BACKSPOT
From the jump, Backspot stakes its claim for the visceral side of cheerleading. GoPro-esque camera work thrusts the audience into a storm of first-person handsprings. When the landing is stuck, we see that lead actor Devery Jacobs (Reservation Dogs) is executing the flips herself—a rarity in any sports film. Recalling queer coming-of-age sports films like The Novice and Personal Best, Backspot depicts a youth athletic career on the edge of both success and collapse. One moment Riley (Jacobs) is belting out the Legally Blonde musical in the car with her teammate and girlfriend (Kudakwashe Rutendo) and the next she’s alone, compulsively hand-plucking her eyebrows and obsessing over her ice queen of a gum-chomping, iPad-studying coach (Evan Rachel Wood), who leads the all-star cheer squad Riley joins at the end of Act 1. She’s in the big leagues now. “The last girl died…or broke her toe…I don’t remember,” goes the sarcastic warning from assistant coach Devon (Thomas Antony Olajide). Granted, if Backspot were a cheer routine, you wouldn’t laud its choreography’s complexity. It returns to the well of techno music over Riley’s anxiety attacks a conspicuous number of times. Yet Jacobs carries the day with a soul-baring commitment to the training and its fallout, and cheerleading gets its first major movie with Varsity Blues-style conflicts, asking if love for a sport can survive its rigors. R. CHANCE SOLEM-PFEIFER. Coming to Vudu.
NEW LIFE
The debut directorial feature from former Oregon journalist John Rosman isn’t quite a lean, mean thriller. Let’s say “slim and grim,” as this 85-minute chase movie is less about genre attitude and more about how merciless and unjust conspiracy films like Michael Clayton or Enemy of the State would feel if they plummeted from the sky and crushed a civilian’s unsuspecting world. In New Life, we open on Jessica (Hayley Erin), a 20-something Portlander hyperventilating, face caked with blood, fleeing the city on foot. She’s trying to reach the Canadian border (backcountry actually shot around Oregon towns like Estacada and Enterprise) but has little hope of outrunning the surveillance network encircling her. Amid intermittent flashbacks, her pursuers reveal themselves, most notably a terminally ill fixer (Sonya Walger). There’s a bargain to Rosman’s aggressively lifelike approach. While New Life holds few pleasures as it twists and convulses into new genres, it excels at glimpses of terror and jaded job execution. Have we ever seen a computer jockey (played by Portland actor Jeb Berrier) speak matter-of-factly with a fixer about how to triangulate an abuse survivor’s off-the-grid residence? Such tidbits are as novel as they are believable as they are upsetting. As for why Jessica is running, well, it can get grimmer yet. NR. CHANCE SOLEM-PFEIFER. Hulu.
THE FALL GUY
With The Fall Guy, director David Leitch set out to make “a love letter to stunts” and the unknown names who make them possible. The result is that and more—a bright, breezy action comedy that celebrates filmmaking and all the grunt work that goes into it. Adapted from Glen A. Larson’s TV adventure series of the same name, The Fall Guy stars Ryan Gosling as Colt Seavers, a veteran stunt performer who reunites with his ex-girlfriend (Emily Blunt) on the set of her directorial debut. As Colt attempts to mend their fractured relationship, he’s given the secret mission of tracking down the film’s A-list star (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), who’s vanished somewhere in the seedy underbelly of Sydney, Australia. The story charts a familiar path—no points for guessing the movie’s title has multiple meanings—but it’s in the details that The Fall Guy truly soars. Gosling and Blunt both get plenty of laughs and their rom-com chemistry is a delight to watch. The action set pieces are, not surprisingly, astonishing feats of movie magic that allow Leitch the chance to show off everything he’s learned across a three-decade career of stunt work—fistfights, gunfights, car chases, boat chases, helicopter chases, and everything in between. Despite its bombast, The Fall Guy may actually have more in common with metanarratives like Barton Fink or Adaptation, stories that acknowledge the frustrations and complications of creative work while celebrating their triumphs. It’s an uplifting thrill ride and a perfect way to kick off the summer blockbuster season. PG-13. MORGAN SHAUNETTE. Cascade, City Cedar Hills, Clackamas Town Center, Division Street, Eastport, Living Room, Regal Fox, St., Studio One.
I SAW THE TV GLOW
21st Century media has become dominated by revivals of nostalgia properties, where every show or movie that Gen X adored as children is prime for a sleek, modernized reboot. I Saw the TV Glow plays out almost as a response to that trend, asking its audience to examine why these stories meant so much and what the limits and consequences of lionizing them are. Taking place in the late ‘90s, our story follows misfit teens Owen (Justice Smith) and Maddy (Brigette Lundy-Paine), who bond over their shared love of The Pink Opaque, a supernatural teen drama à la Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Eventually, Maddy makes good on her threats to escape the stifling suburbs while the shy, withdrawn Owen can’t muster the courage to follow her but finds that, as the years go by, his memories of The Pink Opaque—and himself—aren’t what he thought. The world of TV Glow leans heavily on metaphor and stylization: While reality is drab, artificial and subtly threatening at times, the cheesy effects and implicit queerness of The Pink Opaque make a far more preferable escape. Both our leads turn in excellent performances, but it’s Smith who does the heavy lifting, wordlessly communicating Owen’s discomfort, soulfulness and tragedy without ever breaking or losing the audience. I Saw the TV Glow may turn off viewers in search of a more conventional horror narrative, but for those tuned into its frequency, it’s an ethereal, heartbreaking experience that will linger long after the static fades to black. PG-13. MORGAN SHAUNETTE. Bridgeport, Evergreen, Regal Fox, Studio One.
EVIL DOES NOT EXIST
If a tree falls in a forest and no one’s around to hear it—you know the saying. It’s also the philosophical question hanging over Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s enigmatic eco-parable Evil Does Not Exist. Known for the Oscar-winning Drive My Car, Hamaguchi continues challenging audiences with his newest feature, initially intended as a 30-minute short. It unfolds during the wintry gloom of Mizubiki Village near Tokyo, as residents grapple with the impending encroachment of a glamping site, with widower Takumi and his young daughter Hana serving as the central figures to this deliberately paced drama. A community meeting where villagers’ fears of environmental degradation is held that exposes traditional battle lines—or does it? Two talent agents tasked with placating the villagers will contribute the only compelling arc when they align with the villagers. Hamaguchi’s vision favors scenery over scenes, leaving Eiko Ishibashi’s atmospheric score to fill the space with a mocking dread that precedes abrupt transitions leaving you asking, “What’d I miss?” That question persists as you’re left to contemplate the myriad of shifting perspectives that justify the title, but not the extended runtime. Hamaguchi may well have a poignant message in here he wants heard, but he offers little incentive to find it. R. RAY GILL JR. Cinema 21.
