1 of 5 | Robin Wright and Tom Hanks reunite in “Here.” Photo courtesy of Sony Pictures
LOS ANGELES, Oct. 26 (UPI) —Forrest Gump, for better or worse, captured what the ’50s through ’80s meant to America. In Here, which premiered Friday at AFI Fest, the same filmmakers spread themselves thin trying to capture centuries.
The premise is that the camera remains fixed on a single location for the entire movie as it evolves. For most of the movie, it is a living room, but it sometimes flashes back to when it was a colonial plantation or forest inhabited by Native Americans.
The families who lived in the house in the 20th century begin with John Harter (Gwilym Lee), a pilot, and his wife Pauline (Michelle Dockery). The next residents are Leo Beekman (David Fynn), who is inventing the La-Z-Boy recliner, and his wife Stella (Ophelia Lovibond).
Al (Paul Bettany) and Rose (Kelly Reilly) move in after he’s discharged from World War II. Their son, Richard (Tom Hanks) grows up in the same house and marries Margaret (Robin Wright).
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The technical gimmick of unfolding the entire movie in a single, unmoving frame is easy to follow. Smaller windows in the screen open up revealing transitions into different eras, and computers surely ensured the camera never moved by even a millimeter.
The format shortchanges the plot. It’s hard enough to cover more than a century in under two hours, let alone when every major event has to occur in the same room.
As such, Here feels like a play made up of 30-second scenes with instantaneous scene changes. In those brief scenes, the characters discuss every major event that occurs in their lives.
Gump screenwriter Eric Roth’s adaptation of Richard McGuire’s graphic novel, co-written with director Robert Zemeckis, always feels like characters are rushing to cram every piece of information into a scene before they leave the room.
And yet, characters frequently make sure to drop “here” into conversation and comment on the passage of time. If this concept needs to explain that it’s about the passage of time in a single place, then it’s failed.
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Like Gump, the film uses major historical events to indicate where the characters are in time. The Beatles appearing on The Ed Sullivan Show, the music Richard and Maragret’s daughter listens to and aerobics on television indicate the ’60s, ’70s and ’80s for example.
When Here flashes back to the American Revolution, it feels far less natural to hear William Franklin (Daniel Betts) complain about his brother Benjamin’s politics. The Beekmans and Harters also feel like they’re speaking in caricatures of old timey dialects.
It is also strange how loosely Here plays with certain history. Why deal with the inventor of the La-Z-Boy but make up a guy named Leo Beekman? Edwin Schoemaker and Edward Knabusch designed it in Detroit.
In rushing through the 20th-century storyline, we barely saw Richard and Margaret fall in love. Yet, attempts to broaden the scope beyond a White family suffer from gross oversimplification.
A Black family moves into the house after Richard and Margaret, but the film barely checks in with them.
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It does show them having a very serious conversation about how to cooperate with police during a traffic stop. That’s one of only two significant scenes of dialogue given to the Black characters.
In covering so much time, Zemeckis employs digital technology to allow older actors to play their characters younger. The technology has improved since even The Irishman five years ago, but the story fails to make a case for rendering Bosom Buddies era Hanks.
Anyone who considers the fate of Wright’s Forrest Gump character to be misogynistic will have similar issues with her treatment in Here.
The experiences of generations over time are surely valid dramatic ones. Sadly, Here feels born of a technical idea and the actual narrative never feels inspired to justify it.
Here opens Nov. 1 in theaters.
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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.
Two masterpieces just shattered critical consensus on Rotten Tomatoes. Both A Poet and All That’s Left of You have garnered rare perfect 100% scores from critics, dominating March 2026’s excellence rankings. These dual releases represent a historic moment for international cinema.
🔥 Quick Facts
A Poet:100% Rotten Tomatoes score from critics celebrating Simón Mesa Soto‘s Colombian drama
All That’s Left of You:100% Certified Fresh multi-generational Palestinian epic by Cherien Dabis
Release Timeline: Both films expanding dramatically in theaters March 2026 after festival triumphs
Critical Moment: Rare simultaneous perfect scores elevate international storytelling into mainstream spotlight
A Poet Achieves Unanimous Critical Acclaim
Simón Mesa Soto‘s A Poet stands as one of 2026’s finest achievements. Starring Ubeimar Rios as Oscar Restrepo, a once-promising writer turned tragic failure, the film examines fatherhood’s weight with devastating wit and elegance. The Colombian-Swedish-German co-production premiered at Cannes Film Festival’s Un Certain Regard section last year and has conquered every distribution market since.
The ensemble cast includes Rebeca Andrade, Guillermo Cardona, and Humberto Restrepo, delivering layered performances that anchor the film’s four-chapter structure. Critics hailed the film as a triumph of tone, mixing tragicomic observation with genuine emotional devastation. The New York Times called it “The Romance of Misery”, recognizing its ability to find beauty in human failure. The film’s philosophical depth and formal precision explain its unprecedented critical consensus.
Title
A Poet (Un Poeta)
Director
Simón Mesa Soto
Lead Actor
Ubeimar Rios as Oscar Restrepo
Rotten Tomatoes
100% Certified Fresh
Theatrical Status
Expanding in March 2026
All That’s Left of You Shatters Records as Palestinian Saga
Cherien Dabis wrote, directed, and starred in All That’s Left of You, a sweeping three-generational epic set in the Occupied West Bank spanning decades of family trauma and resilience. Featuring Saleh Bakri, Mohammad Bakri, Adam Bakri, and Maria Zreik, the film follows a teenage boy swept into a pivotal protest with consequences that ripple through his family’s future.
Produced by Watermelon Pictures, the film premiered at Sundance Film Festival 2025, where it immediately earned Certified Fresh status and near-universal praise. Filming relocated to Cyprus, Greece, and Jordan after production complications, yet the result feels seamlessly authentic. Critics point to Dabis’s multi-media mastery (she directs, performs, and produces) as essential to the film’s emotional authority. The film’s scope rivals the greatest epics while maintaining intimate character work that defines recent international cinema.
All That’s Left of You arrived in selected theaters on January 9, 2026 and steadily expanded throughout early March. The film’s 100% Rotten Tomatoes score reflects not just critical respect but genuine reverence for Dabis’s artistic vision. This achievement represents Palestinian cinema reaching its greatest artistic and commercial moment.
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Why These Two Films Dominate March 2026’s Conversation
Rarity defines these simultaneous perfect scores. A Poet and All That’s Left of You occupy the rare 100% Tomatometer tier reserved for films of historic excellence. The 2026 FilmFare recognized both as front-runners for major awards, acknowledging how they’ve elevated the expectations for drama itself. Industry observers note that achieving perfect critical consensus in today’s fractious landscape represents not consensus but unanimous recognition of artistic achievement.
Both films reflect cinema’s global moment. Simón Mesa Soto‘s Colombian vision and Cherien Dabis‘ Palestinian perspective prove that international storytelling now commands the cultural conversation. Rotten Tomatoes‘ Official Rankings place both films in its exclusive Certified Fresh top tier. March 2026 becomes the month cinema decided: universal critical acclaim belongs to filmmakers willing to transcend borders.
“All That’s Left of You is a sweeping multigenerational epic that captures the thematic breadth of great cinema while exploring what it means to endure generational trauma.”
— Rotten Tomatoes Critics Consensus, Officials
The Future of International Cinema Starts Now
Both films expand to more theaters through March 2026 and beyond. A Poet hits streaming services and digital platforms simultaneously, making it accessible to audiences beyond Select Release cities. All That’s Left of You continues rolling out across regional markets, having already secured international distribution. Industry observers expect both to capture major festival awards at upcoming spring cinema celebrations.
These perfect scores matter beyond accolades. They signal to studios, streamers, and investors that audiences hunger for international voices and authentic storytelling. March 2026 becomes a watershed moment where Colombian drama and Palestinian cinema proved they belong in the conversation with any major market release. The critical paths of A Poet and All That’s Left of You forecast how cinema itself will evolve toward greater global representation.
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Where Can Film Lovers Watch These Perfect-Score Masterpieces?
Both films remain available in theatrical releases across the United States and expanding internationally. A Poet plays select theaters with plans to widen release through spring 2026, while All That’s Left of You continues broader theatrical circulation. Check major ticketing platforms for showtimes and streaming availability. International audiences should consult local cinema schedules for release dates and language availability. These 100% Rotten Tomatoes achievements deserve the big screen experience both directors envisioned.
Sources
Rotten Tomatoes – Official Tomatometer scores and Critics Consensus for both films
The New York Times – Critical analysis and reviews of A Poet’s artistic achievement
Watermelon Pictures – Official distribution and production information for All That’s Left of You
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At the end of it all, a flabbergasted detective asks a survivor what’s just occurred. The victim, battered and exhausted and covered in blood, grunts out just two words: “Rich people.”
That’s about the extent of the social commentary on offer from They Will Kill You, a new action-horror-comedy set in a Manhattan luxury building whose Satan-worshipping tenants engage in ritualistic killings of their mostly poor and marginalized staff. But it’s all the excuse writer-director Kirill Sokolov (Why Don’t You Just Die!) and his co-writer Alex Litvak need to unleash great big arterial sprays with gonzo style, to enjoyably giddy, if ultimately insubstantial, effect.
They Will Kill You
The Bottom Line
Not a lot of brains, but plenty of splattered guts.
Arriving just one week after Ready or Not 2: Here I Come hit theaters — and having first debuted at SXSW just a few days after Ready or Not 2: Here I Come did — They Will Kill You will inevitably draw comparisons. It’s impossible to argue they aren’t fair.
Both films are about ordinary women brought into a tightly guarded enclave of the one percent, where they’re to be hunted for sacrifice by entitled sociopaths who’ve struck a literal deal with the Devil. Both films saddle their heroines with estranged younger sisters who harbor lingering resentment about having been abandoned by their big sisters in their youth, but now must make up with them in order to survive. Both films devolve into frenetic yet stylish melees deploying all manner of unusual weaponry before, finally, confronting the supernatural head-on.
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But any assumption that they’re the same movie will be wiped out the moment the satin-cloaked Satanists of They Will Kill You corner Asia (Zazie Beetz), the newest maid at the exclusive Virgil apartments, in a closet — only for her to come out literally swinging with a sword, slicing one of their heads clean off to uncork the first of what will be many, many geysers of blood to come.
Asia, we learn through one of several flashbacks, is no oblivious victim but an “avenger,” as her boss (Patricia Arquette‘s Lily) puts it, with an irritated sigh suggesting she isn’t the first. Asia has come here under false pretenses with the intention of rescuing her sister, Maria (Myha’la), another recently hired maid. She’s thus armed to the teeth with blades and guns and ammo, though perhaps nothing is deadlier than her fighting spirit, honed over years of prison brawls. The residents of the Virgil, for their part, are more than ready to defend what’s theirs, with one major supernatural asset up their capacious sleeves that gives them the upper hand.
The simplicity of the plot — the only way out is a fire escape at the top of the building, forcing Asia to fight her way up its nine floors, á la The Raid: Redemption or Dredd — gives Sokolov a relatively blank canvas across which to splatter a grand and gory pastiche of seemingly everything he has ever found cool, from video games to animé to John Wick to Sergio Leone and Quentin Tarantino. If he’s yet to coalesce all those influences into his own distinctive style, he wields them with gleeful enthusiasm. He dials the violence up to Looney Tunes silliness while Beetz infuses it all with an effortless cool, giving Asia an athleticism that makes her a pleasure to watch and a defiance that makes her a joy to root for.
Asia never swings an axe when she can swing a flaming axe so that she can set her enemies on fire even as she hacks off their limbs. Furniture getting hurled through the air is captured in slow-motion, all the better to admire when it shatters on someone. Gunshots are punctuated by flurries of mattress stuffing falling through the air like snow. And I haven’t even revealed the big twist that accounts for the film’s most eye-poppingly gruesome sights; those, I’ll leave you to goggle at in the theater for yourself.
But even with that endless appetite for mayhem — and even with a trim 94-minute run time — there’s a point at which They Will Kill You starts to leave intriguing ideas on the table in favor of repeating itself. Take the layout of the building. We’re told each floor is themed after a different deadly sin, but aside from a brief glimpse of a writhing orgy on the “fuck floor” (Lust, obviously) and a set piece in an empty kitchen (Gluttony, presumably), we don’t get to see any of the others. Instead, we spend much of that time crawling around dark underground tunnels and climbing up nondescript shafts. It seems a missed opportunity to set the Virgil apart from any of a million hallways we’ve seen action stars punch their way through before.
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Then there are the characters. They Will Kill You barely bothers fleshing out its robed and masked masses of villains; the ones played by Heather Graham and Tom Felton are distinguishable only because they’re played by Heather Graham and Tom Felton. But it has not much more interest in key characters like Maria, whose motives shift with the needs of the plot. Or Lily and her husband Roy (Paterson Joseph), about whom I could tell you almost nothing beyond that Arquette seems to have decided halfway through the shoot to adopt a “local newscaster on St. Paddy’s day”-level Irish accent, and Joseph to pick up a gently Southern one.
Even its haves-versus-have-nots posturing turns out to be less about exploring social injustice than allowing us to root for ultra-violence guilt-free, secure in the knowledge that these rich actually are not like the rest of us because they are much, much, much worse.
But perhaps it’s for the best. For all the weapons in Asia’s arsenal, thoughtfulness or emotionality or complexity are nowhere among them. They Will Kill You is simply not equipped to serve up a nuanced exploration of class division, or a poignant drama of sisterly devotion, or what have you. What it is armed for is violence — lots and lots and lots of violence, so brutally nasty it comes all the way back around to childishly funny. That, it is happy to dish out in spades, with enough gusto to sate even the most bloodthirsty filmgoer.
Julia Ducournau is an exhilarating talent with a real perspective on genre filmmaking. “Raw” was unsettling and grotesque, but her mesmerizingly strange “Titane” really proved what she’s capable of in her contortion act of intimate drama and the macabre. Unfortunately, even the greatest artists have their duds, and “Alpha” is hers. Troubled teen Alpha (Mélissa