“Pressure”
Who knew that the timing of D-Day was much ado about dueling meteorologists? Obviously, David Haig, whose play about this little-known chapter of the war gets the big-screen treatment in the capable hands of Anthony Maras (the deft thriller, “Hotel Mumbai”) — and Haig, who co-wrote the screenplay. The setting is the Southwick House — a sprawling mansion in England — some 72 hours before the planned invasion that would change the course of history. General Dwight D. “Ike” Eisenhower (Brendan Fraser) tries to hone the fine details of the landing with the other commanders, including British general Bernard Montgomery and his U.S. counterpart, Omar Bradley. The big question is the weather.
Churchill recommends his chief weather guy, Scottish meteorologist Group Captain James Stagg (Andrew Scott, stoic and complex), who gets posted above Ike’s weather guy, Irving Krick (Chris Messina, Michael Jordan’s brash agent in “Air”) — and that’s where the rub comes. Krick, who notched great success in the North Africa campaigns, lives by almanacs and historical trends, while Stagg works from real-time data and tracks the current conditions. Two different methods, two different calls drive Ike and the command team bonkers with just two days until the launch. Stagg predicts 10-foot waves that would blow the landing force off course.
History books chronicle how it all plays out, but Maras and the inspired ensemble reenact it to a deeply compelling effect. Scott and Fraser, a long way from “Mummy” (1999)— anchor the film, with Damian Lewis stealing scenes as Montgomery, both anxious and devilishly cheeky. Kerry Condon makes Kay Summersby, Ike’s indispensable aide, feel essential, her warmth and resolve a counterweight to the chaos around her. Backstories about a failed earlier attempt, led by Ike, that got a lot of young men killed, and the bombing of the hospital where Stagg’s pregnant wife is convalescing, lend human depth. Some of the best insights of “Pressure” are the stark contrast between the British stiff upper lip and American maverick arrogance. The title is a play on weather pressure, the decision to go or not, and the weight of the world. Towards the end, the film shows some ancillary staging of the landing (the 82nd anniversary is nigh), but nothing that will end up in conversations with “Saving Private Ryan” (1998) or “The Longest Day” (1962). — Tom Meek
Playing at Apple Cinemas Cambridge and AMC Assembly Row 12
“The Breadwinner”
Nate Bargatze, the water-meter reader from Tennessee who parlayed his aw-shucks charm into national comedy renown, makes his big-screen debut in this gender-role-reversal romp. As we’ve learned from his Netflix standup specials, Bargatze’s self-deprecating humor is dry with a side of edgy, steeped in the banality of everyday life. That droll effect works well on stage, but on screen, it becomes part of the miasma in this slack “Mr. Mom” (Michael Keaton, 1983) rehash. Bargatze plays Nate Wilcox, the top Toyota car salesman in Nashville, whose wife Katie (Mandy Moore) stays at home with their three rambunctious daughters (Stella Grace Fitzgerald, Birdie Borria and Charlotte Ann Tucker). To keep it all moving smoothly, she straps a color-coded calendar that looks like a military command center to the refrigerator.
Katie, in her limited spare time, invents gadgets like the “Star Minder” — a playful organizational toy — which gets a shot on “Shark Tank.” The proposed deal with shark Lori Greiner is contingent upon Nate stepping away from the Camrys and running the household, so Katie can go to South Korea to mass-produce her gizmo. The other sharks, all men, pass because they think Nate, who appears on stage with a donut stuffed in his mouth, is a liability. While Katie’s away, there will be a large hole in the roof, a dead horse in the backyard, and endless spaghetti pouring from the cupboard — feeble gags that never quite land.
SSNLer Colin Jost and his perfect hair does bolster the humor as another stay-at-home dad who has turf issues with the moms. So does Kumail Nanjiani — who steals nearly every scene he’s in, playing Nate’s rival salesman with puckish energy and pulsating pecs. Given this gender flip and the new comedy “Ladies First,” men clearly need to do better when it comes to the opposite sex — and so should movies about them. — Tom Meek
Playing at Apple Cinemas Cambridge and AMC Assembly Row 12
“The Crash”
Netflix has long had a two-pronged approach to generating low-effort, low-cost content: foreign thrillers dubbed in English and formulaic true-crime documentaries that the streaming giant seems to crank out with increasing celerity. “The Crash” embodies the cookie-cutter documentary format — misdirection, late twists, and plenty of handwaving. The title references a car driven by an Ohio high schooler, Mackenzie Shirilla, that crashes into a commercial building at nearly 100 mph. The impact killed her two passengers — Shirilla’s boyfriend, Dominic Russo, and friend, Davion Flanagan. Shirilla survives. What looks to be a joy ride gone wrong after a night of partying becomes something darker as homicide detectives analyze forensic evidence and delve into Shirilla and Russo’s turbulent relationship. The parents of the three and the prosecutor — who calls this the most significant case he’s ever tried — all chime in.
There’s little surprising here, though the Flanagans’ compassion and love in adopting Flanagan and his sister from foster care is admirable, making their pain and grief palpable. What’s most compelling is the meticulous reconstruction of the crash by state police experts using footage, analytics, AI, and more. The question hangs in the air: Was it all a tragic miscue, or did Shirilla crash the car with malice? The answer’s an internet search away, yet still, the film hypes it up as if the viewer is waiting for the big reveal. The manipulation is visible from the start — you can practically see the filmmakers deciding when to flip each card. — Tom Meek
Streaming on Netflix.
“The Last One for the Road”
The funniest deadpan joke in “The Last One for the Road,” the new shaggy-dog comedy from Italian filmmaker Francesco Sossai, lies in its title. The film follows a pair of small-time crooks (Sergio Romano and Pierpaolo Capovilla) on a road trip, nominally to pick up a former partner-in-crime at the airport so that they can dig up long-buried treasure. But the pair are much more concerned with the stops along the way, carousing until dawn at dive bars and eventually picking up a new traveling companion, a mild-mannered student of architecture (Filippo Scotti, “The Hand of God”). They justify their debauchery by insisting that each drink is “the last one,” the ceremonial end to the nonsense before getting down to business. It’s obvious, though, that they have no serious intention of letting the good times stop rolling. “The desire for the last one never goes away,” one of them muses, “because it’s something that goes beyond thirst.”
Though “Last One” could roughly be described as a crime comedy, viewers looking for thrills in the vein of Quentin Tarantino or Guy Ritchie might find themselves losing patience. Sossai, like his characters, is far more interested in the journey; the treasure isn’t mentioned until the second act, and it’s forgotten long before the film ends. The point is simply to hang out with these two sozzled[2] buddies on their never-ending bender. Our heroes are nobody’s idea of upstanding citizens, but they never pretend to be. Instead, they have resigned themselves to their shiftless existence, having as much fun as they possibly can in the gutters of society. (“We’re too old to grow up!” they proudly proclaim.) The film’s low-key vibe and lackadaisical rhythm occasionally recall arthouse greats like Aki Kaurismäki or Jim Jarmusch, right down to the drifting, feedback-drenched score by Italian guitarist Krano. Like its central road trip, “Last One” veers miles away from the point, but if you’re on Sossai’s cockeyed wavelength, it’s worth sticking around for one more round. — Oscar Goff
At The Brattle Theatre
A stronger
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