There is nothing groundbreaking about Dune (think special effects or storytelling). But every technique invoked was done in the proper manner. I was beyond satisfied with every choice made in production. Cinematography, music, acting, editing… it was all done right.

I cannot emphasize enough of how pleased I was with this adaptation of Frank Herbert’s 1965 sci-fi novel. While I had not read the book (beyond the first two chapters), friends raved about the adaptation being everything they could ask for.

I also had not screened the 1984 adaptation helmed by David Lynch, but I was aware of its poor reception. This is not intended to be a single film, as the novel was the first in a series, and we saw no sequel to Lynch’s version, which should tell us everything we need to know about its quality. However, director David Vellineveu (whose previous films include Arrival and Blade Runner 2049) has delivered a film that makes us eagerly await its next installments. I would say it is the equivalent of a perfectly pitched TV pilot.

Perhaps what I was most impressed by was the explanations for intricate details and rules for this universe without breaking the fourth wall. It was as if we were conveniently learning everything in preparation for future events without making it obvious and cringeworthy. There is also the establishment of Zendaya’s character. Although her formal performances are reserved for the end of the movie, she appears through interwoven vignettes throughout the film, conveying her importance.

I cannot review any further without giving away spoilers, even in the slightest manner (I know many people who would react to a minor revelation in a manner equivalent to Frank Costanza on Seinfeld: “I like to go in fresh!”)

In short, the ticket is worth every penny and the trip to the theater is worth every second spent away from home.

After more than a year of abstaining from movie theaters, as well as keeping up with new releases (since we were all so incredibly overwhelmed by the tumultuous year that was 2020), I was finally able to screen a new movie in the manner that of how this medium was originally intended: on the big screen, sitting among strangers. I can say unequivocally that it was good to be back!

The Green Knight is unlike any other fantasy adaptation that I have screened throughout my life. Abandoning the traditional methods used for films among the likes of Harry Potter, The Wizard of Oz, or The Lord of the Rings, the film takes an unnatural approach through unusual cinematography and editing (perhaps to best emphasize the surrealism of medieval legends), akin to the films of Paul Thomas Anderson, Terrence Malick, or the newly recognized Ari Aster (Heredity and Midsommer). While this film is a fantasy in terms of setting and events, it also blends a thought-provoking arthouse air with what is presented.

            I will be completely forthcoming and share that I did not understand many aspects of this movie. Despite this, I will hail it as fantastic. Why? Because it reminds me of the genre usually produced by the artists I previously mentioned. And like the works of Anderson, Malick, and Aster, I anticipate an analysis to be made available, and I will gain a further appreciation for this piece.

            This is not an entirely faithful adaptation of the legend of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (rarely can one adapt one medium while retaining every aspect of its source material). However, there are many instances in which those behind the movie were able to adapt the original poetic dialogue of the epic in a manner fitting for a motion picture, the lines able to convey the grandness of the subject at hand. To be fair, the only way I was able to notice these differences were by looking up the summary of the original epic, the last time I read it was during my British literature class senior year of high school (okay, I was assigned it and just listened to my teacher and classmates discuss it. I’m sure I’m not the only one who has done that).

            For me, the greatest satisfaction came in the depiction of the title character, the Green Knight. Going back to my high school years, if this story ever came to mind, I would wonder how this character would be portrayed. How would he be green? What would give him the recognition and terror that was woven into his identity? Enter a man who appears to be a hybrid between human and tree, and a bellowing English countryside voice (provided by Ralph Ineson). The Knight requires an appearance that would make him inhuman and terrifying. How else could we justify a character who, upon challenging Gawain and the rest of King Arthur’s court to chop off his head, was able to arise and carry said head off with him? (Not a complete spoiler, as this is the central driving plot of the original epic poem)

            In short, I urge everyone who appreciates the fantasy and arthouse genre to see The Green Knight. Above all, I urge all of us to search for an analysis of the movie that will give us a greater appreciation. While many pieces of art embrace what appear to be bizarre and nonsensical (think Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody), a proper walkthrough can make us fall in love with the unusual.

            If I were to inquire among the public what they consider to be one of the scariest films ever made, I would hear countless familiar titles: The Exorcist, Alien, Jaws, The Shining, The Silence of the Lambs… each one terrifying in its own manner. But there is one horror film that will linger in the viewer’s mind well after completing it, and it lacks a reputation akin to the films I listed above, which it truly deserves. This movie is 1980’s The Changeling. I discovered it many Octobers ago when I was seeking a list of new scares for Halloween season and came across a list of scariest horror movies compiled by Martin Scorsese, who listed it as among his top eleven terrifying movies. To my luck, I found that it was easily accessible on YouTube in its entirety. And to my surprise, it was the first movie to scare me in years. I had watched countless horror flicks as a teenager and college student, but I was always unfazed, as I was aware they were simply movies. This brought me back into the world of genuinely believing whatever I saw before me, as if it were happening to me.

            George C. Scott stars as John Russell, a composer who relocates across the country for an academic career after his wife and daughter are killed in a road accident. Needing a place to live, he is hooked up with a home by the local historic society that once belonged to an influential local family. Upon moving in, Russell is harassed by the poltergeist of a young child, who seeks justice from beyond the grave.

            The Changeling can be summarized in one word: creepy. The supernatural root comes from the ghost of a child who perished during the Progressive Era of our nation’s history, which, in my opinion, is the creepiest timespan in our history. Just looking at the black-and-white portraits that depict people not smiling (as early cameras took greater lengths of time to take pictures, try holding a smile for nearly a minute), in addition to the fashion that was in style back then. This goes on top of taking child-friendly themes that tend to border on creepiness to begin with. It is perfect fertility for a ghost story.

Its horror is unique compared the movies I listed in the beginning of this essay, which tap into our fight-or-flight instincts (likely flight for most of us). The fear in those films is driven by survival instincts, whereas this film involves cooperation with a being that we cannot see. Val Lewton pioneered the idea in filmmaking that it is not what we see that scares us, but what what we cannot see, and we are constantly terrified following an occurrence that we experience every day that was caused by something from the great beyond.

There is a sense of mystery, as Russell seeks to uncover the identity of the ghost and why it is haunting him, which leads him on an investigative trail that uncovers a scandal that had been buried for decades, which blends the feel of films akin to All the President’s Men, Spotlight, and Erin Brockovich.

The YouTube link will be included at the bottom of this review, and I implore every reader to watch it when they have a chance during the remaining two weeks of October. You will not be disappointed. Trust me. It even has the approval of Stephen King, and that should be the ultimate authority to persuade you to sit down and have a good scare.

Adam Sandler has done it again. No, he didn’t bring in a stunning performance to follow up Uncut Gems, he brought us another stupid movie that we can love: Hubie Halloween.

            Ever since his movie career began in the 90s, Sandler has brought us countless flicks that have ridiculous premises, but lovable characters who deliver humor that can be described as none other than guilty pleasure. From Billy Madison, Happy Gilmore, The Waterboy, and Big Daddy, countless laughs have been produced from first watching these films to quoting them in front of our friends. And like all of Sandler’s films since the 90s, they include tributes to the iconic characters and jokes from those name-making movies. Hubie Halloween proves no different, as we see references to the O’Doyle family, Orderly Hal played by Ben Stiller, and cameos from star after star after star that he has collaborate with in the past.

            Hubie Halloween follows its title character, Hubie Dubois, a zealous idiot with a heart of gold, despite being the constant object of ridicule from people he’s known his whole life in his hometown of Salem, Massachusetts. Although he is an idiot, Hubie happens to possess stuntman-like skills and a trusty thermos that can get assist him in any situation, and it might as well have been made by Q in the 007 franchise. When trouble breaks out on Halloween night, Hubie must win the trust of his neighbors in order to solve the mysterious disappearances of townsfolk.

Hubie appears to be along the likes of one of Sandler’s earlier characters, Bobby Boucher from The Waterboy; however, this character does not match the potential when it comes to humor and lovability.It starts off slow, but there are plenty of laugh-out-loud moments as it progresses. But it does dabble in the sentimental, as it also presents cliched, but true, life lessons.

            Sandler should not be dismissed as a one-trick pony for this ridiculous movies. We must remember he has delivered repeatedly with Punch Drunk Love, Reign Over Me, and most recently Uncut Gems (one viewer was so impressed that he personally called Sandler to share his satisfaction, and that was none other than Daniel Day-Lewis). But why does he continue to produce his name-brand humor when he could be collecting award after award and potentially collaborate with greats like Scorsese? I can only speculate one reason: he likes to do it.

From a critic’s perspective, this movie fails at artistic achievements (though not as bad as Jack and Jill). It’s just another Adam Sandler movie, but that’s good enough for me. This will not be added to any special lists by the American Film Institute, nor will it be included in the Criterion Collection. No, it will remain on Netflix to be seen while scrolling through selections as you and your friends seek a good time.

Ten years ago, as a freshman at Lasell College, I frequented the campus library to check-out movies that I believed were essential watches for an aspiring film-buff like me. Among those movies were the Spaghetti Westerns by Sergio Leone (A Fistful of Dollars, For a Few Dollars More, and The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly). While I was already familiar with Clint Eastwood, this was my introduction to appreciating Sergio Leone. But it was also my introduction to the man I would eventually declare to be the greatest living soundtrack artist: Ennio Morricone.

Immediately after screening these movies, I would download the soundtracks and listen to them on repeat. One that left a major impact on me was “The Ecstasy of Gold”, which played during The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly when Tuco (Eli Wallach) frantically zipped between the never-ending Sad Hill Cemetery in search for the grave belonging to Arch Stanton, which contains $200,000 worth of gold. That summer, Red Dead: Redemption was released for the Xbox 360, and you better believe that these tracks were played as my character ventured on horseback through the remnants of the old west. The next summer, I screened Brian de Palma’s The Untouchables, which Morricone also scored, and I had even more tracks to add to my playlists.

I took great delight in knowing the Maestro influenced countless other soundtrack artists, and that his tracks were used by Quentin Tarantino for Inglourious Basterds and Django Unchained. When other film-buff friends would proclaim the greatness of John Williams or Hans Zimmer as the greatest living composers, I would follow by sharing that they needed to look up Morricone’s music before they handed out such accolades.

I just received word this morning that the Maestro has died. Perhaps I can use news as an opportunity to share his genius with those who so love music but never had a chance to appreciate him. If anything, it will also open the doors to the movies he scored and they never got a chance to see. His scores covered everything from mainstream pop culture via Quentin Tarantino to the obscure art house films of Pier Paolo Pasolini (he only agreed to do the music for Pasolini’s infamous Salo because of their friendship). There is no other way to describe this news as a sad day for music and movies, even in the trying times of Coronavirus.

At some point in the fall of 1996, my mother made a suggestion that would forever impact my life: “Why don’t you try watching Star Wars?” My then-next-door neighbor and best friend, Adam, had just started watching the movies and was hooked. She brought me to our local Blockbuster and picked up a copy of A New Hope, and immediately after screening it, I had become what is commonly referred to as a “fanboy”.

I recall sitting on Santa’s lap at the mall (it’s important for me to note that I was five years old at the time) telling him that I wanted the movie for Christmas, raving on and on about Darth Vader. On top of that, my grandfather had died about two years prior, and I told my parents that when I died and went to Heaven, I planned to tell him all about the saga. Sure enough, I was given the VHS tapes and a few action figures, as well as a plastic version of Luke’s green lightsaber from Return of the Jedi. Star Wars was so embedded into our home that when my youngest brother uttered his first words, they were none other than, you guessed it, Star Wars.

Not long after that, the prequel trilogy was released between 1999-2005, and in my youth and lack of expertise on film criticism, I was delighted with each installment, even proclaiming Jar Jar to be one of my favorite characters. There were more action figures, video games, and Halloween costumes along the way.

Then as a freshman in high school, I drifted away from that galaxy of imagination and wonder. I sought to establish myself as respectable in the social scene. A passion for Star Wars, not a simple interest and appreciation but a passion, was social suicide, and it was difficult enough navigating through the world through raging hormones. I kept my eye on baseball and That ‘70s Show, as well as determining which celebrity actress was the hottest.

Things changed within one week for me during my senior year.

I panicked, knowing something bad must have happened with Dad. Eventually Mr. Ceretta called us inside his office, and we prepared to sit down, but he said there would be no need to do so, since this would be a quick talk. He shared that our mom had called the school, informing them that our dad had pneumonia and they were taking him to Yale/New Haven Hospital. Our maternal grandmother would be waiting for us when we got home, and eventually our paternal grandparents would come down from Cape Cod to watch over us for the upcoming week (which happened to be our winter break).

The following week was one that I’m sure my family will never forget. One aspect in particular was how much prepared food friends left for us, which mostly consisted of pasta. We made a few visits to Yale to see our dad, and I was on the edge because feared the elevator I would take could potentially be occupied by a doctor escorting a body to the morgue.

On our ride home from a visit, my brothers insisted on playing NPR’s program Wait, Wait… Don’t Tell Me! whose guest that week was Carrie Fisher, and she recounted many life stories that surrounded playing Princess Leia. When we got home, I flipped through the TV channels and came across SpikeTV playing the ending to The Empire Strikes Back. There was something about that timing that sparked a renewed interest in Star Wars.

I began listening to the soundtracks again. I checked out the original trilogy from my local library and re-watched them. I even brought in the DVD for Revenge of the Sith on my computer and played the final duel between Anakin and Obi-Wan during my religion class. My teacher noticed the sounds and slowly walked over to the corner of the room where I was sitting and saw the movie playing. He simply said: “Why don’t you watch a REAL Star Wars movie?” (I do not think anybody would be surprised if I clarified that he was a big nerd).

When I graduated in mid-May, congratulatory checks came to me through the mail from friends and family. I was such a poor student that I joked the gifts were celebrating that I ACTUALLY managed to graduate (on top of the fact we were in the middle of the Great Recession and finding a job that summer would be impossible). And you can be sure that a good deal of that money went towards Star Wars-themed memorabilia. On one of the first days of my life as a high school graduate, I went out and purchased all of the movies and began to re-watch them in order, averaging out two films a day. I discovered Wookieepedia, the online encyclopedia for Star Wars, and began playing the video games from my childhood, such as Episode I- Racer, Rogue Squadron, Battlefront, and The Force Unleashed (a recently released game for the Xbox 360). And then there came…

The Force FX Lightsabers.

They were collectable lightsabers with a realistic metal hilt, connected to a three-foot-long LED lightbulb. I first discovered them years earlier while searching through a high-end electronics magazine (either Sharper Image or Hammacher Schlemmer) and I was immediately won over. My mom probably saw my request for one as ridiculous and ignored me. Now that I had enough money on my hands, I knew I was in charge of my transactions. I ordered one through my friend who had his own debit card (since I was still sure that my mom would balk at ordering me one even if I paid her back), and when it arrived, I marveled at its beauty. It was Luke’s from the original movie (technically his father, Anakin’s), and I immediately reverted to being eight-year-old, eyes filled with wonder and awe. I managed to buy another, Darth Vader’s, and filmed quick duels with friends.

Later that summer, I ventured off to college. Lasell College, my safety school. I was dreading the day I would move out and viewed it as if I were reporting for my prison sentence. After attending my orientation that summer, I realized I could do better than Lasell, and vowed to work my ass off to get into a better school. My first few weeks were miserable as I dealt with being away from home for the first time, locking myself in my dorm and longing to be in what I considered to be a respectable college.

The bigger challenge was making friends. Both of my roommates were big partiers, one of whom, Bobby, was a high school classmate, and the other, Matt, was a star on the cross-country team. But something happened that proved to be an important spark.

One night, Matt and I began to talk about our Star Wars fandom, and one of his teammates, Miguel, joined us in the room, and we decided to watch the ending to Revenge of the Sith, and before I knew it, I instinctively followed them down to the community bathroom after the movie had ended to brush my teeth with them. They remain some of my closest friends to this day.

Star Wars saved me from my loneliness and brought me out of my self-imposed imprisonment (well, somewhat, as I did not attend parties, but at least I was socializing).

Three years later, Disney purchased Lucasfilm, and announced intentions to produce a sequel trilogy. Episode VII- The Force Awakens was released in 2015, which exhilarated me, tapping into core nostalgia as a way to move forward in the Skywalker saga with excitement. But Episode VIII- The Last Jedi effectively took that adventurous feel and threw it away, attempting to redefine the saga, which came as a major blow on top of losing Carrie Fisher to a heart attack in between those movies. Episode IX- The Rise of Skywalker was released this past year, and I screened it with Matt and Miguel a full decade after we first met and bonded over our love for that galaxy far, far away that was born from the fertile imagination of George Lucas.

Within that stretch of time, I transferred to Quinnipiac University, but also endured many trials and tribulations, mainly through the diagnosis of obsessive-compulsive disorder, which led to a prolonged college experience. I often think of my twenties as my own Odyssey, as the opening line of the poem invokes the Muses to tell the story about “the man of twists and turns, driven time and again off course”. But in that time, Star Wars was always there for me. Mark Hamill will share with pride that strangers will approach him on the street and gush not just about how they loved the movies, but how it was an escape vessel through triumph and tragedy. In particular I will always look back on the year 2009 with sentimentality, despite the self-imposed burden I placed on myself to transfer into a better college.

2009 was my Star Wars renaissance. I returned to that source of imagination and wonder. By creating this epic space opera, George Lucas proved that childhood never had to end.