Film

This fourth “The Conjuring” movie claims to be “Last Rites” and let’s hope that’s a promise.

While it’s highly likely the wildly successful Conjuring Cinematic Universe will itself continue — whether via scary nun, creepy doll or some other cursed object — the story of Ed and Lorraine Warren has been thoroughly wrung dry at this point and there’s no juice left to squeeze, as demonstrated in the dirge that is this final movie.

Credit where it’s due: The horror franchise has turned in some spectacularly scary and entertaining entries, anchored by performances from Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga as the married paranormal investigators the Warrens, based on an infamous real-life couple. Thanks to their presence, these films have been the best of the Conjuring series, exploring themes of faith and seeing as believing when it comes to both God and the Devil. These films have also offered portrayals of the Warrens that skirt any of their personal controversies, presenting them as blissfully married, heroic figures. Onscreen text might indicate that they were polarizing figures, but the films itself never engage with the scandals.

The first two films, directed by James Wan, ingeniously engaged with many variations on the idea of vision: physical, psychic and through a camera’s lens. Bravura cinematography aligned the audience point of view with Lorraine’s terrifying otherworldly dreams of hauntings, possessions and demonic presence. Michael Chaves, who directed the spinoff “The Nun II” and “The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It,” has mostly upheld these requirements, though his approach is more bombastic than Wan’s elegant style.

Chaves is once again behind the camera for “The Conjuring: Last Rites,” with a script by Ian B. Goldberg, Richard Naing and David Leslie Johnson-McGoldrick that promises to deliver a final Warren case that devastated the family and ended their careers on a dark note. Instead, “Last Rites,” is merely a sluggishly routine send-off for the Warren family.

If you’ve seen a “Conjuring” movie, you’ll know what to expect and “Last Rites” doesn’t break with formula. While the film starts in 1964 with the harrowing birth of the Warren’s beloved daughter Judy, the plot largely takes place in 1986, an annus horribilis for the misbegotten Smurl family from West Pittstown, Penn., haunted by an antique mirror adorned with three carved baby heads, picked up from a swap meet. After a series of unfortunate eventsand increasingly violent visitations, a media frenzy surrounds them and the Warrens turn up to rid the house of creepy crawlies.

This time there’s the added complication of wedding planning: Judy (Mia Tomlinson) is about to get married, but she just can’t shake those pesky psychic flashes she inherited from her mother. Judy is the one who ventures to the Smurl household first. Then her parents, who had been hoping to hang up their ghost-hunting spurs, reluctantly join her for one last ride. Ax-swinging ghouls, terrifying baby dolls and demonic possessions ensue.

In “Last Rites,” the thematic metaphor for seeing is the mirror itself, suggesting that we need to look at the darkest, most terrifying parts of ourselves and not shut them out. Lorraine has tried to protect her girl from the life she has led, facing down the most terrifying demons, ghosts and spooks, but she can’t stop Judy’s destiny and the only way out is to not look away.

“Last Rites” extends the concept of a new generation by incorporating Judy’s fiancé, Tony (Ben Hardy), as a fresh member of the family business. His function in the story is a bit awkward and random, but required for the Warren plotline to end on a high note (that opening bit about the family devastation never seems to come to pass).

The heart of these movies has always been Wilson and Farmiga, and without them, the “Conjuring” movies wouldn’t be worth it. With this fourth movie, the Warren lore has been so thoroughly picked over, the tropes and rhythms now so ingrained, the jump scares end up feeling routine at best. Enduring the dour drudgery of “Last Rites,” it’s never been clearer that it’s time to give up the ghost.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

THE CONJURING: LAST RITES

(15) 135mins

★★★★☆

3

FOR over a decade, the Conjuring franchise has been scaring us silly with its “true stories”.

But this will be the final haunted hurrah from parapsychologists Lorraine (Vera Farmiga) and Ed Warren (Patrick Wilson).

The married couple are as devoted to keeping bad spirits at bay as they are each other.

The film begins with a flashback to 1964, where a haunted mirror causes Lorraine to go into early labour.

The birth is traumatic and the demon that wants to get her young baby, Judy, almost wins, with the tot being stillborn.

Evil presence

But after begging the Lord to make the baby breathe, Lorraine wins that battle and we see the loving family grow up with happiness around them.

All while ghostbusting, of course.

But demons don’t rest and Judy, who has visions like her mum, often feels that she is being watched.

Fast-forward to 1986 and the Warrens are retired due to Ed having a heart condition.

But that pesky mirror turns up again, this time in the family home of the Smurls in Pennsylvania.

There are some seriously creepy goings-on and this is a demon not to be messed with. The Smurls have been so violently attacked by a powerful evil presence that they all live in terror.

As usual in these films, what you don’t see is far more terrifying than what you do.

Every usual horror trope is thrown out with a vengeance. But hey, if it ain’t broke. . . 

And it certainly feels like it’s not, as my palms grew clammy and heart rate shot up countless times.

The performances by Farmiga and Wilson are as extraordinary as always, bringing believable calm to the roles.

The climax of the supernatural events includes daughter Judy (Mia Tomlinson) and her boyfriend Tony (Brit actor Ben Hardy), are both tense and unsettling.

Directed by Michael Chaves, who was also the director for the three previous entries in the franchise, the film has a hand-held camera effect that tunes into the 1980s feel very well indeed.

There’s also a nice rounding off at the end with some familiar faces that superfans will appreciate.

A spine-tingling finale to a series of films that will likely haunt generations of fans to come.

ON SWIFT HORSES

(15) 119mins

★★☆☆☆

3

THIS odd beast of a film from Daniel Minahan is adapted from Shannon Pufahl’s 2019 novel.

It opens with Muriel (Daisy Edgar-Jones) and her soon-to-be husband, Lee (Will Poulter), chasing the Californian dream after his return from the Korean War.

Their plans for a fresh start are almost derailed by the arrival of Lee’s magnetic younger brother, Julius (Jacob Elordi), who departs for Las Vegas the next day.

There, Julius finds work in a casino and falls into a secret romance with his charismatic coworker, Henry (Diego Calva).

Back in California, Muriel begins her own double life, gambling at racetracks and discovering an unexpected passion with her neighbour, Sandra (Sasha Calle).

On paper, this is rich material, but on screen, Minahan never quite delivers the goods.

The film certainly looks the part – Andre Chemetoff’s cinematography bathes everything in a golden haze – but beneath the gloss there isn’t enough here to truly hold it together.

In the end, On Swift Horses aspires to be a sweeping saga in the vein of East Of Eden, but it never gets out of a slow trot.

All style, with little substance.

LINDA MARRIC

THE COURAGEOUS

(12A) 83mins

★★★★☆

3

JASMIN GORDON’S debut feature film is an honest portrait of survival, love, and dignity.

Set against the beautiful landscape of Switzerland’s Valais region, it follows Jule (Ophelia Kolb), a rebellious single mother of three who refuses to give up on her family despite poverty, past mistakes and the indifference of the welfare system.

Kolb, best known for the hugely popular series, Call My Agent!, gives a career-defining performance. She captures Jule’s contradictions with remarkable depth.

Gordon directs with sensitivity, as she blends social realism with poetic imagery in a film that never feels needlessly moralising.

Her film never resorts to cliché or sentimentality; instead, it shines a light on the often invisible battles of the working poor in a modern Swiss society where destitution is often a taboo subject.

This is a powerful, heartfelt drama about love, resilience, and the complexity of being a flawed human.

Gordon’s sensitive direction and Kolb’s mesmerising performance combine to create a film that is both socially aware and profoundly moving.

It may be her first ever feature, but Gordon has made a film that feels both mature and hugely engaging.

LINDA MARRIC

TORONTO — Kicking off Thursday night, the Toronto International Film Festival marks its 50th edition this year, bringing together a heady combination of art, business and celebrity.

The festival has become a reliable launching pad for films in North America, particularly those looking to enter the Oscar race. Though TIFF’s status as an awards-season kingmaker has found fiercer competition in recent years from adjacent events in Telluride and Venice, it unquestionably still matters, remaining an essential spot on the annual calendar of any movie year.

“I think TIFF is a really adaptable festival,” said Robyn Citizen, the festival’s director of programming, over Zoom this week. “We can’t always tell where the industry’s going, but we do want to be able to still serve our audiences and our industry the best we possibly can.”

Here are just a handful of reasons why TIFF has maintained such a significant role for so long.

It’s the ultimate one-stop shop

There will be more than 200 features screening at this year’s festival. Among those having their world premieres are Aziz Ansari’s wealth-inequality comedy “Good Fortune,” Nia DaCosta’s updated Ibsen adaptation “Hedda,” Derek Cianfrance’s true-crime caper “Roofman,” Hikari’s family drama “Rental Family,” Nic Pizzollatto’s Las Vegas-set “Easy’s Waltz,” David Michôd’s Sydney Sweeney-starring boxing drama “Christy” and Rian Johnson’s latest Benoit Blanc adventure “Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery.” The festival will open with Colin Hanks’ documentary “John Candy: I Like Me,” also having its first screening ever.

Tessa Thompson stars in director Nia DaCosta’s “Hedda,” an adaptation of Ibsen’s “Hedda Gabler.” The movie will have its world premiere at the 2025 Toronto International Film Festival.

(Prime Video)

TIFF remains valuable for more than just its world premieres, though. Among those titles playing at Toronto after having just bowed last week at Venice or Telluride (or even both) are Guillermo del Toro’s “Frankenstein,” Chloé Zhao’s Shakespeare-inspired “Hamnet,” Mona Fastvold’s historical musical “The Testament of Ann Lee” and Edward Berger’s gambling drama “Ballad of a Small Player.”

Movies that played even earlier in the year at festivals such as Sundance, Berlin or Cannes are also featured in the lineup: Joachim Trier’s “Sentimental Value,” Mary Bronstein’s “If I Had Legs I’d Kick You,” Rebecca Zlotowski’s “A Private Life,” Jafar Panahi’s Palme d’Or-winning “It Was Just an Accident” and Richard Linklater’s “Blue Moon” and “Nouvelle Vague” will all be at TIFF.

It is exactly that combination of the best from different festivals and different parts of the calendar that makes TIFF unique. The event was originally known as the “Festival of Festivals,” meaning that it has always been a part of its mission to present a curated selection of the year’s best films. For better or worse, TIFF is often trying to be something for everyone.

“It’s important to us to curate with an attention to films that we know our audience may want to see, but that also includes films that we think our audience needs to see,” said Citizen. “We want to be that bridge between the filmmakers, the industry and the audience.”

Journalists covering the event can catch up with films from earlier in the year, get a jump on awards-season titles just beginning to find their way to audiences and even see projects that may not be released until a year or more later.

Add to that spirit of efficiency the fact that for increasingly budget-conscious U.S. media outlets, sending reporters to Toronto can often be a more cost-effective choice than pricier destinations such as Cannes, Telluride or Venice.

These are the festival world’s friendliest audiences

Toronto-born writer-director Chandler Levack will be world-premiering her “Mile End Kicks,” which stars Barbie Ferreira in a story based on Levack’s own experiences as a young music journalist. Levack said she is excited to see how a moment when Ferreira’s character flips off Toronto’s landmark CN Tower plays to a local audience.

Levack has experienced TIFF from multiple perspectives, first as a film student waiting in line for last-minute tickets, then as a journalist hustling for interviews, then working for the festival as a writer and now as a returning filmmaker.

Barbie Ferreira in Chandler Levack’s “Mile End Kicks.”

(TIFF)

“I think it still sets the tone for the cultural conversation in cinema,” said Levack. “The ways that I’ve seen movies at TIFF with those audiences — the way those films hit me and affected me — they’ve been really the most profound cinematic experiences of my life.”

TIFF is often referred to as an audience festival, meaning that the audiences there are particularly receptive, giving warmly enthusiastic responses. The area of the festival’s downtown core around King Street where some of the key venues are located can often be jam-packed with fans trying to catch an autograph, a selfie or even just a glimpse of some of their favorite stars. The most significant prize given by the festival is its People’s Choice audience award, which has often been a strong bellwather for its winner’s chances at the Oscars.

The distributor Sony Pictures Classics has eight movies playing in this year’s edition alone, including “Blue Moon,” Haifaa Al Mansour’s “Unidentified” and Scarlett Johansson’s “Eleanor the Great.” Over the years the company has brought more than 400 titles to TIFF.

“The audience is one of the most sophisticated in the world, for my money,” said Tom Bernard, who along with Michael Barker is co-founder and co-president of Sony Pictures Classics. “They get every nuance of every tick in a film, be it a comedy, a drama, a gasp that happens where they gasp with it. When you go see a movie in Toronto, you have to be careful because the reaction is so enthusiastic that many times you say, ‘Well, wow, that movie would be great.’ But it might be a little more difficult than the way that it plays in that town.”

The road to the Oscars often goes through Toronto

Though none of them had their world premieres at the festival, last year’s winners “Anora,” The Brutalist,” “Emilia Pérez,” “Conclave,” “Flow,” “I’m Still Here,” “The Substance” and “No Other Land” all played there. The Oscar nominated film “Sing Sing” had its world premiere at the 2023 edition of TIFF.

“Wake Up Dead Man” is the third film in director Rian Johnson’s series of mysteries starring Daniel Craig; all three premiered at TIFF. This marks the fifth time producer Ram Berman and Johnson have premiered one of their films at the festival. Both previous “Knives Out” mysteries earned Oscar nominations for Johnson for original screenplay.

Josh O’Connor, left, and Daniel Craig in the movie “Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery.”

(Netflix)

Their company, T-Street Productions, also produced “American Fiction,” which premiered at the fest in 2023 and won the coveted People’s Choice audience award (other recent winners include “The Fabelmans,” “Belfast,” “Nomadland” and “Jojo Rabbit”), beginning a wave that took the film all the way to five Academy Award nominations, including best picture and winning the Oscar for adapted screenplay.

Though the new “Knives Out” film has been finished for a few months, Bergman said the plan was always to premiere again in Toronto, even playing in the same theater on the same day at the same time as the previous two films.

“I like going to Toronto and premiering there because the audience is always great,” said Bergman. “And really that’s who we make the movies for. We are not in the game, we’re not strategizing awards or anything, we just want people to have fun. We’ve always had a great time playing the movies in Toronto, so we should continue playing the movies in Toronto. It’s really that simple.”

Provocative documentaries often stir the pot

Nonfiction has always been a big part of Toronto’s identity going back to its very beginnings, which saw the likes of “Harlan County, USA.” and “Roger & Me” playing the festival.

Oscar-winner Laura Poitras returns to Toronto with “Cover-Up,” a portrait of investigative journalist Seymour Hersh that she co-directed with Mark Obenhaus. “Free Solo” directors Chai Vasarhelyi and Jimmy Chin also return with “Love+War,” a look at the life of photojournalist Lynsey Addario.

This year, Ben Proudfoot’s “The Eyes of Ghana,” a portrait of African cinematographer Chris Hesse, will have its world premiere. Proudfoot previously won two Oscars for the documentary shorts “The Queen of Basketball” and “The Last Repair Shop.” (the latter a film that LA Times Studios co-distributed).

Cameraman Chris Hess in Ben Proudfoot’s documentary “The Eyes of Ghana.”

(TIFF)

“Canceled: The Paula Deen Story,” a look at the rise and fall of the food-world star, will have its world premiere, as will “EPiC: Elvis Presley in Concert,” Baz Luhrmann’s documentary.

Documentaries that touch on hot button issues can raise problems for the festival as well. Last year Anastasia Trofimova’s film “Russians at War,” for which the filmmaker embedded herself with Russian soldiers to depict the war in Ukraine, sparked public outcry, threats of protest and safety concerns that caused the festival to ultimately show it after the main TIFF event had officially ended.

This year the festival initially invited the documentary “The Road Between Us: The Ultimate Rescue,” about a hostage rescue mission undertaken by a retired Israel Defense Forces officer following the Hamas attacks in Israel on Oct. 7, 2023. The festival then withdrew the film, directed by Toronto filmmaker (and former TIFF board member) Barry Avrich, from the lineup and following public uproar subsequently rescheduled it for a single public showing.

“This is the world we live in,” said Thom Powers, lead programmer of TIFF docs, about the way in which impassioned controversy erupts over films people have not even seen yet — the result of overly politicized environments and the short fuses of the social media era. “We can see this at many festivals.”

A proven half-century track record

For the first four years that Sony Classics’ Bernard brought films to Toronto, he would play then-festival chief Wayne Clarkson in tennis, with the loser paying for talent’s travel expenses. (Bernard won most of the time.)

He also recalled the time that he was able to have the training staff of the NHL’s Toronto Maple Leafs come right to the hotel room of Spanish auteur Pedro Almodóvar to reset his back.

But mainly there are memories of movies, times the festival’s specific magic cast its spell.

“I remember sitting in the theater watching ‘Il Postino’ and the guy who’s selling it is sitting next to me,” said Bernard of the 1994 film that would go on to be nominated for five Oscars, winning one. “And as the movie continues, the guy’s smile is getting bigger and bigger and bigger because he knows he’s going to be able to jack the price up way beyond anything I could pay.

“On the other hand, I remember being at the end of the festival and sitting in ‘Orlando’ and nobody was there but me,” he said of Sally Potter’s 1992 film that was a breakthrough for performer Tilda Swinton. “And I sent it back to the office, everybody saw it and it’s one of those all-time movies just because we were hanging around.”

For Levack, the festival has already provided a launching pad. After her first feature “I Like Movies,” premiered at the festival in 2022, it eventually made its way to the attention of Adam Sandler. Levack is currently finishing “Roommates” for Sandler’s Happy Madison production company.

“TIFF was unbelievably instrumental in making our film not only exist but matter,” said Levack of the response to her debut. “We really broke out and became sort of a viral unexpected hit at that festival and that really made my entire career from that point exist.”

Even as Toronto has weathered the changing fortunes of the film business and grappled with competition from other festivals, there is still something unique that happens when some of the year’s most anticipated new films meet these audiences.

“People say, ‘We’re going to put it in Toronto and then we’re getting into the Oscar game,’” said Bernard. “But it’s the audience [that decides]. You don’t fool anybody in Toronto.”

A film about Hind Rajab, the five-year-old Palestinian girl killed by Israeli forces in Gaza, received a record-breaking 23-minute standing ovation at the Venice Film Festival. ‘The Voice of Hind Rajab’ recounts her final plea to rescuers before she was killed.

There was a 23-minute standing ovation along with chants of ‘Free Palestine’ at the Venice Film Festival premiere of The Voice of Hind Rajab, a film recounting the harrowing final moments of a five-year-old Palestinian girl killed by Israeli forces in Gaza.

“The Wizard of Oz” is certainly the right movie to face the great and powerful ambitions of Sphere, the most expensive entertainment venue in Las Vegas history. Since 1939, the treasured classic has hailed the awe of gazing into a glowing globe, whether it’s glinting atop a fortune teller’s table, transporting the meddlesome Glinda the Good Witch or spying on a teenage girl and her companions like a sinister security camera.

Special effects are central both to “Oz’s” appeal and its plot: The big reveal is that technicians, not wizards, pull the levers that make an audience gasp. For Sphere — officially, there’s no “the” — those tools include three football fields of bright 16K LED screens that curve around its domed interior, with another 10 on the outside that light up Vegas day and night with rotating animations. (I saw blue gingham, scarlet sequins and thatches of burlap and straw.) Sphere cost an estimated $2.3 billion to build and must have an electricity bill scarier than the Wicked Witch. You can make out Dorothy’s slippers from an airplane.

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With no heel clicks needed, I was whisked to “The Wizard of Oz’s” Sphere premiere in a red sedan by a Lyft driver named — no fooling — Ruby, who said she was grateful that the Backstreet Boys’ recent stint at the arena “made Vegas busy for a minute.” There’s a lot of financial pressure on “Oz’s” girl from Kansas. Adapting the film to Sphere’s stunning dimensions took about $100 million. Although the arena seats 17,600 when full, “Oz” showings only offer a slice of the middle section, roughly a third of its capacity. A trimmed 70-minute edit of the movie is playing two to three times a day, nearly every day, through the end of March 2026, with a ticket price that currently starts at $114.

Eighty-six years ago, when a kiddie fare cost 15 cents, my then-6-year-old grandmother watched the theater blink from sepia to vivid color splendor. That innovation gets credited to Hollywood, but the idea of contrasting lush and luminous Oz against soul-drainingly monochrome Kansas is actually right there on Page 1 of L. Frank Baum’s book, published in May 1900, a self-proclaimed effort to write a “modernized” fairy tale that swaps Old World elves for American scarecrows. “When Dorothy stood in the doorway and looked around, she could see nothing but the great gray prairie on every side,” Baum wrote, adding that her house and her weary aunt and uncle and everything else were gray too, “to the edge of the sky in all directions.”

That’s exactly what Sphere was designed to do: stretch to the edge in all dimensions. It exists neither to save film nor supplant it, but to augment a rectangular screen with new digital and (controversially) generative-AI-supplied imagery, timed props and seats that vibrate whenever the Wicked Witch cackles.

Despite my queasiness about cutting “Oz” by half an hour, the experiment is a romp. I was immersed in — or, more accurately, surrounded by — scenes from one of my favorite movies, a pivotal blockbuster whose artistic influence extends from David Lynch to Elton John to Salman Rushdie. Even more giggle-inducing, I was pelted with scented foam apples and dive-bombed by half a dozen drone-piloted flying monkeys.

“The Wizard of Oz” has always braved new technology. An early adopter of Technicolor, it boasted a lighting budget nearly double that of its rival, “Gone With the Wind,” yet the latter gobbled nearly every Academy Award and poached “Oz’s” director, Victor Fleming, who swapped projects halfway through and won an Oscar for his vision of Sherman’s March instead of the Yellow Brick Road. In the 1950s, when the rest of Hollywood was terrified of television, “Oz” agreed to be the first theatrical movie to screen in full on a prime-time network. TV transformed the prestige money-loser into a hit. Sphere has turned “Oz” into a flash point in the industry’s fundamental fight over the use of AI. Artists and audiences alike fear a future in which, behind the curtain, there might not be a man at all.

I like my art made by human beings. But I’m no nostalgist. “Oz” was a book, a musical, a silent short and a cartoon before MGM made the variant we adore. It should be a playground for invention.

Entering Sphere, the escalators are tinted sepia and the soundscape hums with birdsong and lowing cattle. The implication is that we’ve not yet been whirled over the rainbow. Preshow, the view from one’s seat is of being in a massive old opera house with dusky green drapes flanked by rows of orchestra seats. None of the proscenium is actually there, nor are the musicians heard running scales and rehearsing “Follow the Yellow Brick Road.”

The simulation of human handicraft — of stagehands and horn players hiding in the wings — is unnerving. But it gets you thinking about the actual, contemporary people who are behind that curtain. Visual artists who labored on the Sphere project have justly grumbled that their sweat has gotten publicly dismissed as AI. An actual symphony orchestra rerecorded “Oz’s” mono score on the very same MGM stage used in 1939, allegedly with some of the same instruments. It sounds fantastic, and it’s so loyal to every jaunty warble that audiences might not notice.

A few scenes have been lopped off entirely. The Cowardly Lion no longer trills about becoming king of the forest. The majority of the shots have been micro-trimmed to be snappier, a pace that wouldn’t suit stoners’ penchant for synchronizing the movie to Pink Floyd’s dreamy, woozy “The Dark Side of the Moon.” Occasionally, the camera’s placement appears to have been adjusted to allow the visuals to expand to fill the space. Inside Dorothy’s Kansan house, a once-shadowed frying pan on the wall now dangles front and center, as does a digitally added “Home Sweet Home” needlepoint nailed to the threshold. (The plotting has become so brisk that we might otherwise miss the message that there’s no place like it.)

The tweaks can be subtle and lovely. Dorothy belts “Over the Rainbow” underneath newly actualized bluebirds and an impressively ominous sky. When the tornado happens, the tech changes hit us like a cyclone. We’re pulled through the window and into the eye of the storm, where a cow spirals around like it wants to outdo the scene-stealing bovine from “Twister.” A great, giddy blast of air from the 750-horsepower fans blew my bangs straight off my forehead. I kept one eye on the screen while trying to catch a flurry of tissue-paper leaves. The wow factor is so staggering that you might not spot that Sphere’s founder and chief executive, James Dolan, and Warner Bros. president and CEO David Zaslav have superimposed their faces on the two sailors twirling past in a rowboat — an apropos in-joke for people concerned the moguls have been swept away by their own bluster.

“Anyone can blow wind into your face,” Dolan said to the premiere audience before the film began. “Not everyone can make you feel like you’re in a tornado.” Wearing the Wizard’s green top hat and suit and with his microphone dropping out inauspiciously, Dolan never introduced himself, but he did compliment the other creators of the event, who also wore costumes. (I overheard that some of them thought Dolan was kidding about dressing in character until they found themselves spending four hours getting groomed to look lionesque.)

Just a week earlier, in trial runs, perfumes were piped into the air so people could get a whiff of the Emerald City. (Gauging by the souvenir candles in Sphere’s gift shop, it is chocolate mint.) They’ve currently been scaled back out of concerns that it all might get too overwhelming. Having figured out how to do sight, sound, feel and smell, Dolan conceded that only one sense remains: “We still haven’t figured out taste.”

Taste is definitely still a concern. Oddly, Sphere’s “Oz” loses a dram of its spellcraft once audiences touch down in Munchkinland. Seeing the newly added tops of Oz’s trees makes the fantastical place look smaller.

The margins of “The Wizard of Oz” have been expanded by generative AI to fit the enormous venue.

(Rich Fury / Sphere Entertainment)

You feel for the design teams. They’ve been challenged to magnify a 4-foot matte painting of the arched hallway into the Wizard’s throne room — initially done in pastels on black cardboard — into a 240-foot-tall tableau. One of the 1939 film’s production designers, Jack Martin Smith, said that his instructions were to make Oz “ethereal” and “subdued.” Descriptions of the cornfield’s hand-painted muslin background make it sound like a proto-Rothko. Now, you can see every kernel. The razor-sharp mountains on the horizon don’t inspire your imagination — they make you think of Machu Picchu.

More troublesome are the Munchkins and the citizens of Emerald City. Tidied into high definition, they often appear restless. As Dorothy pleads for the Wizard not to fly away without her, we’re distracted by hundreds of waving extras who visibly don’t give a hoot what happens to the girl. Worse, they occasionally seem to glitch. If that’s the best AI can do in 2025, then Sphere isn’t a resounding endorsement.

By contrast, Judy Garland’s performance, delivered at just age 16, feels monumental. Her big brown eyes dominate the screen. When the heartbroken girl sobs that the Wicked Witch has chased away her beloved Toto, I found myself annoyed by a flying monkey on the left side of the frame who simply looked bored.

The field of poppies is dazzling; the additional deer, ants and rodents skittering across the golden sidewalk are simply strange. Overall, you’re so caught up observing the experience itself that the emotions of the story don’t register as anything more than theme-ride hydraulics. Still, it’s nice to have a sweeping view of the first film’s prosthetic makeup: the Cowardly Lion’s upturned nostrils, the Scarecrow’s baggy jowls, the real horses painted purple and red with Jell-O. (Due to pace tightening, we only see two ponies, not all six).

I recoiled when the Wizard’s disembodied head loomed above. Who decided to make him look like a cheesy martian? Flipping through sketches from 1939 afterward, I realized that he always looked that bad. His gaunt cheekbones just weren’t as obvious before. Nevertheless, be sure to look to the right when Toto reveals Oz’s control booth. In a clever touch, Sphere lets us continue to see the monstrous green face, now neutered and ridiculous, mouth along as the panicked geek apologizes for being a humbug.

Can Sphere win big on its risky gamble that there’s no place like dome? It’s not the first Las Vegas attraction to bet on our love for the MGM extravaganza. “The Wizard of Oz” has been tangled up with Las Vegas’ fortunes for more than half a century, ever since real estate investor Kirk Kerkorian purchased MGM Studios in 1969 and, one year later, auctioned Dorothy’s slippers to help fund the construction of the first MGM Grand Hotel and Casino. The second MGM Grand, the one that opened in 1993, was branded for “The Wizard of Oz” — that’s why it’s green like Emerald City — and during the first year, visitors could walk through an animatronic forest of lions, tigers and gamblers.

The Strip was once a magical place where innocents like Dorothy flocked to get into trouble, often in encounters with sleight-of-hand hucksters like Professor Marvel. Hopes are high that tourists will come back to be transported to Oz, even at a ticket price that costs a chunk of the family farm. The hurdle is that although audiences have become begrudgingly accustomed to spending more than $100 to see their favorite bands, they’re still seeing an actual band and not a shortened version of a movie that’s popular in part because everyone grew up watching it on TV for free.

But on opening night at least, the crowd was treating the cinema like a concert. Many folks were in some sort of costume, including me. (I couldn’t resist wearing a pair of red shoes.) When I complimented a man’s blue gingham suit, he handed me a handmade beaded, Taylor Swift-style bracelet that read: Toto Too.

If fans like him turn this techno-incarnation of “Oz” into a hit, Sphere has said it would consider following it up with a similar presentation of “Gone With the Wind.” Imagine the smell of the burning of Atlanta. Much better than the air of burning money.

As if we needed another reason to question Woody Allen’s judgment, the 89-year-old director praised President Trump as “polite” and “a pleasure to work with” on Bill Maher’s podcast, “Club Random.”

Allen, who cast Trump in a cameo appearance for his 1998 film “Celebrity,” said on Monday’s podcast that the then-real estate mogul “hit his mark, did everything correctly and had a real flair for show business.”

“As an actor, he was very good,” Allen said. “He was very convincing, and he has a charismatic quality as an actor. And I’m surprised he wanted to go into politics. Politics is nothing but headaches and critical decisions and agony.”

Trump’s latest critical decision as commander in chief? Sharing the filmmaker’s positive comments on his Truth Social account. Heavy hangs the crown …

But why would Trump even want Allen on his side?

Allen’s legacy as a groundbreaking filmmaker was tarnished by revelations about his personal life that emerged in the 1990s. It was revealed that he had a romantic relationship with his then-girlfriend Mia Farrow’s adopted daughter, Soon-Yi Previn. He was 56. She was 21. Allen’s own daughter with Farrow, Dylan, would later accuse Allen of sexually molesting her, claims that he denies. Even if fans want to separate the artist from news stories about the man, it’s difficult given that Allen’s films often reflect an obsession with youthful — and occasionally underage — women.

The president has been doing everything possible to bury his past associations with older men who allegedly prey on younger women. There’s this guy named Jeffrey Epstein …

There’s obviously no comparing Allen to the late convicted child sex trafficker, but why even open the door to such scrutiny? It’s because a compliment is a compliment, and there are so few of them coming from Hollywood that Trump could not help but copy, paste and post.

More troubling is that Allen now joins Maher in normalizing America’s first president who operates like a dictator, describing Trump as “pleasant,” “gracious,” even “measured.” Meanwhile, the White House is siccing militarized forces on American cities, trying to deport planeloads of children and attempting to rig the 2026 midterms.

Maher responded to Allen’s flattering words about Trump with mock outrage: “How dare you?!”

Allen may have surprised listeners who know the director as a master satirist of the flawed personality, but Maher was right on brand. The 69-year-old has forged a career playing to all sides of contentious issues while sincerely committing to none.

Earlier this year, the host of HBO’s “Real Time With Bill Maher,” who describes himself as a “vocal critic” of Trump, caught flak for dining with the president at Mar-a-Lago, then later describing Trump as “gracious,” “not fake” and that “everything I’ve ever not liked about him was absent.” He praised Trump for being “measured” and not like the “person who plays a crazy person on TV.”

Larry David, the creator of “Seinfeld” and star of “Curb Your Enthusiasm,” responded to Maher’s laudatory dinner recollection with a satirical essay in the New York Times titled “My Dinner With Adolf.” David wrote from the perspective of a “vocal critic” of the Nazi dictator who, over dinner, finds Hitler to be surprisingly “disarming” and “authentic.” The essay went viral.

During Monday’s podcast, Allen counterbalanced his kind words about Trump with the revelation that he voted for former Vice President Kamala Harris in the 2024 presidential election. He also said that he disagrees with Trump on “99%” of issues.

After wondering aloud why Trump went into politics, Allen said, “This was a guy I used to see at the Knicks games, and he liked to play golf, and he liked to judge beauty contests, and he liked to do things that were enjoyable and relaxing. Why anyone would want to suddenly have to deal with the issues of politics is beyond me.”

Perhaps it’s about seizing total power? Exacting revenge on enemies such as his former national security advisor John Bolton? Scrubbing the Epstein files? Profiting off his office?

But let’s get back to Allen.

The director reiterated that he disagreed “with many, almost all, not all, but almost all of his politics, of his policies. I can only judge what I know from directing him in film. And he was pleasant to work [with], and very professional, very polite to everyone…

“If he would let me direct him now that he’s president, I think I could do wonders.”

He kids. But it was only just a few days ago that Allen came under fire for virtually attending the Moscow Film Festival as a guest of honor. He praised Russian cinema and hinted at wanting to shoot a film in the country. After some “measured” thought, perhaps Putin will get a cameo.

LOCK, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels star Jason Flemyng has been banned from driving after being caught speeding — at 24mph.

The 58-year-old was pinged in a 20mph zone in his Kia Sorento.

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It was the fourth time Flemyng had been caught speeding in the past year.

He already had 12 points on his licence but had not been banned because of a justice system administrative error.

The actor admitted speeding near his home in Clapham, South West London, on December 5.

He was banned for six months and fined £775.

He told Lavender Hill JPs: “I don’t want to waste the court’s time. I accept what has happened.”

Asked whether he wanted to claim exceptional hardship, the actor, wearing a black suit, said: “Well, my work and what I do for a living, and my charity work, all depend on me driving.

“Maybe I should have thought about that before I drove 24mph in a 20mph zone.”

Flemyng played Tom in Guy Ritchie’s Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and has appeared in Snatch and From Hell with Johnny Depp.

In 2009, the actor joined the cast of the ITV science fiction cult drama series Primeval during its third series, as maverick ex-policeman Danny Quinn and he reprised the role in 2011.

He has been married to actress and producer Elly Fairman since 2007, best known for Blitz, and has also starred in BBC drama series Casualty.

Jesse Plemons in the movie “Bugonia.”

(Atsushi Nishijima / Focus Features)

Jesse Plemons is never one to chew scenery. Even when handed a role that edges on madness, he doesn’t go big. Instead, he goes deep, building tension quietly from the inside out. And in Yorgos Lanthimos’ uncategorizable, darkly comic sci-fi thriller, Plemons — reuniting with the director after playing three characters in last year’s “Kinds of Kindness” — delivers one of his most riveting performances yet. As Teddy, a rumpled, reclusive beekeeper convinced that a pharma CEO (Emma Stone) is an alien from the planet Andromeda, Plemons channels paranoia, grief and righteousness into something both absurd and unnervingly sincere. The “I do my own research” archetype could easily veer into “SNL” sketch territory but he plays it heartbreakingly straight, creating a chillingly familiar portrait of a man lost in an algorithmic maze of internet rabbit holes and desperate for clarity in a world that no longer makes sense. Teddy enlists his younger cousin Don (Aidan Delbis, an autistic first-time actor in a mesmerizing turn) to help him abduct Stone’s steely executive, drawing him into the mission in a misguided effort to protect him. Even as things spiral into chaos, Plemons (a 2022 supporting actor Oscar nominee for Jane Campion’s “The Power of the Dog”) roots the performance in a warped but recognizably human emotional logic. The result captures the anxious, conspiratorial spirit of 2025 with eerie precision, proving once again that Plemons doesn’t need to raise his voice to deliver a performance that speaks volumes. — Josh Rottenberg

Graham Greene, the Oscar-nominated actor who helped open doors for Indigenous actors in Hollywood, died on Monday in Toronto after battling a long illness, Deadline and others report. The Canadian actor was 73.

Born in Ohsweken, on the Six Nations Reserve, Greene saw his Hollywood profile catapult after Kevin Costner cast him as Kicking Bird (Ziŋtká Nagwáka) in 1990’s “Dances With Wolves,” which won the Academy Award for best picture and earned Greene an Oscar nomination for best supporting actor.

During his screen career, which began with the 1979 Canadian drama series “The Great Detective,” Greene was cast in more than 180 films and TV shows. His first movie role was in 1983’s “Running Brave.”

He went on to star in several other high-profile films including “Maverick,” “The Green Mile,” “Die Hard With a Vengeance” and “The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn — Part 2.” The actor also appeared in “Tulsa King,” “Riverdale” and as Maximus in the final season of the Emmy-nominated show “Reservation Dogs,” which was among his final roles.

Graham Greene, right, and Kevin Costner in “Dances With Wolves.”

(Courtesy of Orion Pictures Corp.)

At the time of his death, he had eight upcoming projects, including the Stefan Ruzowitzky-directed thriller “Ice Fall,” which he had completed filming with Joel Kinnaman and Danny Huston. It’s scheduled to be released in October.

“He was a great man of morals, ethics and character and will be eternally missed,” Greene’s agent Michael Greene (no relation) said in a statement released to several outlets, including Deadline and TMZ. “You are finally free. Susan Smith is meeting you at the gates of heaven,” he added, referring to the actor’s former agent, who died in 2013.

Graham Greene and Molly Kunz in a scene from the 2021 drama “The Wolf and the Lion.”

(Emmanuel Guionet / Courtesy of Blue Fox Entertainment)

Outside of his acting career, Greene won a Grammy in 2000 for best spoken word album for children for his work on “Listen to the Storyteller.” He is also a Gemini and Canadian Screen Award winner and an Independent Spirit nominee. In 2021, he was immortalized with a star on Canada’s Walk of Fame, and earlier this year, he received the Governor General’s Performing Arts Award in his native country.

Graham Greene in 2022 at the unveiling of his commemorative plaque for Arts & Entertainment on Canada’s Walk of Fame at Beanfield Centre in Toronto.

(Mathew Tsang / Getty Images)

In 1991, Greene told The Times that “Dances With Wolves” “was certainly the biggest film I’ve done. It’s made definite changes in my life — I’m more popular with the media, scripts are being offered to me from people I’ve never heard of. On the other hand, I’m being inundated. It’s good in a way. I shouldn’t complain.”

Greene is survived by his wife of 35 years, Hilary Blackmore; daughter Lilly Lazare-Greene; and grandson Tarlo.

A late Tennessee sheriff who inspired “Walking Tall,” a Hollywood movie about a law enforcement officer who took on organized crime, killed his wife in 1967 and led people to believe she was murdered by his enemies, authorities said last week.

Authorities acknowledged that the finding will probably shock many who grew up as Buford Pusser fans after watching “Walking Tall,” which immortalized him as a tough but fair sheriff with zero tolerance for crime. The 1973 movie was remade in 2004, and many officers joined law enforcement because of his story, according to Mark Davidson, the district attorney for Tennessee’s 25th Judicial District.

There is enough evidence that if Pusser, a McNairy County sheriff who died in a car crash seven years after his wife’s death, were alive today, prosecutors would present an indictment to a grand jury for the killing of Pauline Mullins Pusser, Davidson said. Investigators also uncovered signs that she suffered from domestic violence, he said.

Prosecutors worked with the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation, which began reexamining decades-old files on Pauline’s death in 2022 as part of its regular review of cold cases, agency director David Rausch said. Agents found inconsistencies between Buford Pusser’s version of events and the physical evidence, received a tip about a potential murder weapon and exhumed Pauline’s body for an autopsy.

“This case is not about tearing down a legend. It is about giving dignity and closure to Pauline and her family and ensuring that the truth is not buried with time,” Davidson said in a news conference streamed online. “The truth matters. Justice matters. Even 58 years later. Pauline deserves both.”

Evidence does not back up sheriff’s story

The case dates to Aug. 12, 1967. Buford Pusser got a call in the early-morning hours about a disturbance. He reported that his wife volunteered to ride along with him as he responded. The sheriff said that shortly after they passed New Hope Methodist Church, a car pulled up and fired several times into the vehicle, killing Pauline and injuring him. He spent 18 days in the hospital and required several surgeries to recover. The case was built largely on his own statement and closed quickly, Rausch said.

During the reexamination of the case, Dr. Michael Revelle, an emergency medicine physical and medical examiner, studied postmortem photographs, crime scene photographs, notes made by the medical examiner at the time and Buford Pusser’s statements. He concluded that Pauline was more likely than not shot outside the car and then placed inside it.

He found that cranial trauma suffered by Pauline didn’t match crime scene photographs of the car’s interior. Blood spatter on the hood outside the car contradicted Buford Pusser’s statements. The gunshot wound on his cheek was in fact a close-contact wound and not one fired from long range, as she sheriff had described, and was probably self-inflicted, Revelle concluded.

Pauline’s autopsy revealed she had a broken nose that had healed before her death. Davidson said statements from people who were around at the time she died support the conclusion that she was a victim of domestic violence.

Brother says investigation gave him closure

Pauline’s younger brother, Griffon Mullins, said the investigation gave him closure. He said in a recorded video played at the news conference that their other sister died without knowing what happened to Pauline, and he is grateful he will die knowing.

“You would fall in love with her because she was a people person. And of course, my family would always go to Pauline if they had an issue or they needed some advice, and she was always there for them,” he said. “She was just a sweet person. I loved her with all my heart.”

Mullins said he knew there was some trouble in Pauline’s marriage, but she wasn’t one to talk about her problems. For that reason, Mullins said, he was “not totally shocked” to learn of the investigators’ findings.

Asked about the murder weapon and whether it matched autopsy findings, Rausch recommended reading the case file for specifics.

The Tennessee Bureau of Investigation plans to make the entire file, which exceeds 1,000 pages, available to the public by handing it over to the University of Tennessee at Martin once it finishes with redactions. The school will create an online, searchable database for the case. Until then, members of the public can make appointments to review it in person or can purchase a copy, said university Chancellor Yancy Freeman Sr.

McAvoy writes for the Associated Press.

TELLURIDE, Colo. — It’s customary at Telluride for a director premiering a movie to step onstage, say a few words and slip away before the lights go down. On Friday night, before unveiling her new film “Hamnet,” Chloé Zhao admitted she couldn’t find the right words. For a film centered on William Shakespeare, the most famous wordsmith in history, that felt oddly fitting.

Instead, the 43-year-old Zhao led the packed Palm Theater in a meditative “ritual” she and her cast had practiced throughout the shoot, from before the script was even written until the final day on set. She asked the audience to close their eyes, place a hand over their hearts and feel the weight of their bodies in the seats and the surrounding Rocky Mountains holding them safe. Together, the crowd exhaled three long, loud sighs, then tapped their chests in unison, repeating softly: “This is my heart. This is my heart. This is my heart.”

By the time the film ended, those same hearts were left aching. Adapted from Maggie O’Farrell’s 2020 novel, “Hamnet” tells the story of Shakespeare’s marriage to Agnes (played by Jessie Buckley) and the devastating death of their 11-year-old son, Hamnet. Paul Mescal plays Shakespeare — not the untouchable bard of legend but a husband and father reckoning with grief. At once grounded and dreamlike, the film drew perhaps the most rapturous and unanimous response of any debut in this year’s lineup.

Eight years ago, Zhao came to Telluride with “The Rider,” fresh from Cannes and still largely unknown. In 2020 she returned with “Nomadland,” which received a Telluride-sponsored drive-in screening at Pasadena’s Rose Bowl due to the pandemic and went on to win best picture and make Oscar history, with Zhao becoming only the second woman — and the first and only woman of color — to win the directing prize. Then came Marvel’s “Eternals,” a massive undertaking that thrust Zhao into the franchise machine and brought with it a bruising critical reception. With “Hamnet,” she’s back to a smaller canvas, trading cosmic spectacle for intimate human drama.

On Sunday morning in Telluride, still processing the reaction to her latest film, Zhao sat down to talk — speaking so softly that even in a hushed room her words can be hard to catch — about why she took on O’Farrell’s story, how she approached Shakespeare’s world and the delicate task of turning heartbreak into art.

Jessie Buckley, center, in the movie “Hamnet.”

(Agata Grzybowska / Focus Features)

When I interviewed you for “The Rider” in 2018 you said you’re a very pessimistic person and when you get a good review, you’re just waiting for the bad one to drop. What are you feeling right now? Did you expect anything like the reaction “Hamnet” has received?
I was nervous. I’ve walked through fires. I’ve been through the fire — a very painful fire — and I think there is probably a bit of fear around that.

What was the fire? You mean the reaction to “Eternals”?
I’m not going to say out it loud, because when I do, things always get … [trails off]. Let’s just say we were very scared.

I think the fear mainly came from the fact that we felt so sure of what we experienced. It changed all of our lives and mine so profoundly that it’s still reverberating. You think: Were we crazy? And no one else will get it but us?

You go through this long, treacherous journey to deliver these things to safety and now it’s very tender because you look back at all the loss and the sacrifices along the way and you haven’t really had time to process it.

I’m curious what your history was with Shakespeare growing up in China and then moving to England and later Los Angeles as a teenager. What kind of early impression did he make on you?
Shakespeare is very revered in China. In Chinese theater, they do Chinese versions of his plays. When I studied in the U.K., I didn’t speak English at the time and I did have to learn Shakespeare, which was very difficult. I don’t think I’m anywhere near where Paul and Jesse are with their understanding of Shakespeare. The language was always a barrier but the archetypal element of his stories was big for me — particularly “Macbeth.” In high school in Los Angeles, I performed Lady Macbeth’s speech on the stage because everybody had to do some kind of monologue for a project. And I barely spoke English.

You’ve said you initially weren’t sure that you were the right person to direct this movie. What was your hesitation?
There were three elements to that. One is that I’m not a mother. I never felt particularly maternal. People in my life say, “That’s not true, Chloé,” but I don’t see myself stepping into that archetype at all. The second was the idea of a period film — how can I be authentic and fluid in a period film, where you can’t just make things up in the moment, you can’t be spontaneous? The third was Shakespeare. I wondered if I needed to be scholarly.

So how did you come around?
I was driving near Four Corners, New Mexico, when Amblin called. I said, “No, thank you.” Steven [Spielberg] really wanted me to consider it. Then my agent said Paul Mescal wanted to meet me. I didn’t know his work. “Aftersun” was the secret screening here [in Telluride 2022], and we went for a walk by the creek. I watched him talking and thought, “Could he play young Shakespeare?” He already read the book. Then I read it and thought, if Maggie [O’Farrell] can write this with me, she can show me that world. As soon as I read the book, I said, “Can you set a meeting with Jessie Buckley?” I couldn’t see anyone else but her as Agnes.

Paul Mescal as William Shakespeare in the movie “Hamnet.”

(Agata Grzybowska / Focus Features)

You’d just come off “Eternals” after making small films like “Songs My Brothers Taught Me” and “Nomadland.” Now you’re back with something more intimate again. Did it feel like a reset?
Every child has its own beauty and troubles. This budget was maybe six or seven times “Nomadland,” but much less than “Eternals.” But it’s also a period film, which has its own challenges. I come from a tradition of: Tell me how much money you have and I’ll make something with it.

But I changed a lot after “Nomadland” and “Eternals.” In my 30s, I wanted to chase the horizon. I didn’t want it to ever end. I’d just keep running. Then, at the end of “Eternals,” I felt I couldn’t film another sunset that would satisfy me the way in the way it had with “The Rider” and “Nomadland.” I went through a lot of difficult personal times and pushing midlife, I realized I’d been running like a cowboy, like a nomad.

When you stop running and stop chasing horizons and you stay still, the only place you can go is above or below. I descended pretty heavily these last four years. By the time I got to “Hamnet,” I was ready. The difference now is a different kind of humanity: older, more vertical.

We know so little about Shakespeare or his son. Some parts of your film are grounded, others dreamlike. How did you balance that?
First of all, what’s real? Ancient mystics tried to understand what is being. “To be or not to be” goes beyond suicidal thought — it’s about existence itself. Every film has its own truth. For me, the truest thing is what’s present in the moment. I hired department heads and actors with knowledge of the history, but also the capacity to stay present and shift as we go. If someone came in too factual and literal, I said no. I wanted people who could do the research but also stay alive to the present.

Shakespeare’s name isn’t even spoken until late in the movie. This isn’t the icon — he’s a husband and father. Was it appealing to free him from the iconography?
Maggie’s book laid the foundation, really focusing on Agnes. For the film, I wanted it to be about two people who see and are seen by each other. They’re archetypal characters. I’ve studied Jungian psychology and Hindu Tantra — the energies of masculine and feminine, being and doing, birth and death. If we don’t have a healthy connection to our roots, those forces battle within us. By creating two characters who embody that, the story can work at a collective level and an internal one. The alchemy of creativity lets those forces coexist. Hopefully it becomes something more than a story about marriage or the death of a child.

Jessie Buckley and Paul Mescal in the movie “Hamnet.”

(Agata Grzybowska / Focus Features )

The loss of a child is hard to film and for audiences to watch. We’ve seen it tackled in different ways on screen, from “Ordinary People” to “Manchester by the Sea.” How did you approach portraying that kind of grief honestly without it being too much for the audience to bear?
It might be for some people, which is understandable. I love both those films you mentioned very much and watched them multiple times. I’ve been making films about grief for a while. I don’t think about what’s too much or too little. Agnes’ wailing — I could do that right now in front of you. We should be allowed to. The silence for thousands of years has done great damage.

How do you mean?
Think about ancient warriors coming back from battle — they danced, screamed, healed together. In Tantra, sexuality was part of healing. Now it’s: Talk to a therapist, take medication, go back to your family. The body is restricted. Telling a woman to be quiet when she gave birth and pinning her down. We know why this control happens. But I think people are responding to films where actors are embodied, because we miss that.

How do you see grief as a through-line in all your films?
All my films start with characters who’ve lost what defined them: dreams, home, purpose, faith. They grieve who they thought they were in order to become who they truly are. That’s grief on an individual and collective level. I wasn’t raised to understand grief. So I made films to give characters catharsis and through that, myself.

My friend [“Sinners” director] Ryan Coogler, who knows me so well, sat me down after seeing “Hamnet” and he said, “The other films were beautiful but you hid behind things. This is the first time I saw you in there. You’re finally being seen.” It took four films, working with that kind of grief and fear to get to that point.

The Oscar chatter has already started. You’ve obviously been through this before. How do you tune that out and just focus on what’s in front of you?
The same way that me, Paul and Jessie were doing on set. We made the film by being present. It’s difficult, so I’m trying to take that practice daily — just saying, “OK, today is all we have.” It’s flattering and nice but after what I’ve experienced in my career, you cannot possibly predict how things are going to go. I never expected “Nomadland” to go on that journey. So I surrender to the river.

Do you know what you’re doing next?
I just wrapped the pilot on the new “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” series, which is set 25 years later. My company is part of developing it. The fandom is so special to me and I’m excited about how that’s going to go into the world. Then I think I want to do a play. I was working on “Our Town” and I had to let that go in order to do “Hamnet.” But I figured maybe I’ll learn something from this film and come back to the stage.

The industry feels pretty shaky right now: fewer jobs, studio consolidation, anxiety around AI. As a filmmaker, how do you see the state of the business and the art form?
I sense we’re at a threshold — not just the film business, everything. It’s uncomfortable. We’re like Will standing at the edge of the river when, at least in our film, the “to be or not to be” monologue was born. We can’t go back and we don’t know how to go forward. In physics, when two opposing forces pull so strongly, a new equilibrium bursts out. That’s how the universe expands. I think we’re there. We can kick and scream or we can surrender, hug our loved ones and focus on what we can do today.

Hopefully I’m not so pessimistic now. Or at least a little bit less.

Want to get Generation Alpha into movie theaters? Look to video games.

Kids still like to go to the movies, according to a high-profile new research report. But the franchises they care about are not the traditional Hollywood popcorn fare.

Seven of the top 10 entertainment franchises that the youngest generation of moviegoers cares about are video game properties, according to a recent study by National Research Group (NRG).

The top five titles that Gen Alpha kids, generally considered to be those ages 12 and under, say they talk most about were Roblox, “Minecraft,” “Fortnite,” “Grand Theft Auto” and “Pokémon,” all of which originated from the world of video games. The highest-ranked non-video game property was Marvel and Walt Disney Co.’s “The Avengers,” at No. 6.

Studios have started to catch on. Spring’s “A Minecraft Movie,” based on the popular game where users build and explore different worlds, was such a huge success. The film, adapted by Warner Bros. and Legendary Entertainment for the big screen, grossed $955 million at the global box office, according to Comscore. Young fans packed the theater, cheering during scenes important to gamers.

“Gaming is a deeply important part of Gen Alpha culture because it provides an essential venue for socialization,” said Fergus Navaratnam-Blair, NRG’s vice president of trends and futures. “Social gaming platforms like Roblox and Fortnite give them the opportunity to spend time with their friends, build communities, and develop a sense of their own identity.”

That could present a shift in the way theaters and studios cater to Gen Alpha, a key demographic born 2013 onward, to their future survival. Compared with millennials and Gen X, a higher percentage of Gen Alpha members (38%) said they would see a movie in a theater instead of waiting for it to come to a streaming service if their friends were talking about it, NRG said.

Nearly 60% of Gen Alpha members said they enjoy watching movies in theaters more than at home, according to NRG, which surveyed more than 6,000 U.S. moviegoers in May and June of this year. The majority of kids surveyed ages 6-to-12 said the reason why they go to the theater is to spend time with friends and family and “to make seeing the movie feel like a special event,” according to NRG.

“We are seeing the signs within this demographic that they do really value the experience of watching movies in theaters,” Navaratnam-Blair said. “The fact that they have grown up surrounded by phones, tablets, other sorts of devices, if anything, that seems to have made them more appreciative of the opportunities that they do get to switch up from all of that.”

Stories that resonate with Gen Alpha can come from franchises they are already familiar with, like “Minecraft,” or ones such as “Wicked” that inspire them to create fan fiction or show off their fandom by dressing up like the characters, he said.

Already, studios are marketing their films to reach younger consumers on platforms they frequent including Roblox and TikTok.

Movie theaters can help cater to Gen Alpha by making the viewing an experience, such as selling food that is matched to what characters are eating on screen, Navaratnam-Blair said.

Younger audiences also can still be attracted to seeing a movie in a theater if it’s a special event that happens after the title has started streaming. For example, many people attended sing-along showings of the popular animated film “KPop Demon Hunters” in theaters even after streaming it first on Netflix. The sing-along version of the film was the No. 1 movie domestically during the weekend it was briefly in theaters, with an estimated $18 million in ticket sales.

“This is a generation that does offer hope for the future of theatrical moviegoing,” Navaratnam-Blair said. “We just need to understand what it is they’re looking for, that experience, and play into it in a way that gives them what they’re looking for out of that.”

In recent years, film festivals haven’t felt all that festive. Audiences have dwindled, streaming has upended viewing habits and the pandemic and Hollywood strikes have rattled the industry, leaving even the most glamorous events to fight for their place on the cultural calendar.

Then there’s Telluride. For more than a half-century, the tiny mountain gathering has thrived as a kind of anti-festival: no red carpets, no prizes, no tuxedos, just movies. Perched 8,750 feet up in a box canyon in the Colorado Rockies, it’s reachable only by twisting roads or a white-knuckle drop into one of the nation’s highest airports. Festival passes are pricey and limited in number, which makes Telluride feel at once intimate and exclusive. With its mix of industry insiders and devoted film lovers, that isolation and tight-knit atmosphere have become part of Telluride’s mystique, and the promise of early Oscar buzz keeps filmmakers, stars and cinephiles making the pilgrimage. Since 2009, only five best picture winners have skipped Telluride on their way to the top prize.

“It’s so hard to get to Telluride — you don’t end up here by accident,” festival director Julie Huntsinger says by phone. “We’ve always felt it’s incumbent on us to show either brand-new things or extraordinary things that make your time worth it. You know how cats will bring you a mouse? I always feel like I’m bringing you a mouse or a bird, and I just hope you’ll like it.”

Rolling out over Labor Day weekend, the 52nd Telluride Film Festival will supply a slate of fresh offerings, including a handful of world premieres. Scott Cooper’s “Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere” drops Jeremy Allen White into the boots of the Boss, tracing the creation of his stark 1982 album, “Nebraska.” Chloé Zhao’s “Hamnet” unites Jessie Buckley and Paul Mescal in a haunting portrait of grief. Edward Berger’s “Ballad of a Small Player” finds Colin Farrell wandering Macau as a gambler chasing luck and redemption. And Daniel Roher’s “Tuner” gives Dustin Hoffman a rare return to the screen in a crime thriller about a piano tuner who discovers his ear is just as effective on safes as on Steinways.

Also in the mix are a number of films coming from Cannes and Venice: Yorgos Lanthimos’ “Bugonia,” Noah Baumbach’s “Jay Kelly,” Kelly Reichardt’s “The Mastermind” and Richard Linklater with a double bill, “Blue Moon” and “Nouvelle Vague,” proof that Telluride remains a haven for auteurs.

At last year’s Telluride, politics dominated the conversation on- and off-screen. Hot-button issues, from abortion access to climate change to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, ran through the program, while guests such as Hillary Clinton, James Carville and special prosecutor Jack Smith joined the usual roster of actors and filmmakers. Ali Abbasi’s “The Apprentice,” a searing portrait of Donald Trump’s early years, was one of the buzziest titles.

This year the lineup is broader, though politics still runs through it. Ivy Meeropol’s “Ask E. Jean” follows writer E. Jean Carroll through her legal battles with Trump, while Kleber Mendonça Filho’s “The Secret Agent” uses a 1970s-set thriller to revisit Brazil’s military dictatorship, with Wagner Moura (“Narcos”) as a professor on the run. “This year is pretty political too,” Huntsinger insists. “There are a couple of films that, if you’re paying attention, have important things to say. I just hope everybody feels a little braver after a lot of the things we show.”

German-born director Edward Berger, who brought his papal thriller “Conclave” to last year’s edition, returns with a strikingly different film in “Ballad of a Small Player.”

“I would defy anyone to stack up his films and say they’re by the same filmmaker,” Huntsinger says. “This is a beautiful, very dreamlike, nonlinear exercise in spirituality and introspection. ‘Conclave’ felt disciplined — not that this film is undisciplined but it exists on a totally different plane.”

Zhao, who won the directing Oscar for 2020’s “Nomadland,” has adapted “Hamnet” from Maggie O’Farrell’s acclaimed novel about the death of Shakespeare’s only son in what Huntsinger describes as one of the festival’s most emotionally powerful selections.

“Chloé is a person of immense depth,” Huntsinger says. “She has such a deep feel for human beings. This is a sad, mournful but beautiful meditation on loss. People should be prepared to cathartically cry. There isn’t a false note in it.”

Another festival favorite, Lanthimos makes his third trip to Telluride with “Bugonia,” a darkly comic sci-fi satire that reunites him with Emma Stone following their earlier collaborations on “The Favourite” and “Poor Things.” A remake of the 2003 Korean cult film “Save the Green Planet!,” it follows a conspiracy-minded beekeeper (Jesse Plemons) who kidnaps a powerful pharma executive (Stone) he believes is an alien bent on destroying Earth.

“Be prepared to get your a— kicked,” Huntsinger says. “Emma is outstanding, and we should never take her for granted, but Jesse Plemons steals the show. He next-levels it in this one.”

Baumbach also marks his return to Telluride with the dramedy “Jay Kelly,” which centers on an actor (George Clooney) and his longtime manager (Adam Sandler) as they journey across Europe, looking back on the choices and relationships that have shaped their lives. Huntsinger likens the film to a cinematic negroni: “It’s substantial but also fun, with an almost summery feel. It’s about where you’re headed after a certain stage in life, told without heavy-handedness.”

The filmmaker and screenwriter, who previously brought “Margot at the Wedding,” “Frances Ha” and “Marriage Story” to the festival, will be honored this year with a Silver Medallion. He shares the award with Iranian director Jafar Panahi, whose drama “It Was Just an Accident” won the Palme d’Or at Cannes, and Ethan Hawke, represented in the lineup with Linklater’s “Blue Moon” and his own documentary about country singer Merle Haggard, “Highway 99: A Double Album.”

Few films in the lineup will be more closely watched than Cooper’s Springsteen biopic, with Emmy-winning “The Bear” star White channeling the Boss during the making of one of his most uncompromising albums. “Jeremy delivers in the same way that Timothée Chalamet did in [the Bob Dylan biopic] ‘A Complete Unknown,’ where you just think, Jesus, what can’t this kid do?” Huntsinger says. “Scott’s a great filmmaker, and the movie delivers on its promise.”

The music thread continues with Morgan Neville’s documentary “Man on the Run,” drawn from never-before-seen home movies Paul McCartney shot in the early 1970s, not long after the Beatles’ split. The footage shows McCartney retreating to Scotland with his family and offers what Huntsinger describes as a revelatory glimpse at a less-mythologized moment. “You also understand there wasn’t a villain in the Beatles breakup,” Huntsinger says. “It’s an expansion on history that’s really needed.”

Elsewhere in the documentary lineup, Oscar-winning filmmaker Laura Poitras returns with “Cover-Up” (co-directed by Mark Obenhaus), an exploration of investigative journalist Seymour Hersh’s career that builds on her politically charged films like “Citizenfour” and “All the Beauty and the Bloodshed.”

For all its flannel-and-jeans ethos, Telluride isn’t immune to the economics of 2025. Lodging and travel costs have soared, amplifying concerns that the showcase has become a festival largely for the well-off. Huntsinger concedes the expense but points out pass prices haven’t budged in more than 15 years as she works to keep it accessible.

“I was concerned for a while because our audience was aging, but we’ve really worked on making sure that younger people and people on fixed incomes can come,” she says. “I can see the difference — it’s not just people of means. And I promise you, I’ll keep fighting for that. I hope the lodging people will realize they got a little out of hand and start lowering prices too.”

For all the turbulence and doomsaying that has rattled Hollywood in recent years, Telluride has managed to hold fast to its identity.

“The devotion people have to this weekend makes me think there’s hope,” Huntsinger says. “They’re not coming here for anything but film-loving. To hear people say, ‘I would not miss this for the world’ makes me really proud and hopeful. After everything we’ve all been through, I think we still have reason to keep doing this crazy little picnic.”

Only John Williams could have put me in the orbit of one of history’s most famous basketball players. Kobe Bryant, like so many others, was a huge fan of Williams’ music; he befriended and sought out the composer for career advice and, when he made his post-athletic pivot to filmmaking, hired Williams to compose a short score.

And because I cover film music for a living, I was able to interview Bryant — along with Williams and Disney animation legend Glen Keane — for The Times in the spring of 2017. I even got to meet Bryant in person, backstage at the Hollywood Bowl, when he rehearsed his narration of “Dear Basketball” at an all-Williams concert. It was an obscenely hot day, and I waited outside Bryant’s dressing room while they finished drying his sweat-soaked shirt with a hair dryer before he came out and cheerfully shook my hand.

I gave Bryant and “Dear Basketball” a fair amount of real estate in my new book, “John Williams: A Composer’s Life,” not because of his fame or athletic prowess, but because I feel that his short film inspired one of Williams’ most beautiful works of the last decade, and also because there was something poetic and moving about the whole affair, and about saying goodbye to the thing you love the most — especially as the film became a kind of eulogy for Bryant after his untimely death in 2020.

[The below excerpt is from Tim Greiving’s “John Williams: A Composer’s Life,” out Sept. 2. Greiving is a frequent contributor to The Times.]

Tim Greiving

(Laura Hinely)

Kobe Bryant, the 18-time NBA All-Star, was an unexpected admirer of John’s music: as a boy, Bryant would tie a towel around his neck and run around to the theme of Superman; as a player, he used the Imperial March to hype himself up before games; and as a father, he would rock his infant daughters to sleep on his chest listening to Hedwig’s Theme. The six-foot-six athlete from Philly could hardly have been less like John, but he recognized mastery when he heard it. “I asked myself a question,” Bryant said: “What makes a John Williams piece timeless? How is he using each instrument? How is he using the space between them? How is he building momentum, and then how is he taking it away to build it again?” As a basketball player, Bryant said he was “essentially conducting a game,” “so I just wanted to talk to him about how he composed music and try to find something similar that I can then use to help my game as a leader and winning championships.”

Bryant first contacted John for counsel just before the 2008 NBA season. “The first thing I told Kobe was, I’d never seen a basketball game,” John confessed. “High school, college, professional, or television. And of course he laughed.” “But once I had told him my reason for reaching out to him,” Bryant said, “he saw the connection immediately…If we look in our same industry and we just look at things from that funnel, then you wind up essentially recycling information. So sometimes you look outside of that discipline to have a new point of view, a new perspective on it. [John] was digging it.”

They continued to see each other over the years, with Bryant often visiting John backstage after shows at the Hollywood Bowl. When Bryant retired from basketball in 2016, he turned his attention to entertainment. He wrote a sentimental open letter, “Dear Basketball,” as a retirement announcement, and one of his first post-game projects was turning that text into a short film. He wanted it crafted by undisputed masters of their fields, so he commissioned Disney animation veteran Glen Keane— who designed and animated Ariel in The Little Mermaid, among other achievements— and he asked John to write the score. The first thing John said to Bryant was, “I do classical pieces, and it’s all by hand,” almost as a warning. Bryant answered: “The piece will be hand-animated by Glen Keane, who is you in the animation space. I want it to have the human touch. I don’t want it to be poppy, I don’t want it to be hip-hoppy. I want timeless, classical music.”

Somehow, these three disparate artists—with two decades between each of them—hit it off. Keane was an avid fan of Lost in Space growing up in the 1960s, and when he told John how much he loved the music, John was completely embarrassed. “But it’s wonderful, John!” Keane said. “It held the promise of wonder and excitement and fun and quirky and scary and dangerous, and it was all in this one score. And John— the roots of your entire career are in that score.” Keane asked if he could play some of the old music. John said, “No, please don’t!” “No, I really gotta play it for you,” Keane insisted. “So I did.” The unlikely trio sat around a table in Keane’s office “and we just talked,” said Bryant. “John talked about how [the letter] made him feel, Glen how it makes him feel, and we all centered on the same thing, which is why I wrote it in the first place: the beauty of finding what it is that you love to do, and then finding the beauty of knowing that you will not be able to do that forever. Once they saw the nature of the piece, there was really nothing else to discuss.”

(Oxford University Press )

Keane illustrated the five-minute film with graphite on paper, depicting the arc of Bryant’s letter— from young Kobe tossing rolled-up tube socks, to NBA glory, to retiring at 37. John was equally inspired by Bryant’s childlike enthusiasm and Keane’s artisanal process. “The drawings have great fluidity and, in the best sense of the word, great simplicity,” John said. “They really are gorgeous, not only to look at, but rhythmically they’re fabulous.” Keane always animated while listening to music, and for this story it was selections from Empire of the Sun. John used that score as a reference point, but initially he wrote something that was too big, “and he went back and he rewrote it for something that was more understated,” said Keane, “in a similar way that Kobe’s delivery, his narration, is very personal, uninflected, not trying to sell anything. More like revealing. Kobe’s got a very quiet voice, and that also had a big impact in how we animated.”

John took a short break from The Last Jedi and spent two weeks in March 2017 to write and record this short piece—a gift for Bryant. When the towering baller arrived at the Sony scoring stage, John said: “I hope that you like what I’ve written.” Bryant just looked at John and said, “I feel pretty confident that it’s going to be just fine.” When Bryant heard John’s piece for the very first time, emanating from a symphony orchestra, “Oh my God,” he said. “I almost lost my mind. As soon as his hands went up and then the music started, I almost yelled out loud— but I had to remember that the red light was on and we’re recording… It was the most unreal experience I could ever have.” Bryant looked over “and just put his head on my shoulder,” said Keane, “like, ‘I can’t believe it.’ It was so beautiful. Then when it was done, John turned to us and said, ‘I promise it’s going to get better.’”

It was one of the simplest, yet most inspired pieces John wrote during this decade: a brief journey taken by a humble, hummable tune that bottled a young boy’s guileless dreams and aspiration for greatness and glory. His hymnal theme begins as a gentle woodwind duet, which is passed to strings and then accelerates into soaring triumph to accompany Bryant’s heyday. Then it grows small again, a lonely keyboard wandering a broken chord as Bryant’s voiceover admits that his body can only play for so long. John’s knack for noble flying music closes the loop, with heraldic horns and rolling timpani connecting Bryant’s story to his music for American heroism— concluding with a bittersweet reprise of the theme on piano and an uplifting coda as the credits roll. Like the letter itself, the score is part valentine, part elegy—and John put his heart into it. He premiered it at the Hollywood Bowl in September, and Bryant surprised the audience by joining John onstage to narrate. The short film won an Oscar in March 2018—and then very shortly afterward, it became a poignant eulogy for Bryant when he died, age 41, in a helicopter crash on a foggy Sunday morning in Calabasas that also killed his 13-year-old daughter, Gianna. John’s wistful, symphonic poem suddenly took on a new shade. “It is elegiac, but it isn’t weepy,” John said of the film when he first scored it, never imagining the sudden tragic fate of his young friend.

It strikes its own manner of saluting the man and the game and the accomplishments with a lot of modesty, I think. It’s very touching, and in the end that may be its highest achievement, that it’s able to praise this man the way it does, without a lot of false vanity or hubris that could easily have spilled into it. That’s my take on it in any case.

Actor Floyd Levine, whose career spanned numerous decades and a variety of projects ranging from films “The Hangover” and “Norbit” to TV shows “Melrose Place” and “Murder, She Wrote,” has died. He was 93.

Levine died Sunday, surrounded by family and “probably wishing someone would bring him a martini,” his daughter-in-law Tracy Robbins announced Tuesday on Instagram. Robbins, who is married to Levine’s son, former Paramount executive Brian Robbins, said Levine was “the best father-in-law, grandpa, and all around jokester.”

Levine began his screen career in the early 1970s and appeared in almost 100 productions. His notable credits also include films “Dog Day Afternoon,” “Bloodbrothers,” “Super Fly” and TV series “Kojak,” “Starsky & Hutch,” “Baywatch” and “Days of Our Lives.” He often played minor characters, including police officers, detectives, tailors, doctors and a crime boss.

A former taxi cab driver from New York City, Levine also collaborated with his son on Eddie Murphy starrers “Norbit,” “Meet Dave” and “A Thousand Words.” Robbins was inspired by his father to pursue an entertainment career and was also an actor, director and longtime producer before he became an industry executive. The father-son duo also both appeared in “Archie Bunker’s Place” and “Head of the Class.” They also worked together on “Good Burger,” “Kenan & Kel” and “Coach Carter.”

“Brian is basically his twin, and we will see Floyd’s grin every time we look at him,” Tracy Robbins added in her Instagram post.

“You all have made my life sugar, and I love you all so much,” he tells loved ones in a video shared by Robbins. “If I could do it, I’d hug you and kiss you all. God bless you all and keep punching.”

Levine was laid to rest on Wednesday. In addition to Brian and Tracy Robbins, survivors also include daughter Sheryl, son Marc and several grandchildren, according to the Hollywood Reporter. His wife, Rochelle, died in May 2022 at age 85.

“I would like to think there’s a casting call in heaven, and you showed up early, script in hand,” Tracy Robbins added in her post. “I will miss him dearly, but i know he’s making the angels laugh already and back together with his beautiful wife Rochelle.”

It’s time to revisit the age-old question that’s been debated for years: Are you Team Edward or Team Jacob?

Lionsgate will celebrate the 20th anniversary of the “Twilight” novels by bringing the entire film saga back to the big screen from Oct. 29 through Nov. 2, The Times confirmed.

The love triangle tale starring Kristen Stewart, Robert Pattinson and Taylor Lautner — a human, a vampire and a werewolf, respectively — grossed more than $3.3 billion worldwide during its first run, according to Box Office Mojo.

The films, based on the four-part book series written by Stephenie Meyer, follow the story of Bella Swan (Stewart) and vampire Edward Cullen (Pattinson). Their relationship is tested by Edward’s instinct to harm her and by Bella’s friend Jacob Black (Lautner), who belongs to a rival werewolf clan.

There are five films in the series: “Twilight” (2008); “New Moon” (2009); “Eclipse” (2010); “Breaking Dawn — Part 1” (2011); and “Breaking Dawn — Part 2” (2012). Round-table chats with Meyer, producer Wyck Godfrey, former co-president of Lionsgate Gillian Bohrer and others will accompany each film.

As part of the festivities, Meyers is scheduled to be the honored guest at this year’s Forever Twilight in Forks Festival, an annual celebration in Forks, Wash., the setting of the book series. The fest will take place Sept. 11-14.

The films have remained in pop culture through TikTok trends where fans announce their “gay awakening” using scenes of Bella. Stewart, who came out as queer and married screenwriter Dylan Meyer in April, said the films are “gay” during an interview with Variety in January.

“It’s all about oppression, about wanting what’s going to destroy you. That’s a very Gothic, gay inclination that I love,” the actor said.

Stewart starred in last year’s romantic thriller “Love Lies Bleeding” (2024) and will next appear in her wife’s directorial debut, “The Wrong Girls,” which is written by the couple.

Pattinson played the titular character in 2022’s “The Batman.” He last appeared in Bong Joon Ho’s sci-fi comedy “Mickey 17” (2025) and will appear later this year in Lynne Ramsay’s psychological dramedy “Die, My Love.”

Lautner took a few acting jobs after the end of the saga, in films such as “Grown Ups 2” (2013) and “The Ridiculous 6” (2015), but his most recent credit was in Netflix’s “Home Team” (2022).

Audiences once adored big adult comedies. Jay Roach’s champagne-fizzy “The Roses” is a seductive attempt to lure them back into theaters.

As bright, mean and ambitious as its lead characters, Theo and Ivy Rose (Benedict Cumberbatch and Olivia Colman), this resurrection of the ’80s-style R-rated crowd-pleaser is a remake of — or really, an across-the-room nod to — the 1989 hit “The War of the Roses,” which starred Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner as divorcees who fight to the death over their fancy chandelier.

Inspired by the venomous novel by Warren Adler, both films are metaphors for building a home and then tearing it down, although the chandelier this time is merely incidental. This snarky, self-aware couple is the type to build themselves a smart house and name its system HAL.

The Roses meet-cute in a posh London restaurant when Theo asks to borrow Ivy’s knife to slash his wrists. He’s a morose architect who aspires to build risky, revolutionary designs. She’s a kooky chef whose signature seasoning is a mix of powdered anchovy and blueberry. In the cocktail of their marriage, he adds the bitterness and she adds the spice, qualities that can be either overbearing or harmonious. Their version of sweet talk is Ivy chirping, “Never leave me — but when you do, kill me on the way out.”

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Brutal humor and obstinacy bind these malcontents together for almost 15 years. Then her career takes off and his flops, upending their equilibrium. Now, they’re battling over who gets custody of their California dream mansion. Twins Hattie and Roy are secondary. (Delaney Quinn and Ollie Robinson play their kids at 10; Hala Finley and Wells Rappaport at 13.)

The script by Tony McNamara (“Poor Things”) unleashes the hilarious spouses to aim insults at each other like explosive corks. (McNamara is so skilled at putting cruel words in Colman’s mouth that he’s already helped win her an Oscar for “The Favourite.”) Theo and Ivy open the film skewering each other at marriage counseling, only to be aghast when the therapist advises them to split up. For a while, they stick together mostly to stick it to her, in defiance of the fact that contempt is the No. 1 indicator of divorce. “In England, we call that repartee,” Theo insists.

You wonder if their jokes keep them from honest communication and then you wonder if Roach, who came to fame as the director of “Austin Powers” and “Meet the Parents,” has ever been afraid of that himself. (For the record, Roach has been married to the Bangles’ Susanna Hoffs since 1993 and she here sings two cover songs for the soundtrack, “Happy Together” and “Love Hurts.”)

Mostly, you just enjoy the jokes. Colman, who burst into my awareness in the 2003 TV cringe comedy “Peep Show,” is fantastic throwing jabs around in costume designer PC Williams’ nouveau hipster wardrobe of bold, baggy lines. The actor even does an Ian McKellen impression just because. Yet, the surprise here is Cumberbatch, who seizes his rare opportunity to be flat-out funny, while occasionally rolling over to show Theo’s vulnerable belly. Flirtatiously pouting his lips at Colman, he coos, “How about a three-hour circular argument that goes nowhere?” How about three more Cumberbatch comedies for every awards-baity drama he does?

The story originally satirized materialistic baby boomers stymied by shifting gender roles. Both make interesting time capsules of the traditional man and the liberated woman who revert to smashing fusty china figurines like Neanderthals, although my sticking point with the first movie is that both Roses are too despicable. It’s hard to care about either one once you see how they treat each other’s pets.

But Roach has insightfully made this about people, not societal scapegoats. He and McNamara have changed up nearly everything in this disaster except its vibrations of dread. Since we already know that Theo and Ivy are in for a world of hurt, the film spends much of its running time rewinding to the past to prove how wonderful they could be together — and, more painfully, how sincerely they’ve tried to work out their kinks. We like Cumberbatch and Colman’s Theo and Ivy, even after they’ve become tantrum-throwing twits.

The details of their dissolution — career pressures, childcare clashes, petty jealousies — and its credible tit-for-tat dynamic are discomfitingly relatable. If this version has a larger sociological statement, it’s an indictment of how today’s quest for success is so all-consuming and exhausting that even if you can fit two egos in one house, you probably can’t merge their day planners. In the modern, highly visible, online-viralized game of life, earning money is merely Stage 1. Both Roses are driven to leave their permanent mark on the world.

Meanwhile, their two sets of American friends, Amy and Barry (Kate McKinnon and Andy Samberg) and Sally and Rory (Zoë Chao and Jamie Demetriou), are equally miserable and toxic. All four are such shallow snobs that they can’t imagine why Ivy would want to own Julia Child’s old stove when it’s, well, old. McKinnon’s Amy toggles through obnoxious progressive stereotypes: She’s a self-professed empath who pretends to be in an open marriage to wheedle Theo into bed. Barry, a depressive, gives Samberg a chance to show a deeper level of comic maturity, and also eventually doubles as Theo’s personal attorney. Otherwise, the script prunes the couple’s legal battle down to one scene with Ivy’s viperous lawyer, played by Allison Janney, who brings a rottweiler to the showdown and claims it’s her service animal.

The gags can be silly. There are two vomit scenes and a pratfall where Colman lands on her face. Yet, Roach and his team have put serious effort into their lovely symbology: a shot of Theo glumly walking down an airplane aisle from first class to coach, images of the cold Pacific crashing against rocks that recall his confession of feeling “waves of hatred” toward his wife.

When the film finally gets to its Grand Guignol climax, it rushes through the barbarity, taking no delight in it. I wanted to laugh but realized I’d fallen too much in love with Theo and Ivy, who are both so pitifully certain they’re in the moral right. The schadenfreude is just sad. It stings how much we root for them to kiss and make up. Still, despite the hasty ending, this splashy comedy deserves to woo grown-ups back to the multiplex. The Roses are estranged, but they’ve reunited us with our love for a genre — and it feels so good.

A Hollywood producer bilked film and business partners out of $12 million, claiming he was using their money to work on movies or other legitimate enterprises, but instead using it to buy expensive cars, houses and even a surrogate, prosecutors alleged Wednesday.

David Brown worked for years as a producer of indie Hollywood productions, burnishing his credentials as a producer of the film festival darling “The Fallout,” starring Jenna Ortega, which won the narrative feature competition at South by Southwest, as well as of “The Apprentice,” the movie about the rise of Donald Trump.

But even as Brown seemed to be putting together a successful producing career, federal prosecutors said, he was also defrauding numerous victims by siphoning funds that belonged to production companies and transferring the money to himself or businesses he controlled.

In an email to The Times for a 2023 article that documented the trail of fraud allegations that dogged him, Brown said he had made mistakes in the past, but denied defrauding anyone.

“I had to work really hard to get where I am today,” he said. “I had to overcome a lot. I had to fight for my place. … I’m not some bad guy.”

Brown was indicted Wednesday on 21 counts of wire fraud, transactional money laundering and aggravated identity theft. He had his first court appearance in South Carolina.

Prosecutors alleged that Brown, who lived in Sherman Oaks, used a series of tactics to defraud his business partners out of their money.

He convinced one victim to put money into a company called Film Holdings Capital, which was supposed to finance film projects. But Brown instead took the person’s money and used it for “maintaining his lifestyle and repaying prior victims … in a Ponzi-like scheme,” prosecutors said.

In other instances, Brown used production company funds to pay Hollywood Covid Testing, a company he controlled, “for services never rendered or already paid for,” prosecutors said.

He also told one victim that they could pool money and make a business flipping houses. He contributed little to the business and used some of the victim’s money for other purposes, prosecutors said.

Brown made sure to conceal his checkered past from potential business partners. He tried not to let them know about the 2023 article in The Times, or about the extensive litigation filed against him, according to federal prosecutors.

The 2023 article — for which The Times interviewed more than 30 people — detailed a series of allegations against Brown from his film partners, including that he forged Kevin Spacey’s signature and told film investors that Spacey had agreed to act as a main character in a film for just $100,000. But Spacey had not signed on to the film and did not even know what it was, his former manager told The Times. Brown denied forging Spacey’s signature.

Brown used the money he stole from his victims to make extravagant purchases, prosecutors said.

He bought a 2025 Mercedes-Benz G-Wagon and three Teslas, including a 2024 Cybertruck, prosecutors alleged. He used the funds to make mortgage payments on his home and to remodel the home and used about $100,000 to install a pool, prosecutors said.

He even bought a house for his mother using the ill-gotten cash, prosecutors alleged.

On top of that, Brown also allegedly used stolen money to pay $70,000 for surrogacy, private school tuition for his child and other services.

In all, he stole more than $12 million from his victims, prosecutors alleged.

Brown is in federal custody in South Carolina and will enter a plea to the charges at his arraignment in the coming weeks, according to the U.S. attorney’s office for the Central District of California.