Hey fans! Because life is occasionally hectic and there are too many movies to see nowadays, it can be difficult to present fully expanded thoughts on a given movie in time for its release date in theaters or on streaming. Hence brings the grand entry of Kevin’s Letterboxd Diaries to 615 Film! Here you’ll see shorter but more concise thoughts of films I assign myself to watch outside of the website. If you’d like to see more reviews like these in real time, please follow “KevoCuervo” on Letterboxd.com!
And now, onto the reviews:
Holland (Mimi Cave, 2025) ***
Mimi Cave emerged as a promising talent in the realm of genre filmmaking when her directorial debut feature Fresh premiered at the Sundance Film Festival in 2022 to acclaim from both genre audiences and industry professionals. Her follow-up film Holland takes aim at the trappings brought unto women residing in Midwestern suburbia, following homemaker Nancy Vandergroot (Nicole Kidman) who teaches home economics to children by day and takes care of her son Harry (Jude Hill) by night while her husband Fred (Matthew McFayden) provides for the family as an optometrist. But after a few too many late nights at the office, conference trips in a row, and a handful of bizarre nightmares, the loving housewife begins to suspect that her husband is having an extramarital affair.
From there, Nancy takes it upon herself to get to the bottom of what Fred’s really doing with his time out of the office, enlisting the help of shop teacher Dave Delgado (Gael Garcia Bernal) along the way down a labyrinthian mystery full of twists and turns. So many, in fact, that they all tangle up the story of Holland in a messy mish-mash of scenes that too often feel like different movies layered on top of each other. For one scene, we’re meant to make fun of Nancy’s endearing obliviousness by her overwrought reaction to an honest confession from Dave, but the next we’re asked to feel the moody stress of her predicament when she sleuths through Fred’s office like an experienced detective. It’s jarring from both a visual and narrative perspective, and only hindered more by the rapidly fast pace that never slows down, even when the real revelation of what’s going on ends up being disappointingly safe.
But despite the narrative inconsistency, what’s there in terms of filmmaking elements is never uninteresting. The dream sequences are compelling for their practical execution with a tilt shift lens that makes Nancy appear bigger than the street on which she lives at darkest night, as well their often demented imagery like when Dave imagines himself being swarmed by the most innocent of creatures. Meanwhile, the score from Alex Somers contributes to the melodrama and intrigue with a respective sweeping orchestra and unnerving plucks of high notes on single violins during the film’s investigative beats.
Nicole Kidman and Matthew McFayden combined do their part to keep audiences guessing their intent with equally captivating performances; Kidman in particular sells Nancy’s suffocation by her existence as a homemaker and even the frame itself by the uneasy way she laughs at a scene in Mrs. Doubtfire that she’s seen who knows how many times before, while McFayden’s overwrought American accent feels artificial to the point of implying that there’s more than meets the eye to this character. It’s also worth noting that for all the script’s faults, writer Andrew Sodroski does a good job of setting the viewer in Nancy’s shoes as a woman stuck in a place out of time through little details like using Ask Jeeves as a search engine and communicating with other characters with pagers and beepers. Overall, Holland has too many ideas and tries too hard to make them all work, but it’s a decent exercise in style that stays engaging for its runtime thanks to Nicole Kidman’s performance and Cave’s directorial flourishes.
The Alto Knights (Barry Levinson, 2025) *½
As good as Robert De Niro is as childhood friends-turned-rivals Jack Costello and Vito Genovese in this attempted throwback to the gangster epics of days long past, the dual role gimmick makes the experience of watching this two-hour long slog very repetitive, one-note and ultimately tired, to the point where if this critic were asked to take a drink every time Robert De Niro said, ‘What’s-a matter with you?’, as either mobster in this movie, he would have gotten his stomach pumped after an hour.
That could very well be a more enjoyable experience than the new film from director Barry Levinson, which is what should have been a compelling and frightening tale of the biggest assembly of organized crime lords in American history. Unfortunately, his latest film has a story structure that’s all over the place, and a boring script that consists of all the least interesting parts of the greatest gangster pictures with no emotional stakes or room for investment. What’s also worth noting is that Levinson brilliantly weaved elements of documentary storytelling into narrative film with The Wizard of Lies eight years ago, but here, his attempts for similar success are haphazard and wracked with empty exposition. The Alto Knights is a letdown in every facet and an early candidate for 2025’s worst movie.
Ash (Flying Lotus, 2025) ***½
Flying Lotus’ second feature relies so heavily on familiar tropes that they often undercut his experiential voice as a filmmaker, and the film’s narrative does drag on a bit as astronaut Riya aims to discover how her crew was brutally murdered in a remote space station on a planet they meant to colonize. Regardless, this solid slow burn sci-fi horror is full of amazing gore and practical effects, a great lead performance from Eiza Gonzalez, and beautifully stylized visuals in addition to Lotus’ well-composed musical score. Far from the gonzo disgusting whatzit that Kuso was, Ash is a significantly more accessible blend of cosmic horror with fresh aesthetics influenced by video games that keep Lotus’ latest cinematic in scale and tone.
Eephus (Carson Lund, 2025) ****
Taking place in the nineties, Eephus is a hangout movie set in New Hampshire following two fictional amateur baseball teams, Adler’s Paint and the Riverdogs, as they play one last game at their traditional baseball diamond before it gets demolished and replaced by a school. The film does move at a slow pace that may test the patience of casual audiences, and there are brief opportunities for a narrative throughline that don’t go anywhere, such as a revelation that one of the players was on the board that voted the incoming school into existence.
All that is by design, however, because Eephus is the cinematic manifestation of the physical and mental experiences a fan has at a ballpark; it’s where one goes to do more than just watch a sporting event, but look around for something happening, like the clouds drifting across the blue sky, or the humorous ways the outfield tries to distract the player up to bat. It proposes the game of baseball as the sports equivalent of slowing down to smell the roses. There’s also a tinge of melancholy that comes with this meditative approach, because it leaves one thinking about how American football has overtaken baseball in this day and age as the new stateside favorite sport, and our national pastime has become, well, a thing of the past, as evidenced by sparsely populated bleachers, on which a lone senior citizen calls for his grandkids to come watch an incoming exciting play with him, only for it to fall on deaf ears.
He’s not the only poor soul that time forgot, though, as the older men on these teams are playing because they want to forget about the pain in their legs, others are there to avoid the responsibilities of adulthood, while Franny the statistician still does it for a pure love of the game. And the longer this final showdown between two rivals drags out, the sadder it is how far they go to cling to their traditions against time’s invisible ticking. Eephus reminds us that nothing lasts forever, and that all good things must come to an end. But in the face of uncertainty once they do, we should all live like Franny and just be happy we were there to witness them.
Novocaine (Dan Berk and Robert Olsen, 2025) ***½
Dan Berk and Robert Olsen’s action-comedy about a mild-mannered bank executive with the remarkable power and equally devastating hindrance of being unable to feel pain should be commended for its ambition to exist as an absurdly violent, hysterically funny balls-to-the-wall rescue thriller as well as a genuinely affecting narrative that’s grounded in reality and humanity. It doesn’t quite balance its clashing tones very well, and the plot holes are glaring the more one thinks about its premise but the action sequences are fun, Nathan Caine’s character arc is well written and Jack Quaid and Amber Midthunder are compelling leads thanks to their mutual charm and chemistry. This critic would happily watch a sequel because Novocaine is a gruesomely entertaining romp!
Thunderbolts* (Jake Schreier, 2025) ****
It has felt like an eternity since the last great film in the Marvel Cinematic Universe hit theaters in Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3, even if there’s a new MCU movie every three months. Thankfully, Thunderbolts* has arrived to kick off the summer movie season and inject new life into the franchise just in time for the final phase in the Multiverse Saga. After being tasked with an assassination mission by Valentina Allegra de Fontaine (Julia Louis-Dreyfus), mercenaries Yelena Belova (Florence Pugh), John Walker (Wyatt Russell), Ava Starr aka Ghost (Hannah John-Kamen), Taskmaster (Olga Kurylenko) and the mild-mannered Bob (Lewis Pullman) all find themselves set up to die by incineration if they don’t kill each other first.
Realizing their attempted execution was meant to clear Valentina’s evidence of wrongdoing, Yelena’s father Alexei Shostakovich aka The Red Guardian (David Harbour) looks to rescue them while “The Winter Soldier” Bucky Barnes (Sebastian Stan) works to find them in order to bring Valentina to justice, while this ragtag team of anti-heroes must work together in order to escape their trap, only to discover a lot about each other and find themselves on a mission that forces them to confront their traumas and horrible mistakes. The story here does drag during a point in the second act where the plot marinates in glum darkness both as far as visuals on top of flat dialogue, and the few self-aware nods are more obnoxious than funny.
But what makes Thunderbolts* an exceptional entry in the superhero genre and the MCU as a whole is how smartly director Jake Schreier and writers Eric Pearson and Joanna Calo depict the struggles of mental illness; the barbs in the dialogue amongst this ensemble has a harsher, more cynical inflection than what was playfully dished out by the original Avengers team, and the film explores each character’s baggage through an affecting empathy: Yelena has developed depression after so many years of working as an assassin that’s been further exacerbated after Natascha Romanoff’s death in Avengers: Endgame, while John Walker battles guilt over his family life and the events of The Falcon and The Winter Soldier, and that’s before mentioning Bob’s relevance to the story and describing the final action setpiece, which visualizes the fight against hopelessness with brilliant creativity and touching honesty.
Meanwhile Bucky Barnes’ addition to this makeshift team gives him the outlet to serve hard truths to his fellow misfits as the de facto leader, and the Red Guardian is the infectiously happy glue that keeps everyone from spiraling into jadedness, while his and Yelena’s makeshift father-daughter relationship is expanded upon with realistic heart and endearment within both the smart writing and strong performances from Harbour and Pugh. That realism extends to the action sequences that are more grounded and gritty via handheld camerawork and hard-hitting stunts. Overall, Thunderbolts* is a psychologically compelling superhero film, and an imaginative spectacle that puts the Marvel Cinematic Universe back on track.
Sinners (Ryan Coogler, 2025) ****½
What can be said about Ryan Coogler’s period horror spectacle that hasn’t already been said? His stellar foray into the horror genre may take a lot of time to get going, but that’s solely to establish a beguiling world filled with compelling characters from twin brother main characters Smoke and Stack returning to the Mississippi Delta after seven years working as gangsters for Al Capone to open a juke joint, to elder pianist and serial boozer Delta Slim as well as Smoke’s love interest Miss Annie, who dabbles in the art of voodoo magic.
The other fascinating element throughout Sinners is the musical one hidden from the film’s marketing campaign that goes beyond another incredible score from Ludwig Goranson; the soundtrack comprised of an incredible fusion between ragtime, blues, hip-hop and ancient African tribal drums plays a commanding part in the film’s statement about what gives a man the power of timelessness and the ability to stand toe to toe with his ancestors and the legends whose example he follows. And with both nuanced facial expressions and magnetizing vocals, newcomer Miles Caton steals the show as Sam, the young preacher boy blessed with this power and dreams of becoming a blues musician against the wishes of his pastor father.
As director, Coogler also takes familiar horror tropes as well as those from the vampire subgenre and turns them on their head in creative ways, such as by cutting away to the next scene just as a villain leaps into the sky toward an unsuspecting victim, and a recurring use of these monsters requiring an invitation into the Smokestack Twins’ juke joint that builds tension higher and higher up to the film’s satisfyingly violent climax.
But everyone in this community that just wants a place to enjoy themselves is fully aware of what they’re up against, as they’ve fought a battle to retain their identity and culture in a world that tries to steal and misappropriate it into their own image, while pigeonholing their victims into lives of nefariousness. It’s a fight African Americans continue to fight to this day, and Coogler’s latest confronts that along with the private, intimate wars that take place inside Black families through the Smokestack twins’ arcs and Sam’s personal journey, and messages sure to inspire audiences to pursue their talents and resist hate in all its forms. Make no mistake, Sinners is an epic and empowering exercise in genre filmmaking, and one of the best films of the year so far.