The most tense moment in Aavesham is placed not during one of the numerous fights, but bang in the middle of a game of dumb charades. The game takes place in the lair of Rangan (Fahadh Faasil), a colourful gangster, stories about whom range from the chillingly realistic to the far-fetched. One of those stories we have heard earlier about him happens to involve a game of dumb charades, which apparently led to a violent burst of anger.
It is a cleverly-crafted scene which makes us question our understanding of that character until then, and ends up reassuring us that we made the right assessment after all, only to upset it again spectacularly a while later. This ambiguity about Rangan is one of the things that filmmaker Jithu Madhavan pulls off successfully in the gangster comedy Aavesham, his sophomore effort after the hit horror comedy Romancham.
Aavesham is a different beast altogether with Fahadh running riot as the gangster adorned in bling, and with a habit of sharing his dance reels. We see Rangan through the eyes of three Malayali students — Aju (Hipster), Bibi (J.S.Mithun) and Shanthan (Roshan Shanavas) — in Bengaluru, who are frequenting seedy bars with the intention of gaining some “local support” to take revenge on their seniors who bashed them up.
Storyline: Three Malayali students in Bengaluru befriend Rangan, a gangster, to take revenge on a gang of seniors who bashed them up, but things do not turn out as planned
Runtime: 158 minutes
The scenes leading up to Rangan’s introduction and the slow reveal of his true stature are a scream. And, to build up on this character, there is Rangan’s sidekick Ambaan (Sajin Gopu) with a wealth of humorous and scary stories on him that he narrates as if he has witnessed them, but one is always left with an element of doubt about their spoofy nature. Rangan is the kind of character that mainstream stars have essayed in the past, but Fahadh gives it a spin of his own and runs uninhibitedly wild with it, like a kid left to his own in the household.
The all-pervading presence of this character and Sushin Shyam’s pulsating score somewhat papers over the film’s many weaknesses, especially in plotting and character development. The interval high was followed by a considerable lull, during which time the film shifts its gaze from unabashed hero worship and turns it into a cautionary tale. Aavesham could have done with some much-needed trimming, although it is still a wonder that they managed to sustain the runtime with so thin a plot.
The youngsters, some of whom are social media stars, as well as Sajin, stand their own amid Fahadh’s one-man show. But no female character, not even a girl from the campus (that gets prominent focus in the film) gets substantial presence. The only memorable one happens to be Bibi’s mother who asks “Are you happy?” to anyone who talks to her on the phone. It also presents to us a rare insight into Rangan’s personality, which is mostly hidden from us owing to the sketchy writing which throws more attention to the flashy exteriors. Well, it is that kind of film, which revels in its loudness and quirkiness and leaves little space for quiet introspection and meaningful connections… things that Rangan also appears to crave for.
Toy Story 5 arrives this week as further proof that “there’s no animated franchise that’s ever plumbed the human condition so deftly,” said Nick Schager in The Daily Beast. As “unnecessary and charming” as 2019’s Toy Story 4, it’s “a cute and funny sequel” that once again seamlessly weaves big ideas about the terrors of loss, abandonment, and mortality with suspenseful action, a heart-tugging message, and plenty of “good-natured goofiness.” The best thing about seeing the once-perfect Toy Story catalog expand again is that Jessie, the cowgirl doll voiced by Joan Cusack, “finally gets to take center stage,” said David Fear in Rolling Stone.
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Jessie is the favorite toy of 8-year-old Bonnie, so when the shy grade-schooler is given a digital tablet and loses interest in her old playthings, it’s Jessie who leads the fight to expose the pitfalls of socializing online. But while screen technology fully deserves its villainous role, “Toy Story 5 is a screed in search of a story,” and all of the movie’s secondary plotlines—about Buzz Lightyear, Sheriff Woody, and one of Bonnie’s tween neighbors—“somehow feel like filler.” Sadly, “this is what happens when you beat a franchise to death.” The movie, to be sure, “doesn’t take many risks,” said Robert Daniels in RogerEbert.com. Jessie eventually makes peace with technology, suggesting we all simply find a balance between the online world’s attractions and organic living. “It’s your prototypically beautifully rendered movie tackling a heady subject in the safest possible manner”—which isn’t bad for a fifth outing.
‘The Death of Robin Hood’
Directed by Michael Sarnoski (R)
★★
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The title character played by Hugh Jackman in this revisionist drama is “not the Robin Hood of green tights and swashbuckling adventure,” said Tim Grierson in Screen Daily. Disappointingly, he comes across instead in this latest drama from the acclaimed director of 2021’s Pig as “just another flinty antihero manfully attempting to make amends for his bad acts.” Though a gray-bearded Jackman endows the character with “sufficient sorrow” and “a believable ferocity,” the outlaw’s eleventh-hour pursuit of redemption leads to “earnestly executed but fairly predictable twists and turns.”
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The movie, to be fair, “holds our attention for the sheer severity of its reinvention,” said Guy Lodge in Variety. This Robin Hood, despite the lore that’s already grown around him, robbed and killed to enrich only himself, and after a bloody opening skirmish he’d hoped would end his life, he awakens in a priory where he’s tended to by an abbess played by Jodie Comer. As he befriends an orphaned girl and a leper, the film proves both “a production of unimpeachable intelligence” and “a slow, steady downer” for most of its run. “For an often ponderously uneventful film, the ending also feels strangely rushed,” said Benjamin Lee in The Guardian. “There’s really impressive craft here, though,” as director Michael Sarnoski makes the most of natural sounds and settings to transport us to 13th-century England. While his unconventional latest effort winds up “stuck somewhere between epic and chamber piece,” he remains a filmmaker to watch. “Greatness will one day surely come.”
The first thing we see in “Bob and David Climb Machu Picchu” is Bob Odenkirk and David Cross facing each other inside a tent, freezing, exhausted, and quiet in the way only old friends can be quiet. They don’t need to say the obvious. Even without a single word spoken, we can see their faces already asking it: what on earth did we get ourselves into?
That’s a good way into this tender documentary, because Michael LaHaie‘s film isn’t just about two famous comedians going on a difficult hike. The hike actually is the excuse, and a pretty good one at that. What we’re really watching is the kind of friendship that survives time, distance, professional detours, old irritations, and the body’s increasingly rude reminders that “getting older” isn’t just a phrase people say on birthdays.
David Cross reads a letter in a scene from “Bob and David Climb Machu Picchu” (Photo: Tribeca Festival, 2026).
Focus on the Journey, Not the Punchline
The premise is simple. Cross wants to climb Machu Picchu. Odenkirk says yes, partly because he’s game and partly because a recent heart attack has made the bucket list feel less hypothetical. So off they go to Peru, where the Andean scenery is gorgeous, the trail is punishing, and the two men remain funny enough to make shortness of breath sound like a sketch premise.
There’s a long tradition of famous people traveling somewhere beautiful, physically exerting themselves, and landing on gentle reflections about life. Some versions have done it better, slicker, or with more formal ambition. Michael Winterbottom‘s “Trip” films (starring Rob Brydon and Steve Coogan) turned meals and impressions into a running autopsy of male ego and middle age. Meanwhile, the Ewan McGregor–Charley Boorman series “Long Way Round” found camaraderie and self-discovery on the road. Even the lesser celebrity travelogues tend to lean on the same basic appeal: put recognizable people somewhere unfamiliar, wait for the guards to drop, and hope that scenery plus discomfort produces something honest.
“Bob and David Climb Machu Picchu” doesn’t pretend to reinvent that setup. It’s too ragged for that, and sometimes too casual. But that looseness is also part of its charm. LaHaie doesn’t over-direct the trip into importance. He lets Odenkirk and Cross walk, complain, riff, reminisce, eat, sweat, and occasionally look around long enough to remember they’re doing something ridiculous and beautiful at the same time.
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The comedy isn’t always polished, which is probably for the best. Some bits land because they’re sharply timed; others work because they’re stupid in the way a joke between friends is allowed to be stupid. A scene in which they sit at a small table in a Peruvian town square and wait to be recognized is funny not only because of the awkwardness, but because it gently punctures their celebrity. When recognition comes, it mostly belongs to Odenkirk’s “Breaking Bad” and “Better Call Saul” fame, which Cross absorbs with the wounded dignity of a man who’s spent decades being very funny and still has to watch his friend get all the Saul Goodman heat.
Bob and David complete the hike, in a scene from “Bob and David Climb Machu Picchu” (Photo: Tribeca Festival, 2026).
Old Friends and Older Knees
I have a tightly knit group of male friends who, for reasons both sentimental and mildly embarrassing, call ourselves The Roadtrippers. Every so often, we get together for dinner, a short drive, or—just recently—a trip over a thousand miles away from home to feel like a small act of devotion. Nobody says it that way, of course. Men rarely do. We just show up every time, eat too much, talk nonsense, geek about random things, and pretend the friendship maintains itself. Watching Bob and David wheeze their way through a bucket-list hike, I kept thinking about that unspoken vow.
Keep going. Keep checking in. And keep making memories before the body starts filing formal complaints.
That’s why the film becomes more affecting than its goofy surface suggests. Odenkirk and Cross aren’t selling us a grand thesis about male friendship; they’re simply showing one. Their bond has the friction of people who know each other too well and the ease of people who don’t have to explain the rhythm anymore. They can insult each other, admire each other, poke at old career disappointments, then pivot into absurdity before anything gets too damp with feeling.
That tenderness hit home with me because I know, in my own way, what it means to keep choosing the same friends across time.
More Tribeca Coverage:‘That Friend’ is a Chaotic Buddy Comedy About the Friend You Can’t Quite Outgrow
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Photo of Bob and David upon completing the hike, in a scene from “Bob and David Climb Machu Picchu” (Photo: Tribeca Festival, 2026).
‘Bob and David Climb Machu Picchu’, and the Joke Between the Breaths
The film works best when comedy opens into reflection without announcing the shift. Odenkirk’s heart attack isn’t treated as the dramatic centerpiece, but it’s always somewhere nearby, especially when the climb starts to feel less like a lark and more like a dare issued to mortality. Cross comes across as both instigator and witness: the friend who proposed the insane thing and now has to keep walking beside the man who agreed to it.
LaHaie keeps the film moving at an amiable pace, and the editing understands that the best travel moments aren’t always the scenic payoffs. They’re the half-formed jokes, the bad meals, the language gaps, the tired silences, and the private laughter that would sound idiotic if explained to anyone else. Yo La Tengo’s music adds to that easygoing mood without trying to turn the hike into a spiritual awakening with better footwear. That both Odenkirk and Cross starred in the band’s music video for the 1997 song “Sugarcube” is extra nostalgic.
Michael LaHaie’s funny, ragged, unexpectedly tender documentary follows Bob Odenkirk and David Cross up a mountain and into a reflection on friendship, mortality, and staying in sync.
The documentary, of course, has limits. It’s slim, and some of the career material plays more like an affectionate scrapbook than a deeper reckoning. Fans of “Mr. Show” may want more, while newcomers may only get a partial sense of why this partnership mattered so much to a particular corner of American comedy. A few stretches also have the relaxed shapelessness of a vacation video, though admittedly one starring two extremely funny men with better cameras and worse altitude tolerance.
But I didn’t mind the looseness much, because the pleasure is in the company. Odenkirk and Cross are still magnificently in sync, even when they’re wheezing, bickering, or making the kind of joke that exists mainly because the other person is there to receive it. “Bob and David Climb Machu Picchu” is simple, funny, occasionally moving, and blessedly unpretentious. It understands that some friendships don’t need a dramatic breakthrough. Sometimes they just need a trail, a tent, a stupid bit that runs too long, and enough breath left to laugh before the next climb.
Michael LaHaie’s “Bob and David Climb Machu Picchu” had its world premiere at this year’s Tribeca Festival in the Spotlight Documentary category. The festival took place on June 3-14, 2026. Follow us for more coverage.
In the modern entertainment age, franchising for the sake of it has become entirely commonplace. So long as intellectual properties are financially successful and capable of regularly turning a profit, no franchise is ever truly finished. Strangely enough, over the past decade, this has become especially true even in the medium of animation. Where sequels to animated films used to be predominantly relegated to straight-to-DVD releases and bargain bins at discount stores, they are now the bread and butter of the industry.
I say all of this to say that it’s easy to get jaded and uber-cynical when you see a title like “Toy Story 5” preparing for release. However, what’s so wonderful about Andrew Stanton and Kenna Harris’ long-gestating sequel is that it’s about as far from an easy cash grab as humanly possible. Instead, this fourth sequel to Pixar’s seminal original launching pad of a film overtly embraces several of the themes and subtextual threads that have emerged organically throughout the series, recontextualizing the three-decade-long-running franchise of cinematic bangers in a way I had never really thought about before: modern mythology.
TOP FIVE THINGS ABOUT “TOY STORY 5”
5. The Dynamic Duo of Andrew Stanton and Kenna Harris
Toy Story 5 is written and directed by the duo of Andrew Stanton and Kenna Harris. Stanton is a longtime Pixar veteran, a creative who has a writing credit on the first Toy Story and who also directed films like Finding Nemo and the masterpiece that is WALL-E. Harris, meanwhile, is a newer voice within Pixar, having made their directorial debut on the Luca-adjacent short film Ciao Alberto. In this combination of old and new, Toy Story 5 is able to strike a balance that is both traditional and innovative.
The film is both ruthlessly focused and astoundingly audacious. The first act spends time juggling multiple story threads, all of which inevitably collide in the latter half of the film. However, the fact that Stanton and Harris have crafted a structure that allows for these big, ambitious narrative swings while still remaining firmly rooted in the distinct perspective of Jessie as a character is nothing short of mesmerizing. Toy Story 5 is very much a film that could have simply played the hits and raked in the cash, but Stanton and Harris’ combined work, alongside their collaborators at Pixar, results in something far more nuanced, articulate, and affecting.
4. The Music
Randy Newman has long been the stalwart of the Toy Story franchise, writing original songs for all of the films and orchestrating the entire musical scores for them as well. That remains predominantly the case in this fifth entry, though he does receive a musical assist from Taylor Swift as well, with her bespoke end credits song, “I Knew It, I Knew You.”
The song is killer (and that is coming from someone who was kind of dreading new Swift music after the debacle that was The Life of a Showgirl), and Newman’s score is fantastic. The venerated musician finds inspiration anew in key elements of the plot, such as the legion of marooned high-tech Buzz Lightyear toys, who get their own operatic vocal arrangements to underscore their scenes. Elsewhere, Newman digs even deeper into the roots of his earlier inspirations, most notably with Jessie as a character, who receives a stronger twang in her theme music, along with numerous symphonic renditions of the iconic “When She Loved Me” from Toy Story 2. All in all, it’s phenomenal music across the board, worth hearing on the best sound system you can get.
3. The Playtime Setpieces
The masterpiece that is Lee Unkrich’s Toy Story 3 opens with one of my favorite sequences from any Toy Story film: a playtime sequence that sees the animators bringing young Andy’s imagination to cinematic life in thrilling fashion. It’s exciting, hysterical, and altogether enthralling. In Toy Story 5, with the toys and the films as a whole having shifted over to Bonnie, she gets numerous instances of her own playtime set pieces, and they are all just as fantastic.
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Incorporating an entirely new animation style and aesthetic, these sequences bring the imaginations of these young girls (newcomer Blaze gets a playtime set piece as well) to life in the same way that the third film brought Andy’s to life. These sequences are full of innovation and bursting with creativity, while also gaining an immense amount of traction from contrasting themselves with the playtime sequences from earlier in the franchise. They are thrilling, insightful, and enlightening all at once, more than worth the price of admission.
2. The Performances
There are so many fantastic vocal performances throughout Toy Story 5. Tim Allen is as reliably broad as ever as Buzz, but it’s the other two-thirds of the main trio here that really get to shine in unexpected ways. First up is Joan Cusack as Jessie, who gets to be this film’s full-on protagonist and absolutely rises to the occasion. Jessie has long been a rich character, but seeing her get more room to breathe is a bona fide treat, and Cusack delivers her greatest vocal performance of the series as a result.
Then there is Tom Hanks as Woody, who absolutely soars as a result of the exact opposite approach: he’s unencumbered by the narrative and instead freed up to go kind of bonkers. In installments past, Woody has often been relegated to the role of the comedic straight man in one way or another. But here, Woody is unleashed, and Hanks subsequently goes completely off the rails. This is the most scenery he has ever chewed in one of these movies, hamming it up with several line deliveries in absolutely gut-busting ways.
Also, the scene-stealer of the movie is Conan O’Brien as Smarty Pants, a tech-based toilet aid. Conan goes full-blown gonzo in the ways that only Conan can, while also delving into some unanticipated nuance and pathos. All around, miraculous stuff.
1. What They Grow Beyond
The central narrative hook of Toy Story 5 is “tech versus toys.” There are about a million different ways this could have gone horribly wrong, and yet Stanton, Harris, and the team manage to pull it off with aplomb. The film is ultimately about the ways childhood has changed over the course of the franchise’s run: how technology has infiltrated this once-idyllic daydream of playtime and the implications of outsourcing childhood imagination to a series of devices.
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On top of this, the franchise’s treatment of its characters remains consistent and earnestly authentic as ever. The way the Toy Story films continue to function as “yes, and” storytelling, building off each installment in ways that feel organic and deeply satisfying, is astounding. I don’t want to spoil some of this film’s greatest moments, but suffice it to say it engages meaningfully with its past while also charting a new course forward.
Where the previous two installments each brought things toward a sense of closure for the series as a whole, Toy Story 5 distinctly does not. Instead, it recontextualizes the franchise and redefines what a Toy Story film can be in the process.
GRADE
(A-)
Andrew Stanton and Kenna Harris’ Toy Story 5 is a Pixar film that more than lives up to the studio and franchise’s reputation. In an entertainment ecosystem full of seemingly unyielding franchises that keep proliferating for the sole sake of producing more monetizable content, Toy Story 5 stands in stark contrast as a passion-filled artistic statement. It is almost certainly not the sequel many Toy Story fans want, but it is instead the one they need: a film about the intrinsic beauty of growing, to infinity and beyond.
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