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‘The White Lotus’ Season 3, Episode 4 recap: Pick up the phone, some answers are calling

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‘The White Lotus’ Season 3, Episode 4 recap: Pick up the phone, some answers are calling

“The White Lotus,” Mike White’s black comedy anthology series, is back on HBO for a third season. Times staffers love an escape, but since we can’t take a trip to Thailand to stay at a luxury resort, the next best thing is to immerse ourselves in the new season. Follow along with us for each episode as we discuss theories, observations and our favorite moments leading up to the finale. (Read our recaps: Episode 1, Episode 2 and Episode 3.)

From the opening moments of Episode 4, the characters telegraphed duress through some phone calls. Whatever Jaclyn (Michelle Monaghan) is feeling about her bestie Kate (Leslie Bibb), who might be a Trump supporter, takes a backseat when a call (and text) to her younger husband goes unanswered. Meanwhile, Belinda (Natasha Rothwell) connects with her son, Zion, as he prepares to board his flight to meet up with her: “Please be safe,” she tells him.

But it’s when genial hotel guard Gaitok (Tayme Thapthimthong) is given access to a gun and encouraged to familiarize himself with it after a robbery (and a lecture from his bosses) that the puzzle pieces seem to start locking into place.

This episode moves many of the characters outside the White Lotus resort. In an effort to keep from spiraling about her husband, Jaclyn rallies the ladies for a shift in scenery. But when another resort’s pool turns out, to Jaclyn’s extreme dismay, to be an oasis for older normies, she insists Valentin (Arnas Fedaravičius) take them on a better excursion. He obliges, leading them into the city center as Songkran, a celebration of the Thai New Year that involves water fights, is underway. In a moment crafted to provide us with endless GIFs, the friends are chased by kids armed with super soaker guns who hose the women in water, but you can’t wash away entitlement. They eventually meet up with Valentin and some of his friends at a party — what happens next remains to be seen.

However, the main event is a boat bash hosted by Greg/Gary (Jon Gries) and Chloe (Charlotte Le Bon), teased in last week’s episode. Despite Chelsea’s (Aimee Lou Wood) initial misgivings that something bad could await her there — “Things happen in threes. The robbery. The snake show. This could be some ‘Final Destination’ s—. Death is coming for me.” — she decides to attend after guilt-tripping Rick (Walton Goggins) into making an appearance before his flight to Bangkok. At the boat party, Chelsea manages to get Rick to share why he’s Bangkok-bound: “The dude who murdered my father owns this hotel,” he says.

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Elsewhere, the Ratliff family continues to win the record for the most insane stories to share in therapy. Timothy (Jason Isaacs), who’s been self-medicating with Victoria’s Lorazepam, unintentionally flashes Piper (Sarah Catherine Hook) and Lochy (Sam Nivola) before breakfast — let this be a lesson to double-knot your robe belts, people. But the slip of skin didn’t derail the maritime festivities. At the boat party, Saxon (Patrick Schwarzenegger) continues to be an ick monster and Tim winds up swiping Victoria’s entire bottle of pills. We also learn that Tim’s grandfather was the governor of North Carolina, his father was a successful businessman, and both his parents are dead.

The Ratliff family heads to Greg/Gary and Chloe’s boat party.

(Stefano Delia / HBO)

Back on dry land, after Victoria (Parker Posey) stresses to Piper how lucky she is that, unlike the men on the boat, her father is a respectable man, Tim’s guilty conscience leads him to retrieve his phone from Pam. Messages come flooding in. And another phone call signaling doom takes place: Tim calls his attorney and learns that Kenny Nguyen, his associate in the scandal he is caught up in, is cooperating with the feds. Tim is advised to plead guilty to embezzlement and fraud so that he can cut a deal where, if he’s lucky, he’d only serve a few months in prison. “I would rather die. I would rather f—ing die. What am I supposed to tell my family?” he says. That’s when he spots the gun Gaitok left unattended in the nearby security shed.

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Then there’s Belinda, who can’t shake the feeling she has about the ubiquitous rich bald guy. She does an internet search on Tanya McQuoid, which brings up news articles about her death and how authorities want to question Greg/Gary. In the episode’s closing moments, we see Greg/Gary scrolling through Belinda’s Instagram grid, stopping at a photo of her with her son. To quote Saxon, “S—’s about to get crazy!”

Before we begin this week’s analysis, we’re saying bon voyage to Meredith Blake, who has departed The Times after more than 12 years. Much like Tanya McQuoid, we won’t forget her. Now it’s time for Maira Garcia, this week’s sub-in, Greg Braxton and Yvonne Villarreal, platinum-status members of “The White Lotus” frequent guest program, to break it all down.

Who do we think is the corpse this week? Does the gun that’s loaned to Gaitok give us a clue?

Garcia: As much is at it would make sense to put my money down on someone from the Ratliff family, knowing how this show has played things in previous seasons, I’m not certain it’s one of them just yet. Tim is obviously experiencing a crisis, but Chelsea’s speech to Rick is awfully ominous. But that may also be too on the nose. Chelsea is very sweet and she appears to be benign compared to everyone else, but sadly, bad things happen to good people.

Braxton: I’m sticking with my previous pick of Victoria having a premonition. Although Chelsea’s mention of her possible “Final Destination” fear may ring true. It would be a cruel outcome. But those movies have no mercy.

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Villarreal: I’m going to keep shifting my answer just so I can have a better shot of claiming that I guessed correctly. With that said, given all of poor Gaitok’s bad luck and this added detail about the gun, I thought maybe the dead body could be Mook in one of his blundered attempts to save the day. But with Tim taking possession of it, I don’t think that’s it. I also am skeptical the corpse was a victim of a gunshot. Maybe someone ate the fruit from the pong-pong tree, or suffered a snake bite, or a death glare from one of the monkeys was extra strong that morning.

It’s made clear again in this episode that Tim and Rick do not like each other. Is it just vibes or do you think there’s more to it?

Garcia: You know, I hadn’t given this much thought until you raised it, Yvonne. I think I’ve been more focused on the vibes between Rick and Greg/Gary, but I need to know what you think.

Braxton: Look at how Rick treats his girlfriend. Rick doesn’t like anybody unless they’re providing him with weed. He’s miserable, and sometimes misery does not love company.

Villarreal: Rick is very much the Hugh Grant of this trip — annoyed by everything around him in a way we can’t help but relate to — so I can see this tension stemming from something as slight as Tim breathing too loud or talking by speakerphone on his cell during that first boat trip to the resort. But it’s obvious we’re supposed to sense it, and I want to know why!

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A woman in a colorful long-sleeve swimsuit cover-up stands facing a man in a black floral short on a dock by a yacht.

Sweet Chelsea (Aimee Lou Wood) learns why Rick (Walton Goggins) is so intent on escaping to Bangkok.

(Stefano Delia / HBO)

Speaking of Rick, what do you make of the story he tells Chelsea about his dad?

Garcia: It’s heartbreaking because I think he’s being truthful. As grouchy as Rick can be, he doesn’t seem like the type to lie, especially not to Chelsea. But you have to wonder whether his mother told him a tall tale as a child to comfort him. Trauma can be strange like that.

Braxton: That’s a hell of a burden to carry around all your life. I suspect the story is true, but I also suspect it goes deeper than that. That could definitely be revealed before we reach the end.

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Villarreal: Not to throw his dead mother under the bus, but because this show makes me question everything it presents to me, I feel like maybe his mom told him that story on her deathbed to make him feel better about why his dad wasn’t in his life. Am I being too cynical?

Garcia: No, I’m with you on this.

Do you find it strange that Belinda hadn’t known about Tanya’s passing until now?

Garcia: Incredibly. Meredith raised this point in last week’s recap. Wouldn’t this have been news around work at least? I’d like to say most people scroll the news, but we know that’s not true [cries in falling subscription revenue]. That’s the only logical reasoning I can come up with.

Braxton: What’s bothering me even more is that Belinda recognizes Gary/Greg from two years ago. I can’t recall any significant interaction between then. One element of Jon Gries, which makes his acting and his character, is his physical ordinariness. Gary/Greg is a guy who could easily fade into the background in a crowded environment — there’s nothing distinctive about his look that would have set him apart from the hundreds of other ubiquitous bald guys who passed through the White Lotus where Belinda works. Walk into any supermarket and you’ll see at least five guys who look like Gary/Greg. Belinda’s nagging suspicion that she recognizes him is a stretch for me.

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Villarreal: I don’t know that I agree with you on that, Greg. Women remember weird dudes. And Greg/Gary is a weird dude. I do find it strange that Belinda would not have heard about Tanya’s death through the work grapevine. I also definitely paused the screen. And the headlines about the death were from 2022, but there was one headline from CNN in the mix that was from 2024, which is clearly closer to when these events take place. So roughly two years have passed. And that CNN headline was about a Hollywood production company landing the rights to Tanya’s story — so I feel like that says this got enough public attention for that to happen? Maybe Belinda is just not doomscrolling like the rest of us. And if that’s the case, I need her master class on that now more than ever.

A woman in a red and white striped shirt looks intently at the screen of a laptop.

Belinda (Natasha Rothwell) learns to doomscroll — she’s just like us now!

(Fabio Lovino / HBO)

Jaclyn and her pals do not have a good experience when they finally venture outside the White Lotus. What is Mike White saying about culture clash and class?

Braxton: Although the women the trio meet at the other resort they visit are polite, they and the other guests are depicted as unattractive, almost grotesque. “Something is off,” Jacklyn whispers to her friends. They are way “above” these folks and can’t wait to get away from them. To me, it speaks to the elitism and shallowness of the trio that they are repelled by folks who are not as upscale as they are — they are repelled by “the great unwashed.” Their discomfort increases when they venture into town for Thai New Year. The native children sense their discomfort and escalate the watery attack, sending the women running for cover. Their horror indicates to me a rejection of the culture they have thousands of dollars to travel to. They are more comfortable being around the wealthy white tourists at the resort.

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Garcia: And that scene at the other resort also reflects their ageism, a topic that came up in Episode 2 when Laurie and Kate talked about Jaclyn’s “waxy” face. We also know Jaclyn married a younger man, and she seemed aghast at being among older common folk. There are a few layers at work here, of course. These scenes were a vivid reflection of the show’s examination of race, culture and class.

Villarreal: Considering how much time White spent studying Thai culture and observing the kinds of tourists that visit, it’s exactly the depiction I’d expect of privileged travelers who want the photo op more than they want to explore the island and experience its offerings. They don’t care to actually understand another culture or truly bask in its surroundings, they just want to feel enough culture to post Instagram stories that will make you envious while you’re stuck at home.

Three drenched women stand in the aisle of a convenience store as one pulls down to her sunglasses to look outside.

Kate (Leslie Bibb), Jaclyn (Michelle Monaghan) and Laurie (Carrie Coon) drenched in privilege.

(Fabio Lovino / HBO)

Kate’s tight smile while being questioned about politics in last week’s episode was a masterclass in facial acting. But Chelsea’s sad face work with Rick over breakfast was just as inspiring. Do we need to start handing out Best Facial Expression awards?

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Garcia: Only if I can give one to Mook for when she politely friend-zoned Gaitok.

Braxton: My candidate would be Amrita (Shalini Peiris), the spiritual counselor who always looks at Rick with interest and concern even as he is horribly rude to her. And when she tells him her story has touched his heart, it’s almost like she is smitten. If I were Chelsea, I’d keep a very close eye on her.

Villarreal: Chelsea’s pout to Rick was top-tier. But the one that had me cackling was Victoria’s reaction in taking stock of the odd couplings on the boat — the raised eyebrows, the sucking of her teeth and the sigh was an exquisite display of subtle judgment.

Greg/Gary somehow manages to feel even more dark and menacing. Why do you think he was looking at Belinda’s Instagram?

Garcia: OK, this gave me the heebie-jeebies. There was also that ominous shot of him on the boat looking down at the party. Dude’s nefarious and slimy and anything shady seems to have to do with him. With that said, Jon Gries’ talent is on full display in this role.

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Braxton: Evil people often do research on their victims before laying the trap.

Villarreal: He’s definitely up to no good, trying to find her weak spot to keep her from gabbing to authorities. To quote Belinda, motherf—!

Who will party harder: our ladies Kate, Jaclyn and Laurie, or Saxon and Lochy?

Garcia: Nothing gives me more joy than seeing middle-aged women have fun, so I can’t wait to see how they party with Valentin and his crew.

Braxton: Girls just wanna have fun. They just wanna, they just wanna …

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Villarreal: Let’s take notes for our next work lunch. Also, speaking of Saxon, how has Erewhon not announced a ridiculously priced smoothie in his honor by now?

Garcia: I hope you get a commission for this million-dollar idea.

Whose storyline do you find most compelling four episodes in?

Garcia: I’m going with Rick. He remains an enigma, though his revelation to Chelsea gives us more to look forward to. I want to know what he does, who he knows and whether he meets Sritala’s husband, who we’re being led to believe killed his father.

Braxton: I vote for Gaitok. He’s such a good guy, but a dark cloud is following him. The theft of the gun while he was out of the guardhouse will be another black mark. Things will not end well for him.

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Villarreal: I’m with you, Greg. I want to protect Gaitok at all costs. But Rick’s troubled aura has me so intrigued. I want him to get the answers he needs to move on in life, but I worry he’ll get answers that will only do more to harden him.

Movie Reviews

“Resurrection” Movie Review: To Burn, Anyway

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“Resurrection” Movie Review: To Burn, Anyway

“What can one person do but two people can’t?”

“Dream.”

I knew the 2025 film “Resurrection” (狂野时代) would be elusive the second I walked out of Amherst Cinema and into the cold air, boots gliding over tanghulu-textured ice. The snow had stopped falling, but I wished it hadn’t so that I could bury myself in my thoughts a little longer. But the wind hit my uncovered face, the oxygen slipped from my lungs, and I realized that I had stopped dreaming.

“Resurrection” is a love letter to the evolution of cinematography, the ephemerality of storytelling, and the raw incoherence of life. Structured like an anthology film and set in a futuristic dreamscape, humanity achieves immortality on one condition: They can’t dream. We follow the last moments before the death of one rebel dreamer, called the “Deliriant” or “迷魂者,” as he travels through four different dream worlds, spanning a century in his mind.

Jackson Yee, who plays the main protagonist of the movie. Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

Being Bi Gan’s third film after the 2015 “Kaili Blues” (路边野餐) and the 2018 “Long Day’s Journey Into Night” (地球最后的夜晚), “Resurrection” follows Gan’s directorial style of creating fantastical, atmospheric worlds. Jackson Yee, known for being a member of the boy group TFBoys, stars as the Deliriant and takes on a different identity in each dream, ranging from a conflicted father-figure conman to an untethered young man looking for love to a hunted vessel with a beautiful voice. His acting morphs unhesitatingly into each role, tailored to the genre of each dream. Of which, “Resurrection” leans into, with practice and precision.

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Opening with a silent film that mimics those of German expressionist cinema, “Resurrection” takes the opportunity to explore the genres of film noir, Buddhist fable, neorealism, and underworld romance. The Deliriant’s dreams are situated in the years 1900 to 2000, as we follow the evolution of a century of competing cinematic visions. The characters don’t utter a single word of dialogue in the first twenty minutes, as all exposition occurs through paper-like text cards that yellow at the edges. I was worried it would be like this for the whole film, but I stayed in the theater that Tuesday night, the week before midterms, waiting for the first line of spoken dialogue to hit like the first sip of water after a day of fasting.

Supporting female actress Shu Qi. Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

Through a massive runtime that spans two hours and 39 minutes, this movie makes you earn everything you get. Gan trains the audience’s patience with a firm hold on precision over the dials of the five senses and the mind.

The dreams may move forward in time through the cultures of the twentieth century, but on a smaller temporal scale, the main setting of each dream functions to tell the story of a day in reverse. The first dream, being a film noir, is told on a rainy night. Without giving any more spoilers, the three subsequent dreams take place at twilight, during multiple sunny afternoons, and then at sunrise. “Resurrection” does not grant sunlight so easily; we are given momentary solace after being deprived of direct sunlight for a solid 70 minutes, until it is stripped from us again and we are dropped into the darkness of pre-dawn – not that I am complaining. I love a movie that knows what it wants the audience to feel. I felt a deep-seated ache as I watched the film, scooting closer to the edge of my seat.

“Resurrection” is a movie that is best watched in theaters, but a home speaker system or padded headphones in a dark room can also suffice. Some of its most gripping moments are controlled by sound. Loud, cluttered echoes of the world, whether from people chatting in a parlor or anxiety in a character’s head, are abruptly cut off with ringing silence and a suspended close-up shot. We are forced to reckon with what the character has just done. I knew I was a world away, but I was convinced and terrified at my own culpability and agency. If I were him, would I have done the same? I could only hear my thoughts fade away as we moved onto the next dream.

Beyond sight and sound, the plot also deals intimately with the senses of taste, smell, and touch, but you will have to watch the movie yourself to find that out.

My high school acting teacher once told us that whenever a character tells a story in a play, they are actually referencing the play’s overall narrative. This exact technique of using framed narratives as vessels of information foreshadowing drives coherence in a seemingly ambiguous, metaphorical anthology film. Instead of easy-to-follow tales that mimic the hero’s journey, we are taken through unadulterated, expansive explorations of characters and their aspirations. We never find out all the details of what or why something happens, as the Deliriant moves quickly through ephemeral lifetimes in each dream, literally dying to move onto the next, but we find closure nonetheless through the parallels between elements and the poetry of it all.

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That is why I like to think of “Resurrection” as pure art. It is not bound by structure; it osmoses beyond borders. It is creation in the highest form; it is a movie that I will never be able to watch again.

Perhaps because the dream worlds are so intimate and gorgeous, the exposition for the actual futuristic society feels weak in comparison. We learn that there is a woman whose job is to hunt down Deliriants, but we don’t see the rest of the dystopian infrastructure that runs this system. However, I can understand this as a thematic choice to prioritize dreams over reality. Form follows function, and these omissions of detail compel us to forget the outside world.

What it means to “dream” is up for interpretation, and we never learn the specifics of why or how immortality is achieved. Instead, “Resurrection” compares dreaming to fire. We humans are like candles, the movie claims, with wax that could stand forever if never used. But what is the point in being candles if we are never lit?

The greatest reminder of “Resurrection” is our own mortality. Whether we run from the snow-dipped mountaintops to the back alleyways of rain-streaked Chongqing, we can never escape our own consequences. “Resurrection” gives me a great fear of death, but so does it reignite my conviction to live a life of mistakes and keep dreaming anyway.

Dreaming is nothing without death. Immortality is nothing without love. So, I stumbled back to my dorm that Tuesday night, the week before midterms, thinking about what I loved and feared losing. So few films can channel life and let it go with a gentle hand. I only watch movies to fall in love. I am in love, I am in love. I am so afraid. 

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Spotify once had a reputation for underpaying music artists. It hopes to change that perception

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Spotify once had a reputation for underpaying music artists. It hopes to change that perception

Back in the early 2010s, the music industry was at a low point.

Piracy was rampant. Compact disc sales were on a steady decline. And the then-new audio streaming services, like Spotify, were taking hits from creators for paying low royalty rates.

Today, Spotify has grown into the world’s most popular audio streaming subscription service and the highest-paying retailer globally — paying the music industry over $11 billion last year. The Swedish company said in a recent post that the payouts aren’t strictly going to ultra-popular artists, but that “roughly half of royalties were generated by independent artists and labels.”

“A decade ago, a lot of the questions were really fair. Spotify had to be able to prove out if it could scale as an economic engine. People didn’t know if streaming would scale as a model,” said Sam Duboff, Spotify’s global head of marketing and policy of music business.

Duboff said Spotify’s payouts aren’t “plateauing — we’re still growing that royalty pool on Spotify more than 10% per year.” He credits the streaming platform’s growth to “incentivizing people to be willing to pay for music again” by providing personalized experiences and global accessibility.

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The company, founded in 2006, serves more than 751 million users, including 290 million subscribers, in 184 markets.

“The average Spotify premium subscriber listens to 200 artists every month, and nearly half of those artists are discovered for the first time,” Duboff said. “When you build an experience where people can explore and fall in love with music, it inspires them to upgrade to premium and keep paying.”

The platform offers a wide variety of playlists, curated by editors like the up-and-comer-driven Fresh Finds or rap’s latest, RapCaviar. There are also personal playlists generated for users, such as the weekly round-up Discover Weekly and the daily mix of tunes called the “daylist.”

The streamer considers itself the first step toward “an enduring career” for today’s indie artists. Last year, more than a third of artists making $10,000 on the platform in royalties started by self-releasing their music through independent distributors.

“Streaming, fundamentally, is about opportunity and access. It’s artists from all over the world releasing music the way they want to and reaching a global audience from Day One,” Duboff said. He adds that when fans have a choice, they will discover new genres and music cultures that may have otherwise languished in obscurity.

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In 2025, nearly 14,000 artists earned $100,000 from Spotify alone. The streamer’s data also show that last year the 100,000th highest-earning artist made $7,300 in Spotify royalties, whereas in 2015, an artist in that same spot earned around $350.

The company, with a large presence in L.A.’s Arts District, emphasizes that the roster of artists on its platform who earn significantly more money — well into the millions — is no longer limited to the few. A decade ago, Spotify’s top artist made around $10 million in royalties. Today, the platform’s top 80 artists generate over $10 million annually. Some of 2025’s top artists globally were Bad Bunny, Taylor Swift and the Weeknd.

Spotify claims those who aren’t household names can earn six figures, with more than 1,500 artists earning $1 million last year.

For some musicians, the outlook is not as clear

Damon Krukowski, a musician and the legislative director for United Musicians & Allied Workers, argues that Spotify’s money isn’t necessarily going to artists — it’s going to their labels.

Those without labels usually upload music through distributors such as DistroKid and CD Baby. These platforms charge a small fee or commission. For example, DistroKid’s lowest-level subscription is $24.99 a year, and the site states users “keep 100% of all your earnings.”

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”There are zero payments going directly to recording artists from Spotify,” Krukowski asserts. “Recording artists deserve direct payment from the streaming platforms for use of our work.”

The advocacy group, which has mobilized more than 70,000 musicians and music workers, recently helped draft the Living Wage for Musicians Act to address the streaming industry. The bill, introduced to the U.S. House of Representatives last fall, calls for a new streaming royalty that would directly pay artists a minimum of one penny per stream.

In the Q&A section of Spotify’s Loud and Clear website, the streamer confirms that it “doesn’t pay artists or songwriters directly. We pay rights holders selected by the artist or songwriter, whether that’s a record label, publisher, independent distributor, performance rights organization, or collecting society.”

Instead of following a penny-per-stream model, Spotify pays based on the artist’s share of total streams, called a “streamshare.”

“Streaming doesn’t work like buying songs. Fans pay for unlimited access, not per track they listen to,” wrote the company online. “So a ‘per stream’ rate isn’t actually how anyone gets paid — not on Spotify, or on any major streaming service.”

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‘Project Hail Mary’ Review: Ryan Gosling and a Rock Make Sci-Fi Magic

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‘Project Hail Mary’ Review: Ryan Gosling and a Rock Make Sci-Fi Magic

In contrast to other sci-fi heroes, like Interstellar’s Cooper, who ventures into the unknown for the sake of humanity and discovery, knowing the sacrifice of giving up his family, Grace is externally a cynical coward. With no family to call his own, you’d think he’d have the will to go into space for the sake of the planet’s future. Nope, he’s got no courage because the man is a cowardly dog. However, Goddard’s script feels strikingly reflective of our moment. Grace has the tools to make a difference; the Earth flashbacks center on him working towards a solution to the antimatter issue, replete with occasionally confusing but never alienating dialogue. He initially lacks the conviction, embodying a cynicism and hopelessness that many people fall into today. 

The film threads this idea effectively through flashbacks that reveal his reluctance, giving the story a tragic undercurrent. Yet, it also makes his relationship with Rocky, the first living thing he truly learns to care for, ever more beautiful. 

When paired with Rocky, Gosling enters the rare “puppet scene partner” hall of fame alongside Michael Caine in The Muppet Christmas Carol, never letting the fact that he’s acting opposite a puppet disrupt the sincerity of his performance. His commitment to building a gradual, affectionate friendship with this animatronic creation feels completely natural, and the chemistry translates beautifully on screen. It stands as one of the stronger performances of his career.

Project Hail Mary is overly long, and while it can be deeply affecting, the film leans on a few emotional fake-outs that become repetitive in the latter half. By the third time it deploys the same sentimental beat, the effect begins to feel cloying, slightly dulling the powerful emotions it built earlier. The constant intercutting between past and present can also feel thematically uneven at times, occasionally undercutting the narrative momentum. At 2 hours and 36 minutes, the film feels like it’s stretching itself to meet a blockbuster runtime when a tighter cut might have served better.

FINAL STATEMENT

Project Hail Mary is a meticulously crafted, hopeful, and dazzling space epic that proves the most moving friendship in film this year might just be between Ryan Gosling and a rock.

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