The Perfect Neighbor 2025 * * 1/2 Stars

DON'T YOU BE MY NEIGHBOR 

The Perfect Neighbor is a true to life documentary only made more true to life by the fact that there's actual bodycam footage involved. That's right, no cheesy reenactments here, just the real deal kiddies. I mean it's rare that said footage could carry the diegesis of a 97-minute film on the real. With "Neighbor" you wonder how director Geeta Gandbhir did it, how she took I guess found, raw material and made it non-repetitive, non-humdrum, like an endless river. "What's the address of the emergency?" Uh, what emergency. Seriously.

Anyway The Perfect Neighbor is shot in the order of trivial incidences that lead to a sad tragedy at the end. It is edited well, with a little tension that seems to ratchet up every 20-minute interval or so. What hampers the film however is the fact that it's all so cut and dried when it could have delved so much deeper. A woman (Susan Lorincz) makes multiple 911 calls about her neighbors and their kids only to eventually shoot one of them dead through her front door. Yeesh! Lorincz eventually goes to trial and then prison and that's it, movie over, total ball game. I mean you take away Florida's stand-your-ground laws and I'm not sure what statement helmer Gandhir is trying to make here. No come to fruition moment, no revelation, just remnants of a standard, reality legal show sans creeper Keith Morrison at the wheel. 

Cray cray residents, Canadian broadcasters, and Sunshine State locales aside, "Neighbor" is like watching an episode of Cops mixed with The Blair Witch Project and an elongated two-part-er of Dateline, blender style. It's involving, with some ominous moments but seems like a rather lukewarm tribute to the lady who got killed at the hands of Susan Lorincz (that would be Ajike Owens). Pitchy "perfect". 

Written by Jesse Burleson

Who Killed the Montreal Expos? 2025 * 1/2 Stars

GROUNDOUT

I read somewhere on the Internet that the Montreal Expos stopped being the Montreal Expos in 2005. Um, that's like twenty years ago. I mean since then we've had the rise of social media, the 2008 financial crisis, COVID, and the emergence of the iPhone. And people are well, still bringing up those 'Spos, an MLB team that won 1 division title in 25 years and had a bunch of losing seasons. "Montreal is a baseball city". Uh, you really think so Pedro Martinez? Really?

Anyway Who Killed the Montreal Expos? is my latest write-up, a documentary that seems constructed accidentally by a hyena who wandered into the editing room amped up on angel dust. Basically what I'm saying is this thing is fast-paced to the point where its cinematic form is nearly butchered. No real coda, no first act, no cogent spiel, just a lot of Expos particulars thrown at the screen like splatter paintings. "It started to fall apart". Yeah absotively boss. Absotively. 

Directed by TV vet Jean-Francois Poisson and rather blinkered when it comes to the opinions of Expos fans almost everywhere, Who Killed the Montreal Expos? is well, about the downfall of said team and how they left "The Land of Maple" to head to good old Washington, D.C. to become the Washington Nationals (how random is that?). 

Lots of archives on and off the celluloid faster than a speeding bullet. A lot of bad translation voices over the French-spoken interviews without the use of subtitles. A sort of soap-boxed, one-sided view from the denizens of Montreal, blaming the world for the Expos not being a franchise anymore. And this despite the fact that the owners were bad with money, the stadium stunk up the joint, and um, the first Major League Baseball team outside the US couldn't win Jack "you know what". I mean this film shouldn't be titled Who Killed the Montreal Expos? I think it should be titled an elongated, "Who Really Caaaares". Natch. 

Written by Jesse Burleson

Roofman 2025 * * * Stars

SAWTOOTH ROOF

Jeffery Manchester gets caught by the po-po after robbing a McDonald's. Jeffery escapes prison and hides out in a Toys "R" Us as he noshes on peanut M&M'S. Jeffery befriends a single mom and bible thump-er while being a fugitive. Jeffery Manchester attempts to leave the country under a new identity for 50k. Yup, that's the gist of Roofman, a moderate drama that I initially thought was an unconventional comedy. Whatevs. I mean don't let the poster fool ya, this isn't 1991's Career Opportunities people. 

The real-life Manchester, well he's played by Channing Tatum in probably his most raw and layered performance to date. Tatum's Jeffery is a smart dude but a lousy criminal. He's solid at evading the law but bad when he actually gets caught. Jeffery loves his "B and E's" by entering rooftops but sometimes goes to the wrong proprietorship. Yikes! Yeah this is a tailored role for the 45-year-old, Alabama native what with all his physical and mental portraying on display. I mean I can't see anyone else as Manchester except maybe 80s Matt Dillon or 90s Keanu. "But I was good at seeing things". Uh, no doubt Tatum. No doubt my brother. 

True story characters and "cool breezes" aside, Roofman is well directed by Derek Cianfrance, a helmer known for crime and punishment aftermaths. He takes over two hours to commit to every frame while making Jeffery Manchester a sympathetic denizen who's probably better off being behind bars and wearing the almighty jumpsuit than hurting people on the outside. His cast is tops too, with Tatum, Kirsten Dunst as Jeffery's love interest, and LaKeith Steinfield as Steve, an army vet who helps Manchester get into say, illegal witness protection. Meaty script, great narration by Channing, grandiose, situational irony. Roofman, well it raises that aesthetic "roof". Natch. 

Written by Jesse Burleson

Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere 2025 * * * Stars

RADIO SOMEWHERE

Bruce Springsteen creates the album Nebraska from the bedroom of his New Jersey abode. "The boss"  battles depression and meets a pseudo groupie looking for a relationship. Bruce has flashbacks of his alcoholic father and contemplates suicide. Yup, that's the gist of Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere, a somewhat dark drama that's edited choppily yet packs enough of a wallop for any portrait of a rocker that's chock full of inner demons. 

Brucie, well he's played by Jeremy Allen White, a dude that doesn't look or sound like Jersey's favorite son. Oh well. He gets the slouch right, the hair is in place, and the hunch, well it's not too shabby either. "I do know who you are." Duh, who doesn't know who Springsteen is. I mean unless you've been hanging out in an igloo since 1973. 

So yeah, "Deliver" is not really a concert movie so don't expect the bossman to belt out a bunch of hits. This is a character study mind you, a supposed, true story character study that shows Bruce in his brooding element circa 1981-1982. 

Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere, yeah it's directed by Scott Cooper, he of Out of the Furnace and Black Mass fame. Cooper with rack focus, dark hues, and close-ups in tote, makes "Deliver" the product of doom and gloom, the monger of grubby and total slovenly. Heck, whenever I watch his movies I feel like I'm getting off work from an 18-hour steelworker shift only to find myself heading over to the local waterhole to sip a cold brewski. Believe that.

Film-making adroitness and Pennsylvania crime thrillers aside, Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere suffers slightly when it paints Bruce Springsteen as nearly in a brown study with a trifling "whoa is me" persona. Other than that it's well, earthy cinema, a snapshot canvas of a legendary American singer who was once considered the next Bob Dylan. Lighten up "Boss", "Deliver" pretty much "delivers" the goods. Natch. 

Written by Jesse Burleson