UFO Week - The Program; A Documentary Review

UFO WEEK - THE PROGRAM

My Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SEE IT. An informative and worthy effort from James Fox, one of the very best ufo documentarians in the business.

Day five of UFO Week is here and today we review the highly anticipated new James Fox documentary, The Program, which was released on December 16th and is available on video on demand.

James Fox is unquestionably one of the very best ufo documentarians working today. He has made five UFO related documentaries in the last twenty-seven years, with The Program being his sixth.

Not all of Fox’s UFO documentaries have worked, but the ones that have, like Out of the Blue (2003), I Know What I Saw (2009) and The Phenomenon (2020), are among the very best ever made.

Fox’s most recent film, Moment of Contact, was a major disappointment as it never fully came together as a noteworthy cinematic venture, and so I was very apprehensive about his newest film.

I am glad to say that The Program, while not nearly as good as the masterpiece that is Out of the Blue, is certainly a top-notch document and important piece of the UFO puzzle for any interested in a serious examination of the topic.

The film, which runs a brisk one hour and forty-two-minutes, opens with a discussion of the “Wilson Memo”, a 2002 memo allegedly sent between Admiral Wilson and astrophysicist Eric Davis regarding the secret UFO programs run by various black budget government agencies in conjunction with aerospace and military contracting companies.

The story goes from there and includes discussions with such serious luminaries as Dr. Gary Nolan of Stanford University and Hal Puthoff, as well as lesser-known insiders like former intelligence agency analyst Lenval Logan, DOD research scientist Sarah Gamm, and former Asst Deputy Secretary of Defense Christopher Mellon.

Logan and Gamm in particular make for compelling subjects as they seem like smart people trying to tell the truth while trying to avoid saying anything that would violate any oaths or NDA’s they have signed.

Mellon has become a mainstay in UFO discussions and documentaries and he gives a good interview as he comes across as serious as can be without being a fanatic. That said, I’m a bit wary of the guy with his intelligence background and his insanely rich family background (he comes from the Mellon banking dynasty).

One of Fox’s real strong points as a filmmaker is his ability to properly pace a documentary. His good films flow with an effortlessness that is compelling, and The Program is no exception.

While Fox does appear in many of his films, he is most successful when he is not the protagonist, but just an observer/interviewer.

To his great credit, Fox is masterful with his direct yet easy-going interview style, and he gets the most out of his subjects as is possible.

Another subject examined in the film is the case of Gary McKinnon, a British hacker who broke into U.S. government computer systems searching for secret UFO stuff…and found it. And for his trouble he was arrested and faced extradition and life in prison in the U.S.

What McKinnon discovered hidden away in the government vaults, besides a crystal-clear photo of a UFO, was a list of “non-terrestrial officers” which included names. Quite the unnerving find.

The film then stays in the UK and transitions to a case in Calvine, Scotland where in August of 1990, two Scotsmen photographed a UFO. The British government confiscated their pictures…but one savvy officer held one for himself and kept for thirty years, finally releasing it in recent years.

The photo is extraordinarily good, the story of the two men who took it as told by one of their co-workers, is not. The co-worker sounds like a drunk making up a story as he goes along…and it would’ve been better leaving him on the cutting room floor entirely.

Another issue with the film is the story of Jason Sands, a former-USAF airmen who worked at infamous Area 51. Sands, who was vetted and recently gave private testimony to congress, has footage of a UFO at a firing range, and tells a strange story of an interaction with an alien.

Sands’ story of his alien interaction is definitely outlandish, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. Unfortunately, after having watched the film, I’ve since seen Sands interviewed elsewhere where he tells even more outrageous tales about having to execute an alien at the behest of his superiors in order to guarantee his silence about the program in which he worked. This story is just a bridge too far and makes Sands sound like a committed fabulist or a fabulist who should be committed. I wonder if he told that same tale to Fox and Fox wisely kept it out of his film or if it is a new revelation? Either way, I think in terms of credibility it probably would’ve been better for Fox to keep Sands out of his documentary entirely.

The final portion of the The Program deals with the deep state obstruction of disclosure and features the always reliable Rep. Tim Burchett and Mellon describing the undemocratic government within a government that keeps all the secrets. (As an aside about Burchett, I was recently watching an episode of Finding Bigfoot with my son, an Animal Planet reality tv series from the 2010s – and in one episode the crew goes to Knox County, Tennessee to search for bigfoot and the mayor of Knox County – good old Tim Burchett, is there to help out and discuss his interest in the subject. I wholly endorse him being named director of the Federal Department of the Weird, Wild and Wonderful.)

There’s also a very damning display from the repugnant Bill Nelson, a former Senator from Florida and now head of NASA, who puts on a bullshit display that is so transparently dishonest and full of bureaucratic bluster that it is painful to watch. That Fox himself questions Nelson in an open forum, and then does a split-screen between Nelson blatantly lying about whistleblower David Grusch, and Grusch speaking to congress, is a master stroke.

The reality is that deep state despots like Bill Nelson, Admiral Wilson and their ilk are the tyrants of our age. These unelected bullying bureaucrats run the security and surveillance state that is antithetical to democracy and a republic and keeps us in the dark and in our cage.

The Program is about the UFO programs that men like Nelson and Wilson control, and the knowledge they refuse to share because that knowledge is power and they will never give up their unearned power.

The Program is a solid, well-made documentary that is well-worth watching. Unfortunately, it is only available to purchase and not rent, and the purchase price is $17...pretty steep.

The film will no doubt be available to rent at a much cheaper price in the coming weeks, and as good as I think it is, I think it’s worth waiting to rent it a cheaper price than buy at a steep one.

The bottom line is this, The Program is a very good companion piece to Fox’s earlier films, Out of the Blue, I Know What I Saw and The Phenomenon. As a collection, these films make a great starting point for newbies to the subject, and an excellent library of information for more experienced ufologists.

©2024

UFO Week - Manhattan Alien Abduction (Netflix): A Documentary Review

UFO WEEK: MANHATTAN ALIEN ABDUCTION

Earlier this year I was alerted to the fact that starting on October 30th and running up to December 16th, there were going to be five UFO-related documentaries being released on various streaming platforms.

As someone who has been interested in the topic and followed it for the majority of my adult life, I was glad that there would be a bevy of new UFO documentaries to digest. I was so happy, in fact, that I decided that once the final documentary, James Fox’s The Program, was released on December 16th, I would have a celebratory “week” on the website and review all the UFO documentaries over the course of five days – one review a day.

But then a funny thing happened on the way to UFO week…namely UFOs!! In the past two weeks there has been a cavalcade of coverage of the UFO topic because apparently New Jersey is being swarmed by drones of “unknown origin” that nobody seems to be able to do anything about. (As an aside…its odd that they are called “drones” when in fact they are the etxtbook definition of UAP’s - unidentified aerial phenomenon, or UFOs - unidentified flying objects…makes you think)

The New Jersey reports have been followed by reports, and video, from other areas of the country and the globe. Truth be told, a week before the New Jersey sightings, my son and I witnessed a very bizarre anomalous object flying at night over our farm in rural Pennsylvania. It looked somewhat like a plane, but it wasn’t a plane, and it made no noise and had odd lights on it that are not like the lights on a regular plane. We spotted something similar, but not identical, just last week as well, again at night.

We get lots of military craft flying over our farm so I just chalked it up to some military craft I couldn’t identify….and maybe it is…and maybe that’s what everyone is seeing over New Jersey. Who knows? There have been other reports in the local media of UAP/drones in the area over the weekend.

The theories about the sightings in New Jersey are all over the map. There are people claiming they are “Special Ops” drones used to sniff out a nuclear threat posed by a “loose nuke” or a “dirty bomb”. The theory goes from there and speculates the nuke is from Iran or China or Russia.

Others speculate that it is actually a false flag and that nefarious elements of the U.S. government are planning to detonate a nuke and blame it on…Iran, China and/or Russia in order to get the neo-con world war of their dreams.

Then there are those who think the “drones” are from Iran/China/Russia and are part of some recon mission that is a prelude to a Pearl Harbor type event.

Then there are others who think that the events of the last two weeks are the beginnings of “disclosure”, where the government admits there are aliens and they’re here, or the aliens step out of the shadows and tell everyone themselves that they’re here.

There are others who think that this is just a false flag using Project Bluebeam to make it appear there are alien craft in our skies in order to scare people and drum up a draconian response that demands we give up more rights to the powers that be in order to stay “safe”.

And finally, there are those who claim that this is all a hoax or a mass hallucination, and that some teenagers are flying normal drones over New Jersey as a gag and the media and the populace are going full War of the Worlds on it because they’re in the throes of hysteria.

As for who to believe…one thing is for certain, whatever government spokespeople say - don’t believe it as it is either going to be a manufactured lie or completely and utterly incorrect. That you can take to the bank.

What do I think is happening? Honestly, I don’t know. My sense is that the false flag discussion, be it about nukes or Project Bluebeam, are probably on the correct track…but who the hell knows?

On that note…let me officially welcome you to UFO Week!! Let’s start things off with a review of the Netflix documentary mini-series Manhattan Alien Abduction.

MANHATTAN ALIEN ABDUCTION

My Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. This could have, and should have, been a thorough debunking of an abduction claim, but it is a rather empty and shallow miniseries that diminishes everyone involved.

Manhattan Alien Abduction, which premiered on Netflix on October 30th, tells the story of Linda Napolitano – who claims to have been abducted from her New York City apartment on November 30th, 1989, and her nemesis, Carol Rainey, who thinks the story is an elaborate hoax.

Napolitano’s story is, not unexpectedly, an odd one. She claims that on November 30th, 1989, in the middle of the night, that aliens abducted her out of her 12th floor Manhattan apartment “on a blue beam of light, lifting her onto a reddish-orange spacecraft that quickly sped off toward the Brooklyn Bridge.”

Linda’s story could easily be dismissed as the ravings of a mad woman except for the fact that there were 23 people who claimed to witness it, among them a “world leader”, namely United Nations Secretary General Perez de Cuellar.

What really propelled Linda’s story into the spotlight was that she brought her tale to ufologist Budd Hopkins, who was one of the leaders in the study of alien abduction in UFO culture, and was a conduit for Linda to the wider UFO community.

Hopkins, who died in 2011, was very well known in the UFO world for having been among the first, along with Harvard psychiatrist Dr. John Mack, to use hypnosis to help people recall their abduction experiences. Hopkins hypnotized writer Whitley Strieber and assisted him in recalling his famous abduction experience which is recounted in the blockbuster book Communion (1987).

Hopkins brought Linda into his world of self-help alien abduction survivor meetings in his New York City apartment, and dove deep into her story, including with hypnosis.

Carol Rainey was Budd Hopkins’ wife at the time of Linda’s alleged abduction, and had a front row seat to Linda’s relationship with Budd and with her time in the spotlight recounting her tale to anyone who’d listen in the media.

Manhattan Alien Abduction is essentially a cat fight between Linda and Carol stretched over three episodes.

Carol is there to debunk Linda’s story, and Linda is there to convince you of it.

In my less than humble opinion, neither woman succeeds, despite the mini-series obviously being made for Carol’s benefit and from her perspective rather than from Linda’s or from a genuine journalistic instinct.

Linda’s story is, frankly…preposterous, and it only gets more and more outlandish with every passing fact and incident that comes to light.

For example, Linda claims that two bodyguards for UN Secretary general Cuellar, named Richard and Dan, come to her apartment in the days after her abduction and, in a somewhat menacing fashion, question her about the incident, and in doing so admit they, along with Cuellar, saw the whole thing while driving by that night.

That element of the story is fine and is very helpful in making Linda seem somewhat believable…but the Richard and Dan story just goes off the rails from there.

Linda claims Richard and Dan later abducted her…while she was walking down the street audio recording herself for her own safety, and abscond her to some location to threaten and question her again.

This second Richard and Dan story is, frankly, embarrassing. It sounds so fake and so stupid is boggles the mind that anyone would tell it, never mind believe it. But Linda told it, and Budd Hopkins believed it.

Linda seemed to have Hopkins wrapped around her finger by playing the ‘fragile bird who needs protecting’ game, and Hopkins fell for it. This seemed to infuriate Carol back in the 1980’s and 90’s…and still today.  

Back at the time, Carol, a self-proclaimed documentarian and journalist, then goes about getting Linda on camera as much as she can and investigating her story in order to debunk it. Carol, and the makers of this docu-series, think she has succeeded…I don’t.

To be clear, I don’t believe Linda’s preposterous and ever more outlandish story. It is so outrageous and ridiculous as to be absurd. But that also makes it very easy to debunk…and Carol and the makers of this documentary, fail to do even the most rudimentary journalistic work to expose Linda as a fraud…but they work very hard to make it seem like they’ve done the work.

For example, Linda and Budd have 23 witnesses who claim to have seen her being abducted into the New York night sky. That’s a lot of witnesses. A scene plays out in the documentary where Carol, while videotaping in the early 90’s, has Budd call one of the witnesses in order to question them, but Budd isn’t able to get in touch with them and leaves a message. This is his second attempt to do so. No other attempts are made…and Carol, and the producers, claims this proves all the witnesses are fake or frauds. Huh?

The claim is also made by Carol that she called one witness and that it “sounded like Linda”. Again, this is the extent of the journalism on display in this series. Out of 23 witnesses, one didn’t call back and the other sounds kind of like Linda, and so that makes all 23 fake or fraudulent? That is just as ridiculous a claim as Linda’s original claims.

Then there’s the story of Richard and Dan, the UN security guards for the Secretary General. Back in 1990 Carol films Linda as they go through file footage of various UN events and Linda actually identifies one of the guys in the video as being Dan. She literally ID’s the guy.

Now, does that mean it is the guy? Does that mean that the guy she ID’s came to her house and did all the things she claims? No. What it does mean is that it should be easy to investigate who that person is…and maybe…just maybe…find him and talk to him. If you work as a security guy at the UN, there’s a paper trail, pay stubs, taxes, insurance, and all the rest. There’s a paper trail and probably a picture ID on file. Do Carol and the producers of this series investigate and find that material? No, they don’t. Why not? I have no idea. Maybe they’re lazy.

Carol and the producers do have handwriting analysis done on a type-written letter signed by Secretary Cuellar in which he claims to have seen all that happened to Linda that night in 1989. The hand writing analysis is on Cuellar’s signature and the expert declares that no one writes their name exactly the same way twice and this signature is too perfect to be real.

Now, the signature and the type-written letter may very well be fake, but public officials use signature stamps to sign their name all the time…is it out of the possibility that this happened here? No. Did Carol or the producers acknowledge this? Also no.

If Linda is as big a bullshitter as she appears to be in this documentary, you’ve got to find more substantial evidence and prove she is a bullshitter…it can’t be that hard.

What about the other 22 witnesses? Did they try and track them down? Who are they and where are they?

Where’s the investigation into Richard and Dan and the UN and all that? This is simple stuff. It may not be easy to do and may take effort, but if Linda is so full of shit then it should be easy to prove and yet they never prove it.

With the slightest bit of awareness on the game being played on you by understanding what is missing from this series, Manhattan Alien Abduction looks in hindsight to be a cheap and tawdry venture.

As bizarre and unbelievable as Linda’s claims are the investigation into them is shallow and amateurish. Do the work. Track down the witnesses. Find a connection. Don’t just speculate and assume and conjecture and imply…investigate and prove…or in this case, disprove.

Here’s another oddity about this mini-series, namely that Carol Rainey has her own major biases from a tormented childhood in a religious cult, and from her personal relationship with Budd Hopkins, that skew her own objectivity and judgement.

Hopkins and Rainey divorced in 2006, and when he died in 2011 he was in a relationship with Leslie Kean. You know who Leslie Kean is? She’s the journalist who went on to break the big UFO story published in the New York Times in 2017 that brought ufology into the mainstream.

The question I have after learning of Hopkins relationship with Kean, and Carol Rainey’s background and her obvious jealousy of Linda Napolitano, is this…is this docuseries just Carol Rainey in a jealous fit trying to destroy the legacy of Budd Hopkins, Linda Napolitano’s reputation and undermine Leslie Kean’s life’s work?

As much as I think Linda Napolitano is a fabulist, I think Carol Rainey is one too…and a much more nefarious one. Rainey is the woman scorned, and while she may be right about everything, her personal vindictiveness and venom are not journalistically acquired evidence…they are just grievances in the form of accusations.

Ultimately, Manhattan Alien Abduction disappoints despite a very compelling thesis, and is scuttled by a thoroughly amateurish and weak journalistic effort that fails to adequately disprove something that should be so easily debunked.

©2024

The Substance: A Review - Everything Old is New Again

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

My Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SEE IT. Be forewarned, this is a body horror movie with ample amounts of gooey gore, but it is also a well-executed and well-acted piece of social commentary that works quite well despite some major issues with its third act.

The Substance, written and directed by Coralie Fargeat, is, almost despite itself, one of the more intriguing films of 2024.

The movie is a satirical body horror film that stars Demi Moore as Elisabeth Sparkle, a once celebrated but now aging star who hosts an exercise show ala Jane Fonda in the 1980s.

On Elisabeth’s fiftieth birthday she connects with a mysterious company that sells “The Substance” – which is an injectable formula that creates a second, younger you. As The Substance company is quick to remind customers, this new version isn’t a different person from the original…the original and the newer version are one in the same.

A desperate and depressed Elisabeth ultimately chooses to take The Substance and the rest of the film involves Elisabeth and her younger new self, Sue - magnificently played by Margaret Qualley, trying to navigate their very unusual circumstances.

The Substance, which is available VOD or on the streaming service MUBI (you can get a free trial subscription for a week and then cancel – that’s what I did) is an undeniably clever movie that is well-executed enough to be elevated to an interesting and compelling piece of cinema. It masterfully and often hysterically comments on the long-running, rampant misogyny and ageism in Hollywood. Having worked with many women in the acting business over the years I can attest that it’s a young woman’s game, and hitting thirty, never mind forty or fifty, is often a death knell.

The Substance’s biggest issue as a film is that it is two-thirds of a very good one. Unfortunately, in the final act the story and the film’s internal logic and perspective, take a beating and the movie meanders aimlessly for about thirty minutes until finally settling on a less than satisfying conclusion.

French writer/director Fargeat seems like she didn’t know how, or when, to end her movie. In this way The Substance reminded me of another pretty good horror film in recent years, Barbarian, which was exquisite for its first two acts and then devolved into a bit of a derivative mess.

As poor as the final act of The Substance is, and it really is poor, the first two acts are really wonderful.

Demi Moore gives a brave performance as Elisabeth, doing a bevy of extended nude scenes – which are pivotal to the narrative and to the drama. An actress having the courage to bare her aging body on the big screen in age and perfection obsessed Hollywood is a courageous one indeed.

Casting Moore, whose career is vaguely similar to Elisabeth’s, is a meta-textual masterpiece, most of all because she gives a dynamic, nuanced and very vulnerable performance which elevates the film.

Margaret Qualley is an actress who I have noticed from the beginning of her career. I remember the first time I saw her was in a small film titled The Novitiate. I thought she was extremely good in that mostly forgettable movie as she displayed an undeniable charisma and magnetism…and thought she had a chance to have a big career in front of her. I didn’t even know she was Andie McDowell’s daughter at the time.

Qualley has proven me right with her work since then. She was spectacular in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood and she is equally impressive here.

I was going to congratulate Qualley on her bravery as well for the numerous nude scenes and body shots on display in The Substance, but I was informed by a female “friend” that Qualley used a body double for her nude scenes. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but I will say that whoever is baring their body as Sue in this film, be it Margaret Qualley or a body double, has my respect and gratitude.

Qualley is fantastic as Sue as she fills her with a verve and vitality that few can replicate on screen. Sue’s persistence, petulance and power are a combustible combination, and the film comes alive whenever Qualley as Sue is unleashed.

Another noteworthy performance comes from Dennis Quaid as pervert producer Harvey. Quaid goes all in on repugnancy and is such a repellent figure it is uncomfortably hysterical. That director Fargeat repeatedly shoots him in the most grotesque of close-ups only heightens Harvey’s repugnancy.

Despite the misstep that is the third act, there is no denying the great job writer/director Coralie Fageat did in the first two acts of The Substance.

The film is exquisitely shot and edited, and the costumes and sets are artistic perfection. There are little details throughout the film that are impressive to notice, such as all the cars parked in the street when Elisabeth is walking around town, are either, fancy sports cars or refurbished muscle cars – which is a subtle cinematic touch that is an indication of a quality director at the helm.

Recommending The Substance is a slightly tricky thing to do because as stated it is a body horror movie, so there are ample scenes of grotesque gore that, while well-executed, are pretty horrific. If you’re into that sort of thing I think you’ll definitely love this movie…even the third act.

If you’re not into that sort of thing, then this might be a tougher watch. I would recommend The Substance to the cavalcade of, dare I say it, older actresses I know (ducking to avoid the Manolo Blahnik being thrown at my head), because they will totally get the sentiment that drives this movie even if the body horror stuff is a turn off.

The truth is that in lesser hands, both in terms of the acting and the directing, The Substance could have been a real cringeworthy piece of feminist bitching, moaning and man-hating. But Demi Moore, Margaret Qualley and director Coralie Fargeat make this satiric body horror story into a complex cinematic venture that, despite its massive third act issues, is an insightful, and thoughtful piece of work worth checking out.

The Substance resonates as a piece of art, and despite being a body horror film it really is at heart a European arthouse movie, because it exists in a world over-run by Instagram and Tik Tok influencers making a living off of exploiting their young, nubile bodies, and in which the public sphere and the entertainment industry have been pornified beyond belief.

The Substance doesn’t get everything right, but it gets enough right, particularly the performances of Demi Moore and Margaret Qualley, to be worth watching.

©2024

Juror No. 2: A Review - Guilty of Moviemaking Malpractice

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

My Rating: 1.5 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. Another in a long line of weak cinematic efforts from director Clint Eastwood. Shallow, vapid and lazy, this movie is a made-for-tv mistake.

In the first season of NBC’s acclaimed sitcom 30 Rock – which ran from 2007 to 2013, the character Jenna Maroney, a narcissistic, needy and aging actress, is excited to show her co-worker/friend Liz Lemon the new independent movie she is starring in, The Rural Juror, and gage Lemon’s opinion.

The title The Rural Juror elicits laughs because no one on 30 Rock can pronounce it properly…it just sounds like ruhhr-juhhr. It’s also amusing because it sounds like some generic Grisham-esque piece of courtroom garbage that Hollywood loves to churn out from time to time. Adding to the humor is the funny fact that The Rural Juror is actually based on a book written by Kevin Grisham – John Grisham’s brother.

On this episode of 30 Rock Lemon watches The Rural Juror and loathes it but spares Jenna the truth, which ultimately causes problems down the road between her and Jenna.

As anyone who knows me will tell you, I am no Liz Lemon – I’m much closer to Jack Donaghey and maybe Tracy Jordan, as I am not known for pulling punches when it comes to my opinions of film…or much else.

I kept thinking of The Rural Juror as I watched 94-year-old director Clint Eastwood’s new film, Juror No. 2, which is currently available on VOD and come December 20th will be available to stream on MAX.

Juror No.2 looks and feels like someone actually decided to make The Rural Juror…and not as a joke…despite it being unintentionally very funny. This movie has all the cinematic panache and dramatic power of a Lifetime movie you stumble across late at night and decide to use as a sleep aid.

The film, which stars Nicholas Hoult, with supporting turns from Toni Collette, J.K. Simmons, Chris Messina, Leslie Bibb and Kiefer Sutherland, tells the preposterous story of Justin, a gentle juror in a Savannah, Georgia murder trial that may know more about the case than he lets on.

I will avoid spoilers as a courtesy in order to keep potential viewer’s pure of mind before watching this movie, but I’ll only say this, the premise of this movie is completely devoid of dramatic tension – at least for me. The bottom line is that Juror No. 2 asks viewers to choose “the right thing to do” in a specific scenario and the answer to that question is painfully obvious to me…so much so that I was utterly devoid of any moral qualms about what I would do. Maybe that means I’m a psychopath…who knows?

Others may find the premise more intriguing and engaging than I did, but I found it to be ethically obtuse and dramatically anemic.

Eastwood is one of the more-odd directors of the 21st century. He is going strong and consistently making movies well into his nineties, which is a great credit to him. Because he is so old, and let’s be frank, so close to death, critics and Hollywood tend to treat him with kid gloves, so he gets undeserved glowing reviews and awards consideration (and even wins), but the reality is his movies are, for the most part, awful to the point of being embarrassing.

In the last twenty years Eastwood has made 17 movies…which is extraordinary…but unfortunately none of the movies are anywhere near extraordinary. I would argue that maybe two of them rise to the level of being “just ok” (Richard Jewell and Gran Torino) and even those are pretty suspect.

Juror No. 2 has all the distinct trademarks of a late Eastwood era movie. It is allergic to detail, its visuals are dull and flat, the script is trite, the dialogue atrocious, and the acting is stilted and often-times amateurish – thanks to Clint’s hands-off/minimal takes approach.

Eastwood’s ability to entice decent and even very good actors into giving abysmal performances, is front and center in Juror No. 2. For example, J.K. Simmons, someone I deeply respect, plays a juror and is unable to make his decrepit dialogue make the least bit of sense or sound remotely human.

Toni Collette is a terrific actress and here she is essentially just a caricature throwing around a bad southern accent and painting by numbers.

Nicholas Hoult is an actor I really think highly of - I thought he was brilliant in the wonderful Hulu series The Great, but here he is handcuffed by the poor script and uneven pacing and tone of the entire cinematic venture.

Bad actors, and Eastwood employs a lot of them, are painfully exposed by Eastwood’s laissez-faire directing approach.

For instance, Chris Messina, whose career is a mystery to me, gives a lifeless, uneven and thoughtless performance as an attorney in this movie. As does Kiefer Sutherland, who does his best wooden Indian imitation throughout.

As bad as Messina and Sutherland are, Adrienne C. Moore and Cedric Yarbrough, who play jurors, are so bad they make Messina and Sutherland look like Sir Laurence Olivier and Marlon Brando. Yikes.

Juror No. 2 runs for two hours…and it is a long two-hours. While watching with my wife I paused the movie to go to the bathroom let out an audible groan when I saw that only 50 minutes had passed…it felt like we were on hour three of this son of a bitch.

Juror No. 2 is The Rural Juror. In other words, it is a joke but no one is allowed to laugh. That said, I literally did laugh out loud on numerous occasions while watching this thing as it got more and more inane as it unfolded.

Look, I like Clint Eastwood. He was a fantastic movie star. I also think he used to make very good and sometimes great movies. For example, Unforgiven is an absolute masterpiece, as is The Outlaw Josey Wales. High Plains Drifter and The Pale Rider are top notch. Everything else, including his Oscar-winning movies Mystic River and Million Dollar Baby, are, at best, middling movies.

The truth is that because I like the guy I’d like to think that Clint has one more Unforgiven in him even at age 94. After watching the moviemaking malpractice that is Juror No. 2, the fantasy of a Clint return to greatness isn’t just dying on the vine, it is as dead as a door nail…and there is no mystery as to who committed the murder.

©2024

Blitz: A Review - Bombs Away!

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

My Rating: ½ out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. An ill-conceived, poorly executed and outrageously awful movie.

If you’re yearning for a story about Nazi Germany’s brutal blitzkrieg bombing assault on London during World War II that is so pretentious and preposterous that it will have you rooting for the bad guys to go full on Enola Gay and Hiroshima the Brits into oblivion…have I got the movie for you.

Blitz, written and directed by acclaimed auteur Steve McQueen, tells the story of George, a young mixed-race boy, and his single white mother, Rita, who try to survive the chaos and calamity of the Blitz.

My wee Scottish grandmother, one of my all-time favorite people, lived in London during the Blitz and when I was a child would tell me stories of frantically running to the underground with her two horrified toddlers and one wailing infant (my uncles) in tow in order to survive the German bombing raids.

Her harrowing experience had me deeply interested in watching Blitz. As did the fact that one of my favorite actresses, Saoirse Ronan, stars in it, and that the film’s writer/director, Steve McQueen, was a once upon a time a filmmaker I revered for his artistic courage and vision.

Then I sat down and watched Blitz – which is streaming on Apple TV+…and holy shit balls is it egregiously, atrociously bad.

This movie is so ill-conceived, poorly designed, erroneously executed, didactic, patronizing, pedantic and pedestrian that it left me frustrated to the point of being furious. It is difficult to put into words how much I hated this movie…but I’ll try because I truly and absolutely despised it.

The film, which runs two-hours, makes the ludicrous decision to make the story of the Blitz, a terror bombing which killed 40,000 Brits – the overwhelming majority (literally 99%) of whom were white, about a little black-skinned boy suffering a bevy of racist micro-aggressions while on an odyssey through London. I shit you not.

It would be hard to misunderstand and misrepresent the meaning of the Blitz more than to use it as a weapon to bash the very people it brutalized. This movie is the equivalent of telling a story about the Holocaust and having it focus on a mixed-race Polish kid in Krakow bemoaning the Jewish racism he endured at the hands of the Jews being forced into the ghetto and onto the trains headed to Auschwitz.

The film’s pretentiousness and its patronizing tone are astonishing, and seemed designed to please a particularly putrid audience from our recent past.

This is one of those films that vacuous liberal white people would’ve exalted in the most glowing terms back in 2019, no doubt during breaks at their book club meetings where they self-righteously discussed the brilliance of Robin DiAngelo’s White Fragility and Ibram X. Kendi’s How to be an Anti-Racist and lamented how everyone else besides them is so racist.

This is the type of movie where the white people are almost unanimously atrocious and despicable villains, and minorities, be they Indian, Jewish or African, are noble saints with hearts of gold.

The heart of gold lineup includes but is not limited to…the Jew with a heart of gold who stands up to defend an Indian family – who also have hearts of gold. There’s a Nigerian nightwatchman with a heart so golden he is essentially Jesus Christ. Then there’s a communist midget…again I shit you not…with a heart of gold considerably bigger than his tiny little body. There’s also a black woman who is a criminal but she too ends up having, you guessed it…a heart of gold!

The Anglo-Saxon/white Brits on the other hand…well, they are, with the exception of Rita and her father, a vile, vindictive, violent, vicious and venomous bunch. Whether it’s the street criminal Albert, who seems like something out of a second-rate Dickens novel, or the bevy of pale civil servants tasked with public safety, or the white men in various positions of power, the white characters are a cruel and heartless bunch, that lie easily and incessantly. They are all filled to the brim with a savage and irrational hate for anyone not white that burns brighter and hotter than any Nazi fire bombing.

On top of the incomparably trite and passe agenda fueling the film, there’s the issue of the plot being so ludicrous and preposterous as to be incandescently stupid.

George’s odyssey is essentially like Pinocchio’s, as he goes from one inanity to the next, making awful, idiotic decisions every chance he gets. But, of course, because George is of mixed-race, he has a heart of gold and is outlandishly courageous and brave, while the white kids are just cruel and mean-spirited.

George’s odyssey is the main narrative in the film, and it is incessantly nonsensical and moronic. Elliot Heffernan, who plays George, is a stone-faced dullard who does nothing but grate and irritate viewers every second he’s on-screen. I’ve never wished for a child to be killed in a movie before…but this dope had me rooting for it.

The more interesting, but equally inane, narrative, is that of George’s mom, Rita. I love Saoirse Ronan, and she does the best she can with what’s she’s given, but Rita’s story, which is filled with a bevy of lifeless flashbacks, is so vapid it made my teeth hurt.  And, of course, it is filled with a cavalcade of loathsome white men and their unending racism and sexism and the like. Yawn.

Steve McQueen was once a filmmaker I deeply respected and admired. His first feature, Hunger (2008), which chronicles the struggle of IRA hunger striker Bobby Sands, is a masterful, exquisitely executed, immensely moving film. I cannot recommend it highly enough.

His next film, Shame (2011), is a shocking, vivid depiction of the chaotic life of a sex addict that is also well-crafted.  

His third film, 12 Years a Slave (2013), won Best Picture at the Academy Awards. It is a bit of a controversial pick in hindsight because apparently making slave movies is a no-no among the DEI sect nowadays. But back then, it was an impressive film that was very deftly put together, and I loved it then…and still do today.

Then things started to go off the rails for McQueen. His next movie, Widows (2018), was, frankly, a mess of a movie. It tried, and failed, to say a lot of things about a lot of subjects, and generally ended up being politically flaccid, dramatically incoherent and cinematically impotent.

Which brings us to Blitz. Blitz is proof of something that makes me quite unhappy, namely that Steve McQueen is not the noteworthy filmmaker I wished him to be, but rather a painfully pedestrian and banal artistic poseur devoid of any truly compelling or original vision.

The reality is that the brilliant Steve McQueen of Hunger is dead and buried, and all we have left is the man who made Blitz, a cloying, trite and treacly film that feels like a sub-par parody of one of those racially-motivated and quickly forgotten BBC movies of the week.

The bottom line is that Blitz is an embarrassingly bad, painfully pretentious and preposterous film that I cannot recommend to anyone at any time. This movie is an abject failure in every way and, like the vast majority of the films of Apple TV+, is a complete and total waste of time. Skip it…I know I wish I had.

©2024

Gladiator II: A Review - There Was a Dream That Was Rome

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

My Rating: 3 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SEE IT. It pales considerably in comparison to the original, but still a decent enough, and entertaining enough, swords and sandals action epic.

There’s been a TikTok trend going around in recent years about how every man supposedly thinks about the Roman Empire at least a little bit every day of his adult life. That, of course, is utter nonsense. Just kidding…it is absolutely, 100% true…at least in my life…I mean, what the hell else am I going to be thinking about during the day except the Roman Empire?  

The makers of Gladiator II, the long-awaited legacy sequel of Ridley Scott’s Best Picture winning Gladiator (2000), are hoping that audiences will think enough about Ancient Rome to make the trek to the movie theatre to go watch a movie about it this coming Thanksgiving weekend.

The film, once again directed by Ridley Scott, stars Paul Mescal as Hanno, a prisoner of war turned gladiator, and features supporting performances from Denzel Washington, Pedro Pascal and Connie Nielson.

In order to avoid any semblance of spoilers, I’ll give a brief and intentionally vague rundown of the plot.

Fifteen years after the events of the original film where Maximus famously kills Commodus, and then himself dies, Rome is an empire on the verge of collapse due to the depravity, debauchery, decadence, militarism and mismanagement of its in-bred ruling class…sound familiar? If you have even a passing association with reality in America, then it should.

Twin emperors, Caracalla and Geta, are bloodthirsty madmen presiding over the empire who have sent skilled general Acacius across the globe to satiate their appetite for conquest.

Acacius invades and conquers the African city of Numidia, where Hanno is a warrior. In defeat Hanno is enslaved in the service of Macrinus, a former slave himself who has a stable of gladiators who fight in the Colosseum. Macrinus sees great talent in Hanno and makes him his number one gladiatorial attraction in the hopes of using Hanno’s success in the Colosseum as a tool to climb the social and political ladder.

The plot, which entails a bevy of twists and turns and flashbacks and reveals, goes from there.

The original Gladiator was a miracle of a movie. A big budget, sword and sandals action epic that barely had a working script during shooting, which, through the sheer force of Ridley Scott’s talent and Russell Crowe’s movie star charisma, became a blockbuster prestige movie that made a bundle of money and won a handful of Oscars. It is, after twenty-four years, still glorious to watch and re-watch.

I kept thinking of the famous line from Gladiator, “what we do in life echoes in eternity” while watching Gladiator II, because what Gladiator II really is, is a very faint echo of the boisterous blockbuster bellow from twenty-four years ago that was the original Gladiator.

Another quote from Gladiator was ringing in my head as I exited the theater after watching all two-and-a-half hours of Gladiator II, and that was “are you not entertained??”

My answer is…”ummm…yeah…I guess so.”

It is undeniable that Gladiator II pales considerably in comparison to the original. That doesn’t mean it’s a bad movie, or that it isn’t entertaining, because it is decent enough and entertaining in its own way, it just means that the best way to enjoy it is to go into it with low expectations.

Gladiator II is, like the original, in its essence, a sword and sandal action movie, and it boasts some impressive fight sequences that are, at times, exhilarating. Most notably Hanno’s fight in the emperor’s palace, which is electrifying for its close-quarters brutality and realism.

But at other times, the fight sequences border on the inane. For example, there’s a fight between gladiators and a gang of baboons that seemed the absolute essence of silliness.

Overall, the movie serves up a bevy of gladiator fights, and even if some of them are a bit preposterous to the point of silly, they’re still gladiator fights…and who the hell doesn’t like gladiator fights?

The plot of the film is a bit convoluted and stretches credulity as well, and its twists and turns don’t quite compel like they did in the original, but that said there are some bright spots.

For instance, whenever Denzel Washington’s Macrinus is on screen, Gladiator II is winning. Washington’s Macrinus is a Shakespearean super villain, like the bastard love child of Iago and Richard III. Denzel chews the scenery in this movie with more aplomb than the CGI sharks in the Colosseum naval battle do their unfortunate victims.

Late career Denzel is often times underwhelming as his verve can wane and his focus can wander. But as Macrinus, Denzel is totally engaged and seems to be having a helluva lot of sinister fun, and it is a pleasure to behold.

The lead of the movie though is Paul Mescal, who is a moderately well-known actor, despite my never having seen his work. I thought Mescal did, for the most part, an admirable job in the lead of Gladiator II.

For starters, Mescal is in fantastic shape for the role, which is in sharp contrast to the mildly chubby Russel Crowe in the original. Mescal has a physical dynamism to him that is undeniable and jumps off the screen in the action sequences in the movie. Unfortunately for Mescal, and despite what Hollywood will tell you, muscle doesn’t make a movie star. Mescal is no Crowe in terms of charisma and gravitas, and he cannot carry the film on his own. In many ways, Denzel steals the show right out from under him….which isn’t much of a mark against Mescal since Denzel steals most every movie he appears in.

Pedro Pascal is subdued and rather forgettable as Acasius, the morally and ethically conflicted general. The lethargic Pascal seems devoid of magnetism in the role and feels out of place in the film.

Connie Nielson, reprising her role of Lucilla from the original, also feels out of rhythm and out of place. Her character’s arc is not written particularly well, and she does not elevate it with her rather anemic performance.

Fred Hechinger and Joseph Quinn, playing Caracalla and Geta respectively, seem to be mimicking Joaquin Phoenix as crazy Commodus for the entirety of their rather one-note performances. There are worse actors to copy than Joaquin Phoenix, but in this case a bit of nuance and variation, which Phoenix brought in the original, would have better served the film.

As for director Ridley Scott, Gladiator II is nowhere near the upper echelon of his staggering filmography, but it must be said that it is truly remarkable that an 86-year-old man is churning out big budget epic movies like this.

Scott has made four films in the last four years, one bigger and more complicated to pull off than the next. The Last Duel (2021), House of Gucci (2021), Napoleon (2023) and Gladiator II (2024) is a grueling gauntlet for a filmmaker half of Ridley Scott’s age…and he doesn’t seem to be done just yet as Gladiator II is doing very well at the box office and no doubt will compel Ridley, and more importantly movie studios, to let him keep going.

While Gladiator II is certainly a flawed movie, it is still a real movie and a proficiently made one that is fun to watch. I don’t think it’ll win any Oscars, or break box office records, but it’s a decent and respectable piece of work for any filmmaker, never mind one that is 86.

If you loved, or even just liked, Gladiator, you’ll find Gladiator II to be a passable but ultimately second-rate imitation. I do recommend you check it out, and do so in a movie theatre, but just be sure to arm yourself with lower expectations.

©2024

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 126 - The Substance

On this episode, Barry and I dive head first into the fountain of youth to discuss the intriguing satirical body horror movie The Substance, starring Demi Moore and Margaret Qualley. Topics discussed include the clever premise of the film and it's quality execution, third act issues, and the stellar work of Moore and Qualley. 

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 126 - The Substance

Thanks for listening!!

©2024

Megalopolis: A Review - A Mega Mess

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

My Rating: 1 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. This is a truly, truly awful movie in every single way. Poorly written, directed, acted and shot. It deserves zero stars but I gave it one star out of respect for Francis Ford Coppola and his stellar work in the 70s.

My favorite baseball player when I was a kid was Tom Seaver. Seaver was a pitcher for the New York Mets and for some reason, I just attached myself to his stardom when I was very young. I even had a tiny #41 Mets jersey and uniform that I wore every year for Halloween, even after it stopped fitting.

The Mets traded Tom Terrific in 1977 and I was a heartbroken and homeless baseball fan until I quickly latched onto the irascible Thurman Munson and the Yankees – which only led to its own heartbreak down the road…but that’s a story for another day.

The reason I bring up Seaver is that I always loved the guy, even after his Hall of Fame playing career came to an end. He was a phenomenal pitcher, but he was also a great guy and a class act.

So in my teens, when Seaver was forty-years-old, I made a pilgrimage to see him pitch in Fenway Park for the Chicago White Sox against the Boston Red Sox on July 30th, 1985. I assumed this would be my last chance to see him pitch live, and I was right.

Seaver was well past his prime and couldn’t throw his fastball with the savage velocity he used to, but he was still a master craftsman and could pitch his ass off. On this night he called on all his experience and mastery and pitched an absolute gem, throwing a complete game, 7-5 victory…the 299th win of his career. It was a joy to behold.

I thought of the old war horse Tom Seaver conjuring up some late career magic when I sat down to watch Megalopolis (now available to rent on VOD for $20), the new film from iconic, Academy Award winning auteur Francis Ford Coppola, who is now 85 years-old and well past his prime. But I hoped, like Seaver, Coppola would recapture some of that old magic just one more time.

Megalopolis, which is written and directed by Coppola, is a science fiction fable that chronicles the personal, political and cultural quest for power, purpose and meaning in an alternative, 21st-century, New York City named New Rome.

The film is an epic inspired by Greek and Roman classics, Roman history, and Shakespeare, and it is an outrageously ambitious and audacious cinematic venture.

I desperately wanted to like this movie, and desperately wanted it to work and I desperately wanted it to be good. Unfortunately, Megalopolis is a catastrophically, disastrously bad movie that doesn’t work in any way at all.

The film follows the story of Cesar Catalina, yes – that is his real name, a genius architect blessed with the ability to stop time. What does Mr. Catalina do with that ability? Nothing really.

Catalina is in a power struggle against Mayor Franklyn Cicero, and banking tycoon Hamilton Crassus, as well as both of their extended families.

He’s also in a tenuous and very shallow relationship with tv presenter and social climber Wow Platinum, yes – that is her real name, and also gets into a Romeo and Juliet type situation with the Mayor’s daughter, Julia.

Through all this Cesar Catalina is trying to rebuild New Rome into a utopia that will endure well beyond his and his direct descendant’s lifetimes and be a shining city on a hill through the ages.

If that plot and character description sounds like a lot, that’s because it is…and frankly, that’s not even the half of it.

The problems with Megalopolis are legion – pardon the pun. Coppola famously financed the film himself, all $130 million of it, and it’s easy to see why as no studio executive with half a brain in his head and any semblance of a survival instinct would attach themselves to this convoluted and incoherent mess of a movie.

Let’s start at the beginning. The casting for this movie is so egregiously awful that it beggars belief.

Adam Driver, or as I call him – the modern-day Elliot Gould (in case you’re wondering…that’s not a compliment), is the darling of the auteur sect at the moment, but he is unquestionably an atrocious actor and an even worse movie star, so his being cast as the lead Cesar Catalina is a major error.

Driver is an irredeemably impotent actor devoid of even a minimal amount of power, presence or gravitas, so he is incapable of carrying a gargantuan film of this magnitude.

Catalina is supposed to be this object of desire oozing with sex appeal and magnetism, but Driver is a doughy doofus and is so repellent as to be the walking embodiment of anti-sexual attraction.

Catalina is also supposed to be a genius, but Driver is a dim-witted, dead-eyed dullard who has no light in his eyes and comes across as a dumbass and dope, meathead and mope on-screen, which only makes his performance all the more infuriatingly flaccid.

In addition to the abysmal Driver, is the equally awful Shia LaBeouf, who is consistently terrible at everything he does.

LaBeouf plays Clodio, Cesar’s jealous cousin, and he does all the usual hackneyed, ham-fisted histrionics you’d expect from a minimally talented actor trying too hard to show everyone he’s acting.

The worst performance in the film, and that is saying something, comes from Nathalie Emmanuel, who plays Julia Cicero. Emmanuel is a beautiful woman but she is such a lifeless and wooden actor that you’d be better served casting a cigar store wooden Indian than her. Emmanuel’s dismal line readings are so devoid of life I felt like I was watching her narrate her own autopsy.

The rest of the cast, which include Aubrey Plaza, Laurence Fishburne, Jon Voight and Dustin Hoffman, are no walk in the park either. The main problem with the acting is that the performances are all over the place tonally. It’s like watching ten different actors working in ten different films all spliced together randomly. It’s bizarre.

The blame for the epic failure of the epic Megalopolis falls squarely on Francis Ford Coppola as he’s the one who cast these incompetent snores in the first place, and then failed to direct them adequately to present a unified tone.

I also blame Coppola for the film’s uninspired and amateurish cinematography. Scenes are consistently poorly designed, blocked and framed. The visual effects, the sets and the costumes all look unconscionably cheap and tawdry. Which begs the question…where did that $130 million go?

The theatricality of the film, in its writing, staging, acting, set design and costumes, doesn’t seem avant-garde but accidental, like a way to cut corners with unfinished ideas and unpolished set ups.

The script is an unmitigated disaster, like a glimpse into the mind of a narcissistic, drunk, manic depressive mad man having a break down while strapped to a chair in front of Fox News.

There’s a plethora of inane B-story lines about a virginal pop singer named Vesta Sweetwater, and yes that’s her real name, and a dangerously malfunctioning Soviet satellite falling to earth, and a populist politician’s quest for power and on and on and none of them mean much of anything in the big picture or come to any dramatically satisfying conclusion.

The film is just Coppola saying the world is a mess and only he understands it and only he can fix it. The problem with this is that the animating philosophy of the film is so trite as to be ludicrous.

As are the film’s heavy-handed and extraordinarily vacuous politics. For example, there’s actually a sign held up at a populist rally that says “Make New Rome Great Again”. Subtle.

Francis Ford Coppola has given us some of the very greatest films ever made, The Godfather I and II, The Conversation and Apocalypse Now. But he hasn’t made a half way decent film, or been even remotely relevant as a filmmaker or artist, in over thirty years. In other words, he not only can’t throw his fastball anymore, he can barely throw a ball anymore.

It pained me to watch the mega-mess of Megalopolis because Coppola, like Scorsese and Kurosawa and Kubrick, is such a cornerstone to my love of cinema. But the cold and very hard reality is that Megalopolis is a film made by a man who shouldn’t be making films anymore.

Coppola no longer has the effortless talent, craft and skill he displayed during his heyday in the 1970’s. He is a man with lots of ideas but without the ability to convey them cinematically in a coherent and competent way. That is heart breaking for fans of cinema, like myself, and no doubt for Coppola, who still has a lot to say but is unable to adequately say it.

I wish Megalopolis was Coppola as Tom Seaver battling Red Sox batters for nine strong innings to get his 299th win. But it isn’t. It is Coppola as Seaver, a good man and once great pitcher, having to suffer the heartbreak and indignity of quitting his post-playing broadcasting job because he was suffering from dementia.

In this respect Megalopolis isn’t just a bad film, it is a gut-wrenching tragedy. Poorly considered, poorly crafted and poorly executed in every single way, it is better not that you don’t ever watch Megalopolis, but that you entirely forget it ever existed. That’s what I hope to do.

©2024

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 125 - Megalopolis

On this episode, Barry and I head to New Rome to discuss all things Megalopolis, Francis Ford Coppola's newest film. Topics discussed include egregious casting errors, abysmal acting, incoherent script and subpar craftsmanship. But besides that how was the play Mrs. Lincoln?

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 125 - Megalopolis

Thanks for listening!

©2024

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 124 - Trap

On this episode, Barry and I head out to a Lady Raven concert in Philly only to discover we've unknowingly walked into an M. Night Shyamalan Trap, starring Josh Hartnett. Topics discussed on this pod include M. Night Shyamalan's very odd career arc, and the greatness of his early work contrasted with his disappointing later period films - which most definitely includes Trap. 

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 124 - Trap

Thanks for listening!

©2024

Conclave: A Review - Committing a Cinematic Cardinal Sin

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

My Rating: 2.5 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. A well-crafted and well-acted film that ultimately condemns itself to hell with an inexcusable plot twist that is so inane as to be infuriating.

Conclave, directed by Edward Berger and written by Peter Straughan (adapted from Robert Harris’ book of the same name), tells the story of Cardinal Lawrence, a man struggling with his faith who must navigate palace intrigue in the Vatican as the College of Cardinals assembles to elect a new pope.

On the surface, Conclave has a lot going for it. For example, it stars a cavalcade of top-notch actors, with Ralph Fiennes as Cardinal Lawrence, Stanley Tucci as Cardinal Bellini, John Lithgow as Cardinal Tremblay and Isabella Rossellini as Sister Agnes among the cast.

In addition, it is directed by Edward Berger, whose last film, All Quiet on the Western Front (2022), was a phenomenal, Academy Award nominated piece of work, my favorite of that year because it was so beautifully shot and masterfully executed.

On a personal note, as a Catholic myself (I’m not a good one…but I definitely am one) who has visited the Vatican on numerous occasions, I find the subject matter of a conclave in the wake of a Pope’s death, and the pomp and circumstance and politicization and jockeying for positioning that takes place, to be extraordinarily compelling.

And speaking of politics, in the wake of the US presidential election, Conclave is perfectly positioned to have something interesting to say about elections and liberals versus conservatives and the power of convictions and possibilities of backlash.

This is all to say that Conclave, which was released in the U.S. on October 25th and is still in theatres, had me in the palm of its hand even before I sat down in the theatre to watch it.

And yet…it failed to capitalize on all of its advantages and, in fact, alienated me in such a profound way with an excruciatingly egregious and inane plot twist, which I found to be a mortal moviemaking sin and entirely unforgivable.

In order to avoid spoilers, I will not reveal the specifics of the plot twist but will only say that it occurs in the final ten minutes or so of the film and is so contrived, bizarre, atrocious and appalling, and is such a grievous dramatic error, and so narratively unsound, that it ruined everything good about the film that led up to it and completely scuttled the good ship Conclave.

But besides that…how was the play Mrs. Lincoln? Truthfully, it was pretty good.

The film is well shot by cinematographer Stephane Fontaine, who uses a soft light and wonderful composition to often times create scenes reminiscent of Caravaggio’s great works.

Fontaine is aided by the spectacular work of the set and costume designers who masterfully recreate the distinct look and feel of the Vatican and the Cardinals’ outfits.

In addition, the entire cast all do tremendous work.

Ralph Fiennes in particular is outstanding. His Cardinal Lawrence is the Dean of the College of Cardinals and must wrangle the Cardinals to come together to vote for a pope and make sure everything is on the up and up…and it is never quite clear who the good guys are and who the bad guys are.

Fiennes is a supremely gifted technical actor whose skill is as good as anyone working today, and he brings all of those skills to bear as Cardinal Lawrence, a man who is struggling with his faith and his self.

An Oscar nomination, and even a win, could and should be in Fiennes future for his work in Conclave.

The supporting cast are also excellent.

Stanley Tucci is as reliable an actor as there is and he brings a subtle power to portrayal of liberal Cardinal Bellini that is enjoyable to behold. Tucci expertly embodies the illiberal liberal who is enthralled by himself more than humanity.

John Lithgow’s Cardinal Tremblay is a character that in lesser hands would’ve been forgettable, but here, Lithgow never breaks and lets the audience off the hook, so even after the film has ended, you’re still wondering if he’s a mistreated martyr or an exquisite liar.

And Isabella Rossellini has a small role as Sister Agnes, but every time she is on screen she crackles with an incandescent light and life that is undeniable.

But despite all of the magnificent artistry on display in the form of the acting, cinematography and costumes and set, Conclave commits too egregious a sin to ever be forgiven.

That sin, which is not venial sin but a mortal one, is the cheap, absurd and unearned plot twist that turns a compelling Catholic mystery and thriller into a pandering and pathetic cinematic exercise that feels like it deceived and betrayed you and stole two hours of your life.

For Catholics, Conclave will hold some appeal because it is a look behind the curtain of something familiar but still mysterious, namely the inner working of the Vatican and the conclave. In this way the film is compelling for Catholics…until the plot twist…which not just many, but I would say most, Catholics will find at best annoying, and at most infuriating (I’m in the infuriating camp).

Non-Catholics will find the majority of the film impenetrable for its disorienting maze of Catholic-ness. For example, I’m not even sure I can ask my podcast partner Barry, who is not Catholic, to watch this movie because he’s not going to know, or care, about all the Vatican and Catholic stuff that made at least the premise of the film interesting to me.

Regardless of all that, the bottom line is that I simply cannot, and will not, recommend Conclave to readers because the plot twist near the end eviscerates any artistic good the film achieved which led up to it.

If you’re interested in watching a challenging yet entertaining piece of Vatican/Pope artistry, I recommend you go back and watch The Young Pope (2014) series on HBO starring Jude Law. That overlooked, off-beat, exquisitely avant-garde series is very insightful and spiritually invigorating.

And if you’re just looking for a great story of Catholicism and Catholic priests, I highly recommend you check out Xavier Beavois’ 2010 film Of Gods and Men. It is a extraordinarily moving and spiritually insightful piece of work.

Both The Young Pope and Of Gods and Men are everything Conclave should be but ultimately isn’t. Go watch them, and skip Conclave…I certainly wish I had.

©2024

Halloween Viewer's Guide - A Horror Movie Round-Up for the Harrowing Holiday

Horror Movie Round-Up And Halloween Viewer’s Guide

It is Halloween week so I thought I’d put together a quick movie guide to help you set the tone for the spooky times ahead.

I love Halloween, always have, and have spent the last few weeks gearing up for the festivities by catching up on some of the horror films released this year, and the last few years, that I’ve missed.

Here are the films I watched for the first time in recent weeks (all rated on the “1 to 5 horror movie scale” not the “1 to 5 regular movie scale”).

MaXXXine (2024) - Available on Max: This is the third movie in Ti West’s trilogy – which began with X (2022), then Pearl (2022), and now MaXXine. MaXXXine is hands down the worst of the three films. X was terrific and Pearl was pretty good too, but MaXXXine is just an incoherent mess that never finds its footing or a distinct flavor. It’s a mish mash of 1980s nostalgia stuffed into a dour and dull narrative that doesn’t really know what it wants to be.

Yes, Mia Goth is an intriguing screen presence, but even she can’t overcome the flaccid and foolish script for this seriously sub-par film. Very disappointing and definitely not worth watching. 2 stars out of 5

Late Night with the Devil (2024) - Available on Hulu: An extremely clever and well-executed movie that deftly uses the medium of 1970’s late nite tv to plumb the depths of devilry and the demonic depravity of the ruling elite who sell their souls to the dark lord at Bohemian Grove.

David Dastmalchian gives a fantastic performance as a desperate late night talk show host trying to catch Carson in the ratings. A very effective and captivating film…especially if you lived through the 70s. 4 stars out of 5.

The First Omen (2024) - Available on Hulu: Speaking of the 70s!! The First Omen is a surprisingly well-made and executed prequel to the iconic 1976 film The Omen. The First Omen won’t change your life but it will keep you mildly entertained and reasonably spooked for its two-hour run time. 3 out of 5 stars.

Immaculate (2024) - Available on Hulu: This is a not great movie but serves as a decent enough vehicle for Sydney Sweeney to keep building the foundation to her movie stardom. A rather forgettable film with a tenuous premise but the luminous Sweeney, who still manages to be insanely sexy even in a nun’s habit, makes the most of it…especially in the final scene. 2.5 out of 5 stars

Doctor Sleep – Director’s Cut (2019) - Available on Amazon Prime: A shockingly well-made and completely compelling sequel to The Shining which, like Late Night with the Devil, casts a severely jaundiced eye toward the ruling elite and their demonic ways, which include feeding off of the pain and suffering of regular people, most notably children. It’s impossible to watch this movie and not think about the infamous pedophile rings involving people of power, including the Jeffrey Epstein ring, the P Diddy accusations and the horrific Franklin Affair…not to mention the wholesale sickening and senseless slaughter of children in Gaza by the Israelis.

Doctor Sleep features two great performances, the first by Ewan McGregor, who gives a subtle, layered and impressive performance as the adult Danny trying to navigate life after the horrors he endured in The Shining. The other by the absolutely luminous Rebecca Ferguson. Ferguson is so good, so charismatic, so gorgeous and so sexy in Doctor Sleep it is astonishing.

I completely skipped Doctor Sleep when it came out in 2019 because I thought “a sequel to The Shining? No thanks!”. To me The Shining is one of the greatest horror movies of all time…and to be clear Doctor Sleep is nowhere close to being an equal of The Shining in terms of the filmmaking or storytelling. But…it really is a fantastic horror movie.  In some ways I’m glad I missed it in the theatre though because my first watch of it was of the three-hour Director’s Cut which is available on Amazon Prime. I highly recommend you watch the director’s cut and not the theatrical release.

Know this going in though, Doctor Sleep – The Director’s Cut, has one of the most disturbing scenes I’ve seen in a film in a long time. It deeply disturbed and unnerved me – which may say more about me and my life’s circumstances, but still…this scene was tough to watch, but necessary to see. 4.5 out of 5 stars.

Smile (2022) - Available on Hulu: Smile came out in 2022 and has a sequel out this month…but I never saw the original so I watched it last week. Smile is a decent enough piece of trauma porn horror movie making. It’s got some clever story lines and keeps you engaged through out. I thought Sosie Bacon did a solid job as the lead, and she had some very heavy lifting to do. In some ways Smile is a typical middle of the road horror movie, but to its credit, it works. 2.5 out of 5 stars.

As for the rest of a Halloween Movie Guide…

My usual go-to horror films are previously mentioned The Shining (1980), The Exorcist (1973) and Rosemary’s Baby (1968). They are, to me, the best horror films around and they never fail to scare the living shit out of me.

I also love the Universal Classic Monster movies like Frankenstein (1931), Dracula (1931), The Wolf Man (1941) and The Creature from the Black Lagoon (1954). Another old movie classic is F.W. Murnau’s masterful Nosferatu (1922), which is creepy as hell and well worth watching.  

Other less ancient notables would be most anything by David Cronenberg, his remake of The Fly (1986) is particularly fantastic and his films The Brood (1979), Scanners (1980), Videodrome (1983) and The Dead Zone (1983) are solid choices as well.  

You also can’t go wrong John Carpenter’s Halloween (1978) and The Thing (1982), which are all time horror classics that never fail to frighten no matter how many times you’ve seen them.

More current horror films that are most worthy of a watch are Robert Eggers’ extremely eerie The Witch (2015), and Ari Aster’s formidably frightening and fearsome Hereditary (2018) and Midsommar (2019).

And finally, one movie which is not technically categorized as a horror film but which is as creepy, frightening, disturbing and unnerving as any movie out there, is David Fincher’s Zodiac (2007). Zodiac is a great film that pulsates with a darkness of such depth that haunts you for days and weeks after after watching.

And thus ends the Halloween viewer’s guide!! I hope everybody has a Happy Halloween and gets a bevy of tricks AND treats!!

©2024

Trap: A Review - More Forgettable Garbage from M. Night Shyamalan

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

My Rating: 1 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. Another massive misfire from M Night Shyamalan. Poorly conceived and poorly executed from start to finish.

Trap, written and directed by M. Night Shyamalan, is a psychological thriller starring Josh Hartnett which premiered in theatres back in August. It just became available on the streaming service Max and I got a chance to watch it.

I had coincidentally watched two M. Night Shyamalan movies, The Sixth Sense and Signs, last week, unaware that Trap was being released on Max this past Friday, so when I stumbled across it I was surprised, and in the context of having watched some of Shyamalan’s stellar early films, excited to see Trap.

It is easy to forget what a big deal Shyamalan was at the turn of the century. The Sixth Sense was a smash hit and garnered a bevy of Academy Award nominations and both Unbreakable and Signs were huge hits as well.

Shyamalan’s run of The Sixth Sense, Unbreakable and Signs, is as good a three-movie run for a director as you could ever hope for. All three were original, superbly crafted, gloriously entertaining, top-notch films.

Shyamalan was portrayed back then as the second coming of Hitchcock and he fully embraced the label – most notably by putting himself in all of his movies. In interviews, Shyamalan even about how he doesn’t shoot “coverage” of his scenes because he knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to have nothing to fall back on…which is a level of cinematic arrogance and hubris that was stunning to behold at the time.

As is almost always the case with that level of hubris, Shyamalan’s inflated ego led him to a catastrophic fall from grace. His precipitous creative collapse was interesting because it happened incrementally at first, but then all at once.

Here’s how it played out. 2004’s The Village was much hyped, and did well enough at the box office, but fan’s irritation at Shyamalan’s increasing reliance on “plot twist reveals” became much more pronounced.

This was followed by 2006’s Lady in the Water, which was a decidedly murky misfire that further alienated his audience, and did very little at the box office. After the mess that was Lady in the Water, Shyamalan needed to prove himself as a big-time director and box office behemoth.

The film he made next was 2008’s The Happening starring Mark Wahlberg. The Happening was an absolutely abysmal, excruciatingly awful piece of excrement. Yes, it made some money at the box office, but in its wake the bloom was officially off the rose of Shyamalan the prodigy filmmaker in the eyes of fans and critics alike.

And things went downhill from there as every movie Shyamalan made after that got progressively worse. The Last Airbender? After Earth? Yikes.

It’s hard to imagine a more precipitous fall from cinematic grace or steeper drop in quality of work as Shyamalan has endured. Yes, he had a bit of a comeback in 2016 with Split and in 2019 with Glass, but he has never recaptured the magic of those early movies and after having sat through his newest one, Trap, I can confidently say he never will.

Trap tells the story of Cooper Abbott, a regular guy/dad in Philadelphia, who takes his teenage daughter to a concert to see her favorite artist, Lady Raven.

Like all Shyamalan movies there is a twist…(I will refrain from revealing the twist even though the marketing of the movie explicitly reveals it), but the twist here is given away much too soon and much too easily.

Shyamalan doesn’t draw his viewers in and then turn things on their head, he just rather lazily goes through the motions of revealing this twist without much build up (which maybe explains the poor marketing decision to not maintain the illusion).

After the reveal is made, the movie, which hadn’t built up much dramatic momentum to begin with, feels like a barely inflated balloon being stepped on…it never floats, it never pops, it just squishes from side to side.

As the film goes on it becomes more and more inane until the final half hour of the movie, which is so absurd as to be idiotic. The final act is so bad and so poorly executed it boggles the mind and grates the soul.

The film seems intent on being as vacuous as possible and dedicated to not standing firmly on any dramatic ground whatsoever. There were lots of possibilities on how to resolve this unfailingly incoherent mess of a movie, but Shyamalan, in his now usual custom, paints by numbers and does nothing interesting or unique…or even slightly entertaining.

Josh Hartnett is a decent enough, B or C level movie actor/star, for example he was quite good in Oppenheimer last year, and he could’ve been decent here, but Shyamalan never gives him the chance to cook and to delve into his character with any verve. Ultimately, Hartnett’s portrayal comes across as quite amateurish and vapid.

In true Shyamalan form he casts himself in a small role, and is dreadful…but even worse is he casts his daughter Saleka in the role of Lady Raven. Apparently Saleka is a singer in real life, but her anemic musical performances in Trap are not the showcase her famous father was probably hoping for. In fact, Saleka is so dull and lifeless it feels like her father cast her so that she could play act at being a famous singer because in real life that shit is definitely not gonna happen.

In the final third of the film Saleka is tasked with a lot of heavy lifting in terms of acting, holding audience attention and driving the story. Unfortunately, she is so charisma and talent deficient she isn’t anywhere remotely close to being able to pull it off.

Hayley Mills appears in the film in the role of an FBI profiler, and she is uncomfortably out of place to an alarming degree. Every time Mills appears on-screen it feels like she is a homeless person who has wandered onto set and is looking for the bus station.

As for the filmmaking, Shyamalan tries some stuff in Trap, but none of it works. For example, he uses takes where the actors speak directly into the camera, a technique used by Jonathon Demme in Silence of the Lambs to great success. Here though it just seems trite and a bit ridiculous given the context of the story surrounding it.

The reality is that Shyamalan has gone from being a moviemaker that matters to being one that just churns out odious garbage in order to make some money. Trap is a perfect example, as it is a thoughtless and fruitless film made with a minimum amount of care…something that would have been unimaginable from Shyamalan a quarter century ago.

Even if you are a huge Shyamalan fan, I’d find it hard to imagine you’d love Trap. It is a small and inconsequential piece of nothing cinema, and I recommend you avoid it because it’s so poorly made that watching it will make you angry – or at the very least,  should make you angry.

 ©2024

Joker: Folie a Deux - A Review: It’s a Mad, Mad World

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

My Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SEE IT. But be forewarned, this is an aggressively arthouse movie that will be very unappealing to those seeking comic book entertainment.  

 Joker: Folie a Deux is director Todd Philips’ sequel to his controversial, billion-dollar blockbuster Joker (2019), and features Joaquin Phoenix reprising his iconic, Oscar-winning role as Arthur Fleck aka Joker, but this time he’s joined by Lady Gaga as his love interest Harley Quinn.

Joker was, and still is, an extraordinarily polarizing film. Back in the hyper-politicized year of 2019, Joker was instantly reviled by weak-kneed critics who labeled Phoenix’s Fleck/Joker as the “patron saint of incels”, and the film vile and potentially violence inducing because it captured the anger and resentment boiling just under the surface of America.

Despite the cavalcade of establishment media fear and loathing of Joker, the film still managed to make gobs of money and garner eleven Academy Award nominations and two wins (Best Actor and Best Original Score).

Unfortunately, no one need fear Joker: Folie a Deux becoming a blockbuster or hording trophies at the Academy Awards. Joker: Folie a Deux is going to be a certified box office bomb and is despised by critics and fans alike.

I try to quarantine myself from reviews and criticisms of a film before seeing it, but with Joker Folie a Deux it was impossible to avoid the overwhelming hate the film was receiving. Some of the most animated vitriol toward the film was coming from people who, like me, loved the original movie.

So when I strolled into an empty Sunday afternoon screening of Joker: Folie a Deux, I was mentally sharpening my knives in order to be able to properly and precisely eviscerate the shitshow I was about to watch.

But then I watched it…and maybe it was because I went in with such low expectations, but not only did I like Joker: Folie a Deux, I thought it was, in a way, much like the first film, bleak but utterly and absolutely brilliant.

The film opens with a Looney Tunes style cartoon which features Arthur Fleck and his literal and figurative shadow, Joker. This opening gives the perfect psychological backdrop for Fleck/Joker and buttresses my Jungian shadow thesis regarding Joker where Arthur Fleck is a Christ-figure and Joker is the anti-Christ/Satan figure.

The film then goes to live action and the story begins where Joker left off, with the now famous Arthur Fleck sitting in Arkham Asylum awaiting his trial for murder.

Over time the film descends into the madness of Arthur Fleck…and uses the genre of a jukebox musical as a manifestation of that madness. So as reality and fantasy blend together in Arthur’s mind, he and his friend Lee Quinzel – aka Harley Quinn, played by Lady Gaga, sing a bevy of American Standards…it’s sort of like a grotesque fever dream/nightmare version of La La Land.

But make absolutely no mistake, Joker: Folie a Deux is not, and is not meant to be, “entertaining”, not in the traditional sense, but it is most certainly enlightening and insightful, something which is exceedingly rare in cinema nowadays, most especially in Hollywood films in general, and franchise movies in particular.  

Joker: Folie a Deux is a work of art, which is a jarring and frustrating thing for viewers to experience when they head into the cinema expecting a franchise film piece of pop entertainment. This subverting of expectation, signified in the film with the recurring theme of “That’s Entertainment!”, is no doubt responsible for the film’s very poor reception among audiences and critics that have been conditioned by Marvel’s mindless money-making machine movies over the last 16 years…and to a lesser extent DC’s too, to expect a certain kind of pre-teen drivel as comic book cinema.

Joker: Folie a Deux is not that, instead it is a relentlessly bleak and brutal film. It is grungy, gruesome and glorious. It may make you angry, it may make you anxious, it may make you bored. But whatever your reaction to it is, that says infinitely more about you than about it, because this movie is a mirror held up to our insane, inane, indecent cancer of a culture and the vicious and vacuous world we all inhabit. Your reaction to Joker: Folkie a Deux, is your reaction to the madness of our broken and fallen world.

It seems obvious to me that Joker: Folie a Deux is director Todd Phillips’ giant middle-finger to the people who hated the first movie…and to those that loved it too. I never would’ve guessed that Todd Phillips of all people – the guy who made the Hangover trilogy, would be the auteur with balls the size of Hindenbergs who morphs into his main character, lights the match and watches the whole shithouse go up in flames. But here we are…and I’m glad to be here.

The animating characteristic of Joker: Folie a Deux is despair. Phillips’ Gotham is a hellscape…literally. For not only is it filled with vile, venal and loathsome creatures, but it is entirely devoid of any love. In a world devoid of love, despair rules the day because hope is replaced by delusion.

Arthur Fleck is, as a Christ figure, an open wound, a raw nerve, and it isn’t the hate of this world that affects him so greatly, but rather the complete absence of love.

Joker, on the other hand, as the devil, thrives in this hell for the exact reason that it cripples Arthur.

Many critics and hipsters hated the first Joker movie because Arthur Fleck was a white guy. This sort of shallow, identity driven thinking is all too common in our current age, and it reduces otherwise smart people into myopic fools unable to see the forest for the trees.

Arthur Fleck isn’t a symbol of white disenfrachisement…he is a symbol of the forgotten, the downtrodden, the outcast, and the loser of all colors, creeds and genders.

Arthur Fleck is the shaking, orphaned child in Gaza surviving in the rubble. He is the Palestinian prisoner gang-raped by his Israeli guards. He is the gay man thrown from a roof in Saudi Arabia. He is the teenage girl in Kabul beaten for showing her face. He is the black boy abused and neglected by an overwhelmed foster care system. He is Kelly Thomas, the mentally ill homeless man beaten to death by police in California. He is Ethan Saylor, the young man with Down’s Syndrome who died when Maryland cops kneeled on his neck in a movie theatre. Arthur Fleck is the helpless and the hopeless, the weak, the sick and the old…and critics and audiences who see him as a threat or a symbol of the oppressor simply due to the color of his skin and his gender are the ones who make this world the cruel, inhumane and uninhabitable shithole that it is.  

Joker is Arthur’s shadow…he is his vengeance and justice. Joker is the Hamas member slaughtering Israeli men, women and children at a desert rave. Joker is the Israeli soldier executing Palestinian men, women and children in cold blood. Joker is the cop killing pets in front of children. Joker is the school-shooter settling scores for social slights. Joker is the mayhem, murder and madness unleashed by those who feel fueled by righteousness.

Joker is the king of this fallen world…and Arthur Fleck is its victim.

Joaquin Phoenix is once again fantastic as Arthur and the Joker. Phoenix is a fragile yet forceful screen presence. His transformations throughout Joker: Folie a Deux are subtle and simply spectacular. I doubt Phoenix will be considered for any awards since Joker: Folie a Deux is so hated, but he is more than worthy of accolades.

Lady Gaga is an actress I have never been able to tolerate. I despised the trite and treacly A Star is Born and found her distractingly bad in House of Gucci.  But here in Joker: Folie a Deux I finally got to understand her appeal. There really is just something about her that is magnetic and undeniable, at least in this movie. I found her character arc to be somewhat poorly executed, but I thought her performance was quite good.

Brendan Gleeson plays a prison guard and is an ominous presence whenever he graces the screen, most particularly when he isn’t being menacing. Gleeson is, like Phoenix, one of the best actors on the planet, and he never fails to elevate any scene he inhabits.

And finally, Leigh Gill, who plays Gary Puddles, is fantastic in his lone scene. This scene, which features Puddles being questioned on the stand in court, is extraordinarily moving, and exquisitely captures the deeper meaning and purpose of the film.

Cinematographer Lawrence Sher, who was nominated for an Oscar for his work on Joker, once again does phenomenal work on Joker: Folie a Deux. Sher shoots the film with a distinct 1970’s grittiness and grime. He turns multiple musical numbers into uncomfortable flashbacks to Sonny and Cher episodes or other seventies type showcases and does so with a cinematic aplomb.

Hildur Guonadottir, who won an Oscar for her original score on Joker, is back on this film and once again sets the scene with an uncomfortably menacing and ominous score that drives the emotional narrative.

As for Todd Phillips, as I previously said, it’s astonishing the balls on this guy. He is basically saying “fuck you” to critics and fans alike. It’s tough to imagine him bouncing back and being allowed to do a worthwhile film after having a critical and commercial flop like this. That’s a shame though because he has proven his worth as an artist with Joker and Joker: Folie a Deux.

Phillips is a lot of things, some of them good and some of them bad, but one thing that he has been in recent years…is right.

It’s always struck me that no one (except me) seemed to notice that Joker accurately diagnosed the incandescent anger and fury that was boiling just beneath the surface of America back in 2019. I wrote about this profoundly disturbing anger prior to Joker, but Joker showed it to mainstream audiences, and elite coastal critics were so horrified by it that they blamed the film rather than the country and culture it revealed.

Joker was proven right though as less than nine months after its release that volcano of anger erupted in Joker-esque fashion with the murder of George Floyd and the ensuing riots and chaotic violence in the streets of American cities…just like in Joker.

The Joker was every BLM rioter, and every opportunistic looter and arsonist in America’s summer of rage in 2020…just like he was every flag-waving MAGA moron on January 7th, 2021, who stormed the Capitol looking to “Save Democracy”.

That Joker was correct has never been admitted by the coastal elites who hated the movie. That Joker: Folie a Deux is also correct in diagnosing the unremitting cruelty, malignant madness and incessant insanity of our culture and country will also go unnoticed by those who are too offended, or bored or angry or inhumane to care or notice.

Joker: Folie a Deux is not a polarizing film like Joker. The consensus is that it is awful to the point of being an abomination. But I am here to tell you that Joker: Folie a Deux is a brutal, ballsy and brilliant film. It is, like Oliver Stone’s manic and maniacal 1994 masterpiece Natural Born Killers, well ahead of the curve, and will only get its due when the history of this era is written and the ugly truth of our current time fully revealed.

If you have the fortitude for it, and the philosophical, political and psychological mind for it, and the ability to tolerate the arthouse in your comic book cinema, then Joker: Folie a Deux is not the steaming pile of shit that critics and audiences claim it to be, but rather a startling revelation. And like most revelations it is reviled in its own time because it tells the unvarnished and unabashedly ugly truth that no one wants to see or hear because it’s too painful to ever acknowledge.

©2024

Wolfs: A Review - This Star-Studded Dog Won't Hunt

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

My Rating: 1.5 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. Nothing to see here at all.

Wolfs, starring Brad Pitt and George Clooney, is the new movie on Apple TV + that tells the tale of two New York City based lone-wolf “fixers” who are forced to work together on a complicated job.

The film, written and directed by Jon Watts – who is best known for directing the recent Spider-Man movies, describes itself as an action comedy, which is a bit of an inaccurate moniker since Wolfs is neither action-packed nor funny.

The film follows the travails of Jack (Clooney) and Nick (Pitt) as they are called to the hotel room of Margaret (Amy Ryan), who is running for District Attorney. Unfortunately for Margaret, the young man she brought back to her hotel room for a tryst has died and so she calls a secret number and a fixer is sent. Then there’s a twist and another fixer is sent and these two lone wolf fixers do not want to form a pack and work together. Comedy is supposed to ensue…but never does.

Writer/director Watts uses a lot of filmmaking techniques, like numerous quick edits on mundane events like a car backing out of a parking space, and languid camera movements, to give the impression of cinematic sophistication, but he fails at even the most rudimentary elements of storytelling.

With a convoluted story and middling direction, the movie is forced to rely upon the star power of Brad Pitt and George Clooney.

Pitt and Clooney have, to varying degrees of success, previously worked together in the Ocean’s Eleven movies, and their reunion on Wolfs is meant to cash in on their status and stardom. In other words, Wolfs is our chance to hang out with two handsome, cool, movie stars for two hours – lucky us.

Unfortunately, Wolfs features zero chemistry, zero comedy and zero coherence. It is one of those movies where as you’re watching it you feel like you’re waiting for the story to actually start and it never really does.

The plot of Wolfs has all the clarity of a drunk toddler’s storytelling while playing with action figures. The rules of the world in Wolfs are random, arbitrary, confusing and ultimately annoying. Nothing makes much sense and it seems as though none of it was really meant to.

In this way Wolfs is a perfect companion piece to the previous movie Apple Films released, The Instigators, starring Matt Damon and Casey Affleck. Both movies are so vehemently vapid, vacant and venal as to be apocalyptic. If some poor soul were to watch these bro-fueled bombs back to back they’d be tempted to light themselves on fire in order to feel something, anything at all, and to kill the malignant stupidity that was just implanted in their brains.

The final scene of Wolfs is the one that helped me to understand how Clooney and Pitt see themselves, or at least see their pairing, and it is astonishingly delusional. I won’t give anything away except to say that this scene is meant to demonstrate that Clooney and Pitt are the modern-day Paul Newman and Robert Redford.

Let me be as clear as I can about this…Clooney and Pitt are not Newman and Redford. Not even close. They never have been and they never will be.

To be fair, Pitt has matured into a much better actor than his pretty boy beginnings would’ve hinted, and he’s become a very astute and successful producer as well. His choice in projects and his taste are admirable, but let’s not kid ourselves, he’s no Robert Redford.

Clooney is, obviously, not Paul Newman, who was one of the greatest actors and movie stars in Hollywood history. Clooney is now, and frankly always has been, a bad actor, a bad movie star and a truly terrible director.

For the last twenty-five years or so Clooney has been one of those people who populate our culture who are only famous for being famous. He’s the male equivalent of Jessica Simpson, and equally as vacuous.

It has been reported that Clooney and Pitt were paid $35 million each to star in Wolfs, which if true, is pretty amusing. Apple’s desperation to be a player in the movie business has forced them to pay exorbitant prices to talent in exchange for truly abysmal movies. Considering that Martin Scorsese’s Killers of the Flower Moon is the best Apple movie ever made, and is one of Scorsese’s lesser films, is an indictment of Apple, the movie business and Killers of the Flower Moon.

Wolfs spent a week in theatres before hitting Apple TV+ on Friday September 28th. It will, rightfully, languish on that atrocious, backwater of a streaming service, mercifully hidden from wider audiences. Those without Apple TV+, and those unable to navigate the incomprehensible maze that is Apple TV+ to find Wolfs, are blissfully unaware of how truly lucky they are.

In conclusion, Wolfs is a poorly conceived and poorly executed movie that is so small and inconsequential as to be instantaneously forgettable. It means nothing. It has nothing. It is nothing.

©2024

An Autopsy of Bombs: The Fall Guy and Furiosa Edition

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

This year we’ve had a few notable box office bombs, the most intriguing of which are The Fall Guy and Furiosa.

Like the vast majority of people, I did not see those movies in the theatre, hence their under-performance at the box office. But now both films are available to stream and I recently checked them out to see what, if anything, I missed, and if they deserved to be ignored in the theatre.

Let’s start with The Fall Guy, which is currently available to stream on Peacock.

The Fall Guy, directed by David Leitch, was set up to be the big office blockbuster to open the summer movie season when it hit theatres on May 3rd. The film, which stars Ryan Gosling and Emily Blunt, had a huge marketing push pre-release, which included a witty bit of banter at the Oscars between the two stars. The film sold itself in a plethora of television ads as an old-fashioned, 1980’s style Hollywood action movie with likeable movie stars (Gosling and Blunt).

But upon release the film fell flat as nobody came out to see it. It was number one at the box office on its opening week, but with a severely subdued haul of $35 million. Not great. It went downhill from there.

It dropped to number two in its second week of release and then fell off a cliff. It ended up making a paltry $180 million in total off of its $120 million budget. In Hollywood accounting, that means it lost a ton of money. (Hollywood accounting means you roughly double the budget to account for marketing and for the theatre’s haul – and the rest goes to the studio – so The Fall Guy is about $240 million underwater)

So why did The Fall Guy fail?

The Fall Guy does have two very charming and beautiful movie stars as its leads, Ryan Gosling and Emily Blunt, who are, you guessed it, very charming and very beautiful. But on the downside, The Fall Guy is a movie no one wanted…and so no one went to see it. Myself included.

The movie is sort of attached to the rather forgettable B-tv series from the 80’s, The Fall Guy, which is second rate Lee Majors material, as Majors is remembered for the Six Million Dollar Man, not The Fall Guy. But The Fall Guy brand doesn’t have a built-in fan base as Gen Xers may remember the show from their childhood but don’t really give a shit about it because it wasn’t beloved, and younger audiences will have absolutely never heard of it.

Another major issue is that The Fall Guy is, frankly, a really bad movie. It features an abysmally incoherent and relentlessly stupid script, as well as stunts that are rather tepid and cinematically mundane.

As charming as Gosling and Blunt are…and they are incredibly charming…they’re not charming enough to tolerate the excruciatingly boring and stupid nonsense going on around them for the duration of this idiotic movie.

In some ways The Fall Guy is meant to be a love letter to stunt men, which I suppose is a nice thought. Stunt men are a different breed (and deserve an Oscar category)…but if you’ve ever met one you know that while their work is often interesting, they often are not.

On the bright side stunt men will always be happy to have you break a chair over their head, which is very cathartic. Truth is I’d rather break a real chair over my head than watch The Fall Guy again.

The Fall Guy’s failure is a stark reminder that wishful thinking from the C Suite of Hollywood studios doesn’t translate into audience interest. The Fall Guy had seemingly everything going for it except for the two things it actually needed, audience interest and good storytelling. Oops.

In conclusion, The Fall Guy most definitely deserved to fail, and it certainly did just that.

Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga on the other hand…

Furiosa is the fifth film in the Mad Max franchise and is a prequel to 2015’s fantastic Fury Road, which received ten Academy Award nominations, including Best Picture and Best Director, and won six Oscars.

Fury Road didn’t break box office records but it did break more than even making $380 million on a $160 million budget.

In all honesty I am not a Mad Max fanatic. The first movies came out when I was a kid and I didn’t see them in the theatre. I did see them all as a teen on VHS though, and liked most of them (I wasn’t a real fan of Beyond Thunderdome), some a great deal…but it’s not a franchise with which I ever strongly identified despite my respect for it.

When Fury Road came out in 2015 after a thirty-year absence of Mad Max material, I didn’t see in the theatre but caught it on cable…and was absolutely blown away. Fury Road is an astonishing movie and is a monument to director George Miller’s brilliance.

Despite having missed the boat on Fury Road in the theatre, when Furiosa came along I, being the moron that I am, once again didn’t venture out to theatres to see it. In my defense, my time is much more limited now than it was back in 2015 (having kids will do that), so I sort of have an excuse – but not a very good one.

Unfortunately, I was not alone in not seeing Furiosa when it hit theatres on May 24th, as the movie made a measly $172 million during its run against a $168 million budget. The film performed so poorly that it seems likely that the Mad Max franchise may have breathed its last breath. Considering that the franchise’s director, George Miller, is 79, one can assume at the very least that Miller is done making Mad Max movies…which is a shame because he is extraordinarily good at it.

But now Furiosa is streaming on Max and I’ve seen it.

I can report that missing Furiosa in the theatre was a grievous mistake.

Furiosa isn’t perfect by any means. For instance, it isn’t nearly as good as Fury Road. But…it does feature some truly imaginative and original stunt sequences that are breathtakingly spectacular.

The film also features a stoic but solid performance from Anya Taylor-Joy, who lives up to the name of Furiosa with a fire in her eyes that is undeniable.

All of the magic that make George Miller such a dynamic moviemaker are evident in Furiosa, as he shoots his action sequences with a verve and aplomb that are unequalled in our CGI addicted world. (to be fair there is some CGI in Furiosa, but nothing compared to most movies).

As for why a film as good as Furiosa failed, it is difficult to say.

The marketing for Furiosa wasn’t particularly strong, I mean it didn’t move me to go see it, so that could be a reason.

I do recall the marketing being “female driven”, and some have speculated that having a female lead, Anya Taylor-Joy, could have turned off male audiences, so that could be it. People are certainly tired of culture war bullshit in their movies – myself included, and the impression could’ve been given by Furiosa’s marketing that this was a girl power movie…which is kryptonite nowadays for male audiences. But counter to that, that certainly wasn’t the case with Fury Road, which starred Charlize Theron, so it seems to be a thin argument. Although counter to that counter, Tom hardy had a starring role in Fury Road as well, so who knows.

Another reason could be that Furiosa is a prequel and people are tired of prequels and of having to “do the homework” of having to see all the other movies just to understand what is going on in the new movie. I think Marvel definitely suffers from this and maybe Mad Max does now too.

The truth is that Furiosa’s failure is both a mystery and frustrating to me. It’s a mystery because I can’t quite pinpoint what caused it, and it’s frustrating because Mad Max is a perfect action franchise for our times and would be a great franchise for Warner Brothers to mine for film and tv projects going forward. But now with Furiosa’s failure, that won’t happen.

After having seen Furiosa, and having found it to be a very well made, extremely solid piece of action entertainment and a noteworthy bit of Mad Max franchise filmmaking, I really don’t know why people didn’t go see it and why word of mouth wasn’t better and more useful.

To end this discussion, here’s my ranking of Mad Max movies.

5. Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome – Not an awful movie but easily the worst of the Mad Max movies.

4. Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga – This movie is world’s better than Beyond Thunderdome, and is very close in the running with Mad Max and Road Warrior.

3. Mad Max – The original is a down and dirty and disturbing movie that is undeniable.

2. Mad Max: The Road Warrior – The franchise makes the leap into the big time with a gritty and explosive action extravaganza.

1. Mad Max: Fury Road – The best of the best. Truly extraordinary piece of action filmmaking.

And finally…my ratings for The Fall Guy and Furiosa.

THE FALL GUY

Streaming: Peacock

Rating: 1 out of 5 Stars

Recommendation: SKIP IT

FURIOSA

Streaming: Max

Rating: 3.8 out of 5 stars

Recommendation: SEE IT!!

Thus concludes today’s autopsy of a bomb…or bombs as the case may be.

 ©2024

Beverly Hills Cop 4: Axel F - A Review: Eddie Murphy...is that you?

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

My Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT/SEE IT. It’s a formulaic action-comedy…but it does boast an engaging and energized Eddie Murphy…something we haven’t seen in a really long time.

It’s hard to believe it but Beverly Hills Cop, the blockbuster action comedy that made Eddie Murphy a megastar, hit theatres forty years ago in 1984.

To put that into context, consider that forty years before Beverly Hills Cop, World War II was still going on and Bing Crosby was the biggest star in Hollywood.

It’s easy to forget now, but Eddie Murphy was, back in the 1980’s, the most massive star in the Hollywood universe – he was like Bing Crosby with ba-ba-ba-balls. He was the biggest tv star (SNL), movie star and comedian on the planet…he was so big he put out musical albums that were atrocious but they still sold well and got continuous radio play. I mean, who could forget the hit song “Boogie in your Butt”?

Murphy’s superstar status, which reached its apex in 1984 declined slowly…and then all at once. In the wake of his supreme successes with 48 Hrs. (1982), Trading Places (1983), Beverly Hills Cop (1984) and Coming to America (1988) the quality of work began to decline - despite a minor renaissance in 1992 (Boomerang, The Distinguished Gentleman).

In an effort to salvage his stardom Murphy made Beverly Hills Cop 3 in 1994 and it was brutally bad and instantly forgotten. At that point the bloom was definitely off the Murphy rose. He then sold his soul and dignity and dove into the Nutty Professor and Dr. Doolittle franchises and his cache and career went precipitously down from there.

Murphy has spent the last quarter of a century – with the exception of 2006’s Dreamgirls, churning out the laziest, most awful, money-grab garbage imaginable.

In recent years he has returned to his earlier successes in the hopes of a career resurgence or a money infusion. First there was Coming 2 America, a sequel to 1988’s brilliant Coming to America…which is arguably Murphy’s last good movie. Coming 2 America was a comedically flaccid venture devoid of Murphy’s charm and heart that so effectively fueled the original.

And now there is Beverly Hills Cop 4 which premiered on Netflix July 3, 2024. Murphy is back as Axel Foley, the wise cracking Detroit cop who is a very fast-talking fish out of water in the posh confines of Beverly Hills. Also back are Taggart and Rosewood, John Ashton and Judge Reinhold respectively, as well as Paul Reiser as Axel’s fellow Detroit cop Jeffrey and Bronson Pinchot as Serge. Joining the festivities are Beverly Hills Cop newcomers Joseph Gordon-Leavitt as a cop, Kevin Bacon as a bad guy cop and Taylour Paige as Axel’s adult daughter.

Beverly Hills Cop 1 and 2 were big hits and perfect vehicles for Murphy’s charisma and comedy. Beverly Hills Cop 3 (1994) was apocalyptically awful. Beverly Hills Cop 4 is…somewhere in between.

Is Beverly Hills Cop 4 a good movie? No. Is Beverly Hills Cop 4 a bad movie? Not really. It’s just sort of a formulaic movie (that somehow cost $150 million to make!) that plays out in front of you and then it’s over and no one will really care one way or the other.

The one notable thing about Beverly Hills Cop 4 though is that it’s the first movie in decades…maybe since Bowfinger (1999), where Eddie Murphy seems engaged and energized and not simply there for the check.

Murphy, at his height, had an undeniable charm and charisma that dominated the screen, which is why it was always so jarring to see him dead-eyed and dull sleepwalking through the second half of his career.

But in Beverly Hills Cop 4 Murphy is back being at ease and comfortable on screen. Axel Foley is sort of the Eddie Murphy of old and Murphy makes the most of it. He is funny, cool (but not too cool) and enjoyable to be around. You never feel like Eddie Murphy is phoning it in and just going through the motions…which is a refreshing change of pace.

The film follows its action-comedy roots and sticks pretty tight to the formula…a formula which it perfected back in 1984 and which others have used and abused ever since with ever more diminishing returns. To give an indication of how culturally mammoth the original Beverly Hills Cop movie was and what an extraordinary talent Murphy was, consider that Michael Bay poached the formula with his Bad Boys franchise and had to use both Will Smith AND Martin Lawrence to fill the Eddie Murphy role.

Beverly Hills Cop 4, which is the directorial debut of Mark Molloy and is written by Will Beall and Kevin Etten, is very conscious of the franchise’s past and winks along to the nostalgia. For example, in the first ten minutes of the movie it features the hit songs from the Beverly Hills Cop movies in the 80’s. It opens with Glenn Frey’s “The Heat is on”, followed by Bob Seger’s “Shakedown”, then the Pointer Sisters “Neutron Dance”, and of course the franchise’s synth-heavy anthem by Herbie Hancock. That Glenn Frey and one of the Pointer Sisters are dead, and that Bob Seger is permanently retired, only goes to emphasize how damn long ago that first film really was.

The plot of Beverly Hills Cop 4 is not really important. Just know that there’s trouble in Beverly Hills involving Axel Foley’s estranged daughter and he comes to LA from Detroit to figure everything out and make things right. Taggart (John Ashton) is now a police chief in Beverly Hills, Rosewood (Judge Reinhold) is a private detective and Serge (Bronson Pinchot) is still a weirdly gay-ish foreign man about Beverly Hills.

There’s a copious amount of plastic surgery apparent on both Reinhold and Pinchot’s distorted faces (oh Hollywood!) and none of the old cast bring the same joie de vivre as Murphy does, but what can you do?

There are some action sequences, none of which move the needle very much. And there’s some shootouts which feature villains who can’t shoot straight and good guys who can.

You won’t care about the convoluted plot or how it resolves (it resolves exactly like you think it does) or anything like that, but the only reason to tune in, then tune out and watch Beverly Hills Cop 4 is to see Eddie Murphy.

Murphy isn’t his old self in this movie…and he isn’t even a shadow of his former self in this movie…but he is a shadow of a shadow of his former self…and that’s better than anything Will Smith and Martin Lawrence or any other pretenders to the Murphy crown could ever hope to muster.

If you like Eddie Murphy, then Beverly Hills Cop 4, despite being mindless and middling movie mundanity, is worth watching to remember what was…and what might have been.

Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2024

The Bikeriders: A Review - Foundational Flaws Make 'The Bikeriders' an Uneasy Rider

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

My Rating: 2.5 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SEE IT/SKIP IT. A flawed movie that could’ve been great but ended up being just average.

The Bikeriders, starring Austin Butler, Jodie Comer and Tom Hardy, chronicles the trials and tribulations of a Chicago-area motorcycle club from its benign founding in the early 1960’s to its malignant expansion throughout the 70s.

The film, which is inspired by Danny Lyon’s photo-book of the same name and is written and directed by Jeff Nichols, opened nationwide in theatres last weekend.

The Bikeriders has a lot going for it, like an appealing aesthetic, a banger of a soundtrack and three solid, attractive actors atop the cast list. And yet, the film struggles to captivate because it is fundamentally at cross-purposes with itself.

On one hand it wants to be a gritty, Goodfellas-esque, guys being guys motorcycle movie/crime drama (in fact an early sequence in the film is an homage to Goodfellas), and then on the other hand it wants to be a rather safe, cinematically antiseptic Hollywood movie and star making vehicle.

These differing desires are never more apparent as when comparing the performance styles of the two lead actors, Austin Butler and Jodie Comer, who play Benny and Kathy, the couple at the center of the drama.

Jodie Comer is a very, very pretty woman, but she’s not nearly as pretty in The Bikeriders as the beautiful Austin Butler, whose Benny is the brooding, blue-eyed, bad boy biker with the perfectly tussled hair who is the object of everyone’s desire.

The Bikeriders is a star-maker for Butler, as his job is to show up and pose and preen his way through a role without actually doing much heavy lifting. That he can be little more than a mannequin in this movie and women will still go absolutely bananas for him and dudes will still want to be him, is a testament to his innate star potential.

In contrast, Jodie Comer plays Kathy and has been unsexed to such a staggering degree as to be astonishing considering her preternatural allure. Adding to her unsexing is the fact that she’s doing a deeply studied performance which features a spot-on, but still grating, Chicago accent, and her wardrobe seems designed to eliminate any possible feminine appeal.

In terms of acting style, Comer is doing 1970’s Meryl Streep method acting and Butler is doing an Armani photo-shoot, and the clash of styles is not only cinematically confounding but also greatly diminishes the drama.

For example, Kathy and Benny, whose attraction/relationship is the center piece of the narrative, are completely devoid of any sizzle. There is not one iota of chemistry between Butler and Comer. Adding to the frigidity is that they never kiss, not even once, in the entire film. In fact, I don’t recall seeing the two of them ever touch…and not even in a sensual or romantic way, but at all. How can you have two ridiculously gorgeous people play a couple in a movie and never once show them kiss?

Now, this wouldn’t be that big of a deal except it undermines the narrative and dramatic premise of the entire project. Benny is allegedly torn between the motorcycle club and Kathy, but he doesn’t seem all that interested in Kathy, and frankly, Kathy doesn’t seem all that interested in him, which makes the whole thing dramatically incoherent.

What Kathy and Benny need is uncontrollable, blood-pumping, frantic passion, which would give Benny a reason to keep coming back and, more importantly, Kathy a reason to do EVERY SINGLE THING SHE DOES. But it has none of that and thus the drama of the film is neutered.

To be clear, I didn’t hate The Bikeriders. In general, I dig motorcycle movies (or car movies) and the film looks good, is aesthetically pleasing and stylistically intriguing, and it has a cast of solid actors.

For instance, Tom Hardy does a good job as Johnny, the founder of the Vandals, the fictional motorcycle club at the heart of the movie. Hardy splits the difference between Comer and Butler’ acting styles by giving a half method/half Hollywood performance, and it actually works.

The collection of actors in the motorcycle club, guys like the always reliable Michael Shannon, as well as Damon Herriman, Norman Reedus and Boyd Holbrooke, all do solid supporting work and make for believable bikers.

The costumes work as well, and the cinematography by Adam Stone is pretty standard but well executed.

Ultimately, The Bikeriders is one of those movies that could have been great but which never figured out what it wanted to be and more importantly, how it wanted to be or why it wanted to be.

The film could’ve been a steamy star-vehicle with Butler and Comer being their beautiful selves and lighting up the screen with a scintillating and sexy love story.

Or it could have been a gritty crime drama, with Benny and Kathy as the Henry Hill and Karen in a Goodfellas style tale.

But instead, the film tries to be both and ends up being neither.

One can’t help but wish that director Jeff Nichols could have had a more clear, coherent and concise vision for The Bikeriders, and a more-deft artistic, dramatic and cinematic touch in order to make the most of the tantalizing story hinted at in Lyon’s compelling photo-book of the same name.

The Bikeriders could have been extraordinary, but due to a lack of narrative and dramatic clarity, it’s just ordinary. Which is disappointing, but nowadays, not all that surprising.

Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

@2024

Hit Man: A Review - Missing the Target...but Not by Too Much.

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

My Rating: 2.75 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SEE IT/SKIP IT. A harmless bit of entertainment that is enjoyable if you go in with low expectations.

Hit Man, starring Glen Powell and directed by Richard Linklater, is a noir rom-com loosely based on the true story of Gary Johnson, a psychology and philosophy professor who worked undercover for the New Orleans police department posing as a “hit man for hire”.

The film, written by both Linklater and Powell, follows the travails of the nerdy Gary as he finds his true self by embodying the various hit man-characters he concocts in order to dupe customers and thwart murders before they happen.

Hit Man was released on Netflix on June 7th, 2024, which is how I watched it.  

I have heard Richard Linklater called the cinematic voice of Generation X, which I find to be an odd choice for a variety of reasons, the least of which is that he is just a bit too old to qualify for Generation X. As a Gen X-er myself, I have found Linklater to be, for the most part, a forgettable filmmaker. I find the vast majority of his work to be, at best…just fine. In general, I find nothing remarkable about his work at all. I don’t hate it, but I also don’t love it, and the truth is I never think about it.

The film that put Linklater (and Matthew McConaughey and Ben Affleck) on the map was Dazed and Confused (1993). I never understood the love for that movie despite having recognized my life being portrayed in it. It wasn’t a bad movie, but it also wasn’t a very good one.

I felt the same about Before Sunrise (1995), which made Ethan Hawke a movie star. Once again, I recognized myself and my generation in that movie, I just didn’t think it was particularly noteworthy or compelling cinema.

In 2014, Linklater was a favorite to win an Oscar with his coming-of-age film Boyhood, which was famously shot over a ten-year span. Critics adored the ten-year-shoot gimmick, but I found the whole enterprise to be gratingly vapid, pretentious and second-rate.

The Linklater films I have liked a lot are Waking Life (2001), an esoteric cinematic exploration of the meaning of life, and the mainstream School of Rock (2003). Waking Life was a ballsy movie to make because it was unapologetically arthouse while School of Rock was unabashedly crowd-pleasing.

Which brings us to Hit Man. Hit Man is a mainstream movie but not quite as mainstream as School of Rock…but it also has a subtle strain of the arthouse weaving through it.

The film flies as high as its star, Glen Powell, will take it…which is high but not that high. Powell, who is definitely the current “it” guy in Hollywood, and is poised to have a big Summer with his new Twister movie coming out in July, is charming and relentlessly likeable, but there is no denying that he’s a sort of a C or D level McConaughey – which isn’t exactly a compliment.

Powell’s various hit man characters are good for a few laughs in a showy “look at me” acting type of way, most notably his impression of Christian Bale from American Psycho, which is pretty great. But Powell, for as conventionally handsome as he is, is just a nice, good-looking guy…and that’s about it. He’s likeable, but he’s not very interesting. That doesn’t mean he won’t be a big movie star, it just means that he won’t be a very interesting movie star.

Powell’s co-star, Adria Arjona, who plays Gary’s love interest Madison, is certainly easy on the eyes, and she does a decent enough job in the role. But Arjona, like Powell, feels like a C or D level talent…which isn’t the worst thing in the world, but it also isn’t the best.

One can’t help but think while watching Hit Man that thirty years ago a movie like this would’ve starred George Clooney and Julia Roberts and been a massive hit…but in today’s world, it stars Glen Powell and Adria Arjona, and is streaming on Netflix and, frankly, will be forgotten almost as soon as the credits roll.

And that is the problem…Hit Man isn’t a bad movie, but it also isn’t great. It is an adequately-made, amusing-enough piece of middle-brow entertainment with some dark twists thrown in to give it some artistic credence.

The film tries to be sexy, but just isn’t steamy enough to make the grade. It tries to be funny, but never consistently hits the comedy mark. It tries to be dark and daring but doesn’t have quite cajones to be fully either.

This isn’t to say the film is bad…it really and truly isn’t. It certainly has its charms and it is entertaining enough, and to its credit it does have something to say and says it in a rather clever and covert way. It is well-constructed and professionally crafted, but ultimately this is a movie that comes and goes and that is the end of that…which is emblematic of the state of cinema and the movie business.

Unfortunately, Hit Man is, like so much of cinema today, fine but forgettable. That many critics are fawning all over it speaks less to the quality of the film than the overall diminishment in the quality of cinema (and film criticism) as a whole in recent years.

To circle back to the notion of Linklater as the cinematic voice of Generation X, I would point readers in the direction of a film that came out last year, also about a hit man, also on Netflix, titled The Killer. The Killer is darker, smarter, funnier, more masterfully made and substantially better movie than Hit Man. The Killer’s director is David Fincher, who is of the same generation as Linklater and is infinitely a better filmmaker…as are a plethora of filmmakers from a similar era, which is why Linklater being the labelled the Gen X guy is so absurd.

Regardless of Linklater’s filmmaking status, the question is…is Hit Man worth watching? My answer would be…sure…why not? It seems like a good date movie as it’s a rather harmless, safe, middle of the road movie that breezes by and never moves you one way or the other over its brisk 115-minute run time.  

So, if you do watch Hit Man, my recommendation is to go in with low-expectations…you won’t be overwhelmed, but you won’t be disappointed either.

 Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2024

Anyone but You - A Review: Sydney Sweeney Busts Out

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

My Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. Despite Sydney Sweeney’s breast efforts, this movie falls flat.

Anyone but You, the rom-com starring Sydney Sweeney and Glen Powell, hit theatres back in December and became a bona fide box office sensation. I missed Anyone but You in theatres but it’s now on Netflix and I just watched it…and I have some thoughts.

The film, written and directed by Will Gluck, tells the story of Bea (Sweeney) and Ben (Powell), two attractive people who had a magical meet cute but then for some moronic reason now hate each other and are forced to attend a getaway wedding in Australia. In order to stave off prying parents and make ex-lovers jealous, Bea and Ben decide to pretend to be a couple at this wedding…which of course is not just a lesbian wedding but an inter-racial lesbian wedding because we live in a pandering hellscape.

The premise of the film is absurd to the point of abject stupidity, and the filmmaking on display is at best amateurish…so why did this film make $219 million at the box office. I’ll tell you why…because Sydney Sweeney is a force of nature…or more accurately stated, Sydney Sweeney’s magnificently magnetic mouth-watering melons are a force of nature and may in fact be so perfect as to be the epicenter around which the known universe rotates.

I’m kidding…sort of. Sydney Sweeney is an odd duck…she’s certainly beautiful and sexy…and her ample bosoms are the greatest thing this country has produced in the last 200 years…but she also talks like she has a hearing impairment and has the facial expressions of the new kid in the special ed class.

To her great credit though she is totally game and up for anything to try and get a laugh in this movie…most of the time she fails miserably but it is her commitment to the buffoonish bits that makes her such an appealing and compelling screen presence.

Sweeney is sort of a cross between Bridget Bardot and Jennifer Lawrence. She’s not as naturally gregarious or hot-girl-next-door-ish as Lawrence or as incandescently sexy as Bardot, but she’s got roughly 25% of each woman within her and that makes her 50% interesting.

Sweeney’s co-star, Glen Powell, is poised to be the next “it” guy and it’s easy to see why in this movie. He’s certainly handsome in a rather boring and sterile way, but like his co-star he too is down to do whatever needs be done to make a bit funny. Again, the bits rarely if ever work, but Powell’s commitment to them is very endearing.

Powell feels like a hybrid between Matthew McConaughey and Ryan Gosling. He’s sort of a safe version of the lesser parts of both men. Powell isn’t as charming and sexy as McConaughey or as funny and talented as Gosling, but he’s sort of in the same ballpark…if it’s a really, really big ballpark…like the Big House in Michigan – home to the NCAA Football National Champion University of Michigan Wolverines (Go Blue!).

Despite the charms of Sweeney and Powell, Anyone but You is, frankly, dreadful. It is painfully stupid, poorly shot, and except for Sweeney and Powell, exceedingly poorly acted. For example, GaTa, who plays the lesbian bride’s brother and Ben’s friend, may be the worst actor I’ve seen in a feature film in the last decade. This guy is so awful it felt like a mentally ill homeless man wandered on to the set and no one had the heart to ask him to leave.

But in GaTa’s defense, much better actors didn’t fare any better. For example, veteran actors Bryan Brown and Dermot Mulroney both give astonishingly poor performances that are not just awful but embarrassing. Brown and Mulroney’s performances feel like they’re from two people who’ve never seen a movie, never mind acted in one. The once promising Rachel Griffiths doesn’t fare any better.

The truth is that the only reason to watch this witless movie is to spend two hours with Sydney Sweeney and Glen Powell. Whatever Sweeney’s and Powell’s faults as actors the one thing that is undeniable about them is that they are both extremely likable…and in today’s watered-down movie culture that’s more than enough to pass as a “movie star”.

Anyone can guess what the future holds for Sweeney and Powell. Sweeney, who was quite good in HBO’s Euphoria and The White Lotus, needs to navigate the perilous minefield that is being a sex symbol in our current culture, no easy task as being so sexually appealing to men can often turn the female audience against an actress. She and her team will need to figure out how to make men want her and women relate to her – something Anyone but You successfully accomplishes. One hopes that she can find her way and build a career filled with much better films and interesting roles…she certainly has shown flashes of the talent and skill required to become an actress of impact.  

Glen Powell seems to have a much lower ceiling than Sydney Sweeney, but a much higher floor only because he is not the type of actor men will dislike since he isn’t one of those grating Hollywood pansy-ass pretty boys. Powell’s greatest strength is that he seems to be a good dude…and while he is good looking, he isn’t too good-looking…hence the high floor/low ceiling.

As for Anyone but You and whether you should watch it…well…I can’t imagine telling anyone that they need to see this movie. It is instantly forgettable and aggressively idiotic. It’s the type of movie you watch on a plane when there’s nothing else available, or when you’re on the couch recovering from surgery and can’t quite reach the remote without bursting your sutures.

The bottom line is that Anyone but You is a bad movie, but years from now we might look back on it as the big box office breakout for the biggest, breastiest movie star of all time, Sydney Sweeney, and say “thanks for the mammaries”…I certainly hope so.

 Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2024