Supergirl
(108 mins, 12A) Directed by Craig Gillespie; starring Milly Alcock, Matthias Schoenaerts, Eve Ridley, Jason Momoa
Following last summer’s ultra-feel-good Superman comes a frustratingly generic reboot in Supergirl. This second instalment of James Gunn’s DC universe stumbles rather than swoops into theatres with a disappointing effort from the director Craig Gillespie.
Milly Alcock is excellent as the imperfect Kara Danvers AKA Supergirl, whom we first meet on an intergalactic bar crawl in celebration of her 23rd birthday, before she reluctantly agrees to help a girl, Ruthye (Eve Ridley), seek revenge on a band of pirates who slaughtered her family.
With an uneven script, poor pacing and an underwritten villain, the picture falls flat. Derivative to its core, Supergirl ends up feeling like Guardians of the Galaxy meets Star Wars meets Mad Max – the result being a film that has little identity of its own, and only starts to find its feet with one impressive action sequence towards the end, as Supergirl takes on a horde of pirates holding a group of girls captive.
Jason Momoa is amusing as hellraising biker Lobo, and David Corenswet boasts a wholesome charm as Superman in his few cameo scenes. But the film does not do justice to Alcock’s convincing performance of a new, messy but no less heroic Supergirl, who needs a slicker script and higher stakes to truly soar. Hannah Pettit
The Last Viking
(116 mins, 15) Directed by Anders Thomas Jensen; starring Mads Mikkelsen, Sofie Gråbøl, Nikolaj Lie Kaas
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The writer-director Anders Thomas Jensen continues to plough his niche furrow of dark Nordic comedies, punctuated by acts of extreme savagery, about oddballs finding kinship. Exploring similar themes to his previous films Men & Chicken and Riders of Justice, The Last Viking also reunites the director with collaborators Mads Mikkelsen, Nikolaj Lie Kaas and Nicolas Bro.
Kaas plays Anker, recently released from prison after serving a 15-year sentence for aggravated robbery. His share of the loot remains hidden; his eccentric brother, Manfred (Mikkelsen), concealed it somewhere near the remote house where the brothers endured their miserable childhood.
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Unfortunately, Manfred has suffered a psychiatric breakdown since he stashed the bag of cash; he now identifies as John Lennon and has no memory of where he buried it. The new owners of Anker and Manfred’s childhood home – an alcoholic children’s author and a former hand model – let the brothers stay in an outhouse that has been converted into an Airbnb.
Then comes the arrival of the other members of the Beatles – a mute Dane who believes he is Ringo Starr, and a Swede who is both Paul McCartney and George Harrison – plus Björn from Abba, and at least one neo-Nazi. Jensen just about strikes a balance between the film’s absurdist humour and its message about surviving trauma. Wendy Ide
The Furious
(113 mins, 18) Directed by Kenji Tanigaki; starring Miao Xie, Joe Taslim, Sahajak Boonthanakit
Set “somewhere in south-east Asia” and using a child-trafficking ring as an excuse to unleash martial arts mayhem on to a cowering audience, The Furious ranks among the top five most violent films I have ever seen. Unfortunately, it’s also in the top 1% for butchered line readings – though this won’t matter much to an audience who will no doubt flock to a movie that makes The Raid look like a Hello Kitty convention. Directed by stunt coordinator turned film-maker Kenji Tanigaki (who orchestrated the action chaos in the 2024 Hong Kong breakout hit Twilight of the Warriors: Walled In), this feature cares more about the punches landing than the narrative dots connecting.
And my goodness, do those punches land. Beefed up by sound design that revels in crunching spinal cords, swishing machete blades and the thud of axe on flesh, this is a stunning showcase for top-tier fight choreography. Could I have done with a little less eye-gouging and a little more plot development? Yes. But this is a must-see for martial arts nuts. WI
A Private Life
(103 mins, 15) Directed by Rebecca Zlotowski; starring Jodie Foster, Daniel Auteuil, Virginie Efira
Jodie Foster brings assurance and persuasive intelligence to a film that is neither assured nor, frankly, as smart as it thinks it is. She plays Lilian, an American psychiatrist who has built a life and a career in Paris. (Shot in handsome autumnal shades in a wide aspect ratio, the city looks classy and suitably enigmatic.) When one of her clients dies unexpectedly, Lilian suspects foul play and embarks on an increasingly haphazard and paranoid hunt to unearth her version of the truth.
Directed by the French film-maker Rebecca Zlotowski (the excellent Grand Central, Other People’s Children) and boasting a roster of meaty Gallic acting talent (Daniel Auteuil plays Lilian’s on-off ex-husband; Virginie Efira is the dead client), it’s pulpy entertainment, existing at the point where serious Hitchcock homage tips into camp Hitchcock cosplay. The screenplay doesn’t hold up to scrutiny: it’s a flimsy thing, barely propped up by unconvincing character behaviour and a tenuous foray into regression hypnosis. WI
Photographs by Warner Bros. Pictures, Rolf Konow, Lionsgate, Jerome Prebois
PARISA TAGHIZADEH