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'The Running Man,' a new 'Now You See Me,' and George Clooney are in theaters

Dave Franco as Jack Wilder, Jesse Eisenberg as Daniel Atlas, and Isla Fisher as Henley Reeves in Now You See Me: Now You Don't.
Katalin Vermes
/
Lionsgate
Dave Franco as Jack Wilder, Jesse Eisenberg as Daniel Atlas, and Isla Fisher as Henley Reeves in Now You See Me: Now You Don't.

There's yet another Now You See Me in theaters this weekend, along with yet another Stephen King adaptation. George Clooney plays a charming Hollywood star in Jay Kelly, while a warm, funny and goosebump-raising documentary streams on Apple TV. Here's what to watch.

Now You See Me, Now You Don't

In theaters Friday 

The cast keeps expanding in this magic-centric rob-from-the-rich-give-to-the-poor heist franchise, as if the writers saw Ocean's Eleven through Thirteen and thought, "we could do that." New kids Justice Smith, Dominic Sessa and Ariana Greenblatt join original Horsemen (and hangers-on) Jesse Eisenberg, Woody Harrelson, Dave Franco, Morgan Freeman and Isla Fisher in pursuit of a priceless diamond held by a money-laundering arms dealer (Rosamund Pike). That fits the aesthetic of the first two Now You See Me's (shouldn't this one really be called Now You Three Me?) — but where the earlier films seemed to want you to believe the on-screen magicians were pulling off their tricks, this one mostly settles for CGI and cinematic trickery, so that even card tricks fall slightly flat. Eisenberg's prickly snark is still fun, but with the tricks getting less convincing and the scripts more exhausting, it might be time for this franchise to go up in a puff of smoke. — Bob Mondello 

The Running Man 

In theaters Friday 

This trailer includes instances of vulgar language. 

One tricky thing about writing dystopian fiction with staying power is that the future eventually catches up with you. Stephen King's 1982 novel The Running Man takes place in 2025. In his vision of, well, now, there is widespread poverty, rule by giant corporations, and exploitative entertainment that takes advantage of people who are suffering and tries to force ordinary people to despise each other. There is environmental destruction, mass surveillance, and even the resurgence of polio. Just imagine.

The story follows a man named Ben Richards, who tries to provide for his family and his sick kid by going on a game show also called The Running Man. On the show, he has to survive on the streets for 30 days while professional assassins pursue him. If he makes it, he wins a billion dollars. But, of course, nobody has ever survived. In the new adaptation, directed by Edgar Wright, Richards (played by Glen Powell) auditions for the game shows run by the megacorporation known as The Network because his daughter has the flu, and Richards and his wife can't afford a doctor for her without a big prize.

The biggest problem with this adaptation is that if you read the book, you probably know there are a couple of things about the ending that a major studio movie released in 2025 is unlikely to replicate. As an action movie that hits the gas, gets the running man running, and doesn't let up, it works quite well, and it's a lot of fun. But some of King's sharper-elbowed commentary about what it might take to escape this kind of oppressive society is blunted a bit, making it a less effective critique of its world than the book was. — Linda Holmes 

Jay Kelly

In limited theaters Friday; on Netflix Dec. 5

Hollywood star Jay Kelly — handsome, affable, debonaire, sixty-something … in short, George Clooney — reconsiders his life choices on a trip to Tuscany in Noah Baumbach's bland mid-life crisis dramedy. Estranged from one daughter (Riley Keough), and distressed by the growing distance of another (Grace Edwards) who's off on a trip to Europe before college, he's feeling alone in a crowd of paid companions, including his faithful manager (Adam Sandler, excellent) and publicist (Laura Dern, whose talents are mostly wasted). After a public altercation with a college buddy, he opts to avoid the PR blowup and possibly find some catch-up time with his daughter by taking an impromptu trip to Italy for a career tribute he'd previously turned down.

Minor misadventures ensue — a train trip punctuated by a purse snatching incident, a reunion with his coarse dad (Stacy Keach), a fight with his increasingly put-upon manager. Not sure I was feeling anyone's pain about the loneliness of stardom, the heartbreak of success, the … whatever the hell else this was about. Baumbach has wandered into the territory of and Stardust Memories and he gets a bit lost in the woods, but Clooney's magnetism goes a decent way to making things palatable, the cinematography is pretty and Sandler dominates whenever he's on screen. — Bob Mondello 

The Things You Kill

In limited theaters Friday 

Iranian-Canadian director Alireza Khatami's Turkish-language thriller follows Ali, a university professor, as his life unravels. His mother's sick, his father's a bully, his wife wants a child (he hasn't told her his sperm count is low), and his only safe place is an arid farm ("garden") to which he retreats whenever possible. The arrival of Reza, a stranger who is game to do the things Ali won't (bribe bureaucrats to deepen his well, maybe even kill his father) complicates things, and also, in a sense, solves them. The filmmaker's first name provides a not-insignificant clue as to what's going on, as his filmmaking deconstructs the story and his protagonist in initially confusing, and then riveting ways. — Bob Mondello

Come See Me In the Good Light

Streaming on Apple TV starting Friday

There's no way to make this documentary sound like the upbeat, rousing and often downright hilarious romp it is, but here goes: At the urging of comedian Tig Notaro, poet and spoken-word star Andrea Gibson and life partner and fellow poet Megan Falley invited filmmaker Ryan White and his crew into their home in 2021. It was mid-pandemic, and the crew was allowed full access to the couple's every thought and action as they dealt with turtledove love, mailbox madness, and – here's the part where you say, "no, this does not sound like a good time" — Gibson's Stage 4 ovarian cancer journey. At the Middleburg Film Festival screening I attended in October — three months after Gibson's death — the director spoke beforehand, giving the audience "permission to laugh," which it definitely did. It also sniffled a bit, but less than you might expect, because Gibson's vibrant, assertively affirmative outlook doesn't really brook tears, and the filmmaker's warmth and humor, even in times of despair, gives the story a radiance that makes mundane moments feel precious, while allowing hopeful moments to raise goosebumps. — Bob Mondello 

Copyright 2025 NPR

Bob Mondello, who jokes that he was a jinx at the beginning of his critical career — hired to write for every small paper that ever folded in Washington, just as it was about to collapse — saw that jinx broken in 1984 when he came to NPR.
Linda Holmes is a pop culture correspondent for NPR and the host of Pop Culture Happy Hour. She began her professional life as an attorney. In time, however, her affection for writing, popular culture, and the online universe eclipsed her legal ambitions. She shoved her law degree in the back of the closet, gave its living room space to DVD sets of The Wire, and never looked back.