“Ghosts of Red Ridge” is a low-budget Western that tries to be a ghost story. It’s not anything to write home about in either genre.

There’s some nice lived-in detail in the locations, the dusty, dirty costumes and almost-colorful characters. But that plot. Those characters.

Owen Williams stars as the sheriff of Red Ridge, a guy so haunted by the violence of the place and his job that he starts seeing the dark-eyed dead.

This little piece of Texas (a long-standing movie set in Arizona) popped up as a mining town, but the precious metals rush was a bust. Even waiting for the railroad to come through isn’t enough to keep the locals from lashing out.

With Trent (John Marrs) and Gretchen (Lena Wilcox) running a gang bent on robbing the general store (by proxy) and a stagecoach converted to freight hauling, it’s all Sheriff Dunlap and his deputy (Trent Culkin) can do to go a whole day without a shootout.

There’s backstabbing afoot, and a land scheme in play. Neither of them makes any sense.

The period-correct but sparse Gammons Gulch Movie Set (Is it still for sale?) lays out a common problem for no-budget Westerns — more extras and cast members than buildings to house, feed and employ them. It’s a convincing looking village, but just a bare bones “movie” version of an Old West town.

That’s quibbling, as is any mention of the movie’s dialogue anachronisms and the screwy choice to have the sheriff a well-read man into thermodynamics, “kinetic theory” and the like.

Maybe he should be reading up on the law — misexplaining “due process” to a stranger (Griffin Wade) who just happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“You’re a good man,” saloon gal Mary (Mercedes Peterson) declares. “Some things ‘good’ can’t fix.”

That might be the best line of dialogue. The worst?

“They went THATaway!”

There’s a hold-up by highwaymen (and a highwaywoman), a shipment of nitroglycerin to contend with and with every new body, the sheriff has another face to put on the apparitions that fill his dreams and rattle his waking hours.

I always appreciate the degree of difficulty filmmakers take on when they tackle a period piece, especially a Western, instead of the broke movie maker’s favorite genre — horror.

But director Stefan Colson and screenwriter Brandon Cahela take their shot at trying it both ways, and fail in both genres.

Rating: unrated, violence, profanity

Cast: Owen Williams, Trent Culkin, Griffin Wade, Lena Wilcox and John Marrs.

Credits: Directed by Stefan Colson, scripted by Brandon Cahela. A Well Go USA release.

Running time: 1:21

Star cast (Voiceovers): Auliʻi Cravalho, Dwayne Johnson, Khaleesi Lambert-Tsuda, Rose Matafeo, David Fane, Hualālai Chung, Awhimai Fraser, and Gerald Ramsey

Directors: David Derrick Jr., Jason Hand, Dana Ledoux Miller

Well, the first part of Moana was like a breath of fresh air for me, and I still cherish it as one of my favourites thanks to its emotional depth and other amazing elements. After a gap of eight years, the second part of our beloved is set to hit the screens, and while the expectations are sky-high, with a heavy heart, I have to admit that it fails to recreate the magic of the first part.

Talking about the plot, _
Moana 2 s_tarts after 3 years from where the first part concluded. Our beloved wayfinder Moana is hunting for more islands like her own Motunui, where people reside. Amid this, she gets an unexpected call from her ancestors, who inform her about the cursed island of Motufetu, which is deserted by the power-hungry god Nalo.

As the world is disconnected due to Motufetu being submerged in the ocean, Moana along with her small group of unique and weird people is on a mission to find Motufetu, which will reconnect all the people. On the journey, she also finds her old friend Maui, who claims himself to be a demi-god. Well, will they be able to save the island and beat god Nalo? For that, you have to watch Moana 2 on the big screen.

Honestly, the makers have made Moana 2 a visual spectacle but failed to add depth to the emotions of the characters and are marred by the unidimensional and predictable storyline. While the sequel is ahead of its predecessor in terms of VFX but lacks the magic of the first part.

The film doesn’t have any high points or wow moments as the challenges faced by the limited and prominent characters don’t emerge as an engrossing experience. Despite these problems, I still feel Moana 2 will be a delightful experience for kids between 10-12 years, who will love the cheerfulness and larger-than-life portrayals.

On the whole, Moana 2 is not a bad film but nowhere close to its prequel.

Moana 2 is releasing on 29th November

Rating: 2.5 (out of 5 stars)

Reality seeps into “The Seed of the Sacred Fig” in multiple ways, including ones that writer-director Mohammad Rasoulof couldn’t have imagined back when he shot this absorbing drama in secret. One of Iran’s signature filmmakers — and among those most often in the theocratic government’s crosshairs — the 52-year-old auteur, now living in exile in Europe, tells the story of a family whose social standing becomes threatened by simmering societal tensions right outside their door. In order to preserve the rigid status quo, the clan’s patriarch will do everything he can to keep the winds of change from invading his household and affecting his wife and daughters. By making the political personal, Rasoulof warns us that repression starts at home.

Misagh Zare stars as Iman, who has just been promoted to investigating judge in the Revolutionary Court, a reward for 20 years as a dedicated attorney. His supportive wife, Najmeh (Soheila Golestani), is proud of him but also excited for what this new job means for them and their children, willful 21-year-old Rezvan (Mahsa Rostami) and insecure teen Sana (Setareh Maleki). They’ll receive a spacious home in a better section of Tehran, and maybe they can finally buy that dishwasher Najmeh has been craving. But Iman warns his family that, since judges are demonized in Iranian society, they need to be careful not to spread this news around. Underlining the occupational hazards awaiting Iman, he has been issued a gun for his protection.

As soon as Iman shows his alarmed wife that gun (it’s loaded, but he assures her the safety is on), audiences can start worrying about precisely when the weapon will go off. Provocatively, Rasoulof makes no attempt to hide his story’s metaphors or plot twists. If anything, he boldly foreshadows the darkness just on the horizon, shooting his drama austerely, the weight of inevitable doom hanging over everything.

Over the last 15 years, Rasoulof (“Manuscripts Don’t Burn,” “There Is No Evil”) has been imprisoned multiple times and had his passport confiscated, accused of spreading anti-government propaganda through his politically pointed films. “The Seed of the Sacred Fig” was inspired by one such jail stint in 2022, which occurred during the same time as that summer’s “Woman, Life, Freedom” uprising, sparked by the death of 22-year-old student Mahsa Amini while in the custody of the police, who arrested her for not wearing a hijab in public. (Authorities claimed Amini died of a heart attack, but her family insisted they fatally beat her.)

Those real-life events strike a match that lights the film’s slow fuse. Initially, Rezvan and Sana express frustration that their father’s new job requires them to conduct themselves “properly” outside the house. (Who knows who might be monitoring their social media presence?) But soon, it’s impossible for them or their mother to miss the violent protests in the wake of Amini’s death. Najmeh steadfastly echoes what she sees on state-run news services — Amini’s death was an accident — whereas her daughters, getting information on their smartphones, strongly suspect otherwise. And then Rezvan’s college friend Sadaf (Niousha Akhshi) is accidentally trapped in a campus protest, her face obliterated by buckshot fired by police. Long maintaining that the protesters are just thugs, Najmeh painfully removes the rounds from Sadaf’s bleeding wounds, her assumptions about the government she’s loyally obeyed falling away.

A film about complicity and denial, “The Seed of the Sacred Fig” examines how a seemingly reasonable husband and wife can tacitly support this national charade. Iman quickly learns that the “investigating” part of his job title is more of a suggestion: He is expected to sign death warrants for individuals the prosecutor has demanded be executed. At first, his conscience bothers him, but Zare’s performance is a wonder of quiet rationalization as Iman gradually decides that going along is better than making waves. A man of no strong principles beyond protecting his status, Iman is by turns pathetic and terrifying, the latter occurring when Iman discovers that his gun has gone missing, an oversight that could lose him his promotion. His fervor to determine who took the weapon reveals a shockingly monstrous side, turning his wife and children into frightened suspects and leading to a jarring tonal-shift ending that proves to be a cathartic, believable final destination for a film simmering with mistrust and anger.

Anticipating his movie’s inflammatory subject matter, Rasoulof had to cast and film “The Seed of the Sacred Fig” without tipping off the authorities. That knowledge adds additional layers of defiance and bravery to this grim tale, which incorporates actual protest footage and video of police brutality to amplify the narrative’s verisimilitude. But ugly reality imposed itself unpredictably as well. Shortly before the film’s Cannes premiere, Rasoulof was once again sentenced — this time, for eight years in prison. Instead, he fled Iran, arriving at the festival screening to a hero’s welcome. The sorrow and hope interwoven through “The Seed of the Sacred Fig” are vibrant but also bittersweet, considering that Rasoulof had to escape his homeland for telling the truth about the oppressive regime seeking to silence him.

“The Seed of the Sacred Fig” may open on Iman, but eventually, the focus shifts to Najmeh and her daughters, who are positioned as the possibility for liberating Iran from its regressive, patriarchal government. Rezvan and Sana are young and smart enough to recognize the regime’s cruelty, which makes Najmeh’s evolving mindset the film’s emotional center. Golestani shines as a woman clinging to her illusions — about a wife’s place, about women’s second-class status — because she’s never permitted herself to think any other way. The actor, like everyone else in “The Seed of the Sacred Fig” who took part at grave risk, makes that awakening moving. Najmeh thinks she’s saving her daughters — they may end up freeing her instead.