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When we experience a traumatic tragedy, we often can't fathom how we're going to respond to it. Some reactions may follow expected patterns. But others may come across as wholly unpredictable, in large part because we don't quite know what to make of them ourselves. That can become considerably more complicated when we don't even know how to speak about them, to find the words to sufficiently express our feelings. And, when you combine all of these elements, you have the basis for the quandary faced by unnerved protagonist Agnes Ward (actor-writer-director Eva Victor in her debut feature). The film, told in a series of time-shuffled chapters over the course of several years, follows the troubling experience of a graduate student/professor (Victor) enrolled in the English lit program at a small liberal arts college in rural New England, along with her patchwork attempts at reconciling her feelings about it. In the course of sorting out her emotions, her plans for dealing with her circumstances and the potential fallout involved, and the impact of the event on her life and prevailing outlook, she examines her options and feelings from a variety of angles. And, in the course of doing so, she engages in a series of introspective but often-vague conversations with her best friend (Naomi Ackie), her kindly but somewhat bumbling neighbor (Lucas Hedges), an embittered rival from the university (Kelly McCormack) and a Samaritan sandwich shop owner (John Carroll Lynch) who helps her overcome a serious panic attack while driving, among others. These dialogues often mix a curious combination of poignant observations, dark humor and blunt revelations. But therein lies the picture's fatal flaw - this odd concoction of story elements doesn't mesh well, leaving viewers wondering where the narrative is ultimately headed (the overriding uncertainty of the lead's reaction to her circumstances notwithstanding). It's as if this offering is constantly reaching for a profound insight that it's fundamentally unable to adequately express, an experience that becomes ever more exasperating as the picture unfolds. That's unfortunate given the subject matter involved here, but the goal is never sufficiently attained, presenting the audience with an array of random situations and a collection of unrelated characters that seem to provide the basis of something meaningful that never emerges. To its credit, there are some truly engaging moments (though not enough of them), backed by fine performances and some gorgeous cinematography. But those qualities aren't nearly enough to save this lost and meandering exercise that seems innately incapable of answering its own questions, making for what essentially amounts to an ambitious but innately unsatisfying watch.

Reimagining a classic film can be tricky business, especially when it involves one that's well-liked and well-known. But, with the right team behind such a project, the result can be positively delightful, and such is definitely the case with this reworking of the 1989 dark comedy, "The War of the Roses." In fact, in this case, I'd even go so far as to say that this new production is actually an improvement over its often-overrated predecessor. Director Jay Roach's scathingly biting comedy follows the lives of Theo and Ivy Rose (Benedict Cumberbatch, Olivia Colman), a pair of successful British professionals who quickly fall madly in love, marry and resettle in northern California, eventually becoming the proud parents of two children. Theo is an accomplished architect, while Ivy is a gifted but underconfident chef who concocts spectacular culinary creations that only her family gets to sample. However, when Theo lands a plum contract to design a museum, he comes into a windfall whose proceeds he gifts to Ivy to launch her own eatery. As fate would have it, though, the partners' fortunes trade places, with Ivy becoming a huge hit that leads to the opening of a chain of restaurants and Theo's career taking an unexpected tumble, relegating him to the role of househusband as he struggles to revive his sagging reputation. This invariably leads to mounting petty jealousies and intensifying marital discord between two spouses who ostensibly once seemed to love one another deeply - and all with wickedly hilarious results. So what makes this version of the Roses' story better than its forerunner? Several factors play into this, but nearly all of them are tied to the vastly improved writing at work here compared to the original. The scope of the narrative has been significantly enlarged in this iteration, and all to the better, primarily due to the inclusion of an array of colorful supporting characters and a diverse palette of genuinely sidesplitting scenarios. In addition, the dialogue is crisper, snappier and faster paced, enabling the story to flow more like a screwball comedy than an embittered, often-dour and frequently nasty exercise. That's not to suggest the lack of an edge in this updated production; quite the contrary. But the pacing, delivery and contents of its inspired and devastatingly hard-hitting one-liners are virtually nonstop, giving the picture a rapid-fire immediacy that its predecessor frequently lacked. Those qualities are further enhanced by sharper character development and the award-worthy spot-on performances of the two leads, whose undeniable chemistry makes their portrayals even more compellingly on target. Add to that the incisive contributions of the film's fine ensemble (most notably Kate McKinnon, Andy Samberg and Allison Janney), and you've got a cinematic formula that truly fires on all cylinders. Admittedly, there are a few elements that could have been handled a little differently, and some aspects of the screenplay feel a little overwritten at times, but these shortcomings are so minor that they're hardly worth mentioning. Considering how well everything meshes in this production, I must confess that I'm somewhat surprised the picture was saddled with a late August release, typically one of the movie industry's distribution wastelands. I was also concerned in advance that this could have turned out to be another of those misguided remakes that have come to characterize many of filmdom's high-profile releases these days. But "The Roses" delivers the goods across the board and genuinely deserves an appreciative audience for its efforts as one of 2025's better offerings, especially in the comedy genre. Don't let preconceptions stand in your way of giving this one a look - you won't regret it.

I'm always amazed at how a single film can be fundamentally characterized in multiple ways, but that's understandable when the picture combines an array of diverse elements, each of which has a validity all its own that can subsequently lead to different overarching interpretations. Such is the case with this 1963 film classic from famed Japanese auteur Akira Kurosawa, which provides the cinematic inspiration behind filmmaker Spike Lee's current reimagination, "Highest 2 Lowest," now playing theatrically. Like the current iteration, "High and Low" follows the story of a wealthy businessman, Kingo Gondô (Toshirô Mifune), who's looking to take control of the shoe manufacturing company for which he works, a plan that requires him to leverage his entire personal fortune to make it possible. But, just as he's about to close the deal, he's distracted by the alleged kidnapping of his young son (Toshio Egi), a crime for which the perpetrator demands a ransom equal in value to the funds needed to cover the pending transaction. However, not long after hearing about the kidnapping, Gondô learns that the culprit has nabbed the wrong child, erroneously taking the son (Masahiko Shimazu) of his chauffeur (Yutaka Sada). But Gondô is not off the hook: the kidnapper still demands payment of the ransom, even though the crime doesn't involve his son. This leaves Gondô with a huge moral dilemma: does he use the money to close his business deal or to pay the ransom of his employee's child? As Gondô grapples with this decision, an intense police investigation ensues to discover the kidnapper's identity and to figure out a way to retrieve both the victim and the ransom money. Unlike the current film, though, Kurosawa's version focuses less on the particulars driving this scenario and more intently on the ethical questions that the protagonist is left to wrestle with, issues ultimately symbolic of the divisive class and economic disparities in Japanese society. Indeed, while the picture provides viewers with its share of intense thriller moments, in many regards it's really more of a morality play, not only where Gondô is concerned, but also in its exploration of the inherent chasms between rich and poor, privileged and impoverished, and control and servitude. (This attribute, in turn, helps to shed light on the nature of the film's character and the relevance of its original Japanese title, "Tengoku to jigoku," which translates to "Heaven and Hell," in my opinion a more fitting appellation that probably should have been retained when renamed in English.) The foregoing aspects of the picture thus distinguish this predecessor work from the current release, even though the exact nature of the nexus between kidnapper and target is not developed as fully here as I believe it should have been (one of the few ways in which the present offering modestly improves upon the original). In addition, there are times in the opening act, as well as in the run-up to the film's conclusion, when the storytelling could have been a little brisker (the slower pacing style of the period in which the picture was made notwithstanding). Still, this offering's social and cultural themes are nevertheless intriguing, and their place here has a tendency to grow on audiences as the picture progresses. And those thematic aspects, when combined with the contrast of the narrative's riveting criminal investigation, make for an intriguing mix, one that undoubtedly accounts for the differing perspectives that this release often evokes among viewers. While "High and Low" may not be Kurosawa's best work when compared with such pictures as "Rashômon" (1950) and "Ikiru" (1952), it stands out as one of the filmmaker's most thoughtful and engaging works, one that probes the heaven and hell that reside here on Earth, both individually and at their points of intersection, and how the lines between them can become all too easily blurred, a caution to us all.