Shrill (Season 2) (2020)

The second season of “Shrill” does the kind of thing that only top-shelf shows can do successfully, which is pick up immediately where the first season left off (as in, literally the moment the last season ended) and keep going as though there was no interruption, and somehow manages to improve on the first season along the way. Mind you, the first season didn’t exactly need much improvement because it arrived fully-formed, but it’s interesting how this season manages to do an entirely satisfying deeper dive into its characters and their dynamics, moving away from plot-heavy machinations and focusing instead on how life’s changes impact Aidy Bryant’s Annie and her relationship with her surroundings. It gives the entire season a ‘slice of life’ feel that’s perfectly pleasant and consistent without being trivial or insignificant, while also giving the first-rate supporting cast a number of chances to shine. In particular, John Cameron Mitchell finally gets a chance to deploy his considerable chops as the icy Gabe who must confront his own vulnerabilities (and also delivers an electric, unplugged performance of David Bowie’s “Moonage Daydream”), while late-season additions E.R. Fightmaster and Illeana Douglas show up to steal scenes left and right. It’s awesome that these 8 episodes join the first season’s 6 as though they were all part of the same arc, which makes the whole show feel like a consistent, emotionally satisfying and occasionally laugh-out-loud-funny miniseries instead of a fragmented, multi-year effort.

Rating: ★★★★ (out of 5)

Leviathan (1989)

“Leviathan” is one of those late 80s/early 90s studio horror movies that’s *almost* great, but falls just short. Its chief asset is its incredibly potent plotline, which features underwater miners that encounter a sunken ship that shouldn’t exist, and the ensuing terror and chaos that their investigation into the shipwreck sparks. With a number of great-looking underwater sequences that are as creative as they are charming, not to mention its increasingly claustrophobic indoor sets that force a striking contrast between the shots, it’s impressive how director George P. Cosmatos establishes an oppressive, anything-can-happen atmosphere fairly early on. Additionally, the creature effects are carefully revealed on the way to an explosive climax, and while it’s easy to see the influence of “Alien” all over the movie, it feels more deferential than derivative. However, the movie’s overall impact is diluted by the paper-thin screenplay and its resulting lackluster performances: Despite a solid cast of upper-echelon genre veterans like Peter Weller, Ernie Hudson and Kathleen Quinlan, no one seems to know how to play their respective characters so they’re all just window dressing in between the special effects showcases instead of the other way around. That being said, the movie’s still a lot of fun to watch and memorable in its own way.

Rating: ★★★ (out of 5)

Shrill (Season 1) (2019)

Aidy Bryant’s “Shrill” is the type of show I wish I had seen when I was growing up in the 1990s. Mind you, I was never an overweight young woman, but I was an awkward, chubby teenager with no self-esteem, and this show spoke to that version of myself that’s still there, lurking in the back of my head. In the lead, Bryant plays an overweight young woman living in Portland and forging a path for herself in the media world, and she’s completely believable every step of the way: Every wounded look on her face, every micro-aggression that hits her registers like a machine gun wound, and it’s pleasingly cathartic for anyone who has struggled with body anxiety to watch Bryant defend herself – and others, by association. The supporting characters are impressively well-developed as well, functioning not as plot devices but as flawed-but-good people who sometimes make mistakes and need to be forgiven, much like Bryant’s Annie. It’s a casually enriching show that’s more amusing than outright funny, but even so, it’s perfectly entertaining and has the potential to help others find the vocabulary to assert themselves as worthy of respect.

Rating: ★★★★ (out of 5)

Whip It (2009)

Drew Barrymore’s directorial debut is one of my favorite movies of the aughts. Ellen Page is perfectly cast as Bliss, an habitual beauty pageant contestant who suddenly finds herself fascinated with roller derby, and has a thoroughly enjoyable coming-of-age over the course of the movie’s 110 minutes. It’s one of those movies that grips you early on but still manages to get even better as it goes along, thanks in large part to a terrific cast that seem to be having the time of their lives. There are so many stand-out performers that it’s hard to pick a favorite, but if I had to chose I’d say Juliette Lewis: As usual, she’s an electrifying onscreen presence who brings rockstar charisma to her role as Page’s nemesis, and their rivalry leads to some of the movie’s best scenes (including a gripping climax that features some of their best respective work). There’s not much that goes wrong here and there aren’t any scenes that feel overly padded or need trimming: It’s simply a terrific, entertaining and charmingly acted coming-of-age crowd-pleaser whose audience will surely grow over the years.

Rating: ★★★★ (out of 5)

Home Alone 2: Lost in New York (1992)

Following the smash success of the 1990 original, this sequel was inevitable of course, but even so it’s a little jarring how it’s basically a remake of its predecessor. It follows the same path and beats, has a similar musical score and use of holiday music, and the same effective performances from its returning cast. What’s surprising however is how it works just as well the second time around: Macaulay Culkin’s misadventures in New York City follow the “more is better” theme of many blockbuster sequels so it’s more of the same but it’s just as much fun as it was in the first movie. Daniel Stern and Joe Pesci look like they’re having lots of fun as the Sticky Bandits, and series newcomer Tim Curry is a spark of devilish charm in every scene he’s in.

Rating: ★★★★ (out of 5)

Home Alone (1990)

Like a live-action episode of “Tom & Jerry,” this yuletide classic has the type of pitch-perfect holiday atmosphere that managed to spellbind an entire generation of children during the festive season. The Christmas music is so well-selected and the score so warm and distinctive that revisiting this movie every year feels like having conversations with your own inner child. There isn’t much to say about “Home Alone” that hasn’t been said before, but for the record, my favorite performance here is Catherine O’Hara as Kevin’s mom: Her distress and manic energy are palpable, and O’Hara’s long career in improvisational comedy helps her dig her claws into a role that could easily have been forgettable in the hands of a lesser actress.

Rating: ★★★★ (out of 5)