Within the family at the center of Blue Heron, the black sheep is a blond. Fair-skinned teenager Jeremy (Edik Beddoes) is an outlier among his siblings, two jostling preteen boys and watchful, 8-year-old Sasha (Eylul Guven), who are all darkly featured and take after their Hungarian parents (Iringó Réti and Ádám Tompa). Jeremy’s hair color doesn’t really matter, of course, but the contrast makes a useful shorthand for Jeremy’s otherness. 

If “other” sounds inexact, that’s the point. To the frustration of his devoted but exhausted parents, there’s been no straightforward diagnosis for what ails Jeremy – for the mood swings, the “acting out.” A move at the beginning of the film to a new home is hopeful but short-lived: The mystery of Jeremy, to himself and to others, persists.   

Much of Blue Heron is set over the course of one summer on Vancouver Island in the late Nineties, mirroring filmmaker Sophy Romvari’s own backstory, though the film shouldn’t be confused for straight autobiography. (Her 2020 short film, “Still Processing,” explored her family’s struggles with mental health through first-person documentary.) Still, the remarkable texture of these family scenes and how they favor Sasha’s childlike perspective – her small hands as they handle a potato peeler for the first time, the easy smiles as her mother dabs sunscreen on her face – feels intensely personal. There’s a hushed, dreamy quality to these scenes, mimicking memory itself, that plays into Blue Heron’s remarkable ability to hold two seemingly contradictory things to be true. Sasha can resent her brother and love him. Jeremy can be terrifying and in pain. A film can be whisper-quiet and still trip the wires in your brain that scream “danger.”

With very little dialogue and no cookie-cutter story beats, this fraught family life is vividly, tenderly rendered by Romvari and her naturalistic cast. That makes it all the more disorienting when, at arguably the moment of highest drama, Romvari shifts to a different vantage point. Boldly, she is asking the audience to look anew at what we’ve seen: to acknowledge what we saw was not the whole picture (how could it be, from an 8-year-old’s eye line?). The effect for me – and I suspect for you too, if you’re the kind of person who likes to take a movie apart and understand how it ticks – is exhilarating. 

But not entirely effective – and in this reservation I gather I’m the outlier; Blue Heron has been rapturously received at festivals and by critics. This second half (of which I’m loath to spoil the specifics) becomes at once more experimental and more documentary-like, and revolves around a muted performance stranded in the in-between of drama and docudrama. Nothing ruinous, but a hangnail nonetheless on a film that otherwise had me in its thrall.

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This article appears in May 8 • 2026.

Mortal Kombat II, 2026.

Directed by Simon McQuoid.
Starring Karl Urban, Adeline Rudolph, Jessica McNamee, Josh Lawson, Ludi Lin, Mehcad Brooks, Tati Gabrielle, Lewis Tan, Damon Herriman, Chin Han, Tadanobu Asano, Joe Taslim, Hiroyuki Sanada, Max Huang, Martyn Ford, Ana Thu Nguyen, Desmond Chiam, CJ. Bloomfield, Vanesa Everett, Sharon Brooks, Steven Cragg, Sophia Xu, and Ed Boon.

SYNOPSIS:

The fan favorite champions — now joined by Johnny Cage himself — are pitted against one another in the ultimate battle to defeat the dark rule of Shao Kahn that threatens the very existence of the Earthrealm and its defenders.

Drunk in a bar while running away from his destiny of future Earthrealm Champion in returning director Simon McQuoid’s Mortal Kombat II, a fan of the washed-up, never-kut-it-as-a-star leading man of korny action movies Johnny Cage (Karl Urban, a bizarre kasting choice, forcing him to push some of the kharacter’s goofiness into the actor’s more hard-edged style – even if one has never played the video games it is easy that something is off tonally about this performance for much of the running time) is ecstatic to meet him, only to be met with a self-deprecating teardown of his work while asserting that what audiences want today is grounded and gritty, citing John Wick as an example.

That’s true to an extent, but it doesn’t mean Mortal Kombat is fit for that path. And yet, that is half of the tone screenwriter Jeremy Slater has cooked up here for the sequel (thankfully including a tournament this time, even if these are some of the strangest rules for such a thing, without any bracketing or a number of kontestants that would kontinuously evenly split in half – think 16 to 8 to 4 and so on until a winner is determined), an overly self-serious wannabe Marvel-style attempt at an epic (take a shot whenever the heroes walk toward the screen in slow motion like a team has just been assembled) that kan’t help itself from striving for emotionality through a swelling, dramatic take on the music (komposed by Benjamin Wallfisch) and the occasional piece of exposition explaining away or showing a traumatic backstory that ie subsequently diskarded for a lengthy amount of time, never materializing into anything worth investing in.

The bulk of this misguidedness komes from the introduction of Kitana (Adeline Rudolph, a standout, making the most of looking stylish and badass while wielding dual fan-blades when it’s her time to enter the spotlight) as a young girl (Sophia Xu) with her realm tormented by Outworld’s merciless skull-masked ruler Shao Kahn (Martyn Ford), assuming kontrol over the land through kombat and taking her as a daughter. It is an early setup for a payoff that does eventually kome and deliver (easily one of the better fights that don’t involve Hiroyuki Sanada’s Scorpion and Joe Taslim’s Sub-Zero that the recent movies have produced), but mostly pushes her to the side throughout the rest of the film, minimizing the impact of whatever kharacterization is intended. I can tell you that this specific final fight rules, but it would be deceitful to say that her revenge is emotionally satisfying.

That’s the glaring issue with Mortal Kombat II in a nutshell: it’s awkward and cheesy when trying to take itself seriously and embody a tone that the material doesn’t warrant, but mostly works when it’s in a more subversive, irreverently funny vibe (as in, not to spoil it, everything happening here with CJ. Bloomfield’s Baraka). Josh Lawson’s Kano is also back and excels here as a kharacter functioning as the exact kounterpoint to the aforementioned Johnny Cage statement regarding realism; he’s here to rip a new one into the demeanor and appearances of the other fighters and kharacters, good and bad, with Necromancer Quan Chi (Damon Herriman) getting the brunt of the insults and more than enough to make one wonder if the filmmakers and possibly even video game franchise creator Ed Boon (who has a cameo) hate him.

Earthrealm leader and God of Thunder, Lord Raiden (Tadanobu Asano), is once again here keeping morale high to save the human race. Rounding out the other kontestants are some of the usual beloved faces, ranging from Ludi Lin’s fireball-throwing Dragon Warrior Liu Kang, Jessica McNamee’s no-nonsense soldier Sonya Blade alongside her half-cyborg teammate Jax (Mehcad Brooks), soul-sucker Shang Tsung (Chin Han), screeching Queen Sindel (Ana Thu Nguyen), an evil possessed take on hat-blade boomerang-tossing Kung Lao (Max Huang), a loyal konfidante partner-in-training and non-biological sister of Kitana in Jade (Tati Gabrielle), with other familiar faces popping up here and there. And while it would be a stretch to say that anyone is going to become a star from these movies, it’s fair to say that they play and look the parts well enough, whether it be some fan service posing or one-liners or, most importantly, busting out trademark moves and kombos.

As for the fights themselves, they take place across several locations (some of them feature klassic arenas such as the infamous acid pool room) that have mostly been green-screened to the Netherworld and back, kreating a frustrating contrast to the otherwise impressive fight khoreography and wirework. Of course, some of the editing is still choppy, while many of the attacks themselves often fail to land with the necessary brutal impact a film like this should instill. There is something video-gamey about them in motion that doesn’t always translate well or feel anywhere near as visceral as some of the fatalities from the games or X-ray special attacks. The fact that most of the gore here is CGI blood doesn’t help.

Still, whenever Mortal Kombat II falls into a jokey rhythm that knows all of this is ridiculous (including all the deus ex machina artifacts kharacters are looking for here), pokes fun at itself (Lord Raiden is finally mocked as looking like something out of Big Trouble in Little China), and remembers that there should be almost no downtime between kombat, it’s enjoyable enough, sometimes feeling like a representation of what these adaptations should be, although disappointingly coming nowhere close to the guilty pleasure absurdities of Paul W.S. Anderson’s first krack at this. Mortal Kombat II simply can’t shake its boneheaded desperation to be taken seriously as epic, never fully kommitting to dumb fun; the kourse-korrection is almost there.

Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★

Robert Kojder

Arts

You, Me & Tuscany
Director: Kat Coiro
Will Packer Productions, Universal Studios
In Theaters: 04.10.2026

A long-held notion within the current film social media-scape is that the romantic comedy is essentially dead. While I can point to many contemporary films that prove that notion wrong, it would be dishonest for me to say that these complaints are unfounded. I would point to last year’s Materialists as the perfect example of the themes relevant in today’s romantic comedies. It feels introspective, while also interrogating the importance of love within the current economic and social landscape. It is a movie that asks the audience to interrogate their expectations and boundaries around love, which is also why it inspired so much division and discourse upon its release, because it asked the question, “What does it mean to fall in love in this day and age?” The truth is that the romantic comedies that so many people yearn for make love look easy; they harken back to the early 2000s, where falling in love was the easy part, everyone was wearing magazine-worthy outfits and all of it was about simply fixing any external obstacles that stood in the way of that love just to get to the happy ending. The good news is, You, Me & Tuscany fully delivers on those requests.

Anna Montgomery (Halle Bailey, The Little Mermaid, The Color Purple) is an aspiring chef working gigs as a housesitter. Due to the untimely loss of her mother, she lives vicariously through her clients’ luxurious lives. After getting fired by one of her clients, Anna heads to the hotel her friend Claire (Aziza Scott, One of Them Days) works at and meets Matteo Costa (Lorenzo de Moor, Another Simple Favor), a handsome Italian actively avoiding his family’s expectations. After talking about each other’s hopes and dreams, Anna feels inspired to finally travel to Tuscany and reignite her culinary passion. However, due to her on-the-whim decision, Anna has nowhere to stay once she arrives, so she breaks into Matteo’s vacant villa as a last-ditch solution. Her problems only compound after Matteo’s family mistakes Anna for his fiancée, and she develops feelings for Matteo’s cousin/adoptive brother, Michael (Regé-Jean Page, Bridgerton, Dungeons & Dragons), all while trying to keep up her charade.

You, Me & Tuscany is a love letter to the romantic comedies of the late 90s and early 2000s. For better or worse, it follows the tropes and formulas of those films to a tee: take a plucky young heroine, a wacky situation and a model-level love interest with whom she doesn’t get along at first, add a dusting of comedic hijinks for good measure and you have yourself a perfectly breezy watch. All the things you could want from a romantic comedy of that caliber are here. It gives people the fantasy of finding love in an unexpected yet beautiful place, where everything else just melts away. 

My main criticism of the movie may not even come from the film itself, but rather my own clouded vision living in these times. While I don’t need there to be explicit mentions of the trials and tribulations of current events, it is obvious that these characters live in a world divorced from reality. I mean, once Anna gets to Tuscany, everyone there speaks perfect English. This is indicative of the film’s main flaw: it’s all too easy. Yes, Anna’s character has dealt with tragedy, and while there are scenes that explore that, it all feels more like set dressing rather than something to overcome. For some, that may work, especially in a world where Black women are expected to perform at a higher level than their white counterparts just to earn the same rewards; this sort of breezy storytelling is a welcome change of pace. This might also be the time to mention that writer-director Nina Lee revealed that the future of her project and any other Black-led project is contingent on the success of this film, even though many other Black filmmakers have nothing to do with this film. It’s a searing reminder that for Black-led films, being great still isn’t good enough. 

Despite that, the film has many positives. Bailey and Page are both equally charming, and their chemistry is palpable from their first interaction. They play off each other well, as well as with the rest of the cast, who offer up plenty of jokes. The lighting is also a highlight as the scenes are drenched in rich and warm colors that make the film feel inviting. Bailey plays a bubbly and clever character well, and it is easy to root for her, even during her more questionable decisions. All in all, You, Me & Tuscany offers something familiar yet comforting. It wraps you up in a warm hug and encourages you to chase your dreams and find fulfillment in the places you least expect. For as by the numbers as it is, there is a beauty in its simplicity. —Angela Garcia

Read more film reviews by Angela Garcia:
Film Review: Forbidden Fruits
Last Call for Secondhand Screenings!