When it was released in 2015, Pete Docter’s “Inside Out” was a seminal moment for Pixar. Coming on the heels of a pair of films that didn’t connect with audiences or critics in the same way that much of the studio’s earlier work had (2012’s “Brave” and 2013’s “Monsters University”), “Inside Out” saw Pixar out to prove they still had it. And as it turned out, they absolutely did.
After some decidedly unflattering discourse discussing the studio’s new penchant for favoring sequels and prequels over original material, “Inside Out” was an original film that hit every possible benchmark for success: it became one of the best-reviewed films Pixar had ever made, grossed just shy of a billion dollars, and won an Oscar. “Inside Out” is a truly stunning film, one that builds upon a bedrock of remarkably nuanced emotional intelligence to deliver an animated feature just as engaging philosophically as it is as a piece of entertainment.
Now, in 2024, Pixar is in a very different position. Despite the fact that the overwhelming majority of Pixar’s recent output has been incredibly well-received original films, these films have not been released in theaters. This is partially due to COVID-related lockdowns and partially due to Disney’s insistence on betting every chip possible on their streaming service, Disney+. As a result, films like “Soul,” “Luca,” and “Turning Red” (all of which are absolutely wonderful and unique works that deserve to be acknowledged as modern classics within the Pixar oeuvre) were not released in theaters and in their place, the aggressively lackluster films “Lightyear” and “Elemental” were. Thus, Pixar has been pushed back into a very similar corner, one in which their artistic and commercial viability has been questioned from every side, including parent-company Disney most of all.
So Kelsey Mann’s “Inside Out 2” finds itself being released to a scrutinizing media environment, trying to hit every possible quadrant for success once more, just like its predecessor. But does “Inside Out 2” have what it takes to live up to the critical, commercial, and cultural juggernaut that was the first film?
5. Weak Spot: Commodity Over Character
One of the first things to strike this writer as strange in the lead-up to “Inside Out 2” was the lack of returning creatives, both in front of and behind the digital camera. While Amy Poehler is back, as are several others, there are numerous highly notable absences that one does not typically see in Pixar sequels. Neither Bill Hader nor Mindy Kaling have returned to their roles of Fear or Disgust, respectively, and even composer Michael Giacchino, whose score for the first film has become so indelibly ingrained in the minds and memories of audiences, is woefully missing here.
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This is all strange, given the lengths Pixar has gone to actively preserve these kinds of creative teams in the past. All four Toy Story films have kept the core voice cast involved as much as possible, and you don’t see Randy Newman not returning to score one of those sequels. In and of itself, this observation is not a problem, but it’s indicative of a larger systemic issue. “Inside Out” was a film about characters, and “Inside Out 2” flattens those characters into commodities in practically every way.
Part of this has to do with the sheer number of characters in “Inside Out 2.” By introducing four new Emotions to the cast, “Inside Out 2” is a far more crowded film, one that feels ultimately unable to devote worthwhile time to properly defining or developing its characters.
As an easy example, in “Inside Out,” Bill Hader as Fear felt like a real character. We spent meaningful time with him, both with the rest of the Emotions and in solidarity, and came to understand his role within Riley’s emotional state on many levels. In “Inside Out 2,” Fear is a caricature of Hader’s original performance. New voice actor Tony Hale does a great job, but the character himself is defined by the broadest strokes imaginable here, and it’s to the overall detriment of the character and the film. In juggling so many more characters and moving pieces, “Inside Out 2” loses the stark clarity, focus, and impact of the first film and muddies the central metaphor at the series’ core.
4. Maya Hawke as Anxiety
The one new emotion who truly shines in “Inside Out 2” is Anxiety, voiced delightfully by Maya Hawke.
Without delving too deeply into specifics to preserve some of the film’s later surprises, Anxiety’s role in the story stands out as a highlight where the emotional intelligence of “Inside Out 2” matches that of the first film. The portrayal of Anxiety manages to convey with genuine subtlety and nuance the ways in which anxiety can impact someone, especially during adolescence.
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Maya Hawke’s vocal performance is exceptional, effectively capturing the complexities of Anxiety’s motivations. Supported by the strong writing of the character in Meg LeFauve & Dave Holstein’s script and stunning animation, Anxiety emerges as one of the most skillfully crafted and impactful elements of “Inside Out 2.”
3. Weak Spot: Maintaining the Status Quo
There are several instances throughout the runtime of “Inside Out 2” where it feels like the filmmakers are yearning to break free from the confines of delivering ‘another Inside Out’ and instead offer something beyond that preconceived notion. Throughout the film, concepts such as Riley driving herself without the influence of any Emotions, delving into the emotions that constitute the Emotions themselves, and exploring how one’s primary emotions evolve over time are all hinted at. However, disappointingly, none of these ideas are explored with any real depth.
Instead, “Inside Out 2” appears determined to cling to the status quo established by its predecessor, often to its own detriment. While these ideas suggest potential avenues for a transformative story involving Riley and her emotions, the film fails to fully realize any of them. Instead, the overarching theme of the film feels like a slight variation on the deeper theme of the first film. Similarly, the narrative of “Inside Out 2” feels deliberately reminiscent of its predecessor, lacking the imagination in staging, settings, or character development that made the original so memorable.
2. Weak Spot: A Lack of Imagination
The first “Inside Out” feels bursting with creativity, imagination, and monumental stakes. While the external story is simply about Riley and her family moving to a new city and her contemplating running away from home, the narrative feels almost mythic due to the meticulous interweaving of a propulsive narrative and profound themes by Docter and his team.
In contrast, “Inside Out 2” often feels oddly insular and small-scale in the wrong ways. While using a weekend away at hockey camp as the narrative’s core is not a bad idea, as it serves as a microcosm of Riley’s impending adolescence, the film fails to emotionally convey the magnitude of this event as effectively as it does intellectually.
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This is exacerbated by an in-brain adventure for the Emotions that feels more like a straightforward task than the grand odyssey of the first film. While the first film also revolved around retrieving a MacGuffin, it did so to facilitate character growth and thematic exploration. In “Inside Out 2,” this narrative structure remains, but the essential components feel far more scarce and less impactful.
1. The Vault
The true standout scene of “Inside Out 2” revolves around a vault within Riley’s head dedicated to safeguarding her secrets. Within this vault lies a plethora of hilariously clever gags, including a recurring one that parents of very young children will undoubtedly find immensely enjoyable. What sets this sequence apart is its utilization of a mixed-media style of animation, which deviates from Pixar’s typical aesthetic in unexpected ways, enhancing the scene’s impact. There’s a genuine exuberance and innovative energy to this moment, which the film could have benefited from incorporating more extensively.
(B-)
“Inside Out 2” is a very well-made film. It’s funny, charming, and compelling, but it doesn’t quite reach the same level of humor, charm, and emotional resonance as the first “Inside Out” film. While it represents an improvement over Pixar’s previous theatrical releases, “Lightyear” and “Elemental,” it falls short of the artistic fulfillment and singular vision found in recent works like “Soul” by Pete Docter and Kemp Powers, “Luca” by Enrico Casarosa, and “Turning Red” by Domee Shi.
Although “Inside Out 2” isn’t a disaster, it feels like a movie that prioritizes mass appeal and accessibility over passionate storytelling and creative vision at every turn.
The Tiger Is the Tank. Or rather, the type of German tank that gives the film its international title—just in case anyone might confuse this war story with an adventure movie involving wild animals. The tank itself is the film’s container, much as The Boat was in the legendary 1981 film it openly seeks to emulate in more than one respect, or as the more recent tank was in the Israeli film Lebanon (2009). Yes, much of Dennis Gansel’s movie unfolds inside a tank called Tiger, but what it is ultimately trying to tell goes well beyond its cramped metal walls.
This large-scale Prime Video war production has been described by many as the platform’s answer to Netflix’s success with All Quiet on the Western Front, the highly decorated German film released in 2022. In practice, it is a very different proposition. Despite the fanfare surrounding its release—Amazon even gave it a theatrical run a few months ago, something it rarely does—the film made a far more modest impact. Watching it, the reasons become clear. This is a darker, stranger movie, one that flirts as much with horror as with monotony, and that positions itself less as a traditional war film than as an ethical and philosophical meditation on warfare.
The first section—an intense and technically impressive combat sequence—takes place during what would later be known as the Battle of the Dnieper, which unfolded over several months in 1943 on the Eastern Front, as Soviet forces pushed back the Nazi advance. Der Tiger is the type of tank carrying a compact platoon—played by David Schütter, Laurence Rupp, Leonard Kunz, Sebastian Urzendowsky, and Yoran Leicher—that miraculously survives the aerial destruction of a bridge over the river.
Soon afterward—or so it seems—the group is assigned a mission that, at least in its initial setup, recalls Saving Private Ryan. Lieutenant Gerkens (Schütter) is ordered to rescue Colonel Von Harnenburg, stranded behind enemy lines. From there, the film becomes a journey through an infernal landscape of ruined cities, corpses, forests, and fog—a setting that, thanks to the way it is shot, feels more fantastical than realistic.
That choice is no accident. As the journey begins to echo Apocalypse Now, it becomes clear that the film is less interested in conventional suspense—mines on the road, the threat of ambush—than in the strangeness of its situations and environments. When the tank plunges into the water and briefly operates like a submarine, one may reasonably wonder whether such technology actually existed in the 1940s, or whether the film has deliberately drifted into a more extravagant, symbolic territory.
This is the kind of film whose ending is likely to inspire more frustration than affection. Though heavily foreshadowed, it is the sort of conclusion that tends to irritate audiences: cryptic, somewhat open-ended, and more suggestive than explicit. That makes sense, given that the film is less concerned with depicting the daily mechanics of war than with grappling with its aftermath—ethical, moral, psychological, and physical.
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In its own way, The Tank functions as a kind of mea culpa. The platoon becomes a microcosm of a nation that “followed orders” and committed—or allowed to be committed—horrific acts in its name. The flashbacks scattered throughout the film make this point unmistakably clear. The problem is that, while these ideas may sound compelling when summarized in a few sentences (or in a review), the film never manages to turn them into something fully alive—narratively, visually, or dramatically.
Only in brief moments—largely thanks to Gerkens’s perpetually worried, anguished expression—do those ideas achieve genuine cinematic weight. They are not enough, however, to sustain a two-hour runtime that increasingly feels repetitive and inert. Unlike the films by Steven Spielberg, Wolfgang Petersen, Francis Ford Coppola, and others it so clearly references, The Tank remains closer to a concept than to a drama, more an intriguing reflection than a truly effective film.
By John E. Finley-Weaver in San DiegoJohn E. Finley-Weaver (SDJW photo)
My wife convinced me to watch a movie about ping pong. And, having acquiesced to her proposal, I dove face-first into a kettle of willful ignorance, knowing only that Some Guy Timothée Chalamet of Dune 1 and Dune 2 and A Complete Unknown (another of her suggestions) was the lead, and that what we were soon to watch might move me. Or, at the very least, that it might entertain me.
The movie did not disappoint.
In fact, Marty Supreme is the absolute best film about table tennis that I have ever seen. And I’ve seen all of one of them so far, although I am aware of and have seen a few clips of Robert Ben Garant’s Balls of Fury.
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But, holy mackerel, Marty Supreme is not just a movie about some lanky goniff whose inner craving for focused dominance in one specific realm compels him to pursue a shiny, sportsball “X” trophy, culminating in a crowd-pleasing, applause roar of triumph . . . a n d . . . cut to the end credits, supplemented by a catchy, happy song . . . . “Honey, let’s get to the restroom, fast!”
Uh-uh. Nay. Marty Supreme is a lived-in world (like the Star Wars universe, but way different and way better) populated by tactile characters, each of whom has their own, inferred history and glob of yearnings. And they have warts. Lots of warts. Warts and all.
Marty Mauser, the Jewish protagonist of Marty Supreme, is a plucky ping pong imp and shoe salesman, in addition to being a nimble and loquacious malarkey artist. He is also a shockingly-gawdawful, verbal bastard person to his mother, played by Fran Drescher, who left her specific, discount Phyllis Diller voice in the dustbin of screen history where it belongs, much to the contentment of my sensitive ears.
Marty Mauser is even more a womanizer and a thief. And he is a delight. And, because boring, nice boys don’t have movies made about them, he does something for his ema that is chutzpahdik, illegal, vandalicious, unhistorical, and tear-inducingly sweet.
And again, dear Reader, I went into this movie knowing most of nothing about it. If you are like me, fear not: I shan’t disclose the plot.
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Marty Mauser’s partners in life and “crime” are the facially-delicious Rachel, played by Odessa A’zion and best bud Wally, performed by Tyler Okonma, each complementarily savvy to Marty’s needs and wants.
The remainder of the film’s actors is a gathering of casting directorial genius: Kevin O’Leary, the that guy from some reality television show that I will never watch; Gwyneth Paltrow; director Abel Ferrara; Sandra Bernhard, my lukewarm, high school “bad girl” crush; Géza Röhrig, whose character is seven year’s fresh from a Nazi death camp and hauntingly beautiful; Koto Kawaguchi, the movie-world champion and legally-deaf Tommy-esque pinball wizard of ping pong and real-world champion of the game; Pico Iyer, Indo-Limey travel writer, meditator, and inveterate outsider; George Gerwin, a very retired basketball player; Ted Williams and his golden voice; Penn Jillette, agrarian and blasty; Isaac Mizrahi, obviously “out” in 1952; and David freaking Mamet.
Gush.
And great googly woogly. They all do their jobs so gosh darn well that I don’t notice them as actors acting.
And then, as I have done since I was a child, for science fiction books, for television, and for movies, I recast, in my mind’s eye, all of the characters and their associated journeys as different people. I made an all-Negro cast of the film. And it worked. No radical changes to the script were necessary. I did the same for a spunky, mid-West farm girl as the lead. That worked. I tried again, using a Colombian lesbian. That worked too.
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I praise the cinematic vision of Director Josh Safdie. I praise the wide accessibility of the script he co-wrote with Ronald Bronstein: Thank you. The expected plot points, the tropes of moviedom, the “inevitable” happenings of standard movies never really happened. Marty Supreme zaggled and Zelig’d when I expected it to zig.
A lesser film would not have surprised me in most of its story structure, its scenes, or its character paths. A lesser film would have had me in my seat, either smugly prognosticating the next events, or non-thinkingly rapt for entire scenes. This film, this masterpiece of storytelling and visual and aural execution outsmarted me. It outsmarted my movie mind, and for that, I am grateful.
Marty Supreme is a very Brooklyn Jewy movie, but it sings from the standard Humanity of us all, to each of us. And that is movie making at its finest.
* Cinema buff John E. Finley-Weaver is a freelance writer based in San Diego.
Story: Eesha centres on four friends who take it upon themselves to expose fake godmen and challenge blind belief systems that exploit fear and faith. What begins as a rational, investigative effort soon places them in an unfamiliar and unsettling environment, where unexplained incidents begin to blur the line between superstition and the supernatural. Review: Set largely within a confined, eerie space, the film attempts to merge social commentary with a traditional horror framework, positioning belief itself as the central conflict. Director Srinivas Manne establishes the premise with clarity, and the initial idea holds promise. The early portions focus on setting up the group dynamic and their motivation, grounding the narrative in realism before introducing supernatural elements. However, the film takes time to find its rhythm. The first half moves sluggishly, spending too long on familiar horror mechanics such as sudden loud noises, jump scares and predictable scare setups, which reduces their effectiveness over time.Performance-wise, Hebah Patel as Nayana and Adith Arun as Kalyan deliver earnest and committed performances, lending credibility to the film’s emotional core. Their reactions and emotional beats feel genuine, helping the audience stay invested despite the slow pace. Siri Hanumanth and Akhil Raj Uddemari support the narrative adequately, though their characters are written with limited depth, offering little room to leave a lasting impression. The supporting cast complements the leads well and helps maintain engagement during stretched sequences.Technically, the film benefits from effective sound design and atmospheric visuals that occasionally succeed in creating tension. The supernatural mystery does manage to grip attention in parts, particularly when the film leans into mood rather than shock value. However, the prolonged buildup works against the story, dulling the impact of a key twist in the climax that could have been far more effective with tighter pacing.While Eesha is driven by a unique concept that questions blind faith through a horror lens, the execution falls short of its potential. A more polished script and sharper screenplay might have elevated the film into a more compelling and consistently chilling experience.— Sanjana Pulugurtha
