Top Gun: Maverick

Yeah. That’s cool. So when does the great movie begin? ... What? This is it? Come on, now. The idea that this flick deserves its "best movie ever" plaudits--if not ecstatic shrieks--is downright risible. This piece is enjoyable, for sure, but the reputation it has acquired since release seems to be largely the product of the affection audiences feel for the original film’s characters. One scene in this outing in particular cashes in that chip to great affect, and probably stands as the most authentic part of this entire experience. Beyond that, everything in this script is so obvious that even I could have written it. Mostly, this is an exercise in self-congratulation writ large--though one that is easy enough to watch, if you’re looking for big, loud, dumb entertainment and nothing more. There’s no shame in that--so long as everyone maintains perspective. Just fly level and straight and you’ll do fine with this one. Try to take it to Icarian heights--let alone the "danger zone"--and it will surely crash and burn.

Whiplash

Again with the jazz. If jazz is as wonderful as everyone who likes it says it is, why does it only feature in films like this? Seriously, try to find a real jazz station on the radio these days. But I digress; the more pertinent question raised by this movie may be, what’s up with these people? The film actually undercuts its own argument; since precious few viewers will be able to tell the good playing from the bad while watching this one, one wonders if the obsessive attention to perfection is in any way valid. Whom are you trying to impress? Five other people in the room?...or in the city? If that’s all there is, just your own little knowing circle, and you act like this...aren’t you just being a dick? Do movie viewers care about dicks? Perhaps I’m just being contrarian, because this film is in fact entertaining, interesting, and worth watching. Just don’t expect to find any new heroes here.