Ice Road: Vengeance

That title? Kind of dumb. The rest of the movie? Well, I wouldn’t say it’s smart, per se. It’s formulaic, not especially creative, lacks any really memorable moments…but that doesn’t mean it’s bad. The movie certainly accomplishes what it sets out to do, which is put Liam Neeson in yet another in an endless series of situations that require action action action. Neeson can do this stuff in his geriatric sleep by now, so there’s no problem with that. What’s encouraging and a bit charming about this flick is that Liam here gets to share the load; there’s ass-kicking aplenty for the locals to enjoy as well as the star's usual share of the fun and games. As action pics go, the attitude towards the foreign types shown here is almost enlightened. That, plus the battles, plus a few hair-raising moments on those crazy Himalayan mountain roads, plus some truly gorgeous scenery (maybe real, maybe matte or CGI) all add up to a decent time at the direct to home viewing. (The internet claims that this is actually a sequel to another movie that apparently has nothing to do with this storyline. No wonder the full tableau seems a bit weird.) Now if only someone had come up with a title that made a lick of sense. 

Beyond the Gaze: Jule Campbell's Swimsuit Issue

Some debates are, seemingly, doomed to go on without ultimate resolution. The question of female “objectification” versus “empowerment”—in both the general context and the specific context of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue—looks like one of those debates. This documentary makes some attempts at exploring the subject, with the usual nods to those who object to the various targets for criticism—the SI issue primary among them—as well as the standard declarations about agency and women in control and fighting against male domination…it all gets its piece of the action in this film. But given that the chief subject of the movie is the life and work of Jule Campbell, the woman primarily responsible for the iconic publication, you know going in which side of the debate the filmmakers are on, so you don’t expect to see anything that would convince you of the exploitation argument. Yet, the rationales presented by the empowerment side ring hollow and too self-contained here, as they always do. A complicating factor with this forum for the debate is that this movie is as much a biography of Campbell and her work as it is a history of the swimsuit issue’s concept and cultural impact. This means that there are many mitigating elements in the flow of the film’s narrative that focus much more on Campbell’s life arc, from working editor to elderly and fragile retiree, including many touching moments between her and her family, friends and the models she worked with, most of whom seem to have adored her. It’s hard to pass any significant judgments on larger issues when you wish to honor the personal story of such an individual. So there are few answers to be had here for any who wish to draw conclusions about the right and wrong of the issue (in multiple senses of that word). Personally, I grew up looking at the SI swimsuit issue, and I believe it is both an obvious bit of softcore and a perfectly reasonable part of the publishing industry. (Or it was before what one wag referred to as “the war on boners” started.) Puritanism is rarely an effective reaction to human animal realities, while babbling about how women feel about their presentation exclusive of the reactions to said presentation—as if it all happens in a vacuum where the titular male gaze never falls, or can be nullified by sheer will—is equally quixotic. Maybe, then, the personal thread in this doc is the true answer: just focus on an individual, or on all individuals, whatever their context, and perhaps you can and will do right by them. That would be a fine legacy for the now-departed Ms. Campbell (who passed in 2022), or for anyone else for that matter. Picture that, why not?

TFW NO GF

Honestly, I don’t know what to make of this film, or, perhaps more accurately, the phenomena covered in this film. A lot of what gets on the screen is no mystery to me; trust me, I know—if you’re not on the top of the hierarchical food chain, your life tends to suck and you find your mind going down into rabbit holes that don’t make you sound particularly smart or sane. But there are aspects of this exploration that are baffling to me, not the least of which is how any actual human can crave such shallow and empty activity as the online experiences that seem to be the formation and reinforcement mechanism for the state of mind that these young men find themselves in. Certainly, I get how the obvious happens—one of the featured subjects is fat, ugly and sort of intelligent enough to make him a prime candidate for this sort of abortive life—but a few of the other individuals featured here, while not exactly Hemsworth material, seem to be at least presentable enough that getting mired in such hopelessness comes across as an unlikely scenario. Has the segregation truly grown so ruthless that only the true, top-of-the-line winners in the genetic lottery can ever have any hope of living an acceptable life nowadays? Maybe, maybe not. This film seems, by its climax, to offer some suggestions that the featured subjects do eventually grow out of their despair and find some level of solace in their lives (not to mention meaningful human interaction). But if it has gotten this difficult now, what does an ever-more-so future hold for anyone not atop the totem pole? One shudders to think of it. Watch this one to get at least somewhat informed about one of society’s more disturbing trends—if you can stomach it. 

Wuthering Heights

So...this is the story that people have been swooning over for about a hundred and eighty years? From the start of this picture it is perfectly clear that this is a tale about some truly wretched people; one wonders how it can be that that fact has little bearing on how the story is perceived. That is, unless you cut through the dross about so-called love and words like doomed and tragic being tossed around and acknowledge what it’s all really about: rutting. Then things start to become much clearer. And perhaps that explains the film’s unusual—and probably unintended—appeal, for once I acknowledged the unpleasantness of everyone in the story, once I started laughing at much of the proceedings—and said proceedings do contain generous amounts of the genuinely comedic—the whole movie became substantially more entertaining. One even dares to suggest that, though the producers may not have made the movie they thought they were making, they did in fact succeed in making a film that holds the interest all the way through its running time. Further acknowledgment should be given to director Emerald Fennell's visual style, which is strong and artful in scene after scene. As for the tone of the movie, which runs a gamut from grim to horrible (when you’re not laughing at any given moment), I must suspect that the tone reflects less the realities of life on the 19th century moors and more the landscape inside the heads of the current cohort of people who infest the world—a group that, admittedly, old men like me take a dim view of. Generation AA has been a target of my criticism before, and this flick is probably more evidence that these creatures simply can’t see anything except through their own oddly skewed eyes. Bottom line: if you’re looking for tragedy and something to cry about and dote upon, I don’t think this movie works; but if you want an unexpectedly funny film experience, these miserable bastards have got you covered. 

The Mexican

This movie may be the embodiment of the not so old saying, “it insists upon itself.” There’s plenty in this story to like, but there’s also plenty that comes across as superfluous, too, particularly on the Julia Roberts side of the narrative. The stuff that delves into the inner workings of her and Brad Pitt's relationship, while well meaning and occasionally entertaining, overall comes across as a diversion from the core of the story. A tighter focus on Pitt's side of the action would have made for a sharper, more interesting film. This movie wears its antecedents—particularly Pulp Fiction—on its sleeve, though without quite the same level of accomplishment. You can almost see the movie within this movie that Tarantino would have made, and that flick would have been a riot. As it is, this one comes across as somewhat amusing and entertaining, but definitely not exactly what it could have been. You aim, you shoot…and sometimes you get a misfire.

The Cocoanuts

Vaudeville is dead. At least in cinema it is. Some of today’s concert dog and pony shows can trace their roots to that antediluvian entertainment format, more so than most people today can imagine. But in movies it’s as dead as the proverbial doornail. And this movie shows why it had to go. That’s really what this movie is: filmed vaudeville. It presents a series of staged set pieces, some of them musical numbers of forgettable character, others comedic bits that are hit-and-miss as far as the funny goes. That’s rather surprising, given all that the Marx Brothers would eventually accomplish in later films, but here only some of the comedy hits the mark. It is also fair to say that the movie’s pacing is too slow, and the story does not generate enough interest to hold the viewer’s attention. Frankly, I got bored with this film before it reached its climax. All of those flaws probably didn’t matter much to audiences in 1929, who were simply astonished that actors in films could actually talk—but for those of us left here today, it all adds up to less than what we would hope to see. This film stands largely as an historical document, a work that shows how a classic group’s career arc started, but hardly the team’s best effort. Speaking of history, one item worth noting is how much of the plot—such as it is—revolves around grifters and shady business dealings, i.e., selling swamp land in Florida. It may be comforting, perhaps, in these days of the reign of The Great Bezzle, that it has ever been thus—and thus perhaps better times could come again. One can wish. As for the Marxes, one mostly wishes for viewers that they focus on later, better efforts than this one. 

Zootopia 2

The best part of this movie is the visual jokes and puns. Some of them are genuinely laugh-out-loud funny. And some of the verbal jokes hit the mark as well. But a lot of the rest of this film comes across as very boilerplate animated feature: not especially clever, not particularly innovative in terms of its visuals, and built too much around presenting bland homilies at the end of the story. You get the sense throughout the running time that the point of this exercise from the start was to preach to the audience, and to make the sermon more palatable by wrapping it up in a number of revved up action sequences. In that sense, it’s kind of like how you give a pill to an animal (appropriately enough): you stick the pill into some squishy treat and hope the creature will swallow it whole. To be sure, the film is not boring or without entertainment value; you can watch the movie and stay mostly engaged from start to finish. You might find yourself straying a bit here and there, and you might consider the plot to be low stakes and slightly nonsensical—but most of those watching it will be children anyway, and we all know how uncritical they can be. So it’s mostly harmless amusement, though hardly anything more than that, and certainly nothing particularly memorable. It’s not all happening at this zoo, but I do believe there’s just enough here to make do. 

Mean Girls (2024)

You hear a lot lately about how high school kids are different these days, how all the cliques and stratification and such are no longer the norm in that milieu. Well, if that’s true, the people who make movies and musicals have not caught up to the current secondary school zeitgeist. There’s a remarkable amount of overlap between this story and that ultimate expression of the teenage dramascape, Heathers—which first came into being way back in 1987. True, this work is the derivative of a musical that was based on a movie of the same name from 2004, so perhaps it has a permission slip for being behind the times socially. Or, maybe just maybe, things have never really changed all that much. Whatever the case, this film offers a distinct and enjoyable take on the familiar story of a new girl who tangles with the local power base, here set to a musical score that mostly works, with several strong songs and only a few minor misses with a couple of numbers. The script offers a generous dose of genuine laughs, while the performances of the young ladies are generally first rate (not to mention that the Plastics are gorgeous, which certainly helps the viewer maintain interest). Ultimately, the tale ends with its heart in the right place, all while presenting just enough divergence from the original story to give the new version a sense of being at least a bit fresh. I don’t know if today’s teens really are more accepting and compassionate than they used to be, or if the meanness still reigns, but at least in cinema the genuine still trumps the plastic. 

The Fantastic Four: First Steps

Maybe if this film had been made and released two decades ago, before the entirety of the superhero splurge, I might have watched it thinking, wow, they really made something amazing here. But we cannot undo these things we’ve done, as someone once said, and the effect of having seen superhero group after superhero group after superhero group save the world again and again and again cannot be easily nullified. As it is, no amount of interesting conceptual design, or nostalgic kicks, or even just plain, good storytelling and performances, can get this work to break through against all that has come before it and lead the viewer to anything more than mild appreciation, to a diminished admiration that battles against a flattened sense of what a movie like this is supposed to be. It’s fine, really; all of the above mentioned elements are well done, and if you’d never seen another entry in the genre you’d probably rave about this one. But few of us out here are infants without prior experience, so the impact of this iteration is very much dulled. More standard than fantastic. 

Jeremiah Johnson

They don’t make them like this anymore. Really, they didn’t make them like this back then, either. Or anytime. I suspect this flick is an example of the impact of star power. Take an actor with megawatt power—like, say, Robert Redford in the early 1970s—and he can pretty much make whatever movie he wants, even if it has a razor thin storyline, pretentious script structure (complete with overture, unnecessary intermission, and a goofy, balladeering countrified chorus), and virtually no other recognizable beings in it. Beyond Redford’s desire to make a movie about a mountain man, there seems to be little point to this exercise in western mythmaking, though one must appreciate the splendor of the scenery that serves as the backdrop for the action. Also, kudos go to said action, which provides doses of satisfying violence to punctuate the long ruminations in the narrative (if you generously call it that). This one certainly works better if you’re in a mood for contemplating life back in the day and above a certain elevation, but if you prefer something a bit more standard in your night of cinematic entertainment, you might want to consider just staying down in your valley. 

Despicable Me

I resisted this movie for a very long time. It just never seemed like a work that had much to offer me and my taste in films. Maybe that had something to do with the over the top marketing tie ins etc. well, I can now report that…I wasn’t entirely right, but I wasn’t entirely wrong either. The movie is at its strongest when it is focused on individual elements: sight gags, one-liners, slight satire. There are good moments sprinkled throughout its run time. But the overall story is weak and utterly predictable. Worse, in a story where the main characters are villains, every outcome is soft and pulls the punches. No-consequence cartoon violence is one thing, but this stuff here is for babies. Despicable? More like docile. That may fly with the toddlers (both actual and mental), but not with me. 

Spinal Tap II: The End Continues

The recursiveness may be the most striking aspect of this production. While parodying the idea of it not necessarily being a good idea for an over- the-hill band to do a reunion concert, these guys make a movie … as an over the hill group of comedians getting back together to do a sequel. Hmm. The good news is, this outing is not the kind of disaster that inevitably follows the fictional rockers around … but it isn’t exactly a triumph reminiscent of the original movie, either. There are good bits in here, mostly during scenes where the participants offer some fresh gags and wry remarks rather than rehashes of the first film’s notes. That’s a fine line, of course; they couldn’t possibly have made this sequel without referring back to at least some of the earlier material, so they can hardly be blamed for echoing previous jokes. Still, the viewer can help but get the sense that the principal creators didn’t quite trust their own abilities to really let loose and come up with entirely fresh pieces of funny. Maybe they were just tired; if nothing else, this flick shows the impact of age catching up to you. That condition especially comes through in the musical performances, which are uneven throughout. More encouraging is the support the core group gets from the guest stars, Paul McCartney and Sir Elton John in particular; both are quite funny in their cameos. All together, this work is something short of what one might have expected or hoped for, but the movie does deliver enough new laughs and nostalgic moments that it certainly isn’t anything to be ashamed of. These banshees still live, and they do (sorta) live well. 

Pitch Perfect 2

I guess this is what it would be like in a conquered world under a dictatorship of Pentatonix. No, that would not be as good as you may think. So too with this movie. Again, as in the first installment, the story is little more than a skeleton of a plot upon which a series of musical set pieces are hung. That would be fairly entertaining in and of itself, if all the songs were great tunes, but many of these are not. At least the vocal work is still very high quality. And many of the principal actresses are real charmers, which helps lift the appeal, while Rebel Wilson gets in a slew of genuinely funny lines. All in all, this record may be a bit warped, but it still delivers enough good sounds to make putting it on the turntable a decent thing now and then. 

Wake Up Dead Man

Word of warning: don’t watch this movie if you’re sleepy. I did, and wound up dozing off about 45 minutes in. Is that a commentary on the quality of the film, or just a product of circumstance? Maybe a bit of both. For sure, this story takes its time getting to the heart of the proceedings. That leisurely pace gives the movie a sense of being—somewhat appropriate for a murder mystery—rather lifeless. The film does eventually get going, and in doing so presents an interesting aspect of the script: some intriguing ruminations on faith and the church and their value and meaning. Plus you get to watch more of Daniel Craig inhabiting the character of Benoit Blanc, which is good entertainment. Still, I can’t help but think that this entry in Rian Johnson’s series is a touch below the previous outings. Whether that marks a death knell for the franchise or represents just a momentary dip remains at this point a question still to be answered. Not dead yet, perhaps, but in need of a little more energy—something you can say about your correspondent as well. 

Robot Dreams

Alternately sweet and brutal. But mostly brutal. Frankly, I’m not quite sure what to make of this movie. Generally, I like my movies—including my animated movies—to come with a healthy dose of snappy dialogue, so this mostly wordless work operates at a disadvantage right there. The story of friendship found and then lost and then (kinda sorta) found again has its effective moments, but most of those are the joyful instances when the main characters are building their relationship. When things go south, that’s when the brutal comes in, and it is difficult to accept the notion that the sorrows are ever truly overcome, despite an ultimately upbeat denouement. Upbeat is a good term here, considering that music plays a major role in telling the tale—somewhat naturally, given the lack of spoken language; the filmmakers, to their credit, have some excellent taste in tunes, and that helps a lot of this flick to go down a bit easier. Still, one cannot help but see the sorrowful side ultimately winning out; perhaps it’s my own lived experience speaking, but I think the biggest takeaway from this film is that, even in their dreams, losers are losers, and thus they just simply lose. That’s a hard nut to crack. Beyond story basics, the movie presents some good animation, with very representative depictions of ‘80s New York City (except for having a Mets game at Yankee Stadium, for some reason), with the old cityscape beautifully rendered in many scenes, as well as offering a wide range of literally well-drawn animal characters throughout (the better to doll up the story’s harder edges). Certainly, this is a well crafted work and deserving of attention—I just can’t escape the feeling that it ultimately comes across as a bit of a downer. And, the lack of dialogue is probably why the film seems longer than it is; not that the story drags, but it begins to feel drawn out after a point. So watching this movie presents some challenges as well as rewards. give it a look, but don’t expect a standard animated laugh riot. 

Winter's Bone

The feel good movie of the season it ain’t. This is like watching a Dorothea Lange picture set in motion, and with an equal measure of sociological implications in the viewing. Most prominent in this viewer’s thought: the remarkable persistence of this sort of living, even into our postmodern, allegedly advanced world. Some minor details might be different—meth rather than moonshine, for instance—but otherwise this could just as easily be a story from the Depression years as the 21st century. And that suggests the question: how do people stay in this state, seemingly without any aspiration toward some better kind of life? The implication, if not the actual answer, is that even if aspiration does exist in this sort of setting, then it has little efficacy in most people's lives. That must be due to people giving up—and, based on what we see here in a fairly true-to-life telling, then the give-up must typically happen at a remarkably young age. That's depressing. Apart from such cultural musings, what stands out here is Jennifer Lawrence in her breakout role, which was helped immensely by her bringing personal verisimilitude to her character and that character’s journey through the ins and outs of a tricky, dangerous subculture. She really shines here, both in this context and also in terms of being the very picture of someone who was bound to break out. You can put Lawrence in as many stocking caps and hunting jackets and other countrified accoutrements as you like, but the embryonic movie star underneath still shows through. Again, this is not exactly a crowd-pleaser, but the film tells a strong story with realism, fine acting, and a note-perfect script that keeps the tale moving and comes across as spot-on throughout. If this vision reflects your upbringing, my condolences; if you’re just visiting through the magic of cinema, take it in and leave with plenty to think about. 

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2

Well, that’s that. As Marge Simpson once said, “It’s an ending,” and I suppose there’s little more to say beyond that. One has to assume that every single person who has ever watched this movie—or indeed any outing of the series—knew before sitting down how things would play out, so there were no points to be scored through surprises or reveals. So this project had to stand mostly on feeling, on how well it captured the vibe of the publishing phenomenon. And I think it did a good job at that. But I remain touched by the sense that the overarching story’s turn from fun to dark, not to mention vaguely tragic, ultimately represents a kind of literary—and by extension cinematic—stumble, if not an outright failure. The latter term seems too harsh, so I guess it’s best to declare that the author painted herself early on into a narrative corner, and simply had to carry it through to the end. Fortunately, there remain further dimensions of the film to appreciate, most prominent being the fact that you get to spend one last time with characters (and actors) you’ve come to like and admire, maybe even love—though this sort of finality always brings a touch of the bittersweet with it. We must go on without Harry, Hermione and Ron, plus certain others (I'm partial to Luna). At least we can always pick up a book and give it another reading, if the separation proves unendurable. Thanks, kids, not for making magic, but for being it. Farewell. 

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1

You know why these books were so popular? They were fun. At least, for the most part they were fun. This movie? Not fun. Not saying “bad,” but emphatically not fun. This is more like watching The Revenant, or maybe even A Boy and His Dog, than watching a big-budget, tentpole fantasy production. That makes evaluating this entry in the series a bit of a puzzle. Again, it’s not bad, but it is so far away from where the saga started that you can’t help but feel that the rug has been, if not pulled out from under you, then at least shifted while you were standing on it. The dark turn of the story was inevitable, one supposes, given the tale's very linear plot; there really was no other way to go. The rapidly-aging kids do a good job with the difficult material, and the presentation is well done all around, yet this film ultimately leaves this viewer, at least, feeling like the ride he's getting is not the one he wanted. We know where it’s all going, of course, and perhaps the last act will ultimately be redeeming—will pull off the ultimate trick, as it were. 

Ballerina

If someone could be as inventive about solving the world’s problems as this movie is about killing people, we’d probably have a paradise in no time. There wasn’t nearly as much thought put into the movie’s plot; you just get a relatively thin story that serves as a skeleton upon which the movie’s meat is hung—that "meat" being extended and audacious fight sequences. Those are done with this franchise’s usual aplomb, and are enough to satisfy any moviegoer's thirst for mayhem. Ana de Armas already has the human pincushion thing down to a T (as in "trauma") here, displaying admirable survivability even in the face of some truly savage stuff. Indeed, that is the element that makes this feature very much a guilty pleasure; you only hope and pray that no one out there takes this exercise in bad behavior seriously, or indeed as a template for how to engage in such behavior IRL, as the texters say. This movie does stand as a model for how to artfully present action sequences (a hallmark of the franchise going back to the very first Wick flick). Indeed, the aforementioned Baba Yaga makes an appearance here, one that is actually surprisingly deep and lengthy for an off-the-main-storyline work. I don’t know if this qualifies as an actual good movie, but it does deserve props for mostly living up to expectations via its expertly choreographed carnage. Light as a feather, perhaps, but this one does move in an appealing way. Hard to ask for more than that. 

Jurassic World: Rebirth

Memo to all screenwriters: giving your script’s unfamiliar characters a set of background sob stories does not make them automatically sympathetic. That constitutes one of the large problems with this movie: you don’t really have much sympathy for the group of mercenaries who form the core of the cast, so whatever is going to happen to them comes across from the start as low-stakes. Things are mildly better with the vacationing family, who at least come across as relatively innocent and thus worthy of the viewer’s consideration. Perhaps the story should have opened with them, and then there would  have been a rooting interest from the first scenes. As it is, it’s only well into the action that you start to care about what happens to these people. (Except the sociopathic corporate type, who practically has “dino food” tattooed on his forehead.) The aforementioned “action” is the key element here; the action set pieces are the most effective elements throughout the film, more so than any individual plot point or character or even the creatures themselves. Whereas once upon a time the identifiable species were the real stars, this outing mostly features a bunch of weirdo hybrids that are scary, yeah, but have no real personality or charisma. (The best sequence in the whole flick may be the one that features the good old-fashioned T. rex.) Mix it all together and you wind up with a competent but not all that compelling franchise entry that mostly makes you wonder, “When is this thing going to go extinct?” So long as no one comes up with a better idea, the answer to that question should be "now"— but the real-world answer will be, alas, "not anytime soon" (if there's money to be made).