Charli xcx’s The Moment expands wide this weekend. Alexander Skarsgård plays a very un-brat director in the faux documentary starring the pop star as a version of herself — and he stars in BDSM rom-com Pillion.

Those and more are in theaters this week.

The Moment 

Expanding widely on Friday 

This trailer includes instances of vulgar language.

Remember brat summer? That was, of course, in 2024, the year when Charli xcx’s Brat album catapulted her into the mainstream. Now she’s turned that moment into the movie The Moment, directed by Aidan Zamiri, who directed the music videos for Charli’s songs “360” and “Guess.” It’s a hyperpop supermeta faux documentary starring Charli as a version of herself in the album’s aftermath. She’s feeling intense pressure to capitalize upon her newfound mainstream success, and reluctantly goes along with her record label’s shrewd business plans. Along for the ride is none other than Alexander Skarsgård, in a great comedic turn as a concert filmmaker named Johannes who’s totally not brat.

The movie’s central question: Can Charli keep the brat momentum going? And, more crucially: Does she even want to? Your mileage may vary, but I’d argue The Moment works on multiple levels: As a self-referential, semiserious commentary on Charli xcx’s fraught (and well-documented) relationship to fame; as a damning critique of the polished artist-approved concert documentary industrial complex; and as a messy, yet interesting observation of the pitfalls of capitalism. — Aisha Harris 

Pillion

In limited theaters Friday

“What am I going to do with you,” asks Ray (Alexander Skarsgård), a handsome, leather-clad, undeniably dominant biker in Harry Lighton’s debut feature. “Whatever you want,” replies Colin (Harry Melling), the dweeby, shyly submissive parking enforcement officer who can’t believe he’s attracted the attention of this Tom-of-Finland-caliber stud. In his mid-30s, Colin still lives with his gay-affirming parents (Douglas Hodge and Lesley Sharp) in one of London’s outer boroughs. He’s mild in every sense, performs in pubs in a barbershop quartet, and knows absolutely nothing of BDSM. Ray, who needn’t utter a word to get Colin to buy chips for him and his dart-playing buddies at a pub, is about to introduce him to gay biker kink — fetish-wear, a shaved head, dog collars and all — in a dom-com that features a good bit of pretty graphic sex.

But Lighton mixes the raunch with a sweet positivity by focusing on Colin’s growth and Ray’s vulnerability. Skarsgård lets us see Ray as a man who comes to realize he’s painted himself into a corner by closing himself off from emotional connections. Melling is endearing in his snaggle-toothed innocence, and braver than he first seems, both with Ray and with a domineering mom who badgers him in softer, but no less effective ways. (A “pillion,” in case you’re wondering, is the back end of the driver’s seat on a motorbike, where the passenger sits; it can also be used as slang for a submissive partner.) — Bob Mondello

A Poet

In limited theaters Friday

Pity the poor artist who knows he’s failing. Simón Mesa Soto’s Colombian dramedy follows Oscar (Ubeimar Rios), a poet who published two books early in an artistic career that’s since gone south. Now in midlife, he’s unemployed, divorced and living with his mother. His daughter is embarrassed when he visits her, his poetry readings tend to start as lectures and devolve into tirades. He drinks too much and is seriously unlucky. His luck seems to change when he gets a gig teaching poetry in a high school and meets Yurlady (Rebeca Andrade), a teenager who seems indifferent to poetry, but writes like a dream.

Oscar becomes her mentee, shepherding her to competitions (she’s interested in prizes if they can help her family out of poverty), and introducing her to a prestigious poetry school that immediately sees publicity and fundraising advantages in adopting this Black child of humble origins as their mascot. Filmmaker Soto casts a skeptical eye on all of this, shooting in grainy 16-millimeter, and using musical scoring to underline the absurdity and pretension. Both Rios and Andrade are non-professionals making their acting debuts. And the film, which is only the sophomore effort of writer and director Sosa, took the Un Certain Regard Jury Prize at Cannes. — Bob Mondello

Sirāt

In limited theaters Friday 

A wall of speakers is being assembled in the Moroccan desert at the beginning of Óliver Laxe’s nerve-wracking portrait of sensation seekers on what appears to be the brink of World War III. The speakers soon growl, pulse, and thunder as gyrating, sunburned bodies writhe to a techno beat, and with the help of his young son, a father hands out pictures of a daughter he hasn’t heard from for months. Convinced she might be part of this bacchanalian scene, they’re intrigued when Jade (Jade Oukid) says there’s another rave scheduled soon at an unspecified faraway spot. When the military arrive, ordering an immediate evacuation, Jade and four buddies (who, between them, are missing an arm, a leg, and quite a few teeth) strike out across the desert, and the father and son follow them in a minivan that’s not suited to the rough terrain.

Some LSD-inflected comedy ensues, but if you know that the title refers to the vanishingly-slender bridge Muslim faithful must traverse past Hell on the day of judgment if they want to reach Paradise, you’ll sense that trouble lies ahead. With an engaging cast of mostly first-time actors, Laxe takes the story into allegorical — Mad Max meets The Wages of Fear — territory, through a shocking mid-film tragedy, to a downright existential conclusion. — Bob Mondello

Kokuho

In limited theaters Friday 

The opening moments of Sang-il Lee’s nearly three-hour epic are breathtaking — a yakuza boss’ son, Kikuo (Ryo Yoshizawa), is orphaned in a New Year’s gang massacre that’s choreographed to a fare-thee-well. But the film isn’t a mob saga. Kikuo performs the onnagata (female) role in an amateur kabuki performance at his father’s New Year’s celebration just before the slaughter. A famed Kabuki actor is in attendance, and adopts the boy, raising him alongside his own kabuki-trained son Shunsuke (Ryusei Yokohama). The great man’s wife worries that Kikuo is so adept at the danced, ritualized theatrical form, that he could end up usurping the dynastic succession by which Shunsuke is expected to take over from his father.

That’s the start of a story that rivals, in its melodramatic twists and fable-like symbolism, the arch, stylized form this family practices. The filming is gorgeous, though the story becomes attenuated in its third hour. Still, it’s easy to see how this film, nominated for best makeup and hairstyling at this year’s Oscars, became Japan’s highest-grossing live-action film. — Bob Mondello

It was Sunday morning. I shivered from the rain and entered John O’Groats on Pico Boulevard. The owner greeted me as I headed for a seat at the crowded counter. A few of the regulars nodded in my direction.

I was four months past the bruising crash of a long-distance romance, armed with a new vow: No more cross-country heartbreak. While the ex-love of my life was back with her ex-beau in Michigan enjoying Mackinac Island fudge, I was ready to bury all regret and rethink my vow over a fruitless bowl of steel-cut oats.

I had met Renée the previous month during a three-week consulting project in Washington, D.C. The all-consuming emotion of being swept away by a beautiful, intelligent and compassionate person collided with my self-inflicted vow. In the throes of cognitive dissonance, I ignored the vow and fell in love with Renée. I returned to L.A. but only after securing a promise she would visit soon.

Thankfully Renée came to L.A. for a week-long work assignment. Our plan was simple: After breakfast, I would meet her at her hotel, and together we would spend the day exploring the sights and experiences that L.A. had to offer.

I scanned nearby tables for friends but was distracted by a woman quickening her pace toward the only available stool at the counter. Renée? What is she doing here? A man with a cane, a few steps ahead of her, tapped a steady claim to the prize. She slowed her walk, resigned to a second-place finish and nowhere to sit. Her lips pressed in a rueful grin.

The man next to me dropped a $5 tip on the counter and walked away. I waved to get Renée’s attention and gestured to the empty seat. We exchanged surprised smiles as she approached, hugged me, and said, “I missed you. The concierge recommended O’Groats. I’m ready to explore L.A.”

“I missed you too. What’s on your must-see list?” I replied.

“I’d like to see Malibu, the Sunset Strip and … here, the concierge gave me this.” I examined the handwritten sightseeing list. I said it was a good list, but it missed a few of my favorite places. Our final list included the Petersen Automotive Museum — we both had fathers who passed on to us their love of classic cars — Los Angeles County Museum of Art, Malibu and dinner at Geoffrey’s.

“If you can still put up with me,” I said, “we can cruise the Sunset Strip and Hollywood Boulevard tonight.”

We finished breakfast and drove to the Petersen. Upon entering, we were met by a fleet of vintage Corvettes and a row of charcuterie boards. We barely touched the hors d’oeuvres while drooling over the cars. When we walked across the street toward LACMA, it was nearly 3 p.m.

Amid intermittent raindrops, we were talking about cars from the ’60s when Renée stopped walking. Standing 10 yards in front of us on a corner of Wilshire Boulevard and Fairfax Avenue was a shivering elderly woman who looked lost. Renée quickened her pace and approached the woman. “Are you all right?”

“I don’t … I’m not sure this is … ” Her speech was hesitant, halting. Renée coaxed a complete sentence. “I want to go home.” She whispered an address.

Renée looked at me and said, “Let’s bring her home.”

We drove a short distance to the address, where an anxious man guided the confused woman through the front door. “Mom, where did you go?” He thanked us profusely, and Renée and I walked back to my car.

I drove east on Wilshire toward LACMA. We found parking on Fairfax and walked toward the corner where we had approached the lost woman.

“That was a beautiful thing you did,” I said.

“We did,” she replied.

“Still, it was you who … ”

“Well, once I saw her, I knew we weren’t here just to eat canapés and see Corvettes. We had to help her.”

Until this moment, standing at the corner of one of the busiest intersections in the city, falling in love had always been for me an arduous process.

This, however, was fireworks with dazzling explosions. Time to be bold, I thought. “Let’s skip the art exhibits and drive to Malibu,” I said. “I want to be with you, the ocean and the setting sun. I know the perfect place.”

It was nearly 5 p.m. when we parked at El Matador State Beach. As we hiked the short distance from Pacific Coast Highway on the rocky switchback trail, she caught glimpses of the sculpted sea stacks rising 50 meters from the sand and shallow waters.

When we reached the beach, Renée was silent. “These towers always take my breath away too,” I said.

She took off her shoes, rolled up her pants and waded into the water. I joined her. The wind and waves whipped around us. At my urging, she closed her eyes. Uneven sandbars lifted and then dropped us in a slow-motion, repetitive dance on the sediment floor. The salty seawater splashed our faces beneath a salmon-colored sky.

We skipped Geoffrey’s, Hollywood and the Sunset Strip. I drove back to her hotel. We kissed goodnight and made plans to visit those places the next evening without the ocean-soaked clothes.

Confession: All of this happened more than 30 years ago. Renée and I are happily married and live in L.A. The iconic landmarks we visited all those years ago are, thankfully, still here. We have done our best to revisit them each year on our wedding anniversary with one modification — we bring bathing suits and towels.

The author, who was born and raised in L.A., is a retired HR consultant and executive coach. His debut novel, “Coyote Time,” published by Guernica Editions, will be available in April.

L.A. Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the L.A. area, and we want to hear your true story. We pay $400 for a published essay. Email LAAffairs@latimes.com. You can find submission guidelines here. You can find past columns here.

Editor’s note: Have a dating story to tell about starting fresh? Share it at L.A. Affairs Live, our new competition show featuring real dating stories from people living in the Greater Los Angeles area. Find audition details here.

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Olympic figure skating kicks off Friday with the team competition, in which the U.S. is heavily favored to hold off rival Japan and defend its gold medal from 2022.

The team event is relatively new, making its debut in the 2014 Sochi Games. It pits the world’s 10 top-ranked countries against each other, via representatives in each of the four skating disciplines: men’s, women’s, pairs and ice dance.

Countries get points (1-10) depending on how they score in the first two events (short program and rhythm dance), and the top five move on to the final round (free skate and free dance).

The main battle to watch is between the U.S. and Japan, who finished as the top two in 2022 after Russia was disqualified over a doping case involving one of its skaters. The absence of Russia — still banned from the Games over its war in Ukraine — means that the third medal is somewhat up for grabs.

“There are so many countries vying for that bronze spot,” Canadian ice dancer Piper Gilles said. “There’s Georgia, there’s us, everybody’s pushing for it.”

Part of the suspense is finding out who each country will choose to compete in each category, which is usually announced about 24 hours in advance.

It’s not as simple as just picking the top scorer in each discipline. It requires some strategizing, since anyone who competes in the team event will still have to take the ice two more times in their own category over the next two weeks.

“It’s all going to come down to the decisions that the athletes and the people in charge make,” U.S. skater Amber Glenn said earlier this week. “We are going to prioritize both physical and mental health.”

Take the men, for example. Their free skate closes out the team event on Sunday, just two days before their first day of individual competition.

So countries have to decide whether their strongest skater should compete in both programs of the team event, or skip one of them to get some rest in between. Each country can swap up to two (out of four) entries midway through the competition.

The U.S. has an advantage here, in part because of the sheer size of its 16-person team, having secured maximum quota spots in men’s, women’s and ice dance. The next biggest teams, Japan and Canada, have 12 people each.

“This team in particular is so deep, so talented, and has a great opportunity for a gold medal,” U.S. ice dancer Evan Bates said earlier this week, before the roster was even announced.

Here’s what we know so far.

Who is competing when? 

Friday opens with the three shorter programs in women’s, pairs and ice dance.

The U.S. has chosen Alysa Liu — the 20-year-old reigning world champion and two-time Olympian — to compete in the women’s category, at least in the first part of the team event. Earlier this week, when asked whether women might split that category, Liu told reporters “we all signed an NDA for that!”

Her main competition is three-time world champion Kaori Sakamoto, who won bronze in 2022 in addition to helping Japan win silver in the team event.

In pairs, U.S. is putting forward 2024 national champions Ellie Kam and Danny O’Shea. They face a steep challenge from Japan’s Miura Riku and Kihara Ryuichi, two-time Olympians and two-time world champions.

Representing the U.S. in ice dance are powerhouses Madison Chock and Evan Bates, reigning seven-time national champions who helped Team USA win gold in this very event in 2022. They are hoping for a repeat this year, which marks their fourth Olympics together.

“Any time you get the opportunity to compete at the Olympics, you want to cherish it, so there’s nothing but positives for us here,” Chock said earlier this week.

What’s next? 

The team event continues on Saturday with the last ice dance program — the free dance — and the first men’s event, the short program.

The U.S. has chosen gold medal favorite Ilia Malinin, who could become the first person to ever land a quadruple axel on Olympic ice. 

But it’s not clear whether Malinin will take that risk as early as the team event, especially since he doesn’t need it in order to top the leaderboard. He won U.S. championships in January by more than 50 points even without the quad axel, playing it somewhat safe (if you consider a backflip on ice safe) as he broke in new skates. 

Saturday is also when we’ll find out who will represent Team USA in the final half of team competition, in other words, which two athletes will sub out. Sunday concludes with the free skate — the longer, more creative program — in pairs, women’s and men’s.

On Sunday, once all the points are tallied, the first figure skating medals of these Games will be given out. And there will be more to come — the first ice dance competitions start the very next day.