movies

This is the kind of film I'm always glad to see still being made. Small and devastating in the best way, the kind that doesn't try to convince you it's important but just quietly is. Chloé Zhao strips everything back and lets the grief breathe, and there's a humility to it that I found almost shocking given how much prestige is swirling around it. Jessie Buckley is undescribably amazing, genuinely one of the best performances I've seen in years, the kind where you stop thinking about acting and just watch a person fall apart and hold themselves together at the same time. The film lives and dies through Agnes, and that's entirely the right call, because I do have to be honest: Paul Mescal is the weak link here. He's not bad, exactly, but he feels vague where the role needs weight, and every scene he's in is a notch below the ones without him — which is maybe why it works that the film mostly sidelines him. But even that barely dents what surrounds it. It's tender and unhurried and it trusts you to feel things for yourself, which is rarer than it should be.

Honestly, I wanted to love this more than I did (and I'll admit upfront that action-heavy movies have always been a tough sell for me, so take that for what it's worth). But even factoring that in, One Battle After Another felt like it kept mistaking being able to scream for having something to say. There are stretches where the set pieces just pile up, and I found myself zoning out in a way I don't think I was supposed to. It's gorgeous to look at, DiCaprio is clearly having the time of his life, and there are genuine moments where it crackles — but every time it seemed like it was about to slow down and actually say something, another action sequence would kick off and the feeling slipped away. I left the cinema buzzing in that empty, hollow way, like I'd eaten something that smelled incredible but didn't fill me up. A good time, sometimes. Just not the film I hoped PTA had in him here.