‘28 Years Later’
Imagine Britain, nearly a quarter-century after a devastating, highly contagious virus unleashed hordes of hostile, zombie-like “wretches.” That’s the world 12-year-old Spike (Alfie Williams) inhabits, where a bow and arrow is his weapon of survival, and society has reverted to a pre-industrial state. While the original “28 Days Later” by Danny Boyle was hugely influential, this sequel, reuniting Boyle with screenwriter Alex Garland, somehow manages to surpass it. It’s not just masterfully shot and edited; it boasts a wild, inventive energy. Prepare for fresh takes on zombie lore—including mutations and unexpected behaviors—and poetic nods to pagan horror. Stellar performances from Jodie Comer as Alfie’s troubled mother and Ralph Fiennes as an enigmatic survivor add depth, pushing their characters in surprising directions. The thrilling conclusion perfectly sets the stage for Nia DaCosta’s upcoming sequel, “28 Years Later: The Bone Temple,” eagerly awaited on January 16. We can’t wait!
‘Star People’
Rewind to March 13, 1997, when countless Arizonans witnessed peculiar lights forming across the night sky—a baffling event dubbed the Phoenix Lights. Officially attributed to military exercises, many onlookers remained unconvinced. Director Adam Finberg, a Phoenix native, delves into this lingering uncertainty through the eyes of Claire (Kat Cunning). As a child, Claire saw the lights, and now, as an adult, she’s still captivated, spending nights in the desert photographing the heavens. A tip surfaces that the lights may have reappeared, propelling her back into the desert, joined by her influencer boyfriend (Connor Paolo) and her struggling, drug-addicted brother (McCabe Slye). Finberg brilliantly contrasts the extraterrestrial mystery with pressing contemporary issues: escalating heatwaves, desperate migrants seeking passage across the border, and armed militias patrolling the same harsh landscapes. “Star People” explores themes of survival and the narratives we construct for ourselves in a world that feels increasingly fragmented, whether the unknown originates from deep space or just across the frontier.
‘Same Day With Someone’
For museum curator Mesa (Jarinporn Joonkiat), August 8 is an absolutely dreadful day. It begins with a catastrophic accident at an exhibition she’s overseeing, threatening diplomatic and financial chaos. Then, her dashing airline pilot fiancé, Tul (Man Trisanu Soranun), suddenly ends their relationship. But the true nightmare? Mesa is stuck in a relentless time loop, forced to relive this miserable day over and over. This Thai comedy, directed by Rangsima Aukkarawiwat and Yanyong Kuruangkura, starts predictably, with Mesa desperately trying to avert the inevitable: the crashing sculpture, the breakup. However, the film takes an intriguing turn when her colleague, Ben (Warintorn Panhakarn), also gets trapped in the loop. Much like the 2020 film “Palm Springs,” where two characters shared a similar predicament, “Same Day With Someone” becomes a charming exploration of a budding relationship. As Ben and Mesa navigate a life without consequences, the movie truly shines, leading to a thought-provoking and surprisingly somber conclusion that perfectly grounds the fantastical premise.
‘A Samurai in Time’
Imagine a samurai, Shinzaemon Kosaka (Makiya Yamaguchi), from Japan’s Edo period, suddenly appearing on the set of a modern-day historical action drama. Struck by lightning, he’s hurled 140 years into the future, perfectly equipped with his sword skills, topknot, and traditional shaved hair to blend in as a stuntman specializing in jidaigeki—a genre of Japanese film and TV set in feudal times. Jun’ichi Yasuda’s gentle time-travel comedy doesn’t overplay the “fish-out-of-water” humor. Instead, it offers delightful moments, like Shinzaemon, quick to tears, savoring a strawberry cake and asking if “any ordinary person can eat this thing?” before weeping at such unexpected abundance. As our displaced hero finds his true calling playing a samurai, “A Samurai in Time” evolves into a heartfelt tribute to the jidaigeki genre itself, lamenting its dwindling popularity. The filmmakers and crew are depicted as dedicated artisans, reflecting Shinzaemon’s own profound commitment to his craft.
‘Somnium’
Like countless aspiring actors in Los Angeles, Gemma (Chloë Levine) needs a steady income to survive. She lands a night shift at Somnium, a sleep clinic promising to “make dreams come true” by monitoring clients in plexiglass pods. Her supervisor, Noah (Will Peltz), explains the clinic imprints positive thoughts into their subconscious to improve their lives—a high-tech twist on positive thinking. Racheal Cain’s film prioritizes exploring Gemma’s internal world over the clinic’s clandestine experiments (though, yes, there are secret experiments). It delves into her struggle to differentiate dreams from reality and memories, particularly those of her musician boyfriend, Hunter (Peter Vack), back home in Georgia, who’s reluctantly working in his dad’s garage. Themes of ambition and alienation run deep; Gemma often feels like the sole brunette in a sea of blondes, whether at the office or auditions. Cain deliberately creates a David Lynch-esque atmosphere, even featuring a band named Twin Peaks, to emphasize Gemma’s fading sense of self—a poignant reflection of how Hollywood, the “Dream Factory,” can subtly erode one’s identity.