Bad Boys for Life Review

I laughed. I cried. I learned.

Actually, that's a lie, except I did laugh, sometimes out loud and frequently grinned, during my screening of "Bad Boys for Life." Released seventeen years after the previous entry (and twenty five after the first film), this threequel is far better than it has any right to be, a mostly smart action picture with a good sense of humor.

Will Smith and Martin Lawrence are back as Detective Lieutenants Mike Lowrey and Marcus Burnett, respectively, with Marcus turning in his badge after the birth of his grandkid. That miffs Mike, particularly once he's gunned down and returns to the force with a vengeance expecting his backup. What follows are a series of tears, revelations, explosions, shootouts, and many, many one-liners.

The two have lost zero comedic timing, bickering about everything from cars to ladies, sometimes involving secondary or background characters into their paltry squabbles; they go back and forth with increasingly silly comebacks that you can't help but picture these two knowing each other since childhood (or, at least twenty five years). It's really a joy to watch, two maturing icons who's intimacy with the characters help prevent the humor from feeling forced- I really did believe that Marcus was upset when Mike brought up breaking up with his sister that one time!

The plot was a bit deeper than your usual blockbuster, with enough twists and surprises that it holds your interest in the moments between the bloodshed and quips. There is an unanticipated level of drama in the narrative, thanks to the film's willingness to allow the stars to play with their age (both of which are in their early fifties). The age aspect is handled with grace, and the leading men know how to do more than simply make jokes and flex muscles- well, the latter is more for Will; Martin looks paunchy with chipmunk cheeks.

What extends this flick above other action pictures, such as "6 Underground," the most recent picture by the series' previous director Michael Bay, is how the more tender scenes are handled, particularly with the two inevitably facing retirement (and/or death). We're allowed to explore the less glamorous possibilities faced by Mike and Marcus, and our heroes are given several opportunities to do more than simply raise their eyebrows at the camera.

Underwater Review

"Underwater" is a bemusing film that wants to be too much and settles for too little. Any movie with an underwater setting is riffed here, from monster-on-the-loose to disaster epics, but its becomes just "Alien," but underwater!

For its strengths, it would have to be its opening half, before things dilute to a basic creature feature, where the audience is playfully tricked into each moment of aquatic calamity is some sort of beast, only it isn't, but then sometimes is. Genres are swapped sometimes within the same scene seamlessly, and the little kid in me was smiling from ear to ear wondering where we would go next. We go to "Aliens R Us" unfortunately.

And that's fine, but the creativity stalls once the monster is revealed, looking like a baby Xenomorph, only, well, not from outer space. It grows into something else of course (what kind of clone do you think this is?), and only its final form, showed from a dark distance and with much opaqueness, inspires any thought (like "how did Hillary Swank miss this thing when she was on her way to "The Core"?").

The plot centers around Norah (Kristen Stewart) and a handful of survivors of a massive underwater mining facility that's collapsing. Things move at a startling brisk pace with very little in the way of character development, at least in the beginning. Once the obligatory body count increases and our cast is dwindled to a plucky few, the rare moments of small talk boils down to "what's your corgi's name?" Great dialogue...

Most ripoffs have the monster entering the human location (be it spaceship, cruise liner, etc.) but "Underwater" unwisely moves a bulk of the action underwater. Here director William Eubank and cinematographer Bojan Bazelli struggle to create any sort of personality from either the vacant ocean or the cast in their deepsea gear; characters are practically indistinguishable and there is no sense of scale to the water, or any clear idea where these people are in relation to the submarine buildings.

Look "Underwater" isn't bad by any means, with an effective cast and moments of fun spectacle, but sometimes it isn't enough to throw every B-movie cliche into a blender and hit puree.

The ambiguous ending was a neat touch, alluding to corporate corruption otherwise only discussed during the opening credits, but it felt unsubstantial, with no payoff for either the characters or the audience. We felt relieved when Sigourney Weaver finally killed that slimy slender thing in this film's most obvious inspiration, but here, we know what's going to happen, it happens, then that's it. Please exit the theater following the marked signs and dispose of any trash in the appropriate receptacles.

1917 Review

"1917" is less a war film than a drama, less epic and more intimate, then the action-extravaganzas one thinks of with that generalization. We follow two Lance Corporals, Tom (Dean-Charles Chapman) and Will (George MacKay) as they move to deliver a message to call off a French attack on German forces, as it's a trap. It's a picture about trying to stop a battle, not a war, and we spend almost all of the runtime with such a little cast.

Problem is we're promised one thing with Will and Tom at the start, but a keen eye will know the ads focus mostly on just one individual; draw your own conclusions here with what happens. I did, and was right.

But let's not dwell on plot, as it's an exaggeration on history and, well, it's a movie. But even that's not true- this is less a movie and more an experience, thanks to the entire film being one-shot. Of course it isn't, when characters crash into raging waters, or enter a pitch-black trench when the cheating of this effect being most noticeable, but it works. There is no time to waste on secondary or even tertiary characters. No unnecessary scenes; this is a lean 119 minute long flick with no fat.

It works on a level rarely touched in the theater, where you the viewer live vicariously through the action onscreen. You can only catch your breath when our characters can, and director Sam Mendes doesn't give you many instances. You grip the arm of your chair, you feel you need to remind yourself you need to blink, that's effective moviemaking, and it's a trick exploited here to its absolute fullest, teetering on the brink of being a video game, or even one of those 3D attractions at Universal Studios Florida.

Of course, with all this movie magic the heart of the picture is lost, the point, to help save troop's lives, is trivialized for pure visual, visceral stimulation. Do we need to commercialize the horrors of war with some new tricks just to make a buck? This is a wonderfully constructed piece of cinema, with a lot of heart behind the camera, but there is no heart onscreen.

When I first saw "Jurassic Park," I wanted to be a paleontologist. I doubt anyone will see "1917" and want to be a history major. Or a peaceworker. Or a solider. But they're probably want to be a movie maker.

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.