Cold Pursuit Review

"The trap is set. The fuse is lit. Liam Neeson's unleashed. Death Wish 6: On Ice"

Or at least that's what it plays out onscreen like. Liam's newest film, "Cold Pursuit," confirms his resurgence is no fluke; he is this generation's Charles Bronson. Take the plot: it's about a man seeking vengeance when his son is found dead on a purported heroin overdose. He ends up getting ensnared in a nearby drug lord's murky plot, and inadvertently leads to the involvement of another nearby drug lord! It's a complete retread of the five "Death Wish" films, as well as a few others for color, and condenses them into a quick and zippy 118 minute joyride. It may be completely unoriginal, but it's a terrific comedic thriller. It's bloody, packed with creative deaths that only occasionally shy away from showing the spewing blood (even if the death's offscreen, you see the splatter of crismon spray onto the nearby snow). There are, naturally, ample amounts of drug-dealers (though no real visible drug use), though a true trashy vigilante flick would have found any excuse to show some nudity; hey, it's big-budget exploitation film, I wasn't expecting anything classy.

We follow Liam's character Nelson Coxman (don't bother making jokes, the film does that for you), who's just been awarded his vacation town's "Citizen of the Year" award. He's just the snowplow guy, he recites during this acceptance speech, living a modest life with his wife Grace (Laura Dern, who has about two scenes before disappearing), and their only son, who works at the local airport before being kidnapped and killed, his death guised as a heroin overdose.

Why his son was killed is irrelevant and passively mentioned once or twice, and serves better as a clothesline of oddball baddies to be shot up by Liam, gang 1 and gang 2. Perhaps the only disappointing thing is how much of the bloodshed is dished out by one gang to the other, Neeson nowhere to be seen, but hey, it's fun trash nonetheless. What's worth pointing out is how every criminal is known by a ridiculous nickname, ranging from "Wingman" to, my personal favorite, "Santa."

Of course, the deaths catch the attention of the local police, led by the curious and spunky Emmy Rossum as Kim and the curiously passive John Doman as Gip. She's eager for some action in the sleepy little town (not unlike Sandra Bullock's character in "Demolition Man"), and makes all sorts of calls to dig up anything she can on the murders. Gip, for no obvious reason, is disinterested in disappearances; I was waiting for a "corrupted cop" moment but alas, no such luck. There's all the obligatory scenes between Coxman and the cops, where right after he drops a body in the river (wrapped in chicken wire, so, he explains, "the fish can eat the flesh off the bones and prevent the bodies from floating... I read it in a detective novel"), only for nothing to happen except to recap the exposition on the police's side of the story.

There's a comedic charge in every bit of dialogue, helped immensely by these humorous monikers, though having the head drug lord "Viking" (Tom Bateman) arguing with his henchmen about the dangers of "high fructose corn syrup" when one of them tries slipping a few cookies in his son's lunch pale, doesn't hurt either. It's bits like this, frequent and always unexpected, that separate "Cold Pursuit" from Liam's previous "The Commuter," as well as the recent "Death Wish" remake and the now two years old "The Foreigner." The sense of humor doesn't always hit its mark, but with actor's unbridled commitment to seriousness, every quip and each goofy death seem to miss deliberately. I laughed, for sure, more so than I probably should have, but the nearly packed audience often chuckled right along side me. It isn't a matter of good taste, because this film is about a far away from that as they come, but it is a good time. A downright slapdash and energetically outrageous good time, this is cinema certainly not in it's finest, but definitely in its most unorthodox and entertaining.

Holmes and Watson Review

Never has a film made it to theaters that is so devoid of comedy that wouldn't be rivaled by the dud "Holmes and Watson," the new high-concept movie that stars Will Ferrell and John C. Reilly. It's not just humorless, but it's a feature length film where nothing happens, nothing interesting at least. It is a total wash, a dry example that having stars who were funny in other comedies does not mean they'll be funny in all comedies.

I laughed two times during it's brief runtime, once out loud and the other on the inside, my self-esteem ashamed to let anyone in the inexplicably packed theater know my funny bone was just ever so slightly tickled. It's not just unfunny, it's spineless, tacky, and being released on Christmas day feels like something The Grinch organized.

The entire experience feels as if no script was written, and the cast were told "hey, here's the plot for this scene, adlib it," and then they took the first take. Our leads resort to screaming lines over and over again, in a desperate attempt to get a laugh hoping that repetition and yelling will somehow make the witless punchline actually funny.

The plot is an excuse for the most senseless sight gags, poor puns, sigh-inducing slapstick, and belated Trump jokes to berate your senses. The one time the unlucky group of attendees heard my cackle was when tertiary character  Millie (Lauren Lapkus) is introduced as being raised by cats, which explains why her eyes are bugged so far out of their sockets. Why I laughed is beyond me, probably a pent-up laugh that my sense of humor prepped when it heard I was seeing a comedy. I would have probably laughed at anything, given how late the chuckle came in the film's running time; I'm just glad it wasn't at one of the many puke or "John C. Reilly is ugly" jokes. But in all seriousness, the actual plot concerns the title two trying to stop who is believed to be Moriarty (a very thankless Ralph Fiennes) from assassinating the queen. Not much in the narrative department.

The problem with a comedy like this is not in concept, it takes a "The Naked Gun" approach to detective fiction, a genre seemingly ripe for riffing. It takes an idea for a joke then goes further, the notion being that "once is funny, 5 times is funnier." But that doesn't work if the joke isn't funny to begin with. Take the scene when Watson and Holmes think they killed the queen (while taking a, sigh, "selfie"), her guards unaware and just outside their door. They try shoving her in a trunk, jumping on the lid when she doesn't fit, and it goes on and on; push and push the duo does, and she just doesn't fit. Funny right?

I'd share another example, but the film so passively escapes from your conscience the second a scene ends that it would require me paying another inexcusable ten bucks to see this trash again, and I refuse. No force on Earth or in heaven could get me to provide the film makers with any incentive, monetary or otherwise, to keep director/writer Etan Cohen working outside the world of also-ran sitcoms or greeting cards.

The Mule Review

Clint Eastwood in his latest film "The Mule" feels like a followup to 2008's "Gran Torino," had that film only ended differently. Both movies play like "Where is Dirty Harry Now" pictures, with Eastwood snarling at the camera, sarcastically swearing at the wrong people, with just a touch of callous but passive racism. In this latest adventure, he plays Earl Stone, a veteran (of course!) and glorified florist, who always put his work before his family. Must be a pretty boring family to put such a focus on flowers.

Starting with a flashback of him in his garden glory days, the movie quickly cuts to him today, his place foreclosed. Packing up his old beat-up Ford pickup, he heads to his granddaughter's pre-wedding party, only to be thrown out by his ex-wife Mary (Dianne Wiest) and his daughter Iris (Alison Eastwood), not before one of the guests catches wind that ol' Earl is in need of cash (to help pay for the wedding). The man promises all that he'll need to do is drive from one place to the next, something Earl seems all too happy to do in his decrepit truck. Turns out, he'll be transporting drugs into Illinois. Good thing we learn he's never gotten a driving ticket. Must be why all old people seem to drive so slow.

At the same time, DEA Agent Bates (Bradley Cooper) is brought over from New York to help curb their city's increasing drug use. Bates spends his time getting information about a new drug mule from flamboyant cartel worker Luis (Eugene Cordero), who's introduced getting a manicure (no doubt putting the man in the name). Of course, this new drug driver is 90-year-old Mr. Stone, and the rest of the film happens naturally and casually. Unfortunately Cooper gives a thankless performance, failed by the screenplay (and possibly the director), one that gives him little to do except look pretty and brush off the several times he crosses paths with Eastwood's Earl character.

The story is predictable, hitting all the major beats you'd expect from a film of this genre (cue character who coughs, but reassures our lead that "it's nothing." Don't be stupid, secondary character, you and I both know it's something). But we all came here for Eastwood, a man who's face has been beaten up and chewed out by time (and no doubt all the tiny cigars he chewed, back in the sixties when he didn't have a name), but is no less enduring than ever.

"The Mule" is a tale only interesting because it's real, or at least inspired by one, and the movie is only worth watching for Eastwood; you'd better believe there would be a whole star missing from that score above had a less prolific aging action actor played the role of Earl Stone. It is terrific to see Mr. Director back to doing what he does best, well, aside from action that is (Eastwood is at least not pulling a Charles Bronson here), relying purely on the dialogue, and delivery, to give the audience what they want. The discourse between him and his suppliers are a particular highlight, where minorly racist and ageist quips are tossed back and forth, with smiles on the faces of both sides. I don't have to agree with it, but I liked what I saw on screen today.

Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald Review

What's amazing about the newest Harry Potter film, or well, "Wizarding World" film rather (as it doesn't actually feature the bespectacled "boy who lived"), is how utterly boring it is. Not only is it boring but it's stupid, tedious, and confusing, overstuffed with too many characters who say do too little and say way too much. It's one preposterous plot-twist after another that I spent the whole film yelling to myself "who the hell is this?" All the plot-twists just pile up to more pointless characters who are introduced, and reintroduced, at just the right time for more insipid exposition.

Without introducing every new character, which no doubt double the length of this review, let's go over the plot. Newt (Eddie Redmayne), is back, now without travel rights by the British Ministry of Magic due to some two-star incident that happened a few years back. They offer to allow him to travel but only if he works for them, as they're apparently shorthanded looking for Credence Barebone (Ezra Miller), explained to be the only man who can defeat the legendary Dumbledore (Jude Law). Why they care is beyond me, do they even know how important Dumbledore is yet? I'd wager they don't other he wouldn't be teaching a bunch of kids in a castle. So many people walked in and out of those halls for so many movies that they really don't have the best security.

Also looking for this Credence is Grindelwald (Johnny Depp), the dark wizard who wants wizards to rule over the world, both the magic and non-magic portions. Why he can't kill Dumbledore himself is sort of an important plot-point, so I won't spoil it here (but I can tell you that they used to be good pals).

That's the plot in a nutshell, but the inconsistencies are myriad. Here are a few off the top of my head: 1) If Grindelwald and Dumbledore were supposed to have been best friends (with benefits), then why does Grindelwald look so much older?! In real life the actors are 10 years apart, but here he could be mistaken as Dumbledore's grandfather! 2) Why Credence is the only one who can kill Dumbledore is never explained, or at least not properly explained in non-Harry Potter talk. 3) And now this is a long one, but bare with me. Leading to the climax, Grindelwald calls upon his supporters for "freedom," so they they no longer need to hide from the non-magic folks. Curiously, he shows a clip of WW2 to further his point that man is the enemy (or something, his cause is rather murky). A quick Google search shows that "Fantastic Beasts 2" takes place in 1927, a full twelve years before the second World War. Obviously this means Grindelwald can predict the future, but doesn't bother, you know, double-checking that he wins! Obviously he doesn't, or else Harry Potter would have battled him for eight pictures. This plot is a freaking disaster, in terms of execution and the very idea that any of this made sense.

I exited the theater exhausted, overwhelmed by the unspecial special effects, and the bulky plot that forced me to remember so many inconsequential faces and listen to so much plodding dialogue. It's 134 minutes of trying to recall which tertiary character made which insignificant declaration about which other tertiary character- it's all just so overblown and drawn out!

If there is one thing that truly irked me it would be Ezra Miller, who plays Credence; he speaks in the same monotone voice and does nothing but stand still, squint, and add nothing to the screen. He has zero screen presence, lost to all the CGI and other actors to the point I had no idea what his name was until I heard someone yell "Credence" and he turned his head. I was like, "oh, he's not just some random guy at the circus."

So we've reached this part of the review, when it comes down to whether I can recommend the new "Fantastic Beasts" film. But to answer that question I need to ask another question, is better than the first? Truth is, I can't remember either film, except for that dopey lead with the fuzzy hair has a suitcase full of CGI monsters. So by default it gets two stars. But, while proofreading my review, it all came back to me, all of the dumbness that had vacated by conscious once leaving the multiplex- this film is quite the dud. It's not just a bad movie, but one that insults anybody who doesn't have a lightning bolt tattooed on their forehead. In case you couldn't tell, my forehead is free such body modifications.

But what is missed most is something the original "Beasts" had a touch of, and the first two "Harry Potter" films were thick with is magic- there is nothing enchanting here, nothing whimsical. There isn't a single new character, a single shot or even a thread of dialogue that exists for any reason outside setting up a sequel. I read on my phone after the credits rolled that there are three additional films planned, and what shows on the screen is that this entry exists purely to set up the upcoming trilogy. Why else would so many characters be introduced? Why would with the film ask so many questions without answering pretty much any of them? Why do I care? I didn't, and spent a majority of the film pushing buttons on my new watch.

Halloween Review

Perhaps most surprisingly is that the new "Halloween" movie, third in the franchise to use that name, is pretty good. Actually, it's damn good, packed with atmosphere, full of fun little nods to the first picture, and plenty of gore. Now, don't go thinking that this is anywhere near the disgusting lust of blood that the thankless Rob Zombie duology exploited- the carnage here is shown quickly, almost obscured by smart camera angles, or just showing the aftermath, but boy, have times changed since the first film shocked audiences with just a few drops of blood.

That doesn't change just how entertaining the David Gordon Green-directed picture really is, how it tip-toes from horror to comedy, from slick to gritty, sometimes within in the same sequence, so frequently and so breezily. It never feels like multiple movies stitched together, everything flows from one style to the other seamlessly. It also doesn't feel like a cash-grab, a senseless remake or sequel just to make a few million its opening weekend; franchise star Jamie Lee Curtis returns as Laurie Strode, a broken character convinced that one day Michael Myers would return, she booby-traps her house like an R-rated "Home Alone" and spends here days either in her firing range, drinking, or ruining her daughter's and granddaughter's expectations. Of course, Michael does escape, just like in the original, during a prison transfer, and once again chases down Laurie (really giving her reason to drink).

The rest of the plot is generally a retread of several previous films woven into a tight little thriller, changing the names of baby sitters, and perhaps how they die, but you've seen it all before, except for Laurie. She is the star of this movie, despite having more of a supporting role, a powerful, convincing performance that rivals Donald Pleasence's as best in the eleven-film series. Her presence steals every scene, even when she's face-to-face to Michael, your eyes skip right over the bloodied, masked man and onto her, with her crazed eyes, cracked grey hair, and gun firmly in hand.

One other difference is the absence of Donald's Dr. Loomis, trademark of the series, who's role has been kind of split into two, Jamie taking over the steely professionalism he brought, and Dr. Ranbir Sartain (Haluk Bilginer), who is explained to have been looking after Michael after Loomis' death. He is a welcome addition, and is a far more interesting "Dr." character than the film initially leads on (thanks particularly to his performance).

Seen in a rather packed theater, "Halloween" worked on me well enough to get a solid three stars, but the audience was drawn as soon as they sat in their leather, reclinable seats. The lady next to me shielded her eyes with her hands when Michael stalked past a crying baby (he didn't, so you can lower your palm), and I heard another couple keep repeating "turn the lights on," and other lines that that; point is, the film worked on an audience-level, and that's really all that matters.

The Meg Review

"Fin"

That's how the new movie, and probably the last summer blockbuster, "The Meg" ends, and is about the only joke that lands throughout its 113 minute running time. That's sad, as there are a lot of jokes here, whether they try and tackle dating, death or race, they land with a thud louder than the feet of fleeing movie-goers; as the couple sitting next to me in the theater put it "that sucked." No one even waited around to see if there was a post-credit scene, which there isn't one; now that's a rotten flick! I didn't hear a single laugh or chuckle, and if I had night-vision, I bet there wasn't even a grin throughout the unreasonably packed auditorium.

The plot is a clothesline for unremarkable special effects, but I'll do my best digesting it into words. Jonas (Jason Statham) is persuaded out of retirement (of drinking Chang beer, it seems) to rescue his ex-wife (Jessica McNamee) and others from a marooned submarine deep below the Marianas Trench. You see, Dr. Minway Zhang (Winston Chao) discovered that what was believed to be the floor of the trench is actually super-cold layer of gas (or something or other). During Jonas Statham's rescue it seems a Megalodon escapes just behind the ship, as the temperature was raised just enough to allow for a giant, prehistoric fish to swim through (I can hear Peter Benchley rolling in his grave).

There are only two scenes that successfully scratch that "so bad it's good" itch, one being the climax, which I won't spoil. The other one occurs far too late into the picture, I'd say halfway through, but that's besides the point. Suyin (Li Bingbing) goes into a shark cage (yes, someone willingly entered the water with a megalodon in a plastic (yes plastic!) shark cage), and tries to poison it. She's successful, pumping the poison (I forget its name, let's just call it "shark killer") into the mouth of the beast, but not before she's knocked down and cracks her scuba gear. Jonas swims over to get her, does so, and by the time he brings her to the boat, the rest of the crew has raised the shark over the boat! It's dead alright, but that's a freaking 100~ ton shark, if the internet is to be believed, hanging by a crane over the back of the boat! And it's not some giant cargo ship or anything, it's some twenty five footer I'd wager. Why would they not just tow it to shore? But that's not all! The group prematurely celebrates, but not before another megalodon (yes they couldn't hold onto that idea for the sequel) leaps out of the water to eat the dead one! It's a gloriously stupid scene that shows at least one of the three credited writers knew what the audience wanted.

But why pay ten bucks to see this rubbish when you could just catch the last Sharknado film on Syfy Channel in a few days? That one promises dinosaurs, nazis, a bunch of other stuff, as well as sharks; "The Meg" has two good scenes, one good joke, and the ability to swim right out of your conscience by the time the credits roll. It fails on every level of movie making, except for, you know, getting made and making money.

There isn't a single scare, or even attempt at one, and the kills are disappointingly bloodless. Any good campy monster movie needs it! This leaves every action and plot point to be played purely for laughs, but nothing works. The cast is overall OK, lead by Jason Statham, a fine actor who does a good job keeping a straight face spewing inane lines like "... it's a megalodon," but the script fails him. If they were banking on a actor's charisma to save the film, have Ian Ziering headline. It would have pushed the successful joke count up to "two." The movie gets one "fin" out of four.

Mission: Impossible - Fallout Review

The way to determine a great action film is the quality of its bathroom fight scene. "Mission: Impossible - Fallout" has a pretty good one, which makes it a pretty good action movie. Sure, there are countless other action scenes in this latest in the long running franchise, but few on this intimate of scale (most involve breakneck car chases, or freaking helicopters crashing into snowy mountain tops). It's the perfect summarization of the aging hero's latest entry, "pretty good" (feel free to toss a "darn" in the middle there).

Viewed against July's other big movie "Skyscraper," which I gave two and a half stars to, "Mission Impossible 6" is significantly better entertainment; you get far more bang (and I mean "bang") for your buck here than the half star difference between the two implies.

"Mission: Impossible - Fallout" is a perfect "Tom Cruise movie," at least when he's focused on punching bad guys from one location to another. From a plot stand of view, a perfunctory one, involving Cruise having to chase down stolen plutonium from madman Solomon Lane (Sean Harris), who wants to blow stuff up. Sure, there's little details here and there, with old friends lending a helping hand, a forgotten love suddenly appearing just in time to be in danger (and even a traitor or two(?)), but don't go into the megaplex expecting Shakespeare. Or anything new. Or anything you haven't seen Tom Cruise do. The dialogue is all stuff that sounds good in trailers (which explains why the trailers have so few exchanges of words), but it sets up the action just fine.

Tom's character, Ethan Hunt, is seemingly indestructible despite almost wearingly scraping himself off the floor each time he's put back down. Whenever he sees an impossible jump he never hesitates, and we the audience know he's going to make that leap, but the film almost doesn't let him. Instead of clearing the jump flawlessly, he bounces off the wall yet just barely hangs on- it's a refreshing change from most action movies, it's almost like it's his first action movie, even though most people in the crowded theater probably came here because of fond memories of the first five flicks.

It all adds up to your usual action movie cocktail, only executed quite well, playing out like an old James Bond film trimmed of its plot (as well as careless sex and chain smoking). The supporting cast really help sell things here, an eclectic, almost baffingly mixture of character actors all playing characters in a movie by doing and saying things we've all seen and done in other movies, and never in real life. But they're all so good at playing that person that it works on a level beyond dialogue; ignoring what someone was saying and just listening to how they were talking, their tone, facial expressions, you'd get the picture.

Let's try. Imagine Alan Hunley (Alec Baldwin) walks in a damp basement to talk to Ethan. By observing the scene and not the discourse, I thought:

"Oh, he's got bad new- OK cool, new set pieces, what's gonna blow up now?"

Well, he brought bad news and things did explode, but not before a shootout! Now that's what I call an effective genre film!