Movie Reviews

‘Unstoppable’ Review: Jharrel Jerome and Jennifer Lopez Bring Grit and Determination to Conventional but Crowd-Pleasing Sports Bio

Published

2 years ago

September 7, 2024

‘Unstoppable’ Review: Jharrel Jerome and Jennifer Lopez Bring Grit and Determination to Conventional but Crowd-Pleasing Sports Bio

Inspirational sports dramas usually share key elements — struggle, setbacks, perseverance and hard-fought triumph. Even more effective if the movie centers on a disadvantaged protagonist, either economically or physically, to inject that underdog spirit. Debuting director William Goldenberg has all of that in Unstoppable, the incredible true story of wrestler Anthony Robles, who was born with only one leg but never let that stop him from going after his dream. The special sauce here, however, is the bond of love and support through tough times between Anthony and his mother Judy, stirringly portrayed by Jharrel Jerome and Jennifer Lopez.

Goldenberg is an Oscar-winning editor whose collaborations with lead producer Ben Affleck stretch from Gone Baby Gone through last year’s Air. The latter is an entertaining account of a pivotal moment in the evolution of Nike and there’s a pleasing continuum in the fact that Robles was the first sportsperson signed as a Nike Athlete after he had retired from competitive participation in his field. This moving portrait of him will open in select U.S. and U.K. theaters in December, streaming on Prime Video soon after.

Unstoppable

The Bottom Line

Exerts a hold.

Venue: Toronto International Film Festival (Gala Presentations)
Cast: Jharrel Jerome, Bobby Cannavale, Michael Peña, Anthony Robles, Mykelti Williamson, Don Cheadle, Jennifer Lopez, Shawn Hatosy, Johnni DiJulius
Director: William Goldenberg
Screenwriters: Eric Champnella, Alex Harris, John Hindman

Rated PG-13,
1 hour 56 minutes

Unstoppable makes winking acknowledgement that it’s not trying to reinvent the formula. A strategically placed Rocky poster on the wall of the garage at home where Anthony works out is one tipoff; another is having him run on crutches up the Philadelphia Museum of Art steps, placing his foot in the print of Rocky Balboa’s trainers, embedded in concrete at the top. It’s a potentially cheeseball moment that instead has an endearing effect, which is characteristic of a movie in which every tearjerking moment fully earns its emotions.

Adapting Robles’ 2012 book, screenwriters Eric Champnella, Alex Harris and John Hindman trace the wrestler’s trajectory from his senior year at Mesa High School in Arizona, when he became a national champion, through his quest, in his final year of eligibility, to win the National Collegiate Athletics Association championship, competing for Arizona State University.

It’s clear from the start that Anthony’s disability doesn’t earn him pity points and clearer still in the proud tenacity of Jerome’s performance that what he wants is exactly the opposite. He’s a young man with a firm goal in his head to become a champion as a way to make people see his achievements first, and not his missing right leg. He has staunch backup every step of the way from Lopez’s Judy, who never gives up on her son, even when she has her own volatile domestic life to manage.

Despite his impressive record in high school wrestling and all the major college scouts having witnessed him in winning form, Anthony gets turned down by his top choices, led by the University of Iowa, whose fabled Hawkeyes are considered titans in the sport. Both Judy and Anthony’s high school coach Bobby Williams (Michael Peña) urge him to accept the full four-year scholarship being offered by Philly’s Drexel University, in fact the only school that wants him. But strong-willed Anthony is hesitant given Drexel’s complete lack of any NCAA wrestling profile.

Out of respect for Williams, Coach Sean Charles (Don Cheadle) at Arizona State agrees to see Anthony. But he’s frank with the kid about ASU already having a full roster of recruits lined up to vie for the wrestling program’s 33 spots and says it’s highly unlikely Anthony would make the team as a walk on (a non-scholarship player). But Anthony is not easily deterred.

At home, Anthony’s father has long been out of the picture. He’s something of a hero to his four younger half-siblings, born after Judy got together with prison guard Rick (Bobby Cannavale). Anthony adores the kids but has a more contentious relationship with his stepfather, a blowhard whose authoritarian streak comes out when he’s banging on about the necessity of making choices in life. All Rick’s blustery “real man” talk is exposed as a sham when it’s revealed that he’s let down the family in a way that could cost them their home. And his treatment of Judy increasingly sets off alarm bells with Anthony.

Goldenberg and the writers deftly balance out the domestic drama with Anthony’s progress at ASU, where he works harder than anyone else in tryouts and shows formidable determination in an arduous three-mile mountain hike, his crutches slipping more than once on the uneven, rocky path. His endurance impresses Coach Charles, but it’s his strength of will on the mats that ultimately wins him a spot.

Robles, who’s now in his 30s, serves as a stunt double for the wrestling scenes in wide and medium shots, with Jerome spliced into the latter and taking over entirely in tight shots. The sports action is visceral and looks painfully real, the violent force of slams and flips likely causing many in the audience to flinch. (OK, I did.)

There are the requisite threats of the dream being snatched away from Anthony, notably when ASU cuts the wrestling program for a year and it’s reinstated thanks to alumni donations but with a reduced team. It’s at that point that the rousing support of Anthony’s teammates becomes evident and as he starts notching up wins, he becomes a favorite with the crowds.

The movie could be accused of aggressively going for the tear ducts when Coach Williams delivers a box stuffed with fan mail from kids inspired by Anthony’s example, encouraging Judy to read them and giving her credit for raising an exceptional young man. Some of Coach Charles’ dialogue toward the end of the film, acknowledging his failure to see Anthony’s capabilities, also spells out in emphatic terms a realization already apparent in the warmth and profound decency of Cheadle’s performance.

But any sense of emotional manipulation in the script is more than justified by the extraordinary human drama of Robles’ story. Alexandre Desplat’s lovely score — which ranges from Ry Cooder-esque guitars to soulful strings and surging piano passages — brings welcome restraint for this type of movie, perhaps knowing that Anthony’s authenticity can stand on its own, without the need for strenuous musical uplift.

The contrast between Rick’s overbearing presence and the stalwart support of both coaches is poignant, and both Peña and Cheadle nail the ways in which their characters’ profession requires them to be as much motivational psychologists as sports strategists.

The dominant relationship though is the mutually protective one between Anthony and his mother. After a couple of disposable Netflix movies in which she was basically playing JLo in the frozen wilderness and JLo in space, Lopez sinks into the character here with a layered performance as Judy, full of pain, pride, bitter disappointment in herself and then unexpected resilience and resourcefulness as she tackles the bank controlling their mortgage.

Some might argue that Judy initially looks a bit glam for a mother of five who clips coupons in a household that’s barely getting by. But Lopez gives a tender and entirely convincing performance as a mother whose unshakeable belief in her son is a crucial part of his foundations.

In his first lead role in a feature, Jerome — who memorably showed the conflicting sides of teenage Kevin, the love of Chiron’s life in Moonlight, and won an Emmy for Ava DuVernay’s When They See Us — is excellent. He gives the movie a fierce beating heart as a young man who remains vulnerable yet refuses to be defined by what others perceive as his weakness.

Given the rules of this biographical subgenre and the fact that the title itself is pretty much a spoiler, there’s no doubt about where the story is headed. But as Anthony obsessively watches videos of the undefeated wrestler destined to be his championship opponent — and winces at the macho arrogance of his coach (Shawn Hatosy), who says, “At Iowa, we believe second is the same as last” — it’s impossible not to root for this guy imbued with such extraordinary fighting spirit or to be moved by his unyielding fortitude.

Goldenberg fumbles a brief coda designed to show how Anthony’s achievements have been celebrated and continue to inspire, which seems both pedestrian and unnecessary. But that minor misstep takes nothing away from the rewards of Unstoppable.

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Movie Reviews

Movie Review: ‘Scream 7’ – Catholic Review

Published

11 hours ago

March 9, 2026

Press Room

Movie Review: ‘Scream 7’ – Catholic Review

NEW YORK (OSV News) – As its title suggests, “Scream 7” (Paramount) is the latest extension of a long-lived horror franchise, one that’s currently approaching its 30th anniversary on screen. Since each chapter of this slasher saga has been a bloodsoaked mess, the series’ longevity will strike moviegoers of sense as inexplicable.

Yet the slog continues. While the previous film in the sequence shifted the action from California to New York, this second installment, following a 2022 quasi-reboot, settles on a Midwestern locale and reintroduces us to the series’ original protagonist, Sidney Evans, nee Prescott (Neve Campbell).

Having aged out of the adolescent demographic on whom the various murderers who have donned the Ghostface mask that serves as these films’ dubious trademark over the years seem to prefer to prey, Sidney comes equipped with a teen daughter, Tatum (Isabel May). Will Tatum prove as resourceful in evading the unwanted attentions of Ghostface as Mom has?

On the way to answering that question, a clutch of colorless minor characters fall victim to the killer, who sometimes gets — according to his or her lights — creative. Thus one is quite literally made to spill her guts, while another ends up skewered on a barroom’s pointy beer tap.

Through it all, director Kevin Williamson and his co-writer Guy Busick try to peddle a theme of female empowerment in the face of mortal danger. They also take a stab, as it were, at constructing a plotline about intergenerational family tensions. When not jarring viewers with grisly images, however, they’re only likely to lull them into a stupor.

The film contains excessive gory violence, including disembowelment and impaling, underage drinking, mature topics, a couple of profanities, several milder oaths, pervasive rough and considerable crude language and occasional crass expressions. The OSV News classification is O — morally offensive. The Motion Picture Association rating is R — restricted. Under 17 requires accompanying parent or adult guardian.

Movie Review: “THE BRIDE!” – Assignment X

Published

23 hours ago

March 9, 2026

Press Room

Movie Review: “THE BRIDE!” – Assignment X

By ABBIE BERNSTEIN / Staff Writer

Posted: March 8th, 2026 / 08:00 PM

Rating: R
Stars: Jessie Buckley, Christian Bale, Annette Bening, Jake Gyllenhaal, Peter Sarsgaard, Penelope Cruz, Jeannie Berlin, Zlatko Burić
Writer: Maggie Gyllenhaal, based on characters created by Mary Shelley and William Hurlbut and John Balderston
Director: Maggie Gyllenhaal
Distributor: Warner Bros.
Release Date: March 6, 2026

“THE BRIDE!” (as with the recent “WUTHERING HEIGHTS,” the quotation marks are part of the title) is awash in homages, and not just the ones we might reasonably expect in a movie that takes its most obvious inspiration from 1935’s BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN.

There’s that, of course, plus its source, Mary Shelley’s 1818 novel FRANKENSTEIN; OR THE MODERN PROMETHEUS, and its sober 1931 film adaptation FRANKENSTEIN. But there are also big nods to wilder takes on the legend, including YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN and THE ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW and even movies that have nothing to do with FRANKENSTEIN, like BONNIE AND CLYDE.

Writer/director Maggie Gyllenhaal casts a wide net in metaphors and ideas and looks. Sometimes “THE BRIDE!” is a comedy, sometimes it’s a crime drama, sometimes it’s a love story, occasionally, it’s even a musical.

Mary Shelley (Jessie Buckley) narrates the tale to us from beyond the grave. She is haughty and naughty, intoxicated by verbiage and her own literary genius. She is going to tell us a story, she says, that she didn’t even dare imagine while alive.

We’re in 1930s Chicago, where a young escort (also Buckley) is having a really awful evening out at a fancy restaurant with some of her peers and a bunch of crass gangsters. Shelley dubs the woman “Ida” and takes possession of her, causing her to speak and act in ways that get her escorted outside. There she stumbles and takes a fatal fall.

The two goons who were with Ida are happy to describe her tumble as the result of their intentional actions to their horrible gangster boss (Zlatko Burić). Ida was suspected of talking to the cops.

Around the same time, Frankenstein’s creation (Christian Bale) – let’s just call him “Frank,” like everybody else does – comes to Chicago to seek out the groundbreaking scientist Dr. Euphronious (Annette Bening), whose published works he has read.

Frank wants the doctor to create a companion for him. His appearance is unusual, but the most alarming injuries are covered by clothing, so he’s not as extreme-looking as, say, Boris Karloff in the role. This isn’t about sex, Frank explains when Euphronious asks why he doesn’t just hire a prostitute. After over a century of loneliness, he seeks a soulmate, and he is sure this can only be achieved by reviving a corpse.

So, Euphronious and Frank dig up the grave that turns out to belong to Ida (we never do learn how they know it belongs to a soulmate candidate as opposed to a shot-and-dumped male gangster). Euphronius revives her. Ida remembers how to walk and talk, but not who she is or what happened, so Frank and the doc tell her she’s been in an accident.

Even without Ida’s beauty, Frank is already devoted to the very notion of her. A more accommodating suitor would be hard to find. Frank has another passion, the musical films of Ronnie Reed (Jake Gyllenhaal, the filmmaker’s brother), a Fred Astaire-like star. Frank imagines himself in the midst of those dance routines, and we get some more within “THE BRIDE!”’s “real” action.

One thing leads to another, Frank and Ida go on the run, leaving a trail of bodies in their wake. They are pursued all over the country. Among those seeking them are sad-eyed police detective Jake Wiles (Peter Sarsgaard) and his secretary Myrna Mallow (Penélope Cruz), who’s better at this whole crime-solving business than he is.

It’s all very kaleidoscopic and energetic, occasionally impressive and sometimes very funny. Bening as the frazzled, worldly Euphronious has some great moments. Buckley, currently and justifiably Oscar-nominated leading performance in HAMNET, juggles the very unalike personas of Mary and Ida with impact.

Oddly, Bale underplays Frank. We get that he is trying his hardest not to spook Ida (or anyone else), but it seems like he should have a bit more spark. Cruz, going for a snappy ‘30s working woman, has her own style that works.

But in addition to being entertaining and eye-catching, Gyllenhaal has a message that gets very muddled. This is less because it’s so familiar by now that it feels a little redundant, and more because a crucial part of the set-up collides head-on with the feminist slant.

Ida seeks to be her own person, but she is literally bodily controlled by Mary Shelley, who puts her creation in danger with her outbursts. This may help get Ida out of the clutches of the mob, but it is possession, the aftereffects of which the character understandably finds confusing and upsetting.

If Gyllenhaal wanted to discuss or dramatize the clash between what Mary, as a woman, is doing to this other woman, that would make sense, but it seems we’re just meant to somehow overlook this while being immersed in how men control women. The resulting cognitive dissonance adds another layer to a movie that already has more than it can comfortably service.

Additionally, when Mary has one of her outbursts while inhabiting Ida, the plot comes to a screeching halt until she’s finished. Many viewers will wish Mary would stop declaiming and just let Ida be herself.

“THE BRIDE!” succeeds in being trippy and some of it is memorable. By the end, though, it is more disjointed than even a movie about experiments and a character made up of multiple people’s body parts ought to be.

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Movie Reviews

‘Heel’ Review: Why Did Stephen Graham and Andrea Riseborough Sign on for This Contrived Debacle?

Published

1 day ago

March 8, 2026

Press Room

‘Heel’ Review: Why Did Stephen Graham and Andrea Riseborough Sign on for This Contrived Debacle?

The original title of “Heel” was “Good Boy.” The new title is probably more accurate, though an even more accurate title might be “Painfully Annoying Punk Idiot.” I jest (a bit), since the title of “Heel” is actually a verb. The film wants to tell the story of a budding hooligan who needs to be brought to heel. That said, does anyone seriously want to see a movie about a 19-year-old British sociopath who gets chained up in a basement so that the weird upper-middle-class couple who’ve kidnapped him can modify his behavior? “Heel” is like “A Clockwork Orange” remade as the year’s worst Sundance movie.

The opening sequence is actually promising. It depicts, in rapidly edited documentary-like montage, a reckless night out on the town by Tommy (Anson Boon) and his friends. They’re hopped-up club kids, and Tommy is their snarling, curly-haired, sexually coercive wastrel ringleader, living in the moment, pouring drinks down his throat, snorting coke and popping pills, dancing and carousing and puking and rutting in the bathroom, pushing himself to a higher and higher high, until he winds up collapsed on the sidewalk — a ritual, we gather, that has happened many times before. Only this time his crumpled body is gathered up by a mysterious stranger.

When Tommy wakes up, he’s in the basement of a stately stone house somewhere in the British countryside. He’s got a metal collar around his neck, and it’s chained to the ceiling. The film has barely gotten started, and already it’s cut to the second half of “A Clockwork Orange”: Can this monster delinquent be rehabilitated? Theoretically, that’s an interesting question, except that the way this happens is so garishly contrived that we can only go with the movie by putting any plea for reality on permanent hold.

Who are the people who have kidnapped Tommy? Chris (Stephen Graham) is a mild chap in a toupee who goes about his mission with a puckish vengeance disguised as gentility. His wife, Kathryn (Andrea Riseborough), is so neurasthenic she’s like a ghost. (She has suffered some trauma that isn’t colored in.) The two have a cherubic preteen son they call Sunshine (Kit Rakusen). And why, exactly, are they doing what they’re doing? We have no idea. Trying to make a bad person into a good person is not, in itself, a terrible notion, but the conceit of “Heel” — that Tommy is locked in a dungeon, being treated like a dog, because that’s what it will take to change him — is like a toxic right-wing fantasy that the film somehow reconfigures into an implausible liberal “family” allegory.

Ah, plausibility! How unhip to gripe about the absence of it. Yet watching “Heel,” I found it impossible to suspend my disbelief for two seconds. The entire movie, directed by the Polish filmmaker Jan Komasa (“Corpus Christie”) from a script by Bartek Bartosik and Naqqash Khalid, is just a grimy monotonous conceit. It’s been thought out thematically but not in terms of recognizable human behavior. It’s like a film-student short stretched out to an agonizing 110 minutes.

Anson Boon, a charismatic actor who did an okay job of playing Johnny Rotten in Danny Boyle’s TV miniseries “Pistol” (though he never conjured Rotten’s homicidal gleam), infuses Tommy with a loutish energy that in the early scenes, at least, makes him a convincing candidate for either prison or the contemporary equivalent of shock therapy. And yet the character is exhaustingly obnoxious. As a filmmaker, Komasa doesn’t dramatize — he uses one-note traits to clobber the audience. Stephen Graham’s Chris is as quiet and circumspect as Tommy is abrasive. He tries to train Tommy by showing him motivational tapes, and by subjecting him to Tommy’s own depraved TikToks. He then rigs up an elaborate system of gutters on the ceiling so that Tommy, in his metal leash, can wander around the house, a sign that he’s been housebroken.

Tommy has to grow and change, since there wouldn’t be a movie otherwise. In the process, he gets less annoying but also less interesting, because “Heel” sentimentalizes his transformation. Komasa seems to have missed the key irony of “A Clockwork Orange”: that the behavior modification of Alex is as brutalizing as his original state of punk anarchy. In “Heel,” Tommy’s evolution is singularly unconvincing — by the end, he’s practically ready to be the suitor in a Jane Austen drama. But that’s all of a piece with a movie so false it puts the audience in the doghouse.