Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Review

It's been a bumpy ride, but here we are, the third Star Wars trilogy has finished, and it's a mostly satisfactory conclusion. After the overwhelmingly mediocre second entry, "The Last Jedi," we return to the world of Lightsabers and blasters with forward momentum on energetic visual tricks, though with a regrettable backwards handle on story and script.

Ultimately every major beat is a variation of "Return of the Jedi," except only when it's completely retreaded, and that's the biggest disappointment here. Nostalgia is a powerful movie making tool, but here it's practically exploited; this is Episode 6 with a bigger budget, bigger special effects, bigger everything.

Some franchises can survive this sort of self cannibalization, like James Bond and Alien (well, most of the time), because the new cast and crew inject their view on what it means to be part of the series. With "The Rise of Skywalker," returning director J.J. Abrams and our new and returning characters appear to be going through the motions, succumbing to what corporations think fans want.

Yet the wrinkles in the returning format have some standouts, particularly the conclusion with Kylo Ren (Adam Driver), who's journey ends obviously but elegantly. Our heroine Rey (Daisy Ridley) does as well, packing a punch that's as emotional as it's routine.

None of this really matters in the world of Star Wars- these are space operas with a fetish for advanced special effects. And we get a lot of that here. But for all the wonderful of the visuals in a technical sense, it's style is stale; it's less of an evolution of the original trilogy and more of a continuation. Even the much-mangled prequels had their own visual identity, with imaginative aliens, starships and setpieces; the only moments here that filled me with wonder was the doomy dungeon of returning baddie Palpatine (Ian McDiarmid).

Fortunately, even when the narrative driving the domesticated spectacle is old hat, there is an inescapable sense of fun. This is a film who may not know how to treat its fans, but it knows how to treat its legacy. And unlike its predecessor, the script's humor is left for the comedic relief characters- if there is a joke to be told, or to befall, it's on the likes of C3PO or something. Thank goodness for that.

This latest trilogy might wrap up a bit too cleanly, and it never seems to trust its audience's appetite and acceptance towards anything new, it'll do. It mostly fills what it set out to do, and what I've ultimately come to expect from the brand since the 2012 Disney acquisition, it's equal parts a shame and a triumph.

Cats Review

Oh my.

Those two words sum up the movie musical "Cats," based on the famous Broadway show. The problem isn't the inspiration- a lot of the actual music here is pretty good. It certainly isn't the cast, which has fresh faces as well as veterans such as Judi Dench and Idris Elba. And it isn't the budget, which according to the trusty ol' internet, is just south of 100 million bucks.

No the problem here is the use of CGI and motion capture, which has the famous and unknown actors and actresses recognizable as human on the body of hairy, svelte cat bodies. It's a disturbing effect, where none of the characters appear quite right- something's off with every movement and every song; the world has a term for it, and that's the "uncanny valley." And here, it is terrifying.

It probably didn't help that I have never seen the original musical, or really heard any of the songs (the closest thing was a brief parody here or there), so I spent any time not gripping the arm of my leather reclining chair wondering what the hell was going on! Why are some cats magical and others aren't? Why are all the large sets only occasionally proportioned to the actors? Why are all the cats oversexualized, crawling up and down each other, breathing heavily? Why does the bad guy (Macavity, played by Elba with as much grace the CGI would allow) have wanted posters around the city? (Who placed them? The cat police??) Why does the "Jellicle Ball" reincarnate the cats? (Do they become humans? Or worse, human faces superimposed to actual cat bodies.)

It doesn't matter, ultimately, the plot that is. The songs are what people came for, and they're actually rather decent (considering it's about, well, cats). Here they're sung about as good as autotuning can help the ensemble cast.

There was obviously a lot of money here, but this is an overstuffed and underbaked holiday turkey that's incredibly difficult to review: what's good is actually, pretty good. But what's bad is downright unsettling.

Generally, every movie reviewed here is rated two "stars" by default, and the number is either increased or decreased depending on many factors. "Cats" lost one of those by being, well, scary. But it's so amazingly weird that there's never even the slightest dull moment- I watched with nonstop fascination at how misguided everything was.  That's one "star" back. Congrats "Cats," you make it out of here with two. Go see it. Or don't. It all comes down to whether or not you want frightening experience you'll never forget for all the wrong reasons, just with catchy tunes.

Jumanji: The Next Level Review

"Jumanji: The Next Level" is every bit as good as I could have hoped as a sequel to the surprisingly delightful 2017 reboot. All the big stars return, as does the world of Jumanji, and of course, our heroes return to that world. Only this time Danny Devito and Danny Glover (and others) join our cast and are sucked into the realm of CGI booby traps, deserts and jungles.

The plot is merely an excuse for Dwayne Johnson, Karen Gillan, Jack Black, and Kevin Hart to act not only like teenagers, but also old men and animals! What the hell was going on in the screenwriter's room? Whatever it was, it certainly was for the best, because I laughed a lot, the end. Is it as good as the "Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle?" Well, no, but that film had no expectations to fill, but if they weren't going to try for anything really new this time around, they at least recycled and refreshed the same jokes just enough to get another laugh out of me.

There is a lot of comedic mileage from the Danny duo, from their bickering about when they ran a restaurant in the real world to when both the Johnson and Hart play them in the game world. It's corny and cliche sure, but I laughed, particularly at the latter's impression of Mr. Glover, who's impression of a dopey old man who talks super slow and ponders off his train of thought is spot on.

A lot of body swapping goes on here, as this next level of Jumanji introduces a new hazard, water that swaps people if they touch while submerged. Sometimes our cast swap mid-scene, and at least once they all swap places! Things could be confusing, but everyone is such a cardboard character that once they talk, or sometimes even look, you know who's who; you instantly go "oh, the jock teenager kid is now Karen Gillan- oh welp, that didn't last long."

There is plenty of new high-flying set pieces, chases and ferocious animals to witness this time around, but there is an energetic sense of humor to the action. Oh sure, it's all CGI but the important word is that it's fun. It's right up there with the likes of Brendan Fraser's "The Mummy" franchise, though not as witty as something like, oh say "Indiana Jones." Here's hoping the next Jumanji just doesn't involve aliens.

6 Underground Review

Michael Bay's "6 Underground" is a very loud and very dumb dilution of the James Bond formula, from shots of barely clothed beauties to large-scale stunt work and of course, ridiculous technology. Only it's all style and no wit, even lead Ryan Reynolds sticks with his usual cocky, coarse screen persona, as if he finds dropping the f-word a clever retort. But premiering on Netflix, the world of streaming has worked wonders for this otherwise rote retelling of every action movie cliche- it's free! Of course you have to have a Netflix subscription (or your old roommate's brother's password), but as something I checked by brain by the apartment door as soon as the film opens with a frantic, overlong and super violent chase scene, it works.

Mr. Reynolds plays One, a super-rich inventor of magnets who fakes his own death so he, and a motley crew of other one-dimensional characters who also made make-believe of their demise, can rid the world of bad people, without all the politics and red tape that come with legally eliminating bad people. Their first target is Rovach Alimov (Lior Raz), brutal dictator of Turgistan who just loves to gas the people in his country.

By the time we're properly hunting Rovach, our pack of good guys has grown to seven, each of course named after the number they joined the team. They never use their real names. They ignore everything about their lives once they "died," except for one- no not "One," as in Ryan Reynolds, but one of the seven people (this naming convention sucks), a guy named Three (Manuel Garcia-Rulfo), who goes often to visit his mother in the nursing home. "She can't remember a thing," he promises One once he's caught, but what's the point? Am I supposed to feel bad that his mother has some ill-defined illness? If I was, it would have served something to the plot, which it doesn't. It only slows down the drowning action.

Take a relatively early scene when One encounters Rovach at the theater, drinking at the bar. They exchange quips and instead of killing him, One sleeps with the bartender! Oh how very Bond of you One, only you're not him.

That's how most of the runtime in "6 Underground" goes, nonsensical subplots distracting from preposterous fights, gunfire, car chases and explosions. Only with the trademark "Michael Bay" style, with delirious editing, super-quick cuts that make it almost impossible to know what's happening in relation of the action onscreen. OK good guys are there, and bad guys are there, but the camera wizzes all over the place and forces you to accept that the overwrought plot is merely a skimpy clothesline for absurd bloodshed and sex. Oh sure, there is some quick mentions of politics, but it's simply another article hanging out to dry.

Knives Out Review

"Knives Out" is a mystery film that has such an eccentric cast playing even more bizarre characters that you'd swear this is a comedy, if only the script had one more pass through the joke mill. Instead things here are played with a straight face, only when it isn't, and it often isn't, but the humor often falls flat. There are a handful of zingers, but maybe it isn't a comedy? Then again, why would the family keep calling one of the character's sons a "nazi?" Of course I don't find calling someone a "nazi" funny unless they sternly sell soup on a sitcom, so perhaps it isn't a comedy? I couldn't tell.

What I could tell is that all I could think of during my screening was the 1985 gem "Clue," and while walking out of the theater I wasn't thinking "golly, I didn't think they did it." Instead I kept thinking "... is "Clue" on Netflix?"

Movies like "Knives Out" are tough to review, because to describe the plot, you could easily reveal one thing too many, but here is the gist: wealthy novelist Harlan Thrombey (Christopher Plummer) is found dead, throat slashed clean, by his housekeeper (Edi Patterson). His large family is interrogated again by the cops by the time the audience shows up, only this time under the eye of Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig), famous PI who was anonymously hired to the case after the police show their eagerness to rule the death a suicide. The story is told predominantly in the shadows of Marta (Ana de Armas), Harlan's nurse and dear friend, and one of few involved who isn't a legal relative.

But the film scrubs through each of the large, and often duplicitous secondary cast, all of which have obvious motives for eliminating their father (or grandfather, father-in-law, etc.), and they all glow with excitement at the chance to play their part almost overzealously, sometimes on the verge of overacting to the point of parody, only they don't have anything particularly exciting to say or do.

What does work is how the screenplay handles the big reveal, something keenly kept out of sights but makes so much sense once Blanc (James Blanc) details it. But so what? The dad's dead, and... that's it. There isn't much payoff once everything is all said and done, except that the right person is caught and the right person gets rich from inheritance; "Knives Out" works on the technical level of filmmaking, it just forgot to include anything interesting.

Frozen 2 Review

Well here we are, it's 2019 and we're wizzed back to the icy juggernaut with a sequel to 2013's smash hit, "Frozen 2." And of course, it's breathtaking! The visuals constantly dazzled, enhanced by the 3D glasses I paid a slight surcharge for, and the songs! My goodness! Are any stuck in my head currently? Well, no, but give it time, I'm sure tomorrow when I'm at the store every child will be singing one or two of the newest ballets while I wait at checkout.

It's also darker, a more intimate affair with the beloved characters, exploited to their rawest emotions, some of the deeper animated expressions from the House of Mouse in a long time. Remember how the death of Elsa and Anna's parents in "Frozen 1" was glossed over in the beginning? Well here not only are they alive via flashbacks, but we also explore the site of their demise, as well as a few plot developments and the impacts to the dual female leads (of course leading to more than a few CGI tears shed). Ballads this time around emphasise less on grand scale and more on more the characters, choosing closeup shots over the lavish autumn environments. It's moments like this, and there are a lot of them, that bring these more mature themes to the level kids will hopefully not just pay attention to, but also understand.

Take the signature song of secondary character Olaf (Josh Gad), the dimwitted snowman, "When I Am Older." Dealing with the realizations of not understanding the world around him, it's packed with a host of visual gags, but the concept is not your typical bright and cheery noise (and thank god there are Dreamworks-esque pop song phoned in).

We follow Elsa (Idina Menzel), now more comfortably resting as Queen of Arendelle, though recently bothered by a haunting voice that hums just a few notes. She doesn't share this with her sister Anna (Kristen Bell) or Anna's boyfriend Kristoff (Jonathan Groff) (or that damn dopey snowman), but she unintentionally awakens the four elemental spirits (earth, water, fire and air) and their forced to evacuate their kingdom. This leads our foursome (well, fivesome if you include Sven the reindeer) to the Enchanted Forest, guarded by a wall of fog that prevents anyone from entering or returning.

The voice unlocks then traps our group inside, only to find lost Arendelle soldiers battling the Northuldra tribe, having done so for decades since the mist first formed. There are some vague Pocahontas vibes here, as its explained the two societies once shared a gentle alliance and the territory, only to turn to bloodshed. But the only way to end their conflict, and to calm the angered spirits, is to discover and repair history, as Elsa explains, and the cast separate on their way to Ahtohallan, a river of memories past.

I'm going to stop there summarizing the tale; I don't want to spoil anything. This is a relatively complex narrative, lacking a true villain, characters destined to fall in love, or a world to save (the only thing in danger here is their kingdom of Arendelle, hardly something Clark Kent would enter a telephone booth for). And compared against some of the upcoming animated films previewed before my early morning showing (I'm looking at you, "Playmobil: the Movie"), Disney seems to be mostly treating kids with the understanding that they're actually pretty smart.

What returns from its predecessor, aside from the glimpses of whimsy and astonishing musical numbers, is the confused narrative, which seems to forget about everyone but Elsa from time to time with its myriad of twists and turns and plethora of underdeveloped tertiary characters. I mean, does anyone remember the Duke of Weselton from Frozen 1? Well, somehow he makes a brief cameo here (grumble grumble.) It's a disperate experience when you're not caught up in the amazing majesty.

Terminator: Dark Fate Review

If there was ever a film franchise that never needed another sequel, it's "Terminator." The first two are sublime action sci-fi flicks (with the first one practically a slasher film), hell, even th 3D theme park attraction was damn fine. (Though there is some novelty in seeing Arnie return for the second sequel, "Rise of the Machines.")

But by this point, the plot, dealing with time travel, has become so convoluted, with so many timelines that this newest one, "Dark Fate," ignores everything after the second film! You know a franchise has no idea what it's doing when it needs to erase the developments established in an amusement park attraction! There is a major difference between a series like this and say, the James Bond pictures- "Terminator" is build purely around Arnold Schwarzenegger (and to a lesser extent, Linda Hamilton), not able to reinvigorate the stories with new blood. James Cameron even returns, albeit as a productor and receiving "story by" credit. So what we have here is 128 minutes "best hits" compilation, take it or leave it. I mostly took it.

Let's get the plot out of the way, because it's easily the weakest retread. Dani (Natalia Reyes) is this film's Sarah Connor (who's also here but...), a seemingly random girl who is suddenly attacked by the bad Terminator, the Rev-9 (Gabriel Luna) but then saved by Grace (Mackenzie Davis), the good Terminator (or enhanced person, whatever). The rest is a long chance scene, punctuated by the duo's rescue by Sarah Connor (Linda Hamilton)'s rescue and the trio's rescue by T-800 (Arnie, AKA Carl, a name that builds to the film's biggest laugh). There are the usual body cloning, timeline explanations, and stunned bystanders- like I said, there is nothing new in the plot department. Even the subtle variations, which are disguised as twists, come off as stale.

The acting and action, also complete reruns of the first two movies, are a lot more successful, including some decent development considering the dialogue mostly returns from earlier entries, and of course, plenty of explosions, most of which are delightful. But we came here for Arnie and Linda, who slip so easily into their most iconic roles despite their varying screen time. They say what we expect them to say, and do the things we expect them to do, and the film expects that'll be enough. It's not, unfortunately, because we don't care about what's happening around them; how can I be excited with such a blatantly recycled plot!? There are three(!) people credited as screenwriters and five(!!) people getting "story by" credit- how was there not one original idea there?!

I suppose it's silly expecting something new here, but like when I brought up James Bond earlier, those films are essentially the same each time, only bigger, longer, and funnier, only to be reset for the next Bond. Why couldn't that happen here? I guess it's because people like Arnie, and Arnie likes being liked. It's not entirely wrong to say I'm disappointed here, but I'm definitely satisfied.

Rambo: Last Blood Review

I saw not just one young kid at my screening of "Rambo: Last Blood," a film that truly earns its hard R rating, but many- one even hollered at the sole sight of an exploding truck! They had a blast, and so did I, thought that's perhaps because I saw the first Rambo film, "First Blood," and then the second, on television when I was small. I can't praise the acting, script, or direction, hell, I'm not really sure if I can condone the exploitative bloodshed, but I was on board the second I heard that familiar Jerry Goldsmith theme (composed this time around by Brian Tyler). If what you want is an angry testosterone sandwich with a trim runtime of eighty nine minutes, you won't leave hungry.

The plot is "Taken," "Death Wish," "Commando," or pretty much any movie where something happens to the daughter and the dad is not happy about it. Though its level of gruesome mayhem lies it closer to the clones of those movies, and "Rambo," that were pumped out directly to VHS in the 80's, I'm not really sure if that's a complaint- I mean, it's "Rambo," and it's on the big screen! (I saw it on the biggest screen I could.) This time a family friend's daughter Gabrielle (Yvette Monreal), who he affectionately refers to as his niece, gets kidnapped into a sex slavery ring in Mexico, and, you guessed it, Rambo heads across the border to get her.

Rambo beats some people up, then gets beat up, then rescues his niece, then kills one of the two gang leaders, and then heads stateside to booby traps his ranch (and underground tunnels) ala "Home Alone" and kills the other brother. The end. It's a plot as basic as action film plots come, with the only surprise being just how good of shape Stallone still is in. But there needed to be something memorable here, and that would be its lurid carnage; in one scene, Rambo shoves his fingers under a man's skin and tears a bone out! And you see everything! And once the climax happens underground, in the cramp, narrow dirt walls, it is a nonstop trainwreck of blood, gore, and dismemberment.

Director Adrian Grunberg's has a few nice touches in making Rambo's Arizona ranch look like an old Western, like a murky, gradient sun shining over the barren sands, though he has the nasty habit of stereotyping Mexico and those who live there; honestly, I think my rusted 2002 Mitsubishi Galant looked better than any car shown in the Mexican streets.

But he understands that by this point both Stallone and Rambo are such presences, and lusts over not just his bulging body but also his gravel-smooth face, as if his dialogue was anything more eloquent than "I'm gonna hurt you real bad." He understands that Stallone has always been an actor who talks better through facial expressions than by his script, and here, he hasn't much to do except be sullen. He also lusts over the complete over-the-top violence, but hey, at least he has a soft spot.

There are some minor plot variances that crop up but all are forgotten as soon as they're said, such as when a doctor says Rambo, who is in a coma, will suffer from light and sound sensitivity.  Right, the man looked in pain with all the loud "bangs"from his sawed off shotgun not twenty minutes later (rest-in-peace nameless henchmen #5).

But logic, narrative, and all common sense are not what I came to the megaplex for. I came to see one of the all-time action greats kickass again, and "Last Blood" offered that. And in a world where he spends his time flexing his acting chops in the "Creed" movies, it's nice to see he still has muscles to flex as well. (Note to self, do not kidnap Stallone's family.)

Angel Has Fallen Review

I'm a bit of a sucker for these action thrillers, big, loud and dumb (only occasionally do we get a smart one), and the newest one, last week's "Angel Has Fallen," is all-of-the-above, except smart, of course. It's plot is as rudimentary as they come, lifted straight out of Harrison Ford's sublime "The Fugitive" only instead of a dead wife it's a failed assassination attempt on the president.

I'll admit, I had no intent on heading to the theaters had I not read a review, comparing star Gerard Butler to the late Charles Bronson, whom I have an unfettered affection for. But was I willing to pluck down ten and change on the second sequel in a franchise I keep forgetting exists? Of course not, until Netflix showed "Olympus Has Fallen," the first installment, in my "recommended movies" scroll. Two or so hours later, I was in. Oh of course, not for ten bucks! But luck would have it, little local theater has matinees for just five or so dollars, which is the most I can advise anyone spend to see this. Is it bad? No not really, but it's not particularly good either. I skipped on the recent actioner "Hobbs and Shaw" for one simple reason, the PG-13 rating. What does a guy have to do to see some bloodshed with all the bullets? And a few hard expletives here and there? Here we have a solid R rating, a well deserved one, and in a world where theaters seem to only debut diluted shoot'em-ups, it's kind of refreshing.

The production value is a bit too high for me to ever imagine seeing my boy Charlie in (as well as far too little nudity and killed lovers), but its script and direction is nowhere as near as good as what you'd expect Stallone or Schwarzenegger to be headlining. But then again, Gerard is no Bronson (lacking his commanding screen presence), Stallone (missing his stoic face) or Schwarzenegger (deprived of his sense of humor), lacking any of their charm, but close your eyes and picture an early 90's Steven Seagal, puffy face complete with a slight paunch, and your expectations are in good hands. It's as run-of-the-mill an action flick can be without being boring, and that's the key here, I was never bored. Was I ever at the edge of my seat? No, but I sat very comfortably in the reclining, heated leather chairs of my local cheapo cinema.

There are all the obligatory plot twists, well, they're handled more like awkward and convenient detours by stuntman turned director Ric Roman Waugh, who's obviously more confident staging the gunfights, which there plenty of, than the hand-to-hand combat, which are shaky and overedited to the point where they're hard to follow, probably why most are shot in the dark. Scenes pass where I had no idea what the hell was going on, and they ended without me knowing what had happened. Having just seen the "Olympus" on the small screen, which had far more cohesive brawls shot in rather well lit environments, it's a bit disappointing but- oh that's right the plot! See how inconsequential it is?

Discussing the nuances in any detail is not just a disservice, but also would just be a list of the supporting actors, which range from Nick Nolte, as Gerard's bonkers dad, to Morgan Freeman playing none other than Mr. President. (Spending one half of the film in a coma and the other sitting in a hospital; with the smallest budget in the series, they could probably only afford him for a few hours.) But there are explosions galore, a lot of fake blood spewed, and plenty of swears- it's the kind of film they don't make much of anymore, or at least ones that come to your local megaplex, for better or worse.

Crawl Review

Despite being "apex predators," you know, top-of-the-food-chain animals, alligators don't get a lot of screen time in the movies. That honor is left to its more aggressive relative the crocodile, but even then, when's the last time you went to the multiplex, plucked down eightish bucks, sat down with your candy of choice, and chowed down while the reptile onscreen does the same? Off of the top of my head that honor goes to "Lake Placid," although there have been a handful of small or foreign (or worse... made-for-TV fare), but the last one to stick with me was the 1999 flick most fondly remembered for Betty White's potty mouth than satisfying monster action. But here we have "Crawl," a violent little picture that shies away from character development in favor of some surprisingly grisly kills. It's good stuff, if this is your kind of stuff.

I'm a pushover for stuff like this, low-rent thrillers where a big angry animal stalks a small band of characters. I can refuse the bad ones, like last year's "The Meg" and 2017's "Life," but here we have a satisfying amount of bloodshed and heroes we root for, or at least, don't root to be eaten.

Set in Florida, Haley (Kaya Scodelario), a wannabe swimming who is caught in a hurricane when her dad Dave (Barry Pepper) won't answer her calls. "Gotta make sure he's safe," she thinks. The house is empty, but the dog keeps barking at the crawlspace, so she investigates. Big mistake. She finds her dad down there, unconscious, in addition to a handful of alligators. They escape to the back protected by pipes that the gators can't get through, and well, that's about it. It's a simple premise, but it's built completely on your ability to accept that 1, there is a house in Florida with a crawlspace, and 2) that hollow metal tubes can deter hungry hungry alligators.

It's almost a clever mix of monster and disaster genres, I say "almost" because this is a creature feature first, with the hurricane part just an excuse to add more water. With a relatively small sub-14 million dollar budget, these stormy parts are the least effective when it comes to the special effects. You can tell that it's not real water that floods the area when the levee breaks, and that's a shame, because the alligators look great! A few shots look a bit cartoony, but the effects team really did a good job making the reptiles look simultaneously like something you'd actually see in a documentary, and only see in the movies.

It's tough to make a truly scary film; audiences are trained to listen to the sudden pause of music, or the camera angled slightly off of the character no doubt about to get bitten so the monster can jump into frame. But "Crawl" does away with most conventions- here, the gators just lunge out from the shadows of the dark crawlspace, or out from the murky water, or from around the corner, or from, well, you see my point. Sometimes the gator appears on the attack, but sometimes they're just wondering the environment, but it almost always without a traditional cue. The seldom set up to the attack left me on edge, a technique that reminded me of "Jaws." Of course the trailer gave away a kill (poor random secondary police character), as well as a handful of surprise "appearances" by the scaley antagonists, but there is a lot of creature action here that I never really minded.

There is a certain suspension of disbelief we allow for movies, but my gosh does little Haley takes a beating! Her her leg is bitten, then her arm, and then her arm again(!), and yet she's seen outswimming the gators! And don't get me started on Papa Davey here, because he's practically super-human! Early on he is seen using a belt and a wrench (or maybe was screwdriver, or was it pliers...) to keep the broken bone in his leg in-place (from an offscreen attack), but before you know it he's walking just fine, while carrying a dog no less! And because alligators hunt mostly by detecting movement of potential prey, the film asks us to accept that none of the gators smell the blood from all their open wounds. These creatures don't look like they're picky about their eating habits. I already touched upon a few unrealistic parts with the plot, but it's execution adds even more implausible moments that almost make "Crawl" a "so-bad-it's-good" picture. It's better than that, but barely.

I mentioned before that I was reminded fondly of the untouchable Jaws, but like all monster movies (the great, the good, the mediocre, and yes, even the bad), there will inevitably be sequels; I just hope that the they don't end up with the gators escaping "Sea World" ala "Jaws 3." Actually come to think of it, make it "GatorWorld" and I'm in. Just think what the collaboration will do for Florida's economy.

Shaft (2019) Review

What's to say about "Shaft," the 5th film in the franchise (and third named "Shaft," grumble grumble), except that someone high up at Warner Bros. Pictures thinks that it's just sexist, homophobic, racist, raunchy, and tacky jokes. Samuel L. Jackson (playing Shaft Jr. for the second time) just walks around, cooly swearing, cracking a lot of much of the aforesaid inane punchlines- at least he looks cool. He is about the only reason to see this, if you can get past his vulgarities, of which there are plenty. The catch, or crutch, this time is his son, Shaft III (Jessie Usher), who was abandoned by his pa at a young age (terrific plot for "Father's Day weekend"), finds himself needing his dad's help investigating the allegedly wrongful death of his friend. Oh and I forgot to mention that Shaft, the real Shaft, played by Richard Roundtree- that's three Shafts for the price of one!

This newest Shaft (Shaft Jr. Jr., or Baby Shaft, or Rugrat Shaft or...) is far from up-to-snuff of living up to Samuel's acting giftedness, who's presence on the screen is so weak you often forget he's even a main character (hey, I might not agree with what Samuel is saying, but I do love how he's saying it). But he is the voice of reason, arguing about how "wrong" the overall tone of the film is with Shaft Jr., and although he's ultimately right, by the end of the film sports an itchy trigger-finger, just like his dad. The only voice of reason in the entire flick becomes what he hates- what kind of message is that?? Even Shaft Jr.'s ex-wife Maya (Regina Hall) is a terrible person; oh sure, she pretends that he hates the ways of her previous husband, but literally, and I mean "literally," every other word she says is the "f" word (it'd make a good drinking game I suppose), and she can't help herself but find herself aroused by the "manliness" of Shaft Jr. (and Shaft Jr. doesn't waste any opportunity to remind her). Usually, characters so tawdry exists to counter another character with an opposing point of view. Problem is in "Shaft," crudeness wins by a landslide.

The plot is standard grade murky TV crime-thriller material, with double-crossing, false police reports, shootouts, all the usual suspects. But not only is the tone of the film particularly nasty, but none of the narrative is handled with grace, and most egregiously is how poor the action is handled. To be honest, all three Shafts are practically conscientious objectors here, aside from a handful of gunfights (I counted 2, though with the way this thing is paced, edited and filmed, I wouldn't be surprised if I missed one, or one was cut entirely but the plot forgot). Oh sure, they talk a big game (a racist, homophobic, sexist game) but most of the film is shockingly tasteless dialogue spewed from any of the leading actors or actresses as they drive from one stereotypical "Harlem" building to the next (you know the type, ones with drug-dealers). When we do get to any real action, all the actors move as if their shoes are nailed to the ground; they just stand there, bang bang bang. Bad guys dead. Girl paws over whichever Shaft is theirs (or used to be). How thrilling.

But the audience I saw this with, let me tell you, they laughed and reacted as if they had seen a completely different movie than me. And it was infectious- I found myself laughing with them, even though I disagree with what I was laughing along to. I wondered where my integrity had gone. What happened to my sense of humor? Does this ultimately warrant a recommendation? Well, only if you see it in a crowded theater, and easily succumb to peer pressure.

Godzilla: King of the Monsters Review

What a world we live in. There are two Godzilla series coexisting, one in Hollywood and one in his hometown, although neither series really got off to a good start. Oh sure, the 2014 USA adaptation, as well as the 2016 Japanese reboot, were welcome returns to the king of monsters, but the failed to do anything creative with the property. Yes yes I know, it's a blast to see a giant monster movie on the big screen (ask any "man-child"), but how many times can we justify swerving the camera off of creatures destroying buildings to disinteresting humans discussing the same thing? The same thing is how to destroy the monsters, of course, and although it's practically a tradition at this point (this is the 35th film in the franchise), one would think that someone at franchise owner Toho would say "hey, haven't audiences seen this before" and, you know, try something new?

But I'm getting off topic here- this isn't a review of the current state of Godzilla, but rather the newest iteration in the franchise. I'm not going to bother talking about the confusing name... actually I am. It's a stupid one, as it's almost identical to the American reedit of the first picture (which was "Godzilla, King of the Monsters!")- hell actually ignore my complaints about the title. What's the point? There are so many sequels, reboots, adaptations, and ripoffs that titling is always going to be a mess (though I'd say "Godzilla 2" would have worked just fine).

The plot this time is an overstuffed buffet of needless, bromidic characters who go over every obligatory beat (spoiler alert, the military wants to destroy Godzilla). That's fine, that's fine, I get it. It's a Godzilla movie; like the James Bond movies, audiences expect familiar scenes, plot-points and character types. But this narrative is just so cluttered, as if screenwriters Michael Dougherty and Zach Shields threw every underdeveloped idea into the script without ever asking "why." We have Mark Russell (Kyle Chandler), our primary protagonist, chasing after his daughter (Millie Bobby Brown) and his ex-wife Emma (Vera Farmiga), who uses a device called the "Orca" to communicate with Godzilla and his pals. But that's not all! We have a secret government organization called Monarch. We have the military throwing their hat into the ring by using the "Oxygen Destroyer," from the first film in the franchise. We have Godzilla becoming a nuclear bomb (straight from, well, off of the top of my head, "Godzilla vs. Destroyah?"). We have a divorced couple argue about what's best for their daughter. And there are courtroom scenes where politicians argue. Oh, there are also characters polluted by monster-prejudice. There is just too much going on here!

Back to Emma. Her plan is to awaken the various monsters in the world so they can "reset" the damage done by mankind and live "alongside them" (blah blah blah "the world originally belonged to these creatures" blah blah blah). It's an absolute bonker plot, but it's not an original one; I heard it first in the 1993's mockbuster "Carnosaur," only Emma here is less interesting a character than that film's Dr. Tiptree, played with unbridled intensity and grace by the great Diane Ladd. Whether Emma is an antagonist or misunderstood is never really explained or followed up on.

This Orca thing is the silliest of items, as it talks to the monsters by emitting frequencies only they can hear. Even a dummy like me knows that these frequencies can only be heard from so far away, yet creatures hundreds of feet tall have no trouble hearing them when the device is at human height. OK I'll buy that. It's a creature-feature after all. But then when they need to reach monsters across the globe, they just plug it into Fenway Stadium and use its speakers to make a long-distance call to Rodan and friends. How far do these frequencies travel? Why do I care? I just want to sit back and watch CGI behemoths (well, I'd prefer men in rubber suits) beat the snot out of each other- if a movie shows me that it is attempting to offer a scientific explanation, then I'm going to have to use my brain. I promised mine it would be on autopilot.

Other gears in the machine are just as rusty. It's revealed not too late into the picture that Emma doesn't want to kill the human race, only for titans to live in harmony with humans. Yet she has no problems when her associate Alan Jonah (Charles Dance) shoots up her lab and kills everyone but her and her daughter so they can go off and wake up the other creatures sleeping across the globe. There has to have been a more subtle way to get the device out of the lab- she works there! It's about the size of a bulky laptop- just slip it into a backpack and leave the building! I suppose a peaceful, nonchalant exit from the lab would have been less "cinematic." It's not like Alan is ever really explained to be "evil," he quips that she approached him about organizing the whole thing. One character calls him an "eco-terrorist," but I dunno, aside from killing some people during his introduction, he just sorta stands there. He has no villainous monologue, nothing that help me the viewer know he's bad, or supposed to be, unless I remember he shot a guy or two.

Here's another one! When, after they find Godzilla "healing" after getting beat-up mid-picture, they try and locate him underwater so they can fire a nuclear missile at him to accelerate his regen (he's empowered by nuclear radiation, don't ya know). But they can't get too close because of the high levels of radiation. That's sounds all good, but once the blast, the nuclear blast goes off and their submarine narrowly escapes it, they quickly surface and stand on the top of the sub. And Godzilla resurfaces and they go face-to-face with him. Weren't they just worried about radiation? (I'm sure their teeth have never been whiter.)

The biggest issue here is that the parts where Godzilla and company fight each other are so good, the parts where people talk are so tedious. And that's one thing I haven't been able to write about- the battles, and boy are they spectacular! So many shots are filled with wonder and awe, and topped off with little touches, like how heavy the monsters look when moving, things like that. How bad is everything else? Consider how perhaps the best line in the movie isn't spoken; rather, it's written, near the bottom of the credits. It was something like "... no animals were harmed in the making of this motion picture." I'm sure PETA will be happy to hear that the wild Godzillas were treated humanely.

Aladdin Review

Whether or not you like the newest live-action adaptation of a Disney animation classic, this time "Aladdin," depends on two things: how you feel about freshness, and how you feel about the Fresh Prince. Will Smith, taking on the role of the Genie, previously performed famously by the late Robin Williams, is in full "Fresh Prince" mode, talking, joking and rapping with all the swagger that gave him his big break in the mid-nineties. If you're on the fence about seeing this, answer honestly, does Will wearing a ridiculously large hat make you all giddy? Yes, then go buy your ticket, because it happens.

I'm all for Mr. Smith, who fills the impossible shoes left by Robin by bringing the role tons of fresh air. He's cool tone and confidence means you rarely notice how the script gives him very little new to say, because he makes it sound different. When he's on screen things feel unique and different, the way an adaptation, or remake, or whatever you want to call this, should feel. But he's only present for so much of the running time, and the lack of ingenuity is the film's fatal flaw- scenes and lines are ripped practically out of the animated flick, only the subtle differences will eventually eat away at whatever pleasure you're having and begin to irk you. It's a strange sensation, because by all means repeating greatness so close means you should again have greatness, but alas, we have a two star picture from four star material.

A lot of problems are rooted in the decision to hire Guy Ritchie as director and co-writer (along with John August), as his strengths at free-flowing action are shown off occasionally here, but are overwhelmed by his inability to do anything exciting with the core story. It's the same thing as cartoon version, for the most part, with street rat Aladdin stumbling into a genie who makes him a prince as he tries to impress Princess Jasmine and fight off the evil Jafar. Sure, he makes some cosmetic changes here (Jafar is no longer repulsed by the idea of marrying Jasmine to become the kingdom's sultan, for example), but fans will no doubt recognize every scene and anticipate the next, myself included. And save for a thrilling chase through the city streets late in the picture, one of a handful of moments where I'd recommend shelling out the surcharge for 3D, this is beat-for-beat the same movie, and by not improving or expanding upon its sources, you'll just find yourself watching a "lesser version" of the tale.

Take the famous "A Whole New World" duet. It should have been a showstopper, especially since I sprang for the 3D glasses, but there was little wonder onscreen. Oh sure, it did a decent job making me feel like I was on the flying rug between the two sweethearts, but the world they glided around was dark and unimpressive, every location looking the same as before (unless it was too dim to notice the change in scenery).

Then there is the casting of the titular thief and his royal love interest. Aladdin, played by Mena Massoud, has enough charm I suppose, but he looks too old to be playing a character traditionally described to be in his teens, and shares very little chemistry with costar Maoni Scott, who plays Jasmine. She looks far more comfortable in front of the camera, even as if she's trying to find some sort of spark between the two would-be lovers. She's gorgeous and wears her elaborate costumes very well, but she can only carry the couple so far. But the biggest issue with the performers is their voices- oh good golly, they just don't hold a candle to the original. My untrained ears could detect a few autotuned moments, which I'm fine with, but their body movements during song just never matched the volume flowing from their mouths. You'd hear them hit this powerful note, but their hand gestures and stances were stiff, as if they don't know how to sing and dance at the same time, something Will Smith has no problems with (in case you couldn't already tell, he's by far the best thing there).

If anything, I'd ultimately recommend against seeing "Aladdin;" just do what I wish I did- pop in the original, and then head to the interest and listen to Will Smith's rap rendition of "A Friend Like Me," which plays over the credits. While it's absolutely awesome to have another film starring the Fresh Prince that features an original song by the Fresh Prince, use your ten dollars and change toward YouTube Premium, so you can listen without ads.