**The return of filmmaking as they used to make it**
What a rare treat it is to be genuinely surprised by a movie nowadays. And how telling it is of contemporary cinema that stumbling upon a gem like this feels more like a stroke of pure luck than the product of routine industry talent.
The year is 1987, at the absolute height of the Cold War. Troy "Assassin" Kelly (Ryan Reynolds), a cocky, reckless US Navy pilot, is shot down over enemy territory during a top-secret reconnaissance mission. Stranded in the brutal Siberian wilderness and hunted by Soviet security operatives, his only hope for survival rests on a completely unexpected ally: Nikolai (Kenneth Branagh), a gruff carpenter and former KGB agent who, ironically, harbors a deep, secret love for American pop culture, Bruce Springsteen, and Hollywood movies (talk about a needle in a Soviet haystack). Together, this odd couple must bridge their cultural divide to forge a chaotic alliance and outsmart the Bolshevik army—one just wants to get home, while the other is looking for political asylum. After all, who wouldn't want to live in the America of Ronald Reagan and George H.W. Bush?
Directors Jonathan Goldstein and John Francis Daley show a real knack for balancing witty humor and high-octane action in "Mayday". They write, direct, and deliver one of the most entertaining rides of the year; a fresh, unapologetic comedy that plays like a nostalgic love letter to '80s buddy movies and the iconic "Top Gun", which gets plenty of nods throughout the film.
There is an undeniable chemistry between the two leads, which, in my book, is mostly thanks to the writers' ability to craft rich characters with actual depth and personality—a concept that sadly feels totally alien in today’s cinema. Will we ever learn a thing or two from the Coen brothers? Reynolds brings his signature comic magnetism and fast-talking wit, while Branagh perfectly captures the rugged communist captivated by the American way of life. Watching them play off each other on screen almost takes you back (and I emphasis "almost") to the classic screwball comedies of Wilder or Lubitsch.