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. 

Babylon

This film starts out unpromising, with an opening sequence that celebrates people who are not in control of themselves. Only after that bit of showiness does the movie get on with its story, which, as one would imagine of a tale about people not in control of themselves, ends somewhat predictably. Really, though, those particulars of storyline are only the surface presentation; this movie’s actual subject is the nature of the movie business itself. Which, it turns out, really isn’t much more elevated than the behavioral grand guinol depicted in that opening. Thus, this work traces multiple parallel arcs of success and failure until we, viewers, characters and all, arrive at our eventual, rather inevitable ends. ultimately, this film wants to argue in favor of something greater in the nature of the movie biz, as have so many other “prestige” movies that exist along these same lines, though its conclusions are, at last, only half convincing. The final result of all that effort—and I do mean “all”; the full film clocks in at a heavy three plus hours—is a jittery, showy, but otherwise standard Hollywood cinematic ourborous: a grand example of the film industry vigorously fellating itself. Whether or not you find such a project entertaining is entirely a “your mileage may vary” situation.

Barbie

Amusing, except when it isn’t. This movie stands as a glaring example of the power of visuals. If viewers were to watch this film by not watching it—by closing one’s eyes and just listening to the dialogue—I suspect you’d get a radically different perspective on it from audiences. As it is, the movie’s political “screed as script,” which displays a very hard-edged “us vs. them” mentality, goes over much better by being wrapped in candy-coated visuals and a substantial amount of pretty. That’s ironic, since one of the very things that the filmmakers wish to reject—superficiality—is the very thing that makes their presentation and its philosophical underpinnings palatable. I suspect this movie is very much of its current moment; take this work out of the present day—mid-2023 and into ‘24—when identity and grouping and rigid structures of right-think are welcomed and lauded (at least among the believers), and you probably won’t get nearly as much positive reaction to it as it received upon release (and continues to garner on secondary distribution). Indeed, I suspect in the future many will find this movie’s contemporary success somewhat baffling. It may be truly aligned with the zeitgeist, but that likely will come to be seen as less a positive about this film, and more a negative about said zeitgeist. Frankly, this flick nearly put me to sleep, and that’s hard to imagine when most of watching it involves staring at the stereotypically apt Margot Robbie. I acknowledge that there is a certain amount of bemusement to be had here, in some of the show’s aspects, but not nearly enough to validate the reception this picture received. Disappointing and disheartening, and hardly welcome in any serious person’s dream world.

Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood

The devotion to scene-setting shown here is so meticulous and focused that one must conclude that it was the entire point of the exercise. For sure, given the context set up by all that lovingly-crafted detail-fetishing, it will be very exciting once this film decides to start telling an actual story—you know, with a plot and all that. The viewer may have to wait a few years past the closing credits for that; perhaps Tarantino will get around to that on a 10th anniversary special edition, on whatever medium is popular and profitable then. Which is to say, there’s really not much in the way of a story here, just a train of character-connected scenes that pay homage to a bygone time and place, with an ominous backdrop to give the whole pastiche a vibe of historical import. None of this is to say these scenes aren’t a lot of fun—for sure they are, particularly Pitt’s ass-kicking encounters. Indeed, all the principals do well in moments here. But the indulgence comes at a cost, conveying a sense —not for the first time in his career—that Q could have achieved something truly transcendent with a little more discipline. Overall, this flick is good, and fun, and worthy of appreciation—but also maddeningly incomplete.

The Suicide Squad

This one is very slick and stylish. Also, it's funny and violent and gory. What it isn’t is riveting all the way through. The movie comes across more a series of set pieces and setups and punchlines rather than a fully-realized and well-told narrative. Director James Gunn--he's getting the lion's share of the credit for this flick, whatever it may be--pays a lot of attention to "don’t this look cool?" but not as much to "does any of this make much sense?" Viewed on its own terms, the film is entertaining to a point, funny to a point, and worth a watch, if you're the kind of viewer who likes this sort of thing. That there is the rub: is this your kind of movie, and are you this kind of movie's audience. It's a question that's more fraught than you might think. It's hard to deny, from a rational and (ironically) bloodless point of view, that a movie like this is, in certain respects the sign of a sick society. It’s too casually bloodstained and crude to be anything you’d consider quality entertainment. And if you’re someone who is entertained by this flick--and many will fall into that category, perhaps even me--then you should probably start asking some questions about yourself, if not the society as a whole. That's all a little bit deep for a movie that clearly does not aim to be deep itself, but sometimes the big questions arise from the minor matters. From a pure filmgoer's standpoint, this one is probably a near-miss--and if that dooms any potential sequels, maybe that's not a bad thing.

Bombshell (2019)

I can't resist the hot blonde chicks. Apparently, that was Roger Ailes' premise, too. He and Rupert Murdoch built a media juggernaut--and quite literally changed the world--using mostly the power of the flaxen-haired. This work would have you believe that Ailes was a tremendous creep, and that his media machinations happened at a tremendous cost to the well-formed mannequins employed by FOX News. The former premise seems plausible--though, as this movie itself makes clear, it's easy to cast a guy who was substantially less easy on the eyes than Megyn Kelly as a monster (I'm familiar with that reality myself). The latter premise is questionable, or at least this flick does not do a fully successful job of making that case. For certain, it does not raise the point of the Faustian bargain that these women made. It's hard to imagine that any gal grows up looking that attractive (Kelly and Gretchen Carlson are undeniably good-looking, regardless of their work as political spokesmodels) and doesn't know by the time she's 17 years old that doors open for her that would otherwise be closed to others less endowed by nature with looks (to say nothing of more or less talent). None of these women would have been there--and reaped years of benefits--without their looks, and what those looks meant to others (read: males) who employed or watched them. It also doesn't help that the movie's liberal viewpoint is bluntly apparent throughout (and voiced by Theron's Kelly, which comes across as somewhat false), and thereby distracts from what would otherwise be a more effective (dare one say, fair and balanced) indictment of Ailes and the whole operation. Oh, well--at least most of the scenes feature visuals that are nice to look at.

Harley Quinn: Birds of Prey

Undoubtedly one of the worst pieces of hyena shit I've ever seen on a screen. It's incoherent, unfocused, an absurd, ugly freak show that commits an even worse sin: it's boring, too. One has to draw the conclusion that there's just no hope for the DC franchise if this piece represents its ultimate direction. They can only go to the Batman well so often. Speaking of which, where the hell was he during all this mess? That's the problem with this sort of spinoff project: if the original big draw never shows up, the work inevitably feels like an obvious and low-rent knockoff. And this turd didn't need any help getting down to that level; it' so ineptly written and directed that even a most obvious sight gag, one that practically screams at the viewer that it's coming, never gets paid off. One wonders, were they even looking at their own set? Shame gets heaped upon a number of the participants: Ewen McGregor is better than this, Margot Robbie can be better than this (and has been). Only a true Generation AA moron could like this third-rate junk--which is a scathing indictment considering infinitely better movies from the same franchise came out a mere dozen or so years ago. Seriously, if you can't pull off a comic-book movie--pretty much the lowest of low-hanging fruit--with some amount of competence, you pretty much have to be done. How the allegedly mighty have fallen.

I, Tonya

OK, maybe blondes don't always win. But I'd still make them the betting favorites in most scenarios. It takes a lot of negatives imposed upon the flaxen-haired to hold them back; apparently, Tonya Harding lived under a rain of negatives (not unusual in the Pacific Northwest--certainly the rain part). This film makes a fairly convincing case that she achieved something of a miracle to accomplish as much as she did. That message, if it is an intentional argument of this movie, barely comes through, thanks to one huge filmmaking mistake: a lot of distractingly untimely music on the soundtrack. If you were alive back then, it's pretty easy to notice and glaringly obvious that none of the "needledrops" are contemporaneous with the story. In most cases, that would be a minor issue--but here the music is so front and center that you have to think it's intentional, and that some message is meant by it. If it's trying to appeal to a certain demographic, that seems rather pointless, and undercuts any sense that this story could have a universal appeal. If it's trying to tell the story through the music--there's reason to believe that--the effect comes across as less clever and insightful and more clumsy. The whole issue obscures a movie that could have relied upon its host of strong performances; all of the principals acquit themselves quite well, and the tale itself does have broad interest woven into its very fabric. But the ultimate impression is one of filmmakers who didn't really trust their own story--and thus, as a viewer, you're left to wonder how much trust and interest you should invest in these proceedings. Ultimately, they didn't even nail the compulsories, let alone the artistic program. Not bad, but not on the medal stand, either.

Goodbye Christopher Robin

This movie would have you believe a number of propositions. One, that children's literature often springs from places of deep darkness. (That one's true. Trust me.) Two, that Winnie-the-Pooh was, in at least a roundabout way, the product of World War I vet A.A. Milne's untreated PTSD. Plausible. And third, that Mr. and Mrs. Milne, when faced with the challenges of fame, failed their son miserably. Don't know about that one; it may be true, or it may just be a tool of dramatic tension here. That's a hard distinction to make, as is the overall worth of this movie. I can't say it's a bad film, because it has inherent appeal and the story holds the interest most of the way through. Then again, the Britishness of the characters depicted is, in places, so thick and stiff that the performances almost border on parody or satire. Besides that, the dialogue occasionally lapses into clunky exposition instead of feeling like natural discussion. So the movie is certainly flawed, but if you're a Pooh fan--who isn't?--getting even a flawed glimpse into the backstory has its appeal. If you're really a fan of the author and his works, or of very British dramas, this one probably works for you. Others...you can probably let this one go.

Suicide Squad

Why was this movie not what it was cracked up--pun intended--to be? The fatal flaw in its underlying logic. No matter how much viewers may appreciate the entertainment value of the villains in superhero movies, they are ultimately rooting for the good guys. Hence, you have a problem when there really aren't any good guys--such as with this piece of work. It also doesn't help that there are other problems here: too many characters of at least some consequence (a few of whom are relatively unidentifiable, or identifiable only to the nerdiest comic book readers); confusing action sequences that don't seem to really move things along; and even recycled visual motifs from earlier DC movies that make this one look unimaginative in comparison. So the MEOW is dangerously close to a HISS; why then a mediocre review instead of a just plain thrashing? Well, this flick does score points for Margot Robbie, who does solid stuff with the character of Harley Quinn. But overall, this is about as bad as you can do with such a simple template; a few more of these and the comic book movie trend may at last see its death knell arrive.

The Legend of Tarzan

Maybe this story just can't work in today's world. The original appeal of Burroughs' tale revolved around the clash of civilization vs the wild. Today, we're not so awed by the jungle anymore, especially as we know it's disappearing. Despite these hurdles, the folks here gamely give it a go, and they come close to pulling off a good adventure movie. The principals are fine in their roles: Alexander Sarsgaard is sufficiently ripped; Sam Jackson is his usual self; Margot Robbie does what she does, which is be good in any role; but Christoph Waltz is largely wasted playing a character wbo is too static--he needed more to do to make a greater impact. Beyond the human elements, things look good, but a series of visually spectacular set pieces does not a movie make. Overall, it's OK--the film holds the interest, and it looks good--but this movie comes with a nagging feeling that this is about as good as this story can get now, and that's not quite enough.

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot

It's not funny. That's not a negative criticism; I suspect this movie isn't supposed to be funny. Hence, the way it was sold--every blurb on the box mentions laughing--did this film a disservice. If viewers went in expecting to be rolling in the aisles while watching this one, they were sure to be disappointed; if that was the filmmakers' intention, then this effort failed and the Bad Cat's PURR should be a MEOW, at best. But, in this viewer's mind, this movie is much more complex than that. It's filled with droll humor, sure; sometimes it's even gallows humor, if you're into that sort of thing. (I am.) But it also contains a serious, almost contemplative look at the occupation of Afghanistan, at the role of media and the people who work in that world, and even the big question, just what are you doing with your life? As such, it's pretty interesting stuff--a good watch that is smart, absorbing from the start, and ultimately a rewarding viewing experience. Oh, yeah, and Tina Fey demonstrates that she can carry a movie mostly by herself; she's in almost every scene here, it's very much her movie, and she scores big time in the role. Not bad work if you can get it--and a good way to spend a couple hours of your time.

The Wolf of Wall Street

Pretty standard issue Scorsese. Very high energy, actors chewing the scenery, everything very Noo Yawk...It’s an entertaining template, for the most part, but not nearly as great as his apologists like to believe. Case in point: at around three hours this film is way too long. How many orgy/drug-fiend scenes do we need to see to get the idea that your guys are debauched? We get it; in fact, we got it the first five times. There’s so much nudity here that the viewer wonders if there’s actually a comment intended in it, some sort of meta-criticism of movies...but maybe Scorsese just wants to show us a lot of tits and bush. It’s hard to say. And ultimately, what’s the message? “Chickens come home to roost”? Not sure about that, not based on the ending. I leave you to sort out the muddle on your own.