u/cinephile_corner

Normally, the stretch between Dumpuary and the heart of blockbuster season is a relatively safe place to release a mid-budget horror movie. There’s enough breathing room for audiences looking for something scary, and not enough competition to completely bury a film before word of mouth has a chance to spread. On paper, I can understand why studio executives looked at the middle of May and thought it was the perfect landing spot for André Øvredal’s latest.

Instead, Passenger arrived sandwiched between debut horror films from two of YouTube’s most promising crossover filmmakers in Curry Barker’s Obsession and Kane Parsons’ Backrooms. That’s a rough draw.

Whether audiences simply didn’t connect with Passenger or whether it suffered from comparison to those contemporaries is up for debate. What isn’t really debatable is that both of those films feel more ambitious. Obsession embraces complete batshit insanity and has tremendous payoffs throughout. Backrooms commits entirely to its suffocating atmosphere and existential dread. Passenger sits somewhere in the middle, offering a handful of effective scares without ever fully discovering what separates it from the rest of the pack.

The premise itself has unique framing. Tyler and Maddie, played by Jacob Scipio and Lou Llobell, have abandoned city life in favor of living out of a van full-time. For Tyler, social media and YouTube personalities have spent years romanticizing van life as an endless cycle of sunsets, community, and financial freedom, and Passenger wisely identifies the inherent horror lurking beneath that fantasy. When your home has wheels, nowhere is really safe. Every parking lot, roadside pull-off, and empty stretch of highway suddenly becomes vulnerable territory.

Read my full review of 'Passenger' for Cinephile Corner

Netflix’s track record with romantic comedies has been a bit rough over the last decade, to put it mildly. More often than not, they feel cheaply assembled, half-written, or filmed entirely in front of green screens and sound stages that never quite convince you anyone actually occupied the same room together. It’s gotten to the point where I find myself skipping most of them unless they’ve either been recommended by multiple people I trust or have performers and filmmakers attached that I already enjoy. Voicemails for Isabelle lands in the latter category.

Mostly because of Zoey Deutch, who has quietly become one of the more reliable performers working today. Whether she’s showing up in auteur-driven projects like Richard Linklater’s Everybody Wants Some!!, studio films, or streaming originals, she never feels like she’s adjusting her effort level to match the material around her. She commits fully regardless of the budget, platform, or genre. Netflix already struck gold with her once in Set It Up, and she’s once again the biggest reason to give this one a chance.

That’s not to suggest Leah McKendrick’s latest directorial effort is being carried entirely by its lead performance. In fact, what surprised me most about Voicemails for Isabelle is that it has a bit more weight to it than the average streaming rom-com.

Read my full review of 'Voicemails for Isabelle' for Cinephile Corner