Fatman Review

What if Santa went bankrupt? Here's another one- what if a hitman was going after Santa?! Oh I've got one more- what if Mel Gibson played Santa?

See this is what they call a "high concept" film, and these three disparate narratives are awkwardly sewn together in the new movie "Fatman," only it's never as emotional, thrilling or funny as any of those gimmicks suggest. It's instead a slow, confused and turgid cocktail of too many genres, though the few sparkles of imagination present do go along way.

Mel Gibson of course plays Mr. Claus, who drinks his way through the daily, dull life of being Father Christmas. He's pretty good here, though the script fails to see the satire in having such a controversial figure play such a beloved character. He utters I think one swear, and seems to love all people of all places. That's not the Gibson I read about in the tabloids.

His doting wife, the wonderfully charming but ultimately accessory Marianne Jean-Baptiste, bakes him cookies as he crunches the numbers, fixes up the sled and checks up on the elves. Only these aren't your normal Hollywood elves- these are just relatively short but extremely efficient factory workers.

But the numbers aren't so good- on the verge of going under, the government steps in to have Santa's Workshop work on... something for their military. Suddenly the money's there to save next Christmas, even if it means Uncle Sam is oblivious to the potential of having someone on their payroll who knows "who's been bad or good" and when the bad is sleeping (and no doubt hiding). Honestly, am I the only one who's heard that song?

At the same time, the tyrant of a child Billy (Chance Hurstfield), frustrated by the lump of coal under his tree, exploits his sickly grandma's wealth to put a hit out on the man in red. The man for the job is Miller, played by Walton Goggins, who has unpleasant feelings towards old man Cringle of his own. There's a throwaway line about him not getting his dead parent's back, but I dunno, there isn't much effort put into character development here. What you see is what you get. Are you the kind of person who thinks seeing Goggins as an assassin, out to get Mel Gibson as Satna, is pure comedic gold? Well, this is the movie for you.

Problem it's not terribly funny. There are a few pieces of glib dialogue, but it's primary agenda is to keep the plot moving along, albeit slowly. It has the potential to be clever, a level of sensationalism, whimsy and hilarity that lives just below the surface of its approximate 100 minute runtime, but it's never the film we ever end up watching.

That doesn't make it a family movie either. Between the rare display of potty mouth, every bullet that lands results in a big pool of blood or splatter. But that's another problem- this is far tamer than something like last year's "Rambo: Last Blood," for example, so if they weren't going to go "all in," why bother showing any violence at all?

It comes down to concept, and how the three (or more, I wasn't counting) just don't jell into a cohesive picture. It's a neutered, frequently boring execution of some pretty interesting ideas that sucks the inherit fun out of the outrageous stunt-casting.

Maybe next time, get an actor who's actually fat to play the title character in a movie called Fatman. Or, at least have a script smart enough to mention this irony.

Tremors: Shrieker Island Review

There is no reason for "Tremors: Shrieker Island" to not just be called "Tremors 7." There is no reason for "Tremors" to have seven movies. There is no reason for "Tremors" to be a franchise. There is no reason for Michael Gross" to have appeared in all the films. There is no reason for this film to exist in the first place. But all of those are true.

This time in the "Tremors" franchise, we find Gross' Burt Gummer character helping a team of scientists who's outdoor facility is on the neighboring island to Bill (Richard Blake, who chews more scenery than the monsters), who's bred "graboids" on his private resort. See, he finds these bored millionaires and promises them the hunt of their lives, subterranean worms. These creatures make for perfect low-budget monster movie stars, as it allows the limited budget to focus on the suggestion of the beasts, not necessarily their presence. Toss some dirt around and bam- you instantly have a behemoth nearby. No fancy special effects needed!

The times we do see them onscreen, they look pretty good, or at least, better than "Sharknado." Problems with the film begin once its established that we have shriekers, a sort of evolution the worms that walk on land that first debuted in the first sequel. Have we run out of steam? This is the seventh(!) film in the timeline, and we've gone back to pillage material from earlier films in the series?

The power of suggestion doesn't work here, and the budget constraints show- this is most obviously not something intended for theaters; these look like something you'd use a fake gun to blast away in the arcade video game in the theater's lobby.

A film like this defies regular film criticisms, as actors overact, do dumb things, and say even dumber things. But that's part of the charm, take a scene where Bill, after one of his rich friends is eaten, quips "if your gonna piss like a puppy you better stay on the porch." 

... What? It's campy bits like this that keep you paying attention between the monster action, and even the occasional misfire is usually accompanied by an amusing or exaggerated facial expressions. Look, this movie is pretty bad, but it knows it's bad, and never settles for simply being bad. Thanks to the energetic and efficient direction from Don Michael Paul, who also co-wrote the script, the well-shot location and fun performances lift the picture out from the bargain bin fate of most direct-to-video/streaming sequels.

Yes yes I know, it's lazy movie making no doubt, but it's not boring movie making, and there's a lesson to be learned here. I can't recommend something you'll fall asleep during, but "Tremors Shrieker Island" is no lullaby- it is escapist genre fare with thrills as familiar as they are entertaining.

So what else is new? Why are we all here? Did anyone eagerly await this review to see if they should press the "play" button on Netflix? My guess, if you've read this far, you've already watched it. Good for you, you've done your cinematic duty of helping B-movie filmmakers get their paycheck.

Honest Thief Review

Liam Neeson's "Honest Thief" is exactly the kind of thing that direct-to-video/streaming was invented for- a pandemic forcing theaters to close is just icing on the cake. Yet that's not what happened. Opening only in brick and mortar cinemas, this exceedingly familiar "ex-con on the run" tale is not the kind of thing that usually breaks box office records, and if  Christopher Nolan can't make people comfortable going back to the movies, then what is Liam Neeson doing on the silver screen?

But people love this guy- how else could he play essentially the same character so many times? Hell, during my screening, they even played a trailer for his next revenge pic, "The Marksman." He's portrayed the same recycled hero so many times I might as well copy and paste my reviews for "Cold Pursuit" and "The Commuter." If viewers don't mind, then readers shouldn't. 

This time around he plays Tom Carter, the "In and Out Burglar" who's robbed a dozen or so banks, and the world have no idea who he is. After meeting a girl, Annie (because of course he does), played by the wonderful Kate Walsh, he decides to turn himself in with all the money, in exchange for a reduced sentence. Add a few opportunistic corrupt FBI agents and you have "basic action movie plot, chapter 1."

Out of all the mundane comes an unexpected performance by Jai Courtney as Agent Niven's, one of the two double-crossing baddies. He hams it up with his wide-eyed grin and wired intensity, a guy you'd love to hate had he been given anything interesting to say or do. Here the script is so neutered, you just "kinda like to dislike him."

Gunfire's exchanged, cars are chased, and fists are thrown, and although director Mark Williams does stage everything cleanly and professionally, it all just looks tired. Unless of course you find two cars speeding down a straight road, then turning left a few times, rousing. And by the time we get to the final confrontation between Tom and Nivens, they shoot at each other for a moment or two, run out of bullets, and then it just ends. What happened to the climax?

That's all fine and dandy, and if you're open to buying that stale tale, you'll find a decently touching love story beneath all the bullets. Walsh and Neeson have remarkable chemistry, in spite of the fifteen year age difference, and by the end of the sub-100 minute runtime, you want to see them together. To expose whether or not that happens would not only be a disservice to the potential movie goer, but also to insinuate that the material offers any sort of surprises.

No, "Honest Thief" is not that caliber a picture. "The Fugitive" this very much is not. It lacks the stoic hilarity or fresh excitement of some of his earlier thrillers, but it remains relatively easy to watch. It's a slick piece of run-of-the-mill entertainment, exactly the kind of aged action hero chaos that he's been pumping out in the last decade, offering absolutely nothing new or particularly exciting. We all know his character's innocent, and that it's just a matter of time before he proves it. Leave your yawns in the theater lobby, along with your brain, just don't forget your face mask.

Hubie Halloween Review

The problem with Adam Sandler is that he makes the same comedy every few years, and the problem with fans of those movies is that they often don't like his new movies- if his new movies suck, then, logically, his old ones suck too. That's the case with his latest laugh-free fest "Hubie Halloween," which plays out like a "The Waterboy" sequel set on October 31st.

Sandler plays Hubie, a goofy talking nice guy who lives with his overprotecting mom in Salem where everyone picks on him. His heart of gold is constantly dumped on by his neighbors, who prank him, insult him, and throw things at him on his bike (one of the only amusing running gags is how the objects hurled at him grow more ridiculous as the runtime continues). His lifelong crush also secretly loves him, and whether or not they get together depends on if you can stomach your way through to the end. But when people start disappearing, it's up to this local loser to save the day. Geez, doesn't this all sound familiar? Yet to make fun of "Hubie Halloween" makes you no better than the mean townsfolk; if you can live with that, then please, hit me up sometime and we'll trade putdowns.

Like always, every main, secondary, and tertiary character is played by someone you all know, and practically everyone has previously appeared in a Sandler picture, as if the only scripts that ever come across their desk is from Happy Maddison Productions. I suppose once it was fun to try to spot the next celebrity cameo, but by now, it's exhausting. Oh look, it's Shaquille O'Neal. Isn't it funny that he has the voice of a woman?

Actually I'll stop right there- it was amusing. I didn't laugh, but my stern lips did curl into a slight grin, and my mind mildly tickled at the juxtaposition. But that's not enough for a recommendation. There should be more entertainment to the millions of dollars on film.

And it's a shame, because the Halloween shown here is something that families won't be able to enjoy in 2020; kids trick or treating, older kids partying with alcohol, and adults screaming their way through haunted houses. All the decorations on display is lost to a script that never finds anything interesting to do with the celebratory sets. But I'm sure that's going to be the biggest draw for Netflix subscribers, desperate not only for familiar faces but also spooky atmosphere where the biggest threat isn't politics or disease but a dope trying to solve a mystery.

I suppose there isn't anything necessarily wrong here- you watch it, forget it, and move onto the next holiday classic. Only this isn't a classic, but neither are a lot of movies at first. I doubt "Hubie Halloween" will ever achieve that status (actually I'm confident it won't), but what does it matter what I say? Adam Sandler movies are consistently among the most watched Netflix Originals, so go and watch it already. I'll be streaming more satisfying cinematic experiences elsewhere.

The Devil All the Time Review

Tom Holland. Riley Keough. Jason Clarke. Bill Skarsgard. Robert Pattinson. Those are just some of the names in Netflix's newest movie "The Devil All the Time." If you don't recognize their names you certainly do their faces- there is a lot of talent onscreen, there's no arguing that. But the film is a disgusting pile of sewage, a messy exploitation of material that works in documentaries and not for entertainment.

The disconnected narrative follows Arvin Russell, played by Holland, who's dad (Skarsgard) killed himself after his mother's cancerous death. Now grownup, raised by his grandma and uncle, his step-sister Lenora (Eliza Scanlen) kills herself after getting pregnant with the creepy local preacher (Pattinson). You don't want to be one of his relatives.

We also follow bent police sheriff Lee Bodecker (Sebastian Stan), who's promiscuous sister (Riley Keough) sleeps with hitchhikers before her husband (Clarke) kills them behind a camera lense. That's a problem for Lee, since he's up for reelection, a timely plot considering November is only two months away, but it never leans far into this political satire, instead settling into being but another way to sensationalize violence for the lusting camera.

These two primary stories are connected to each other not only with characters but with the picture's core concept, which is the corruption of religion. Everyone's motives, in some way or shape, leads back to god, and it's never for the better. Men and women are not only killed, but brutalized, both physically and emotionally. You see as much sex and gore an R rating will allow- even the dog dies!

Thankfully that's off camera, but why? Because people don't like it when an animal dies? Do you think they like it when a woman has a screwdriver shoved in her throat? Because that happens here, shown in its entirety. We see all the blood spill between her fingers as she tries to put pressure on the gash. This is a moral compass as corrupt as the characters it tries to villainize.

Save for Spiderman, every man targets women for their own perverse actions. If you're not comfortable with watching a grown man force fellatio on his wife, after having sex with an underage girl in his car, then please, keep scrolling through the list of recommended films on Netflix. It just leaves a bad taste in your mouth, a rampant exercise in sexism that just doesn't sit well with me. I refuse to accept this as a thriller, not only because the movie fails to thrill but because the material does too. Religion is ripe for mockery, but statutory rape is not.

Don't get me wrong- this is a well-made film. Director and co-writer Antonio Campos is obviously skilled, and there's a heavy layer of polish to the entire production. The cast brings their A-game too, it's just a shame this is what the results are.

IMDB.com tells me that the film's slogan is "Some people are just born to be buried;" some films are too.

The Babysitter: Killer Queen Review

Welcome to this weekend's entry of "So I Logged Onto Netflix." Or, at least that is what cinema has become, save for the occasional drive-in or rental. Here the streaming giant celebrates Halloween early with "The Babysitter: Killer Queen," a strangely awful film that is utterly fascinating to watch. It fumbles at every baby step, from stale references that fail hard to be funny, from awry bursts of gore that shock only in their pure randomness.

Billed as a horror-comedy, this sequel to 2017's minor hit "The Babysitter" has co-writer and director McG returning with pretty much the entire cast. Now I should mention that I've never seen the original, but I don't think it matters. Nothing short of making an entirely different movie could save "The Babysitter: Killer Queen."

The setup this time is simple: Cole (Judah Lewis), haunted by the events of the first movie, tries to clear his mind by going on a boat trip with girl-who's-a-friend-but-not-a-girlfriend Melanie (Emily Alyn Lind). Then a cult gets involved, people aren't who they say they are, sex is had and many people die. Problem is that the wheels have already flown off by the time blood is first spilled.

The humor is the biggest flaw, which extends well beyond just dialogue. Cult members have their own uncomfortable "backstory" segment, wildly inappropriate music plays over pinnacle scenes- there is even a video game-style fight towards the end! Nothing is thrilling, exciting, new, original, fun or even remotely interesting, but it is certainly not intimidated to try something different.

It is all astonishingly deluded, like someone gave a group of really inspired filmmakers, gave them a modest budget and said ... "have it ready by Halloween." Their love shows onscreen, even if it's stupid, nasty, and sometimes mean, and you have to appreciate that. No one moment resembles another, and that's skill, even if it's used for all the wrong reasons.

So you watch with a sort of bemused obsession, in awe at how spectacularly misguided every moment is. For every serious exchange of words there is some lame or vulgar punchline lurking behind everyone's lips, you sit waiting with inexcusable anticipation for the next wrong-headed move. It's a bizarre feeling, a train wreck that just goes on and on but keeps finding new ways to wreck the train, and you just stare at the screen with intrigue. You want to hate it, you should hate it, you might think you hate it, and you probably do truly hate it, but good luck trying to turn it off before the credits roll. 

Like a fat guy at a nude beach, it just lets it all hang out, ugly and all, but it's proud. It might be bad, but it definitely isn't timid.

I'm Thinking of Ending Things Review

To dismiss a film as "weird" is a disservice to the art of filmmaking. To summarize it with a sighing "I don't get it" is ineffective. It offers nothing to you, the hopeful inquiring about the picture, and provides no critique to the people involved in its production.

"I'm Thinking of Ending Things" is one of those movies. Writer-director Charlie Kaufman is sort of known to evoke those sort of harsh generalizations from his works, and no doubt his latest, Netflix-released release, will have its ardent fans and its vocal critics. And for good reason.

If people are looking for some helpful words of advice to the looming question, "should I watch it?" Then let me give you some: it is dumb, tedious, boring, pointless, and all in all, not enjoyable. There is zero reason for people to spend their Labor day weekend, except to make you feel bad, uncomfortable, and sad. You sink with misery into your couch, watching awkward caricatures ramble on with laborious dialogue in nonsense conditions. It's a film open for interpretation, and I had my own, which I found unsatisfying. One could say it's something you should watch twice to fully appreciate it, but then why isn't the runtime twice as long, and the final product better?

It pretends to tackle important issues like sexism, homosexuality, life, death, etc., but it's a lie- characters instead offer textbook analysis of movies, shows, plays, what-have-you, and passes it off as nuanced understanding. Take, for example, when the song "Baby it's Cold Outside" is under the microscope. The male, Jake (Jesse Plemons), of course takes no offense to lyrics like "... what's the sense of hurting my pride?" The woman, played by Jessie Buckley, of course finds them sexist. Is she right, he right, or are they both right? I don't know, but neither does the film. Just asking a question doesn't make it "insightful." They exchange opinions and then nothing happens, no one learns and no one grows. It is shallow and phony wisdom, and it's just irksome.

Hm, the plot. I should mention it, but what's the point? It's a convenient clothesline of circumstances where stupid things happen to stupid people, who react stupidly in stupid situations. A lot of unbelievable things happen in its excruciating 134 minute runtime, like when a character recites an entire poem she just wrote. Line for line, word for word. You're telling me she memorized it?! I'll tell you this, the second I click that 'publish" button on this review, I won't remember a word I typed. Or this movie.

Maybe I just didn't get it. Maybe this film isn't for me. Maybe I need explosions or fisticuffs to hold my attention. Or, maybe, just perhaps, I see through the pretentious dreck that writer-director Charlie Kaufman is selling and see he has nothing for sale?