Austin Abrams gets eaten by a sperm whale in an overlong and flashback-heavy adaptation of Daniel Kraus’s hit novel that only has us on edge in moments

Spare a thought for poor Austin Abrams, who, having just endured the world’s worst, and gloopiest, courier assignment in Resident Evil, has now been trapped inside a sperm whale …

The immensely likable Euphoria alum (has any show in recent memory provided quite as many genuine stars?) brings what he can to Brian Duffield’s rather soggy adaptation of Pulitzer prize-winner Daniel Kraus’s acclaimed novel Whalefall. But there’s not a great deal he can do, despite being in every scene of what’s his second studio lead in a month, other than scream and writhe and look understandably alarmed. It’s a setup that’s grabby enough to have us wonder just how the hell it’s going to play out (what if that one scene in Finding Nemo but a whole movie) but it just doesn’t work as a 106-minute adventure, too overstretched and too silly to have us rooting for his escape and caring how he might orchestrate it.

An adaptation of Peter Heller’s 2012 novel never finds its footing with overly familiar survival beats and a glum lack of energy

Looking towards the end of an August movie dumping ground littered with more unwanted trash than usual, there seemed to be a faint glimmer of hope, a shiny treasure poking out through the dusty mass of unnecessary sequels and sex purge romcoms. Somehow, there was a $110m-budget adaptation of an acclaimed novel directed by Ridley Scott, led by a recently Oscar-nominated rising star with support from two Oscar-nominated actors and an Oscar winner. But why then would such a film be unveiled in between the summer blockbuster season and the upcoming deluge of prestige fall festival big hitters? A cursed weekend that’s recently been home to Jay Roach’s heinous War of the Roses remake, Dennis Quaid’s Ronald Reagan biopic and George Miller’s hard-to-define and even harder-to-love flop Three Thousand Years of Longing.

Ever since The Dog Stars, based on Peter Heller’s 2012 novel, had been yanked from its far more encouraging date at the end of March, there were multiple red flags flying and the rotten end of August has ultimately become an appropriate punishment for a limp and lethargic film that only briefly fascinates in pushing us to wonder what anyone was really hoping this would end up being. It’s yet another grubby postapocalyptic survival tale, an overcrowded subgenre that hasn’t just reached maximum capacity on the big screen but on the small one too. In a world of seven Walking Dead shows, the beats are now far too familiar – artfully dishevelled actors grieve for the past and fear for the future as they scramble to find and protect resources – and there’s nothing new or notable here to conjure anything but deja vu.

The Dialog society grades its attendees on a hidden scale, tackles issues from sex to world wars, and offers matchmaking

What would happen if roughly 200 members of the global elite gathered every year for a top secret retreat? What would they do? What would they talk about? Who would be on the guest list?

Well, data leaked by the Swiss hacktivist maia arson crimew (who also brought us the justice department’s no-fly list back in 2023) is shedding new light on Dialog, the private social club co-created by the former PayPal boss Peter Thiel and the angel investor Auren Hoffman.

Tayo Bero is a Guardian US columnist

Daniel Craig is joined by a sparkling array of talent including O’Connor, Glenn Close and Josh Brolin in this latest murder mystery with a religious undercurrent

Rian Johnson’s delectable new Knives Out film is a chocolate box: mouthwateringly delicious on the first layer and … well, perfectly tasty on the second. Daniel Craig returns as private detective Benoit Blanc, in a slightly more serious mode than before, with not as many droll suth’n phrases and quirky faux-naif mannerisms, but rocking a longer hairstyle and handsomely tailored three-piece suit.

Blanc arrives at a Catholic church in upstate New York to investigate the sensational murder of its presiding priest, Monsignor Jefferson Wicks, a ferocious clerical alpha male played by Josh Brolin, thundering his reactionary views from the pulpit. (That “Monsignor” title can only be bestowed by the pope incidentally: presumably Benedict XVI or John Paul II, not milksop liberals like Francis or Leo XIV.) And prime suspect is the sweet-natured, thoughtful junior priest Father Jud Duplenticy, amusingly played by Josh O’Connor, who was upset by the Monsignor’s heartless attitudes and was caught on video threatening to cut him out of the church like a cancer. Atheist Blanc faces off with the young priest, a worldview culture-clash which leads to an extraordinary encounter with the Resurrection itself.