Moana Review

Where most animated kid movies rely on current pop-songs to make their films meet the definition of "musical," Moana, the latest Disney Princess flick, aces that criteria and rewrites it. From the directors of Hercules and The Princess and the Frog, among others, this fifty sixth animated tale from the house of mouse tells a rather simple story with a level of narrative cohesiveness that Frozen lost by the time they time Elsa ran off and, sign, let it go. Sometimes restraint can make things grander.

Dwayne Johnson plays Maui, a demigod shapeshifter, who is inadvertingly destroying the lovely world of Moana, played by Auli'i Cravalho, a spunky and rebellious daughter of a village chief. Her mission, to restore beauty and life to her island, takes her not only on and under water, but also across caves and mountains, but each feel distinct, whether it is echos in the former or a passive breeze on the latter. Colors change, sometimes drastically, to paint the mood, and one sharp swap to bright purple roughly halfway through the 103 minute long movie, happens during a song!

On the subject of songs, though only time will tell whether or not they are memorable, not only get kids dancing in the theater but also help move the story along. For example, Maui sings (with surprising grace from the former wrestler) a humorous theme song to boast about his achievements, with a thick layer of cocky machismo of course, to distract titular Moana while he attempts to steal her boat. Lesser films would have simply injected a song before using trite dialogue to progress the story. And it happens again, when Tamatoa, a giant crab who likes shimmering things (trust me, it makes more sense when watching the movie), moves character development along in an otherwise random tune about his shiny shell. Only the best musicals make the songs feel integral to the plot, and of Disney's own, this is an achievement.

The animation itself, predominately 3D but with some 2D work, is exceptional, crafting a lush world, often with jokes both in the foreground and in the background. Wide pans of the camera expose the peaceful village doing mundane tasks with the level of goofy charm that only the directors of Aladdin could conjure up. Late in the film the top-billed duo are pursued by a gang of coconut pirates, where seemingly thousands of animated coconuts captain a Brobdingnagian ship in a large scale portraiture of swashbuckle and slapstick.

Distinct here is the lack of a love interest, for either of the main characters, which trades our ears another sappy love song for one of the more creative compositions here. More importantly it gives our heroine more important things to think about than a man, and trust me, I am a guy and I cannot think of another reason why woman put up with us other than for procreation. But most egregious is the lack of a solid villain, perhaps the only gripe here. Half the fun of Disney films are the villains, especially when you have the makers of Jafar and Doctor Facilier helming this one.

Its Hawaiian-backdrop is a wise one; a destination pined for by many on their pipe dream of a vacation, takes liberties only to exaggerate what is wonderful about the environment. Right down to the sand, so detailed you would swear you could feel the grainy material under your bare feet. Compare that to other, less films, whether from Disney or a rival: Zootopia, a fine film in its own right, simply replaces humans in sprawling urban landscapes with animals- what world does that create? Or The Secret Life of Pets, where similar cityscapes contain both humans AND animals, albeit a highly caricatured one. Here, you want to be in this world, both the real and the cartoon versions.

One peculiar thing I noticed was that when Moana, marked the next chief of her village, goes against the tradition of her father (and his father, and so on) by placing a seashell instead of a stone slab one the top of the long aforementioned mountain top. The film ends with a seashell atop a tall tower of flat rocks, presumably signifying her love of the ocean, but what does the next chief do? Crush the shell by placing another stone? Or do they put another seashell on top? I do not think those stack too easily.

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them Review

I can imagine that J.K. Rowling, in 2011 after the premier of the last Harry Potter film, looked at all the money she had made and said "yeah, I'd like to make more," which is exactly how this film ends up feeling. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them is the name of this first Harry Potter spin-off, and it achieves something only the first two film's could: whimsy. The plot, in where Newt Scamander, played by Eddie Redmayne, arrives in New York with a suitcase packed with fantastical creatures, and inadvertently unleashes them in the Big Apple. He and his friends set off to recapture them, and this sort of "monster-of-the-week" story helps imbue the 133 minute long film with more fancifulness than all of director David Yates' previous Harry Potter films combined.

Every creature, there are only a handful to collect, range wildly in size, shape, and visibility, and these computer-generated monsters are charming with a certain "bull in a china shop" behavior. This alone should have been the movie; having a group of heroes try and acquire all of this lost creatures without being noticed by non-magic folks, in the film called "No-Maj." But there is a needless story about evil "Obscurial" reeking havoc on the city, an ill-defined threat that drags the film's early scenes of energetic fun into a tired exercise of bleak politics and a most exhausted "good vs evil" plot device.

Newt's friends include Tina Goldstein, played by Katherine Waterston, a frisky and often ignored witch, Jacob Kowalski, played by Dan Fogler, a portly muggle- oh sorry, "muggle" is synonym for the aforesaid "no-maj." Hey, these movies do not make money based on consistency. There is also Queenie, played by Alison Sudol, the younger sister of Tina who falls for our corpulent human. Their lack of initial chemistry becomes their chemistry by the time the curtains close, who have a welcome awkwardness to all their hand holding and flirting. Rounding out the supporting cast are Credence Barebone, played by Erza Miller who gives an uncomfortable performance that treads the line of good guy and bad guy, and Collin Farrell, who plays Percival Graves and is in charge of capturing our hero Newt due to the Magical Congress of the USA, or MACUSA for short, believing that he is responsible for the mysterious "Obscurial" that has been troubling the normal people of NYC.

But that leaves us the audience with two options for Graves, as we know Newt is not accountable for this "Obscurial:" either Graves is wrong, or he is a bad guy. There is no other option for him, and by the time the film's twist rolls around, the audience groans having already knew it several scenes ago. Plus, his name sounds like it should have "Darth" before it- but I digress.

The actual nuances of the plot are simple only on the surface, and threads of complexity instantly turns into bogged confusion, and to attempt a summary using my "no-maj/muggle" fingers would do no justice to its fans, so I won't. But there is something here that still makes no sense; a wand is what grants wizards and witches their power, but in several scenes here a simple twitch of the hand can summon magic. How!? There have been nine films and they still do not explain this? Maybe they did and I just fell asleep- if that is the case, I bet it was during Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.

Fabulous character Jon Voight makes what feels like a cameo, playing the father of a US senator who is killed by the film's main villain, that aforementioned underwhelming cocktail of murkiness and CGI. He carries his scenes with a sense of importance even when his only part in the film is bulking filler. But there is a scene at the end, where the final big action set piece takes place and all the nearby "no-maj" crowd and stare in confusion and distraught. The wizards, once the dust settles and the post credits are nearing, decide to use a most convenient potion which wipes clean the memories of all the human spectators. That got me wondering, does that mean Jon Voight's character will just forget his son's death just like all the magical explosions he just witnessed? I am sorry, but that is terrible and inexcusable- even if it is just a fake-movie-father and a fake-movie-son. I hope at least they attended the fake-movie-funeral.

Doctor Strange Review

Doctor Strange is perhaps the least "Marvel" of any Marvel film; one part low-rent sci-fi film, two parts Harry Potter, with a dash of Star Wars. Only it cost more to see, is less whimsical, and is less entertaining.

Doctor Strange himself is not so much a marvelous man but a man made of the parts of other more marvelous people. His attitude more smug than Roger Moore's James Bond or Tony Stark, only with less glib quips to reply with. But his intelligence, apparently he is a world acclaimed neurosurgeon, is matched by no other, except when he drives his expensive looking car, and passes cars at high speeds on a twisty road like a high school flunky trying to impress his date. Hopefully in the inevitable sequel he will take bus.

And in one particularly egregious scene, bad guy Kaecilius stomps on by and defeats a long-trained "sorcerer" of good almost as soon as he is introduced. Yet when our hero is attacked, one with significantly less training, he is able to dodge attacks and trap, or well, seemingly at least, the attacker. Doctor Strange should be named "Doctor Lucky."

But his powers, the powers of waving his arms and summoning fighting utensils, are completely his own; I have never seen another movie where the hero fights with glowing yellow lines of CGI.

The visuals, the film's primary selling point, are grand and spectacular, but they are undermined by the excessive exposition, which provides constant yet cloudy reasons behind every crazy sight flying from the screens and towards my 3-D glasses. You know the best scenes in Ridley Scott's 1979 flick Alien? They are the ones where your eyes are in awe at the wondrous visuals, and leave your mind to fill in the blanks. Here, everything is explained, but it is filler explication of metaphors and pompous statements under the guise of answers.

The action is surprisingly brief here, but with all the talk of other dimensions it is a shame everything dilutes to generic kung-fu fight scenes over green screen set pieces. And with so much happening on buildings that are being twisted and turned, punches or throws lack any weight. My ears tell me there is a body being tossed around, but that contradicts what my eyes tell me.

Look, I am not adverse to silly, excessive visuals; remember, I gave Independence Day: Resurgence three stars. But here, there is no fun in all the visuals. Everyone speaks in somber tones and of this looming threat of the evil villain and his evil intentions, that there is not any room for energy or the impression that doing good can be, even once, enjoyable.

The plot is loquacious and confusing, and is only aided by the visuals, so I scoured the film in tedium looking for oddities to keep me from falling asleep in the leather reclining chairs. One thing to note is how the good guys keep their books, thick with the many secrets to the over-explained yet somehow opaque powers. Yes, they are kept in a library, but the most important ones are suspended with front facing with chains. First thought was these chains prevent those unworthy from opening them, but these chains broke free by any character who touches them- so why have them chained? There is a throwaway gag not far in the movie about the wifi password, but why these uber-important books are not digital only seems like an oversight; this Kaecilius guy does not look the type to be very good with computers. Plus, it would have saved the poor librarian, in the film's cold opening, a decapitation.

Hacksaw Ridge Review

 

Ever hear of that 90's flick From Dusk till Dawn? It is a cult classic film, famous for numerous things but perhaps most for its abrupt tonal shift; starting as a cold, bloody thriller to a bloody vampire flick. Right now, and for about half the film, the Robert Rodriguez feature has nothing to do with with Hacksaw Ridge, the latest Mel Gibson film. Things begin so innocently, telling the story of two young boys play under the overbearing supervision of their mother, played generically by Rachel Griffiths, and the passive disinterest of their soused father, played more effectively by Hugo Weaving. One day, during rough play, our main protagonist, Desmond, picks up a nearby brick and slaps his sibling, Hal, in the face. This solidifies his faith in God and sets the religious and anti-violence theme of the remainder of the movie, but it is such an unanticipated and brutal scene that it is difficult rooting for someone who we were introduced to smacking his brother with a brick. Maybe the film is actually a metaphor for poor parenting.

Years later, Desmond, sans brick, is grown up and becomes infatuated by a local nurse, played by the very charming Teresa Palmer. They meet by chance, but our protagonist wastes no time asking her out, then for her hand in marriage. The two almost have a chemistry, but Desmond, played by the dopey faced Andrew Garfield, does his best impression of Forrest Gump, giggling and looking unconcerned throughout much of the 131 minute flick. And even when he channels emotion, he still cannot help but add an ounce of smugness.

Desmond joins the army, in the footsteps of his brother, but as a conscientious objector, with the intent of becoming a medic. His squad consists of one-dimensional guys, all with a single niche that serves as the only way the audience can identify them, i.e., there are two guys who gamble, one who reads, one who dreams of going to Hollywood, you know the drill. Under command of Sergeant Howell, played by Vince Vaughn, gives a bizarrely bipolar performance, who goes from barking orders with a goofy sense of misplaced humor to genuinely displaying compassion for Desmond at whim. Perhaps that is another one of Howell's eccentric jokes.

He passes each day of training with flying colors, that is, until he is instructed to pick up a gun, which he refuses. This leads to scenes of impotent courtroom drama, where his otherwise drunkard father swoops in to save his son from going to prison for insubordination. Charges dismissed, Desmond and his team get sent off to the Battle of Okinawa, where they must climb the titular "Hacksaw Ridge."

Remember when I referenced "From Dusk till Dawn?" Remember that almost egregious shift in tone? Well, that change in tone is escalated here, where blood splattered from both sides of the war, guts explode out of soldiers and there is an almost voyeuristic focus on the numerous decapitations and gunshot wounds. But it never lingers on any image for long, as there is always another soldier to watch- watch as his head vomits his brain from an unseen marksman. There is zero relief from the onscreen violence, and even less preparation for it, as this harsh tonal change happens without warning. It is a rollercoaster ride, only it is one that once you drop, you never stop dropping; I wish I was not tall enough to ride it. The remainder of the movie reaches down your gut and rips up what ever it could grab.

The film depicts the adversary, the Japanese military, as hollow gunslingers who are happy charging blindly into the Americans. There is no identifying with them, they have no personality and are as mindless as an extraterrestrial in a summer blockbuster. And when the Americans win the battle, the film expects you to share the victory with them, to share the patriotism. Look, I know what happened, and I know that this is a movie, but for a film that begins so anti-gun and anti-violence, there is a lot of killing of man. There was a guy in the seat behind me, who spend the entire movie coughing like he was auditioning for a cold medicine commercial. I am not sure which I was more disgusted at.

I can admire the film's craftsmanship and appreciate it's brutality, and it gets high marks for its professionalism and effectiveness. But walking out after seeing it, I felt uncomfortable and fatigued, and even with a happy ending, I did not feel happy. If you go into the theater already disliking the notion of war, this film will make you hate it. And you will also hate yourself if you eat before you see it.

Shin Godzilla (Godzilla Resurgence) Review

I cannot remember a movie with two official names, but the latest Godzilla movie has just that: Godzilla Resurgence and Shin Godzilla. It is from Toho, creators of the kaiju franchise, and is playing in select theaters this week. Is it a good film, worthy of the twelve year hiatus (not counting the American one)? Well, if you are excited about seeing the cultural phenomenon on the big screen, then you have nothing to fear; if you are not excited, you will not be excited during any minute of the two hour long creature feature.

Playing as a precursor to the franchise, we watch the Japanese government, army, and public, try to deal with the sudden appearance of the building-busting behemoth. Only it is not quite the Godzilla we all know and love, and in the interest of keeping things spoiler free, shows that even decades later, Toho keeps pumping out new little tricks and twists to the dorsal finned beast.

But here, like Gareth Edwards' 2014 film, directors Hideaki Anno and Shinji Higuchi focus quite a bit on the human characters, unfortunate, considering the English release is subtitled and not dubbed. This leaves your eyes scattering from reading the sometimes, whether intentional or not, awkward dialogue to observing in glee as tall towers crumble to the titular man in a rubber suit. It does not help that these long sequences of conversations are constantly introducing characters and changing locations. The quick zapping from set piece to set piece should keep keeping kiddies from becoming bored during the otherwise drawn-out pieces of dull dialogue. But all this while exploring interesting camera angles and almost humorous quick-cuts, it becomes a disorientating experience, particularly while quickly scanning the screen trying to read what the next new politician is saying, only to find our growing group of actors are in a completely different location.

Illusions to current Japanese and world events, the film is smarter than what you would expect from a giant monster movie, but like real-world politics, there are simply too many people to keep track of to truly feel any connection with them, rendering Godzilla's fairly sparse screen time a minor disappointment. He at least looks fantastic, a good mixture of CGI, animatronics, and good old fashioned rubber suits, all with a refreshingly retro and rather menacing look. But his movement is robotic, and he exploits none of the moxie of earlier films; he seems almost pleased to just be walking in an almost straight line, and destroys a building only on occasion. He is on screen much more than the aforementioned America movie, but most of the time, he is just standing still.

Its unique cuts and camera movements give this film a very modern and a superficially fast paced feel, but audiences have already seen, many many times, men in suits discussing how to eliminate the threat. There is a scene when the current "way to kill Godzilla" is to use a blood coagulant, and we witness canister after canister of the stuff; why did we need to see this? I would have rather the budget for all those canisters go towards another building for Godzilla to destroy.

Sully Review

Tom Hanks convicts so much power and steals each scene he is in, in the new Clint Eastwood film, Sully, a film made nearly all by his presence. Playing Chesley "Sully" Sullenberger, a pilot who miraculously lands a plane on the Hudson when both engines were blown just after take off when the plane hit a flock of birds. As if Alfred Hitchcock did not already give us enough reasons to hate birds.

He learns that the National Transportation Safety Board have launched an investigation, calling out that their tests prove he could have landed the plane safely on the runway he initially took off. There is more stuff here, more with the investigation, however their motive is generic movie "villain," where slimy businessmen, including a surprisingly effective Mike O'Malley as Charles Porter, do slimy things to our protagonist. I realize this is based on a real story, and not the "Blair Witch Project" kind of real story, and that this disagreement did actually happen. But the film gives the antagonists little to do except point the finger and learn their at the end of the ninety six minute long film. The highlight is Tom Hanks, a man disturbed by what could have happened instead of what did, as well as the realistic plane crash scenes. Those alone are enough to make you never want to fly again.

The other performances, including Aaron Eckhart as first officer Jeff Skiles and Laura Linney as Sully's wife Lorraine, are all fine, but their dramatic weight is light compared to Hanks. It is particularly obvious when Sully and his wife speak over the phone (which is their only means of communicating throughout the film), that Tom Hanks is in control of each scene, and Laura can only do her best not to forget her lines.

When the plane crashes, which we see various bits of and various variations of, there is technical jargon spat out by the pilot and first officer as the aircraft comes burning down, and honest panic by the passengers; the film should have spent more time here. We believe everything that happens, and when the ship went down, I felt as if I was one of the passengers with their tray table up and their seat in the full upright position.

There was this group of kids, rowdy teenage boys who heckled throughout the film, however, when Tom Hanks spoke, they quieted down. His performance is that good. And aside from some thrilling crash scenes, he is the best thing in an otherwise run-of-the-mill film.

Suicide Squad Review

There are three things good in Suicide Squad, DC Comic's latest big budget movie: Margot Robbie's body, Margot Robbie's outfit (because it shows off her body), and Will Smith's performance. Only Will Smith should have known better than to headline this trash, playing Deadshot, a marksman and assassin who never misses a shot. He gives the character a charming disinterest of the goofy and illogical plot. He also seems to ignore the unconvincing CGI of the main villain; it seems everyone making the movie did too.

The film follows a team of bad guys, enlisted in case the next "Superman" is not so nice (I guess Batman, briefly shown here, is too mean). Viola Davis portrays Amanda Waller, the ringleader of the bunch of bandits and is depicted as this film's "M" from the James Bond movies. She is curt with a stone cold expression, never trusting the group of goons she has contracted out of their prison cells. She puts them under command of Colonel Rick Flag, played by Joel Kinnaman, who is on the field with the titular crew of creeps. Injected with a rice-size explosive in their necks, it takes just the push of a button (or rather a touch on a cell phone) to exterminate the baddies if they act out of line. Fortunately, because simple exposition is not enough, the film hastily tosses in Slipknot, late in the film and without fanfare, and has him attempt to escape just so we can see a PG-13 version of his head explode. I guess her team of rapscallions better play nice, as nothing makes antiheroes behave like watching a tertiary character die behind censors.

Plot-wise, the Suicide Squad is birthed just in time for the Enchantress to start causing trouble, possessing the body of June Moone, who is the girlfriend of Mr. Flags. Her brother is summoned to aid her, and the two build an unimpressive army of faceless humanoid beings, who's body parts crumb or shatter off without any ounce of blood or guts. I mean, gotta keep the MPAA-rating as low as possible.

Will Smith and friends enter and scale a skyscraper to escort Waller out of the building, where a fight breaks out in several of the floors they climb. It is a bland showcase of hand-to-hand combat and gun shots as they finally reach the desired floor. There is a hiccup with the escort, and now the bad guys must battle on the streets to take down the Enchantress; things turn even more typical here, with violent but unsatisfying battle scenes. Her brother proves too strong for our (anti)heroes to defeat, but is swiftly killed anticlimactically by the flame summoning El Diablo, a forgettable and underdeveloped member of the Suicide Squad, who conveniently can turn into a fiery CGI creature at just the right time. I won't spoil what happens next, though you would thank me for saving you the price of admission.

There is absolutely no time spent on character development here, with the film spending all its time on boring fighting and half-assed jokes. Its opening title shot is bright and colorful, as is credits, but the film is dark and gloomy, painful attempts at humor injected artificially. It introduces its characters in a very reality-television way, with short descriptions that appear next to a photo of them. That works, its a playful way to announce its stars, but minimal screen time and zero development leaves the evildoers shallow.

Jai Courtney plays Captain Boomerang, the exact kind of supervillian you would expect when they have run out of ideas for decent characters. He throws a boomerang and speaks with a painfully thick Australian brogue. He also is a thief before being caught by authorities, and that is all you get for backstory here. But that is more than Killer Croc, a human crocodile who is just more strong than your normal man. He snarls and growls, and swims well. I did not even know he could talk until almost halfway through he film, right about the same time he, in one of the movie's many deadened stabs at telling a joke, checks out Margot Robbie as she walks seductively away. How funny, how very, very humorous.

That leaves us to the Joker, played by Jared Leto who receives inexplicable top billing, is barely in the film and hardly necessary to the nonsense plot, showing up in awkward cuts separate from the Suicide Squad as he searches for his Harley Quinn. When he is on screen, we see Jared do his best Jim Carrey impression, almost straight ripping off his performance as the Riddler in the far more entertaining Batman Forever. He does attempt to add some gross sexual nuance to his performance, but I have seen better acting in porn.

The soundtrack is a myriad of pop and rock songs, ripping on Guardians of the Galaxy's pop culture tunes. Only they are a clumsy juxtaposition to the damp atmosphere, distracting from any visual or emotional heft the long 123 minute movie could have offered. And for a movie about bad guys, you wish that there would be more focus on them doing bad guy stuff, not incomplete redemption. I saw this movie at your typical theater; I wish it was one that served alcohol.