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.

Pete's Dragon Review

Pete's Dragon, a remake of the 1977 musical, is a charming, succinct story about a boy and his dragon. You know, because every little boy has a dragon for a pet.

Named Elliot, the large winged beast is forest green with the characteristics of a dog, only with a long neck. Only (well, for a while at least) seen by Pete, he is a myth in the small town told to children probably around a campfire. It is an amalgamation of different sources and what is birthed on screen is an ugly sort of creature that fails to strike the balance between cute and terrifying; looking dopey when either begging for affection or blowing its fire breath. I am not sure how much of it is CG, looks like most shots are completely digital, and looks fairly unconvincing despite its rather impressive rendering of hair, not unlike a Pixar creation. The actors do their best interacting with the computer concoction, with some close shots resembling an actual prop that they can physically touch. I wish that there were more like this.

He is the main problem with the film, the titular dragon, and most nefarious is his reveal, spoiler alert, but it is in the film's opening. We see the flying monster in full, removing any suspense as to what the dragon will look like. And when the characters witness the creature for the first time, their eyes are in awe, jaws dropped, but the audience cannot relate; we are not surprised, in no awe, as we have spent so long seeing the dragon's entire body. It is a shame, because for all the film feels like a Spielberg picture, you cannot help but wish that they learned from Jaws that you should keep things tight-lipped until both he viewers and the characters can simultaneously witness the reveal.

He can cloak himself, which proves most useful, but it is used inconsistently; there is a scene where Elliot ducks out of sight from other humans, but then moments later cloaks himself. Why did he duck? Did he forget he can turn invisible?

Otherwise, he brings some pleasant humor to the film, especially later in the 102 minutes when he searches for Pete at a hospital and peeks through several windows in search of his little friend. He goes undiscovered from harm despite gazing through several; Elliot stares through more windows unnoticed than a slasher villain.

But everything else here just works, its brisk but tender, with some action pieces tossed in for eye-candy. The leads, Bryce Dallas Howard as Grace and Oakes Fegley as Pete, are tremendous, echoing Ruby Barnhill and Mark Rylance from the recent, and superior, The BFG. The supporting cast is hit or miss, the misses including Grace's fiance Jack, played by Wes Bentley and his brother Gavin, played by Karl Urban. But the pluses are big, including Robert Redford, charming in every scene is he is, playing Jack's father, and the only other person who has seen the mystery dragon. Oona Laurence plays Jack's kid, and she nails her performance and comes across more natural than her fictional father.

The film's only other major hiccup is the soundtrack. It lacks the grand score of the most whimsical movies, and instead relies on an underdeveloped score complete with adult-contemporary-like songs complete with vocals. They are nice, but there is no magic for the ears, reminiscent of Phil Collin in Disney's Tarzan. Where's John Williams when you need him?

Nine Lives Review

Nine Lives, from the director of the Men in Black movies and two Addams Family movies, and starring Kevin Spacey, is far from their proudest film. It preys on audience's affection for kittens and shoehorns a sappy plot and tired visual gags. The film's message is not just heavy handed, it is a hand made of lead.

Kevin Spacey plays Tom Brand, the owner of a big corporation who's pet project, pardon the pun, is building the tallest building in North America. He is a terrible father and husband, married at least twice, who spends all his time working. Then, on a fateful trip to pick out a cat for his daughter's birthday, he falls off of his beloved skyscraper, and is transformed into a cat while his body lies in a coma. The man suspected to be behind the body swap is Felix Perkins, played by the wonderfully weird Christopher Walken. Mr. Brand has one week to make amends with his family or he else he will be forever a cat. Does this sound familiar? That is because it is the Shaggy Dog with a dash of Freaky Friday.

Mr. Brand, freshly a feline, first tries to prove he is human to his family, by writing messages in yarn or with alphabet fridge magnets, and acting more like a person than a kitten. This expectedly does not work. What is left is a series of visual puns seemingly left over from the two live-action Garfield movies. But there is a certain level of charm that even the worst optical jokes offer, and if you miss the slapstick of early nineties films, then this is as close as you are going to get in theatres today.

But the problem with all the kitten playfulness is the poor CGI, sticking out like a sore paw when cut between shots of a real cat. And then there is the obvious blue-screen, used when atop the aforementioned building or when Mr. Brand jumps out of a plane in the film's opening shot. A smaller scope, let us say, a story that did not involve a cat jumping off of a building onto a canopy, would have been more satisfying.

While we watch the cat try and become human, there is a side-plot involving his grownup son trying to prevent a corporate takeover of his dad's company by Ian Cox, played by the effectively slimy Mark Consuelos. But its tone, how ever generic it is, contrasts so egregiously with the silliness of the cat story, and if the feline antics amuse smaller children, then the espionage will bore them.

Nine Lives took five writers and had far too much talent in front and behind the screen. But Walken and Spacey, with Jennifer Garner and Cheryl Hines in supporting roles as his wife and ex-wife, respectively, look amused with themselves and there is some fun from their performances. While the script is a very John Hughes' blend of sappy and slapstick, for a talking cat movie, it is about as good as it could have been.

Kubo and the Two Strings Review

Kubo and the Two Strings is the latest stop-motion film from Laika, the makers of Coraline and Box Trolls. It has heavy Japanese influences and beautiful animation, but lamentably not much else.

The plot involves little Kubo, voiced by Art Parkinson, as he embarks on a quest to locate three pieces of his deceased father's armor (a sword, a breastplate, and a helmet), legend has it it is the only thing that can protect him from evil. The evil is his grandfather. His grandfather is the Moon King, a underdeveloped god-like man who wants to rob our little protagonist of his eyes so he can join the "blind" world in the sky. He has already stolen one eye, and sends two of his daughters for the other. Reminiscent of the button-eyes in Coraline, it seems Laika has an eye fetish.

His mother tells of a parable which is thinly veiled to be the plot of the movie, so we the viewer and pint-sized Kubo already know what to expect. Of course, we the movie-goer already know more, as the narrative is far more generic than the darkly twisted world of the studio's debut feature film.

There four major problems in this 102 minute long film, a quadrilogy of issues that distract an otherwise very pretty sequence of flashy color and intricate stop-motion animation. Firstly is the dialogue, its stilted, narrative-driving exclusive dialogue. Every line of text is read like wannabe actor reading cue-cards, where Kubo's mother is referred to as "mother" and, well, you get the idea. I do not know her name, I never heard it mentioned. Perhaps her name is "Mother," which would pretty much guarantee she would have a kid.

The second issue is the "enemy-of-the-week" story, where our hero Kubo must journey to find three pieces of his dad's armor (surprisingly, his dad actually has a name- good luck hearing it said, however). Each piece is protected by a villain, a nasty that plays out like a boss in a video game. Our hero Kubo, or one of his comrades that he acquires along his way, then destroys the boss character and the search for the next enemy begins. It is about as exciting as watching someone else play a video game, albeit a visually breathtaking one.

Third on the list is the visuals- oh, wait, you thought I said they were beautiful? Trust me, they are. Stop-motion has always fascinated me, and always will, but the problem here lies not in the animation, but in the scope of the environments. There is a moment where Kubo and friends walk a snowy path in their quest. We see snow, stop-motion snow, but there is no sense of scale, nothing epic in any shot. The audience never feels wowed by the world created, no wintry vistas no grand mountains. And the film's finale takes place in a small village, the same you would see if you watched any generic kung-fu film. If you are going through all the trouble of making this stop-motion, give me something wonderful to see. Not something I have seen before.

Then we have the most glaring problem of the movie; the film is called "Kubo and the Two Strings." The strings refer to the shamisen (a Japanese three-stringed guitar for those without access to Google), which Kubo carries on his back the entire time. He plays it and he makes paper become living, breathing origami, allowing him to fly or do other things. But nothing else in the film deals with music, and if this is Kubo's "main weapon," if we are continuing on the video game theme here, when why does he need the armor? Spoiler alert, he never truly needs it: his friend the monkey uses it, but Kubo just plays music to stop evil. So why did we need to chronicle Kubo acquiring the items? At least the film did not try and have Kubo's origami creations defeat evil. The worst they could do is give evil a paper-cut.

Kubo, Kubo, Kubo... Kubo. You may have noticed how many times I used the name Kubo in this review, eighteen so far, not including the title. If you decide to see this movie, get used to his name, because it is said more times than "Carol Anne" in Poltergeist 3.

Jason Bourne Review

You ever see a bad James Bond movie? Well, Jason Bourne (no the movie about the character, not the character himself, I know, it is a pretty silly title) is, at heart, a bad James Bond movie; the two even share the same initials! But not in the way "Moonraker" was bad; this is not over-the-top or in any way a fun film. It is plodding, confusing, and downright boring.

The action, which there is a lot of, is shot and edited in a "shaky cam" manner, from what I read a trademark of the director, you know the one, where the camera tosses around with quick cuts. It is designed to provoke a sense of immersion and uneasiness, but the only uneasiness was in my stomach- this is a 123 minute long film pieces together like a music video, only without a catchy soundtrack.

There is a scene early one, where Bourne meets up with a girl only important to the first half of the movie, in Athens, taking cover behind a violent protest against the government. Amidst the plot are shots of the police trying to control a fierce crowd of dissidents, and this is the only portion of the film where the shaky cam works; it makes each scene feel more chaotic and unpredictable. That sort of camera work is not necessary during slow conversations meant to move the muddy narrative along.

But the root of the film's problems is its story; its the fifth in the franchise and obviously is a continuation of the same story. That is fine. But for a long time, I had no idea what was going on, as the movie is not interested in making sure the casual movie-goer has any clue what the plot is. It cares about die-hard fans while alienating any new ones, but eventually you should figure things out. I did, but there is nothing at stake here. Jason Bourne is still, over a decade later, trying to figure out his past, but why should we care? He is a completely ridiculous, unrealistic person, a character who is far from the everyday man James Bond or Indiana Jones sometimes can be. He is a superhero without a cape, and Matt Damon's portrayal seems to be based on Daniel Craig's rendition of 007, only without any of his innate flair or charm. He mulls from one scene to the next, sparsely speaking and plainly looking at his supporting cast or the camera, like a male model but with more clothing on. Someone get Mr. Damon a cup of coffee or something, he is half asleep here.

The movie opens finding Bourne off-the-radar, competing in fights and destroying his opponents. This is to explain how he can take down every henchmen with one blow. But the climax of the film pits Jason against an assassin, called the "Asset," played by Vincent Cassel. They fight, and fight for a long time. Unlike every other person in the movie, this Asset does not go down in one punch, despite his rather slim and lanky demeanor. Somehow, across multiple countries, there is only one person who can take more than one of Bourne's punches.

There is also a subplot concerning CIA director Robert Dewey, played by the always affable Tommy Lee Jones, and some nebulous tech company and the government's secret surveillance on the public. It is a vague attempt on the people's problem today with internet security and their identity and all of that jazz, but this film is called "Jason Bourne," not "Robert Dewey," and little is done to explain or document this side story. There is no tension here; perhaps it is the film's exiguous dialogue, or its nauseating cinematography, or Mr. Jones' completely disinterested and disinteresting performance. He just gives orders, stands in place, sometimes walking, and- oh, once he sits down. Maybe twice.