Editor’s Note: 828reviewsNOW is a space for arts, culture and lifestyle criticism across Western North Carolina. These articles represent the opinions of their writers, who remain committed to fair, ethical and unbiased journalism. We have received no incentive or payment from the subjects of these reviews and observe them with an objective, analytical eye in mind.
“Y2K” (2024, 91 min., directed by Kyle Mooney)
Kyle Mooney, known for his work as a former “Saturday Night Live” cast member and YouTube sketch comedian, makes his directorial debut with “Y2K,” a horror-tinged comedy about a robotic apocalypse caused by the Y2K bug.
“Y2K,” before anything else, is a Millennial’s period piece. Mooney plugs 1999 references into his film with fanatic zest, from the wardrobes to the soundtrack, and the resulting late 90s tapestry is pretty irresistible. Virtually every early joke in “Y2K” about turn of the millennium pop culture lands.
It’s all so fun that, at a certain point, the actual plot feels like a virus in the movie’s 90s love letter mainframe.
Mooney is clearly modeling his movie after stoner comedies from the era. The film’s protagonists, buddies Eli and Danny, played by Jaeden Martell and a hilarious Julian Dennison, are uncool high school seniors out to live it up at a 1999 New Year’s Eve party. The duo embody a trope forever immortalized in classic comedies like “Superbad” and “Dazed and Confused.”
Mooney might have been better off sticking to the formula of the latter, a hangout movie dedicated to capturing the attitude and vibe of 70s teens. “Y2K” is at its best when it’s doing the same for the 90s instead of trying to force a coming-of-age love story.
Martell’s Eli is desperate to get the attention of Laura, his popular, computer-savvy “dream girl,” played by “West Side Story” star Rachel Zegler.
Much of “Y2K” centers around the futility of Eli’s lame attempts to win Laura over. Despite Martell’s best efforts, Eli is deeply unlikable, switching between expletive-laden tantrums and prudish judgement of his peers on a whim. His character may be authentic to the behavior of many stoner comedy 17-year-olds, but Eli lacks the character development of many of his contemporaries. Martell and Zegler have decent chemistry, but the script makes it difficult to see Laura and Eli winding up together.
Which is a shame, because in the robotic apocalypse, they don’t have a lot of options left.
After the initial introduction of his characters and ’99 aesthetic, Mooney lays it all out with the outbreak of Y2K. Just after the stroke of midnight, the machines at the house party assimilate into multimedia monsters, slicing down stoner, skater and soccer playing teens with gory relish. It’s initially hysterical. The practical effects are fantastic and the radical tone shift from conventional teen comedy to gonzo horror is a blast.
Considering Mooney’s background, it makes sense that the first act of the film feels like an extended SNL sketch. If this was a Y2K skit on his YouTube channel, the robot carnage would be the punchline.
Unfortunately, Mooney has 90 minutes to fill and the plot of “Y2K” never coalesces into anything as fun or funny as its premise.
There are undoubtedly reasons to check the movie out: Fred Durst, of Limp Biskit fame, plays a pivotal role and Mooney himself steals scenes as a white-stoner-dude-with-dreads named Garret. There are all the references to the late 90s of it all and there are some solid kills late in the runtime.
However, without a protagonist to root for or a real story to invest in, “Y2K” asks why you should care.
Rating: 3/5
“WEREWOLVES” (2024, 94 min., directed by Steven C. Miller)
Here’s what “Werewolves” is about.
One year after a supermoon event caused over a billion people to transform into werewolves for a night, jacked CDC scientist Dr. Wes Marshall, played by Frank Grillo, is charged with curing the werewolf virus and protecting his niece, Emma, and sister-in-law, Lucy, from a second night of werewolf mayhem.
In other words, “Werewolves” has one job.
It must have gnarly werewolf action sequences in which Grillo annihilates werewolves. It has no other responsibilities.
There must be werewolves. There must be action. There must be Grillo.
At least on the first and second counts, I could howl at the moon with joy: the werewolves in “Werewolves” look fantastic.
The anthromorphic nightmare wolf creatures were done as practically as possible: the werewolves are guys in suits combined with animatronic features. The costumes were designed by Alec Gillis and Tom Woodruff Jr., who cut their teeth on creature SFX work in films like “Aliens.”
The resulting werewolf carnage is great, with goopy, face-ripping biting all over the place. When the werewolves are out to play, “Werewolves” works.
Unfortunately, the human characters aren’t up to snuff, including Grillo, who takes 54 minutes of this 93 minute film to actually kill a werewolf, and mostly off-screen, at that.
After a thrilling sequence wherein werewolves prove themselves resistant to “moon screen,” a hilariously-named spray that prevents supermoon-induced lycanthropy, Grillo is relegated to slowly moving through werewolf-infested city streets for the bulk of the runtime. “Werewolves” does have thrills, but it’s only when the werewolves are onscreen doing their thing. Otherwise, it’s virtually devoid of tension.
It’s probably because the human characters are played almost entirely straight while the werewolves are allowed to lean into the zaniness.
For instance, a punk werewolf appears with piercings and a cool red werewolf mohawk, joining the likes of a werewolf wearing red, white and blue warpaint with an army vest spray-painted “WOLF KILLER.” It’s hilarious.
The humans aren’t interesting as anything more than foils for the werewolf action.
Grillo, through sheer force of will, does occasionally score a charisma point over the werewolves. These manifest as a couple of killer one-liners like “hey! Bite me!” and “alright, you hairy m—-f—–, come fetch!” I just wish there was more of that energy and less slow crawling under cars.
The world of “Werewolves” is worth a shout. The production design is fabulous in its world building, which mostly consists of signs suggesting differing perspectives on the werewolf crisis. My personal favorite was spray painted graffiti that read “FREE TO TURN.” Additionally, the lab segment in the first act looks fantastic for a movie with a budget this small. The military compound look of the Marshall house also feels cool and fresh for a werewolf movie.
A sequel expanding on the “Werewolves” world wouldn’t be unwelcome.
In general, “Werewolves” hits its mark. Those looking for a werewolf creature feature will have their lupine cravings sated. Those hunting for anything more have already shot this thing with a silver bullet.
“Werewolves” is exactly what it says it is, nothing more and certainly nothing less.
Rating: 3/5
“FLOW” (2024, 85 min., directed by Gints Zilbalodis)
“Flow” is the animated movie of the year.
The Latvian animal odyssey is a gorgeous, cell-shaded adventure. It is deceptively simple, featuring a black cat that gets swept away in a diluvial flood and winds up with a crew of animal survivors floating through the disaster on a small boat.
That’s virtually the breadth of the story.
Unlike the usual animal stars of animated movies, none of the animals speak in “Flow.” There are very few anthropomorphized elements to any of them. In fact, they seem almost impossibly animalistic. The animators captured the behavior and movement of each of the animals in the film with a startling accuracy.
Cat owners in particular will be delighted to recognize little behavioral details the black cat is imbued with.
Yet, the lack of dialogue is hardly missed. The visuals are too beautiful for that.
The animation in “Flow” is stunning – though I noticed it looks far better on a movie screen than a laptop, which renders the cell-shading in a blockier fashion – and the film’s aesthetic feels instantly mythic.
“Flow” is set in a curious posthuman world of ancient spires and vine-choked temples. There is a haunting quality to its images, whether cast in mournful fog or fleeting rainbows. It’s a unique feeling to watch an animal-driven animated film and experience profound unsettledness in the soul.
However, “Flow” is also a charming buddy comedy about a ragtag band of animal misfits. The dynamic is what keeps the film balanced.
That crew is a curious mix of a black cat, yellow Labrador, capybara, secretary bird and ring-tailed lemur.
What makes the combination odd is that each of the animals is endemic to a different part of the world: yellow Labs to the United Kingdom, capybaras to South America, the secretary bird to Africa and the lemur to, of course, Madagascar. Black cats are perhaps most closely associated with the witches of New England, but that may be a stretch. Cats are everywhere, but the black cat does serve as the film’s protagonist and everyman.
With their cosmopolitan heritage in mind, the crew of “Flow” goes deeper than the movie’s simple premise.
Animals, representative of every corner of the world, coming together to survive a climate disaster? That feels like an optimistic look at the potential of a global response to climate change to me.
However, considering the disappearance of humanity in the film, what does “Flow” actually suggest about the fate of our species? It’s unclear. That answer is haunting and heartwarming, hand-in-hand, just like the animation that surrounds it.
For those seeking a better derelict-civilization, animal-oriented, climate-allegory animated film this year than “The Wild Robot,” which is remarkably similar in a cursory way, hop on the boat and give “Flow” a chance instead.
Rating: 5/5
