The Roses Review: A Wasted Opportunity Despite Colman and Cumberbatch's Chemistry

The Roses 

Directed by: Jay Roach

Written by: Tony McNamara

Starring: Benedict Cumberbatch, Olivia Colman, Kate McKinnon

Release Date: August 29, 2025

The Roses (2025), starring Benedict Cumberbatch and Olivia Colman, aims for sharp satire but stumbles over lazy writing and implausible storytelling. Here’s why Jay Roach’s latest comedy fails to bloom.

A Comedy Built on a Flimsy Foundation

The Roses asks audiences to accept a setup that collapses under the slightest scrutiny. Benedict Cumberbatch stars as Theo Rose, a world-class architect whose career is destroyed when a storm brings down one of his signature projects: a sailing museum topped with a massive wooden sail that crashes through the structure.

It’s a striking image, sure—but the logic doesn’t hold. Are we really to believe that a wildly successful architect wouldn’t account for basic weather conditions? Add to that the fact that architects design, while engineers and builders execute, and the idea of Theo being solely blamed for this disaster feels like screenwriting corner-cutting.

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Overnight Success, Overnight Failure

If Theo’s implausible fall from grace wasn’t enough, his wife Ivy (Olivia Colman) experiences an equally improbable rise. Her failing seafood restaurant, cheekily named We’ve Got Crabs, becomes an impromptu storm shelter. By sheer coincidence, one of the stranded diners is the world’s most influential food critic. Ivy’s cooking earns her a glowing review, and overnight she’s a culinary star while Theo is a professional pariah.

It’s an amusing contrast, but the lack of plausibility makes it hard to buy. Restaurants on the brink of closure don’t stock enough ingredients to feed a packed house during a storm. These details may seem minor, but they highlight the script’s laziness—problems that could have been fixed with minimal effort.

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Kate McKinnon’s Wasted Talent

One of the strangest missteps is Kate McKinnon’s role. While McKinnon is undeniably talented, her brief, out-of-nowhere appearances feel like filler rather than genuine comedy. In one particularly awkward third-act scene, she pops in, delivers an offbeat line, and vanishes, clearly inserted because director Jay Roach felt the film needed a laugh break.

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Chemistry That Can’t Save the Script

Despite the weak script, Benedict Cumberbatch and Olivia Colman are the movie’s saving grace. Their sharp banter, biting insults, and electric chemistry add genuine spark, especially in their flirtatious meet-cute. For a brief moment, it feels like The Roses might deliver a dark, screwball energy akin to The War of the Roses (1989). Unfortunately, those flashes of brilliance fade fast, leaving a comedy that feels forced and unfocused.

Why is Andy Samberg in this movie? He's filling the role played by Danny Devito in the 1989 version of this story, The War of the Roses, but where Devito felt essential to that film Samberg is awkwardy shoehorned into The Roses. He's supposed to be Benedict Cumberbatch's closest friend but the two have zero chemistry. I do like Andy Samberg but he is dreadfully miscast as a modern day yuppie lawyer. He's also given nothing to work with by a desperately overstuffed and still lazy screenplay. 

Allison Janney, on the other hand, brings it in a cameo as Ivy's divorce lawyer. Where the rest of The Roses flounders, unwilling to fully commit to the nasty tone of the 1989 movue, Janney plays her part as if she should have been cast in place of Olivia Colman. Janney's energy is pure mercenary comic savagery and I loved it. It's about the only thing I love about this otherwise desperately mediocre and inept film. 

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Final Verdict

The Roses is proof that star power and witty dialogue aren’t enough to save a film with a flimsy premise and lazy writing. While Cumberbatch and Colman give it their all, Jay Roach’s direction leans too heavily on contrivances and random gags, resulting in a movie that feels half-baked. Fans of the stars might find a few laughs, but most audiences will leave disappointed.

Springsteen: Deliver Me from Nowhere — A Soulful Look at the Making of Nebraska

Springsteen Deliver Me from Nowhere

Directed by: Scott Cooper

Written by: Scott Cooper

Starring: Jeremy Allen White, Jeremy Strong, Odessa Young, Stephen Graham

Release Date: October 24, 2025

4.5 out of 5 stars

Scott Cooper’s Springsteen: Deliver Me from Nowhere is a raw, poetic music biopic that captures Bruce Springsteen’s soul-searching journey through the making of Nebraska. Jeremy Allen White gives one of the year’s most powerful performances in this haunting portrayal of The Boss at a crossroads.

A Different Kind of Music Biopic

Springsteen: Deliver Me from Nowhere is not your typical music biopic. Rather than tracing Bruce Springsteen’s entire life or career, Scott Cooper’s film zeroes in on a single, defining moment — the creation of Nebraska, one of the most personal and daring albums ever made by a major recording artist.

Coming off the chart-topping success of The River and standing on the edge of superstardom with Born in the U.S.A., Springsteen was poised to become an American icon. Yet, instead of leaning into commercial glory, he turned inward. The film powerfully captures this creative detour — a spiritual reckoning that would define the artist he became.

A Record Born from Darkness

Cooper’s film shows a restless Springsteen retreating to a secluded home in the woods of New Jersey. Still sweating from his marathon River tour, Bruce craves peace but finds none. His mind is haunted by old ghosts, regrets, and fears that can only be exorcised through music.

As Jeremy Strong’s Jon Landau shields Bruce from the pressures of record executives, he watches helplessly as his friend unravels. The industry demands radio hits — but Bruce is chasing something far more personal: truth, pain, and redemption.

Amid the creative storm, Bruce meets Faye (Odessa Young), a local woman whose quiet warmth offers a fleeting sense of connection. Their romance, tender but doomed, becomes another layer of emotional fuel for the songs that would make Nebraska timeless.

The Inspiration Behind Nebraska

What makes Springsteen: Deliver Me from Nowhere remarkable is Cooper’s refusal to reduce the album’s genesis to tidy cinematic moments. The film doesn’t rely on obvious “aha!” inspirations. Yes, we see Springsteen watching Terrence Malick’s Badlands — the direct inspiration for the song “Nebraska” — but most of the music seems to emerge from deep within Bruce’s psyche.

In one of the film’s most striking interpretations, Bruce’s fascination with the story of Charles Starkweather reflects his fear of his own darker impulses. Cooper subtly suggests that Bruce identifies with the violence and isolation of his subjects — that his empathy comes from confronting his own emotional volatility.

The Father and the Ghosts of Home

Running beneath the entire film is Springsteen’s fraught relationship with his father, powerfully portrayed by Stephen Graham in what feels like an Oscar-worthy supporting performance. In monochrome flashbacks, we see a man broken by life — angry, volatile, but deeply human.

Bruce’s complicated relationship with his father is a dark undercurrent throughout all of Nebraska, culminating in the song My Father’s House, a broken hearted elegy that may not be fully autobiographical but carries within it all the hurt feelings and lasting love that defined Bruce’s love for his father.

Watching White and Graham give life to these two complicated men is devastating in its beauty and power. Lifetimes of emotions clash and when you see their final scene together in Springsteen Deliver Me from Nowhere, I dare you not to cry. A Father and a son unable to say the things they’ve always wanted to say coming out instead as tears.

Jeremy Allen White Delivers a Career-Defining Performance

Jeremy Allen White doesn’t look exactly like Bruce Springsteen — and that’s the point. His performance transcends imitation. What he captures instead is the essence of The Boss: the haunted eyes, the internal struggle, the yearning to express something too painful for words.

White’s performance feels lived-in, exhausted, and electric all at once. You can feel the tension in his shoulders and hear the weight of the songs in his silences. When he strums through “Atlantic City” or “Highway Patrolman,” it’s less an act of recreation and more a spiritual channeling.

A Film Worthy of the Album

Springsteen: Deliver Me from Nowhere achieves what few music biopics do — it matches the soul of its subject. Scott Cooper’s subdued, naturalistic direction mirrors the stark black-and-white poetry of Nebraska. The film is quiet, mournful, and deeply moving, avoiding Hollywood gloss in favor of honesty.

Like the album itself, this film is not about fame, but about isolation and redemption. It’s about a man confronting himself before he can face the world.

By the end, Deliver Me from Nowhere feels less like a biopic and more like an elegy — not just for a record, but for a version of Bruce Springsteen that had to die so the rest of his legend could live.

One of the best films of 2025 — and one of the most human.

De-Lovely (2004) — Kevin Kline’s Remarkable Role as Cole Porter

De-Lovely

Directed by: Irwin Winkler

Written by: Jay Cocks

Starring: Kevin Kline, Ashley Judd, Jonathan Pryce

Release Date: July 2, 2004

⭐️⭐️⭐️ (3 out of 5 stars)

Kevin Kline and Ashley Judd shine in De-Lovely, Irwin Winkler’s uneven but heartfelt Cole Porter biopic. A flawed yet elegant musical portrait of love, creativity, and regret.

A Complicated Collaboration Reunited

When director Irwin Winkler and actor Kevin Kline last worked together on Life as a House, the result was an overwrought melodrama that didn’t do either of them favors. So when news broke that they were reuniting for De-Lovely, I wasn’t exactly excited. Winkler’s previous outings — The Net, At First Sight — hardly inspired confidence, and Kline’s recent career, as of 2003, had seemed adrift.

That’s part of what made his performance in De-Lovely so remarkable. Even as Winkler turns in a compromised and uneven musical, Kline glides through the film with wit, poise, and emotional precision, reminding audiences why he’s long been one of Hollywood’s most admired actors.

A Life Told Like a Broadway Show

De-Lovely tells the story of Cole Porter, one of the 20th century’s greatest songwriters. Kline portrays Porter from his youth to his final days, while Ashley Judd plays his wife and creative muse, Linda Lee Porter.

The story unfolds through a clever, if clumsy, device: Porter is guided through his own life by an angel named Gabe (Jonathan Pryce), who stages Cole’s memories like a Broadway production. The idea sounds imaginative — a meta-theatrical reflection of Porter’s own showmanship — but in practice, the conceit never fully gels.

Love, Music, and the Cost of Compromise

Cole meets Linda in Paris, where she helps reignite his creativity after early Broadway setbacks. Their marriage, however, is not built on traditional romance. Porter’s homosexuality was one of Hollywood’s worst-kept secrets, and De-Lovely only grazes the surface of how this shaped their unusual but deeply affectionate relationship.

The film moves through Paris, Milan, New York, and finally Hollywood, where Porter’s sophisticated wit often clashed with studio expectations. In one of the film’s best scenes, the cast bursts into “Be a Clown,” illustrating how Porter learned to embrace the contradictions of commercial art.

But for every inspired moment, another subplot gets lost — a brief blackmail story, emotional conflicts, and Porter’s inner turmoil are all introduced, then dropped in favor of celebrity-studded musical numbers.

Pop Stars Meet Porter’s Classics

One of De-Lovely’s biggest gambles is its use of modern pop stars to perform Cole Porter’s timeless songs. Alanis Morissette (“Let’s Do It, Let’s Fall in Love”), Sheryl Crow (“Begin the Beguine”), Elvis Costello (“Let’s Misbehave”), and Robbie Williams (“De-Lovely”) all take the stage.

While these performances are well-intentioned, they underscore a key problem: pop singers and Broadway standards don’t always mix. Their modern phrasing clashes with Porter’s theatrical rhythm. By contrast, Caroline O’Connor (“Anything Goes”) and John Barrowman (“Night and Day”) deliver powerhouse renditions that capture the spirit and precision of Porter’s world.

The casting of pop stars feels like a commercial decision — designed to sell soundtracks more than to serve the story — and it shows.

The Pain Beneath the Perfection

The emotional center of De-Lovely comes after Porter’s devastating horse-riding accident, which crushed his legs. Despite constant pain and surgeries, he continued composing, thanks largely to Linda’s steadfast devotion.

Ashley Judd gives one of her most radiant performances, communicating love, frustration, and heartbreak through pure presence. Kline, meanwhile, channels both Porter’s elegance and melancholy. His Cole is charming, brilliant, and profoundly sad — a man who could express love only through lyrics, never quite able to return the affection he inspired.

Beauty in the Imperfection

De-Lovely suffers from an uneven script and a confused tone — unsure whether it wants to be a surreal musical or a straightforward biopic. Yet the performances by Kline and Judd elevate the film beyond its flaws. Their chemistry gives life to what might otherwise be a hollow tribute.

When you strip away the flashy cameos and showy structure, what remains is a touching portrait of love, pain, and artistry. The film may not be as “de-lovely” as it wants to be, but it is deeply human.

Final Verdict

Despite its clunky direction and distracting gimmicks, De-Lovely stands as a showcase for Kevin Kline’s brilliance and Ashley Judd’s emotional depth. The movie doesn’t always sing, but when it does, it finds a kind of bittersweet harmony that honors Cole Porter’s spirit.

⭐️⭐️⭐️ (3 out of 5 stars)

Dead of Winter (2025) Review – Emma Thompson and Judy Greer Shine in a Frozen Nightmare

Dead of Winter 

Directed by: Brian Kirk

Written by: Nicholas Jacobson-Larson, Dalton Leeb

Starring: Emma Thompson, Judy Greer, Marc Menchaca

Release Date: September 26th, 2025

Genre: Thriller / Horror

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ (4/5)

Dead of Winter (2025) is a tense, character-driven thriller starring Emma Thompson and Judy Greer in against-type performances. Directed by Brian Kirk, this icy survival story mixes suspense, realism, and powerhouse acting into a chilling, unforgettable ride.

When Familiar Faces Turn Terrifying

Dead of Winter stars two beloved actresses—Emma Thompson and Judy Greer—in harrowing roles that reshape how we see their talents. Thompson, the English icon of literary dramas and refined wit, and Greer, the sweet-natured sidekick and genre regular, both step far outside their comfort zones here.

Each performer has built a career on warmth and relatability, but Dead of Winter weaponizes those associations to suspenseful effect. These aren’t “playing against type” performances for shock value—they’re rich, layered turns that twist our expectations into dread.

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A Frozen Journey into Fear

Emma Thompson plays Barb, a widowed Minnesotan woman whose accent and demeanor are as comforting as a cup of cocoa on a frozen lake. Her husband’s recent death has left her adrift, but she’s determined to honor his final wish—one last ice-fishing trip to the remote Lake Hilda.

Her day begins with simple rituals: packing the truck, braving snowy backroads, and setting up her fishing gear. But when Barb gets lost and stops at a lone cabin for directions, her quiet grief collides with something far more sinister.

There, she encounters a disturbed man in a camo jacket (Marc Menchaca). His explanation for the blood outside—“deer blood”—does little to calm her unease. When she later witnesses the same man dragging a screaming young woman back to the cabin, Barb faces a terrible choice: risk her life to intervene, or flee and hope someone else finds help two hours away.

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Judy Greer’s Chilling Turn

Barb’s rescue attempt brings her face to face with a mysterious woman in purple, played with eerie intensity by Judy Greer. Frail, sickly, yet fueled by a drug-induced fury, Greer’s character commands the situation—and her accomplice—with ruthless precision.

It’s an astonishing transformation for Greer, whose empathetic screen presence makes her descent into menace all the more frightening. Her character’s obsession and physical collapse intertwine, creating a villain both human and horrifying. Greer plays it straight—no camp, no overacting—just cold conviction.

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Taut, Realistic, and Relentless

Screenwriters Nicholas Jacobson-Larson and Dalton Leeb keep Dead of Winter lean and focused. There’s no wasted dialogue, no contrived subplots—just tension, realism, and the relentless ticking clock of survival.

Director Brian Kirk (Game of Thrones, 21 Bridges) knows exactly how far to push the stakes. Unlike many thrillers that pile on implausible injuries or absurd coincidences, Dead of Winter stays grounded. The pain feels real, the geography logical, the survival tactics clever but believable.

Thompson’s Barb is resourceful without becoming superhuman. Greer’s villain, meanwhile, is terrifying because she believes in what she’s doing. Kirk’s pacing and stark compositions turn the snowy wilderness into a psychological maze of isolation and fear.

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Final Thoughts

Dead of Winter is a sharp, chilling thriller that strips the genre to its essentials: character, tension, and atmosphere. Emma Thompson delivers one of her most physical and emotionally raw performances, while Judy Greer redefines what audiences thought she could do.

It’s a film about resilience, moral conviction, and the quiet strength that emerges when terror closes in. Dead of Winter may take place in the frozen north, but it burns with the heat of two unforgettable performances.

Verdict: Smart, suspenseful, and anchored by two exceptional actresses, Dead of Winter is one of the most satisfying surprises of the 2025 horror-thriller season.

Looking for Mr. Goodbar (1977): A Hateful, Sensory Nightmare Masquerading as a Movie

Looking for Mr. Goodbar 

Directed by: Richard Brooks

Written by: Richard Brooks (based on the novel by Judith Rossner)

Starring: Diane Keaton, Richard Gere, Tom Berenger, William Atherton, Tuesday Weld

Release Date: October 19, 1977

Rating: ★☆☆☆☆ (1/5)

Looking for Mr. Goodbar (1977) is one of the most hateful, chaotic, and misogynistic movies of the 1970s. Despite Diane Keaton’s best efforts, Richard Brooks delivers a cinematic disaster that blames women for their own abuse and murder.

(Just a note, I intended to write a positive review of a Diane Keaton movie in the wake of her passing. This movie was recommended to me as one of her best performances. She's as good as she could be under the circumstances. Apologies to Keaton fans.)

A Film That Punishes Women for Existing

Wow. What a piece of trash.

Looking for Mr. Goodbar is a sensory nightmare — a film of utter chaos and incoherence. It’s as if Richard Brooks set out to punish both the audience and his lead character, Theresa Dunn, for daring to exist outside of patriarchal norms.

The message? If a woman is sexually liberated and steps away from her family, she’s asking to be taken advantage of, abused, or even murdered. That’s not subtext — that’s the actual takeaway of this movie.

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Diane Keaton Tries to Save a Lost Cause

Diane Keaton plays Theresa, an innocent woman trying to escape her suffocating Catholic family. Her reward for that independence? A string of emotionally and physically abusive men.

Her first boyfriend is a married professor who tells her, post-coitus, “I just can’t stand a woman’s company after I’ve f*ed her.” Charming, right? From there, she meets Tony (Richard Gere), a swaggering sex addict who uses her and disappears. Every relationship is another humiliation.

Between the chaos of her love life, we get scenes of Theresa tenderly teaching deaf children — a transparent attempt by Brooks to “redeem” her for the audience, as if to say, See, she’s not a total whore! It’s moral policing disguised as character development.

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A Gallery of Awful Men

Every man in this movie is an abuser, and yet the movie blames Theresa for their actions. James (William Atherton) starts out as a nice guy — until she rejects him, at which point he becomes obsessed and violent. Then there’s Gary (Tom Berenger), a gay man introduced in a bizarre, incoherent parade sequence who exists solely to embody Brooks’ twisted sense of sexual panic.

By the time Gary snorts cocaine, rapes Theresa, and stabs her to death, the film’s point becomes clear: women who seek sexual freedom are doomed. Brooks frames it as tragedy, but it’s really moral punishment.

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Misogyny and Madness Behind the Camera

Beyond the hateful message, Looking for Mr. Goodbar is simply bad filmmaking. Brooks shoots everything like he’s terrified of silence — televisions blare, radios scream, extras wander across the frame, and the camera jitters as if the operator is drunk.

It’s an exhausting sensory overload, a constant assault on the viewer. The noise isn’t atmosphere; it’s incompetence.

Even Tuesday Weld, playing Theresa’s sister, gets thrown under the bus. The film frames her as a “good girl gone bad” — promiscuous, drugged up, and punished by the story. Every woman in this movie is either a saintly mother or a damned whore. There’s no in-between.

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The Verdict: A Cruel, Hateful Relic

Looking for Mr. Goodbar isn’t just bad — it’s offensive. It’s the kind of movie that pretends to explore sexual liberation while secretly despising it. The story blames women for male violence, then pretends to offer a moral lesson about “dangerous lifestyles.”

This isn’t provocative art — it’s propaganda for repression.

Even Diane Keaton can’t save it. Despite her honest, layered performance, the movie uses her as a punching bag for Brooks’ toxic worldview. The result is an angry, ugly, morally bankrupt mess that deserves to be forgotten.

Final Rating: ★☆☆☆☆ — 1 star for Diane Keaton, 0 for everything else.

Despicable Me 3 Is Wildly Adequate: Illumination’s Masterpiece of Mediocrity

Despicable Me 3 

⭐️⭐️ (2 out of 5)

Directed by: Pierre Coffin & Kyle Balda

Written by: Cinco Paul & Ken Daurio

Starring: Steve Carell, Kristen Wiig, Trey Parker, Julie Andrews

June 30th, 2017 

Despicable Me 3 is proof that even global animation hits can run out of steam. Steve Carell returns as Gru in a sequel that’s bright, loud, and utterly mediocre — a film that coasts on nostalgia and Minion merchandising more than storytelling.

The Latest from Illumination Is Awesomely Mediocre

Despicable Me 3 is so wildly mediocre, so achingly adequate, and so puzzlingly prosaic that I can barely bring myself to write about it. Honestly, I spent more time researching synonyms for “mediocre” than thinking about the movie itself.

The film represents the perfect middle ground between competence and boredom — a brightly colored void where jokes exist, animation happens, and absolutely nothing resonates. It’s the cinematic equivalent of eating plain oatmeal while watching a fireworks display through a fogged window. There’s noise and movement, but nothing of substance.

Illumination has always aimed to make movies that feel familiar enough to comfort kids and disposable enough to keep parents from complaining. With Despicable Me 3, they’ve refined that formula to a glossy art form. The result is a film that is perfectly fine — and utterly lifeless.

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Gru vs. Bratt: When Nostalgia Becomes a Gimmick

The story begins with reformed super-villain Gru (Steve Carell) continuing his new career as a hero, this time alongside his equally well-meaning wife Lucy (Kristen Wiig). Their target: Balthazar Bratt (Trey Parker), a villain obsessed with the 1980s, complete with purple shoulder pads, bubble gum weapons, and a synth-heavy soundtrack.

The idea is mildly clever at first. The visual jokes — Rubik’s Cubes, keytars, moonwalks — hit a nostalgic sweet spot. But the novelty burns out fast. Bratt becomes a one-note character, and his endless dance battles start to feel like rejected sketches from a forgotten SNL episode.

The 1980s aesthetic should have offered room for satire or irony, but instead, it’s just a surface-level gimmick. There’s no commentary, no depth — just a parade of neon references that hope to distract you from realizing how little story there actually is.

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Double Trouble: The Twin Brother Nobody Asked For

Because one thin plotline isn’t enough, the movie introduces Gru’s long-lost twin brother, Dru. He’s got a head of golden hair, a sunny personality, and absolutely no reason to exist beyond giving Steve Carell another voice to perform.

The central joke is that Dru is handsome and terrible at being a villain. That’s it. The entire subplot rests on this one-note contrast. Even worse, the film tries to wring humor out of Gru’s cruel mother (voiced by Julie Andrews), who reveals she deliberately hid Dru’s existence from Gru. It’s a weirdly mean-spirited twist played for laughs — as if emotional neglect were the setup for a punchline.

Adding insult to injury, Gru’s mother also gets a recycled gag involving her ogling her swim coaches. It’s creepy, lazy, and completely unnecessary. This is supposed to be family entertainment, but much of the humor lands somewhere between tone-deaf and uncomfortable.

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Meanwhile, the Minions Are Still Here

Of course, no Despicable Me film would dare skip its real stars — the Minions. This time, they rebel against Gru and head off on their own misadventure, eventually winding up in jail.

Their subplot exists for one clear reason: to justify another round of Minion toys. The prison sequence includes two elaborate musical numbers, both of which feel like filler created to extend the runtime and give the marketing team something to work with. The Minions remain marketable chaos engines, but without the emotional anchor of Gru and the girls, they’re just noise.

When Despicable Me premiered in 2010, the Minions were fresh and funny — supporting characters with visual wit. Seven years later, they’ve become corporate mascots for prepackaged chaos, speaking in gibberish while executives calculate how many lunchboxes they can move.

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From Heartfelt to Hollow

The original Despicable Me had heart. Its central story — a villain softened by his love for three orphans — was simple but touching. You rooted for Gru because there was something human beneath the cartoon.

By the sequel, that emotional foundation had eroded, replaced by noisy spectacle and toy-friendly antics. Now, in Despicable Me 3, the series has reached its final stage of evolution: total emotional vacancy.

The movie isn’t hateful or incompetent, but it is aggressively safe. Every design choice, every joke, every musical cue feels pre-approved by a focus group. It’s a film made by talented people working within the most soul-crushing boundaries imaginable.

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When Mercenary Filmmaking Becomes the Point

At least when Pixar goes mercenary, there’s still a trace of artistry. Cars 3, for all its faults, had craftsmanship and genuine affection for its characters. Illumination, by contrast, seems content to coast on brand recognition.

Their philosophy appears to be: make it cute, make it fast, make it bright, and make it sell. The animators do fine work, the voice cast gives professional performances, and yet the movie still feels hollow — a product disguised as a story.

Millions of dollars and countless hours of labor have gone into creating something aggressively average. It’s not a failure, but it’s not a success either. It simply exists — an echo of better movies made by studios that still care about storytelling.

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Final Thoughts

Despicable Me 3 is competent, colorful, and completely uninspired. It never offends, but it never delights. It’s a film designed to be consumed, not remembered — the cinematic equivalent of a fast-food meal you forget five minutes after eating.

There’s no passion here, no spark of creativity. Just another round of Minions, another paper-thin plot, and another reminder that Illumination has mastered the art of making movies that are “good enough.”

Final Rating: ⭐️⭐️ (2 out of 5)

Technically fine, emotionally vacant — Despicable Me 3 is a monument to mediocrity in high definition.

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Tags

#DespicableMe3 #IlluminationEntertainment #AnimatedMovies #SteveCarell #FamilyMovies #MovieReview#AnimationCriticism #DespicableMeFranchise #FilmReview #Reelscope

Revisiting Duncan Jones’ Source Code (2011)

Source Code (2011)

Directed by Duncan Jones

Written by Ben Ripley

Starring Jake Gyllenhaal, Michelle Monaghan, Jeffrey Wright, Vera Farmiga

Release Date: April 20, 2011

Duncan Jones’ Source Code (2011) is a sharp, emotional, time-loop thriller that blends suspense, science fiction, and existential questions into one of the most inventive films of its era. Here’s why it still holds up more than a decade later.

The Sci-Fi Mystery You Should Know as Little as Possible About

The less you know going into Source Code, the more you’ll enjoy it. Duncan Jones’ follow-up to Moon is an ingenious sci-fi thriller that manages to surprise even in an era obsessed with spoilers. Starring Jake Gyllenhaal and Michelle Monaghan, it’s a sleek, tightly wound puzzle that deserves mention among the best science fiction films of the 2010s.

Colter Stevens (Gyllenhaal) wakes up on a Chicago commuter train, disoriented and confused. The woman across from him, Christina (Monaghan), seems to know him — but she calls him by a different name. None of the other passengers are familiar. Then he looks into the train’s bathroom mirror and sees a face that isn’t his own. Moments later, the train explodes.

When Colter regains consciousness, he’s strapped inside a strange pod, communicating with a woman named Colleen Goodwin (Vera Farmiga) via intercom. She and her superior, Dr. Rutledge (Jeffrey Wright), inform him that a terrorist bomb has destroyed the train — and his mission is to go back into those eight minutes before the explosion, identify the bomber, and report back before it happens again.

A High-Concept Thriller That Actually Works

That’s all you really need to know. Source Code is one of those rare high-concept sci-fi thrillers that doesn’t just rely on its premise — it earns it. The film plays with ideas of time travel, consciousness, and moral consequence without losing sight of its human core.

Duncan Jones, working from Ben Ripley’s clever script, handles the film’s shifting timelines with precision and energy. Like a modern-day Groundhog Day laced with paranoia and military-grade tension, Source Code builds a world with its own set of time travel rules — and then exploits those rules for maximum suspense.

The brilliance lies in how those rules turn ordinary people into obstacles. As Colter races against time, the unaware passengers he’s trying to protect become accidental antagonists. The result is both thrilling and tragic.

Why It Still Resonates

What makes Source Code stand out today is how seriously it treats its pseudo-science. Gyllenhaal, Farmiga, and Wright play it completely straight, grounding the story’s metaphysical leaps in real emotion. Their conviction sells every impossible moment. Either you buy into what they’re selling, or you don’t — but if you do, it’s a ride worth taking.

Jones’ direction and Ripley’s script ensure that even when Source Code veers into the unbelievable, it never loses coherence or heart. Beneath the genre mechanics is a story about sacrifice, identity, and the strange hope of second chances.

Final Thoughts

Clever. Emotional. Rewatchable.

Source Code is one of the best sci-fi thrillers of the 2010s, a film that rewards close attention and keeps you guessing until the end. Don’t let anyone spoil its secrets — go in blind, and you might find yourself as surprised as Colter Stevens when he first opens his eyes on that train.