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.

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** 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.