RED ONE (2024) directed by Jake Kasdan, stars Dwayne Johnson and Chris Evans, is an urban fantasy Christmas action-thriller, fitting neatly into no known genre, which will perhaps be enjoyable to anyone willing to grant the somewhat silly premise, and perhaps not to anyone unwilling.

This film enjoys a remarkably high audience score but a remarkably low score from the establishment film critics. This is usually a sign that the film is normal and enjoyable, not perverse nor woke.

But the film did not seem normal to me, by which I mean, I can think of no other urban fantasy Christmas action-thriller. As such, this film runs the risk of falling between the stools. Action film fans might well pan it for its fantastical elements, whereas fans of Christmas family films might well pan it for its untraditional, even disrespectful, handling of common elements of the Santa Claus fairy tale.

As for Christians, we have long ago ceased to expect any mention of Christ or Christmas in a Christmas movie, aside from Linus quoting scripture in a Charlie Brown telly special from two generations ago.

Regardless, this filmgoer found the film perfectly enjoyable: nor were any elements visible which might provoke the establishment film critics. I cannot explain the high audience score nor the low critic score.

In the film, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson plays Callum Drift, a hardboiled six-foot-five elf serving a remarkably trim and athletic Santa as his chief of North Pole security.

Drift wishes to retire, as the Naughty List grows ever longer, and his faith in mankind fails. However, even as he is preparing his resignation letter, he sees Santa’s workshop assaulted by a black ops team of kidnappers. Draft gives chase, but the evildoers elude him.

Santa’s workshop is hidden beneath a holographic forcefield, but the secret international body charged with keeping the peace between the various mythical entities, the M.O.R.A (Mythological Oversight and Restoration Authority) soon discovers a hacker who broke into their security and betrayed them: gambling lowlife and deadbeat dad Jack O’Malley, played with evident zest by Chris Evans.

We are treated to a scene of O’Malley picking up his juvenile-delinquent son after school, where the boy got detention for monkeying with the school computer records: the father thereupon gives him a stern talking-to, that is, by cautioning him to cover his tracks better, and trust no confederates.

This is after we see O’Malley stealing candy from a baby, just so the audience harbors no doubt that this is not Captain America.

In short order O’Malley is mugged by MORA agents and brought in for questioning: not knowing who hired him, O’Malley nonetheless planted spyware on his paymaster, hence knows his location, but nothing else. The O’Malley and Drift are forced to team up against the better judgment of both: shenanigans ensue.

The pair must battle evil snowmen, sneak into a monster-infested castle, and confront an eerie player-piano playing the Nutcracker suite perched in the middle of an empty, fog-bound highway in Germany.

In one particularly well-done scene, O’Malley and his juvenile-delinquent son are miniaturized and trapped in snow-globes meant to imprison the unrepentant. When he sees his son terrified, O’Malley’s fatherly instincts come to the fore: he confesses his mistakes, he asks forgiveness, and he vows to amend his ways. Any mainstream critic not familiar with threefold steps of traditional Christian confession might not grasp the significance.

ikewise, anyone unfamiliar with the less well known nooks and crannies of Old World Christmas lore might not recognize the figures chosen to be the heavies here: Gryla is an Icelandic ogress who eats naughty children at Christmas time, while Krampus, from Romania, is goat-horned fork-tongued helper to Saint Nicholas, who punishes naughty children by birching them with a rod, or stuffing them in to a bag for abduction or drowning.

No version of these tales ever took root in America Christmas tradition — being rather alien to the American spirit — albeit within the last ten years, as our spirit is being lost, among the anti-Christmas crowd and low-grade horror directors Krampus has gained popularity. The version of Krampus is this film is rather charming in his own dark way, which may have the unfortunate side-effect the augmenting the popularity of the anti-Christmas or low-grade horror film versions.

All three characters, Drift, O’Malley, and even Krampus have uncomplex but satisfying character arcs: Drift regains his faith in humanity after O’Malley turns over a new leaf. This character growth, as stated, is uncomplex, as befits an action movie, but satisfying, as befits a Christmas movie.

And the rule of fairy-tale was strictly followed, which is, namely, that when you are told to touch nothing, and you touch something, disaster ensues.

The tale is set in our modern world, but with certain enclaves of the mythological world scattered here and there, hidden behind mist and illusion. This conceit of a hidden world within our own is familiar and beloved trope of the genre.

The special effects deceived my eye: to me they looks smooth and seamless. And the props and settings and art direction in general seemed a blend of gothic and cyberpunk Victoriana, as befits a high-tech version of Christmasland.

The fantastical elements of the movie are well handled, by which I mean the abilities, and also the limitations, of every magical power or magical tool is briefly but succinctly made clear: the audience should be no more bewildered than Jack O’Malley. Anything not explained in dialog was clear enough in how it was used. Of note was the “reality adjustment” wristband used by Drift, which allowed him to turn rock’em-sock’em robots or matchbox cars real.

There was also a clever bit of by-play which allowed the befuddled characters to recognize each other despite being bedeviled by shapechangers.

The theme of the piece is appropriately straightforward: no rogue is beyond redemption, nor any cynic either. This is as befits as thoroughly secular version of an urban fantasy Christmas action thriller comedy, I suppose.

As part of the conceit of the film, just as jolly fat Santa is here fit and hardboiled military type (the marine version of Saint Nick, as it were) so too is his miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer here replaced by a high-tech flying behemoth pulled by monstrous deer-titans.

I have no complaint about this film in part because I was expecting it to be terrible, when, in fact, it was enjoyable good clean fun. Nothing lewd, crude or shocking was involved.

Still, it was a good, clean, fun movie, starring charming actors and actresses, with thrilling action scenes, funny comedic bits, great deadpan acting from Dwayne Johnson — who, let it be known — just plays Dwayne Johnson being himself, and wry snark from Chris Evans.

Christmas Specials involve the birth of Christ, and Xmas Specials involve Santa Claus. Here, Santa is called “Saint Nicholas of Myra” once in one line — which is the closest this otherwise entirely secular-Xmas film comes to acknowledging the meaning of Christmas.

You can watch Red One now on Amazon Prime Video here.

Originally published here.

1 of 6 | Harris Dickinson and Nicole Kidman star in “Babygirl,” in theaters Dec. 25. Photo courtesy of A24

When Tensile begins a mentorship program for interns, Samuel (Harris Dickinson) pushes Romy’s buttons to get one-on-one time with her. His power plays unlock Romy’s repressed sexual desires and they begin an affair.

Playing power games may be inherent to many sexual relationships, so it’s not like one movie invented them, but it’s hard not to think about 9½ Weeks. In that notorious 1986 film, Mickey Rourke played a man who seduces a woman (Kim Basinger) with sex games involving food, spanking and blindfolds.

Still, Babygirl doesn’t play Romy as a cliche of a powerful businesswoman who really likes to be submissive in bed and experience the adrenaline of risking exposure.

Not that the affair compromises Romy’s success, either, although it could if Samuel reports her. She also starts to blur the lines of being submissive in private and at the office, but she doesn’t let it interfere with business decisions.

The love scenes between Kidman and Dickinson are revealing, but not gratuitous. They are vulnerable and uncomfortable rather than titillating.

The way writer-director Halina Reijn approaches consent is interesting and seems realistic. Samuel does insist on consent before continuing, which is a fantastic portrayal of obtaining verbal consent, though the conditions of Romy’s consent remain nebulous.

Romy makes it clear that Samuel’s power games make her uncomfortable. Agreeing to continue while feeling uncomfortable seems like it adds a level of duress.

It’s 80 minutes into the movie before Samuel and Romy even discuss using a safe word, which would give either party, but especially Romy, a way to end a session at her discretion. Yet, this is believable because Romy and Samuel are amateurs at this, so they’re figuring it out.

Samuel may play the dominant role, but he is in many respects just a poser. He is a young intern and very emotional when things don’t go his way.

It seems like Samuel is imitating what he thinks a Casanova would act like, but whenever Romy goes off script, Samuel seems to be at a loss for words. It’s not natural to him, either, though he thinks of some clever workplace games that make Romy play along.

He’s probably watched 9½ Weeks, too, or more likely just read the Wikipedia summary.

The Jacob character is the film’s most stereotypical.

Jacob is a loving husband who just can’t excite Romy. Romy tries to teach him to play games in bed, but Jacob doesn’t enjoy experimenting. It’s odd that a person whose job is in the arts would lack any creativity with his partner, but he’s entitled to have traditional desires, too.

The lack of monogamy is an unmitigated betrayal, as even submissive relationships should respect loyalty unless they’ve discussed and agreed to having an open relationship. The film eventually explores how a couple navigates compatibility, but Romy has to own hers first.

Individual choices the characters make in Babygirl will provoke discussions, and won’t be spoiled in this review. The positive is that the film does show Romy’s growth through the experience.

So, even if a viewer disagrees with part of the journey, the film makes its case for the value of those experiences. That makes it an engaging, provocative film.

Fred Topel, who attended film school at Ithaca College, is a UPI entertainment writer based in Los Angeles. He has been a professional film critic since 1999, a Rotten Tomatoes critic since 2001, and a member of the Television Critics Association since 2012 and the Critics Choice Association since 2023. Read more of his work in Entertainment.

Ring out the old year and bring in the new with four outstanding mysteries and discover each author’s lists of surefire, gift-worthy books.

The Close-Up
By Pip Drysdale
Gallery Books: 352 pages; $29
Out now

Sydney-based Pip Drysdale nails novelists, actors and other fame-hungry strivers perfectly in this dark thriller, her fifth, centered on a young author desperate for a second bite of the apple. Londoner Zoe Ann Weiss has spent the advance from her first failed thriller — about a woman being stalked by a virtual stranger — and is now working at a Venice florist shop to make ends meet while she dodges emails from her agent and struggles to write that second book in order to avoid repaying a $250,000 advance. On her 30th birthday, she is delivering flowers for a Hollywood talent manager’s party when she unexpectedly runs into blue-eyed charmer Zach Hamilton, a former bartender-actor and fling from three years before. Now People magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive, Zach is still humble enough to recognize Zoe and cop to his bad behavior in ghosting her. He convinces her to drive him to a party, where he promises to connect her with a producer friend, but not before signing a nondisclosure agreement sent en route by Zach’s manager, standard procedure for the scandal-averse breakout star of the first entry of a planned action trilogy. Soon, Zoe’s breathing the rare air of L.A. dreamers — with their “designer jeans, stilettos and injectables” — and Zach’s familiar musk and earth scent, experienced up close during an after-party skinny dip and more at his Hollywood Hills home. Though painfully aware of how far her reality is from his, Zoe thrills to secretly dating Zach, stirring old feelings and an insidious idea: why not base her next thriller on Zach and his world, NDA be damned? When aerial photos are leaked of the couple in Zach’s pool and a stalker takes aim at Zoe, re-creating creepy scenes from her first novel, her idea has a plot that presents both legal and romantic dilemmas. References to F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “The Great Gatsby,” Joan Didion’s “Play It as It Lays” and other classics lend literary resonance to Drysdale’s warped tale of fame and revenge that manages to deliver some real surprises as it answers the question posed by Zoe’s stalker: “R U willing to die for him?”

What parts of Zoe Ann Weiss resonated most deeply for you?

Zoe and I both experienced failure and had to come back from it. We’ve both experienced writer’s block, staring at the blank page, and have both read and reread the classics in case we learn tricks via osmosis. And, unfortunately, we’ve both had stalkers. In writing “The Close-Up,” I especially wanted to follow a character’s emotional journey through being a victim of stalking in a way that felt true to me — with all the illogical choices, feelings and thoughts one might not expect but which are nonetheless true.

You write with a gimlet-eyed love of L.A. locations. Given you were writing from a distance, how did you capture L.A. so faithfully?

I love L.A.! Spending time with people who live there over the years, I picked up this sense of hope in the air that clung to me, that told me dreams could come true in L.A. That energy got me halfway through the first draft of this book. But then I took a research trip specifically for “The Close-Up” that allowed me to gather more specific sensory information. I walked Zoe’s route to her local grocery store (and saw the fabled Chateau Marmont right there, taunting her). And wandered around in the alleyway behind her florist job in Venice.

What books are you giving this holiday season?

I have two: “Red River Road” by Anna Downes, a twisty and unexpected missing-sister thriller set in the Australian outback. The other is “When Cicadas Cry” by Caroline Cleveland. I loved the Southern Gothic vibe in this legal whodunit set in a small community outside Charleston, S.C.

Christopher Bollen, author of “Havoc.”

(Jack Pierson / Harper)

Havoc
By Christopher Bollen
Harper: 256 pages, $30
Out now

In Christopher Bollen’s accomplished sixth novel, Maggie Burkhardt is an 81-year-old widow whose peripatetic travels to Europe’s grand hotels come to an abrupt end when COVID sidelines her in Egypt at Luxor’s less-than-regal Royal Karnak Palace Hotel. As she gossips poolside with a gay couple, one of whom is an Egyptologist studying the museum’s ancient artifacts, and insinuates herself into the hotel’s daily rituals, there are hints that Maggie is not as nice, nor as well-intentioned, as her first-person patter would suggest. Meddling in the affairs of a married couple she decides need to be broken up — part of her mission to “change people’s lives for the better” — Maggie’s caught outside their room after planting incriminating evidence of the husband’s nonexistent affair by Otto, a precocious 8-year-old who’s mysteriously arrived at the hotel from Paris with his mother. When Otto boldly blackmails Maggie into paying for a room upgrade in exchange for his silence, it’s not just a matter of game recognizing game. Soon the two are involved in a tit-for-tat escalation that has dire consequences for everyone in their orbit and reveals Otto as Maggie’s formidable “Bad Seed” foe. Using the sultry Egyptian climate and locales to great effect, L.A. Times Book Prize nominee Bollen (for “A Beautiful Crime”) has pulled out all the stops in delivering a sinister thriller with resonances to classic literature such as Henry James’ “Turn of the Screw,” Helene Tursten’s “An Elderly Lady” series or the best of Patricia Highsmith.

How did you create Maggie Burkhardt?

I slipped into the shoes of a maniacal 81-year-old widow so effortlessly it was almost frightening. I just managed to get the voice of Maggie down from the start. We hear so often, “write what you know,” but it was actually diving into a character who was, on the surface, so unlike me that really gave me a sense of freedom to explore.

Some of my favorites among your novels are those set in foreign countries. What’s the appeal of foreign versus U.S. settings, and why Egypt for “Havoc”?

Since I love to travel, I fall in love with locations, and they seem to burst with opportunities for interesting plots. I didn’t intend to revisit Egypt, but before I set sail up the Nile in April 2021, I stayed at an old grand hotel in Luxor and Maggie’s story just jumped out of me — and went for the throat.

What books are you giving this holiday season?

I’m giving myself the Javier Marías novel “The Infatuations,” since I’ve never read the late, great Spanish literary crime writer. For friends, I’m giving Lucy Foley’s “The Midnight Feast” and I’m also giving pre-order gifts for Katy Hays’ upcoming thriller “Saltwater,” set on Capri.

Alex Segura, author of “Alter Ego.”

(Irina Peschan / Flatiron)

Alter Ego
By Alex Segura
Flatiron Books: 320 pages, $29
Out now

Alex Segura brought all of his passion and knowledge of mystery and comic book writing to 2022’s “Secret Identity,” a fictional story set in the mid-1970s about a Cuban American finding her voice as both comic book artist and a queer woman. The L.A. Times Book Prize winner broke barriers by including panels from “The Legendary Lynx” series created by Carmen Valdez for Triumph Comics before her withdrawal from the industry after a murder and the theft of her intellectual property. Now, “Alter Ego” surpasses the achievements of “Secret Identity” by deepening the themes of artistic freedom and control and reclaiming women’s voices in comics. Annie Bustamante is a single mother and acclaimed filmmaker whose roots as a comic book artist include a childhood passion for fellow Cubana Valdez’s work. After a shelved movie project stalls her career, Annie is presented with an opportunity to use the secret cache of Lynx illustrations she’s been drawing (sprinkled throughout the novel) to reboot the almost-forgotten series. Her partners are a shady trio of collaborators — including the Triumph Comics’ heir, his shady business partner and an aging, #MeToo-exiled film director. The result is a deadly battle — Art versus Commerce — that threatens Annie’s life, her quest to find Carmen Valdez and reinvigorate her dynamic hero: “I wanted her to thrive and to remind the world why they needed someone like the Lynx,” Annie writes of the Lynx’s alter ego, Claudia Calla. “A woman who realized her power and potential and used it to help others like her. Especially these days — as our power, our own bodily autonomy, was being systematically stripped away and chipped at by those in power.”

Why did you frame the story around Annie Bustamante?

When I realized there was another story to tell in the universe established in “Secret Identity,” I knew I wanted it to be different — a companion piece more than a sequel. Both Carmen and Annie are presented with dream projects at different points in comic book history. Through Annie, I wanted to show how the comic book and entertainment industry have evolved over the intervening years, which then poses the question: How far will Annie go to protect the character that pulled her into comics, and then the person responsible for creating that story?

When Annie writes about her hopes for the Lynx’s alter ego, is she talking about Claudia Calla, Carmen Valdez or herself?

I think it’s relevant to all of them. In these times, where reproductive rights, LGBTQ rights and many of our freedoms are being threatened, it’s important to speak up and not sit idly by. I think for Annie, the quest to reclaim the Lynx and elevate Carmen’s legacy wove into those deeper feelings of rage and frustration, which fueled her journey to uncover the truth.

The Legendary Lynx artwork included in “Alter Ego,” is a beautiful extension of the mythic story begun in “Secret Identify.” It makes me wistful for a real Lynx comic book.

Well, there is a series now: “The Legendary Lynx,” just published by Mad Cave and featuring the art of Sandy Jarrell. Sandy is the artist behind the comic book sequences in “Secret Identity” and “Alter Ego” and is really the unsung hero of this saga. A true craftsman with a love for the medium and flexibility that’s truly unmatched in comics. He breathes life into Carmen and Annie’s ideas in ways I could only imagine.

Jonathan Ames, author of “Karma Doll.”

(Mulholland Books)

Karma Doll
By Jonathan Ames
Mulholland Books: 240 pages, $27
Jan. 14

L.A.-based writer Jonathan Ames (novels and HBO’s excellent “Bored to Death”) has been delighting readers of California noir with the darkly comic, bloody adventures of ex-cop and PI Happy Doll since his debut in 2021’s “A Man Named Doll.” A 21st century reimagining of Raymond Chandler’s iconic Philip Marlowe, Doll pursues thugs, organ harvesters and other miscreants down the mean streets of Southern California and other points West “in search of a hidden truth,” as Chandler describes the Marlowe stories in “The Simple Art of Murder.” For Doll, that hidden truth is Buddhism, which he begins to study in “The Wheel of Doll”; by “Karma Doll,” which follows directly after, he’s applying the principles of karma to his own violent actions and trying to find an enlightened solution. The novel opens with Doll decamped to Mexico with George, his half-Chihuahua, half-terrier sidekick, to get his shoulder patched up and a new face at an illegal hospital after injuries suffered at the hands of a criminal he kills after stealing $60,000 in cash from a Jalisco drug cartel’s bagman. But trouble seems to follow the PI wherever he goes; in Mexico, it’s a drugged-out gangster patient who attacks the doctor and his nurses, and whom Doll kills, with great regret: “Diablo was the eighth man I had killed,” the investigator reflects later, “and it was always in self-defense, in situations in which I could have also been killed, but each time I had done it I had felt the sickening pull of the abyss, of becoming a shadow human impervious to the suffering of others.” Doll’s action unleashes a cascade of karmic consequences, most of them violent and some perpetrated by him, that culminate in the investigator being set up to take the fall for the killing of a young female tourist and being pursued by bounty hunters sent by that cartel bagman. Set on exacting retribution, Doll hightails it back to his home in Los Angeles to even the score with the real murderer and the cartel’s bagman, all while keeping nominally true to Buddhist principles. While the setup may seem a bit different for noir fiction, Ames’ expert plotting and spot-on descriptions of Mexican and stateside environs and denizens makes “Karma Doll” another excellent installment of what is, happily, proving to be a long-running series.

Were iconic Southern California PIs like Philip Marlowe and Lew Archer on your mind when you first started writing Happy Doll?

They weren’t directly on my mind, but both characters are deeply embedded in my literary muscle memory, as it were. I’ve happily read every Marlowe and Archer story there is, and, unconsciously, Doll may have some of Marlowe’s penchant for comedy and some of Archer’s love of nature (Ross MacDonald writes beautifully about the sea). I will say that Doll is not quite as accomplished as those two sleuths — he may have a touch of a hard-boiled Clouseau in him — but he does get the bad guy in the end.

Why was Doll’s deepening study of Buddhism and imperfect practice of the religion important?

As the series has progressed, Doll grapples ever more with the violence he has perpetrated in the pursuit of justice. He’s very disturbed by what he has done, and so he turns to Buddhism to understand his suffering and he comes to see that he is the main cause of his “bad karma.” He learns that he must take responsibility for his actions and change his behavior if he wants to lessen his suffering and the suffering he causes others. But he’s in a tough profession for this. As he says in the fourth Doll novel, which I’m currently writing: “Bad karma is my business model.”

What books are you giving as gifts this holiday season?

I always give Pema Chödrön’s books as gifts. She’s a Buddhist nun who writes with great clarity and wisdom about life, and I have found her books incredibly helpful over the years. Two of my favorites are “The Compassion Book: Teachings for Awakening the Heart,” which contain slogans with interpretations you can read every day, and “Living Beautifully: With Uncertainty and Change.”

A member of the National Book Critics Circle, Woods is the editor of several anthologies and author of four novels in the “Charlotte Justice” mystery series.