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Remarkably Bright Creatures (2026) [PG-13] ****

A film review by Kate Erbland for IndieWire on May 7, 2026.

There is much to admire about Olivia Newman’s Where the Crawdads Sing follow-up Remarkably Bright Creatures, another film adaptation of a beloved (and bestselling) novel. There’s Sally Field, in a role that has already earned her awards accolades, and a massive octopus voiced by Alfred Molina. There’s a crowd of chatty best pals that include Joan Chen, Kathy Baker, and Beth Grant. There are actual locations (a sea that is a sea! what an idea!). There’s Lewis Pullman, continuing to work his own dad’s (Bill Pullman's) charming everyman appeal.

And there’s something increasingly rare (yes, even more rare than Alfred Molina voicing a huge sea creature): a book-to-film adaptation that actually adapts the material, and does not just crib blindly from the original. Fans of Van Pelt’s novel might balk at what Newman and co-writer John Whittington have snipped from her story (huge apologies to Pullman’s character’s early backstory and his beloved aunt, similar regrets to Field’s character’s brother), but the trims that run throughout the film are smart and useful. They serve the story, yes, but also its new shape as a film.

And, as a film, this tear-jerking story about giant sea creatures, broken people, and huge secrets works well enough. Much like Van Pelt’s novel, it’s a cozy little drama with twists and turns that feel both inevitable and delightful. It’s all bolstered by Field and Pullman’s performances, which crackle with chemistry and good choices, nothing big or showy here. If you’re looking for a pick for the entire family, this is a solid one, and that’s no small feat in the crammed streaming world, where it can too often feel as if there’s plenty of content but nothing that feels actually made for people.

Or octopuses! At the center of the story is Molina’s tentacled avatar, Marcellus, a giant Pacific octopus who has lived most of his life at the cozy and clean Sowell Bay Aquarium, located near Puget Sound. Many of the details of Marcellus’ life — like how he came to be rescued — will be revealed later, but his primary characteristic is on full display from the start. Marcellus is really, really smart, which Molina imparts via a wry and world-weary voice-over. In Van Pelt’s book, Marcellus gets his own chapters to share his story and observations, and transferring these bits into a consistent voice-over narration is yet another example of this smart scripting.

Marcellus is, in fact, smart enough that he’s figured out how to get out of his tank, explore (read: eat some of his fellow aquarium residents), and get back in without anyone noticing. But Marcellus is growing older, so his assignations are getting slower, and the consequences of his ramblings are getting worse. Thankfully, he has at least one other creature he can trust: Field’s Tova, the aquarium’s dedicated overnight cleaner, who shares a dream of the sea that even Marcellus can deduce.

Or, as he tell us: they both dream of the bottom of the sea and what we lost there. For Marcellus, it was his freedom. For Tova, it was her beloved only son, Erik.

That Marcellus knows that, that Tova has told him about it, is the crux of the story. If you can not only buy that, but delight in it, Remarkably Bright Creatures is very much for you. (It was very much for me.)

Tova’s existence is about to be upended by the arrival of another flighty young man. Cameron Cassmore (Pullman) lands in Sowell Bay, convinced his unknown father not only lives there, but is wildly rich and perhaps interested in meeting the kid he never knew he had. Finding him, however, is proving tricky, and the perpetually down-on-his-luck Cameron sure needs a job in the interim. Thank God that most people in Sowell Bay, like local grocery story owner Ethan (Colm Meaney) are so happy to welcome outsiders. Thank God also that Tova just sustained a minor injury (she slipped while helping Marcellus, but no one can know that) and her gig at the aquarium needs a temp fill-in. Thank God he’s about to meet Marcellus.

Oh, and he’s still about to meet Tova.

Despite this rambling semi-introduction, Newman’s film makes quick work of all of this, recognizing that getting to the Tova-and-Cameron show (with, of course, many guest appearances by Marcellus) is the entire point of the picture. As Cameron adjusts to life in Sowell Bay (more bonding with Ethan, who is a little hung up on Tova, plus his own potential romance with Avery, played by a peppy Sofia Black-D’Elia), Tova starts to inch her way out of it.

The pains and pleasures of family life are top of mind for her. Widowed, heartbroken, and left rattling around the house her own father built (the film has a real sense of place, both out in the town and inside the aquarium and Tova’s home), Tova is preparing to decamp for a retirement home across the bay. Everyone — including smitten Ethan and her rowdy pack of pals — think this is a bad idea. What, however, will become most important is what Cameron thinks, and what part he comes to play in Tova’s life.

The film does occasionally lean on flashbacks of Tova and her long-gone son Erik to fill in some blanks — and lay out some real winking table-setting — but Remarkably Bright Creatures fares better when Tova or Cameron are telling their woes to Marcellus or even each other. Zippy, smart editing moves us through the story, drawing connections where necessary, bolstered by that old octopus voice-over, and gently guiding us to some major plot points.

Never fear, book lovers, the film sticks firmly to its late act upheavals and revelations, and even manages to make them feel richer and more earned here. Maybe it’s something about seeing Sally Field bond with an octopus, or watching a true inter-generational friendship blossom on screen, or maybe it’s just something more obvious: taking the best parts of a sweet story, and paring it down to its best bits. Or, well, best arms? Tentacles? Whatever can reach out and touch you, just as this film will. (Erbland's rating: B)

Labels: drama
IMDb 79/100 
MetaCritic (critics=56, viewers=45)
RottenTomatoes (critics=79, viewers=91)
Netflix

The Quiet American (2002) [R] ****

A film review by James Berardinelli for ReelViews.net in 2003.

No movie exists in a vacuum, and nowhere is that more apparent than in the case of Phillip Noyce's version of The Quiet American. Filmed prior to September 11, 2001, and scheduled to open weeks after that pivotal date, the movie ended up sitting on a shelf for more than a year because its U.S. Distributor, Miramax, worried that the story line might seem anti-American. In fact, the so-called controversy surrounding The Quiet American seems blown out of proportion. The movie is critical of U.S. foreign policy regarding Vietnam in the 1950s, but, considering how things turned out, can one argue that the criticism is unjustified? Americans are not demonized, and the allegorical aspects of the story are no more damning than the ones found in the text. Ironically, considering recent (2003) current events – including the hunt for Osama Bin Laden and the buildup towards war with Iraq – one could argue that The Quiet American has far more relevance now than Noyce could have envisioned when he was constructing it.

It's 1952 Saigon, and British journalist Thomas Fowler (Michael Caine) is about to find his comfortable life upset by the arrival of a fresh-faced, self-effacing American medical aid worker. Alden Pyle (Brendan Fraser) at first seems to be nothing more than an idealistic young doctor, but his activities cause Thomas to wonder whether he has an alternate agenda. Meanwhile, Alden falls for Thomas' beautiful young Vietnamese mistress, Phuong (Do Thi Hai Yen). Because Alden is unattached, while Thomas is married to a woman in London who will not give him a divorce, Alden can offer Phuong one thing that Thomas cannot: a wedding ring.

At the time when the movie takes place, Vietnam is being torn being torn apart by the rival Communists and French, who still considered Indo-China to be their colony. Into this mix comes a third faction – that of General Thé (Quang Hai), a egotistical megalomaniac who is revered by a segment of the population and backed by an invisible financial institution with deep pockets. Thé organizes terrorist actions against Vietnamese citizen, then blames the Communists in order to curry international sympathy for his side. As the story unfolds, Thomas recognizes that Alden has unexpected influence where Thé is concerned.

The screenplay, by Christopher Hampton and Robert Schenkkan, downplays the heavy allegorical aspects of Graham Greene's source novel in favor of the romantic triangle. The Quiet American is primarily a tragic love story set against the backdrop of the beginnings of the turbulent conflict that would devastate much of the small Asian country. We see the roots of the Vietnam War, and have no trouble understanding that the United States' rabid win-at-all-costs struggle against the Devil of Communism led to bad alliances and shortsighted determinations.

The acting, especially by the male leads, is superlative. Michael Caine, who is being mentioned as a possible Oscar nominee, brings a sad, world-weariness to his portrayal of Thomas. The aging newspaper writer wants nothing more than to spend the rest of his days going through the comfortable routine of his daily life spent in the company of the one woman he truly loves. If I lost her, he comments, it would be the beginning of death. Meanwhile, Fraser trades in on his reputation for playing affable, somewhat innocent characters, to trick us into thinking that Alden is more straightforward than he actually is.

From a dramatic standpoint, I have a quibble with The Quiet American's structure. The movie begins at the end, telling most of the story in flashback. Unfortunately, this means that we know from the start how the love triangle is going to be resolved, and which character will die. While this approach heightens the movie's allegorical elements, it diminishes the dramatic and romantic tension. Director Phillip Noyce obviously felt comfortable about the trade-off, but I'm not sure it works in the film's favor. However, all things considered, Noyce has wrought an often-compelling tale of life, love, and jealousy played out under the gathering storm clouds of war. (Berardinelli's rating: 3 stars out of 4)

Labels: drama, period, romance, thriller, tragedy, war
IMDb 70/100
MetaCritic (critics=84, viewers=70)
RottenTomatoes (critics=87, viewers=72)
Blu-ray
Berardinelli's original review

F1: The Movie (2025) [PG-13] ****/*****

A film review by James Berardinelli for ReelViews.net, June 26, 2025.

When it comes to the nuts and bolts of car racing movies, there’s a tendency to follow the trends and tropes of the wider sports film genre in which they form a sub-category. The difference is that when Robert Redford steps to the plate or Sylvester Stallone delivers a punch, the stakes tend to be more personal than permanent. Golfers, basketball players, and sluggers generally don’t have to worry about being carted away in a body-bag; the specter of the Grim Reaper is one thing that differentiates F1:The Movie and all its car-racing contemporaries from most sports films. Sometimes in car racing, it’s not so much about crossing the finish line first but living to race another day.

There’s a lot of dramatic potential inherent in this kind of movie but F1 is less interested in developing new tracks than in doing the best it can with existing ones. Ehren Kruger’s by-the-numbers screenplay could have been churned out using AI – the film’s human element aspects are perfunctory and familiar and the narrative rarely veers from the expected trajectory. Those who see F1 shouldn’t expect any surprises or twists and the collaborative involvement of the FIA (the sports’ governing body) takes a lot of possibilities off the table. All that being said, director Joseph Kosinski delivers an experience on par with his earlier mega-hit, Top Gun: Maverick, without the benefit of nostalgia or Tom Cruise. The Grim Reaper’s hovering presence helps with the tension but F1 mostly delivers because of the easygoing charm of Brad Pitt, the energetic camerawork of Claudio Miranda, and the loud, intense score by Hans Zimmer. The movie often pushes the viewer to the point of sensory overload, and that’s where its strength lies. Good luck replicating that at home.



To the extent there’s a non-technical anchor grounding the story, it’s the antagonistic relationship between the two drivers who represent the ne’er-do-well Apex Grand Prix team (APXGP): over-the-hill veteran Sonny Hayes (Pitt) and up-and-coming Joshua Pearce (Damson Idris). Both could use Sinatra’s rendition of My Way as their theme song. Hayes is recruited by his old buddy, Ruben Cervantes (Javier Bardem), the current owner of APXGP, to come out of retirement and give Formula 1 racing one more chance. After initially demurring, Sonny has a change of heart and shows up with his megawatt smile, self-deprecating attitude, and cocky sense of self-assurance – all things that irritate Pearce, the team’s #1 driver. A rivalry develops, fueled by Sonny’s initial track failures. As board member Peter Banning (the always-oily Tobias Menzies) hovers like a vulture, Ruben begins doubting the sanity of his Hail Mary. Sonny might have been a potential star before a near-fatal accident, but that was 30 years ago. Meanwhile, as Sonny tries to build a rapport with the pit crew and other behind-the-scenes members of the team, his flirtations with the chief engineer, Kate McKenna (Kerry Condon), heat up.

It’s a credit to both Pitt and Damson Idris that the fractious relationship between Sonny and Joshua has the force and immediacy it does given the hackneyed nature of the material. Their chemistry transcends the thinness of what’s on the written page. Likewise, there’s an easygoing camaraderie between Sonny and Ruben and genuine sparks between the will-they-or-won’t-they pair of Sonny and Kate. I appreciated that the movie keeps the romantic elements mostly in the background. It adds a dash of flavor without interfering.




Unsurprisingly, F1 shines during the action sequences. As is often the case with racing movies, the events themselves aren’t cinematic (given the length associated with races) but the crashes are. Kosinski’s approach is to home in on big moments, using a variety of camera angles and expert editing techniques to keep the viewer engaged. He also leans heavily on Zimmer’s score, which is suitably overblown for the material, helping to top off the film’s adrenaline-and-testosterone cocktail.

In terms of recent racing movies, I’d put this one a slight notch below James Mangold’s 2019 Ford v. Ferrari, but at least on par with some of the other high-profile efforts like Ron Howard’s 2013 Rush. The effectiveness of the film’s overall aesthetic cannot be understated: what F1 lacks in narrative development it more than compensates for with its thrill-ride aspects. Watching the film, you may not believe you’re in a racing car but you will feel like you’re doing more than passively sitting in a theater seat. [Berardinelli's rating: 3 stars out of 4]

Labels: action, auto-racing, Brad Pitt, drama, sport
IMDb 76/100
MetaCritic (critics=68, viewers=75)
RottenTomatoes (critics=82, viewers=97)

Blu-ray
James Berardinelli's original review

Comment by FB Friend Miki Tokola:

While I agree it was an entertaining movie with lots of dramatic F1 racing, it was not an accurate depiction of current-day F1 racing. The production prioritized hero moments over the strict regulatory environment of the FIA, F1’s ruling body. Three examples are: diving into the inside of a corner from a significant distance back, weaving under braking, and off-track overtaking. All of these are violations of the rules and would result in penalties or disqualification. Another unrealistic element was showing the cars dancing around each other rather than staying on the ideal racing line around the apex of the corner.

I also enjoyed the movie and appreciated the efforts the production team went to include real racing drivers and locations into the movie. It’s important to remember it’s dramatic, exciting fiction and not representative of the driving one would see if you watched a real F1 race.

A Complete Unknown (2024) [R] ****

A film review by James Berardinelli for ReelViews.net on Dec. 23rd, 2024.

If one was going to cite a movie title for truth in advertising, it might be James Mangold’s Bob Dylan bio-pic, A Complete Unknown because, at the end of the proceedings, it’s an apt description of the main character. The reason it clear: Mangold doesn’t set out to present a comprehensive look at the singer, nor does it offer a probing psychological portrait. It doesn’t pander or seek to lionize. Instead, it’s a picture of an era and an exploration of Dylan’s impact on those around him. To the extent that it offers insights into the musician, it can be summed up succinctly by quoting Joan Baez (Monica Barbaro): he’s an asshole.

Although Dylan (played in the movie by Timothee Chalamet) was not officially involved in any aspect of the production – his name is absent from the end credits – he apparently was given an opportunity to read the script and responded by providing notes. A Complete Unknown’s take on Dylan is far from complimentary – he’s more of antagonist than protagonist – so the real-life Dylan presumably agrees with this perspective. That’s somewhat reminiscent of Robbie Williams’ self-portrait in Better Man (although Chalamet does not play Dylan as a chimpanzee).

A Complete Unknown follows Dylan through a roughly four-year period, beginning in 1961 with a visit to the Greystone Park Psychiatric Hospital to meet his idol, Woody Guthrie (Scoot McNairy), and ending in 1965 following his controversial performance at the Newport Folk Festival, where his decision to perform using electric instruments is met with boos and jeers. In between, he has off-again/on-again relationships with two women, Sylvie Russon (Elle Fanning, based on real-life paramour Suze Rotolo, whose real name wasn’t used at Dylan’s request) and singer Joan Baez (Monica Barbaro), and approaches fame and fans with an inscrutable façade. He befriends Pete Seeger (Edward Norton), who gives him some of his early breaks, and Johnny Cash (Boyd Holbrook). And he allows his career to be guided by his pushy manager, Albert Grossman (Dan Fogler).

Although the movie features many of Dylan’s best-known songs, all performed by Chalamet with a better-than-passable imitation of the singer’s nasal intonations, it’s not a jukebox film or a traditional musical. Instead, it’s a drama that features music. The singing comes in logical places during studio recordings and live performances. There are no instances when characters spontaneously break into song and no choreographed dance sequences. Mangold approaches Dylan’s music much the same way that he approached that of Johnny Cash in Walk the Line.

At his best, Dylan is impassive and unfeeling. At his worst, he’s dismissive and cruel (although he probably doesn’t see the latter). He repeatedly hurts Sylvie and his relationship with Joan is such that she calls him an asshole on one occasion and a jerk on another. He shows minimal affection to anyone and turns his back on a woman who admits to loving him because he hasn’t known her that long. He is deaf to the desires of fans and afflicted with delusions of grandeur.



Tasked with portraying this version of Dylan, Chalamet goes full method. For two hours, he is Dylan, recapturing the look, mannerisms, attitude, and vocal inflections of the early ‘60s musician. As always with a performance like this, questions arise regarding how much of this is acting and how much is imitation. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter because A Complete Unknown gets us to believe that we’re watching Dylan wandering around ‘60s New York City. Mangold gets the details right, creating a place that’s both recognizable and alien at the same time.



Having an affinity for Dylan isn’t necessary for A Complete Unknown to work. That’s because the movie is more about Dylan within the context of a time period than about Dylan as an individual. One could argue that he’s more of a presence than a character. We don’t know much about his past and Mangold never attempts to get into his mind or explore his motivations. Dylan comments in the film that people make up their own histories and backgrounds all the time. (Shades of The Joker in The Dark Knight.) His birth name is Robert Zimmerman but he changed it because he liked the way Dylan sounded. The screenplay uses TV news announcers as a way to pin scenes to certain critical historical events (like the Cuban Missile Crisis and JFK’s assassination).

An appreciation of Dylan’s catalog – especially his earlier songs – will enhance the movie’s effectiveness. (The title comes from a line in Like a Rolling Stone.) Still, those hoping to gain insight into this peculiar and prickly embodiment of genius will find that desire unsatisfied. A Complete Unknown isn’t shallow but the screenplay makes no attempt to psychoanalyze its subject. If there’s something to be learned, it’s how uncomfortable it could be to enter this man’s orbit. His music is iconic and speaks to many but, from the first scene to the last, he remains A Complete Unknown. [Berardinelli's rating: 3 stars out of 4]

Labels: biography, drama, music, Sixties
IMDb 73/100
MetaCritic (critics=70, viewers=72)
RottenTomatoes (critics=82, viewers=95)
Blu-ray
Berardinelli's original review

Bob Dylan wrote Boots of Spanish Leather, recorded it on August 7th, 1963, and released it on his 1964 album The Times They Are A-Changin'. The folk song is structured as a dialogue between lovers separating, often linked to his relationship with Suze Rotolo. It is noted for its poetic, bittersweet tone.

Downhill Racer (1969) [M] ****

A film review by Roger Ebert for Chicago Sun-Times on Dec 22, 1969.

Some of the best moments in Downhill Racer are moments during which nothing special seems to be happening. They’re moments devoted to capturing the angle of a glance, the curve of a smile, an embarrassed silence. Together they form a portrait of a man that is so complete, and so tragic, that Downhill Racer becomes the best movie ever made about sports — without really being about sports at all.

The champions in any field have got to be, to some degree, fanatics. To be the world’s best skier, or swimmer, or chess player, you’ve got to overdevelop that area of your ability while ignoring almost everything else. This is the point we miss when we persist in describing champions as regular, all-round Joes. If they were, they wouldn’t be champions.

This is the kind of man that Downhill Racer is about: David Chappellet, a member of the U.S. skiing team, who fully experiences his humanity only in the exhilaration of winning. The rest of the time, he’s a strangely cut-off person, incapable of feeling anything very deeply, incapable of communicating with anyone, incapable of love, incapable (even) of being very interesting.

Robert Redford plays this person very well, even though it must have been difficult for Redford to contain his own personality within such a limited character. He plays a man who does nothing well except ski downhill — and does that better than anyone.

But this isn’t one of those rags-to-riches collections of sports clichés, about the kid who fights his way up to champion. It’s closer in tone to the stories of the real champions of our time: Sandy Koufax, Muhammad Ali, Joe Namath, who were the best and knew they were the best and made no effort to mask their arrogance. There is no humility at all in the racer’s character: Not that there should be. At one point, he’s accused by a fellow American of not being a good team man. Another skier replies: Well, this isn’t exactly a team sport.

It isn’t; downhill racing is an intensely individual sport, and we feel that through some remarkable color photography. More often than not, races are shot from the racer’s point of view, and there are long takes that nearly produce vertigo as we hurtle down a mountain. Without bothering to explain much of the technical aspect of skiing, Downhill Racer tells us more about the sport than we imagined a movie could.

The joy of these action sequences is counterpointed by the daily life of the ski amateur. There are the anonymous hotel rooms, one after another, and the deadening continual contact with the team members, and the efforts of the coach (Gene Hackman in a superb performance) to hold the team together and placate its financial backers in New York.

And there is Chappellet’s casual affair with Carole Stahl (Camilla Sparv), who seems to be a sort of ski groupie. She wants to make love to him, and does, but he is so limited, so incapable of understanding her or anything beyond his own image, that she drops him. He never does quite understand why.

The movie balances nicely between this level, and the exuberance of its outdoor location photography. And it does a skillful job of involving us in the competition without really being a movie about competition. In the end, Downhill Racer succeeds so well that instead of wondering whether the hero will win the Olympic race, we want to see what will happen to him if he does. [Ebert's rating:4 stars out of 4]

Blogger's note: When you watch the film you will notice that in German ski racing, in the starting countdown (... three, two, one) the term zwo is used, instead of zwei, for the number two, as in drei, zwo, eins. This is a specific safety measure, designed to insure that zwei (two) is not misheard as drei (three).

Labels: drama, Robert Redford, romance, sport
IMDb 63/100
Metacritic (critics=89, viewers=74)
RottenTomatoes (critics=85, viewers=57)
Blu-ray
Roger Ebert's original review