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Cry Macho releases in theaters, and on HBO Max, on Friday, Sept. 17.

Clint Eastwood directs and stars in Cry Macho, a project that various studios and leading men have been trying to get off the ground since the book it’s based on came out in 1975. In Eastwood’s hands, filling the headlining role at 91, it’s a somewhat lethargic affair, with rudimentary emotion and a lifeless finish.

There’s a meta aspect to this movie, given that Eastwood, at his age, is playing the role of a long-forgotten rodeo champion who’s alone because of both tragedy and self-sabotage, but it’s nothing like the spotlight he beamed on the Western genre in Unforgiven. Here, like most other aspects of the film, it’s just a murmur in the midst of a very dry backdrop (and plot).

As Mike Milo, an elderly man sent to Mexico in 1979 to convince and/or kidnap his ranch-owning boss’ teenage son, Eastwood whispers his way through most of the movie, only really becoming engaging during Cry Macho’s best interlude, which involves a long and rewarding stay in a small town. When Eastwood is on his own, it’s hard to buy into his character being capable of this type of errand, or this sort of trek, but once he’s more tenderly paired with Eduardo Minett’s Raphael, Natalia Traven’s Marta, and the rest of an unintentionally uncovered south of the border paradise, he’s able to carve a more viable character out of the movie’s meager marble.

Minett is a solid sidekick most of the time, finding the best ways to form a bond with Eastwood’s spare and cantankerous performance. On paper, Mike and Rafo (Raphael’s nickname) are good road trip material. They’re a fine duo for an emotional journey that helps both lonely characters open up and find the love they’re either lacking or they’ve lost. But Cry Macho comes up just short of true catharsis most of the time, opting to underplay most situations and scenes to the point of banality.

The material here is basic enough to be able to make something good (albeit manipulative), but Eastwood chooses only to hand over something that feels less-than. Again, it’s a mostly dull attraction until Mike and Milo find peace and tranquility in a humble village, where Milo softens under the flirtatious and generous eye of the widowed Marta. Rafo too, having fled a truly abusive household, discovers kindness and camaraderie (and horses). In true Western form, however, their peace can’t/won’t last and eventually they’re forced to flee. What happens afterward, though, truly feels like the story just implodes and gives up.

As Mike’s boss Howard, Dwight Yoakam once again displays his knack for playing things slick and sleazy. It’s clear from the get-go that Howard has other designs for Rafo. He tells Mike that the boy’s mother is crazy (he’s not wrong) and that he wants to bring him to Texas and be a real father, but it’s easy enough to sniff out the lie here. Given that, the narrative beats, meaning how Mike will redeem himself, seem somewhat clear from the opening. That’s not a bad thing, necessarily. After all, stories move frequently in certain ways because that’s just how they work best. But the end resolution, both emotionally and situationally, comes off as simply not doing the bare minimum to give us a complete and satisfying story.

Rafo, who carries around a rooster he’s named Macho, has strong opinions about what it means to be strong and important, but you never get the sense he buys into it for real. Rafo has had to fit many different molds to survive, and most often he’s a hot-headed liar. But Mike never dishes out any sage wisdom to help Rafo, nor does their relationship cap off in a believable manner. When the film is just able to present the two of them amicably, with no forced tension between them or no Federales chasing them, it’s a nice, majestic hang. When the drama starts up, the film’s not equipped to make it enticing or realistic.

This is a spoiler-free review for Season 3 of Sex Education, which premieres Friday, Sept. 17 on Netflix.

Otis, Eric, Maeve, Jackson, and the rest of the so-called degenerates at Moordale Secondary School are back for a third helping of Sex Education, a series that miraculously combines lewd laughs, rom-com tropes, therapeutic wisdom, and cringe comedy all in one go. Sex Education works on both a broad slapstick level, but also on a very specific one, where it’s still able to whisper into your heart. It’s uniquely wrenching and joyous, and Season 3 builds the world of the show out even more.

Sex Education is definitely a series that pays dividends. Not just because it torments us with the slow-burn “will they/won’t they” romance between Asa Butterfield’s Otis and Emma Mackey’s Maeve, but because it’s picked up stragglers along the way. These aren’t just new characters who’ve entered the mix and become a crucial part of the festivities, but also side characters who’ve managed to meld their way into the story in a more layered fashion, usually in the form of old antagonists made more human and sympathetic. Even this season’s new “villain” comes with sneaky vulnerabilities.

Because of this, Sex Education keeps expanding like a beautiful balloon, becoming more loving, inclusive, and complex. Otis hasn’t quite lost his status as the lead, but we’re much more far removed now from the original premise of “what kind of problems would the teen son of a sex therapist have?” The show has transformed into a truer ensemble, though it still retains some of its underlying episodic qualities, despite Otis and Maeve’s “sex clinic” taking a break and leaving us without a clear entry point for a case/sex question of the day.

Another way Sex Education has blossomed season-to-season is in the full absorption and inclusion of adult characters and their specific sexual gaffes and follies. Now that Gillian Anderson’s Jean is fully in the “I f***ed up” swirl of the story, the show is able to explore her and her severe aversion to domestic intimacy and lack of control to its fullest. Now pregnant, as it was dramatically revealed at the end of Season 2, Jean’s life — along with the worlds of Otis, Jakob, and Ola — becomes hugely more complicated and compelling. Likewise, we continue to explore Alistair Petrie’s Headmaster Michael Groff and his fall from grace following Season 2’s literal theatrics and, within this, uncover a bit of redemption for him as well.

Speaking of Groff, when we last left off, the Moordale school had unleashed quite the production on the students, parents, and donors: Lily’s graphic and fantastical Romeo and Juliet erotica musical. Now labeled as deviants from the “sex school,” Moordale’s students arrive back after a lust-filled summer (even Otis finds a regular, er, dance partner, as it were) to a regime change. Groff is gone and a groovy new “wanna be your best friend” Headmistress, Hope (Girls’ Jemima Kirke), stands in his place. But she’s a wolf hiding behind a smile, and will soon inflict her draconian Dolores Umbridge rules on the student body in ways that, yes, also include their student bodies. Moordale’s titular sex education takes a nasty trip back in time, regressing about a hundred years.

When a line is placed down the center of every school hallway, to force kids into a single-file line, Eric’s ex, Rahim (Sami Outalbali) wisely states “It’s never just a line.” In short, this is how repressive and bigoted policies begin, with something seemingly innocuous. As Dua Saleh joins the series as a non-binary student named Cal, whom Kedar Williams-Stirling’s Jackson finds himself instantly drawn to, Sex Education stretches its wings open even further to pull gender identity issues into its meaningful methods of discourse, acknowledgement, and advancement.

Maeve, given her outsider status and serious family concerns, has been a tricky character to handle with regards to the other teens. But as Sex Education’s only swelled to include characters from all over town (Jason Isaacs even guests this year as Michael’s bullying brother), meaning more and more peeks into people’s home situations, Maeve’s trailer park set feels less of an offshoot and more a part of the overall tapestry.

Ncuti Gatwa and Connor Swindells find a ton of tenderness within Eric and Adam’s newfound relationship, while also playing characters at different points in their emotional development and confidence. At the same time, Aimee Lou Wood’s Aimee makes an earnest go at dealing with her trauma, Patricia Allison’s Ola and Tanya Reynolds’ Lily discover some romantic obstacles of their own, a handful of characters take life-changing trips to both France and Nigeria, and Isaac — well — the series smartly deals with Isaac’s Season 2 finale whoopsie in a frank and refreshing manner.

In a show that leans into a lot of awkward moments of utter misunderstanding — be it some text message snafu or otherwise — Isaac is on the precipice of being regrettably malicious, which is not usually how Sex Education plays things. Even its love triangles feature competitors you care about, so Isaac’s bold message-erasure is handled well. The series’ core strength, aside from its supremely fun and raunchy gimmick, remains the characters, the ones we’ve loved from the beginning and the ones we’ve grown to love over time. Time spent with them as they journey and grow is the reward.

Sonic the Hedgehog co-creator Yuji Naka has taken a move towards the realm of indie games following this year’s disappointing release of Balan Wonderworld.

As translated by VGC, Naka, who turns 56 today (September 17), tweeted thanking fans for their birthday wishes before going on to announce that he’s working on a small indie mobile game developed using Unity.

“I’ve recently started learning how to program again, and I’m working on a simple game for smartphones with Unity,” said Naka. “I’m making it by myself, so it’s not much, but I’m enjoying programming it. I hope you’ll be able to play with the app when it’s available.”

In April this year, Naka left his position at Square Enix shortly after the studio’s dissatisfying release of Balan Wonderworld. The game, which Naka himself worked as the director on, received an overwhelmingly negative response from critics and fans. Naka had previously told IGN that the game was his “one chance” to make a platformer for the publisher.

Upon the title’s release, IGN reviewed Balan Wonderworld upon its release and granted it a lowly 4/10. In our verdict for the game, we said that its “half-baked platforming and ill-advised one-button design” unfortunately led to it “being a complete bore”.

In June, Naka told fans that he couldn’t currently talk about the reasons behind his departure from Square Enix despite also adding that he one day hopes to be able to. The famed Sonic producer also noted at the time that at 55 years of age, he was considering retirement. It remains unclear if Naka’s departure was his decision or Square Enix’s.

While little else is known about the Unity-based mobile project that Naka is currently working on, fans will be hoping that it provides the programmer with an opportunity to put Square Enix’s release of Balan Wonderworld behind him.

Jared Moore is a freelance writer for IGN. You can follow him on Twitter.

Cardy, Matt and Emma are here to talk about the delight that is Deathloop. We also have impressions of the Call of Duty Vanguard beta which Emma has been playing, a lovely photo puzzle game called TOEM which Cardy enjoyed, and Matt’s journey through the psychedelic rock coming of age tale, The Artful Escape.

Want to submit your own Endless Search, food opinion, or a bit of other nonsense? Feel free to get in touch with the podcast at: [email protected].

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Blue Bayou premieres in theaters on Sept. 17, 2021.

Immigration stories told on film are almost always emotional wringers. Even if the person arrives in their new country with relative ease and no trauma, there are the overwhelming issues of acclimation and belonging as shown in Brooklyn and Avalon. Blue Bayou, however, beautifully personalizes a part of the broken immigration system that isn’t talked about nearly as much as others, exposing the plight affecting children adopted from foreign countries, brought to America and then never naturalized by their guardians or adopted parents. Vulnerable to deportation for a myriad of reasons, many are permanently sent back to countries they don’t even remember.

Writer/director Justin Chon lays out this particular situation through Antonio LeBlanc (played by Chon), a Korean American living in Louisiana. He’s happily married to Kathy (Alicia Vikander), and is a genuinely doting husband to his pregnant wife and a loving stepfather to her young daughter, Jessie (Sydney Kowalske). Covered in ink and riding a motorcycle, Antonio is the fun dad that plays hooky with Jessie and works in a tattoo parlor. But Antonio also can’t catch a break. He’s got two glaring felonies on his record for past crimes that keep him from getting better employment with benefits, so he’s behind on his mounting bills and has a mother-in-law who isn’t impressed.

Worse yet is Kathy’s ex, Ace (Mark O’Brien). A New Orleans cop who abandoned her and Jessie, he now wants back into their life and is resentful for Antonio taking his place. Those bad feelings are what usher in a cataclysmic downward spiral for Antonio as he’s provoked into a fight that gets him arrested and then picked up by ICE for not being naturalized. Antonio is as shocked as anyone, which leaves him and Kathy scrambling to find the money to pay for a lawyer to make a case for him to stay.

While the problems stack up on Antonio in an unrelenting fashion, Chon’s naturalistic direction captures the intimate moments of this small family. This window into their relatable world is what keeps the film from sinking into melodrama. We genuinely feel for the emotional wounds left unresolved, and delicately revealed to us, from Antonio’s young life that have followed him into adulthood. We’re allowed to experience the painful spaces Antonio has long kept hidden from himself, and his wife, as he reckons with the trauma inflicted on him by terrible “parents” as an adopted, and then fostered, child.

His urgent situation to find money and bolster his immigration case creates a tangential friendship with Parker (Linh Dan Pham), a Vietnamese immigrant dying from cancer who comes to Antonio for a tattoo. Pham beautifully infuses Parker with a compassion that paves a path for Antonio to understand his absent heritage and ignite a curiosity for his own roots that no one has ever stoked in him before. It’s played like a needed, graceful lifeline appearing just when both character’s situations are most dire.

The rest of the core cast is equally impressive. Chon’s Antonio sounds like an authentic boy from the bayou, but he’s not and he knows it as he continues to navigate his otherness from childhood into adulthood. Despite his mistakes, he’s earned love and compassion in his found family of Kathy and Jessie. And both actresses deliver quiet and sincere performances, especially young Kowalske, who takes us on a journey of paternal adoration to heartbreak that culminates in a scene that is so emotionally gutting and shattering that her performance just wrenched the tears out of me.

If the film stumbles a bit, it’s in the machinations of Ace and his alpha male partner. They both feel overly arch and a tad too convenient in their dogged pursuit of Antonio. Plus, their storyline is the only one where the melodrama feels overly present and layered on a bit too thick. The great compliment about why it doesn’t sit right is that Chon’s film doesn’t need it. The truth of Antonio’s situation, which is a reality for so many real adopted children from foreign countries right now, is harrowing enough to land the movie’s point.

What Chon is able to convey in Blue Bayou, both emotionally and informationally, is memorable, admirable, and haunting.

Netflix has been sued by chess grandmaster Nona Gaprindashvili due to a line of dialogue about her in The Queen’s Gambit.

Gaprindashvili filed a defamation suit against Netflix on Thursday seeking $5 million in damages with more in punitive damages, as well as a demand for the episode to be altered to remove the dialogue, according to The Hollywood Reporter. The dialogue comes from a chess commentator in the show’s final episode.

While talking about the show’s fictional lead character, Beth Harmon, the chess commentator says, “The only unusual thing about [Harmon], really, is her sex. And even that’s not unique in Russia. There’s Nona Gaprindashvili, but she’s the female world champion and has never faced men.”

Gaprindashvili claims she had competitively played chess against 59 males by the time the episode takes place in 1968. 10 of those were reportedly grandmasters. Sure enough, as The New York Times points out, an article was published in The New York Times on April 15, 1968 with the headline “Chess Miss Gaprindashvili Beats 7 Men in a Strong Tourney.” Also, the lawsuit mentions that Gaprindashvili is Georgian and not Russian.

“Netflix brazenly and deliberately lied about Gaprindashvili’s achievements for the cheap and cynical purpose of ‘heightening the drama’ by making it appear that its fictional hero had managed to do what no other woman, including Gaprindashvili, had done,” the lawsuit says.

Netflix replied to the suit by praising Gaprindashvili’s accomplishments but pushing back against the lawsuit. “Netflix has only the utmost respect for Ms. Gaprindashvili and her illustrious career, but we believe this claim has no merit and will vigorously defend the case,” a Netflix spokesperson said, according to THR.

The Queen’s Gambit was released on Netflix in October 2020. It reportedly appeared in Netflix’s U.S. daily top ten rankings more times than almost any other show in 2020. The show is nominated against WandaVision for Outstanding Limited Or Anthology Series at the 2021 Emmy Awards.

Here’s a full list of what’s new on Netflix in September 2021 including the final season of Lucifer and a new season of Sex Education.

Petey Oneto is a freelance writer for IGN.