Nobody Review

What's utterly fascinating is how violence is OK if the mayhem ends with a wink. The 2018 remake of "Death Wish" was trashed by critics (today sitting at an 18% on Rotten Tomatoes), yet "Nobody," at the time of this writing, has a 79% on Rotten Tomatoes. Why is that? Both released shortly after a tragic public shooting, a fact critics couldn't help but have on their minds while writing their reviews. Film criticism is subjective of course, and who knows? Maybe "Nobody" is just that much a better film? Perhaps "Death Wish" talked gun politics instead of just showing guns in action? I don't have those answers- I dunno, I thought those were pretty good questions.

It's not entirely fair to compare these two pictures, despite the fact that "Nobody" owes a large part of its narrative to the franchise that made Charles Bronson a star in the seventies as it does the recent "John Wick" movies. In fact it's written by the creator of the Keanu Reeves pictures, Derek Kolstad, who's script probably looked a lot like this:

Bang bang. Punch punch. Bad guy dead. Good guy alive. Good guy curls his left eyebrow. Next scene

It doesn't contain nearly as much humor to push it into parody territory, but any film willing to have Christopher Lloyd walk around with a shotgun blasting guys a third his age is not playing it totally straight.

The actual plot is vague and loose, with Bob Odenkirk playing Hutch Mansell, a boring family guy who, after his house is burglarized, is patronized by his son, coworker, neighbor and it gets to him. Turns out he's an ex-auditor, which is movie-speak for what amounts to "a government hitman." His itchy trigger finger eventually gets to him, and soon he rides the bus looking to trouble, and finds it quickly, putting the punks in the hospital. Turns out one of them is the younger brother of a Russian drug lord, and well, uh, that's the movie. What follows are a lot of fisticuffs and gunfights, stylized like the Wick films and every bit as brutal.

This means of course the action is easy to follow, frequent and generally thrilling, but it's all been seen before. Hutch booby traps his office like 2019's "Rambo: Last Blood," and blood, limbs and body flies in all directions, all onscreen. And I rooted for it, every moment of it. Action movies and thrillers have long suffered from overstuffed spectacle, and for all its cinematic familiarity, it's still refreshing to see humans in front of a camera on an actual set instead of greenscreens.

I'm giving "Nobody" three-stars because it does what it sets out to do: entertain. I cannot endorse that the violence onscreen is in good taste, in general or in light of recent events, and I certainly won't advise anyone to step into a theater during a pandemic. But it accomplishes its modest goal with modest success; this is not your dad's "Death Wish," only it's exactly that, and you'll probably enjoy it just as much.

Coming 2 America Review

Eddie Murphy is funny- no one is denying that. Even when beset by box office failures, he's always just one "comeback" film away from being on top of his game. "Coming 2 America," sequel to "Coming to America," debuts on Amazon Prime and, well, if you think watching Eddie Murphy play Zamunda prince, now king, surrounded by a cast of Arsenio Hall, Leslie Jones, Tracey Morgan, Wesley Snipes, and much more, then go watch it. I'm sure you'll laugh.

But the film is a curiosity in antiquity, where jokes that may have been appropriate in 1988, the year of the original, may no longer be so "OK." In 2021, comedies need to be careful not to offend anyone, and "Coming 2 America's" way around such political correctness is not to necessarily avoid such hot topics, but instead to identify what's happening as "wrong," and then simply go forward with the joke. Not that that's a bad thing, or is it?

Take for example the character of Reverend Brown, played by Hall, who is referred to as "the sexist preacher," or something to that effect. Why is he in the film at all if he's sexist? It begs the question: is that even a problem?

I'm getting off topic though. The big thing is that this long-awaited sequel is bright, energetic, and it's scattershot script fires in many directions and is bound to hit something that'll make you laugh. Or smile. Or at the very least, grin in mild amusement. Actually, actively not turning off the app and watching Netflix is the "very least." That my friends, was my reaction.

That was my take away at least, having not seen the original.

*gasp

That's right readers, this author has never seen the first in this series, which is only now a series. Why? Why not, that's a better question. More often than not, sequels just retell the same story with mostly all new jokes- I'd rather have a good time today with a film made today, then to soak up all the enjoyment of cinema from yesterday. Whether or not that makes any sense is irrelevant; this is a film review of a long-gestating continuation of something made over thirty years ago.

A lot of this has nothing to do with the final product I'll admit. Maybe I'm just not all that interested in describing the plot to a comedy where people in the 50s and 60s play an upward of four characters. You can see them sweating through their pounds of make-up as they come in for the punchline. If you have to strain for the laugh, are you sure the script is even worth it?

The SpongeBob Movie: Sponge on the Run Review

It's entirely unfair to expect the third "SpongeBob" movie, "Sponge on the Run," to strike the line between "kids" and "adult" entertainment ala Pixar, because Pixar this very much isn't. This is ninety something minutes of optical empty calories, bright and colorful simply to keep kids entertained while giving "fans" of the series more to either laud or laugh about online.

A familiar tale about friendship stretched to feature film length by celebrity cameos, inside jokes, a "Titanic" reference and at least two musical numbers. In that respect, this "Paramount+" original, at least here in the states, is more reminiscent of the "DreamWorks" catalogue; you watch it, maybe you enjoy it, but it's not going to stay with you.

The story this time around is this: SpongeBob's (Tom Kenny) snail Gary is kidnapped (*sigh* "snailnapped") by the evil Plankton (Mr. Lawrence), so that he can steal the Krabby Patty secret formula without our absorbent titular hero saving the day. His best friend Patrick (Bill Fagerbakke) tag along for the ride, and, well, that's about it. Every time you think the duo are just about to retrieve the gastropod, something inconsequential happens, and more often than not, it's a saccharine assault to the eyes and ears.

Though the plot is as dull as ocean water, the animation is charming, the 3D visuals full of personality and offers a unique look on the ubiquitous universe. This is a multimillion dollar flick and it shows, an expensive method of delivering what is otherwise a regular episode of the show.

At least all this respects its franchise, with each joke, reference, and moment onscreen having something to do with the greater "SpongeBob" world, unlike the recent "Tom & Jerry." And it'll no doubt do well for the newborn "Paramount+" subscription service as it goes up against the streaming stalwarts.

But the biggest success here is being a movie for children that never insults them; oh sure, the whole ending is one big lesson in acceptance, but it uses characters kids know about, in the show's own terms.

Without the novelty of the first one SpongeBob movie or the the fish- I mean "sponge" out of water gimmick of the second, this third one goes back to basics and delivers just enough personality to stand up against its predecessors. Look, "The SpongeBob Movie: Sponge on the Run" is no masterpiece, but it's a serviceable digital babysitter.

Tom & Jerry Review

You know you're in trouble when a movie opens to rapping cartoon birds.

It was at that moment when I realized what kind film "Tom & Jerry" was going to be- an unfunny, lousy, and boring one. Unfunny in the sense that not once did I crack a smile; lousy in that the titular critters are an afterthought to petty human drama, and boring in the sense that, while watching, I checked my clock so many times that I realized it was about twenty minutes ahead. It's a wonder I'm on-time for anything.

Based obviously on the Tom and Jerry property, like so many other "animated/live-action" hybrids based on antiquated cartoon franchises, the story here nothing inherent to do with the drawn cat and mouse. Instead the plot centers on "Kayla," played by Chloë Grace Moretz, who lies her way into a temp job at some swanky hotel in New York City. Queue conflict, as the establishment is in the process of hosting a huge wedding, and wouldn't you know it? There is a mouse- gasp! Being the Big Apple, they should be lucky it isn't a rat the size of King Kong. Oh, Tom the cat is also there, but that happens for no reason other to ensure hijinks ensue.

Actually no, Google tells me that "hijinks" can be defined as "boisterous fun," which isn't what we see onscreen. I'd pick another noun, but it probably wouldn't be a nice one.

This rodent has both the owner Henry (Rob Delaney) and the events manager Terrance (Michael Peña) worried. "Hire a cat," pitches Kayla, which the former is for but the latter's against, but under the condition that its existence and theoretical capture is kept a secret. "Can't have the tabloids hearing we have a vermin problem," or so her boss says. This creates what I call a "false plot," where a character in power says "don't do this" only for the main character, and other secondary ones, to do it; they speak over walkie talkies about "catching the mouse," and at one point yell "mouse" time and time again at the hotel bar, easily within earshot of guests imbibing and make small talk in the background.

The other issue Jerry causes is when we hear the groom Ben (Colin Jost) ask the staff for elephants for his ceremony. This creates two outcomes: one with elephants and without elephants. Of course elephants will be involved! Why is that even a question!? Even when bride-to-be Preeta (Pallavi Sharda) objects, we the audience know this is a set up for chaos and would come away feeling cheated if we were denied the chance for such pandemonium.

Ultimately, there isn't much of a narrative here; there is only so much that you can do with a duo who's whole schtick is chasing each other with hammers, or baseball bats, or skillets, or, well, you get the idea. The filmmakers are right in the sense that slapstick can't purely hold a movie together, so it isn't any wonder that the script is about how dreamers can dream their way through life and enemies can work together if they put their differences aside, yada yada yada.

But it's a complete copout that this production isn't any more complicated than a Saturday morning cartoon. The people involved here don't realize that kids are smarter than we often give them credit, and instead pat themselves on the back by producing a product who's purpose for existing is to show bright colors edited together with slapdash pacing to the tune of pop songs. Tom and Jerry are really only up to their usual antics for probably about 35% of the runtime, so even if we were to forgive its general cinematic laziness, it would still fail as a proper representation of what the "Tom and Jerry" series is about. Maybe that's the problem. Or, maybe next time they'll adapt something that has an actual plot.

The Little Things Review

Detective movies all end with one of four different ways: A) the bad guy gets caught, B) the good guy is actually the bad guy, C) there's a red herring, and D) nothings resolved. Those, of course, and the millions of small variances on those basic narratives. We know this, but what keeps audiences involved is the craftmanship of the picture, the performances, etc., but above all else, it's the possibility that things will be different this time. Now I won't spoil what actually happens in HBO Max's latest release, streaming simultaneously to its release in theaters, "The Little Things," but any cinema detective should be able to spot the ending.

I'll admit, I wasn't sure for a majority of the runtime what ultimately was going to happen (I expect my "movie sleuthing" badge to be soon revoked no doubt). In that respect, I appreciated it. For a film to keep me wondering "what if" is a testament to the skill of everything and everyone onscreen and off-scene. I can't base a recommendation purely on that, but for a certain demographic, it's enough.

Or maybe it's not, the more I think about it. Perhaps the reason why I kept guessing is its complicated plot, where revelations come up briefly before scenes change it's onto the next thing. Take for example the reason why Kern County deputy Joe Deacon, played by Denzel Washington, is LA. Having left that city behind him years ago, he ends up back in his old stomping grounds to collect some evidence, ends up befriending detective Baxter, played by Rami Malek, and is soon helping him solve the killings. What, you might be asking, about that evidence he needed to pick up? It's mentioned briefly over a phone call, hope you were paying attention. Deke mumbles "it's the little things" several times here, saying that they'll be what gets you caught. Well yes that's true, but it's also the little things that help keep the story sensical.

Prime suspect is Albert Sparma, played by Jared Leto, a local creep who the film all but confirms is the perpetrator. Evidence all but says so, but it's not enough to convict (isn't that always the case?), but our two protagonists spend most of their time just sitting in their cars outside his apartment. There's only so much suspense that can be generated by watching two guys stalk another man, and the film knows this. Soon enough we'll get a change of scenery (including one or two of them exiting said car and into another) but it does little to alleviate all the false noir elements, its brooding atmosphere that pounds into your subconscious that the color wheel consists mostly of shades of grey and all streets at night are filled with nothing but shadows.

In two days the FBI will take over the case, and the duo, convinced he's the guy, end up in the desert where Al claims a missing girl is buried. This is where the film loses its creditability, and for two reasons: 1) if Sparma was innocent, why would he make such an allegation, and 2) if Sparma was not so innocent, why would he make such an incriminating allegation? Maybe he's just some loon in the wrong place at the wrong time, but it doesn't matter. What happens is purely to service the main character's reasonings, and for a script that has apparently been floating in Hollywood for thirty years, it shows that writer/director John Lee Hancock has spent that time finding funding instead of a resolution.

In its favor, for a flick dealing with the grisly deaths of like a half dozen women, there is a refresh lack of perversion. This elevates this over lesser, repugnant pictures like last year's "The Devil All the Time," which is an endorsement on its own. But I can't recommend it. Not like this. Maybe in another thirty years.

Outside the Wire Review

"Outside the Wire" tackles some heavy issues about artificial intelligence, war, and race (well, in a throwaway line, but hey, it's there), but it gets itself bogged down by mindless violence that, ironically, is what the film is trying to caution against.

Debuting on Netflix, this confused and confusing release benefits from its direct-to-streaming, allowing viewers the luxury of pausing the character's action to try and get a better grip on everyone's true motive. Plot twists can make for a fun time at the movies, but there is nothing here except for ambiguous motivations.

The film opens with a botched mission, where drone pilot Thomas Harp, played by Damson Idris, breaks chain of command by sending in an air strike, resulting in the death of two soldiers. Given a second chance, he ends up, boots on the ground, in action, under the supervision of Leo, played by Anthony Mackie, who happens to be an android. Leo handpicked Harp for his assignment for his ability to "go outside the wire," hence the title. This inherently creates distrust between the protagonists, but also with us, at home and on our couch. Can we trust a synthetic human more or less than a rogue lieutenant? It's a pretty decent setup, but it ultimately settles for the obvious choice without offering any real insight as to why.

Anyway, their job is to deliver vaccines, and then stop Russian terrorist Victor Koval. Characters speak his name, the same photo of him is blasted across the TVs in the refugee camp, and then they just say his name again, and again, and again. It's so tiring!

But he's the nasty guy, in any event. He's after nukes, like all antagonists in cinema, something the Americans want to avoid. There's also the resistance, led by Sofiya (Emily Beecham), who are also working to stop him, and you might be asking yourself: "why don't the two work together and stop their common enemy?" It's a good question, one the film does indeed answer, but it's an unsatisfying answer. There is potential here for some interesting conflict, but the end product ends up bogged down in this nebulous international politics: nothing is any more complicated than "We good, Russia bad." What is this, "Rocky IV?"

No, it's not. At least that film had Ivan Drago, a masterful villain who you loved to hate. The issue here is how little development is made with him, since by the time he does make an appearance in the last thirty minutes or so, he's just some generic guy, with generic body guards and some generic computers (for those nukes, naturally). His car is at least name brand (it's a Cadillac Escalade, in some not-so-subtle product placement), but whatever. He doesn't matter. He poses no threat to the narrative, and therefor, there is no reason for us to care about him (or what happens to him).

That's not the only crippling issue here: Leo is perhaps the most egregious of all. He's not human, that's a given, but what exactly makes him so special? He's faster, smarter, and more clever than us in the flesh, but the specifics are barely established. We see him taking bullets several times, but that's nothing a quick patch won't fix. Arms dealer, protected by three or four men? No problem, he'll just throw some punches while hardly breaking a sweat. He's not invincible, but since most things in the story are no more dangerous than a bullet or a fist, our heroes are never really in any danger, robbing the narrative of any true suspense.

If you can look past its blind intentions, there are some decent qualities: the action is relatively well staged, cleanly shot and edited so that you always knows who's shooting who. The performances are adequate across the board, and you can just tell that the stars and director Mikael Håfström found something special in the script. Unfortunately, screenwriters Rowan Athale and Rob Yescombe don't know what that is.

The Marksman Review

Liam Neeson self cannibalizes his own career with the release of his latest thriller "The Marksman," which debuts just three months after this last thriller, "Honest Thief," which is probably still in cinamas. Imagine the confused movie goer, ten bucks in hand, mask on face, standing in a socially distanced theater, when they ask for the matinee showing of "... the new Liam Neeson film," and the person at the counter, behind the plastic safety screen, says "... which one?"

Neeson plays Jim, a rancher who's widowed, in debt, and seems to have developed a drinking problem. He also lives on the Mexico-Arizona border, when a mother Rosa (Teresa Ruiz) and son Miguel (Jacob Perez) crash through from the border, which he's conveniently driving off a hangover from the night before. Hot on their trail is the cartel, where talk is talked, shots are shot, but the three escape just long enough for a gunshot to take the poor woman's life. Honestly, I think Jim was more upset about the bullet holes in his truck (he doesn't look like the kind of guy who can pay for automotive insurance).

Before passing, Rosa begs for Jim to take Miguel to her relatives in Chicago, in exchange for "all the money she's got, or something to that effect, which in the world of movie making means "bag full of money." The bankrupted marine (because of course he was in the US Marines) drops the boy off to border patrol, cash in toe, only to grow a guilty conscience when he spots the bad guys waiting outside the station. The men, who hilariously use passports of elderly women, manage to make it past the country line after flashing the officer their tattoos. What happens had the gang not been checked by that one bent deputy is the type of question you don't ask here. Anyway, back to what's left of the plot:  Jim snatches the kid and the duo drive off with his dog to the Windy City, cartel not far behind.

As stated in the ye olde "Laws of Movie Clichés" book: the dog must die, the kid must bond with the grumpy old white guy, and gun store owners ignore background checks. All those things happen here- in fact there are so many stereotypes here, from the dialogue to actual plot points, that the next day you'll be talking about this over Zoom to your coworkers, only to confuse major moments with Clint Eastwoord's "The Mule," or perhaps his "Gran Torino," or if you're really into old action movies, something like Charles Bronson's "Borderline" from 1980. The only difference between those flicks and Neeson's latest is how talkative he is, at least compared to the famously silent aforementioned tough guys; even if he does more here than grunt, what he does say isn't all that remarkable.

That, I suppose, and that his face doesn't look like it's carved from rocks.

I'm conflicted here, since the film depicts all cops as corrupt, the government as useless, and all Mexican citizens as gang members with itchy trigger fingers. Yet it's well-made, a polished piece of entertainment with a more concrete vision than most of Liam's star vehicles. He's given some internal  confliction between "right and wrong" to work through (or at least this movie's version of it), and the relationship between his character and Miguel is almost poignant, even if it is, at the same time, forced to service the script. The commitment from the actors is commendable, despite Juan Pablo Raba's performance as Mauricio, the leader of the cartel, is hammy to the point of parody. Director Robert Lorenz, long-time producer of many Clint Eastwood projects, handles the material with refreshing restraint, and combined with some surprisingly decent cinematography by Mark Patten, "The Marksman" almost escapes its relentlessly fraudulent "American Dream" agenda.

I dunno. I don't think anyone goes to see Liam Neeson, during a pandemic mind you, expecting anything else but approximately two hours of approximate distraction.