‘28 Years Later’
You can catch it on Netflix.
Spike (Alfie Williams), a 12-year-old, navigates a Britain ravaged by aggressive, zombie-like “wretches,” victims of a hyper-contagious virus. Survival dictates a grim coming-of-age ritual: hunting a wretch with a bow and arrow in a country that has reverted to a preindustrial state, isolated from the rest of the world. The origins of this nightmare were depicted almost a quarter-century ago in Danny Boyle’s seminal “28 Days Later” (which is also now available on Netflix). This sequel, seeing Boyle reunite with screenwriter Alex Garland, is arguably even better. Beyond its masterful cinematography and editing, the film boasts a wild energy, blending fresh twists on zombie lore (mutation and even reproduction are in play) with evocative, almost pagan horror elements. Jodie Comer shines as Alfie’s troubled mother, and Ralph Fiennes delivers a compelling performance as a mysterious survivor, both in roles that defy expectations. The conclusion skillfully sets the stage for Nia DaCosta’s “28 Years Later: The Bone Temple,” a highly anticipated sequel slated for Jan. 16. It truly can’t arrive soon enough.
‘Star People’
Available to rent or buy on various major platforms.
[YouTube video: Trailer for ‘Star People’]
On March 13, 1997, a significant portion of Arizonans found themselves both entranced and bewildered by peculiar lights traversing the night sky in formation. This event, now famously known as the Phoenix Lights, was officially attributed to military exercises, yet many remain skeptical. Director Adam Finberg, a Phoenix native, delves into this lingering uncertainty through the story of Claire (Kat Cunning), a young woman who witnessed the lights as a child and remains obsessed, spending her nights photographing the desert sky. A tip-off about a new sighting sends her back to the desert for answers, joined by her influencer boyfriend (Connor Paolo) and her drug-addicted brother (McCabe Slye). While the mystery of extraterrestrial life hovers, Finberg cleverly anchors the sci-fi elements in our contemporary reality: escalating intense-heat advisories, desperate individuals risking their lives with smugglers to cross borders, and armed militias patrolling the desert. Whether the “aliens” descend from space or arrive across a border, “Star People” powerfully explores the narratives we construct for ourselves to endure in an increasingly unpredictable world.
‘Same Day With Someone’
Catch it streaming on Netflix.
August 8 proves to be a truly dreadful day for museum curator Mesa (Jarinporn Joonkiat). Her day begins with a devastating accident during an exhibition she curated, threatening serious diplomatic and financial fallout. This is swiftly followed by her handsome airline pilot fiancé, Tul (Man Trisanu Soranun), unceremoniously ending their relationship.
To compound her misery, Mesa finds herself trapped in a relentless time loop, with the day continuously resetting. This Thai comedy by Rangsima Aukkarawiwat and Yanyong Kuruangkura initially adheres to familiar tropes, as Mesa tirelessly attempts to avert the inevitable: No matter what she does, a sculpture always crashes, and Tul always breaks up with her. However, the film soon takes an intriguing turn when Mesa’s colleague, Ben (Warintorn Panhakarn), also becomes ensnared in the loop. Much like “Palm Springs” (2020), where Cristin Milioti and Andy Samberg shared a similar temporal predicament, “Same Day With Someone” explores a burgeoning relationship forged through a shared, inescapable reality. The narrative gains momentum as Ben and Mesa embrace a life without consequences. While a life lesson is predictably learned, as is customary in this subgenre, a subsequent shift to a more introspective and poignant perspective provides a powerful and successful anchor for the film’s conclusion.
‘A Samurai in Time’
Available to purchase or rent on various major platforms; also free to stream on Hoopla.
[YouTube video: Trailer for ‘A Samurai in Time’]
When Shinzaemon Kosaka (Makiya Yamaguchi) appears on the set of a period action drama, his presence is perfectly natural: he’s adept with a sword and sports the distinctive topknot and partially shaved hair of an Edo period samurai. Because that’s precisely what he is: struck by lightning, Shinzaemon awakens 140 years in the future and quickly finds work as a stuntman, specializing in sword fights within the jidaigeki genre (a Japanese term for films and TV shows set in feudal times). Jun’ichi Yasuda’s charming time-travel comedy doesn’t heavily lean into the typical “fish-out-of-water” humor, though one delightful scene features our warrior savoring a strawberry cake, asking his hosts, “Any ordinary person can eat this thing?” before shedding tears at such an unexpected abundance (Shinzaemon is prone to tears, which only enhances his appeal). As our displaced hero finds his true calling playing what he essentially is, “A Samurai in Time” evolves into a heartfelt, nostalgia-tinged homage to the jidaigeki genre itself, particularly as its widespread popularity wanes. The filmmakers and series creators are depicted as dedicated artisans, not unlike Shinzaemon himself.
‘Somnium’
Purchase or rent it on various streaming services.
[YouTube video: Trailer for ‘Somnium’]
Like countless aspiring actors flocking to Los Angeles, Gemma (Chloë Levine) needs a night job to cover expenses. She lands a gig at Somnium, a sleep clinic promising to “make dreams come true” by monitoring clients in plexiglass pods. Her supervisor, Noah (Will Peltz), explains the process: thoughts are imprinted into clients’ subconscious minds to improve their lives, essentially a high-tech take on Norman Vincent Peale’s “The Power of Positive Thinking.” Racheal Cain’s film is less concerned with the clinic’s clandestine experiments (which, naturally, exist) and more with exploring Gemma’s own fractured psyche as she blurs the lines between dreams, reality, and her lingering memories. These include her musician boyfriend, Hunter (Peter Vack), back home in Georgia, who feels resigned to working in his father’s garage. The struggle to achieve one’s aspirations is a dominant theme, and Gemma experiences profound loneliness and alienation in L.A. — subtly highlighted by a visual motif where she is consistently the sole brunette in a sea of blondes, whether they are fellow audition hopefuls or office staff. Cain deliberately invokes a David Lynch-esque atmosphere (even featuring a band named Twin Peaks) to convey Gemma’s eroding sense of self, a disappearance that, in a way, was inherent in her Hollywood ambitions all along, given the industry’s moniker: the Dream Factory.