Blood and Money Review

I imagine Tom Berenger's reaction when he received the script to "Blood and Money," the new thriller based in the Maine mountains of Allagash, was something like "you know I've been meaning to go skiing."

Playing a retired Vietnam vet who spends his last days hunting deer and avoiding the booze, Tom is far too good an actor for material like this, but he's a true professional, elevating thankless dialogue and tired motivations with a level of intense detachment, looking mildly frustrated as we watch him go through his bland routine of smoking his way between scenes of him eating and reading the newspaper.

One day he accidentally shoots a woman he mistakes for a buck, he panics and flees the scene, only to realize he left a cigarette butt nearby and must go back. But not before learning she's a criminal wanted for robbing a casino, which is where the creaky plot thickens. He steals the money only to immediately be pursued by the dead corpse's partners in crime. The holes in this raggedy narrative as big enough you could fit the Oscar-nominated lead's head through it, but film's strong points are strong enough to keep it from being forgotten beneath fresh snow.

His character is one that could only exist in the movies, as he's shot, soaked, and sick but always able to get right back up. But we buy it all because of our star, hardly speaking any words but always dominating the shot. He's a presence on film, squinting in almost every frame as his eyes burn through your TV; you can tell he's thinking but you're not sure about what, prepared for the worst and ready to explode, like a windup toy that hasn't gone off yet. This separates him from other aged action stars like Liam Neeson and Sylvester Stallone, as his reactions to both peril and drama is the same stony stare, his face cracked from age with thick creases of experience.

John Barr makes his directorial debut here, and he knows how to stage a shot, with the powdered landscape being equally an impressive actor as Berenger. Frames are filled with the icy isolation, which not only provides the movie with a signature look but also to give another element of danger for our hero. He has to combat the cold as well as crooks, hugging small fires and always on the lookout for a new shelter. Filmed on location in Maine, instead of just being set there, helps cement the picture's impressive verisimilitude; the uneven terrain has actors moving in a way a soundstage could never replicate.

I liked the craft behind "Blood and Money," the level of authority from Tom and the surprising artistry of Barr's freshmen effort. In a world were we're all locked inside as the sun shines along outside, it's nice to see people outside playing in the snow.

Scoob! Review

There is no reason for "Scoob!" to exist, except to make money milking the public's nostalgia for the classic Scooby-Doo. Only this is not your parents Scooby-Doo. It's not your childhood's Scooby-Doo. It's not even your kid's Scooby-Doo. This is a tired tale of friendship with Hanna-Barbera paint job; replace the familiar faces with any other group of archaic characters and you would have a film equally unsatisfying.

While COVID-19 is causing ruin to most everything, it will no doubt benefit Warner Bros. Pictures with their direct-to-streaming strategy here. The world didn't need another movie based on the popular canine (it didn't even need the others while we're at it), but with kids begging their parents for entertainment, this will probably make a lot of money. And for what? For bright colors to bounce to the beat of generic pop-songs to the tune of goodwill and keeping your promises? The message taught is so treacle and tedious, without wit or sense of fun.

The heavy-handedness to everything most egregious, as the picture comes to an absolute halt while feelings are hurt, emotions are shared, and relationships are patched up, during which time the visuals stop being fun to look at. The characters just stand around and exchange dialogue, like a CGI soap-opera without the inherent satire.

Acting as not only a reboot to Scooby-Doo but also to launch the, gulp, Hanna-Barbera shared cinematic universe, we follow the titular doggy (voiced by the omnipresent Frank Welker) meet his equally hungry pal Shaggy (a very out-of-place Will Forte), up to the formation of the gang's famed Mystery Inc. So far, about what you would expect, but things go off the rails as soon as the cast join up with the Blue Falcon (Mark Wahlberg, who sounds as if he's having fun at least) to take down the evil Dick Dastardly (Jason Isaacs). The turn to incorporate other properties means forgoing critical pillars to the Scooby-Doo franchise: the villain is a normal person, and there is no actual sleuthing.

To the movie's credit, the source material has never been the strongest, with characters whose personality boils down to a single description (Shaggy likes food, etc.,). I get it. But the film does nothing but stretch out already thin ideas into a feature film. Animation is not cheap; there are millions of dollars on display, and all we get is an afterschool special.

I'm probably wrong here. Kids will likely enjoy this, and fans certainly will bask in the bright colors with their sentimental-goggles pressed tightly against their face. Parents will simply want to know if it's appropriate for their kids, which it is. But film criticism is more than just that. How many stars should it get? Why does it matter? Why am I reviewing this? Why did I see this? Only to waste my time, and yours I guess. I'm sorry, but that's the way the Scooby Snack crumbles.

Extraction Review

Netflix has finally delivered on their promise of making a solid B action movie. After numerous over- and underproduced pictures like "6 Underground" and "Triple Frontier," the streaming service drops "Extraction" on the quarantined audience with a bang that hardly stops until the credits roll.

Chris Hemsworth stars as Tyler Rake, and don't bother making jokes about the name as the film takes care of that for you. He's a mercenary who takes a job extracting, pun intended, the son of a jailed drug lord in India. What follows is purely perfunctory series of double-crosses, revelations, you know, the usual. He has the body and the face for a picture like this, the kind of film he has avoided until now, the "one-man army action extravaganza," the kind Arnold Schwarzenegger and Sylvester Stallone used to deliver. Whether or not those kind of flicks are profitable today is irrelevant with places like Netflix, where cinema can succeed when it may otherwise bomb in theaters.

What else are people to watch? There is no doubt an appetite for this kind of movie (I mean, they keep making them), but when we get a pretty good one like "Extraction," it deserves particular praise. What it lacks in plot, character, or even purpose it makes up for with ruthless violence, filmed and edited so that you can easily follow along. The hand-to-hand combat is especially noteworthy, with the actors moving with angry grace, like a testosterone ballet complete with blood squirts and broken bones.

The highlight is an extended "continuous-shot" that moves from cramped tenements to the crowded streets before climaxing with a car chase; art this is not, but it is obvious that first time director Sam Hargrave and his team were not interested in settling for making just "another action movie." There is a sense of fun despite its serious tone, and even Thor himself appears to be enjoying playing someone who isn't completely dense.

Shot on location in India, Thailand and Bangladesh, according to our friend the internet, there is the unfortunate side effect of painting these foreign locals as slums populated only by crime and drugs. Where women exist for visual splendor in the local club, and kids are recruited into brutality. In fact we witness numerous moments of kids attacking hero Tyler with guns, knives and fists; the filmmakers know what's tasteless and has no problems exploiting it for the sake of adding some variety to the violence.

You could pick any random scene here and quickly find its cinematic inspiration, but at an efficient 117 minutes, you barely have time to stuff a handful of popcorn in your mouth before more fisticuffs or gunplay break out. "Extraction" delivers the goods with a little bit more, but nothing less, than what it promises.

Sea Fever Review

We're not halfway into 2020, and we already have another aquatic creature-feature. First was January's "Underwater," which ripped off "Alien" and then dunked it into the ocean, and now we have "Sea Fever," which riffs on 1982's "The Thing." Only it's a smaller, more intimate affair in cinematic exploitation.

"Sea Fever" doesn't have many ideas that are it's own, and what it doesn't steal from John Carpenter's gory shocker it lifts from, what else, "Alien." But by debuting outside of the theater due to quarantine, this pandemic-at-sea thriller is a comfortable way to pass an afternoon.

Hermione Corfield stars as a very redheaded Siobhan, who joins a fishing barge to study abnormalities in their catch for class credits. (And yes, her hair color really does matter to the crew of the ship.) She doesn't fit in when we first find here in the lab, and she struggles to find her social place once aboard the craft; she consumes herself in her work. But soon something latches to the underside of the vessel, and a few mandatory monster-movie moments later, the mass beneath the boat disappears, but not before exposing everyone to a mysterious infection.

For all it's influences, a lot of the fat is trimmed from those earlier pictures, with a primary cast of just seven and very few occasions of people standing around talking about how to deal with the situation; once an idea is brought up, it's either immediately shot down or performed. This is a very lean series of unadulterated execution.

There is not much gore, save for one brief gruesome death, and wisely there are no jump or false scares. Director Neasa Hardiman does a decent job avoiding the most obvious cliches, as well as at creating a claustrophobic environment for the unmagnificent seven to exist in. But this is clearly an economically budgeted production, and she struggles finding the film it's own personality. You can see the ending from a mile away, as well the general order of deaths. And every time an old idea is recycled into something with a spark of creativity, it settles on established genre-expectations without enough exploration.

"Sea Fever" is timely but ultimately undemanding and underwhelming. No one may be able to hear you scream, but everyone can see your inspiration.

Coffee & Kareem Review

Netflix is at it again, releasing another action cop comedy about a month off the heels of "Spencer Confidential." But social distancing proves to be working in their favor, as people can't head to the theaters to watch competent and decent films, they stay home and watch something like "Coffee & Kareem."

Ed Helms stars as James Coffee, a mild-mannered cop who's frequenting Vanessa (Taraji P. Henson). The two hide it from her son Kareem (Terrence Little Gardenhigh), who ends up catching them during a particular moment of intimacy (a thoroughly unsexy and unfunny moment, I might add). Kareem, an aspiring rapper, gets a hold of a local criminal (every town has one), hoping to scare Coffee away from his mom. Things go wrong (gasp) and now Coffee and Kareem find themselves on the run from the local Detroit police and the crooks, who may or may not be working together (second gasp!).

It is certainly a lot better than last years repugnant "Shaft," and although that isn't much of an endorsement, at least you don't feel like you need a shower and a fiber supplement to cleanse your body inside and out.

To save you from watching the direct-to-streaming, eighty eight minute long film, it goes pretty much like this: bang bang, swear word, corrupt cops, racial joke, another racial joke, more bang bang, now homophobic joke, another corrupt cop, one last bang bang and then ends with a message about accepting one another as a family. Oh, then there are clean cops by the time the credits scroll, as if the film didn't want to send the message that all men and women in uniform are bought out by drugs, but has no trouble being bigoted.

If it all sounds trite, that's because it is. There isn't a moment that surprised me, no one plot twist that caught me off guard, and a whole lot of tasteless jokes that feel ripped straight from a Youtube comment section for a better movie. The film handles race with particular stumbling, never sure how to handle the racial dichotomy between the Kareem and the very white Coffee, and settles for stereotypes. The two almost have a chemistry, but it ultimately boils down to the titular duo just trading insults. In one rare moment of tenderness, the kid opens up to his mother's boyfriend about being awkward around girls. It's almost sweet, until you remember it takes place in a stripclub and Kareem is twelve.

But there isn't anything us viewers can do; we can't leave our homes, and the allure of watching an all-new movie is just all too tempting. It even has several well-known actors and actresses! It features a familiar premise with the promise that this time the genre has some new tricks. But it is a lie, and the only thing us customers can do is write mean things about it online.

Spencer Confidencial Review

"Spencer Confidential" debuts on Netflix with a thud, a turgid comedic action thriller that debuts little laughs, action or thrills. It's about former cop Spencer (Mark Wahlberg) who gets back into his old police ways the day he's released from prison when his old corrupt captain is murdered- here's the kicker, when another cop is killed, he's labeled the killer of the first, then his own death marked a suicide. Yawn.

It's exactly the kind of thing that lined Blockbuster store shelves in the '80's and '90's, all with one or two recognizable names on the box (most likely Jean-Claude Van Damme or Chuck Norris), along with the promise of violence and sex. Here, well there's plenty of violence, but the little sex there is to be had here is played out comedically, and is equally not funny or sexy.

Yet, it's oddly watchable. It's far from good, mind you, but it zips from one lethargic set piece to the next, usually with bodies thrown around and plenty of convenient plot developments. What it lacks in logic and finesse it makes up for in misguided energy for manipulating every cliche there is. Don't think about what's on screen, just put in on in the background and watch every few moments; it'll hold your attention for a bit.

It's a fascinatingly incompetent picture, one that flops from stale jokes to unexciting physical encounters to brief flirtations of grim cop procedures, back to sloppy moments of jest. What happened here? I watched with distracted intimacy, not caring about what was going on but rather where things would go next.

So who's to blame here? That's equal parts who to blame for the badness and its watchability.

It can't be director Peter Berg, who stages the action with little imagination; bathroom brawl? Check. Prison punch out? Check. Beloved family kidnapped? Check. The only thing missing is a car chase, and even if they had one I'm sure they'd drive the speed limit.

Then could it be star Mark Wahlberg? He's got a decent comedic timing and can smirk on queue of any strained zinger the script has him toss. He looks convincing in the fight scenes, usually taking a beating before somehow coming out on top. But he lacks chemistry with his makeshift partner Hawk, played by Winston Duke (oh right, forgot there are a few buddy movie moments), as well as with his old flame Cissy (Iliza Shlesinger), who plays that stereotypical Boston native (complete with the phoney accent; she is from Texas you know).

So what gives? It's not the complete waste that the sum of its parts should be, but why? Maybe I'm looking for something more like the dumb/smart entertainment of "Bad Boys for Life" and less like failed exploitation of "The Rhythm Section?"

I don't recommend "Spencer Confidential," I can't recommend it. It wastes some decent talent in front and behind the camera, reducing everyone's efforts to another one of those grimey direct-to-video flicks that I would admire on rental store shelves. Perhaps it's the debut on Netflix that's helping me out. It's like they said "hey, it ain't great, so watch it here instead and save your ten bucks." Yeah that's got to be it. My popcorn tastes much better than that at the movies.

Sonic the Hedgehog Review

"Sonic the Hedgehog," the first Hollywood adaptation of the popular video game franchise, is far better than it has any right to be. It straddles the line between cheesy, funny, cliche, and fun from scene to scene, just like a good Saturday morning cartoon. It doesn't reinvent the wheel, but the titular hedgehog certainly rolls like one.

The plot is just an excuse for Sonic (voiced by Ben Schwartz) to cause all sorts of trouble while being chased by Dr. Robotnik, played by Jim Carrey in full Jim Carrey mode. And honestly, this is Jim's movie. He snarls, smirks, and overacts every line in every scene not only like a cartoon character come to life, but also the Jim Carrey we all know and love, and it's great to have him back.

Sonic lives in a small Montana town, where he watches the townsfolk, pretending to live among them. But of course, like only in the movies, he must live in secret or risk his powers, here superspeed, being exploited by the bad guys. And during a revelation of solitude after a solo baseball match, he runs so fast he releases so much energy that it knocks out all the power, catching the attention of a certain not-yet-egg-shaped doctor.

To escape persecution, Sonic has a sachle of rings that act as portals to wherever the blue blur is thinking of. But when trying to depart, he bumps into a local sheriff Tom (James Marsden), who shoots him with a tranquilizer gun, causing him to drop his bag of rings into a portal over California. And so with Jim Carrey hot on their tails, pun intended, the two roadtrip it out to retrieve his magic pouch and get him off Earth.

It is a terribly unoriginal story, but hey, this is a cartoon; it's a world where a hedgehog runs, and runs his mouth, super fast. And it gives Carrey plenty of freedom to make faces, noises, riff, and at least once, speak in another language. He is without a doubt the best thing here, who's frequent appearances breakup what could have been just another derivative franchise adaptation.

Director Jim Fowler wisely keeps things moving fast, pun also very well intended; we're rarely in one place for very long, and the script by Pat Casey and Josh Miller set up plenty of situations for our duo of heroes to cause havoc in. Kids will likely enjoy the candy visuals, longtime fans will appreciate the plethora of winks towards the video games, and for everyone else, we have Jim Carrey. And that is more than enough for me.