DROP

Directing: B-
Acting: B
Writing: C+
Cinematography: B+
Editing: B

I have just one major complaint about Drop, the thriller set mostly in a Chicago high-rise rooftop restaurant: the climax doesn’t even take place there! For that, we go to the protagonist’s neighborhood home. BOOOOO. Boring! That skyscraper was literally the single reason I went to see this movie, what the hell do I care about someone’s living room?

Okay, a couple of pretty cool things do happen at “Palate,” the fictional restaurant where Violet (Meghan Fahy) is terrorized by someone holding her young son hostage at home, and demanding she kill Henry (Bandon Sklenar), the man she’s on a blind date there with. To Drop’s credit, at least two thirds of the cool action that takes place in the restaurant is not even shown in the trailer. I just wish the action had stayed in the restaurant, rather than pivoting to a car speeding through the streets of Chicago, to a regular house that is surprisingly quick to drive to from the middle of the second-largest city skyline in the country.

I’ve tried very hard to figure out what the building was that was used for exterior shots of Palate Fine Dining Restaurant. Filming took place primarily in Dublin, which means the view of other Chicago skyscrapers through the restaurant windows was artificially rendered. How tall is this building supposed to be? I’m going to guess something like thirty floors. These are the things I’m interested in. Drop doesn’t care. To be fair, probably neither do most of its other viewers.

It is established early on that there must be at least two people working together here, to make demands of Violet and threaten to kill her son if she doesn’t comply. One is the masked man in her home, with an impressive number of security cameras in every single room. Another is the mystery person who is definitely in the restaurant with her, sending sinister memes via a “drop” app on her phone. Eventually Violet realizes there are tiny cameras installed all over the restaurant, particularly in the women’s room and at her table by the windows. We can only wait until Violet inevitably finds some way to outsmart her terrorizer, all while getting “drops” in a restaurant from which there is, it’s say, a thirty-floor drop–get it? Listen, director Christopher Landon: I’d get it a lot better if you kept the action in the restaurant!

Landon does have a bit of a penchant for fairly novel premises. He also co-wrote and directed the 2020 horror film Freaky, a twist on Freaky Friday in which the people who switch bodies are a serial killer and a teenage girl. That film was elevated by great performances by its leads, especially Vince Vaughn as said teenage girl. Drop doesn’t have any such thing to elevate it; the acting is fine, but each performance is interchangeable with countless others who could have been just as effectively cast in the parts.

The “twist” of who the home invader turns out to be is something we can see coming a hundred miles away—and that’s saying something, because I never watch movies looking for things coming even a mile away. Violet’s son is being babysat by her sister, Jen (Violett Beane), who eventually gets in on some of the action—one thing to enjoy about Drop is the extent to which the women in it actually do kick some ass, even the bartender (Gabrielle Ryan). A bit of an odd addition to the script is Jeffrey Self, a charismatic performer saddled with the part of a waiter working nervously on his first-ever shift, and constantly shot from wildly unflattering angles from just above table-height.

Most of Drop is effectively suspenseful, at least, and it has enough action in the final act to make it worth the wait through all the tension. I was entertained enough, but not enough to tell you to bother seeing it. I could be singing a different tune here if they had kept the action in the restaurant, so the filmmakers really have themselves to blame.

I’d say stay for the view but it’s totally fake and they don’t even stay themselves anyway.

Overall: B-

THE BALLAD OF WALLACE ISLAND

Directing: B
Acting: B
Writing: B
Cinematography: B+
Editing: B+
Music: B+

It’s been some years since I went to a movie, and loved the soundtrack so much I sought it out later, only to discover that no soundtrack album has actually been officially released. Notable recent examples have been All of Us Strangers (2023) and Babygirl (2024)—the best I could find in either case were playlists assembled by other Apple Music users. Oh sure, you can find “soundtracks” to both films, but in both cases it’s the original score, quite separate from the fantastic collection of pop songs featured in the films. I can only theorize that, in the age of digital music subscriptions, packaging and selling soundtrack albums just isn’t worth the effort it once was. I get it, and it also makes me sad.

Enter The Ballad of Wallace Island, for which I am delighted to report a soundtrack album of the songs featured actually has been released. The songs are performed by Tom Basden and Carey Mulligan, who also star in the sweet, touching drama that uses folk music to tug on our nostalgic heartstrings.

I find myself wondering how many others watching The Ballad of Wallace Island also thought of the excellent 2013 Coen Brothers film Inside Llewyn Davis, to which this new film is a spiritual sequel of sorts. Inside Llewyn Davis also costarred Cary Mulligan, and also has a truly wonderful soundtrack. It’s almost unfair to bring it up, as on every level, Inside Llewyn Davis is better: it’s a far better story; the folk music is of far higher quality; the performances are much more indelible. It’s a classic piece of cinema in the way The Ballad of Wallace Island could never hope to be.

But, even as The Ballad of Wallace Island serves in many ways as an echo of that other, better film, it also complements it well—the Coen Brothers have always brought with them a deeply (and entertainingly) cynical sensibility; this year, director James Griffiths, and in particular co-writers Tom Basden and Tim Key (who also play the two lead characters). bring with them an innocent hopefulness. The character Charles Heath (Key), who has hired legendary folk duo McGwyer Mortimer (Basden and Mulligan) to come to his very remote home island to play a gig for just him, has a charming naivetée. He talks way too much, something that would usually be annoying—to be fair, it regularly annoys Herb McGwyer—but somehow, here it’s endearing. Even as he’s annoyed, even Herb says at one point, “He’s actually kind of sweet.”

I should note now that McGwyer Mortimer broke up a decade ago, but Charles made them both offers they could not refuse, and managed to get them to reunite by not telling Herb that Nell Mortimer was also coming. Misunderstandings and frustrations predictably ensue. Nell arrives with her new husband, Michael (Akemnji Ndifornyen), an American Black man with an affinity for birding. Michael is the character with the least dimension, an unfortunate disservice to the only Black character in the film, who only ever serves as a character device, and at one point is unnecessarily hurtful to Herb. Also, it’s odd to have Michael be the one American character in the film, even though Akemnji Ndifornyen himself is actually British.

With the addition of local shopkeeper and object of Charles’s affection, Amanda (Sian Clifford), The Ballad of Wallace Island has all of five characters with speaking parts (six if you count the one very brief scene with Amanda’s teenage son). Otherwise, there’s a couple of scenes with boat drivers, taking the entirety of the cast number to nine. This would have been a great production to have mounted during covid restrictions. Sometimes a small cast of characters, when written well, can really work, though. The Ballad of Wallace Island skirts the bounds of treacly, but it worked on me. This is largely thanks to the music, which, while not amazing enough to feel plausible as the output of a “legendary” folk duo, still has a unique power to elevate the material.

Also, Tim Key is worth singling out as Charles, a truly unique character in his ability to elicit charm and empathy even when his clueless behavior is exasperating. Both he and Amanda are written as charmingly ignorant, sometimes a little stupidly so: are we really to believe that Amanda, as the shopkeeper, does not even understand what a peanut butter cup is? or that Charles has never heard of a mosh pit? (This reference makes sense in context; it’s brought up as a joke that Charles doesn’t understand.) Portraying rural island dwellers as jaw-dropping simpletons is a little odd.

I would not be inaccurate to say that most of the characters in The Ballad of Wallace Island are one-note—but, what a pretty note it is. They players play it well, and all to a lovely soundtrack. This movie did make me nostalgic for better days and better things, but it’s a pleasant experience all the same.

This movie deserved more of Cary Mulligan. Justice for Carey!

Overall: B

THE AMATEUR

Directing: B
Acting: B
Writing: B-
Cinematography: B+
Editing: B-

If I hated The Amateur, I could make some wisecrack about how apparently everyone involved was just that. That would have been fun! Instead, these filmmakers had the nerve to make something that was . . . just fine.

Which is to say: I had a relatively good time. The Amateur doesn’t particularly arouse the passions either way. It passes a couple of hours serviceably. The definitively mixed reviews are no surprise. It has some clever plotting.

There is a bit of a moral quandary here, though. As directed by James Hawes (One Life) and as performed by Rami Malek (Bohemian Rhapsody), the title character, Charlie Heller, is not so much presented as an antihero as he is presented as a hero, understandably seeking vengeance by finding and killing the terrorists who killed his wife. I use the word “understandably” very loosely here. When the leader of these criminals is finally reached, he does point out the hypocrisy in Charlie’s pursuit of vigilante justice, but it barely gets touched on and then The Amateur moves on.

But hey, whatever—I’m here to see a glass swimming pool buckle and fall sixteen stories, and The Amateur delivers. How Charlie kills, or attempts to kill, the others is never as exciting as the swimming pool sequence, which is clearly why that pool collapsing got prominent placement in the movie trailer. The first of the killers he goes after, the attempt that goes the most wrong, Charlie does find a pretty ingenious way to threaten her life. It’s totally contrived for the sake of the story, of course, but at least it’s something we haven’t seen before.

Charlie works for the CIA, helped design all of their surveillance systems, and uses these systems and his wits to come up with clever ways to best the villains. Much is made of the difference between killing someone “from a difference” versus what killing someone at close range does to you. “You’re not a killer, Charlie,” says Henderson (a welcome Laurence Fishburme), the guy the CIA taps first to train Charlie as a means of placating him, then as an attempt to capture him. The Amateur isn’t much interested in the fact that killing is killing, no matter the distance.

But hey, forget about that, we’re having fun! The Amateur wants to have its cake and eat it too—and so do I. We’re all on the same page here. The moral gray areas of this story wouldn’t be egregious if not for presenting Charlie as though he’s on some moral quest, but I have chosen not to care about that. I care that we get to see Michael Stuhlbarg as the Big Scary Russian villain, and how he seems to have Charlie cornered but Charlie outwits him in the end. Julianne Nicholson’s CIA Director Moore is wildly oversimplified and idealized, almost to the point of propaganda, but she plays her part in taking down the people holding Charlie back so we love her!

I’ve made a fairly cynical read of The Amateur, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it well enough. Whatever works! With competent performances all around and deceptively clever turns of plot, this movie gets a pass.

He gets the job done and so does this movie.

Overall: B

A NICE INDIAN BOY

Directing: A-
Acting: B+
Writing: A-
Cinematography: B+
Editing: A-

Full disclosure, it’s a bit more difficult for me to be objective in my assessment of A Nice Indian Boy than it is for most films. Setting aside the myth that true objectivity even exists, this is a film that really hits home for me: it’s about a white man who marries a South Asian man in an Indian wedding that’s made as gay as a traditional Indian wedding can be made. And, I am a white man who married a South Asian man in an Indian wedding as traditional as we could make it. Some of it was modified in ways it would have had to have been regardless of our sexuality: truly traditional Indian weddings last for days; ours lasted an afternoon. The same goes for the wedding that occurs in this movie, but which featured very specific, Hindu rituals that I performed in my own wedding to my husband.

It’s an unusual thing indeed, to see a film so steeped in South Asian culture, and yet even as a white guy, see so very much of my own experience reflected in it. A pretty significant subplot involves multiple characters’ love of the very famous 1995 Bollywood movie Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge (translated as The Brave-Hearted Will Take the Bride), commonly abbreviated as “DDLJ”—and, very specifically, its signature song, “Ek Duke Ke Vaaste” (“For Each Other”). I have seen that film only once, myself; but that song has been a staple of my Hindi music playlists for a solid two decades. It has had a particularly nostalgic place in the hearts of South Asians the world over for thirty years that I could never access, but it also has a very particular nostalgic meaning to me personally.

A Nice Indian Boy does push the bounds of plausibility a tad, but therein lies the magic of movies, I suppose. Only once did I feel a bit dubious about the meet-cute setup between Naveen (Karan Soni) and Jay (Jonathan Groff), as they actually meet in a temple, Jay showing up to pray to the elephant god Ganesha, as though he were a natural practicing Hindu. But, not long after that, we learn that Jay, now orphaned due to his parents having been older when they took him in, was adopted by Hindu parents. So then, I though: okay, I guess I buy that.

Soni and Groff are well-cast and have clear chemistry, Soni as someone still struggling to overcome shame and embarrassment; Groff as someone self-assured after the heard-learned lessons of a youth spent in foster care before finding the parents who ultimately welcomed him home. I’d love to learn more about Groff’s unique experience, but the fact of his parents’ deaths makes it easier for the story at hand to focus on Naveen and his family.

A Nice Indian Boy is arguably more sweet and romantic than it is funny, although it is also plenty funny. I just wish I had known to bring in plenty of tissues—I cried a lot more than I expected to. It is perhaps to this movie’s greatest credit that all the tears were shed in response to touching and heartwarming turns of events, as opposed to anything sad or tragic. It is told in five chapters, starting with Naveen and Jay meeting and then going on a sweetly awkward first date. In a particularly well-executed scene at a bar, Jay surprises Naveen by admitting that he’s nervous. The special thing about Jay is his comfort with simply acknowledging such things, while Naveen still has much to learn on that front.

Naveen and Jay are very well rounded, flawed and adorable characters. But what truly makes A Nice Indian Boy special is the cast that rounds out Nareen’s family: his parents, Archit and Megha (Harish Patel and Zarna Gang), have had six years to come to terms with a son who is openly gay—so much so that, in fact, they spend a lot of time watching the gay cable channel—but, until now, no experience meeting one of his boyfriends. Naveen also has an older sister, Arundhathi (Sunita Mani), struggling with the loveless marriage her parents arranged and now resentful of how much more effort to be open minded her parents are being about their son than they seemed to have been when they married off their daughter.

It would be easy to make these characters one-note punch lines, but in all three cases, they bring a level of humanity not usually given to such supporting characters, particularly in romantic comedies—even good ones. These characters feel like real people, ones that you might meet in reality. Archit and Megha’s unusual acceptance of their gay son does not change that. These are simply loving parents who are making an effort, often stumbling adorably along the way. Archit in particular has a lovely arc in the story, never overtly judgmental of his son but with some clear discomfort, which feeds into Naveen’s discomfort with himself.

There is an on-again, off-again, on-again arc between Naveen and Jay that feels tied a little too neatly, but it’s the ensemble cast, including loving and colorful friends on both their parts, that really sells their story. There is real and believable development among all of the principal characters, concisely written by Eric Randall as adapted by the play of the same name by Madhuri Shekar. A Nice Indian Boy runs a brisk 96 minutes, which gives it a key thing in common with Steven Soderbergh’s Black Bag (an otherwise very different movie—except that it’s also very romantic): it packs a lot into a lean runtime, without every feeling rushed.

I couldn’t tell you yet whether I will wind up seeing A Nice Indian Boy many more times, or if it will become a long-lasting favorite. It might. All I can tell you for certain is that I was deeply moved by it, on a very personal level, and I would recommend it to absolutely anyone. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, and you’ll love it either way.

I don’t know if you’ll fall in love with this movie but I would encourage you to find out, because I sure did.

Overall: A-