Howdy folks! Lisa Laman here, how about two capsule reviews for arthouse titles that either recently debuted in theaters or are preparing to reach multiplexes?
The
Weight
Immediately,
The Weight made me feel like I was watching a cross between a 30s drama
and a 50s noir. Perhaps any feature chronicling chain gang prisoners smashing
rocks in the Great Depression era will conjure I Am a Fugitive From a Chain
Gang memories. It wasn’t just surface level visual trappings, though, that thrusted
me back to films like The Big Heat. The Weight effectively evokes
the artistry and evocative atmosphere dominating those 20th century
films.
Down-on-his-luck
mechanic Samuel Murphy (Ethan Hawke) and his daughter Penny (Avy Berry-Worrall)
were already facing tremendous turmoil after getting evicted while at church.
Then Murphy crossed some cruel, violent-prone cops and ended up in prison. This
incarcerated man only has a short time before his child is put up for adoption, and he never sees her again. This makes an offer from Warden Clancy (Russell
Crowe) extra enticing. That offer? Murphy and three other prisoners will move
gold bars across rough forest terrain.
If no bars
go missing and they arrive on time, they all get their freedom. While on the
road, though, the vivid personalities of Murphy and the other prisoners
inevitably begin clashing. More ominously, the dehumanizing approach to people emanating
from every Weight authority figure grows increasingly inescapable.
Ethan
Hawke’s one of the best American performers around. He’s spent decades
reaffirming that reality. However, comparing his Weight work here to his
Blue Moon turn as Lorenz Hart from just last year really solidifies his
quiet range. Whereas Hawke’s Hart was a boisterous soul with a witty retort and
story always on the tip of his tongue (while sorrow lurked beyond his eyes),
his Samuel Murphy is a palpably agonized soul. Even before he’s locked up,
Hawke makes the man’s years of anguish hauntingly tangible. Profoundly
believable world-weariness permeates this performance. The man defaulting to
whispers and withdrawn body language achingly reflects this reality.
Last year,
Hawke rendered a playwright of the past with magnetic and emotionally rich
externalization. In The Weight, he proves equally adept at more understated
acting tendencies caked in dirt and regret. The range here is remarkable. That
microcosm of Hawke’s acting prowess ensures The Weight’s dramatic anchor
is mighty engrossing.
The
Weight’s intimate
scope lets this performance and the distinctive personalities of the other
prisoner characters flourish. Much of the films runtime is about folks like
Indigenous woman Anna (Julia Jones), leftist Singh (Avi Nash), and Scandinavian
immigrant Olson (Lucas Lynggaad Tonnesen) recounting their respective pasts. These
anecdotes about American authority figures dehumanizing them are hauntingly
realized, especially the understated performances of Julia Jones portraying her
character recounting her childhood experiences at school driven by the motto “kill
the Indian, save the man.”
Such
stories transpire on a mission where their superiors constantly reaffirm that
gold bars are infinitely more valuable than any human lives. Looking out for
oneself and stigmatizing “the other” is the norm in this land. The
pervasiveness of those tendencies, and how they inevitably lead to rot, fuel much
of The Weight’s tension. Meanwhile, emphasizing the humanity of
characters like Murphy and Anna accentuates the effectiveness of that suspense.
Director
Patrick McKinley and screenwriters Matthew Booi and Shelby Gaines certainly
come up with some enjoyably realized Weight sequences certain to make people
hold their breath. A scene where Murphy tries helping a jeopardized comrade
only to end up stuck underwater is especially sublime. This set piece’s timing
and steady introduction of new sources of conflict are both top-notch.
If there's
a drawback to the film, it's just that McKinley and cinematographer Matteo
Cocco's visuals could've used extra doses of distinctiveness. The films crisply
filmed, with plenty of wide shots and controlled camerawork. However, the persistent
blue and grey color grading is both not super interesting to look at and too reminiscent
of other movies. Some weird editing also frustrates, namely an awkward third-act
cut from Murphy walking around to Anna in jeopardy. A largely strong enterprise
like The Weight deserved consistently excellent imagery.
Still, despite
these shortcomings, striking shots do emerge throughout The Weight. Overall,
the film’s a finely tuned endeavor that’s especially impressive in its
execution of both suspense and letting talented actors strut their stuff.
Offering plenty of breathing room for artists like Ethan Hawke and Julia Jones
to excel benefits the project to no end. Plus, The Weight’s final 15
minutes (which conclude with one of the year’s best closing lines) are tremendously
successful. As if that weren’t enough, this film uses the same
end credits style as Predator, where each cast member gets to
be on-screen with their title card, often smiling.
The
Weight just knows
how to keep delivering the goods. Those awesome 30s and 50s movies would be
proud.
The
Weight
begins playing in theaters everywhere on September 18.
Dreams
in Nightmares
With their
devastating 2021 directorial debut Test Pattern, filmmaker Shatara
Michelle Ford immediately threw down the gauntlet as an artist worth keeping an
eye on. For their next directorial effort, Ford’s gone in a fascinatingly
opposite direction. The intimate gaze and emphasis on everyday interactions endure.
However, their new title Dreams in Nightmares is a lighter, more comedic
enterprise. Test Pattern intentionally kept its number of locations
limited to reflect the horrifying circumstances its lead character endured. Nightmares,
meanwhile, is a road trip feature bouncing across several different North
American locales.
Ford's
script focuses on longtime pals Z (Denée Benton), Tasha (Sasha Compère), and
Lauren (Dezi Bing). Reuniting in New York City after Z and Tasha both lost
their respective jobs, the three chums have a wonderful night out. As they're
sitting in Tasha's apartment, recuperating from all the dancing and bathroom
stall sex, a question keeps coming up: where is Kel (Mars Storm Rucker)? The
fourth member of their friend group has been AWOL for so long. Where did they
go?
A plan suddenly
begins brewing. The trio will go on a road trip to try and find Kel. The
hesitant, practical-oriented Tasha isn't exactly ecstatic about this idea.
However, they all pile in a car and begin tracking down spots Kel might be
hiding away in. This includes Kel's chipper, chatty ex Sabrina (Jasmin Savoy
Brown) as well as Kel's parents, who refuse to acknowledge that their child uses
they/them pronouns. Like any road trip comedy, Dreams in Nightmares
sends its lead characters through outsized antics on their way to their
destination.
Ford’s
script, though, realizes those hijinks as deeply specific to the three leads.
Poet Lauren, for instance, insists the group’s Chicago exploits include stopping
by to see fellow trans lady Toni (Joss Barton) perform poetry. This produces a
strikingly realized sequence where Toni recites evocative verbiage related to
modern trans existence, accompanied by warmly captured footage of a trans woman
navigating everyday life. This stirring mixture of words and images is like
nothing else I’ll see in a 2026 movie. From Barton’s personality-drenched line
deliveries to the emphasis on depicting mundane trans lady existence, this set
piece is tremendous.
This
detour epitomizes how Dreams in Nightmares uses the familiar road trip
movie form to create an utterly unique and absorbing creation. You’ve surely
seen indie comedies before where characters pile up in a car to find a friend
or important person. However, focusing on these fictional individuals and
performers immediately gives Dreams in Nightmares numerous idiosyncrasies.
The easygoing, lived-in rapport between the three leads alone renders this a
must-see.
Dezi Bing’s
Lauren especially fantastically realized, especially regarding comic timing.
However, communicating her role’s gung-ho demeanor without uttering a word is particularly
special. A scene where the three Dreams in Nightmares leads encounter
Kel’s parents initially features Lauren largely sitting silently. Even here,
though, situated between Tasha and Z, Bing exudes a compelling, dedicated aura
that makes it clear Lauren's brain’s always scoping the situation at hand. All the
subdued build-up just makes her blunt comments towards these parents extra
impactful.
Throughout Dreams in Nightmares, Dezi Bing’s engrossing whether Ford
hands her externalized or deeply withdrawn material. Rucker’s screen presence
is similarly transfixing. Whenever they’re on-screen, their infectious buoyancy inspires an automatic smile. Bing and Rucker’s
engrossing personas crystallize how Ford and casting director Rebecca Dealy absolutely
hit a bullseye assembling the Dreams in Nightmares cast. When your movie
heavily focuses on long car rides or characters scouring maps in gas stations,
you need talented performers to make the mundane compelling. The Dreams in Nightmares
leads firmly accomplish that.
Best of
all, Ford keeps impressing viewers right up until the credits roll. One of the
last Dreams in Nightmares sequences depicts Z and her partner Reece
(Charlie Barnett) on a crucial phone call. I’ve never seen a telephone chat
rendered on-screen quite like this one, as Ford and cinematographer Ludovica
Isidori toss the camera around various lovingly rendered images. Each new line inspires
a cut to an image of either one or both of these characters basking in romantic
sunlight. Their words are rooted in here-and-now communication. However, the
visuals reflect a dreamlike bond between two people defying time.
It’s an evocative sequence as tenderly realized as it is idiosyncratic. This dedication to uniquely and memorably rendering the connections between people flows throughout Dreams in Nightmares. Like a sublime road trip with friendship, this movie lodges itself in your memory.
Dreams in Nightmares is now playing in select theaters.

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