Reviews

The eerily prescient nature of director/screenwriter Alex Garland's 2024 dystopian thriller makes this a more compelling watch than other films that cover similar ground. What makes this movie so harrowing is its unflinching sense of neutrality in light of the easy bait offered by the currently polarized political landscape. Set in a divided, wartime America of the near-future, the plot centers on a quartet of journalists who are racing to get to Washington to interview the President before the city comes under attack by secessionist forces. Their 800-mile road trip is riddled with relentlessly violent confrontations that test their resolve to get their story. Anchoring the crew, Kirsten Dunst brings an affecting world-weariness to her role as respected photographer Lee Smith. A far cry from her turn as Priscilla Presley, Cailee Spaeny effectively plays the initially naive neophyte photographer who learns how to capture images fearlessly. Wagner Moura and Stephen McKinley Henderson appear to be playing more stereotypical archetypes to fill the story's intent. I have to say casting Nick Offerman as the President in bookend scenes brings a certain black comedy element that somehow works.

First-time director/writer Christy Hall has created a genuine two-hander with this 2024 drama, and she manages to make it resonate by casting two actors at their peak, one of them quite unexpected. The film takes place entirely in a cab ride between JFK and Midtown West. Initially it feels like it might morph into a sexual thriller, but instead, it stays the course in having the characters, a young woman returning from a trip home to Oklahoma and a veteran cab driver from Hell's Kitchen, gradually reveal things about themselves that they've clearly not shared with anyone else. The ensuing bond feels palpable and well-earned thanks to Hall's perceptive dialogue. Sean Penn once again proves what a great character actor he is as the driver. Dakota Johnson is the surprise here providing a thoughtfully nuanced performance as a woman struggling with a complicated relationship. This is an adroit film that successfully pinpoints the importance of connection in an otherwise indifferent world.

This glossy 2024 psychodrama has all the mid-century, Kennedy-era atmosphere that first-time director Benoit Delhomme could have possibly mustered, but the film needed a more idiosyncratic perspective from an auteur like Todd Haynes who has mastered the subtle art of period pastiche to drive a red herring-filled WTF plot like the one hatched by screenwriter Sarah Conradt-Kroehler. Evoking the refined look and calm demeanor of Jackie Kennedy (as many housewives tried to imitate back then), Anne Hathaway plays Celine, a model homemaker with a dutiful husband and young son Max. Her best friend and next door neighbor is Alice played by Jessica Chastain, who in this film, bears a striking resemblance to Eva Marie Saint. She also has a faithful husband and a young son Theo. Their picture-perfect suburban lives show cracks from the outset, but a personal tragedy occurs and things unravel quickly between them. What seems at first to be a Hitchcockian case of paranoia and mental instability turns into a third act of absurdly campy melodrama. While Hathaway and Chastain do the best they can coiffed and stylized in early '60's chic fashions, there is a nagging lack of irony and dark comedy in their interactions that could've made this a far more entertaining film than the muddled, humorless end product seen here.

An impressive cast has been assembled for this 2024 farce, but director Max Barbakow unfortunately encouraged the actors to go overboard with their ham-fisted antics to the level of cartoon characters marooned in a heist action flick masquerading as a dysfunctional family drama. The convoluted plot focuses on fraternal twins Jady and Moke Munger who agree to retrieve a stash of emeralds abandoned by their mother Cath, who went on the lam over thirty years before. Jady is a lifetime convict sprung from prison early by corrupt Judge Farful who has his inept corrections officer son James tail Jady. Meanwhile, years of resentment between the brothers spill over into the expected shenanigans, chief among them a bittersweet reunion with their mother on the run again after escaping prison. Glenn Close as the hardened Cath is the latest in her series of white-trash mothers, but she's not given enough funny one-liners to justify her esteemed presence. Peter Dinklage lends his familiar wry humor to Jady, but Josh Brolin appears more on overdrive as the more fearful Moke. However, his performance is nothing compared to the broad, over-the-top turns by Oscar winners Brendan Fraser as James and Marisa Tomei as Jady's prison pen-pal love interest who inexplicably owns a gay orangutan. Skippable.

Director Thaddeus O'Sullivan has fashioned a small-scale Irish film that feels as familiar as an old shoe. This 2023 dramedy marks Maggie Smith's last film, and while the role doesn't take much advantage of her sharp-witted feisty persona, her poignant work here serves as a fitting reminder of her enduring legacy. Working alongside Kathy Bates and Laura Linney, she plays Lily, a small town wife and mother living outside of Dublin and still mourning the death of her son forty years earlier. Bates plays her best friend Eileen, herself a wife and mother of six, who fears she may have breast cancer, while Linney plays Chrissie, the estranged Boston-based daughter of another close friend who just passed away. Lily and Eileen, along with their much younger friend Dolly and her inexplicably mute son, convince the local priest to fund a pilgrimage to Lourdes, France, as they seek miracles for their medical ailments and long-held crises in conscience. Because the movie was in turnaround for over twenty years, the actors are far too old for their chronological roles, but it's the kind of pixilated movie where age doesn't matter. That's due to the expectedly fine work from Smith, Bates, and Linney, as well as Agnes O'Casey charming as Dolly, the only one of the four leads with a real Irish brogue. Stephen Rea shows up in two brief scenes as Eileen's curmudgeonly husband.

It's a delicate balancing act between abject horror and black comedy, but in her sophomore effort, director/screenwriter Coralie Fargeat not only straddles the tightrope but upends it big time with this nightmarish, somewhat overlong 2024 film. The fact that Fargeat provides a distinctly female perspective adds a layer of self-hatred complexity and absurdist humor to the relentlessly gory scenes. The plot focuses on the fittingly named Elisabeth Sparkle, a former Oscar winner turned into a celebrity fitness personality. With her stardom fading, she turns fifty and gets immediately fired by her vulgarian network boss perfectly named Harvey. After Elisabeth gets into a car accident, a highly suspect male nurse connects her with a black market cell-replicating drug that promises to recapture her youth. What it actually does is produce a doppelgänger fully formed named Sue. The deal is that Elisabeth and Sue can't exist at the same time because they're the same person and must strictly trade lives in alternate seven-day periods. No exception - so the horror is borne from the inevitable conflict that occurs, and I was amazed how far Fargeat went with the violent consequences. Casting Demi Moore as Elisabeth was pure genius because her empowered Hollywood reputation and purported obsession with youth fits the role perfectly. She responds with a fearless performance that devolves into unrelenting desperation. Margaret Qualley also swings for the fences as Sue, initially vapid but speeding into Machiavellian menace. Dennis Quaid captures Harvey's tawdry personality with zestful disgust. Tweaking the popularity of "miracle" injection drugs like Ozempic, Fargeat was definitely inspired by American horror cinema classics from "Death Becomes Her" to "Carrie" to "Requiem for a Dream" to "Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?". Dazzling, absurdist, and stomach turning.

If Megalopolis is meant to represent utopia, why is it so jaundiced, cheap-looking, and unconditionally ugly? This is probably the most critical of the innumerable problems Francis Ford Coppola faced in making his long gestated, self-funded and erratically paced 2024 film that could be his last statement as a filmmaker. There is no question his talent is still evident at random points here. At 85, he's a visionary based on his half-century-old masterworks, but his perspective is unfocused and incoherent with no logical throughput to the narrative and no apparent guidance given to the actors who give wildly inconsistent performances. Set in an alternate universe where "New Rome" takes the place of New York City, the Shakespearean plot centers on Cesar Catilina, a brilliant albeit self-absorbed architect who has the inexplicable ability to stop time. He has also created a new building material called Megalon, the basis of his redesign of New Rome into a humane utopia called Megalopolis. He has an enemy in the city's mayor, Franklyn Cicero, and complicating matters between them is Cicero's daughter Julia. There are a multitude of other characters involved in this convoluted tug-of-war, though the variability of the actors' performances can be frustrating. Adam Driver's agitated screen persona has become tiresome as he tackles Cesar. There are strong influences from Ayn Rand's "The Fountainhead" and "Atlas Shrugged", but the iconoclastic nature of those stories is beyond Driver's grasp. Aubrey Plaza is dryly funny as an opportunistic reporter aptly named Wow Platinum, and Shia LaBeouf has some out-there moments as Cesar's jealous cousin Clodio. The problem is that they looked to be acting in a pointed satire that otherwise doesn't exist in the story. Casting cancelled actors like LaBeouf and Jon Voight as a multi-billionaire industrialist is more distracting than effective, and Laurence Fishburne is wasted as both narrator and Cesar's driver. It's a mess that cost Coppola $120 million and a huge chunk of his wine business, but you have to admire a man willing to sacrifice so much for his art no matter how abysmal the results are.

Maggie Smith's passing this past Friday motivated me to revisit this fondly remembered 1978 comedy directed by Herbert Ross. The film consists of Neil Simon's series of four overlapping mini-plays set at the tony Beverly Hills Hotel, a SoCal version of his previous "Plaza Suite". The standout story starred Smith and Michael Caine as an Oscar-nominated film actress and her bisexual antiques dealer husband in town for the ceremony. Atypical for Simon, the screenplay has the incisive, back-and-forth wit of a British drawing room farce delivered impeccably by the two stars. Smith gets the best lines commenting on her nonexistent hump and her resemblance to a steel-belted radial tire. The other storylines feel dated and pale by comparison - Alan Alda and an especially brittle Jane Fonda as a bickering divorced couple, Walter Matthau hiding an unconscious hooker from his wife Elaine May, and especially the now cancelled Bill Cosby and Richard Pryor as warring doctors whose chief victims are their wives. Do yourself a favor and fast forward to the Smith-Caine scenes to appreciate their ample talents. Their scenes are a 10, the rest around 5.

Will Ferrell insisted that Netflix release this 2024 documentary before Election Day, so viewers can have serious discussions with family and friends about transgender rights. Directed with conviction by Josh Greenbaum, it's more than a road movie between longtime buddies but a funny and sometimes heartbreaking story about identity evolution and acceptance. Ferrell and writer Andrew Steele first met when they started out on SNL in 1995 and became instantaneous friends. During the pandemic, Andrew sent an email to Will informing him of his transition to a woman named Harper. They decide to take a 17-day coast-to-coast road trip, and the film chronicles not only their own interactions and revelations but also the responses they faced along the way. Steele's discoveries take on a more challenging dimension when Ferrell's celebrity status intrudes upon their journey in unexpected ways ranging from relatable concerns from Harper's sister to nasty transphobic tweets following a steakhouse comic bit to the bald-faced political hypocrisy of Indiana Governor Eric Holcomb at a Pacers game. By the time they reach California, the authenticity of their friendship is palpable. Kristen Wiig's comically wistful song over the ending credits is a delight.

Directed and written by Azazel Jacobs, this 2023 examination of the fractious relationships between three estranged sisters feels very much like a chamber piece well played by three virtuosos. While there's a clear connection to Chekhov's "The Three Sisters", Jacobs primarily evokes the dramatic interplay in Woody Allen's austere "Interiors" as the story tracks how each sister handles the impending death of their father Vincent as the three of them gather in his rent-controlled NYC apartment. With clear-eyed precision, Carrie Coon plays eldest daughter Katie, harshly judgmental about middle daughter Rachel's living arrangement with their father. Constantly stoned, Rachel is a heavy sports better and not biologically Vincent 's daughter. Gravelly voiced Natasha Lyonne finds a part that fits her edgy screen persona perfectly, and she delivers the film's most memorable scenes. Elizabeth Olsen once again proves to be a fine character actress as youngest daughter Christina saddled in the pedestrian role of peacemaker. The small supporting cast provide a few effective moments, in particular, Jovan Adepo as Rachel's boyfriend Benjy in a brutal confrontation with Katie and Jay O. Sanders in a few moments of clarity as Vincent. Surprisingly the film doesn't feel stagy, a tribute to Jacobs' cinematic fluidity.

It has taken me a decade to gather enough forbearance to watch this notoriously panned 2014 biopic despite my interest in the nostalgic subject matter. Much of the blame for this disaster was placed on the contentious battle between director Olivier Dahan and pre-conviction Harvey Weinstein over the final cut. Regardless the result doesn't do any favors to Princess Grace, Prince Rainier, or the people of Monaco then or now. Arash Amel's superficial screenplay focuses primarily on a 1962 stand-off between Rainier and Charles de Gaulle over Monaco's tax haven status and the economic fallout on France. We're led to understand Monaco's independence was at stake at the same time Grace was considering a Hollywood comeback reuniting with Alfred Hitchcock on 1964's "Marnie". Much like Nicole Kidman's more recent biopic, "Being the Ricardos", historical facts are manipulated to fit the convenient throughput of the storyline. However, the biggest grievance against this film is the deadly dull and contrived approach Dahan and Amel take in telling a story that feels relentlessly patronizing without revealing much of anything beyond standard tropes about Grace or Rainier. Looking regal enough to convey a handful of compelling moments, Kidman is left stranded in some of the film's most ridiculous scenes like her prescient wild-eyed hillside drive and the puerile speech she delivers at the end. Tim Roth uses chain smoking as Rainier's defining character trait and offers little else to illuminate his often extreme actions. The film also wastes Parker Posey and Frank Langella in pure paycheck roles. It's not the worst biopic ever made, but it's 103 minutes you won't get back.

Director David Leitch and screenwriter Drew Pearce have made an overloaded tribute to the classic Hollywood stuntman with this rambunctious albeit overly complicated 2024 romantic action comedy. While it's based on the more traditional 1980's Lee Majors TV series, the film appears more inspired by 1930's screwball comedies and pre-CGI blockbusters that starred real action movie stars. It's a good thing Ryan Gosling and Emily Blunt star as Colt Seavers, a stuntman recovering from an on-set mishap and Jody Moreno, his former girlfriend who is now directing a major studio extraterrestrial battle feature. In their rather far-fetched roles, they have charisma to spare, though the story goes through so many twists and turns that it becomes exhausting to track, especially as the film's star (played with smug hubris by Aaron Taylor-Johnson) gets involved in a sinister conspiracy. A top-notch supporting cast is on board including Hannah Waddingham as a horrifically Machiavellian producer, Winston Duke as a no-nonsense stunt coordinator (underused), and Stephanie Hsu as a sharp assistant (also underused). The longish movie certainly packs plenty of death-defying stunts, but overkill creeps in eventually.

A far cry from their previous co-starring venture, 2021's melodramatic "The Lost Daughter", Olivia Colman and Jessie Buckley show their considerable comic chops in this deceptively daft 2023 mystery comedy directed by Thea Sharrock. The premise is that the prudish villagers of Littlehampton start receiving a series of anonymous profane letters. The chief suspect is Rose Gooding, a foul-mouthed Irish migrant who is at constant odds with her conservative neighbors, chief among them the staunchly religious spinster Edith Swan. Buckley shows unbridled swagger as Rose, while Colman shares her characteristic elan in conveying the duality in Edith's character. It's lighthearted entertainment given finesse by an expert British cast.

Writer-director Minhal Baig has made this unexpectedly lyrical, heartfelt 2023 film set against a real-life tragedy that occurred in Chicago's ravaged Cabrini Green housing projects in 1992, the killing of 7-year-old Dantrell Davis amid rising gang violence and brutality from the Chicago police. Focusing her story on two ten-year-olds, best friends who depend on each other for survival, Baig draws out deeply affecting work from Gian Knight Ramirez as Eric and especially wide-eyed Blake Cameron James as Malik. It's their coming-of-age story that makes the surrounding plotlines and performances resonate. Jurnee Smollett plays Malik's hardworking mother with assurance even as her character sometimes comes across as a stereotypical trope. As the wise grandmother who brought them to Cabrini Green when it held more promise, S. Epatha Merkerson makes remarkable her few scenes. I only wish Eric's backstory was given as much depth as Malik's, though the inevitable upheaval the boys face still packs an emotional wallop.

The 2023 directorial debut of Swedish filmmaker Ernst De Geer was an intriguing albeit not altogether successful satire about modern millennial relationships. The plot focuses on André and Vera, a young professional couple who have developed a woman's health app they have been invited to present at an elite startup conference. Just prior to their presentation, Vera sees a hypnotherapist to help her quit smoking, but something deeper unexpectedly affects her attitude and behavior. Much of the story revolves around Andre's increasingly desperate responses to Vera's wildly unpredictable actions, which start as comically inappropriate and become more and more bizarre. The film falls short on what direction De Geer decides to take the story as he doesn't fulfill either the dark comedy potential or the more tragic implications of the characters' choices. Asta Kamma August and Herbert Nordrum are stoically effective as Vera and André, though I wish they were directed to play their roles with more comic panache.

Gena Rowlands' passing earlier this week led me back to one of her strongest roles under her late husband John Cassavetes' direction. This alternately powerful and turgid 1977 melodrama was his favorite, and Rowlands delivered an audaciously compelling performance as Myrtle Gordon, a famous actress struggling to prepare for a Broadway opening playing a woman ironically struggling with middle age. On the verge of a nervous breakdown, Myrtle is plagued by waves of doubt fueled by alcoholism, insecurity about getting older, and the traumatic death of a stage door fan who continually haunts her. A cast of familiar veterans surround Myrtle with conviction, including Cassavetes as her surly co-star and former lover, Ben Gazzara as her Machiavellian director, and Joan Blondell in a vibrant, career-ending turn as the put-upon playwright. However, they're all overshadowed by Rowlands' intense risk-taking, hell-raising turn.

Gay rights in Japan are several years behind the West, which makes this addictive 2024 reality series more intriguing than its surface concept implies. Nine handsome Asian (primarily Japanese) men in their 20's-30's are chosen to share a sleek beachside house in Tateyama, given the assignment of running a coffee truck, and provided a daily budget of ¥6,000. It's no surprise complications ensue, but the fact that same-sex marriage hasn't been legalized adds a layer of culturally specific tentativeness to the interactions of the participants. The ten-episode arc allows for personalities to bloom at a leisurely pace, and naturally both romance and tension intertwine in often arresting ways. It's like a gay "Terrace House" with the same Greek chorus of gossipy (albeit relatable) commentators as the previous Netflix hit series.

Faye Dunaway is a true movie star. I thought that when she exploded onscreen in "Bonnie and Clyde" in 1967, and still think that now 57 years later at age 83. Director Laurent Bouzereau covers both ends of her career spectrum and makes a valid attempt to uncover Dunaway's austere persona and explore the person underneath in this 2024 documentary. The problem though is that he doesn't do enough to counterbalance the personal revelations with her impressive career accomplishments, at least in ways that help us understand how she achieved such legendary work beyond a generalized level of commitment. For instance, it would've been good to hear Dunaway's side of Bette Davis' vitriolic comment about her on The Tonight Show rather than showing it as evidence of her difficult reputation. Instead we get clips that illustrate anecdotes about the filming process behind a classic like "Chinatown" (my favorite of her performances): a stray hair plucked by director Roman Polanski, the classic revelation scene with costar Jack Nicholson. The contrasting remembrances of her castmates on "Mommie Dearest" best illustrate the extreme opinions on Dunaway's uncompromising approach to character. The personal revelations are plentiful though sometimes cursory: her bipolar disorder and alcoholism (which explains several infamous episodes), the secrecy of her son Liam's adoption, various high-profile relationships with the likes of Marcello Mastroianni. Her cosmetic surgeries are unsurprisingly not mentioned, but the changes in her appearance are hard to ignore. Bouzereau illustrates that Dunaway was overdue for a bio documentary. I think an extra half-hour focused on her work beyond the film's ninety-minute running time would've improved it substantially.

Unless an impressive mix of AI and CGI had been liberally applied to this longish 2024 sequel, there was little chance that the energy level of the original "Beverly Hills Cop" could be faithfully recaptured. At the same time, this intentionally nostalgic, fully formulaic action comedy directed by Mike Molloy was more middling than mediocre thanks mostly to Eddie Murphy's dependable comic sensibilities as Axel Foley, a role so interchangeable with his screen persona that it looks like he really didn't put in that much effort. It's been forty years since Murphy's first outing, and Axel has yet another reason to leave his hometown of Detroit for Beverly Hills. This time it's the danger that his estranged daughter, an embattled and embittered public defender, faces in exposing a conspiracy that turns out to be driven within the Beverly Hills police department. Old characters come back with their familiar personalities intact while looking understandably older. New characters embrace the plot conventions with deadpan aplomb. There was one funny real estate scene in a mansion, and the inevitable climax was more engaging than I expected. The supporting cast was mostly game, but this one was definitely for Murphy's more devoted fans.

If you're looking for a celebration of Gene Wilder's life and career, as well as confirmation of his legacy as a beloved performer, this quickly paced 2023 documentary from director Ron Frank and writer Glenn Kirschbaum will probably suit your needs just fine. All his most famous work and personal details are covered - the fabled collaborations with Mel Brooks, his later commercial successes with Richard Pryor, his brief and tragic marriage to Gilda Radner - as well as none-too-revealing snippets of interviews with colleagues and friends like Brooks. There's even voiceover narration from Wilder himself from his audiobook of his 2005 memoirs. Still, the film felt lacking in providing what particularly drove his creativity and ambition and how he handled professional failures after he peaked with "Young Frankenstein". Other than "The Producers", little was shared of his more obscure films, his first two marriages, and his estranged daughter. His final years, however, were covered respectfully with his happy fourth marriage to hearing specialist Karen Boyer and his 2016 death from Alzheimer's. This film felt more like a conventional tribute than a revealing life journey.

Before coming out on his 2022 stand-up special "Rothaniel", Jerrod Carmichael starred and made his directorial debut with this extremely dark 2021 comedy about a suicide pact between two best friends, Val and Kevin. While the concept sounds like the basis of a tearjerker, the screenplay by Ari Katcher and Ryan Welch takes a more cynical, 'bros'-style approach in covering the last day they plan to live. The knowledge of their imminent demise informs the increasingly desperate actions taken by both men. Carmichael interjects his brand of dry humor as he affectingly portrays Val as the one with second thoughts about the pact. There were abrupt moments that I found challenging to watch, but Carmichael's surprisingly assured direction keeps the story on course. As Kevin, Christopher Abbott gives a showier performance but mostly keeps it under control to complement Carmichael's more rueful style and make their friendship come across as believable. Tiffany Haddish and Henry Winkler provide effective cameos in brief roles pivotal to the plot. Now that he has his brave reality series under his belt, it will be interesting to see what Carmichael's sophomore effort will be as a director.

Donald Sutherland's passing earlier today reminded me that Nicolas Roeg's classic cult 1973 psychological thriller was recently made available to view on the Criterion Channel. He and the eternally luminous Julie Christie play John and Laura, a married couple in England whose lives are shattered by the accidental drowning of their young daughter Christine. They later go to Venice where John has been commissioned to restore an ancient church. They meet two sisters, one of whom is a blind clairvoyant who claims to have spoken with Christine. This leads to a series of mysterious occurrences, some of which might be premonitions about their future. For years, the film was most famous for the graphic sex scene between Sutherland and Christie early in the film. It's still pretty shocking, but believe it or not, quite integral to the plot. The story takes many Hitchcockian turns until the very end, including a shocking scene involving a random beam and a precarious scaffold. Both stars are excellent given how close to the vest they have to play their characters. It's a fine reminder of how versatile Sutherland was in his prime.

I'm of the same generation as the members of the Brat Pack, but I have to admit my takeaway from Andrew McCarthy's 2024 documentary was mostly indifference. The film amounts to the actor's personal odyssey in examining the impact of the media's Brat Pack designation back in 1985 on him and his close-knit colleagues, almost all of them in their early 20's. Nearly four decades later, McCarthy, now 61, uses a first-person narrative to track down his fellow Brat Packers as well as Brat Pack-adjacent actors like Lea Thompson and Timothy Hutton and even David Blum, the magazine journalist who wrote the puff piece that introduced the term. Despite his genuine efforts toward personal revelation, McCarthy often comes across as self-entitled and obsessed with the "brat" moniker all these years later. His fellow sixtyish Brat Packers appear downright sanguine compared to him (Ally Sheedy, a poker-faced Emilio Estevez, a chill Rob Lowe, and a post-therapy Demi Moore), and Blum is understandably unapologetic about his role in hurting the feelings of a group of celebrities who are clearly not hurting financially.

I seem to be discovering Jerrod Carmichael backwards because I had already seen all eight episodes of his 2024 reality series, aptly named the "Jerrod Carmichael Reality Show" before I finally saw this 2022 special. I already knew he had a confessional sit-down comedy style from the series but was unaware that he came out on this special. Like the series, the special was deeply personal and bracingly honest. At first, his comments were more observational and acerbically funny as he talked about things like all the illegitimate children sired by his father and grandfather. The special shifts tone but not so much when he comes out but when he shares how he is grappling with how his relationships have been evolving afterward, most poignantly with his deeply religious mother. It became less about getting laughs and more about human sharing and a sincere search for empathy. It was a bold move and one Carmichael pulled off very well.

By a large margin, Japan is the nation with the oldest population in the world, which has dire economic consequences in the future. Director/screenwriter Chie Hayakawa drew on this burgeoning reality and fashioned this quietly provocative 2022 character drama based on the dystopian idea of Plan 75, a government program that gives people 75 or older the option of euthanized suicide. It's a macabre (though not far-fetched) concept that Hayakawa cleverly turns into a subtle thriller based on the power of mass suggestion. The main protagonist is Michi, a lonely 78-year-old hotel cleaner who suddenly loses her job and her home, making her a prime candidate for the program. There are other key characters - a young, conflicted Plan 75 employee and a Filipina service worker who helps dispose the remains - but the focus is primarily on Michi played affectingly by Chieko Baisho. To its detriment, the film has a relentlessly somber tone. It could've benefited from a few scares or even laughs. There were just too many lengthy silent shots of Michi contemplating her fateful decision.