whole family struggles with to some degree.  For Joe, he's still maturing and his questions at first angle around the image of being a good son and football player.  He later takes a job where he is taking snapshots of perfect ideals, or perfect moments in time.  For Jerry, there's obvious hurt pride after losing his job, but he doesn't even seem to know what his pride is in.  His worry consistently is that Jeanette won't be mad at him, and he seems surprised when she doesn't fulfill that cliche.  Jeanette of course struggles to fit warring identities throughout the story.

Dano's assurance in composing the film is lovely -- there are some truly wonderful framing shots and for the most part, he avoids the pitfall of trying too hard.  There are a couple parts where the technicality of a shot gets in the way of the storytelling, but really only a few.  Dano's use of light and landscape is reminiscent of Kelly Reichardt, just one beautiful shot of a face angled in morning light after another.  His greatest strength is in the space he allows his actors -- Mulligan of course, but Oxenbould is really fantastic as a precocious adolescent whose love for his parents gives us a more forgiving lens to view the movie in.  Gyllenhaal is looser here than usual -- his film roles are often too controlled, too thought through before the film starts shooting.  Jerry is so uncertain and Gyllenhaal's portrayal of him is similarly ambiguous, making those moments where he crystallizes into hard focus that much more effective.

There are few times that Jerry and Jeanette come together in physical space, and they provide a poignant counterpoint throughout the film.  You can probably sketch the whole story from the weight of the glances Mulligan and Gyllenhaal share (or avoid) with each other.  Wildlife ​is seen through Joe's eyes, but everyone comes of age in this story, and the last scene is a truly heartbreaking portrayal of that.

Six acts and an epilogue, Luca Guadagnino's take on the Dario Argento film of the same name is set in 1977 Cold War Berlin.  Susie Bannion (Dakota Johnson) is a young Mennonite whose dream is to study at a dance academy under the choreographer Madame Blanc (Tilda Swinton).  But something at the school is unsettling, other than the bombs and demonstrations raging outside.  A student has disappeared amidst uncertain rumors and something other than the dancers appears to be sighing within the walls.

Guadagnino's Suspiria is every bit as drenched as his former Call Me By Your Name, albeit in different ways.  But there are still his trademark moments in the smallest of motions -- the trace of a finger across a page that you can hear as well as feel.  And for whatever reason, there's no other director that can make you feel the wind blustering through tree branches outside the window more tactilely.  And then there are, of course, a few scenes where you get a little more than the scrape of a tree branch to feel.

At times, Suspiria appears a bit confused -- there are a few underrunning subplots that don't quite coalesce, including a constant reference to an RAF (Red Army Faction) guerrilla campaign.  However, the biggest mistake in going into this movie is to be under the impression that it is meant to be a horror movie that thrives on thrills.  It does have its share of gore and blood, but Suspiria is more of a suspense that explores themes of motherhood and guilt.  Not for nothing is the main dance of the film named "Volk".  When the dance company performs it, Madame Blanc announces that it will be the last time that they do so.

Guadagnino works again with cinematographer Sayombhu Mukdeeprom and editor Walter Fasano, and their work together is crucial in creating a flow -- not only of this story which is one of sadness as much as destruction, but also in getting the most impact from the choreography, which is reminiscent of Pina Bausch.  The camerawork here is never afraid to let us know of its intrusion.  Quick cuts show agitation, as well as the idea of something working behind the scenes.  Unlike Call Me By Your Name, where an outside touch is unobtrusive, we have sweeping camera actions and swish pan.  For all its debauchery at times, Guadagnino never turns his film into a spectacle.  The ending of the film may come as a surprise, but that's only if you've been too focused on the blood spurting out of wounds.  Take a look again (if you care or dare to), and think on the relationships between the women, but also the changing dynamic of a daughter or creation to her mother, as well as the meaning of memory and the tragedy in muting it.

Dakota Johnson is fantastic here, able to convincingly portray her evolution from the first innocence we meet in her character.  Tilda Swinton, with her sweeping hair and dresses is terrific in her enigmatic and eerie persona.  Thom Yorke also does the soundtrack wonderfully -- it's understated, but more than that it molds to the shape of Susie, from the heartfelt to the eerie.  It's a personal portrayal of the character's moods and evolution.

Can a movie become a cult classic when it's obvious how hard it's trying?  Director Panos Cosmatos' supremely weird Mandy is primed for midnight movie greatness, but at times it's a little too content to riding the coattails of its influences.

Lumberjack Red Miller (Nicholas Cage) lives in an isolated cabin with his artist girlfriend Mandy (Andrea Riseborough), who catches the eye of folk singer, sex/drug cult leader Jeremiah Sand (Linus Roache).  Jeremiah attempts to seduce Mandy by way of impressing her with his sweet tunes, which doesn't really go as planned...as you could have guessed based on Mandy's penchant to wearing metal rock tshirts.  Unfortunately for her, Jeremiah is a sensitive artist who reacts to her disdain in a gruesome manner, launching a wrathful rampage by Red, bent on vengeance by any means.

Mandy is Lynchian at its first half, and Raimi-esque by the second.  It's a weird trip that often depicts an 80s heavy metal album cover come to life, and although it has some wonderful zingers of lines, it also has some oddly lazy ones like when a demon biker gang member slashes at Red with a knife and Red rages "that was my favorite shirt!"  It's a moment that easily gets some chuckles from the audience, but feels more like a missed opportunity at a better, wittier line.

There's no denying Mandy's style, and it comes as no surprise that Cosmatos is the son of director George P. Cosmatos who helmed Rambo II and Cobra.  Cinematographer Benjamin Loeb works some grungy magic with red-drenched scenes and surreal strobe flares.  Not to be forgotten is Johan Johansson's synth heavy soundtrack, proving his versatility and skill once again (and once again making us mourn his untimely departure).  The low budget forced the team to work in digital, even if their influences are strictly analog, but Mandy is nevertheless able to evince a look that is both low-focus grain and slickly graphic novel.

That duality plays out in its tone, which is both its strength and its weakness.  Mandy ends up being a complete gorefest, but wants you to admire it more than have fun.  It never descends into camp or meta winks, but yet wants to be a vintage 80s action fest all the same.  It's not as genuine as a Lynch feature, which is just plain strange without worrying about how it will be perceived.  The production is so heavy, the only reason it doesn't completely overwhelm its characters is because of Cage's manic performance and Riseborough's otherworldly detachment.  Cage, thankfully, pops out of the blood-soaked veneer of the movie with the sheer strength of his white-balled gaze and bared fangs.  The same can't be said about its admittedly creepy yet mostly forgettable villains.

There's a masterpiece that's hinted at here, if Mandy had merely gone through a few tweaks.  But that doesn't mean it isn't a good romp to enjoy with a midnight crowd.  There's certainly a new scene to add to Cage's curriculum vitae of film freak-outs, and it might be worth it alone to witness Red's armory (including a shotgun crossbow, amongst others).  However, Mandy ends up being more of a missed opportunity that tries a little too hard.

There's a scene partway through Colette where the heroine is watching the opening scene of a play based on her semi-autobiographical book.  The stage actress pronounces her lines with affectation and she postures before a painted backdrop.  It's a pale shadow of the novel's words, and beyond that, of Colette's life -- a thought that visibly passes across Colette's face at that moment.

Colette, based on the life of French novelist Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette unfortunately has that feeling of being but a wan portrayal of the firebrand who became known for her journalistic and literary accomplishments, as well as her sexual exploits with men and women alike.  Director Wash Westmoreland chooses to focus on Colette's early life and her evolution from naive country waif to the exceedingly modern woman she became.  A country girl without a dowry, Colette (Keira Knightley) marries a man 14 years her senior, a lively Parisian philanderer named Willy (Dominic West).  Before long, he's using her natural writing skills to his benefit, putting his name to wildly successful novels that she writes for him.

Colette certainly gives Knightley more of a range to plumb, and it's satisfying to see her with a role she can sink her teeth into.  There's a distance from her character though, that is more at fault with the pacing and writing.  Scenes are separated by leaps in time, and despite being a sort of origin story, we don't see as much of the actual inception as much as we could.  We're led to believe that Colette needs only to be locked up into a room to produce literature, and to be subject to her husband's infidelity to pursue sexual fluidity.

This is not to say that Colette is not a thoroughly engaging film.  There are delicious barbs of wit punctuating the script and Colette's road to artistic independence is far more contemporary than its backdrop would suggest.  Westmoreland struggles to achieve the exact message he wants to convey.  Is it the double life or meta existence within existence that Colette creates for herself when she writes herself into a story for her husband?  Constantly throughout the film, we see Colette reflected and refracted through glass even as we experience her literary heroine reflected and refracted through her words.  She's transformed into the public's image of the literary heroine and thus begins to see images and imitations of herself wherever she looks.  It's an interesting theme that Westmoreland could have studied with more depth.  The trajectory of the story would indicate that he wants to talk about Colette's metamorphosis, but it's more of a push and pull between her and her husband -- in fact, it seems that the more that her husband does wrong, the more she finds freedom.

There's nothing novel or incendiary in the story, but it's worth it to see Knightley's performance in a role that is both period and relevant.  Where it fails is that in reading more into Sidonie-Gabrielle's history, we're surprised by a life that is far more expansive and compelling than what Westmoreland decided to convey.

Is there anything more entertaining than watching Tom Cruise run?  Whenever he's running, you legitimately believe that the world is going to explode if he doesn't get to his destination on time.  And so he runs against the ticking clock, or jumps out of a plane, or flies a helicopter, or does any number of stunts that prove to be more and more jawdropping as the film progresses.  And of course, the real draw has been (since Mission Impossible III) the fact that Cruise is doing all of his own stunts.  Production halted on Fallout because he broke his ankle during one of the stunts, and they actually kept that specific shot in the film.  The limp he affects right after the jump isn't an affectation at all, but a hobble as he struggles to finish the take on the ankle.

It's been over twenty years since Brian De Palma's original movie, and the series has blossomed into the best action film since Mad Max Fury Road.  Christopher McQuarrie comes back from the previous Rogue Nation to direct Cruise in the latest installment of Ethan Hunt (Cruise) and the IMF team who have to recover plutonium cores after a mission goes awry.

It's a deceptively simple plot, but McQuarrie juggles a mindboggling amount of balls in order to make the story as clear and emotionally relevant as it does.  First, we have the cast of characters that has grown together over the past few installments.  The chemistry between Luther (Ving Rhames), Benji (Simon Pegg), and Ilsa (Rebecca Ferguson) is believably compelling because it's been built and hard-earned.  The trust that they have for each other is therefore a given.  A complaint I had about Rogue Nation was the lack of character development because the cast was already established.  Here, McQuarrie uses that familiarity to build serious moments and to make us care more for the characters.  As Ethan shows over and over again as his ethos, we care for the one just as much as the many.  McQuarrie wisely understands the best way to get us emotionally invested in the stakes and the plot is our empathy for this cast.

Second, McQuarrie brings the audience in again with the stunts.  There's something beautiful about the verisimilitude of Cruise's stunts.  When he tears around on a motorcycle without a helmet, he has to reach out his leg time and time again to keep his balance.  It's not a move that James Bond would ever have to make, but it makes it that much more realistic.  Cruise constantly shows that he's willing to take a hit.  He's like Jackie Chan in that way (just as Tom Cruise is to Daniel Craig as Jackie Chan is to Jet Li) -- when you put Jackie Chan in a room with 20 enemies, you know that he's going to get out, but he's definitely going to get banged up in the process.  The similarity to Chan doesn't end there -- McQuarrie and Cruise both understand that to film a proper action scene, we need to see both the hit and the impact of it in one shot.  It's the kind of editing that shows that Cruise is actually getting thrown from a collision.  It's also the reason why, when Cruise is driving against traffic at one point in the movie, the camera pulls back from his point of view to show him actually doing it.  It may not be closer to the action, but it definitely makes more of an impact to see him in the thick of it.  Fallout doesn't try to hide any of the action with shaky cameras, dark lighting, and confused or rapid edits.  When we're smack in the middle of one of the most exciting car chase scenes in the last decade, there isn't even a soundtrack to influence our emotions.  What exists in the scene is just the sound of the engine in an unadulterated, genuinely thrilling chase.

I'm still waiting for the day that Tom Cruise starts including a stunt blooper reel a la Jackie Chan at the end of his films.

Again and again, the team is given impossible scenarios.  And each time, Ethan Hunt says "we'll figure it out".  And that is the sort of trust that the audience builds for this movie.  It's all a little ridiculous -- the set up of a time bomb, or the hijinks that are necessary for every supposedly uncrackable security system -- but it's a conceit that we've come to accept.  At this time, we trust that every decision made is made for the good of the movie.  And each impossible situation comes with an excited expectation of being dazzled by the solution.

The impossible situation set up by Fallout's conclusion is thus:  how will they ever come up with a sequel to top this one?  But as always, we'll be eager to see how Hunt and his team figure it out.

Everyone's favorite mutant mercenary is back in the form of Wade Wilson (Ryan Reynolds) AKA Deadpool.  He's as irreverent and fourth-wall breaking as ever, but does it work for a second round?

The answer, for the most part, is no.  The original Deadpool did as well as it did probably because it was an anathema to the already bloated superhero culture, but its sequel has chosen to be part of the problem in a completely uninspired, lazy, often painful to watch superhero flick.

In the sequel, Deadpool seeks some sort of redemption after being told by the love of his life, Vanessa (Morena Baccarin) that his "heart isn't in the right place."  What follows is a hodge-podge time travel rip-off of Terminator and a plotline also dangerously close to X-Men: Days of Future Past.  The jokes keep flying, as well as body parts, but it never does it naturally or flippantly.  They're all predictable and somehow dull.  Director David Leitch (Atomic Blonde), known more for action choreography, never lets the movie breathe.  Somehow, even Avengers has managed its serious/humor balance better.  When a scene is supposed to be heavy or somber, Leitch never allows us to feel the impact of it before slapping another joke on.  Similarly, some of the jokes never land because they're not given the right amount of space.  And time travel as a subject is always tricky, but Deadpool 2 writers Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick basically just use it as a get out of jail free card to do whatever they want, completely eliminating any sense of suspense or emotion we might be tempted to feel for these characters.

It's a pity because there's some good material here.  Zazie Beetz sparkles as Domino, but really we could use better camera direction to really emphasize the physical comedy that's possible with her mutant ability.  It's largely wasted and that's a huge shame.  The other characters are paper thin and completely underdeveloped.  Brianna Hildebrand as Negasonic Teenage Wasteland is basically an afterthought and Vanessa's character has somehow devolved from being every man's cool girl to representing a toxic masculine outlook.  She has no character or purpose other than to represent the sort of perfect "woman who's cool with anything" that is merely there for Wade to return home to.  Also disappointingly, Julian Dennison is merely the same exact character as his other role in Hunt for Wilderpeople.

But perhaps this is just clever subversive writing?  Well, just because you point out your own flaws doesn't excuse them, such as when Deadpool refers to a "steaming pile of foreshadowing" to subvert some lazy writing.  There's never a chance for us to be worried about any of the characters, and part of that is simply because Deadpool apparently just can't die, and part of that is because they're never really put in any danger.  At one point, Deadpool and another character unload into a group of medical staff who are all holding guns.  Do they deserve it? -- well, yes the story does lead you to that conclusion, but is that really necessary?  I'm not even sure they knew how to properly use those guns, and yet it somehow made sense for the writers to unleash not just Deadpool in all his mutant glory but another fighter into a full-on anti-climactic battle against them.

Deadpool 2's problem is that it holds nothing sacred.  Before, the excessive violence and fourth-wall meta mockery might have been fresh, but now it relies far too much on that while eschewing good storytelling, fleshed out characters, and an actual conflict.  Better luck next time, but we'll hope that your third movie takes the route of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade after Temple of Doom and not Godfather Part III.

In Prospect, a teenage girl Cee (Sophie Thatcher) and her father Damon (Jay Duplass) land on a green moon to harvest its riches.  However, set in a toxic atmosphere amongst other deadly unknowns, their straightforward mission becomes one where escape is synonymous with survival.

Director duo Chris Caldwell and Zeek Earl's first feature-length film is actually an expansion of a short film they released four years ago.  Usually the result of such an expansion is a movie that has a good trickle of an idea that wears out too quickly, or a plotline that doesn't have enough substance.  Caldwell and Earl have somehow managed to do the exact opposite -- in this compact movie that runs at 98 minutes, they manage to hint at a whole galaxy of stories and characters that exist vibrantly outside of this feature film.

Prospect opens on a usual humbling establishing shot of a spacecraft drifting amongst the stars, but this time the scene has all the romance of a scrappy VW van road trip that's gone on for too long.  The equipment is beat, there are dirty smudges everywhere, and its inhabitants -- Cee and her father -- are a little greasy and none too pleased with each other's company.  There's no glamour in this final frontier; instead, Cee and her father are more like a family barely hovering over poverty, living out their lives on some desperate jobs.

Their latest is a prospecting one for mercenaries.  Damon has a set of skills that allows him to harvest a sort of space oyster through a series of complicated steps that if done right produce an amber-like jewel called an Aurelac.  So far so good, until they're beset with snags such as a time crunch, an unwanted crash landing, and other unsavory characters after the same goods.

Prospect is a marvel of world-building, where there are hundreds of little details that have been thought out but aren't too gaudily displayed.  The costumes are lived in, and the ragged breaths the actors drag in while encased in helmets are probably not feigned.  Caldwell and Earl have more than once ruefully remarked that this kind of attention to detail only comes from immersing themselves in the Star Wars Visual Encyclopedia growing up.  Whatever the cause, it's both their care and also their confidence in letting it stand for itself without overexplaining that make this film work.  Caldwell and Earl opened up their own shops to create their props, costumes, and effects over the space of a year, and the few CG effects in the movie such as a giant moon backdrop seem like they're mined off of those old sci-fi paperbacks you could buy by the dollar.

Prospect relies almost completely on the shoulders of Thatcher, and she's a marvel of her own.  Seemingly stoic at times, and yet hinting at a far complicated emotional depth that comes from her rich backstory, she's capable in a world where she's completely out of her depth.  At many points, she lacks the skill to go forward, but not the fortitude.  The growth of her character throughout the movie provides a surprisingly moving climax.  Pedro Pascal, who plays another spaceman Ezra, chews through all of his lines, clearly evincing a pleasure at each line he has to drawl out, sounding like the narrator of Bastion.  He's as delightful as he is improbable.

Besides the sheer satisfaction of a story well told, Prospect is also beautiful to behold.  Shot primarily on indie favorites, cameras from RED digital, they've managed to transform the Hoh rainforest in Washington to something both bizarre and approachable.  It's appropriate for this intimate space western, that feels both retro and startling current.  Daniel L.K. Caldwell also provides an understated, yet stirring score.

Although Prospect hasn't been picked up yet for a wider release, it's a stunning debut that certainly deserves to be.

It's truly difficult to judge a documentary such as Won't You Be My Neighbor on its technicalities because of the subject matter.  Director Morgan Neville (20 Feet From Stardom) states clearly that he didn't set out to make a documentary about Fred Rogers himself, but rather his philosophy and ideas.  The result is a film that not only makes us wish we had treasured the man even more while he was alive, but drives home how needed and relevant his philosophy is today.

It may have been a simpler time, but Mr. Rogers from the beginning never shied away from the complexities or the value of children's feelings and thoughts.  One of his first episodes in 1968 has his puppet King Friday XIII ("one of the few remaining benevolent despots") erecting a large wall to keep out the people from outside his kingdom.  Through either direct or indirect learning, Fred Rogers talked about acceptance, divorce, and assassination (in an episode made after the Robert F. Kennedy assassination) among other topics.

Won't You Be My Neighbor does have a few interviews scattered throughout its run, but it for the most part thrives on significant episodes of the long-running series Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood as well as a few clips of Mr. Rogers talking himself, including one that opens the movie where he talks about guiding children through the modulations of life.  It would be accurate to say that it isn't an accurate portrayal of Fred Rogers himself -- there is very little about his childhood or his private life.  There's not necessarily an even judgment of his character, as everyone on screen only has glowing, positive things to say about him.  But to criticize that aspect of it completely misses the point of the documentary, which is that Neville feels so strongly about the importance of Mr. Rogers' hopes and how especially pertinent his message is today.

Time and time again, Mr. Rogers comes back to the value of each human being and it shows in all of his relationships -- from mentoring Yo-Yo Ma on being in the public spotlight, to writing back to every single one of his fan letters, and even to his family (one of his sons ruefully described him as the "second Christ").  It's not a message meaning we are entitled or owed something, which one Fox News segment attempts to twist into -- rather, it's a message that empowers us to owe something even as we are told of our inherent worth as a human being.

There's certainly more to the man that this documentary is able to convey, and yet Neville carries the spirit of Fred Rogers forward in this film for it's impossible to sit through it without feeling the emotion of the man's life and wanting to live to the full potential of it.  Neville weaves a strong connective thematic tissue as the concise documentary unfolds.  His love for the man is stunningly apparent, as is the love that Mr. Rogers felt for humanity.

Won't You Be My Neighbor will receive a wide release June 8th.