Looking California and Feeling Minnesota - Episode 104: Mission: Impossible - Dead Reckoning Part One

Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to listen to Barry and I as we jump off a cliff on a motorcycle while discussing all things M:I 7 - Dead Reckoning, the newest installment of Tom Cruise's long-running Mission: Impossible action franchise.  Topics discussed include the franchise's unique history, the odd stunt-obsessed turn in Cruise's later career, and Barry's attraction to various women like Rebecca Ferguson, Hayley Atwell and Vaness Kirby...as well as a special prediction segment where we guess the box office for Barbie and Oppenheimer's first weekend. This podcast will, like its hosts, self-destruct every five seconds or so.

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota - Episode 104: Mission: Impossible - Dead Reckoning Part One

Thanks for listening!

©2023

Mission: Impossible - Dead Reckoning Part One: A Review - Assume the Missionary Position

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!!****

My Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

Popcorn Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SEE IT/SKIP IT. Compared to all the other vapid junk recently available at the cineplex, this is the best of the vapid junk. If you love Mission Impossible movies you will love this one. If you loathe those movies or Tom Cruise, you’ll definitely hate this one.

I can say without reservation that Mission: Impossible - Dead Reckoning Part One, the seventh film in the Tom Cruise starring Mission: Impossible franchise, is most definitely a movie…but whether it’s a good one or not is a much more complicated question.

Mission: Impossible is one of the more confounding film franchises in cinema history. Astoundingly, it has been around for nearly thirty years (Cruise was 33 on the first one and is 61 now!), and for the majority of those years it has been considered pretty forgettable, second tier entertainment at best.

Oddly, the films have become more popular as the series has gone along. The films always made money…but they never made that much money. The first three films generated a respectable but not earth-shattering $457M, $546M and $398M respectively at the box office…but with budgets of $80M, $125 and $150m.  Movies four, five and six made a much more impressive $694M, $682M and $791M respectively with budgets of $145M, $150m and $175m.

In addition, fans and critics were lukewarm at best on the first three films, with Rotten Tomato scores of 66 critical/71 audience, 56 critical/42 audience and 71 critical/69 audience respectively for films one, two and three. Interestingly enough, starting with the fourth film, both critics and audience’s love for the films has grown exponentially, with the RT scores being 93 critical/76 audience, 94 critical/87 audience and 97 critical/88 audience for films four, five and six respectively.

That Mission: Impossible survived its first three middling movies to become a respectable franchise is pretty astonishing. It would not have been surprising if, after any of the first three films, the studio (and Cruise) just decided to close up the Mission: Impossible shop.

But what happened instead is that the films stopped being films and transformed into the Tom Cruise Stunt Experience. Starting with the fourth movie, Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol, the franchise’s focus became less about the stories it told and more about the insane stunts Tom Cruise performed in each movie. For example, in Ghost Protocol, Cruise climbed the tallest skyscraper in the world – the Burj Khalifa in Dubai. The marketing around the film was all about Cruise’s insane stunt work, and not about the film itself.

That approach has only grown more vociferous since, with the focus of the Mission: Impossible films being Cruise’s increasingly daring stunt work as opposed to…I don’t know…his acting or the story. There was the famous scene in Rogue Nation (film #5) where Cruise hung off of an Airbus as it took off and flew, and then the HALO parachute jump into Paris in M:I 6.

The marketing approach of highlighting Cruise’s death-defying stunts has worked incredibly well, even when those stunts don’t look particularly good on-screen – like the HALO jump. But the point of the stunts isn’t for them to look good but to distract people from the actual movie by making them mutter in amazement, “wow, Tom Cruise just did that crazy thing!”

The newest film, Dead Reckoning Part One, written and directed by longtime Tom Cruise collaborator Christopher McQuarrie, is no exception. The marketing around the movie is all about Cruise’s motorcycle/parachute jump off a cliff. The stunt is no doubt impressive even if it doesn’t exactly visually translate very well once Cruise and his motorcycle leave terra firma.

The rest of the movie is…fine…I guess. I mean it’s good for a Mission: Impossible movie, considering the franchise that has always been a parody of itself. Yes, it’s utterly ridiculous and absolutely absurd, but I did find myself mostly engaged for the rather bloated two-hour and forty-five-minute runtime, but I also found myself pondering a more existential question in the wake of watching Dead Reckoning, namely is this movie now considered good because everything else is so bad?

In my case, the last two movies I saw before this were The Flash and Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny. Those two movies were, like most of the movies I’ve seen over the last few years, dreadfully bad, and Dead Reckoning is much better than them, but that doesn’t necessarily make it good.

My theory is this…it seems to me that cinema in particular, and our culture in general, has been decaying for the last decade, and in precipitous decline for the past four years, so much so that what was once second-tier, forgettable garbage like Mission: Impossible, is now considered elite franchise filmmaking.

This is a round-about way of saying that objectively, Dead Reckoning isn’t a good movie, but in the context of the shit filling the cineplex these days, it is entertaining and enjoyable.

What makes it entertaining and enjoyable? Well, first off, it makes the rather rudimentary and obvious decision, which Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny ignored, to fill itself to the brim with a cavalcade of sumptuous eye-candy.

The eye-candy comes in the gorgeous form of Hayley Atwell, Vanessa Kirby and Rebecca Ferguson. These three women are not only attractive, they’re very talented. Contrast that to Indiana Jones which featured only one woman prominently, and that was the ungainly Phoebe Waller-Bridge, a sub-par and rather unattractive actress.

Hayley Atwell is the best thing about Dead Reckoning and it isn’t even close. Atwell is charismatic, compelling and fun as Grace, the pickpocket/con artist who gives Cruise’s Ethan Hunt a run for his money. Atwell is so appealing she’s actually able to make it seem like she and the dead-eyed Cruise have chemistry…which brings to mind the Rolling Stones lyric from Start Me Up – “you made a dead man come!”

Vanessa Kirby is back as Alana - the White Widow, a sexy arms dealer and she is, as always, undeniably magnetic. Kirby smolders with a palpable dynamism that jumps off the screen. Kirby needs to be a bigger movie star than she already is.

Rebecca Ferguson is the rogue MI 6 agent Ilsa Faust who may or may not have stolen Ethan Hunt’s heart. Ferguson is actually quite good in this enigmatic role, which is no easy task opposite the often lifeless Cruise.

As for the eye-candy for women…well…sorry ladies…all you get is Tom Cruise. Cruise is in absolutely incredible shape but his boyish good looks are long gone and left in their place is a sort of strangely puffy, post-plastic surgery face that always looks just a bit off.

Cruise doesn’t so much act in these movies, as play-act, and it can be pretty cringe-worthy. Cruise is undeniably one of the biggest movie stars of the last forty years, but he is not a particularly good actor, and he lacks a physical presence and dynamism that you’d expect to see from someone of his standing.

Cruise’s attempts at being sincere always feel manufactured and his attempts at being tough feel hollow. But on the bright side we at least get to see Cruise run in this movie…a lot. Cruise’s Mission Impossible running is legendary to the point of being hysterical. It never fails to make me laugh when Cruise’s Ethan Hunt, busts out his hyper-focused sprint. That all of these movies feature numerous scenes of Cruise sprinting, and they all hold those shots of him running for roughly twenty to thirty seconds too long, is one of the more puzzling things about them. Are Cruise and the filmmakers in on the joke or do they think this is really awesome? Who knows?

For a franchise that has been around now for seven movies and nearly thirty years, it should come as no surprise that it is cannibalizing itself. For example, in Dead Reckoning Ethan Hunt is once again facing a villain intent on destroying the world. And once again this villain, a sentient AI named the Entity (no I’m not joking), is so omnipotent that it predicts what all of the Mission Impossible guys and gals will do before they do it…which leads to dialogue about ‘should we do this? – But the Entity KNOWS we’ll do it!!’ This is all very reminiscent of The Syndicate and The Apostles and every other villain in recent MI history.

Dead Reckoning is also seemingly stealing/paying tribute to other films including earlier Mission Impossible ones. For instance, there is yet another sandstorm featured prominently in a sequence in this movie, which also occurred in Ghost Protocol. There’s also a climactic train sequence, which is similar to the one from the very first M:I movie.

Other movies are borrowed from as well, like The Hunt for Red October and Jurassic Park 2. It is never clear if these are a result of homage or creative bankruptcy.

Ultimately, all Mission: Impossible films feel like ego-events with Tom Cruise playing messiah. Dead Reckoning is no exception. That said, it is much better and more entertaining than the vast majority of junk I’ve had to sit through in recent years, including Indiana Jones, The Flash and even everyone’s favorite piece of rancid pop culture shit Top Gun: Maverick.

If you liked any or all of those movies (God, help us!), you’ll think Dead Reckoning is Citizen Kane mixed with The Godfather. If, like me, you loathed those movies, you’ll find Dead Reckoning, filled with pretty woman and beautiful locations, to be a passable piece of franchise entertainment in a culture deeply enmeshed in a seemingly endless entertainment drought.

 Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 103 - Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny

On this episode Barry and I go on an archeological dig to try and discover why Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny was such a flop...and we find a treasure trove of answers. Topics discussed include Phoebe Waller-Bridge and the fool's gold of Fleabag, the cornucopia of abysmal supporting performances in this disappointing movie, and the storytelling power of science vs religion.

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 103 - Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny

Thanks for listening!

©2023

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 102 - The Flash

On  this episode, Barry and I sprint as fast as we can away from the DC superhero movie The Flash. This rip-roaring, profanity-laced episode contains boisterous discussions about the disaster area that is DC Films, Ezra Miller's multitude of failures, and the awfulness of George Clooney. 

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 102 - The Flash

Thanks for listening!

©2023

Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny: A Review - Dial D for Dull

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!!****

My Rating: 1 out of 5 stars

Popcorn Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. If you’re desperate to be an Indiana Jones completist, wait until this underwhelming movie hits Disney + to watch it.

The Indiana Jones franchise gloriously burst onto the scene with 1981’s Raiders of the Lost Ark, a deliriously entertaining throwback to early Hollywood action-adventure serial cliffhangers that was perfectly directed by Steven Spielberg and created/produced by George Lucas, which became a massive blockbuster and captured the culture’s imagination.

Raiders made Harrison Ford, who was already an enormous star for his turn as the charming rogue Han Solo in the Star Wars movies, a megastar for his portrayal of the swashbuckling, Nazi-punching archeologist Indiana Jones.

Now, forty years and four films later, Harrison Ford is back once again in the iconic title role in the new film Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny, which is the fifth, and maybe, probably, hopefully, the last film in the franchise.

The Dial of Destiny is the first Indiana Jones film to not be directed by Steven Spielberg. This time James Mangold (Ford v Ferrari, Logan) is at the helm and joining Ford in the cast are Phoebe Waller-Bridge, Antonio Banderas, Boyd Holbrook, Mads Mikkelsen and Toby Jones.

The film tells the story of the incomparable Indiana Jones as he struggles to make his way in the modern world of 1969 as a retiring professor of archeology. His retirement plans get scattered to the wind when his goddaughter Helena shows up talking about an ancient relic called the dial of destiny…and so the adventure begins.

The Indiana Jones film series has, with one notable exception, been a case of diminishing returns as the franchise went along. Raiders was impeccable entertainment, but its sequel, 1984’s The Temple of Doom, was a major drop off from its predecessor. Thankfully 1989’s The Last Crusade, which featured a supporting turn by Sean Connery, got things back on track as it was nearly an equal to Raiders. Then fans had to wait 19 years for the next Indiana Jones movie, and that was 2008’s The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull…it was not worth the wait.

I had never seen Kingdom of the Crystal Skull but to prepare for Dial of Destiny I watched it and came away thinking that while the first act was fine, the second act was pretty bad and the third act was unconscionably awful.

As bad as The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull was, and it really was bad as it was riddled with the most basic filmmaking and storytelling errors, believe it or not, it is still better than The Dial of Destiny.

I saw The Dial of Destiny a day ago and I cannot, for the life of me, remember a single frame from the film. While my cognitive decline may be partially responsible for that lack of recall, it isn’t totally to blame as the movie itself shoulders the majority of it.

The biggest problem with The Dial of Destiny, and it is riddled with a cavalcade of problems, is that it’s shockingly, unforgivably dull. The dial of dullness was turned up to 11 on this movie.

Why Ford, who is now 80 years-old, would dust off Indy’s signature fedora and bullwhip for this insipid script and lackluster movie, is beyond me. It’s not like he needs the money.

Indiana Jones has always had a partner in these movies, be it romantic or familial. In Raiders there was Karen Allen’s spectacular spitfire Marion. In Temple of Doom it was the awful Kate Capshaw as singer/actress Willie. In Last Crusade, of course, it was Sean Connery as Indy’s dad Henry. In Kingdom of the Crystal Skull it was Shia LeBeouf as Indy’s son, Mutt. And now in Dial of Destiny it is Phoebe Waller-Bridge as Helena Shaw, Indy’s Goddaughter.

As terrible as Kate Capshaw and Shia LeBeouf are in their Indy supporting roles, Waller-Bridge is, astonishingly, even worse.

Waller-Bridge is best known for her award-winning performance in the tv series Fleabag, which she also wrote. I absolutely loved Fleabag and Waller-Bridge in it. I thought she was utterly phenomenal as the self-destructive, self-sabotaging lead in the series.

But in Dial of Destiny, Waller-Bridge, who has not done much if any acting work since Fleabag, is exposed for simply not being ready for prime time. Her quirkiness was extremely appealing on the small screen in Fleabag, but on the big screen she is revealed as being a charisma-free, small, rather poor actress.

Waller-Bridge is remarkably wooden, if not leaden, in the film. As a comedic presence she is underwhelming, annoying and decidedly unfunny. As a physical actress she is uncomfortable, ungainly, ungraceful and unathletic, four things that individually are difficult to deal with in an action movie, but in unison are impossible to overcome.

Casting Waller-Bridge, who is, frankly, physically unattractive, and who runs like a baby giraffe with rickets and a club foot, as a co-lead in an action-adventure film next to a crumbling 80-year-old man, is so egregious as to be criminal.

At least with 80-year-old Harrison Ford they de-age him for the first part of the film so we don’t have to watch his decrepit body creak and ache for the full, and excruciatingly long, two hours and thirty-four-minute run time. Unfortunately for Waller-Bridge, and us, no technology exists that can alter her awkward, grating presence and unappealing appearance in this movie.

As for Ford, the truth is he has never been a particularly good actor. He’s certainly a very charming screen presence, but he’s always been pretty limited in what he’s able to do acting-wise. If you watch him in Kingdom of the Crystal Skull he’s actually egregiously bad, but in Dial of Destiny he has some brief moments.

For example, when Indy dutifully recites some exposition about why Mutt (his son from Kingdom of the Crystal Skull) isn’t in this movie, it is actually quite moving…and is the most emotionally packed sequence in any Indiana Jones film and maybe in Ford’s career.

Unfortunately, that is the only moment in the entire film that has any life to it. The rest of it is generic action after generic action all riddled with derivative dialogue around a pointless plot.

Speaking of generic, the bad guys in this movie, Nazi scientist Jurgen Voller (Mads Mikkelsen) and Klaber (Boyd Holbrooke), are such cardboard cutouts I’m surprised they didn’t blow away in the wind. I like both Mikkelsen and Holbrooke but these bad guys have no depth or direction to them. Klaber in particular is totally incomprehensible and incoherent.

Another absurd character is Mason, a black, female CIA agent, poorly played by Shaunette Renee Wilson. Mason is a sassy CIA agent with a heart of gold and a strong moral compass. How realistic. That Wilson is unable to bring any life or depth to the character only adds to that undeniable sinking feeling whenever she’s on-screen.

In a recent article Wilson described how she got her character’s dramatic exit from the story changed because she thought it had offensive language in it and was unduly harsh. The ending that ultimately ended up on-screen is so banal as to be ridiculous so…congrats to Ms. Wilson?

It is also amusing that Ms. Wilson was offended by some language spoken to her character in her original final scene, which no doubt was racially tinged considering the scenes are set in 1969 and her opponent is the Nazi henchmen Klaber, but she felt completely comfortable using the term “cracker” on-screen. Apparently, what is good for the goose is most definitely not also good for the gander.

That James Mangold agreed to Ms. Wilson’s changing of the script speaks to not only his spineless and sackless nature but also his complete lack of understanding about drama. Kluber would’ve been a more compelling, interesting and comprehensible character if we could’ve seen his visceral hatred of Mason in the actual movie. But it was “offensive” so we have to deter to a no-name, third rate actress’s feelings instead. Good grief.

Speaking of Mangold, who I thought did fantastic work on both Logan and Ford v Ferrari, he brings nothing to the table on Dial of Destiny. The film isn’t even a cheap knock-off of Spielberg, which Spielberg himself already did on Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, it’s just an overly long exercise in bad decisions.

For example, why does Mangold shoot an underwater scene which is impossible to see and dramatically nonsensical? Why does he shoot so much at night, which results in bland visuals with no sharp contrast? These decisions, along with the decision to cast Waller-Bridge and Shaunette Renee Wilson, are inexplicable, and they are an albatross around the movie’s neck. And don’t even get me started on the character Teddy (Ethann Isidore), who is like Short Round (from Temple of Doom) but worse, believe it or not. Yikes.

Another enormous problem with Dial of Destiny is that its story undermines what made both Raiders and Last Crusade so archetypally compelling, namely, it eschews the magic and mysticism of religion in favor of “science”.

The plot of Dial of Destiny revolves around the Antikythera, a time travel device built by Greek mathematician Archimedes. There is nothing mystical about this device, it is supposed to be based on actual science.

Indiana Jones is himself a scientist, which is why his grappling with the magical religious powers of the Ark of the Covenant and the Holy Grail, in Raiders and Last Crusade respectively, is so captivating and compelling.

When Indy is faced with dubious science, as in Crystal Skull and Dial of Destiny, it works at cross-purposes with the character’s archetype and mythology. In other words, it disengages the audience on an unconscious level, thus neutering the story and its dramatic power.

The Lance of Longinus or Holy Lance, which was used to pierce Christ’s side at the crucifixion, is a relic that is momentarily presented on-screen in the movie but then narratively disposed of in favor of Archimedes’ dial of destiny.

It seems to me that the Holy Lance was a better option to use as a narrative device in this film. It could have been presented as a way for the aging Indy to find both redemption and forgiveness for whatever sins he may be burdened with…like the ones regarding his son and ex-wife. And it could also have been a weapon of great power used by the usual suspects, the Nazis, to take over the world.

But instead, we get the rather flaccid dial of destiny, which Indy doesn’t even use to reverse the errors he’s made in his personal life, but only a really lame final act involving Archimedes himself that feels like a bad attraction at a second-rate amusement park. Sigh.

If I had the dial of destiny in my possession I would travel back in time and erase all of the Indiana Jones movies except for Raiders of the Lost Ark and The Last Crusade. I would also make sure the diabolical producer from Lucasfilm, Kathleen Kennedy, was never born, thus saving both the Star Wars and Indiana Jones franchises from her malignantly evil grasp. I have no doubt that I would be received as a great hero to all people with good taste.

Oh, to dream.

Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

The Flash: A Review - Running on Empty

****THIS REVIEW IS MOSTLY SPOILER FREE BUT DOES CONTAIN A CLEARLY MARKED SECTION WITH SPOILERS!!****

My Rating: 1 out of 5 stars

Popcorn Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. A mess of a movie that is a major letdown. If you really want to see it wait a few months until it’s streaming on Max.

In the weeks and months leading up to the release of the DC film The Flash there was a relentless stream of industry people vociferously declaring it to be a superhero movie masterpiece.

James Gunn, filmmaker and new co-CEO of DC Films, said prior to release that The Flash was “one of the best superhero movies (he’s) ever seen.”

Warner Brothers CEO David Zaslav said that The Flash was flat out “the greatest superhero movie” ever.

It wasn’t just Warner Brother lackeys either, as none other than the Lord and Saviour of Scientology and Hollywood, Tom Cruise, allegedly called the film’s director Andy Muschietti after an early screening and raved about how much he loved it.

Even horror writer Stephen King got in on the action declaring of The Flash on Twitter, “This one is special. It’s heartfelt, funny, and eye-popping. I loved it.”

I went to see The Flash on its opening Friday and I can report that James Gunn, David Zaslav, Tom Cruise and Stephen King are all either shameless liars or mental defectives with severe cinematic taste dysmorphia.

The reality is that The Flash is, much to my deep, deep chagrin, at its very best, a sub-mediocrity, and at its worst, terrible.

Let me start off by saying that I really like the Flash as a comic-book character, and I think he’s very deserving of a major motion picture. Let me also say that I actually liked Ezra Miller in the supporting role of Flash in the previous Snyder-verse films…and on top of that I actually liked the Snyder-verse films (the director’s cuts anyway) considerably more than most…and on top of that in general I lean much more toward DC than I do Marvel.

That is a long-winded way of saying that I was predisposed to liking The Flash. And then I saw The Flash.

The movie is just a mess. Superhero fatigue is a real thing, and the abysmal failure of The Flash, both creatively and at the box office, is proof that the genre is running on fumes at the moment.

A big part of the problem with The Flash is that the story is convoluted and incoherent. There’s lots of talk about multiverses and time travel and such but the very core of the story, the murder of Barry Allen/The Flash’s mom, is a muddled and jumbled event that carries no weight because it makes zero sense.

Another major issue is that the CGI is egregiously abominable. The opening to the film features an action sequence where Flash has to save a bunch of babies falling from a collapsing building. The scene is reminiscent of the horrors of 9/11 but this time with babies in peril, which why I raised an eyebrow when Flash checks his watch during the action and it reads “9:10”. How odd.

The CGI in this sequence and throughout the film is just atrocious to the point of being ridiculous. Director Andy Muschietti has stated that the poor CGI was intentional as it gives the viewers the perspective of Flash…ummm…yeah, ok…and I intentionally failed trigonometry in high school so I could share the perspective of stupid people. Come on, that Muschietti claim is utter horseshit. The CGI is cheap and laughably bad and no manufactured, half-assed hindsight story is going to change that. The awful CGI matters because it undercuts the entirety of the cinematic enterprise from the get go.

On top of all that, Ezra Miller, who as I stated I liked in a comedic supporting role as Flash in the earlier Snyder-verse films, is simply not able to carry a feature film. Miller is a distinct type of actor, and he becomes more and more grating the more time you spend with him on-screen. That is only heightened in The Flash when you spend a great deal of time with him AND there are two of him…which is as annoying as it sounds.

To be clear, I actually don’t care about Ezra Miller’s much publicized legal issues – which have kept him from doing any publicity for the film, nor do I care about HIS preferred pronouns. I just find it mildly amusing and somewhat ironic that Ezra Miller is obviously batshit crazy and now stars in a movie featuring a bevy of Batmen.  

What made The Flash so frustrating was that it so easily could have and should have been not only so much better, but actually great. And the path to greatness, or at least making it better, is painfully obvious to anyone with half a brain in their head.

WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD. SKIP AHEAD IF YOU WANT TO AVOID SPOILERS!!!

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Much Like Spider-Man: No Way Home, which featured three Spider-men and a cavalcade of villains from previous film versions of Spider-Man, The Flash could’ve exploited the deep reservoir of DC films and tv shows to deliver fan service, laughs and drama. Instead, the film badly stumbles in its attempt to be clever and pay tribute to the superhero projects that preceded it.

The marketing of The Flash made it clear that both Ben Affleck and Michael Keaton would be playing Batman in the film. Keaton’s return was, much to my chagrin since I like movies to keep their secrets, much hyped and given away in the trailers.

The prospect of two Batmen is pretty intriguing, but The Flash does nothing with it. It also does nothing with the cavalcade of other DC superheroes it very briefly visually references….like Christopher Reeves’ Superman, Helen Slater’s Supergirl, George Reeve’s Superman and Adam West’s Batman.

That The Flash is unable to adequately exploit DC’s back catalogue effectively for drama or comedy is cinematic malpractice criminal scale.

What the film should have done is Forest Gump (yes, I’m using Forest Gump as a verb!) the Flash’s red ass into quick scenes from the actual George Reeves Superman and Adam West Batman tv shows and get a laugh when Flash realizes he’s in the wrong universe.

Do the same and put Flash into Christopher Reeves’ Superman films (maybe even in a scene with Richard Pryor!). The same is true for the Nicholas Cage Superman movie that never got made – yes, Cage’s Superman is briefly seen in The Flash, but it could have been used in a more substantial way. Hell, why not use all the Supermen…like Henry Cavill, Brandon Routh (from Superman Returns), Tom Welling (from Smallville) and Dean Cain (from Lois and Clark) even if briefly and even if only for comic effect?

Same with Batman…why not exploit all the weird villains from earlier films, like DeVito’s Penguin, Pfeiffer’s Catwoman, Schwarzenegger’s Mr. Freeze and Jim Carrey’s Riddler? Maybe even get a cheer by putting Flash in the Val Kilmer Batman universe. You could even steal from Top Gun: Maverick and have an emotional scene with a sick Val Kilmer as an aged and beaten Batman on his deathbed meeting Flash yet unable to speak to him.  

And you could also do a brief crossover with the Flash tv show on the CW and have Miller’s Flash bump into CW Flash’s Grant Gustin in some weird speed force intersection. I’ve never seen the CW show but why not use and exploit all the IP in your power? Fans love that stuff and it would give this project a sense of scope and scale, and God knows Warner Brothers loves nothing more than self-congratulatory commercials for itself (see the LeBron James Space Jam movie…actually don’t, it’s awful).

As for the two Batmen most prominently featured in the movie, Michael Keaton and Ben Affleck, instead of having two Ezra Miller Barry Allen/Flash characters meet up, have Affleck and Keaton’s Batman characters jump into the other’s universe and meet up. It would be much more entertaining and much more dramatically and comedically satisfying to have Affleck and Keaton squaring off saying “I’m Batman” at each other and recounting how their parents died for the millionth time than to have Ezra Miller bantering back and forth with Ezra Miller for two hours.

Hell, imagine a fight between Affleck’s Batman and Keaton’s Batman, and then later they come together to fight against Zod or whomever. People would love that and come out to the theatre to see it.

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END OF SPOILERS END OF SPOILERS END OF SPOILERS

See, the possibilities for plumbing the depths of the DC catalogue for comedy and drama are endless, and yet what The Flash comes up with is the least creative, least interesting, least intriguing of all the possibilities.

The bottom line is that The Flash is the most disappointing movie in recent memory because it really should have and could have been at the very least entertaining…and maybe even great. But it’s neither of those things. What it is, ultimately, is a rather cheap, completely empty exercise in squeezing the very last vestiges of life from the superhero genre.

 Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

Ted Lasso - Season Three: A Review - Feminized and Unfunny

****THIS REVIEW REVEALS PLOT POINTS!!! THIS IS TECHNICALLY NOT A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!!****

My Rating: 1 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. This once great show is now truly awful.

Season one of Ted Lasso premiered on the fledgling streaming service Apple TV+ back in August of 2020, a very toxic, turbulent and tumultuous time as the U.S. presidential election between Trump and Biden was kicking into high gear.

The amusing show about a good-natured simpleton from Middle America thrown into the cutthroat swamp of high stakes British football became a phenomenon for the sole reason that it was relentlessly benign in a culture growing more aggressively malignant by the moment.

Ted Lasso, both the show and the character, was like a cool breeze on a sweltering day as its optimism was a satisfying reprieve from the suffocating negativity that had, and has, come to dominate American discourse.

The first season was crisp, concise and comedically coherent. It featured a charming, Emmy-winning performance from Jason Sudeikis as the fish-out-of-water title character, and also from an ensemble cast portraying a wide array of amusing soccer misfits.

Unfortunately, the show fell into the trap of believing all the “nice-guy” hype surrounding it and as a result lost its way on season two, which premiered in July of 2021. Gone were the numerous obstacles Ted had to face in season one, like a boss yearning for his failure, and in their place came nothing but vacuous soft smiles and vapid platitudes.

As bad as season two was, it pales in comparison to the atrocity that is season three, which premiered on March 15, 2023 and is supposedly the series finale.

To be as succinct as possible, Ted Lasso season three is a steaming pile of shite.

Season three feels like it was written by a group of liberal, Los Angeles, wine moms who simply can’t comprehend anyone disagreeing with their insipid, insidious and ideologically impotent beliefs, and who ban anyone who dare do such a hateful and hurtful thing.

The show’s infectiously benign nature featured in season one is now long gone, replaced by phony and flaccid politically correct posturing that is egregiously unfunny and frankly repulsive for its shameless pandering.

All of the male characters are now completely castrated, as is all of the conflict and therefore comedy. Gay themes, women’s empowerment and immigration politics take center stage, while comedy exits stage left. Gay story lines or political topics would be fine for the show to explore if there were actual comedy to extract from them, but conflict is necessary for comedy and season three of Ted Lasso is deathly allergic to any and all conflict.

For example, the gay relationships on display are embraced whole-heartedly by every single character with no exceptions. The working-class Brits and the third-world immigrants on the AFC Richmond roster not only accept but celebrate their gay teammate instantaneously…how realistic. The only holdout among the team is because the gay player lied, not because he’s gay. No players even good-naturedly tease the gay player, never mind torment him. Ted Lasso even gives a speech saying basically that being accepting of the gay player isn’t enough…you have to actively affirm his sexual preference.

Then there’s the gay relationship public relations tart Keely (Juno Temple) gets in to with her female venture capitalist boss Jack (Jodi Balfour). First off, it’s very odd that neither of Keely’s ex-lovers, Jamie and Roy, notice her new sexual orientation or comment on it at all.

In addition, if Jack were a man, she’d be easy to peg as a sexual predator and asshole, but because she’s a lesbian no one bats an eye to her controlling and predatory behavior.

Counter to that, Rupert (Anthony Head), former owner of AFC Richmond and ex-husband to its current owner Rebecca (Hannah Waddington), is a philandering, low-life piece of shit and that is made abundantly clear as the show goes out of its way to punish and humiliate him. What makes a rich lech like Rupert different than Jack? He’s using his money and power to sexually exploit women…just like Jack…but Rupert has a penis which apparently makes him the devil.

Ted Lasso is infected with a virulent misandry and repugnant male-phobia as it seemingly can’t do anything but hate and ridicule men. All of the male characters are weak-kneed caricatures of what faux feminists think men should be, as opposed to what they really are.

For example, most real men (but certainly not all) would accept their gay teammate, but they would also relentlessly bust his balls…and the gay teammate would feel accepted because his buddies were busting his balls like they bust everybody else’s balls. This is how actual men behave around one another and communicate with one another.

And then there’s the ridiculous immigration garbage. Sam (Toheeb Jimoh), a Nigerian player on Richmond, gets into a Twitter kerfuffle with some British politician over turning away boats of African immigrants. You think the working-class British players on the team might have some different opinions on immigration than Sam? You think Jamie Tarrt (Phil Dunster), the Manchester-born, blue-collar boy who is thrilled to play for the English national team, might want to tell Sam to shut the fuck up and go back to Nigeria – the country he so desperately wants to represent in the World Cup? You think a real football rough guy like Roy Kent might think “England for the English” and might get in Sam’s face over it?

A clash between Sam and Jamie over immigration might actually be really funny, since neither one of them are particularly bright (poor Sam seems mildly retarded as all he ever does is smile). Instead, the show just has Sam’s restaurant trashed by supposed white supremacists and then the whole team comes together to clean it up. How hysterically funny. Just kidding…it isn’t.

The worst character of all is team owner Rebecca, played with nauseous self-righteousness by Emmy winner Hannah Waddingham. Rebecca is no longer the villain – because it is forbidden for women to be villains on Ted Lasso, instead she is now a picture of feminist power…yet does little more than smile every two seconds like a brain-damaged toddler.

That Rebecca, who only owns the team because she was a bartender who fucked the married owner – Rupert – who she then divorced and took for half his fortune, is held up as a paragon of modern feminist virtue and entrepreneurial verve is one of the more unintentionally funny things in the entire show. That the big conclusion to Rebecca and Keely’s stories – is that they decide to start an AFC Richmond Women’s soccer team, made me laugh out loud for its impotence, idiocy and desperate pandering. As an aside…the only thing in the world worse than women’s soccer…is women’s basketball.

What isn’t funny about Ted Lasso is poor Ted Lasso, who is now reduced to just blurting out his inane, folksy words of wisdom like a coked-up Tony Robbins with Tourette’s. Sudeikis is obviously mailing it in at this point and his Lasso is as lackluster as it is deeply depressing.

What is even more bizarre than its total lack of comedy and humor is that season three of Ted Lasso makes virtually no sense in terms of storylines.

Nate the “wunderkid” (Nick Mohammed), has a story arc that is so incoherent it boggles the mind. The same is true of alleged tough guy Roy Kent, played by Brett Goldstein, who is as believable as a tough guy as Richard Simmons. Both Roy and Jamie Tartt were two of the more interesting characters at the start of the show and season three turns them into eunuchs and then takes a gigantic, sloppy shit right on top of them leaving behind an odious mess.

To be clear, I absolutely fucking hated Ted Lasso season three. FUCKING HATED IT. Part of why I hated it is because I liked season one so much. But after season one all the male characters got castrated and all the funny went right out of the show.

If you hate men and hate to laugh yet love soft smiles accompanied by gentle guitar and piano music, then season three of Ted Lasso is definitely for you. If you don’t…then Ted Lasso is not for you and you should avoid it at all costs as it will only infuriate you with its cornucopia of feminized anti-comedy.

 Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 101 - Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse

On this episode, Barry and I don our Spidey-tights and do battle over Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse. We friendly-neighborhood movie critics web-sling through such topics as the film's truly spectacular animation and it's creative rejuvenation of comic book cinema, but also it's uneven storytelling and bloated run time. 

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 101 - Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse

Thanks for listening!

©2023

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse - A Review: Your Friendly Multiverse Spider-Man

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!!****

My Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

Popcorn Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SEE IT. As visually stunning and original a film as you’ll see, but it is burdened by poor sound quality and some storytelling mis-steps. Not as good as the original but overall worth seeing.

The new film web-slinging atop the box office is Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse, the highly-anticipated sequel to the 2018 Best Animated Film Academy Award-winner Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse. The movie picks up where the original left off telling the story of neophyte Spider-Man Miles Morales as he navigates the pitfalls of life as an adolescent superhero.

The first film, Into the Spider-Verse, which I rewatched prior to venturing out to the theatre to see Across the Spider-Verse, was as entertaining as it gets in both animation and the superhero genre. It was cool, touching and funny. In other words, the sequel Across the Spider-Verse is burdened with very big shoes to fill and, unfortunately, it isn’t quite up to that Herculean task.

Let’s start with the good news.

First off, the animation on Across the Spider-Verse is simply spectacular. The filmmakers create an aesthetically glorious work of art by seamlessly blending together a wide variety of distinct animation styles to create a moving visual masterpiece that pays tribute to the great comic book artists that built Spider-Man throughout the years.

In particular, Spider-Punk, a black brit punk rocking Spider-Man deftly voiced by Daniel Kaluuya, is a standout. The character is designed like a modern art collage and its contrast to the other Spider-People makes for transcendent visuals.

Then there’s the throwbacks to a bevy of old comic book Spider-Men, some shots of live-action movie Spider-Men and even a Lego world Spider-Man. Even the more standard Spider-People, like Miguel O’Hara/Spider-Man 2099 (voiced by Oscar Isaac), look totally badass. All-in-all the film with its vibrant color scheme and distinct style, looks unique, original and absolutely gorgeous.

In terms of the plot, I have to say it’s a bit of a mixed bag for a variety of reasons. All Spider-Man stories, and Across the Spider-Verse is no exception, thrive when grappling with not only adolescent angst but existential profundity. In this film we see both Miles Morales and Gwen Stacey struggle with both things and those are the more resonant storylines.

But the increased focus on Gwen Stacey/Spider-Woman (voiced by the wondrous Hailee Steinfeld) felt too long, ineffective and ultimately distracting because viewers have never been given a fully-fleshed out origin story with Gwen with which to build rapport with the character, which would’ve made her storyline more compelling.

The film also expands into a vast multiverse plot which gets into a wide array of topics including a clever foray into the importance of canon, and all of that is a nice bit of self-reverential fan service from the filmmakers, but it also gets a bit convoluted and burdensome.

That said, I felt the brief foray into the world of Pavitr Prabhakar/Spider-Man India was really well-done (and looked great) but was much too short-lived.

Now for the bad news.

The sound mixing on Across the Spider-Verse is absolutely atrocious. Just utterly abysmal. The dialogue of characters is much too low in the mix and the pounding music much too high, particularly in the opening sequence. A great deal of dialogue gets lost in this muddied mess of a mix and it is irritating, aggravating and frustrating.

At first, I thought the sound problems were a result of my sub-par theatre and their lackluster audio equipment but no, the poor sound mixing on Across the Spider-Verse is a real and much complained about thing, so much so that Sony is sending out new versions of the film with improved sound quality. Too little too late as far as I’m concerned. I mean, how in the hell does a studio put out a major motion picture with such third-rate sound, especially one that is animated and built entirely in a computer? It would be one thing to have sound issues if you’re recording natural sound out in the world but these movie makers haven’t seen sun light in like five years so that’s not the case here. Simply unacceptable and totally inexcusable.

Another issue with the film is that, at two hours and twenty-minutes, it’s definitely at least forty minutes too long. Unlike the original, the story here feels decidedly bloated.

Making matters worse is that the film ends unexpectedly with a sort of cliffhanger that isn’t a cliffhanger but more like a poorly timed and entirely unearned abrupt ending that feels very money-grabby. The ending is so abrupt it’s jarring as the dramatic and emotional beats are left mid-arc and feel unfulfilled and unsatisfied. Having to tune in to a third Spider-Verse movie five years from now in order to fulfill the emotional and narrative beats left dangling at the end of this movie does not quench viewer’s dramatic thirst.

One more problem is that the villain, the Spot – a D-list Marvel bad guy, is not the least bit interesting or captivating. Also, due to the structure of the plot, the Spot isn’t really the main villain he’s just a very thin sideshow. I won’t get into it too much in order to avoid spoilers but will only say the lack of a substantial villain and more clearly defined and understandable narrative obstacles for Miles to overcome drains some of the power and drama from the film.

Overall, it felt like screenwriters Phil Lord and Christopher Miller - who also wrote Into the Spider-Verse, and co-directors Joaquim Dos Santos and Kemp Powers (new to the Spider-verse), stumbled in trying to expand the Miles Morales story that was so eloquently told in the first film.

To be clear, Across the Spider-Verse isn’t a bad film, it’s entertaining and enjoyable and features spectacular animation. But it’s nowhere near as good as the original film as it’s marred by some major audio issues (which allegedly are being remedied) as well as storytelling missteps and bloat that reduce its quality and effectiveness.

Across the Spider-Verse could have and should have been great, as it features the most visually stunning and mind-blowing animation you’ll ever come across, but unfortunately it never quite lives up to its predecessor or its unquestionable visual brilliance.

 Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 100 Part Two - Popular Streaming Platform Recommendations

On the conclusion of our 100th episode celebration, Barry and I finish up our streaming service  film/tv recommendations. Topics discussed include the wonders of the Criterion Channel, the god-awful shit that is Peacock, and how HBO Max was better before it became Max. Oh...and a flock of geese gets slaughtered on air for no apparent reason. 

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 100 Part Two

Thanks for listening!

©2023

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 100!! Recommendations for Movies and Shows Currently Available on Streaming Services - Part One

On this very special episode, Barry and I host a massive party at LCFM headquarters to celebrate our 100th episode. In part one of this historic podcasting event, we not only name drop our bevy of celebrity friends, but also give our selections for good movies and shows to watch currently available on each streaming service. Stay tuned for part two of this blockbuster celebratory event in the coming days.

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 100!! Top Movies and Shows Currently Available on Streaming Services

Thanks for listening!

©2023

Barry (HBO): Final Season Review - Lights Out for Glorious Dark Comedy

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!!****

My Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: WATCH IT. This very dark comedy which features stellar writing, acting directing and action sequences, is as good, and as weird, as it gets.

Last week was a big one at HBO. The true crime miniseries Love and Death starring Elizabeth Olsen concluded, the prestige TV king-of-the-moment Succession unveiled its much-anticipated series finale, and the sterling streaming service HBO Max was tossed into the trash heap of history and replaced by the god-awful garbage streaming service Max. What a week! Oh…and lost amongst all that the best TV comedy series of the 21st Century and maybe the darkest comedy of all-time, Barry, came to its conclusion after four stellar seasons.

Barry, which is created by and stars Bill Hader, aired its finale on HBO right after Succession’s finale, and thus no one is talking about it which I think is a shame because while I thoroughly enjoyed Succession, I think Barry is at the very least its comedy equivalent, if not better.

If you haven’t watched Barry – and I know a lot of you haven’t, you really should. And I will make this series/season review totally spoiler free in order to encourage you to take the Barry plunge.

Barry tells the tale of Barry Berkman (Bill Hader), a former Marine war veteran who post-war works as an assassin. Barry finds himself in Los Angeles and ultimately ends up in an acting class taught by the esteemed Gene Cousineau (Henry Winkler). Barry gets the acting bug and tries to juggle his newfound emotional growth fueled by Cousineau’s acting classes with his rather cold-blooded occupation of killer-for-hire.

Seasons one and two of Barry were spectacular as they masterfully eviscerated the world of acting, acting classes, acting teachers and Hollywood. As someone who navigated all of those horribly inane things in real life, I found Barry to be not just insanely funny but astonishingly insightful.

Season three was a major shift for Barry as the series became much more surreal and existential. This shift at first was confusing and off-putting, but once it took hold (or I took hold of it) it elevated the show to extraordinary heights, morphing it from being an insightful comedy to a deeply and darkly profound one.

What made Barry such a remarkable viewing experience was that in addition to fantastic filmmaking, exquisite action sequences, great writing and even greater acting, every major character had a distinct and compelling dramatic arc that played out in completely unpredictable ways.

For example, Barry went from being a compliant soldier and cold-blooded killer to grappling with his conscience, his past, his mortality and God. Monroe Fuches, Barry’s murder-for-hire handler, went to hell and back and came out a considerably different man. Gene Cousineau, Barry’s self-absorbed acting teacher, went on an absurd roller coaster ride and ended up where he always wanted to be but not how he expected to be there. Barry’s self-absorbed girlfriend Sally went on a tumultuous journey but could never escape from her true, awful self. Chechen gangster NoHo Hank went from being a throwaway punchline to being a heartbreaking Shakespearean dramatic figure.

These captivating characters arcs were elevated by truly stunning performances across the board. In the first two seasons in particular, Henry Winkler as Gene Cousineau was as good as anyone has ever been in a television comedy. Winkler’s Cousineau was every acting teacher I’ve ever had…part Jesus Christ, part John Wayne Gacy, part Hitler, part Richard Simmons, part Mao and all arrogant, egotistical, insecure asshole, and Winkler’s singular, relentless brilliance made him must see tv.

Stephen Root as Fuches was incredible across all four seasons but was utterly sublime in season four. Root brought an extraordinary yet subtle sensitivity to this seemingly obtuse role and it was an absolute joy to behold.

Anthony Carrigan as NoHo Hank went from giving hysterical line readings in the first few seasons to giving a deeply-felt and moving turn as a broken man in season four.

Sarah Goldberg was fantastic as the narcissistic Sally from the get go but in season four she allowed the character’s narcissism to devour her from the inside out. Goldberg’s work in this series was really and truly special.

All of the acting in this series was top-notch. Obviously, Bill Hader was brilliant as the endearing sociopath Barry and carried the series in his subdued and subtle way from start to finish. But even actors in small roles rose to the occasion on Barry, like the fantastic and often under-appreciated Eddie Alfano, who was superb in a supporting role as a thoughtful but dim-witted tough guy in season four.

The final season of Barry is more akin to the existentially soaked sur-reality of season three than the more straight-forward comedy of seasons one and two. Season four, like season three, is filled with much psychological symbolism and often feels like a bizarre dream.

The threat not just of death but of divine judgement hovers over season four like a funnel cloud looking for the perfect place to touch ground. All the characters feel like ghosts haunting their own lives or like dream characters unable to wake from a recurring nightmare.

This may not sound like a fun comedy to you, and in some ways, it isn’t fun despite being funny, but make no mistake, it is a comedy, an extremely dark comedy, just not like any we’ve seen before.

Barry’s finale episode was as gloriously weird as everything that preceded it, and ultimately, and this is no spoiler, you could argue that no one ended up the “winner” in Barry…except, of course, the viewer.

But I must say that I felt the finale did stumble in its final sequence. Again, I won’t give anything away, but for a series that was so exquisitely profound for its first 31 ¾ episodes, the final sequence of the series was impossibly, almost irrevocably, trite.

The ending sequence felt so beneath the philosophical profundity of everything that came before it that it felt like either a lame joke or a cheap cop out. An ending that disappointing and unsatisfying can make you question an entire series in hindsight. While I feel strongly about that sequence’s failure, I don’t feel that strongly about it, and can see the wider point Hader was trying to make…notice I didn’t say “deeper point”, but that wider point was too banal and cliched and well beneath the standard that the great Bill Hader had set with his groundbreaking series.

So, yes, I was disappointed with how Barry ended, but I wasn’t on the whole I wasn’t disappointed with season four or the series overall. To me, Barry is the best comedy series HBO has ever produced. Veep is a close second, but I felt Veep stumbled in its final season more substantially way than Barry did in its final sequence. Since I am discussing the greatest HBO comedies of all-time I know people will ask so let me be very clear, I am not a Curb Your Enthusiasm guy in any way, shape or form. I simply cannot get through a single episode of that shitty show. I just don’t understand the appeal of Larry David in the least as I find him not only actively unfunny but aggressively repulsive.

In conclusion, Barry’s final season is a strange and surreal one but is both very funny and deeply profound despite missing the mark with the last sequence in the last episode.

If you haven’t watched Barry or you bailed on during the weirdness of season three, my recommendation is to go back and watch it all from start to finish. It isn’t what you think it is and isn’t what you expect, which is why it is so worthwhile.

 Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

Succession (HBO): Final Season Review - All's Well That Ends Well...Enough

****THIS ARTICLE CONTAINS SOME SEASON 4 SPOILERS!!! THIS IS NOT A SPOILER FREE ARTICLE!!****

Season 4 Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

Overall Series Rating: 4.5 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: WATCH IT. Great acting and great writing make for some great TV.

Succession is dead. Long live Succession.

The HBO prestige drama about the dysfunctional Roy family and its mega-media empire had its season four and series finale last night.

For its four seasons Succession has been a glorious dramatic feast served in an era where both film and television have consistently fed us mostly middling, mind-numbing, middlebrow mush.

Watching patriarch Logan (Brian Cox) and his ne’er-do-well offspring Kendall, Shiv and Roman run roughshod over America and its culture was insidiously entertaining but also bone chilling because of its unnerving similarity to the real-world.

The Roys are part Murdoch (Fox), part Redstone (Viacom/CBS/Paramount), part Cox (Cox Communications) and part Roberts (Comcast), and like them all, entirely awful.

Despite being a toxic brew of capitalism porn and media mogul soap opera, Succession never failed to be a joy to behold and the reason for that is two-fold.

First, the acting was superb across the board. Secondly, the dialogue brought to life by these actors was razor sharp and never failed to be anything but modern-day Shakespeare.

That all said, season four was the weakest of the Succession seasons. It wasn’t terrible at all, in fact, it featured the greatest episode not only of the series (episode 3) but of any series in recent memory. But it felt like season four was less dramatically and narratively crisp as the seasons that preceded it.

Part of the issue with season four was that it didn’t earn much of the drama it tried to use. For example, the political election storyline felt trite and shallow because the stakes of the election were not sufficiently developed, and then when they were upon us felt artificially heightened…much like our own real elections.

The same was true for the climax of the finale. Without giving too much away, there is a confrontation between the siblings at a crucial moment that rang surprisingly hollow and underwhelming because it just seemed forced and manufactured, which is not something that happened throughout the run of the series.

This crucial confrontation needed more lead time in order to be more developed and more believable. Unfortunately, the lack of believability around this confrontation undercut the dramatic momentum of the episode, season and series.

Season four was also hamstrung by killing off its most compelling character, Logan, early in the season. Logan was the center of the Succession universe and while it was amusing watching the Roy children try and fill the gaping void left in his absence, it was never quite as profound as when Logan was sitting atop the throne.

Speaking of King Lear…oops…I mean Logan, Brian Cox was absolutely phenomenal in this series. Cox’s Shakespearean speechifying was as good as it gets and has ever gotten in television. Cox’s Logan was a combustible and curmudgeonly king and we should all bow down to his combativeness.

Kieran Culkin as Roman Roy was also spectacular. Watching Roman go full Fredo…and you never go full Fredo, in the final season was extraordinary. Culkin’s ability to bring Roman’s self-loathing and searing, rapier wit to life with such skill and verve was among the show’s highlights.

Sarah Snook’s oh so human, desperate and transparently wounded Shiv was a consistent pleasure to watch as she was Lady MacBeth, Goneril and Gertrude (Hamlet’s mother) all rolled in to one.

Jeremy Strong was outstanding as Kendall, the broken boy who would be king but can’t get out of his own way. Strong’s unrelenting commitment to the vacuous and vacant Kendall was impressive.

In season four, Alexander Skarsgard was exquisite as Swedish tech guru Lukas Mattson. Skarsgard was so great in season four as the GoJo CEO he basically took over the show with his quirky, nerd guy darkness.

But of all the great actors on Succession, nobody tops Matthew Macfadyen who played Shiv’s pain sponge, sycophant husband Tom Wambsgans. Tom reeked of shameless ambition and sweaty desperation but never succumbed to self-pity, only to self-interest.

Tom’s whipping boy, cousin Greg, played by Nicholas Braun, yearned to be part of the amoral and incompetent Roy sibling “quad” and would do anything to make it happen or to make anything happen for himself. Braun was outstanding as he stole scenes and episodes with his priceless line readings and his character’s insecure maneuvering and backdoor bravado.

I suppose the reason why, despite its faults and despite having watched the finale on the new, annoyingly glitchy, streaming service Max (fuck you, Max!), I liked Succession so much was that it accurately spoke to our current time and current predicament.  

Watching a Shakespearean-esque dramatization of the ruling elite and ownership class of America, filled with an endless supply of second and third-rate fucktard, mid-wit nepo-babies devoid of balls but ravenous for power, who surround themselves with sycophantic psychopaths whose only ambition is to hold onto their own tiny, Mordor adjacent fiefdoms, was as entertaining as it was unnerving because this is exactly how empires, like America, fail and fall.

For instance, anyone who is even remotely aware can see that America’s ruling class are a decidedly spent force. For God’s sake we are on our way to having another election between fourth-rate, incompetent shitstains Joe Biden and Donald Trump. In a country of over 350 million people, it is impossible that we must choose between a compulsively lying, narcissistic, dementia-addled, pedophile politician and a bloated, incoherent, shameless, compulsively lying, nepo-brat, failure.

Of course, the truth is we only have a choice between these two asshats because we don’t actually have any choice…only the illusion of choice. Succession makes it clear that the decision between who rules and who is ruled is not a decision at all…it’s simply theatre, meant to entertain and distract while the Logan Roys and Lukas Mattsons – the ruling elites of the world, sit on high and pull all the strings.

It was great fun while it lasted, but Succession, like America’s global empire and the dollar’s dominance, is over…and frankly…it needed to be over. Succession needed to end because it ran out of runway for its drama and the American empire needed to end because it, like all empires before it, has grown much too decadent and depraved whilst wearing the crown to survive.

America will no doubt deeply miss its empirical power when it’s gone because if Succession has taught us anything it’s that while being in power is a cold, barren, miserable, sterile, lonely, painful existence, life without power is much, much worse.

 Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

Love and Death (HBO) - Miniseries Review: Trite True Crime Deep in the Heart of Texas

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!!****

My Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. Despite a great cast this is just another true crime retread with a prestige tv veneer.

The HBO miniseries Love and Death, which stars Elizabeth Olsen and Jesse Plemons and tells the true story of an extra-marital affair and murder in the small town of Wylie, Texas in 1980, finished its seven-episode run on Thursday.

The series, which was written by David E. Kelley, recounts the salacious tale of Candy Montgomery, a mild-mannered Texas housewife and church choir member who has an affair with a fellow married church member Allan Gore. Months after the affair ends Allan’s wife Betty is found brutally murdered with an axe.

Despite the fact that this is apparently a well-known tale and has already been made into a Hulu miniseries (Candy – starring Jessica Biel – which I have not seen), I did not know the Candy Montgomery story prior to watching Love and Death and so I won’t recount it in detail here for you in order to preserve spoilers for any of you who are in the same boat as I am.

The verdict regarding Love and Death is that it’s little more than a true-crime, Lifetime movie with an HBO prestige veneer and some top-notch acting.

Elizabeth Olsen is particularly good as Candy, as she masterfully captures the performative nature of a certain breed of Southern woman. Candy’s mask is so effective it even fools Candy into thinking she’s not who she really is.

As evidenced by her breakout role in Martha, Marcy, Mae, Marlene (2011), Olsen is a terrific actress but her career seems to be a bit stuck at the moment after getting caught in the MCU cul-de-sac. Her performances in the MCU films as Scarlet Witch have not been notable, but her work in the MCU TV series Wandavision was magnificent for the intriguing first half of that flawed season.

One can only hope that Olsen has put the MCU in the rearview mirror and now that she’s financially secure can explore more interesting projects and roles. Love and Death may have been her attempt at doing that, but unfortunately the series never lives up to her stellar work in it.

Jesse Plemons is also very good as the subdued and rather odd character Allan Gore, who sports a hairdo that is a first ballot Hellacious Haircut Hall of Famer.

Plemons is a master at filling quiet characters with a peculiar and pulsating inner life, and his Allan, who we are told has a “perfectly formed penis” – good for him, is bustling just under the surface and behind those curiously dead eyes but is always assiduously contained and constrained.

Plemons is one of the more oddly compelling actors of his generation and it’s always a treat when he’s on screen, even here in the tepid Love and Death, but he deserves better than this series.

Tom Pelphrey, who recently made a name for himself in the Netflix show Ozark, is terrific in the under-written role of the passionate and combative lawyer Don Crowder. After reading the post script at the end of the series I have to say that Crowder’s life seems to be much more interesting post Love and Death than it is during this story, and would prefer to have seen that tale told.

And finally, Lily Rabe does the very best she can with the unfinished character Betty Gore, and she too deserved much better than what was written for her.

As good as the cast is across the board, the problem with Love and Death is without a doubt the overrated writer David E. Kelley, who simply never elevates the story or makes it more than just another recounting of a true crime in a culture awash in true crime.

Kelley is considered one of the untouchables in Hollywood but I’ve never understood his appeal. Doogie Howser, Picket Fences, Chicago Hope, The Practice, Boston Legal, Ally McBeal and Big Little Lies are his most famous series and they’re all egregiously awful to the point of being entirely unwatchable. I’ve never liked a single one of his shows and never understood why others fawn all over him.

The failure of Love and Death lies at the feet of Kelley, who across his career has seemed allergic to insight and addicted to disingenuousness. Kelley’s consistent vacuousness as a writer and his vapidity as a storyteller infects Love and Death and leaves it completely devoid of profundity and power.

Love and Death reminded me of another true crime story given the HBO prestige treatment last year, The Staircase. That series, which starred Colin Firth and Toni Collette, was intriguing on its salacious surface but once you dig in to it there was nothing there…as it was devoid of even an ounce of drama or insight.

Like The Staircase, Love and Death is underwhelming as the longer the series went on the less interesting it became until finally you only finish watching it out of a demented sense of obligation or in my case, completion OCD.

Ultimately, Love and Death plays acts at being meaningful but is a rather vacant exercise in true crime exploitation and failed titillation. If you haven’t watched the series then trust me when I tell you that you never need to start. And if you have watched it then I assume, like me, you either regret the time committed or have entirely forgotten it.

 Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

Adventures in Idiocy - Thoughts on Dylan Mulvaney, Max and Monty Python

PUTRID PANTHER PISS

Yet another front in the never-ending culture war was opened in early April of this year when Bud Light decided to hire “transgender influencer” Dylan Mulvaney to be a “spokesperson” for their shitty beer brand.

To celebrate Mulvaney’s year anniversary of his “days of girlhood” Tik Tok series – which documented the travails of his first year of “girlhood” - which miraculously included the pain of menstrual cramps (or in this case minstrel cramps) despite his not having a uterus, Bud Light put his ridiculous face on beer cans.

The reaction from Bud Light drinkers to having trans Tinkerbell Dylan Mulvaney thrust upon them was entirely predictable to everyone with half a brain in their head, which obviously excludes the decision makers at Bud Light.

The people who drink Bud Light, or used to drink Bud Light, are mostly men, mostly working class and all have bad taste. Like most men, they have no interest in Dylan Mulvaney, trans issues, or the culture war. They just want to be left alone to drink beer, hang out with buddies and watch sports while they wait to for their life to come to an end.

Bud Light used to be the beer they’d consider drinking – I don’t drink but only God knows why anyone would drink that putrid panther piss…but to each his own, but now Bud Light is definitely off the table. The reason for this is simple…men love to bust each other’s balls…and now any guy drinking Bud Light gives his buddies endless ammunition to bust his balls into oblivion.

A guy brings Bud Light to a party or orders one at the bar and he will be serenaded with a cavalcade of humorously vicious insults questioning his sexuality, his gender and the state of his genitals. You may think that is cruel or barbaric or transphobic, but no one gives a flying fuck because it is, above all else, undeniably true.

The sales for Bud Light since Mulvaney became their spokesperson prove that the brand is now toxic among its core customers. For nearly two months since this all began Bud Light sales have plummeted in comparison to last year’s weekly sales averages…consistently down between 25% and 30% a week.

And this drop in sales is not going to just disappear because the stink left on the Bud Light brand from Mulvaney’s odious presence is going to last for a long time. Once a brand becomes a punchline it is nearly impossible to reverse.

What is baffling to me is how could the suits at Bud Light be so ignorant of their target audience and so blind to cultural reality? To say this is corporate malfeasance is a massive understatement.

As for Dylan Mulvaney, he is an adult and should do as he pleases with his own body…his transgenderism is his business (literally and figuratively), I just wish he wouldn’t be so craven as exploit himself or allow himself to be exploited by corporate entities…but unfortunately it seems the mentally ill Mulvaney is more interested in attention than anything else.

Mulvaney was what we call a theatre muffin (musical theatre actor) prior to becoming an “influencer”. Disingenuous, narcissistic, hyper-performative, annoyingly flamboyant gay men like Dylan Mulvaney are a dime a dozen in the theatre world. So Mulvaney seems to have decided to distinguish himself from the glamour boy hoi polloi by dressing up like a woman and saying he was trans. How clever.

His plan has worked remarkably well, as he’s made tons of money, gotten famous and even went to the Oval Office to talk to President Biden about Women’s issues…yes…you read that right….a man went to the White House as an expert on Women’s issues. Ultimately, Mulvaney strikes me as a rather repugnant culture war creature who during his shameless drive for fame has done more to denigrate women in the past year than most any other public figure.

One can only hope that Bud Light, Dylan Mulvaney and the shitheads at Anheuser-Busch all disappear and right quick because the world desperately needs none of them.

As for Bud Light, it has successfully destroyed decades of branding and is now radioactive amongst its core customers. Congratulations…there is no coming back from that.

MAX

Speaking of corporate marketing malfeasance, the geniuses over at the corporate behemoth Warner Bros. Discovery unveiled their new streaming service this week and it stands as a monument to their moronity.

Warner Bros. Discovery owns the streaming services HBO Max and Discovery +. HBO Max is of course known for its prestige TV shows, like The Sopranos, The Wire, Game of Thrones and Succession, and for its deep library of films, which include the Harry Potter, DC Comics I.P. as well as Turner Movie Classics and a bevy of other great films.

Discovery + is known for its reality TV empire which includes all the shows from Discovery Channel, Animal Planet, TLC, HGTV, Food Network, Travel, Investigation Discovery and CNN.

The suits at Warner Bros. Discovery, led by their brainless and toothless shark of a CEO, David Zaslav, decided to combine these two streaming services into one giant streaming service.

When naming the new streaming service, they decided to forego the well-established, prestige brand of HBO which has been arduously built over the lasty forty years. And they also decided to ignore the less prestigious but still very recognizable brand of Discovery.

Instead Zaslov and co. decided to name their big new streaming service…MAX.

The first thing that comes to mind with the name MAX is the low rent cable channel Cinemax, which is derogatorily called Skinemax because of its penchant for showing soft core porn in the wee hours of the night.

The second thing that comes to mind is MAXipad…or maybe MAXimum-security prison…or maybe for those old to remember, MAX Headroom.

HBO has become such a strong brand associated with prestige over the last 40 years that even when its shows aren’t that great, they are treated with great respect by the culture. For example, 2021’s Mare of Easttown starring Kate Winslet was shit, but the media and audiences treated it like some great work of art simply because it was on HBO.

And that’s the thing…HBO signaled prestige to both viewers AND talent…which is why great actors, writers and directors would be willing to make the jump to TV only if it was HBO.

Now with MAX…not so prestigious. Now if you’re a movie star you think twice before doing a series there because it’ll be lumped in with 90 Day Fiance and Dr. Pimple Popper.

That Warner Bros. Discovery could fuck up the naming of their gigantic streaming service this badly should be shocking…but it isn’t. Zaslav and his predecessors have been able to fuck up lots of things – like their DC films, over the years.

It should also come as no surprise that Warner Bros Discovery completely fucked up the actual Max streaming site. HBO Max was the easily best streaming service site to navigate and it wasn’t even close. It had easy to access hubs to all of the valuable sections of their library like Turner Classics, DC and Studio Ghibli which made navigation a breeze. The new Max site has idiotically eliminated that glorious convenience and replaced it with a haphazard, shit-thrown-against-the-wall incoherence that is frustrating, irritating and aggravating.

The Max site is a jumbled, muddled mess. It doesn’t even have a hub solely dedicated to the Discovery material which means, much like every other useless streaming service site, browsing is fruitless and you can’t really find anything unless you specifically type it into the search bar. Moronic. I hate it so much and I hate that the ease and perfection of HBO Max is gone.

The bottom-line is don’t be surprised if Warner Bros Discovery renames MAX (and hopefully does a full reboot and rebuild) in the next 3 years…and don’t be surprised if incompetent jackass Zaslav is out of a job…and don’t’ be surprised if the company sells off major portions of its entertainment business either.

THE LIFE OF BRIAN…AND LORETTA

And finally…three years ago this July I wrote a verbosely titled article “The Monty Python Classic 'The Life of Brian' Relentlessly Mocked Christianity Forty Years Ago, Comedy Needs to Do the Same Thing to the Church of Wokeness Today” in which I celebrated the film The Life of Brian for having transformed from being banned for blasphemy upon its release to being rated as acceptable for kids today.

I also praised the film for having masterfully mocking the old religion, Christianity, and for having the foresight to eviscerate the new religion, transgenderism, too, forty years ahead of time.

The mocking of the new woke religion occurs in a scene set in the coliseum of Jerusalem where the People’s Front of Judea meet to discuss their goals. One of the members, Stan – played by Eric Idle, declares he wants to be a woman and that it is his right as a man to have people call him Loretta.

Here is the scene which is absolutely, astonishingly brilliant from start to finish.

When Stan keeps interjecting feminine pronouns into the proposed language…he is asked by Francis why he keeps bringing up women?

Stan -  “I want to be one….I want to be a woman….from now on I want you all to call me Loretta…It’s my right as a man.”

Judith – “Why would you want to be Loretta, Stan?

Stan – “I want to have babies…It’s every man’s right to have babies if he wants.”

Reg - “You can’t have babies!”

Stan - “Don’t oppress me!”

Reg - “I’m not oppressing you Stan, you haven’t got a womb! Where’s the fetus gonna gestate? You gonna keep it in a box?”

After some hemming and hawing, Francis chimes in with a solution.

Francis (to Stan) - “We shall fight our oppressors for your right to have a baby, brother…ooops…sister, sorry.”

Reg - “What’s the point of fighting for his right to have babies if he can’t have babies?”

Francis – “It’s symbolic of our struggle against oppression!”

Reg – “It’s symbolic of his struggle against reality.”

I wrote of the film and this scene that,

“The Office, Community, 30 Rock, It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Scrubs and Fawlty Towers, among others, have all had episodes scrubbed from streaming services for their past politically incorrect sins. Let us pray to our Lord and Savior Brian and his Sacred Shoe and Holy Gourd, that Monty Python’s glorious canon is not next on the cancel culture crucifixion list.”

Well…just today I saw that John Cleese, one of the founding members of Monty Python, is staging a theatrical production of The Life of Brian, and he is being forced to cut the “Loretta” scene from the show.

Cleese said of the Loretta scene being cut,

“So here you have something there's never been a complaint about in 40 years, that I've heard of, and now all of a sudden we can't do it because it'll offend people. What is one supposed to make of that? But I think there were a lot of things that were actually, in some strange way, predictive of what was actually going to happen later."

Yes, Cleese and co. predicted the absurdity of transgenderism forty years before it became a state religion, and I predicted the knives of the Cancel Culture Centurions and Tiny Twitter Torquemadas coming out for the The Life of Brian three years before it happened. Prophets both of us.

As the good book says (Mark 6:4), “no prophet is without honor except in his native place, among his own kindred, relatives and in his own house.”

And that is why my prescient Monty Python article, and most everything else I’ve written, could only be widely published at a Russian media outlet RT.com, and not here in the U.S. of A. where the Truth is anathema and people only want to read things that comfort, rather than confront, their vapid, vacuous and vacant belief systems built on disinformation, misinformation, propaganda and emotionalism. It's also why my wife left me, my dog bit me and my family disowned me.

As for Bud Light, MAX and Monty Python, these stories of misjudgments and massive failures are all just symptoms of a depraved decadence brought about by the broader disease of an empire in rapid decline.

Think this is bad? Trust me…things are going to get much, much worse…just watch and see.

Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

White Men Can't Jump (Hulu): A Review - A Flagrant and Fragrant Foul of a Basketball Movie

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!!****

My Rating: 1.25 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. This rotten remake has no redeeming value or reason to exist.

Back in the old, dilapidated, smoke and championship banner filled Boston Garden, the dynastic Boston Celtics of Bill Russell, John Havlicek, Dave Cowens and Larry Bird had the greatest of home court advantages because the famed parquet floor on which they played had numerous dead spots. These dead spots would greatly reduce or eliminate the bounce of the ball thus making dribbling a much less automatic action. The Celtics took great advantage of this court abnormality by funneling unsuspecting opponents to dribble into the dead spots and thus either turn the ball over or slow their attack.

The Celtics made the unwise decision to move out of the charming, rat-infested old Boston Garden in 1995 and left their dead spot parquet advantage, and their mystical, magical, luck of the Irish mojo, behind. Their new home, the corporate, cold mausoleum known as TD Garden, has no such advantageous anomalies, and in turn has only produced just one Celtic championship banner in its near thirty-year existence…a stark contrast to the 16 championship banners the team won during their 48 years playing at the old Garden.

Which brings us to the new White Men Can’t Jump movie which premiered on Friday on the streaming service Hulu. The film, a remake of the 1992 Ron Shelton basketball comedy, reminded me of the old Boston Garden not because it is worthy of championship banners, but because it is so riddled with dead spots it has no bounce to it at all.  

The film, which follows the trials and tribulations of two basketball has-beens, Kamal and Jeremy, desperate for one last touch of hoops glory, is written by Kenya Barris, directed by something called Calmatic, and stars Sinqua Walls and rapper Jack Harlow. The end result of this third-rate group of moviemaking wannabes is a vacant, vapid and hollow shadow of the 1992 version which starred Wesley Snipes, Woody Harrelson and Rosie Perez.

To be clear I am not one of those people who is repulsed by this new film because I adored the original. The truth is I hated the original White Men Can’t Jump. The main reason for that was that Woody Harrelson and Wesley Snipes were embarrassingly bad at basketball. They couldn’t even remotely fake being able to play…and as someone who did play and who was a huge fan of the sport, I found that a hurdle much too great to overcome.

The good news is that this new version features marginally better, but still not great, basketball, but that doesn’t overcome the astounding lack of chemistry and the charisma deficiency of the two lead actors, Sinqua Walls and Jack Harlow.

Snipes and Harrelson lacked basketball ability, but what they didn’t lack was chemistry and charisma. Walls and Harlow on the other hand can somewhat simulate playing the game but have all the spark of two bodies lying next to each other in refrigerated drawers at the morgue.

Harlow, who if you don’t know is a famous rapper – and yes, I still find the notion of white rappers to be just as cringey as you do, need not worry about quitting his day job and heading to Hollywood to be the next white Will Smith, as God knows the black one is already white enough.

Walls at least played basketball in college at the University of San Francisco – where Bill Russell won two NCAA championships before leading the Celtics to 11 NBA titles…but unfortunately for Walls and for us, he is no Bill Russell on the basketball court or Wesley Snipes in front of the camera. He is a rather dull, one-dimensional actor devoid of any compelling inner life and his basketball ability is not what I would describe as aesthetically pleasing.

To be fair to Walls and Harlow, the script they have to work with is a scattershot piece of garbage. Walls’ character Kamal has a dark past and an odd relationship with his father, but none of these things are adequately fleshed out and are thus rendered annoying and unsatisfying to the viewer.

Harlow’s character Jeremy struggles with serious drug addiction but that battle never takes shape or is given any narrative energy and ends up just being ignored instead of dramatically exploited.

The two men’s personal lives, which feature the love interests Imani (Kamal’s wife - played by Teyana Taylor) and Tatiana (Jeremy’s girlfriend played by Laura Harrier), also fall decidedly flat.

Kamal and Imani’s marriage has all the familiarity of two people passing each other in a bus station. Jeremy and Tatiana’s relationship could be dramatically promising due to it being inter-racial and Jeremy’s drug addiction, but none of those topics are ever explored.

The director of this dud is Calmatic, a commercial director whose only other major film credit is the 2023 remake of the 1990 movie House Party. If you were unaware that the new House Party was released this past January then that makes two of us. Calmatic has no idea how to tell a story or how to elicit coherent and compelling performances from his cast and thus has no business directing films.

The bottom line is that the new White Men Can’t Jump is an instantly forgettable, meaningless, lifeless, purposeless exercise in nothingness. I’d say the film is a brick or an airball but the reality is that this movie soiled itself in the locker room and never even made it out to the court to take a shot.

If you really want to laugh while watching some basketball drama featuring bad acting, skip White Men Can’t Jump and tune in to the NBA playoffs starring the King of the Receding Hairline LeBron James as he shamelessly flops all over the court.

 Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 99 - Air

On this episode, Barry and I don our Air Jordans and go one-on-one to discuss Air, the corporate tale of Nike's rise to basketball dominance directed by Ben Affleck and starring Matt Damon now streaming on Amazon. Topics discussed include Affleck's directing ability, Damon's viability as a movie star, and the lost art of masterful movies made for grown-ups. 

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 99 - Air

Thanks for listening!

©2023

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 98 - Ghosted

On this episode, Barry and I display zero chemistry as we go globetrotting on a spy adventure searching for answers about the new Apple TV+ movie Ghosted, starring Ana de Armas and Chris Evans. Topics discussed include really bad movies, really bad movie stars, really bad streaming services and really bad decisions by streaming services. 

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 98 - Ghosted

Thanks for listening!

©2023

Champions: A Review & Impassioned Commentary

IF YOU LIKE DIATRIBES ABOUT THE DEHUMANIZATION OF THE INTELLECTUALLY DISABLED, BLACK LIVES MATTER, POLICE BRUTALITY AND ABORTION IN REVIEWS OF MINDLESS FILM COMEDIES…THEN THIS ARTICLE IS DEFINITELY FOR YOU!

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!!****

My Rating: 1 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. A mind-numbingly pedestrian affair that is devoid of genuine laughs and feels uncomfortably exploitative.

Champions, starring Woody Harrelson, is a sports comedy that tells the story of a disgraced minor league basketball coach who does his court ordered community service as the coach of a team of intellectually disabled basketball players.

The film, directed by Bobby Farrelly of the famed Farrelly brothers (There’s Something About Mary, Dumb and Dumber, Kingpin) in his first solo outing, hit theatres mid-March and is now available on the Peacock streaming service.

Champions, which is a remake of the 2018 Spanish film of the same name, is a bit of a befuddling movie. It is ostensibly meant to be a redemption story for Harrelson’s character, coach Marcus Marokovich, but he never actually redeems himself because he never reveals himself to be so much of a deplorable as to need redeeming.

Sure, Marokovich initially embarrasses himself during a minor league basketball game and it becomes a humiliating moment heightened in our endlessly nasty media culture, but he never seems like a bad guy, just like a guy having a bad day. So Marokovich doesn’t have far to travel on his journey to redemption and thus the story doesn’t go anywhere or mean very much.

To be fair, there is a sort of love story mixed into the mess involving the always charming Kaitlin Olsen as Alex, a sister of one of the intellectually disabled basketball players on Marokovich’s team, but that is more a redemption story for Alex, not for Marokovich.

Part of the problem from the get-go is that Woody Harrelson is simply a very nice guy and has nice guy energy on-screen for the full two-hours. I also assume that this is why Harrelson, due to his niceness, didn’t bring more abrasive energy to his character’s initial interaction with the intellectually disabled basketball players. Yes, there’s a brief moment prior to meeting them where he almost uses the “R-word” (retard) but even then he catches himself because Marokovich/Harrelson is a nice, sensitive person. That’s a great way to be in life but not so great when trying to generate a worthwhile character arc, drama or even laughs.

Speaking of which, the intellectually disabled players in the movie are notably played by actors with intellectual disabilities. My feelings on this are decidedly mixed.

First off, it’s great that intellectually disabled actors are getting work, as I assume that isn’t the easiest thing to do due to the nature of typecasting. Secondly, these actors all do their job well without exception, most notably Kevin Iannucci as Johnny, Joshua Felder as Darius, and Madison Tevlin as Cosentino.

That said, regardless of whatever good intentions may have been present, there is a part of me that feels this movie is exploiting these intellectually disabled actors. My reason for feeling this way is that none of the characters they portray are anything but props, used to generate some cheap laughs or even cheaper sentimentality. The audience is never expected to relate to the intellectually disabled characters, only in how the “normal” characters navigate those who are intellectually disabled.

For example, we never spend a single second alone with any of the intellectually disabled characters. We never get a glimpse of their inner lives, their hopes, their dreams or their fears and they are only identifiable by their unique disabilities and how they “hilariously” manifest.

The intellectually disabled players are all broad stereotypes. There’s the one guy who talks endlessly about all the sex he has…which is supposed to be funny because he’s intellectually disabled. Then there’s the bossy diva girl who is bossy and a diva and it’s supposed to be funny because she’s intellectually disabled. Then there’s the guy who only shoots with his back to the basket which is supposed to be funny because he’s intellectually disabled…and on and on and on.

The Farrelly’s have done this type of thing with intellectually disabled people throughout their filmmaking careers, and to be clear I have no doubt that it is at least in part motivated by good intentions, but that doesn‘t mean that it can’t be uncomfortably exploitative.

The reason it all feels so exploitative is because we are solely meant to either pity these characters or laugh at them. They aren’t real people because they aren’t designed to be real people, they’re only designed to be pets to their intellectually-abled creators.

There’s also an incredibly uncomfortable shadow looming over this self-congratulatory exercise regarding the intellectually disabled that becomes painfully obvious if you look for it. Namely that the denizens of Hollywood who would cheer this movie’s diversity and inclusion also overwhelmingly believe that its cast not only could have, but should have, been aborted prior to birth.

This is not to argue in favor or against abortion, just to point out that 67% of pregnancies diagnosed with Down’s Syndrome are aborted. In Europe the number is even higher at 90%. Abortion as a treatment for Down’s Syndrome pregnancies is so rampant that the medical establishment doesn’t just expect it, they almost demand it.

The argument for why Down’s Syndrome babies should be aborted is made painfully clear whenever debated, namely that it is an alleged act of mercy to eliminate a Down’s Syndrome pregnancy because life with Down’s Syndrome is so difficult. It is no doubt true that life with Down’s Syndrome is more difficult, for not only the sufferer but for those that care for them, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t a worthwhile life filled with meaning and purpose for all involved.

That Champions fails to see the intellectually disabled as anything other than props or pets to “normal” people fuels the notion that the lives of the intellectually disabled are somehow beneath us and not worthy of serious consideration.

In 2013, I wrote an article about Ethan Saylor, a young man with Down’s Syndrome who was killed by Maryland police in January of 2013. Ethan’s crime was that, being a big fan of the police and military, he went to see the movie Zero Dark Thirty. He liked the movie so much he didn’t want to leave the theatre when it ended and didn’t understand he needed to buy another ticket for a second screening. The police were called and they tackled him to the ground and kneeled on his back and neck until he died.

Ethan Saylor’s killers were never charged with any crime. They were never paraded across the front pages of America’s newspapers or television screens and chastised for their depraved inhumanity. Instead, they simply went on living their lives, just like the rest of the country, as if Ethan Saylor had never existed.

When George Floyd was murdered in 2020 by Minnesota police in much the same way Ethan Saylor was murdered by Maryland police in 2013, amidst all the ensuing media coverage of the “mostly-peaceful” riots and protests, I kept hearing the refrain that “all lives can’t matter until black lives matter!”

I believe that all lives can’t matter until black lives matter, and I also believe that black lives can’t matter until Ethan Saylor’s life matters and until all intellectually disabled people’s lives matter in utero and out. The fact that the media, your government and, frankly, most of you – who either have a blue lives matter or black lives matter signs in your window, have never said a word of protest, or given a single flying fuck about Ethan Saylor and people like him, says everything about this country and the demonic depravity at the absolute heart of it.

Ethan Saylor’s life mattered. Intellectually disabled people’s lives matter…BEFORE and after their birth. Until we as a nation and a culture come to not only understand but embrace this unnecessarily radical notion, we will fail to be anything more than a demented, decadent, depraved and diabolical Fourth Reich.

As for Champions, despite the misguided good intentions of everyone involved, deep in its DNA it retains an insidious superiority complex regarding intellectually disabled people. That this pity-inducing superiority complex is so ingrained in our country and culture means that most people won’t even notice it. What they will notice though is that this instantly forgettable movie, regardless of its notions about the intellectually disabled, isn’t funny, interesting or remotely entertaining.

Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

 ©2023

Cocaine Bear: A Review - This Unfunny Bear Shits in the Woods and on Itself

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!!****

My Rating: 1 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. A golden opportunity for comedy is wasted in this poorly directed, dull movie. Not even remotely amusing.

Cocaine Bear is definitely a great title for a movie, but unfortunately is not a great movie.

The horror comedy, which originally hit theatres on February 24th and is now streaming on Peacock, is loosely based on a true story about a black bear that goes berserk after ingesting 34 kilograms of cocaine that was thrown from a drug runner’s plane into the Tennessee wilds in 1985.

Cocaine Bear, directed by Elizabeth Banks, should have been terrific as all the elements are there for a cavalcade of comedy. The absurdity of a bear high on cocaine in the heartland of America at the height of the Reagan-led War on Drugs in the always bizarre 1980’s is a comedy goldmine. And yet, the film is a flaccid affair that never embraces the 80’s comedy, the bear comedy, the drug comedy, or any other form of comedy for that matter.

Instead of focusing on a man vs nature duel of wits (or mid-wits as the case may be) between a coked-up black bear and some desperate drug dealers or even some over-zealous cops, the movie instead uses a large, unconnected and entirely uninteresting cast to try and tell an unnecessarily sprawling and rather boring tale.

Yes, there are drug dealers, and some park rangers, but there’s also some Icelandic hikers, some kids skipping school, a concerned single mom, some EMTs, a cop and his dog, and another cop taking care of the first cop’s dog, and these characters don’t have any meaningful interaction.

None of these characters are remotely interesting and none of the performances are remotely funny. Some of the performances, like useless nepo baby O’Shea Jackson Jr./Li’l Ice Cube as drug dealer Daveed, are actively awful. Others, like Keri Russell’s single mom Sari, are just boring. Some are heartbreaking…like Ray Liotta as a drug dealer. Liotta is heartbreaking for no other reason than this is his last movie (he died last year) and goddamn it's not fair for Liotta to go out like this.

The biggest issue with Cocaine Bear though is the directing. Elizabeth Banks simply is not even an average director. Banks inability to bring coherence to this story, or to exploit the cavalcade of potential visual gags a bear high on cocaine in the 1980s presents, is a crime against comedy and cinema, and displays a lack of talent, skill and imagination that is astonishing.

Banks is a charming actress but her filmmaking abilities are none existent. Like fellow actress-turned-director Olivia Wilde, Banks has been held up by Hollywood, ever desperate for fashionable female filmmaking talent, as some sort of serious and skilled craftswoman behind the camera.

But Banks’ directing filmography, which consists of a shitty Pitch Perfect sequel and an even shittier remake of Charlie’s Angels, reveals a woman who, like Olivia Wilde, was elevated in Hollywood through a “leg up” diversity program but has absolutely no business helming a major motion picture.

That Banks waits until the end credits of Cocaine Bear to utilize the 1983 song “White Lines (Don’t Do It)” is cinematic malpractice, as is the fact that she never uses Eric Clapton’s “Cocaine” at all.

Banks will get more chances to direct because she’s a woman and Hollywood is stupid, but make no mistake, she has no idea what she’s doing.

Cocaine Bear doesn’t just fail as a comedy, it fails as a horror picture too. The horror aspect of the movie is mostly just gore, and yes there is some of that but none of it is particularly clever or shocking or even interesting. It all feels perfunctory and rather cheap and not in a “this is a fun B Movie” way. It also doesn’t help that the CGI bear used throughout is so abysmal as to be embarrassing.

The most telling thing about how flaccid, unfunny and non-entertaining I found Cocaine Bear is the fact that it only runs 95 minutes but I found myself checking how much time was left in the movie from the 12-minute mark on.

If you were thinking about checking out Cocaine Bear just for shits and giggles in the hopes of finding a crisp comedy to tickle your funny bone…think again. Cocaine Bear is a grin and bear it movie without the grin and with a shitty CGI bear, that will put your sense of humor deep into hibernation. You’d have a considerably better time freebasing cocaine with a bearskin rug than watching this lifeless piece of dreck.

So, to answer the eternal question…does a bear shit in the woods? The answer is “yes”…and the steaming pile it leaves behind is less odious than Cocaine Bear.  

 Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023