"Apex" Captures the Primal Fear of Being a Woman
Given a choice between a man and a mountain, it’s safer to choose the mountain.

The New York City summer is fueled by the sultry emanations of hot air that tumble off the tongues of potential thespians as they attempt to decipher the gastric guesswork embedded in the prose of the pre-production process. The video camera flits across the boroughs of NYC in a splash-dash sojourn of sumptuous banquets and bohemian bombast, while the down-to-earth wisdom of the seeing impaired helps to guide the protagonist into detours of wisdom befitting his putrid project. A theatrical play incubates in the balding head of the videomaker and as its presence makes itself felt among the various victims of his vision, we share with them the horror of advancing age and the descriptive diatribes toward the destiny of the decrepit damned.
Given a choice between a man and a mountain, it’s safer to choose the mountain.
The external threat invaded the domestic environment at the most valuable moment: grieving.
Strangers in a crowd, exchanging glances, looking away, continually managing to run into each other then part ways, end up at the same diner, find they've rented the exact same vehicles, and are then made to travel together to learn once more whether they can both find genuine adoration and companionship again. This really does, in so many words, sum up the foundational gist of of this new feature film from writer Seth Reiss ("The Menu") and director Kogonada ("The Acolyte", "After Yang"). Yet, it's all only the set-up for the REAL wonder of everything that happens before, during, and in the aftermath of a magical, meaningful journey.
This Christmas movie gives viewers a friendship that unexpectedly forms from a plane trip.
There’s been a longstanding criticism of sci-fi films about its lack of Black characters. For the past few years, Anthony Mackie has been successfully representing Black masculinity in the otherwise homogenous genre and I am here for it.