MAGAZINE DREAMS: A fever dream of obsession, pain, and quiet implosion

Some films flex with bravado, and some tremble with purpose. Magazine Dreams is both—a thunderous, trembling thing of muscle and ache. Led by a haunting, all-consuming performance from Jonathan Majors, this film doesn't ask for your attention—it takes it by the throat and dares you to look away.

Majors disappears into Killian Maddox, a tortured bodybuilder with dreams as outsized as his deltoids, carving a raw, almost dangerous performance. His physical transformation is jaw-dropping, but what lies beneath the hypertrophied exterior leaves the more profound mark: the vulnerability behind his eyes, the flickering rage, the fragile ego swaddled in steel. Like De Niro in Taxi Driver, Majors sinks into a lonely spiral. Still, there's more here—pain made intimate.

The cinematography is poetry of contrast: skin glistens under the harsh fluorescence of gyms, then vanishes into shadows in lonely bedrooms. The camera lingers, not for spectacle, but to bear witness. There's balletic brutality, a stillness between movements that aches with intent. Every frame feels like a confession.

But what truly sets Magazine Dreams apart is its refusal to conform. The narrative zigzags with the unpredictable rhythm of real-life desperation, making bold, sometimes jarring story choices that feel less like plot points and more like cries for help. It isn't always comfortable—but then, obsession rarely is. This is not a film that holds your hand; it grabs it and pulls you into a world of isolation, delusion, and relentless ambition.

What's refreshing is its spotlight on the often-overlooked bodybuilding subculture—not the glossy, Instagram-curated version, but the underbelly: the brutal routines, the self-medication, the constant threat of collapse—physically, mentally, and emotionally. In a cinematic landscape dominated by franchises, tint poles, and crowd-pleasers, Magazine Dreams is a spitfire. This volatile, unyielding vision refuses to play nice.

Ultimately, this film does not show a character's journey. It immerses you in his body, his breath, and his torment. Majors delivers a performance that is both herculean and human—impossibly large and heartbreakingly small.

Magazine Dreams may not be a film for everyone, but that unflinching specificity makes it essential. It dares. It aches. It bleeds.

8.5 out of 10 "...It isn't always comfortable—but then, obsession rarely is"