Film

Digger

02/10/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Digger appears to have polarised the critics. Several of the major players have delivered two-star reviews and grumbled that the film is ‘pretentious’ and ‘a holy mess.’ Only a few have been more positive in their appraisals. Perhaps that explains why I go along to this IMAX showing with such low expectations, but it fails to account for the fact that I enjoy the film as much as I do. For me, it’s wonderful to see Tom Cruise stepping away from the action-movie arena he’s been fixated on for so long, to work on something more unconventional. There’s been talk of an Oscar nomination, and I won’t be a bit surprised it that comes to pass; to my mind, he should have already won one back in 1999 for his performance in Paul Thomas Anderson’s Magnolia.

Here he plays Digger Rockwell, an obscenely-rich oil magnate, living alone in a country house with his faithful cat, Maggie, a scrawny beast who appears to be knocking at death’s door. Digger is the owner of many oil-drilling platforms in the Arctic and he’s intent on plundering every last drop he can get before his licences come up for renewal. When he’s warned about the possibility of an impending environmental catastrophe, he glibly shrugs the matter off, even though his resident expert, Ganesh (Riz Ahmed), has been warning him about this for years.

When the unthinkable actually happens, Digger is called in to help US President Compson (John Goodman) to deal with the developing situation. Compson is ill with (as he puts it himself) ‘ass cancer’ and isn’t really firing on all cylinders. (Remind you of anyone?) Digger falls back on his preferred method of doubling down and telling it like it is…

The film begins as a kind of Kubrickian black comedy, à la Dr Strangelove, with the various characters flailing about as the stakes rise ever higher – but something mysterious is going on behind the scenes, with bewildering cutaways to something that suggests that not everything is as straightforward as it appears. And who is the mysterious Kenny (Jesse Plemons), who keeps turning up and asking Digger such strange questions?

Directed and co-written by two-times Oscar winner Alejandro G. Iñárritu, Digger keeps quite a lot up its sleeve and it would be criminal to reveal any more about where this story is actually headed. Let me just say this: be prepared to have your brains well and truly scrambled. Cruise immerses himself in the character(s) he plays and he’s backed up by a stellar cast of actors including Sandra Hüller and Michael Stuhlbarg in what amount to little more than cameo roles. The film’s main premise examines the ways in which so many heinous, hubristic characters are elevated to heroic levels long after their deaths: how villains are neatly regenerated as heroes.

Pretentious? Maybe it is, but I for one would rather see a film that swings for the fences (and maybe even misses a couple of them in the process) than happily pursues something we’ve seen a hundred times before. The small audience at the screening I attend would suggest that the naysayers are having their inevitable effect on Digger‘s takings at the box office, but I truly believe that this film attempts – and largely accomplishes – something really extraordinary.

Why not go along and judge for yourselves? And yes, I appreciate the irony of one critic telling you to ignore the warnings of others, but I have always valued originality and, to my mind, this film has it in… ahem… spades.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

Sense and Sensibility

25/09/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

If there’s a Jane Austen adaptation available, of course I’m going to see it. The advance press hasn’t been too kind to this latest version, scripted by Diana Reid and directed by Georgia Oakley, but that doesn’t deter me. Am I expecting to love it as much as I do the book? Of course not. Do I think it’ll measure up to Ang Lee and Emma Thompson’s superb Oscar-winner? Again, no. But it’s thirty-one years (THIRTY-ONE YEARS!) since Thompson and Kate Winslet represented the titular traits so it seems reasonable to revisit Austen’s first-published novel and open it up to a whole new audience.

Daisy Edgar-Jones and Esmé Creed-Miles are credible as the older Dashwood sisters, Elinor and Marianne, whose fortunes have taken a sudden tumble following their father’s death. Their half brother, John (Tom Brooke), has inherited Norland Park and, egged on by his ghastly wife, Fanny (Stacy Martin), not only declines to offer his stepmother (Caitríona Balfe) any money but also wastes no time in turfing his three sisters out of the only home they’ve ever known. Thirteen-year-old Margaret (Bodhi Rae Breathnach) is distraught.

Enter kind-hearted distant relative, Mrs Jennings (the ever-fabulous Fiona Shaw), whose son-in-law, Sir John Middleton (Turlough Convery), just happens to have a spare cottage on his Devonshire estate. It’s a bit of a comedown for the Dashwoods but they’re grateful to have somewhere to go, not to mention relieved to escape from Fanny’s mean-spirited carping. All would be well – if it weren’t for Elinor’s unspoken attachment to Fanny’s brother, Edward (George MacKay). Devonshire is an awfully long way away from Sussex…

Still, they soon settle down in Barton Cottage, enjoying the beaches and beautiful countryside and befriending the taciturn Colonel Brandon (Herbert Nordrum). And when Marianne falls (quite literally) for the charming, raffish Willoughby (Frank Dillane), it seems her future, at least, is secured.

Except, sadly, it’s not.

The three sisters are well-cast, and I like the easy, naturalistic way they speak to one another in private. They’re tactile, which cements the realistic nature of their relationship, and their mutual care is palpable. Elinor’s sense (rationality) and Marianne’s sensibility (emotionality) are heightened, the juxtaposition between the two brought into sharp focus. Arguably this is a tad overdone but I don’t really mind.

Reid’s script foregrounds the perilous position of unmarried women in the Regency period, so that we can clearly see what’s at stake for Elinor and Marianne – and how much Elinor is prepared to give up for her principles. I love the party scenes: the dancing is far less mannered and restrained than we’re used to seeing in period drama; instead it’s wild and unfettered, an escape valve for all the lust and passion the characters are forced to repress. I also love the the atmospheric soundtrack by Roger Goula, which draws upon traditional English folk music.

Less successful are the numerous outside scenes. Austen’s interiority is integral to her books, reinforcing the constrained nature of her heroines’ lives. Although the cinematography (shot in 35mm by Arnaud Potier) is undeniably gorgeous, the emphasis on vast woodlands and open vistas belies that somewhat, suggesting an almost Brontë-like connection with the wider, natural world.

In addition, some of the minor characters are criminally underused, most notably Eliot Sumner’s Mr Palmer and Chloe Pirrie’s Lady Middleton. These two intriguing personalities are nicely set up and then given nowhere to go. And don’t speak to me about the barely-contextualised duel, which appears out of nowhere and jars horribly with the rest of the film.

Overall, however, I quite enjoy this iteration of Sense and Sensibility. It’s lively and engaging and successfully embodies the heart of Austen’s novel.

Whatever your persuasion, try to bypass any prejudice. You know it makes sense to see this film.

Sorry (not sorry).

3.8 stars

Susan Singfield

Hope

25/09/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Billed as ‘the most expensive Korean film ever,’ Hope is a two-and-a-half-hour movie with a brilliant ninety-minute action thriller wrapped up inside it.

We’re in South Korea, somewhere near the Northern border, and police chief Beom-seok (Hwang Jung-min) is having a bad day. Something big and deadly has been leaving a trail of havoc around the quiet suburb where he lives. At first, he assumes that some kind of wild animal is responsible but whatever is killing livestock and people with equal abandon doesn’t appear to be eating any of the meat. Beom-suk and a local hunter, Sung-ki (Zo In-sung), set off separately trying to track down the culprit, but it’s some considerable time before we discover that the beast isn’t a bear or a tiger but an extra terrestrial.

Then a fearless shotgun-toting policewoman, Sung-ae – played by KPop star, Jung Ho-yeon – drives at reckless speed to Beom-sok’s rescue, prompting a series of propulsive chase sequences. While these are splendidly filmed and at times breathlessly exciting, the action keeps being interrupted as the plot heads off into some odd cul de sacs.

A long sequence where an old man tells Sung-ae about a bout of diarrhoea he had in the woods is a notable culprit – it’s clearly supposed to be howlingly funny but really isn’t – and scenes depicting an alien autopsy also manage to go on far longer than is needed. The aliens themselves are created with CGI and this element too is unpredictable, swinging wildly between impressive and shonky.

And perhaps most puzzling of all, why would the lead aliens need to be played by Michael Fassbender and Alicia Vikander, since they don’t look anything like the actors and only speak using an invented language with English subtitles? Somewhere, there must be a couple of under-employed voice actors shaking their heads in disbelief at the missed opportunity.

Director Hong Na Jin makes everything look astonishing in that glossy, wide screen way, and there’s enough in this to make me think the man is a talent. But it’s only as the film ends that I realise Hope is only Part One of something much bigger. Whether I’ll be tempted out to Part Two is a matter of conjecture, but action fans will get a suitable fix here. Just be prepared for the less-assured elements.

3.4 stars

Philip Caveney

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

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

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

The Dog Stars

26/08/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

One thing I’ve always admired about veteran director Ridley Scott is that I never know what he’s going to come up with next. In the case of The Dog Stars, based on the the 2012 novel by Peter Heller, my first thought is that this is the last genre I would have expected from him. What we have here is a bleak, post-apocalyptic dystopia set in 2035, when a flu epidemic has erased most of the world’s population, leaving only small pockets of hard-scrabble survivors.

One such survivor is Hig (Jacob Elordi), a former mechanic now occupying a deserted airfield along with a former marine, the apropriately named Bangley (Josh Brolin), who deals ruthessly with any survivors who come a-calling by promptly shooting them in the head. True, there are gangs of ‘Reapers’ out there, tattooed weirdos who are prepared to kill anyone for whatever bits of food or fuel they might have, but Bangley never gives anybody the benefit of the doubt and tells Hig that he’s ‘too soft.’

Hig has a light-engined plane and he also has a faithful dog called Jasper, who accompanies him everywhere. The twosome regularly head off in the plane in search of medicine and gasoline – and from time to time Hig even calls to his former home in Denver, where he thinks about his late wife and the baby she was carrying when the flu took them both. Hig occasionally makes a call to a group of Memmonites in their remote mountain hideaway, though he never mentions this to Bangley – and on another trip, he meets up with Pops (Guy Pearce) and his daughter Cima (Margaret Qually), helping them to escape from an attack by an army of Reapers…

There are of course some good elements here. Few directors handle action sequences as well as Scott and an extended Reaper attack on a lone Bangely is nicely handled, as are the extended aerial sequences, filmed by Erik Messerschmidt, with rural Italy standing in for Colorado. But a third act development that has the trio landing at former air steward Darlene (Alison Janney)’s weird airport retreat, Grand Junction, feels like it’s wandered in from a different film entirely – and a ‘shock’ revelation shortly thereafter comes as no surprise whatsoever.

Furthermore, an attempt at a redemptive final act doesn’t really manage to lift this one out of the doldrums. With the real world plunged into such dark times, a story that deals with the annihilation of most of the population is going to have to work pretty hard to keep me entertained, and despite Ridder’s best efforts, this falls somewhat short of the mark.

2. 8 stars

Philip Caveney