The mean girls of your average Hollywood teen movie wouldn’t last a morning in the ruthless adolescent playground of “Toxic,” where economic exploitation and unforgiving body image standards rule the bullies and their prey alike. Set in an industrial Lithuanian town where even the asphalt has seen better days, Saulė Bliuvaitė‘s impressively tough-minded debut feature is uncompromising in its depiction of the punishment and self-abuse endured by girls enrolled at a fly-by-night modeling academy — where the vague promise of an escape to pretty much anywhere is enough to motivate frightening extremes of disordered eating and body modification. Sobering but not without glimmers of tenderness and humor as female friendship takes root in a hopeless place, this Locarno competition entry can expect a healthy festival run, with interest from edgier arthouse distributors.

“Toxic” promises something severe from its opening shot, as 13-year-old Marija (Vesta Matulytė) stands alone, tensely quivering in a bathing suit, in a high school changing room while her classmates verbally attack her — picking most cruelly on the limp she’s had from birth. The high angle of DP Vytautas Katkus’ camera has the effect of pinning this already vulnerable figure like a specimen in a petri dish, though Bliuvaitė won’t always favor such forensic detachment. The film’s alternation between chilly composure and kinetic movement roughly corresponds with Marija’s wavering sense of self, while occasional segues into the heightened, languid mise-en-scène of music videos feel reflective of a future she and her peers have imagined for themselves.

Marija is new to this unnamed town, a dead-end assortment of graveled lots, concrete blocks and prefab houses, where her flighty mom has sent her to live with her unassuming florist grandmother. Friendless and bored, she has few social options but to confront her tormentors in the hope of making their grade. After one brutal brawl over a stolen pair of jeans, she finally finds an ally in small, spiky blonde hellion Kristina (Ieva Rupeikaitė), who can acknowledge what the other, appearance-fixated bullies are loath to admit about Marija: She’s tall and physically striking, in a way that can open doors for working-class girls without obvious prospects. Inner beauty counts for little in this scene, but a simple observation that she’s pretty is about as warm a gesture as Marija has ever known.

Kristina is already enrolled at a local modeling school, the squat gray premises of which belie their claims of sending successful graduates to catwalks in Paris and Tokyo. Given her disability, Marija hasn’t ever considered modeling, but in an effort to stay close to her new sort-of-friend, she follows suit — only to swiftly be singled out as an especially promising candidate. The education on offer, such as it is, is a soul-sapping routine of endless walking instruction and daily body measuring, with gold stars for weight loss. This priority is so all-consuming that even the already reed-like Kristina seeks dangerous extra credit, dumping her dinners outside her bedroom window, and procuring a black-market tapeworm to further hollow out her insides.

It’s an unnerving reminder of the punishing physical standards to which young women are still held, even as body positivity has superficially taken hold in popular culture. Marija’s rising social stock as a potential supermodel gets the two girls increased attention from older local boys, though they’re unprepared for the intricacies of sex as currency — while Kristina naively attempts to barter her body for money, as the modeling school’s financial demands predictably and extortionately spiral.

Bliuvaitė’s script doesn’t go deep into the corrupt specifics of an industry everyone already knows is rotten. She’s more interested in the fraught, complex relationship between two girls who become emotionally dependent on each other, even as they stoke each other’s most damaging insecurities — leading the audience to consider for themselves whether a possibly toxic friendship is better than none. An extraordinary pair of performances by the two leads (Matulytė achingly recessive and physically tranquil, Rupeikaitė a pinwheel of belligerent, fretful energy) gradually suggest two halves of one more collected being. It’s hard not to be moved as Marija and Kristina’s regard for each other evolves from a kind of conditional mutual exploitation into something more candid and wounded: no sparkly friendship bracelets here, just fragile, hard-earned care.

One of the most influential science fiction horror films of all time, Alien had its world premiere on May 25, 1979 as the opening night feature of the fourth Seattle International Film Festival (which celebrated its fiftieth anniversary this past spring). Although not universally acclaimed at the time, it has since become a kind of cult classic, as well as a calling card for a substantial franchise. Predatory life forms in outer space never really die–at least not on the big screen.

The original director, Sir Ridley Scott, who has since made two other entries in the series, returns here as a producer. Uruguayan-born Fede Álvarez (Don’t Breathe, Evil Dead) assumes the directorial reins, with decidedly mixed results.

When considering the entire arc of the Alien franchise, two characters and the actors who played them come immediately to mind: Sigourney Weaver (Ellen Ripley) in the first four installments and Michael Fassbender (David 8/Walter One) when Prometheus ventured into Alien territory and spawned a pair of crossover hits. In Ripley, the modern cinema has a female protagonist emblematic of courage and resourcefulness. In David 8/Walter One, the blockbuster world has a character with angst and gravitas worthy of storytelling on an epic scale.

Alien: Romulus qualifies as an interquel, given that its story plays out in the 57-year time frame between the original movie and its first sequel, Aliens (1986). A group of young characters destined to work indefinitely on a daylight-free mining colony planet decide to make a break from the ubiquitous “Company” and go scavenging at an abandoned space station. It bears the name Romulus/Remus, borne of its two distinct halves. As they discover, it’s a kind of tomb, and it’s a convenient, DNA-rich setting for an Agatha Christie-meets-H.P. Lovecraft narrative.

It will come as no surprise to you that the iconic Xenomorph of the Alien series returns. In fact, so does a certain android science officer from the very first picture, with the late actor in question resurrected by means of animatronics, digital wizardry and AI-generated audio. You can imagine why so many living actors are so worried about having their likenesses co-opted by technology.

Cailee Spaeny heads the cast as Rain. She justifiably earned praise for her portrayal of Priscilla Presley (Elvis’ wife) in last year’s biopic Priscilla, as well as Jessie (an aspiring photojournalist) in this year’s dystopian thriller Civil War. She has impressive range as a performer, and she makes the most of pretty thin material here. In Alien: Romulus, David Jonsson (Industry) plays her character’s android “brother” Andy, who shares a potentially dangerous link to the crew of the doomed spacecraft Nostromo. You might also recall him from a couple of guest appearances on the outstanding British detective series Endeavour, shown in this country on PBS Masterpiece.

Fede Álvarez serves as executive producer, director and co-writer here. Working with Ridley Scott’s guidance, he does get a lot right about the Alien story. He suitably frames most of the scenes to emphasize the confined spaces and pervasive dread in this tale, alternating between a relatively objective, quasi-documentary style and tight, disconcerting POV shots. And he and Mexican cinematographer Galo Olivares impart an appropriately noirish look to the proceedings. You can add to that the use of practical effects, physical stunts and discreet use of CGI.

However, not all Alien pictures are created equal. The same lighting and cinematography that work so well with the mood also make many of the sets look cheap and artificial. The story is shallow and predictable; the characters themselves are not particularly interesting; the dialogue is borderline generic; and, as a result, the acting by this promising young cast is not memorable. (To be fair, there are really effective moments when Álvarez lets facial expressions and silence speak volumes.) In the end, only Spaeny rises above the gotchas and gore galore.  

Even if you haven’t seen the first picture in the franchise, or any of its sequels, you can still watch Alien: Romulus as its own stand-alone universe. It resonates with shades of Ridley Scott and Stanley Kubrick, Agatha Christie, H.P. Lovecraft–necromancy, anyone?–and Francis Ford Coppola. It will scare you at times, but not surprise you. We’ve seen most of this before, with more nightmarish effect.  

BeatKing, the Houston rapper also known as Club Godzilla, has died. He was 39.

The recording artist died Thursday in a Houston hospital, his manager Tasha Felder confirmed to The Times on Friday.

Felder initially announced BeatKing’s death Thursday in an Instagram post, writing, “Today, August 15, 2024 we have lost @Clubgodzilla. BeatKing has been the best part of the club for over a decade. He has produced and worked with so many artists that his sound will forever live. He loved his daughters @clubgodparenting, his music and his fans. We will love him forever.”

The musician, whose real name was Justin Seth Riley, died from pulmonary embolism, a condition that occurs when a blood clot blocks an artery in the lungs, preventing blood from flowing. Felder told The Times that the rapper was taken to a nearby hospital after fainting during an appearance on Urban One (Radio One) and later died.

“His daughters were with him the entire time. It is truly sad, we loved him so much,” Felder said.

After word of his death, artists paid tribute to BeatKing on social media.

“It’s always the good ones… Just a great spirited person. We lost a talented artist and father. Prayer for @talameshia and his loved ones. RIP @clubgodzilla,” rapper Bun B said in a Thursday Instagram post.

Lil Scrappy, a fellow Houston rapper, posted a screenshot on his Instagram story of their 2022 single “Thangin” writing, “Rip to my Brudda that did work fr @clubgodzilla I’m lost on this one.”

Memphis rap duo Three 6 Mafia commented under Felder’s Instagram post Thursday, writing, “RIP MANE!!! GREAT BROTHER!!”

BeatKing was born Nov. 24, 1984, in Houston. His music was popular among clubgoers for its unique sound, southern rap influence and explicit lyrics.

He rose to prominence in 2010 with the release of “Crush,” which was featured on his 2011 album “Kings of the Club 2.”

In 2020, he released the viral hit, “Then Leave,” featuring another Houston rapper, Queendome Come. The single is his most streamed song on Spotify, with more than 60 million streams. In 2022, he was featured on “THICK” by DJ Chose, which became a viral hit that inspired a popular TikTok dance and a remix with rapper Megan Thee Stallion, who is also from Houston.

In July, the musician released his final album, “Never Leave Houston on a Sunday.”

Riley is survived by his daughters Jayla and Kayla and his girlfriend, singer Talameshia.