‘Endless Cookie’ (2025)
In my side hustle as a social justice film programmer, I’ve learned a lot about how other traditions tell stories. For some Indigenous filmmakers, the concept isn’t so much beginning, middle and end, but the ever-undulating cycles of life, family history and lore – with some culminations, but also always new beginnings. I can’t think of a better crystallization than this uplifting animated documentary by Seth Scriver and half-brother Pete revolving around taped conversations between the two detailing Pete’s struggles with schizophrenia. Seth is white, Pete is biracial (white and Indigenous), fluent in Cree and lives on the Shamattawa First Nation reserve in Manitoba. “Endless Cookie” is something of a mind-blower, gonzo and a bit meta. Among its digressions and side stories is a thread of Seth forever chasing funds to finish his film; indeed, it took more than eight years to make. But the matters at the core are isolation, addiction, colonialism and the harmful impacts on generations of Indigenous people, done in vivid, hand-drawn animation by Seth that makes Adult Swim look tame; the characters are all some freaky cool combination of human, dog and veggies, conceptual neighbors to SpongeBob or the Aqua Teen Hunger Force. The title comes from that cyclical notion of life, but there is a character in the film called Cookie, who, as you might guess, is a sugary confection with legs and plenty of attitude. It’s a kind of anti-Pixar (no offense) adult animated film reminiscent of last year’s Oscar-nominated “Robot Dreams,” and this past weekend “Cookie” won Best Animated Film from the Boston Society of Film Critics.
‘Marty Supreme’ (2025)
The breakup of filmmaking wunderkinds the Safdie brothers, Boston University grads who cooked up the well-received crime curios “Good Time” (2017) and “Uncut Gems” (2019), has raised question without answers. Who cares? This year Benny dropped the MMA biopic flick “The Smashing Machine” with Dwayne Johnson and Emily Blunt, which didn’t quite go to mat the way many prognosticated. Out now is Josh’s tale about an egomaniacal table tennis player in the late 1950s – based loosely on the exploits of the flamboyant Marty Reisman and starring it-boy Timothée Chalamet (“Bones and All,” “A Complete Unknown”) as the ping pong supreme being of the title.
Like Adam Sandler’s gambling-addicted hustler in “Gems,” Marty’s always hustling to finance his next tournament trip to Japan, and he’s got a million bad moves in between that are on the verge of blowing up, be it impregnating his neighbor’s wife, kidnapping a mafioso’s dog or having an affair with a Grace Kelly-like former Hollywood star (Gwyneth Paltrow, sliding into the role nicely). It’s a madcap turn that keeps amping up the tension in unexpected ways. The casting is devilish, with magician-funnyman Penn Jillette and gruff director Abel Ferrara (“Bad Lieutenant”) as shoot-first sociopaths and Kevin O’Leary of “Shark Tank” as Paltrow’s rich and cocksure hubby. Point, Josh.
‘Song Sung Blue’ (2025)
Craig Brewer’s biopic chronicles the travails of a quirky Wisconsin couple who formed a Neil Diamond tribute band and notched themselves 15 minutes — and then some — of fame for their act, Lightening and Thunder. Loosely adapted from Greg Kohs’s 2008 documentary of the same name, “Song Sung Blue” is pitted with tragedy as well. As rock persona impersonator Mike Sardinia, Hugh Jackman brims with avuncular warmth and wayward idealism. Mike accidentally backs into the Diamond part after flaming out in a crowded field of Elvises, and subsequently breaks from the rock star revue he’s been a part of to go it alone as Lightening, the front man for a Neil Diamond “experience.”
It’s a slow meander that looks to fizzle, until a tour bus operator (Jim Belushi) steps in and decides to back Mike. Mike falls for Patsy Cline impersonator Claire Stengl (Kate Hudson, nomination-worthy), adds her to the bill as the Thunder to his Lightening, and marries her. Minor complications in the path of boomer rock bliss are the merging of families — they both have teenage daughters from previous marriages — and financial stability. The latter looms large after Claire is struck by an errant car on their front lawn, and being musicians, insurance coverage is not a thing.
Highs beyond the joy of their nuptials come when Mike and Claire get an out-of-the-blue call from Eddie Vedder (the film is circa 1990s and early aughts) who asks Lightening and Thunder to be the opening act for Pearl Jam in Milwaukee. On the roller downs money’s always an issue, more immediate and debilitating is Claire’s post-recovery depression and drug use, and Mike’s litany of health issues that he denies — but there’s always one more show to do. The performances on stage — Jackman and Hudson impressively do their own singing — are infectious and will likely have folks of a certain generation sucked into toe-tapping nostalgia. The episodic structure, inherited from Kohs’ documentary, occasionally leaves scenes feeling more observed than shaped. The film’s quiet strength is the sense of family and place, and the passion and commitment Lightning and Thunder have for each other, their children and their art. In an era of maximalist biopics that mistake volume for insight, “Song Sung Blue” finds meaning in the margins
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