blaskofilms's reviews

There's no need to spoil any of the plot here. No background of Oliver Twist required, though even faint familiarity with the characters will offer a few rewards. It's just a period piece, buddy comedy, romantic drama adventure with a bit of the spirit of the Guy Ritchie Sherlock Holmes films. Performances are uniformly outstanding (where are the awards for the three leads, particularly Thewlis, who gives the performance of his career?) - direction is superb and the writing is leagues ahead of the competition. It's meaningful, rousing, heartfelt, romantic, captivating perfection. Can't wait for Season 2.

No reasonable person would dispute that women can be strong, powerful, resourceful and capable. But there is a sort of modern insecurity that sneaks into franchise films/series. That insecurity assumes that a male-leaning audience doesn't or can't appreciate women, and so the filmmakers will shove male characters aside or make them weak emotional fools to give their lead the spotlight. They'll have male characters bend their knee to a leading woman, shoehorn dialogue to tell her just how strong, how great, how wonderful, how important she is to the fate of everything. In the process, these female characters become flat, one-dimensional, less deep, less believable, less interesting ... and less human. And some do this in the name of being "modern" or "progressive."

This is the cringe-inducing slog that is LOTR: The War of the Rohirrim. An otherwise fairly pleasant-looking but generic fantasy film that is about and deep and real as the 2D animation software it's been made with. If you're looking for Tolkien, if you're looking for adventure, if you're looking for great male AND great female characters, I urge you to look elsewhere. Whatever fond memories you have of Jackson and Boyen's LOTR trilogy, you won't find them honored or resurrected here. Is it terrible? No. It's almost worse. It's instantly forgettable - another film made by people afraid of their own audience and ignorant of the creator's legacy.

As many other reviewers have pointed out, there are some plusses to this show: special effects, costuming and soundtrack. Sadly, they all amount to very little emotional impact.

It is nearly impossible to orient yourself into this particular era of Middle Earth. What the characters want, what are the stakes and what is the central theme - these questions are virtually ignored. There's no real point of entry, and there's no real gravity. Making matters worse, the central characters, Galadriel specifically, are not very engaging. In strong fantasy, there are typically characters you want to get behind, characters you'd like to be. But Rings of Power? Well, there's a reason why you're not seeing Rings of Power trick-or-treaters or cosplayers near you. These aren't memorable heroes ... or villains.

If this were not connected to Tolkien's work, it might be fine - a middling fantasy show that serves equally well as a screensaver and a time waster. But for Tolkien? And a billion-dollar investment? No, this series falls far short of its expectations and its potential. Not Recommended.

Truly, I admire Mike Flanagan. I think that Midnight Mass and The Haunting of Hill House are excellent examples of long-form genre storytelling. Flanagan understands that tall-tale horrors are usually allegories for real-life agonies, and that a frightening show is more about the tingles of what we can't see than the shock of what we can. On one hand, The Haunting of Bly Manor is both a love letter to Jack Clayton's The Innocents and a tender exploration of caring for a loved one suffering from dementia.

But on the other, it's so precious about its social messaging that, like the show's central spectre, it becomes repetitive and featureless. It's one thing to be inclusive - the cast is excellent and the performances are consistently compelling - but it's another thing to wrap your marginalized characters in a sort of golden gauze of endless virtue. In David Mamet terms, The Haunting of Bly Manor too often feels more like a "problem play" than a puzzling thriller. It has the feel of being made by someone trying to be an "ally" first and a storyteller second. That's nothing terrible, of course, but it does limit the impact of an otherwise chilling story.

As a result, what could have been a masterpiece series is reduced to something that feels trapped in its time. One can imagine a modern and socially-conscious audience absolutely raving about this series in 10-star reviews, though they may find that they've forgotten nearly everything about it within a week.

For months, I held off from watching Ahsoka. I had read the reviews, watched the snipes, gripes and story breakdowns on YouTube. I knew that the fanbase was split between diehard Filoni fans and those who've had just about enough of Disney SW. And then I set it all aside, and I watched the entire season in a two-day binge.

And the funny thing? Everybody is right about this show.

As far as negatives go, there are many. It's often stunningly poorly scripted. SW fans are usually pretty forgiving to clunky dialogue and goofy plot contrivances, but Ahsoka routinely pushes this tolerance past the limit. It feels like we're watching a hasty second draft, and not a cohesive, completed screenplay.

It's also too often poorly directed. Why would anyone allow their main actors to so often appear so lifeless, constantly folding their arms, puffing out frustrated sighs and pausing for interminably long breaks between dialogue exchanges. It's not for lack of talent - the main cast is excellent, but the direction of their work is amateurish at best.

So why a seven? Why give this sorry little show such a reasonably solid score? First, let's be honest. Disney has probably lowered our expectations. For all of Ahsoka's faults, it's light years ahead of The Book of Boba Fett, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Mandalorian Season 3. If you love SW, these can be strange times. We get a lot of content, but not a lot of very good content.

But second - and here's perhaps the most important factor to me - Ahsoka is sincere and genuine and very Star Warsy. It's a space opera. It's optimistic. It's occasionally quite rousing and fun. And while the direction and script are flawed, the visual and sound effects and musical score are virtually flawless. This FEELS like Star Wars. The LOOKS like Star Wars. This SOUNDS like Star Wars. Filoni clearly cares about this universe, and in Ahsoka, he and his crew gently begins to expand it.

Ultimately, I enjoyed Season 1 - much, much more than I thought I would. Sometimes, an earnest attempt at something great still wins the day, star warts and all. Recommended.

I'm not a huge fan of apocalyptic cinema, and I might not even be the target audience for this series, but I think it's quite a gem. It builds suspense and interest very well, and it's absolutely cinematically brilliant to behold.

Very, very excited for Season 2. Hoping it finds a wider audience. It's a winner. I came to Apple TV+ for Ted Lasso, but I'm staying for well-produced genre shows like See and the upcoming Foundation.

You might think that the Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance is not for you. You might think it's only for fantasy nerds, puppetry geeks, or middle-agers addicted to our 80's nostalgia. I'm here to tell you ... this series is for you, too.

There is a lot of stuff out there today, on TV, cable and streaming channels that falls short of telling compelling stories. This series doesn't fall short. It's made by craftspeople and artists, and the characters are voiced by actors at the top of their game. Though the story is about "resistance," this is not about partisan politics - it's about any cultural or money elites and the way they can divide and take advantage of the "little people" for their own gain. And it's about what to do when you realize what they've been doing to you. It's about how to build alliances through bravery - and even how to win while hating what your enemy does, but not hating who they are.

You might this show is for Dark Crystal fans only. It's not. You didn't have to read some additional comic series or read up on some fansite to understand what's happening. This is just beautiful storytelling. This is maybe the best series you'll see in 2019. You're invited - please join us geeks and nerds and give it a try. It's a hero's journey, brilliantly told and made for EVERYONE.

You know that moment when you watch something, and you get the sense that everything converged into this one project at exactly the right moment, for exactly the right reasons, in exactly the right way? That's Fleabag. The entire two-season series.

But that's selling it short. Series creator Phoebe Waller-Bridge has clearly put tremendous work and skill behind this cosmology. It's breathtaking storytelling that holds its own in every single moment. Years from now, it will be heralded as a form of literature, as compelling today (and perhaps tomorrow) as the novels of Jane Austen were when their audience was found. It's fundamentally about human beings, for human beings - and you can't say that about all entertainment these days.

And in a world where a lot is going wrong, here we have shows like Fleabag and Russian Doll, created and performed by women who may not have had access or creative control over a series like this at any other time. It's a signal for how much we have missed over the years ... and perhaps how much promise there is to come as cinematic storytelling becomes more democratic and where visionaries have access to the tools and talent to bring their visions to their audience.

Fleabag is heart-aching, disgusting, hilarious, so brutally tender and so immediate. Often, it's all of these at once. As for plot, look elsewhere, but let me be another voice just to push you to give the series a go.

The only real saving grace of the 2019 Hellboy is this: it makes the many talents of Guillermo del Toro and Ron Perlman abundantly clear. Now we know that cinematic Hellboy without them is charmless, witless, artless and passionless. Everything in this reboot is less than the sum of their parts - characters have been added, and yet everything comes up short. The only possible exception are the Lobster Johnson scenes - clearly, he should have been the focus of this reboot.

So, so painful to watch. Star Wars: The Last Jedi will evoke many of the same emotions as the 2016 election in the US. It has all of the contrived inauthenticity of the Clinton campaign, and all of the infuriating brainlessness of the Trump campaign. Disney has absolutely destroyed a once-beloved franchise. Don't get me wrong - this film will make it's money, but at the cost of the franchise's spirit. Storytellers are needed for a new generation, and it's time to say a fond farewell to Star Wars.

Movies used to be fun. Genuinely fun. Kong: Skull Island is a throwback to the era when movies were fun - like, Stars Wars fun. Like Jaws fun. That kind of fun. The leads embody characters that are all understandable and genuinely likable. The plot isn't stuffed with technical geek references and "easter eggs" that weigh down other universe-building films. From the fire- singed Kong fur to the slick skull crawler tongues, the special effects are brilliantly detailed and animated. And it's genuinely refreshing to watch an action/monster film in which native peoples are depicted with dignity and respect, and where black and Asian characters aren't used as props or fodder for violence (admittedly, the film could have gone further with this, but I sensed some progress being made). Kong: Skull Island isn't Life is Beautiful. It isn't Casablanca. But it is genuinely, thrillingly, rigorously fun. It has heart, scales, teeth and a ferocious roar. Monster movies are back. Get in line. Hail to the King.

The progression was natural, really. The thrust of the first Star Wars trilogy (now known as episodes IV-VI) was mythological. The thrust of the second trilogy, the prequels, was political. It only makes sense that the driving force behind the third trilogy is commercial. We're moving further and further away from the resonant, the sacred, the meaningful.

Look, I get it -- these are Hollywood films. And they are always made for the love of money, always bankrolled because executives believe they will turn a profit. But, for many of us raised in the late 70's and early 80's, Star Wars pulled us in with the power of universal themes. They were human stories set in allegorical landscapes with archetypal figures and creatures. They delighted us, and inspired many of us to tell stories and to make films.

It's hard to imagine The Force Awakens having that impact on today's young people. This is a film almost entirely without gravity, where human history isn't cleverly alluded to but crudely pantomimed. It's a film where deep themes are reduced to interpersonal crises. It's a film that, despite it's massive universe canvas to paint upon, comes out feeling as small as a shoebox and as insular as family reunion. It's art direction, with it's odd mix of retro repaints and boxy new designs, merely borders on plagiarism during its best sequences. It reads like a piece of fan fiction, or rather, like fan fiction edited by Disney's corporate committee.

Perhaps nothing good could have come out of this. To be fair, there are some good things happening in The Force Awakens, things that could have been expanded upon. Ridley, Boyega, Isaac and even Driver to a lesser extent are clearly talented actors, and do what they can with the weak sauce they're given. At times, here and there, the film feels lovingly crafted. But in the end, it all comes to nothing, or at least nothing we haven't seen before. The total of the film is far less than the sum of its parts.

What a shame, and a waste. If you loved Jurassic Park, you could skip Colin Trevorrow's mishmash sequel/reboot. In fact, you should skip it. What made the first Jurassic Park (even the two sequels, really) work so well is that Steven Spielberg clearly decided not to make a monster movie. Genetically engineered or not, the dinosaurs of Jurassic Park were living animals, skillfully brought to life with personality and gait, pace and vigor. They were neither heroes nor villains. Get in front of them and you're in trouble, get behind them and watch in awe. They, like all wild animals, were dangerous if you didn't respect or understand them, but they were also entirely capable of all the other things living creatures do: resting, rearing young, hunting, etc.

The dinosaurs of Jurassic World? The film can't quite decide. Characters pay lip service to the idea that they are complex, living creatures, but on screen they're ultimately little more than toothy action figures, placed clumsily into scenes to bonk around gyrospheres, bite the bad guy or rumble against one another. They don't behave the way animals would behave, nothing they do confounds, intrigues or surprises. Instead, the little monsters snap and slash and are completely tamed by Trevorrow's limited vision, doing exactly what he and the scriptwriters want them to do -- exactly what the audience expects.

And that might have even been okay, if only it had been a good script. It's not. Nostalgic touches intended to link the film thematically to the franchise only serve to remind us that a better film was made out of this material over two decades ago. The relationship between characters is wafer thin and, even from the start, stale. There is absolutely no chemistry between Chris Pratt and Bryce Dallas Howard, at least partially because Howard is forced into a prehistorically sexist role as corporate yes woman/damsel in distress. And yet, even when she transforms into an action hero and rescues Pratt from a flying reptile attack, her nephews ignore her completely, championing Pratt as a "bad ass" and their chosen hero of the film. The villain of the show, played by a husky Vincent D'onofrio, is even less interesting, chewing out his motives for a dino military force in a constant stream of GI Joe-meets-Halliburton chatter. His exit is absurdly staged, and serves as a marker for when the film is going downhill at full speed.

I won't give away the ending. I don't need to -- everyone in the theater knew exactly what was coming. It's a wreck of CGI and pyrotechnics, insulting to the eye and ear. It clearly was meant to honor the titans of the original Jurassic Park, but it ends up being a poor kind of parody. I found myself wishing that all of the creatures involved could have just been put down, and met a more humane ending than the one they're left with: the prospect of more of this kind of franchise re-engineering to come.

He's short, he's pudgy and his leg shakes too much. If there's a sweet, neurotic porker on the screen, it's got to be McDull – and what a joy it is to see him again.

If you've seen the first McDull film, then you'll be somewhat familiar with the aesthetic magic of these films – the external veneer of expressive cuteness, set within a photo-realistic CG backdrop of urban decay and construction. The plot this time is a little less straight forward; whereas the first film was an autobiographical backward-glance at McDull's life as seen through his sometimes-stormy connection with his mother, this time around the child McDull begins to uncover the real story of his father through his mother's attempts at fantasy fiction a la J. K. Rowling.

It's hard to comment on this sequel without commenting on the first as well. There is something that is happening in these films that speaks to the joy of great art. Perhaps it's the great contradictions that are alive in these films: the childish cartoon style that somehow carries a wealth of serious adult emotions; the biting satire of popular culture, and yet the sincere embrace of the follies of humanity; the overwhelming feeling of being lost, of being mediocre, of being erased, and yet the celebration of the little talents that make us unique, and the determination of the human spirit that refuses to collapse; the sharp sense of laugh-out-loud humor, and yet the quiet moments that bring good cause for a tear or two.

McDull: Prince de la Bun is certainly every ounce as good as its predecessor. It's a tale within tale, a bit difficult to unravel, but worth every moment. Congratulations to director Toe Yuen for crafting another complex masterwork out of such a seemingly simple set of characters. I hope these films get the audience they deserve.

As the Egyptian Queen eats her winter-ripe figs in Story Two (Le Garcon des Figues) she declares, in succession: "Exquisite! Delicious! Succulent!" These accolades should be taken out of context and applied directly to this film.

This is a MASTERPIECE! A man and woman use a fantastic machine to stitch them into the costumes of various ancient and future royalty. In each tale, love is hard-fought and dearly won. Brimming with joy, beauty, wisdom - every one of the six short stories is as good as the last. Created in a style of silhouette animation, it captures the essence of intricate shadow puppetry, lending a magic to the film that invites the viewer's imagination to join right in with the characters.

COLOR! SOUND! MOVEMENT! WOW!

If you have any love of animation, or of film, seek this one out. Don't miss it!