Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales Review

Once again Captain Jack Sparrow (Johnny Depp) is drunk, pirates appear, ships explode, and ghosts are inconsequentially pertinent to the plot. If "Cutthroat Island" didn't kill the pirate genre, then "Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales" will.

I will admit, the film opens promisingly enough, when a new bank is being christened, lauded the safest safe in all of fictional pirate land. They swing open the door to the public, only to find Jack drunk inside. As it turns out, he is here to steal the safe, but when gunshots scare the horses, the entire bank is pulled from the ground. Remember kids, don't rob and drink.This one scene is the most fun in the entire running time, where both main and secondary characters are pulled onto the bank and off of the lumbering building, all clearly shot and genuinely fun to watch. This is the sole moment when the flick achieves the low-rent "Indiana Jones" style the rest of the film lusts for, where action is blended masterfully with humor and spectacle. Save for the rare land reprieve, the remainder of film then sets off on the open seas, where it becomes murky, with clumsy closeups of characters reacting to ghosts, pirates, and ghost pirates (as well as ghost sharks) and poorly staged action on what looked to be slightly unfinished CGI landscapes (or does that make them waterscapes?).

The plot chronicles Armando Salazar (Javier Bardem), a talented actor wasted here as a pirate hunter who met his maker from the soused Mr. Sparrow. His usual flamboyance are diluted behind pounds of makeup and CGI as a ghost trapped in the Devil's Triangle. Well, that is until dipsomaniac Jack barters his compass for a drink, which frees the pirate-prejudice man to scour the seas in a manic search for the alcoholic swashbuckler. In toe are Henry Turner (Brenton Thwaites), son of Orlando Bloom's character in the franchise (the actor has nothing but a glorified cameo here) who is after Jack so that he can help him find the Trident of Poseidon, and Carina Smyth (Kaya Scodelario), an orphan (?) and astronomer who is convicted of witchcraft. She believes Henry can help her find the trident, and he thinks Jack can help him do the same. In between all of this, Captain Barbossa (Geoffrey Rush) enters a plea bargain with the Salazar (remember him from earlier in the plot?), to help the ghost man find Jack so that he will spare his own life.

If that does not make any sense, that is because the film has failed at cohesive story telling. This is the fifth film in the franchise, based on a ride at Disneyland, and has been going on for fourteen years, so to give the filmmakers any slack would be to accept their exploitation of a gimmick premise. And although I did indeed follow the plot, there are far too many primary, secondary, and tertiary characters here, each with far too much to say but without anything interesting to speak of. Every single hero and villain here is a stereotype of actual film characters, but only star Johnny Depp seems to realize that, and have fun with it. Inside all the luscious outfits and beneath the eyeliner are shells of anything human, and with all the CGI here, I'm half surprised this was not entirely made inside a computer.

But perhaps the biggest disappointment here is the film's diluted definition of the genre of "pirates:" people have bad teeth, ships are sailed, and ragged clothing is worn, but that is it. The gunfire is all shockingly accurate but unsatisfying, as well as the sword fighting, where blades are tapped together, the actor is replaced by stunt double, who promptly falls on the floor to avoid choreographed swordsmanship. All honest buccaneering has been attenuated into generic explosions and mythological action. Picture this, the water is parted late in the film. No, this is not the telling of Exodus, this is a film out of ideas.

Alien Covenant Review

In the land of sequels and prequels, "Alien Covenant" is a sequel to a prequel! Those gooey monsters from the original 1979 film are front and center, as well as several variations on the titular beast, not unlike the dog/ox alien attempt from the franchise's third offering. Not much has changed in nearly forty years; unknowing space-crew finds themselves on an extraterrestrial planet, and blood is splattered, both human and alien (ah yes, cannot forget that the last one's body fluid is acid).

The team this time are colonists, setting out to a distant planet that can sustain human life. But the crew awakes when the ship is struck by what the script calls "neutrino burst," but the captain's sleeping pod malfunctions, killing him. This introductory to our cast already has them dealing with death and questioning their new captain Chris Oram (Billy Crudup), who is a man of faith. During repairs to the ship, the pilot Tennessee's (Danny McBride) helmet intercepts an S.O.S. from a nearby planet. Of course, the crew fly down to investigate, only to find mysterious ruins of a foreign spaceship, as well as crops of wheat. Who planted it? What could have flown a ship like that? The film proposes many questions without ever actually asking many, and has even fewer answers. It is a showcase for the power of practical effects, with grandiose set designs that had me filled with both wonder and unease.

Of course, it would not be an "Alien" movie without an android. This time the robot is Walter (Michael Fassbender), who dresses a little sloppy and comes off far more disinterested of reciting company propaganda than the franchise's previous droids. But that is not all! There is another synthetic, found on the enigmatic planet's curious rubble, named David, who is additionally played by Michael Fassbender. He is of course the same cyborg from this film's predecessor, and rescues our space cadets from a particular nasty situation. This dual role for Michael is wonderful: both characters share much of their screen time together, where you can watch how different he makes each artificial man, complete with their own facial expressions, accents, and body movements. There is a heavy pseudoeroticism to their relationship, not only a testament to the actor's talents but also an illusion to the Xenomorph's innate amorous essence; this is perhaps the most sexual franchise that contains so little nudity.

If the plot sounds familiar, that is because it is essentially a condensing of the entire franchise into one 123 minute long film. We the audience knows what those facehuggers do, we anticipate a false ending, and we forecast who the leading woman will be- and that she will live until the end. That latter role is Daniels Branson (Katherine Waterston), but I cannot confirm whether or not she makes it until the end. That is because the subtle brilliance of these movies are the variations on the franchise tropes, and the ending here is considerably more understated, and done far more effectively, than the recent space-monster movie "Life."

However, where as director Ridley Scott is at his best lusting over the fetishistic sets, he struggles with the film's more intense moments of the title beast ripping apart the crew members. His use of quick cuts and "shaky-cam" filming do little to stimulate, aside from the flick's introduction to the slimy, human-hosted, creatures. Most attacks occur in the dark of the depressing and damp caves that have housed David since the events of the last picture, reducing suspense into a murky mess of rubber monsters and fake blood. When Scott's dark nightmare does work, the set design, the aliens, all look spectacular, I just wish I could clearly see them.

But the biggest issue here are the humans; there are simply too many! Where as the first film gave us only a handful, we only get so much time with the dozen or so characters, and when most inevitably meet the dripping second mouth of the alien, we feel little emotion- how can I possibly care when when two lovers in the shower meet a bloody climax when their only purpose in the film is to increase its body count?

None of this prevents "Alien Covenant" from being the best movie in the franchise since 1986, as well as one of the best science-fiction films I have seen in a long time. Dear Ridley, I hope to see that last line on the DVD box.

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 Review

When heavy hitters like Kurt Russell and Sylvester Stallone star in a movie together, you had better have something interesting for them to do. Well, "Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2" has both of those actors, and comes so close to delivering on that potential. That does not make it a bad film- it is a marginal improvement over the first film, but you cannot help but feel a peculiar sensation wondering why the filmmakers would have gone through all the trouble getting Sly only for him to appear in three brief scenes (I counted).

Mr. Russell fortunately gets a lot more screen time, all of it well deserved, playing Ego, the "god with a little "g"" father of Peter Quill, a.k.a. Star-Lord (Chris Pratt). The two share much of the movie together, and prove that having two charming actors often times results in the two sharing chemistry. However something "off" about Quill's father, or at least that is what one of Star-Lord's buddies thinks, and I will refrain from disclosing whether or not there is something. But the plot that forces the duo together is surprisingly inconsequential, with Quill's band of friends protecting Ayesha's batteries from a slimy CGI thing. They defeat it (of course they did, it is how the film opens), but one of his pals, Rocket (voiced by Bradley Cooper), steals a handful of the batteries, they are hunted down by Ayesha's remote-piloted spaceships. Yes readers, this whole movie, this 136 minute long film all started because of batteries. What a premise...

But with Ego being a god, making Star-Lord a god also, doesn't that mean that any thrill the first "Guardians" film had was moot? (Logic like this is moot to a flick like this.) There is a lot of Kurt here, an actor talented enough to display affection when discussing his past with his long-lost son, but who is far from afraid to ham it up when the script asks for it. This is the Kurt Russell, the amount and the character, I so desperately pined for in "The Fate of the Furious."

The action is tame here, surprising for how many times galaxies are jumped and how many ships zip through space, but much of the time we watch our gang of primary characters talk to each other, then the set changes, then they talk some more. And I did not mind much of what they spoke, but the film frustratingly does not devote everything it has to the emotion it mentions. For each touching revelation there are two jokes slipped in, as if the filmmakers were unconvinced audiences would care for something other than glib remarks and the occasional space battle. Dear movie makers: we do!

The film fails to work on so many levels, particularly in the worlds it attempts to create; how can I be excited to visit alien planets when the lifeforms who inhabit them are simply humans painted green, or gold or blue?! Where is the imagination? Even the architecture is fairly human, never arousing the same foreign feeling that the "Alien" and "Star Wars" franchises so effortlessly evoke. This movie could have taken place on Earth- just trade the spaceships for jet planes and leave the face paint in the dressing room.

Drax (Dave Bautista) is a great example of that point by being such a poor film character, a buff, gray man who's only personality is to make painful observations in the most awkward fashion a screenwriter could imagine. There is so many scenes dedicated to him calling Mantis (Pom Klementieff) "ugly" that I quickly felt genuine dislike for the character (even if Mantis is presented here as more of a stereotype than a character). Rocket is another awful member of the titular gang, a CGI raccoon who's personality is purely to make fun of others for the first half of the film so that he can "learn his lesson" by the end. But his obnoxiousness is not what is most egregious here: he is just a raccoon created inside a computer. There is no personification, he does not "look" unique- he is, a raccoon who talks. His character is more congruous trading in his potty-mouth for dance moves in a Disney sing-a-long.

But Baby Groot (Vin Diesel) proved to be the bane of the movie, a character who says only "I am Groot" the entire film and acts like one of the babies in the "Rugrats" animated TV show. He exists solely to sell toys. The audience loved him. I did not- call me heartless, but he is one tree who is in desperate need of being chopped down.

The Fate of the Furious Review

It is a convenient thing having car companies pay for product placement in movies, because "The Fate of the Furious" contains such an expensive cast and so much GCI spectacle that the film otherwise could not afford them. There is so much mindless action that upon walking out of the multiplex, I needed a break. I felt like reading a book, not because I like reading, but because my brain needed something intelligent to consume before it turned to mush.

Now, and I apologize if I seem to go off for a moment, but did you know that movie trailers got their name because the used to come after the feature presentation (as in, they "trail" them)? Now, it makes sense that films today have trailers come before the movie (gotta make room for those post credit scenes, which this flick fortunately does not have), but before "The Fate of the Furious" began, a trailer for, you guessed it, "The Fate of the Furious" was played. Let that sink in. I do not know if that was just a fluke by my local theater, but if the TV commercials for the film didn't give away many of the set pieces, then seeing a big-screen trailer before the movie certainly did.

To describe the plot would be a waste of your time and mine, so I won't bother; any of the omnipresent TV commercial tells you it all. But to properly do my job here, I must tell you that Dominic Toretto (Vin Diesel) betrays his buddies of street racers (that is what this franchise is about, right?) when he meets Cipher (Charlize Theron), a cyberterrorist who is holding his infant son hostage. This really pisses his wife, Letty Ortiz (Michelle Rodriguez), as well as the rest of the crew, when he suddenly "goes rogue" during an EMP device heist, and steals said device. It takes the motley crew until the end of the movie to figure out why Vinny has swapped sides, but that would insinuate that time is spent with the characters as they work thing out.

But the 136 minute long film has little interest in taking things slow (or itself seriously, or honestly, complying to the laws of physics). James Bond this is not, even if its box-office results are comparable. Mr Nobody's (Kurt Russell) sole reason for existing is to cheat the plot, by "having connections" and "being off the grid," so the gang can drive fast cars well above the speed limit. And let me tell you, that is big a waste of Kurt Russell's talent and charisma; when he is on screen, the film takes its only pauses, and you cannot help but smile watching him imbue such an otherwise disposable character with smugness only he can.

The other actors are less successful, particularly those who you never see leading a movie. Charlize is a noticeable bore, a terrific actress who has nothing particularly interesting to do or say. She walks from one computer monitor to another, whispering monologues that really never amount to much. But most flagrant is Michelle, a strong lady who is portrayed so helpless without her onscreen husband. Sure, she drives fast, but so can teenagers; the same woman we've seen fighting zombies in other films can only win a fight here by kicking a man in the groin.

There is at least humor, a lot of it, but much of it is forced (at one point, one of the characters takes "a selfie"). But you cannot argue that the cast has its inherent charm, particularly from Jason Statham, who plays Deckard Shaw. His best moment, as well as the film's, is when he takes down numerous baddies while carrying a baby. My mouth couldn't help but smile at that. But who is disappointing is Dwayne Johnson, who gives a cursory performance here, reducing himself to being the guy who does the one-liners. At one point he says "knock knock" before crashing through a wall. I'm sorry, but I preferred it when Arnold Schwarzenegger said it in "Predator."

They go all over the globe, from the congested streets of New York to icy Russia, because New York is crowded and Russia is snowy. And there is destruction everywhere the evil people go and the good guys follow, from hack-able cars to a submarine, and those pretty faces driving the fast and furious cars are constantly in harms way. But as a viewer, there is no excitement; we know this is a franchise, and that no one in the group is going to die, because they need to appear in the obligatory sequel. That strips the action of all the stakes, and cheats the audience in the process.

Yet, no matter how many cars crash, and no matter how many explosions go off, its technical craft collapses under its own gratuity. You ever see a wrecking ball smash through a line of Berlin military cars in pursuit? I have, and you probably have too, in the commercial for this film. But why? So they can steal the aforesaid EMP device? What does this have to do with street racing? Isn't that what we started going to the theater to see? Long-lasting franchises know this, but when your film series has gone so far into insanity, you need to go back to its roots. The James Bond pictures know this, but then again, those are not factory made. These films are like the cars they advertise: they are manufactured on an assembly line for the average consumer.

Sandy Wexler Review

I have a confession, well actually, it is more of a gloat: I have not seen an Adam Sandler film on release since 2005's "The Longest Yard" remake, but that ends with Netflix's "Sandy Wexler," the third Adam Sandler flick exclusive to the streaming service. Considering how many films he puts out, it would be safe to say that I am not a fan of the actor. Actually, that would be putting it lightly.

But "Sandy Wexler," complete with all the "Adam Sandler-esque" movie trademarks (including, but not limited to: an annoying voice, a "funny" walk, supporting characters of friends instead of actors), wore me down with its charm. I have no idea where the hell the charm came from, there shouldn't anything here that should work, but something happened about half way through the film, and that thing was that my lip formed a smile.

Set in the 90's, Sandler plays the titular Sandy Wexler, a talent agent who is more than okay representing creeps and the non-talented (including Kevin James as Ted Rafferty, a forgetful ventriloquist, and Terry Crews as Bobby Barnes, a wrestler). He is good-natured and is ever too happy to tell his clients what they want to hear; "... the audition went well," for example, even when it didn't. But one day when babysitting two young girls at an amusement park, he discovers Courtney Clarke (Jennifer Hudson) singing in a chicken costume.

Courtney of course makes it big, but Wexler comes to the harsh realization that he cannot support her and the newfound fame. He is heartbroken, but here is where we see actual acting from the staring actor, a level of emotion and depth I did not know he had. Sandy attempts to focus on his other clients, but his distraction by her omnipresent fame causes a string of misfires that causes these clients to leave him, well, save for ventriloquist (who's own big break comes from the suicide of a clown). The rest is Hallmark Channel Original Movie territory, but perhaps that is why everything works so well. We watch them become friends, care for each other, discover themselves through the other- it is a story as dull-as-dishwater, but it is executed effortlessly here.

The film breaks from the 90's backdrop to find celebrities, and has-beens, playing themselves, all dressed up drinking out of fancy glasses, talking about the namesake talent agent. Most of Sandler's usual crew of actors appear here, without the gimmick of having them play a character, and I think this is why the film is so successful: most of the exhausting cameos, that have littered the actor's past films, appear together and make jokes, instead of being the joke. These scenes make sense by the end of the movie, in an obvious but somehow satisfying fashion.

But there are two things that surprised me here: Adam Sandler's acting and the comedy. Both are quite solid, even with the stupid voice and if the humor occasionally dives headfirst into stupidity with silly slapstick and 90's jokes (I mean, Vanilla Ice makes an appearance). I did not expect to find myself caring about Wexler and his crush on Clarke, but I did. And I certainly did not expect to find myself laughing, but that happened too. I must have been having an off-night; this recommendation comes with an apology.

Power Rangers (2017) Review

"Power Rangers," the third live action film in the franchise, acts a reboot and an homage to the property- as in, it was made to sell toys (and donuts, but more on that later). Kids will buy the toys, no doubt, as well as kids-at-heart, but they should not see the movie, unless their parents want them to be exposed to scenes of candy-colored action, with a few scenes of blood and bras (that last one is for the "kids-at-heart").

The heroes in this movie, the "Power Rangers," are teenagers, or at least what Hollywood thinks teenagers are; they fight, break laws, go to detention, listen to bad metal music, and send naughty photos of other girls to each other. Of course, it is detention where several of heroes meet, but why must these be the stars of our film? Is it really an underdog story if the person we are rooting for sent a nude picture of another classmate to a boy? Oh, and there is an early scene where "milking a male cow," to put it lightly, is brought up in conversation (there is a cow in the room... it really does not make any more sense if you actually see the movie). Is this all the five (yes five) credited writers could come up with when giving the characters backstory? Of course, you do not actually see any inappropriate pictures or cow milking (thankfully), so the PG-13 rating is secured, but I sat in a theater with a few kids, and I can imagine a matinee would have more, so when those children play with the action figures this 124 minute long commercial sells, they are playing with plastic representations of minors in serious need of better parents.

The five Power Rangers are coincidentally meet in their towns local mine (yes, because all small towns have a local mine), where Billy Cranston, the Blue Ranger (RJ Cyler) blows up a small wall of rock, because "insert generic backstory here," and five coins are spit out. These coins (the internet calls them "Power Coins," but I call them cheap props, so whatever), are what gives the quintuple their powers. They play with their powers before discovering a bed of water in the mines, which is the entrance to a ship. Here, Zordon (Bryan Cranston, no, he isn't related to fictional Billy Cranston), who was the previous leader of the Rangers, reveals himself to be nothing but a taking face on the wall. He tells them to become the Power Rangers and stop Rita Repulsa (Elizabeth Banks), who has just come back (coincidentally) and is after a Zeo Crystal, which can create and destroy life. At first she is a mummified skeleton, discovered by fisherman (a fisherman who happens to be the Red Ranger's dad). She is after gold at first, to build Goldar, a giant CGI monster made of gold, as she needs it to dig for the crystal. And she is particular about what gold she collects; at one point she rips the gold teeth out of a homeless man, but later only steals a few pieces from a local jewelry store (woman and their jewelry...). But Rita is the only character who is any interesting; Banks delivers each line with a snarl and a maniacal laugh, as if "overacting" was a category in the Oscars.

Rita at one point ties all the Rangers up at the town's local dock (this small town has many points of interest), demanding to know where the Zeo Crystal is. After some mild torturing, Billy unveils the crystal's location, and Rita drops him, all tied up, in the water before walking off and letting his friends free from the rope. At this point Billy dies (but he comes back- add that to the list of cliches), but why? How did he die? Was it the water, did he drown? He obviously can hold his breath; he has to swim to Zordon's ship! So what happened?

There are so many mistakes in the film, but one distinctly lingered with me as I walked to my car post credits: the Power Rangers must enter a pool of water to enter Zordon's ship, but when they exit the aqua, they are completely dry, save for a few damp heads. But then the next shot, viola, soaked fabric! This would not have been a problem, had one of the Rangers not commented on how wet they were. Spoiler, they are only wet when the script asks them to be.

The film finishes with your usual action scenes, which took a surprisingly long time to appear, considering its source material, and are packed with slow motion shots and quick, shaky-cam cuts, as the Power Rangers battle Rita and Goldar. Doesn't she know that gold is one of the softer metals? But there is little at stake here. For fight to save the world, there is zero pleasure from watching the small town be destroyed; there is a reason Godzilla demolishes Tokyo and not "Angel Grove." This movie has no purpose except to sell toys, and seeing it is about as much fun as watching someone else play with your toys.

I am sorry if Marvel has spoiled you, but no, each Power Ranger does not have their own "unique" power, or even unique armor, save for their color; without their bright packaging, there would be no way to tell them apart. Perhaps this is a blessing, maybe the creators here hope that they will be mistaken for a better, more developed superhero.

Oh, and the crystal ends up being deep beneath the local Krispy Kreme- spoiler, your movie ticket does not come with a donut.

Life Review

I can imagine Columbia Pictures and Skydance Media were sitting in a meeting room when news broke out about Ridley Scott directing a new Alien movie, and then scrambled to find any monster-in-space script to beat its release date. Unfortunately for audiences, this is the script they dusted of.

Now look, I am usually a pushover for these "haunted house in space" movies, but that is only when they are either "good" or "so-bad-they're-good." The new movie, "Life," falls into the "dreadfully boring" category, stealing not only from the "Alien" movies but also "The Thing," "Gravity," and somehow "Deep Rising," with a monster with a comparable number of mucky tentacles. Compared to other films in the genre, "Life" fails to leave any impression. On its own, makes you wish you were watching those ".. other films in the genre."

The plot concerns a space station and its six astronauts collecting a species sample from Mars, the first proof of extraterrestrial life. Hugh Derry (Ariyon Barkare) is the biologist, who spends most of turning knobs and dials like how I imagine a real biologist does. He is in charge of studying the creature, locked behind the industrial doors of the hulking spacecraft. But after a slight glitch with the atmospheric pressure valves, the little alien that could goes dormant. Determined not to lose what could be the greatest scientific discovery, he zaps the alien, named "Calvin" by a child on Earth who won a contest to name it (this scene takes place in NYC, so you will need both hands to count all the product placement). But that begins a series of stupid actions by our cast, as the organism reacts by clamping down on Hugh's hand, crushing his bones and then escaping from his petri dish. Engineer Rory Adams (Ryan Reynolds, who somehow gets top billing despite, well, read on) breaks the sealed door open to rescue Hugh from the tiny monster, but as he tosses the floppy-handed biologist out of the room, Calvin latches onto his leg, and Dr. David Jordan (Jake Gyllenhaal) locks him in the lab. Rory fights back, but Calvin does not play nice, and soon reduces the secondary character to a limp mass in a particularly bloody fashion. If you think this is a spoiler, don't; the characters are hardly developed enough to feel any emotion other than disgust when they drool blood from their mouths.

Calvin then escapes the room from the sprinkler system, and is now somewhere in the ship. He changes shape each time we see him, though unlike the Xenomorph from the aforementioned franchise, the slimy creature just looks bigger, and more slimy. He resembles an octopus with all his tentacle-esque legs, and just flops across walls and through shafts with none of the grace of a true movie villain.

The rest of the film deals with cut-off communications, low fuel and the lack of oxygen, as well as other, all too familiar, points in the plot; I am surprised the writers did not have ship's engine stall with the gooey monster hot in pursuit. There is not a single moment that filled me with wonder, never did Calvin do or look like something unexpected, never did a shot of space leave me in awe, and not one performance was above average. Every single decision was wrong-headed; even the film's ending left me with more unease than it did amazement.

Ah yes, the ending. There is a twist (that isn't a spoiler, is it?), and I will not say what it is, except that I did not expect it, and it is the only moment in the film where I felt it took a risk. But even with that said, it is a glaring convenient conclusion; just think to yourself, would things have been the same had the fishermen spoke English?