100 Words on David Robert Mitchell's The End of Oak Street (2026)

By Thomas M. Puhr

Unshackled from the tedious worldbuilding that has drained the Jurassic Park franchise of anything resembling fun, David Robert Mitchell’s The End of Oak Street—about a family’s fight for survival after their ’80s-era neighborhood is inexplicably transported to the Mesozoic Era—revitalizes the dinosaur subgenre. Mitchell understands that graceful characterization is just as important as pulse-pounding action (a teenage girl singing along to “Valerie” in the family station wagon packs a greater emotional punch than anything in the jingoistic Project Hail Mary). The End of Oak Street is the writer-director’s most confident work yet and the best film of 2026. 

100 Words on Stanley Kubrick's Spartacus (1960)

By Thomas M. Puhr

Kirk Douglas leads an army of freed slaves against Roman forces in Stanley Kubrick’s sword-and-sandal exercise. Despite the occasional brilliant touch—be it a campy exchange (Laurence Olivier explaining his preference for “both snails and oysters” to an alarmed Tony Curtis), an awe-inspiring tableau (the Roman army assuming geometrically flawless formations), or a shock of violence (a severed limb erupting with fire hydrant⁠–red blood)—Kubrick’s epic is interminably self-serious. Dalton Trumbo’s screenplay, in associating the ancients with a morally bankrupt America, anticipates Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey: a spectacle that will similarly exhaust audiences once it’s as old as Spartacus.

100 Words on Christopher Nolan's The Odyssey (2026)

 

By Thomas M. Puhr

Regarding Roman translations of Greek literature, Nietzsche writes that “they saw it as an incentive for a Roman conquest. … Not only did one omit what was historical; one also added allusions to the present and, above all, struck out the name of the poet.” In terms of the latter point, consider The Odyssey’s poster. “A Film by Christopher Nolan,” it proclaims, with Homer’s name barely legible in the billing block. In terms of the former, consider how Nolan conquers The Odyssey by making it an American story. Case in point: Robert Pattinson and Tom Holland ditch their British accents. 

100 Words on Danny and Michael Philippou's Bring Her Back (2025)

By Thomas M. Puhr

Stepsiblings Andy (Billy Barratt) and Piper (standout Sora Wong) discover that their foster mother, Laura (Sally Hawkins), is using them to resurrect her dead daughter in Danny and Michael Philippou’s Talk to Me follow-up. The Australian brothers’ sophomore feature mines similar terrain (e.g., teenagers traumatized by a parent’s death) but with diminishing returns; although the film boasts some elegant narrative echoes (Andy and Piper’s father died in the shower, Laura’s daughter in a pool) and an intriguing commentary on the rituals that can unite a family (“grapefruit,” the siblings’ safe word, packs an unexpected emotional punch), it’s simply not scary.  

100 Words on Stanley Kubrick's Paths of Glory (1957)

 

By Thomas M. Puhr

Stanley Kubrick’s near-flawless WWI drama concerns three French soldiers sentenced to death after a botched, suicidal assault against the German forces embarrasses their superiors. As Colonel Dax—who defends the men during their absurdly unjust trial—Kirk Douglas sometimes undercuts Kubrick’s scathing irony with self-righteous theatrics (at one point, he pounds a table mid impassioned speech). The final scene—in which a terrified German woman sings to a group of French soldiers—would have been perfect if it ended with her performance silencing the drunken, rowdy men; instead, we’re subjected to single-tear-running-down-the-cheek closeups of the troops as they hum along.

100 Words on Francis Lawrence's The Long Walk (2025)

By Thomas M. Puhr

A thought-provoking, morally ambiguous conclusion elevates this otherwise middling genre effort from director Francis Lawrence. Are The Long Walk’s final moments optimistic (because the titular game’s lone survivor—Peter McVries, played by a gravel-voiced David Jonsson—isn’t immediately gunned down after killing the villain, one hopes he has initiated a revolution) or pessimistic (because he indulges in coldblooded revenge, our hero betrays the goodhearted optimism that led to his survival in the first place)? The film’s last image—of Peter marching into a rain-soaked darkness—may hold the answer: If the “winner” is still walking, then has anything really changed?