MOTHERLESS BROOKLYN [Film Review]

If it were a triangle, writer/director/actor Edward Norton’s interpretation of Jonathan Letham’s 1999 novel of the same name would certainly be of the scalene variety. While a cohesive whole, it’s a bit uneven and lopsided throughout its 144 minute running time.
Norton certainly has a great eye for composition and manages to elicit wonderful performances from all the actors involved. Yet for every spate of memorable moments there’s at least one that falters and seems out of place.
But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The story is a neo-noir centered around Lionel (portrayed by Norton), a neophyte detective who suffers from Tourettes. Yup, our protagonist is prone to yelling out swear words and nonsensical phrases at the most inappropriate of times. This, naturally, lends a quirky sheen to the overall plot, which is more or less a turgid murder mystery.
The other interesting aspect of the film is that the source material took place in the ‘90s, but Norton has staged his version in 1957 where race and affluence play a major role in the wheelings and dealings of New York City. The story is a labyrinthian swirl of underhanded politics and racial tension taking place on the cusp of a new decade. (FWIW, I read the novel back when it was first publishe din 1999, but I did not re-visit it prior to watching the film. I plan to re-read it shortly and then compare the differences).
In regards to the look of the the film, Norton proves to be rather skilled behind the camera, delivering deft action sequences like the taut opening concatenation which mixes engaging dialogue with a sinister meet and greet that ultimately ends in a terse car chase and dastardly gun violence. The tension he creates in this long introductory scene is fantastic. He re-manifests this same sense of energy and excitement later in the film with a wonderful altercation between our “hero” Lionel and a behemothian thug. The entire escapade takes place in the confines of a narrow apartment hallway and on a rusty fire escape. With these scenes Norton displays a knack for staging lean and mean action scenes. Norton also has a great eye in regards to the composition of scenes. Many shots in the film are beautifully staged as if they were meant to be still photos exhibited at a gallery.  He also makes wonderfully creative use of reflections and shadows throughout the film.
When it comes to the acting, Norton has seriously stacked the decks in his favor. The entire film, especially the nuanced dialogue, comes alive thanks to the likes of Alec Baldwin, Bobby Cannavale, Ethan Suplee, Willem Dafoe, Michael K. Williams, Gugu Mbatha-Raw, Fisher Stevens (when was the last time you recall seeing him in a film, right?), all of whom are supplemented by a host of amazing character actors. The aforementioned dialogue is sharp and witty causing you to dwell, with extra concentration, on every syllabel uttered. In fact much of the time it feels as if Norton has given all the best lines to his co-stars, in addition to coaxing undeniably great performances from them.
For all his excellent composition of scenes and keen knack for eliciting top notch performances from the cast, Norton himself often seems out of step with the proceedings. There are several scenes which just feel stilted and awkward. These often involve Norton and another actor interacting face to face and they ttend to be shot from the side in profile. While his fellow actor is  often delivering an impassioned stream of dialogue, Norton himself looks uninterested, dare I say bored.  Yet when Norton is the only one on screen he shines. It’s almost as if he focused all of his attention into nabbing great performances from his co-stars, but forgot to afford himself the same favor.
There are also a few scenes that are just too long and, well, awkward. One such scene features Norton and Mbatha-Raw dancing at a jazz club; it’s just too slow and dull, mostly due to wonky pacing and a feeling of detachment. There are a few other scenes like this sprinkled throughout the film which could have either been shortened or left out entirely. To this end the film could easily have been edited down by 15-to-20-minutes and still not lost any of its allure or punch.
Another incongruity which pops up is that while most of the actors appear dressed for the period, Lionel’s fashion sense seems odd; his hairstyle appears way too modern for the era and his sartorial choices often look out-of-step with those around him. Perhaps this was a conscious decision to separate him from the rest of those around him, painting the character as a true outsider. If that was the case, fine, but it didn’t really work for me. Keeping in line with this ill-matchedness is the inclusion of a Thom Yorke song in the score. That it’s prominently featured only further heightens its discordance in regards to the overall look and feel of the film. (FWIW, I caught an NPR interview with Norton where he discussed the song and how he liked that it created this rift in the feel of the film. Sure, it’s undoubtedly a great song on its own, but it just doesn’t fit the mood, time period, or vibe of the film and ultimately serves to disrupt the flow of the film. But that’s just my humble opinion...and I dig Radiohead and Yorke’s solo work, too). The rest of the score, however, is fantastic. A cool, mid-tempo expanse of jazz crafted by Daniel Pemberton, it burbles and swoons underneath the scenes creating a smoky vibe throughout; one that really compliments the overall ambiance of the film.
Sure, at times the unevenness of the film makes for a sometimes frustrating--but never ever dull--experience. Yet when all is said and done, the strength of the supporting cast along with some expertly staged and filmed action sequences, artfully composed scenes, and a bevy of crisp and rich dialogue make this an adaptation seriously worth a watch.

Rating: 3.5 (out of 5)

RIYL: Road to Perdition; History of Violence;

KNIVES OUT [Film Review]

Utterly predictable in parts, yet oh so deliciously entertaining. In fact, this film is beyond wickedly engaging, so much so that one can almost forgive writer/director Rian Johnson for only sparingly releasing the red herrings instead of tossing out a whole bucket. I lieu of fake fish, Johnson’s modus operandi is to wow the audience with serious bouts of intricate dialogue, lottsa warped humor, and a protagonist who is akin to Columbo, that is if he had been less schlubby and disheveled and more aloof Southern beau.
First things first. This is a murder mystery. And guess what? I picked out the culprit within the initial moments of the first act. That said, I must admit when the reveal came at the end of the film I was immediately disappointed because my guess had been correct and I felt momentarily cheated. I mean how could the villain have been so freaking obvious? But that feeling was fleeting. It was quickly replaced with one of vindication: I had solved the case! Okay, perhaps I didn’t guess all the particulars that our intrepid gumshoe Benoit Blanc--James Bond hisownself, Daniel Craig, judiciously playing up his hidden droll side--mapped out, but I had been right in surmising who had committed the crime.
The reveal isn’t the icing on the cake, though, as Johnson’s finale is littered with killer callbacks galore. While the next-to-penultimate callback is also predictable, it’s no less satisfying when it’s revealed, thus allowing you to revel in your super sleuthdom (provided you figured it out, that is!). Ditto for the penultimate callback, which was clever, but also foreseeable a mile away. Yet the final callback was sublimely subtle. For those who like to solve puzzles, let’s just say that Johnson heavily favors foreshadowing; so keep your eyes and ears peeled, my friends!
While not possessing nearly enough twists and turns for my taste (but the ones that it does deliver are swell), the film succeeds by giving the audience everything they could possibly need to solve the case on their own, both in terms of visual and audible cues. Yet it’s the latter that Johnson uses to great effect to divert your attention. Hints are dropped with regularity, but they are mixed in with such flights of verbal fancy that its easy to get lost in the witty wordplay.
The sight gags are equally plentiful and hit with punch and verve. The rampant visual jokes range from a game of fetch with the guard dogs to a frumpy mink shrouded grandmother to a running gag involving projectile vomiting. They not only provide some deft humor, but additionally serve to draw your attention away from the more serious matters at hand.
In terms of the cast, I’m not gonna lie: at first I thought I would be distracted by the presence of both Captain America (Chris Evans) and 007 (Craig). Heck, the gentleman next to me loudly whispered to his companion “See, I told you that was Captain America” the first time Evans graced the screen. That both men were able to break free of their franchise shackles and create wholly different characters is a testament to their acting chops. The rest of the cast is equally up to the task. From Ana de Armas, a bona fide chameleon of an actor (I have found her damn near unrecognizable in every film I’ve seen her in), who deceptively plays her role like a mouse caught in a Landcruiser’s high beams to the “comeback kid” Don Johnson (his recent string of low-key roles in off-kilter films like this has been stellar). Christopher Plummer serves up a rich and captivating performance as the domineering patriarch of the film. A few folks, though, were underutilized: Lakeith Stanfield, while all deadpan grace, could have been used to better effect. Ditto for Jaeden Lieberher and Michael Shannon. And Laurie Strode, erm Jamie Lee Curtis, seems like A-list window dressing. Then again that’s always the problem with a large ensemble cast; some folks get more screen time than others. In the end, even those who could (and should) have had more frames to their name deliver memorable performances.
But when all is said and done the real star here is the dialogue, which is snappier than the wet towel that douche-bag of a bully used to crack on your bare ass in the showers after gym class. You’re gonna have to stay on your toes to catch every morsel uttered by the stellar cast.
So, yeah, if you’ve watched your share of Murder, She Wrote or read enough Christie and Queen there’s a good chance you may potentially see the final reveal coming from afar. But the journey to the confession of the killer is a rambunctiously good one . Then again, on the off-chance that you might not see any of it coming, not only the journey will be memorable, but also the arrival at the final destination will be exciting and illuminating to say the least.

Rating: 4 (out of 5)
RIYL: Drag Me To Hell; Clue; Sleuth (the original with Michael Caine and Laurence Olivier); Mousetrap

PARASITE [Film Review]

The metaphorical aspects of this film are like a well-baked baklava: they just keep flaking off and revealing yet another tasty layer underneath.
On the surface writer/director Bong Joon-ho’s latest cinematic endeavor is an intriguing, constantly shifting slow-burn which floats effortlessly between being a dark comedy, a light-hearted drama, biting social criticism, and an unnerving thriller. Yet it somehow manages to be deeper than the sum of its combined genres.
Things start out innocently enough, feeling like a South Korean take on a Coen Bros. familial comedy. We are initially introduced to a quirky and poor family scheming their way through life; “borrowing” wifi, taking menial odd jobs, and generally trying to get by doing the least amount of work possible. From these humble beginnings the film evolves into a twisted grand con which ultimately culminates in a battle of wits as our “heroic” grifters get grifted, the rich get punished, and everything just goes to shit. Things are escalated further when it all explodes in a blaze of emotion fueled raw violence.
Bong keeps the pacing taught, letting the story unravel with a precise smoothness that keeps the viewer’s attention riveted to the screen. But perhaps the most alluring aspect of it all is that the film twists and turns with a diverting sense of subtlety so that you never know if you are watching a turgid drama, a black comedy or something else. In fact the best thing about the film is the bubbling tension that Bong creates. There is a scene where the four central protagonists/antagonists are enjoying a meal together and getting drunk. On the surface it is the simplest of scenes, but the underlying tension will have you wringing your hands in anticipation of something drastic happening in the ensuing moments.
The whole thing might have come tumbling down like a lopsided house of cards if it weren’t for the top-notch cast, ranging from Korean film stalwart Song Kang-Ho who plays the father figure of the “parasites” on down to the ditzy rich matron portrayed by Cho Yeo-jeong. Choi Woo-shik as the deceptively meek young son in the fraudster family is fantastic, displaying a subtle mischievousness. And Park So-dam as his coy sister is beguiling to watch. Lee Jeon-eun and Hyae Jin Chang round at the core cast as tenacious and insanely hilarious matrons (Lee as a cloying housekeeper, Chang as the queen mother of the grifter clan).
While the bravura acting and escalating outlandishness of the  story line are at the center of the film, there are other elements at play here. The cinematography, for one, adds considerable nuance to the proceedings; it is laced with a slick and vibrant sheen, one that lends just the right amount of off-kilter surrealism to the proceedings. Things appear normal on the surface, but there’s always a strange undercurrent rolling between the frames. And the score is used to expert effect, playing quietly underneath when called for and hitting all the proper dramatic and horrific notes when appropriate. It, as with the look of the film, adds dramatically to the overall effect.
To put it into the simplest of terms at its core this film paints the rich as vane and clueless and the poor as cunning and ruthless. But it also points out the folly of greed and entitlement regardless of class distinctions. And the metaphors, man, the metaphors! Abundant and glorious they be.

Rating: 4 (out of 5)
RIYL: Mulholland Drive; Oldboy (the original Korean version);

JOJO RABBIT [Film Review]

This is that rarest of all cinematic treats: a veritable Tootsie Pop of a film. Say what? Basically this film is covered in a sweet candy coating of comedy which conceals its soft center of moral and altruistic drama. What’s more is that it skips sprightly through the fields of social commentary, absurdist realism, taught melodrama, and imaginary fantasy like a carefree child let loose in the wild. It is also the most gloriously fucked-up (in a really good way) coming of age film I’ve seen in a long, long, long time.
Writer/director Taika Waititi has unleashed a film that is not only teeming with wicked and whip-sharp black humor balanced by poignant moments of humanism, but one that also moves along at breakneck speed, is imbued with lush cinematography (thanks to Mihai Malaimare Jr.), and features a bonkers cast of characters.
Speaking of the latter, the assembled actors are 99% stellar, ranging from Scarlett Johansson’s incredibly mature turn as a mother trying to cope with the fascist system in which she is surrounded. I feel like this might actually be the most adult role she’s ever done and she shines. Sure, her character is imbued with a bit of that manic pixie dream girlishness, but she elevates that cliche, turning it into one of a cultured and wise woman who also happens to be a badass mama lion. Sam Rockwell, in a fantastic supporting role, literally steals the show every single scene that he’s in. And our main man Roman Griffin Davis (aka Jojo) is that rare child actor who eschews any precociousness in favor of just plain old solid acting; he’s one of the best youthful thespians I’ve seen onscreen in ages. Plus his comedic timing is damn near impeccable. Thomasin McKenzie as Elsa is sublime and Waititi  (a self professed “Polynesian Jew”) as Hitler is the supreme, off-the-nuts escapee from Foster’s Home For Imaginary Friends.
This isn’t to say that there aren’t a few casting hiccups, though. To wit, there’s Jojo’s schlubby second BFF (Archie Yates as Yorki). He feels like a forced inclusion, as if the filmmakers said “hey, we need the stereotypical awkward fat kid in this film”. His performance reminded me of Jonathan Lipnicki in Jerry Maguire; a child actor who provides comic relief in the form of a lisp, thick glasses, and a goofy smile  While he has a few key moments of witty dialogue, for the most part his line readings and acting come off stiff. Speaking of stiff and awkward presentation, let’s talk about Rebel Wilson. She essentially plays the adult counterpart to Yorki; awkward and yearning for acceptance. I’m sure this was intentional, but given the bravura performances of those around her, hers just seemed stilted. Also, I find that her deadpan and detached schtick is a one-trick pony that should be put out to pasture. For my taste,someone like Kate McKinnon would have been better suited to the part, but what do I know? These are but trifling quibbles that are easily forgotten because the rest of the movie is damn near seamless.
What about the story? Well, without giving too much away, it’s about a young boy involved with the Hitler Youth who begins to find his own voice and personality in a life during wartime. The first act is a gonzo rush of gut-wrenching hilarity; I laughed so hard during this section of the film that tears blurred my vision and I feared my loud guffawing would cause the usher to escort me out of the theater for disturbing my fellow movie watchers. The Second Act veers away from the over-the-top hijinks and can feel a mite long-in-the-tooth at times, but ultimately pushes through thanks to Johansson and Davis’ combined charisma. The third act combines all of the elements of the first two into a cohesive conclusion.  In short, the first act should have you crying from laughing non-stop, the second act should provide a momentary respite to catch your breath, and the third act should have you crying from its sheer combination of emotional sadness tempered with a patina of blissful joy . Oh, and the callback ending, while utterly predictable, is also one of the most moving and cool scenes ever committed to film; if it doesn’t at least send shivers down your spine then you ain’t human.
Other than Once Upon A Time In Hollywood, this is the best film I've seen this year and I would not hesitate to see it again.

Rating: 4.5 (out of 5)

RIYL:  Dangerous Lives of Altar Boys; Garden State; Swiss Army Man; Harold and Maude; If

TERMINATOR: DARK FATE [Film Review]

The latest entry in the Terminator franchise is the cinematic equivalent of patching holes in your dorm room wall with toothpaste and hoping that the RAs won’t notice when they do the end of term inspection to give you back your security deposit. If that analogy escapes you, think of it as slapping a crappy coat of old paint on an old story and calling it “new”.
Joining the recent (and fucking annoying) slate of films that retcon all the previous films in the series (last year’s Halloween immediately comes to mind), this latest Terminator purports to be the “official” sequel to Terminator 2: Judgement Day, thus nulling and voiding all the Terminator movies that have come down the pike since 1991. That’s fine, since all of those now-unofficial sequels were kinda crappy anyway. But the thing is: this new film is also kinda crappy.
Hiding under a false glaze of feminism and “girl power” the film is literally machismo on overdrive masquerading as Marianismo. It’s also an unapologetic (and perhaps lazy?) pastiche of the story and plots from the original Terminator and T2: JD, the only prominent difference being that now we have 3 female protagonists instead of one: Mackenzie Davis is effectively Michael Biehn and Natalia Reyes is the female John Conner. How about giving us some original and multi-dimensional female characters? Instead we are given a trio of women who spend the bulk of the film trying to out dick wave one another in an endless stream of verbal and physical pissing matches.
What’s more, the whole “girl power” angle is a sham in my opinion since the film is directed by a man, the screenplay was written by 3 men and is based upon a story that was concocted by 5 men, and--HUGE SPOILER ALERT--the ultimate hero of the film is none other than the former poster icon of macho masculinity hisownself (that would be Arnie, if you couldn’t guess).
Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for strong women characters being injected into action films, but rather than just taking an old male dominated story and changing the gender of the main characters, how about actually writing something vaguely original and making those female characters individualistic, rather than just one-dimensional riffs on previously rendered male characters.
Faux feminism aside, the core problem with TDF is that it’s as lifeless as the Rev-9 killing machine hunting down our spunky trio of heroines in the film. There is no chemistry between the actors and when they’re not not interacting with one another onscreen everyone’s main modes are glaring and scowling. Don't even get me started on the Uncanny Valley aspects of the opening montage or the giant plot holes that it presents, either. As for the action sequences, well, they are not only tepid, but also feel as if they are running on an autopilot program that favors redundancy (i.e. you’ve seen most of these sequences rendered more excitingly in other films). If that weren’t bad enough, many of the scenes are shot in a murky darkness so you can’t even see what’s happening. Most will remember how the liquidic T-1000 effects in T2:JD seemed fresh and vibrant in the ‘90s; here, however, they just seem ho-hum and behind the times.
In short, the oft maligned Terminator: Genysis was infinitely better than this film, which should give you some idea of how lackluster and lame this one is.
Like the Alien franchise before it, the Terminator franchise just hasn’t been able to recapture the originality or vibrancy of the first two films. Perhaps whomever takes the helms for the next go-around should actually re-visit those films to understand what made them so good and then rather than poorly mimicking them, actually write something original and exciting.

Rating: 2 (out of 5)
RIYL: Terminator 3; Terminator: Salvation

ZOMBIELAND: DOUBLE TAP [Film Review]

When I first started seeing the trailers earlier this year I immediately thought “WTF?!?” Don’t get me wrong, I really enjoyed Zombieland. Like Shaun of the Dead before it, the original pumped a much needed comedic shot into the stifled walking dead cinemascape. But when the credits rolled on that film back in 2009 my first thought most definitely was not “Oh, I hope they make a sequel.” I mean I had heard rumblings over the years about a sequel, but figured it was just Hollywood white noise. So, yeah, back to my initial reaction upon learning that they had in fact made a sequel and not only that, but a decade later: I was like “What’s the point?”. I mean the track record for sequels overall is pretty low in terms of equaling the originality and success of the first film. Sure, there have been a few rare cases; Aliens and Terminator 2: Judgement Day come to mind, but I am bereft of thinking of any others.
So, it was with trepidation that I entered the theater to see ZLDT. Why even go, you ask? Well, after the mind-fuck of The Lighthouse, I seriously needed me some lighthearted entertainment.
My heart initially sank with the opening monologue by Columbus (Jesse Eisenberg) as it was teeming with forced meta moments, referencing the fact that we, the audience, were in fact watching a film and not only that, but a film that was the decades-later sequel to a previous film. Hell, Columbus even thanked us for paying and supporting the film. I hate that shit. I mean it was semi-cool before Ryan Reynolds and Deadpool beat it like a twice dead horse, now it’s just lame (it should come as no surprise then that the screenwriting team of Paul Wernick and Rhett Reese were not only responsible for the script of the first Zombieland, but also those of Deadpool and Deadpool 2) .
Thank the stars the film shed that meta bullshit quickly and the chemistry of the cast, the fast pace, and non-stop jokes (the screenwriters seemed to adopt the old Catskills stand-up practice of just tossing out joke after joke in rapid fire and hoping that at least one funny moment hit home) flipped my initial impression from “this shit is lame” to one of being rather impressed.  The best way to describe this film is that it’s like running into an old high school or college buddy whom you haven’t seen for at least a decade. The first 20-minutes you are hanging out are awkward and stilted as you catch up on rudimentary things, but the longer you hang out, the more comfortable you get with one another.
So what the hell does that mean? In short, I really enjoyed this film. I mean I laughed. I cried. I was on the edge of my seat. I ran the full gamut of emotions and found myself engaged more often than not. Again a lot of the credit for the success of this sequel comes from the screenwriters with their Ginsu sharp wit and excellent use of callbacks, but most of the applause is due to the cast; everybody onscreen is on point. Well, almost everybody.
The only slight in this film, imho, is Abigail Breslin. To be fair, I couldn’t stand her as a precocious child actor in the first film (and any of the other films I have happened to seen her in over the years) and I can’t stand her as a rebellious teen in this film. I am willing to concede that she may be the nicest person on the planet in real life, but as a thespian she is just plain annoying. While she is central to the story, thank the heavens she is barely in the film (all of this said, her pivotal callback in the final act is pretty damn solid). That leaves more screen time for the nerdy Columbus, the incomparable Tallahassee (Woody Harrelson), the snarky Wichita (Emma Stone), and newcomer Nevada (Rosario Dawson). I was surprisingly okay with the over-the-top ditzy blonde girl performance of Zoey Deutch as Madison, but additional newcomer Berkeley (portrayed by Avan Jogia) was a shallow and one-dimensional character who didn’t really add much to the film other than being a thin device to move the plot along to its logical conclusion.
Some of the stuff which made me groan when I saw the trailer (the doppelgangers, for example) actually ended up being handled really well in the film. And while the third act gets a little trite (although the monster truck element is gangbusters), again, the chemistry of the cast and the whip-slick pacing help to push it along.
In the end this is an admirable sequel, perhaps not quite as compelling as the original, but it comes pretty damn close.
Yet as much as I ended up enjoying this film, I certainly hope all involved decide to end the series here. Afterall, remember what happend to both the Alien and Terminator franchises after the sequels?

PS:
Make sure you stay through the credits.

Rating: 3.5

RIYL: Zombieland; Shaun of the Dead; Little Monsters; Juan of the Dead

RATM Fail?

Methinks there was a seriously missed opportunity in regards to the recent dissolution of POR in the wake of the RATM reunion news. I, for one, would have gladly paid $$$ to see and hear a Prophets Of Rage Against The Machine tour...