Spidey begins anew with Day
One of the unavoidable consequences springing from the success of the MCU has been its narrative growth. What with its stable of thousands of characters, producer Kevin Feige has been more than willing to bend the knee toward fans to provide as many big-screen representations of their favorites as possible. And while initially seeing them interact was satisfying, it quickly became an unwieldy approach, especially with the introduction of the multi-verse concept. Trying to keep shifting timelines, alternate dimensions and various doppelgangers straight has become a bit of a chore.
However, with Spider-Man: No Way Home, these conceits all came together beautifully. In providing viewers with an adventure featuring the three variations of the web-slinger that had graced the screen since 2002, facing off against six of their villains in a visually spectacular and poignant adventure, it proved that sometimes more can be more.
As satisfying as No Way was, director Destin Daniel Critton and screenwriters Chris McKenna and Erik Sommers wisely take a more relatively modest narrative tack with their follow-up Brand New Day. To be sure, there’s plenty of action and enough crossover character meetings to scratch those particular itches fans need itched. However, what gives the film heft are the personal crises Peter Parker is dealing with. In the comics and the movies his everyman dilemmas have always made him the most vulnerable and relatable of the Marvel heroes, this mined to poignant effect here.
Not only is our hero, played once more by a never better Tom Holland, still mourning the death of his Aunt May (Marisa Tomei), but he’s relegated to witnessing this from afar, the love of his life, MJ (Zendaya) and his best friend, Ned (Jacob Batalon) live their lives with no memory of him. This was the sacrifice that had to be made at the end of Way in order to save the multiverse, and Parker is only beginning to realize its cost. His emotional turmoil is affecting him physically as well, as he suffers from debilitating migraines, can no longer rely on his web-shooting abilities and discovers his arachnid DNA is trying to wipe out his human side.
Still, he gets some satisfaction roving the Manhattan streets, fighting crime. However, new threat wielding psychic powers that allows them to jump from person to person and take possession of them is on the loose. Seems this character – who I must be coy about identifying – is after something housed in the department of Damage Control, where director Bill Metzger (Tramell Tillman) is housing other villains. His intent is to study their weapons and abilities in order to use them in law enforcement.
While trying to get to the bottom of who’s behind this, Parker crosses paths with Bruce Banner (Mark Ruffalo), now teaching college physics, has a run in with The Punisher (Jon Bernthal), who inexplicably comes to his aid, and encounters a member of The Avengers. He also must contend with the Scorpion (Micheal Mando), who’s not quite himself these days. As far as the under wraps character Sadie Sink is portraying, it will satisfy longtime fans of the comic and her inclusion in the film proves to potentially be more than a simple fan-service gesture.
As we’ve come to expect, the set pieces are well-done and at times spectacular. Of note is a sequence featuring a careening tank tearing up the New York streets. And while other similar moments are sharply executed, there are times when the film lags, Cretton’s pacing at times a bit too slack.
One of the things that has made this Spider-Man iteration work is the friendship between Parker, MJ and Ned Leeds. Their relationships have developed with a sincerity that proves touching, particularly here as our hero pines from afar, desperate to reconnect with the two people who knew him best. Holland is particularly good in these moments, his haggard look and sad expressions hitting home, especially when MJ unknowingly hurts him. This grown-up Peter Parker and his concerns take the series in a new, more emotionally mature direction. The character’s grief, sacrifice and sadness take a toll on him and the actor is very good in not overplaying any of this, his subtle approach essential in conveying Parker’s melancholy.
The best of these genre films are the ones in which the hero is grounded, made human and despite having incredible powers and abilities, suffers with matters of the heart or crises of conscience as we do. While Day is a bit bloated and could have used a bit more pep in its step, it’s one of the better superhero movies of late. It manages not only to effectively restart the franchise but remind us that when these films thrill us, they’re entertaining. However, when they move us, they soar. In Theaters.
Sex left me wanting more
The shadow of Billy Wilder’s Sunset Boulevard looms large over Gregg Araki’s I Want Your Sex, a sharp, if obvious, satire on the art world. From its gripping opening to its larger-than-life egomaniacal main character, this is a story of extremes. Its humor is born from the trials of its sad sack protagonist and the outsized personality at its center, a master manipulator whose abrasive persona of indifference, hides a well of insecurities.
We first see avant-garde artist Erika Tracy (Olivia Wilde) face down in a swimming pool. Finding out just how she ended up here and why her assistant Elliot (Cooper Hoffman), who’s frantically trying to revive her, is dressed in women’s underwear makes up the bulk of the film.
A long series of flashbacks recounts how this aimless young man wound up trapped in this particular spider’s web. Aimless and saddled with debt, Elliot, despite being underqualified and not of the art world, lands the job of being Tracy’s assistant. Though the vague nature of the job should have given him pause, he’s so happy to be employed, he could care less what he has to do.
This is exactly what Tracy is looking for as soon, he’s not just picking up dry cleaning or moving things in her house. Before he knows it, he’s become her sex slave, being subjected to intimate activities he never knew existed and manipulated in both obvious and subtle ways.
Initially, this seems like the ideal situation. His frigid girlfriend (Charli XCX) won’t give him the time of day and the excitement of this new situation continually trumps his common sense. However, eventually Elliot comes to realize the abusive nature of this relationship and attempts to put a stop to it.
Poking fun at the pretentious nature of the art world is like shooting fish in a barrel but Araki manages to conjure a genuinely hilarious approach. From art made from chewing gum to minimalism taken to absurd lengths, the director knows just how to skewer his subject with humor of the proper acidity.
Wilde is very good here, the actress having great fun bringing this paragon of narcissism to life. There’s a twinkle in her eye through it never breaks the spell she casts, her self-aware performance underscoring that very quality in Tracy. Hoffman matches her every step of the way, unafraid to look foolish, embracing his character’s haplessness and eager attitude. That we ultimately feel sympathy for him underscores the relatable nature in the actor’s performance.
For Tracy, everything in life is a performance, a constant parade of empty gestures, declarations and intentions, all of which puts those who enter her orbit in danger. There’s an emptiness in her life she refuses to address and had Araki focused on this more, the film’s edge would have been sharper and more meaningful.
However, farce is more the director’s bag here. As such, we’re not supposed to wonder just why Tracy would target Elliot. He’s low-hanging fruit and wilts in the face of her sexuality. This is hardly a challenge for her yet perhaps that’s a commentary on her artifice as well.
In the end, Sex serves its purpose. It delivers a few laughs, will push the boundaries of some and pokes fun at some rather obvious targets. Yet, it could have and should have been much more. That it ultimately proves to be as empty as its protagonist is fitting and, perhaps, intentional. In Theaters.
72 in need of more bro time
A good idea that goes awry, Tim Story’s 72 Hours finds old and new comics vying for screen time in a bachelor party romp set in Miami. Sporting a solid premise and a refreshingly toned-down Kevin Hart, the film’s three screenwriters (?) lean into their worst ideas and allow their story to take three too many wrong turns. Rather than trust in simply letting their well-drawn characters interact, they plunge them into one outlandish situation after another, a strategy of diminishing returns that nearly completely derails what turns out to be a by-the-numbers affair.
In trouble both personally and professionally, Joe (Hart) is in desperate need of a reset. While his girlfriend (a wasted Teyana Taylor) is waiting for him to put a ring on it, he’s distracted by goings-on at work. Seems he’s gunning for a VP position at the ad agency he’s toiled at for a decade but is meeting resistance from the higher-ups. The ideas of a 40-year-old just don’t speak to the Gen Z population, so Joe is in desperate need of fresh ideas.
He convinces his boss (Kevin Dunn) to give him 72 hours to come up with a fresh campaign for a vodka company they want to land. Joe decides to take some lemons and make lemonade as he’s been accidently included in a text feed with a group of twenty-somethings. Seems they are planning a bachelor weekend in Miami, so our hero chimes in and says he’ll foot the bill if they allow him to join. Broke and desperate, they agree and soon the one old man and this quartet of aimless youths are cavorting on the Florida beaches. What they don’t realize is Joe’s secretly filming them consume the vodka in question, intent on using this footage in his pitch to the big boss.
The four young actors playing the four friends bring an undeniable energy to the movie. SNL alums Marcello Hernandez, Ben Marshall and Kam Patterson as Nick, Hunter and Freshman, bring a sense of camaraderie and timing to their scenes that provides the movie with much needed authenticity. Meanwhile, Mason Gooding has the necessary panache to ensure the role of husband-to-be Mason is more than just a bland straight man. Hart’s interactions with them are the highlights, his Joe’s cluelessness as to how their generation lives producing some very funny moments.
Unfortunately, narrative insanity must occur in the form of the group getting mixed up with a Miami drug kingpin after they accidentally steal a shipment of cocaine. Before you know it, they’re being chased by Jaze (Michael Mando) and his lackeys, in and out of neon-bathed nightclubs and on the Miami streets. Before all is said and done, Joe has assumed the role of a Scarface-like mobster, thus plunging them further into trouble.
It comes as no surprise that Joe learns from his new young friends and they glean wisdom from him. However, these moments are done with sincerity, none of them coming off as forced or artificial. And giving credit where it is due, the ending contains a couple pleasant surprises, Story eschewing the expected action climax and a more genuine and amusing wrap up.
Often, the success of a comedy is dependent on the strength of personality of its performers and their chemistry. As far as that’s concerned, 72 Hours succeeds handsomely. Unfortunately, the unnecessary shenanigans they’re required to engage in regrettably sidetrack things, relegating this to being a standard comedy rather than what could have been a dramedy with heft. Streaming on Netflix.
This article appears in July 23-29, 2026.
