“The Book Of Henry” (2017): A Book Missing A Spine

SPOILER WARNING: This review contains spoilers for The Book of Henry. Proceed at your own risk.

Director Colin Trevorrow is rising up in the world. In 2015, he made Jurassic World which managed to be one of the highest grossing films of all time. It was a job so lucrative that he managed to get a job directing Star Wars: Episode IX. Of course, his career didn’t start that way. Prior to this, he worked in TV and short documentaries before eventually making his feature film debut with Safety Not Guaranteed, a grounded sci-fi dramedy that mainly relied on character interaction. It’s a highly underrated film that quite honestly has far more heart in it than any second of Jurassic World. So, before he steps into space, Trevorrow decides to get back to his routes with the independent film The Book of Henry. Not an uncommon move for a director who started out in the indie scene, but would he be able to capture that same charm he got to bubble in the surface for Safety Not Guaranteed? Or did Jurassic World truly rip him of any sense of convincing emotional engagement?


Well, that accusation is a bit unfair, given Trevorrow doesn’t have a writing credit on The Book of Henry like he did on his two previous features. Comic book writer Gregg Hurwitz is the credited screenwriter and in many ways, the titular Henry (Jaeden Lieberher) is a superhero. He’s a child with an incredibly high IQ. He’s far beyond the intellectual thought of his fellow eleven year olds in school, making elaborate inventions and handling all the financial planning for his mother Susan (Naomi Watts) & brother Peter (Jacob Tremblay ). Plus, Henry is also planning a rather decisive plot against his neighbor Police Chief Glenn Sickleman (Dean Norris), who he believes is abusing his stepdaughter Christina (Maddie Ziegler). Henry is the Superman that keeps his world from tumbling, with his mother, brother and even many of his classmates relying on his genius to help them through life’s biggest troubles.


This is all meant to be so precocious. The Book of Henry assumes we’ll be wildly charmed and endeared to this entire group because they rely on an eleven year old for so much. This makes sense for his younger brother Peter, who actually feels like a real child. Jacob Tremblay gives a believable childlike performance. When Jacob is disappointed in his life’s downturns, he has this authentic sadness on his face that carries us through moments of the film. His mixture of regret and youthful charm is infectiously cute yet emotionally honest enough to not be maudlin. It’s a shame literally NO ONE ELSE took Tremblay’s lead.


The emotional manipulation on display in The Book of Henry is insulting. Every twenty minutes has a massive tonal shift. We go from this precocious family dramedy to a medical drama to a family grieving movie to a thriller within the span of an hour and forty five minutes. There is absolutely no smooth transition going on here and a juxtaposition that honestly feels flabbergasting on a story and directorial level. We cut between a children’s talent show and an elaborated attempted assassination like this is The Godfather, which completely distracts from any sort of emotional investment. The emotional whiplash is paralyzing here, making The Book of Henry feel like the disappointing spawn of the worst Lifetime Original Movie, the worst Amblin movie and the worst dark thriller film ever made. Any emotional tether we had to this story died the moment Henry spoke his first line, but only managed to rapidly decompose by the time he breaths his last breath.


Jaeden Lieberher – despite his impressive work in last year’s Midnight Special with a more sci-fi style gifted character – is the type of far-too-smart genius/socially outcasted child that grates on the nerves. Every philosophical flight of fancy he spouts distances himself further from any sort of human behavior. He has the type of confidence that makes him feel more like the father of this family than the oldest son. Makes some sense, given that the father is written off as having left the boys and Susan. Still, so much is put on this kid’s plate that it honestly feels like some form of abuse for Susan to be so reliant on this kid to simply keep this household together. Even as he is dying from this tumor in his brain, Henry has little emotional contemplation, instead trying to work out everything before anyone else can say it. He manages to even be smug and unlikable as a child on his damn deathbed.


Susan’s inability to decide makes this even worse. Especially given she literally can’t make the choice to give consent to allow her child to have surgery as he is having violent seizures without asking that very same child for his thoughts. The same woman who spends more time playing video games than doing any sort of tough decision making, even after Henry’s death. Now, while all of that behavior is awful, one could maybe forgive that if The Book of Henry gives her some sort of arc. And it sort of tries? “Sort of” is being very kind, given she spends the fallout of Henry’s death by brain tumor going with the meticulous plan he mapped out to catch the abuse going on next door for her step by step… until moments before she could commit the awful deed. Keeping in mind this involves:

  1. Completely accepting that any kind of outside help is out of the question
  2. Buying an illegal assault weapon
  3. Training herself to shoot this weapon instead of providing for her living son or even watching out for him
  4. Establishing an alibi of being at a talent show
  5. Setting up a trap by baiting the police chief neighbor with… a bird call via walkie talkie taped to a tree?
  6. Shooting that man from her sons’ clubhouse and discarding all evidence

She manages to go with five out of six of those steps, only stopping short because she realizes that Henry was “a child” via photos of him as a child that conveniently pop up there thanks to an invention he had in his clubhouse. It’s meant to be the big emotional crux of The Book of Henry, but it reads as hollow to a enraging degree. There’s so much talk of Henry not being a parent and that he didn’t teach her how to be a mom… but she’s a horrendously untrustworthy parent. No good mother would take so long to question this elaborate set up that is going on. No good mother would intensely play video games and dump all fiscal responsibility on her eleven year old son without any sort of fight. No good mother would THEN ask him to take things easy and not accept any responsibility for what’s going on. All of this makes Susan emotionally immature to the point of neglect… yet she ends up getting total custody of the abused girl next door at the end?!


None of this is helped by the lack of any concrete adult character in The Book of Henry. Dean Norris just sort of scowls out the side of his face like a mad puppy without any kind of guidance. Sarah Silverman is here to have an implied alcohol problem, look pretty and kiss a dying child on the lips in an incredibly creepy fashion. Lee Pace is… just there to smile and be at least a foot taller than every other cast member. All are passing ships in the night to get our more prominent and horrendous lead characters from Point A to Point B. The other authority figures are dense to the point of being pretty much on level with Henry’s classmates, including the principal (Tonya Pinkins) who can’t seem to see the lack of emotion on Christina’s face.


Then again, much of that has to do with Maddie Ziegler having little to no resemblance to human behavior. Of course, we also don’t have any real weight to the child abuse elements. The Book of Henry is willing to let us wade through a child dying from sudden brain tumor death and an elaborate plan to kill a corrupt cop, but not once show the true lasting consequences of the abuse. The child abuse here is magically hand waved as merely making Christina feel mopey. We get no context from her point of view or lingering effects beyond Ziegler sort of acting aloof. Henry even references bruises that we never see, perhaps to show the implied-but-never-developed Machiavellian brilliance of her stepfather to cover up this abuse. One might blame this young actress, but when even Naomi Watts can’t make any of this anywhere near authentic, there has to be something wrong with the direction.


Colin Trevorrow does a decent job with all the technical aspects of The Booky Of Henry, but misses the character stuff at every single turn. Which is fatal. Any solid visual or moody bit of lighting falls flat when the characterization feels as emotionally hollow as most everyone is here. This is really where my worries come for him taking on Star Wars next. The way he handles the family dynamics here show a complete tone deafness for what is actually going on vs the foolhardy attempts at getting us to the end of all this. For all the big moments of spectacle, the thing that has kept us connected to Star Wars really has always been the familial level connection between the characters. Even if he didn’t write this, the fact that he was willing to sign on to this based on the very basic story beats shows a lack of self awareness. With Trevorrow handles this story, I am highly sceptical of how Episode IX will end the new trilogy. Hell, at least Jurassic World was more consistent.


Anyhoo, The Book of Henry is one of the absolute worst films of the year so far. It’s astonishing how inept this feels on the most basic story level. One wonders how this story got passed the outline stage, let alone script completion and green lighting. Despite the technical craft on display that’s tolerable, there’s no authentic emotional grounding beyond Jacob Tremblay’s character and performance. Everyone else is either a hollow husk of a character or a completely unrealistic perception of humanity. Nothing here gives us an emotional grounding worth following. All of this comes off as genuinely naive on a storytelling level, to the point where every decision is questionable on every layer. The few moments of self awareness are fleeting, more as a brief write off to attempt to dispel anyone’s questioning. Unfortunately, The Book of Henry writes itself into so many corners, providing solutions that merely boxes itself into another corner on the opposite side of the wall. It’s both excessive in its attempts to be cute and painful in how it attempts to deviate from that into genuine drama or tension.

Rating: 0.5 Out of 5 Pages from Henry’s Book


Other Works:


“Cars 3” (2017): Rules of the Road (And This World) Don’t Apply

The ever popular incredibly unsettling universe of vehicles without humans is back, baby! Cars 3 features race car Lightning McQueen (Owen Wilson) trying to find himself back on the track. Despite issues with the overall premise and execution of the universe created in 2006’s Cars, this plotline is at least a return to basics. In fairness, this is following the disastrously awful Cars 2, which took the simple premise of “race cars go vroom” and turned it into a subpar Austin Powers style spy parody. Leaving McQueen in the dust so his sidekick Mater the Tow Truck (Larry the Cable Guy) could hog the spotlight obnoxiously. Now, McQueen’s racing foibles are back in the spotlight and Matter is used very sparingly… even though he gets to say “Git R Done” twice. Returning to the sports story is a far better route for Cars 3 to travel. The question is does Cars 3 have good enough Lightyear brand tires to run that terrain?


Well… sure. Cars 3 is a very simple “comeback story”/”training the next generation” sports movie. A Rocky Balboa that transforms into Creed. There’s not much to it. Still, it’s a step up from Cars 2. Unfortunately, the passage of time really isn’t felt because of something like Cars 2. In the original film, McQueen is a rookie. A rebel who doesn’t play by anyone’s rules, to the point of losing track of the journey rather than the destination. Now – after a stupid spy movie that used Lightning’s racing as the thinnest excuse for Matter to be an ass – he’s suddenly supposed to be an ancient car. Sure, there’s a montage that tries to emphasize this, but it feels underwhelming and rushed as a way of making up for lost time. We never really got the chance to see Lightning as the head honcho in his heyday, which deflates the power of seeing him crash and be accused of being past his prime.


This is obviously a commentary on modern technology (vehicular or otherwise) and how quickly we leave the past in the dust. These newer more aggressive high tech cars like Jackson Storm (Armie Hammer) don’t have an appreciation for the old style that McQueen managed to have, giving him the role reversal of the first film with Cruz Ramirez (Cristela Alonzo), a high tech trainer who hasn’t had any real world experience. She is learning more than McQueen is at a certain point, turning from a reliance on tech to an appreciation for the real dirt in between your toes – er, I mean treads in tires. Cars 3 builds this chemistry solidly, particularly with a rather over the top demolition derby scene… even if thinking about that scene in context for even a moment makes one question the bloodsports going on in this universe. The high energy back and forth between Alonzo and Wilson is what keeps this boat afloat, especially when interacting with the likes of business tycoon Sterling (Nathan Fillion) or the crazed roller derby bus Miss Fritter (Lea DeLaria).


Much in the way that the Toy Story trilogy deals with the legacy and meaning of items, Cars 3 tries to inject some of this pathos into its universe. The relationship between McQueen and his mentor from the first film Doc Hudson (the late Paul Newman, who has a bit of new audio inserted into this) plays heavily into the themes here. As McQueen looks at his own failure, he remembers the wipeout that put out Doc so harshly. Both McQueen and Cruz are lost and need a shot to prove themselves, making them mutually grow to learn from their past greed or misguidedness in order to learn what it truly means to race. One does feel the impact in the rather brutal crash scene that sends him out of commission. It’s a noble idea, especially with the additional factor of the hand off being to a female & hispanic… car. Diversity models can come from anywhere, I suppose.


Yet, the world of Cars 3 continues to crumble because these stories are so simple. With Toy Story or Monsters Inc, there are plenty of questions going on about this universe. Hell, sites like Cracked or Buzzfeed have made an industry out of over questioning these premises and packaging them into articles that “Ruin Your Childhood.” Yet, when watching those films, one never really questions what’s going on on that macro level because the micro character focused level matters so much more. With Cars 3 and the entire Cars franchise, those emotions don’t hit as high because the stories and characters are ultimately so simple. Like a mini-van with rather limited features.


The animation is up to the usual Pixar standard, as it is rather immaculate on that level. The shine on these cars and the rustic vs high tech nature of the varying settings is grounded in a reality that gives this world some stability. This stands out especially well when we see old footage of Doc Hudson racing, with the projected film having just the right amount of grain to recreate the past. Yet, it’s not enough to keep the emotional investment that consistent. It’s lush style without much substance. Now, there’s nothing wrong with these films being more focused on broader childish appeal, but Cars 3 wants to have it both ways without doing the work. Paying lip service to the introspective themes of legacy while throwing in silly moments of vehicles doing pratfalls. Cars 3 is less a Pixar film and more like a lesser studio trying and failing to catch the right mojo to appealing to everyone consistently instead of one audience member age group at a time.


Of course, a big part of the confusion here is mainly the fault of this world building. When the story doesn’t distract, this entire human-less vehicle driven universe falls apart. Cars 3 throws unfunny puns and visual gags at the screen to reference our modern culture… but the lack of a laugh just leaves us time to unravel the horrific what ifs at play. For example, at one point the cars go to a resturaunt referred to as a “bar and grill.” These personified vehicles do drink oil… but what do they grill? Is it the tractor cows we keep seeing? And if they do grill the tractor cows, does that make them cannibals? What makes a tractor less personified than a regular car, to the point of not being able to speak? Is it some form of car evolution? Did those tractors evolve into the regular cars our lead characters resemble? Does that mean Jackson Storm and the other new racing cars are the next link in the evolutionary chain? Is McQueen fighting the progression of his species by wanting to race? HOW IN THE HELL DOES ANY OF THIS WORK?!


These are all questions that the story should be able to distract us from. Cars 3 does attempt to ground the story in its characters, though while servicing some of its least endearing elements like puns. McQueen’s line of “Life’s a Beach, Then Your Drive” is a low gut punch to those who respect their intelligence. It truly is lesser rate Pixar material, despite the gorgeous animation and a nudge towards developing the characters. A noble, but ultimately middling effort that’ll at least be appreciated for not referencing Matter’s past as a spy car. Still, Pixar’s bottom of the barrell is at least better than much of the animated material that gets tossed out there. A parent will likely be looking back fondly on this as they’re forced to sit through this summer’s Emoji Movie.

Rating: 2.5 out of 5 Pairs of Lightning McQueen Mudflaps


Other Works:

THE MUMMY (2017): Dark Universe Ain’t Lit

The Universal Monsters were the original cinematic universe. Long before DC & Marvel got their chance Dracula, Frankenstein and indeed The Mummy crossed over. Whether it be to fight or bumble around Abbott and Costello, the popular monsters met each other on multiple occasions. Now, Universal is calling back to this with their newly branded “Dark Universe.” A lot of The Mummy sets up this connected universe. Dr. Jekyll (Russell Crowe) is our Nick Fury, the leader of a secret organization set on collecting and studying these supernatural creatures. Well, studying and killing them. Which upsets the people who were being chased by The Mummy (Sofia Boutella). Who is trying to bring back an evil Egyptian god in human form. Are you losing track? Don’t worry. It’ll be exposited to you every twenty minutes.


The Mummy is a pretty frustrating experience. It’s the ultimate example of putting the cart before the horse in terms of trying to start up a massive franchise without laying solid groundwork. The Marvel Cinematic Universe focused on making a good Iron Man movie without heavily bombarding the audience with teases for a new universe. Hell, even DC tried to do that with Man of Steel. Here, the titular villain becomes much more of a means to an end rather than an intimidating presence to fight against. Boutella tries her best, attempting to give her undead goddess a slinky confidence that’s more than the script could give her. Especially when her ultimate purpose is to unleash dull CG windstorm/rats/shambling corpses upon the world. Still, she and a rather game Russell Crowe as intellectual Dr. Jekyll/cockney tumbler Mr. Hyde are at least trying to give this some life. Though we don’t focus on them nearly enough.


Instead, most of our time is spent with Nick Morton (Tom Cruise), a two faced thief and liar that’s supposed to be our hero. While attempting to have some kind of redemption arc, Nick helps his generic love interest/damsel in distress Jenny (Annabelle Wallis) once. Then, after said saving, Nick consistently leaves her to die, disrespects her knowledge and treats any kind of supernatural force without an ounce of gravity. While not Tom Cruise’s worst film in recent memory, The Mummy features a rare Cruise in pilot mode. No, that’s not a Top Gun joke. The type of effortless charm Cruise usually displays is represented as an empty shadow. The chemistry with Annabelle Wallis’ non-character is non-existent. Every attempt at roguish charm framed to make us become endeared to Nick Morton comes off as petty and ignorant. Even the stunts are unconvincing and listless.


Nick Morton is the type of insecure dumbass that no one would want to follow or – more importantly – have any kind of sympathy for. With the original Universal Monsters, a tragic empathy was crucial to the general characters. The Wolfman contemplated suicide. Frankenstein was a being brought back from death to scorn and outrage. Imhotep – OG The Mummy as played by Boris Karloff – merely wanted to find his love again in a new life. It’s something co-writer/director Alex Kurtzman tries to strive for with Nick Morton, with his internal make up being severely affected by his encounters with The Mummy. The audience is meant to extend tragic feeling towards Nick as his mind is under the control of our titular beast. Yet, there’s nothing there. A soulless vapid entity that feels incredibly close to a woman who he constantly doesn’t seem to care about after only having a one night stand with her. It’s the most hollow thing this entire affair could hang its coat on.

The Mummy

Morton’s encounters with the supernatural elements of The Mummy are rather unimpressive. The elaborate sandstorms amounts to little excitement, only making one recall the amazing Dubai sandstorm chase scene in Cruise’s Mission Impossible Ghost Protocol. His constant visualization of a decaying Jake Johnson calling him to do things that will obviously end up killing him with attempted comedic frankness. So, the worst impression of Griffin Dunne’s character in American Werewolf in London. The methods in which Boutella even brings people back from the dead only serve as lingering reminders of the earlier Brendan Fraser mummies from the dawn of the new millennium, a reminder that makes those films look far better in retrospect. Especially since the 1999 originator of that incarnation of the series knew to at least do one thing right; keep the plot simple.


Here, Alex Kurtzman and his five other credited writers do the worst possible job of taking the basic premise and repeating it over and over. And over. And over. And over. And over. And over again. Yet, they’ll further convolute the entire throughline by giving the macguffin of the dagger multiple parts that need to be found and a rather confusing climactic twist that shows a triumph based on… literally nothing inherent to our main character. It’s the type of writing that Alex Kurtzman has contributed to modern blockbusters with his work on the first few Transformers films, where drama and conflict is confused with plodding narrative. And most of that comes from the decision to build up this Dark Universe concept rather than an engaging individual story with The Mummy.


None of this helps the fact that The Mummy is merely Kurtzman’s second film, following the long forgotten romantic drama People Like Us. The inexperience shows in spades with Kurtzman’s attempts at creating dynamic action scenes or horrific atmosphere. He relies so much on dodgy CG and over editing to give our titular monster any kind of threat and the action sequences a sense of propulsive kinetic excitement. But neither help in any fashion. Every decision feels like Kurtzman wanted to emulate directors he’s written for like Michael Bay or JJ Abrams, but without an ounce of ability in terms of selecting angles or creating dynamic flow to the action moments that they have. Yet, even a Michael Bay Transformers film has better moments of action than this.


The Mummy is a disaster. That should be pretty obvious after all of this. An attempt to bring these monsters together, only to drive them off the screen with a complete dud of a first outing. The sad thing is these characters could work in a modern universe context, but not this way. As a tribute to its horror source material, it fails to capture the basic integrity of tragedy or scares. As an attempted action film, it fails to generate much excitement in that fashion. What results is an identity crisis for this supposed universe that notes a lot of voices trying to stir this pot, only for the meal to be a failure pile of a stew. The Mummy is everything that’s wrong with modern universe building in Hollywood franchises. It’s the equivalent of if Marvel started their universe with Iron Man 2 instead of Iron Man. But that’s an insult to Iron Man 2.

Rating: 1 out of 5 Horridly CG Rats


Other Works:

“Wonder Woman” (2017): Wonderful Rises From Rubble

The DC Extended Universe films have had a rocky start. Man of SteelBatman V. Superman: Dawn of Justice and Suicide Squad each had massive problems. All of them ambitious to some degree, but underwhelming in execution for varying reason. However, the most common connection between them simply is a lacking development of character. Batman, Superman, Lex Luthor, Joker or any other number of characters weren’t given room to breathe amongst the muddled themes and intensely overstuffed world building. Unable to find the type of balance that the Marvel Cinematic Universe has made effortless. With so many great characters in their roster, one would hope that DC could find a film that gets them back on track and gives these timeless heroes their time to shine. Luckily, Wonder Woman manages to crash through the piles of ash like an ember soaring into the sky and burning your cheek with a rush of excitement.


Wonder Woman was introduced in Batman V. Superman as an inconsequential yet welcome personality to spar with the male heroes. Here, we get a full-scale introduction to what made Princess Diana that badass. A full look into the varying tug and pull of her upbringing. Sometimes this can be a bit too exposition heavy, but director Patty Jenkins and main writer Allan Heinberg manage to alleviate the clumsiness by displaying Diana’s gumption and her mother’s fear in equal measure. With an island of female warriors wanting to train her for battle, Diana’s still suppressed by her mother Hippolyta (Connie Nielsen) wanting to save her from the wars of the world of men. It’s an understandable motivation, particularly as men eventually invade their shores and impede the peaceful existence they’ve had for centuries. The conflict is one based in a human connective tissue of not wanting to see those we love be harmed. A recurring theme that enriches Diana’s struggles as a protector further down the line.


There’s an earnestness in that idea that gives Wonder Woman such wonderful legs. Gal Gadot gives her a curiosity and audacious sense of righteousness that instantly endears us to the character. As she learns more about the disconnected bureaucracy of man in war, her lack of tolerance for such bully makes her a true hero fighting against something bigger than a giant villain. She wants to save everyone. Live up to her status of a massive warrior and stop all war from happening by living up to the stories she grew up on. Even when we do get big battle sequences, they’re still steeped deeply in Diana’s desire to save the humanity that both ignites a flame of endearment within her while constantly trying to destroy their own beauty with brutish force. Something that Man of Steel utterly fumbled on, while Wonder Woman does in an effortless fashion.


Wonder Woman truly is a superhero based in the concept of compassion. She has a love for the people around her that isn’t simply a feminine motherly instinct. It’s a compassion instilled into her by everyone from her mother who instill compassion to her aunt Antiope (Robin Wright) who trains her in secret to defend herself to even Steve Trevor (Chris Pine) showing her the full scope of humanity’s strength and faults. Trevor in particular is fascinating character. Chris Pine’s charm is incredibly nuanced, having all the confidence of a human spy yet being confused and eventually humbled by Diana’s abilities. There’s an attraction between the two, but it isn’t a flat typical Hollywood romance. It’s based in mutual respect for their abilities, yet still allows for barbs and fish out of water humor that never feels too forced.


Wonder Woman‘s compassion continues to the other soldiers in her rag-tag battalion. The trio of Sameer (Saïd Taghmaoui), Charlie (Ewen Bremner) and The Chief (Eugene Brave Rock) each give Diana further perspective on man’s world. One where mortals take from each other or lose confidence in themselves, but also try to hold up their own even when facing impossible odds. This crew manages to show how Wonder Woman manages to one up its Marvel competition, as this crew manages to be a far more improved version of The Howling Commandos from Captain America: The First Avenger. Some of them don’t get full closure, but their character moments with Diana gives us further insight into her struggles in dealing with humanity.


The conflicting motivations of man challenge Diana’s perceptions of humanity, allowing for a stronger conflict for when she starts to kick major ass. The villains Dr. Poison (Elena Anaya) and General Ludendorff (Danny Huston) represent both the comic book supervillainy and the truly demented evil at hand. There’s a few comic book moments of destruction with them and the hints of Aries, but the ultimate form of evil in Wonder Woman is one that’s far more sinister and chilling than expected. One engrained in allowing the self-destructive nature of humanity to feed on itself. Something that Diana is tempted towards in a way that makes her relate to man’s plight. Especially as the story goes along with some genuinely surprising turns.


Patty Jenkins’ direction for Wonder Woman is a triumph over the previous entries in the DC Extended Universe. Sure, there’s some of producer/story writer Zack Snyder‘s speed-up slow mo style action, but it isn’t as navel gazing. There’s a purpose to the slow-mo, showing off Diana’s grace and direct line of sight as she clobbers those in her wake before brutally displaying her strength in regular motion. Admittedly, there are points where the CG is rather uneven. Sometimes it’s a gorgeous recreation of human features. Other times it’s about as uncanny valley as a Robert Zemeckis motion capture film. Though the lesser CG is more during the first half anyway, allowing the finale climax to have far more consistent graphics that don’t distract from the emotional stakes or action choreography.


Jenkins really shines during the more intimate moments. When Diana shares a conversation with Trevor, there’s a genuine charm and grace that’s displayed during the close ups. There’s a sort of Billy Wilder-esque inspiration to the use of close ups and the back-and-forth editing style during these scenes, allowing Wonder Woman the luxury of authentic human interaction that these DC movies have been missing. This is something Jenkins carries over from her previous feature Monster, though with less psychotic murder at play. With Wonder Woman, the admiration comes off in equal measure between Diana and her allies from Man’s World. The type of comradery that allows her to both respect their views and question them when someone like Trevor allows protocol to get in the way of people’s lives.


Sure, Wonder Woman is ultimately an origin story. Something the superhero genre has often played like a sour fiddle of a note. There’s not a huge amount of complexity to the narrative structure here, though it’s necessary to give Diana a full back story. Really, the complexity arrives in the emotional turmoil of her character. One who can kick ass, but can often feel helpless when the full potential of depravity with humanity hits her in the face. The murky waters of morality in this world confuse and frighten her, but they never break her spirit. They deconstruct her world view, but allow her to think on her feet and discover what matters more. That intriguing dimension instantly sets Wonder Woman apart as not only the best DC movie in years, but one of the best recent offerings for comic book films in general. It’s a crowd pleaser with intelligence and understanding as to its themes of war and human morality that don’t get bogged down in ethics. There’s color, fun and brain all working together here. Let’s hope Warner Bros can keep it up.

Rating: 4 out of 5 Impractical Battle Outfits


Other Works:

“Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales” (2017): No Waves Made

Pirates of the Caribbean was a surprise franchise. The idea of a “movie based on a theme park attraction” sounded like the death of cinema at the time. Yet, Curse of the Black Pearl wowed audiences in 2003, setting Johnny Depp on the path of mega stardom and island ownership. It helps that it still holds up as a highly entertaining and well constructed blockbuster to this day. The subsequent three sequels ranged from ambitious messes (Dead Man’s Chest, At World’s End) to uninspired garbage (On Stranger Tides). Yet, they still made Disney massive amounts of cash, mainly through overseas dollars that depend more on elaborate set pieces rather than dialogue or character. So, a decade and a half after the original entry surprised people, how could Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales – the fifth entry in the franchise – sufficiently wow audiences of today? Especially in a world where Depp has lost the consistency of his box office pull?


Well, they definitely decided to air more on the side of elaborate set pieces. Directors Joachim Rønning and Espen Sandberg (Kon-Tiki) certainly want to return to the type of elaborate madness in the various action scenes that helped Gore Verbinski put his stamp on blockbusters back in the days of Black Pearl. The creativity of how elaborate some of the earlier ones in particular are is incredibly commendable. The opening bank heist has Buster Keaton levels of insane stunt work and the attempted execution scene has some incredibly inventive camera angles. This initially teases the type of fresh direction that this franchise desperately needs and shows that these two Swedes could be a force to recon with in Hollywood. As things devolve further, we quickly see just how recycled all of this really is from previous Pirates of the Caribbean films. Giant gaping holes in the water for a climax, a witch… for some reason and a cameo from an aging rock star (Paul McCartney this time… for some reason) shows the fumes this ship of a franchise is riding on.


Though a lot of that is on a story level. Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales doubles down on Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann type characters, with their son Henry (Brenton Thwaits) and astronomer Carina Smyth (Kaya Scodelario) as well as… Will and Elizabeth. Scodelario and Thwaits try to pick up the reigns, with the former being far more consistent than the latter. Scodelario is at least independent in a more underdog fashion than Elizabeth was. Brenton just has the literal same motivation Will had in the second and third installments: trying to get his father back. Speaking of which, Orlando Bloom puts all the effort into his charisma as he had in The Hobbit trilogy. Take of that what you will. Oh, and Keira Knightley clearly only gave the crew an afternoon’s worth of her time. I’d say that’s a spoiler… but what’s to spoil?


None of the character moments really matter in the grand scheme of Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales. There’s clearly a desire to make it seem like they care, though. Jack Sparrow starts off at rock bottom, with his crew abandoning him and a perception that’s he’s all washed up as a pirate. Except within minutes he’s got his crew back and he’s doing the same shit he always used to do. The drunken buffoonery, conveniently dodging death at every turn and making off with a bit of treasure. It’s all the same, only Depp has even less interest in coming off like he’s invested in any of this. This honestly wouldn’t be such a bother if they didn’t try to set up something that would be interesting! A way for Johnny Depp to show more dimension to his tired Keith Richards impression. But no. Save any of that for a vanity flashback of Depp de-aged to look like himself circa A Nightmare on Elm Street instead of having progression for this character.

pirates-of-the-caribbean-geoffrey rush

Unfortunately, this also affects the more consistent recurring character in the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise; Captain Barbossa. Geoffrey Rush has always been a delight in this part, putting so much relish into the traditional pirate accent and mannerisms. Here, they try to progress Barbossa in a more grounded emotional way, which Rush is desperately trying to sell. Unfortunately, there’s so little development to it. Within a 20 minute time span of a major revelation on his part, it gets resolved in a telegraphed hamfisted fashion that doesn’t feel fitting for the character. For all the troubles of Dead Man’s Chest and At World’s End, both at least were consistent at attempting to resolve and develop any number of the characters it was juggling over the course of its trilogy. On Stranger Tides and Dead Men Tell No Tales do neither, relying on some the most labored set up and casted off to the side pay off in the history of the series. Right down to a post-credit scene that shows just how out of ideas this series is were it to continue.


Even at its worst, Pirates of the Caribbean still has some consistent effects work. Here, most of that is on display with our villain Captain Salazar (Javier Bardem). While Bardem is forced into a mumbling goo-drooling cretin of a character that’s beneath him, the process used to bring him to life is rather extraordinary. Pirates of the Caribbean shows of its more horror tinges with its villain character, in this case reveling in the blown apart sights of Salazar’s crew. That above mentioned flashback might mainly be there to serve Depp’s vanity, but it also shows that every design for each crew member’s ghostly missing appendages have a connection to their fates. Particularly with Bardem’s wavy underwater hair and cracking facial structure. Even their ship has this expanding ribcage-style attack mode that’s truly unique to this series. It’s a technical marvel that’s just wasted on a rather bland villain role.


Ultimately, Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales is an exercise in the familiar. We’ve seen Jack Sparrow do so many stunts like this before and – despite the initial promise of growth or change or any kind of twist in his narrative – he remains the same scoundrel with a few moments of “heart” we’ve seen before. If done right, this could have truly been a redemption arc not just for Jack, but for Depp’s own cinematic career as of late. Take the scarves and hat routine & give it genuine weight in between the elaborate action sequences. But that fizzles and dies like a flat soda in the hot caribbean sun. That combined with lackluster villains and further lacking character moments doesn’t make this the worst entry. The direction helps keep this from being On Stranger Tides levels of bland awfulness. However, this still feels like the last nail in the coffin for the Pirates of the Caribbean. Move on to some other ride-turned-movie concept, Disney. I’m pulling for an All That Jazz style Enchanted Tiki Room movie. Or at least a non-Eddie Murphy Haunted Mansion movie.

Rating: 2 out of 5 Endless Johnny Depp Scarves


Other Works:

Samurai Jack: Cultural Collage At Its Finest

This article contains spoilers for the entire series of Samurai Jack.

Samurai Jack is a true melting pot of a show. Created by Genndy Tartakovsky, an animator/immigrant born from the Soviet Union, was clearly inspired by a multitude of influences. The world that Jack – our titular samurai warrior flung out of his  time into a future ruled by the evil Aku – inhabits is a mishmash of many cultural touchstones. This premise was born from limitations. Building a show around a sword wielding samurai had the obvious trouble of getting past killing humans on a program aimed at children. So, Tartakovsky decided upon the conceit of killing robots instead, eventually leading to the premise that sparked Samurai Jack into the show it is. This conceit not only got this concept past the Cartoon Network board of directors, but also allowed for the cultural mesh that enabled so much creativity to spring forth for the production staff behind Samurai Jack.


Right from the first episode “The Beginning,” Jack is seen training under the guidance of an African tribe, Chinese Monks and even Robin Hood himself. This elaborate montage showing Jack crafting his fighting skills is not only meant to showcase the massive amount of skill Jack has obtained in order to vanquish his foe Aku. It also shows the major theme of the knowledge Jack learns across his travels. Presenting Jack as a man willing to learn and take the guidance of those around him manages to give him an endearing desire to learn, but also a varied set of skills to boost the legitimacy of his prowess as a fighter able to nearly defeat a demonic entity like Aku. The variety of influences that give a balance of the tone and much in this same way, Tartakovsky took a variety of influences from his youth through his career in animation up to that point.


The easiest influences to spot are Japanese, given the titular character. Moments of quiet contemplation followed by extreme action having the pacing akin to the works of Akira Kurosawa. Indeed, Jack has the typical weakness of the more authentic heroes of those stories, in that he has a soft spot to help those in need. After all, his entire quest in spearheaded by a desire to help his father after he’s been captured by Aku in the opening moments of the show. The father who had a fight sequence that visually mirrors the iconic arrow death scene from Throne of Blood. There’s also some definite recall of grand scale anime like Akira, particularly during the future scenes of city leveling destruction. This type of influence helped Samurai Jack find a place on the Toonami block during its initial run. The subset of Cartoon Network known for playing anime programming like Dragonball Z or Big O. Yet, it also helped the show find an artistic identity with the use of red on black that mirrored Katushiro Otomo’s harsh dystopian layout. The combination of red, black and green serves as a motif for Aku’s presence, especially when considering episodes like Jack and the Warrior Woman where Aku’s manipulation haunts Jack into doubting many potential allies.


Yet, those would be too obvious a turn for cultural tributes for Samurai Jack. The genius of Samurai Jack‘s premise is that it allows for so many different styles to take place in a world as uncertain and maddening as one ruled by Aku. Thematically, this fits the perception of Jack within the culture of Aku. Adults like the western themed bounty hunters of the episode The Good, The Bad and the Beautiful know that Jack is a force of much curiosity for the formidable ruler of this land. In The Princess and the Bounty Hunters, a wide variety of bounty hunters from different backgrounds – from a Russian brute to a southern gentleman to an intergalactic warrior princess – detail their alternate ways to defeat Jack. All of them present their individual concepts of Jack, giving the character further mystique in universe that helps mirror another clear influence on Tartakovsky’s: Sergio Leone. The Italian filmmaker’s love of quiet staredowns before sudden action and Man With No Name-style protagonist is clearly reflected upon with Jack’s various violent encounters. One can even hear a remix of the famous Ennio Morricone score track “Ecstasy of Gold” from The Good The Bad and the Ugly during the big fight that takes up so much of season 5’s second episode.


There’s also a perception of doubt within this world, arousing the spirit of rebellion in those raised under Aku. The most notable example would probably John Dimaggio’s Scotsman character. A recurring tough brute who initially sees himself as the only great warrior of the land, his encounters with Samurai Jack transform from head butting confrontation into a mutual respect. This continues the trend of seemingly clashing cultures can come to a consideration of each other’s strengths. This continues into episodes where Jack helps to bring back the cultural reigns of a cursed people. Like saving a group of Frank Miller’s 300 type Spartans from an unending war against machines or rescuing a Bavarian, Germany-esque town’s children from the hypnotic influence of rave music. All these conflicts involve a conflict between older and newer styles of cultural influence, the latter usually the more sinister object based ideas of technology. They conflict with Jack’s anti-materialism stance in a way that constantly builds upon Jack’s desire to destroy the material wrongs of Aku’s robotic minions.


Samurai Jack‘s consistent stance against these robots even seeps into the youths of this world. In the episode Aku’s Fairy Tales, Aku attempts to curry the favor of Jack-obsessed youths with stories based on the folk tales like Little Red Riding Hood or The Three Little Bears. Despite his rather phony and half hearted tales of propaganda against Jack, the children question his stories and Aku disappears in a puff of anger. This leaves the children to think up their own more grounded tale of the heroic Jack vanquishing Aku. This shows Jack’s multi-cultural influence spreading amongst children of all races and species in a beautifully mythological fashion, giving him even more importance than just a warrior. He’s a symbol of what could be beyond the world that has existed for hundreds of years. A foreign force for good against the evil establishment that rules over all. Jack even demonstrated this with the initial series finale Jack and the Baby as the samurai tends to an abandoned child while telling the tale of Momotarō, a boy born from a peach.


With the recent revival, Samurai Jack has continued to mix pop cultural ideas with relish. One of the more blatant examples is the robotic assassin Scaramouche the Merciless. His name comes from a stock commedia dell’arte, Tom Kenny’s speech patterns denote a Sammy Davis Jr. style speech pattern and his musical style of combat has shades of a Pied Piper style character. He even has a blade that has the properties of a tuning fork. The other fights Jack has – mainly with the daughters of Aku – have shades of the recent epic fights from wuxia films like Zhang Yimou’s House of Flying Daggers and Hero. There’s a ballet style precision to the choreography that gives every step that makes the animation still feel seamless.


Season 5 has some of Samurai Jack‘s best examples of cultural recontextualization. Jack and Ashi – the Aku daughter who survives and accompanies Jack – journey through the belly of a whale-like being, much in the vein of The Book of Jonah… with more monsters, obviously. Jack is haunted by a warrior on a horse, an illusion to the German spectre Nuckelavee and the Japanese God of Death Shinigami. We even see the return of Odin, Ra and Rama, the three gods who we saw forge the mythological sword from the earlier episode The Birth of Evil. All of the historical context of Jack in this world becomes abundant as we see all the various people he has touched since the start of the series. That Jack has helped to bind all these people in a world that Aku has manipulated to separate them. The fruits of those labors pay off in a big fashion during the series finale, where all these people unite to help Jack in his time of need.


Then again, Samurai Jack has occasionally had uses of cultural homage that feel cloying. The main example would actually be during this recent season. Jack and Ashi had an interesting relationship that built over the course of the initial seven episodes. One that went from adversarial to respectful. A chemistry built, but one that seemed more based on mutual admiration of skills and independent gumption. Which means a lot in a world ruled by Aku. Unfortunately, the eighth episode of the season turns this into a much more romantic connection. Which in a better built up scenario wouldn’t be much of a problem. However, the entire episode that leads to their romance suddenly blossoming feels so sudden and more for the sake of Tartakovsky making his own little action romantic comedy plot rather than paying off something he failed to build up properly. It’s not a deal breaker for an otherwise brilliant season, but it’s an instance of Tartakovsky’s desire to splice genres getting in the way of making his story seem more effective.


Since it’s return, Samurai Jack has been accused of cultural misappropriation. That is, the idea of taking from varying cultures in a way that can be seen as disrespectful. Given this is a show about a Japanese samurai created by a Russian man, one can see the initial hesitance. Yet, what makes Samurai Jack as engaging an artistic achievement as it is is a true respect for all the sources it homages. So many different cultures ingrained into its DNA that it stretches beyond what some may argue to be cultural misappropriation. Samurai Jack is an immigrant story from an immigrant’s perspective. A “stranger in a strange land” trying to find his place in the world. Jack as a character has such respect for the people who helped train him. He learns more from them than just how to fight. He learns how to respect others who are different and respect their traditions as much as his own. A concept he carries over into the future. As we all should.

Other Works:

“Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2” (2017): Emotional Stakes > Interplanetary Destruction

Guardians of the Galaxy was a definitive point for the Marvel Cinematic Universe as a film entity. After making bank with somewhat recognizable names like Captain America, Iron Man and Thor, the studio took a big chance on a property few knew about. Yet, it resulted in the surprise hit of the year, making Star Lord (Chris Pratt), Gamora (Zoe Saldana), Drax (Dave Bautista), Rocket Racoon (Bradley Cooper) and Groot (Vin Diesel) household names. So… now what? How can Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 up the ante? When you have a film that odd and out of nowhere that truly surprise audiences like the first Guardians, it’s really tough to expand on that while also not repeating the same beats. There are points where Vol. 2 comes close to repeating beats, but never forgets to develop what matters; the characters.


Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 is a rare sequel that knows how to develop rather than repeat what worked the first time. Comedy sequels can be especially terrible at this practice. Yet, the jokes and the characters they come from clearly have progressed from where they initially were. Rocket is dealing with his tendency to push the few who care about him away. Groot is recuperating from his heroic sacrifice of last time to relearn life lessons while being an excited toddler again. Drax himself doesn’t have the hugest progression, but his chemistry with the anti-social Mantis (Pom Klementieff) is refreshing and consistently enjoyable as a running thread. Gamora and her adopted sister Nebula (Karen Gillan) are dealing with the ripples of their mutual father Thanos concerning his treatment of them. Those last two in particular fight with splendidly scrappy choreography, but only because they were raised to do so. That motivation gives us the audience far more engrossing stakes to their brawling, while also setting another piece for the upcoming Avengers battle royale.


Yet, this isn’t a Marvel movie too obsessed with that element of universe building. Rather, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 builds upon the more intimate. Mainly, with Peter Quill a.k.a Star-Lord finding his father Ego (Kurt Russell), a being who created a planet around himself and can form anything out of pure energy, including a human being vessel. That sounds like an incredibly dense sci-fi concept, but writer/director James Gunn wisely chooses to keep the dynamic between Pratt and Russell down to the basics. Pratt is the son struggling to trust the father who suddenly came into his life and Russell is the cool dad trying to make up for lost time. It’s a chemistry the two actors relish, but avoid settling into the more potentially maudlin traps of. The type of dynamic that Russell can charm the pants off of people with in his sleep, yet not seem to phone it in for the sake of a Disney paycheck. That effortlessness is inviting, to make his luscious paradise of a planet seem more illustrious. There are bigger reasonings behind these two meeting, but that base develops the emotional tug-and-pull which gives this massive sci-fi idea a grounding anyone can attach to.


Even Yondu (Michael Rooker), the lead Ravager thief who abducted Star-Lord in the first place, becomes a more fully fleshed out character along the way. He and Rocket have some of the weirdest moments of comedy and genuine moments of heart throughout Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2. Both share a gruff exterior that guards a rather fragile broken person inside. Both have a past that leaves them abandoned and unique to the point of alienation. So, when they find some kind of kinship in the mutual form of Peter Quill – whether it be as an adopted son or a genuine friend – the two try to disguise it for the sake of fitting into the box made for them by the roles they’ve grown into. The entire Ravager subplot in Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 is a hilarious examination of the type of overbearing tough guy toxic masculinity that Yondu and Rocket have carved for themselves, giving the minor character Kraglin (James’ brother Sean Gunn) more definition as one Ravager questioning his loyalty. While the others bicker and argue to the point of chaos, our heroes try to escape through scrappy cunning and a true sense of trust. Even if that trust involves desperately trying to get Groot to perform a simple task.


James Gunn and his team really manage to step up their game in the visually arresting department. While Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 carries over the character fueled space opera vibes of Star Wars from the first film, it also mixes that in with the societal world building of a Star Trek. There’s the previously mentioned planet being, but there’s so much more. A society of gold people obsessed with maintaining royal dignity while bubbling under the surface. The larger expansions of The Ravagers and their codes, enforced by Stakar (Sylvester Stallone) who judges Yondu for his actions connected to Ego. There’s even a space port full of robot prostitutes that serve every nook and cranny. Each society revels in the varying shapes, sizes and colors of the inhabitants visually. Yet, we also get a sense of hierarchy and of culture. That this universe is even bigger than the one we got last time. And that the creatures our heroes fight are larger, yet will have the piss taken out of them just as much as the average joe in the Guardians ranks.


Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 truly does up the ante. Sometimes this can be a bit detrimental, mainly in trying to squeeze as much action into the climax to the point of confusing momentum in the middle of the set pieces or a few arc seem a bit haulted. Yet, while the initial surprise may be gone after the first film, the characters are never forgotten about. This is probably best displayed in the title sequence, where Groot dances to the dulcet tunes of Electric Light Orchestra while the other Guardians fight a massive monster in the background. It’s a wonderfully comic illustration of what James Gunn aims for with these characters. Where everyone is a “dancer” who carries to their own rhythms, yet still enjoy the company of a dance floor full of people they love. While world destroying stakes are involved like so many other MCU films, the main focus is an personal one. In every step, the small comic foibles bubble to the surface and reign supreme over the chaos… mostly. The emotional core of these people being a family runs deep. Even if that deepness means filleting a giant alien to get a dear friend out of its stomach. That’s what family really is all about.

Rating: 4 out of 5 Awesome Mix Tracks


Other Works:

“Sleight” (2017): Impressive Shuffling of the Cards Dealt

Sleight is not a wholly original exercise. J.D. Dillard‘s sci-fi crime tale doesn’t really break much new ground in terms of the story its telling. The beats are often familiar, recalling superhero origin tales that have been rampant in the last few years. Of course, the major difference here is the scale involved. Given this is a Blumhouse production, Sleight doesn’t have the massive budget to provide us with dazzling city destruction or an explosive battle. Instead, Dillard takes advantage of its smaller stakes and makes them larger on an emotional scale. Sleight gives more power to the characters than the situations. With that in mind, Sleight ends up being more earth shattering despite the lack of Earth destroying stakes.

sleight-lightReally, Sleight makes the interpersonal stakes of our hero the world it revolves around. We get to know our protagonist Bo (Jacob Latimore), a young engineer who throws away a scholarship to raise his younger sister Tina (Storm Reid) after their mother dies. It’s a noble goal that one can understand him pursuing, but the means from which he does so make him a complicated character. The balance of drug dealing and pursuing his interests in magic conflict in a wonderful fashion. One where you’re not sure how much you can be on his side given the horrible things he’s done and the risks he’s putting the people in his life into. Latimore helps to make Bo consistently endearing throughout, even when he commits some brutal actions and dumb decisions. All of them feel motivated by a desire to get out and leave this awful life behind.


The rest of this small yet effective cast manages to give a lot more insight into their characters despite smaller amounts of screentime. Particularly with the antagonistic force of Sleight Dulé Hill. Hill – whom most would probably recognize as one of the two leads from the procedural TV detective show Psych – completely washes away his nice guy demeanor. Imbuing a local drug kingpin with a sense of intelligence, but a temper that’s massive and unpredictable. He presents all these traps for a life of crime to Bo as an opportunity to progress. To be a part of something bigger than himself. It recalls the opportunities Bo has left behind and gives him the illusion of upward momentum that could get him out, only to realize that Hill is merely pulling him further into that mess.


Sleight as a story clearly only needs the female characters to support Bo, with any forward momentum in their lives being from merely through having conversations with our lead. Yet, Sasheer Zamata and Seychelle Gabriel provide endearing performances that give their roles far more vitality and heart than what was originally written for them. Sleight pays particular attention to the growth of Gabriel and Latimore’s relationship, an understated meet-cute that evolves into something more. Both find a sense of growth and support from each other that’s desperately need in their lives. While we only see this from Latimore’s perspective, the reciprocation shown in the chemistry between the two for Seychelle is still emotionally effective.


As for the genre thrills, Sleight uses them sparingly yet effectively. The magic on display during Bo’s performances is small but dazzling. There’s a grounded sensibility to all the tricks that works within the logic presented of his mechanical engineering background. Admittedly, Sleight really pushes the limits for suspension of disbelief. The gimmick of what Bo has done to his own body raises a lot of questions, namely in how any of it was truly accomplished by someone in a rather destitute state. Yet, the conviction of the characters makes the powers on display quite impactful. The smallest movements have the most lasting effect.


Speaking of effects, the special effects in Sleight have just the right amount of subtlety to them. Cascaded enough by lighting without hiding the motive and pay off behind them. Even without using the sci-fi element, there’s a rather chilling scene involving amputation that – while implausible on more than a few levels – still chills because of what it means for the characters and how they directly deal with it. All of this is to say that Sleight never loses sight of motivation or character even as the logic leaps grow wider and wider. It only really loses some of the grounding with elements like this, but not enough to take one out of the film. Regardless, it shows J.D. Dillard is a potential creative force to be reckoned with in the near future. Showing he has an authentic perspective, but with enough genre flare to have a diverse career. If he can pull off something this solid on a $250,000 budget, there’s no telling how far he can go with Hollywood money behind him.

Rating: 3.5 Out of 5 Moving Metal Objects


Other Works:


“The Fate of the Furious” (2017): Bold Turns Down Dead End Streets

The Fast and the Furious is one of the more inexplicable franchises out there. Who would have thought that we’d go from a 2001 car chase/heist movie built around portable DVD player thieves into a team of car based spies clearing their names by driving on a frozen ocean from a giant submarine? Yes, with The Fate of the Furious – the eighth entry in the surprising juggernaut action series – there’s plenty of wild stunts, elaborate cars and themes of “family” that we’re all familiar with. Going into it though, there’s a bit of doubt as to how this franchise can carry on. After director of installments 3-6 Justin Lin reinvited the property for its new elaborate action context (and perfected that concept with Fast Five), noted horror director James Wan took the reigns of Furious 7 to deliver another thrilling action ride that ended on a genuinely sweet note for deceased co-star Paul Walker. Now, how could F. Gary Gray (FridayStraight Outta Compton) take this machismo soap opera action fantasy and give it a renewed purpose?


Well, F. Gary Gray at least tries to carry over elements from his earlier films into The Fate of the Furious. Mainly, a love for the back and forth between confident personalities. Some of this falls into more franchise old hat, particularly with the continued comedic relief of Tyrese Gibson and Chris “Ludacris” Bridges having their typical banter over women. Through no real fault of Gray’s ability to shoot such interactions, these moments have just sort of become stale in the grand scheme of The Fast and the Furious chronology. The two of them continue to make Nathalie Emmanuel an object of desire, which to be fair is a lingering aspect from the original films I was never that big a fan of. The type of unconfident machismo that feels rather dated in a modern context. It’s the most guilty aspect in calling The Fast and the Furious franchise a “guilty pleasure.” Where most of the female characters are either plot devices or objects to be won.


The only real exception here being Michelle Rodriguez, who is attraction to Vin Diesel at least seems genuine and respectful towards both as individuals. This especially gets complicated during the more spoilery second act reveals of The Fate of the Furious. Where the continuity is brought back into the equation for the type of soap opera reveal that ultimately squanders a motivation for Vin Diesel to turn rogue. It’s not out of character, but at the same time it brings a cliche to the table that doesn’t push the stakes to over the top dramatic heights as much as rather middling ones that feel passe, even for the Fast franchise, Diesel overreactions aside.


Honestly, the best interaction really settles itself between Jason Statham and Dwayne Johnson. Both trade barbs so well that it really just makes me want to see them have a buddy picture outside of The Fate of the Furious. Here is where the machismo charisma actually has something to back it up. Statham and Johnson are just moments away from ripping their orange jumpsuits the moment they meet in prison, playing a volume pointed game of The Dozens that makes their action beats all the more fun to see. The two of them also have some of the best individual character moments. Johnson leads an entire girl’s soccer team in a war chant. Statham has an entire hallway action sequence down a plane protecting a rather key package to the plot.


Then again, respect towards individuals isn’t really that heavily a factor towards anyone – regardless of gender – with The Fate of the Furious or any of the franchise’s previous installments. They do mainly serve as action figures to pack into vehicle that break the laws of physics at any given time. F. Gary Gray’s competency here is fairly uneven. The best car specific stunt is the opening street race, which has just the right mixture of drifting through city scapes and crazy manic logic that produces the type of astonished laughs that make The Fast and the Furious… well, fast and furious. There’s another rather ridiculously massive sequence where cars basically turn into zombies and pile up on the streets. It’s maddening, but in a fashion that’s insanely fun to watch.


Still, there are massive pacing issues with some of these action scenes. Mainly, the over bloated climax. The cutting between multiple different set pieces and fights isn’t uncommon to The Fast and the Furious, particularly for the last few entries. Yet, The Fate of the Furious doesn’t really take advantage of much that’s set up for some of these action beats. There’s a clunkiness to the pacing between moments of pure volatile car explosions and the one-on-one fights. This isn’t just during the final climactic moments though, as there are several scenes that involve the puzzlingly dull back and forths of hacking and Jason Bourne-style looking at monitors that feel so unnecessary to the Fast franchise, grinding this franchise to an extreme hault in favor of the lamest visualized hacking scenes in recent cinematic history. There’s a real tonal fracturing as well, with Charlize Theron’s villain doing things far darker than any Fast villain followed by happy-go-lucky goofing from the cast.


It’s the type of start-and-stop I would have feared from Gray, a relatively inexperienced action director. Lots of slow mo pauses to show off the stunt work or effects, but not nearly enough focus on individual characters directly dealing with the consequences. Even at its most elaborately CG, the previous Fast films kept the cast’s reactions front and center during the chaos. Here, the moment that’s front and center is Tyrese doing his usual screaming schtick. This is especially frustrating with someone like Rodriguez, who is going through the bigger emotional stakes of The Fate of the Furious yet is mostly relegated to punching henchmen and driving.


Of course, all of this cuts deep into the major issue with The Fate of the Furious; a desire to have its cake and eat it too in a way that betrays a goofy yet core element of the franchise. Vin Diesel’s major catchphrase and the element that keeps these people together is the conceit of “family.” Cheap and familiar, but a decent emotional clothing line to string along these thin characters with entertaining actors behind them. The type of rapport that the actors have built over the course of several films and was so key in particular to the conclusion of Furious 7. So, with the added twist of Diesel going rogue with Charlize Theron to turn his back on family, one would figure that there would be a more consistent broken trend amongst everyone here. After all, they all care about family. They love the idea of having each other in their lives. Hell, most of these movies end with a big barbecue to signify their attachments to one another.


Yet, no one seems too broken up about the fracturing of family in The Fate of the Furious. Despite introducing an intriguing conceit that would genuinely shake up the series, things fall straight back into formula. For example, everyone clowning on Scott Eastwood‘s character, an underling of Kurt Russell‘s CIA badass Mr. Nobody who’s a rather flimsy stand in for the late Paul Walker. This is mere hours after Vin Diesel has completely turned his back on all of them and there’s no real remorse on anyone aside from Rodriguez. Even after Diesel has a passionate kiss with Theron in front of Rodriguez, there’s no follow up to it on the latter’s end. Hell, Statham straight up MURDERED their friend Han during the last film… and no one brings it up beyond a vague threat. No confrontation. No satisfaction. As simplistic as it sounds, The Fate of the Furious doesn’t even follow the most easy examples of set up and pay off correctly in a way that would satisfy its fanbase.


It may seem odd to be this genuine about the authenticity of the characters for The Fate of the Furious, but it’s something the series prides itself on. Even when the plots don’t make sense or the action is ridiculous, there’s a charm to seeing everyone come together and have a consistent warm glow to their interactions. Here, much of that is sacrificed and not even for something that truly changes the stakes in a way that drives us to somewhere new. We’re back at square one, making most of what’s happened before completely inconsequential… which is odd for a series so steeped in its convoluted continuity. That balance of absurdist storytelling and action are both essential to this franchise as it has stood for near a decades since its relaunch with 2009’s Fast and Furious. That entry is probably the best comparison point for The Fate of the Furious. Both took some risks and had a decent amount of thrills & character moments. Yet, both ultimately seem like forgettable stepping stones in the franchise. Hopefully, this means Fast and the Furious 9 will finally see the series reach the quality of Fast Five levels again. Only time will tell.

Rating: 2.5 out of 5 Exploding Engines


Other Works

“The Void” (2017): A Gorgeously Horrific Nightmare

The Void clearly has a lot of influences. Mainly, a love of 1980s era creature features and extensive practical effects. While that admiration is something shared by many a horror fan, it can often leave those same fans thinking more about the influences rather than the final product. Avoiding this can often be elusive, especially in a modern nostalgia context that’s become all the rage. Directors Steven Kostanski and Jeremy Gillespie have shown their love for the above mentioned influences elsewhere. Stuff like Manborg showed that the duo could create a stylized dip into the retro-80s techno satire that is aesthetically appealing, but even they knew this couldn’t be sustained for long given the 67 minute running time. The key to doing so lies in making a definitive stamp and exploration of the universe being built.


This is something The Void does in spades, mainly by taking the concepts established by the likes of John Carpenter, Lucio Fulci and Tom Savini into a nonstop nightmare of a rush. Aside from the early introduction to all of our characters that follows an intense cold open, The Void rarely considerings breathing room into the equation for its audience. The film relishes in throwing every single possible cosmic horror it can think of and slamming it directly into our eyeholes. It truly is a living nightmare, one that establishes the familiar base of these characters before throwing them into a surreal hell that they can’t escape from. It’s a wonderfully macabre example of how to give its audience people worth investing in and destroying them without a single eye batted.


The Void couldn’t really accomplish this without having a solid knack for developing its characters. With probably the best example of taking from its influences, The Void chooses to unveil the motives and pasts of its characters through authentic interaction rather than blatant exposition. It helps create an endearing base of a small town intersection that an audience can gravitate towards. When such a world becomes ruptured by unholy terror, it gives the tension, gore and monsters far more impact. This particularly resonates with Daniel Carter (Aaron Poole) as our lead, giving us a full spectrum of a character haunted both by the small town past of his family and his love life that feeds the eventual disturbing horror.


Said horror is one of the better examples of Lovecraftian horror in cinematic history. The Void knows when and when not to reveal the unbelievable horror of the creatures on display. In a vein similar to the indescribable cosmic horror of H.P. Lovecraft, The Void knows how to leave some horror left to the imagination and others in plain view. It’s the difference between the classic practical effects horror of old and the modern lesser CGI of new. The Void knows when to show off the horrific effects work and when to show it off fully. There’s always a delicate balance to fully achieve in this case, one that films like Harbinger Down fail to achieve. The imagery is often simple yet effective, such as the cult followers adorned in robes with triangles on their hoods. They send messages of idolatry and worship without having us be too clouded in  It would be easy to show off these effects in full and ruin the surprise inherent in the film. Yet, The Void cleverly knows when to cover the full display and when not to at every single point. The monsters are given ample time to show off their full colors, but not without some restraint. The lighting and blocking allow the audience to wonder in horror and gaze in awe at the same time at what The Void has to behold.


Ultimately, The Void is the type of genre throwback that should be emulated more. Rather than recycling the same type of tributes we’ve been privy to in the last several years and turned them into a brilliant new combination that one would never anticipate. The type of excitement that isn’t built on pure emulation, but rather existing foundation that evolves into something fresh and new on its own. The Void is the type of creature feature that knows practical effects aren’t the only things people find themselves attached to. What made films like The Thing or The Fly work as well as they did was how they approached the characters on equal footing with the effects work. The Void is well aware of this and gives plenty of mutilating punches to the throat. It’s unrelenting in the way a feverish nightmare is. Playing on our conceptions of reality by dismantling them in a gorgeously disturbing fashion. Truly, The Void is a horrific nightmare that’ll linger in the recesses of your mind long after viewing it… in the best way possible.

Rating: 4.5 out of 5 Mutilated Monsters