Story: After serving a prison sentence, Kenna returns to her hometown hoping to rebuild her life and meet the daughter she has never known. As the child’s grandparents refuse to forgive her, Kenna finds an unexpected ally in Ledger.Review: ‘Reminders of Him’ carries the weight of expectation that often follows adaptations of novels by Colleen Hoover. Hoover’s books have an enormous following, and any screen version inevitably carries the hopes of readers who already have an emotional relationship with the story. The film stays close to the spirit of the novel, focusing on grief, regret, and the possibility of rebuilding a life after a life-altering mistake. Caswill presents a drama that moves through heavy emotions without turning the film into a spectacle of suffering. The story is intimate and restrained, though it sometimes struggles to escape the familiar patterns of contemporary romantic dramas. Still, the film finds enough sincerity in its central idea to remain engaging.The film revolves around Kenna (Maika Monroe), a young woman who returns to her hometown after serving a seven-year prison sentence connected to a tragic accident that killed her boyfriend, Scotty (Rudy Pankow). During the years she spent in prison, Kenna gave birth to a daughter, Diem, whom she has never been able to meet. Diem (Zoe Kosovic) is now being raised by Scotty’s parents, Grace (Lauren Graham) and Patrick Landry (Bradley Whitford). The Landrys want nothing to do with Kenna and are determined to keep her away from the girl. Kenna’s only unexpected ally turns out to be Ledger (Tyriq Withers), Scotty’s close friend. As their relationship grows more complicated, Kenna tries to prove that she deserves a place in her daughter’s life, even as the town continues to view her only through the memory of the accident.Caswill approaches the material with a steady and gentle style. The film avoids heightened drama and instead spends most of its time observing how guilt and resentment shape everyday interactions. Conversations shown in the film carry much of the emotional weight, and the story often unfolds in small moments. It’s a film that does not believe in confrontation, and it is largely absent in the film. This approach works well in the early stretches, where the tension between characters feels believable. However, the screenplay sometimes resorts to convenient developments that make the journey feel smoother than it probably should be. Some conflicts resolve too neatly, yet the film’s focus on forgiveness gives the story its moral compass.Monroe carries the story with a restrained portrayal of Kenna, avoiding exaggerated displays of grief. She plays the character as someone who has spent years learning how to live quietly with the consequences of her actions. Her expressions often reveal more than the dialogue, and that understatement works well for a character who feels she has already said too much in life. Withers brings warmth to Ledger, presenting him as a man caught between loyalty to the Landry family and a growing understanding of Kenna’s pain. Graham and Whitford give the Landrys emotional credibility; their resistance toward Kenna comes across as something rooted in genuine heartbreak.‘Reminders of Him’ reveals both its strengths and its limits. The story’s central idea, that people can attempt to rebuild their lives even after causing deep harm, is handled with care, but the path toward that message sometimes feels familiar. Caswill’s direction keeps the film sincere, and the performances prevent it from slipping into emotional excess. This is a soothing film that is earnest and watchable, carried by thoughtful acting and a clear emotional purpose. It suggests that forgiveness often arrives slowly and that rebuilding trust can be a far longer journey than losing it. This film does not turn the wheel in its genre, but the gentle pace and tone have a certain appeal.

In Naples, Italy, the past isn’t relegated to what’s behind us. In its crumbled, ancient majesty, the past is quite visible. And when it comes to the legacy of Mount Vesuvius — able to change the sky and move the earth — history encompasses all that’s above and plenty that’s subterranean, too.

The notion of Naples as a place in perpetual contact with its ghostly, grand history, whether you’re a citizen living on top of it or a visitor passing through, is what gives Gianfranco Rosi’s patient, eccentric documentary “Pompei: Below the Clouds” its strangely beautiful atmosphere of reflection and restlessness. Like a cagey docent who would rather guide your attention than talk your ear off, Rosi (“Fire at Sea”) trusts your own curiosity, in turn bringing thoughtful life to this city portrait of people and places.

The result — from the tunnels carved out by tomb robbers to the trains that run day and night — is a cinematic gift for the senses and specifically, to paraphrase one of the more philosophical characters, about our understanding of time’s ability to both preserve and destroy.

Shot in richly textured black and white with a fixed camera, Rosi makes the region’s present look as if it’s always teetering on the edge of a haunting archival status. He returns often to an empty, dilapidated cinema projecting the past (snatches of the silent “The Last Days of Pompeii,” Rossellini’s “Journey to Italy” and older documentaries) as if seeking kinship with earlier chroniclers. And maybe to gently remind us that moviegoing is as endangered by shifting sensibilities as are people who live in the shadow of a volcano, one whose AD 79 eruption is a civilizational marker nobody there can truly escape.

The company Rosi seeks out all seem to be stewards of that connection, whether to the weight of history or each other. There’s the lab-coated museum curator who treats statues in underground storage as dignified friends worth revisiting. A Japanese archaeological crew amid ruins and scaffolding is eager to meet undiscovered victims of Pompeii’s devastation. Even the prosecutor touring a buried villa that’s become a crime scene, illegally stripped of its frescoes, bemoans what’s been lost when thieves rob a people of their ancestors’ memories.

Meanwhile, dedicated fire department operators answer every Neapolitan’s phoned-in worry, primarily about the threat posed by their biggest, oldest neighbor, whose every belch of smoke and gas (a favorite insert shot of Rosi’s) is its own warning that time is precious. To the Syrian sailors transporting grain from Odessa, however, docking in Naples is a respite compared to the danger in their homeland and the war in Ukraine. For abiding calm and a belief in the future, there are drop-ins with veteran teacher Titti — the movie’s most endearing figure — who runs an after-school tutoring center for local schoolchildren.

There’s an intimate breadth to the warp, woof and weave of “Pompei: Below the Clouds,” which is masterfully edited by Fabrizio Federico and boasts an enveloping score by “The Brutalist” Oscar winner Daniel Blumberg. Just don’t expect to know Naples by the end. Rosi’s artistry grasps the limitations of being a long-term guest, visually juxtaposing the ancient and elemental, busts and people. Absorbing this well-chosen album is a treat, and a chance to appreciate the delicate mortality that thrives in a place simultaneously enormous, eternal and ephemeral.

A still from ‘Late Shift’
| Photo Credit: Zodiac Pictures Ltd