They say that within every comedian is an aspiring dramatic actor. Russell Crowe seems determined to prove the opposite. The Oscar-winning thespian, who recently gave a well-received performance as Hermann Goring in Nuremberg, has enjoyed the opportunity to unleash his funny side in recent years with such films as The Nice Guys and The Pope’s Exorcist. The latest example is The Get Out, a comic neo-noir thriller directed by Derrick Borte (with whom the actor worked on Unhinged, a film with a very different tone). As an aging Albanian nightclub owner, Crowe proves consistently delightful even when the material lets him down.

Set in Los Angeles (which is played by Australia’s Gold Coast, because not even movies that take place in L.A. can afford to shoot there anymore), the story revolves around Manco Kapac (Crowe), who as the film begins introduces himself via voiceover narration. “It’s a good job, but long hours,” he tells us about owning a nightclub in Koreatown, making it evident that he’s thinking about retiring.

Those thoughts get accelerated when he has a cardiac incident during a bout of strenuous lovemaking with his younger girlfriend Sunny (Teresa Palmer), for which he prepared by popping not one but two Viagra pills. He becomes even more determined to get out of the business when he’s robbed by a masked assailant on the street, and offers to sell the club to Joe (Luke Evans), the sort of colorful type who conducts business meetings while getting a massage and gleefully performs a horrendous rendition of the song “Suspicious Minds” for karaoke. (In reality, Evans has recorded several albums and is currently starring on Broadway in The Rocky Horror Show).

It turns out that the man who robbed Manco is Jeff (Aaron Paul, nearly as intense here as he was in Breaking Bad), a mild-mannered university professor whose side gig is writing college application essays for students and who’s being blackmailed by a crooked cop (Josh McConville). Jeff’s life becomes even more complicated when he makes a large cash deposit at his bank and arouses the suspicions of the teller, Carrie (Nina Dobrev), who blackmails him as well. It turns out that she’s a Point Break fanatic who would love to commit a robbery while wearing one of the presidential masks featured prominently in the film, so she forces Jeff to make her his partner in crime.  

The film, based on Thomas Perry’s novel Strip, wears its influences — ranging from Elmore Leonard to Carl Hiaasen to Quentin Tarantino — heavily, without the genuine wit of many of its predecessors. The attempted blending of humor and suspense mostly feels awkward, with the plot machinations straining credibility.

It proves most successful when leaning into the goofiness, with Dobrev’s ebulliently wacky performance as a woman turned on by criminality and Crowe’s deadpan comic turn as the intense Manco, who, at his girlfriend’s urging, makes an awkward attempt at alleviating his tensions by meditating. The sight of the lumbering actor wearing track clothes and sitting cross-legged while listening to a soothing relaxation tape on headphones is priceless. And you get the feeling that Crowe wanted to do the film just for the opportunity to bellow the line “You don’t bleach Albanian asshole!”

The sort of mildly entertaining diversion that will find a natural home on streaming services thanks to its well-known cast, The Get Out proves instantly forgettable. Although it’s worth sitting through the end credits just to hear the Gipsy Kings’ terrific cover version of the Eagles’ classic “Hotel California.”   

[This story contains spoilers for The Death of Robin Hood.]

In 2021, Jodie Comer, like so many of us, was completely taken with Michael Sarnoski’s Pig. 

The actor and filmmaker happened to share the same talent agency, so they agreed to have a general meeting over Zoom in order to express mutual admiration for one another. A year later, the two randomly found themselves seated next to each other at a dinner party where they got to know each other some more. But it took until 2024 for the stars to finally align professionally thanks to Sarnoski’s revision tale  called The Death of Robin Hood. 

The slow-burn thriller is partially based on a 17th century ballad in which the heroic outlaw’s cousin, a malevolent prioress, bleeds the older, ailing Robin to death under the guise of the ancient medical treatment known as bloodletting. Comer quickly agreed to play the healer for the writer-director and also share uniquely intimate scenes with Hugh Jackman’s Robin Hood, especially since she’d briefly worked with the latter on a musical that didn’t take flight.

But Comer and Jackman’s roles reverse the ballad’s depictions. The prioress, regarded here as Sister Brigid, is as benevolent as one can be, and she shares no familial relation to the famed Robin Hood. Gravely wounded, he’s left on the doorstep of her island priory where she nurses him back to good enough health through bloodletting and therapy. But it’s not until the third act that Brigid catches up to the audience and learns that the man she’s come to know as “Randolph” is actually Robin Hood, the murderous brigand who burned her family alive years earlier. He may have stolen silver from the corrupt upper class to help those less fortunate, but unlike the legends told about him, he caused far more pain and destruction.

As the head of a religious island community that stresses forgiveness, Sister Brigid comes dangerously close to adopting the treacherous nun persona from the source material. She slices Robin’s arm during a bloodletting session, but instead of letting his blood withdrawal become fatal, she stops herself from avenging her family.

“Where has that gotten anyone? Where has it gotten Robin? She’s braced with a moment of, Now you have to practice what you preach,” Comer tells The Hollywood Reporter. “It’s easy to speak of these things, but it’s actually about how you are able to act on that within your own life.

Robin eventually authorizes her to cut his arm open again so that he can release himself from his personal anguish and also keep Brigid’s house safe from his enemies, old and new. But knowing that voluntary euthanasia is still a hotly debated subject, Comer wonders how the audience will process her character’s assistance in Robin’s suicide. She hopes that they recognize the very different intentions behind the final bloodletting scene and the preceding one that flirted with vengeance. Bear in mind, she attempted to stop the bleeding on the final go-round too, but he used the last of his strength to fend her off.

“I don’t know whether there will be, for some people, an ambiguity about her assistance within his death. I don’t know that people will surmise what her motivation is or if it will come across as being pure,” Comer says. “There’s a massive contradiction that she has to deal with within that, but I was always very struck by the grace that she’s able to find in that moment. She has this ability to not meet pain with pain or violence with violence.”

The Death of Robin Hood shares a couple through-lines with two of Comer’s other recent films, The End We Start From (2023) and 28 Years Later (2025). In all three, her characters spend time in peaceful island communities that serve as exceptions to the harsh worlds that surround them. And each woman goes to great lengths to care for her own children or other people’s children. Admittedly, the thematic overlap never registered with Comer until now.

“Maybe I need to become a mother. I don’t know. Maybe I’m living something out in my acting that I should investigate more in my own life,” Comer says. “They all have themes that I’m always very much drawn to, but I do find it fascinating when people pick up on threads that I am not necessarily aware of in the process.”

Below, during a conversation with THR, Comer — who’s “excited” to reunite with Sarnoski on Damon Lindelof’s upcoming adaptation of The Chain for HBO — also discusses how revisionist tales are important in the era of remakes and reboots.

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So you loved Pig like the rest of us, and apparently, you and Michael Sarnoski had a general shortly thereafter. Who initiated? 

Well, we have the same agent, which is lovely. They very kindly introduced us on a Zoom after I’d watched Pig. It must’ve been around COVID time, and it was a bit more formal because you’re meeting someone for the first time with the hopes of working with them. Then, probably about a year later, we sat next to each other at a dinner. So that was a nice opportunity to meet him in a more casual sense and not necessarily talk about work.

A couple of years later, the script for The Death of Robin Hood came through, and being a huge fan, I was so excited. I didn’t receive any sort of premise or log line; I was just sent the script. So I read it, and I thought it was so stunning and surprising. I was enamored by his interpretation and how poetic the script felt to me. So I just jumped at the chance to be able to work with him.

I consider this the third film in your “island” trilogy. The End We Start From, 28 Years Later and The Death of Robin Hood each have these isolated island communities, and your characters look after kids in different ways across all three stories. I’m sure you weren’t conscious of these through-lines at the time, but in hindsight, can you recognize why you’re drawn to maternal and caregiving themes?

Maybe I need to become a mother. I don’t know. Maybe I’m living something out in my acting that I should investigate more in my own life. I can’t say that I was aware of that, but all of those stories feel intimate, tactile and very human. The nuance and emotionality of the human condition, and how we behave with each other, is something I really enjoy seeing and experiencing in my own life. So they all have themes that I’m always very much drawn to, but I do find it fascinating when people pick up on threads that I am not necessarily aware of in the process.

Your character, Sister Brigid, is compassionate to no end, but in the source material, the prioress character is truly evil. Would you have still played the role if she was written as such?

I don’t really know if I can answer that fully because I was never presented with it. There were aspects of Robin Hood that I was aware of, but I wasn’t overly familiar with the folklore, so I wasn’t comparing her to past iterations. But I probably would’ve played that version of her because I wanted to work with Michael. Luckily, I was dealt very different cards, which was beautiful. 

(Spoiler Warning.) I don’t know what people’s experience of the film will be, but there is a revelation of a connection that Robin has to her past. Unknowingly, he has been a huge catalyst in her life, and he has caused a lot of pain. I don’t know whether there will be, for some people, an ambiguity about her assistance within his death. I don’t know that people will surmise what her motivation is or if it will come across as being pure. There’s a massive contradiction that she has to deal with within that, but I was always very struck by the grace that she’s able to find in that moment. She has this ability to not meet pain with pain or violence with violence. She speaks a lot about philosophy and mythology. So I felt that she would consider it almost kismet that she’s meeting him later in her life, especially with him being in the vulnerable situation he’s in, and how she has been bestowed with the role of caring for him in that moment. There was something in that that I really enjoyed.

(Spoiler Warning.) Prior to the ending you just alluded to, there’s a dark scene where she tries the treacherous nun character on for size. But then she catches herself because she doesn’t want to further the cycle of violence that led them all there.

Right! Where has that gotten anyone? Where has it gotten Robin? She’s often sharing stories or giving advice or giving a point of view, and then she’s braced with a moment of, Now you have to practice what you preach. It’s easy to speak of these things, but it’s actually about how you are able to act on that within your own life.

Robin Hood has long been a mascot for social justice, anti-corruption and anti-greed, but this movie posits that there’s a much darker side to the folklore around him. What was your first impression of Michael’s revionist take on this figure that we’ve all been raised to think is a hero?

Well, Michael went back to the early 14th century poetry to explore something that did feel ancient but also new and real. This exploration isn’t one-dimensional or absolute, but it feels much more real to what you imagine the world may have looked like in that time. There’s nothing fantastical about it. It’s very gritty and grounded, and I just loved it. It’s a perspective that has never been seen before, and it felt wholly original to Michael. 

In a world where we explore and remake a lot of the same material, it’s actually really exciting and important that we give space for something new to be birthed out of it. Generally, we can get quite possessive about what our interpretation or experience is of a well-known story. So it’s great when a storyteller or a filmmaker comes along with a different vantage point. 

I loved working with Michael because the piece was so of him. He’d spent so much time with it. When you work with a director who’s also written the material, you just want to be in service in a huge way. There’s a cinematic scope to this film that is so breathtaking, but he equally prioritizes emotional arc and character development. I’ve definitely had experiences with directors where one has been more prominent than the other, so it was great to work with someone who was so engaged in all of it.

This is an industry that also creates its own mythical figures. Even Hugh Jackman has a little bit of that reputation at this stage of his long and varied career. Does all of that fade away as soon as cameras roll?

Totally. You forget that as soon as you meet Hugh. Because of the nature of the business, there is so much projection onto people. We’re always projecting our version of them or who we interpret them to be. But people are people at the end of the day, especially Hugh. What you see is what you get. There’s an energy about him that makes you feel like you’ve known him for a while, and he’s incredibly generous and personable and gentle and engaged. So you take people as you find them, and it’s always wonderful if you’re led by someone who has those qualities. It immediately relaxes everybody.

I initially assumed that your history with Shawn Levy and Ryan Reynolds would’ve had something to do with you and Hugh teaming up for this movie, but I didn’t know that the two of you briefly worked together on some kind of musical that never got made. 

Yeah, we spent a few days doing a writing workshop for something. I came to New York, and I spent three days with him in an office setting, which was lovely. I did work so closely with Ryan and Shawn on Free Guy, and they obviously have a very close relationship with Hugh. So I’m sure that Hugh asked them how I was on set. You always do that if you’re considering working with someone. You’ll ask people, “What was your experience with this person?” So I’m sure that happened on some level.

What Michael did so well in Pig and A Quiet Place: Day One was depict characters eating together in a meaningful way. Most movies or shows shoot or cut around it. 

Actors avoid it too.

It also drives me mad when a character makes an elaborate meal for the rest of their family, and the family barely touches the food before heading out the door. Thus, one of my favorite scenes in Robin Hood is a quiet scene with Brigid, Robin/Randolph and Margaret eating soup together. Is it pretty rare for you to have a director who cares that much about eating scenes?

That’s interesting. And it’s funny, isn’t it? I love to eat. It’s such a big part of our lives, and it’s something we share so much with others. So I’m with you. When there’s a dining scene on screen, I’ll notice the actors flicking their food around their plate.

Or they’ll have a huge wad of food tucked away in their cheek. 

Yeah, I’m like, “You’ve got to eat the food!” (Laughs.) But that soup scene is quite a big scene within the film, and I’m glad you enjoyed it. What I remember most about that scene was I had to carry the bowls in such a way that my thumbs had to go in the soup to carry them. 

I just had this exact conversation with Rebecca Hall, only it was Seth Rogen’s thumb in the cappuccino he delivered her on The Studio. It’s so weird that you brought this up.

(Laughs.) Yeah, it’s like if you were at a restaurant and someone brought you your soup or cappuccino with their thumb in it. The spoon was so large and so wooden as well. It was all very true to the time and very transformative. There’s an intimacy to sharing a meal with someone, and I feel like I’ve done a lot of it, honestly. Villanelle [on Killing Eve] was eating all the time, so I’ll do anything that makes it feel more true to life. 

I don’t know about you, but I live on my own. If I’m home and I’m eating, I eat like a feral animal. I’ve probably eaten half the meal whilst I’m cooking it. There’s something so messy about who we are when we’re on our own.

***
The Death of Robin Hood is now playing in movie theaters.

Not to sound too dated but if you remember with fondness 1970’s classic boy meets girl-boy loves girl-boy loses girl love story titled, of course, Love Story, then I have a new animated feature that is kind of the West Coast version on water.

Replacing Ryan O’Neal and Ali MacGraw in their snowy winter-set east coast movie that starts with the line, “what can you say about a 25 year old girl who dies?” is this sunny sweet L.A.-set slightly younger version with a (initially) water phobic A.J. (voiced by Will Sharpe) and surfer girl extraordinaire Kristen (Stephanie Hsu). They meet cute at a high school dance party where he almost literally jumps into her existence and becomes smitten immediately. It is love at first sight, but of course they are opposites. He is a devoted skateboarder, she can’t stand them thinking they are an abberation of the true art of surfing which must only be done in the rolling waves, not on pavement. Okay we know where this is going, but it is the getting there that will move you to tears.

Yes, they slowly get together and, in a reverse of Moondoggie teaching novice Gidget how to navigate the Malibu waves, this is Kristen instructing A.J., first how to swim, and then how to hang ten. This is also where the film dips into the past and becomes awash in the proud history of Hawaiian surfing, bowing at the legend of the great Duke Kahanamoku and going deep into others and how the sport became such a religion for many, notably devotee Kristen. But this surf lesson aside, at its heart this is a relationship story, one that takes a sad turn when Kristen’s pain becomes a cancer diagnosis and A.J. a caregiver as her hopes and dreams, and theirs, threaten to wipe out the future we have been rooting for them to have. Not to be daunted Kristen chooses to have a leg amputated, replaced with a prosthetic, rather than lose the ability to surf.

We see some of this being rather quietly foretold in flashes of a solo A.J. fulfilling an art project drawing pictures of the ocean and of Kristen, so we know where we might be heading even if we haven’t seen Love Story on blu ray. It doesn’t matter, because this is also a true story which screenwriters Fanny Burdino and Samuel Doux have based on A.J. Dungo’s 2019 graphic novel. It becomes a memoir of loss, of grief, of dealing with life’s saddest moments in waves that take you over but never under. That is the poignant truth of In Waves, and that is also along with the gorgeous animation in director Phuong Mal Nguyen’s debut feature, what makes this such a lovely and touching story, all seen through the eyes of A.J. and not to be forgotten.

Excellently voiced in the english language version by Will Sharpe and Stephanie Hsu (the original French version opening July 1 in France had Rio Vega and Lyna Khoudri) , the film premiered last month as the opening attraction of the Cannes Film Festival Critics Week, and today premieres in competition at the Annecy Film Festival. Netflix is promising to take it much further, globally in fact, as the streamer picked the film up out of Cannes and will be shepherding through awards season as well.

Producers are Priscilla Bertin, Judith Nora, Nick Shumaker.

Title: In Waves

Film Festival: Annecy Film Festival

Distributor: Netflix

Director: Phuong Mal Nguyen

Screenplay: Fanny Burdino and Samuel Doux

Cast: Will Sharpe, Stephanie Hsu (english language version) ; Rio Vega, Lyna Khoudri (french version)

Running Time: 1 hour and 30 minutes