OPUS (2025) film review

An enigmatic puzzle with missing pieces. What starts as a fascinating psychological mystery quickly devolves into a series of disjointed, cryptic sequences that offer more questions than answers. Opus is certainly a haunting experience that delivers striking visuals, but the stylistic storytelling lacks substance, resulting in a film that is ultimately hollow. Like with so many A24 and Neon films, Opus is rich in atmosphere, but lacks strategic plotting, proper pacing, and demonstrable working knowledge of screenwriting mechanics. Moreover, it falls into an all too familiar trap of prioritizing aesthetic over storytelling. Opus is yet another example of modern arthouse cinema mistaking ambiguity for depth. The film posits many otherwise thoughtful questions, but leaves you wondering why you should even care about what you just watched.

Journalist Ariel (Ayo Edebiri) works for an acclaimed music magazine but has grown tired of her arrogant boss Stan (Murray Bartlett) assigning her good pitches to more senior writers. But following the reclusive, visionary pop star Alfred Moretti (John Malkovich) emerging from hiding after more than thirty years, Ariel’s boss is invited to his secluded, remote compound where he will be releasing a new album. Ariel and her boss are invited to attend as press. But not long after arriving, Ariel deduces that the compound’s collection of ardent admirers of Alfred are actually a cult with deadly plans for the guests.

Most of the film’s problems can be traced back to its screenplay. Like with many (if not most, in my opinion) writer-directors, this story likely made much more sense in Mark Anthony Green’s head, than it did on paper. I find that writer-directors often have excellent movie ideas and eyes for shot composition, but lack a working knowledge of screenwriting mechanics. Had Green collaborated with a more established screenwriter, then the film may not have had the plotting issues that plagued it the whole time.

Adding to the film’s plotting issues is its reliance on repetition rather than escalation. Scenes blend into one another with minimal variation, creating a sense of stagnation rather than rising tension. Ariel’s, our central character’s, journey is more about cycling through eerie encounters and vague hallucinations than actually uncovering deeper truths. Without a clearly defined external goal for Ariel, Opus feels like a film more concerned with its own mystique than engaging its audience. The goal could’ve been something as simple as getting the article published, but the film never quite has a throughline on which to land the diegetic plane.

While strong, the performative dimension of the film is underscored with style over substance. Ayo Edebiri’s performance is layered and emotionally compelling. Unfortunately, the film gives her little to work with beyond surface-level tension. John Malkovich, always a commanding presence, delivers an eerie gravitas, but his role feels more like a cryptic device than a fully developed character.

One of the biggest shortcomings in character development is the lack of meaningful relationships. While Opus teases conflicts between Ariel and her boss Stan, these tensions never evolve into anything substantial. All around, the film’s characters never form real, emotional connections, leaving their interactions feeling hollow. Without compelling relationships, the film struggles make us care about any of the characters, much less the central character of Ariel.

Opus seems content to let its themes remain vague, as though interpretation itself is the art. This approach works in moderation but ultimately leaves the film feeling like an unfinished composition—beautiful in pieces but lacking a resonant core.

A24 has perfected the art of marketing “prestige horror” films that emphasize mood over traditional storytelling. While this approach has resulted in some modern masterpieces such as “The Blackcoat’s Daughter,” “Hereditary,” and “Midsommar,” it has also encouraged a wave of films that mistake ambiguity for intelligence. Opus is a prime example of this trend, prioritizing its hypnotic cinematography and eerie sound design over a screenplay that provides emotional or intellectual engagement.

This raises the question: Has arthouse cinema become so obsessed with being enigmatic that it has lost sight of storytelling? Moreover, has the proliferation of “arthouse” films become the very thing they opposed: the mainstream? Films like Opus appear to be forcing audiences to assign meaning where there may be none, and delivering a film that looks great but is ultimately forgettable. The present trajectory of many arthouse film is trending is becoming the new cinematic fast food: tasty but forgettable and lacking in nutrition. In striving for profundity, these films, risk alienating viewers who crave narrative satisfaction alongside visual artistry.

There’s no denying Opus is visually arresting and technically impressive. Mark Anthony Green’s direction is meticulous, and Ayo Edebiri delivers a gripping performance. But beneath its meticulously crafted atmosphere lies a film that lacks emotional weight or thematic clarity. For fans of slow-burn psychological horror and puzzle-box storytelling, Opus may still be a rewarding experience. For others, it’s yet another reminder that style, no matter how dazzling, can never replace substance or sheer entertainment value.

Ryan is the general manager for 90.7 WKGC Public Media in Panama City and host of the public radio show ReelTalk about all things cinema. Additionally, he is the author of the upcoming film studies book titled Monsters, Madness, and Mayhem: Why People Love Horror. After teaching film studies for over eight years at the University of Tampa, he transitioned from the classroom to public media. He is a member of the Critics Association of Central Florida and Indie Film Critics of America. If you like this article, check out the others and FOLLOW this blog! Follow him on Twitter: RLTerry1 and LetterBoxd: RLTerry

BLACK BAG film review

A sleek and suspenseful espionage thriller. Steven Soderbergh teams up with screenwriter David Koepp to craft a cinematic world of intrigue and deception in Black Bag. The duplicitous nature of the film is witnessed in the gripping marital drama that underscores the covert spy activity. Rooted in themes of trust, betrayal, and the cost of secrecy, this film places audiences deep within the labyrinthine world of British intelligence, where loyalty is as much a weapon as it is a liability.

When his beloved wife, Kathryn, is suspected of betraying the nation, intelligence agent George Woodhouse faces the ultimate test — loyalty to his marriage or his country.

Michael Fassbender and Cate Blanchett lead the charge as George Woodhouse and Kathryn St. Jean, a married couple whose bond is tested when George is tasked with unmasking a mole inside the British National Cyber Security Centre (although not stated, the Centre is reminiscent of MI6). When suspicion falls on Kathryn, the mission becomes personal, forcing the couple into a high-stakes psychological chess match where every move could be their last. David Koepp’s screenplay strikes a deft balance between razor-sharp dialogue and simmering tension, drawing audiences into a narrative that is as much about human connection as it is about spycraft.

Fassbender delivers a layered performance, portraying a man caught between duty and devotion, while Blanchett’s enigmatic presence keeps audiences guessing until the final frame. Their electric chemistry brings an emotional weight to the thriller, grounding the high-stakes espionage with raw, personal stakes.

Adding depth to the intrigue is an exceptional supporting cast, including Naomie Harris as a perceptive psychiatrist and Regé-Jean Page as a brash but brilliant operative. Each performance contributes to the film’s palpable atmosphere of uncertainty, where shifting alliances and hidden motives drive the tension ever higher.

Soderbergh’s signature directorial style is on full display, with dynamic camerawork, crisp editing, and a refined aesthetic that gives Black Bag an effortlessly cool veneer. Complemented by David Holmes’s pulsating, jazz-infused score, the film moves with a rhythmic intensity that keeps the tension taut from start to finish.

David Koepp’s screenplay is a masterclass in taut, intelligent storytelling, seamlessly blending espionage thrills with deeply personal stakes. The interplay between George and Kathryn is laced with suspicion and longing, making every conversation feel like a battle of wits. Koepp’s ability to navigate shifting alliances and hidden motives ensures that no scene feels wasted, keeping audiences engaged in a labyrinth of deception. While the plot’s complexity demands careful attention, the payoff is both satisfying and thematically rich, cementing Black Bag as a sleek and sophisticated entry in the spy thriller genre. My only negative critique of the screenwriting is that Koepp’s screenplay does suffer from some poor pacing in the first act. 

While he doesn’t play a prominent role in the film, seeing former Bond Pierce Brosnan return to (what we may as well call) MI6 was a nice treat and nod to his tenure as the definitive fictional British spy.

While some may find the intricate plotting requires a close watch, the payoff is worth the investment. More than just a spy thriller, Black Bag is a stylish, smart, and suspenseful exploration of trust in a world where deception reigns supreme. A must-watch for fans of sophisticated espionage cinema.

Ryan is the general manager for 90.7 WKGC Public Media in Panama City and host of the public radio show ReelTalk about all things cinema. Additionally, he is the author of the upcoming film studies book titled Monsters, Madness, and Mayhem: Why People Love Horror. After teaching film studies for over eight years at the University of Tampa, he transitioned from the classroom to public media. He is a member of the Critics Association of Central Florida and Indie Film Critics of America. If you like this article, check out the others and FOLLOW this blog! Follow him on Twitter: RLTerry1 and LetterBoxd: RLTerry

MICKEY 17 film review

Ambitious but disjointed. Bong Joon-ho’s newest film Mickey 17 excels in technical achievement but the full impact of the story demonstrates greater concern for its satire, message, and world building than it does its plotting and structure. Blending multiple genre conventions, Joon-ho’s science-fiction, dark comedy begins with an intriguing premise underscores with existential questions, but ultimately doesn’t feel cohesive from beginning to end. Despite the exhaustive satire–which is entertaining at first–the film works excellently as a critique of the prolific mediation of society, obsession with the idea of self-made celebrity, and the camera fame. Additionally, it presents an exploration of humanity’s fixation on replication and surveillance. Perhaps the film doesn’t call out any particular app or platform, it certainly drives home the point that a monster can be created through obsession with one’s image, control, and manipulation of others.

Mickey Barnes (Robert Pattinson), a disposable employee, is sent on a human expedition to colonize the ice world Niflheim. After one iteration dies, a new body is regenerated with most of his memories intact.

Despite an intriguing premise, the narrative often succumbs to prolonged scenes and sequences, subplots that lack meaningful purpose, and over-explanation in come places whilst lack of purpose exists elsewhere. While the third act is strong and completely engaging, the first act is protracted and the second act is plagued by poor pacing brought on by a wandering direction. The protracted first act delays audience immersion into the core narrative. What would’ve served the plot better as a brief prologue, turns into most of the first act. Even though the film maintains a modicum of innovation and freshness, it struggles to sustain momentum, resulting in a clunky and disposable experience.

The film delivers a relatively strong performative dimension, which helps to keep the audience engaged–however weak the engagement–in the story. And, Robert Pattinson performance strikes a nice balance between nuanced and manic, which mimics the film’s darkly comedic tone. Between his and the other leading actors performances, collectively they add a rolling punchline to the monotony of many scenes and sequences in the film. Mark Ruffalo’s depiction of the authoritarian leader, Kenneth Marshall, is audacious and campy, but doesn’t take long for this performance to become exhaustive–a little goes a long way with Marshall. Playing Marshall’s wife is horror-fan favorite Toni Collette, and even her character overstays her welcome in most of the scenes in which she appears.

Both the plotting and character issues can be connected to the screenwriting, which lacks direction, purpose, and refinement. Mickey 17 is another example of a director with a great, even innovative movie idea, but should work with a screenwriter with a command of proper screenwriting conventions and mechanics to craft the story for the page, and eventually the screen. This issue is not unique to Joon-ho, but a recurring problem I find with many (if not most) writer-directors. Few directors can write as well as they direct; and the inverse is also true–few screenwriters can direct as well as they can write.

Mickey 17 serves as a critique of the mediation of society, wherein informative, entertaining, and surveilling media technologies devalue the individual resulting in individuality with dimension being reduced to a character or commodity to be traded and exploited for the sake of ratings and celebrity. Mickey’s existential crisis of repeatedly dying and being reprinted underscores the alienation experienced in a society that commodifies human existence. Furthermore, Keneth Marshall’s obsession with control and his self-made celebrity mirrors the obsession many have, in the real world, with their “celluloid” self–or more accurately today–their digital self.

Everything Marshall said or did was ran through an image consultant and production crew on how it would look on camera. Looking at the real world, each of those squared images on Instagram or vertical video on SnapChat or Tik Tok, only show an edited version of the subject–the framing and editing is specifically manipulated and articulated to shape the audience’s perception. While this is to be expected in motion pictures and television shows, many of these self-made celebrities and influencers on social media want the audience believe they are being authentic, when it’s all a facade. In this obsession with the camera and “framed” image, society is exchanging that which is real with a projected authenticity; furthermore, the lines between what which is real and that which is fictionalized (or augmented) are becoming increasingly blurred.

Bong Joon-ho’s Mickey 17 blends satire with science fiction but the film’s underdeveloped plot and uneven character portrayals prevent it from reaching the potential this film demonstrably had with the talent behind it.

Ryan is the general manager for 90.7 WKGC Public Media in Panama City and host of the public radio show ReelTalk about all things cinema. Additionally, he is the author of the upcoming film studies book titled Monsters, Madness, and Mayhem: Why People Love Horror. After teaching film studies for over eight years at the University of Tampa, he transitioned from the classroom to public media. He is a member of the Critics Association of Central Florida and Indie Film Critics of America. If you like this article, check out the others and FOLLOW this blog! Follow him on Twitter: RLTerry1 and LetterBoxd: RLTerry

CONCLAVE film review

Spellbinding and poignantly reflective! It’s like House of Cards but with Cardinals and Nuns. Truly captivating.

Cardinal Lawrence has one of the world’s most secretive and ancient events, participating in the selection of a new pope. Surrounded by powerful religious leaders in the halls of the Vatican, he soon uncovers a trail of deep secrets that could shake the very foundation of the Roman Catholic Church.

I feel the film strikes a delicate balance between reverence for the subject matter, yet provides us with a subtle critique of its institutional traditions. The story unfolds with deep respect for the gravity of the papal election. However, through its unfolding intrigue, the film also reminds us that faith should ultimately be centered on God rather than on rigid customs or political maneuvering. The narrative underscores how human ambition, secrecy, and tradition can sometimes cloud the true purpose of faith. And the plotting is meticulously structured. Every revelation is carefully placed, each character’s motivations are unraveled with precision, and the pacing ensures that the suspense never overshadows the film’s thoughtful meditation on spirituality and power. I also like how the screenplay both honors faith-based institutional traditions but challenges the audience to reflect on what truly matters in faith.

To me, the cast collectively delivers a compelling performative dimension that drives the captivating nature of this film. Feinnes, Rosselini, Tucci, Lithgow—what a powerhouse. The actors did a brilliant job of drawing audiences into the pomp, circumstance, and almost clandestine nature of the election of the Pope. Feinnes’ performance as Cardinal Lawrence was bold and convicting, yet incredibly nuanced at the same time. The other cast member I want to spotlight is Isabella Rossellini as Sister Agnes. And while the gravitas she brought to every scene, in which she was featured, allowed her to steel the spotlight, there were Amy moments—to my delight—that I could hear Lisle Von Rhouman from Death Becomes Her. 

I love how the characters are not merely realistic individuals vying for power within the Vatican but, a closer reading reveals something far more important in these characters: the key characters each represent broader themes of faith, morality, and human ambition. Each character serves as a symbolic force in the intricate balance between divine guidance and earthly maneuvering. Just to name a few: I see Feinnes’ Lawrence as the moral compass, Tucci’c Bellini as the political strategist, Lithgow’s Tremblay as the power seeker, and Rossellini’s Sister Agnes as the voice of reason or conscience. Each character represents different facets of power, faith, and human imperfection within religious institutions. Collectively, the characters offer audiences more than a quasi-political thriller, but a meditation on the true meaning of leadership.

The exquisite costuming and production design truly immerse us into the grandeur and secrecy of the Vatican. The costuming itself was a work of art that demonstrated careful attention to ecclesiastical tradition but also incorporated visual storytelling elements. The choice of fabrics, embroidery, and even the way the robes drape contribute to the film’s overall sense of realism and reverence, and serve as an extension of the setting and the personalities of the characters. As for the production design, every detail, from the richly embroidered vestments to the imposing architecture, reinforces the film’s solemn, high-stakes atmosphere. A key aspect of this visual achievement is the film’s use of Cinecittà Studios in Rome. Founded in 1937, it is one of the largest film studios in the world and has a rich, legendary even place in cinema history. Which I could go into for the rest of out time together. But suffice it to say, it was home to Liz Taylor’s Cleopatra and Isabelle Rossellini’s famous director father filmed at the storied studio. You can visit it, and its theme park today! 

I feel the film has a lot to say about a variety of topics. If I was to identify a few, I’d say there are themes and messages concerning faith and politics, which we witness in the actions of the cardinals, while ostensibly seeking to follow God’s will, we are reminded that they are humans influenced by personal beliefs, rivalries, and ambitions. While it’s a group of men in this film, in this situation, we can really extend this idea to any and everyone. I also like how the film explores the immense weight leadership brings with it. Probably what hit me the most was how the film was not so presumptuous as to posit answers or solutions, but rather more concerned about prompting introspection. It respects the sacred traditions of the Church while also questioning the imperfections of any human-led institution—which is all of them. The film suggests that true faith is not found in ceremony or power but in the individual’s relationships with God and his or her fellow man.

I love when a film transcends its premise. While the surface of a film can be intriguing, entertaining, funny, or scary, it’s what lies beneath the surface that offers a timeless cinematic richness. And Conclave is one of those films. It offers us a profound reflection on the world we live in, and the intricate dynamics that shape our daily lives. This film serves as a mirror to the struggles of leadership, morality, and power that permeate every institution—from politics to corporations, from religious organizations to personal relationships.

Ryan is the general manager for 90.7 WKGC Public Media in Panama City and host of the public radio show ReelTalk about all things cinema. Additionally, he is the author of the upcoming film studies book titled Monsters, Madness, and Mayhem: Why People Love Horror. After teaching film studies for over eight years at the University of Tampa, he transitioned from the classroom to public media. He is a member of the Critics Association of Central Florida and Indie Film Critics of America. If you like this article, check out the others and FOLLOW this blog! Follow him on Twitter: RLTerry1 and LetterBoxd: RLTerry

CAPTAIN AMERICA: BRAVE NEW WORLD movie review

Disney+: the Movie. The latest installment in the MCU feels like a Disney+ episode or show idea that was artificially inflated into a feature film. Captain America: Brave New World neither has the intrigue of an espionage thriller nor the excitement of a superhero movie. The plotting unfolds in a manner reminiscent of a serialized television series, evidenced by disjointed scenes that could very well function as individual episodes respectively. The movie is also plagued with gross levels of slapdash, uninspiring CGI that take an already vapid story and reinforce the one-dimensional delivery. From beginning to end, the pacing issues are evidenced by the diegetic momentum that ramps up then fizzles repeatedly causing any modicum of suspense or urgency to diminish as soon as it forms, resulting in a mitigation any potential of a cinematic spectacular.

Sam finds himself in the middle of an international incident after meeting with President Thaddeus Ross. He must soon discover the reason behind a nefarious global plot before the true mastermind has the entire world seeing red.

Captain America: Brave New World exemplifies the trend of blurring the lines between television and cinema. The long and short of it is: the significant influence the MCU TV shows have had upon the theatrical releases. This observation is two-fold (1) screenwriting and (2) technical achievement. While the former is the more significant problem, the latter is the easiest to identify. Specifically, the movie’s color grading, shot composition, and digital effects are nearly indistinguishable from MCU streaming series on Disney+. Unfortunately, this blurring of the lines between cinema and television results in a lack of the grandeur typically associated with MCU theatrical releases.

The latter could be more forgivable is the former was of a higher caliber. While writer Rob Edwards has certainly demonstrated his gift for screenwriting in previous Disney films (the Academy Award nominated Treasure Planet, being one), the other two writers have primarily worked in Disney+ television–and it shows–in spades. The plotting, pacing, character development (or lack thereof, as it were) is straight out of Disney+. The lack of urgency and stakes are also problematic, as well as the near absence of the “fun” factor. I will be the first to acknowledge that I don’t typically care for comic book or superhero movies; that said, even I will admit that the the first two phases of the MCU were (mostly, anyway) fun popcorn movies. Not the case with this latest installment. If the movie wasn’t going to be fun, then it should’ve been intriguing or spellbinding–not the case either. It’s pretty average all the way around.

I will forever be a champion for practical effects–even practical effects that are supplemented with CGI. But this movie screams TV-budget CGI the whole time. This is particularly true in the rather anticlimactic showdown. You cannot replace the way real light bounces off real objects into the camera lens, and this movie demonstrates the danger in relying heavily on CGI in an attempt to wow the audience. The strength of a picture should be in the plotting, subtext, and character development–not in the CGI. Since the movie was not going to lean into the fun factor, the CGI should’ve been dialed way back.

Even though it was wonderful to see Harrison Ford on the big screen again, he appeared to have been experience little fun while making this movie; furthermore, the performance was pretty well phoned in. Likewise, Anthony Mackie was not himself as Sam. This Sam was greatly lacking in charisma and wit. While his performance may not have been as phoned-in as Ford’s, there was still a flatness to the performative dimension. Danny Ramirez, however, did appear to be having fun on this movie, and I would’ve liked to have seen him given more to do in order to draw me into the story.

Captain America: Brave New World struggles to distinguish itself as a cinematic experience, with its disjoined plot, production quality, and lack of meaningful character development, resulting in a movie that appears to have far more in common with a Disney+ television series than with a feature motion picture.

Ryan is the general manager for 90.7 WKGC Public Media in Panama City and host of the public radio show ReelTalk about all things cinema. Additionally, he is the author of the upcoming film studies book titled Monsters, Madness, and Mayhem: Why People Love Horror. After teaching film studies for over eight years at the University of Tampa, he transitioned from the classroom to public media. He is a member of the Critics Association of Central Florida and Indie Film Critics of America. If you like this article, check out the others and FOLLOW this blog! Follow him on Twitter: RLTerry1 and LetterBoxd: RLTerry