NT Live: The Misanthrope

22/09/26

Dominion Cinema, Edinburgh

This is Molière as you’ve never seen him before – unless, of course, you witnessed earlier iterations of Martin Crimp’s adaptation in 1996, 1999 or 2009. The key difference in 2026 is that there’s much more at stake.

The French playwright’s 1666 comedy of manners satirised French salon culture, where superficial manners and flattery were social currency. His aristocratic protagonist, Alceste, rails against the hypocrisy, refusing to play by the generally-accepted rules. But in King Louis XIV’s court, his principles cost him everything: a lawsuit, his social standing – and the love of his life.

Directed by Indhu Rubasingham, the National Theatre’s new version replaces Alceste with Alice (Sandra Oh), a Booker-winning novelist known for her bold political opinions. And, while previous productions of Crimp’s Misanthrope were criticised for a lack of jeopardy (Michael Billingham famously wrote that he could see this Alceste being offered “a Guardian column or a spot on Channel 4), the times have changed. Cancellation culture and social media pile-ons are very real threats. Alice really is risking her neck.

It’s astonishing how apposite the plot is. Alice is supposed to be travelling to Berlin to collect a literary prize of €200k – but the press have unearthed an old interview where she expresses an opinion at odds with current thinking. Her playwright friend, John (Paul Chahidi), urges her to issue a generic apology but Alice refuses. Why should she bow to public pressure and lie about how she feels? If the prize committee renege on their deal, then so be it. She has her film star lover, Stefan (Tom Mison), to comfort her, doesn’t she?

Well, to a point…

Stefan is everything that Alice usually despises: vain and vacillating, with no hidden shallows, let alone depths. He’s charming and handsome, attentive and sweet, but he’s hardly someone to rely on. Just ask his ex-wife, Elaine (Jemima Rooper), who has to dash to London from Paris when Stefan fails to collect their kids from school.

When superfan Esmée (Imogen Elliott) asks for an autograph in her battered copy of Alice’s critically-acclaimed novel, John persuades Alice to give the girl (“It’s woman, actually”) a hearing. Predictably, Esmée has a manuscript of her own that she’d like Alice to read. Like Alceste before her, Alice offers a scathing critique of the deliciously dreadful prose – with terrible consequences. Esmée, it transpires, is an influencer with hordes of followers. If Alice was in hot water before, she’s about to feel the temperature rise…

Crimp’s script is witty and lyrical, written in rhyming verse to mirror Molière’s original. It’s so cleverly done that it takes me a while to notice; when I do, it’s to laugh out loud at some of the more audacious pairings (“We’ve fucked it / why not just sit back and deconstruct it?” or “People will praise a pile of shit / if they’ve dressed up and paid fifty quid for it.”). The juxtaposition of highbrow and lowbrow works really well, reinforcing the theme of a social veneer obscuring the gritty truth.

Rubasingham’s direction is pacy and fluid; the ninety-minute running time flies by, reflecting Alice’s almost manic mood. Robert Jones’ set reveals a series of drawing rooms – each more stifling than the last – until the final party scene, where the walls disappear and scores of chandeliers drop from above. Alice’s isolation is emphasised by Tim Lutkin’s lighting, a single spot highlighting her variance from societal norms, as everyone around her is dressed in Baroque costume while she’s still wearing her customary trouser suit.

Oh is fabulous in the central role, giving us a complex character we can both admire and despise. Cannily, Crimp never reveals what Alice’s objectionable opinion was, so we’re not able to judge her based on our own position. Instead, we have to consider the abstract premise: what is the point in demanding outward conformity to a set of beliefs that are not truly held? And who are the gatekeepers deciding what’s acceptable?

Once again, I find myself mentally thanking whoever it was who came up with the idea of live-streaming theatre. I love being able to see London shows for the price of a film ticket – and Edinburgh’s luxurious Dominion Cinema offers a real sense of occasion.

4.5 stars

Susan Singfield

Bad Apples

18/09/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Based on Rasmus Lindgren’s 2020 Swedish novel, De Oönskade, Bad Apples is both a dark comedy and a scathing critique of a results-driven education system. It’s provocative – and I love it.

Directed by Jonatan Etzler, the film’s opening is depressingly realistic. We’re introduced to Maria (Saoirse Ronan), an inexperienced young teacher struggling to cope in an underfunded rural state primary. Her nemesis is a troubled ten-year-old called Danny (Eddie Waller), who disrupts every lesson – and she gets little support from her stressed head teacher (Rakie Ayola). There’s no money for a learning support assistant. Maria will just have to soldier on.

From here, the story evolves into a dark fantasy, where Maria makes a devilish pact with her own id. She’s already in a panic when she finds Danny bashing her car with a metal bar. OFSTED are coming tomorrow and she can’t bear to think about what they’ll see in her classroom. Trying to wrest the bar from his hands, she accidentally knocks the boy out. On the way to A&E, he suddenly comes round and threatens to tell everyone she’s attacked him; impulsively, she drives him to her house instead.

And locks him in her basement.

If the ‘bad apple’ metaphor is a bit on the nose, the Jungian allegory isn’t exactly subtle either. Maria’s house represents her self (it’s messy, unloved and in need of repair, but clearly full of unrealised potential), while the basement symbolises the unconscious – both personal and collective. After all, she’s surely not alone in her belief that everyone would be better off if Danny just disappeared.

At first, it seems Maria has stumbled on some kind of panacea. She and her are pupils are thriving: she now has time to spend with them, to encourage them to develop their skills; she can finally become the teacher she’s always wanted to be. And Danny is thriving too. His desperate anger has given way to a resigned acceptance and he’s revealed that he can neither read nor write. Maria leaps at the chance to teach him, appeasing her moral qualms (or superego) with the positive results yielded by her kidnapping.

But, of course, dark secrets and Faustian deals always manage to bite back. Danny’s dad, Josh (Robert Emms), might be a bit rubbish at the whole parenting malarkey but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love his son, and it’s not as if the police are going to ignore a missing child. Most dangerous of all is Maria’s star pupil, Pauline (Nia Brown). Because when Pauline smells a rat, she’s not the kind of girl to ignore the stench…

Ronan makes for a spell-binding protagonist, earning our sympathy even as her behaviour crosses line after line into shocking iniquity. The two lead children are also perfectly cast: Waller delivers a heartbreaking performance as the angry, broken Danny, while Brown’s portrayal of the manipulative Pauline is both eerie and compelling.

Jess O’Kane’s script is witty, incorporating many laugh-out-loud moments amidst the horror. (My favourite line is, “As the head of the PTA…” – although, admittedly, it’s only funny in context. You’ll get it when you see it.) Nea Asphäll’s cinematography works well, the bright, light colours of the primary school belying Maria’s experience even as the darker tones of her home emphasise the grim reality.

A searing indictment of the way society deals with “problematic” children, Bad Apples forces us to acknowledge that our current arrangement simply doesn’t work. No individual – parent or teacher – can effect change on their own; nor can a single institution make a big enough difference. We need a systemic solution if we want things to improve. We can’t just keep sweeping uncomfortable truths under the carpet – or locking them in basements.

Because, to misquote Dr Jekyll, when devils are long caged, they have a tendency to come out roaring.

4.8 stars

Susan Singfield

Resident Evil

18/09/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

I don’t play video games and, under normal circumstances, wouldn’t feel compelled to watch a film from this franchise. But two words make me decide to give this one a whirl. And those words are: Zach Creggar.

I loved Creggar’s weird debut film, Barbarian, while his follow-up, Weapons, was one of our best films of 2025. There have been numerous attempts to translate the titular game into cinema, all of which have failed to make the transition – and I tell myself that, if anyone can make this concept fly, then Creggar is surely the one. I’m happy to report that he succeeds, making Resident Evil a gruelling and enthralling experience.

Meet Bryan (Austin Abrams), a hapless young man who ekes out a precarious living by driving donor organs from hospital to hospital. Looking for a used heart or a second-hand liver? Bryan’s your man! It’s a snowy night and he has just learned that his girlfriend Michelle is pregnant. He really should be heading home to assure her that he’s ready to become a father. But then a job comes up at the last minute and he’s offered double pay to get a mysterious package to Racoon City hospital.

And sure, he doesn’t have chains on his tyres and Michelle really needs him to come home but… double pay, man! You can’t let that go! So off he heads into the night and everything goes surprisingly smoothly – until he accidentally runs down a woman in the middle of nowhere. She’s not dead, exactly, but she is behaving very oddly and Bryan can’t seem to get a phone signal, so surely the only thing left for him to do is to strap her into the passenger seat and keep heading for the hospital?

Resident Evil is a gleeful, Sam Raimi-like affair, comprising equal parts terror and laughter. As Bryan blunders from one disaster to the next, I am with him every step of the way and the levels of tension are off the scale. While the film’s first third is perfectly paced and utterly propulsive, the second enters into a more complicated scenario as Bryan (still carrying the mysterious package) heads into the centre of Raccoon City. It’s here that he has to deal with an officious guy in a business suit (Paul Walter Hauser) and with a little girl who… well, I won’t spoil it for you, but it is intense.

In tthe final third, Creggar (who co-wrote the screenplay with Shay Hatten) unleashes a gnarly maelstrom of action and splatter as Bryan finally makes it to his destination, only to discover that getting there isn’t the end of the story. I cannot say with authority whether this bears any resemblance to the game that inspired it, but it does manage to keep me hooked throughout and, as Bryan, Abrams manages to convey a bumbling vulnerability that makes us care deeply about him when bad things happen.

While Resident Evil isn’t the perfectly-constructed puzzle-box that was Weapons, those who enjoy a wild ride will relish sitting in Bryan’s passenger seat as he speeds headlong into one of the most anxiety-riddled cinematic journeys of recent years.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

Don’t Look Back in Anger

16/09/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Having lived in Manchester from the early 80s through to 2016, this film was always going to be on my radar. I watched the meteoric rise of Oasis from loudmouthed young contenders to one of the biggest acts in rock history – I wasn’t exactly a die-hard fan but I pretty much enjoyed the ride. Then in August 2009, I heard how it had all spectacularly fallen apart. On tour (in Paris) brothers Liam and Noel Gallagher had a massive row and that was pretty much it. When, after a fifteen-year interval, the band reformed and came back for a reunion tour, I wasn’t sufficiently spurred to rush out and buy tickets for the nearest venue – but I am perfectly happy to stroll to my local cinema to see how everything went down.

Magnificently filmed in IMAX, it goes down very well.

Directors Will Lovelace and Dylan Southern start with footage from that infamous break up, as bewildered French fans, gathered for a performance, are given the abrupt statement that ‘Oasis do not exist anymore.’ Cue much incredulity and many sacre bleus! From there, we cut to 2025 and a rehearsal space somewhere in the UK, where Noel and the rest of the musicians wait nervously for Liam to arrive…

In he dutifully struts, goes straight to the microphone and performs like he’s never been away.

Those hoping to learn exactly what went wrong between the brothers are going to be disappointed by Don’t Look Back in Anger – though you only have to listen to five minutes of Liam expounding his views on life to take a shrewd guess at what the problem might have been. Happily, both Liam and Noel appear to have matured enough over the duration to at least get along and even exchange the occasional hug. After that tense rehearsal period, the film cuts to the first gig on the comeback tour – Glasgow – and then moves on, city by city, as gigantic crowd after gigantic crowd gathers to witness the ensuing events.

The biggest surprise for me is that I am totally unprepared for the tidal wave of emotion that spills from every one of those massive audiences – people in Dublin, Munich, Barcelona and (lest we forget) Manchester – all crying their collective hearts out because the Gallagher brothers have finally patched up their quarrels and returned to the fray. It gives the occasion an almost religious feel. The songs (the best ones) are still remarkable in their Beatle-inflected way and, by the time we get to that anthemic title piece, I – like most of the other people at the screening – am singing raucously along, our vocals happily swamped by the crystal-clear dolby stereo sound. Champagne Supernova is the perfect piece to end it.

Writer Steven Knight chooses to focus on one particular Oasis fan in each successive city, giving them space to explain exactly why they love the band and what effect the music has had on their lives. Whoever compiled the set list has the sense to begin with the more average songs, before moving on to the solid-gold bangers. The effect is of one massive gig that gets progressively better as it unfolds, which is not always the case at live events. I particularly like the sequences where images of the Gallaghers as young men are cleverly spliced into current footage to remind us of the long and winding road that led to this reconciliation. I’m also touched by a dedication to the late Gary ‘Mani’ Mountfield and a heartfelt mention of The Stone Roses, another iconic Manchester band.

If you even halfway like those classic Oasis songs, this is an invigorating way to spend a couple of hours. It won’t change your world, but it may rock it to a certain degree.

But if you never cared for the band in the first place, maybe give this one a miss.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

Pressure

12/09/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

A brief summary of Pressure would be enough to put a lot of potential viewers off. ‘It’s a nail-biting drama about… er, weather forecasting.’ But don’t be misled. Anthony Maras’s powerful film, based on a stage play by David Haig, manages to keep me utterly enthralled from the opening scenes to the final shot.

It’s 1944 and the allied forces, under the command of Ike, AKA General Dwight D Eisenhower (Brendan Fraser) are preparing for the D Day invasion. But Ike is still smarting from the recent disaster of Excercise Tiger, a sort of dress rehearsal, designed to introduce raw recruits to the reality of an amphibious landing  – which, thanks to a series of delays and misunderstandings, resulted in the deaths of hundreds of young troops.

Determined to ensure that everything goes to plan this time, Ike recruits the army’s top meteorologist, Group Captain James Stagg (Andrew Scott), and charges him with the task of delivering an accurate forecast for June 5th. So er… no pressure there (ahem) even though Stagg is adamant at his first meeting with Ike that he can deliver no more than an educated guess.

Stagg is ordered to work alongside his American equivalent, Irving Krick (Chris Messina), a smooth-talking go-getter, who likes to boast about his connections in Hollywood. It’s clear from the off that the two men’s methods vary wildly. Krick is happy to base his forecast on earlier weather charts, claiming that such events do not vary all that much over the years. 

But Stagg is more used to the unpredictability of European weather. He has his own way of doing things and isn’t about to make any changes…

While the film’s claustrophobic stage-bound origins are still evident here, Maras makes valiant efforts to open out the story to suit the cinematic form, showing how Stagg’s predictions directly affect the troops as they wait anxiously for the order to head into action. Nonetheless, Pressure mostly concentrates on its central performances and, it must be said, these are pretty impressive. 

Scott is quietly brilliant as a strict disciplinarian who never tries to make himself likeable to his fellow workers and isn’t ready to tolerate anyone who disagrees with him. He’s also carrying a personal anxiety of his own and consequently Scott allows us to glimpse the simmering cauldron of doubt Stagg harbours within. Fraser is in similar territory: Ike is struggling to implement a near impossible task while carrying the lonely burden of what happened with Exercise Tiger – a costly mistake that was his idea in the first place.

The two male leads are brilliantly supported by Kerry Condon as Kay Summersby, who has to deal with the titanic clash of male egos and ensure that everything stays on course. Condon excels in the role and provides an important female antidote to all that dick-waving. Damian Lewis has a cameo role as General Montgomery, convinced that his men cannot be cowed or ruled by something as ephemeral as weather conditions – unsurprisingly, he emerges from this looking like a pompous ass.

When, after a series of delays, the invasion finally goes ahead, the film manages the seemingly impossible. The Normandy invasion is a matter of historical record and its end is never in doubt, yet Maras still somehow contrives to keep me on the edge of my seat, chewing my nails and hoping that nothing goes wrong.

Go figure.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

The Incomer

10/09/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Welcome to Auk, a remote island somewhere off the coast of Scotland with a population comprising two people and a whole bunch of seabirds. The human inhabitants are siblings Isla (Gayle Rankin) and Sandy (Grant O’Rourke) and they were born here, when the place was a small but thriving community. Over the years it has steadily declined in numbers and, since the deaths of their parents, the twosome have clung tenaciously to their established routines, surviving on a diet of gulls, fish and crustaceans.

They pass the lonely hours by making up stories about the evil incomers from the mainland, the ones who first tempted the rest of the island’s population away and who they now believe must be resisted at all costs. The pair of them are quite feral, bickering and scrapping like teenagers and occasionally dressing up in bizarre feathered costumes to enact their own self-created mythologies.

But progress finally has the island in its sights. Council worker Daniel (Domhnall Gleeson) is dispatched from his office with the thankless mission of telling Isla and Sandy that they are trespassing on a place that is being earmarked as a nature reserve – that they shall be removed (by force if necessary) and rehoused somewhere on the mainland. To be honest, Daniel is reluctant to be the bearer of such tidings. He’s shy and diffident and a bit of a loner in his office – but his ambitious boss, Roz (Michelle Gomez), makes it clear that it’s time he started pulling his weight.

So Daniel makes the long crossing to Auk and finally comes face-to -ace with two people who are predisposed to hate him…

This quirky, low-budget comedy, written and directed by Louis Paxton, features appealing performances from the three leads, while the smaller roles are all nicely handled (keep your eyes peeled for a delightful cameo from John Hannah as you’ve never seen him before). Patrick Glan’s cinematography captures the wild beauty of the setting and Selina Wagner contributes some delightful animated sequences, which are skilfully incorporated into the narrative and never overstay their welcome.

Paxton manages to avoid painting Daniel as some kind of saviour offering a better life – indeed, as the story unfolds, he’s the one who changes most – and there’s a satisfying conclusion which manages to tie the whole thing up without wading too deep into sentimentality. Whenever the story threatens to defy credulity, Paxton brings it back from the cliff edge. For example, there is a pretty convincing explanation for why the siblings have never managed to leave Auk – and why they are so keen to remain there.

This is an impressive debut and I’ll be very interested to see where this fledgling director ventures next.

4.2 stars

The Black Bull

06/09/26

Church Gate, Moffat

Regular readers will know that, as far as B&B are concerned, there’s no place like home – and that home for us is the incomparable Edinburgh. Still, post-Fringe, even we’re feeling a bit city-bound, in need of some nature and R&R. So we climb into our little camper van and drive ninety minutes’ south to a campsite in Moffat, a place we’ve never visited before.

A former spa, Moffat remains a vibrant country town, famous for its walking trails and toffee shop. The weather is mixed but we don’t let that deter us. As the Norwegians say, “There’s no such thing as bad weather, only the wrong clothes.” We’ll hike in the rain rather than not hike at all. But that’s not to say it doesn’t leave us hankering for the comfort of a Sunday lunch.

We’ve walked past The Black Bull a couple of times and noticed that they do a weekly carvery. We can’t remember the last time we had one of those (it’s been at least a decade) and now seems like exactly the right time to rectify the situation. We’re the first people in the door when it opens at 1pm, and we’re quickly shown to a seat.

Established in 1568 – and once a regular haunt of Robert Burns – The Black Bull declares itself “the oldest hostelry in the area.” A delightful blend of traditional and modern, the decor is cosy and welcoming, our waiter friendly and knowledgeable about the fare. I tell her I can’t eat gluten, and she assures me that I’ll be well catered for.

There’s not a lot to say about a carvery: we all know what it is. But this is up there with the very best we’ve had, the joints of meat – turkey, gammon and beef – perfectly-cooked. All the usual suspects are present: roast potatoes (crispy outsides, fluffy insides), buttery mash, peas, carrots, sprouts. The cauliflower cheese is gluten-free (hurrah!) and there are even gluten-free Yorkshire puddings available. Sure, they’re not as big and fluffy as the regular ones (which Philip says are fabulous), but they taste spot on. The chef directs me to a pot of gluten-free gravy, making a point of using a separate ladle. These people know their stuff when it comes to allergies!

We’re glad we’ve chosen the regular rather than the large-sized plate because afterwards we’re too full to even look at the pudding menu. We ask for the bill, which – along with a Peroni 0% and a fizzy water – comes to just over £40. We can’t help comparing this to a recent disappointing meal we had in an Edinburgh steakhouse (I won’t name and shame), which came in at more than three times the price and was only a third as good.

So, if you find yourself in Dumfries and Galloway on a soggy Sunday afternoon, I highly recommend you pop along to The Black Bull for a sterling lunch that won’t break the bank. We’ll certainly be coming back.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

The Death of Robin Hood

03/09/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

We all know the classic story, right? A merry band of men in tights, who steal from the rich and give to the poor…

Anyone expecting such elements from The Death of Robin Hood is going to be sorely disappointed. Michael Sarnoski’s film is an unapologetically revisionist take. In this version, set in the 1200s somewhere ‘near Keswick’ (though actually filmed in Northern Ireland), Robin (Hugh Jackman) is a bearded, grumpy, mud-stained villain, who takes whatever he fancies and God help anyone who gets in his way.

And nobody is sicker of those trumped-up accounts of his exploits than he is.

The first third of the film is a grim, unflinching account of where our aging protagonist is now. Set in horrific-looking winter weather, it features more bloodshed and dismemberment than we’re used to seeing in this legend, as Robin teams up with his old comrade Little John (Bill Skarsgård) and sets out to reclaim the house and wife that his friend has had stolen from him. (They weren’t actually John’s house and wife in the first place but we’ll overlook that little detail.) Cue some truly gut-wrenching fight sequences, which actually make me flinch at certain points. And trust me, I don’t flinch easily.

As a consequence of the ensuing carnage, Robin is stabbed and hacked to within an inch of his life, so John promptly rows him across to the Island of St Clement. where it’s claimed that Brigid (Jodie Comer), the mysterious prioress who runs the place, is able to effect miraculous cures. Whereupon the weather suddenly clears up, the sun comes out from behind the clouds and Robin starts the slow process of regaining his health.

When John’s orphaned daughter, Margaret (Katie Breen), turns up on the island looking for Robin, he finally begins to reassess his life of violence…

While I applaud Sarnoski’s steadfast intention to strip away the traditional elements of the story, it might have been a good idea to show some of the social injustice that led to people taking the law into their own hands in the first place. As it stands, you get the impression that every man in this neck of the woods is a mindless, violent thug. But, thanks to Pat Scola’s magnificent cinematography and Jim Ghedi’s adaptations of traditional folk songs, this still makes for a satisfying cinematic experience. Jackman has plenty of gravitas in the lead role and even makes a decent fist of his Northern accent – thought Skarsgård’s attempt is so OTT it’s sometimes hard to follow. Comer exerts an extraordinary presence as Brigid, a woman torn between her passion to heal the sick and a perfectly understandable need to seek her own revenge. And Murray Bartlett as ‘The Leper’ somehow manages to make an impression, despite being wrapped head to toe in bandages.

Having systematically destroyed all the mythology of the piece, in the final stretches Sarnoski cleverly shows exactly how myth-making happens – and why it is so important to cherish the process

Which may be a bit like having your bow and drawing it – but it works.

3.8 stars

Philip Caveney

I Want Your Sex

02/09/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Given that uncompromising title and the18 certificate, it doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes to deduce that this film features some adult themes. But those expecting unadulterated smut are going to be sorely disappointed by I Want Your Sex. Directed and co-written (with Karley Sciortino) by Greg Araki, this is a deliciously dark comedy, which nails the shallow and pretentious world of contemporary art. It’s star, Olivia Wilde, is the woman behind The Invite, another film aimed at adults that will almost certainly feature in my top ten movies of 2026: a production, moreover, that – despite a modest budget – managed to take over $50 million at the box office.

Wilde plays Erika Tracey, a contemporary artist who has built her entire career on depicting scenes of sexuality. When we first glimpse her she’s floating face down in a swimming pool. Her employee, Elliot (Cooper Hoffman), clearly in a state of panic, is dressed in women’s lingerie and frantically summoning an ambulance. Thereafter, we see him being grilled by a couple of detectives (Johnny Knoxville and Margaret Cho), who are trying to establish exactly what has happened.

From here we flashback 9½ weeks (geddit?) to see Elliot being interviewed by Erika for the post of assistant at her art studio – and shortly thereafter sticking pieces of freshly-chewed gum onto a drawing of a vagina. (Don’y worry, it’s art!) A short time later he is being propositioned by Erika, who has decided that he’s somebody she’d rather like to have sex with. It won’t be straightforward sex, mind you. What she wants is a sub – somebody she can dress up, spank, humiliate and even ignore when the mood takes her. Twenty-three-year-old Elliot hesitates all of two seconds before accepting. Okay, he has a girlfriend called Minerva (Charli xcx), a medical student, but she seems far more interested in her text books than satisfying his sexual needs and… well, Elliot is pretty enraptured by Erika. What could possibly go wrong?

But as Erika and her team approach a make-or-break exhibition of her latest work, things begin to go askew…

This is sharply written and very funny, despite dealing with serious themes like consent and sexual exploitation. Wilde is frankly terrific as Erika – she’s a ruthless manipulator, razor-sharp, selfish and completely self-obsessed. Hoffman’s Elliot is her polar opposite. Inexperienced and hopelessly vulnerable, he’s a rabbit in the headlights.

As events career towards a hopelessly messy conclusion, there’s time to appreciate some of the other players in the game. Chase Sui Wonders is adorable as Eliott’s bestie, Apple, who finds herself completely mortified by an encounter with Erika. Mason Gooding is also impressive as the sardonic Zap, Elliot’s handsome co-worker, who always manages to salvage whatever he can from the general carnage.

There are a couple of clever codas to the story – set first two years and then four years later – and it’s worth staying in your seats for the blooper reel which plays out over the end credits. All in all, this is great fun – and much kudos to Arraki and Wilde who have had the confidence to offer that rarest of things: an adult-themed movie that offers a fresh and original approach to its chosen subject.

4.3 stars

Philip Caveney

The Whisper Man

31/08/26

Netflix

My first thought on hearing about The Whisper Man is this: “How does a film that stars Adam Scott, Robert De Niro and Michael Keaton bypass the cinemas completely and go straight to Netflix?” Then I watch the film and the mystery is instantly solved. Based on a best-selling novel by Alex North (adapted by Ben Jacoby and Chase Palmer), this is essentially a police procedural with the trappings of a supernatural story, which somehow contrives to be disappointing in both genres.

After the death of his wife, author Tom Kennedy (Adam Scott) moves into a great big creepy house, with his young son, Jake (Actston Luca Porto). Ever since Jake found his mother dead at the bottom of a flight of steps, he’s been terrified of staircases – which instantly begs the question, why don’t the two of them rent a bungalow instead? But no, Dad decides to go for a place that looks like the Amityville House.

Pretty soon after their arrival, Jake starts talking in whispers to an imaginary person and then, very shortly afterwards, he is kidnapped in the middle of the night while Tom is fast asleep. Jake is just the latest in a whole succession of children to disappear in such a way, their bodies appearing at regular intervals, dumped in remote spots with their faces covered. Detective Amanda Beck (Michelle Monaghan) is all too aware that these murders are eerily similar to the exploits of another killer, Frank Carter (Michael Keaton), but he’s been safely locked up for years after being arrested by Detective Peter Willis (Robert De Niro).

When things seem desperate, Tom approaches the father he hasn’t communicated with in years. His father is – wait for it – the very same Peter Willis, now retired and clearly reluctant to return to the case that cost him his wife and son…

If the central premise beggars belief, stick around, it gets worse. A whole bunch of unlikely coincidences ensue and it doesn’t help that both De Niro and Scott look thoroughly bored throughout. Only Keaton, playing a Hannibal Lectorish psychopath, appears to be having fun with his brief guest appearance. It also doesn’t help that. watching this, I keep guessing what’s going to happen a good fifteen minutes before it actually transpires. Even the central ‘ghost’ element is played out like a major revelation when it’s really not.

Currently Netflix’s number one movie, The Whisper Man is right there to watch at the touch of a button, but… ssshh! Whisper it. Despite those big names, this is small beer.

2. 8 stars

Philip Caveney