VESELKA:
THE RAINBOW ON THE CORNER
AT THE CENTER OF THE WORLD
New York City’s beloved Ukrainian restaurant Veselka is best known for its borscht and varenyky, but it has become a beacon of hope for Ukraine. As the second-generation owner Tom Birchard reluctantly retires after 54 years, his son Jason faces the pressures of stepping into his father’s shoes as the war in Ukraine impacts his family and staff.
The first time I ate at Veselka, I’d only lived in New York for six months. A friend of mine, a lifelong New Yorker, walked us in at 1 am. We were sober but sleepy. The palpable energy of the packed wood-paneled room woke us up before a dish was served. I remember being a little awed by the fragile ecosystem – here, Wall Street players were sitting shoulder to shoulder with grinning grandmothers. Warm chatter and the smell of fried onions filled the space. That environment, that first bowl of borscht at Veselka, was one of the many little moments that helped me feel at home in a busy, sometimes uncaring city.
Michael Fiore’s documentary, Veselka: The Rainbow on the corner at the center of the world, takes the viewer into both the history and heart of the beloved Ukrainian restaurant. With the February 2022 Russian invasion of Ukraine, the restaurant finds itself catapulted onto a transformational crossroads. Already tested by the global pandemic, its owner, Tom Birchard, hands the reins to his son, Jason. Jason finds himself at the helm of a world-famous family business, trying to put his own stamp on the restaurant while understanding its rapidly evolving role in both the local and global Ukrainian community.
The documentary is by turns uplifting and shattering. Most powerfully, it is a stark reminder of the human costs of ongoing Russo-Ukrainian war. Unbelievably, this week will mark 2 years since Russia’s invasion and escalation of the conflict. While the war may not be at the forefront of the public conscious in 2024 to the same degree as it once was, it remains a constant for the staff and families at Veselka. This is not an overseas battle for them – these are their loved ones and families fighting and dying while the world moves on to the next crisis.
As a leader, Jason Birchard is equal parts toughness and warmth. His determination for his staff and community is inspiring. Early in the Russian invasion, Veselka hosts Mayor Adams and his delegation to advocate for additional support for Ukraine. Watching this scene gives the viewer the rare experience of seeing an elected official being written off by a constituent in real-time. This superficial political moment stands in stark contrast to Veselka’s kitchen, which is humming with empathy and support.
Veselka: The Rainbow on the corner at the center of the world is many things. A reminder of a brutal ongoing conflict. A challenge to the audience to remember how far the support of individuals can go in the face of global needs. A testament to the grit and determination behind a family business….And a reminder that you’ve really been craving borscht lately.
In Theaters This Friday
February 23rd, 2024
Written, Produced, and Directed by Michael Fiore
Narrated by Golden Globe Award-winner David Duchovny (“The X Files”)
Score by Ryan Shore, featuring Grammy Award-winning saxophonist David Sanborn (“Lethal Weapon”)
Poster designed by Neil Jamieson (TIME “Person of the Year” cover artist – feat. President Zelensky)
Featuring interviews with father-son owners of Veselka Tom and Jason Birchard, additional Veselka staff as well as footage of New York Mayor Eric Adams and Governor Kathy Hochul
The documentary follows Tina Cordova as she advocates for herself and her fellow “downwinders.” Downwinders are innocent bystanders who may have suffered negative health effects from the Trinity test – the 1945 detonation of a newly developed nuclear weapon in New Mexico.
The anecdotes from the immediate aftermath of the nuclear test are truly horrifying. One particularly striking recounting involves children playing with what they thought was “warm snow, but may have actually been nuclear fallout. Still more disturbing is the potential generational effects of the test. There are recounts of stillbirths, of children born without eyes, and of widespread cases of cancer across the affected communities. Cordova herself is a thyroid cancer survivor, the 4th generation in her family to have cancer since the test in 1945.
The film directly follows 2022’s Death on the Nile and finds Detective Poirot enjoying retirement within the canals of Venice. His services are still in great demand (as evidenced by the constant line of hopeful clients) but he has lost his faith. When he is approached by his old friend and novelist Ariadne Oliver (Tina Fey, in a thinly veiled nod to author Agatha Christie), we know it can’t be long before the body count begins to climb.
While the characters are thin, the atmosphere and cinematography of the film are incredibly lush – they are the real stars of the show. I would have bet you good money this film had a different cinematographer from the last two – the difference in style is night and day. But it is still Haris Zambarloukos at the helm, so all I can say is keep it up! Venice does a lot of the heavy lifting, of course, but there’s more to it than that. The first two films leveraged green-screen extensively, whereas Haunting is grounded and has a sense of place. The tone of the film is much more focused, and almost every scene contains rich imagery. I loved the way the suspense of the potential supernatural was implied in every scene – walls and windows of the palazzo creak and seem alive in a manner reminiscent of old Hollywood. No need for CGI thrills here. How great was the imagery? I could watch this movie with absolutely no dialogue and still enjoy myself immensely.
When I saw Bad Boys for Life in 2020, I would never in a thousand years have imagined the directors had a picture like Rebel in them. This is an ambitious, profound, and thoughtful film. Like Bad Boys, this is a film brimming with violence. But Rebel never uses violence to entertain, rather aiming to shock the audience or to underline or accentuate a point.
Rebel focuses on the Wasakis, a Belgian family with Moroccan roots. Kamal (Aboubakr Bensaihi) is the older brother, an idealistic drug dealer and rapper horrified by the atrocities he sees in the ongoing war in Syria. His younger brother Nassim is kind and impressionable. Devout matriarch Leila tries to watch over her boys. When Kamal travels to Syria as a volunteer, he believes he has found a non-violent way to make a difference. When he is captured by ISIS, he finds a different path forced upon him, one that will have also cause devastating effects back home.
Kamal’s passion for rapping also provides one of the film’s most interesting elements – at times, the characters will break into musical interludes. Given the serious tone of the film, these moments could easily appear forced or interrupt the flow of the narrative. Luckily, Bensaihi’s talented flow and consistently gorgeous choreography keep this from occurring. The first such interlude, set in a Brussels’ restaurant, is particularly powerful.
Ben Kingsley stars as Milton Robinson, a melancholy widower going through the motions in a quiet Pennsylvania town. He attends town halls, watches tv, and tends to his garden. The only break in his routine seems to be occasional visits from his daughter, Denise (Zoë Winters). A son is mentioned, but only barely.
As compared to our current media environment, Jules’ vision of our interaction with aliens is refreshing delightful, if not a little far-fetched. Nobody seems particularly threatened by the alien, nor the alien by them. In fact, calm would be the best way to sum up reactions on both sides. While there are some darker themes that emerge throughout the film, they are brief. At its core, this is a sweet and thoughtful film.
Jules is a perfect film for today’s fascination with the idea of aliens. Everyone is looking at the news and asking “What’s out there?”. Jules’ introspective focus answers that big question, but also suggests that it is what’s going on inside us that continues to matter the most.
Both films also ask complicated questions surrounding the way ideals or symbols exist or endure once they are exposed to the whims of the broader world. When Barbie and Ken leave Barbieland, they quickly learn that what they believed to be universal truths no longer apply. The way they see themselves may not be how others see them. Similarly, an initial vision for how the atom bomb might be leveraged quickly shifts when the weapon rolls out of the lab and into the hands of the US military. Both Barbie and Oppenheimer are forced to realize that intention doesn’t necessarily translate to reality.
Sunset in the desert. A modern mobile home splashed with paint, the bold hues almost glowing in the half-light. A man with a rifle. A shrill scream. Stuart Gatt’s Catching Dust announces itself by beginning with these enthralling moments. A film centering on a painter, it is interested in the motivations of its character, but also in placing them as figures within beautiful tableaus. The cinematography is gorgeous – there are shots in this film that could be framed and hung on your living room wall. 
Despite the length of the contest, we learn very little about most of the contestants. This is the rare film I actually wished was a mini-series. Kyle (Joe Cole) serves as the audience’s main proxy in the competition. Before the competition details surrounding Kyle are mostly superficial. Kyle works at a local fast-food restaurant, has a deaf brother, and is motivated to win the truck to provide for his wife and baby. Kyle begins to unravel as the contest drags on from hours into days.
The atmosphere surrounding the contest itself is beautifully realized. The imagery surrounding the laying of hands on the gleaming metal car feels explicitly religious. As the contest progresses, certain elements of the plot do begin to strain credibility. Kyle faces many rivals within the contest, but none of the build-ups leads to a satisfying payoff. A twist surrounding one character seems particularly far-fetched. A final coda has rich details but feels like it arrives too late.
2022’s reboot thrived by finding the perfect balance of new + nostalgia. While that film could be seen as a symbolic passing of the torch from Neve Campbell’s Sydney Prescott to Barrera’s Sam, it is still jarring to watch a Scream film without Sydney. Especially when Scream 6 is so clearly inspired by Scream 2 (talk about sentences you never think you will write), which similarly followed Sydney as she escaped Woodsboro for a fictional college setting. This time though, Courtney Cox is the only original star returning, and she struggles to provide a meaningful link to the weight of original films. Honestly, with so many of the other beloved characters missing in action, a clean break might have been the better approach.
The much-promoted New York setting ultimately feels a bit underused – filming actually occurred in Montreal, and there are only a few scenes that truly attempt to capture the energy of the city. It’s a shame because those scenes are some of my favorites in the whole film. There’s a moment where Sam and Tara hide from Ghostface in a bodega, only to realize that this killer is willing to use weapons even more deadly than a knife. Another scene on the NYC subway captures the rising anxiety facing the city’s public transit today, where a rise in unprovoked attacks has left citizens suspicious of their fellow passengers. But that’s largely it – it feels like a waste of the setting (although to be fair, New York has posed a challenging setting for horror films in the past.) What about Ghostface popping up in a cab, a chase through central park, or a set piece on one of the iconic bridges?
The plot and narrative are an awkward fit for such an intriguing setting. Troubled young Finn (Hart Denton, toned down from his manic turn on Riverdale) drifts through the town. He’s obviously troubled. His relationship with his parents is strained, and we can tell there’s anger (or worse) bubbling under his quiet exterior. He connects with Eliza, a girl at his school. Eliza is troubled too, in her own quieter way: she lives with her alcoholic mother, the two of them living through a trial separation from her step-father and step-sister. As Finn and Eliza deepen their bond, it quickly becomes clear that he will bring great love or great danger into her life (perhaps both.)
I found much to love about American Cherry, but left confused surrounding its tone and intention. From a genre perspective, it somehow sits right at the intersection of romance and psychological thriller, but that ambiguity was confusing in ways that felt unintentional. Is this trying to be Fear for the zoomer generation? Good Will Hunting with more bite? I felt it needed to commit a little bit more firmly. By seeking such balance, it risks underdelivering on both counts.
The insights into Caro’s work process are breathtaking. One moment, in particular, stands out: while working on one of the volumes focused on the life of Lyndon Johnson, Caro had the opportunity to interview Johnson’s younger brother, Sam Houston Johnson. A tremendous opportunity, but Caro found he wasn’t getting the level of rich detail he craved. So, he brings Sam back into his childhood kitchen and has him sit in the very chair he sat in as a young boy. Caro sits behind him so that everything appears just as it would be in Sam’s memories. It is only then that Caro asks his questions again. Talk about literal background research. 
Turn Every Page offers a peek behind the curtain of a complex and critical industry. Ironically, what it offers very little of is the dynamic between its two titular protagonists. Aside from one scene, they never interact on camera. Despite director Lizzie Gottlieb’s best efforts, this cannot help but feel a bit like a missed opportunity. In this framing, both men are free to lay their own narratives. It would have been a pleasure to see them challenged to edit one another’s perspectives.
Daniel Craig returns as Benoit Blanc, the debonair southern detective. This time around, Blanc is invited to an isolated Greek island by billionaire Miles Bron (Edward Norton, giving Elon Musk post-burning man vibes.) Bron has invited several of his closest friends for a weekend getaway that just happens so happens to include a murder-mystery game. Things go wrong faster than you can say “bad idea.”
I was worried that Glass Onion would suffer from an overreliance on Craig’s detective. Knives Out benefited immensely from a core focus on Ana de Armas’ fish-out-of-water character. The film smartly employs him as a foil for its many new cast members. The new faces are stellar across the board. Janelle Monae shows incredible versatility. Leslie Odom Jr. and Kathryn Hahn have the tough job of playing the respective sticks in the mud while the rest of the cast gets to have fun. Kate Hudson and Dave Bautista really let it rip. We’re used to this from Bautista, but it is a particularly welcome departure for Hudson. As I reflect back on the past years of the pandemic, her character provides particular hilarious relief. There are also several delightful cameos. I won’t spoil them for you, but suffice it to say it seems like nearly everybody wanted in on this thing.
Whodunit films seem to be light work for Rian Johnson. His 2005 debut, Brick, was an exceptionally hard-boiled film noir that just happened to be set in a high school. Despite their common director, Brick and Glass Onion could not be more different. Where Brick was pitch black noir down to its very bones (even down to the dialogue), Glass Onion is a sun-drenched delight inspired by holiday mysteries such as Evil Under the Sun and The Last of Sheila. It provides necessary effervescent support as we head into the cold winter months. I can’t wait for the next chapter!
Justin P. Lange‘s The Visitor is an immensely enjoyable horror film populated by a protagonist who has certainly never heard this joke. Things pretty quickly go amiss when Robert (Finn Jones) relocates from London to his wife’s small town. While settling into her childhood home, Robert finds a mysterious portrait in her attic. It is of a man referred to only as “The Visitor”, and he bears a striking resemblance to Robert.
There is still much to like in The Visitor. The core performances are uniformly strong. Jones and McNamee have nice unforced chemistry, and I wished the film had given us more time with them. It is effectively paced (86 minutes!) and contains several genuinely frightful and inventive scares. I especially loved the way the film leveraged the biblical plagues without feeling the need for too much supporting exposition.
With a title like Get Away if You Can, I sat down expecting a 90-minute sea-set thriller with the potential for a high body count. Instead, I was treated to a thoughtful meditation on love, purpose, and gender.
The filming locations are stunning – the filmmakers deftly navigate the cramped interiors and deck of the sailing yacht, giving a sense of scale and place at all times. The island drawing Domi’s (Dominique Braun) attention might be part of the “islands of despair”, but it is truly gorgeous. As in, I can understand having a fight with your spouse over an island like this. If despair looks like this, sign me up. Scenes away from the boat and island are purposeful, and further our associations with the two leads. Through flashbacks and phone calls, Domi’s world is shown to be lush, green, and free. TJ’s flashbacks, on the other hand, are grounded in steel, machinery, and work. The settings smartly reinforce the opposing dynamics pulling at the two lovers.
Since much of the film’s plot finds TJ and Domi in conflict, we don’t get to see much direct chemistry between the two leads. Braun’s Domi has a heavy load to carry, and we feel her appetites and frustrations. Martin’s TJ is given less to work with, expressing his frustrations by guzzling red wine and gorging himself on saltines. Ed Harris gives a compelling supporting turn as Alan, the father of Martin’s character. Alan is a stern man from a military background. But, more than this, he seems to embody toxic masculinity itself. Harris’ restrained physical performance speaks volumes – this is a man who can make chewing a piece of steak simultaneously hilarious, intimidating, and hostile. Harris’ energy lurks even in scenes where is physically absent.
I found the film’s climax to be brave and thoughtful. You may not agree with the choices the characters make, but you can understand the journey that has brought them to that moment. Despite some choppy waves, there’s ultimately a lot to like about this boat trip.
Both leads deliver strong performances. Hirsch’s Mike is an artist. While he wants the prize money, his easygoing demeanor hints at a more privileged background. Hirsch gives a grounded performance – his career has taken some strange turns since his bravura turn in 2007’s Into the Wild. Here he again proves he will excel when given roles where he can use physicality to convey emotion. Bosworth’s Kate is more guarded and driven – she recites mantras to herself every morning in the bathroom mirror. I loved the versatility of Bosworth’s performance – keep an eye on the techniques Kate employs to motivate and keep Mike focused on the prize throughout the film.
David Leitch’s Bullet Train is not high art, but it’s a damn fine way to spend 126 minutes. There are times in life when you might order a side salad with your meal, but we all know what your heart really wants is the fries. Well, Bullet Train is what happens when the fries are the centerpiece of the meal. It won’t inspire deep revelations about the human condition, but it is a flashy and fun journey that satisfies (just don’t pretend it’s something it’s not.)
The plot concerns 5 assassins whose objectives and fates converge on a bullet train speeding from Tokyo to Kyoto. Brad Pitt stars as Ladybug, a hitman in a serious career funk, convinced he’s cursed with bad luck (don’t worry, he’s getting some therapy for it.) Pitt, fresh off his first career Oscar win (Best Supporting Actor, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood) seems to be having an absolute blast. Ladybug gets to indulge in more physical comedy than any other character and delivers some of the film’s best lines (“Hurt people hurt people“) The speed with which Pitt can develop easy chemistry with a new co-star is foundational to the success of Bullet Train‘s ensemble.
Despite the film’s comedic tone, it’s important to acknowledge that is also extremely violent. Barely 5 minutes go by without somebody being shot, stabbed, bitten, gored, or otherwise demolished. The overall comedic attitude of the film does lessen the impact of the violence itself, but nobody would call this a family-friendly movie. It won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but for those willing to take the trip, Bullet Train is an absolutely worthwhile thrill ride. Sometimes it feels good to just order the damn fries.
With Nope, Jordan Peele further solidifies his standing as the modern horror auteur. Who else is making movies like Peele right now? A better question might be, who else do the studios trust to make big budget, non-franchise films like this? (the list is very short.) With his third feature, Peele again delivers on that trust with another compelling narrative that pairs thrills with dazzling cinematography, as well as a willingness to subvert the expectations of his audience.
Siblings OJ (Daniel Kaluuya) and Emerald (Keke Palmer) Haywood are co-owners of Haywood’s Hollywood Horses, horse trainers serving the entertainment industry and descendants of a proud legacy. They are struggling to keep their heads above water in a competitive, dwindling industry (after all, a CGI horse is way easier to train, right?) They also have to contend with the long reputational shadow of their late father (Keith David), as well as the pressures of their family’s place in cinematic history (legend has it that they are direct decedents of the jockey featured in one of the very first motion pictures.) When OJ thinks he may have discovered UFO on the edges of their family ranch, he seizes on an opportunity to capture (and profit from) photographic evidence of their discovery.
Daniel Kaluuya and Keke Palmer give tremendous lead performances. Working with Peele for the second time (after 2017’s prolific Get Out), Kaluuya gives a subtle showcase. I can’t get enough of this pairing – I hope they work together 20 more times. Kaluuya’s OJ is quieter and more introverted than Palmer’s Emerald. Given his screen-time, he has minimal dialogue in the film – most of his performance comes from his eyes, his facial expressions, and his body language. I was reminded of Clint Eastwood’s Man with No Name character – someone who listened more than he spoke but was deliberate (and often lethal) in his action. Palmer’s Emerald is a ball of kinetic energy but also delivers poignant moments as well (especially in the film’s final act.) The two siblings have an easy, unfussy chemistry with each other.
Steven Yeun is phenomenal in the supporting role of former child star turned ranch/amusement park owner Ricky “Jupe” Park. When he was younger, Ricky was part of a TV sitcom co-starring a chimpanzee named Gordy. A tragedy occurred on set, and Ricky has spent his adulthood profiting off the memory of this trauma. While this incident fits with the film’s overall theme of spectacle (and the ways that humanity tries, and fail, to contain nature) it is an awkward fit. There are some haunting images associated with Ricky’s story (especially a moment where Gordy looks directly into the camera lens), but the resolution of this sub-plot doesn’t fit seamlessly with the action occurring on the Haywood ranch. Perhaps there is a larger intention here from Peele, but it just didn’t connect with me.
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