MOVIE REVIEW: Infinity Chamber

Infinity Chamber (2017)


Going In

A man trapped in an automated prison must outsmart a computer in order to escape and try and find his way back to the outside world that may already be wiped out.

Rarely does a cerebral science fiction film  slip beneath my radar. I have a deep love of contemplating the complexities of life, human emotion, and decision making while exploring realistic future  technologies. So when I learned of Infinity Chamber’s existence AFTER its release straight to VOD, I was a bit surprised. Granted, this is not a big studio picture with A-list actors. Formerly titled Somnio during a failed Kickstarter campaign, it is written and directed by Travis Milloy, who previously penned 2009’s space horror Pandorum (which I quite enjoy). Knowing that, and coupled with the incredibly intriguing synopsis above, I couldn’t miss seeing this one at the first opportunity.



COMING OUT

Imagine, if you will, that you wake up with a massive headache and a foggy memory. Before you is a talking eyeball who introduces himself as “Howard”, informs you that you are not being charged with a crime, but rather being “processed”, and says that his job is to keep you alive.

I don’t know about you, but that would definitely give me cause for concern, and Frank Learner is no different. This interaction sets forth in motion a very slow-burn, thought-provoking story. For those that have seen Duncan Jones’ fantastic film Moon, its inspiration is unmistakable. That’s not to say that Infinity Chamber can’t stand on its own. It can. But the feel is similar, so using that as a reference point may help in determining whether this is your kind of flick.

As the plot unfolds, Frank (Christopher Soren Kelly) tries to figure things out, all while working towards a solution for release… or escape. Kelly’s performance is very good and requires quite a bit of silent acting. Due to the film mostly taking place in a single location and clearly made on a very low budget, the heavy lifting falls on his ability to both physically and emotionally carry each scene. Other human actor performances are good, as well, but most of the movie is Frank interacting with “Howard,” and this is where the film doesn’t win me over quite as much.

In movies like Moon and 2001: A Space Odyssey, the artificial intelligence is as much a character (thoroughly developed) as the human actors, and I just didn’t get that feeling from “Howard.” Not that the voice work is particularly bad, it just wasn’t anything… special. I did not develop empathy or understanding in the way that I did for HAL or GERTY in the aforementioned films. Unfortunately, that was a detractor for me since the A.I. is one of the two main characters. My other complaints are mostly minor, with the other primary one being that some scenes became repetitive and added too much time to the film. The nature of the film almost demanded that we have these scenes, and it’s a fine line to balance, but the result was that the movie loses its thriller label midway through before picking it back up in the third act.

Verdict

Infinity Chamber is a smart, well-acted, and creative story that deals with themes of isolation and identity in interesting ways. Even “Howard” wrestles with what he is and can be, providing a fresh take on the evil A.I. trope. The film tackles questions about our relationship with technology that will give fans of this genre a lot to talk about with others who’ve seen it. As of this writing the film is available to rent on Amazon and iTunes and is definitely worth a watch.

Rating:


Aaron White is a Seattle-based film critic and co-creator/co-host of the Feelin’ Film Podcast. He is also a member of the Seattle Film Critics Society. He writes reviews with a focus on how his expectations influenced his experience. Follow him on Facebook and Twitter to be notified when new content is posted.

MOVIE REVIEW: First They Killed My Father

First They Killed My Father (2017)


Going In

Netflix’s latest original film to simultaneously release in theaters and on its streaming service is this foreign film directed by Angelina Jolie, adapted from the memoir of Loung Ung. I know very little outside of the fact that it tells the story of Cambodian genocide in the 1970’s and centers on a young girl who becomes a child soldier. While it’s not completely fair to compare, I’ve been unimpressed with Netflix’s original films released this year. That lingering memory coupled with my disappointment in Jolie’s incomplete telling of another true story in Unbroken leave me quite unenthusiastic about this picture.


COMING OUT

Gosh, what a story! This incredible retelling of Loung’s memoir is a captivating and yet painful experience all at once. Jolie has clearly arrived as a filmmaker, with this effort being her career-best. Despite having a relatively small filmography she has shown natural talent and gradually grown with each picture. It is also evident that Jolie enjoys celebrating the lives of unknown survivors and she directs in way that is respectful of the trauma they endured.

The discovery of young actress Srey Moch Sareum, who plays the 5-year old Loung, could be one of this film’s greatest accomplishments. Sareum has an incredibly difficult task providing a central viewpoint throughout. She captures the slow deterioration of innocence heartbreakingly well, as her family is uprooted from their near-perfect lives and forced into servitude by the invading Khmer Rouge. Soldiers strip their fellow Cambodians of all possessions and individualism while preaching equality through the removal of a class system. Their atrocities grow worse and worse, with the Khmer Rouge eventually “teaching” its prisoners that “It’s better to make a mistake and kill an innocent person than to leave the enemy alive.” In a film with so little dialogue, these words sting especially hard.

At times the film feels like a cinematic documentary due to its serious nature combined with gorgeous cinematography by Anthony Dod Mantle. Of specific note are the many aerial views throughout the film. These shots were spectacular and among the best I’ve seen all year.  My biggest complaint may be that its methodical pace lingers a little too long at times. Still, it’s a minor quibble among many things I loved.

Verdict

It didn’t take long for me to realize that this film was going to be special. I was thoroughly engaged in Loung’s haunting struggle for survival, but was not prepared for how emotionally affecting this film would be. Loung’s life was not an easy one, and it’s both tragic to feel her loss so viscerally and inspiring to know that she’s emerged such a strong woman. While the film can be seen streaming on Netflix, I highly encourage a theater viewing, if for the visual splendor alone. First They Killed My Father is also Cambodia’s entry for Best Foreign Language Film and will be a strong contender if it garners an Oscar nomination. It is always a treat to have your expectations exceeded. First They Killed My Father certainly accomplished that for me.

Rating:


Aaron White is a Seattle-based film critic and co-creator/co-host of the Feelin’ Film Podcast. He is also a member of the Seattle Film Critics Society. He writes reviews with a focus on how his expectations influenced his experience. Follow him on Facebook and Twitter to be notified when new content is posted.

MOVIE REVIEW: Kingsman: The Golden Circle

Kingsman: The Golden Circle (2017)

Rated: R

 


Going In

In 2015, a new project from director Matthew Vaughn and comic book writer extraordinaire Mark Millar became a surprise theatrical hit, grossing $128 million domestically. As legend has it, Vaughn and Millar were at a bar one day discussing spy movies and decided that the genre had become overly serious. The two decided to make “a fun one”, which ended up being based on one of Millar’s comics, and Kingsman: The Secret Service was born.

In my opinion, Vaughn and Millar succeeded in their attempt to liven up the secret agent movie. I enjoyed Kingsman: The Secret Service (K:TSS) immensely and now have high expectations for its sequel. I’m particularly interested in learning how Colin Firth’s character (code name Galahad) returns and whether or not Julianne Moore’s new villain can reach the eccentric excellence that Samuel L. Jackson provided in the first film. The sequel is also pulling in some big names for what seem to be smaller roles. Will Jeff Bridges, Halle Berry, and Channing Tatum enhance the film or be a distraction? The action will be grand, I have no doubt, and I’m crossing my fingers that the humor will work as well as it did before (vice following the raunchier trend of modern-day Hollywood comedies). Regardless of whether Kingsman: The Golden Circle wows me, I do expect to have a good time at the theater. If it turns out to be special, even better, but that would be enough.

 


COMING OUT

I went, I saw, and… I was let down. Kingsman: The Golden Circle (K:TGS) did not, in fact, turn out to be special. Unfortunately, I didn’t have much of a good time either.

In K:TGS, the Kingsman headquarters has been destroyed and Eggsy must unite with new American allies (The Statesman) in order to once again save the world, this time from a ruthless villain. One of my burning questions for this sequel was whether or not Moore could live up to Jackson and the answer is a resounding “NO.” Despite her fantastic performance as a bubbly psychopath drug lord, the character motivations are selfish and far less interesting than the thought-provoking topic of overpopulation that is explored in K:TSS. There is also an increase in the violent/gory content of the sequel (stemming from her ruthless nature) that I found off-putting and unnecessary. Another of my primary concerns was how the return of Colin Firth’s character of Galahad would be handled. To put it bluntly, it’s a complete joke. I was not the only one to sigh and roll my eyes at the explanation of how he survived the events of the first film, and his reappearance here retroactively lessens the impact of K:TSS.

With regards to those new American spies, it was disappointing how little screen time Channing Tatum was given. He was one of the few bright spots, stole every scene he was in, and yes, he dances. Jeff Bridges and Halle Berry are… fine. All of the American agents other than Pedro Pascal’s Whiskey feel like they’re window dressing or present only to set up bigger roles in a sequel. Oh, and can we talk about those code names? It’s quite obvious that the film is meant to be satire and poke fun at Americans, but whereas the Kingsman mythology is modeled after old knights and tales of honor, the American agency is modeled after liquor tycoons and its agents named after different brands of alcohol. This serves as a perfect example of how K:TGC takes a big step back by being overly silly in its stereotypes. Its numerous attempts at cultural commentary were a big miss for me.

Lastly, I have to address one specific scene that really ruined the movie for me. As mentioned above, my hopes were that the film would not be too crude. In one entirely avoidable moment, Vaughn instead pushed far enough that I will now choose not to let my young teenagers see the movie. And the question I kept asking myself is “why?” There are so many inventive technologies in this series, but when it comes to getting information from a gorgeous blonde that creativity manifests itself in teenage boy fantasy instead. Luckily, this overtly and uncomfortable sexual scene only occurred once, and Vaughn deserves some credit for attempting to fix his mistake with a certain Princess at the end of K:TSS. But even that still falls short and the film lacks any semblance of a strong female character.

To end on a high note, the film does feature one of my favorite scenes of the year. Mark Strong’s Merlin was a highlight in K:TSS and here he provides an emotional center to the film that I was easily able to connect with. This scene will forever change my thoughts when I hear John Denver’s “Take Me Home, Country Roads.” Strong’s performance in this scene (and this series) is exceptional and has inspired me to seek out more of his work.

Verdict

Kingsman: The Golden Circle takes everything about its predecessor and cranks it up to 11. If you didn’t enjoy that film, you definitely won’t like this one either. My expectations were not met, I didn’t enjoy the film, and I’ve lost the desire to see future installments in this series. When Vaughn keeps the focus in Britain and on the Kingsman, it’s great stuff. Too much of this film is an on the nose joke or critique about modern day America, though, and the results are underwhelming.

Rating:


Aaron White is a Seattle-based film critic and co-creator/co-host of the Feelin’ Film Podcast. He is also a member of the Seattle Film Critics Society. He writes reviews with a focus on how his expectations influenced his experience. Follow him on Facebook and Twitter to be notified when new content is posted.

MOVIE REVIEW: The Glass Castle

How does the old saying go? You can’t choose your family? If you could, it’s hard to fathom why anyone would willingly pick the Walls family. The Glass Castle, based off the memoir of journalist Jeannette Walls, tells the story of a dysfunctional family living way below the poverty line, desperate to find a balance between survival and hope. Held afloat by powerful performances by Brie Larson and Woody Harrelson, writer/director Destin Daniel Cretton (Short Term 12) and co-writer  Andrew Lanham (The Shack) do a decent job in spotlighting  the shocking day to day experience of being a child of Rex (Harrelson) and Rose Mary Walls (Naomi Watts.) But this membership holds no privileges.

The Walls structure their parenting (use that term in the loosest possible way) philosophy around indifference and empty promises. The result is an environment suited to reckless endangerment, emotional and physical abuse, and a disinterest in pursuing any exploit that might better their lot in life. A lot of this neglect is shadowed by a delusion that everything will work out, which only serves to justify their lack of effort and responsibility.  Added to that is the drunken state Rex usually resides in, and the blissful ignorant haze that gets Rose through life. It’s a frustrating and often uncomfortable watch- one that is all too easy to judge from the sidelines- yet one that is peppered with just enough sentimental moments to play with our emotions and rage against our instincts as rational human beings.

Where The Glass Castle falls short is in its inability to push the boundaries outside the Walls’ family bubble.  Something the book does very well is focus on the societal impact of living in this level of squalor, especially on the children. They are bullied at school. There is a constant fear of social workers intervening. The images the book conjures in your mind are infinitely more graphic than what is depicted onscreen. The film brushes over a lot of that in favor of keeping within the confines of interpersonal family relationships.

Told primarily through the lens of young Jeanette, played with a wide-eyed precociousness by Ella Anderson (The Boss), all of our emotional chips are wagered on the fallout from Rex’s indiscretions and how they impact his family. Promises of one day striking it rich and building a fantastical “glass castle”, Rex manipulates Jeanette with false hope. As his children get older and more wiser to his bullshit, Rex flees deeper into his alcoholism, leading to much darker situations that are likely to leave audience members sickened with disgust. But, throughout all of the hurt and anger justifiably levied against their parents by the children, there is always an air of unconditional love lingering. That’s where a lot of people are struggling to hang their hat.

Because of the focus on Jeanette and Rex, Harrelson and Larson get the lion’s share of dramatics to handle. Harrelson is doing some of his best work here. It’s a role that seems built for his irascible style. Larson continues to prove she’s worthy of acclaim.  Even though she really only gets one “awards worthy” scene, it’s a powerful moment in which she’s able to express Jeanette’s long festering frustration with her parents, and it’s quite satisfying as a viewer that has had to watch these kids go through Hell for ninety minutes. I’d like to say the remaining characters leave an impression, but their moments simply aren’t as impactful. Watts is never given much to do other than hang around in a lot of scenes as the compliant waif to Rex’s aggressions. The other kids are there more or less because they have to be.

So the difficult question to answer is, do the filmmakers sprinkle a bit too much sugar on the film to make it more palatable? Do the arguably criminal actions of the Wall’s level of neglect warrant a mostly happy ending? Most of the critics serving negative reviews I’ve seen seem to want to die on this particular hill. The consensus is that transgressions such as these couldn’t possibly align with themes of redemption and forgiveness.  Admittedly, I’m not sure I would be able to find that level within myself, but it’s easy to say that as an outsider looking in. The book and the film seem to indicate that the power of love is strong within this hot mess of a family. Only Jeanette Walls and her three siblings get to decide whether that’s a worthy ending.

Rating:

MOVIE REVIEW: A Ghost Story

Might as well get this out of the way. A Ghost Story is not going to be everyone’s cup of tea. Honestly, it’s hard for me to imagine any middle ground here. You’re gonna love it, or hate it. Personally, count me as a “love it.” The film worked for me on every happy, sad, frustrating, mournful, tedious, emotional level. Writer/Director David Lowery (Pete’s Dragon) has crafted one of the most atmospheric, surreal cinematic experiences to hit theaters in a long time.

So what happens when we die? In this universe, Lowery posits that we have a choice to make. We can move on, wherever that leads us, or hang on, searching for ways to reconnect with what and who we’ve left behind. In A Ghost Story, our leading man is known only as C (Casey Affleck), and he’s chosen door #2 after a sudden death leaves him caught between this world and whatever comes next. He has left behind M (Rooney Mara), broken by the grief she feels over C’s loss. What transpires over the course of the next hour plus is a deeply affecting emotional journey designed to make the viewer feel….something. Your milage may vary on what that something truly is.

The film is shot with the intention of making things awkward and frustrating. You are expected to react, positively OR negatively, but at the very least, honestly. There are a couple of ways Lowery succeeds here…

First off, with death typically comes grief; perhaps the most personal of emotional responses. How we manage grief as individuals is a variable, not a singular experience shared by the greater whole. We spend a lot of time with M immediately following C’s death, and the camera of cinematographer Andrew Droz Palermo lingers on her, sometimes for an uncomfortable amount of time. M’s emptiness- her broken soul- is palpable, and it’s sometimes difficult to fixate on her, feeling guilty for intruding in such a personal experience. There is a standout scene in which we watch M eat a pie, left for her by a neighbor. And when I say we watch her eat a pie, I mean the WHOLE pie. And I mean a solid five minutes of a singular shot as M devours this pie, and though she never looks up, we can sense her sorrow…her anger…her incessant need to do something to regain a sense of control, even if that involves something as simple as engaging in a gluttonous display of stress eating. I got more emotional resonance from this scene than I did in some full movies I’ve seen this year.  It’s important to point out how affecting this scene is and how wonderful Mara is in pulling it off. For us as viewers, it serves as the point of no return regarding whether or not we’ll decide to see it all through.

Secondly, there is a concept of time which serves as the central theme in A Ghost Story. More specifically, the passage of time, and the infinite loneliness saddled within it. How, pardon the pun, haunting must it be to be caught in a no man’s land, unable to communicate with the people right in front of you, unable to do anything other than watch them move on from you. You are literally watching yourself being erased and there is nothing to be done about it. Eventually, you have forgotten what it is you were even looking for. This is how C spends his endless moments. Standing, staring, existing. Affleck doesn’t have much heavy lifting to do here.  He spends the bulk of the film under a sheet with black eye holes, but somehow this never feels like a cheap parlor trick. It could’ve easily been a cheesy gimmick, like some sort of link to a Charlie Brown Halloween, but it ends up working well.

Eventually, Lowery explores some interesting ideas around time continuum, adding elements to his narrative which expand on the concept of existing with the burden of infinite purposelessness. The atmosphere, one of quiet stillness, where at times you could easily hear a pin drop, is aided by the soft, funeral score of Daniel  Hart.  On occasion, Lowery provides a jolt as the living world intersects with the lingering spirits on screen, and yes, I said spirits. I won’t give anything away, but yes, C might have to carry the burden of loneliness, but he isn’t always alone.

Movies like this are why the art house was invented. I’ll say this… if you can’t get yourself past the pie scene without rolling your eyes in frustration, just cut the chord and go for tacos. If you can hang on though, be prepared for an unique experience; one which may occupy your thoughts for quite a while. I’d be curious to hear from someone who has recently lost someone close, and to see how the film resonates with them. There is sadness in abundance, but also glimpses of hope, and perhaps even catharsis.

Rating:

 

 

MOVIE REVIEW: War for the Planet of the Apes

I keep wondering what we did to deserve this. In this era of blockbuster fatigue and sequel after sequel of middling franchises grasping for every last drop of blood from the turnip (I’m looking at you Pirates and Transformers), how do we rate a trilogy of films, about talking monkeys of all things, that has been handled with such care- with such dedication to story- as to be considered in the discussion of the greatest trilogies of all time?

The first two films in the series, 2011’s Rise of the Planet of the Apes and 2014’s Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, are both above average films that work well in unison as part of a collective whole. The conclusion, War for the Planet of the Apes, piggybacking off the climax of it’s predecessor, is masterful, in more ways than one.

A couple of things elevate this final chapter to its lofty height…

First, Michael Giacchino‘s score is on a different level. Music exists in film to accentuate the experience, ramping up or slowing down as needed.   A lot of time, the music just exists as white noise in the background, unnoticed. But when that music works its way into your core being, ebbing and flowing with the tempo of the visual experience, forcing you to feel every crescendo of action or tender emotional beat, music has done more than accompany.  The music here transcends conventional usefulness and forces the viewer to swallow the film whole.

That’s what a film’s score should do. It looks for the viewer who isn’t engaged (how that could be in this instance I don’t know), grabs them by the ear-hole, and makes them be engaged. In War, the dramatic beats of the timpani as a call to arms, or in the quietest of moments when the distant ding of a triangle accompanies a fallen teardrop, Giacchino provides emotional guidance, almost cathartic in its precise execution.

Secondly, Andy Serkis. I’ve been that guy over the past decade claiming what Serkis does is not true acting, and all of the hubbub over championing him for Academy honors as such should be beaten down. Well, color me converted. Serkis IS Caesar.  Every twitch- every nuance- every look into the depths of Caesar’s tired, battle weary eyes is like looking into the inner core of someone we should feel guilty for having bothered.  Serkis has taken motion capture to a masterful level. Not only should he be in the discussion of best actor, there should probably be an award adorned with his name given out for the best in the motion capture arts each year.

That said, Weta Digital, the New Zealand based visual effects company spearheaded by Peter Jackson, should hold exclusive rights to do all VFX work in all films from this point forward. In all three films, the way in which the apes move on screen is seamless.  It’s near impossible to tell that the humans and the apes aren’t truly coexisting within this world. When we aren’t distracted by sketchy CGI, we can concentrate on the important things, like getting caught up in the story and the characters. Isn’t that novel.

As for the story, is it any good? In my opinion, absolutely. There is a Shakespearean quality to this overall story, coming forward in earnest midway through the second film with the relationship between Caesar and his nemesis, Koba (Toby Kebbel).  In his third film, Caesar is forced to come to terms with the fallout of his actions leading up to this point, as a new dramatic turn of events muddies the waters of his already fragile psyche. Caesar’s will to lead is tested as new priorities consume him.

Themes of morality have hovered over this series from the onset. The Apes are intentionally constructed as sympathetic characters.  Beasts yes, but never in a way that suggests they seek anything other than a means to coexist with humans.  The humans, well, they just can’t help themselves from doing what humans do.  It’s the human’s God complex exhibited in the first film, along with a nasty little flu bug,  that brought us to this point, and the humans still can’t find a way to settle differences without succumbing to destructive tactics. Eradicate enemies. Destroy. Kill. It’s never, hey, these monkeys are freaking talking to us in English! Because, human.

The main human villain here is Woody Harrelson, known only in the film as The Colonel.  This is undoubtedly a role designed for the type of actor Harrelson is. No nonsense, ruthless, and devoid of any semblance of ethical fortitude. He isn’t constructed with a ton of depth, and he doesn’t need to be. His lengthy diatribe of why he is how he is warrants perhaps just a touch of sympathy from the viewer- at least we understand where he’s coming from- but Harrelson urges just enough dickishness from the character to keep any good will he might have earned at arms length.

Also notable is young actress Amiah Miller, as the orphaned girl, Nova, who is forced to tag along with Caesar and his posse on their journey. Miller’s scenes, especially during times of emotional strife, are next level. Stricken with a side effect of the Simian Flu in which she loses her ability to speak, Miller must carry the full weight of her character with her eyes and expressions. The more subdued the scene, the more brilliant is Miller’s performance. One scene in particular, as one of the apes is wounded, will stick with you long after the film, and the credit goes to Miller’s unspoken emotional gravitas.

Adding a touch of levity to the film is newcomer, Bad Ape (Steve Zahn). His presence is welcome as the story does travel down some weighty, emotional paths.  Nothing that Zahn does with the character pushes the film into corniness, but he does provide a couple of laugh-out-loud moments.

War for the Planet of the Apes is a satisfying conclusion to the trilogy. There is an emotional yet oddly cathartic final scene which sums up Caesar’s journey to protect and serve the Apes. It works as both a catalyst for future installments of the franchise or as a final exclamation point if that’s what the studio prefers to do. Director Matt Reeves has created such an immersive, thoughtful experience with endless re-watchability.  These damn, dirty apes are the gold standard from which the summer blockbuster should be based upon from here on out.

Rating:

 

MOVIE REVIEW: Baby Driver

“Cause the world keeps spinnin’
‘Round and ’round
And my heart’s keepin’ time
To the speed of sound”

– from Hairspray

With every toe-tapping, dashboard banging note, Baby Driver energizes.  It’s not a musical about driving, but music drives the movie; each screeching tire perfectly synched to a tune selected specifically to ride shotgun with the action on screen.

Let’s be honest, the central plot of Baby Driver is nothing new. ​Man has to work off some debt, in unsavory ways, to appease a “boss” who keeps his charges in line with threats and innuendo. Standard gangster fare. Here though, writer/director Edgar Wright (The World’s End, Scott Pilgrim vs the World) changes up the game, infusing a familiar narrative with an uptempo beat. Let’s envision a mashup of Drive, The Fast & the Furious, and a badass Spotify playlist. With earbuds firmly in place, Baby Driver puts the pedal to the metal, rarely slowing down long enough to allow its audience to catch their breath.

Our protagonist here is Baby (Ansel Elgort, Divergent, The Fault in Our Stars), the expert getaway driver reluctantly on the payroll of Doc (Kevin Spacey, House of Cards), to whom he is working off a debt from an earlier poor life decision. Baby is quiet, often mistook as mentally challenged, but he’s in his element behind the wheel of a fast car and under the spell of a righteous soundtrack. An accident as a child has left him, as Doc tells it, “with a hum in the drum.” Music gives him respite from his disability. It defines him, and is essential in doing his job on Doc’s team. Without the beats, Baby is lost.

Elgort plays Baby with a confidence befitting a kid with mad driving skills and cool shades, but also with a vulnerability, especially in his confrontations with the film’s ensemble of bad guys. Baby trusts his ability to perform when called upon, but his composure is susceptible to rattling when his inward personality is forced to bubble up in weighty social situations. Baby could have easily come across as stiff and mechanical, but Wright forces him into awkward interactions which allow Elgort to show some range with the character.

Also to help Baby relate as a character, enter Lily James (Cinderella) as the requisite love interest, Debora. James is so gosh-darn adorable, it’s easy to overlook her character’s lack of real definition. She feels tacked on as a plot device, dutifully available for Doc to threaten, or to offer words of encouragement to Baby at just the right moments. James isn’t at fault here. She smiles and captures us with her slight southern drawl as directed, but I wish Wright had dug a little deeper, especially given that any girl in their right mind would have run from this situation as fast as possible.

Along for the ride is a cadre of thugs: Griff (Jon Berenthal, The Walking Dead), Buddy (Jon Hamm, Mad Men), Darling (Eiza Gonzalez, Jem and the Holograms), and Bats (Jaime Foxx, Annie, Horrible Bosses 2). Doc never works with the same crew twice, so these parts are interchangeable with a few lesser characters, but these four carry the lion’s share of the load.

I’m not fully sold on Jon Hamm here. He doesn’t feel comfortable in the skin of Buddy. He fares best early on as a standard bank robber, but when the story diverts from heist flick to a tale of comeuppance, as Buddy’s motivations turn to vengeance, Hamm stumbles. It perhaps doesn’t help that Gonzalez’s Darling rates as little more than eye candy on Buddy’s arm throughout the bulk of the film. Whatever they were selling as a couple, I wasn’t buying. She doesn’t do anything to drag the film down, but she’s interchangeable with any other Latina actress in a film staring fast cars.  She’s a cliche, and that’s unfortunate.

Jaime Foxx?  He’s all in folks. Bats, in all of his psychopathic, loose cannon glory, makes the most of his screen time. Foxx manages to remain grounded just enough to be realistically threatening, but it’s pretty clear he’s having a good time chewing up scenery. On the rare occasion when the film slows down to catch its breath, Bats keeps us in.

My biggest struggle with Baby Driver is the lack of character depth. Baby in particular is someone I wanted to know more about. There is some lip service, via flashback, to his relationship with his mother and his less than perfect childhood, but not enough to firmly latch onto him as a sympathetic character deserving of my care. Yes, I wanted to see him ultimately succeed, but only in that he’s slightly less of an asshole than most of the other characters. I actually found that I was often more invested in seeing Debora in a better place, so to that end, I needed to root for Baby by default.

The real character is the soundtrack, culled together from various artists, and Wright doesn’t skimp on the awesome in this regard. Even the most mundane of stories (which this is not) is made better with the stylings of Queen’s “Brighton Rock“, or “Bellbottoms” by the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. Each tune serves a purpose, whether to bind a set of characters falling in love, or to accompany a hail of gunfire and burning rubber. The failings in character definition are more than made up for in sight and sound. What could have come off as a screen version of a theme park stunt show works because of Wright’s vision and the complimentary hand of cinematographer Bill Pope, who’s camera is often asked to move to the beat. Where Wright’s story leads, Pope’s camera follows.

Baby Driver is everything you want in a summer blockbuster without the blockbuster after taste. There is already talk of a Baby Driver 2, and I’m torn. Here we have a mostly original concept that no doubt stands on its own merits, and while I feel like that should be enough, I also want to see more of the story of Baby and Debora. Because sometimes all I want to do is “head west on 20 in a car I can’t afford, with a plan I don’t have, just me, my music, and the road.”

MOVIE REVIEW: It Comes At Night

Each time Travis (Kelvin Harrison Jr., Birth of a Nation) picks up his lantern to wander the dark halls of his family’s  boarded up home, he strikes the image of a ghost- perhaps of a weary railroad conductor making his rounds. Tension builds with each creak of the floorboards, and the lengthening of shadows indicate that something ominous lurks. In his sophomore feature length effort, It Comes at Night, writer/director Trey Edward Shults proves sometimes less is more with horror.  Sometimes, what we don’t see is as unsettling as actually revealing the monsters that hunt us.

The audience isn’t given a lot to work with in regard to world building. There is the aforementioned house and the surrounding woods.  Nothing more is required.  The presence of gas masks posit some sort of airborne virus exists, and the gruesome illness that has befallen Travis’ grandfather indicates said virus isn’t screwing around.  Besides Travis, the house is occupied by his parents, Paul (Joel Edgerton, Loving) and Sarah (Carmen Ejogo, Alien: Covenant), and the family dog.  Paul’s day-to-day routine is militaristic in nature- designed with safety and survival as priority.

When that safety is threatened, Paul is forced to make some uneasy decisions that will alter the dynamic he’s worked hard to sustain.  The fly in the ointment here is Will (Christopher Abbott, Whiskey Tango Foxtrot), a survivor who attempts to break into the home in search of supplies for his family.  Will eventually convinces Paul that his intentions are honest, and with some prodding from his own family, Paul consents to bring Will’s wife Kim (Riley Keough, American Honey), and young son Andrew (Griffin Robert Faulkner) to live in the house and share resources.

Shults keeps traditional horror tropes at arms length.  He has no interest in burdening the audience with cheap jump scares or semi-visible ghoulies scurrying about.  The tension in It Comes at Night stems from the atmosphere Shults has created.  Most of the film is shrouded in a suffocating darkness- the fear of falling victim to the unseen virus keeping everyone on edge.  Shults doubles down on the uneasiness through his characters’ interactions.  Trust  between the families is paper thin, and one sideways glance can send the new household dynamic into chaos.

Our perspective of this story comes primarily from Travis.  The mood set by Harrison Jr.’s often unmoving gaze provides us a glimpse of a devolving world- a human condition that is gradually unraveling, fed by a lingering deceit and burgeoning mistrust.  The graphic nightmares Travis endures, perhaps symbolic of the film’s title, show us a consequence of the withering psyche of Travis as an individual that’s clearly seen too much.  Harrison Jr. sells all of it, and although we as the audience aren’t privy to any real context of what is happening in this world, the deconstructing of this one small segment of it is enough to earn our attention.

When we aren’t living in Travis’ worldview, the film treads along the interactions of Paul and Will.  Edgerton and Abbott volley their mistrust of each other back and forth, threatening their uneasy alliance almost minute by minute.  As an audience, we wait idly by for something to break.  Both actors succeed in playing off each other’s skepticisms, but each is bound by a sense of personal duty to do right be their family.  Alas, Ejogo and Keough serve little purpose beyond looking frightened and succumbing to direction from their men.

So what is Shults really playing at in It Comes at Night?  Is the virus used as a macguffin to get at a more intimate portrait of social constructs?  Does it really matter whether any of the characters fall victim to unseen horrors when the clear and present danger presents itself within their own interactions?  A lot of time is spent worrying about what lies on the other side of a creepy red door, when the true horrors may reside on the same side as the people who are doing the worrying.

No doubt there are people who will walk away confused, or perhaps even angry.  It’s a consequence of ambiguity. The ending is not conducive to filmgoers needing answers, but that doesn’t mean answers can’t be had.  Monsters don’t always need to be tangible things with sharp teeth and fangs.  But just because we can’t always see them doesn’t mean they aren’t there.  Paranoia is a big motivator, and it hangs like a thick fog over this story.  How you reconcile the themes within the film, and especially the ending, probably depends on the way your own life mirrors certain aspects within- the losses you’ve been dealt- the people you’ve had interactions with.  It Comes at Night dares to play with those subconscious thoughts and invites you to explore them for yourself.  Sometimes the true horrors lie within us.

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MOVIE REVIEW: Wonder Woman

In the opening minutes of Wonder Woman, young Princess Diana (played by the precocious Lilly Aspell), bounds about the island of Themyscira with such a tireless enthusiasm, imitating lady warriors in training, channeling the energy of Wall Street’s Fearless Girl, defiant of rules and stereotypes.  Even as her mother, Queen Hippolyta (Connie Nielson), tries to subdue her daughter’s eagerness to place herself in precarious circumstances, we can tell that Diana is cut from a different cloth. This is an origin story untold on the big screen before now, and in a cinematic society weary of such redundancies, the coming of age of the would be Amazonian princess is welcome, and in so many ways, necessary.

For the past decade, Marvel Studios has coasted along on the coattails of a genuinely decent cinematic universe, wherein rival DC has limped along with luke warm to abysmal attempts post-Nolan at keeping up with the Jonses. Rabid fandom aside, DC has mostly earned the reputation of being the VH1 to Marvel’s MTV.  But credit where credit is due, DC is the first studio to test the theory that a female centered superhero film can stand alongside the glut of “fill in the blank”-man movies that have strong armed the studio’s purse strings for far to long.  Giving the reigns to a passionate, visionary filmmaker like Patty Jenkins was also the right thing to do. There is an undercurrent of authenticity to this film, as if it knows it carries an extra burden.  Fair or not, Wonder Woman needed to be more than entertaining.  

Wonder Woman needs to be examined on multiple fronts. As a superhero film, it’s decent, much in the way most of these genre films are.  There will be things that work and things that will not, but generally you will feel a sense of satisfaction when the credits start rolling.  And yet, Twitter trolls will spew nonsense, and fanboys will gather to defend. If you can block out that noise, you can expect an above average slice of blockbuster pie that isn’t without its flaws.

Comparisons can be made to Captain America: The First Avenger in both style and structure.  The pacing isn’t always a strength, and it does feel the full weight of the 141 minute run time as a result.  The film ultimately falls into familiar genre trappings, where CGI assumes command of a final battle between super-beings in a dark cacophony of sight and sound.  But enough good will has been earned by that point for me to forgive most of that.  It isn’t terrible, just familiar.  

As maligned as Producer Zack Snyder is with a lot of his creative choices, casting Gal Gadot is purely inspired.  She is perfect, and with no disrespect to Linda Carter, she is the Wonder Woman for all going forward.  Gadot brings so many layers of Diana Prince to life, portraying her with a fearless intensity that smacks of both strength and vulnerability. There is a grace and beauty to Diana, and yet her fierce sense of duty never wavers.  Between Gadot’s talent and Jenkins’ direction, Wonder Woman never strays down a path that could have cheapened it.

To that end, props to Chris Pine (as Captain Steve Trevor), who never oversells himself.  He seems to understand there is something bigger going on here, and his portrayal of Trevor never impedes on Gadot.  Pine shows range with the character- sometimes frustrated, confused, or downright angry- but he’s always respectful of Diana’s role within this world.  

All of the plot devices and technicalities of filmmaking aside, the success of Wonder Woman, at least for me, lies squarely on its ability to serve as a beacon for gender equality.  And I’m of the opinion (admittedly the opinion of one white bred, middle aged dude), that this film succeeds on that front.  Every time I started to get concerned the line might get crossed- when the male hero might be called upon to save the day- Jenkins and Gadot sidestep, making sure the focus stays on Diana as hero, keeping the male characters involved but at a respectable distance that never feels unnatural. 

To that end, we male critics can comment on the basics of storytelling, or on technical merit, or character development, but I don’t feel as if we have the right to pass judgement on this film based on our experience outside of those particular contexts. It isn’t our film, guys.  We can love it or hate, but what matters is the way it lands with women who find inspiration from the main character.  What matters are the women who have felt the brunt of misaligned gender politics and look to a simple film as a step in the right direction.  What matters are women who find courage and strength in a world that doesn’t often allow them to express those traits.  What matters are the multitudes of little girls who don the warrior princess’ outfit and walk away empowered, seeing themselves as equals, seeing themselves in the same context as their male peers who sport Iron Man and Captain America gear on Halloween.  It’s really the only thing that matters here, and it’s long overdue.

MOVIE REVIEW: Alien: Covenant

In 2012, two types of people exited showings of Prometheus; those satisfied with the earnest attempt to weave some different ideas into the Alien franchise, and those pissed off at the lack of bloody, chest bursting goodness. Count me in the former. I quite liked Prometheus. I liked that director Ridley Scott chose to examine deeper themes and do some world building rather than take the easy way out in catering solely to the ADD crowd seeking nothing more than guts and gore.

Flash forward to now, and the release of Prometheus 2.0, also known as Alien: Covenant. I’ll come right out and say that I liked this film quite a bit, even if it feels like a course correction on Prometheus to appease some of those aforementioned pissed off fans.  And that’s the rub. Your thoughts on Prometheus may shape your thoughts on Covenant.  And while I liked both of these films, it is time for Scott to propel this franchise forward.  After essentially the same movie twice, it’s time to find out who the engineers are. It’s time understand some of the science and history of the titular xenomorphs.  And it’s definitely time to get a handle on whatever it is these darn synthetics are up to. If the next installment is nothing more than another ragtag crew du jour made up of scientists that make horrible life choices, we may have a problem.

We definitely get a heavier dose of aliens in Covenant. They’re faster and more vicious than ever. Chests are bursting at a more satisfying pace. It’s fair to say Scott is still able to craft tense scenes that draw audible gasps from his audience, even when the timing of those moments are pretty obvious. It’s all quite impressive to look at, with top notch production value and set design.

This time around, we are aboard the colony ship, Covenant, loaded with a crew and two thousand embryos on course for a new planet to inhabit in a galaxy far, far away. The film starts out Passengers style, with the crew snuggled in cryo-chambers for safe keeping as the years wile away during the lengthy journey. A malfunction leads to tragic events, and the crew must now deal with some new circumstances before they can consider jumping back into the cryo-pods to finish hibernating. As is typical with this franchise, very smart people make some very questionable choices. Years of study and training can somehow be derailed by the soulful stylings of Mr. John Denver.

As the crew detours to seek out strange signals, hoping they may have discovered a much closer, habitable planet than the one they’ve prepared for, because…wheat…. shenanigans soon ensue. This crew is led by Daniels (Katherine Waterston) and Oram (Billy Crudup), both of who are up to the task as the film’s main protagonists. Add Daniels as another in a sequence of strong female characters in the franchise. Much like Sigourney Weaver’s Ripley and Noomi Rapace’s Dr. Elizabeth Shaw, Waterston portrays Daniels with a combination of intelligence and strength. Also notable is Danny McBride, as the ‘throw caution to the wind’ ship’s pilot, Tennessee. He’s a franchise trope, but a fun one to watch.

But let’s not think for a second this film doesn’t stand on the broad shoulders of Michael Fassbender, here playing two versions of synthetic android- David from Prometheus, and Walter, a new and improved version of synthetic traveling with the Covenant crew. We knew David was up to something in Prometheus, but Scott doubles down on that idea here in Covenant. Fassbender’s movements, chilling demeanor, and ‘cat that ate the canary’ expressions are worth the price of admission. He ably transitions from one personality to another, giving each synthetic an unique voice.

Alien: Covenant fits neatly into the Alien mythology. It ties well with Prometheus, answering enough of the lingering questions from that film to move forward. Yet, whatever comes next needs to do just that. Move forward. We cannot be satisfied with another side quest film that treads water, regardless of how entertaining it is. Regardless of how brilliant Fassbender is. Regardless how much John Denver is used. Covenant does enough to put the series in a position to build upon the mythology, but we’re at the proverbial crossroads. Which way Scott goes next may determine the viability of future installments.