The Commuter Review

If Liam Neeson isn't tired of the genre films he's cranked out in last decade, then neither am I. Directed by usual "Liam Neeson's family is in danger" thrillers Jaume Collet-Serra, their new movie "The Commuter" is exactly what you expect when you buy your ticket, and I would suggest buying one.

Liam plays "Michael McCauley," an ex-cop turned insurance salesman who has just lost his job. But how are he and his wife going to pay for their son to attend college? It is explained briefly, the only glimpse into his career, that he lost everything in the last recession. So, after a favorable meeting with his old pal Murphy (Patrick Wilson) and a shady introduction of his old boss Captain Hawthorne (Same Neil), Mike rushes off to catch his train ride home. That's when he meets Joanna (Vera Farmiga), who sets off the main chunk of the plot; find someone on the train who doesn't belong, with a bag that doesn't belong to them. He does all that he gets $100,000. Of course Mikey takes the money, and that's when the film gets that familiar "Liam Neeson" smell. And here, like always, it's a good smell.

We don't see much of them throughout the 105 minute running time, veteran actors who have little to do except show up, say some stuff and then go cash their paycheck. But their presence is welcome, and are a great complement to the grizzled Mr. Neeson.

The rest involves some fine hand-to-hand combat, fruitless suspicions, and a climactic train derailment. But while the fighting is well-choreographed, including one later in the film that is edited to look like it was a single take. It's fun! It's the "whodunit" moments that begin to creak as they're piled onto one another- though the final "it's not him it's him" did fool me, none of it is particularly satisfying. I'll accept all the moments that are far from believable (and trust me, there's enough to fill at least two other movies), but they need to convince me to buy what they're selling.

Yet while the skips in logic are abound, this is Liam's movie; he sells everything so well that it wasn't until I walked out of the theater that I started to discover all the cracks. But onscreen, I soaked up every weary look and every jaded threat he tossed out, and he tosses out a lot of them. Perhaps this post-Taken career is coming to a close, but after every punch he throws he looks winded, as if he needs to take his back pill before the next jab. And although he is still walking by the time the credits roll, despite being hit by everything shy of a bullet, I'd be surprised if in his next thriller he doesn't have to escape a nursing home. But I'd probably go see it.

Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle Review

This reboot-sequel-remake of the beloved Robin Williams classic Jumanji is far better than it should have turned out. It's zippy pace, cartoony visuals and often hilarious interplay between the leads make this a far more fun adventure than the dull exposition of the latest Star Wars picture.

The narrative structure plays out just like it did in the original, only the board game turns into a video game and four teenagers get sucked into the game world, instead of the other way around. It's a wise move, keeping things from feeling like a retread, with more advanced CGI alligators (or were they crocodiles? That zoologist of theirs certainly slacked when it came to introducing all the wildlife). This gives the movie a sort of low-rent Indiana Jones feel, with exotic locations, weapons, and humorous fight scenes. I paid less than ten dollars for my ticket, and I walked out Tuesday night satisfied.

Much of the film's humor comes from the set up- the four teenagers get transformed into famous faces sure, but isn't it funny that the popular girl turns into a paunchy Jack Black? Well, as it turns out, it is quite funny. I laughed a lot at these scenes, particularly as he (she?) gawked at the other male actors or fumbled with her first urination session.

Yeah, there is a whole scene dedicated to men peeing, but it's well written and even better acted. And it's scenes like this that are refreshingly less sterile than your typical Disney-designed adventure, with plenty of swearing, sexual innuendos and violence (albeit goofy). It's an old school kind of feeling, proving political correctness isn't always the most entertaining route to film.

That isn't to say everything is perfect: the villain is a nameless badguy played by someone I can't remember (oh right, thanks Google, his name is Van Pelt and is played by Bobby Cannavale), and the teenagers, when played by teenaged actors (or at least teenage looking actors) are as dull as dishwasher. They fit their generic role, sure, but I could play the awkward prepubescent girl better than Madison Iseman did. What this kills is the feeling of growth once they escape the video game (what, you call that a spoiler? Did you really think they'd be stuck in their until the inevitable sequel?); The kids come out of the jungle and are suddenly friends, but they have no chemistry. Where's the Breakfast Club when you need them?

All in all, “Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle” is a fun diversion over your holiday break. I laughed, it has a good heart, and it is a rare remake-sequel-reboot that doesn't go through the same exact motions of the original. Just don't expect those motions to be all that original.

Star Wars: The Last Jedi Review

Watching a new "Star Wars" movie is always a pleasure; there are always so many new worlds to zip through in high-speed chase sequences, bizarre characters to be swindled by, and that always fantastic musical score by legend John Williams. The newest entry in the series, "The Last Jedi," hits a lot of the right notes, but it gets bogged down by an overwhelming sense of listlessness. Sure, there are tons of explosions, spaceship chases, and blaster battles, but it plays like a "best hits" of the franchise. I didn't even walk out of the theater remembering one new piece of music. I couldn't recall a single new character, or piece of dialogue. What happened?

Perhaps writer-director Rian Johnson got caught up in the chance to spearhead an entry in the biggest space series of all time, deciding that if nostalgia worked in the last entry "The Force Awakens," then that must be all people want. It is three entries since Disney bought LucasFilms and we still have old faces walk around the Millennium Falcon (scenes like these probably look good in commercials). We are still referencing Darth Vader- despite dying in Episode 6! The lightsabers and still-living cast members should be enough! There is a difference between homage and nostalgia, and here we all pure nostalgia.

Johnson's script contains a lot of humor, but never for the better. Sure, Oscar Isaac's Poe Dameron is a wise-cracking Han Solo for a new generation, however, there is no reason other than Disney's "Marvel-ization" of the franchise for many of the gags here. Take the scene when Rey (Daisy Ridley) hands Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill) the lightsaber, right where the last movie left off. He, eyes open and mouth gaping, takes the saber, then just tosses it over his shoulder. Who let Stan Lee in the writer's room?

Carrie Fisher, who lamentably passed away last year, has a lot of screen time here, and she is such a joy to see in costume. It is natural to get emotional whenever her familiar voice echoes throughout the theater, but that's the only emotion that pulls through in the plot. There are deaths, near-deaths, and revelations, but nothing that comes close to punch when Darth Vader killed Darth Sidious in Episode 6, or even when Anakin's mother died in his arms in Episode 2. I know, that's saying something.

The mostly-plucky case from the first film in the "Nostalgia Trilogy" returns, but they're given so little to do. The plot is too bulky, with small groups of new and old characters flying in all different directions, and every point is a recycle of old ideas. Finn (John Boyega) and Rose (Kelly Marie Tran) try to infiltrate the First Orders' ship, Rey goes to train with Luke Skywalker, and Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) struggles with conflict the glimmer of light in his dark inside. Too many ideas a repurposed from earlier entries- you get a new version of the Ewok in Porgs (the force is telling me their toy will be popular this Christmas), you have a new Mos Eisley with the casino on Canto Bight, and you have Luke Skywalker going all Obi Wan Kenobi at the end (spoilers?).

There are plenty of other new and old minor characters here as well, but they just steal screentime and development from the major cast. But Adam Driver suffers the most, remaining every bit as disinteresting as Hayden Christensen did in the prequel trilogy; a whiny punk who is bafflingly cast and written. He lacks chemistry with the spunky Daisy Ridley and the elder cast mates, and his biggest character development is a promising one that ends in groaning retread. This isn't to say Mark Hamill was ever the strongest actor, but Driver plays Kylo as if he is auditioning for "Pretty Little Liars." If his character had died in this entry, then I'd give "The Last Jedi" a recommendation.

Had the action been outstanding, then we'd be seeing a greater number of stars at the top of the page. Yet the pedestrian set pieces are interrupted by bland jokes and stoic conversations of unimportance- we see the Millennium Falcon fly.... cool. I could have saved the cost of admission watching one of the other films on TV. Oh, a lightsaber battle? Wait, that's the only duel? Excuse me while I pull up on YouTube that Darth Maul battle from Episode 1.

Thor: Ragnarok Review

If "Thor: Ragnarok" proves anything, it's that Thor himself is the silliest superhero on the big screen. His superpowers are super strength and... his ability to win fights with a hammer? I guess "Thor the Super-Carpenter" didn't sound so good. Chris Hemsworth plays the titular, self reminding "God of Thunder," a buff but oblivious Avenger who never seems in on the joke, but then again, the jokes are not that funny to begin with.

Here we follow Thor initially on a quest to find his father Odin (Anthony Hopkins), where, alongside hi brother Loki (Tom Hiddleston), find out that he is dying. As if hearing your father (or adoptive father) is passing isn't bad enough, they also discover that they have an older sister, Hela (Cate Blanchett), who can escape exile now that Odin will no longer be around. Sounds like they need a family therapist. Then he dies, she shows up, and breaks Thor's hammer. Sounds like he needs to take a trip to Home Depot.

Through some excess in plot Thor ends up on Sakaar and is captured by Valkyrie (Tessa Thompson) and wrangled into the "Contest of Champions," run by the Grandmaster (Jeff Goldblum). Goldblum steals every scene he's in, having far more fun with the material deserves. He forces Thor to battle his "champion," who turns out to be the Hulk (played amazingly lethargically by Mark Ruffalo), they fight, more plot happens, they reconcile, and so on. Thor is trapped into battling by a small shock-transmitter that is sunk into his neck, and this little piece of technology ends up being like one of those gadgets in a James Bond movie, where it is introduced, then utilized just when the hero needs it. Of course, it is a lot less exciting then that, as it is simply used to disarm Loki , who by this movie is little more of a smug "hey I'm a good guy now but don't trust me!" character. Aside from all the Grandmaster scenes, I was just begging the film to move beyond the planet Sakaar, which is a banal movie junkyard location- there is only so many piles of trash you can see before you've seen all the variety film's real and computer-generated set pieces can offer.

Hela has the people of Asgard in hiding, refusing to accept her as their ruler. Thor, the Hulk, and Valkyrie, now a dull drunk-turned hero, end up leaving Goldblum's land and park on the bridge entrance of Asgard to battle her, but what fun can come from watching a bridge blow up? It's not some super cool, space bridge- it's a bridge. I've already exhausted myself from all these obviously CGI fight scenes from every other Marvel movie; if it wasn't for the title on my theater ticket, I'd forget which movie I was watching.

The remaining Asgardians escape via a large spaceship during the final battle on Thor's computer-generated home planet. This is when the plot gets a little creaky, as it is explained that Hela's powers come from Asgard, which is also explained to be not a place but a "place where Asgardians live (or something like that)," so why does she want to kill the Asgardians? She would have no power if she killed them! Why couldn't Thor just toss one of those shock-transmitter things on Hela? I guess stupidity runs in the family.

The Foreigner Review

Tell me if you've heard this plot before: a man's loved one is killed, and he goes on a one-man vendetta to find out who's responsible. Oh- you've heard this plot dozens of times? Well I've seen it more times than that, and "The Foreigner," which casts Jackie Chan against Pierce Brosnan, is a pretty good one. It is a tightly woven little thriller that lifts many scenes from many other movies, but it all works pretty well here. It isn't as good as one would hope, considering the talent on and offscreen, but it works.

Chan plays Ngoc Minh Quan (and yes, I had to Google his name), whose daughter was killed in a bombing by a generic group of goons who call themselves the "Authentic IRA." He pursues Liam Hennessy (Brosnan), a former IRA member now doing something in the British government (I'm guessing it is important too, as he has to pay for two homes, two lady friends, and many more bottles of whisky). Quan believes the former 007 knows more about the bombings than he's telling him (in hat thick brogue), but Hennessy brushes him away as his sordid political past resurfaces and becomes his top priority. This is when the plot becomes nothing more than a "stupid movie character motivation," as even after Quan bombs his office, he still isn't concerned about the so-called "Chinaman."

His disinterest allows Chan to show that he has still got it after all these years, playing wonderfully against type, as he mopes his way from action scene to action scene, playing convincingly a sorrowed former father. Oh, and by the way, he is a retired special forces officer. Because how else could he swing from roof tops and disarm bad guys with sticks and fabric? (I guess they could have tossed in some brief "he's part robot" plotline, but I suppose that'd be ripping off too many movies...)

But we spend a lot of time with Hennessy, who goes half-soused from meeting to cafe to farm house, as he attempts to maintain his numerous connections while pressured even further by the police, his superiors, and his wife, to tell them what he really knows. Most of the movie are scenes like this, intermittently interrupted by Chan's stunt work. I liked these parts more, as the whole political backdrop becomes a bit murky, with double agents, lies- everything we've seen before. We've actually seen all of this before, but it came down to which I'd rather see with a fresh coat of paint- phone calls between men in suits or gritty, hand-to-hand combat?

We all know how this will end, and it ends exactly how it has in every other movie like this (think "Death Wish"), but I was along for the entire ride. Chan and Brosnan are convincing as the dispirited and the "possibly" corrupt politician, and they both command each scene they're in. Walking into a theater to see this was like finding some lost VHS I would have rented in the early 90's, with a few recognizable names, an explosion here and there, one or two love affairs, a handful of terrorists- even a synthesized score! There isn't an ounce of originality here, but as a pedestrian throwback to the gritty action-thrillers of yesteryear, you get what you pay for.

Blade Runner 2049 Review

With so many franchises getting revamped, rebooted, sequeled (or whatever you want to call it), it seems "Blade Runner, the fabulous 1982 financial bomb, couldn't escape Hollywood's greedy grasp. Yet, "Blade Runner 2049" is a better-than-average sequel, set long after the events of the first one- I'm guessing it was cheaper than making CGI Harrison Ford ala Jeff Bridges in "Tron: Legacy."

The plot has us follow K (Ryan Gosling), a "blade runner," or in non-movie terms, a cop who kills outdated replicants. "Replicant?" That is just a fancy term for android (fanboys will argue petty nuances differentiate the two, but I digress). Older model replicants revolted when used as slave labor, but the first movie goes over more of that in detail. Nevertheless, K finds the remains of a female replicant who died of a failed c-section, something which K's superior Lt. Joshi (Robin Wright) fears will cause replicants to demand equal rights (posing the question "does giving life make you human?"). Of course, the film asks a lot of questions, but they go unanswered to service the visuals, which yes, are magnificent, but then again, so were the visuals in the original film. So why a sequel? To be honest, it is more of the same- glorious looking sameness, but same all the same.

The plot eventually takes us to Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford), though his screen time is significantly slimmer than the trailers suggest, but he is always nice to see. Charming but curt, he spends most of his time drinking from marvelous set piece to the next, sharing exposition with Gosling, who stands up fairly well to the legendary actor. Gosling is fine here as replicant K, robotic in response time but not in movement, well, not until the punches need to be thrown.

Deckard has been in hiding ever since the events of the first movie, and it is a rat race for both K and Luv (Sylvia Hoeks), a "bad" replicant working for her manufacturer Wallace (Jared Leto). Sylvia is completely fine here, but Leto unfortunately copies his poor performance as the Joker in "Suicide Squad," only without the facepaint and perhaps a bit more screen time.

While "Blade Runner 2049" is an ambitious orgy of spectacle, it is not an action film, no matter what the trailer implies. It asks questions for which it provides no answers to, and takes its time moving from one inquiry to the next. At 163 minutes, this is a long picture- sure, I can't recall a movie that dedicated itself so unbridledly to its visuals as this one, but there is about twenty minutes of fat to this otherwise entertaining parade of eye candy; sterile, nonplussing eye candy. I admire the film's technical achievements, but there is little else to recommend here.

Cult of Chucky Review

Sometimes a movie, devoid of intelligence and logic, is one of the most entertaining films all year. "Cult of Chucky" is one such flick. Going direct to video allowed the filmmakers to show gallons of blood for sheer sleezy exploitation, and I cheered every moment of it. I don't admire it's beliefs, but it's dedication to its craft is commendable- just be prepared to see in detail how far they take such craft.

Picking up after the events of 2013's "Curse of Chucky," we follow Nica (Fiona Dourif) as she transfers from a mental institution to a "medium security" one- in the world of the "Chucky" movies, that simply means that there are no cameras and is severely understaffed (which makes sense, considering that either of the two would have prevented much of the bloodshed). She, of course, still believes that the titular doll is responsible for the events of its predecessor, to which no one listens, and when the bodies hit the floor, people still don't listen. Stop me if you have heard this plot before. But its brilliance is in its simplicity, or rather, that the story is threadbare so not to get in the way of creative ways people are dispensed. One of my favorites involves the arm of- well, actually, I had better not spoil it for you.

Of course, Dr. Foley (Michael Therriault) thinks that bringing in a "Good Guy" doll, the brand name of the toy in the franchise, would be a good idea during therapy, just in case you were wondering how the doll gets into the hospital (though the film makes bigger leaps in logic, so I'm surprised they even bothered with an explanation here).

To call the characters as thin as paper would be an insult to handy writing equipment, all your usual suspects in a film taking place much inside an insane asylum, but the acting is top-shelf, or at least never boring. Everyone is over the top but convincing, from a murderous mother to a debauched doctor, and the film never flinches from displaying just how nutty these people are. (A nice touch is the blood stain on the mommy's blouse after she breastfeeds- actually, let me just stop myself from actually finishing that sentence. I would need to take a shower if I did.)

Among the small cast includes Tiffany Valentine (Jennifer Tilly), a fan-favorite who tosses another Chucky doll into the mix when she visits Nica. She tells her that she is the legal guardian of Alice, Nica's niece, and that she has died. She says that Alice would have wanted her to have the doll. Devotees know her true motivations.

But wait, there is more! More of what? Why, there is yet another Chucky puppet, this time from Andy (Alex Vincent), reprising his role from the first two movies in the series (as well as a cameo in the last film). But I'm getting too nitpicky about the plot- just know that there is three times the killer-doll-carnage.

How can there be three Chuckies when franchise lore (is there even such a thing?) if the original doll is possessed by the soul of Charles Lee Ray, as explained in the first film? Well you see there is voodoo (how the soul initially found its way into the toy), which eventually gets into Nica's body, allowing her to walk (even though she's born a paraplegic and her legs would be too weak to hold her weight- but I don't know...). Nothing makes sense here, but it is ninety one minutes of sheer insanity, no pun intended. "Cult of Chucky" won't convert those who didn't enjoy the previous six films, but it is amazingly trashy, and wholly entertaining. And I guess that was all I wanted the day I watched this.