EUyeshima

This would be a pretty standard fish-out-of-water story were it not for the more serious elements late in the film and Brendan Fraser's innate affability in a role custom fit to his screen persona. Directed in fairly lockstep fashion by Hikari, this sentimental 2025 dramedy focuses on Phillip Vanderploeg, a middle-aged expat actor struggling to make a living in Tokyo after his initial success as the superhero mascot in a popular toothpaste commercial seven years earlier. He gets hired by the owner of a rent-a-family company looking for a "token white guy" to help clients in need of a missing family connection. Phillip tries mightily to overcome his innate resistance to the faux-family concept at which point the story concentrates on two roles he's hired to tackle: the estranged father of a biracial adolescent and a journalist interviewing an aging screen star suffering from dementia. Fraser maneuvers through the various plot machinations with genuine sincerity, but he could've benefited from a deeper, more complex script from Hikari and Stephen Blahut. For instance, it would've been more interesting to mine the psychology behind the loneliness felt in Japanese culture beyond the obvious impact on children and the elderly. On the upside, the cinematography by Takuro Ishikawa is captivating, and there are effective supporting turns from Takehiro Hira as the company owner, Mari Yamamoto as a cynical colleague, and Akira Emoto as the forgotten screen star.

Julia Roberts gives such an accomplished performance as Alma, a compromised Yale philosophy academic, that it's a shame her multilayered work is in service of such an ill-conceived film about truth, identity politics, and the ramifications of cancel culture. Director Luca Guadagnino and first-time screenwriter Nora Garrett have fashioned this 2025 psychological thriller with an intentional omission of perspective that allows the principals to expose themselves as insufferable characters whose flaws are heightened by an alleged episode of assault and rape. The muddled plot focuses on Alma's moral dilemma as Maggie, one of her favorite students, confides that she was compromised by Alma's academic colleague Hank. Both Alma and Hank are up for tenure, so the allegations jeopardize both their prospects. The premise, however, is upended by absurd plot contrivances, irritating sound editing (e.g., a ticking clock), and a pervasive smugness. Regardless, Roberts is stellar, but the rest of the cast feels lacking whether it was the way the characters unfolded or in the execution of the performances. Portraying the conflicted Maggie, Ayo Edebiri comes across as flat, hinting very little to the emotional complexity underneath. Even more curtailed is Andrew Garfield in an overwrought one-note performance as Hank, as well as Chloe Sevigny in almost a cameo as a rather jaded student liaison. As Alma's supportive husband Frederik, Michael Stuhlbarg is given too much free rein in select showcase scenes until he calms down toward the end. BTW the less said about the ending the better.

Languidly directed by Daniel Minahan, this 2025 period melodrama felt true to the tale's mid-century setting with a clear nod to the overripe 1950's epics of Douglas Sirk. Only Bryce Kass' screenplay doesn't rely on a conventional romantic triangle at its emotional core but rather the clandestine parallel paths taken by two of the principals in pursuing each of their same sex proclivities. The plot starts predictably enough with Muriel and Lee, a young couple struggling to start a new life after his service in the Korean War ends. However, things get complicated with the unexpected arrival of Lee's aimless brother Julius. As embodied by Jacob Elordi in his usual smoldering fashion, Julius is charismatic and elusive as he heads to Vegas and embarks on a forbidden affair with Henry, a fellow gay casino employee. Meanwhile, Muriel keeps her own secrets, becoming an avid gambler and having a tryst of her own with her lesbian neighbor Sandra. That all leaves Lee in an awkward in-between situation but with a resonant level of awareness. Daisy Edgar-Jones plays Muriel with welcome subtlety and a subliminal fierceness, while Will Poulter portrays Lee with palpable empathy. The pacing felt slow until the last third when Minahan took a more elliptical approach in addressing the various character fates. Luc Montpellier's lush cinematography was a significant plus.