Raygun: Breaking Badly

A fascinating and moving (pardon the pun) documentary about Australian Rachael Louise Gunn and her famously weird breakdancing performance at the Paris Olympics. She comes off as authentic and sincere, and so the weirdest part about the whole saga isn’t her routine, but how certain influencers and Tik Tokers spewed vitriol and spread lies about her as though she’d shat in church. The bottom line is: there needs to be a sanctuary at the Olympics for the weirdos and outliers: Eddie the Eagle, Eric "The Eel" Moussambani, and the Jamaican bobsled team. The Olympics should be open to everybody. If you qualify, you qualify. It’s not a wildly original or innovative doc, but it captures the essence of Raygun: to dance like no one is watching even if everyone is watching.

The AI Doc: Or How I Became an Apocaloptimist

Let me start by saying this title is terrible. Did they ask Claude? They should have run it by Claude. But I digress… The Oscar-winning Nevalny team (including producer Diane Becker) has made an interesting, watchable and humanistic essay about the possibilities and dangers of the recent, major breakthroughs in machine learning. It’s primarily composed of talking-head interviews which thankfully don’t devolve into a bunch of techno-jargon and cyber-lingo. Clever animated sequences explain some of the larger concepts, while experts discuss what could be the  consequences of making computers that are way, way more powerful than they’ve ever been. The allegories and examples are poignant, which might calm down the doomsayers about A.I. by proposing that all is not lost as long as we behave ourselves. A very worthwhile watch. 

Tony

19-year-old Anthony Bourdain had to get out of the house. We can all relate. So he lies and he cheats and he's kind of a prick about the whole thing, but he manages to make it… out of the house. And while it's true that he's on an existential quest, he's also trying to get laid. And like most things Tony tries to do, he lies and he bullshits and he cheats to get what he wants. Therefore, the moments when he decides not to lie, and to do the right thing, seem minor, but are absolutely pivotal to his future.

Antonio Banderas makes a nice turn as a small-time, low-key chef and, according to this movie, the guru and Jedi Master who helped give the world the larger-than-life chef, author, and professional eater. Dominic Sessa, who was SO, SO excellent in The Holdovers, embodies the troubled, shitty Tony we're all rooting for. A brat who, in one summer in the 1970s, becomes Anthony.

 

Coyote vs ACME

It’s possible that the marketing and PR people at Warner Brothers are absolute geniuses. In a calculated effort to play the long game, they may have intentionally shelved this “little guy vs huge corporation” underdog tale to foment a viral campaign; a narrative that mirrors the story of Wile E. Coyote, recasting him from a clown to a hero. Then they sell the movie to some random company (Ketchup Entertainment), make them shoulder the bulk of the marketing expenses, and sell the gazillions of Looney Tunes merch keeping the profits for themselves. Truly an ACME-worthy scheme. But the only issue is: transforming Mr. Coyote into the protagonist means the Roadrunner is the villain, and that doesn’t sound right. To justify this, part of the story must include the Roadrunner “missing” the Coyote and enjoying being chased, which is the only teeny, tiny disingenuous part of what is otherwise a really satisfying “ret-con” of Mr. Coyote’s saga. He is the hero for never giving up, despite the universe’s obvious bias against him. It’s not his fault. He’s not inept. It’s Big Anvil that’s the problem. Never give up, little guy. The corporations will fall someday, like that corner of the cliff that hovers in the air while the rest of the mountain collapses behind it.

Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma

You have to hand it to the filmmakers for attempting to remake Mulholland Drive. Homages abound, although this version supposedly has a happy ending. The only way a self-aware slasher like this would work is if the actors are fully on board with the reality-bending/wish-fulfillment nuttiness, and Hannah Einbinder and Gillian Anderson are in it to win it. They need to be when the metaphors start coming in hot and heavy-handed. You see: it turns out that (spoiler alert) sometimes horror movies correlate sex with violence. And so the movie is not saying that rape is okay as long as it leads to an orgasm, because that would just be weird, right? I'm sure there's a deeper, Lynchian subtext there that I'm just missing. Anyhoo, I'm glad this movie got made, and I'm happy for the filmmakers for getting something dark and morally fluid out to the common people. But if you want to cook like Lynch, it's more than just following a recipe.

The End of Oak Street

What if (now stay with me here), what if dinosaurs had feathers?? Paradoxical wormhole logic places Academy Award Winner Anne Hathaway and Emmy Winner Ewan McGregor’s sleepy suburban neighborhood smack in the middle of a dinosaur-teeming jungle from 200 million years ago. Filmmakers deserve great kudos for showing a lot of neighbors being attacked and eaten in a way that hasn’t quite been seen before – to the point where it’s comedic. There is almost always somebody being relentlessly chased, tackled, and eaten in the background with dark comedy delight. 

Homo-sapiens are mostly ineffectual against hungry, angry dinosaurs. They do what they can with their station wagons, bows and arrows, and running. Plenty of running. (Didn't they see Jurassic Park?? "Keep absolutely still. Its vision is based on movement.") It’s a 1980s throwback, which helps make this a charming, summer popcorn diversion. Time-travel paradoxes can be frustrating if you leave the audience too much time to think about it. Here, thankfully, they don’t. And when the wormhole plot points are needed they’re handled playfully, with a Rick-and-Morty cheekiness. Ultimately, with Spielbergian tribute, this is about the grueling survival of a marriage, and the monsters you need to kill with a kitchen knife to get through the day.

Spider-Man: Brand New Day

** SPOILER-MAN, SPOILER-MAN **

Who needs the multiverse when you have The X-Men? It’s been 11 years since Sony and Disney cut a deal allowing Spidey to cross over into the "Avengers" (and vice versa), and seven years since Disney acquired the "X-Men." That merger allowed for various franchise intersections, the first of which (I think) was a subtle meta-mashup when Evan Peters popped up in WandaVision. The real multiverse now is the web of corporate studio deals, where bitter rivals can collaborate and share as long as the cash keeps rolling in. The common denominator through it all? Jon Favreau’s “Happy Hogan.” How does the man find the time? 

Yes, Spidey gets an assist from various Avengers, Defenders, and Thunderbolts to battle one vindictive, little X-Man who happens to be more powerful than almost any superhero in existence: Jean Grey. While I’m not wildly familiar with her character beyond the movies, they depict her here as flat-out cruel, especially toward relatively innocent, friendly neighborhood Spider-people like Peter Parker. But it works. It’s dramatic. It gets you fired up as she passes her revenge-fueled psyche from New Yorker to New Yorker like the villain in that Denzel Washington movie Fallen. So for once, we get mind-bending chaos that isn't caused by Doctor Strange. 

Everyone turns in solid work here, and the thriller plot, despite a few obvious plot holes, holds together and keeps you hooked. A riveting, battle-royale finalé featuring "The Hand" feels surprisingly fresh and original, which is no small feat what with all the superhero content of late. As for Jon Favreau, let's make him the new Stan Lee. Put him in every single one of these movies. If he plays his cards right, he could pass Samuel L. Jackson to become the highest-grossing actor of all time. Let’s make it happen, super studios!

Spider-Man: No Way Home

Revisited this 2021 Spider-epic to refresh my memory for the upcoming chapter, and so I don’t confuse Spidey and MJ with Telemachus and Athena. If you REALLY sit down and dissect the plot of this, it makes NO sense. Peter wants Dr. Strange to go back in time and change human history so that his friends can get into college. And Dr. Strange says that’s a stupid idea, but does it anyway? And it backfires? So the space-time continuum rips open? Really? That’s the PLOT?? I get it. It’s all just a means to get all the stars from previous movies back so you can release an all-star, Avengers-type thing; or a superhero Altman movie. Tom Holland makes a good Spider-Man. He’s funny, physical, and sincere. They dip a toe back into the Sam Raimi “Jesus” themes, as Spidey must make a huge sacrifice for humanity. So, they’ve got that going for them, which is nice. The problem with the multiverse is: there are no rules. Nobody dies. Any character or any actor can come back at any time if Sony makes them an offer they can’t refuse.

The Furious

Efforts are made to push the kung fu envelope in this, not always to entertaining effect. Many of the kung fu revenge fantasies seem to be based around human trafficking, and this is no exception. The villains punch and kick children, which means when our kung fu hero answers the call he’ll be justified when he rips their heads off. But it’s not really escapism. It’s kind of a bummer when the kids get abused, even if child trafficking and abuse is the official GOP platform now. Envelope-pushing also extends to the length and elaborateness of the brawls – trying to out-Jackie-Chan Jackie Chan. The mêlées go on way, way too long and you wonder why nobody’s out of breath (see Atomic Blonde). It suffices to say the extensive martial arts are really impressive but the plot is threadbare and grim.

Atomic Blonde

Revisited this brutal 2017 action mêlée. Charlize is so physical here, it’s hard to know how she could bear to show up for work every day. She doesn’t officially declare what she wants until the very end, which is atypical for an action movie, so it’s refreshingly different, if enigmatic. The soundtrack is a new-wave bonanza.

Caddyshack

Catching this vintage comedy in modern times is a bit weird. There’s a strong setting, but there’s barely a plot. The hero Danny has a goal at the beginning which he completely rejects when it’s finally offered up to him. Logic and lucidity are out the window. It’s kind of an absurdist miracle. I give most of the credit to Ted Knight, gloriously uptight and everyone’s common enemy in this -- and the glue that barely holds together this scatterbrained, comedic fugue.

The Odyssey

When are you supposed to pee?? Perhaps the only flaw in Christopher Nolan’s sensational, three-hour opus is knowing when to slip out to visit the “room.” Every couple of minutes another huge movie star enters the scene, brings their A-game, dazzles, and then the epic moves on to the next fantastic set-piece or battle scene beautifully filmed in IMAX. That’s the other thing: there are way more steps in the IMAX theater to navigate, causing your bathroom break to be longer, thus potentially missing an Oscar winner tearing it up in ancient Greece. Or Leguizamo and Holland giving the best performances of their careers. You literally can’t move from your seat for three hours. So, the Stadium Buddy™️ might be the best option. But you could also go in dehydrated. Homer might appreciate the suffering and hardship you’re putting yourself through to behold his 2700-year-old poem. Beholding is key. You gotta behold it for a few hours. We don’t all have giant bladders, Christopher. Cut us some slack.

All the Old Knives

Told in flashbacks, a couple of spies and ex-lovers meet for dinner to hash out a few unresolved work issues about terrorists and stuff. Likeable stars make this mildly interesting, but it’s sedentary and dialogue-heavy. Occasionally flashing back to sex scenes doesn’t really invigorate the proceedings, but you have to credit them for trying. Neither fish nor fowl, it plays a bit down the middle.

Wolfs

I dismissed this when it came out. First, it's streaming, so how good can it be? Seems like that could be a red flag with such big movie stars. Also, Clooney and Pitt have already been in a bunch of movies together, and it just felt like pandering. I didn't need to see another gloomy movie about hit men posing and preening. But I finally watched this on a plane, and the script is good. Really good. It starts out as a two-hander, then gradually expands into a crime world filled with shady characters and side-quests. Special kudos go to Austin Abrams, who stands toe-to-toe with these supernova movie stars and manages to be a big, funny pain in the ass. The Butch-and-Sundance "bromance" unfolds skillfully and pays off when the fixers finally put their heads together, iron out their differences, and figure out who's behind their night of problems. They call it "competence porn" when skilled people do the things they're skilled at, and that alone provides the entertainment value. I'm surprised this didn't make more of a splash, but I suppose it's a bit niche, too. Low-key, competent, restrained. A rare bird.

Toy Story 5

This story is not about the toys. Unlike the other "Toy Story" movies, this one really focuses on a person: the little girl who plays with the toys, Bonnie. Filmmakers plumbed the depths of childhood in a stunning and moving portrait of this shy girl. She's so authentically awkward and emotional. She behaves so much more like a 6-year-old than her true age of 8, which can be the case with kids in elementary school, as I remember. It's such a wildly rich and sympathetic ordeal, stemming from her being bullied by the cool kids for not having a tablet — and so unlike most little kids in movies, in which the 8-year-old is the coolest kid in the world, dresses really cool, talks like an adult, and invents a robot or a time machine or something. Yes, Jessie, Woody, and Buzz are there, helping Bonnie in all their nutty ways. But shy Bonnie is the star, and like the fictional toys, she's every bit human.

Backrooms

"Consider if you will a furniture store owner named “Clark.” A peddler of sofas and end tables, a man you might pass in the aisle of his own showroom without a second glance. But beneath the veneer of particleboard and price tags lies a heart in ruins, shattered by words spoken in anger, words that ended a marriage and began a slow, private sentence of exile. Clark has sought refuge where so many broken men have sought it before — in the bottom of a bottle, and when sobriety demands it, in the office of an analyst. In the basement of his undistinguished furniture store, Clark will learn a terrible truth: that the interior design of grief has its own architecture. That a man's regret can grow walls, and hallways, and sinister mascots of missed opportunities. But he might also find a key that could unlock the solution to his pain. In the depths of his store basement, Clark will discover a portal not to another dimension but a portal into his own troubled psyche. 

Now witness "Mary," the brave psychotherapist, an expert trying to guide her client Clark away from his pain. When she explores said furniture store basement, she is not entering the mysterious portal into her patient’s troubled mind, ladies and gentlemen, but in fact she is stepping into… 

 …the Twilight Zone."

Disclosure Day

 

** SPOILERS! DON’T BE A BABY! **

Emily Blunt's Margaret is the achievement in Spielberg's latest extra-terrestrial opus. Blunt's intrepid weather-gal hero navigates the increasingly ridiculous conspiracy to cover up the UFOs, the most squirmy and suspenseful part of which is wondering when she's going to crack. Her journey is vast and deep, and she delivers with great emotional resonance. You need this canary in the coal mine, plot-wise, to reflect back to the audience a narrative with stakes so huge it would seem like a cheesy sequel to Independence Day in lesser hands. All of the acting throughout, in fact, is performed with great gravitas. Never a wink. Never a goof. Not even one eye roll wondering if it's all a hoax from the super meepy reporter at the end. I'm not sure if all of this really "works," but I really enjoyed it. The chases. The E.S.P. The ordinary people. The lofty goals of telling the people to shut up and "listen." Spielberg is the fine-dining executive chef and the main course is popcorn. 

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever

I finally watched this Marvel sequel after several years. It’s as if the filmmakers didn’t trust themselves to pick a new Black Panther after Chadwick Boseman died, so they held tryouts: fill the cast with tough women and she who chews the most scenery wins the job. Ipso facto: it’s big, expensive, and fun and the drama is overflowing. I should have seen it in theaters. Alas.

The Incredible Burt Wonderstone

Magicians are cheesy. That’s the overarching theme. Steve Carrell and Steve Buscemi nail their impossibly arrogant and clueless drips, pettily feuding per the bromance formula. Jim Carrey makes a great foil as a David Blaine-esque douchebag who believes stunts are the new magic. His comeuppance is perfect and hilarious. Carrell doesn’t quite redeem his rapey misogynist jerk, I think they leaned into that “casting couch” plot a little much. Ergo, while the idea is there, execution felt a little ham-fisted. It’s tough with magic, though. It’s just so often so excruciatingly stale.

28 Years Later: The Bone Temple

Danny Boyle did not direct this movie. If a film student ever needs a good example of what the director does and if it matters, watch this, then watch its previous and far superior chapter, 28 Years Later. It’s hard to pin down exactly what’s wrong. You could give a master chef and an amateur chef the same cookie recipe, and there’s a good chance the master bakes the better cookie. It’s the little things. The focus. The pacing. Where to cut. The use of music. It’s unfortunate, because there are a LOT of interesting ideas in the script. All the pieces are there. The returning cast is on point. The final product just leaves a weird taste in your mouth. Too many eggs? Not enough salt? It’s hard to say.

Star Wars: The Mandalorian and Grogu

The first half works. Bounty hunter Mando takes contracts bringing down Imperial assholes (i.e., Nazis) as he teaches Grogu the Mandalorian ways. One can only imagine what Grogu will be like as a Force-wielding Jedi bounty hunter. (So like, what if Yoda was an assassin??) 

The adventure slows down considerably when Mando gets captured by his dreaded rival and tracker "Wok Asahat." Wok captures Mando — which is bullshit; nobody should ever be able to capture Mando — and drags him back to the Jabba siblings so they can torture him to death. Granted, he escapes, barely, and thus begins the gentle parable about caretaking. Grogu can't heal him right away, as his super Force powers would imply. No, no. Grogu must toil and struggle, implying a close family bond. This is the way. 

After Favreau and company test our resolve and attention span with the gentle caretaking, Ellen Ripley and the X-wing fighters arrive, and the Imperial ass-kicking begins again in earnest, as it should. I'm a sucker, I guess. It's always a treat when there's a new Star War.

Sisu: Road to Revenge

It’s always such a pleasure to watch Nazis explode into bloody pieces, as they did with violent glee in its Finnish action predecessor. Now the villains are the Red Army, who aren’t exactly Nazis, but they dress like Nazis, so it’s okay if they explode. This symphony of mayhem directly references famous action movies and, of course, Wile E. Coyote cartoons. While the Coyote was only ever undone by his own ineptitude, our revenge-driven ("constructive resentment") Sisu hero is the absolute architect of so many spectacularly gruesome deaths and never lets his own crippling pain get in the way. To see it is to love it.

Predator: Badlands

What do you get when you team-up a gross, weird-mouthed Predator with a bubbly, blonde, humanoid robot?? Cue “Odd Couple” theme! On paper this sounds like a tired, sequel cash-grab, but it was fairly watchable. With Dan Trachtenberg (Prey) at the helm the pace is swift, the action is fresh, and the performances are light but effective. 

It's always amusing to consider that aliens on distant planets speak gibberish, leaving audiences to read subtitles for the fake language. Like, are filmmakers afraid that they’ll be accused of cultural appropriation by some virtue-signaling millennial because they’re not honoring the fake native language of the Yautja? Are they worried the Yautja elders will boycott their movie if they’re depicted as growling and grunting in English? It’s weird to think about. Someone should publish a definitive, Strunk & White-esque style guide for writing dialogue in fake alien languages. It's worth noting, too, that there are a couple of small nods to the Alien universe, honoring — however lightly — the franchise's mediocre crossover entries of the past. Suffice to say, it's a fun world-building flick with a lot of sequel potential.

The Devil Wears Prada 2

I’m ashamed to admit I was kinda confused by the plot. Plucky Anne Hathaway is brought in to save a legacy print magazine because she’s now a plucky, hard-nosed journalist. But she saves the day by finding a buyer for the magazine that isn’t her evil bestie? And the puppet-master is actually Stanley Tucci? The value of the previous movie, I thought, was that you could survive assholes in a cutthroat world by staying optimistic and plucky. I’m not sure what the takeaway is here - I’m not sure the filmmakers know, either. What they are sure about is: the wish fulfillment. There are fancy clothes in this world and you absolutely should be wearing them. Just make sure you never, ever look happy about it.

The Warriors

At a retro screening at the Academy of Motion Pictures museum, producer Lawrence Gordon explained that he took pride in the detail that the Warriors were a mixed-race gang, and how progressive that was at the time. What else is there to say? It’s a great movie for eleven-year-olds.

Ready or Not: Here I Come

Brace yourself for a bold statement: Samara Weaving is the new Bruce Campbell. Her enthusiasm for stunt work and physical comedy, her willingness to be covered in mud and sprayed with blood, and her commitment to the underlying fear and emotion of a scene — while still finding the humor — are on par with the Raimi muse and maestro of the form. During her character's horror trials, her face and eyes twist with pain, her lips tremble, and through sheer reliable technique she completely embodies a woman consumed by terror and frustration. Her willing and skilled co-stars match Weaving's manic energy, and the rising tide lifts all boats, making this a treat. It's not as surprising or original as its predecessor. That's the hazard of sequels, I guess. But it's still bloody fun.

Focker-in-Law

I watched a test screening of this November release, which I’m not allowed to write about because I signed an NDA - dutifully protecting the Focker story secrets. The last name “Focker”, you see, sounds like “fucker” and the comedy potential there is off the charts.

The Rise of the Red Hot Chili Peppers: Our Brother, Hillel

Centered primarily on original Chili Pepper Hillel Slovak, this rock doc still follows the tried-and-true formula of the rise and fall and rise of a band, as the band members destroy their lives with drugs. Bassist Flea comes off as the most meepy and sincere in his telling, while Anthony Kiedis reads as distant and guarded. Filmmaking is on par, as documentarians do what they can with limited amounts of archival footage and photos. There were certainly things I didn’t know about the band, so that’s a plus. But I didn’t find this very moving.

Project Hail Mary

What if Stanley Kubrick was a big softie? What if the apes in “2001” hugged and fist-bumped and HAL was helpful? That’s Project Hail Mary – Lord and Miller’s sappy-sweet Hallmark card to space movies. Ryan Gosling’s solitary space quest is filled with so much techno-jargon jibber-jabber, it’s often impossible to figure out what’s really going on. “The dilithium crystals have decoupled from the flux capacitor! If I don’t bypass it in 3.2 nanoseconds the whole ship will careen out of orbit!” Thankfully, Daniel Pemberton’s score beautifully and skillfully reminds us how to feel and when danger is lurking; filling the atmosphere with curiosity and hope. 

This is a gem. It’s the bee’s knees. The astronomy and biology of it all is probably pretty accurate. But how could we know? What ends up mattering above all else is that Gosling’s reluctant astronaut is able to communicate with “Rocky” the loveable alien who is thankfully not an asshole or an acid-blood monster so that together they can save the universe or whatever. It’s a movie about communication. When our current political reality constantly reminds us of the many myopic tyrants’ unwillingness to communicate, it’s nice to fantasize about a universe that can. See it in IMAX.

The Secret Agent

Beautifully filmed, but I’m not sure I understand enough about Brazilian history to get this. Wagner Moura, a solid, engaging leading man, plays three roles across three generations: father, son, and grandson. The cinematographic razzle-dazzle involves using old Panavision anamorphic lenses to achieve a richly nostalgic 1970s feel. That with the groovy hair and the funny shirts make this look like it’s a brand new movie from the 70s. Tracking the revolutionaries, corrupt cops, and an entangled cluster of pseudonyms gets confusing — especially with subtitles — and the running time compounds that, making my eyes glaze over. So it’s a demanding view. It’s an Oscar nominee, so I watched it to keep up. But I think I missed the boat.

The Bride!

I admire risk. In art it should be rewarded. But what if the risk is bad? What if it’s ugly or grotesque? What if it’s feverish and prickly? Should it be rewarded anyway? Director Maggie Gyllenhaal calls in favors for her cast: her "Batman" co-star, her Lost Daughter lead, her husband, and her brother. Like Frankenstein’s face staples, they cobble together this flood of feminist delirium, intending to assault the audience with radicalness. “What Mary Shelley would have said if she could,” might be the misguided thesis. Sure it’s risky, and the trailer was good. But the movie is icky and dumb. So how do I reward risk? I mean: they already have my money. What else do they want?

Crime 101

Not so much a thriller as a “puzzler.” There are three protagonists: a thief, an insurance investigator, and a cop. We’ll call them Thor, Storm, and Hulk. They each have mean bosses and personal problems. And the only way to solve the plot puzzle and get the bag of diamonds is to combine as a trio and work together. Like a rotating Rubik’s cube, Tetris, or some other geometric brain teaser, committing to one thing often offsets another thing. Also, with any puzzle, there’s misdirection. And that’s when my brain starts misfiring and rewiring. Next thing you know, Thor gets rear-ended in traffic by a pretty love interest and all I can think is, “She’s in on it!” Because puzzles, right? Unfortunately, it’s not really a thrilling action movie. All of the action is happening in my poor brain as it tries to solve and write the movie. Unlike a quintessential noir (which this very much is), there’s a hopeful ending not akin to William Holden floating dead in a swimming pool. And that’s nice.

Good Luck, Have Fun, Don't Die

It's a breath of fresh air to welcome back Gore Verbinski doing his signature sci-fi/comedy nuttiness. Sam Rockwell bursts in like he just teleported from a Terry Gilliam movie and spirit-guides the hapless diner jockeys on their free-form psychic adventure. This AI cautionary tale features lots of the deranged sci-fi greatest hits including ranting homeless-guy costumes, brain-dead drone children, squiggly squirmy electrical wires, and giant cats. Verbinski and company aren’t offering a lot of hope for the future here, but the journey dazzles with non-sequiturs and maniacal fun.

"Wuthering Heights"

A lot of people seem to know a lot more about actor/director Emerald Fennell than I do. As I understand it, there’s a point-of-view for her that’s part of her brand – an elevated kinky, studied sauciness. Caricatures of characters in historical novels are deployed as a delivery system into the pleasure center of the psyche as a means to sell popcorn to corset-flick cinephiles. As a Fennell novice, this reminded me of that old episode of Gilligan’s Island where Gilligan was Doctor Jekyll and Mary Anne was Eliza Doolittle. Or maybe a Simpsons episode where they’re goofing on a romance novel. It’s pretty, but less-than subtle. Fingers stand-in for lots of sexy things (if you catch my drift) and the wind machines could probably get top billing. The take-away is the experience itself, I guess. A five on the tissue-meter. Apparently, also, it’s based on a famous, old novel? It’s hard to tell.

Frankenstein

Not as emotional watching for the second time, this time on the big screen. It’s still a marvel, and beautiful to behold. The emotional part was the appearance afterwards from actor Jacob Elordi and Guillermo, who gave almost a sermon about how much he loved movies and how important they are to our culture. What. A. Guy.

Send Help

** GROOVY SPOILERS ** 

Rachel McAdams, who’s always good, slightly strains believability as a savant-dork. She’s kind of doing a Michelle Feiffer in Batman Returns “pretty nerd” thing. Why must “Linda from accounting,” her interpretation of the “Hot Librarian” archetype, also be a slob with food on her face? She manages to keep impeccably fashionable and put-together when (spoiler alert!) she’s stranded on a desert island, and she never gets food on her face again. What does feel more authentic is her obsession with Survivor and outdoor adventure in general. They used to call the archetype “Lola Granola” but now I guess it’s “Bushcraft Babe?” Anyhoo… 

Linda’s desperate to prove herself to her shitty, idiot boss and when the meticulous office work doesn’t do the trick, she’s hoping the survival skills will win his respect. She maintains her blind optimism that there is no glass ceiling or sexism in her bro-culture office. Sam Raimi and company know better. Nepo-baby-boss-boy remains an ungrateful piece of shit the entire time, as the role requires, and completely deserves the Annie Wilkes in Misery-style of treatment. The really fun scenes in Raimi’s getting-back-to-his-roots playset of doom, and there are many, spawn from McAdams’ neediness and eventual unwillingness to help this pipsqueak. You can’t wait for this guy to finally get eaten by a shark or something. Unfortunately, when the film concludes the payoff is lacking. The character’s wants, both contextual and subtextual, lack relief; dissipating with a few sight gags. That doesn’t mean the movie isn’t really, wickedly fun. It is. It just needs to leave a little dessert for the deserted.

The Rip

Doing press, Matt Damon expressed frustration that Netflix required them to reiterate the plot multiple times throughout the movie to appease the “doomscrollers.” First, I love it when writers do that. Second, in this particular movie, I can see exactly why the Netflix bigwigs would need that. This cop-shop thriller can get CONFUSING. In what could almost count as a remake of The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, Matt & Ben are in top form here, but the characters are all lying to each other (spoiler alert). So, it’s often impossible to really know what’s going on. Filmakers cheat a little bit by cutting away from key conversations and screwing with the timeline to withhold information from the viewer. The whole movie is a twisty puzzle, reliant upon characters overhearing, misunderstanding, and lying to other characters. It knows what it is, and “MattFleck,” as well as the strong supporting cast, understand the assignment.

Dead Man's Wire

On paper, Gus Van Sant’s true-crime kidnapping saga is a fascinating story with an amazing, unexpected result. But because of this result, tensions can only escalate to a certain point, and then plateau. It’s ironic, I guess, that the action and suspense are hampered by the facts. So, it’s an engaging tale, just not a very cinematic one. Surprising details about the incident unfold. The cops, the reporters, and a local DJ all play roles in the slow-burn chaos. But the film intends to teach and inform rather than entertain. So the “action” is middling. It’s not, in any sense, bad. But (spoiler alert), don’t expect a De Palma-style shoot-out with Pacino careening over a guardrail.

The Accountant

I finally checked-out this 2016 thriller on a recent flight, and it proved to be better than expected. I avoided it for a long time because, frankly, it sounded stupid. Some of my skepticism was real. A math-savant assassin with autism, played by Ben Affleck? I’m too used to seeing him as a superhero and/or misfit cop. There were moments when you believe his neurodivergent quirks and ticks, but other times where you can’t help but just see Ben Affleck. The same is true for Anna Kendrick. She’s so bubbly and extroverted it’s sometimes hard to buy her as an accounting genius/shut-in. But I admire risk, and casting against type could be a recipe for disaster. Nevertheless, the story intrigues, the action is taut, and the resolution satisfies. It’s trying to do something different with the assassin genre. That matters, and for that it deserves a few brownie points.

The Fountain of Youth

Open Letter to Guy Richie: 

Dear Guy, 

You are not Michael Bay. You don’t need to be Michael Bay. We have a Michael Bay. It’s Michael Bay. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be Michael Bay. I mean, Michael Bay is a successful bloke. And if Michael Bay isn’t available for some reason, you could do it, I suppose? It’s a paycheck. And, I mean, ya gotta eat, right? I don’t blame you. But should you decide to take a crack at making movies about tough-talking soccer hooligans capping each other in Brixton, and it doesn’t have any helicopters, I will support you. 

Until then: Cheers, bugger off ya muppet, bob’s your uncle or whatever.

28 Years Later

Zombies. It’s surreal to be reporting that one of the best movies of the year is centered around b-movie monsters. But here we are. 2025: The year of the prestige horror movies. Sinners. Frankenstein. Weapons. And although this is just as good as the best of the bunch, no nominations. It’s okay. Danny Boyle has his Oscar. 

Scary, dramatic, and poignant, Boyle’s zombie-verse places us in the shoes of a 12-year-old (Alfie Williams) receiving grim tutorials from his father on how to survive the post-apocalypse and kill the infected. It’s mythical. Boyle’s execution resonates with gravitas – from the casting to the music to the videography - shot primarily with iPhones in some important, old aspect ratio. Harrowing sequences – not just of the raging undead – but of mental illness, cancer, childbirth, and death itself, grip this viewer and IMPOSE admiration. This was SO GOOD.

Doug's Favorite Movies of 2025

28 Years Later

The Life of Chuck

 Frankenstein

One Battle After Another

Weapons

Spinal Tap II: The End Continues

Devo

Sinners

Elway

Unlike a lot of docs, I mostly knew all the stuff in this one, but it’s nice to be reminded. In what could be a twenty-hour series, the two-hour running-time covers only the very broadest of stokes of Elway’s career, highlighting Superbowl wins in an underdog, sports-movie structure. It’s a pleasant flashback of a lengthy struggle and an ultimate triumph. God bless the Denver Broncos.

The Holiday

Nancy Meyers is trying so hard to be Richard Curtis here that she could probably be sued for plagiarism. I’ve only just seen this 20-year-old rom com for the first time and it’s schmalzier than a sugar-covered Christmas goose. The ONLY reason why this works is that Cameron Diaz and Kate Winslet completely understand the assignment; smiling and twinkling like little stars throughout the Christmas pageant. Otherwise, it’s a pleasant (if eye-rolling) diversion.

Le Mans

There are three lines of dialogue in this entire movie. 

“Did you recover from that bad crash?”

“No.” 

“Auto racing is important.” 

Otherwise, it’s one long montage filled with lights, racing cars, and vroom sounds. It would not surprise me if Steve McQueen came home from Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odessey in the theater for the first time and thought, “We could do the same thing, but with race-cars instead of space ships!” It’s basically plotless, and I could see how it could be hypnotic in a 1971 movie theater, after a few drags of “wacky tobacky.” The stylistic shots of reflections in the car paint, the engine sounds (and lack of), and the sparse use of music, characters, and plot make this all a big experiment. A gas-powered Warhol movie.

Jackpot

I would like to assert determinedly that this is the movie the new Running Man should have been, because it’s very similar to Running Man and it’s better than Running Man. That being said, this is not a very good movie. Regardless, Nora “Awkwafina” Lum and John Cena are dancing as fast as they can and tossing out zingers like Japanese Dodgers in hopes of filling the time, and for the most part it’s a pleasant diversion – a brief distraction from my existential dread and overall itchiness. Jackpot aspires for sublime nuttiness, which I admire, even if it whiffs more than hits.

Relay

This lean, low-budget action thriller shows a subculture completely foreign to me (automatically a big plus). Broad strokes: it’s about the high-stakes business of protecting and/or stifling corporate whistleblowers. Although, to make it a mystery and to make it twisty, filmmakers rely on an "unreliable narrator" device and omit key scenes – to shock and surprise. So, it’s gimmicky, and the resolution feels underwhelming. Nevertheless, the performances are good, suspense is taut, and the milieu is fascinating even if the finish isn’t.

The Phoenician Scheme

There’s lots of expected Wes Andersony-ness in this Wes Anderson movie – a flat-out comedy farce, with less of the melancholy affects of his other work. As much as I like Benicio del Toro, his leading-man “bonafides” land feather-weight blows; his ticks and tricks are better suited for supporting characters. (He’ll probably get a nom for One Battle After Another.) What we get are spy gags, explosion jokes, and the Wes Anderson signature aesthetic, which he brandishes with pride. To pick on the brand would be pointless. It’s his. Don’t buy the cow if you don’t want the milk.

Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery

"What is it about Catholics?" Rian Johnson seems to ask. Catholicism equals moral ambiguity, which is really useful for mysteries and thrillers. Who dunnit? The priest? The nun? The gravedigger? They’re all willing to split hairs, keeping those doubts and grey areas lingering until the very end. Per this franchise, there’s a big ensemble of pros to help twist up the story. Getting to the resolution is half the fun, even if it is (spoiler alert) just a conventional McGuffin in a “pitchy pitchy woo-woo” game of hot potato. It’s fun to watch, but you don’t necessarily walk away with your soul filled to the brim with virtue.

Love Hurts

When you win your Oscar, there's a brief window to make your dream movie (I assume). For Ke Huy Quan, that dream was simple: be Jackie Chan. And that's exactly what Love Hurts is — a Jackie Chan movie starring Ke Huy Quan. He plays a lovable goofball who inexplicably knows Kung Fu, battling cartoonish villains in incongruous locations with whatever ordinary objects are nearby. Ke is thoroughly charming, even if the fight scenes are way, way too long and the story itself is a dull gangster retread. Based on the formula, mission accomplished. I hope his dreams were fulfilled.

A House Full of Dynamite

What if Dr. Strangelove was a drama and everyone in the movie was competent? That’s A House Full of Dynamite. (see also: Fail Safe) This new Netflix offering poses the stark hypothetical scenario, “What if there was a nuke headed for the US” and everyone in the military and government was, more or less, competent? Would you, gentle US citizen, feel confident that your leaders would make the right decision? The follow-up question from Katheryn Bigelow and the filmmakers seems to be: now ask yourself, how would the dysfunctional, incompetent psychopaths in the REAL current administration handle the same scenario? Although the details are gipping and the filmmaking is expert, it’s all secondary to the existential truth this passionately expresses: do you trust who you voted for with the nuclear codes?

Operation Fortune: Ruse de Guerre

Guy Ritchie. Jason Statham. Aubrey Plaza. Hugh Grant. Cary Elwes. This 2023 spy/caper hybrid has a lot going for it, but there’s just something OFF. Let’s start with the title. It’s so incredibly confusing and stupid. I had to look it up again just to type it into this weblog, because the words don’t fit together. It’s pure linguistic chaos. I like Jason Statham and Aubrey Plaza - both - A LOT - but it feels like they’re in different movies. Plaza’s doing a wise-cracky, American action/comedy, and Statham is waiting in vain with gritted teeth to karate kick the next mercenary off a high-rise, a moment that rarely if ever comes. The ending is strangely anticlimactic, and the foil, Hugh Grant, (spoiler alert) ends up reaping all the heroic rewards. When a movie that looks this good on paper comes out mediocre, I always assume that something went wrong behind the scenes. They ran out of money or someone got food poisoning or something. It’s not a disaster, by any means. There’s just something off. Charmingly so? Not really.

Frankenstein

What’s always true with Guillermo del Toro is his deep, deep love of movies. There’s love in every single frame. He just CARES, and I admire that. Not just anybody can come along and do another adaptation of Frankenstein. We didn't need one. It's been done. From the Kenneth Branagh iteration produced by Francis Coppola to the perfect spoof, Young Frankenstein, to the "Franken Berry" cereal, this pie has been baked. Yet the confidence Del Toro enjoys to tell his version of the story is off the charts. 

The key, the gist to the whole story, something we've always known, is that "Frankenstein" is the monster. We've always known that, I suppose. Seeing him get smacked in the face by his abusive father and watch his mother be buried in her terrifying, face-exposing coffin, you can conclude that it's not going to end well for Victor. And while the business of building the creature is necessary, it's only the first part of del Toro's version - the grotesque part. Watching Victor wander through the battlefield, pick through the bodies, and hack them up is truly monstrous. Not an unexpected sentiment from del Toro. But the beautiful stuff will come. Unlike Pinocchio and Nightmare Alley, which seemed to dwell and stew in the ugliness, Frankenstein turns a corner when the creature tells his version of the story. Jacob Elordi's embodiment of the creature is a big, strapping beefcake of a dude, and his depiction is way, way more nuanced than we've seen. He's anything but a monster. And the beautiful stuff in the second half, near the end, is del Toro's cinematic interpretation of "inner" beauty, it's moving and inspiring. This was terrific.

Wicked: For Good

I’m not sure if I really “get” Wicked: For Good. I think it’s an allegory or a fable about something? Exclusion? Discrimination? “Otherness”? The music is undeniably beautiful. But I’m not entirely sure what they’re singing about. Do I need to dig around for the Frank Baum source material to understand it? Or maybe check the revisionist novel on which the Broadway musical is based? It’s beautifully designed and filmed. People flying around, people yelling, people in jeopardy. Funky steam-punk gears and stuff. But I’m not sure I get what the blonde lady and the green lady want. They sing and cry a lot. The green lady is mad at the wizard, who’s a jerk. The vocals are perfect. There’s not one sour note in this entire musical endeavor, but I have trouble connecting to the underlying moral. Should I just shut up and "follow-follow-follow-follow, follow the yellow-brick-road"?

Bugonia

Bugonia mines the botched kidnapping movies of yore. Oldboy. Fargo. Prisoners. Ruthless People. Raising Arizona. It’s always botched. It never works. But we spend a lot of time expanding and exploring delusional kidnappers Teddy (Jesse Plemons) and Don (Aidan Delbis) so when it all invariably goes south we’ll feel for these dumbass weirdos who believe Emma Stone is an alien experimenting on his comatose, hospitalized mother. It’s fairly straightforward – until it isn’t. Revelations occur (as they do) and parables are attempted. The acting is above par, especially from spectrum-y Aidan Delbis as a reluctant, sympathetic accomplice of the cause. Ultimately, though, this comes up icky and empty. Aforementioned revelations play as shocking and darkly humorous, but not really provocative in the way the filmmakers intend. To be clear: I appreciate risk. I admire nuttiness. I’m grateful when I don’t walk out of the theater muttering, “Oh, that old chestnut.” So, two points for Gryffindor. Nevertheless, this frustrates.

Running Man

This was kind of dumb. This was kind of blah. I’m not sure why. It lacked the Edgar Wright-iness of Shaun of the Dead, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, or Baby Driver. Certain plot developments make NO sense. I’m not being nitpicky. Like, seriously, they have absolutely NO inner logic. There are brief moments that dip a toe into Stephen King’s satire of pop culture in an interesting way, but they’re overshadowed and overpowered by the attempts at a visual effects extravaganza, which mostly fall flat. Is it terrible? No. But it’s not really sparkly and fun either. Like a participation trophy in movie form. You showed up, Running Man. Gold star for effort.

Good Night and Good Luck

Is this a movie? It’s a play based on a movie, but it’s filmed. And it first aired live on CNN. So what is it? Does it count as a movie? A TV movie? 

Clooney and Heslov have every right to be proud of their 2005 Oscar nominee, and it couldn’t be more relevant today. Clooney plays Edward R. Murrow now instead of David Strathairn. The story is a simple one with up-to-the-minute themes: what if a politician becomes drunk on power and there’s no one who will hold them accountable? Clooney and Heslov clearly love and respect journalism and aspire to depict reporters as heroes. It’s unfortunately a concept of a bygone era, as truth, reporting, and journalism are dying a slow, zombie death. For all we know, they (you know who) will try to erase this movie from history like so many banned books and historical figures. Watch it while you can, and lament the death of democracy.

Good Fortune

Kudos to Aziz Ansari for getting a movie made, getting a theatrical release, and sneaking in a little social commentary. But the comedy here is uneven. Rogan and Reeves are both on their mark and subvert their personas admirably. Ansari though, with his voice like a blaring bugle, feels a bit off. The editors of Parks and Rec must have understood his rhythms better than he does, because there are times where he seems like he’s tired and trying to keep up. Maybe that’s because he was wearing writing and directing hats, too. The concept isn’t wildly original. It’s Trading Places, Life Stinks, Sullivan’s Travels, and every Capra movie all rolled into a big, LA street taco. So while the execution isn’t stellar, it’s a serviceable thesis of wealth inequity and Keanu the slacker angel offers some mild chuckles.

Deep Cover

You can’t just name a movie Deep Cover if there is already a movie called Deep Cover. Deep Cover is a Laurence Fishburne movie directed by Bill Duke. BUT I DIGRESS! Besides the actor’s salaries, which probably constituted about 83% of the budget, this is a relatively low-budget but serviceable action/comedy. There are numerous examples of movies wherein real cops are reluctantly pared with wannabe actors, so it’s not like it’s reinventing the wheel (ibid the title). But, to her credit, Bryce Howard holds it together and Orlando Bloom and Nick Mohammed offer plenty of complications. The science of improv is barely surface-scraped, but it still offers enough context to “yes, and” and escalate the shopworn gangster plot. The cast seems like they’re having fun. Bloom especially seems to relish taking the piss out of the method actors and the ridiculous Jared Leto techniques. It’s an enjoyable, non-traumatic way to pass the time on a plane.

One Battle After Another

Yet another assured offering from Paul Thomas Anderson. DiCaprio’s rebel slacker is like the feral offspring of Jackson Lamb and Jeffrey “The Dude” Lebowski as he rushes and flails his way through this trial like an (credit to Kiki →) “unmade bed”  ripped away in a tornado. He’s a slob. He drinks too much. He wears a lot of robes. A fumbling, flailing, hero. “PTA” somehow strikes the perfect hybrid comedy/thriller tone, but the danger’s never minimized thanks to the unhinged, comedic appearance from Sean Penn, who nails this evil, weird agent of chaos with veteran confidence. All of the supporting cast is great and there’s not an unnecessary frame in this entire, frenetically-paced outing. The music that accompanies this chaos is chaotic itself, and that drove me a little bit crazy, even though I recognize how necessary it is. When the rubber meets the road, this is a taut action movie, and (plot twist) a movie about family. Chase Infiniti, the rookie heroine, is a revelation and fights and flails through her adventure with skill and fortitude. It’s a barnburner.

Weapons

“The less you know the better.” Weapons is a secret club; an exclusive contract with the culture kids to not discuss or spoil, but instead just experience the movie. It’s a marvel of marketing more than anything else because it’s not THAT mysterious. If you were to pitch it to a horror movie nerd in the snack line at Comic-Con, this would sound pretty conventional. But the odd pacing, the comedic cuts, and the wild detours make this a fun ride. It’s the original method that the story is told that makes this special. Filmmakers grant the audience key, very necessary resolutions. But several of the odd detours and departures showcasing details of the lives of supporting characters don’t really factor in and stay unresolved. So, what’s the point of showing us? It’s hard to say. These nods to the “peculiar” people feel like an homage to David Lynch -- the reasons for them being there will never be fully understood. It’s just for the “vibes,” as the kids say. But it’s “fun” weird rather than “weird” weird which makes this a wild ride and a satisfying endeavor.

Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale

Something happened between episode 2 and episode 3 that I don’t understand. It’s as if some studio executive said, “The last movie was too perfect. We need to shake this one up a little. Film it rough, edit it poorly, rattle the can a little. That’ll bring the kids in!” Maybe their timeline or their deadlines were different. Suffice it to say, something is off here. Pans are too fast. Close ups are too close. Cuts are too abrupt. It’s the filmmakers fault for making “A New Era” so perfectly perfect. “The Grand Finale” had nowhere to go but down(ton). Not that it’s a first-class train wreck. The trials of Lady Mary still engage, as expected. She’ll be missed by her demographic.

Spinal Tap II: The End Continues

The day-to-day life of the vacuous rock star isn’t mined here. There are no conversations about cold cuts, amp knobs, or album covers. We know these guys now. This is much more about getting older, mending fences, cheese, and sitting than it is about Heavy Duty rock and roll. The timing could not be better for this release after a summer of public feuds from The Who and the death of Ozzy. That being so, this document arrives a little more grounded in reality. Different from the first, the big surprise here are the cameos from real rockers, especially Paul McCartney who can hold his own with the improv ninjas. Stringently paced by Rob Reiner and Editor Bob Joyce, one wonders how much silliness ended up on the “cutting room floor” hard drive. There might be ten more movies in there! Such a sweet, funny, nostalgic dessert, and an apolitical tonic for trying times.

KPop Demon Hunters

Not my demographic. But the studio that made Into the Spider-Verse (my demographic) sticks the landing here with snazzy animation, exploding color, funny banter, and above-par musical sequences. The moral of the story is a broad-stokes parable about not judging people by the color of their skin or something, and also not jumping to conclusions. Kid stuff, really. But the movement, color, and expressions of the characters are all whatever the Korean word for “dope” is.

Caught Stealing

This didn’t do it for me. It’s too violent to be a comedy and too talky to be an action movie. It’s an unforced error of tone. Reading that it was based on a novel, it made sense. A novelist can characterize tragedy differently. Darren Aronofsky and company attempt a Guy Richie/Shane Black milieu but the events of the story don’t add up to a hero's journey – in a comedy or an action movie. The hero gets his ass kicked the entire time, he doesn’t protect the princess or save the cat, and he’s nowhere around during the big shoot-out between some supporting characters. It’s a bummer. Yes: stylish filmmaking occupies time. The end credits were cool. But in the end I felt kind of dirty.

Devo

The hazards of rockumentaries are that you can’t really cover all the things about a band in a two-hour show. There was plenty more I wanted to learn about Devo, although I was still happy to see/hear the broad strokes. I’m more inclined to want a straight telling of the history instead of a post-impressionistic, avant-garde essay that tries to invoke the style of the art the band is known for. So I’m grateful to the director (Chris Smith, the American Movie guy) for keeping it moving and pulling the thread. Devo had so many ideas about violence, America, consumerism, and pop-art, it’s a wonder they were able to focus at all. It’s a satisfying aperitif of an extremely influential band.

Nobody 2

Another violent everyman revenge fantasy. This one is the highly-trained assassin from the first movie played capably by Bob Odenkirk. The original chapter has some strong themes about emasculated men in the protector role and really touched a nerve. This sequel is more like Home Alone with adults. You know “Hutch” is never going to die, so you watch with glee as he blows up bad guys with cinematic zeal. Odenkirk’s performance stands out; he’s never quippy or sadistic. He really does just want to go on vacation, and his beleaguered manner sells this. But there’s nothing original here. All the good stuff is in the first one. So it’s not miserable to watch. It’s just a confection and nothing more.

Novocaine

Once you hear the premise, you want to believe that it will be used as an analogy about overcoming your weaknesses and turning them into strengths. Every disease is a superpower. But the superpower disease here is really just used to plunge our guy into more and more danger, have him live though it somehow, turn up the violence, and make him go another round. It’s like a hyper-violent, inexpensive version of Superman. Dennis and Meg’s nepo-baby Jack Quaid is a pretty good actor, and delivers his hapless banker everyman with ease and skill, despite a ridiculous conceit that belongs in a Jason Statham movie. Anyhoo, there’s plenty of killin’, so that’s neat.

Venom: The Last Dance

Oops! I did it again: I watched another Venom movie on an airplane. These movies are action-packed and super weird. They’re filled with well-respected British actors and, while the action scenes are first-rate (this one has an expensive chase in some roaring rapids) the point seems to be depicting the embodiment of the id. “Venom” the character, an alien species that wants to kill, eat, dance, and kill some more, is actually pretty funny. He’s this awkward, brutal, child voice inside of Tom Hardy that desires all the classic stuff that’s bad for you. Tom Hardy is, more often than not, bickering with and playing off of himself as this pretty funny monster. So it’s actually a buddy comedy. His commitment to the bit is unwavering. Will this series of Marvel movies change the course of human history for the better? No, it will not. But it’ll enjoyably pass the time on an airplane, and maybe satiate the deep-seated desire to punch that TSA agent who looked at you threateningly for forgetting to empty your water bottle.

Thunderbolts*

Florence Pugh's Yelena is having an existential crisis. She carries out her assassinations and spy missions with the ennui of a French shoe model. Not only is she an anti-hero but she is firmly “anti-hero.” Like most heroes in most things, though, she gets dragged reluctantly into saving the day, only because she’s taken a liking to “Bob”, a lab-made super-soldier as confused as she is about the world and its supposed protectors. Akin to DCs Suicide Squad, a rag-tag motley crew of malcontents must team up and prevent a catastrophe, and crack wise as often as possible during the ordeal. It works, I think. Mainly because the plot is relatively easy to follow and there’s a very imperfect grump driving the action. Pugh is so good at acting bored, I almost suspect that she’s phoning it in and she wouldn’t normally be caught dead in this genre. But the whole cast is that way – outsiders being flippant, as though they’re not being paid enough. God forbid this surly crew should get a gig they care about.

The Naked Gun

Liam Neeson “takin’ the piss” out of his tough guy persona is a no-brainer. He’s game, and the rest of the cast is, too. It’s enjoyable enough, if not always original or hilarious. The old Naked Gun movies derived from the Police Squad series which was a send-up of a certain kind of cop drama. This comedy avoids spoofing certain Liam Neeson movies and various CSI/Law & Order cop shows, which is a missed opportunity. It’s almost like it’s a “spoof” of the Naked Gun franchise, which is a weird thing to say. Some fan-service moments, and certain cameos, feel random and forced. Other sequences, like one bit of lunacy in a mountain chalet, are risky and inspired. Truly silly comedies are rare these days, so I appreciate the effort.

The Fantastic Four: First Steps

“I will spare your world in exchange for the child.”  -- Isaiah 44:44 

MOB OF AMERICAN JERKS: “What did the God Galactus want?” 

SUE STORM: “He wanted to take our baby.” 

MOB OF AMERICAN JERKS: “Okay, great. Problem solved.” 

SUE STORM: “We told him ‘no’.” 

MOB OF AMERICAN JERKS: “WHAT?? Why? Why’d you tell him THAT? Why are you so selfish?? You should have given up your baby to save us atheistic jerks.” 

There’s not much subtlety to the underlying message here. Americans are jerks that want you to kill your baby. Families and pregnancies are what matter. And your baby is special and magical. For the most part, it’s a warm-bath of nostalgic comfort (except for the whole biblical, God taking yer baby, pro-life business). Things stretch. Things go “fwoosh.” Thing feels it's time to clobber. The sets are neat. Too bad they don’t serve macaroni and cheese or tater-tots at the theater. That would be perfect.

Sinners

"I want your music and I want your stories," says the white vampire, the blood-sucker, offering wealth and eternal life in exchange for the blues. But the Vampire/Irishman was an immigrant too, once, with his own music which also comes from somewhere else - most likely church. There’s analogy on top of allegory on top of parable here, and I’m afraid I’m not enlightened enough to figure it all out. But this mash-up of the cotton fields post-slavery, the immigrant experience, the juke joint jazz, and vampire lore makes for an entertaining and thought-provoking jazz stew. The vampire lore, especially the bit about requiring to be “invited in”, factors heavily in the plot. Filmmakers rely on the conventions of the genre to their great advantage, informing this allegory about cultural appropriation. Despite some weird, pseudo-Lynchian surrealism in the middle, which took me out of the story for a minute, this is an incisive banger, biting off more than it can chew, and trying always to slay.

Galaxy Quest

I’ve seen this nutty comedy plenty of times. Upon this re-watch, I re-appreciated Justin Long. His spot-on delivery of the awkward, teenage superfan is one of the many things that makes this a classic.

Superman

Americans are kinda dicks. Superman does all this work to try to save everybody and they all just stand around and throw shit at him. There’s no gravitas here. There’s no opera. He’s just an ordinary schlub busting his ass all the time, while he tries to take care of his dumb cousin’s pain-in-the-ass dog. He might as well be Ralph Kramden. Is the message deeper? Are filmmakers trying to compare Supes to the immigrant population? The janitors and farm-workers? Doing the stuff nobody else wants to do? Is it just a coincidence that Ma and Pa Kent are farmers? The righties sure are pissed off about something, supposedly. They probably want less Superman and more Homelander. But Homelander could never land a spark-plug like Lois Lane, so Superman must be doing something right.

Jurassic World Rebirth

This is a perfectly adequate summer popcorn movie. To think about it too much will cause the sweater to unravel. The plot is predictable. Some dumb family wanders into trouble. Some great white hunters save the day. Some greedy corporate types get chomped. Some homage to Michael Crichton is paid. Some questions are answered, others are not. Toy and ride potential is unmistakable. It’s an exercise in box-checking.

Mean Girls

Watching this on “movie night” with a group of friends is fun. It’s a pivotal teen comedy from a very specific time, where the wisecrackerey occasionally overshadows Tina Fey/Daniel Waters’ point, which is: Hey, kids! Quit being shitty to each other.

My Mom Jayne

Prolific cop thespian Mariska Hargitay spills the tea on her nutty origin story which mostly involves being the daughter of glamor gal Jayne Mansfield. But there are many more twists in her family saga which she documents with great personal effect. If there was an Emmy for most personal film, she would win. Filmmaking is nothing fancy. It’s pretty straightforward and aims to educate and inform. You can’t help but root for the hero as she recalls being batted around from parent to parent and somehow turning out okay.

Children of Men

Still so, so impressive. Taut direction, a break-neck pace, and astute performances. The medical issues and the “fugee” camps keep this eerily relevant. What makes this different from current events is: there’s actually hope for humanity at the end of the film. In reality, there isn’t much.

Velvet Underground

Watched this 2021 doc about the seminal band by Todd Haynes. Like the band and the other mopers in Andy Warhols’s factory, this has a dull drone to it, like it’s testing the audience to stay alert -- akin to some of Warhol’s long, off-the-wall film experiments. It’s a heroine-induced slog. I would have appreciated a more Ken Burns take with real information and insight.

F1

F1 SPORTSCASTER: "Even though he's in last place in this race, we're going to be talking about washed-up, old racer Sonny Hayes the entire time because he's the subject of this movie and he's being played by Brad Pitt! Vroom! Blimey! Look at him go!"

Formula One racing seems to be having a moment. Hollywood-izing this very European sport makes perfect sense, and Jerry Bruckheimer is the prophet of choice to send this message – things go VROOM. Writers and filmmakers inject some of the data strategy and timing involved with this team sport, which is interesting if not totally vroomy. Types of tires, lengths of pitstops, and aerodynamics are all dramatized with Bruckheimerian energy. Lots of accented, European engineers fuss about “combat”, “victory”, and different colored flags. Brad Pitt stews a lot, and occasionally grimaces. And the theater we saw this in had vibrating seats. All told it’s a good popcorn movie and you get your money’s worth, even if it is just propaganda.

Carry-On

I’ll write this review with the same tool I believe the screenplay was written: with ChatGPT.com.  

PROMPT: Write a snarky, sarcastic, 5 sentence movie review of the 2024 movie "Carry-On" starring Taron Egerton and Jason Bateman. 

 “Carry-On” is the movie equivalent of getting stuck in airport security behind someone with 14 loose change trays and a mysterious metal hip. Taron Egerton gives it his best shot, bless him, trying to act like this isn’t just Die Hard in Terminal C. Jason Bateman looks like he wandered in from a darker, more interesting movie—and decided to stay just to punish us. The plot tries to build suspense but ends up feeling like a TSA instructional video with more blood and worse lighting. By the end, you’re not rooting for anyone—you’re just praying your flight boards early.

The Life of Chuck

A surprisingly poignant essay about life and death adapted from a Stephen King short story. This is more about chapters and segments. It relies less on a driving plot or suspense, and more on exploring the themes. Very well acted throughout in a sub-genre I would describe as “What the fuck is going on?” We find out in due time, and it’s a sad, but thoughtful explanation. Describing it in more detail runs the risk of this coming off as corny, but filmmakers approach the story with such unalloyed sincerity that, well, you just have to see it. Or live it.

Predator: Killer of Killers

Interesting and watchable anime from the "Predator" universe, expanding the world of the “Yautja” (predator species) and their brutal rituals. The capable humans hunted for sport seem to get abducted anyway, unlike the Schwarzeneggers of yore, which feels like a retcon (“retroactive continuity”) intended build-out the universe. That’s fine. Milk it for all it’s worth, movie studio. But just don’t fuck with Prey too much. It’s kinda special.

Ballerina

At the outset, John Wick was different. Because instead of the old chestnut, “You killed my father…” the bad guys killed his puppy and stole his car. It paints pain and revenge in a different light. Here, we’re back with the “You killed my father…” trope, so the story and plot just isn’t that surprising. Nevertheless, writers and filmmakers include a couple of creative sequences when weapons and settings are used in unique ways, and that makes for a fun, light-hearted night at the movies – but lacking the John Wick gravitas.

Mickey 17

An interesting stick-it-to-the-rich sci-fi parable that reminds me of Moon and all things Terry Gilliam. It’s well-made and unpredictable, but maybe not as “fun” as it could be. It’s grotesque at times, and often sad. Robert Pattinson is good as the disposable person in the parable; naïve and optimistic about the potential for a world without assholes.

The Greatest Beer Run Ever

Inspired by a supposed true story, this has a big heart. For better or worse, it’s pro-military and anti-news media. At first it’s a nutty, period, bro comedy, but gets more and more serious as the war escalates. The main dude, a proficient Zac Efron, does have an arc though, and returns from the war in Vietnam with doubts about it all.

Mission: Impossible - The Final Reckoning

I’ve always really liked all of these movies. But there were moments in this when I felt like it was dragging on. Nothing really seems impossible anymore. We know Ethan’s not going to die, right? But if he’s out on the wing of the plane anyway, they might as well milk it for all it’s worth. In any event, there’s only so much popcorn in the bucket…

The Boys in the Boat

"Chariots of Water." Everything about the look and the production is top-notch, but the story feels so over-done and corny. George Clooney can direct – we know that. But the script here tries so hard to be an inspirational, period sports-movie. It’s too predictable and doesn’t really resonate.

Better Man

Generally, I admire risk. Here, filmmakers try to usurp the formula by embracing it wholeheartedly, except for one crazy change. You almost have to do something nutty like this to tell the Robbie Williams story, because the music itself is kind of ho-hum. So they make Robbie a chimp for the entire movie – and commit to the bit. It jumps around from genre to genre. Sometimes it’s a rousing dance musical and sometimes it’s a Ken Loach, kitchen sink drama. It’s an interesting experiment, but it’s too long and ultimately a bit confusing.

Star Wars: Episode IX - The Rise of Skywalker

Re-watched this on the plane. Most of the time when the Star Wars nerds talk about this movie, they complain about Emperor Palpatine “returning” somehow. But I don’t have a huge problem with that. The series has firmly established cloning, projecting your consciousness through space, and mind control. So the emperor having another body in which to beam his psyche is fine with me. There are plenty of other logic problems in this, which I don’t mind that much. Bottom line: you have to hand it to Daisy Ridley, who carries this series with physicality and charisma. IMHO, she’s an excellent bearer of the Skywalker legacy.

The Amateur

This didn’t really move my needle. I like Rami Malek and I like revenge, but if you’re signing up for a revenge movie, the villain needs to die, preferably by having his face ripped off by the hero (ref Fury Road). The thinking man’s comeuppance here doesn’t really satisfy.

Moneyball

It’s been a while since I’ve watched this baseball/data movie and it’s still impressive they made a sports movie about spreadsheets. This wants to depict the old guys with the old way of doing things as the villains and the nerds as the heroes. But knowing what I know about baseball, some heart and intuition is still required to play the game.

Death of a Unicorn

This intends to be a horror-comedy (the trailer played pretty funny), but it’s executed like a straight-forward horror creature-feature. It also intends to stick-it to the rich, but the need for a body count means that some misguided scientists and employees also get horned. What remains is a horror movie that’s not very scary and a comedy that’s not very funny. The premise is the strongest part of this. Themes involving pillaging the natural world to monetize important medical cures make for satisfying impalings. The cast, especially Rudd and Ortega, are up to the task. But it won’t resonate. There’s a magical Sam Raimi-ish, Bruce Campbell-ish ingredient that’s lacking.

Inside Out 2

The teenager trying to fit in and befriend the cool kids, while shunning her old, nerdy friends is a typical movie problem. We’ve seen it 10 million times in every third film throughout film history. But Pixar knows how to make shit poignant, and they do a graceful, bang-up job here. While not as surprising as the first movie, this natural sequel is executed masterfully.

Black Bag

This is one of those movies where you have to pay really close attention in the first 10 minutes or you’ll be lost the whole time. Unfortunately, I saw this at the Alamo Drafthouse and there was all kinds of commotion and drink orders and stuff, so I was a little behind. Long, dimly-lit dinner scenes dominate the plot. Soderbergh and company expertly tell this bickery, low-action spy story well, but it’s not much of an adrenalin rush. Secrets are overheard, lies are told, and doubts are expressed. The stakes are high because the secret spy software could cause a nuclear meltdown, but that’s all offscreen. The real onscreen weapon is Cate Blanchett’s cheekbones, which seem especially pointy and chiseled here, which either means she had too much of something injected, or it was purposely done by the filmmakers to make us suspect she’s the villain. Either way, the moral of the story is solid: if you’re married, stick together and you may fall into a small bit of unaccounted-for spy money.

The Monkey

In the lexicon of Stephen King movies, there’s pre-Misery and post-Misery (with exceptions). This feels like a pre-Misery, non-Kubrickian adaptation, chock-full of overacting, goofy supporting characters, and playful violence. You don’t really have a lot to think about on the drive home, here. Death is coming and you can’t stop it. Also, toy monkeys are creepy. 

The Wild Robot

“Number 5 is alive!” There’s oodles of cute animals and heart-warming themes in this solid and lovingly-derivative animation. Environmental and parental motifs abound. It’s inspirational to see filmmakers successfully attempt to float a positive message out to humanity in these downtrodden times. 

Captain America: Brave New World

I wanted to like this, and watching it was a perfectly enjoyable experience. Anthony Mackie has the authentic bravado and lots of things go “swoosh” and “crash.” But it does feel like an afterthought. The Marvel universe painted itself into a corner. Where do you go after the Deadpool-Spiderman-time-travel-multiverse? So we’re back to political intrigue, which is fine. But it’s not rock-concert exciting.

Venom: Let There Be Carnage

I’m not wildly enthusiastic about these Venom movies. They just pass the time on a plane. But for better or for worse, you have to hand it to Tom Hardy. He’s often in scenes by himself, playing off himself in the form of this primal alter-ego, and his technique and commitment is respectable.