Mary Poppins’s Practically Perfect Facelift

Hollywood - and Disney - continues the repurposing and excavation of its past, creating new touchstones for younger generations, and a curious fusion of nostalgia and commerce for those fond of the originals. The trick is if the reimaginings are done with taste and affection for the source, which Mary Poppins Returns manages in excellent fashion.

Directed by Rob Marshall (Chicago), Mary Poppins Returns is a remake, masquerading as a sequel. For marketing purposes, the best of both worlds. The Banks children from the 1964 original are grown now, Michael (Ben Wishaw) with children of his own, still living in the beloved family home on Cherry Tree Lane. But times are grim: Michael's wife has passed away, and in a state of grieving befuddlement, he's managed to let finances slip into a sorry enough state that the bank is ready to repossess their home. The situation is dire.

What we need is a magical, ethereal governess to descend from the clouds and make sure the Banks children keep their spirits intact, while helping the now-grown children rediscover that spark of imagination they once had before loans and adulting blotted out the sun - and is Mary Poppins ever up for the task.

Sublimely cast as Mary Poppins, Emily Blunt brings her own spin to the character, less the serene kindness of Julie Andrews, and a bit more of an arch, mysterious sorceress, with crisp elocution and barbed mischief. It works. Blunt carries the picture, and brings real charisma and energy to the role, continuing the streak she's been on with Edge of Tomorrow and A Quiet Place. Like a self-aware alien among us, she knows she's an Other, a creature who exists outside of conventional realms of time and space. She insists on spreading whimsy, but demands the universe have order. Discord can only be allowed to be used for fun, it can't cause damage or harm.

Marshall has done a phenomenal job of evoking the lush studio filmmaking of old - when exterior locations were frequently obvious studio interiors, and matte paintings and choreography ruled the day. It's an incredible achievement, and the production design (by John Myhre) and art direction team seem to have time-traveled to another era, along with cinematographer Dion Beebe. There is phenomenal craftsmanship and talent on view in every frame.

It may be tempting to regard Mary Poppins Returns as a cynical commercial enterprise. Nearly every scene and song has a corollary in the original. Lin-Manuel Miranda's (of Hamilton fame) lamplighter is essentially Bert from the original. The lamplighter's big group number, Trip a Little Light Fantastic is the first film's Step in Time. An extremely odd Meryl Streep's Turning Turtle was for me, one of the film's few musical misfires, in its insistence on standing in for I Love to Laugh. Streep's Cousin Topsy just doesn't seem to fit. But the other songs are so overwhelmingly good, it's easy to overlook.

A bravura sequence mixes live action and animation within the confines of an antique china bowl, featuring the number A Cover Is Not The Book, an incredible departure that threatens to place our crisp nanny in Bob Fosse country. But it works! The energy, music and choreography of that sequence are jaw-dropping, giving Miranda a chance to make full use of his unbridled talents. It's a show-stopper.

Marshall gets the tone spit-spot - just so - throughout, evoking the magic and innocence reminiscent of a Harry Potter movie - though an early sequence of young Georgie Banks grappling with a runaway kite is cut more like a horror sequence - for a moment I thought this Georgie was about to suffer the fate of the Georgie from It.

It's going to be interesting to see how audiences connect with this faithful evocation of the old fashioned studio musical. Given how dark our times have been lately, I'd like to think we're hungry for this kind of hopeful innocence. Mary Poppins's message has always been about the power of the imagination to lighten us of our burdens, and the spirit of this marvelously wrought holiday entertainment provides just that and more for the entire family.

The Heart and Soul of A Star Is Born

Orson Welles, meet Bradley Cooper. Think I'm exaggerating? Well, think again. Because with A Star Is Born, Cooper has achieved a simply staggering directorial debut that is one of the most genuine, engaging and heartstring-tugging motion pictures I’ve seen in a long time. A Star Is Born opened back in early October, and am I ever glad I managed to catch it in theaters while it’s still connecting with audiences (it’s still in the top 10) – and does it ever connect. Cooper redefines himself here like few performers ever do, not just directing, not just starring, but also co-writing the screenplay and half the songs, having worked for two years with Lukas Nelson (son of Willie) learning to play guitar and be utterly convincing as a musician and songwriter. The energy on display is nothing short of electric. 

Cooper plays Jackson Maine, a country-fried rock guitar player who seems part Neil Young, part Eddie Vedder, by way of Greg Allman. Music is Jack's life, but his boss is alcohol. He's coasting through life in a foggy bubble when he drifts into a random post-gig bar and hears a singer's voice that stops him in his tracks and clears away the mist. Ally (Lady Gaga) is still waiting tables, but she's got a gift. Jack's never seen anyone quite like her, and the charisma of their mutual discovery is something to behold. Part of the film's magic is the gradual unwinding of the plot as lives intersect and change, so I say we forgo too many details and let you uncover them yourself. 

Lady Gaga is a revelation. I was amazed at her work here, and the layers of her performance. Her Ally is a woman with power who's seldom been taken seriously, suddenly finding herself on the threshold of unlimited possibilities. Gaga wrote much of the film's music as well, and the film's performances feel natural and often improvised at times. There's an incredible authenticity to A Star Is Born, from the atmosphere on stage, to the way intimate conversations unfold, that pulls you in and powerfully invests you in these people's lives and relationships. The supporting roles are phenomenal, with unexpected heart from Andrew Dice Clay, a long absent Dave Chappelle, and likely Best Supporting Actor winner Sam Elliott. All turn in superlative, naturalistic performances. Cooper's style as a director echoes the deceptively low key approach of Robert Altman, with a weight to the character-building and performances that both hypnotizes and haunts. 

  

Cinematographer Matthew Libatique (Straight Outta Compton, Black Swan, Iron Man) brings a seventies California shadows vibe to his images. Made for a modest $36 million, A Star Is Born is incredibly well shot, with a screenplay by Eric Roth (Forrest Gump, Munich, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button) that gives rich new life to a story that's been told before more than once. It feels fresh and immediate. You should know that Roth and Cooper don't flinch when it comes to showing how brutal and damaging addiction can be. Audience members coping with trauma and addiction themselves may want to tread carefully, and should go with someone who cares, who's willing to talk. It's one of the most painful portrayals of how fragile we can feel when navigating the rocky shoals between the past and future. 

I'll be heavily, heavily rooting for Cooper on Oscar night, in more than one category - but what truly blew me away was the strength of the music these people created together. Original movie songs can feel taped together and stilted, but these songs feel like they've been well-loved and around for a while, with more than one instant classic that should start clearing some shelf space for itself. You can fall hard for people, but you can also fall for movies, and A Star Is Born has me in complete surrender. The heart and soul exhibited by all involved here leave no doubt this is one of the best pictures to come down the road in a long, long time. Very highly recommended. 

Go Big or Go Home: The Meg’s Colossal Bore

They say a shark has to constantly move forward or it dies. Consider this less a review, and more of a PSA – Warning: despite the promising trappings of cheesy, monster-carnage havoc and drive-in style glee, the only thing colossal about The Meg is what an enormous bore it turns out to be. I suspect like many of you, I missed The Meg in theaters last August, but thought the sure-fire premise would make it more than worth checking out on home video. I’m no snob – given the choice between Kong: Skull Island and Florence Foster Jenkins¸ I’m going Kong every time. Giant monsters are one of my favorite things, okay? And a colossal shark sounds like just what the doctor ordered. But in director Jon Turteltaub’s (National Treasure) aquatic opus, the titular terror doesn’t show up for-ever – so all we’re left with are the characters. So viewer be warned, this is one tedious, thinly-sketched collection of stock individuals.

Author Steve Alten published the first Meg book in 1997, and has turned the notion of a living fossil specimen of a Megalodon – a giant prehistoric shark – into a whole series of Meg titles, thanks to an easily digestible two-word pitch: “Jurassic Shark.” As deep sea submersible pilot Jonas Taylor, Jason Statham acquits himself as the protagonist in search of redemption and vindication – initially the one guy who believes it exists, due to a haunting encounter in his past. Now, years later when scientists from an undersea research lab are trapped inside a disabled sub, Statham gets the call to come save the day. The Meg feels shamelessly engineered to appeal to the overseas market. The book’s Japanese scientists and location have been unnecessarily swapped-out for Chinese counterparts, courtesy of production company Gravity Pictures.

The special effects in The Meg are decent enough, but there just aren’t enough of them, and the characters feel like they were written by an eager young lad steeped in the disaster movie/TV oeuvre of Irwin Allen. You’ll be bored senseless waiting for the shark to appear, and when it does, the filmmakers really hold back on the kind of chum-bucket antics you’d expect. The peril is restrained and antiseptic, with a near absence of “Wow” moments. Deep Blue Sea this ain’t. Characters randomly just fall into the sea for no other reason than to conveniently almost get chomped – which they seldom do. I was amazed at how boring it all was, and the nearly 2-hour running time felt twice as long.

Gravity Pictures’ involvement certainly paid off: with a domestic/international haul of $143 mill/$384 mill, a string of Meg sequels seems inevitable, even if they may be straight-to-video – which will make them completely indistinguishable stylistically from the film that spawned them – though hopefully one of them will be helmed by someone hungry enough to do something more exciting with the ingredients. This fish just lays there, nearly lifeless, stinking-up the dock.

The Unhinged Awesome of Overlord

Horror and action fans, have I got a movie for you!

 

When I first heard there was a J.J. Abrams-produced World War II horror hybrid with a Tomatometer score of 80%, my driveway echoed with the sound of burning rubber! Make no mistake: Overlord is one of the best action gore-fests I’ve seen in ages, and screams to be seen in the theater. Remember the name of director Julius Avery, because this cat is going places. Screenwriters Billy Ray (Captain Phillips) and Mark L. Smith (The Revenant) both roll up their sleeves and wreak all manner of havoc in what’s not just a great, nerve-annihilating nightmare assault on your senses, but also a phenomenal addition to the World War II genre. Saving Private Frankenstein. 

 

I thought the opening minutes of First Man were intense! But Avery gives that sequence one helluva run for its money, as a squad of GIs paratroopers about to jump into Nazi-occupied France gets the snot blown out of their plane by an artillery barrage. No question, it’s one of the most unforgettably gripping sequences in any film this year, which like most of this movie, seems to have been largely executed with practical effects.

The survivors of the air drop include the fantastic Jovan Adepo, the audience surrogate who’s in nearly every scene of the film, and he just kills it. Then there’s this hard-edged Corporal leading the mission who I’d never seen before. My brain’s going, “This guy’s Snake Plissken!” The voice! The sneer! Then I see it’s Wyatt Russell (son of Kurt), who is just sensational here as the nails-hard explosives guy who’s seen it all and then some. I haven’t seen Lodge 49, but I just may have to, as Russell’s fantastic.

Their mission? Take out at heavily fortified Nazi transmission tower within the ruins of an old French church – and lemme tell ya, there is just every kind of awful going on behind those ancient stones, and our guys have to go in there. Overlord simply never lets up. The tension is incredibly well sustained, and there’s no sardonic self-aware winking at the audience – the actors take it deadly serious, and sell the hell out of the situation. Massive kudos to DPs Laurie Rose and Fabian Wagner, who along with Production Designer Jon Henson create a beautifully realistic and rich environment that’s utterly convincing and seeping with detail. The sound team also does amazing work here. Every Nazi bootstep echoes with malice – sound and score beautifully coexisting to deliciously mess with the audience – and those Nazis!  Pilou Asbæk (Games of Thrones’ Euron Greyjoy) is just oozing with dreadfulness as the SS officer running the show. This cast – including the great Bokeem Woodbine – is simply phenomenal. When the picture ended, I was ready to go right back and see it again. Director Avery channels Hellboy, Michael Mann’s The Keep – STILL not on blu-ray! Come on!– and Where Eagles Dare, to deliver a ridiculously satisfying thrillride that never lets up. If you’re a genre movie lover, you need to seek this sucker out immediately, before the holiday release deluge whisks it out of theaters – though they’d better bring a mop.

 

And if you’re a young kid in Wisconsin, maybe heading for your junior prom? Then you should definitely see this movie –  because Overlord will teach you one of the most enduring and important lessons you will ever learn: that Nazis are the most messed up, evil and deserving of hellfire bastards to ever walk the Earth. Overlord is very, very highly recommended.

BlacKkKlansman’s America First Infiltration

These days, reality has become so outlandish that it routinely mops the floor with fiction. Political America has transformed itself into one surreal Can You Top This? Hold My Beer, occurrence after another. It'd be laughable, if not for the increasing rise of violence and barely suppressed entitlement of outright racism.

Incredibly, BlacKkKlansman is based on a true story. In the early nineteen seventies, Ron Stallworth (John David Washington) finds himself the lone black detective on the Colorado Springs Police Department. Upon seeing a newspaper recruitment ad for the Ku Klux Klan, he impulsively calls the number and convinces the voice on the other end of the phone that he's a like-minded angry white man who's had it up to here with black people, and who's ready to do something about it.

A meeting is arranged - which Stallworth can't exactly attend himself. So he sends fellow detective Flip Zimmerman (The Last Jedi's Adam Driver) in his place - and infiltration begins. Washington (son of Denzel) is fantastic. Initially sent to keep tabs on a black student union event featuring former Black Panther Stokely Carmichael, Stallworth is supposed to just blend in and listen. But the civil rights movement can't help but make you question your place in the order of things - and Stallworth is a cop: "The Man," a "pig," - and Carmichael's renamed Kwame Ture (Corey Hawkins) speaks with passion and truth about the injustice in their lives that resonates loudly with Stallworth - as does college activist Patrice (Spider-Man: Homecoming's Laura Harrier).

Driver is outstanding, as a Jewish detective who's neglected his sense of cultural self, now pushing it down even further to avoid exposure by his new Klan buddies. Ryan Eggold is all managerial earnestness as the President of the local chapter of "the organization," who man-crushes hard on new recruit Driver - but his right-hand man has plenty of doubts. Jasper Pääkkönen (TV's Vikings) is phenomenal as one of the more luridly charismatic and hateful characters we're likely to see onscreen this year. Pääkkönen weaves jealousy and suspicion into a truly disturbing role. Nominate this guy, seriously!

BlacKkKlansman is Spike Lee's most outright entertaining film since Inside Man, but probably his most important film since Do the Right Thing. While evoking the Serpico 70s, Lee (with screenwriters Charlie Wachtel, David Rabinowitz and Kevin Willmott) bravely uses the film to draw a straight and bloody line back to our here and now, with strident echoes of the "Unite the Right" rally in Charlottesville. BlacKkKlansman is often hilarious, in an I, Tonya way, but the tone can whip unflinchingly into sickening portraits of unabashed racism and raw hatred that will turn your stomach. Hate inevitably leads to violence. Like Driver's character, the film may briefly convince you it's a wry comedy, but its agenda of social awareness and racial justice aims to infiltrate our sensibilities and when it finally emerges, the result is powerful and painful indeed. Easily one of the years best - and sadly, most necessary films. Not to be missed. 

First Man’s Magnificent Desolation

The moon has forever looked down on humanity. Mythic, ghostly, impenetrable - it's always been there, and we've been forever drawn to it with a mixture of awe and fear. 

The mid-sixties was a time when science was determined to reach out and place a wedding band on the finger of exploration, and stride boldly into the future - and no figure embodied that most human of endeavors more than the astronaut. Today we almost take their achievements for granted. Sadly, in our current climate they've almost become an endangered species. But there was a time when launching someone into space captured the attention of the entire planet. What was that time like? Well if you're too young to remember, you don't need a time machine. As director Damien Chazelle's (Whiplash, La La Land) film about Neil Armstrong's journey from the early days of the Gemini program to being the first man to set foot on another world, is so jaw-droppingly realistic and authentic, it's like a window into another era. 

The opening minutes of First Man are as immersive and anxiety-inducing as anything I can remember experiencing, as Armstrong's test flight of the hypersonic X-15 experimental aircraft pushes out of the Earth's atmosphere, only to find he may not be able to get back down again. Chazelle grabs the audience by the lapels by vividly depicting the machinery of the day - all rivets and bolts, with incredibly sound design that envelops you in threatening rumbles and shuddering vibrations of groaning steel - of vehicles and occupants pushed beyond their designed limits of structural tolerance. 

Neil Armstrong was an engineer and a civilian astronaut, and Ryan Gosling is simply phenomenal at evoking his cerebral problem-solving and calm under duress. It's a subtle, restrained performance loaded with emotion, barely held in check below the surface of his steady determination. The film moves back and forth between Armstrong and NASA's progress towards an actual lunar mission, and his home-life with wife Janet (The Crown's Claire Foy), a marriage haunted by unendurable loss. Foy is remarkable, and blows away any stereotypes of the long-suffering wife. First Man is a film about incredible pressures - both mechanical and emotional. The progress from Gemini to Apollo is full of tragic casualties. The shadow of dread and death is never far. Foy's fear that space is a mistress who's intent on forever snatching away her husband from their family is heartbreaking to watch. In both spaceflight and marriage, the feeling of enduring strain after strain is palpable.

Chazelle is only 33, but he's moved into the master class here. Scene after scene is conveyed with incredible immediacy of perspective. When the hatch closes on a capsule, sealing the occupants inside, the claustrophobia is tangible and right in your face. The use of sound is revolutionary. Straining components threaten to rip asunder, like a deep sea plunge out of Das Boot. It's stunning these scientists did what they did. The technology of the day seems impossibly analog, all dials and switches. Chazelle and cinematographer Linus Sandgren change formats as the eras evolve. Early scenes are shot in Super 16 mm, moving to 35 mm in the Gemini and Apollo sections, then popping into 65 mm crystalline detail on the lunar surface. 

This is stunning filmmaking, real cinema, and cries out to be seen in the theater - which may be a fleeting proposition. The human dynamics can feel bleak and restrained at times, and there's no overt heroics or showboating - that's not who Neil Armstrong was. As a result, audiences may be finding it challenging to connect with this story. The film's been failing at the box office in the wake of shockers like Venom and Halloween - which is a damn shame. They're missing out on one of the absolute best pictures in ages, and performances that deserve to be seen and celebrated. First Man is an incredible achievement and absolutely worth seeking out in theaters while you still can. Very highly recommended. 

A Twisted Twofer: Hereditary and Sacred Deer both punish parents

The horror genre is a beast of many stripes. Currently the roost is ruled by Blumhouse franchises like Paranormal Activity, The Purge, and Insidious, along with Poltergeist descendants in The Conjuring film series, such as The Nun. These films do incredibly well – Friday night date staples that deliver the thrills and jump-scares audiences hunger for.

But there’s another strain of horror that’s not nearly as date-night friendly, courtesy of entertainment company A24. These pictures are making names for their directors, and are definitely more disturbing. A24 has a strong indie sensibility that’s reaped plenty of critical attention, with films like Ex Machina, Lady Bird, Moonlight, Eighth Grade and Room. But they’re also fond of horror movies – unsettling, ‘effed-up horror movies – such as The Witch – and the two movies we’re talking about today, both of which should come with a strong warning label.

First up, Hereditary, directed by Ari Aster, about a grieving family coming to terms with life after the death of the family matriarch. Toni Collette is the surviving daughter, and in a career of amazing performances, her work here is bold and unforgettable. As an audience member, if you’re coping with grief, or have strong feelings about being a parent, you might want to steer a really wide course away from this movie. Collette depicts grief at its most primal, naked and horrific. Her despair so raw that we come away wounded and bereft ourselves. Milly Shapiro, Gabriel Byrne and Alex Wolff round out this excellent cast. Aster evokes films such as Rosemary’s Baby, Don’t Look Now and The Wicker Man, delivering us a film worthy of their company, but incredibly hard to watch. 

If you’re feeling you still need one more sock in the jaw, there’s The Killing of a Sacred Deer. The title evokes a Greek tragedy, and director Yorgos Lanthimos (The Lobster) certainly brings a heavy sense of dread and portent to this story of a successful cardiologist’s (Colin Farrell) relationship with the son (Barry Keoghan) of a deceased patient. Lanthimos (with DP Thimios Bakatakis) overtly resurrects the chilly spirit of Stanley Kubrick, from fluid, dream-like tracking shots, to oddly stilted spousal conversations and moody violin-tortured Ligeti. Acts of violence are witnessed with a sudden, documentarian eye. Again, if you’re a parent, this one has a Proceed With Caution warning label. I’m still processing The Killing of a Sacred Deer. My initial reaction was to go take a good, cleansing shower. Farrell – along with Nicole Kidman – does great work, though the acting style here is very odd, with a kind of hushed theatricality, the purpose of which is hard to fathom.

I love horror in all its disturbing flavors and iterations, and the craft on display in both these films is undeniable. But my reaction to both of these was strong, to the point where I wanted to look away – and I think a lot of that’s due to being a parent. Both films treat children brutally, in ways it’s hard to shake or dismiss (“Oh, that’s just zombies,”). There’s a primeval terror when faced with the inability to protect your child or save them from doom, that both these films painfully evoke. I can’t say either film is one I’m looking to revisit anytime soon. They leave a depressing aftertaste that feels like existential nihilism. Though I’m pretty sure that there’s nothing Toni Collette can’t do. So as we say with many a twisted tale, “Proceed with Caution.”

Predator Shmedator

The perils of fandom – when you knowingly set off to see a movie, despite its 34% Tomatometer Score.

It’s been 31 years since we first heard “GET TO THE CHOPPAH!” and had our original encounter with the reptilian trophy hunter from outer space. Predator (directed by pre-Die Hard John McTiernan) became a fan favorite, right up there with Aliens – two Fox franchises that have since struggled mightily to serve up a worthy sequel. Getting Shane Black (Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, Iron Man 3) to helm a reimagining seemed like pop culture serendipity – he played one of the soldiers in the original, fer cryin’ out loud! Sense and sensibility.

So it’s a drag to report that suspicions confirmed – The Predator is pretty much a train wreck. What made the original such a gas was a combination of the pulp/gore plot and genre mash-up of war movie meets monster movie – plus a fantastic ensemble cast of scenery-chewers. Predator never stopped working the audience and was always fun. This iteration, not so much. 

Black clearly recognized the original’s Dirty Dozen ragtag miscreants were a huge part of its success – so he tries to create something similar here, with a busload of “Section 8” soldiers all discharged for psychiatric reasons, who’ve dubbed themselves “The Loonies.” Sniper protagonist Quinn McKenna (Boyd Holbrook) gets tossed into their company, right as one of the interstellar insurgents breaks loose, wreaking bloody havoc. Holbrook is serviceable, with a nice tough guy persona, but the rest of these guys – it’s like wondering into the world’s worst AA meeting that you can’t escape from. Black sets perceptions of mental illness back 30 years. The usually dependable Thomas Jane seems completely at sea depicting Tourette Syndrome. Game of Thrones’ Alfie Allen and Keegan-Michael Key don’t fare much better. Suddenly you find that Black’s fondness for drive-in B-grade hysterics has let him turn half The Predator’s screenplay into a horrific attempt at comedy. He seems to be trying to irreverently evoke the mindset of films made 30+ years ago, when political correctness took a backseat to firepower and gross-out humor. Friday the 13^th meets Porky’s? That’s kind of where we’re at. Add the “Hot Scientist” character (Olivia Munn, proving all biologists must wear yoga pants), and you’re wincing for about two-thirds of the picture. Sterling K. Brown and Trevante Rhodes both do a lot with a little, easily the best actors in the film. Jake Busey is wasted in a criminally small part. Wish he’d had more to do!

McKenna has an estranged young son (Jacob Tremblay) who seems to be depicted as experiencing Autism – but Black tries to have it both ways, depicting a child with a disability, chastising one character for referring to him with the R-word…but then unable to resist using it yet again to squeeze out one more cheap laugh.

The twist here is that the Act 1 Predator is a fugitive – the real menace is a bigger, genetically-enhanced Assassin Predator, out to track down the first one, taking out anyone who gets in his way. There’s some pretty bad CGI happening in The Predator that rivals season 2 of Stranger Things. The Über Predator is cool and intimidating, but also often too-tall absurd. He’s also largely CG.

When The Predator isn’t making you cringe with its comedy misfires, it’s got you scratching your head with its chaotic, choppily cut action sequences. Cinematographer Larry Fong’s talents are woefully underutilized here, with no chance to deliver any of the iconic shots he’s capable of. Remember how people used to joke about how The Return of the King had like six endings? Well, The Predator is the drive-in equivalent, with yet another sequence of implausible demolition derby chaos following the last. It’s like being stuck in the Lincoln Tunnel.

I’ll always be fond of Predators, they’ve earned their place in the sci-fi bestiary of cool – and I’m a Shane Black fan. That’s what vexes me so much. Combining chocolate and peanut butter should taste great! So how come this outing makes me want to wash my mouth out?

Stunt-sational Mission: Impossible - Fallout

Christopher McQuarrie seems to love schooling the Bond franchise. He out-performed the series like mad with Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation, and as far as action filmmaking goes, has set the bar so impossibly high, other directors are going to have a pretty hard time topping what he’s achieved here. Easily the best action opus since George Miller’s Mad Max: Fury Road, Mission: Impossible – Fallout is an unhinged symphony of stunt-work, delivering more elaborate and spectacularly executed action set pieces than any other picture I can recall – with star Tom Cruise front and center in virtually all of them.

 

McQuarrie (who writes and directs) springboards the plot directly off of Rogue Nation, with villainous Solomon Lane (Sean Harris) still orchestrating a global network of anarchistic terror attacks. Only this time, he’s got nukes. Ethan Hunt (Cruise) and his Impossible Missions team are joined by Henry Cavill (Justice League) as a CIA foil thrown into the mix. The action is global, and downright relentless. There are moments when exposition over-inflates, and disbelief dangles by a thread, but those moments are brief, as 90% of the film consists of truly astounding practical stunts and action sequences that are immersive and downright enthralling.

Cruise is absolutely deranged in his commitment to stunt participation, literally risking life and limb countless times, completion bonds be damned. In a truly audacious sequence of aerial HALO jumping (High Altitude-Low Opening), it’s Cruise free-falling at 25,000 feet – a sequence that required the actor to make over 100 jumps to achieve. It’s an astonishing scene to behold – but only one of many. Motorcycle chases, helicopter attacks, leaping from rooftops – Cruise and McQuarrie deliver realistic, practical action, kicking computer-assists to the curb. Editor Eddie Hamilton continues to cut top-flight whiplash-inducing sequences for maximum kinetic effect. Cinematographer Rob Hardy gives the film a rich, visceral canvas that keeps you in the mix, making the outlandish feel convincing.

Cavill is great here, a real menacing presence, evoking the blunt instrument brutality of Robert Shaw in From Russia with Love. There’s a phenomenal bathroom fight sequence with champion Wushu fighter Liang Yang that’s just incredibly well executed. Yang makes a tremendous, ferocious impression, mopping the floor with both Cruise and Cavill.

Rebecca Ferguson continues to impress, bringing real talent to her role as an agent forced into a hard corner. There are some moments of eye-rolling (The White Widow?!?) and excess to get through, but the high stakes third act easily washes any minor carps away. It’s a finale of jaw-dropping tension that really wows, and must have been an incredible challenge to choreograph. Tom Cruise is the Buster Keaton of action movies, willing to physically endure any and all manner of injuries and peril to create an entertaining scene – and McQuarrie really vaults to the top ranks here; he’s going to be wildly in demand from now on. If you love spy movies, and need a serious action fix, Fallout is ready to push you right out of the plane.

Buzzkill: Ant-Man and the Wasp

There you go, Marvel fans - no more excitement until March 2019 - and I'm sorry to say not much excitement here, either. Because Ant-Man and the Wasp may well be the least engaging of all the Marvel Cinematic Universe films to date. I really enjoyed director Peyton Reed's first Ant-Man, and for the most part, I really like this cast. But it feels like there are way too many screenwriters (five) at work, and Reed's direction feels tepid and a little unengaged here.

Scott Lang/Ant-Man (Paul Rudd) is under house arrest thanks to his involvement in the events of Captain America: Civil War, but it may be that Hank Pym's (Michael Douglas) wife - (and mother to Evangeline Lilly's Hope), the original Wasp, Janet Van Dyne (Michelle Pfeiffer), thought to be lost in the subatomic miasma of the Quantum Realm (you still with me?)... may yet still be alive!

Ant-Man and the Wasp has a tiresome first act, and takes forever to get up and rolling. Hank and Hope are determined to voyage back into to Quantum Realm to find missing Janet, but a mysterious phase-jumping nemesis (Hannah John-Kamen) keeps getting in their way. Everyone needs Scott's help, but he's supposed to be under house arrest, and we get numerous repetitive scenes of Scott barely making it back home before the (wow, really poorly acted) F.B.I. catches him.

The cast gamely goes through their paces, and I was hoping for much more of a Thor: Ragnarok level of clever irreverence that never manifests here. Many of the scenes feel like outtakes that didn't quite work, and the whole production feels lit like a perfunctory TV movie, that's frankly surprising given Marvel's track record. Thank Heavens for Michael Peña, who brings desperately needed energy to every scene he's in. But other than some late in the game third act excitement, Ant-Man and the Wasp is a pretty tedious slog - though evidently prolonged exposure to the Quantum Realm can make it appear as though you had unnecessary plastic surgery. After the last four knockout Marvel installments, this one feels like it has a pretty dull stinger. 

Can’t He Be Our Neighbor?

A year ago, if you told me a documentary about Mr. Rogers would vault to the top of my year’s best list, I would have probably laughed at you. But I say it proudly: Won't You Be My Neighbor? is one of the best, most emotionally engaging and flat-out satisfying films I've seen in ages.

One thing we can all agree on, we live in a divisive age. Civility plummets, anger soars. These are some of the most stressful and disagreeable times I can remember living through. Hate has become normalized. Racism is on the rise. We often wonder, Who's going to save us from all this?

An example for consideration is Fred Rogers. A public figure who I'm betting most of us blithely dismiss. A figure of parody, with his sweaters and soft spoken cadence. We probably think of Eddie Murphy's Mr. Robinson's Neighborhood as evidence of how ripe for satire his persona had become.

In 1968, Fred Rogers was a newly ordained minister interested in child development who suddenly discovered television, and realized the medium could become a "wonderful tool" to communicate and help children during the most formative early years of their childhood. Rogers intuited the powerful influence that television wielded, and worried about the coarse and recklessly impulse-driven programming that was even then beginning to dominate children's entertainment. It was a medium seemingly concerned more with raising good consumers than good people. “What we see and hear on the screen is part of who we become," he explained, and set out to provide a more positive and empathetic alternative. 

Directed by Morgan Neville, Won't You Be My Neighbor? shows us the early days of development of Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood, as well as contemporary interviews with Rogers' surviving family members and crew. Nixon administration budget cuts were poised to gut the fledgling environment of public television. But in amazing archival footage, we learn that Fred Rogers actually went before the U.S. Senate Subcommittee on Communication, and testified so genuinely and with such clarity – he essentially saved public television, and convinced them to continue funding. Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. 

I was stunned to learn how politically reactive and ahead of his time Rogers was willing to be on a child's TV show. During a time sadly reminiscent of current events today, when African American swimmers were being kicked out of swimming pools, Mr. Rogers joins Officer Clemmons, the black policeman of their neighborhood, in taking off their socks and soaking their feet in a kid’s pool together.

There are some wonderful surprises along the way in Won't You Be My Neighbor? I don't want to spoil, but as turmoil and social issues in our country occurred, Mr. Rogers dealt with them and let children know it was actually okay to talk about them - to acknowledge their fears - even with events as disturbing as assassination and mass disaster. Rogers was a deeply religious man, but never imposed religion or dogma on his impressionable audience. 

Mr. Rogers made a point of explaining reality to children, including death. By using the innocent stand-in of puppetry, he was able to deal with complex emotions and reassure children that how they might be feeling was okay. And if they were different - if they experienced a disability - more than anything else, “I like you just the way you are.” 

He could also educate in hilariously straightforward ways, asking the audience, "Want to see how long a minute is?" - then just setting an egg timer and letting it tick for 60 seconds! 

You will get misty during Won't You Be My Neighbor? I found myself getting very emotional more than once, perhaps in large part due to the twin realizations of how much pure good this one man did for generations of children, but also in pining for how desperate the times we live in today need more of his brand of empathy and sincere decency. If everyone acted a bit more like Fred Rogers, we'd have world peace in a heartbeat, treating all of humanity as our neighbors.

Very highly recommended.

Comic-Con Friday: #SDCC2018

The firing of James Gunn pretty much dominated all nerdish airwaves today, as Disney announced it was severing relations with the Guardians of the Galaxy director, in response to offensive Tweets he authored several years ago, when Gunn admits he was trying to shock during a regrettable provocateur phase. It’s an understandable move on Disney’s part, but shocking, given Gunn’s huge success and indelible association with the characters.

Onward. CBS dropped their first full trailer for the 2nd season of Star Trek Discovery, featuring Anson Mount as legendary starship Captain Christopher Pike. The trailer evokes a deliberately lighter tone than season 1.

It’s sounds like The Disney Store will be filling the void for many of the previous Hasbro exclusive figures that were up in the air since the collapse of Toys “R” Us. Currently their “Quicksilver Baton” Captain Phasma is only available at Canadian TRU stores, where the business still operates.

More great news for collectors of Hasbro’s Black Series line, who like myself are fans of Star Wars Rebels. They are finally releasing the last two main characters in 6” figure form, irascible droid Chopper and protagonist Ezra Bridger.

Hasbro also released some more official pics of the upcoming second wave of Black Panther figures. Loving that Killmonger mask! 

That’s it for today. Tomorrow will likely see the Aquaman trailer arrive, and who knows what else might happen? 

Comic-Con Preview Night: #SDCC2018

Here we go again! The collision of sweat pants and spandex is in full gear at our beloved annual San Diego Comic-Con!

Last night was Preview Night, where toy companies reveal some of their biggest surprises of the coming year.

No surprise, but NECA continues to wow collectors, this time with the biggest surprise being a long-hoped-for depiction of John Connor fromTerminator 2. Note that the prototype on display did not feature his signature Public Enemy T-Shirt, so either the rights are still being sorted, or were too difficult to negotiate. But this was a heck of a surprise!

NECA continues their love affair with Guillermo del Toro, featuring a first-ever reveal of The Shape of Water’s Amphibian Man. Other figures from Pan’s Labyrinth and the Con-Exclusive del Toro figure himself were also on view.

MacFarlane had many of their new Stranger Thingsfigures on display, and it’s confirmed that Barb is a GameStop exclusive. She can be ordered now on their website, with a November 1st release. 

MacFarlane also unveiled the packaging for their new Star Trek line, due any day now.

One of the nicest surprises so far was Hasbro’s reveal that we will be getting a 2^nd wave of Black Panther figures, including Ulysses Klau, T’Chaka, and Ayo – though not pictured, we’ll also be seeing a Shuri figure, likely as an exclusive.

That’s just a quick peek at the tip of the iceberg, with much more to come over the next few days, with the Con wrapping up Saturday night.

A terrific start, with plenty of surprises still waiting in the wings!

Incredibles 2: The Acceptables

It's been 14 years since the first Incredibles movie, but the sequel picks up only about 14 seconds after the concluding events of the first film. Mr. Incredible and his crime-fighting family are still dealing with "The Underminer," about to wreak havoc on the city - and "Supers" are still illegal.

But all hope is not lost! A wealthy pair of tech-sector siblings (Catherine Keener and Bob Odenkirk) have a plan to change public perceptions and pass laws to make Supers legal again. Elastigirl (Holly Hunter) will be the dependable face of the campaign, while husband Bob (Craig T. Nelson) will stay home in Mister-Mom mode, taking care of new baby Jack-Jack and the rest of the ability-endowed Parr family.

Some of the film's best scenes involve the Daddy Daycare adventures of Bob trying to deal with the roulette wheel of Jack-Jack's emerging powers, while running the mundane household on virtually no sleep. But the idea of a blusteringly ineffectual stay-at-home dad feels pretty dated, and Bob's fatigue escalates into strident anger that's a little off-putting. Come for the awesome Sarah Vowell, as adolescence-navigating daughter Violet, stay for Jack-Jack's smack-down with a cantankerous neighborhood raccoon.

What's not so great is...well, the plot. Hunter is fantastic as Elastigirl, but you see the movie's bad guy from about a hundred miles away. Bird is a wonderful talent, forever enamored with sixties style and design. While I give up mad props to the Johnny Quest and Outer Limits references, after 14 years, I wish we had a better story, a fresher antagonist and more comedy. The picture is filled with big, explosive action set-pieces that dominate in hyperbolic tedium, when more laughs and unpredictability would have been so much more satisfying. Much more time seems to have been spent on design aesthetics than story. If you liked the first Incredibles, odds are good you're really going to like this one, because it's basically a re-do of the first film - except without the novelty. A group of other eager-to-emerge Supers are meant to evoke the satiric eccentrics of The Tick or Mystery Men, but end up feeling like a pale imitation of Watchmen.

Most disappointing to me was the brevity of Edna Mode (Bird, voicing). When Edna's on screen, the movie soars with humor. I wish Edna had been a key element of the larger plot, and a much more visible part of the dynamic. Sadly, she's woefully underutilized, dahling.

Incredibles 2 is one of those movies you feel a little silly finding fault with, as most audiences are going to find it a tremendous, perfectly acceptable crowd-pleaser, as it totally serves up what you're expecting. But be advised - the Parr family is serving leftovers.

Jurassic World: Fallen Screenplay

Mild spoilers abound: 

First the good news: Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom has a crackerjack opening sequence. 

A moody, undersea mission to plunder skeletal dinosaur remains – and the unexpected encounter with some that are still very much alive. I love dinosaurs, and was thoroughly entertained by Colin Trevorrow’s 2015 Jurassic World - it was crisp and epic and viscerally enjoyable, despite the occasional silliness. Unfortunately, director J.A. Bayona (The Orphanage, The Impossible, A Monster Calls) fares less well with this sequel, in large part due to a muddled script (Trevorrow, with Derek Connolly) that paints in broad strokes and strains disbelief time and time again.

It seems the dino’s home of Isla Nublar was actually a dormant volcano (who knew?!) that now threatens to make all dinosaur life on the island extinct. It turns out that original park impresario John Hammond had a partner (who knew?!), Benjamin Lockwood (James Cromwell), who summons Claire (Bryce Dallas Howard) to his vast Gothic mansion to convince her to lead a covert rescue mission to the island to save as many dinos as possible. But first, she needs to convince Raptor-whisperer Own Grady (Chris Pratt), to stop building his house and join her, being the only one who can contain Blue, the last surviving Velociraptor. Their characters are even less pronounced this time, and have an uncomfortable lack of charisma together. A scene in a bar where Howard tries to persuade Pratt to go with her was reminding me of the infamous animal cracker scene in Armageddon. Plus, the ham-fisted product placement has them drinking Becks. I mean, this guy’s a supposed man’s man, house-building, wild-dinosaur wrangler in the age of craft beer – he’s not having Becks! He’d spit it out! Point being, I shouldn’t even be noticing the bogus beer choice. Pratt’s a wildly entertaining presence, but he seems neutered here, seldom getting to do anything funny. He’s wasted, stiffly running away from volcanic ash clouds like Ben Affleck in Batman v Superman.

Pratt and Howard are accompanied by two young assistants (Daniella Pineda and Justice Smith), and a suspicious gang of mercenaries led by “Put the lotion in the basket!” Ted Levine. Because guess what (who knew?!)? It’s all a sham! The dinos are being “rescued” to be weaponized to the (literal) highest bidder! Pratt and his gang have been hoodwinked! Now they don’t just need to save them from volcanic extinction, but save them from the evil that men do! The whole bestiary is crammed onto a single ship that looks like it could barely contain one or two – yet somehow this ocean-going clown car manages to contain dozens of poached dinos. 

Somehow this entire colossal operation happens without a single journalist’s camera being on the scene – despite earlier CNN coverage of the island’s nascent eruptions – as it’s the seismic event of the century – yet not a single press helicopter is there to witness the sauropod skulduggery. 

You’ve got several hundred tons of dinos? Where do you keep them? Why in the gigantic subterranean research lab/garage beneath your Gothic manor, that’s where! Poor James Cromwell has been duped by his nefarious jack-of-all-Ops guy (Rafe Spall), an oily suit who makes one long for the subtler villainy of Alan Rickman's Hans Gruber. You know Spall's a bad guy because he yells at children!

The thing is, Bayona is clearly a really good director. Working with DP Oscar Faura, Bayona captures some really fantastic images and knows how to stage a dynamic set piece. There's a lot of good material in Fallen Kingdom, but it's undermined by a tepid script with a plodding 2nd act. It's also frustrating to have the dinosaurs spend half the movie sedated and confined. You yearn for them to bust loose, and when they do, it's exciting as hell. Bayona loves classic Gothic atmosphere, and there are some great moments where he turns the film into a demented Hammer horror film. I just wish the script had let him go even crazier, as he understands the terrain between catastrophe and mortal dread very well.

When the inevitable 3rd film comes out, get some more apex predators in the screenplay department and please give Chris Pratt material that plays to his strengths. There's a bit where he's been tranquilized and desperately tries to escape rivers of encroaching lava - more of that! 

At the end of the day, Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom is pretty much review-proof. If you like dinosaurs and thrills, I'd still say go see it in the theater. I just wish the script had as much teeth as the carnivores it depicts. 

Annihilation's Realm of the Senses

Alex Garland's been a prolific sci-fi screenwriter, with 28 Days Later, Sunshine, Never Let Me Go and Dredd among his films. But it was his debut film as a director, 2015's phenomenal A.I. thriller Ex Machina, that really made his bones. That was no fluke. With Annihilation, Garland firmly establishes himself right alongside director Denis Villeneuve as one of the top visionaries in the genre working today.

Adapted from Jeff VanderMeer's novel (the first of a trilogy), Annihilation is a strange experience. A remote area of the southeastern U.S. has undergone some kind of strange transformation. Surrounded by a mysterious barrier, it's been cut off from the world at large, now dubbed "Area X." The government's sent in teams to explore it that have never returned - until one man does. The book was a surreal read, written in a sensory-disrupting style that had me rereading some pages three or four times before I felt I'd managed to really see what was happening.

Effective as the book was, Garland's improved on it dramatically, bringing more depth and definition to the characters, more tangible dread to the environment beyond "the Shimmer," and more intriguing hints about what may be behind this catalyst of mutating flora and fauna.

Natalie Portman is the biologist member of a small expedition - all female this time - who venture into the zone looking for answers. Jennifer Jason Leigh and Tessa Thompson (Thor: Ragnarok) are the more high profile members of the team, all well-drawn characters, all full of trepidation about the task at hand, all woefully under-prepared for what they'll find there. Oscar Isaac is the man who came back.

The less I say about particulars, the better. But know that this is intelligent science fiction that doesn't go for cheap shots, and isn't afraid to unnerve and disturb. Like Villeneuve's Arrival, Annihilation depicts life beyond our known experience as something our conventional senses may have a hard time processing - or even sanely perceiving. The film evokes other pictures like Ridley Scott's Alien, Altered States, The Mist and The Ruins, but retains a unique and original atmosphere throughout. Garland and his Ex Machina cinematographer Rob Hardy do a remarkable, painterly job of staging the bizarre, visionary mutations and landscapes that the expedition encounters. There's also refreshingly little explanation or exposition to reassure the audience. Sound and music are used particularly well to influence mood and unbalance the viewer.

I'm kicking myself for missing this one in the theater, as it's so uniquely immersive and visual. Really striking, original science fiction films are few and far between, and if you're game for a challenging, unsettling look into a realm of haunting beauty behind the chaos of nature, Annihilation is a fascinating experience, well worth seeking out.

Deadpool 2's Cyborg Cuddle-Party

Did you know we were getting a Terminator sequel this summer? A really good one? Well, we are - and it's called Deadpool 2. So rejoice, fans of self-aware meta-commentary and unhinged splatter! Because Deadpool 2 is easily the delirious equal of its 2016 progenitor.

Ryan Reynolds has found a character he can really paint the town with, and he wreaks every kind of havoc you can imagine here. New director David Leitch (Atomic Blonde) fills the void left by departing original director Tim Miller (more on that later), diving headlong into the action right out of the gate. The opening credits are a gut-busting send-up of the opening titles of every Roger Moore Bond picture's design-heavy kaleidoscope.

Wade Wilson doesn't handle tragedy well - and when his over-the-top healing factor throws a wrench in his self-immolating intentions, he decides to channel his need to save something into becoming the best X-Man ever! Well, best trainee ever. And in a world where mutant misbehavior is carefully monitored, he soon finds himself in the mother of all super-max prisons - the Ice Box.

What's great about this second outing is Reynolds doesn't just caper and smirk. Deadpool's 'tude comes from a place of real pain - and serious loss - and Reynolds does terrific work carrying the film's more serious moments as well.

So about that Terminator. Wade's immediate plans are disrupted by the arrival of a hard-case cyborg from the future - Cable (Josh Brolin) - who's journeyed through time on his own hell-bent mission to set things right. Hot on the heels of his work as Thanos, this has become The Summer of Brolin, and he's awesome, having seasoned into an indelible, hugely charismatic presence of steely intimidation.
Leitch does an incredible job with the scenes where Cable explodes into the present. Shot by Jonathan Sela (John Wick) and cut by a team lead by Craig Alpert, Cable's arrival is ruthlessly kinetic and evokes the heat and pneumatic violence of James Cameron's first two Terminator films. Cable's character design is superb, and he instantly becomes an iconic character.

Deadpool can't do everything by himself - after all, he's got to comment on not just the X-men, but this movie and Hollywood in general - so he recruits his own band of gifted mutant miscreants, dubbing them "X-Force." Newcomer Zazie Beets as Domino, steals the picture just as effectively as Tessa Thompson did in Thor: Ragnarok. Her superpower is being lucky, and Leitch (along with screenwriters Rhett Reese, Paul Wernick and Ryan Reynolds) take that less flashy-sounding ability and make it inventively tangible in one dynamite scene after another.

Here's the weird thing: back to director Tim Miller. As Terminator as things feel here, Miller and Reynolds had some of those pesky old artistic differences and parted ways, and now Miller's been hand-picked by James Cameron to direct next year's reboot of his Terminator franchise - ignoring the last three misfires as though they never happened.

There are plenty of surprises (and cameos - Dickie Greenleaf!) in Deadpool 2, so the less I say about further specifics, the more fun you'll have - and this picture is one helluva lot of fun. Like the first film, if you're easily offended, you should probably swipe left and look elsewhere. But if you dug the original, Wade, Cable and the X-Force are waiting to show you a really good, really sticky good time.