Digger

** SPOILER ALERT ** 

It’s as if a film school freshman who’d spent their whole life watching Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Wes Anderson movies announced, “I could do that—with $175 million.” Across the board, everything about Digger is hacky and lifted from much better movies. It’s the kind of movie someone makes when they’re trying very hard to look cool and weird. It’s the artistic equivalent of that kid who shows up first year in his shiny new DMs and his Joy Division T-shirt and demands to be worshipped. Alejandro Iñárritu (who made the edgy Oscar-bait movie where Leonardo DiCaprio fights a bear—you heard me, a BEAR!!) and fellow pretentious, fake weirdo director Yorgos Lanthimos could start a fan club for hacky/phony surrealist rip-offs of Brazil. Digger is pretentious to its absolute core. That said, teeny-tiny kudos for trying to say something about the murder of the environment, even if Tom Cruise’s two-dimensional oil tycoon is on par with the Rich Texan (Richard “Rich” Texan) from The Simpsons. But maybe that’s the point, because (** spoiler alert **) Cruise is actually playing a bad actor playing a caricature of an oil tycoon. So deep! Anyway, this thing is bombing. So, if you want to see it in theaters, get going. Tom’s a-wastin’! 

The Social Reckoning

It’s Sorkin, so everybody talks fast and throws around techno jargon and lingo that flies way over my head. Thank Zeus for the humans in the story (Bill Burr and Jeremy Allen White), who keep it grounded for us common folk. The patter goes like this: A data genius blabs about algorithms and statistics, and then one of the normies asks, “But what does all that mean??” and the genius explains it in layman’s terms. Rinse and repeat. It’s a watchable history that confirms something we already knew: You-know-who used Facebook to organize the January 6 insurrection attempt. And as robotic as Zuckerberg is in this, he’s nevertheless forced to kick the head insurrectionist off the platform. The movie never says his name. Cowards. Mikey Madison rises to the tough challenge of spewing all that data dialogue while remaining credible and heroic. You believe her when she often repeats, “I love Facebook.” This sequel/follow-up doesn’t really light the world on fire the way The Social Network did -- it’s hard to make a movie about a harmful algorithm. It’s still compelling as a history of social media and Zuckerbergian shittiness.

Normal

The pacing is screwy. Plot devices peter out or disappear altogether. Characters played by famous actors are way, way underused and vanish unceremoniously. Some characters know karate who probably shouldn't know karate. There's a sizeable Yakuza subplot. The story has several endings. But something makes this charming. It has a lot to do with Bob Odenkirk and his mustache and his gee-whiz friendly personality. Somehow he became an action star at age 60, and it's been a pleasure to watch. (Doesn't his back hurt?) Otherwise, story- and plot-wise, this is a jumbled, disjointed action movie hodgepodge. Is it a kung-fu movie? Is it a Fargo? There are Twin Peaks/Northern Exposure attempts at surrealism. There are moose jokes. It feels like maybe the editors were fired or distracted by something -- like maybe the editing room air conditioner was broken. But the more of a mess this is, the more you realize how much Bob brings to the table.

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.