Hail Mary Is A Space Epic With No Atmosphere

Hail Mary is proof that just because a movie is “Certified Fresh” doesn’t mean it isn’t rotten at the core.  I’ve written a lot of brutal reviews lately because, frankly, the movies have earned them, but I really hoped this one might break the streak.  A 95% score promised something smart, thrilling, maybe even transporting.  Instead, Hail Mary is spectacularly stupid.

Ryan Gosling plays Ryland Grace, a genius middle-school teacher who somehow becomes humanity’s last hope when Earth is facing a catastrophic freeze.  Apparently, when the planet is dying, the world’s greatest minds look around and decide the answer is not a top astronaut or a hardened survival expert, but a schoolteacher in a flattering sweater.  The premise is ridiculous before the rocket even leaves the ground, and once it does, the movie somehow finds new ways to get dumber.

Gosling, who was terrific in Barbie, feels completely wrong here.  I miss the Gosling of Lars and the Real Girl or The Notebook: awkward, specific, human.  Here, he looks less like a man under unimaginable pressure and more like someone who got lost on the way to a luxury skincare campaign.  He’s drifting through deep space during a civilization-ending emergency, yet his hair stays lush, his skin is camera-ready, his body stays gym-toned and his collection of fitted T-shirts remains weirdly enviable.  Apparently, interstellar radiation now works like a Sephora loyalty program.

Then the movie drops in its alien, a rock-spider creature that oscillates between vaguely cute and mostly baffling.  The film asks us to believe that Grace can not only communicate with this thing, but team up with it to solve a galactic crisis.  On the page, perhaps, this plays as inventive.  On screen, it is ludicrous.  The plot trudges through endless science babble, sprinkled with emotional beats that land with the grace of a space shuttle missing its runway.  You would think the two directors could locate a single pulse beneath all this.  They do not.  Hail Mary is bloated, implausible, and lifeless.  Certified Fresh?  Please.  Certified Nonsense.

The Bride!: Gorgeous to Look At, Dead on Arrival

Watching The Bride! felt like crashing a costume party where no one explains the theme but everyone is deeply smug that it’s “obvious.”

The opening scene gives us the ghost of Mary Shelley bathed in dramatic lighting reciting… something.  Is it profound?  Is it gibberish?  Hard to say but it certainly sounded important. Then we smash-cut to a 1930’s nightclub where Jessie Buckley’s character Ida (who eventually becomes The Bride,) starts glitching between British aristocrat and Chicago dame like she downloaded two characters and neither installed properly.  It’s incredible to watch.  Not because it makes sense but because Buckley commits completely.  I genuinely thought there might be some medical explanation: brain tumor, split personality? Nope.

Then Ida dies and gets resurrected because Frankenstein’s monster (“Frankie” apparently,) is lonely and needs a girlfriend.  Not just any girlfriend of course.  Specifically a resurrected one.  When the Bride finally rises I have to admit she looks incredible.  The hair, the dye smeared across her face, the black dripping from her ears, the fingers that look like she’s been finger-painting with radioactive material.  It’s bizarre and gorgeous all at once.  The film’s visual imagination is never the problem.  The plot, on the other hand, seems to be off in another room having a nervous breakdown.

Explanations? None.  Why is Jake Gyllenhaal channeling Fred Astaire with the intensity of someone in a fugue state?  Why are the monsters spending half the movie drifting from movie theater to movie theater like film students?  What’s with the sudden Me Too/The Joker uprising, followed by an unexpected pivot into Bonnie and Clyde cosplay?  By this point my brain had packed a small suitcase and quietly left the theater.  The film looks outrageously expensive and Jessie Buckley deserves an award for Most Committed to Total Narrative Disorder.  The story, meanwhile, deserves to be studied as a hate crime against coherence.  The real monster in The Bride! isn’t the mad scientist or the creation.

It’s the script.

Is This Thing On? Unfortunately, Yes

Is This Thing On? is the cinematic equivalent of assembling IKEA furniture without the instructions while fully convinced you do not need an Allen wrench.  What possessed Bradley Cooper to think the world needed more of him behind the camera is beyond me.  The film’s biggest problem is that it has no idea what it wants to be.  It is a hodgepodge of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, Marriage Story and The Four Seasons, with an About a Boy-style ending tacked on.  One minute it wants to be tender and observant, the next it wants to be funny.  Spoiler: almost none of it works.  Will Arnett is the best thing in the film as Alex Novak, a soon-to-be-divorced guy who stumbles into stand-up after bluffing his way past a $15 cover charge.  He plays both sadness and comedy with real skill.  He is so good, in fact, that he almost tricks you into thinking this shapeless story is worth sticking with.  Laura Dern also does solid work as Tess Novak, although the script gives her little consistency to work with.  Tess flip-flops from grounded and thoughtful to a walking mood swing.  Meanwhile, Bradley Cooper is awful as “Balls,” which somehow is still not the most embarrassing part of his performance.  Amy Sedaris and Sean Hayes are also technically in this film, though you would be forgiven for missing them since they are given absolutely nothing to do.  The cast is talented but talent alone cannot rescue a movie with no clear story, no emotional payoff and no real sense of what it is trying to say.  What makes it all the more frustrating is that the film carries itself with the smug confidence of something profound, while the stand-up scenes are uniformly terrible.  In a movie that hinges on a character’s comic awakening, the comedy is not witty, not revealing, and not even awkward in an interesting way.  I watched Is This Thing On? after an acquaintance highly recommended it.  He also talks about the Fox Theatre like it’s the Palais Garnier, so needless to say, that friendship is now under review.

Dracula: A Love Tale Offers Piercing Potential But Ends In A Dull Nibble

Dracula: A Love Tale attempts to sink its fangs into the age-old vampire legend by providing a romantic twist.  Directed by Luc Besson, the film begins with promise with Caleb Landry Jones delivering a fierce performance as Vlad.  The backstory: Vlad’s devotion to his wife, the devastation of war and a man driven by a love so obsessive even Nosferatu might say "Dude, chill."  Then there’s Matilda De Angelis as Maria, a patient in the insane asylum who is equal parts unsettling and strangely endearing.  It is at this exact point that the film shifts from a auspicious exploration of all-consuming love into an uneven mess.  Cue a ridiculous perfume montage, a hot chocolate obsession, and Christoph Waltz who is all to keen on displaying the same stale acting prowess that made him a star.  By the time Vlad fully transitions into Dracula I felt as if I have been thrust back into Coppola’s Bram Stoker’s Dracula, with its flair for overacting and wobbly accents.  I must admit I feel the tragedy.  Luc Besson once delivered electrifying cinema with La Femme Nikita and Léon: The Professional, and now he’s resigned to directing movies with poorly CGI’d gargoyles fighting in Dracula’s castle.  One can’t help but wonder whether Besson can ever reach those creative peaks again.  Although Dracula: A Love Tale delivers anemotionally driven opening it quickly loses focus and quite plainly…sucks.

Cold Storage Drips With Extraterrestrial Slime And Retro Flair

I was initially drawn to Cold Storage because it shared the same title as a short story I’d written awhile back, a masterpiece if I may say so.  Sadly, Hollywood didn’t call to adapt it.  Their loss, but hey at least they still made a movie with the same name.  Picture Tremors from the 90’s, sprinkle in some alien goo, add a dash of government incompetence and voilà Cold Storage. The film stars Joe Keery as Teacake, a lovable ex-con trying to leave his past behind and Georgina Campbell a determined veterinary student with a knack for uncovering parasitic organisms.  Their chemistry is surprisingly delightful as they bicker, bond and dodge deadly space goo together.  Liam Neeson takes on the role as obligatory muscle with Leslie Manville as his action packed partner.  Moreover, I would be remiss to not mention Vanessa Redgrave’s cameo as the smart octogenarian with a gun.  In turn, reminding us all that age is just a number unless you’re counting parasite victims.  Cold Storage opens with a shocking desert scene evocative of Scream and shifts to a high-security underground facility where the alien parasite has been accurately chilling.  While the film excels in pacing and character chemistry, I found myself wishing for a deeper exploration of the parasite’s backstory.  Understanding its evolution, potential intelligence and sinister motives could have intensified the stakes and transformed a green blob into an existential nightmare.  All in all, Cold Storage is a humble homage to creature features but with better special effects and fewer mullets.

The Housemaid scrubs, sweeps and kills at the box office

Going into The Housemaid my excitement level was between "mild curiosity" and “what do I have to lose?"  Sydney Sweeney hasn’t exactly wowed me in her past roles but with the cinematic landscape quite sparse I was feeling slightly underwhelmed.  Two hours later I emerged from the theater buzzing.  The Housemaid is a 90’s style thriller that utilizes utter chaos perfectly.   Amanda Seyfried, as Nina Winchester, is absolute dynamite.  She plays a character so bubbly and unhinged it’s like watching a champagne bottle with the cork barely hanging on.  Sydney Sweeney’s performance, on the other hand, can be summed in three words:  Oh, sweet vindication!  Turns out all Sweeney needed was the right role.  Watching her character Millie try to rebuild her life was messy and compelling which kept the pacing of the film on point.  This film boasts a major A Simple Favor vibe with its gloss, mystery and dark humour.  Nevertheless, what stole the show for me was the Gone Girl twist that I did not see coming.  As the two female leads take turns narrating their alternating perspectives, the film really cranks up the tension.  The real kicker involves Sweeney, a knife and a moment that had the entire theatre leaning forward.  That final image was both empowering and a complete crowd pleaser especially in an audience that leaned heavily toward the female persuasion.  This Equalizer-style finale had me saying “sequel please” even before the credits began to roll.  I was so captivated that I practically sprinted to Indigo to buy the book.  The Housemaid isn’t just a movie; it’s a series of twists and turns that will stick with you for days to come.  Consider me thoroughly entertained.  I’m still not convinced Sydney Sweeney is a great actress but for once, I can see the argument.

Anaconda slithers in with laughs but leaves with a Boar

Next up on my holiday cinematic buffet: Anaconda. Wait, I’m not referring to to the the ‘90s version with its rubber snakes and accents that could make a GPS recalibrate.  No, this time we’ve got Paul Rudd (not aging as per usual,) playing a down on his luck actor rallying his equally despondent friends—Jack Black, Thandiwe Newton, and Steve Zahn—to reboot the “greatest” action movie ever.  This satire on Hollywood’s reboot obsession is sharp at first but somewhere along the jungle trail gets confusing and eventually becomes downright disappointing.  There are golden nuggets amidst the coils however.  The boar-on-the-head scene?  Perfection!  Jack Black portraying the human embodiment of an exclamation mark.  Brilliant!  Add in the surprise cameos from Ice Cube and J.Lo and for a moment I thought this might actually work but that feeling did not last.  In the end, Anaconda felt like a joke that started strong and ended with an embarrassing shrug.  The kind that makes you question why boars aren't used more often in cinema.  Although Anaconda had the setup just right to roast reboot culture, somewhere along the vine they lost their nerve.  Consequently, my holiday viewing wasn’t about chasing Oscar-worthy masterpieces. It was about questionable plot lines, surprise cameos and the simple joy of munching on cinema snacks…and that’s the true holiday spirit.

Hold your sea snails: The SpongeBob Movie is pure Bikini Bottom bonkers

The holidays: a time for questionable sweaters, overambitious baking projects and cinematic escapes.  Enter The SpongeBob Movie: The Search for SquarePants, a title as absurd as the plot.  My journey began not in a theater but at Burger King, where a SpongeBob-themed meal (complete with square neon yellow bread and a pineapple drink that may or may not have opened a wormhole) sealed my fate.  The film itself?  A delightful fever dream wrapped in seaweed and sprinkled with the chaotic whimsy that only Bikini Bottom can deliver.  SpongeBob, of course, was his usual optimistic porous self.  A sponge with a belief in the goodness of the universe which is both inspiring and mildly concerning. The jokes were cute and quite clever including a nod to Davy Jones’ locker that had me chuckling harder than I’d like to admit.  However, the real virtuoso of this film was Mark Hamill as The Flying Dutchman.  Hamill cackled with a gusto that could make Darth Vader reconsider his life choices.  His performance was so good I half-expected him to demand Luke Skywalker’s hand as payment.  Finally, let’s talk about that beachside roller coaster scene.  Sadly, it looked like it was storyboarded on the back of a napkin.  Charming for a 20-minute television episode but visually disappointing when projected on a big screen.  Nevertheless, this movie was like visiting an old friend who hasn’t changed a bit: fun, warmhearted and exactly what you need sometimes.

My Apple Watch Registered More Action Than This Film

In the remake of The Running Man, we’re treated to a darker more socially reflective dystopia.  However, director Edgar Wright seems to have misplaced a critical component: Fun.

Glen Powell, typically cool and likable, struggles in the lead role of Ben Richards.  His performance veers into over-the-top territory without the magnetism to anchor it as he oscillates between angry and confused throughout the 2hr 13m run time.  Then there’s his physique, which isn’t just ripped—it’s aggressively ripped.  I half-expected his abdominal muscles to have their own subplot.  Ironically, his hyper-chiseled physique, clearly a nod to Arnold Schwarzenegger’s Mr. Olympia days, feels more like a distracting caricature than a homage.  Schwarzenegger at the height of his action hero stardom had an alluring, if not wacky, screen presence that could make even the most absurd scenarios captivating.  It’s as if this film tried too hard to replicate Arnold’s iconic presence while missing what truly set Arnold apart.

As the film tries to get deep (real deep,) busily reflecting on society’s downfall it forgets the golden rule of dystopian action flicks: Ridiculous pleasure!  Where are the over-the-top action sequences?  The outrageous stunts?  The moments that make you say, "This is so dumb... but I love it"?  Instead our remade Ben Richards runs and hides.  Then he runs some more: kinda like Orwellian parkour with none of the cool flips.  Add in a Home Alone-esque scene and I could feel my disappointment awaken.  On the bright side Coleman Domingo shows up as reliable as ever probably wondering how he ended up in this bleak treadmill of a movie.  Nevertheless, his gravitas can’t match Richard Dawson’s portrayal as the game show host in the 1987 original which exuded the perfect mix of sinister appeal and unadulterated humour.

In the end, The Running Man feels like a well-constructed machine missing a vital cog.  It’s hard to pinpoint exactly what’s absent but it boils down to an intangible essence.  Perhaps it’s best described as a gleeful energy, a vitality that made the ’80s sci-fi genre so enjoyable to begin with.  Without it this remake feels like a melancholy jog.  Yes The Running Man runs, but without the fun what’s it running to?

Fasten You Funny Bone For The Naked Gun Reboot

Strap on your metaphorical seatbelts (or literal ones if you’re reading this in a moving vehicle) because Seth MacFarlane is steering this movie straight into Airplane territory—and Liam Neeson is in the driver’s seat not laughing. That’s right, Liam "I will find you" Neeson keeps a straight face while a barrage of gags explode around him. Pamela Anderson as the love interest? Check. Danny Huston as a wicked villain? Double check. The plot—wait, does it even matter? There’s enough P.L.O.T. to keep you entertained. However, here’s the tragedy: it’s only 1 hour and 25 minutes long! That’s barely enough time for me to finish my popcorn, nachos with cheese and Reese Peanut Butter cups (yes I have a healthy appetite.) Give me 15 more minutes! I need more nonsense and maybe one extra snowman love montage. Oh, and don’t you dare leave when the credits roll because they are delightfully bizarre. Plus, there’s a heartwarming tribute to Leslie Nielsen which made me smile and almost cry…but mostly smile. In conclusion: watch it, laugh until your face hurts and think twice about making a snowman this winter.

Nobody 2: More Punches, Less Patience

If Nobody left you craving more fists, fury, and fatherly charm, Nobody 2 delivers with the subtlety of a sledgehammer in a china shop. Bob Odenkirk once again dons his not-so-average dad persona, proving that John Wick might have the style, but Hutch Mansell has scrappy appeal. The sequel wastes no time literally starting mid-punch. The action is relentless, swift, and absurdly more satisfying than the original. Speaking of absurd, the vacation subplot? A delightful detour. Watching the family venture to Plummerville—reminded me of family road trips to Myrtle Beach and passing countless signs for South of the Border. (Yes, it still exists. Yes, it’s been renovated and yes, I digress.) Plummerville on the other hand looks more CNE than Canada’s Wonderland, but it fits. This isn’t a movie about glossy perfection. It’s about messy chaos wrapped in explosive action sequences. Performance-wise, Sharon Stone channels her inner Sam Rockwell while John Ortiz shows off his versatility once again. Sure, a smidge more substance would’ve been nice, but let's be real: you’re not here for existential musings. You’re here to watch Bob Odenkirk wreak havoc. Nobody 2 is a vacation from reality—cheap aesthetic and all—and I’d book a return trip any day.

I Know What You Did Last Summer Is A Nostalgic Splash with Modern Waves

Visually this film is a love letter to the 90’s: moody lighting, preppy polos and girls who look like actual people rather than walking coat hangers draped in athleisure 24/7. Madelyn Cline and Chase Sui Wonders lead the charge with over the top performances that shockingly anchor the film. The casting overall is a refreshing cocktail of talent that oozes coolness but never quite reaches the iconic chill factor of Ryan Phillippe and Sarah Michelle Gellar. The big surprise MVPs? Jennifer Love Hewitt and Freddie Prinze Jr., returning not just as Easter eggs but as pivotal players who bridge the past and present with a wink and a shiver. Of course, not everything is smooth sailing. Some plot holes are large enough to drive a fishing boat through—like the cryptic church subplot that seems to have been lifted from a different movie. Moreover, Gabbriette as the annoying podcaster is so terrible that I was actually cheering her swift exit. Despite its flaws, this latest iteration has energy while balancing reverence for its roots. It’s a fun ride—one you’ll enjoy, even if you can’t remember exactly what they did last summer.

Brad Pitt Revs Up Hollywood in this Must-See Summer Spectacle

F1: The Movie is the summer’s cinematic crown jewel, proving that you don’t need capes, clichés, or CGI to dazzle audiences. The real star of the show? Brad Pitt, whose magnetic presence is so captivating it could stick to a fridge. His performance is a hybrid of McQueen’s cool and Redford’s charm, yet unmistakably Pitt. With a killer wardrobe and a swagger that would make a peacock jealous, every scene commands your attention because of one man. The redemption-themed narrative is a fun ride, reminiscent of Top Gun and Days of Thunder, with just the right amount of heart. Nevertheless, what truly sets F1 The Movie apart is its ability to convert even the most clueless viewer into a die-hard enthusiast. The adrenaline-pumping racing sequences and hypnotic soundtrack had me suddenly fluent in Verstappen and Hamilton. Is it simply an F1 commercial? Maybe, but no more than Top Gun was an advertisement for the Navy. The magic is in its universal appeal. It’s Brad Pitt’s commanding performance that makes this movie a must-see, proving that real stars still shine bright and a well-told story with style is always a winner.

Superman: The Man of Meh

When the film started I was filled with hope. Did that feeling last for 2+ hours? Nope. To begin with Superman feels like he’s auditioning for the Guardians of the Galaxy, minus the fun and catchy soundtrack. Moreover, Lex Luthor is less criminal mastermind and more Regina George. Because nothing screams "arch-nemesis" like an emotionally stunted frat boy. While Lois Lane’s chemistry with Clark Kent is about as spicy as unseasoned chicken. Meanwhile, Ma and Pa Kent are portrayed as stereotypical country bumpkins. Oh…and don’t get me started on The Justice Gang who show up just in time to make Superman a background player in his own adventure. James Gunn was supposed to revive the DC Universe but instead he hit copy-paste on his old tricks, sprinkled in John William’s iconic score, and called it a day. Even Superman’s emblematic Fortress of Solitude feels more like an overcrowded Airbnb. Skip this one and watch Christopher Reeve and Gene Hackman get it done, because even adorable Krypto can’t save this newest incarnation from complete annihilation.

Jurassic Park Rebirth: Where Dinosaurs Roam and Excitement is Extinct.

As a loyal fan of the Jurassic Park series, I embarked on Jurassic Park Rebirth with the enthusiasm of a paleontologist unearthing a rare petrified remain. Sadly, what I found was less "T-Rex skeleton" and more pile of rocks. The movie starts with a thrilling (if not familiar,) action sequence straight out of Jaws complete with a dinosaur expert donning Hooper-esque glasses. For a brief moment, I was delighted—dinosaurs in water felt wild. Nevertheless, just as quickly as it surfaced my exhilaration quickly sank.  Enter a family who, for reasons known only to their scriptwriters, thought it wise to sail in seas known for its prehistoric predators. Their storyline meanders aimlessly until they are saved by Scarlet Johansson and her squad of dinosaur hunters. The rest of the movie plays out like an extended game of hide and seek. The plot? Brittle. The characters? As high-octane as fossilized footprints. The excitement? Extinct. If Jurassic Park: Rebirth was meant to breathe new life into the franchise, it instead served as a cautionary tale on why some fossils are better left untouched.

Mission Impossible-The Final Reckoning

Mission Impossible-The Final Reckoning kicks off with a recap of past glories—a wistful montage that turns out to be the highlight of the entire film.  After that brief joyride the film nosedives into endless exposition.  The real mission, should you choose to accept it, is staying awake through all the confusing conversations.  As for the “famed stunts,” they’re mostly MIA aside from two uninspiring sequences.  Now let’s address Tom Cruise’s status as a self-proclaimed action hero.  Yes the Guinness Book of World Records recognizes that he skydived 16 times with a flaming parachute strapped on, but we all know Guinness also acknowledges the world’s longest fingernails. (Just saying…)  I will concede that Cruise still runs cool but even his legendary sprint has begun to feel like a rerun.  The franchise clearly peaked with Ghost Protocol and since then it’s been on a downhill sprint faster than Tom himself.  Oh, and Pom Klementieff, my favourite from part one, vanishes entirely in this film much like the plot’s coherence.  In conclusion, The Final Reckoning aims for excitement but ends up being the cinematic equivalent of reheated leftovers: you might appreciate the effort but it just doesn’t taste the same.

Lilo & Stitch

When Lilo & Stitch was released in 2002 I wasn’t particularly impressed.  Unlike the Little Mermaid, Aladdin and Beauty and the Beast, I felt it lacked the catchy songs and refined artistry that typified the studio in the 80’s and 90’s.  Consequently, I ventured into the live-action version hoping Disney might finally deliver.  The actress playing Lilo ( Maia Kealoha,) is outstanding and brings an adorable spunk and authenticity throughout every scene.  The retro feel and cameo by Jason Scott Lee had me leaving the theater satisfied… that is until I rewatched the cartoon.  Here are my concerns:  The addition of nostalgic characters played by Tia Carrere and Amy Hill was unnecessary.  The transformation of the aliens into human form fell flat due to Zack Galifianakis’ inability to add the expected humour,  The ending was different and completely lacked all emotion.  Moreover, key items were missing—where was the iconic hula dance with Lilo & Stitch?  Why was the strong Elvis Presley presence downgraded severely?  Even small details, like Stitch’s ability to play music by opening his mouth, lost its charm in translation.  The original Lilo & Stitch was fun, heartfelt and had a natural flow. The live-action adaptation however, feels like a watered-down version.  Once again, it makes me wish Disney would focus on creating new original content rather than relying on remakes to stay relevant.

Fight or Flight

Never heard of Fight or Flight?  You’re not alone but here’s the deal: while the supporting cast delivers performances as memorable as your last grocery receipt, Josh Hartnett absolutely steals the show.  He’s cool, charismatic and looks like he moonlights as an action hero in his spare time.  The action? Absurd, thrilling and fun but let’s be honest—you’re here for Josh and he doesn’t disappoint. Flaws? Sure but with Hartnett on screen, who’s even paying attention.

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Proof That Sinners Can Deliver At The Box Office

Sinners follows twin brothers as they return home.  The goal is to host the ultimate party, however vampires disrupt their festivities.  Michael B. Jordan delivers another stellar performance as both twins, seamlessly transitioning between “Smoke” and “Stack” Moore. The opening scene where he passes a cigarette to his twin self is visually perfect.  As the story progresses, the twins evolve from personal goal-setters to leaders of a movement.

What makes this movie extra special is that it provides love, drama, humor and horror all in equal measure.  When the vampires finally arrived, I was fully invested in the lives of each character.  Delta Slim, Mary and Annie are all well-developed.  Moreover, Miles Canton, as Preacher Boy, gives a musical number that is not only memorable but foreshadows a post credit scene that is totally worth it.  On the flip side, Jack O’Connell stands out as Remmick, an Irish vampire, who abolishes all bloodsucker stereotypes by serving as a definitive bait-and-switch artist.

By the time the pickled garlic and stakes came out I knew I watching something fresh.  The action in Sinners is thrilling but what makes it exceptional is how it cleverly combines 1932 issues with modern messiness.  Consequently, as I was immersed in the action, with all its gore and exhilaration, it became apparent to me that this supernatural fight was relatable to everyone in the cinema.  Sinners is a phenomenon precisely because it is a tale of resilience in the face of oppression: universal truths we can all enjoy.