FILMS from AFAR

Ma Rainey's Black Bottom is a tough film made more emotionally intense by the actors' soulful performances and the hard truths at the core of the story. Even if you didn't know the script was based on an August Wilson play, you could guess at the film's theatrical roots in its character focus, dialogue-heavy scenes, and stagy settings (the few outdoor scenes, particularly Chicago's city streets, seem to look purposefully like sets). The closed spaces, so muggy-hot that the characters are sweating, feel symbolically restrictive, a manifestation of the oppression the Black characters have experienced all their lives. Their rage and weariness materialize especially in Ma Rainey and Levee. In one scene, Levee breaks down a door only to find himself at the bottom of an enclosed brick patio, with no way out. Davis brings a simmering resentment to her Ma Rainey. One smoldering look through her smeared, maudlin make-up sends the men around her scampering. It comes as a bit of a shock to see photos over the end credits of a smiling, clean-faced real-life Ma Rainey. Meanwhile, Boseman's final film before his untimely death from cancer shows the full range of his acting prowess. His Levee is at turns charming, sorrowful, boastful, angry, and violent. The solid character actors playing the musicians around him all have their own starring moments, but they seem mostly there to react to Boseman. Levee is a talented, flawed, and traumatized young man who deeply deserves a better past and future than the ones he's got, and Boseman's gifted performance, exuding a mix of youthful energy, vulnerability and fury, brings this to tragic life. Read the full review in Common Sense Media.

Check your cynicism at the door before attending The Prom, a teen coming-out tale stuffed into a glitzy tux and bedazzled with schmaltz and splashy musical numbers. If you do, you'll be rewarded with 132 minutes of undemanding and giddily self-aware entertainment. The all-star cast looks to be having a blast barging into rooms, scarves billowing, belting tongue-in-cheek lyrics about setting the cow-tipping Midwest folk straight and sharing the true message of Christianity. Don't fear: The film forces the pompous New York libs to face their biases too. Leave it to Indianapolis-born director Ryan Murphy, creator of Glee, to pay gently teasing tribute to the deep human necessity for the arts, the empathy-creating nature of high school drama clubs, and the ultimately good folks of Indiana (especially the moms) and Broadway all in one film. The Prom serves as a golden-hued showcase for Streep and Corden, who primp, strut, sing, dance and convincingly emote in scenes where their characters are obliged to reckon with their own shortcomings and pasts. Kidman oddly fades into the background in a subdued performance that may be fitting for her role as the long-overlooked chorus girl but feels less intentional than that. Key, Pellman, Washington, and the multifaceted Rannells all have their own starring moments or big numbers. As its many wink-wink lyrics suggest, this film knows some will suffer it like choking on a "syrup-soaked American flag." Others will welcome the escape from a more contentious reality to this fictionally wholesome place where people randomly break into song, unquestioningly dance in unison, and all just get along. Read the full review on Common Sense Media.

Fans of JD Vance's best-selling memoir, Hillbilly Elegy, will appreciate how the film adaptation has brought some scenes and relationships from memorable page to screen. The verdant hill country of poor, white Kentucky; a fancy Yale dinner with a confusing array of cutlery; the vicious cycles of poverty, addiction, and abuse that are so difficult to break out of. As the end credits confirm with photos of Vance's real family, the filmmakers also did a remarkable job styling the actors to look like the real people they're portraying. Close is nearly unrecognizable as Mamaw and fully embodies the character. But none of this will matter as much to newcomers to Vance's tale, and the movie doesn't construct as compelling a life story as the source material did. Rather than telling Vance's tale chronologically, the script aims to draw parallels between turning points and key events in two key years of life, intermittently employing a voiceover for clarity. The parallels aren't particularly subtle, and chunks of Vance's life between high school and law school have basically been skipped over. A tunnel metaphor employed whenever characters enter or leave their decaying Ohio town feels a bit obvious. The film's final scenes carry implicit messages about success that may or may not resonate with viewers' own experiences. Read the full review at Common Sense Media.

An energetic BFF road movie with pro-choice and feminist messages, this film relies on some high school stereotypes and gender clichés, mostly about boys, but manages to resist predictability. Unpregnant lands a lot of laughs in the banter between Veronica and Bailey and their misadventures on the road, and the two lead actresses do a great job playing opposites with a convincingly shared history and a deep mutual affection. Both actresses credibly transition between comedy and drama throughout the film. Unpregnant is no Thelma and Louise, but a key car-over-a-cliff scene references the classic, as does the American Southwest setting, complete with wide-open spaces, long, straight roads, and dusty small towns populated by cowboys, county fairs, and conspiracy theorists. This film aims for a much more upbeat tone than that classic, though there are some strong political messages here. The clinical, step-by-step description of an abortion procedure at the film's end aims to demystify the process. A pro-choice monologue laments the fact (and the film's premise) that a 17-year-old girl in present-day America should have to travel across several state lines to get an abortion on request without parental consent. That message, like two intense "pro-life" characters, a Mike and Karen Pence joke, and a coming-out plot twist, could turn some audiences off. It's more likely that the politics, the humor, and the generally youthful mood will all speak directly to this film's target audience. Read the full review at Common Sense Media.

This is a highly esoteric film that will surely find its fans, but could also feel too talky, too strange, and too confusing for many others. The twisting plot and myriad cultural references and internal clues may excite some viewers and send them down Reddit rabbit holes to dissect it all, but they require patience and attention. Writer-director Charlie Kaufman seems to drop hints about the film's meaning without actually explaining anything. "There is no objective reality." "I guess that's what one hopes for when one writes things ... universality in the specific." Watching too many movies is a "societal malady." "It's all planned ... yet it isn't thought out." I'm Thinking of Ending Things ponders the bending of time, the glorification of youth and beauty, the relevance of poetry in our lives, feminist readings of classic films and songs, dating and relationships, political correctness, and, if you can believe it, more. Also, it may suggest hell is high school, or maybe watching a high school musical. Despite all that, you get the sense that the film is more about a mood (an ominous malaise, also skillfully captured visually) than a clear message. The talented lead actors, Jessie Buckley and Jesse Plemons, take their roles seriously and keep you engaged, which is lucky considering there are 20-minute sequences of just them talking in a car. Toni Collette and David Thewlis are perfect as the weirdo parents. Still, you may find yourself wishing Kaufman had ended things -- meaning, this two-hour-plus movie -- a little sooner. Read the full review at Common Sense Media.

The Sleepover is, simply put, good family fun. The plot isn't wildly original and the action is pretty predictable, but the characters are sketched in such a loving and silly way that it's hard not to like and root for them. This is especially true for the parents, played with charm and physical adroitness by Malin Ackerman and Ken Marino, and the son, an adorably clueless yet clever misfit perfectly embodied by Maxwell Simkins. All of the child actors are believable in their roles. There's also some interesting commentary on modern-day parenting built into the script. The kids chafe against overprotective moms, calling them out for losing sight of their own lives in their quest to offer round-the-clock care. Three out of the four lead children have peanut allergies. One little boy, the son's friend, Lewis, is burdened with a laundry list of "not allowed" rules and supposedly helpful gear (like nighttime undies with a built-in moisture alarm system). It's all played for humor, but when Lewis breaks the rules and eschews the gear, he seems to finally feel he's living a little. It's a message parents might take to heart. Read the full review on Common Sense Media.

This movie misses an opportunity to craft a more realistic portrayal of the teen years, which seems to be its intention, by striking an excessively melancholic tone. One telling scene is when Grace discovers a suicide theme within the books on a teacher's syllabus. The books -- The Catcher in the Rye and Ordinary People among them -- have something else in common: they portray the teen years as generally sad and ultimately scarring. Chemical Hearts conveys that mood in its languid pace, memorable nighttime scenes at an abandoned mill, a graveyard, and a Halloween party, and visual analogies like Grace's leg scars and Henry's broken ceramics. The lead actors (Lili Reinhart and Austin Abrams) both offer sensitive performances that capture the hole Grace finds herself in and pulls Henry temporarily into. The problem is that the film wants to generalize about teens, yet Grace is the exception rather than the rule. This is captured in the generally vivacious background characters, whose stories unfortunately go largely unexplored. Chemical Hearts opens with a quote: "You're never more alive than when you're a teenager." The line works as almost a caveat, a way of justifying character actions or emotions that might come across as, well, unrealistic. Read the full review at Common Sense Media.

If you like actor Adam Devine, you'll like this movie. Magic Camp feels built around him: he's present in just about every scene and playing to type as the sweet and funny underdog (see his previous roles in Modern Family, Pitch Perfect, and Isn't It Romantic, for example). Devine's unthreatening style of self effacing humor is well-matched for a tween movie. Despite being down on his luck and resentful, his character is ultimately generous and optimistic, and Devine does a good job embodying those contradicting traits. Magic Camp's storyline is predictable and some of its jokes fall a little flat, so it really is up to the actors to make the journey worthwhile. Jeffrey Tambor is entertaining if a bit subdued as the camp founder and magician-in-chief. The filmmakers did a solid job casting the diverse group of kids, whose stories are used to offer a range of valuable life lessons for younger viewers. Worth highlighting especially are Cole Sand as "mathemagician" Nathan and J.J. (Josie) Totah as Judd, the son of a famous magician whose real passion turns out to be costume design. Read the full review at Common Sense Media.

This is a refreshingly likable high school movie that follows a formula but hits just the right notes nonetheless. That is largely thanks to the charisma -- not to mention dancing chops -- of its multitalented lead cast, many of whom will be known to the film's target audience for creative endeavors beyond acting. Sabrina Carpenter is sweet as Quinn, the do-gooder with a purpose. Liza Koshy balances her out with some spicier humor as BFF Jasmine. Keiynan Lonsdale is divine as Juilliard, the Artist Formerly Known as Isiah, delivering the film's best one-liners, like "Sashay away!" and "Sage the space!" Netflix should find a natural audience for Work It. The music-oriented teen tale can thank its predecessors for forging a well-worn path, with special nods to the innocent self-expression of the High School Musical gang and the discover-life-through-dance theme of the Dirty Dancing series. All the genre's clichés are here: high school pressures, underdogs and misfits, self-discovery, first love, embarrassing parents. That could combine to make this film predictable, which it is. But it's also enjoyable along the way. Read the full review at Common Sense Media.

This visual album is a stunning tour de force. It would be hard not to appreciate the work that went into Black Is King, evidenced by the colossal list of collaborators in the end credits and Disney's touting of its year-long production across multiple continents. The effort is on full display in the finished musical numbers, with their detailed choreography featuring diverse casts, unique interiors, gorgeous exterior settings, and plenty of symbolism. And then there are Beyoncé's glamorous get-ups, dotingly filmed from every angle. The film can easily be digested in pieces/multiple viewings, divvied up by musical numbers. Some of the most memorable come in the second half of the film. Black Is King also radiates labor of love. Beyoncé dedicates it to her son "and to all our sons and daughters," as well as "the Black diaspora across every continent," which has faced "insurmountable odds. You inspire the world." This expansive acknowledgement may explain why the film doesn't seem to want to be specific about African nations or cultures but is instead focused on a widely inclusive message of self worth and Black empowerment. Read the full review at Common Sense Media.

This filmed performance will delight the hordes of die-hard fans of the theater production's now iconic musical score, story, and original cast. It may also give viewers who couldn't get -- or couldn't afford -- a coveted ticket to Hamilton during its extraordinarily successful run on and off Broadway since 2015 the sense that they're catching up on something they missed. The shift to the small screen does mean a loss of some of the immediacy and emotional punch of a live performance in front of a large and invested audience, but this version offers many rewards of its own. Multiple cameras supply new perspectives on the action, from bird's-eye views above the stage to close-ups that allow viewers to really see the actors' expressions -- right down to King George's spittle during his hilarious numbers. Fans can stop, rewind, repeat, and study these original, groundbreaking performances. Captured on film principally during a live Broadway show in 2016, the moments that seem to get the biggest applause in this recording are the most political: one-liners about enslaved people, women, and immigrants. It reminds you why Hamilton continues to feel so contemporary, relevant, and valuable -- in any format. Read the full review at Common Sense Media.

It would be hard not to be moved by the raw emotion each man brings to telling his story of becoming not just a father, but a dad. Maybe it's appropriate that the daughter of Ron Howard, costar of that quintessential TV portrait of fatherhood, The Andy Griffith Show, would be behind a documentary on Dads. Director Bryce Dallas Howard certainly seems to have found inspiration in her own paternal role models, including dad Ron and grandfather Rance, and she incorporates home movies and testimonies from her own family members into her film. She's also dedicated Dads to Rance, who passed away in 2017, but not before she could capture him on film. Her personal connection to the material, and apparent friendships with the celebrities she interviews, add warmth and sincerity to Howard's direction, helping to offset the reality that celebrities may not represent the most typical experiences. Howard has also pulled together some riveting case studies of a diversity of non-celebrity dads from varied backgrounds. These stories are further supplemented by clips from home videos from a variety of parents -- some touching and some hilarious, especially where teenage kids are concerned. The film can sometimes feel like it's advocating for a specific enlightened model of parenting, or serving as a pep talk for new or expecting dads (including her brother). That essence is captured in the documentary's tagline: "You got this. Even when you don't." Read the full review at Common Sense Media.