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I'm wearing my warmest pair of Film Critic pants as I get over the flu to review six new movies in this week's capsule (short) movie reviews for Friday, February 21, 2025.
1) THE MONKEY
Horror and comedy are two genres that require an incredibly precise balance to work well together. The best horror comedies understand tone, timing, and execution. They know when to lean into the terror and when to let the humor naturally evolve.
The Monkey, directed by Osgood Perkins and based on Stephen King's 1980 short story, fails at both. It is not scary, it is not funny, and frankly, it is not even competent.
This mind-numbingly idiotic movie tries so hard to be outrageous that it ends up being obnoxious. It is undoubtedly one of the worst movies of 2025, and I genuinely do not understand how anyone could fall for this mess.
The plot is simple and, on paper, actually has some potential. Two twin brothers, Hal and Bill, find an old toy monkey in the attic. The Monkey is cursed—whenever it bangs on its drum, someone dies in a gruesome, over-the-top fashion.
As the brothers grow older, they attempt to get rid of the Monkey, but the deaths begin again years later, forcing them to come together and figure out how to destroy it once and for all.
Now, that's not a terrible setup for a horror film. There's an opportunity to explore family trauma, guilt, and fate. The cursed object trope can be fun if done well.
But The Monkey does absolutely nothing interesting with it. Instead, we get a relentless barrage of poorly executed jump scares, grotesque but unimaginative kills, and an obnoxiously choppy editing style that ruins any potential impact the film might have had.
Let's talk about the director. Osgood Perkins, son of the legendary Anthony Perkins, has somehow managed to build a career as a horror filmmaker despite being completely incompetent at pacing, storytelling, or even basic visual composition. He thinks he's an auteur, but his films are self-indulgent, over-stylized, and boring.
I actually liked The Blackcoat's Daughter, but since then, his movies have only gotten worse. I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House was a pretentious snooze-fest. Gretel & Hansel was slightly visually interesting but an utterly empty experience.
Longlegs was one of the most obnoxiously self-satisfied horror movies I've seen in the last five years, and now The Monkey follows suit. He seems to believe that his erratic editing style and unnatural, awkward pacing make his films unique. In reality, they just make them frustrating and nearly unwatchable.
It's even more frustrating because The Monkey's cast is pretty solid. Theo James, who was fantastic in The White Lotus, plays the dual role of the twin brothers. Unfortunately, his performance here is wooden and lifeless. The script gives him nothing to work with, so he's stuck playing two one-dimensional characters who might as well be labeled "Good Twin" and "Bad Twin."
Tatiana Maslany, an incredibly talented actress, is wasted in a role that gives her absolutely nothing to do. Elijah Wood shows up in what should be a fun against-type performance, but it's so underwritten and pointless that it doesn't land. Rohan Campbell, who I actually loved in Halloween Ends, is given nothing but a terrible wig and tired clichés to work with, and his performance suffers as a result.
The biggest problem with The Monkey is that it's just not entertaining. If you're going to go for over-the-top horror comedy, you need to either be genuinely scary or genuinely funny. This movie is neither. Every kill is predictable.
The first couple of deaths are just dumb, but after the third or fourth, it becomes annoyingly repetitive and dull. The CGI gore is ridiculous but not in a fun way—more in a "this looks cheap and stupid" way.
And the editing. Oh my God, the editing. Every single joke and punchline is cut off in an attempt to create a jarring effect. It doesn't work.
Instead of being funny, it just feels forced and desperate. Every comedic moment is telegraphed so far in advance that you're already exhausted by the attempt by the time the "punchline" arrives.
This is where I get frustrated. I am a lifelong horror fan. I know the genre better than most people on this planet. And I do not understand what has happened to horror fans in recent years.
Why are people falling for this? Why are people calling The Monkey "batshit crazy" and "so much fun"? This movie is not fun. It is an insult to anyone who actually appreciates good horror.
The same thing happened last year with Longlegs, The Substance, In A Violent Nature, and that awful Terrifier 3. People are accepting garbage and calling it brilliant because it's "weird" or "over-the-top." No. Weird does not equal good. Over-the-top does not equal good. There has to be some actual talent behind the madness, and Osgood Perkins does not have it.
I don't say this lightly: The Monkey is one of the year's worst movies. It is a grating, obnoxious, unfunny, and completely idiotic mess. The kills are uninspired. The pacing is terrible. The performances are wasted. The direction is self-indulgent and clumsy.
And worst of all, it is desperately, painfully trying to be clever when it is, in reality, one of the most mind-numbingly stupid horror movies I've seen in years.
If you think The Monkey is a good horror movie, I don't know what to say. Maybe we have different definitions of "good horror."
But for me, this is a prime example of everything wrong with modern horror—style over substance, cheap shocks over genuine suspense, and forced "outrageousness" over real creativity.
Avoid The Monkey at all costs. It's not worth your time, your money, or your brain cells. - 1/2
2) CLEANER
Let's get this out of the way: Cleaner is a Die Hard rip-off. No way around it. It's a blatant, unapologetic, high-rise hostage situation thriller where one lone badass takes on a group of insurgents inside a skyscraper. The comparisons to Die Hard aren't just inevitable—they're invited.
But here's the thing: if you're going to rip off Die Hard, at least do it well. And Cleaner does.
This is a slick, fast-paced, well-executed action movie that knows exactly what it is.
It moves quickly, delivers solid thrills, and doesn't overstay its welcome. Director Martin Campbell, a veteran of the action genre, proves once again that even in his 80s, he still directs movies like he's in his 40s.
The story follows Joey Locke (Daisy Ridley), a former soldier dishonorably discharged from the military who now works as a window cleaner at one of London's tallest skyscrapers.
When a group of radical environmental activists, led by Marcus Blake (Clive Owen in full Inside Man mode), hijack an energy company's gala and take hostages, Joey finds herself in the middle of the chaos.
But of course, there's a personal connection—because there always has to be one. Her estranged, neurodivergent brother, Michael, is inside the building, having been kicked out of yet another care home after hacking into their system to expose their corruption.
So not only does Joey have to take down a gang of highly trained activists turned hostage-takers, but she's also got to save her brother while scaling the outside of the building with nothing but a window cleaner's rig.
Daisy Ridley is terrific here. After being saddled with weak material in Star Wars and starring in Young Woman and the Sea—one of last year's worst movies—she finally gets a role where she can show off some real physicality and charisma.
Joey is tough, resourceful, and, most importantly, believable as someone who could actually pull off these insane stunts.
But the real scene-stealer? Clive Owen.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again—Clive Owen should have been a massive movie star. The guy is consistently excellent, whether he's playing the lead (Children of Men), supporting (Closer), or a scene-stealing villain (Inside Man).
Here, he plays Marcus Blake with just the right amount of menace and ambiguity. He's not a simple, one-note villain—his cause is just, but his methods are extreme, and Owen walks that line beautifully. Every time he's on screen, the movie kicks up a notch.
If there's one thing Martin Campbell knows, it's action. This is the guy who reinvented James Bond twice—first with GoldenEye, then with Casino Royale.
He made The Mask of Zorro, which is one of the best swashbuckling adventure films of the last 30 years. Even The Foreigner, a mixed bag, had some fantastic action sequences. And here? The action delivers.
The fight choreography is crisp. The stunt work is impressive. There's a particularly great sequence where Joey is scaling the side of the building while dodging gunfire that's beautifully executed. The pacing is tight—it doesn't drag, it doesn't overcomplicate things, and it doesn't waste time with unnecessary subplots. At 96 minutes, this thing is lean and mean.
Is it original? Hell no. Does it borrow heavily from Die Hard? Absolutely. But here's my argument: Who cares?
There have been dozens of Die Hard knockoffs since 1988. We've had Die Hard on a Plane (Passenger 57), Die Hard on a Ship (Under Siege), Die Hard on a Bus (Speed), Die Hard in a Hockey Arena (Sudden Death), Die Hard in the White House (Olympus Has Fallen), and even Die Hard in a Mall (Paul Blart: Mall Cop).
If Cleaner were bad, then yeah, I'd tear it apart for being a shameless imitation. But because it's good—well-directed, well-acted, and competently made—it gets a pass.
Cleaner is not going to reinvent the action genre, win any Oscars, or be the best action movie of the year.
But it is a fun, well-executed thriller that delivers exactly what it promises: slick action, solid performances, and a tight, no-nonsense runtime. - ⭐️⭐️⭐️
This absurdist comedy-drama film, co-written and directed by Matthew Rankin, was selected as Canada's entry for Best International Feature Film at the 97th Academy Awards.
I saw it at the Chicago International Film Festival last fall, and it will appear in a limited release in theaters starting today. Here is my reprinted Capsule Review:
Described as a "surreal comedy of disorientation" set "somewhere between Tehran and Winnipeg," the film blends the seemingly unrelated stories of Negin and Nazgol, who find money frozen in ice and try to claim it; Massoud, a tour guide in Winnipeg who is leading a confused and disoriented tour group; and Matthew (Rankin), who quits his unfulfilling job with the provincial government of Quebec and travels home to Winnipeg to visit his mother.
Describing this film is utterly useless; it must be seen and believed. It hops between the surreal, realistic, tragic, comedic, and deadpan to the outrageous, sometimes during the same scene.
It's both head-scratching and perfectly feasible. It plays like a documentary and a fantasy. It's a truly schizophrenic film on every level. It's also pretty fucking great.
I haven't laughed harder at anything this year than during the first 10 minutes of this movie; it is just unbelievably HILARIOUS. Seriously, I was doubled over with laughter. It is the funniest opening sequence of a movie I have seen in years, and everything that follows is also solid. - ⭐️⭐️⭐️1/2
Edward Burns is one of those filmmakers who has been around forever—not necessarily because he's breaking new ground, but because he's been making the same movie for 30 years. He burst onto the scene in 1995 with The Brothers McMullen, a low-budget indie that became a critical and financial hit during the height of the '90s independent film boom.
But for me, he was always one of those "hipster doofus" filmmakers who got lumped in with the flood of mid-tier indie directors that Miramax and other studios were pumping out back in the day. The real indie revolution—guys like Jim Jarmusch, early Soderbergh, and Hal Hartley—had already happened.
However, in the '90s, the term "indie" became more of a vibe than an actual movement, and Burns was one of the biggest beneficiaries of that moment.
Since then, he's kept busy making variations of the same film: working-class, East Coast dramas about relationships, family dysfunction, and middle-class existential crises. They all have that Burns feel—low-key, conversational, lightly nostalgic, and incredibly predictable.
So, is Millers in Marriage any different? Nope.
Millers in Marriage is another portrait of unhappy siblings navigating their way through midlife relationship woes. This time, Burns has aged up his typical characters—no longer the angsty 30-somethings, these people are now in their 50s, dealing with long-term marriages, career frustrations, and midlife crises.
The film is essentially a series of conversations, arguments, longing glances, and dramatic pauses as these characters reevaluate their lives.
One of Millers in Marriage's saving graces is its cast. It's nice to see Gretchen Mol, whom Hollywood never quite figured out how to use properly, and Julianna Margulies brings her usual mix of strength and vulnerability.
Minnie Driver is effortlessly watchable, though her role doesn't give her much to do. Benjamin Bratt is there, Campbell Scott is doing the same tortured-writer bit he's been doing for 30 years, and Patrick Wilson—who is a great actor—does what he can with a very one-note role as the boozy husband. Burns himself is fine, but as always, he's playing Edward Burns.
The problem isn't the acting—they're all just stuck playing types rather than fully fleshed-out characters. The women are sympathetic, the men are emotionally stunted, and everyone is just kind of miserable. And after a while, it wears on you.
If you've seen any Edward Burns movie, you've seen Millers in Marriage. The themes, conflicts, and dialogue are all the same.
The only difference now is that everyone is older, but their problems are identical to the ones his characters had in The Brothers McMullen, She's the One, Purple Violets, and The Fitzgerald Family Christmas. It's like he's been making the same film repeatedly, just updating the ages of his protagonists.
And that's the frustrating part. Burns is a competent filmmaker—he knows how to get good performances and stage a scene. He clearly understands the world he's portraying. But there's nothing new here. No fresh perspective. No deeper insight. It's just another round of People Talking About Their Feelings While Drinking Wine in a Modest Yet Tasteful House.
Millers in Marriage is fine. That's the best I can say about it. It's not bad, but it's just so unnecessary. If you're an Edward Burns fan, you'll probably enjoy it. If you've never seen one of his movies before, it might feel fresh.
But if you're like me—someone who has been watching him recycle the same material for three decades—you'll likely be as bored as I was.
Burns has clearly found a formula that works for him, and I can't fault him for sticking with it. But at some point, you have to evolve as a filmmaker. You have to bring something new to the table. And Millers in Marriage just doesn't. - ⭐️⭐️
There's something inherently exciting about a good heist movie. The best ones—the Baby Drivers, Rififis, and Inside Mans of the world—aren't just about the crime itself but about the people behind it, their motivations, their relationships, and the inevitable unraveling of the perfect plan. When done right, these films are about more than just the job; they're about tension, character, and style.
That brings us to The Quiet Ones, a new Danish heist thriller by director Frederik Louis Hviid, who is making his solo directorial debut. Inspired by a real crime that occurred in 2008 during Europe's financial crisis, the film tells the story of a group of criminals planning what would become the biggest robbery in Danish history. It's well-made, well-acted, and effectively paced. Unfortunately, it's also a little too familiar.
Set against the backdrop of a collapsing economy, The Quiet Ones follows Kasper (Gustav Giese), a former boxer who finds himself drawn into the world of high-stakes crime. Alongside a hardened, enigmatic criminal (played by Reda Kateb), Kasper helps orchestrate a meticulously planned heist that could net them millions.
The film does a solid job of establishing the political and financial motivations behind the robbery. These aren't just guys looking for a quick score—a sense of desperation and ambition runs through the story. The characters, especially Kasper, are more fleshed out than in your average heist movie, and the screenplay (written by Anders Frithiof August) gives them some genuine depth.
That said, at the end of the day, a heist is a heist, and we've seen many of these beats before. The intricate planning, the tense execution, the inevitable complications—it's all here. While it's done well, it never quite breaks free from the genre's tropes.
Frederik Louis Hviid is clearly a talented filmmaker. He keeps the pacing tight, the tension simmering, and the visuals crisp. The opening sequence is particularly strong—a pulse-pounding, nerve-wracking introduction that sets the tone beautifully. The problem is that the rest of the movie never quite matches that initial intensity.
Still, there's a confidence in Hviid's direction. He's clearly influenced by filmmakers like Michael Mann and William Friedkin. While he doesn't quite reach those heights, he shows a real knack for crafting suspense and atmosphere. The cinematography is sleek, the editing is sharp, and the whole thing feels polished and professional.
While The Quiet Ones is a well-made film, it's not exactly reinventing the wheel. The biggest issue is that it doesn't do quite enough to set itself apart from the many heist movies that have come before it. There are moments of real tension and intrigue, but the overall structure feels too familiar.
Overall, The Quiet Ones is a well-executed heist movie worth watching, especially for fans of the genre. It's got strong performances, sharp direction, and a compelling true-story angle. But it also feels a little too familiar, a little too safe.
It won't go down as one of the greatest heist films ever made, but it's a solid, engaging crime thriller that delivers enough tension and intrigue to make it a worthwhile watch. If you're looking for something in the Thief or Inside Man vein, this won't quite scratch that itch—but if you want a well-crafted heist film with a European flavor, The Quiet Ones is worth your time. - ⭐️⭐️⭐️
There's nothing worse than a movie that takes a genuinely compelling, real-life story and drowns it in a sea of manipulative clichés, lazy storytelling, and heavy-handed messaging.
The Unbreakable Boy had the potential to be an affecting and insightful look at a unique family's struggle—the story of a child with both autism and brittle bone disease and how that impacts not only his life but the lives of everyone around him. Instead, it's a mess of a film far more interested in preaching than telling an authentic, compelling story.
Based on the book The Unbreakable Boy: A Father's Fear, a Son's Courage, and a Story of Unconditional Love, the film follows Austin LeRette (Jacob Laval), a boy living with autism and brittle bone disease, and his father, Scott (Zachary Levi).
Rather than focusing on Austin's struggles and triumphs, the movie shifts its attention to Scott—his drinking problem, his crisis of faith, and his eventual redemption.
This movie wants to say something important but has no idea how to actually do it. Instead, it cycles through every inspirational drama cliché in the book—complete with "let's go fly" moments of manufactured joy and a conveniently placed swing set for emotional reflections.
Jacob Laval, who plays Austin, is one of the few redeeming qualities here. He delivers a genuine, heartfelt performance despite the script undercutting him at every turn. He's the only thing in this movie that feels real.
Patricia Heaton—who I actually really like—does her best with what little she's given, but even she can't escape the onslaught of sentimentality. The same goes for Meghann Fahy, who plays Austin's mother, and Campbell Scott, who plays another one-note supporting character.
They're all talented actors, but they're entirely at the mercy of a script that feels like it was written by an AI trained exclusively on Hallmark movies and faith-based dramas.
Then there's Zachary Levi. I have to be honest—he continues to be one of the most grating actors working today.
His performance here is like an extended, self-indulgent therapy session. He gets to push his personal brand of faith-based storytelling while taking all of the focus away from the kid, who is the actual interesting part of this story.
It's frustrating to watch because a real story here deserves to be told without being hijacked by yet another redemption arc for the struggling dad.
Beyond the clichés, the film's biggest issue is its wildly unfocused approach. The movie can't seem to decide if it wants to be about Austin's journey, Scott's struggle with alcoholism, or a faith-based parable about finding God in the face of adversity. Instead, it awkwardly jumps between all three, never fully committing to any of them.
It also has some deeply uncomfortable messaging. The film makes blanket statements about autism, medication, and mental health without actually exploring any of them.
At one point, Austin's outbursts and struggles are blamed on his medication in the most oversimplified way imaginable. Then, the movie just moves on without addressing it again. It feels irresponsible to use these issues as convenient plot devices rather than as real, complex subjects that deserve to be explored.
The Unbreakable Boy is not a good movie. It's a frustrating, manipulative, and borderline insulting mess that reduces a powerful real-life story to a series of empty, feel-good moments.
If you're looking for a movie that genuinely explores autism and disability with depth and care, this isn't it. It is early in the year, but I can already confidently say this is one of the worst movies of 2025. - ⭐️
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