Captain Underpants: The First Epic Movie Review

Based on the popular books by Dav Pilkey, the movie adaptation "Captain Underpants" was titled with the expectations to make sequels, hence its subtitle "The First Epic Movie." Only I wish it never made it past the desks of Hollywood executives. It is eighty nine minutes of pure potty humor, which even the film calls "the lowest form of comedy," and I agree. If your kids, or the kid in you, laugh at the idea of a chorus of whoopee cushion noises, then this is the movie for you, because there is a tireless scene of it. And if just the thought of a towering, walking toilet has you immediately going and buying your ticket, then stop reading. I might spoil one of the poop jokes for you.

Despite debuting the same day as "Wonder Woman," and coming before and after numerous other superhero flicks, "Captain Underpants" is too afraid to parody them. This could have been the audience's relief from all the the darkness of the genre, all the gluttonous and sameness, but like this years "The Lego Batman Movie," the underwear wearing captain settles for flashy visuals interrupted by only by musical numbers, flatulence, and a story that wraps up far too conveniently, with a message about friendship to boot. For a superhero who literally wears tight underwear, there is a funny idea here, somewhere, buried deep below more potty jokes than Adam Sandler would dare tell.

The animation is fast paced but painfully boring, save for that one "sock puppet" scene. Simple geometry and bland art style pale in comparison to the company's other films, and particularly when graded against Pixar or Disney's offerings. The budget is smaller; perhaps that is why the most of the cast are "for-rent" comedians and actors.

The plot goes something like this: George (Kevin Hart) and Harold (Thomas Middlehitch) are grade-school delinquents who spend their free time writing a comic about the imaginary "Captain Underpants." Their principle, Mr. Krupp (Ed Helms), spends his time trying to prove that the duo are behind all the pranks around the school. But through the power of a cereal box prize "hypno ring," which actually works despite the reluctance of both the two heroes and the principle himself. As a joke, they snap his fingers and poof, Mr. Krupp is now the title superhero; splash him with water, and he is back to his school-running self. I like how the film never bothered explaining how or why the ring works, or why water retards its effect; it adds to the sugar-coated visuals and zippy pacing, but why they never try and hypnotize villain "Professor Poopypants (Nick Kroll), disguised as the district's new science teacher. Or why the police don't show up when a giant toilet rampages through the school until the film's credits are revving to start rolling. Or where everyone's parents are. Or why Professor Poopypants doesn't  change his  name (that is, of course, the reason he is evil). Or why every punchline involves farting, burping or nose-picking.

It isn't that farting, burping or nose-picking isn't funny- only it isn't. But every line sets up the same punchline, and that punchline is well, farting, burping or nose-picking. Kids are smarter than that; I saw this in a theater fairly filled, all kids with the parents, but very few laughs were generated. That is the sign of a movie failing to realizes its target audience.

The Mummy Review

I always thought that mummies in movies were zombies with personality (they are the real talking dead). They can think, plot, and murder like man but take a beating like their undead movie brothers. But in "The Mummy," their characterizations are as thin as the rags they are wrapped in.

But none of that matters. Actually, the laws of physics, logic, and common-sense matter in a film like this one, the first in Universal's proposed "Dark Universe." It spends its introduction luring you in, lowering your guard only for it to grab onto that little kid in you and never let go. Well actually, looking at what other critics gave this movie, perhaps it was only me. So what? Is this a good film? Hell no, but did I like this film? I can't say for sure, but I was childishly happy throughout the entire run time.

The plot is a regurgitation of every other "mummy" incarnation on film, cannibalizing the genre and even its own franchise. Nick Morton (Tom Cruise) plays a thieving former Military something or other who is far too good-looking to believe he is sells priceless antiquities on the black market (his looks make him look like he is an actor. Perhaps a "movie-within-a-movie" would have been a better avenue). His buddy Chris Vail (Jake Johnson) are introduced to use in Iraq, where men with guns spot them, shoot guns only to be blown up by an air strike Chris called in for once the first bullet was fired. The strike unearth a prison tomb of Princess Ahmanet (Sofia Boutella), where Jenny Halsey (Annabelle Wallis) shows up and orders the sarcophagus to be airlifted out of the desert. Bad idea. Actually, if this film tells us anything, it is that Americans have no business in Iraq.

Nothing this film does is unique; it is a madcap tour of reused scenes and ideas from everything from 1979's "Zombi 2" (with the undead swimming underwater) to the films 1999 precursor "The Mummy" (with the lead mummy sucking the life out of tertiary characters). It is spectacularly stupid, but every actor here plays it completely straight, the film's biggest problem. Even Tom Cruise spends most of the movie looking aloof in front of a green screen. The lack of fresh ideas, or even one genuine scare, could have been saved by a wink or two from the cast.

But the title mummy herself, Princess Ahmanet, is a great movie villain, B-movie material carried by actress Sofia Boutella's wildly seductive performance. The film has a fetishistic obsession with her, lusting over her whether she is covered with rags with a chunk of her piercingly beautiful face removed or completely naked, the PG-13 rating remains thanks to convenient shadows her buttocks and breasts. She uses her sexuality to try and beguile Nick into letting her stab him with a sacred dagger to bring forth the Set, the deity who gave her her own powers explained in the prologue. Where as a less confident actress (or a more modest director) would have looked clumsy during these temptations (or shied away from them), Sofia goes all out to the point of hammy overacting. Perhaps she thought she was starring in those other "The Mummy" movies with Brendan Fraser. To say the mummy in "The Mummy" has no heart would be an insult; Egyptians often left the heart intact during mummification.

Action remains the picture's best feature, where fist-fights break up car chases in woodlands to zero-gravity airplane crashes. Oh sure, there is the occasional conversation, but most talking is done either zipping from one lavish set piece to then next, or with cuts to the mummy raising her army of the dead. It is all decidedly deliberate; it is almost as if the film knows no one cares, especially when script contains such flavorful dialogue as "She is real!" and "You can't run!" It is no coincidence that director Alex Kurtzman didn't know any better; his own writing credits include the trite film "Cowboys & Aliens" and the campy TV show "Hercules: The Legendary Journeys."

It is a shame how things take place in modern day; the plot concerns no technology outside of the invention of the parachute (oh wait, sorry, I think I saw a computer in one scene). There is no cloning, no space travels, nothing that calls for its present day backdrop. Here everything is about curses, old gods- things that beg for a period-piece setting. The previous trilogy used a wonder early 1900's background, where the luscious sets we're punctuated by vintage costumes, weapons, accents, and the likes. Here, everything outside of the tombs look like they could have been leftovers from other blockbusters.

Look, this four-star material reduced into a two-star film, but yet it gets three-stars? That is because for all the "cinematic universes" out there, I am just glad there wasn't a man in rubber tights running around. I had fun this time; it isn't as good as this years "Kong: Skull Island," but it is right up there with last summer's "Independence Day: Resurgence." If either of those movies make the adult in you cry for a film with craft and care, then "The Mummy" will not be able to find that little kid inside of you.

Wonder Woman Review

I had no idea that WW1 was resolved by a woman in a metal bikini; if they taught that in high school, I probably would have passed history class. Or at least that is the story to "Wonder Woman," the latest DC superhero movie. It is a movie with the ambitions grander than what ends up on screen, one that is getting better reviews from critics than it perhaps deserves. I guess that is what happens when the competition for female-led superhero movies includes "Catwoman" and "Elektra."

The film attempts to combat sexism, but still, our title hero needs a man. That man is Steve Trevor (Chris Pine), who is not a superhero himself (unless having two first names is his superpower). He is a spy working inside Germany and has stolen a notebook detailing their latest mustard gas cocktail. If you are wondering what the hell this has to do with Wonder Woman, that is because existing near Germany is a portal to the land of the Amazons (I wonder if they offer free two-day shipping).  How this portal, which allows anything through, had not been discovered until now is beyond the laws of logic; you would think a plane would have accidentally flown through, or a ship sailing awry (or a lost post man perhaps, trying to meet the two-day delivery deadline, no doubt). But none of this came to mind until the film moves beyond its inspired "Xena: Warrior Princess"-esque beginning, a world where the Amazons participate in generally believable sword fighting, archery, and other antiquated forms of battle so often underutilized in these superhero flicks. An almost "medieval" setting was what this film need, it never needed to branch outside of the world of sword and sandals. Fans seeing this movie have already seen a character go from "the land of the gods" to the real world with Marvel's "Thor." The jokes they tell here are variations of the fish-out-of-water story told a million times before, and done so with better set-ups and better jokes.

I wanted more of this mystery Amazons land and less of its unpleasantly murky depiction of London. The only fun thing to look at are the old-fashioned outfits and patterns of speech. But Wonder Woman's birthplace (creation-place?)? There were grand sets that inspired wonder (no pun intended), a marvelous landscape free of obvious CGI, and articulated speeches about gods without ever showing one (save for a bedtime story for a young Wonder Woman (Wonder Toddler?)).

Everything else? Dark, dreary, and depressing. I guess it had to be, considering this takes place during the first World War, but if the resolution this film offers is that a superhero ended the war, then couldn't the journey be a bit more fun? I mean at the end of the day, this is a summer blockbuster. And that is the problem here. "Wonder Woman" wants to be a painful depiction of war, a demonstration of female power, and that summer blockbuster. It holds all three ingredients but never weaves them together, creating a world that could only exist a movie. How else can so many bullets be fired but where blood is only shown to be shed dried on the casts of victims? Why else would everybody speaks English, with character's nationalities denoted only by their accent? Or why the only source of color in many shots, outside of the dozen of varieties of gray, is the shiny and skimpy metallic outfit Wonder Woman sports? What clothing she does wear is explained to be bullet proof- you would think she would cloth herself with a bit more, clothes, like her universe counterpart Batman, but hey, what ever to get those box-office dollars.

The women in "Wonder Woman" do kick ass, but it only devotes itself to empowerment halfway. There is a scene, late in the film, where the titular heroine struggles with the film's "twist" and almost gives up, only brought to her senses by a man. And following that twist, the flick  quickly becomes obviously part of the "Batman Vs. Superman" universe, with hollow special effects that never look special, with loud "bangs" of music and curt bits of dialog that sound like movie-trailer narration.

Wonder Woman herself (Gal Gadot) has many super powers, including the power to slow time, because "slow-mo" is used in almost every action scene; it is as if they film a sixty minute film and played it in slow motion to meet the two hour minimum for a movie (it is actually a 141 minute long flick, but I digress). When the action does play out in normal speed, it feels synthetic, with bodies bouncing off of walls with the artificial weight only CGI can produce. I guess it takes a computer to make a superhero.

Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales Review

Once again Captain Jack Sparrow (Johnny Depp) is drunk, pirates appear, ships explode, and ghosts are inconsequentially pertinent to the plot. If "Cutthroat Island" didn't kill the pirate genre, then "Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales" will.

I will admit, the film opens promisingly enough, when a new bank is being christened, lauded the safest safe in all of fictional pirate land. They swing open the door to the public, only to find Jack drunk inside. As it turns out, he is here to steal the safe, but when gunshots scare the horses, the entire bank is pulled from the ground. Remember kids, don't rob and drink.This one scene is the most fun in the entire running time, where both main and secondary characters are pulled onto the bank and off of the lumbering building, all clearly shot and genuinely fun to watch. This is the sole moment when the flick achieves the low-rent "Indiana Jones" style the rest of the film lusts for, where action is blended masterfully with humor and spectacle. Save for the rare land reprieve, the remainder of film then sets off on the open seas, where it becomes murky, with clumsy closeups of characters reacting to ghosts, pirates, and ghost pirates (as well as ghost sharks) and poorly staged action on what looked to be slightly unfinished CGI landscapes (or does that make them waterscapes?).

The plot chronicles Armando Salazar (Javier Bardem), a talented actor wasted here as a pirate hunter who met his maker from the soused Mr. Sparrow. His usual flamboyance are diluted behind pounds of makeup and CGI as a ghost trapped in the Devil's Triangle. Well, that is until dipsomaniac Jack barters his compass for a drink, which frees the pirate-prejudice man to scour the seas in a manic search for the alcoholic swashbuckler. In toe are Henry Turner (Brenton Thwaites), son of Orlando Bloom's character in the franchise (the actor has nothing but a glorified cameo here) who is after Jack so that he can help him find the Trident of Poseidon, and Carina Smyth (Kaya Scodelario), an orphan (?) and astronomer who is convicted of witchcraft. She believes Henry can help her find the trident, and he thinks Jack can help him do the same. In between all of this, Captain Barbossa (Geoffrey Rush) enters a plea bargain with the Salazar (remember him from earlier in the plot?), to help the ghost man find Jack so that he will spare his own life.

If that does not make any sense, that is because the film has failed at cohesive story telling. This is the fifth film in the franchise, based on a ride at Disneyland, and has been going on for fourteen years, so to give the filmmakers any slack would be to accept their exploitation of a gimmick premise. And although I did indeed follow the plot, there are far too many primary, secondary, and tertiary characters here, each with far too much to say but without anything interesting to speak of. Every single hero and villain here is a stereotype of actual film characters, but only star Johnny Depp seems to realize that, and have fun with it. Inside all the luscious outfits and beneath the eyeliner are shells of anything human, and with all the CGI here, I'm half surprised this was not entirely made inside a computer.

But perhaps the biggest disappointment here is the film's diluted definition of the genre of "pirates:" people have bad teeth, ships are sailed, and ragged clothing is worn, but that is it. The gunfire is all shockingly accurate but unsatisfying, as well as the sword fighting, where blades are tapped together, the actor is replaced by stunt double, who promptly falls on the floor to avoid choreographed swordsmanship. All honest buccaneering has been attenuated into generic explosions and mythological action. Picture this, the water is parted late in the film. No, this is not the telling of Exodus, this is a film out of ideas.

Alien Covenant Review

In the land of sequels and prequels, "Alien Covenant" is a sequel to a prequel! Those gooey monsters from the original 1979 film are front and center, as well as several variations on the titular beast, not unlike the dog/ox alien attempt from the franchise's third offering. Not much has changed in nearly forty years; unknowing space-crew finds themselves on an extraterrestrial planet, and blood is splattered, both human and alien (ah yes, cannot forget that the last one's body fluid is acid).

The team this time are colonists, setting out to a distant planet that can sustain human life. But the crew awakes when the ship is struck by what the script calls "neutrino burst," but the captain's sleeping pod malfunctions, killing him. This introductory to our cast already has them dealing with death and questioning their new captain Chris Oram (Billy Crudup), who is a man of faith. During repairs to the ship, the pilot Tennessee's (Danny McBride) helmet intercepts an S.O.S. from a nearby planet. Of course, the crew fly down to investigate, only to find mysterious ruins of a foreign spaceship, as well as crops of wheat. Who planted it? What could have flown a ship like that? The film proposes many questions without ever actually asking many, and has even fewer answers. It is a showcase for the power of practical effects, with grandiose set designs that had me filled with both wonder and unease.

Of course, it would not be an "Alien" movie without an android. This time the robot is Walter (Michael Fassbender), who dresses a little sloppy and comes off far more disinterested of reciting company propaganda than the franchise's previous droids. But that is not all! There is another synthetic, found on the enigmatic planet's curious rubble, named David, who is additionally played by Michael Fassbender. He is of course the same cyborg from this film's predecessor, and rescues our space cadets from a particular nasty situation. This dual role for Michael is wonderful: both characters share much of their screen time together, where you can watch how different he makes each artificial man, complete with their own facial expressions, accents, and body movements. There is a heavy pseudoeroticism to their relationship, not only a testament to the actor's talents but also an illusion to the Xenomorph's innate amorous essence; this is perhaps the most sexual franchise that contains so little nudity.

If the plot sounds familiar, that is because it is essentially a condensing of the entire franchise into one 123 minute long film. We the audience knows what those facehuggers do, we anticipate a false ending, and we forecast who the leading woman will be- and that she will live until the end. That latter role is Daniels Branson (Katherine Waterston), but I cannot confirm whether or not she makes it until the end. That is because the subtle brilliance of these movies are the variations on the franchise tropes, and the ending here is considerably more understated, and done far more effectively, than the recent space-monster movie "Life."

However, where as director Ridley Scott is at his best lusting over the fetishistic sets, he struggles with the film's more intense moments of the title beast ripping apart the crew members. His use of quick cuts and "shaky-cam" filming do little to stimulate, aside from the flick's introduction to the slimy, human-hosted, creatures. Most attacks occur in the dark of the depressing and damp caves that have housed David since the events of the last picture, reducing suspense into a murky mess of rubber monsters and fake blood. When Scott's dark nightmare does work, the set design, the aliens, all look spectacular, I just wish I could clearly see them.

But the biggest issue here are the humans; there are simply too many! Where as the first film gave us only a handful, we only get so much time with the dozen or so characters, and when most inevitably meet the dripping second mouth of the alien, we feel little emotion- how can I possibly care when when two lovers in the shower meet a bloody climax when their only purpose in the film is to increase its body count?

None of this prevents "Alien Covenant" from being the best movie in the franchise since 1986, as well as one of the best science-fiction films I have seen in a long time. Dear Ridley, I hope to see that last line on the DVD box.

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 Review

When heavy hitters like Kurt Russell and Sylvester Stallone star in a movie together, you had better have something interesting for them to do. Well, "Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2" has both of those actors, and comes so close to delivering on that potential. That does not make it a bad film- it is a marginal improvement over the first film, but you cannot help but feel a peculiar sensation wondering why the filmmakers would have gone through all the trouble getting Sly only for him to appear in three brief scenes (I counted).

Mr. Russell fortunately gets a lot more screen time, all of it well deserved, playing Ego, the "god with a little "g"" father of Peter Quill, a.k.a. Star-Lord (Chris Pratt). The two share much of the movie together, and prove that having two charming actors often times results in the two sharing chemistry. However something "off" about Quill's father, or at least that is what one of Star-Lord's buddies thinks, and I will refrain from disclosing whether or not there is something. But the plot that forces the duo together is surprisingly inconsequential, with Quill's band of friends protecting Ayesha's batteries from a slimy CGI thing. They defeat it (of course they did, it is how the film opens), but one of his pals, Rocket (voiced by Bradley Cooper), steals a handful of the batteries, they are hunted down by Ayesha's remote-piloted spaceships. Yes readers, this whole movie, this 136 minute long film all started because of batteries. What a premise...

But with Ego being a god, making Star-Lord a god also, doesn't that mean that any thrill the first "Guardians" film had was moot? (Logic like this is moot to a flick like this.) There is a lot of Kurt here, an actor talented enough to display affection when discussing his past with his long-lost son, but who is far from afraid to ham it up when the script asks for it. This is the Kurt Russell, the amount and the character, I so desperately pined for in "The Fate of the Furious."

The action is tame here, surprising for how many times galaxies are jumped and how many ships zip through space, but much of the time we watch our gang of primary characters talk to each other, then the set changes, then they talk some more. And I did not mind much of what they spoke, but the film frustratingly does not devote everything it has to the emotion it mentions. For each touching revelation there are two jokes slipped in, as if the filmmakers were unconvinced audiences would care for something other than glib remarks and the occasional space battle. Dear movie makers: we do!

The film fails to work on so many levels, particularly in the worlds it attempts to create; how can I be excited to visit alien planets when the lifeforms who inhabit them are simply humans painted green, or gold or blue?! Where is the imagination? Even the architecture is fairly human, never arousing the same foreign feeling that the "Alien" and "Star Wars" franchises so effortlessly evoke. This movie could have taken place on Earth- just trade the spaceships for jet planes and leave the face paint in the dressing room.

Drax (Dave Bautista) is a great example of that point by being such a poor film character, a buff, gray man who's only personality is to make painful observations in the most awkward fashion a screenwriter could imagine. There is so many scenes dedicated to him calling Mantis (Pom Klementieff) "ugly" that I quickly felt genuine dislike for the character (even if Mantis is presented here as more of a stereotype than a character). Rocket is another awful member of the titular gang, a CGI raccoon who's personality is purely to make fun of others for the first half of the film so that he can "learn his lesson" by the end. But his obnoxiousness is not what is most egregious here: he is just a raccoon created inside a computer. There is no personification, he does not "look" unique- he is, a raccoon who talks. His character is more congruous trading in his potty-mouth for dance moves in a Disney sing-a-long.

But Baby Groot (Vin Diesel) proved to be the bane of the movie, a character who says only "I am Groot" the entire film and acts like one of the babies in the "Rugrats" animated TV show. He exists solely to sell toys. The audience loved him. I did not- call me heartless, but he is one tree who is in desperate need of being chopped down.

The Fate of the Furious Review

It is a convenient thing having car companies pay for product placement in movies, because "The Fate of the Furious" contains such an expensive cast and so much GCI spectacle that the film otherwise could not afford them. There is so much mindless action that upon walking out of the multiplex, I needed a break. I felt like reading a book, not because I like reading, but because my brain needed something intelligent to consume before it turned to mush.

Now, and I apologize if I seem to go off for a moment, but did you know that movie trailers got their name because the used to come after the feature presentation (as in, they "trail" them)? Now, it makes sense that films today have trailers come before the movie (gotta make room for those post credit scenes, which this flick fortunately does not have), but before "The Fate of the Furious" began, a trailer for, you guessed it, "The Fate of the Furious" was played. Let that sink in. I do not know if that was just a fluke by my local theater, but if the TV commercials for the film didn't give away many of the set pieces, then seeing a big-screen trailer before the movie certainly did.

To describe the plot would be a waste of your time and mine, so I won't bother; any of the omnipresent TV commercial tells you it all. But to properly do my job here, I must tell you that Dominic Toretto (Vin Diesel) betrays his buddies of street racers (that is what this franchise is about, right?) when he meets Cipher (Charlize Theron), a cyberterrorist who is holding his infant son hostage. This really pisses his wife, Letty Ortiz (Michelle Rodriguez), as well as the rest of the crew, when he suddenly "goes rogue" during an EMP device heist, and steals said device. It takes the motley crew until the end of the movie to figure out why Vinny has swapped sides, but that would insinuate that time is spent with the characters as they work thing out.

But the 136 minute long film has little interest in taking things slow (or itself seriously, or honestly, complying to the laws of physics). James Bond this is not, even if its box-office results are comparable. Mr Nobody's (Kurt Russell) sole reason for existing is to cheat the plot, by "having connections" and "being off the grid," so the gang can drive fast cars well above the speed limit. And let me tell you, that is big a waste of Kurt Russell's talent and charisma; when he is on screen, the film takes its only pauses, and you cannot help but smile watching him imbue such an otherwise disposable character with smugness only he can.

The other actors are less successful, particularly those who you never see leading a movie. Charlize is a noticeable bore, a terrific actress who has nothing particularly interesting to do or say. She walks from one computer monitor to another, whispering monologues that really never amount to much. But most flagrant is Michelle, a strong lady who is portrayed so helpless without her onscreen husband. Sure, she drives fast, but so can teenagers; the same woman we've seen fighting zombies in other films can only win a fight here by kicking a man in the groin.

There is at least humor, a lot of it, but much of it is forced (at one point, one of the characters takes "a selfie"). But you cannot argue that the cast has its inherent charm, particularly from Jason Statham, who plays Deckard Shaw. His best moment, as well as the film's, is when he takes down numerous baddies while carrying a baby. My mouth couldn't help but smile at that. But who is disappointing is Dwayne Johnson, who gives a cursory performance here, reducing himself to being the guy who does the one-liners. At one point he says "knock knock" before crashing through a wall. I'm sorry, but I preferred it when Arnold Schwarzenegger said it in "Predator."

They go all over the globe, from the congested streets of New York to icy Russia, because New York is crowded and Russia is snowy. And there is destruction everywhere the evil people go and the good guys follow, from hack-able cars to a submarine, and those pretty faces driving the fast and furious cars are constantly in harms way. But as a viewer, there is no excitement; we know this is a franchise, and that no one in the group is going to die, because they need to appear in the obligatory sequel. That strips the action of all the stakes, and cheats the audience in the process.

Yet, no matter how many cars crash, and no matter how many explosions go off, its technical craft collapses under its own gratuity. You ever see a wrecking ball smash through a line of Berlin military cars in pursuit? I have, and you probably have too, in the commercial for this film. But why? So they can steal the aforesaid EMP device? What does this have to do with street racing? Isn't that what we started going to the theater to see? Long-lasting franchises know this, but when your film series has gone so far into insanity, you need to go back to its roots. The James Bond pictures know this, but then again, those are not factory made. These films are like the cars they advertise: they are manufactured on an assembly line for the average consumer.