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Writer/director Osgood Perkins made his name with atmospheric horror films like The Blackcoat's Daughter and I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House. With his latest, Longlegs, he crafts a commendably eerie atmosphere in which Nicolas Cage, who also produces, delivers yet another gonzo performance — but it's all texture, and not much else.  

Longlegs’ premise is reminiscent of The Silence of the Lambs, Jonathan Demme's horror drama about a young and underestimated female FBI agent on the hunt for an elusive serial killer. Perkins has been explicit about this connection — and his hope for Longlegs to be in conversation with Demme’s classic — but a morass of other influences makes for a muddy movie. It's as if the writer/director is throwing ideas at the yarn wall to see what sticks.  

This slew of familiar horror hallmarks — from creepy dolls to haunted barns to hints of demonic possession — often causes Longlegs to unfold with an eerie dream logic, which is perhaps when the movie is at its most effective. However, it constantly returns to its heroine's grounded murder mystery, with twists and turns anchored in literal clues and sleuthing that requires disappointingly little skill, given how the answers to each mystery simply present themselves rather than being carefully uncovered. This detective saga is never as enrapturing as the movie's ethereal detours. While Perkins' trippy visual approach might grip you on occasion, its most intentionally jarring scenes are just as quick to release you from their tension, yielding an aesthetic experiment that quickly goes awry. 

Longlegs is lazy in its criminal investigation.

A chilling prologue reveals a fleeting glimpse of Cage's Longlegs — a pale, puffy-faced, distinctly clownish killer in a vaguely '70s-ish setting. The premise then shifts focus to the FBI's Lee Harker (Maika Monroe) in the 1990s. A novice agent with a seeming sixth sense, she's the last hope for cracking the case, which has had the agency confounded by its string of ongoing grisly domestic murders. 

As the film unfolds, the reserved Harker impresses her boss and pseudo father figure Agent Carter (Blair Underwood), but is also forced to face hidden and forgotten elements of her past by confronting her uber-religious mother (Alicia Witt), with whom she shares a personable but uneasy relationship. While these unusual family bonds make for fertile dramatic ground, the film doesn’t take full thematic advantage of them, opting instead for a more blinkered focus on the details of each case.

Blair Underwood plays Agent Carter in "Longlegs." Credit: Neon

The murder victims are usually families of three or four, and the deaths appear to be cases of coerced murder-suicides, carried out by the respective patriarchs on their daughters’ birthdays. Were it not for the signed and coded letters left behind by Longlegs at each crime scene, the FBI might not have known these killings were connected at all. Lee looks for clues and connective tissue in unexpected places, like the dates of certain crimes, though the movie seldom allows her to chase down forensic leads, and her seeming psychic abilities come into play far less than one might expect.  

Perkins' screenplay doesn't feature Lee chasing down evidence. Instead, Longlegs himself — who knows more about Lee than she knows about him — drops off clues at her remote cabin, toying with her through coded letters. This makes for an intriguing wrinkle to their cat-and-mouse game, resulting in a few intense moments when Longlegs is threateningly close by. However, it also halts the movie's momentum as a dramatic procedural. There's little sense of the protagonist's progress or autonomy as she waits around for another delivery. 

Serial killer thriller gets mixed with satanism and the supernatural, and too much more. 

Given his methodology, Longlegs is part Zodiac Killer, part Criminal Minds villain-of-the-week, but as the film unfolds, it reveals a number of other horror entanglements. These aren't inherently unworkable when tossed together. The problem is that Perkins leaves his genre blender running too long, resulting in conceptual sludge. 

Maika Monroe plays Agent Lee Harker in "Longlegs." Credit: Neon

There may be religious and satanic elements to these killings, which soon paves the way for other possible horror culprits ranging from the supernatural to cults to the devil himself, and pretty much every trope you can conjure. The result is an imbalanced subgenre mishmash that whips back and forth between several parallel explanations for the killings (and labyrinthine numerology clues), instead of letting its characters and performances take the lead.  

Nicolas Cage is brilliant in  Longlegs, but short-changed.

The film's nerve-racking trailers have effectively hidden Cage's appearance, which is an approach the movie takes as well, and with good reason. Like a creature-feature monster, Longlegs is only shown for a few frames at a time at first, shrouding him and his murders in a surreal mystery. This is an effective approach to making you question whether or not you've fully seen or understood him — made all the more impactful by Cage's work when he's eventually revealed.

The actor’s devious on-screen creation pushes the limits of cinematic believability, with his powdered face, uncanny prosthetics, and pitched-up voice. He essentially plays a caricature of an effeminate-serial-killer throwback, à la Buffalo Bill (Ted Levine) in The Silence of the Lambs, or Norman Bates in Psycho (the role made famous by the director's father, Anthony Perkins), albeit without the iffy, outdated transgender entanglements — for better or worse.

Maika Monroe plays Agent Lee Harker in "Longlegs." Credit: Neon

The film doesn't end up replacing this regressive stereotype with anything resembling recognizable motive or psychology, leaving Cage to grasp at straws with his showiness. Longlegs is troublingly magnetic, but his draw is entirely Cage-centric — even under prosthetics that make him unrecognizable. Before long, trying to catch glimpses of Longlegs becomes about enjoying what loopy decisions Cage might make as a performer, from hunched-over body language to sudden, high-pitched wailing. It’s a fun performance showcase, but few of Cage’s choices in crafting this character have much bearing on how the film plays out. Where Levine’s quirks as Buffalo Bill were part of a thematic continuum — a desperate search to become whole, even through violent means — Cage could’ve just as easily made a dozen different, equally bizarre choices without impacting the story. 

Osgood Perkins undermines Maika Monroe through script and cinematography. 

If Cage's over-the-top approach is undercut due to the lack of discernible story anchor, then Monroe's quietly considered performance — brilliant for equal and opposite reasons — is similarly undone. Her stern silence harbors a suppressed anxiety and unease, which, in keeping with her supposed sixth sense, hints at what's really at play with these Longlegs murders. However, there's nowhere for Monroe to go from this starting point, and nothing on which to project or reflect her disturbed sense of mind so that it becomes dramatically fertile. She's stagnant in this purgatory. This is partially because the film's aesthetic approach remains static from the word go. It doesn't evolve to capture Lee's evolving emotional dimensions.

Longlegs starts out with a marvelously conceived visual approach. Its widescreen frame houses flashbacks within a narrower, more photographic 4:3 aspect ratio, a visual mode that effectively disorients the viewer when it starts being used to reveal information that doesn't seem like it could reasonably be part of any character's memory. Along with brief flashes of snakes and close-ups of red and gooey material, this creates a visceral sense of unpredictability at first, enveloping Lee’s waking moments in nightmarish imagery. However, Perkins ends up repeating these tricks so many times — and without any sense of progression — that this well quickly runs dry.

Perkins and cinematographer Andrés Arochi employ wide lenses to warp the space around Lee during both stillness and movement, which works wonders during wide shots of groups in conversation, and during the occasional chase scene (the environment whizzes by). However, this visual M.O. never changes, even when the story demands it. The movie, in the process, very rarely captures a sense of intimacy or introspection. There's one exception to this — Kiernan Shipka, in a minor supporting part, is isolated from the background using the soft focus of telephoto lenses as she delivers a chilling monologue — but no such approach is ever applied to Lee herself. She always feels like a fixture of the movie's backdrop rather than an emotional centerpiece. 

Lauren Acala plays young Lee Harker. Credit: Neon

In The Silence of the Lambs, Clarice Starling's hurdles as a woman in the FBI were made crystal clear through blocking and framing — with methods as simple as having her male colleagues tower over her and glare at her dismissively — but Longlegs explains all this in words, and its blocking is never as thoughtfully considered. Its frame is usually empty except for Lee, even when it isn't using that emptiness for any logistical or psychological purpose. 

When Longlegs reaches its emotional climax — set during a scene of mundane domesticity turned on its head — its visual approach feels similarly flimsy. The movie’s numerous gestures toward framing familiar images of nuclear family as chilling or dangerous don’t pack nearly as much of a punch as they ought to. The story tends to skip past this theme as soon as it’s introduced, and its visual presentation doesn’t feature nearly enough visual contrast, either. Rather than subverting the otherwise stark palette through bright and sunny hues, the lighting simply becomes flat and indecisive — which, unfortunately, represents the movie’s larger problems in microcosm. It doesn’t fully (or even partway) commit to its most bone-chilling ideas. 

While its use of framing is initially effective, Longlegs quickly rests on its laurels, and swerves helter-skelter in search of new ways to unnerve. Despite hitting a few hair-raising individual notes, the film's rhythm is never truly disturbing. The further it goes on, the more it fails to capture the eye, or the imagination — let alone both in combination. Altogether, Longlegs is an empty film; not in the sense that peering beneath its surface reveals a terrifying void, but rather, in that it betrays a lack of meaning altogether. 

Longlegs is in theaters now.

There are points in life when you look back on your path and wonder what might have been if you'd taken a different turn. Touch is such a film, but far from a maudlin affair of regret or resignation, it is a resonant tale of love and acceptance. It's the kind of movie that feels like hope in hopeless times. Keep all this in mind as you read what Touch is all about, because it certainly sounds like it'd be a heart-wrencher, not a heart-warmer. 

In Iceland, as the COVID-19 pandemic begins to cause lockdowns worldwide, widower Kristofer (Egill Ólafsson) is showing the early signs of dementia. While his adult daughter pleads for him to go to doctor's appointments and stay safely at home, he books an impromptu flight to London. There, he swans from a near-empty hotel — where the workers give him hand sanitizer and serious side-eye — to a tattoo shop, where he gets a Japanese phrase inked on his arm. But why is he here? He's searching for the one that got away, and there's no time like the present. 

Based on Ólafur Jóhann Ólafsson's novel Touch (or Snerting, in its native Icelandic), this touching drama weaves a story of past and present, unfurling Kristofer's intrepid quest while flashbacks to 50 years before reveal who he seeks and what happened between them. Writing and directing is Icelandic filmmaker Baltasar Kormákur, who has agilely lept genres from crime thrillers like Contraband and 2 Guns to the romantic and surreal biopic Adrift to the Idris Elba–fronted action-adventure Beast. With Touch, he offers a film that traverses decades and the globe with a pace that is steadily propulsive and a sense of romantic enchantment that is contagious. 

Touch offers a story of resplendent first love.  Kōki stars as Young Miko and Pálmi Kormákur as Young Kristofer in director Baltasar Kormákur’s "Touch." Credit: Lilja Jonsdottir / Focus Features LLC

As I was unfamiliar with the novel, early flashbacks to a warm-hued world of red and gold didn't immediately unlock for me who Kristofer was seeking. I watched this smiling old gentleman meander down London's charming streets, looking upon shops already shuttered or faces covered in protective masks, unsure what exactly he sought. But as Touch leaps back to a twentysomething Kristofer (the filmmaker's son Pálmi Kormákur), a pleasant mystery began to unfold for me. A tall, lanky young man with long hair and a rebellious spirit, Kristofer threatens to quit his university education because of the administration's grim response to student protesters. When a smug (and posh) friend challenges his resolve, pointing out that the Japanese restaurant they're walking by is hiring — why not apply? — Kristofer coolly walks inside. What began as a game becomes serious soon after he meets the proprietor, a diligent chef, devoted father, and lover of haiku poetry named Takashi (Masahiro Motoki). 

Within the charming kitchen, Takashi invites Kristofer not only into his employ but also into the family he's built in the restaurant, which includes an opera-singing cook, a cheerfully nosy waitress, and his only daughter, Miko (Kōki), a college student determined to learn about the world beyond her father's protective reach. Perhaps predictably, Kristofer falls for Miko, but also for this community that welcomes him in, and a culture he is hungry to understand. Flirtations happen alongside cooking and language lessons, with the Icelandic man learning to express himself through haiku. Rather than a story of colonization or appropriation, Touch offers a sensitive tale of cross-culture love and respect. But as Kristofer gets closer to Miko, he also comes closer to learning a family secret that will change everything. 

Pálmi Kormákur and Kōki are perfectly paired in a splendid romance.  Kōki stars as Young Miko and Pálmi Kormákur as Young Kristofer in director Baltasar Kormákur’s "Touch." Credit: Lilja Jonsdottir / Focus Features LLC

Touch is an unusual romance in that its male protagonist is not an active pursuer of the object of his affections. In his memories, Kristofer is not some dashing romantic hero, nor is he the pestering sort from '90s rom-coms who lightly stalks a girl to show his interest. Instead, he gives himself over to this place and this experience, saying yes to what is offered. Abandoning the path of college and snobby white students, he takes the job of busboy. He accepts the opportunity to learn how to cook Japanese food. He welcomes the chance to learn the language and its poetry. While he quietly yearns for Miko, he doesn't chase her or assume her interest should mirror his. But she sees in him what we viewers do: Here is a sincere man with a curious mind, an undeniable John Lennon allure, and a deep wealth of love. 

In this role, Pálmi Kormákur exudes a quiet contentedness, his soft smile clearly communicating Kristofer's joys in this cozy kitchen and its lovely family. But when Miko is nearby, his eyes gain focus, as if she is the moon, radiant and pulling the tides that direct his life. By contrast, Kōki comes in with a sharpness, a sharp wit, and an attitude that screams of 1969 rebellion, reflected in her miniskirts and maxi ideas. She brings conflict into the kitchen, pulling Kristofer into the ongoing father-daughter battle that is waged there. At first, this tactic is the crude tool of a young adult seeking peer support in a squabble with her father over dating. But eventually, Touch reveals the deeper roots of this tension. Kōki, glowing with charisma, not only captures how easy it is for Kristofer to fall hard for Miko, but also gently unfolds the safely guarded wounds of a daughter harboring generational trauma and a profound fear of alienation. 

In bursts, their love is the sunny kind of romantic meals, sun-dappled day trips, and long, loving hours in a battered bed. It's only in the present that Kristofer can realize what his rose-colored glasses overlooked back then. 

Egill Ólafsson delivers a slyly brilliant turn in a wonderful third act.  Director Baltasar Kormákur on the set of his film "Touch." Credit: Lilja Jonsdottir / Focus Features LLC

At first glance, the elder Kristofer might seem a bit deluded by his romantic notions. The world is falling to pieces around him with shutdowns and fears, yet he goes about unmasked and unbothered. It's not stubborn politics or a defiance against science. Cinematically, Baltasar Kormákur is committed to showing us the literally brave face of his hero, so we don't miss a single emotion. Ólafsson's face often wears a cozy smile, but behind his eyes flicker hope, pain, and shock as he follows the path his younger self could not find. As this aging gentleman moves from old stomping grounds to new terrain, there's the thrill of discovery but also the fear his quest will be in vain. Ólafsson carries this tension in hands that grip a hopeful bouquet of flowers and a step that's slowed with age but remains as earnest as a schoolboy's. 

Here I am tempted to spoil the movie for you, to set a worried mind at ease. But that might be a disservice to Touch, even though the film functions less on the tension of the quest and more on the emotional thrust of a man coming to terms with what was. But if you need to know if this story has a happy ending, the answer is yes-ish. By that, I mean Touch has a final act that is sublimely earned by its setup. Addressing issues as far-ranging as dementia, grief, pandemic, broken hearts, and even historical tragedies, this tender drama finds the light, not to ignore the darkness, but to survive it. And this approach bolsters the final sequence, which is a deceptively simple depiction of deep love. However, it's easy to imagine audiences raised on Hollywood's brand of happy endings feeling a bit bereft by it, as Touch doesn't go the sugar-coated candy sweet route. But to do that would be emotionally dishonest in a film that's anything but. 

In the end, Touch is a profoundly moving drama about love in many forms. Kristofer's story is centered on romantic love, but through his journey, Kormákur displays an array of loves, be it the different bonds that form between friends who become family, or food that becomes a home to us, or a language that speaks to feelings we didn't know how to name. There are many flashier movies to see this summer, but none will hit you quite like Touch.

Touch is in theaters July 12.

I'm in love with the mysterious monsters in Arcadian. The film itself is not really about these creepy critters. It's about a family struggling to survive in a post-apocalyptic world on their remote farm. In a sci-fi setting, director Ben Brewer crafts a compelling human drama about fathers and sons, siblings, first love, and growing up.

However, the moment this horror-thriller gives its audience a prolonged look at one single limb of its nighttime terrors, I was head over heels. In a world of xenomorphs, Cloverfield monsters, werewolves, and gremlins, I've never seen anything quite like this before. These things are so mesmerizing that they might actually upstage the movie's legendary headliner: the one, the only, the incredible Nicolas Cage. Don't get me wrong; he still makes a meal out of every single line he's given. He is, after all, Nicolas Cage.

SEE ALSO: Nicolas Cage and sons hide from nocturnal monsters in 'Arcadian' trailer What's Arcadian about?  Jaeden Martell and Maxwell Jenkins plays brothers in Benjamin Brewer's "Arcadian." Credit: RLJE Films and Shudder

Cage stars as a protective father who lives in an isolated farmhouse with his two 15-year-old sons, Thomas (Lost in Space's Maxwell Jenkins) and Joseph (Y2K’s Jaeden Martell). In the way of brothers, the boys couldn't be more different. Thomas is athletic, outgoing, and impulsive, willing to take risks or break rules to get what he wants — which is chiefly quality time with Charlotte (Saltburn's Sadie Soverall), a clever girl the next farm over. Joseph is an introvert who studies old chess games, fiddles with inventions in the garage, and sheepishly follows his father's every instruction, especially when it comes to their nightly lockdown. 

SEE ALSO: 'Arcadian' stars Jaeden Martell and Maxwell Jenkins play "Slash or Pass"

Arcadian swiftly displays their routine, shuttering every window, bolting every door, leaving not a single crack uncovered. For at night, the creatures come. The family won't give them a name. They won't tell stories of how they came to be, though cheeky Charlotte and lovestruck Thomas play a game called "crappy apocalypse," in which they speculate wildly about how the world came to end. (Clearly, this is a conversation post-apocalyptic parents dread even more than a sex talk.) But the details of what happened that led them here don't matter, because the how has no bearing on the now. 

Instead, Arcadian carefully establishes the precious balance struck to survive, and then the harrowing results when it is upset. A brash decision leads to a dangerous accident that blows apart the nightly routine. Father and sons face new challenges as these monsters strike in horrid ways. And all the while, Brewer tantalizes and terrifies us with his epic creations. 

Nicolas Cage leads a terrific cast.  Nicolas Cage and Maxwell Jenkins star in Benjamin Brewer's "Arcadian." Credit: RLJE Films and Shudder

While the movie offers Cage the kind of role he could do in his sleep by now — the end-of-the-world hero dad — the American icon brings a grit and gravitas that swiftly establishes the tone of the film.

Martell, who came off underwhelmingly flat in Y2K, vibrates with anxiety and frustration here, his boy genius aching for a chance to prove himself. As Thomas, Jenkins plays the heartthrob, his impulsiveness fueling the movie's romance but also its catastrophes. Thankfully, the script from Michael Nilon gives the love interest more to do than be pretty in the post-apocalypse. Scenes between Charlotte and Thomas not only build a solid story of first love but also the familiar beats of teen rebellion. The scratchy conflict between becoming a grown-up in front of parents who will always see you as a child gives the thriller emotional texture. Without the monsters, Arcadian could have been a lean indie drama that dabbles in sci-fi, like Never Let Me Go, Seeking a Friend for the End of the World, Prospect, or The Endless. But with the monsters, this movie fucking rules. 

The monsters of Arcadian are its most dazzling stars.  Sadie Soverall is no damsel in Benjamin Brewer's "Arcadian." Credit: RLJE Films and Shudder

To describe the creatures of Acadian might spoil the fun. Because they look so unusual, they seem to borrow inspiration from just about everything, from Nope to Attack the Block to Arachnophobia to nightmares we just haven't had yet.

It's not just how they look — a snarl of coarse hair, lanky limbs, sharp claws, and gleaming teeth. It's how Brewer presents them in teasing glances. First, a hand hidden in a shadow; which part is the thing itself and which part is just darkness is impossible to determine. The shadows also help Brewer stretch the film's visual effects budget, by hiding CGI seams. But these slight scenes never feel like a cheat because of clever staging. In one scene, a human sleeps in the foreground, while in the back there's the out-of-focus form of the monster, its invasion made all the more atrocious by the sound of it, a slurping, slinking sound that will explode into sharp bangs as its jaws slam like a chattering bear trap. The shadows and sound create a dizzying effect, jolting us back into childhood, cringing under the covers from a mysterious bump in the night.  

But the very best monster scene isn’t even one of rampage. Instead, it’s one that shows how sly these mysterious beasts are. It begins with a single latch left unlocked. And what unfurls through a peephole is so sick and so scary that I fear it'll pop up in my bad dreams for years to come, an echo of the outrageous possibilities of doom. It's not so much about what is shown, but how. Brewer has remarkable restraint when it comes to slowly building up to a big reveal of those creepy critters. A wide shot patiently held gives viewers plenty to watch and the time to really wriggle in awful anticipation.

And yet, what comes after is far more spectacular. Like Steven Spielberg did with Jaws, once Brewer has his audience hooked on the high of truly frightening monsters, he throws physics out the window and embraces fire and violence. What these things manage to do in their onslaught is so wild and surprising that I was shrieking in the theater. Out of fear? Out of surprise? Out of excitement? All of it. I'd come for Nic Cage, but I was in awe of these monsters that made me feel like a kid again, discovering the joy of creature features with their furry frights. 

Now, some might bemoan that Arcadian takes its time getting to the monsters. But this isn't a shitty B-movie where the beasts are the only good reason to give it a watch. Brewer delicately builds this claustrophobic community not only to set the stage for his scene-stealing creatures, but also to establish how — even at the end of the world — being a teenager sucks in the same old ways. Parents just don't understand. Your home can feel like a cage. The world beyond is terrifying and unknowable, but that doesn't mean you're not ready to take it on.

It's the monsters that bring the big, delicious, funky thrills of Arcadian, sparking screams and gasps and cheers. But it's Cage and his onscreen kids who give the movie stakes and the emotional center that is required for a great monster movie, be it Jaws or Alien. 

Simply put, Arcadian is a rollicking thrill ride, fueled by creature-feature thrills. But what makes this good movie pretty damn great is the human story at its heart, which is compelling on its own. 

Arcadian is now streaming on Shudder.

UPDATE: Jul. 11, 2024, 12:24 p.m. EDT "Arcadian" was originally reviewed out of SXSW 2024, on March 14, 2024, and has since been updated for its theatrical release and now as our Watch of the Week to coincide with its debut on Shudder.

It's time for a good ol' Watch Series 9 vs. Watch Ultra 2 face-off. As Amazon Prime Day gears up for its official start on July 16, you may be wondering which Apple Watch fits your needs the most. And with the Series 9 already on sale before Prime Day even begins, it might actually be the time to pull the trigger on an Apple Watch.

It's not really in dispute that Apple makes some of the best smartwatches around, but which one is right for you?

As usual, that depends on multiple factors like features, battery life, and perhaps most importantly, price. This year's two new entries into the Apple Watch line, the Series 9 and Ultra 2, both seem like excellent choices, but not for the same kind of person.

One is more of a general-use device while the other is definitely geared towards the more adventurous among us. Here's how Apple Watch Series 9 and Ultra 2 compare to one another.

SEE ALSO: Where to buy the Apple Watch Series 9 and Ultra 2 before they're pulled from Apple's shelves Apple Watch Series 9 vs. Watch Ultra 2: Price Series 9 won't set you back nearly as much as Ultra 2. Credit: Apple

As one might expect, the Series 9 is a good deal cheaper than the Ultra 2.

To be more specific, Series 9 starts at $399, while the Ultra 2 has just one available model at $799. There are, of course, some hidden costs with the Series 9 that aren't present with the Ultra 2, which comes with all the possible bells and whistles you could want. With Series 9, adding extra flourishes like a stainless-steel case (the default is aluminum) and cellular LTE coverage can balloon the total cost up to a staggering $749, the same ballpark as the Ultra 2.

• Apple Watch Series 9 (starting price): $399

• Apple Watch Series Ultra: $799

At that point, why not just get an Ultra 2, right? But not everyone needs every feature. For someone who just wants an excuse to look at their phone less and count their daily steps, the $399 Series 9 will do just fine.

Winner: Series 9

Apple Watch Series 9 $299.00 at Amazon
$399.00 Save $100.00 Shop Now Apple Watch Ultra 2 $799.00 at Amazon
Shop Now Apple Watch Series 9 vs. Watch Ultra 2: Design You can really trick out your Apple Watch. Credit: Apple

Apple Watch is arguably the most customizable product Apple sells, with a variety of case materials, colors, and watch bands to choose from. For this category, we'll just stick with the inherent design features of each device because going through every single permutation would take forever.

Unsurprisingly, Ultra 2 is one step ahead. Its titanium case is going to be more durable than the aluminum and stainless steel options on Series 9, though that may not matter if you're not a hiker or athlete. Meanwhile, the Ultra 2's 49mm case is slightly bigger than the 45mm or 41mm varieties of the Series 9. This means the display is also ever-so-slightly larger, offering more screen real estate than the Series 9.

SEE ALSO: Apple pauses sales of Apple Watch Series 9 and Ultra 2 over patent dispute

The real secret weapon in the Ultra 2's arsenal, though, is the programmable action button on the watch's side. You can make it activate pretty much any app shortcut you want — the Series 9 doesn't have this button at all. It's arguably the one feature the Ultra 2 has that is useful to everyone, not just people who enjoy hiking, so it's a bummer that the Series 9 doesn't have it.

Winner: Ultra 2

Apple Watch Series 9 vs. Ultra 2: Features Depth sensing! Credit: Apple

A look at Apple's official comparison website for the different Apple Watch models is illuminating. Despite the big difference in (starting) price, these two devices have almost all of the same basic features.

For instance, both (obviously) support Siri and the new Double Tap feature. Health features are also the same across the board, with both watches supporting blood oxygen monitoring, ECG, heart rate notifications, skin temperature sensing, and cycle tracking.

The differences lie in the margins, and of course, the Ultra wins again by default. It comes with LTE built-in (it's an optional add-on for Series 9) and can sink to a depth of 100m underwater, 50m more than Series 9. It's also got a depth gauge and water temperature sensor, so diving fanatics don't have much of a choice here. Oh, and there's an emergency siren on Ultra 2 for, well, emergencies. Series 9 doesn't have that.

But again, you may not need any of those things. I know I don't.

Winner: Ultra 2

Apple Watch Series 9 vs. Ultra 2: Battery life Ultra 2 easily has a better battery than Series 9. Credit: Apple

The easiest category yet.

Series 9 has a runtime of up to 18 hours on a full charge and up to 36 hours on low-power mode.

Ultra 2 is rated for literally twice that much: 36 hours by default and 72 hours on low-power mode. This is one upgrade that everyone benefits from, not just lovers of the great outdoors.

Winner: Ultra 2

The verdict

As is customary with device comparisons featuring two gadgets that are so disparate in price, the more expensive one looks better on paper. Apple Watch Ultra 2 is bigger, more durable, longer-lasting, and has more features than Series 9. It's also not for everyone.

Ultra 2 is definitely made with outdoorsy adventuring types in mind. It's for people who might feasibly get lost in the woods or need to measure depth while diving in the ocean. I am certainly not one of those people and I'd venture to guess you might not be either. If that's the case, there's nothing wrong with Apple Watch Series 9; it's cheaper and has almost all of the same software features as Ultra 2.

But still, this is a competition and someone has to win. Congratulations, Apple.

Winner: Apple Watch Ultra 2 (but Series 9 is fine for most people too)

There are those in America who would have you believe there is no place in country western culture for LGBTQ+ folk. These people might put forth that the cowboy is the ultimate sign of traditional masculinity. They might suggest that life on a ranch is so hard, it's definitively heteronormative. They might sneer there's no room for drag at a rodeo. Those people will hate National Anthem. 

For his feature debut, co-writer/director Luke Gilford found inspiration in his experiences as a queer kid coming up in a rodeo family and his professional photography capturing queer rodeo. National Anthem is a tale not of culture clash but of culture combining. Through the story of a lonely young man, this drama explores a side of Americana that is rural and rhinestones, true grit and truly gay. There, he will not only find his first love, but also himself. 

SEE ALSO: LGBTQ spaces are needed now more than ever. Here’s what people mapping them have to say. What's National Anthem about?  Credit: TIFF

Charlie Plummer stars as Dylan, an introverted 21-year-old cowboy who works long days in construction to provide for his oft-drunk single mom (Robyn Lively) and his jolly little brother. His life is one of sacrifice. He gives his time, money, and patience to their needs while ignoring his own. That is, until he meets the burly Pepe (Rene Rosado) and the breezy Sky (Bros' Eve Lindley). 

Deep down a dirt road in New Mexico, this polyamorous couple owns a ranch called House of Splendor. There, they live with their found family, which includes gay and trans members as well as a nonbinary drag queen with a fairy godmother vibe (The Sandman's Mason Alexander Park). From day one, Dylan can't help but stop and stare in awe of these free spirits, who ride horseback in shimmering gowns, dance about in their underwear unashamed, and laugh loud and proud like no one in his home has ever. But it's radiant Sky who steals his heart. 

As the group welcomes him into their fold — and to the queer rodeo where they compete for shiny belt buckles — Dylan begins to come out of his shell. A bit of blue eye makeup there, a no-judgment conversation there, and soon he's happier than his mom has ever seen him. This raises her suspicions, especially as he begins to take his little brother out on day trips with his new friends. 

National Anthem is a hazy dream of young love.  Credit: TIFF

The screenplay by Kevin Best, Luke Gilford, and David Largman Murray is light on plot, focusing half-heartedly on Dylan's infatuation with Sky — and to a lesser extent, Pepe. They will flirt, fuck, and share their feelings — with cinematographer Katelin Arizmendi capturing passion and fervent fondling in yearning close-ups. The chemistry between this threesome is heady and hot, reminiscent of European movies of the '60s and '70s, with a glossy polish of perfectly gorgeous leads and a warm color palette that relishes flushed flesh. However, this movie is bigger than their romance — and is not concerned with labeling its characters within the LGBTQ spectrum.

The film gives voice to its reticent protagonist, the kind of cowboy too often overlooked in country western culture. Dylan's longing isn't hidden among the subtext of gunplay, like in Howard Hawks' Red River. His desire has neither twisted him into a vengeful parody of hetero-machismo, like in The Power of the Dog, nor bent him into a muttering, miserable figure of tragedy, as in Brokeback Mountain. And it hasn't instantly transformed him into a glittering gay cowboy icon, like Lil Nas X in "Old Town Road." His journey involves drug store makeup, cheap wigs, and a clumsy yet powerful lip-synch performance. Surrounding Dylan at the rodeo, there is only love — in a dizzying montage of crop tops and cowboy hats, burly bears making out as their belt buckles bump, while a resplendent Black drag queen in a sequined gown and crisp ten-gallon hat sings the national anthem. Rather than offering up a tidy narrative, Gilford gives his audience a safe space that's majestic in its natural beauty of sprawling terrain and the unapologetic glamor and sensuality of its queer rodeo folk. 

Therein lies National Anthem's greatest virtue. While many, many narratives of queerness in America — especially those set in traditionally conservative spaces — center on tragedy, National Anthem is about queer joy. There are moments in which this found family shares the heartbreak and ostracism they've suffered from homophobic parents. But these characters are shown as far more than queer and tragic. They are joyous. They are creative. They are resilient. Whether strutting on a stage or communing with a persnickety stallion, they are at home in this place. And we are invited in to experience the bliss of House of Splendor.

Grounded by vulnerable yet effervescent performances, National Anthem is a celebration of rural queerness. It's not a rallying cry, but instead a firm declaration of existence and the pursuit of happiness. Wrapped in the sunny hues of the New Mexican desert and floating on the charisma of a sexy and vulnerable ensemble, this drama charts its own path with clear eyes and queer hearts. 

National Anthem is in theaters now.

UPDATE: Jul. 11, 2024, 2:07 p.m. EDT "National Anthem" was reviewed out of the Toronto International Film Festival in this article, originally published on Sept. 14, 2023. The review was updated to contain information about the film's theatrical release.

"Espresso" singer Sabrina Carpenter appeared on "Hot Ones" with host Sean Evans, talking about writing lyrics and the Beatles.

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Oh hey there! If you're here, it must be time for Wordle. As always, we're serving up our daily hints and tips to help you figure out today's answer.

If you just want to be told today's word, you can jump to the bottom of this article for July 12's Wordle solution revealed. But if you'd rather solve it yourself, keep reading for some clues, tips, and strategies to assist you.

Where did Wordle come from?

Originally created by engineer Josh Wardle as a gift for his partner, Wordle rapidly spread to become an international phenomenon, with thousands of people around the globe playing every day. Alternate Wordle versions created by fans also sprang up, including battle royale Squabble, music identification game Heardle, and variations like Dordle and Quordle that make you guess multiple words at once. 

Wordle eventually became so popular that it was purchased by the New York Times, and TikTok creators even livestream themselves playing.

Not the day you're after? Here's the solution to yesterday's Wordle.

What's the best Wordle starting word?

The best Wordle starting word is the one that speaks to you. But if you prefer to be strategic in your approach, we have a few ideas to help you pick a word that might help you find the solution faster. One tip is to select a word that includes at least two different vowels, plus some common consonants like S, T, R, or N.

What happened to the Wordle archive?

The entire archive of past Wordle puzzles used to be available for anyone to enjoy whenever they felt like it. Unfortunately, it has since been taken down, with the website's creator stating it was done at the request of the New York Times.

Is Wordle getting harder?

It might feel like Wordle is getting harder, but it actually isn't any more difficult than when it first began. You can turn on Wordle's Hard Mode if you're after more of a challenge, though.

Here's a subtle hint for today's Wordle answer:

Peanut butter brand.

Does today's Wordle answer have a double letter?

The letter F appears twice.

Today's Wordle is a 5-letter word that starts with...

Today's Wordle starts with the letter J.

SEE ALSO: Wordle-obsessed? These are the best word games to play IRL. The Wordle answer today is...

Get your last guesses in now, because it's your final chance to solve today's Wordle before we reveal the solution.

Drumroll please!

The solution to today's Wordle...

JIFFY.

Don't feel down if you didn't manage to guess it this time. There will be a new Wordle for you to stretch your brain with tomorrow, and we'll be back again to guide you with more helpful hints.

Reporting by Caitlin Welsh, Sam Haysom, Amanda Yeo, Shannon Connellan, Cecily Mauran, Mike Pearl, and Adam Rosenberg contributed to this article.

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Connections is the latest New York Times word game that's captured the public's attention. The game is all about finding the "common threads between words." And just like Wordle, Connections resets after midnight and each new set of words gets trickier and trickier—so we've served up some hints and tips to get you over the hurdle.

If you just want to be told today's puzzle, you can jump to the end of this article for July 12's Connections solution. But if you'd rather solve it yourself, keep reading for some clues, tips, and strategies to assist you.

What is Connections?

The NYT's latest daily word game has become a social media hit. The Times credits associate puzzle editor Wyna Liu with helping to create the new word game and bringing it to the publications' Games section. Connections can be played on both web browsers and mobile devices and require players to group four words that share something in common.

Tweet may have been deleted

Each puzzle features 16 words and each grouping of words is split into four categories. These sets could comprise of anything from book titles, software, country names, etc. Even though multiple words will seem like they fit together, there's only one correct answer. If a player gets all four words in a set correct, those words are removed from the board. Guess wrong and it counts as a mistake—players get up to four mistakes until the game ends.

Tweet may have been deleted

Players can also rearrange and shuffle the board to make spotting connections easier. Additionally, each group is color-coded with yellow being the easiest, followed by green, blue, and purple. Like Wordle, you can share the results with your friends on social media.

Here's a hint for today's Connections categories

Want a hit about the categories without being told the categories? Then give these a try:

• Yellow: Things a school needs

• Green: Gambling

• Blue: Dove-involved things

• Purple: Types of Geese

Featured Video For You Connections: How to play and how to win Here are today's Connections categories

Need a little extra help? Today's connections fall into the following categories:

• Yellow: School Facilities

• Green: Roulette Bets

• Blue: Associated with "Dove"

• Purple: ___Goose

Looking for Wordle today? Here's the answer to today's Wordle.

Ready for the answers? This is your last chance to turn back and solve today's puzzle before we reveal the solutions.

Drumroll, please!

The solution to today's Connections #397 is...

What is the answer to Connections today

• School Facilities: AUDITORIUM, GYM, LAB, LIBRARY

• Roulette Bets: BLACK, EVEN, ODD, RED

• Associated with "Dove": CHOCOLATE, PEACE, PIGEON, SOAP

• ___Goose: GOLDEN, GREY, MOTHER, SILLY

Don't feel down if you didn't manage to guess it this time. There will be new Connections for you to stretch your brain with tomorrow, and we'll be back again to guide you with more helpful hints.

Is this not the Connections game you were looking for? Here are the hints and answers to yesterday's Connections.

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